Lifelong Learning...Kindergarten lessons from Mrs. Velma Howell

Kindergarten. Hugs, snacks and paint on my fingers. Kool Aid in a cup and naps on blue or red plastic. White bread in hand and brown oak leaves under my feet at recess. Learning to stand in lines and to sing songs. Mrs. Velma Howell was teaching us to be the "creatives" that we all can be. Kindergarten was a magical half-day. I didn't know I was learning, because I was too busy loving every minute. Daily agenda: create, be kind, and learn to love to LEARN.

I am half as old as Mrs. Howell. She just turned 104 years young to my 52. When I walked into the welcoming world of her kindergarten class she was more than 10 times as old as the five-year-old me. I don't remember that type of math question, but everything and everyone counted in Mrs. Howell's class.

Closing my eyes now, I am 10 years old, cruising on my bike past Mrs. Howells vast oak-umbrella corner lot with the exotic plants and ubiquitous azaleas. I was still learning. I was small-town free. I could sit in the micro-bamboo forest in Kyle Strickland's backyard and plan a treehouse. LEARN. Not far from there is where that dog I teased, chased me down and bit me. LEARN. Rupert Russell nailed me in the back with a fastball and death seemed near, but no, it was just a "Walk" to first base. LEARN. Eddie Davis and I threw oranges at decorative concrete yard-deer and knocked off an "ear." Ran. Told to return, knock on Mrs. Clenney’s door and apologize. Buy super glue and repair. LEARN. She later offered to pay us to clean and paint all of her decorative yard items. LEARN!

I left Mrs. Howells kindergarten ready for the world. I later became her student again in a summer art class in her still-life kitchen under those protective oaks. Her corner lot was and is a testament to life-long learning; a creative hub in my small town. My personal Portland or Santa Fe. Later, when I sought fortune with a three-wheeled mower at age 15, she hired me to mow her yard. I recall the canopy was not conducive for the Bermuda grass, but her exotic, colorful plants from around the globe made me think of the world outside of my small-town incubator.

Mrs. Howell recently announced the addition of her poem “My Gift” into the book “Beyond the Sea-Discovery." When she turned 100 she was “asked for her words of wisdom…she quoted a poem she wrote about her love of children and gardens: ‘If I get to heaven before you do and you come looking for me, Don’t give up in despair thinking I didn’t make it there. I’ll tell you just what to do: Go down the path by a bubbling brook with lilies all in full bloom, Just turn to the right, you’ll see a familiar sight, You’ll find me in the children’s room.’” (Ref: http://tinyurl.com/zywsu79) Never forget the love of learning. Never stop passing that gift. Thanks Mrs. Howell.