It is hard to believe it was 10 years ago this summer I was finally able to get back to school and finish my degree. It had always been my dream to be a teacher. With my brother hounding me, “the only difference in a dream and a goal was putting a date on things”, I finally decided it was time to make that transition – as nerve wracking as it was! Poor Pam Prince – she was my advisor and she was so wonderful. That day when I finally got up the courage to go visit with her I was so scared. What would I do if I actually failed something –remember failure is NOT an option! What would happen if I didn’t fit in or wasn’t liked by the much younger students? As the nerves got the best of me and tears came to my eyes, she so gently patted my hand and kindly offered, “The college also has free counseling for students who need someone to visit with about their struggles.”
Sure enough, I totally forgot how much I disliked early morning classes and my very first class was an 8am Monday/Wednesday Speech class. Looking like a child heading off to kinder that first day, I had my nice new backpack, sharpened pencils and spiral notebooks with my name on them. I had already taken Michael with me to find each one of my classes so I wouldn’t be the lost “old lady” wandering the halls of UTPB looking for my class. I was so nervous I actually got to class that first time almost 30 minutes early, yep once!
As I sat there and listened to the other students, my palms began to sweat even more. It seems, according to the more knowledgeable students, our professor for the class, Dr. Buice, was one of the toughest on campus. Nothing kind or loving was being said and as the minutes passed, my nerves were getting the best of me. What had I gotten myself into? Was this a test to see if I had what it was going to take to actually finish school? Didn’t God know how weak I was? Why was I doing this to myself?
As the semester progressed, I came to realize Dr. Buice was strong, competent, demanding and unwavering. She expected the very best of us and was going to do what it took to help us reach our goals. She often pointed out how much easier it is to talk about what you know. Consequently, our class became well acquainted with each other’s likes/dislikes; talents; views on politics and what made each other tick.
There was no question - she was the ruler of our classroom. Her critiques of our speeches were considered by many to be harsh but that wasn’t how I saw things. She was like a true friend who always said what needed to be said instead of what we wanted to hear, no matter how difficult it was for us. To say Dr. Buice was always professional and businesslike is like saying the desert is dry – it is the obvious. Through it all, I learned to respect her as I envied her strength.
It wasn’t long before my speech class actually became one of my favorites. I enjoyed pleasing her and the attempts to reach her high standards. On one certain occasion I actually showed up at her office to discuss possibly changing my major to something along the lines of communication. Thinking on how much I was enjoying the class, it just seemed the natural conclusion. Wrong thing to do! I will never forget sitting in that leather chair with her eyes glaring through me as if I had sprung two heads! It was then, that afternoon she pointed out to me, reminded me, why I had returned to college – to be a teacher. Hearing Dr. Buice actually tell me in her opinion, education was the right choice for me was like having Van Gogh say I was an artist; Robert Frost compliment a short story; or even possibly Nolan Ryan comment on a strike out! Dr. Buice had spoken.
Sure enough, I stayed with my art and education, never considering another change. I didn’t see her very often through the next few years but when I did, her smile and friendly greeting was always something special. At our graduation ceremonies hearing her tell me how proud she was of me and she was expecting great things, was just a reminder of what a true teacher means to their students. Periodically, our paths would cross the next few years and there was really never time to actually sit and catch up. The last time I saw Dr. Buice, she was a bit different – almost bubbly. The Education Foundation had delivered their grants and my name had been attached to three different grants. She never said the words but that look on her face was all I needed. I knew it was one time she wasn’t going to critique things but it was a reminder of her telling me to stay in education. Who knows why she didn’t come right out and say “I told you so!” It wasn’t really in her character to hold back her thoughts but I knew, just as she knew, she did. Yes, thank goodness she did tell me what I needed to hear.
While searching for information on the inauguration yesterday, I learned of her passing. Though I will always be grateful for the example she set as an educator, I am more grateful for her demands on me as a person, a student. Her expectations were always high, for herself as well as for her students. She demanded we reach higher not only in class but in life as well. When I tell my students I am queen of my domain and I wear an invisible crown, it is easy to see her chuckle. Yes I can even hear her encourage me to push them on to higher standards and a better life. Yes, Dr. Buice, you told me so and I thank you!
Lee Rhoads Buice
January 20, 2009 - 12:31 AM
ODESSA Lee Rhoads Buice, 76 of Odessa, died Monday, Jan. 19, 2009, at Hospice House.
Services will be at a later date. Arrangements are by Hubbard-Kelly Funeral Home.
She was born in Cardiff, Wales, United Kingdom.
SURVIVORS Sons, Don Holloway, Burt Holloway and Mark Holloway; daughter, Laura Nugent.
NOTE: A memorial service for Dr. Lee Buice is set for Friday afternoon, January 23, 2009 at 2:00 p.m. at CrossRoads church.
Wednesday, January 21, 2009
Sunday, December 21, 2008
The gift of love
It caught me off guard when he wheeled his chair up to my desk. Honestly, I am not used to having him come up to the desk. Last year, he would just raise his hand if he needed something. This year the bilingual kids were not rotating with the other classes so had his teacher not been out sick, he wouldn’t have even been in our class. But you do what you have to do and we split her class that day…thus this angel ended up in my class.
Generally he doesn’t say much in class, preferring to ride under the radar and not be called on or asked to read. That is fine and I can deal with those choices. So for him to actually come to me – wasn’t his normal routine. Sad as it is, my first comment was “What is wrong?” thinking something had happened. With over 30 kids in class, to me that was an understandable expectation.
I then noticed, he was removing a rough homemade cross necklace, which had been given to him by a fellow classmate. At least my mouth stayed shut this time, thank goodness. His next comment is what completely caught me off guard.
“I want to give you my cross, Mrs. Rex.”
If there ever was a time in my life I wish I could reverse and do over, those next seconds certainly are at the top. Rather than lovingly saying “Thank you so much”, I hear coming out of my clumsy mouth – “ But why give me your cross? I know it is really important to you.”
There before me, this young soul immediately washes his face with his tears. I never knew someone so small could cry so much in such a short time. True to form, my tears were not far behind. As I fumble through the disaster of my desk looking for a tissue, of course other students began to gather around, wondering what has brought on so much emotion so fast.
While wiping his face I hear this small voice explain, “Because you are my favorite teacher I have ever had, Mrs. Rex.” Never in my life have I ever felt so unworthy. Rather than just graciously saying thanks, my words have forced this young man to reach those emotions he so often wants to avoid and explain his actions. Why did I make him feel like he had to explain anything?
The words “honored” and “thankful” came out somewhere as I stumbled for words through the tears and emotions without really feeling I had adequately expressed to him how moved I was by his actions. Did he not know it was me who forgot to order the special school bus for him when we took our last field trip? Did he not realize how upset several other teachers were with me because I always acted like I was dancing with him, as he rolled down the hallway? Would he feel different when he found out how many adults I upset when I tried to play Frisbee with him on the playground?
Most of all, had he been told how much I have been questioning whether I need to be a teacher or not? Is this really my calling or just a dream that should have never happened? Am I really cut out to deal with the stress of administration problems, unsupportive parents and students who have no desires or aspirations? Is it really my calling to show them life “outside the box”?
I put on his cross and wore it with pride for several days. It now hangs with my other jewelry. Every morning I look at it and still wonder if I am hearing the true meaning of that precious gift. Was it just a simple act of love from a student or did the message come from someone else?
Growing up, all I ever wanted to be was a mother and a teacher. Both gifts came to me much later in life. In fact I didn’t become a parent until I was 36 and didn’t start teaching until I was 46 years old. Maybe that is why each title is so precious to me. Is it my unreachable expectations that are causing myself to doubt my teaching abilities? Am I just not cut out to deal with life as a modern teacher? Not being in control of everything is so tough, especially when I think these souls deserve more than someone who thinks a 9-month obligation is all they should offer to a child. Am I trying to live up to other's expectations rather than being true to myself? Is the amount of stress just more than I am capable of physically dealing with on a daily basis? Why can’t I just leave things at school? Other teachers seem to leave at the last bell and never give school a second thought. Why can’t I do that?
Teaching science is nothing but sharing a love of life for me. I know my love of science is contagious and my kids feel that as well. My love for my kids is honest and sincere, nothing more – nothing less. They deserve the best available rather than someone who blubbers and asks “Why?” when they offer a gift of the heart. In the future, I want them to be the best they can - no matter what it is. I want to help them be the best worker; the most loving mother; the most supportive father; the most caring doctor or anything else their heart desires. With pride and confidence, I want them to know they can achieve anything their heart desires as long as they do the best they can.
Generally he doesn’t say much in class, preferring to ride under the radar and not be called on or asked to read. That is fine and I can deal with those choices. So for him to actually come to me – wasn’t his normal routine. Sad as it is, my first comment was “What is wrong?” thinking something had happened. With over 30 kids in class, to me that was an understandable expectation.
I then noticed, he was removing a rough homemade cross necklace, which had been given to him by a fellow classmate. At least my mouth stayed shut this time, thank goodness. His next comment is what completely caught me off guard.
“I want to give you my cross, Mrs. Rex.”
If there ever was a time in my life I wish I could reverse and do over, those next seconds certainly are at the top. Rather than lovingly saying “Thank you so much”, I hear coming out of my clumsy mouth – “ But why give me your cross? I know it is really important to you.”
There before me, this young soul immediately washes his face with his tears. I never knew someone so small could cry so much in such a short time. True to form, my tears were not far behind. As I fumble through the disaster of my desk looking for a tissue, of course other students began to gather around, wondering what has brought on so much emotion so fast.
While wiping his face I hear this small voice explain, “Because you are my favorite teacher I have ever had, Mrs. Rex.” Never in my life have I ever felt so unworthy. Rather than just graciously saying thanks, my words have forced this young man to reach those emotions he so often wants to avoid and explain his actions. Why did I make him feel like he had to explain anything?
The words “honored” and “thankful” came out somewhere as I stumbled for words through the tears and emotions without really feeling I had adequately expressed to him how moved I was by his actions. Did he not know it was me who forgot to order the special school bus for him when we took our last field trip? Did he not realize how upset several other teachers were with me because I always acted like I was dancing with him, as he rolled down the hallway? Would he feel different when he found out how many adults I upset when I tried to play Frisbee with him on the playground?
Most of all, had he been told how much I have been questioning whether I need to be a teacher or not? Is this really my calling or just a dream that should have never happened? Am I really cut out to deal with the stress of administration problems, unsupportive parents and students who have no desires or aspirations? Is it really my calling to show them life “outside the box”?
I put on his cross and wore it with pride for several days. It now hangs with my other jewelry. Every morning I look at it and still wonder if I am hearing the true meaning of that precious gift. Was it just a simple act of love from a student or did the message come from someone else?
Growing up, all I ever wanted to be was a mother and a teacher. Both gifts came to me much later in life. In fact I didn’t become a parent until I was 36 and didn’t start teaching until I was 46 years old. Maybe that is why each title is so precious to me. Is it my unreachable expectations that are causing myself to doubt my teaching abilities? Am I just not cut out to deal with life as a modern teacher? Not being in control of everything is so tough, especially when I think these souls deserve more than someone who thinks a 9-month obligation is all they should offer to a child. Am I trying to live up to other's expectations rather than being true to myself? Is the amount of stress just more than I am capable of physically dealing with on a daily basis? Why can’t I just leave things at school? Other teachers seem to leave at the last bell and never give school a second thought. Why can’t I do that?
Teaching science is nothing but sharing a love of life for me. I know my love of science is contagious and my kids feel that as well. My love for my kids is honest and sincere, nothing more – nothing less. They deserve the best available rather than someone who blubbers and asks “Why?” when they offer a gift of the heart. In the future, I want them to be the best they can - no matter what it is. I want to help them be the best worker; the most loving mother; the most supportive father; the most caring doctor or anything else their heart desires. With pride and confidence, I want them to know they can achieve anything their heart desires as long as they do the best they can.
Who do they really know?
Recently I have thoroughly enjoyed seeing the names of so many friends from my past on Facebook. The happy memories these names have brought to mind certainly have made the days much brighter. With those memories came certain expectations, which I have realized, are unfair expectations.
These are people who have known me for decades, some actually since first grade. Shouldn't these people know me better than anyone else? Goodness knows, they have known me "longer" than any others! Then I realized, nope not at all. With the years of separation also came years of change, personality growth and life events that have changed, developed each of us.
Unless we have shared those changes through the years, how would we actually know each other? Our point of reference actually is our childhood, teen years, times when we had little control over our lives because we were under our parent's domain. How can that show us who we actually are now? What do we believe? What do we truly feel? How will we react to comments or thoughts shared by others?
Please don't misunderstand. Some of the best memories of my life have been with the names I seek on Facebook now. They are the ones I marched in the cold with; handed cinnamon Life Savers to; ran against as Art Club President; admired from afar; traveled to Denver City for youth rallies. These names truly helped forge the foundation of who I am now. I still wonder do they truly know the person I have become? How well do I know them as an established adult? What do I know about their "day to day" life or do I know anything?
Why is it, after all these years, we are seeking each other? The memories have certainly brought a smile, a sense of comfort, the feeling of belonging to something special - we all understand - because we lived it! Are we reaching for something we almost lost while "growing up"? Are we holding on to that sense of youthfulness that comes with stories of our teenage escapades? Who else is thankful for the extra years of life, considering some of the choices we made as teenagers?
Hopefully, with current technology, we can regain some of that "day to day" contact. Friendships will be refreshed while we gain an understanding of where life has taken each of us. How fortunate we are to have this wonderful resource to help us on our journey back to those special times and past relationships!
These are people who have known me for decades, some actually since first grade. Shouldn't these people know me better than anyone else? Goodness knows, they have known me "longer" than any others! Then I realized, nope not at all. With the years of separation also came years of change, personality growth and life events that have changed, developed each of us.
Unless we have shared those changes through the years, how would we actually know each other? Our point of reference actually is our childhood, teen years, times when we had little control over our lives because we were under our parent's domain. How can that show us who we actually are now? What do we believe? What do we truly feel? How will we react to comments or thoughts shared by others?
Please don't misunderstand. Some of the best memories of my life have been with the names I seek on Facebook now. They are the ones I marched in the cold with; handed cinnamon Life Savers to; ran against as Art Club President; admired from afar; traveled to Denver City for youth rallies. These names truly helped forge the foundation of who I am now. I still wonder do they truly know the person I have become? How well do I know them as an established adult? What do I know about their "day to day" life or do I know anything?
Why is it, after all these years, we are seeking each other? The memories have certainly brought a smile, a sense of comfort, the feeling of belonging to something special - we all understand - because we lived it! Are we reaching for something we almost lost while "growing up"? Are we holding on to that sense of youthfulness that comes with stories of our teenage escapades? Who else is thankful for the extra years of life, considering some of the choices we made as teenagers?
Hopefully, with current technology, we can regain some of that "day to day" contact. Friendships will be refreshed while we gain an understanding of where life has taken each of us. How fortunate we are to have this wonderful resource to help us on our journey back to those special times and past relationships!
Saturday, July 5, 2008
Starting.. that first step
Since this is my first post, I am not sure exactly what to say. Should this be personal? Should this blog be musings on the past? Should I address the future and our hopes and dreams?
blog: an online diary; a personal chronological log of thoughts published on a Web page
I guess I should decide what to blog about before I am ready to blog. Should I comment on my depleting love for Nascar racing? Should I talk about how much I enjoy sitting at the ballpark watching my boys play baseball? What about how sad it makes me to hear students tell me how they are convinced they are stupid? What type of teacher convinced them they are stupid?
There are so many things I would love to jump on a soapbox about but not exactly sure which subject I want to address first. Obviously I should decide what to say before I decide to make a major post on my blog.
blog: an online diary; a personal chronological log of thoughts published on a Web page
I guess I should decide what to blog about before I am ready to blog. Should I comment on my depleting love for Nascar racing? Should I talk about how much I enjoy sitting at the ballpark watching my boys play baseball? What about how sad it makes me to hear students tell me how they are convinced they are stupid? What type of teacher convinced them they are stupid?
There are so many things I would love to jump on a soapbox about but not exactly sure which subject I want to address first. Obviously I should decide what to say before I decide to make a major post on my blog.
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