1 A Mother’s Inspiration – Brent Keith

A Mother’s Inspiration

My earliest memories of writing can be described as terrifying and stressful. I had no idea what to write or how to start. I felt completely lost and I didn’t know it then, but I experienced bouts of anxiety. I remember trying to ask the teacher for help only to get the feeling of intimidation from her. This teacher was no help, and I would have a tremendous feeling of embarrassment from my peers. Because of this experience, I was reluctant to even want to read.

My elementary school environment was strange. For the first 2-1/2 years, I attended a normal school with traditional classrooms. Half-way through second grade, my family moved, and I transferred to a new school. At this time in the early 70’s, the new school, called an open concept school, was considered the future for how a public school should be. It had carpeting, air conditioning, and there were no walls separating the classrooms or grades. It was sub-divided with grades 1-3 on one side, and 4-6 on the other side. Each grade was also sub-divided into 3 or 4 separate classes depending on the number of students, and academic standing. We had to sit on these large plastic Lego-like blocks, which were incredibly uncomfortable. Why this school was considered a positive learning environment, I will never understand.

After a few weeks into this new school, I was pulled out and sent to another school, confusing both me and my parents. I was totally unaware what the purpose of this was, and it terrified me. Had I done something wrong? The bus ride was a long trip across town and the driver was strict and often yelled at all the kids. I would get sick every morning and on occasion, would vomit and it led to more verbal abuse from the bus driver. I didn’t understand why these kids were different. A short time later, I realized that these kids were special-ed and so was the school. What was I here for? Assignments were very basic and, since I didn’t have anything in common with these kids, I just did the boring work. Some of these kids would be disruptive and some had social issues. It didn’t take very long for the teacher to realize that something wasn’t right, and she started giving me additional tests. They were more challenging but still basic. It became obvious that I didn’t belong here. It took nearly a month for the system to discover that records were mixed up and I was sent there by mistake.

Upon my return to the open concept school, friends and peers would ask me where I had been. When I described to them my ordeal, I faced ridicule from some of them and was called derogatory names, including racial remarks since I am half Asian. To say that I was traumatized would be an understatement. The whole experience gave me a bad taste for school. I struggled a bit trying to catch up and was intimidated to ask for help after being ostracized by my peers. I just wanted to hide. Eventually, everyone would come to forget about my ordeal and things settled down. Around this time, my mother started telling me stories about her life and how she overcame problems, often by learning on her own. Her stories helped me to get through the rest of the semester and, somehow, I managed to complete the second grade in the highest classes.

Third grade would prove difficult for me, particularly in math. Apparently, my peers were introduced to multiplication early in the second grade with a short refresher during the time when I was sent away to the other school. Since I was attending a different school during the first semester of second grade and I missed the refresher, I was totally lost in multiplication. When I asked for help, I was ridiculed by the teacher and was asked if I attended the second grade. The whole class laughed at me. From that point on, I was so reluctant to ask for help in any subject. But I did get some level of vindication, as I was able to figure out multiplication on my own. This was the first of many self-learning experiences.

Slowly I began to decline somewhat in all subjects, and it made me want to rebel. Mom started to help me with my homework. Some of these memories are fuzzy to me now but, I remember her helping me with math as she told me stories of her youth and how she didn’t make it past the second grade. As she told me more of her life experiences and hardships, I realized how lucky she was to have survived it. She was not able to finish her education as she was a child of war, having survived the battle of Okinawa during the second World War.

Schools in Okinawa were closed around 1942, and everybody had to prepare for the war that would soon come to their small island, and this is the event that ended her formal education. You would not know it until you got to know her, but even with her limited education, her intelligence always came across. It was amazing how quickly she could calculate math problems and she was impressed that I figured out on my own how multiplication worked. She said that I was smart to be able to do that, and that I should always work hard, saying that sometimes you must learn things on your own. She often spoke on things that she had to learn on her own to survive. Remembering her words of encouragement has helped me through much of life. Early on, she helped me to read, and English wasn’t even her native language. My earliest spelling of words came from her before I even started school. My mom was, for the most part, self-taught in English. She did receive some informal help when she first came to the U.S. from neighbors who became her friends, but she was self-taught for the most part. Her English skills may not have been advanced, but it’s amazing to me that she was able to learn as much as she did.  My mom would often emphasize, “I must do well and finish school to have a good future and that I needed a diploma to get a good job someday.” She would tell me how much she regretted not being able to finish her education. Her stories, which made a huge impact, also became such a big inspiration to me.  It was so impressive to watch her write letters to her parents back home in Okinawa. She wrote these letters in Kanji. I didn’t have any idea what she was saying in her letters, but I thought the writing itself was just beautiful. I realize now that my mother was the most important literacy sponsor to me. Looking back, I can now appreciate the challenges she faced while growing up through the war.

My father was pretty much out of the picture throughout most of my school years, as he was always at work by the time I came home from school. He was from a generation who thought that a college education wasn’t necessary. He worked as a Job Setter for Ford, a semi-skilled position. For years I thought of him as a hard worker. Years later, I discovered that his job was only about 15 minutes of actual work, and the rest of the time was spent working on hobbies or taking a nap. He discouraged college and he would always preach to me and my brothers, that all we needed to do was, “Get a job at Ford.” Working for his company may have worked well for him, but it did little for my generation as these jobs slowly faded away. The plant where he once worked is now just a vacant lot.

My intimidation towards writing would continue throughout most of my school years. I discovered the joy of reading during an eighth-grade literacy class. We read short stories followed up by class discussions. I really enjoyed this class, but it was mom’s storytelling that made me catch the reading bug. I’m interested in reading and listening about people’s stories, their adventures, and experiences. But mom’s telling of her life stories, spoken in heavily accented English, were very vivid, and she would bring them to life, making it feel like you were there in the moment. I would be completely drawn-in as she told them. As I got older, she would tell some dark and sad stories, sometimes bringing a tear to my eye.

High school was uneventful for the most part. But by my senior year, I was starting to finally write better. I didn’t get stuck as much and was a lot less intimidated. This probably had more to do with the fact that I was in my last semester as I was graduating early, so maybe I was feeling good about that. Or perhaps, because I was somehow, going to miss school. Whatever the reason, writing, all the sudden started getting easier. I wondered why this couldn’t happen any sooner.

Deborah Brandt mentions that almost anything can be a literacy sponsor. “Sponsors, as I have come to think of them, are any agents, local or distant, concrete or abstract, who enable, support, teach, model, as well as recruit, regulate, suppress, or withhold literacy-and gain advantage by it in some way.” (Brandt, Pg. 247) Whether it be a person, a place or an institution. Shortly after high school, I enlisted in the Air Force, and upon entering basic training, aka, “boot camp,” we were given a manual. So, we were told that this manual was our bible, our ticket out of basic training, and it laid out the entire program; how to walk, talk, eat, sleep etc. It also included a section on military justice, the UCMJ, and a lot of the articles had to be memorized. We had to march everywhere, and when we stopped, we were ordered to study our book. We were tested on our knowledge from this book at the end of boot camp. In order to graduate, we had to pass this test. If you didn’t pass, you got what was called “washed back,” and nobody wanted that! I still have this book. Sometimes, when I’m out in the garage working on some project, I will come across it. When I look through the pages, memories come flooding back, I start to think of my mom as it was her, that prepared me for military life.

Life in post-war Okinawa was hard for the civilian population. The rebuilding process was slow, and many people faced hardships and starvation. The presence of US military bases on the island brought in civilian jobs. My mother would go through several of these jobs and eventually, got a housekeeper position working for a Colonel and his family. In the military, it’s common for higher ranking officers to live in nice houses on base. She had to learn how to keep the quarters in “Inspection Order” at all times. She passed these skills down to me in my pre-teen years as I had an interest in joining the military after high school. One of these skills was how to make a bunk, military style. Later it would prove to be a valuable skill in boot camp, and I was often praised for my bunk making skills. I also passed this skill down to my oldest son who would later make good use of it while he was a cadet at the Coast Guard Academy.

During my time in the Air Force, I was fortunate enough to work with some retired Vietnam vets who were part of the civilian work force. While working in an aircraft hangar together, these highly skilled people not only shared their knowledge, but also stories of their war experiences and lives. They were literally walking encyclopedias. The hangar that we worked in was dedicated to performing aircraft inspections. We would disassemble, inspect, repair and then reassemble airplanes. Understanding technical manuals and records was essential to the job. It is while serving in the Air force, that I started to consider pursuing a college degree. My military time increased my confidence with literacy, particularly when it came to technical reading and writing. Later, this would prove to be invaluable.

Shortly after leaving the Air Force, I started working for a manufacturing company. I started out as a production worker operating a large press that molded plastic body panels for the automotive industry. Positions became available in the maintenance department, and I used my Air Force experience to my advantage. I passed the necessary test to get into maintenance at an entry level position, eventually advancing to the next level. One of the challenges that I encountered repeatedly was robot calls. I was always lost when it came to fixing the issues that I faced with them. Taking a cue from mom, I started my own little self-study program by taking robot programming manuals home. It was challenging trying to figure out how to perform the functions that I read about from the manual; especially when you don’t have your hands on the equipment at the time, and additionally when you lack any guidance. I would often make things worse at first but somehow, I always managed to get myself out of it. Though discouraging at times, I was motivated to learn and overcome my lack of knowledge. Eventually, I learned how to take care of the issues and my understanding increased to a high level.

The years of conversations with my mom led me to understand her motivation to learn not only English and the American culture but other things as well. Inspired by this self-learning motivation from her, I eventually became the plants robot expert. After gaining confidence, I began to take chances and started modifying other machines, improving the performance of them. This eventually caught the attention of the Engineering Manager, and I was offered a position in the Engineering department as a Robotics/Controls Engineer. The year 2009 brought an economic downturn, and sadly, with 20 years with this company, it went out of business.

Several jobs later, my current Controls Engineering job entails me designing and programming waste-water systems for cities across the state. Over the years, I was fortunate to work with some very talented people. But it’s mom’s inspiration that guides this self-learning spirit in me.

It’s truly amazing that when I look back, I realize just how much of an impact my mom had on my life. It was through our conversations, that she taught me how to survive and adapt by self-learning. Even though there have been other sponsors throughout my life, my mom has been the most important literacy sponsor for me. There isn’t a day that goes by that I don’t think about her.

References

Wardle, E., & Downs, D. (2020). Sponsors of Literacy. In Writing about writing (Forth Edition, pp. 244–265). essay, Bedford Bks St Martin’s.