Education, etc.

This blog post has been a long time coming but I just could not find the words and I really was not ready to write it. This past Thanksgiving, my mentor of more than 12 years past from this world and into the arms of her Savior. To say the adjustment to life without her constant wisdom has been difficult would be an understatement.

Growing up in a small town, I knew the name Dr. Dale Graham for so long that I do not recall when I first learned of the educational force that she was. The mother of twin athletes who could play just about anything, and beat you well enough to know you might not want seconds, there was not much she could not do. She taught calculus better than anyone else I have ever heard of until her last few years, and even then she was constantly tutoring and holding small group study sessions. She worked to help students learn until her last days.

My relationship with “Doc” began when I went to work for her in the fall of 2011. I was immediately intimidated, not only to be teaching under a phenomenal teacher turned administrator who, still taught like a boss, but because she had a no-nonsense air about her that reminded you, she could see through all attempts to fake it, so you had better bring your best.

When I went to work for Doc, I was a divorce single mother just trying to survive the day, trying to give everything I had to my students and my children, and trying to figure out how I was going to put one foot in front of the other. There was no planning for tomorrow, I was just trying to survive the day. Thank the Lord she did not require lesson plans! How do you plan a week’s worth of lessons when you are just trying to make sure the kids are fed, bathed, and in clean clothes each day. Granted, I was living with my parents, and I had help, but I was also overwhelmed. I think she saw my struggle. In fact, I know she saw my struggle, but she was not going to give me a free pass.

My days began sitting around a breakfast table, learning from her and other veteran teachers, each of whom I was certain deserved a bust or statue in their honor. These were veterans who had been teaching for 35-45 years, and not just occupying a classroom and collecting a paycheck. These were teachers who were well respected, who held their students’ attention with awe, and walked into the room under the glow of holy light and a chorus of angels singing the perfect chord in complete harmony. Ok, maybe not the holy light and harmony, but these were teachers to learn from, teachers that could help me grow. And these were teachers who wanted to help me grow, wanted to see me successful, which was a new experience for me. I was an immediately focused pupil. I did as Doc told me to, I drank deep from that well. But of all of them, Doc did not just teach me, she took me under her wing and radically changed the broken bird she inherited.

I started spending my mornings at the breakfast table with the veterans and my planning period with her, when she was available, bouncing ideas, taking notes on her suggestions, and allowing myself to learn from a master at her craft. When my planning period was the same time as her calculus class, I sat in her class and watched her teach, sing a song about the quadratic formula, and learned some calculus while I learned a lot about delivering a lesson, reading the non-verbal cues of your students for confusion, assessing for understanding, and so many other tools and tricks of the trade that came as easily to her as 1 + 1 = 2.

There were more than a few times when she would call me in her office and correct something that needed correcting, reprimand me for something I should not have said or done, but she never gave up on me. Lord knows she probably could have. But that was not her way. When she saw good in you, she helped you grow instead of tossing out the baby with the bathwater. I think I became her biggest project.

But it was not just my professional life she sought to grow. She was quick to remind me that I was more valuable than I let myself believe, worthy of being loved, and that I was strong enough to move into my own place, be a good mom, raise my children, and plan for tomorrow. She would remind me that I was selling myself short and to cut myself some slack. But when she imparted these nuggets of wisdom, they seemed to wedge their way into my soul like a seed of grass in a crack in concrete. Just like the seed, as I grew, the concrete, which was choking the life out of me, was cracking, and falling away, day by day, little by little, until my roots were taking hold and buds began to show.

She told me more than once about raising her twins, catching snapped balls when her son was playing long snapper, sitting on a bucket and catching baseballs and softballs, helping them with reading or writing assignments while they bounced a ball, and how she wrote most of her dissertation while at the skating rink while her children skated with their friends. She would laugh about some of the crazy questions people would ask her like, “Are they identical?”, and she would answer of her twins, one male, one female, “No, there are some minor differences.” She never said, “I did it, and you will, too”, but that is what I heard through her many stories of raising the children she loved so much. And more importantly, I think that is what she wanted me to get from those moments we shared.

Eventually I started dating a cowboy and she got a kick out of it, saying she had always wanted to date a cowboy. At the first sign of a red flag, I got scared and ran away from him. She sat me down and said, “No one is perfect, but that man loves you and your boys. The way he looks at you screams how precious you are in his eyes. You may want to rethink running away from him.” Years later, when I married that cowboy, not only was she there, but she did all the flowers for the wedding as a wedding gift.

We talked every day, usually multiple time a day. She was the first phone call I received when I got home from school. I miss those phone calls. She would ask about my day and how the boys’ days had been, but she was also asking for things like how other teachers were handling all the extras that came with the job. She became my sounding board for when I had another wild idea of how to teach a specific element of my standards or for a school spirit activity.

Although she was never my teacher of record, she was instrumental in my continuing education. She helped me gain acceptance from the university from which I would earn my master’s degree and she helped me find the perfect program for my doctorate. We talked about that process, too. When she knew her, days were numbered in this life, she began dishing out assignments to her family. I had 2. I was to call a former colleague, deliver a message, and make sure he knew how much she respected him, and I was to complete my dissertation. She is one of the individuals named in the dedication of that document.

We talked about when I would order my regalia for graduation. She offered to let me wear her robe with the one stimulation that I return it to the family if anyone completed a doctorate. At the time, I thanked her but assured her that I would get my own, finding hers was not something she needed to worry about on my account. She made that offer 2 more times. And now, being that I will not have her to call when this doctorate journey is over, I cannot imagine not wearing her robes at my own graduation. They currently hang in my closet, waiting for the day to be worn. I have not even put them on, yet, because I know the weight of respect they carry.

I would not be where I am today were it not for her. She never gave up on me. She saw something in me worth saving, worth chipping away at the concrete that was suffocating me, worth polishing, and she put in the work to make me better than she found me. I hope that every person has their own Doc, who inspires them, who guides them, who corrects their mistakes and praises their accomplishments, who is their Dumbledore, their Gandalf, their Mr. Keating, or their Mr. Feeny, who sees the worth under the rubble, who dusts off the rust and shines you up until you can see your own value and sparkle.

As I remember my mentor and the impact she had on my life, I leave you with part of the dedication to my dissertation. 

“To Dr. Dale Graham: You were my mentor and my friend. You pushed me, reigned me in, inspired me, and shaped me more than I can express. Your wisdom, welcomed advice, and achievements have always spurred me on through the often-difficult processes of personal and professional growth. You were always willing to answer the phone, lend an ear, provide a word of advice, or the latest solution to all the world’s problems. I promise to approach each problem with a Doc-inspired solution: kissed, blessed.”