• 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

    4 responses to “In Honor of Those Who Teach”

    1. Sally Showalter Avatar
      Sally Showalter

      Applause to teachers such as Emily. A wonderful story to share. Thank you.

    2. Eliza Waters Avatar

      Heartwarming story!

    3. WritingfromtheheartwithBrian Avatar

      Love stories about great teachers. The impression they make on others really does go on forever. Great story. 😎😎

  • What I Didn’t See Coming 10 Years Ago

    Marveling at Marie Antionette’s crazy little cottage at Versailles. Dancing to Aretha Franklin with my youngest son at his backyard wedding reception. Collaborating with my husband on creative projects like the bed frame he crafted and the quilt I designed. Sharing a Thanksgiving feast with family at the home of my oldest son and his wife. Spending summer mornings reading and writing on the porch. Enjoying hugs and giggles with my granddaughters. That’s what I hoped retirement would look like when I gave up paid work 10 years ago, and often it has. 

    When the chance to launch this phase came at 61, I eagerly jumped even though my career as a marketing communications copywriter and occasional college writing instructor had meant a lot to me. I’d come of age when women in those roles weren’t a given, and I’d made sacrifices to find my place in that world. 

    I expected my identity would evolve and be redefined by retirement—sometimes by me, more often by strangers who are dismissive of retirees. I rejected their stereotypes and for a time, when people casually asked at parties, “What do you do?” I answered, “I’m a writer.” Accurate, but incomplete. Now I don’t bother with that artifice. I know I’m a badass. Whether others see it or not is irrelevant.

    Since retiring, my personal life has developed in predictable and happy ways. We welcomed daughters-in-law, and they and our sons bought houses and had children. We’ve loved being part of those changes. What I didn’t see coming was Trump in 2016, COVID and George Floyd’s killing in 2020, and Trump again. 

    Today the world beyond my personal circle feels dramatically different than it did in 2015. There were problems aplenty then, but the government was still functional. This year DOGE slashed congressionally-approved funding for federal services including national parks, FEMA, NIH, USAID, and more. The executive branch disregards constitutional rights and federal laws without consequence. I could continue with my list of troubling changes, but I won’t depress you with it.

    In the past decade I’ve become more politically aware. More outraged. More impassioned. I began taking part in protest marches—something I never imagined doing. The whole idea sounded scary. Nonetheless, in 2017 I marched alongside my husband and our youngest son, who joined us despite being on crutches while recovering from a traumatic bike accident. Seeing so many like-minded people in the streets was heartening. Since then I’ve continued participating in marches, selectively. 

    I recognize the limits of protests, but it’s important to me to show up. I also began writing actual letters and emails to political leaders (vs. the forms political organizations provide). I doubt either effort does much good, but I hope the sheer size of the protests will get through to politicians. I have to do something. This isn’t the world I want. This isn’t what the United States is meant to be.

    I anticipate during the next 10 years of retirement, my personal life will evolve even further in expected ways. 

    But I fervently hope the political pendulum swings back from this destructive trajectory and re-centers on sanity, decency, and a functioning democracy.

    , , ,

    4 responses to “What I Didn’t See Coming 10 Years Ago”

    1. Ann Coleman Avatar

      I think contacting politicians is an effective form of protest, because they want to be reelected. If enough constituents make it clear they aren’t going to vote for them unless they stand up for the constitution, they will listen, I believe. And hope!

      1. Ellen Shriner Avatar

        Thanks for reading!

    2. Eliza Waters Avatar

      Happily and actively retired! Thumbs up! 👍🏼

      1. Ellen Shriner Avatar

        Good! I feel lucky to have this time 😎

  • 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.

    One response to “In Honor of a Compliant Computer”

    1. Ellen Shriner Avatar

      Uh, oh. I’ll have to be vigilant about updates. Who knows what words AI will put in my mouth!


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