The first time I met Rhonda Klutts was at a funeral.

Rhonda was the choral director at B.F. Terry High School, and the varsity choir was singing at the service of a former Terry Ranger who’d been killed in action during the Iraq war.

I remember being quite impressed by the poise of these teenagers and the compassionate teacher leading them through an incredibly difficult tragedy.

Over the past 15 years, I’ve discovered that helping students understand life is just one of the many traits that make Rhonda such an incredible teacher.

On the first day of school, Rhonda purposely trips over something and tells the teens “I’m a klutz. Get it?!” They immediately know this smiling teacher has a great sense of humor and isn’t afraid to laugh at herself.

But that won’t happen in the fall.

After 21 years at Terry High School, Rhonda has decided to retire. She’s always had the dream of owning her own piano studio, and that dream is finally coming true this fall.

The teaching world, however, is losing an incredible educator. She’s the teacher everyone hopes to have, the teacher every mother prays her child will have and the teacher educators hope to be like.

She willingly welcomes and teaches every child who comes through the door, from those who have perfect pitch to those who arrive in wheelchairs. Even though they have limitations, Rhonda works with every child and coaxes notes and lyrics from them.

Her students feel at home in her choir room and, most importantly, they want to give “Mama Klutts” their very best.

That commitment is reflected in the dozens of awards and trophies her choirs have earned over the past two decades.

That love is reflected in the faces of the elderly when Rhonda takes her choirs to area nursing homes to sing Christmas carols.

That love of music is etched on the face of every youngster who encounters Rhonda when her varsity choir sings in the halls at Terry or performs at elementary schools.

She’ll spend hours with a student struggling with life and she’ll make sure a teen gets back on the right road if they’ve strayed. She often cries herself to sleep because she’s worried about a student making poor choices.

That servant’s heart is evident outside the school room. Rhonda has a deep belief in God and has played the piano at Calvary Baptist Church every Wednesday and Sunday for years.

She adores her family, her husband, Joe, her son and daughter in law, Jeremy and Tara, and especially the light in her eyes, her grandson Everett.

She never hides her love of life and of her chosen profession. Never was that more evident than at her last concert this week. The auditorium was packed, including many former students who came to watch their beloved teacher one more time.

They weren’t disappointed.

Every student in Rhonda’s choirs sang their heart out. For the last song, her teaching assistant, Marlayna Shaw, arranged for her former students from the past two decades to join the varsity choir for the last songs.

Rhonda stood in the middle of the auditorium, tears streaming down her face, as she conducted over 250 current and former students in their final concert with her.

There wasn’t a dry eye in the house.

Most of us hope to leave the world a better place than how it was when we arrived. We pray our families will be proud of us and hope we’ve left them examples of the best way to live their lives.

There is no doubt that Rhonda Klutts is leaving a legacy of creating outstanding choirs with students who’ve never had voice or music lessons in their lives.

But more important than the trophies on the shelves is Rhonda instilled the belief in her students that they matter.

Teachers like Rhonda don’t come along very often. They’re a rare and precious gift because they plant seeds that grow for generations.

Terry High School was incredibly blessed to have this wonderful person behind the piano for so many years, and I’m fortunate to call her my friend.

Enjoy your retirement, Rhonda, but know – you will be missed and, as you so loved your students, you, too, will always be loved.

This column was originally published in The Fort Bend Herald.

We’re wrapping up Teacher Appreciation Week and on Sunday we’ll celebrate Mother’s Day. In a way, those two events are one in the same because our moms are our first teachers.

According to Hallmark, mothers teach us to be kind and gentle, how to share and how to make the world a better place. Teachers do the same thing with one major difference – they can flunk us if we don’t do what we’re supposed to do.

All of us have fond memories of our favorite teachers, and I’m no exception. But there’s a little twist this year – I’m also grateful to the slacker teachers I had.

Don’t get me wrong – I absolutely adore the great teachers I had like my high school English teachers Ms. Pruyn and Ms. Phillips and my chemistry and physics teacher Mr. Bizet who gave me B’s even though I didn’t deserve them.

In reality, the slacker teachers made me appreciate the really good ones.

There aren’t enough flowers, cards, gifts or expressions of gratitude for those educators who can teach a child that letters on a page translate into words that convey ideas to illuminate minds.

Or that a math teacher can take a reluctant child, get them to solve an algebraic equation and have them leave the class feeling successful.

And that’s what great moms do.

They make us feel like a million bucks when we feel like chump change. My mom makes me feel like a millionaire, and I’m thankful beyond words she’s still around mentoring and mothering.

Dee Hebert taught me to make a meal out of seemingly nothing in the pantry. She taught me Sunday dinners with family was sacred and to use the good tablecloth when serving that dinner. Your family, she taught me, deserves the best.

She taught me a mom can work outside the home and still be a fabulous mother. She showed me it’s really possible to have every one of your children secretly believe they’re the favorite because you treat each one as an individual with their own special talents and gifts.

As I think about all the wonderful things my mom has taught me, I think back to what I taught my sons. I did teach them how to bake a Chef-Boyardee pizza and how to work the can opener and microwave.

That counts as home cooking, doesn’t it?

I am almost ashamed to admit I introduced them to swearing. Yes, I used profanity in front of them but there’s almost no way to drive in rush-hour traffic or to come away from the grocery store after getting behind the neighborhood coupon queen and not drop a few choice words.

I’m hoping my sons will cut their slacker mom a bit of a break this year and remember I was really doing the best I could.

Even if that meant trying to pawn off Campbell’s Chicken Noodle Soup as home-made.

Even when I put on the Cartoon Network so I could grab 15 minutes of shut-eye after a sleepless night because you threw up at our bedroom door at 3 a.m.

You were showing us that it takes gumption to be a parent and a teacher. Luckily, moms and dads learn to roll with the flow. This includes natural parents, step-parents, mothers stepping up as dads, fathers stepping up as moms and relatives and friends taking on the parental duties.

And here’s a little secret:  these two jobs are the absolute best and most fulfilling callings in the world, even though the hours are long, the pay doesn’t come close to covering what you do and the thanks are few and far between.

So Happy Teacher Appreciation Week and Happy Mother’s Day to all those teachers and moms out there. You deserve all the thanks, hugs, kisses, flowers, bathroom slippers, perfume, chocolates, ceramic figurines and hand-drawn cards, complete with jelly smears, your little darlings can bestow on you.

This column was originally published in The Fort Bend Herald.

Our youngest son was thrilled when one of his best friends asked him to be in his wedding. Chris asked me to accompany him to help with the children while he stood for his friend.

The wedding was a Hindu marriage, and I’d never been to a ceremony in a temple before. I wasn’t sure what to expect, but Chris said his groomsman’s attire was stunning – a long purple shimmering tunic, a gold scarf and gold pants.

His two daughters had pretty dresses for the wedding, but his two sons did not. So dad and sons went clothes shopping. The three of them returned and rushed in to change so they could model their wedding clothes for us.

At first, I was shocked.

The youngest one was wearing a bright red suit with a matching vest, an orange shirt and a matching striped tie. The older boy was wearing a shimmering blue jacket and vest, a black shirt and a red bow tie.

They were going to a wedding – wouldn’t blue blazers look a lot more, well, appropriate?

That thought immediately vanished when I saw their smiles. Their buttons were practically popping off those brighter-than-the-sun jackets.

“They picked out what they wanted,” Chris said, adjusting their ties, a look of pride, love and happiness on his face. “Don’t they look fantastic!”

Seeing the satisfaction on their faces sealed the deal – the boys did look fantastic and, more than that, confident in the knowledge that they picked out what they wanted and wore their clothes proudly.

I sheepishly admitted that at the ages of 3 and 6, my grandsons understood more about independence and not following the crowd than their grandmother.

 

A Beige Life

A couple of years ago, I looked through my closet and realized most of my shirts were either white or beige. I reasoned that the basic colors went with any skirt or slacks I had in the closet.

I knew life was too short to be that bland, but I just couldn’t bring myself to buy bright bold colors. I didn’t want to stand out, and I rationalized that spending money on an item I might only wear occasionally was frivolous.

Until I saw this one blouse in the clothing store.

I wasn’t looking for clothes, but this shirt caught my eye. It was a seamless blend of swirling aqua blue and emerald green. I stood in front of that shirt a good minute, marveling at how the colors were so vibrant yet so calming.

Then I looked at the price tag and reluctantly walked away.

And every day afterwards, I regretted not buying something that, in my eyes, was beautiful. I thought about that shirt every time I pulled a beige shirt out of the drawer.

Months later, I saw another shirt with those same vibrant colors, and I bought it without looking at the price tag. It’s one of my favorite shirts, and I wear it at least once every other week because those colors make me happy.

But that’s only one shirt in my mostly beige wardrobe.

I need to follow the lead of my grandsons and take more chances.

I need to choose not only what makes me happy but makes me laugh out loud.

I need to stand out, even when I think others might laugh or in a way that’s outside of my small comfort zone.

Because it really doesn’t matter what anybody else thinks.

If those suits makes my grandsons feel good about themselves and announce that here’s two guys who refuse to follow the crowd and, instead, follow what they love, then all the better.

I’d do well to follow their example more often.

Here’s to strutting around in scarlet red suits, to wearing long purple tunics with gold scarves, to dancing with abandon with children and to never again buying a beige shirt.

Because life’s too short to blend into the background.

Life’s all about grabbing the brass ring.

And taking that chance is all the better if when I reach out, I’m wearing something that make me feel as confident as my son and grandsons.

This column was originally published in The Fort Bend Herald.