Growing up in a small town is weird. I can’t imagine I’m alone in this judgment. In some ways it’s wonderful, in that people always say it takes a village. I grew up riding in carpools to dance class and getting band-aids put on me when I fell off my bike in my neighbor’s driveway. But in some ways it’s disorienting, at least when you leave. What happens when you step out of the village, is that you realize it is a bubble, and perhaps your sparkling talents are like a lot of other people’s. Perhaps that grade point average is not that impressive (I’m talking about me, if you couldn’t tell). Perhaps that hometown hero's batting average is a lot like lots of other player’s averages (this one’s not me). And, perhaps that superlative didn’t mean that much after all. What happens when you leave is humbling and probably necessary. Your idea of success shifts, and you realize there are a lot of ways for people to shine that your small town didn’t begin to offer. At least, that’s what I realized.
That’s a good thing, because I am a former elementary school teacher and current stay-at-home parent. I’m not humbly accepting any major accolades for my homemade waffles and PTO raffling. Most days, I remember that’s not where my value lies anyways.
This was fresh on my mind when I read the boys the latest installation of Andrea Beaty’s Questioneers, Lila Greer, Teacher Of The Year. Illustrated by David Roberts, this picture book tells us the origin story of the student’s teacher, Ms. Lila Greer. We learn of her childhood spent in anxiety. We learn of a move to a new town that rocked her world. We learn of her kind teacher that scaffolded her assimilation to this school in a way that allowed her to make friends and absorb her life changes confidently.
When the inferiority of being a former-small-town-gifted-student hits me, I have to remember Ms. Lila Greer. I have to remember that accolades are usually few and far between, and the most important things to me can be small and often unseen. The way Nathan and I raise our children, the ways I nurture my marriage, the ways I show up for my community. These are the ways I pay forward some of that weird, small-town love.
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