Author: cmkraack

  • In Honor of Those Who Teach

    Marquette University’s development rep wanted to visit (aka ask for a donation). On a hot summer day Samantha Adler and I sat down with iced drinks to chat about education before the pitch. First, we circled topics searching for things we had in common beyond my alma mater and valuing education. We wandered into talking about growing up in small towns.

    She grew up in Monticello, Indiana, the same small town as my husband. She had attended Meadowlawn Elementary. I mentioned my mother-in-law spent decades there as a third-grade teacher.

    Samantha asked for her name. 

    “Mrs. Kraack.”

    Her eyes got wide. “Mrs. Kraack! She read to us after she retired.”

    “That would be her.”

    “She was amazing. She made me want to read.”

    There we sat, two strangers across a table, connected by the kind of educator who could make small children want to read.

    “I read Winnie the Pooh books to my children, and I do all the voices like Mrs. Kraack. I haven’t thought of her for so long. This is amazing.”

    We both had goosebumps while sharing Mrs. Kraack stories. I told her truthfully that this opportunity to talk about my mother-in-law was a wonderful gift. 

    Helen Kraack taught at least a thousand elementary school children during her career. She was on her third generation of students in some families. Teaching was not a job for her, but a mission. She worked hard to be sure every third grader leaving her classroom could read, manage their time, know how to be kind to others, and dream of their futures.

    How do you measure the success of teachers like Mrs. Kraack? Many tried when she received an Indiana Shining Star for Excellence in Teaching, when she retired, when she passed. Stories about kids who went to college, who became professionals, who held leadership positions, won awards. 

    Then there are untold stories about little girls like Samatha who learned to love reading while listening to Mrs. Kraack. A girl who would earn a full scholarship to St. Mary’s College and develop a career making college possible for other kids. A mother who reads Winnie-the-Pooh books to her children. 

    Many thanks to all who enter classrooms this school year or teach in other ways. Know that even on your most lackluster days, your influence may brighten a child’s day and well outlive you. There are people who have your backs and wish you all the best. 

    Emily Kraack Chad and Helen Kraack

    “Some people care too much. I think it’s called love.”
    ― A.A. Milne, Winnie-the-Pooh

  • In Honor of a Compliant Computer

    Years of corporate living, reinforced by people who could shut down my technology, taught me to update operating systems and apps with a healthy degree of skepticism. I will eat a cookie from the first batch of a new recipe with little concern. I will not download a new operating system, office productivity program, or unsolicited app update until the pros prove that bugs won’t push me into a mess far beyond my problem-solving skills.

    AI, whether best friend or evil three-horned creature, now asks what I want to write when I open a blank screen, makes suggestions about words that might strengthen my writing, nitpicks commas. This is all more irritating when what I am writing is purely creative mutterings. Nothing like a computer to correct how leaves moving in a breeze look like when I am the one sitting in a garden chair staring at trees swaying. AI questioning if the language of a three-year-old character is authentic when I am quoting my granddaughter is as aggravating as having a younger literary agent say I don’t know what a man her father’s age is like. I’m lucky enough to be married to a man of that age.

    Now Apple, Google, Microsoft and all the big players have snuck their AI tools into the process of writing a friendly note to myself, a one-paragraph bio, a blog, a character sketch, a chapter. If I don’t remember to disinvite the AI crew, it is as welcome as having a client read rough copy over my shoulder or chairing the group writing of an executive overview. 

    With this blog complete, I’ll give AI an opportunity to do a quick edit and appreciate the results. The newest version of the “If You Give a Mouse a Cookie” series could be “If you Give an AI Program a Few Keystrokes.” Please go speak amongst your AI creators until I call you to my table.

  • July 4, 2025

    Not feeling like parades this year. Will let the poem posted 

    on the Statue of Liberty remind us about why this country 

    was founded.

    The New Colossus

    Not like the brazen giant of Greek fame,
    With conquering limbs astride from land to land;
    Here at our sea-washed, sunset gates shall stand
    A mighty woman with a torch, whose flame
    Is the imprisoned lightning, and her name
    Mother of Exiles. From her beacon-hand
    Glows world-wide welcome; her mild eyes command
    The air-bridged harbor that twin cities frame.
    “Keep, ancient lands, your storied pomp!” cries she
    With silent lips. “Give me your tired, your poor,
    Your huddled masses yearning to breathe free,
    The wretched refuse of your teeming shore.
    Send these, the homeless, tempest-tost to me,
    I lift my lamp beside the golden door!”

    -Emma Lazarus
    November 2, 1883