Teacher has the write stuff.

92-year-old Spanish instructor puts pen to paper

Betty Otis believed in December 1998 that she had come to the Maryville Nursing Home in Beaverton, Ore., to die. After living independently since her husband's death in 1970, Betty's struggle with digestive problems prohibited her from living alone any longer.

"I expected to die within a few days [of being admitted]," Betty says. More than one year later, the 92-year-old not only did not die, but she has accomplished quite a lot. She created an English-as-a-Second-Language program for staff members, comforted a young Alzheimer's resident, and wrote a book, The View From My Chair in a Nursing Home.

What's in a name?

It is aptly named, says Bobbie Mims, a social worker at the 157-bed, not-for-profit nursing home that is sponsored by the Sisters of St. Mary of Oregon.

"Betty has been out of her room infrequently since her admission here," Mims says. "But she has watched a world pass by her door and has many new friends who now stop by to hear her words of wisdom."

She gives to a group[ldots]

These new friends include Hispanic staff members who found a confidant in the resident when they learned she spoke Spanish. A graduate of Ohio Wesleyan University, Betty taught high school Spanish in Olympia, Wash., during the 1930s.

One of the workers training to be a certified nursing assistant, who Betty refers to as "my Guatemalan angel," passed her CNA practicum, but could not pass the written portion of the exam because she had difficulty reading and writing in English. She confided in Betty, who spoke Spanish to her comfortingly and then got on the phone immediately.

Betty contacted the Beaverton literacy Council and set up a free, twice weekly ESL program right at Maryville. The program accommodated 20 Spanish-speaking staff members immediately after the day shift ended.

Now Betty speaks to the women in Spanish only if they need to learn how to say a phrase in English. They have showered her with thank-you notes (in English!) and surprised her with a birthday party with homemade Spanish dishes.

[ldots]and to individuals

The resident also reached out to a 51-year-old woman with Alzheimer's by inviting her to share some jelly beans from a bowl in Betty's room. "Betty would rub a nice-smelling lotion on this woman's hands and they would sit quietly together," Mims says. "There was not much talking, but there was a connection."

Then there are the daily visits from the residents' spouses. They ask her for advice and reminisce. One of the husbands remembers Betty when she used to lead tournament bridge games.

She also befriended the dietary manager, who prepares small, frequent meals for her and stashes fig bars, graham crackers, and pudding for her to snack on. Although Betty eats meals in her room and rarely participates in group activities--she prefers listening to books on tape and classical music--she is not isolated. "People come to her," Mims says. "She knows a remarkable lot about what goes on."

Mims urged Betty to write her observations for

The reader is introduced to Sister Frances, "who realized my eyes were growing dimmer and brought [me] a magnifying glass." There's Bob, who comes to visit his wife. She "doesn't recognize him, but he comes twice daily for her meals." Roxie is "the education guru who trains the CNAs, prepares them for their state tests, and carefully supervises their entrance into the 'workforce.'" Then there's Mims "my advisor, best friend, mother-figure [although she is young enough to be daughter], and resource person."

Even though the resident has grown weak in recent months and more time is now spent in bed than in her chair, Betty waits quietly for her next visitor, knowing now that she did not come here to die; she came here to make a difference.