Mrs. Dickinson

My first grade teacher was Mrs. Mary Dickinson. A personality whom I have studied is Dr. Russell Ackoff of the Wharton School, Philadelphia. Both of these Americans lived until the age of 90. You have never heard of Mrs. Dickinson but Dr. Ackoff is one of the most famous business consultants in the world. Both are heroes of mine.

Mrs. Dickinson taught first grade at that small country school which I attended for 12 years. For over thirty years the school, which was on the very site of the one room school which Gov. Charles Brantley Aycock and my two grandfathers attended, drew in students from the swamps and back roads of that area of Wayne County. The school, which had less than 300 students in the entire 12 grades (there were 13 in my high school graduating class), was the most remarkable education resource one can imagine. I feel confident in saying not one student ever left Mrs. Dickinson's first grade who could not read and write and more importantly, knew how to behave. My father, chairman of the school board, said there was not one known complaint about her teaching methods any time in the history of the school. Everyone knew she knew what she was doing and no one was going to tell her what to do.

The very first day, she got these first graders in line and marched them into the front of the auditorium where the first graders always sat for the opening assembly. There, they saw their older grade brothers, sisters, cousins, file into the assembly. There was a security, a wholesomeness, in this school which could never have been surpassed. The principal would always walk over and talk about this new first grade and he would always says this, “You listen to Mrs. Dickinson, she is going to keep you in line, and if you stay in line you will advance every year into a new class”. Early in life, these farm students learned you get in line, and stay in line, to move forward in this world.

Dr. Ackoff, of the famed Wharton Business School, is known for his systems thinking and management science. He discovered that the better educated the worker, the more dissatisfied the worker. At the beginning of WWII, the average worker had an 8^th grade education. As education has increased, high school, college, etc., workers are no longer satisfied to be cogs in a machine. Rather, every worker wants to be the boss, knows best what to do, does not want to be told what to do by anyone and every worker now, especially unionized, is dissatisfied at the work place. This, I truly believe more than anything else, is the reason industry has moved into the poor areas of the world where distressed people, glad to get jobs and support their family, will take instruction, not want to be the big deal, or everyone the boss, glad to get a paycheck. The average worker, the discontented whatever, in this country, not contented anymore to get in line and stay in line, rather to knock down, jump over, lie, cheat or steal, to get to the top.

Some fool in Hong Kong paid $350,000 for the left, white, sequined glove of Michael Jackson. Some person paid $225,000 for his jacket. Don't confuse celebrity with accomplishment.

Don't get caught in the bondage of bitterness (disability, lack of opportunity). Don't get caught in the bondage of being on the wrong side (political mistakes, careless investing). Don't get caught in the bondage of the death culture (abortion, euthanasia). Don't get caught in the bondage of debt (credit cards, mortgages). Don't get caught in the bondage of disillusionment (family, friends, associates). Don't get caught in the bondage of disobedience (God, family, country).

From bondage to freedom it's always possible, but certainly delays the journey. Life here on this Earth is not a very long trip. Believe me, after you pass the age of 50 everyday seems like Friday!

Often, I have drawn on the resources of my heroes. When I was in Mali, Africa I wanted to visit the Dogon area of Africa, the oldest civilization in the world. In the city of Bamako, my Dutch guide became ill and in order for me to keep up my itinerary with the flights it was necessary for this blind traveler to get to the Bamako airport alone. They got me into a plane, one of the only two planes of the Mali air service, and on the runway, the two planes ran into one another doing some damage to the wings. I exited the plane, along with some goats and several other passengers, back into the small airport about the size of your living room. There, as here, there is a lot of loitering in public places by the natives. They have nothing else to do except witness the activity at the airport and, of course, they take up all the seats.

I was sitting on the floor over at the side, totally in the bondage of bitterness, disillusionment, disappointment...as so many times in my blind life...ready to quit. Alone, in absolute darkness, in probably the most uncivilized corner of the world, I was in a bondage of helplessness. Suddenly, God in all his majesty, whispered to me “Arise, get on your feet, I am not finished with you” (Acts 26:16). Immediately, I stood up and about that time the airport manager took me by the arm out to the plane for the flight to Johannesburg. One of the natives had been trying to sell me a hand made sword, earlier. He even came down to my price, $10 (this sword was sold with my collection of Civil War swords some years ago). The plane engines, all the way to Johannesburg, were singing my favorite hymn (Great is Thy Faithfulness). In the airport at Johannesburg, an airport official got me off the Mali plane and led me through the airport to the U.S. plane taking me back to America. As I walked through the airport one smart woman remarked, “Look at that blind man with the sword, I wonder who he is mad with?”. Today, you cannot get on a plane with a nail clipper. It is dangerous to go into the country of Mali because of drugs but, God is still in charge of everything.