A letter to the sons of my great-aunt Auntie
My great-aunt Auntie (real name Viola) died this week. She was a teacher in a one room schoolhouse. She was 99.5 years old. As you can tell, she gave me a very important gift--she taught me how to learn. Below are portions of the letter I sent to her sons.----
When in elementary, school was very hard for me. Even after much reflecting, I have never really been able to pinpoint what my issues were. I was slow to read and slow to learn math. I did get some services in school, but additionally my parents had me see Auntie every Saturday morning for personal tutoring. I remember her house and my time there well—the cookies, the kitchen table covered in “learning materials,” the handkerchiefs, the math grids, and decodable books. I remember her patience when I became frustrated with reading hard words. I remember her catching me when I tried to add or subtract using my fingers under the table.
Auntie had a role to play in my life, and I benefitted from her guidance. I currently work as a school psychologist for a local district. A large part of my position is identifying kids with learning needs and creating plans for them. I also teach in the School of Education at UW-Stout training future educators.
I would like to attend the funeral. However, my last teaching day of the semester is Friday, and I have a commitment to my students. I find it a bit ironic and musing though… that Auntie taught me how to learn, because I didn't know how. But now I can’t attend her funeral because I have a college class to teach. I suspect she’d rather see me in the classroom.
I will always be grateful for Auntie’s support. She made a huge difference in my life, and I am sure in the lives of many others.
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