Tuesday, January 1, 2013
Saturday, June 30, 2012
wedding 'n stuff
Yesterday was my best friend's wedding. That is bridesmaid #5 for me; by now I'm pro at the "candid laughing pic" (pictures are to come, but all you need to know was that it was a big and beautiful Texan wedding). Last night at the reception, I caught the bouquet for the 3rd time in my life. This must mean something, right? Possibly that I have great hand-eye coordination while fighting off 15 other single ladies to the sweet jams of Beyonce. Maybe I should have been a softball player and missed my calling in life. Darn.
Here are the attractive newlyweds, yo:
In 4 days I will be celebrating our nations independence in the country that we won it from. Woo woo! We will be watching an American musical classic, visiting spectacular buildings older than America, eating tons of pastries/gelato/pizza/chocolate--you name it, and traipsing through Europe for 2 weeks livin' the life.
Until then, a biento!
Monday, May 7, 2012
rosy
Mrs. Cheney was my 4th grade teacher. She was a plump, jolly lady with bushy brown hair and rosy cheeks. From the first day of school, I knew I'd love her. She exuded her love of learning to us every single day and made every subject, every lesson an invitation to learn and to better ourselves. I've often heard that some teachers become teachers because they love drama--as in acting on the stage drama (although you get plenty of the other kind of drama from the kids, believe me). Well I think that's, at least in part, one reason Mrs. Cheney became a teacher. She was exuberant and expressive, especially when reading books aloud! My favorite was A Wrinkle in Time. We fell in love with Meg, Calvin, and Charles Wallace and rooted for their success. Aunt Beast was . . . interesting, but so tender and loving in this strange, new world. Books like these transported us to new adventures just like the tesseract did for Meg. I felt comfortable exploring my imagination and creativity in her class. I have seen Mrs. Cheney a few times since being a 4th grader, although it has been several years, each time she mentions the heart doily with dried flowers that I hand-crafted and hot-glued for her that "matched perfectly with the colors in her bathroom." I loved her. I loved her class.
Next year, I will be going back into the 4th grade. I only hope that my 4th graders next year receive a portion of the knowledge and love of learning that Mrs. Cheney bestowed upon me. I will be sad to leave my little 2nd graders with their bright eyes and thirst for knowledge, but I can't wait to start learning right alongside these 4th graders and to rediscover my 4th grade self.
Here's a tender gift I received for Teacher Appreciation week, complete with words that describe me according to my students. Love those little tots!
Next year, I will be going back into the 4th grade. I only hope that my 4th graders next year receive a portion of the knowledge and love of learning that Mrs. Cheney bestowed upon me. I will be sad to leave my little 2nd graders with their bright eyes and thirst for knowledge, but I can't wait to start learning right alongside these 4th graders and to rediscover my 4th grade self.
Here's a tender gift I received for Teacher Appreciation week, complete with words that describe me according to my students. Love those little tots!
Wednesday, November 2, 2011
gratitude
Hey blogging world, remember me? Just in case you were worried, I am still alive and thriving.
Welcome November! My favorite season just so happens to be Fall. I can't get enough of the vivid colors and crisp, rich air. My heart yearns for the crunch of the leaves under my shoes or a nice fall walk where I can breath in deeply the woody earth. Fall means wearing cute sweaters and cardigans, love! I came home today from work to my sidewalk spilled over with these little leaves, each with their own unique speckles and veins. You better believe I already have my annual leaf collection started. :)
Lately my life has consisted of some great things like teaching the cutest 2nd graders I know of. It's hard work, like really hard, but I love it and I'm learning from them every day. It's amazing how much my heart has expanded to make room for these 24 little kiddos and it's growing bigger every day. I am so lucky to go to work every day at this amazing school where I have so much support. Gratitude is what I get to feel everyday because I get to mold these little minds and help them grow for the rest of the school year. And geez, I have the funniest kids! I've heard almost everything, even the proper way to romance a girl which is made complete with a boat ride to watch the stars and the dolphins.
Sometimes my kids are bursting with something to tell me and they just cannot wait! Often it is during transition times when I have to get something ready for the next lesson, so I started keeping a jar on my desk where they can write me a note when I don't have time to hear what they want to tell me. Here is a cute little note I got once:
I could talk about teaching and my kids for hours and hours, so any time you'd like to hear some funny stories, I'd be willing to share.
Welcome November! My favorite season just so happens to be Fall. I can't get enough of the vivid colors and crisp, rich air. My heart yearns for the crunch of the leaves under my shoes or a nice fall walk where I can breath in deeply the woody earth. Fall means wearing cute sweaters and cardigans, love! I came home today from work to my sidewalk spilled over with these little leaves, each with their own unique speckles and veins. You better believe I already have my annual leaf collection started. :)
Lately my life has consisted of some great things like teaching the cutest 2nd graders I know of. It's hard work, like really hard, but I love it and I'm learning from them every day. It's amazing how much my heart has expanded to make room for these 24 little kiddos and it's growing bigger every day. I am so lucky to go to work every day at this amazing school where I have so much support. Gratitude is what I get to feel everyday because I get to mold these little minds and help them grow for the rest of the school year. And geez, I have the funniest kids! I've heard almost everything, even the proper way to romance a girl which is made complete with a boat ride to watch the stars and the dolphins.
Sometimes my kids are bursting with something to tell me and they just cannot wait! Often it is during transition times when I have to get something ready for the next lesson, so I started keeping a jar on my desk where they can write me a note when I don't have time to hear what they want to tell me. Here is a cute little note I got once:
I could talk about teaching and my kids for hours and hours, so any time you'd like to hear some funny stories, I'd be willing to share.
Friday, September 9, 2011
Saturday, August 27, 2011
7th Grade English
Middle school is an awkward time in everyone's life, no matter how cool or popular you were. In 7th grade I was a bookworm. I loved going to school to learn and I was secretly obsessed with period movies and novels (i.e. the Jane Austen type, but my absolute favorite was The Importance of Being Earnest).
I remember my 7th grade English teacher very well. She was an older lady, widowed and loved her craft of teaching. She came to school everyday with jet black hair. Her gray roots would peak through every couple of months and then magically disappear again. She wore it in a short bowl-cut inspired hair do with bangs across the top. She wore thick-rimed glasses that were always perched on the bridge of her nose, teetering as if they were about to fall off, especially when she was getting excited and animated about a certain concept. Her glasses were never without their eyeglass cord, which were connected on each ear piece just in case they fell off her nose during one of these exciting times. She always wore long eccentric skirts paired with a solid top to match. She was dramatic and over the top and although many of my peers hated her class and poked fun at her appearance, I loved her! I was too embarrassed to admit that though.
I can only distinctly remember two experiences I had whilst in her class. The first was that we would often have silent reading time and had the opportunity to choose a book of our own picking. She had a small classroom library, but encouraged us to bring books from home. Once I brought Pride and Prejudice to read and she pulled me aside, told me it was a wonderful book choice but was concerned that it was too difficult of a book for a 7th grader to read. She asked me if I needed any help understanding it or if there was someone at home who could help me. I was slightly offended that she didn't know me well enough as her student to realize that I could understand it, but to reassure her I told her my mom and I had been watching to movies together at home.
The second thing that I remember is a writing assignment she had us do in class. We were working on prepositions and she planned an interesting lesson where we all wrote a paper (or paragraph) about bikes, but the catch was each sentence had to begin with a preposition and each sentence had to go in ABC order. So for instance it could say: "Aboard my new gleaming bicycle, I went on many biking trips with my father. Beyond the horizon we would often see beautiful sunsets. Concerning these times, we would stop and enjoy the splashes of color across the evening sky . . . etc." I loved this assignment and went straight to work! She had a few of us share ours aloud to the class and I, who was still overcoming my timidity, was asked to share mine aloud because she thought mine was brilliant! I remember her telling me to read it several times as an example, even when other teachers or administrators walked past our door, She would stop them and make them come in to listen to me read it. I remember thinking mine wasn't particularly amazing, but her encouragement and enthusiasm boosted my confidence and made me realize how much I really did love English!
These memories just popped into my mind this afternoon, probably because now I'm a teacher and I was planning my writing time for this next week. Granted I spend my days with 7 year old's and not 7th graders, but it's funny how one thing can spark an entire memory.
It's kind of funny because, for the life of me I can't recall my 7th grade teacher's name . . .
P.S. Here is a writing sample from one of my student's. So precious.
Translation: "I am in 2 grade room 185. I like to draw. I like to learn and read and I like my tieacher and she is nise and the clas room looks nise and she helps us."
Several times this week I have had to stop and say, "Did I really just teach a day of school?! Am I really a teacher?!" It's pretty crazy.
I remember my 7th grade English teacher very well. She was an older lady, widowed and loved her craft of teaching. She came to school everyday with jet black hair. Her gray roots would peak through every couple of months and then magically disappear again. She wore it in a short bowl-cut inspired hair do with bangs across the top. She wore thick-rimed glasses that were always perched on the bridge of her nose, teetering as if they were about to fall off, especially when she was getting excited and animated about a certain concept. Her glasses were never without their eyeglass cord, which were connected on each ear piece just in case they fell off her nose during one of these exciting times. She always wore long eccentric skirts paired with a solid top to match. She was dramatic and over the top and although many of my peers hated her class and poked fun at her appearance, I loved her! I was too embarrassed to admit that though.
I can only distinctly remember two experiences I had whilst in her class. The first was that we would often have silent reading time and had the opportunity to choose a book of our own picking. She had a small classroom library, but encouraged us to bring books from home. Once I brought Pride and Prejudice to read and she pulled me aside, told me it was a wonderful book choice but was concerned that it was too difficult of a book for a 7th grader to read. She asked me if I needed any help understanding it or if there was someone at home who could help me. I was slightly offended that she didn't know me well enough as her student to realize that I could understand it, but to reassure her I told her my mom and I had been watching to movies together at home.
The second thing that I remember is a writing assignment she had us do in class. We were working on prepositions and she planned an interesting lesson where we all wrote a paper (or paragraph) about bikes, but the catch was each sentence had to begin with a preposition and each sentence had to go in ABC order. So for instance it could say: "Aboard my new gleaming bicycle, I went on many biking trips with my father. Beyond the horizon we would often see beautiful sunsets. Concerning these times, we would stop and enjoy the splashes of color across the evening sky . . . etc." I loved this assignment and went straight to work! She had a few of us share ours aloud to the class and I, who was still overcoming my timidity, was asked to share mine aloud because she thought mine was brilliant! I remember her telling me to read it several times as an example, even when other teachers or administrators walked past our door, She would stop them and make them come in to listen to me read it. I remember thinking mine wasn't particularly amazing, but her encouragement and enthusiasm boosted my confidence and made me realize how much I really did love English!
These memories just popped into my mind this afternoon, probably because now I'm a teacher and I was planning my writing time for this next week. Granted I spend my days with 7 year old's and not 7th graders, but it's funny how one thing can spark an entire memory.
It's kind of funny because, for the life of me I can't recall my 7th grade teacher's name . . .
P.S. Here is a writing sample from one of my student's. So precious.
Translation: "I am in 2 grade room 185. I like to draw. I like to learn and read and I like my tieacher and she is nise and the clas room looks nise and she helps us."
Several times this week I have had to stop and say, "Did I really just teach a day of school?! Am I really a teacher?!" It's pretty crazy.
Saturday, July 16, 2011
Describe a place . . .
It's a soft yellow-dressed afternoon and I find myself sitting. Just sitting. Here on this weather-worn wooden bridge, if you can even call it a bridge. There's something about these splintered slabs of old wood cascaded over this little stream that calls me back when I come to my hometown. The stream gets lower each time I visit, but you can still hear it trickle over the many rocks and pebbles below.
As I glance up, I am surrounded by earth and trees. Big, bold trees that say, "Hey! We've been here for who knows how many years and there's nothin' you can do about it! We are here to stay." Their leafy branches reach across the stream as they try to touch their tree lover on the other side. The sun peaks through the lover's embrace and the rays spill out over this green-brown earth, calling me back and grounding me to my roots.
I can see the flowers and gardens of the local neighbors that are so well tended and cared for, but I also see the wily and scraggly weeds and flowers unkempt by this bridge and broken earth. This place has been here for me as a safe-haven, a place to commune with nature, and speak with God. Here I can feel completely comfortable but also surprisingly vulnerable. It is many miles away this little heaven on Earth and several months since I've visited, but writing about it brings it here, close to my heart.
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