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Life skills or the ability to cope with reality are the tough ones to acquire. Of all the so-called teachers one has during our formative years only the teachers we have in school are thought of as teachers. I can only speak from my experiences and my observations of others. Our mothers and our fathers are our first teachers almost everything that follows is only a poor attempt at filling minds full of worthless wrote and statistics. The Real Teachers are the ones who give us real tools, the tools of thinking, reason and understanding. Growing up as a child in the 40s was a much simpler time than our world today. The magic box called a radio could fill our ears with sounds and our minds with pictures. The toys for small children were rarely more complicated than an old apple crate. Toys for bigger kids consisted of tricycles, scooters and bicycles. The first time I saw an airplane I fell in Love, a machine that could fly through the skies like a bird, what could be more magical. Knowing you have to be a grownup to ever fly an airplane that was out of the question, but they had little airplanes in a box for the price of a candy bar and a soda pop. I had seen some of the older kids who had also discovered these little magical birds in a box giving them life and flight. At six years old after much persuasion I acquired one of these great prizes. "You stupid kid, you spent your hard earned money for a little box of junk." After a long look at this pitiful little pile of tiny sticks of balsa wood, tissue paper and a page of drawings I tended to agree with them. How could anyone transform this mess into what appeared to be a work of art. After a lot of contemplation and trepidation I had to fight another battle. "What ? You want a razor blade, for what ? You'll cut yourself and bleed to death !". Mom helped too,"You want some of my waxed paper and my pins, do you know how much that stuff costs?". I won't attempt to detail all that followed but my hobby went very well until the next obstacle. Within a year my dad determined to put an end to his foolish sons obsession followed me into the little bicycle shop who happened to sell some model kits as a sideline. If embarrassment could kill I would have died on the spot. The old man who owned the shop would have probably rather faced a gun in a robbers hand as to have been attacked by my dad. "I want you to quit taking my kids money for your junk and encouraging this foolishness!!!!!! xxxxxxx!!!!!!". I guess the old man had heard this before, in a quiet voice this gentleman became one of my greatest mentors, advocates and teachers. All of a sudden this "stranger" helped lay the groundwork for every skill and vocation for the rest of my life. "This boy is learning more from what he is doing than anything he will ever do, he's getting more from this than he will ever get in any school". In all the paths you cross if you can evoke the ability in another to think, dream and believe in themselves you are truly a teacher. |
