If they can do it...




... why can't we?

This picture came from the NY Times web page.

I just posted it here because I like it.

Helen Latour, was Carmen's mentor in teaching ...

... as I pointed out in this post in January. Here is a little story about her legacy.

I ride the bus up to Boone once a week, more if I can. One of the people I talk to while we wait for the bus is Mario, a young Hispanic trying to get a pre-med degree at Appstate despite enormous odds.

He told me that when he first came to America and was in elementary school he had already scored very high on the tests for math and science. Yet for some reason his teachers remanded him to summer school. Helen was one of the summer teachers. She gave the class an assignment to do in class which Mario did in about five minutes and than sat quietly. She immediately charged over and asked why he had stopped working (I can just see her - she could be very intimidating).

Mario said he had finished. She said "You've only been working on it for five minutes!" She looked at his paper and said "Young man come out into the hall so I can talk to you." So Mario went. Helen asked why he was even in summer school. Mario more or less shrugged - he was just doing what the school had told him he had to do. Then she informed him of what he really had to do.

For the rest of the summer she had him come over once a day to her house where she drilled him relentlessly in English. That was his real problem. The school had not even tried to help. But for Helen it was her duty to teach him every day if necessary because she recognized how smart he was.

And today his English is as good as a native speaker. It was the start of the road to pre-med.

That was Helen.

Young Mr Miggs tells me a story ...

... As on every Tuesday I was at the Mellow Mushroom with Maire and Murty and their kids, the Vietnamese trio, and assorted collegues. By the end of the evening little Mr Miggs was wired with overstimulation. I got him to set on my lap hoping to calm him down. Maire said keep him quiet because he is about to lose it ... or fall asleep.

So I whispered in his ear, "Tell me a story Miggs."

And without a seconds hesitation he says:

"One upon a time there was a brave knight.
His name was Sir Michael.
Then he died.
THE END!"

You have to admit, whatever it lacks in character development or subtlety, it's got a hell of a narrative arc.

Our young theologian...

... is just getting started on what I can only assume will be an interesting life. May it be long even if he is not.

Here, direct from Maire's family blog, is the story of one Sunday in the life of little Mr Miggs:

Sundays are always an adventure. Now that Miggs is old enough to go to CCD (Sunday school), it's even more interesting -- after being very good there, it's even harder than usual to sit still for an hour+ service.

Highlights from today included:
-shushing (loudly) everyone around us when his beloved choir began to sing, and they all had the nerve to join in
-singing "We are all one Body" at the top of his lungs during the sermon
-hearing Fr Dave say something about "one God" and piping up (loudly) with "One God?! We learned in 'chool today dere are t'ree gods!"
-appearing to drop his two quarters into the collection basket, but after the basket had moved on he looked up with his most mischievous grin and held up the one he'd palmed

Glad to see he is a Nicene Creed kinda guy.