A Tribute To ACRHS by Trellace Lawrimore

Another Guest Blogger: My own daughter Trellace. She made this speech for an awards ceremony; ACRHS does not recognize valedictorians at all at their graduation, so this was her pseudo-valedictory speech. It was awesome. And I’m not one bit biased.

During my Wake Forest interview this past summer, my interviewer asked me about the culture of my high school. “Well,” I told the woman, “we think we’re the best, and…we are the best.” Now, this might not have been the most humble or tactful way to tell an interviewer about the atmosphere of Reynolds, but I think you’ll agree that it’s pretty accurate. I went on to talk about our expectation for excellence in everything we do, whether it be in academics, athletics, or the arts. If you’re in our school and community, you are proud to call yourself a Reynolds Rocket.

Sure, from state championship rings, to award-winning publications, to widely-acclaimed musicals, we have a lot to be proud of. But more than our shiny resume, we should take pride in our fantastic teaching staff.

As I began to write this speech, I wondered how I could choose just one teacher to praise. All of mine have been amazing. Mrs. Love is fun and creative. Mrs. Kuster is dedicated and caring. Mr. Hutchinson is crazy and engaging. Ms. White is generous and kind.

But in particular, my AP teachers have shaped my education in profound ways.

My sophomore year, I took AP U.S. history with Coach Goode, where I learned that it is possible for someone to grade 200 essays in one night. In addition to speedy grading, Coach Goode demonstrated his passion for his students by working many late hours on History Day projects, amusing us with pick-up lines and the creative use of stuffed animals and other toys, distributing candy before the AP exam and encouraging us to touch the “staff of knowledge” for good luck. But we didn’t need any extra luck to help us succeed on the AP exam. Coach Goode had taught us well—we knew practically everything about America from 1700-present. He also gave us the tools to assess information analytically, laying the groundwork for the things that Marcia Hudzik would teach us in AP World the following year.

Through thesis-writing, short answers, document analysis, and class discussions, Mrs. Hudzik taught us a new way of thinking. When Mrs. Hudzik gets into a lecture, it is evident how passionate she is about her history. She loves her world history, and she loves her students. She has written many of our college recommendations and given us advice on everything from what we should get our parents for Christmas to how we should spend the next four years of our lives. In fact, it is not uncommon to find non-World or Civics students hanging out in her room before school, after school, or during lunch.

And though I love her dearly, I am not often one of Hudzik’s groupies, because I am spending many of my afternoons in the newspaper office with Ms. Cooper. If Ms. Cooper had a dollar for every extra hour she has spent at school with her newspaper editors, she could retire. As one of her editors this year, I know how thankful her staffs are for her unrelenting devotion to the school newspaper. She makes it possible for us to be proud of our successful publication. This year, Ms. Cooper has also served as my AP English teacher, where she has taught our class how to interpret and appreciate, if very rarely, the literary genius of Faulkner, Dunn, Keats, Dickens, and many others. Yes, we certainly respect the literature knowledge we have gained this year, but I think we enjoy more the pot of hot tea she keeps in her back office and the periodic breakfast treats she brings us.

And while those surprise breakfast mornings may be delightfully frequent, I have probably eaten just as much in Mrs. Wheeler’s class this year, between many food days and the bag of candy she gave us before our AP exam. Mrs. Wheeler, lover of fun and calculus, has given me a surprising appreciation for advanced mathematics. If you had asked me as a freshman about my senior schedule, it would not, over my dead and forlorn body, have included calculus. But after enjoying the teaching brilliance of Mrs. Wheeler in Pre-Cal, I decided that a year of calculus might not be too bad. In an engaging classroom setting, learning calculus has been almost enjoyable this year. Thanks to Mrs. Wheeler, I have realized that I should further my knowledge of math, and so in the fall I will be combining my love of the humanities and mathematics as an International Political Economy major.

As many of you know, I will be pursuing that major at Georgetown University. But let me tell you, I was not Georgetown material when I came to Reynolds as a freshman. I believe that it is the result of my teachers’ efforts, not any innate intelligence of mine, that has allowed me to enroll at a prestigious university like Georgetown. My teachers have shaped me into the well-informed scholar that I am today. Without their guidance and instruction, I would drown in the academic challenges that Georgetown presents its students. But thanks to the ways that my high school teachers have already pushed me, I know that I am ready to participate in analytical and intelligent conversations there. Now that I’ve completed hundreds of IDs, 40 minute speed essays, 15 minute free response questions, and hours and hours of late-night homework, I am so grateful for the energy that my teachers have put into my education. So, thank you, not only to my teachers, but to the entire Reynolds faculty, for making all of us the successful student we are today and will be in the future.

 

 

Trellace graduates in June 2012 and starts at Georgetown in the fall. She likes church, tennis, and Just Dance 3. We call her Queen.

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Aubrey’s Hero (feel free to sing along . . .)

This past Sunday, our Youth led the worship service, reflecting on the heroes God has given to us. One of the students who spoke was Aubrey Nelson, a Senior at AC Reynolds High School in Asheville, NC. Aubrey is a gifted musician who sings like a bird and plays her flute like an angel. Her comments Sunday spoke to my own conviction that God often uses music to draw us to the throne of Grace. I asked Aubrey if she would allow me to publish her reflection here and she has graciously agreed.

Aubrey’s Hero by Aubrey Nelson 2012

A Real Hero

It is so much easier to be by ourselves.

Now, you’re probably thinking I got that backwards. If you’re anything like me, you’re much more comfortable when someone is physically with you…talking to you, laughing at your jokes, shielding you from that dreaded image of being alone that has become somewhat of a stigma in our fast-paced, loud, busy culture. In fact, if the feeling I just described sounds at all familiar to you, you’re part of the 70% of American society who labels themselves as extroverts…people who would rather be around people. But as much time as many of us spend surrounded by the talking, laughing, storytelling, and general comforting presence of others, we are truly alone…emotionally and spiritually alone. Sure, we’ve got all kinds of people all around us – friends, teachers, parents, coworkers, pastors, conductors, coaches – but are we listening to them? Are we soaking up what they have to say and allowing their words to change us? Or are we letting their wisdom, their experience, their uniqueness as people go right over our heads, convinced that we have all the answers?

Ernest Hemingway, the great 20th century American author, once said, “as you get older it is harder to have heroes, but it is sort of necessary.” While graduating seniors such as myself are facing many apparent, obvious decisions this year – what college we’ll attend, what we’ll major in, what career we want to pursue – I have no doubt that everybody in this room, from elementary school students preparing to step into the frighteningly unfamiliar world of middle school, to recent college graduates who just don’t know what to do with or make of their lives, to senior adults facing the painful aloneness of losing their loved ones, is encountering some sort of choice, dilemma, or question they just cannot answer. And while I’m far from discounting the great and important power of independence, confidence, and belief in oneself, we often rely on ourselves for answers to such a great extent that we take out more than we can give back. So then, if we Americans are so constantly surrounded by people, why don’t we try to learn from them instead of using them as a security blanket? And instead of criticizing them, why don’t we teach them? We all need someone – or something – to remind us that we don’t know everything and that we do, in fact, need each other.

Though we typically assume heroic figures to be people, I think that intangible activities and experiences often take on the most powerful heroic positions in our lives. As most of you know, I’m an avid musician, and I feel that music has been my own personal “hero”…it’s shown me the rewarding nature of hard work, it’s taught me how to lose with dignity and win with grace, and it’s demonstrated for me the satisfaction and happiness that comes from creative expression. These are all lessons I could not have spontaneously learned on my own. A “heroic activity”, so to speak, doesn’t have to be one you do on a regular basis…even a one-time experience, such as hearing an inspiring concert or seeing an emotionally wounded person smile for the first time in months, can have a drastic, wonderful influence on the way we think and feel.

Genesis 1:27 tells us that each person is created in the image of God. I think that this is one of the most commonly (and regrettably) overlooked aspects of our Christian faith…that EACH person, rich or poor, dark or light-skinned, man or woman, left or right-brain dominant, high or low GPA or SAT score, is a little piece of God, a snippet of his glory and a small-scale manifestation of his great intentions for the world. With that scripture in mind, I think it’s safe to say that ALL people are heroes. We each have experience, wisdom, talents, and ideas which cannot be found, and never will be found, in any person other than ourselves. And as the class of 2012, along with every other subgroup of the world, ventures on through the challenges and questions which make up the wonderfully confusing journey of life, we have a divine responsibility to see the hero in every person and every experience. 

 

Aubrey Nelson

Aubrey is the daughter of Mike and Luann Nelson, and the twin sister of David Nelson. She has won countless honors for her musical gifts. In the fall, Aubrey plans to attend the University of South Carolina and major in flute performance.  

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Happy Birthday Bro!

Hal Mitchell
World’s Best Brother

Tomorrow, my brother will be 43. Yeah, I know: He does LOOK older than I do, but he’s four years (almost) younger.

So, in honor of third anniversary of my bro’s 40th birthday, here’s a post from 2009: http://www.aileenonline.com/b2/?p=105

Happy Birthday, little brother. I think you are amazing.

. . . He is a dear brother, a faithful minister and fellow servant in the Lord.  Colossians 4:7b

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Finals. Eww.

When I was in college, people often said things like, “You think this is hard, wait ’til you’re out in the real world.” Or, “Honey you ain’t seen nothin’. When you’re out in the real world–that’s when the hard work begins.” 

Real world? Have you not been to college? It is scary real. Plus: in the real, real world, there are no finals.

 Oh don’t give me that. I know there are proposals and pitches, deadlines and due dates, but it’s not the same. Really. It isn’t. I know. I’ve been to college not once, not twice, but three times. And I’ve had about that many different careers. And seriously? Nothing compares to the intensity of finals. Often the only thing that got me through was telling myself, “In two weeks, it will be over; good or bad, it will end.”

There are some things that make it easier though. Here are a few tips I’ve learned from the 17 semesters I have spent preparing for finals.

  1. Start early. (Okay, it’s a little late for that now, but remember that next time.) Learn things well as you go along. Review your notes frequently. It will help keep the information fresh and will dramatically reduce your stress during finals.
  2. Do your reading when it is assigned. Haven’t done your reading? Well forget it then. You will never get all that read before the exam. So don’t try. Just skim the chapters and get a general idea of what’s there. Next time you’ll know: complete your assigned readings as you go along. (I didn’t learn to do this until grad school, so kudos to you for getting a head start.)
  3. Did your prof give you a study guide? Start with that (especially if you haven’t done your reading). I know, seems obvious, but sometimes in the frenzy to prepare, we miss the simplest solutions. Maybe you decide you’ll get to the study guide after you do all the readings you haven’t done yet or after you review your notes or whatever. Don’t do that. Start with the study guide.
  4. Take care of yourself. Keep up your exercise routine even though you think you have too much studying to do. If you must, take notes with you and read while you are on the treadmill or stairmaster. Even better: give yourself a 20-30 minute break from studying, exercise, and come back refreshed.
  5. Eat right. Carb crashes can cause serious exam fatalities. Get your protein. Drink your water. And lay off the sugar. Your brain will thank you.
  6. Sleep. No, not during the exam. But do get a decent amount of sleep. That means, you should be getting almost as much as you normally get. Of course you are going to have late nights and early mornings. Just remember that rested people recall information much better than exhausted folks.
  7. And remember: good or bad it will be over in a couple of weeks. You will make it through.
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Making them Make Music

In the Lawrimore family, music education is no more optional than academic education. So yeah: I’ve required my kids to learn to play an instrument and to participate in church music opportunities. See, I believe music education is as important to their long-term well-being as physical education and frankly, considerably more important than academics.  

This compulsory education has not always been an easy sell. My youngest started with guitar, but refused to practice. I have a deep-seated conviction that I will not pay for lessons just so that I can fight with my child about practicing. I can do that for free through the school band program. She plays saxophone now and practices willingly.

And my son–who makes music pretty much constantly now–fought me every single season about participating in church choir. I would say something like, “Tell ya what: just hang in there until the Christmas program and then will talk about it.” A few months later, I could say, “Well, they really need you for the Easter music; so do that and then we will discuss it.” ‘Round about the seventh or eighth grade, he started to get it though. The youth went on a choir tour and sang for a drug-rehab facility. My son told me later, “It was really great to be a part of something like that. Those people really liked what we sang for them.”

Music. It connects people. It’s transformative. It matters.

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One Way to Pay for College Tuition . . .

Something to consider . . .

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Knock, Knock, Knock*

 

Notice the matching outfits, necklaces, and yes, even haircuts (evidently the only one our mother knew how to do). December 1967

She was just an “only.”

I made her “oldest.”

                She loved me before I was born.

We wore matching Easter dresses and carried matching purses that Mama stitched up on her Singer™.

Brunette? That’s her. The blond one—that’s me.

We spoke our own language. No one else understood.

                She loved me before I was born.

Old Maid, Monopoly, Careers.

Chrissy and Velvet. (Hair-growing dolls.)

Roller skates, not blades, and bicycles with banana seats and long handlebars that had windmills on them that spun wildly when we raced down the hill.

We laughed.

                She just loved me—before I was even born.

She was always the teacher. I was always the student.

Except since we’ve grown up and life’s grown up: now we take turns being the teacher, being the student.

White Lake. Yates’ Pond. And hotel pools.

She saved my life when I fell in.

                That’s how much she loved me–ever since before I was born.

She had the top bunk; I had the bottom.

We fought our way through the teen years and clung to each other when college pulled us apart.

 We held each other’s flowers through the “I do’s,”

Each other’s hearts through each nine months.

                We loved each other’s. Before they were born.

When I need her,

When she needs me,

We are already there.

                Because she loved me before I was born. And I’ve loved her right back.

 

*Knock, Knock, Knock: an action done by knocking three times on the headboard of either the top or bottom bunk that prompts the hearer to knock three times on a headboard in response. Most common meaning is “I love you/I love you too,” but can also mean, “You awake?” with the response or lack thereof answering the question. During thunderstorms or troublesome times, could also mean, “Don’t be scared/I won’t if you won’t.”

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Ten Commandments of Car Line Etiquette

I wish they had been unearthed sooner. After all, I’ve been coping with car line for nigh on 13 years. Still, once I learned of its existence, I just had to share. So behold, straight from the research division of Parent Together Against Overt Car line Discourtesy (PTA-OCD), the

Ten Commandments of Car Line Etiquette.

  1. Thou shalt not activate thine mobile communication device. Yea, even shalt thou disable it whilst in car line.
  2. Thou shalt avoid all communication with thy offspring’s instructional personnel whilst in car line. Thou shalt hold such sessions at times and locations other than car line.
  3. Thou shalt not exit thine vehicle whilst in car line. Thou shalt obey this rule, lo throughout the day: sunrise, sunset.
  4. Thou, therefore, shant leave thine vehicle unattended in the car line regardless of how early you may arrive. In the event that circumstances demand your exit, thou must place thine vehicle in a designated parking space.
  5. Thou shalt obey rule number three, even if thine offspring is carrying a satchel, a lyre, and hand-crafted graven images. The size of said graven image is irrelevant when adhering to this rule.  Plan thusly.
  6. Thou shalt zip* the zipper. Neither shalt thou avoid it, nor shalt thy prevent it. Zipping is a sacred practice that shall not be broken.  Zip, less thou be unzipped, so help you God.
  7. Thou shalt practice adherence to school policies regarding car line flow. Thou shalt remember that the rules set forth do, indeed, apply to thine actions, yea even as they doth apply to the actions of others.
  8. Thou shalt not allow thine offspring to exit thine vehicle prior to arriving at designated exit areas. Thou shalt refer to rule number seven if thou doth not comprehend this directive.
  9. Thou shalt not drive around barriers that have been situated thusly to prevent thine passage. Thou shalt wait thine turn.
  10. Thou shalt eliminate all space betwixt thine vehicle and the vehicle situated before thine. Thou shalt avoid leaving vehicle-sized gaps betwixt the vehicle of thine and that of thine bretheren. Thou shalt pull ahead such that the zipper may continue to zip.

*Zip (verb) [zĭp]—the practice of taking turns while in car line. When two lines of traffic enter the car line from opposing directions, one car enters from one line then another enters from the other line, thus creating a zipper of cars.

As in “Because I have good manners, I always allow the car across from me to zip into the car line before I enter the car line myself.”

Feel free to distribute at will. And you’re welcome.

Whoever scorns instruction will pay for it, but whoever respects a command is rewarded.” Proverbs 13:13

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Top 10 Things that Show You are Not Taking Lent Seriously

Top 10 Things that Show You are Not taking Lent Seriously.

10. You think Ash Wednesday is kind of like “Downtown after Five” in Asheville, only on Wednesday and only once a year.

9. You decide what to wear to Ash Wednesday service by asking yourself, “Now, what goes with ash gray?”

8. You ask the minister if the ashes on your forehead can be reinforced with permanent marker since yours always wash off before anyone really sees them.

7. You keep saying, “What’s the big deal about Lent? Just clean the dryer filter and shut up about it.”

6. You hire a house keeper for the season. (All this ashes to ashes and dust to dust stuff will bother your allergies.)

5. Someone speaks about giving up chocolate for Lent and you, eager to be of assistance, hold out your hand and say, “Well if you’re not going to eat it . . . .”

4. You, a teetotaler, announce that in honor of the Lenten season, you have given up all alcoholic beverages.

3. You give up boasting for Lent and make sure everyone knows about it.

2. You give up sweets for Lent. Except for Fridays when you always have celebratory cheesecake. And Wednesday’s because the desert at church supper is always so yummy. And Tuesdays—Book Club. And in the office (it would just be rude not to partake). And on birthdays. And naturally St. Patrick’s Day. But you’re giving up sweets for Lent. No question.

And the number one way to show you are not taking Lent seriously is . . .

  1. You have your friend film you every time you deny yourself due to Lenten sacrifice. You set the video to the song, “Nobody Knows the Trouble I’ve seen” and post it on YouTube.

The dearest idol I have known,
Whatever that idol be,
Help me to tear it from thy throne,
and worship only thee…

- William Cowper, “O For a Closer Walk with God”

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The Wonderful World of Margaret

Today she is 14, but 11 years ago, our third child celebrated her third birthday.  Back then, she loved Minnie Mouse, so her hand-made invitations, her cake, even her dress, all featured her favorite Disney character.  For the invitations, I wrote a way-too-cutesy, and not especially good poem.  I’ll post it here for your reading (ahem) pleasure. A bit of explanation first.

Margaret was due February 2 (note today’s date) and even though I did not find out the gender of my baby, I just knew she was a girl. She came home to a lovey-bear we named Lynnette after the person who gave it to her and before long she had her favorite foods, including yogurt covered raisins which she dubbed “raisin eggs.” And when she was little we called her Meggie. (About the time she turned four, she informed us, “My name is Mawgwet, not Meddie.” So then, Margaret it is.) The rest you’ll find self-explanatory (and amateurish and syrupy sweet). Enjoy, if you dare.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 Happiest birthday to our unrequested blessing, our Margaret–which just so happens to mean “pearl.”

 

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