Keeping the stories going, remembering a dear friend

Bird Droppings October 4, 2026
Keeping the stories going, remembering a dear friend

Over the past few days, I have been reconnecting with my memories and putting together interconnected, intertwined pieces. I use the web quite often as my connecting device. A spider feels every nuance in her web. When a thread is touched, even on the edges, she knows. This has been my week, as pieces have been spilling out literally as I drive around recording memories as they pop up. Rabun County comes to mind often as I ponder education and life in general. 

For years, I drove up to Rabun County to visit, take photos, and offer my two cents at the Foxfire Approach to Teaching Course, hosted by Piedmont College for graduate students and teachers already in the classroom in Mountain City, Georgia. This course was an elective graduate class in Piedmont College’s Education Department. The Foxfire experience is almost addictive for me. A few years back, on a Monday afternoon, as I made my way home from Black Rock Mountain in the pouring rain, I was invigorated by the discussions and interactions among teachers and students. Within the course, we discussed the positive and negative aspects of the Foxfire Core Practices. As always, I would come away excited about teaching and education. About ten years ago, as the students finished their final assessment of the program and turned it in, the late Dr. Hilton Smith handed each a piece of paper. My first thought was that they were getting a Foxfire course completion certificate. Later, as we were leaving, Sara, Hilton’s wife and often co-teacher, handed me the sheet and said I might enjoy the thought. Today, as I remember, a dear friend, it is so poignant.

Musings from the Mountain by Kaoru Yamamoto,
The Educational Forum, Vol. 53, No. 3, 1989
“I am told that everyone needs to feel the exhilaration of being the cause of things, of making a difference. No doubt, such an experience boosts one’s self-esteem and confirms personal significance. To grow up healthy, children should certainly taste the nectar of the sense of control, power, and accomplishment. However, among most grown-ups engaged in ministering or teaching activities, the caring and guiding take on a far less direct form, given that they interact with other human beings who have their minds and live in their respective intimate contexts. Teachers’ function is often likened to that of a catalyst, and for many purposes, the metaphor seems apt. Nevertheless, certain aspects of the analogy need to be kept in mind lest these helpers should become much too self-important or frustrated. Good catalysts are seldom precious metals or stones that call attention to themselves. There is no life of acclaim, even as their presence at the critical time and place is making a difference. They will not be a visible part of the resultant changes; they are left behind, unaltered, and typically forgotten. It takes a person who is secure in themselves to continue serving in such an unsung capacity. The late Chief Dan George captured the essence of this unique contribution in yet another analogy. ‘The sunlight dies, not leaving its marks on the grass. So we too should pass silently.”

I have read this paragraph many times and found a bit more each time. Today, I am pondering nearly 45 years of knowing a person. We never truly know each other as we tend to withhold pieces of our puzzle, even from friends.  Sometimes I wonder whether we ever really pass silently. Chief Dan George wrote, “The sunlight dies, not leaving its marks on the grass. So we too should pass silently.” Yet this morning I found myself thinking about a spider’s web. Every thread touches another thread. Move one, and somewhere else on the web something moves.

“It takes a person secure in oneself to continue to serve in such an unsung capacity.” Kaoru Yamamoto

While we often disagreed on some topics, we agreed on many more. As I think about my friend and how many times we’ve shared stories about family, current and past students, politics, religion, art, and, of course, sheep shows, a tear comes to my eye. So many times, she would stop by my room and “borrow” stuff: an ugly face jug, an animal skull, my huge eland mount, sometimes a live animal, and occasionally ask if I could print this seemingly impossible JPEG out for her. I read her note from my retirement several times yesterday as I thought about what to say or think.

I was glancing through several books this morning, including an autobiography of the founder of the Foxfire program, who came up with this idea purely by chance. Over the past several years, I have spoken with many of his former students, who consider him one of the best teachers they have ever had. For nearly forty years, I have watched enthusiastic young teachers start and, within six months, do as so many others do: print worksheets and go page by page through the textbook. Looking at these words, I thought of my friend.

“As always, there is a high ground in the middle. On this knoll, gather those teachers who are determined to preserve their spirit and their love for the field. Most of these individuals, like myself, have a credo that goes something like this: The profession of teaching is exactly that – a profession, not an avocation, a hobby, or a marriage of convenience. Because of its goals and potential, I selected it to achieve those goals. It did not come knocking on my door. I was searching for a way to be of real service, and I found and chose this field; I believed then, as I do now, that this is a profession of honor and true merit, and though I may not remain in it for all of my working days, it will continue to deserve and receive my best.” Elliot Wigginton, Sometimes a shining moment, 1986

I could see my friend saying something very similar. She loved teaching and loved her students. Some might have argued that she was in no way concerned about them, but I always knew better, and as an advisor, I sent her some winners for art class. As I thought about my research and readings, and about the many years ago when this teacher worked for me outside the teaching profession in graphic arts for a year or two, I could see her repeating Elliot Wigginton’s words as her mantra.

“I was searching for a way to be of real service, and I found and chose this field.”

I have shared with her that you can pick the teachers who are along for the ride almost immediately. They do what is necessary because they feel this will never impact their teaching. Then, a few see beyond the forced mandates of county, state, and federal standards, regulations, and testing parameters, and can see a “fire in the bathroom,” borrowing from Kathleen Cushman’s book. That described my friend.

“Wanted: One teacher. Must be able to listen even when mad; Must have a sense of humor; must not make students feel bad about themselves; must be fair and not treat some students better than others; must know how to make schoolwork interesting; must keep some students from picking on others; must take a break sometimes; must not jump to conclusions; must let students know them; must get to know students; must encourage students when they have a hard time; must tell students if they do a good job or try real hard; must not scream; must not call home unless it is real important; must smile; must help students with their problems if they ask; must not talk about students to other people; if it’s a lady must be good looking.” Eighth and ninth-grade students, from the introduction to Kathleen Cushman’s Fire in the Bathroom, by Lisa Delpit

As I read the paragraph above, it hit me that we seldom ask students what they think. Usually, only one administrator sees a teacher in the classroom for 20 minutes and then leaves, checking off the required boxes on the state-mandated checklist. I have been following posts from students who shared my friend’s obituary, and after reading them, I can see how they would have graded her. We teachers seldom hear from former students about how we influenced their lives, and sometimes it takes finality to make us voice our thoughts. My friend and I often shared that we both enjoyed what we were doing, even though we came to teaching from differing philosophies. It has been years since my oldest son left me a quote on my computer line from an Aerosmith song.

“Life is about the journey, not the destination.” Steven Tyler

More than once, my friend and I discussed this idea. We both struggled with how to engage and inspire students to choose to learn and achieve. Each day as my life progresses, I ask how we can engage and inspire students to desire to learn. As would happen, I have been thinking a lot lately about storytelling, and my friend was an avid storyteller, sharing pieces of her own life and making a point in her classes. Stories are what students remember and hold on to, and those are the pieces I will carry forward today. Forty-five years of stories I cherish and hold in my heart. So, we officially remember my dear friend. For today, Helen, I miss you dearly. I have wandered around today, as I do each day. Please keep all in harm’s way on your mind and hearts and always give thanks. Namaste.

My family and friends, I do not say this lightly,

Mitakuye Oyasin

(We are all related)

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