Student made a Difference in Life of a Teacher

Every student needs an advocate. Even the ones who get a bit mouthy, challenge you, and bounce all over the room with ideas. When I student taught in the fall of 1988 in a small rural town outside of Newton, Kansas, I encountered such a kid. 

He’d gotten into some trouble in his hometown school so he attended nearby Halstead. He was personable, witty, and smart. His name was Steve Elliott. 

Steve was a part of a small group of freshman I taught from the Class of 1992. 

They were a rowdy bunch, unlike the sophomores and juniors that I taught under my main cooperating teacher, Lois Loflin. 

She's the one who suggested that I also teach freshman—that way my certification would be valid for upper elementary.

I am certified 5-12 English, rarely seen now days. It means I don’t do cutesy bulletin boards, but I know grammar and a bit about Shakespeare and poetry to the point where I might be able to get a 10-year-old, as well as a 10th grader, interested in it. And since I’m a secondary English major, I am a comma fiend. 

So in addition to Loflin, I had a freshman class under a different teacher. They talked while the teacher was talking, bickered with each other, and seemed uninterested in learning. It was a rowdy bunch.

Maybe all freshmen are like this, but I don't know because I have not taught the age group since.

One can about imagine what happened when it came time for me to take over the teaching duties with the freshmen. I was the young thing, not even taller than most of them, and what did I know about teaching English. I also knew my supervising teacher from my college would be judging me on classroom management. So when I tried to break their chatty habits, I was met with resistance. Eventually, things got better, and I'm sure glad this cooperating teacher supported me.

Until.

One day.

There was a sub. A sub that thought she was in charge.

I was doing a punctuation review game, but this sub went into armed-guard mode. Her helicopter monitoring of the students turned them inside out. The kids rebelled, talked back to her, and bucked me. They'd never quite acted that way before--even with their regular teacher, so this shocked me.

I went home that Friday never wanting to return even though my classes under Loflin were going fine. The progress I'd made with the freshmen, thanks to the help of this cooperating teacher, was all undone that day by a sub that didn't know how far they'd come, and they felt like she nitpicked their behavior.

I wasn't sure how I was going to get through another couple months with those freshmen. Come Monday, I made a gutsy move. I told my cooperating teacher what happened with the sub and suggested that we split the class. I'd teach half and he'd teach the other half. He'd use my lesson plans, so that way he'd still know if I was on track with the content.

I made a list of the challenging students and split them up. We did a lottery system for the rest. And since I took what I thought he would see as some of the biggest stinkers, he agreed. We found an available room for me to teach them in, and he stayed in his classroom to teach the other half.

the freshmen ~ Steve is third from the right

It was with this small group of freshmen that I really connected with Steve. He made me feel like I was okay. That I could make it as a teacher. That my expectations of their behavior weren't out of line. That I could show a little bit of my sense of humor and maintain management of the classroom.

I would survive. And they would learn.

My student teaching days were coming to an end, but I didn't know if I still wanted to teach.

Until one day shortly before Christmas at the end of the term, I received a note from Vickie, Steve's mom.

It was written on a piece of blue scratch paper.

the note

Vickie's words helped shape my future.

I did get to meet Vickie when I attended Steve's wrestling meet. In fact, I got to spend an early Thanksgiving with them one year at their home. I made a trip to see Steve perform in the school play too.

And one school year, he made the journey to Cheney for me to help him with his research paper. It was during that visit he suggested we take a break and run to Wichita, so we went to Towne West Mall.

He wore his Bart Simpson shirt with the character giving the bird. I told him to close his jacket and he refused, so I walked on the other side of the mall from him in fear that a Cheney board member would see me walking with him. I never really ever went out of teacher mode with him.

Throughout the years, we've managed to stay in touch. He wrote me letters about his high school crushes, commented on the news of the day, and when he got engaged to his first wife, my sister Brenda went to Tulsa with me so I could meet her.

Years passed. Sometimes I'd get a phone call or a letter. Then a couple years ago we reconnected on Facebook. In 2013, when we were in Omaha for my niece Suzanne's wedding, we met up for lunch. I met his wife Barbie and two children.

And this summer, we had an impromptu get-together at his mom's in Burrton one afternoon—one in which he corrected my grammar.

Whenever I get to be around him, it's like time hasn't passed. He’s the same Steve. What you see is what you get. What he's up to will always matter to me.

Steve with me, summer 2015

We hear stories all the time about a teacher who helped turn a kid around.

With me, it was the other way around.

My heart knows that I would not be a teacher today had it not been for Steve Elliott and his mom.

The year after I taught Steve, I encountered a few more like him. Students in a classroom of my own. Kids who made me feel like I could do the job.

And do it for a long time.

Web's Lifesaving Personality Touches Many

The landscape of my work place, our school, has changed in more ways than one. Besides a big renovation, a beloved coach and teacher and an uncle-type figure of mine has retired. I won't hear "Mornin' Sunshine," his nickname for me, the gal who coached middle school girls' basketball with him for eight terrific years. I won't see his arms swaying as he walks to the gym with his jingling set of keys. I won't see him patting a kid on the back or putting his arm around someone for comfort. We will see him around town though, as the newest addition to the City of Cheney work crew.

Welcome again, Circle of Life guest blogger, Amy Wallace, as she shares what made her connection to Randy Weber extra special.

Web's Lifesaving Personality Touches Many

Guest Post by Amy Wallace

In the Circle of Life, many things are inevitable. Change is one of those things. You know it is a part of life, but it’s hard.

This is a tribute to my friend Randy, who is retiring after 41 years of teaching. 

Randy began his career in 1977 in Zenda, Kansas. There, he taught alongside another recent college graduate by the name of Casey Jones. Casey grew up in Kingman and is my uncle. Once Randy stayed at my grandparent's house in Kingman when stranded in a snowstorm.

Randy Weber (photo courtesy of USD 268)

In 1979 Randy moved to the job in Cheney. I first worked with him when I was the curriculum director at Cheney in 2001.

We quickly made the association to my uncle, and it was fun to have someone in Cheney with an instant connection to my family.

I didn’t see Randy every day back then, but when I did, he always greeted me with “What’s in your Wallace!” It was a twist off the Capital One commercial that was popular then, and it always ended with “what’s in your wallet.” (Click here for an ad with the phrase).

That was Randy’s specialty—nicknames for everyone. When I became principal at Cheney Middle School three years later, he told he needed a more professional nickname for me. From then on I was "Miss Aim."

As a teacher, Randy has all those skills that can’t be taught to teachers in training. First, he loves kids. He loves middle school kids. You simply can’t teach a person how to do that.

Weber & basketball player Reanna Woodard in 2003

He worked hard to connect with kids and get to know them. By doing this, he motivated them in ways we would never think possible.

As a colleague, Randy was the best kind. I counted on him to do anything that was needed. If I needed a class covered, he was there. Needed someone to take an extra duty? Work an event? No problem. Come early, stay late, clean a toilet. Absolutely anything.

And he never expected anything in return.

To a principal, this kind of person on your staff is a lifesaver. We can’t survive without people like Randy around because something always needs to be done. 

As a friend, Randy always had time. When something was wrong, he could tell, and he would never hesitate to check in on you.

Several years ago I was struggling with a difficult pregnancy and missing a lot of work. I walked into the school after being gone several days. There was Randy ready with a big hug.

Over the years we shared many stories about family. Cars that didn’t run, boats that didn’t work, and everything in between. Even though I didn’t spend much time with his family, I felt like I knew them from all the stories he shared.

I’m thankful he taught my two oldest children. Even though he never taught my youngest, he's always had a special connection with Lizzy. When she was born, he and his wife Christine gave her a ladybug blanket that she still uses daily—and she is seven. Lizzy remembers very well that it was from Mr. Weber. He also always had a treat in his pocket for her whenever he saw her—a fruit snack or a mint.

Several years ago Randy came across some old, grubby life jackets. Randy doesn’t like to throw things away, so he brought them to me and threw them in the back of my truck. They were junk. And for several days, as a little game, we took turns throwing them back and forth into each others' vehicles.

Being the pitcher that I am, I eventually headed straight to the dumpster with them but gave it some thought, and I kept one. As I stared at that life preserver, I realized it symbolized everything Randy was to me as a friend and a colleague.

I decided to save one for Randy’s retirement. I'd planned to talk about him in front of the staff and present Randy with that life jacket as a token of everything he had meant to Cheney, to Cheney Middle School, and to me.

But Randy didn't want a big celebration where he'd listen to people pay tribute to him and then have to give a speech himself.

In his words he wanted to “sneak out the back door.”

And we will honor that, but I will find a way sometime soon to get that life jacket to him. His friendship, his service—a lifesaver to me and many others.


Did Coach Randy Weber give you a nickname? How did he serve as your life preserver? Or, for those who read the blog and don't know Randy, do you have a person that embodies the lifesaver concept like Randy did?

One Teacher Who Changed Many Lives

Our little orange-stained fingers dropped loose change into the little white piggy bank church that served as the offering plate. Us preschoolers had munched on Cheese Puffs or puffy popcorn around the U-shaped table listening to the Bible lesson. We prayed, sang, and learned about Jesus in the Sunday School classroom of Mary G. Wipf. 

Aunt Bina (standing), Mom, Grandma Katie, Aunt Grace, and Mary G.

Mary G. was my mom’s cousin and like an aunt to me. The G stood for Gladys, her middle name, and she answered to Mary G. so as not to be confused with the other cousin, Mary J. Dammier. In May, Mary G. passed away. She was 90. Here is her obituary. Her birthday of December 8 was also her wedding anniversary and the birthday of my niece, Colleen, who ironically now shares a birthday with her husband, Jason.

 

Colleen & Mary G. share a birthday cake one year.

Mary G. and husband Warren were frequent guests in our home and travel companions to Kansas where one of their sons and his family lived. My dad often received good-natured teasing from them on his lengthy bathroom stops at courthouses during such trips. They teased me about some make-believe people we concocted to pass the time—I think their names were KillRoy and Virginia.

Mary & Warren in 1982, 40th Wedding Anniversary

Mary and Warren lived in Doland, and were the first town friends that I remember. Warren ran his own mechanics shop while Mary G. worked at the post office. They lived a modest life, but because they were not stuck out on the gravel roads in a farm house, this little girl considered them rich. They had a TV in living room, cable TV mind you, a garage for their car, a sidewalk to a front and a back door, and a cement driveway. To top if off, they had a basketball hoop with cement under it. They were rich.

Dad, Warren, Mom, Mary G., Mary J, unknown man (to me), Wayne, and Marcella

Their kitchen also fascinated me. The frig set on a slant so one could get to the basement—that wasn't creepy like our cellar—where the laundry room existed. The kitchen had no cabinets on the wall. Instead, Mary's dishes were in the pantry. It was fun helping her set the table or put stuff away because my little hands could see and reach it all. It baffled me how Warren would help her dry the dishes sometimes. I never saw my dad or my brother ever do that. Was this how town people lived? 

The Wipfs attended the major events in my life: piano recitals, school plays, birthday parties, and graduations. Many Sunday nights after church, we'd get together to play the domino game, Shoot the Moon, or Aggravation. At their house, our snack might be the colorful popcorn balls that I referred to in the post entitled, Treating with Tricks.

Mary G.: times with my sisters & me

Her 21 years as widow involved many changes: selling items from Warren's business, selling her Doland home, moving to Huron into assisted living, and then living her remaining years in the nursing home.

This year, on her birthday tomorrow, Mary G. resides in her heavenly home that she taught so many Ebenezer Church children about. The song "Thank You" by Ray Boltz is no doubt the theme song of her life.

I am happy-sad as I listen to it, for as the lyrics say, because of you, I am a life that was changed.

Do you have a close family friend or relative whose birthday or death was near the holiday season? What advice do you have for those who are coping with this type of loss for the first time?

Writer’s Note: I will write more about Mary G. in an upcoming Christmas post. To read more about Ebenezer Church's influence on my life, read the post, Skinned Knee with a Slice of White Bread in which I reminisce about daily vacation Bible school.

Seven Kids & Me

As a youngster with a married sister living out of state, late summer trips to Kansas were an annual affair. The 500 or so mile trip was tedious for me, but my Barbie dolls entertained me in the back seat of our Oldsmobile.

Don’t know how a kid stands a trip today with seat belt requirements, for I sat on the floor with Ken, Barbie, Tuesday Taylor (the doll whose hair could change color), and their entourage spread out on the back seat. I guess that’s why 21st century children get a personal DVD player.

I doubt Dad would ever purchased that for me though because I had to beg him when I was in high school to buy a VCR from the Sears catalog (back when those things cost over $500) so I could tape the NBA finals during the Lakers’ domination of league. But when it was all over, he returned it. I was so mad, but not too mad because I think he did that for me more than once. 

Anyway, for one Kansas trip, Mom and Dad decided to go see my cousin Wilmer and his wife Elaine and family who had moved to Meade, Kansas, where they lived in the country with all kinds of farm animals.

I remember it well because the next morning after I’d eaten some cereal, Cousin Jetta said, “You just drank goat’s milk.” I couldn’t believe it—don’t remember if I finished it, but Mom probably made me.

When we had arrived the night before, we learned that Elaine's sister, Georgiane's family, was also visiting.

Mom asked Elaine why she did not tell us they already had company. Elaine’s response was, “But then you wouldn’t have come!”

So there we all stayed. Six adults, my four Kleinsasser cousins and their three cousins, and me. Yes, technically, second cousins, but to me, cousins just the same.

I loved visiting my sister Brenda and then husband John in Kansas, but this was the best Kansas trip ever for a little girl who soaked up the chance at being around people her own age.

See, I lived in the country far from my school or church friends, so it seemed, but it was really back in the day when parents didn’t drop everything to go drive their kids around so they could have a social life.

Elaine cooked up a storm, no doubt, for a crew that size, and where I slept was probably a floor—I don’t remember.

Wilmer chauffeured us around on a buggy pulled by an old Shetland pony or some other beasts they called Thunder and Lightning—donkeys or something or other.

I just remember it was fun and I needed a bath.

I hope every child grows up to have a vacation memory like this—one in which love of family and hospitality abound.

What are some vacation memories of your younger days?

Seven Kids & Me. I am in back, second from left.             

Author's Note: This was part two of a tribute to my cousin Wilmer and his wife Elaine who will be married for 50 years this November. Part one was last week in the post entitled, Procrastination Pile Removed.