Power School Wisdom

 

During last week’s ice storm misery, I thought a lot about my southern upbringing and the good things I’ve received from my small, poor state with a jagged past and uncertain future. I received many of these gifts from loving parents, my scamp of a grandfather, and friends, but also from enthusiastic Sunday School folks, teachers, and pearls of Power School wisdom.

The true measure of wealth is not money; so, what have I received? Simple childhood lessons that can’t be duplicated or replaced, of courtesy and caring, of giving, and helping a neighbor in need, of one on one friendships with mismatched people, even if it’s just sharing a joke with a stranger. I learned these lessons sitting in a wobbly desk on the back row of  Mrs. Whoever’s classroom. The same people who taught me to read and write also taught me to be kind, honest, and not to give up because “practice makes perfect.” They explained the golden rule, common sense, the tradition of fair play, and quoted George Washington’s cherry tree remark.  Some say “I cannot tell a lie” is a myth, but the underlying importance of telling the truth still holds. They also told the story of Honest Abe Lincoln, even though I’d seen his childhood cabin in two difference locations. There was also the terror of “it rains on the just and the unjust” a mantra repeated by one of my teachers when a single student coughed out a wad of bubble gum and we all suffered. Not quite sure what she accomplished, but I’ve never forgotten the inequity.'

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