Creating a Village
I’m sure you’ve heard the African proverb, “It takes a village to raise a child,” meaning that it’s a collective responsibility to raise a child with the help of family, teachers, clergy, business people, and community leaders. In an interdependent world, all of us contribute in some way to the well-being of a child. I was a teacher for 30 years; I know this to be true. Your child’s teacher, pastor, youth leader, or coach will leave a mark on your child, hopefully a positive one.
Many years ago, while watching my son at soccer practice at MacLean Park, someone lifted me off the ground and swung me around like a rag doll. Back on terra firma, I was delighted to see that it was Pollito, a shy student from my first year of teaching Adult English as a Second Language at Brazosport College in 2004. He said, “Teacher, I have been looking for you for 10 years. I wanted to say, thank you for teaching me English!”
On Facebook, I was recently blessed to be contacted by Marissa, a former 1st grade student from my first year of teaching in Washington State in 1987. What a treat to have her reach out after 39 years and say that I made a difference to her. She attributes her ability to sing La Bamba to me and my guitar! I hope that I was part of the “village” that helped these individuals grow up with skills and confidence to become good humans.
Growing up, I felt that I had five moms: My mom, Mrs. Overland, Mrs. Wilkinson, Mrs. Earl, and Mrs. Gnegy. Each of these lovely neighbors and friends affected me and my little world. I knew if anything happened to my mother, any of them would step in and take care of me.
My navy-blue clogs remind me of my second mom, Mrs. Overland. When she babysat me, she often took me to the local Scandinavian store and bought me hot cocoa and a Norwegian dessert called “lefse.” She taught me that being the littlest kid in class was not all bad because “Precious things come in little packages.” When welcoming me to her home, I was always greeted with the door flung open and an exclamation of “Lauri!” like it was the best surprise in the world to see me. And when I was a stinky 17-year-old, and had a fight with my mom, she let me come stay with her for a week. No lectures, no shame, just unconditional love.
My red clogs remind me of my third mom, Mrs. Wilkinson. She took her daughter and me to ballet once a week. She brushed our hair and pinned it up in a tight ballerina bun. I remember her shiny black hair in an updo, her paisley blouses, bell bottoms, and clogs, always clogs.
My neighbor, Mrs. Earl, was tall and strict, but had a great smile and baked the best chocolate chip cookies and chocolate mint cake. My village wasn’t complete without Mrs. Gnegy. She was a gorgeous Bolivian. Knowing her inspired me to learn Spanish in high school and college. As a child, I knew that these women in my world loved me and life was enriched because of the little village they formed.
I am grateful for the village that encircled my own kids here in Lake Jackson: church workers, youth leaders, Scout leaders, soccer coaches, band directors, school teachers and my own best friends who shared their skills, gave of their time, and cared for my kids.
Studies show that children who have positive relationships with adults in their lives will have better mental health in adulthood. Self-worth, empathy, and belonging are developed when a child is cared for by an extended “village.”
A few Sundays ago, our pastor held a dedication service for newly born babies. The end of a baby dedication service is always the same, he turns to the congregation and asks if we promise to help nurture the child's spiritual growth. I always feel a little guilty when a pastor asks that, thinking, “What can I do to help this child?” Well, of course the answer is, be a role model, be honorable, kind, supportive, and available.
I sat in church that same day and listened as a man chatted with an elementary-aged girl in the pew next to him. He asked questions and listened to her responses. She beamed. He took the time to make her feel heard and special and she will remember. She will remember that someone in her little village took the time to interact with her and care about her.
Published in The Facts-Brazos Living column 8/12/26
