There were no hallowed halls, no marble floors or columns. No grand winding staircase nor high domed ceiling. No pendant chandelier nor moulded wood panels. But there were beautiful plaster walls and ceilings with plaster moulding. Inside those walls were two of the best teachers l would ever meet. Oh yes, they wore robes, but they were plaid and made of cotton. There was no echo, for there was just four rooms, and one could hear from inside those four walls from one end to the next. But within those walls I learned the most important lessons of my life. Homework? Yes. In fact, I’m still working on what they wanted me to complete.
My teachers have long since passed, but my lessons continue. With every year, I reflect on what I was taught and find new and wonderful insights into what they tried to instill into my heart and mind. They were not exactly Rhodes scholars, in fact, far from it, for neither ever finished high school. And yet, they were the wisest people I knew. They taught me life lessons, not academics. They taught me survival skills, not theory. I learned coping strategies, not philosophy. And I learned how to deal with people or rather how not to deal with people. But the thing I learned the most from them was Faith. How to have faith in God and faith in believing that everything would work out alright in the end if you followed what the Master Teacher told you to do. They taught me how to love what is good, right and just. They were my grandparents. I was fortunate that they let me learn from them with a full scholarship for as long as they lived, at the College next door.