Pictures Have a Way of Changing You

About 10 years ago I wrote a series of articles for a newspaper in Fort Valley, GA. The paper didn't last long... my writing probably didn't help. But I found this one and I want to include it here for the record.

Published in Peachland Journal, April 1, 1997

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One of my favorite quotes was in a book I read a few years ago. I don’t remember the name of the book or whose words these are, but I’ve never forgotten the words. Maybe there is a reader out there who can help me.

The quote is, “Pictures have a way of changing you, far more profoundly and far more permanently than words ever could.” It has only been in recent years that I have realized how blessed I have been to grow up in a place where there are so many quality people. People who spend their lives investing their lives in other people, creating positive mental pictures for the recipients. I was born in the right
place and at the right time to benefit from the efforts of some pretty doggoned amazing people. The truth is, I don’t remember a whole lot of what they said, but I have many mental pictures of what they did.

And the pictures they created for me have changed me, far more profoundly and far more permanently than anything they could have said. Space does not permit me to share all my mental pictures here, but hopefully I can share many of them with you in the coming weeks. But I want you to look at one album with me today.

It all started in the fall of 1960, when it became my appointed time to enter the first grade at Reynolds Elementary School.

Mrs. Mattie Emma Ogburn and Mrs. Verna Fountain were my first grade teachers. Mrs. Ogburn taught my daddy in the first grade in 1925 and I believe my first grade year was the last year she taught. You can figure it up, but our crew was not her first class by any stretch of the imagination. I guess that is why she didn’t seem very nervous that first day. Mrs. Ogburn was a master story teller. I have a picture in my mind of her sitting a desk reading to the class and changing dialects according to who was speaking in the story. I remember it was much like watching a movie today. She had the gift of making the story come alive. The picture I have of Mrs. Verna is that of a tall lady who had more patience than anybody I had ever seen. She was kind and gentle and had a way of making kids believe they could do anything if they would give a little effort. Before I left the first grade, I already had this feeling that I could accomplish anything if I put my mind to it. And much of that was due to Mrs. Verna instilling that in me.

My second grade teacher was Mrs. Wilma Hollis.

She was a storyteller in her own right, and also helped us to have an appreciation for music. There was a piano in her classroom that was located at the end of the hall. At least once a week she would bring her sister, “Honey” in to play for us as we sang or learned to play the “triangles”. The picture I have of her is of someone who went far beyond the call of duty to “educate” the kids entrusted to her. Teaching was not a job to her. It was her life.

The third year was a most amazing year because we had Mrs. Mabel Byrd or “Mama Byrd”, as most of us called her.

She was Chuck’s grandmother and we figured if he called her that it would be alright if we did too. When I think of the word “saint”, I think of Mama Byrd. The last years of her life she was completely blind and when told during those difficult years that someone had stolen her favorite tree out of her yard, her response was, “I hope they enjoy it as much as I did!” That’s the kind of lady she was. I also remember that spanking was the norm for discipline in the early 60’s, and it was not necessary for teachers to get permission from parents to spank their kids. But I don’t believe I ever saw Mama Byrd spank anyone; however, in extreme cases she would hold your shoulders and shake you. I learned one thing really quick, though. If I ever did anything bad enough to get “shook” by Mama Byrd at school, it was a given that I would get a spanking when I got home. She was a remarkable lady who left her mark on countless people in our community.

Mrs. Susie Woods taught the fourth grade.

She had certain convictions that she made sure everybody in the class knew about the first day. They were written on the board. Two of them still stick out in my mind. Conviction #1 was that nobody could use the Lord’s name in vain. Conviction #2 was nobody could say “Shut Up”. Anybody caught breaking these rules would automatically stay in at recess at the least and the punishment could get much worse. There were a few guys in our class that spent most of their time trying to catch someone breaking one of these rules. Mrs. Susie suffered from allergies and always kept a bottle of syrup in her drawer and would take it out every now and then to take a swig. Everybody loved Mrs. Susie and she had a way of getting the most out of her students. We were in her class and out at recess when word came that President Kennedy had been shot in Dallas. We all gathered in her room as she explained to us the magnitude of what had happened. I’ll never forget that day and the calming affect she had on us.

In the fifth grade, Mrs. Lucibelle Fuller had the reputation of being the toughest teacher in the school.

School was getting a little tougher by now and she had to stretch us a little more than we wanted to be stretched. It was in her class where we were allowed to use a fountain pen for the first time. (We had used pencils only up to now.) I will never forget the day I made a 15 on a history test. She handed the papers out and didn’t say a word to me but gave me a look I have never forgotten. I felt I had broken her heart. She didn’t have to say a word, but her stare said “there is no excuse in what you did on this test and don’t ever do it again.” I never did. Mrs. Fuller’s reputation as being “tough” turned out to be false. This dear lady had the biggest heart of anyone I’ve known. She took pride in her later years of keeping up with her “kids” as they turned into adults. When they excelled, she beamed. She was earning interest on her lifelong investment and the interest she was earning was enough for her.

In the sixth, seventh, and eighth grades, we started changing classes during the day. We rotated between Mrs. Ruth Jones, Mrs. Betty Whatley, and Mrs. Mildred Payne.

I always felt like Mrs. Ruth was a member of my family. Her husband, Roy, and my daddy were best friends and I knew that truth that “news of what you do in school will find its way home” was magnified now. My picture of Mrs. Ruth is of a lady who very much knew her stuff, who was loved by all, but didn’t take any flack from anybody. I remember we were always in her class right before we went to lunch. Mrs. Ruth let everybody take turns saying the blessing. We didn’t have a rule against praying in schools then, and in fact, one did not have an option of whether they would pray. When it came your time, you prayed. Period. I don’t think it hurt a
thing either.

The picture I have of Mrs. Betty or “Mama Betty” as Chuck called her (his other grandmother), was a gentle lady who taught us the importance of memorization.

“Every Morning Lean Thine Arms Upon the Window Seals of Heaven...”, “In Flanders Fields”, and the Preamble to the Constitution were a few of the things we learned those three years. You can talk to most anybody in our class and you will find that most can still quote much of those classics today. Mrs. Betty was a gifted English teacher but gave us much more than English those three years.

Mrs. Mildred Payne was the math teacher and one of the best I ever had. She taught us the basics those years that made me realize in high school that my math background allowed me to not have to work quite as hard as those who did not have her.

The picture I have of her is writing on the board and calling someone’s name who was doing something they ought not to be. She never turned her head from the board. We all were convinced she had eyes the back of her head. Mrs. Payne had a great sense of humor and had one of the most contagious smiles I ever saw. To know her, was to love her.

As I think of the pictures these magnificent nine ladies have created for me, I am overwhelmed with the part they played in my life. They were special ladies who were more than teachers. They poured their lives into us. And I will be forever grateful.
Seven of these nine ladies are dead now physically, but they will always live in the hearts of their students and even their student’s children as we tell the stories.

Most of their bodies all lie within a rocks throw from each other in Hillcrest Cemetery in Reynolds. When I was a kid growing up in Reynolds Elementary, it never occurred to me that one day it would become my responsibility to prepare their bodies for burial and to lay them to rest. What memories flooded my mind as I tenderly did just that on seven different occasions for each of them. Mrs. Payne, the math teacher, is in a nursing home and suffers from Alzheimer’s.

Mrs. Ruth is alive and well and kicking and is as sharp as ever. Mrs. Ruth, I wish I could tell the rest of them but it is now too late. But I can tell you. You made a difference in this world we live in. And I know I speak for hundreds of others when I say this. The pictures you created for us have changed us, far more profoundly and far more permanently than words ever could.

Thanks.

(Note and Update: Mrs. Ogburn's photo is not included because she never allowed her photo to be published in the yearbooks. Mrs. Payne died a few years ago. Mrs. Jones now lives in Jamestown Assisted Living in Fort Valley, GA. I saw her a couple of weeks ago when I spoke to the residents at Jamestown for their weekly devotional meeting.)