Teachers have been heralded in the press recently for saving the lives of their students during a fierce tornado in Oklahoma. Stories of teachers huddled over small children protecting them from debris and harm have been ubiquitous. To think that teachers have also been blamed for low student achievement and the decline in our educational system has me baffled.

Both of my children attended the Advanced Music Studies program offered at Gov. Thomas Johnson High School through Frederick County Public Schools. The music program offers intensive music theory and music performance training. There’s always been music in our house, and I was elated to have my daughter and son accepted in this very special program.

While attending the music program, both Tiffany and Timmy were fortunate enough to have Mr. Jennings Glenn as a teacher. Mr. Glenn encouraged both of my children to reach beyond what they thought they were capable of, to question the status quo, and to be creative individuals. He showed them the relevance of music to their lives and how music can inspire us to new levels of thinking outside the box.

While both of my children focused on vocal music performance, Mr. Glenn encouraged them to explore instrumental music. He encouraged Tiffany to perform on her harp and challenged her to conquer difficult musical pieces. He inspired Timmy to work in musical composition, and challenged my son’s creative abilities. As a result there's now an electric piano in our music room in addition to the old Kohler and Campbell.

Music is one of the first programs to face the chopping block when school districts look to reduce spending. Mr. Glenn encouraged my daughter and son to be creative, to look from a different perspective. He challenged them to solve problems in musical composition, to work with groups, and to believe in themselves. These are life skills that they use as adults today.

Mr. Glenn was a role model for his students. He took his music out in to the community and shared his gift with others. As Plato said, “Music is the movement of sound to reach the soul for the education of its virtue.” Mr. Glenn embodied Plato’s thought.

We’ve all had a special teacher, the one who inspired us. Many of us have been fortunate to have had many teachers like Mr. Glenn. Those who enter the teaching profession are called to do so. They love what they are doing, and they love our kids, so much so that they risk their lives for them. A society that values its children must also value its education system and its teachers.

Make some time this week to thank a teacher, and better yet, contact your legislators and let them know how much you value teachers.

Second Grade with Mrs. Vogler

Teachers have been heralded in the press recently for saving the lives of their students during a fierce tornado in Oklahoma. Stories of teachers huddled over small children protecting them from debris and harm have been ubiquitous. To think that teachers have also been blamed for low student achievement and the decline in our educational system has me baffled.

I began my involvement in education as a parent volunteer in my son’s second grade class. It was there, in the fall of 1993, that I was privileged to have made the acquaintance of Mrs. Carol Vogler. My children had attended a private school prior to that fall, so we were beginning our association with the public school system.

I volunteered one morning each week in Mrs. Vogler’s class that year. She would challenge me with the creation of bulletin boards, something that I have yet to master. I would grade papers, and sometimes if I was really lucky, I would tutor struggling young students with math and reading. Mrs. Vogler was always coming up with new strategies for me to use when I worked with these students. She was most concerned that all of her students were successful. I was impressed with her dedication to teaching.

But what most impressed me was my son’s reaction to this new teacher. She made him laugh, and she met him each day with new challenges. For instruction in fractions, the students prepared a recipe in class. Timmy was so proud to help measure the ingredients. Of course, we had to recreate the dish at home so that the entire family could sample what the second grade had made.

Timmy wanted to go to school. He wanted to share with Mrs. Vogler what we had done over the weekend. She inspired him to read and to do his best. Timmy even agreed to play the role of Abraham Lincoln in a class skit. We were challenged to create his costume and were thrilled with the class performance.

Mrs. Vogler made holidays special, hugged when there were boo-boos on the playground, and was always encouraging the second graders to do their very best. She embodied the qualities of a true professional and a dedicated teacher. It was evident that she loved her job and that her students loved her.

We’ve all had a special teacher, the one who inspired us. Many of us have been fortunate to have had many teachers like Mrs. Vogler. Those who enter the teaching profession are called to do so. They love what they are doing, and they love our kids, so much so that they risk their lives for them. A society that values its children must also value its education system and its teachers.

Make some time this week to thank a teacher, and better yet, contact your legislators and let them know how much you value teachers.

Lois Jarman writes from Knoxville. She teaches in the Frederick County Public Schools and at Shepherd University, and has a blog, Mom’s Ponderings, at http://momsponderings.blogspot.com.

Grandma Clara

As a grandmother, Mother's Day has taken on new meaning for me. This year, in particular, I have been thinking a lot about my grandmother, or my step-grandmother to be more precise. I never met my father’s mother. She died many years before my parents even met. I only ever knew my grandfather’s wife, Grandma Clara, as my paternal grandmother.

My grandmother Clara never had children of her own, so she never really quite understood how to handle my siblings and me. Quiet times of chatting and reading were her style, not the jumping and shouting that we were more prone to do. We always knew that there was a certain standard for behavior when we went to Grandma’s.

Her furniture was all plastic covered, and there were definitely no feet on the sofa! Every knick-knack and doily was meticulously placed in each room of her house. Many times visits were held outside on her front porch. She didn’t trust three wild little ones very much!

But as I grew older, I learned to appreciate my grandmother. She shared her stories of being a working woman in the 1950s, something that my mother and maternal grandmother knew nothing of. Grandma had been completely independent her entire life and she was immensely proud of that. She loved my grandfather dearly, but she was also confident that she could manage on her own if needed.

When I was pregnant with Tiffany, my grandmother and I shared another bond. She lived the pregnancy that she never had with me. When Tiffany was born, she presented me with some beautiful silk that she had purchased in Asia many years before. She had bought it to make a christening gown for the child she hoped to have someday. Together we planned the dress that would be made for my daughter, her great-granddaughter.

My grandmother loved watching Tiffany grow up. I would frequently send pictures and we would talk on the phone. We would have luncheon outings, and she would share with me her regrets about not being able to have children. I would share my concerns about how to raise Tiffany, and she would give me her advice, what she would have done.

Grandma Clara passed away a few years ago. She was ninety-two when she died. Although she never truly experienced motherhood, she helped me to appreciate it. I will forever be grateful for her support and her confidence in me. She was a grandmother in every sense of the word to me. I just wish that she could have met my granddaughter, Chloe. I’d love to share with her how I hope to be like her in many ways.

My "Mare"

As a grandmother, Mother's Day has taken on new meaning for me. This year, in particular, I have been thinking a lot about my grandmother, my “Mare.” I don’t know why but for some reason, as I young child, I began referring to her as Mare, and her name was Leona! Not even close to Mary or even Marian. My grandfather used to sing that she was the old gray mare!

Growing up I spent a great deal of time at Mare’s house. During the summer, I would sleepover frequently after having spent the day playing with my aunts. My two aunts were more like older sisters. Fran was five years older, and Donna, two. They had their own bedroom, but at night, I would snuggle in the cot that was set up next to my grandparents’ bed in their room. There was a loud ticking clock in their bedroom, and I remember falling asleep to the tick-tock of that clock. It was soothing, and I always felt safe.

There was also a bookshelf in Mare and Pop’s room. A shelf full of books-we didn’t have such a thing at our house. I remember sitting in her room and pulling books from the shelf, turning the pages slowly and carefully to look at the words and the pictures that appeared on each page. I remember thumbing through those books long before I was ever able to read them. The pages and the stories they told were the source of many daydreams for me. I would travel to far off places in my imagination. I felt empowered sitting near her bookshelf.

My grandmother’s house was always filled with wonderful smells. She was a great cook. I remember sitting at the kitchen table watching her prepare my favorite foods for me. I felt like a princess having someone take such good care of me. Breakfast was particularly nice because I could watch her while everyone else was still asleep. My grandfather would sit on the rocking chair in the corner reading his newspaper, and I would watch my grandmother carefully fix the morning meal for her beloved family. I always felt loved with her.

My grandmother’s house was one of my favorite places on earth. It was a good place to be. As I make preparations for visits from my own granddaughter, I want my home to be that special place for her. I want her to feel safe, empowered, and loved. Grandmothers touch our lives in so many very special ways. I’m so excited to be in this place in life, loving my granddaughter and feeling the love of my grandmother forever in my life.

My Baseball Son

As I sit here in sunny Arizona watching the Dodgers at their morning practice and receive text messages about the predicted snow back home, I am reminded that spring is here! Baseball has begun and Maryland weather is whacky! Welcome to spring.

Baseball has been a part of our lives for as long as I can remember. When we moved to Frederick years ago, we got caught up in the idea of a minor league team coming to play in our new “hometown.”

One chilly spring evening, we packed up the kids and headed to McCurdy field to watch the Frederick Keys play ball. My son, Timmy, was more interested in playing in the dirt underneath the bleachers than he was in the sport. It was after all his first game, he would prove to be a much better fan of the sport as he grew up.

Once the Frederick Keys moved to their new home at Harry Grove stadium, Timmy was almost five. By the time he reached the age of seven, he had developed into a real baseball fan. We became regulars at the stadium, joined the Keys fan club, and began housing players. Each spring Timmy anxiously awaited the arrival of his “summer brother.” We housed players for ten years, and one, Darnell McDonald, has remained a life-long brother to my son. In fact, Darnell is with the Cubs this season and that’s why this year our spring training trip brought us to Arizona and not Florida. The Cubs hold camp in the Phoenix area.

My son spent three seasons as a bat boy for the Keys, working each summer under the guidance of clubhouse manager George Bell. He learned a lot about baseball, but the lessons on character were what I believe have stuck with him the most.

Timmy knows every statistic about ball players and the sport. He’s always ready for a discussion about a particular World Series or a record-breaking game. But his heart has been and always will be with the minor leagues.

When we go to training camps, he heads directly for the minor league fields. It’s there that he chats with developing players and coaches. He talks to young men who are struggling or some who are playing on a high. They toss comments back and forth about pitching and hitting, about batting stance and curve balls.

My son has such deep respect for many of these young men who will never make it to the major leagues but who give their hearts day in and day out for a game they love. We’ll be at a lot of minor league games this season, cheering these players on. This is the baseball my son loves. Head to a minor league game this season and see the game played with real heart!

This blogpost appeared as my April 2013 monthly column in the Frederick News Post.

Community Sport

As I sit here in sunny Arizona watching the Dodgers at their morning practice and receive text messages about the predicted snow back home, I am reminded that spring is here! Baseball has begun and Maryland weather is whacky! Welcome to spring.

Baseball has been a part of our lives for as long as I can remember. When we moved to Frederick years ago, we got caught up in the idea of a minor league team coming to play in our new “hometown.” Baseball has, over the years, become a community sport for us.

I was a Girl Scout leader while Tiffany was growing up and my Cadette troop decided that they wanted to travel. We picked an itinerary for a trip to Mexico and began the arduous task of raising money. Each girl in the troop raised her own funds for the trip. Now you might not think that baseball and scouting would go hand in hand, but they do.

Not only did our home team, the Frederick Keys, offer special Scout nights where my girls got in free or at a reduced rate, but they also offered the opportunity for non-profit organizations to fundraise in the concession stands. And that is precisely what my girls did one summer. They spent evenings and afternoons dishing out hot dogs and soft pretzels. They learned about patience and customer service and how to handle a crowd. The Girl Scouts, and there were many, who were involved in fundraising at Harry Grove stadium benefited in a variety of ways from our community team. Many continue to be baseball fans today.

I was also very active with the Fredericktowne Players for many years. Putting on a show is an expensive endeavor and so we were always looking for new and creative ways to earn money. We were looking for something “fun.”

Our community team suggested that the Players coordinate The Fun Patrol at the stadium. So for two baseball seasons, volunteer performers, set constructors, make up artists and others joined the ranks of the Patrol. We were responsible for on-field antics, games, and just generally getting the crowd rowdy. For some older members, this meant crawling on to the top of the dug-out, limping up and down the stadium stairs, and rushing back to an air conditioned press box to cool down in the summer months. The relationship between the arts community and the baseball community continues.

The Keys have reached out to help the Scouts, the Players, local marching bands and cheerleading organizations, and the people of Frederick County have been there to support the community’s team.

Baseball full circle

As I sit here in sunny Arizona watching the Dodgers at their morning practice and receive text messages about the predicted snow back home, I am reminded that spring is here! Baseball has begun and Maryland weather is whacky! Welcome to spring.

Baseball has been a part of our lives for as long as I can remember. When we moved to Frederick years ago, we got caught up in the idea of a minor league team coming to play in our new “hometown.” An outing to a ball game would be fun for our two small children, Tiffany was five and Timmy was two.

On a chilly spring evening, we packed up the kids and headed to McCurdy field to watch the game. Timmy was more interested in the dirt underneath the bleachers and Tiffany was very interested in the cotton candy. But my husband and I enjoyed the peacefulness of a good ball game played in a more intimate setting.

Today our home team plays at Harry Grove stadium which is much bigger than McCurdy field. We still venture to our local ball park for a good ol’ all-American evening in the spring and summer. We cheer for our home team, sip on the locally brewed beer, and chow down on food that is probably not so good for the health, but it’s good for the soul. My trips to the stadium back fond memories of heading to Memorial Stadium with my grandparents to watch the Orioles play, to cheer along with Wild Bill, and to munch on that same ballpark fare.

Baseball for me has come full circle. Last year, I was able to take my granddaughter to some games. She was thrilled when she got to meet Keyote at Harry Grove! We played in the children’s area of the ballpark. At Harry Grove, kids don’t have to play in the dirt like my son did many years ago! There are many more exciting things to do!

We even headed to Oriole Park with Chloe. She was amazed by all of the sites and sounds. We laughed at the Oriole Bird, cheered on the team, and played in the kid-friendly section of the stadium. At the Fan Services desk, she even received an official fan certificate!

Being at the stadium last summer with my grandchild helped me to understand how my grandparents must have felt during our outings to the stadium. It’s all-American. It’s about families, kids, and having fun. Spring is here! Are you ready for some baseball?