TALES FROM THE BAYOU: Step By Step

It's mornings like today that remind me of walking to school when I was a kid. We only had one car in the family and my mother didn't drive...not because she didn't want to but I think because that was one more responsibility she didn't want to add to her overloaded plate. 

So I walked. Everywhere.

I'd like to say the walk to school was at least a mile from my house and maybe it just seemed that long to a little kid toting a backpack full of books, but every morning I would head out and make my way through town to the elementary school. I never minded the walk because I LOVED to learn and it got me away from the house for a few hours. Despite the fact that I was incredibly shy, had no friends, and was constantly teased because I always managed to become the "teacher's pet", school was a sanctuary for me in those days.

Gueydan is an extremely tiny town, population around 1500...numbers which might actually include residents of the local cemetery...and nothing exciting ever seem to happen there. Except during the fifth grade when my elementary school burned to the ground.

I remember walking with my sister to school that day. Everything seemed normal until we got a couple of blocks away and we heard the siren from the firetruck. We were both shocked to finally get to the school to see smoke billowing out of the building as they tried to put the fire out that actually began in MY homeroom. The entire building was destroyed and we spent the rest of the school year attending classes on half days. Our high school building was located next door so I ended up going to school from 7:30 until around 11:30 each day and then Janet, being in ninth grade at the time, would have her classes from 11:30 until 3:30. It was a challenging school year until the new elementary building was completed but somehow we made it work.

Walking home the same way every day could become boring so I liked to change it up whenever I could. Mother expected me to get home quickly. If I took the longer route that cut through the park so I could sneak in a couple of twirls on the merry go round, I had to make up for it by running the rest of the way home.  Sometimes I would even start running straight from school to the park because that was where the library was and if I was lucky, I could sneak in and visit the books.

Even then books held a spell over me. I would dash in just to say hi to the librarian and maybe take a quick look at the newest arrivals so I could start dreaming of which book would I check out next. Then it was a mad dash to get home before Mother suspected I hadn't walked straight home like she expected me to.

I wonder what the kids I went to school with would think about me now that I am a children's book author? So many steps taken from those old school days to where I am now and yet I find all those steps STILL lead me to the one thing I've always loved more than anything else...books.

TALES FROM THE BAYOU: In The Eye Of A Storm

As summer winds down and the kiddies get ready to head back to school, I can't help but think about my own years as a child going to school in a small Cajun town less than fifty miles from the Gulf of Mexico. There was always two things I could count on at the beginning of each school year...1) I would be wearing homemade hand me down clothes that never quite fit right and 2) a hurricane would always prevent me from starting school on time.

With four children and an alcoholic husband who was hardly ever around, my mother had to resort to a number of things to keep her offspring clothed and fed properly. I remember one summer having to handle the humiliation of visiting an estate sale where my mother proceeded to scoop up some deceased elderly woman's "Sunday go to meetin'" dresses. Once home she would slowly pick apart the threading and scale down the dress to be worn by her youngest daughter to school. Do you have any idea what is was like to walk around in clothing better suited for an eighty year old woman rather than a twelve year old girl?

I understood the meaning of the depths of stark poverty but I've always wondered if my mother ever understood the humiliation I endured simply by having to walk into the school wearing those types of cast offs?

But it was the real threat of hurricanes I most associate with the first days of school. My school would always begin between the end of August and the beginning of September...smack dab in the middle of hurricane season. The fact my hometown was so close to the gulf usually also meant we would deal with the backlash of Mother Nature's fury.

Most of the time we would hunker down in our rental house where mother would calmly fill the bathtub with water and make sure we had plenty of kerosene for our lanterns.  She would stock up on bread and other food just in case we would be without electricity and stacks of towels stood ready to stuff under doors in case of flooding. Then she would gather up her children and ride out the terrible hurricanes passing near town...and I'm sure doing quite a bit of praying that her family would remain safe for another day.

I even remember a few times having to be evacuated to my high school gymnasium because it was considered the sturdiest building in town. I must have been only four or five years old at the time when my father lifted me up high enough to look out one of the windows. I remember watching the swirling, slashing wind and rain picking up garbage cans and tossing them like confetti as we waited out the storm. Or trying to make it back home afterwards in our old car and taking the long way around flooded  streets where kids paddled by in homemade boats or having to backtrack and find another way home because so many uprooted trees made it impossible to continue moving forward.

Just this week my town was under a tornado warning and while that was frightening enough, I wonder sometimes how frightened I would have really been if I had been a little bit older and fully realized the fury heading my way when I was caught in the eye of the storm every year when school began?

Teaser Tuesday

• SUBSTITUTE CREACHER
• Author: Chris Gall
• Illustrator: Chris Gall
• Publisher: Little, Brown Books for Young Readers
• ISBN: 13 9780316089159
• Ages: 5 - 8 Years

Misbehaving students of Ms. Jenkins' class think they have it made when they refuse to stop their monkey business.  But they are in for a surprise one day when the new substitute creacher comes to the classroom!  Keth the glue-eater, Hank the prankster, and Zach the daydreamer are only some of the mischief makers who quickly find out what happens to kids to don't want to follow the rules.  

Dropping The Ball

Sometimes dropping the ball is not a bad thing.  This little fellow just loves it when someone fumbles and drops the ball.  You would never see him give you a disappointed look when you overlooked something.

Then there are times when dropping the ball can mean the difference between a championship ring and a silent ride home.  I realized last night that I was the one that had dropped the ball and I feel horrible.  Friday, March 16th, was National Day of Action Against Bullying and Violence.  I told my new friend, Shari Lawsen,  that I would be honored to help get the word out and talk about it on my blog this past Friday.

That's when I dropped it.  It doesn't matter that I was having car trouble or I was busy at the school or any other reason.  My word is my bond and I made an honest mistake by overlooking the promise I had made.  Then I realized that while I might have missed the day, I haven't missed the opportunity to shine the light on what unfortunately is becoming almost a national epidemic here in the states.

According to the National Youth Violence Prevention Resource Center and Health Resources and Services Administration, nearly 30% or 5.7 million children in the US are involved in bullying either as victims or perpetrators. Unfortunately, my own son was one of those statistics.

When he was in Kindergarten, he was bullied by his own teacher because she didn't like boys in general.    I filed several complaints with the school system but was told that since nothing was on "tape", it was my word against hers. I was able to place my son with another teacher and the issue was finally resolved.  When he was in fourth grade he was thrown head first into a large dumpster simply because a bully wanted his second-hand tennis shoes...a baffling reason to me because they weren't even a brand name.

Bullying comes in all forms from verbal to cyber to physical and emotional.  It take a toll on a child's self esteem and can crush a spirit faster than anything else I've ever seen.  Parents who ignore it because they think it's just a phase, school administrators who dismiss a parental concern because they think the parent is simply enabling their child, or a society which condones this type of behavior when they remain silent is adding to the problem and in some ways are just as guilty of violence as the bully themselves.

My solution?  Let's go back to the day when parents were responsible for teaching their children right from wrong and being held accountable if their children did harm to others.  Provide support for the school systems so that they feel more empowered to deal with this growing problem, but also make them accountable for doing everything within their power to protect the children under their care.  Lastly, and probably the easiest thing to do, is to get the word out that bullying is no longer an acceptable part of growing up.

Just stop the bull...