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Tribute to Mrs. W
Her classes were not to be taught by one with a Ph.D. or even a Master’s degree in education. Instead, they were to be taught from experience, by a woman who learned from experience. This teacher dedicated her time to not only ensuring that I passed all required tests, but also to equipping me with the necessary qualities and skills to pass the tests of life. She taught me to see beyond the red ink and instilled in me a genuine love for learning. William Buttler Yeats said, “Education is not the filling of a bucket, but the lighting of a fire.” Mrs. W lit a spark in my life, and the flame continues to burn. The memories hold my hand as I walk through the passages of my life. I can recall abandoning our classroom and relocating to a wooden bench under an old oak tree while reading “The Scarlet Letter.” Squirrels scurried around us like children in a game of tag as we struggled to unravel the complexities of a timeless classic. In this environment, we were not simply reading a book; but rather, we were experiencing a story. In each class Mrs. W taught, we learned to think, to analyze, to question, and then to write. Sometimes I struggled with the writing, dissatisfied with the words I was able to grind out. I searched for inspiration but the inadequacies screamed out at me, often provoking tears from my tired eyes. Just when it seemed I had failed, Mrs. W would rescue me with words of affirmation and direction. She somehow saw through the effort, a young girl who wanted more than anything to succeed. Mrs. W’s mission was to unleash my individual potential, and at the age of 14, she escorted me to a debate and speech training conference at the local college. I sat in the college classroom completely overwhelmed and intimidated. After a two-day instructional workshop, the college debate team wooed us with a mock debate, however, this only left me more convinced that I was not prepared for such an endeavor. Fortunately, Mrs. W disagreed, and thus began my journey into a world of challenges, failures, and victories. “Alisha,” she often said. “The important thing in life is not the triumph but the struggle.” So struggle I did. And just one year later, I traveled to Cedarville, Ohio, to compete for the national title in team policy debate with Mrs. W at my side. Mrs. W helped me unearth my true potential and awakened in me a joy for learning. My education with her was not limited to the classroom, and some of our most poignant lessons took place during talks while she tucked me into bed, while we planted a garden, or while we reminisced over family photographs. You see, Mrs. W was not just a teacher, she was a woman who had taken on the challenge of educating her children at home…a challenge that flew with wings of faith and courage. She was like an engine propelled by a burning passion, and I was the recipient of that passion. To most, Mrs. W is known as Rosie Watson. To me, she is Mom. Alisha Watson Age 17 How Playing Sports Has Impacted My Life By Aaron Watson Age 15 Playing sports as a kid, I never dreamed I was learning more than how to dribble, catch, and score. Winning was everything. What else could be more important to a dirty faced ten-year-old boy? But, if winning was everything, it certainly didn’t happen every time, and my most difficult lesson began with learning how to lose. As I look back on those days, I find that there is a greater purpose for the many years I spent dribbling, catching, and scoring, for after many defeats, I now understand that playing organized sports has served to teach me the more valuable lessons of life; the lessons of respect, teamwork, discipline, and perseverance. At a young age, I was taught the value of respect, but playing sports challenged my learning. I can remember a day of football practice where the coach arrived in a rather, well, grouchy mood. Several events may have caused the temperament he displayed that evening, but the team figured it was because of the thirty-point loss we had suffered the day before. His orders were fierce and unending and we worked until our muscles throbbed and ached, pounding our feeble bodies into shape. Amidst the groans and moans, that humid afternoon, my coach uttered only one phrase, “If it ain’t hurtin’, you ain’t workin’.” His large frame towered over me as I stared into his dark eyes. I swallowed a few unbefitting words, grunted, and shrank into humble obedience. Sometimes showing respect for authority has to come from somewhere very deep within; that day I found that place. Naturally, I tend to be more of a show off than a team player, and more than once this weakness has affected my performance on and off the field. I still remember the day I decided to take matters into my own hands. It was a cool morning in January when I learned the meaning of teamwork. I strutted onto the field and took my position as the center forward of my soccer team. The whistle blew and I sprinted with the ball at my feet towards the goal. I could feel the thrill of victory in my bones as I approached the timid goalkeeper, unaware of my teammates that surrounded me; their screams for me to pass the ball drowned out by the deafening temptations of my selfish ego. Without a second of hesitation, I took the shot. I never scored a goal that day, my dreams of being a hero shattered by my arrogant actions. Playing sports has also taught me about discipline. Whether it’s being on time for practice, or training even when the coach didn’t tell me to, sports helped me to define the way I will behave in my future. In my first season as a soccer player for the Mighty Mice soccer team of Tampa, Florida, I showed up late for the opening practice. Because of this, I was made to run three extra laps – I never showed up late again. I learned more that day than how to dribble, catch, and score, I learned how to take responsibility. Through the agony of defeat, I learned about perseverance and sportsmanship while gaining the tenacity of a true athlete. In the summer youth football program of 1998, my team never won many games. In fact, we didn’t win any games. Nevertheless, my team pressed on, and we began to see crushing losses creep toward near wins, broken spirits nursed back to health, and single efforts united as an act of teamwork. Thirty to zero became fourteen to thirteen. We persisted, and in our second season, our work finally paid off. These childhood memories and the lessons I have learned from them will stay with me through life. As a child, I thought it was all about the sport, but I know now that life has much more to teach me than how to dribble, catch, and score.
The Day I Changed a Life Alisha Watson Age 15 I will never forget that day. The day I changed a life; the day a life changed me. I arrived in Lima, Peru on a cool afternoon in June and was instantly overcome with the depravity and hopelessness that ran rampant in this poverty stricken city. I was accompanied by a group of college students from across the United States, and over the next four weeks we poured our lives into the people of Peru, sharing a hot meal, a warm blanket, and the message of God's love which seemed to feed their hungry souls. Each day, my group visited
the village of Juan Pablo, and one afternoon, I met a woman named Rosa. Her
shabby home slouched in the vast area of thick dust and dirt, and barefoot
children scampered about the yard. She emitted a warmth and honesty though, and
through our translator, she revealed the immense pain that was stored inside of
her. Abandoned by her husband, she struggled to provide for her family. Her son
Francis needed surgery, but there was no money. I extended my hand to console
her, as she raised hers, dirty and trembling, to wipe the escaping tears.
As I glanced down at 3-year old Francis, I saw a contorted face, and only
a clump of skin posing as a right ear. Jumbled sounds were all that escaped from
his mouth, because of defects in his vocal chords, making his speech essentially
inaudible. My heart broke as I listened to the tragic stories of Rosa’s life;
a life strangled by poverty. A passion rose up in me, and I determined then,
that on my return home, I would do whatever it took to raise support for
Francis’ surgery. I
prayed with Rosa that day and assured her that God would never leave her or
forsake her. It was my desire to meet her needs, the physical ones that
blatantly exposed themselves, as well as the emotional and spiritual ones that
lay deeper in her soul. I will never forget the sparkle in her eyes as we placed
food on her cardboard table and slipped her son’s feet into a pair of shoes.
She didn’t speak our language, but she didn’t need to; her warm embrace and
tears of joy spoke for her. In the weeks that followed I met with Rosa daily,
helping with her various tasks and watching her find a new joy in living. I met
many “Rosas” during that summer and learned the power of words and
expressions of love on the human spirit. Two months later, through the
compassion of local churches, we sent Rosa the money needed to give Francis a
new hope. Having
the opportunity to make a difference in the life of another gave me a new vision
for my place in this world, and the following year I journeyed to South Wales
where I once more experienced the blessings of giving. Henry Wadsworth Longfellow said, “Give what you have to someone, it may be better than you dare to think” I didn’t have much to offer Rosa, just my time and love, but it was all she needed. Thanks to Rosa, my life will never be the same, for in my small effort to change a life, it seems a life changed me.
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