“Pride goeth before destruction, and a haughty spirit before a fall.”
— Proverbs
Boy, there’s wisdom in those words. I received yet another lesson in that last Thursday from one of my daughters-in-law and a Von Steuben Middle School language arts teacher.
Last Thursday was Take Your Daughter to Work Day. It’s a tradition with me.
I took my daughter to work with me for years. Last week, I took two of my granddaughters — Robyn, 10, a Charter Oak School student, and Michelle, 5, a Dunlap Bright Futures student.
I took them to a fire station, the courthouse, OSF Saint Francis Medical Center and city hall. They talked to important people, interesting people. They had a good time.
Michelle broke with us about 11:30 a.m. so she could go to school.
Robyn and I continued on. We took photos at a school play. We talked to a victim of an armed robbery.
We went to the police station.
I stopped at home and my wife informed me that Michelle went to school telling her teacher and classmates all about her morning.
She ended her little speech with, “My grandpa is the greatest man ever.”
Well, that put a little spring in my step.
I took Robyn home and her mother said, “Dad, I saw you on TV yesterday. They re-ran the American Justice episode on A&E you are in.”
I began to swell with pride again.
That episode involved the story of Henry Lee Lucas, once believed to be one of the most prolific serial killers in American history. Henry spent many years on death row in Texas.
I was among a small group of people who believed in Henry’s innocence.
I worked for eight years on his case. I was threatened with arrest by the Texas Rangers. I had documents that were illegal for me to possess. I was threatened with arrest by the Texas Attorney General if I printed any of those documents. I printed them anyway.
American Justice learned of my efforts and did an episode called, “Myth of a Serial Killer.”
About a year after the episode aired, Gov. George W. Bush, while governor of Texas, and while running for president, released Lucas from death row.
Talk about a miracle. And, I played a part in it.
So, there I stood in my daughter-in-law’s living room expecting some words of adulation about my journalistic triumph.
Instead, I heard, “Boy, you looked young in that episode. You’ve really aged.”
That spring in my step suddenly turned into a limp.
And, my vibrant, but rapidly graying hair, went flat.
I slunk home.
I had been away from my computer all day, and as I went through my e-mails, my already bruised pride was about to undergo another beating.
There among the Viagra offers was an e-mail from a Von Steuben Middle School teacher.
“I was given your name to direct my question to. Recently I received a copy of the Observer in my mailbox. Ironically, it was just after I had been in a meeting that stressed how we MUST keep our expectations high and continue to push our students to do their best. Then I look at a page in the Observer that features a drama put on at our school. The title of the article and one of the captions has the name of the school misspelled!!,” she wrote.
“Wow, how disappointing. So, should I or should I not, as a language arts teacher in District150, maintain my high standards, is anyone one maintaining theirs?”
Ouch. She is right. I misspelled the school’s name. Guilty as charged. 
Not to be nitpicky, or change the subject, teach, but I think in that last line it should have read, “anyone else,” instead of “anyone one.”
Of course, that is just a guess on my part. I am not a teacher. And, it was a comedy, not a drama.
People make mistakes. Normally, I’d let those pass.
I’m just an average guy — whose grandaughters think he’s cool, even if I am chewing a mouthful of crow.
I had to call you out though teach — because I’m now also desperately trying to adopt even higher standards, you know.