As Another Week Closes...

What an interesting week we've had!

After driving back from our trip to the beach last Saturday, it was pretty much back to the daily "summer grind".

LG began Dance Camp. One of our goals is to help her find ways to move and avoid being sedentary. She LOVES the stage and performance, so this seemed like a logical choice. It has been so positive for her. The week culminates in a mini-show that all the campers put on for their parents. There is no question that she loves performing and all that goes with it. So, I'd say it was a great match!

DS 3 and I drove to Miami last night to pick up my DS 2 and his GF and a crew that has been on the mission field in Nicaragua. They had plenty of room for either bodies or luggage, but not both. So, DS 3 and I carried the luggage home and they carried all the youth home.

For us, this is a 3 and 1/2 hour trip to that airport. DS 3 drove and did a great job. I told him I did not want him driving in Miami, but he did fine all the way to the airport.

When we arrived at the airport, I realized that we also needed to figure in the customs process. UGH! It wasn't long before we saw ONE youth come out and he basically said, "(Your son) had to get the full search. So they are back there." This youth was meeting his Aunt at the airport and that's why he came out.

So we waited. DS 3 and I had a great time making up stories about each person who came through the customs hall. We decided what country each one had been visiting and their business there. It was profiling at it's finest! But made for some good laughs between the two of us.

DS 2 and crew came out not long after we saw Youth 1. They were tired and worn and the kids were demanding Chick-Fil-A of all places. Thank goodness for GPS! We found one and took them to supper.

One other experience made my week interesting. I went to volunteer in my friend Debra's summer school class of 7 preK Autistic children. These kids range where they are on the Autism spectrum, but honestly most are significantly non-verbal and others are quite physical.

I was only in there an hour while another teacher modeled a lesson, an aide helped all the kids bathroom and/or change diapers, and Debra, a teen volunteer and I helped kids sit in their chairs as they learned to reply with a yes/no to a question. Then I helped them walk to lunch. It took all I had just to hold two kids hands and get them to lunch!

I have to say it was a very humbling experience! These children are precious. They are time intensive and needy in a different sort of way. It is evident that most, if not all, would benefit from a 1:1 aide. That simply isn't going to happen.

It was an important reminder why I don't have my Exceptional Student Education certification. It's simply not my calling. And it's also a reminder just how special each person who has the will, passion, and stamina to work with them is a special gift for that child.

That's it from my neck of the woods!

Last week, during one particularly stress-filled time, someone shared a little science with me. As she listened to my dilemma, she drew a little diagram on a piece of paper. She said, "Let me show you something about how the brain works." In my mind, I thought "Yeah, yeah, I know I've heard all about the brain...I AM a teacher, after all." But, when she turned the clipboard around and expose her rough sketch, I knew I was seeing something I've never thought about before:

She showed me a sketch that looked a little like the one above and said, "When the emotions/feelings get BIG, the brain gets really small and the ears fall off." I let it sink in and really thought about it.

It's true. It's ageless. It happens to kids. It happens to adults. When we let our emotions take control, our ability to think and reason (that amazing brain) shrinks and we often lose the skills we need to listen. The key, she went on, is to achieve balance. It's not that we want to be emotionless...we just want to have a balance between reasoning and emotion which allows us to really listen.

It's a lesson I needed to hear that day. It's something I am trying to remember as I navigate the waters I'm in lately. And it's something that I am remembering when dealing with kids (my own or others).

This morning, my prayer was, "Help me balancee, Lord. Make my emotions the size they SHOULD be without taking over everything else. Help me to reason when I need to do so. And most of all, may my ears stay attached so I can hear what I need to hear."

When the Songbird's Annoying!

Like most people, I love the sounds of the outdoors. I like the rain when it falls gently outside my window. I like the chirp of the crickets and croaking of frogs at night when I'm going to sleep. It is relaxing and makes me feel like I'm being lulled to sleep by nature.

We have a pond in our backyard, so we get to hear many of these noises during most nights. Summertime is especially busy as we go to sleep. This year, we have a new sound, though.

It's a songbird. Well, I don't know if it's REALLY a "songbird"...but it's a bird that is singing. LOUD!

The problem is, it doesn't happen as the night creeps in. It doesn't even happen softly as I lay my head on the pillow. No. She "sings" starting around 4am and goes for at least an hour and a half! This morning, while laying awake again and listening to her song, a thought occured to me. At any other time of the day, and even some of the night, I might find her song enjoyable. For me, at that hour, it's not. It's the right song at a very wrong time.

There's a lesson in there for all of us. We have all been giving a "song to sing"--a life to live. We have to make sure that our song is not annoying and/or delivered at the wrong time, however. So today rather than thinking of ways that I could go outside and shoo the songbird away, I whispered a prayer. "God, thank you for the lesson of the songbird. Help me know when to "sing my life's song" and when to be quiet. I'm sorry for those times it's just noise to those around me. Help me be in tune to you and your timing more often." And, then I thanked Him for using his wonderful creation to teach me yet another lesson. Unfortunately, though, I did "think" the P.S.: "P.S. God, could you PLEASE help this little songbird move on to someone else's tree tomorrow morning??"

Yep, I still have more to learn.

Perception Perspective

I think that the concept of perception and perspective is quite interesting. Have you ever been around someone for the same "event" and then heard them describe it totally different than you would? Years ago I had a friend who always saw things much bigger than they were.

There were people mad at the church and her words would be, "Everyone's saying __________." Reality was there were one or two people that she knew saying something and suddenly it felt, to her, like EVERYONE was doing it. Or she'd proclaim "NO ONE wants to _________." And I'd ask who didn't want to ________. She'd respond with a small list of names. At first I thought she really was "off". As our friendship went on, I realized that this truly WAS her perception.

And, for most people, their perception is their reality.

I've been thinking about a situation that I've witnessed recently where my perspective tells me one thing, but someone else's perception is totally different. From my vantage point, it's easy to see that they (sorry for this usage of "they", I am choosing NOT to be gender specific here) have made choices that have caused the events that have happened around them. But in their mind, "everyone's picking on them" or "choosing to be negative" or "rejecting this person" or whatever the issue of the day happens to be.

I don't know how you change someone's perception. I don't know how you help them see the world through different eyes. Different heart. Different soul. With my friend I used to reflect back when she'd use those absolute words like everyone, noone and everything. I'd ask "how many?" "Who?" And often she'd start to see that perhaps she was making things bigger than they were.

My Bible reading has been WAY off kilter for some time. Part of my time this summer has been to get a grip on it once again. And, though I find it a bit odd, I've been hovering in the book of Jeremiah. Jeremiah, as you may know, is sometimes called "the weeping prophet". The message that he had to deliver to Israel wasn't a happy one. He had to tell them they were wayward, they were off track...their perception: that all was OK and that they were living ok and making right choices and life was fine...was seriously off.

And they didn't listen. Jeremiah delivered this word for FORTY years! He faced opposition. He was thrown in jail. Again and again, he would speak truth to the people and again and again they would refuse to respond to it.

So it is with perception sometimes. I think it's our job, in some moments, to help people see the truth. It's hard because sometimes it hurts. And it's also our job to check our perception against what is really happening too. It's our job to say, "This is what I THINK I feel, see, hear, touch, perceive."

Still, the words of God speaking to Jeremiah are quite a comfort when we consider those "off moments". God continued to say "I have loved you wtih an everlasting love. I have drawn you with lovingkindness." (Jer. 31:3) It doesn't matter where you've been, what you've done, or anything else....GOD LOVES YOU and me with an EVERLASTING love. It is there whether we're in a pit or on a mountain. And, that my friends, is REALITY!

When May Comes...

Every year it happens.  May comes.  And every year since 2002, it's been the same for me.  

That was the year No Child Left Behind really took a foothold and third grade testing became a benchmark for promotion or retention.  There have always been tests.  Even when I was in school.  In the past, the purpose of testing wasn't so bad.  

I mean who DOESN'T want to know that their child is being taught at the highest level possible? And who wouldn't want to hold schools accountable for doing "right" by their "customers"--the students?  In the late 90's though, our state started giving every school a grade.  A report card if you will.  I suppose that'd be OK as long as we realize that we don't all start out on level ground.  

Some schools are filled with students that have every benefit in their lives.  They have parents that love them and give them many experiences upon which to build their education.  These students often have a zest for learning.   Others are filled with kids who wonder where their next meal will come from.  Or if Dad and Mom will fight again tonight...or even if they'll be home. Some come from places that are so impoverished that their lessons take place on the streets and have little or nothing to do with textbooks or pedagogy.     Still other schools are filled with a mixture of these two ends of the student spectrum.  Yet, we grade them all based on similar criteria.  

A few years after grading began is when we really had to look at individual students.  The third grade year was selected as a benchmark year.  After all, if a child can't read by the time he or she is eight or nine years old, there is probably a problem.  Thus, mandatory retention began.  The rule was (and is) that a child who scores in the lowest range on our state test MUST be retained in the third grade.  

Our lawmakers are not totally heartless.  No.  They developed some loopholes.  Some "good cause" criteria that allows a student to possibly be passed on when they score at the lowest level on the single assessment.  Here are a few of the criteria: 

*  If a child has been in the country less than 2 years and speaks no English, he or she can move to fourth grade.  

*  If a student demonstrates an acceptable level of performance on an alternative test.  

*  If a student has had an IEP for more than 2 years AND has been retained already at least ONE time. 

*  If a student has had intensive remediation in reading for more than two years AND has been retained TWO times.

So, every year, the scores come in and we find out who "didn't make it".  We look carefully to see if we can articulate for any of them based on the criteria.  And then we start documenting it all.  And every parent of every child who does not meet criteria gets a phone call home letting them know that their child...their pride and joy...didn't "pass" the third grade.  

Some years, the phone call sounds like one I had to make last week:  "Your child did not pass the state test again.  I know (_____) was in third grade for the last two years, but (_____) have to do third grade a THIRD time.  It's the law."  And it hurts me like CRAZY!  Three YEARS in the third grade???  For what!?!?!  

So, while I've called the "first timers" and even some who will now be on their "second retention in 4 years"...it's the one above that simply makes my passion flame.  (_____) has had a lot of remediation.  (_____) has had other test scores that indicate being on level or just below, but not failing.  There's even a twin who will be ahead of (______) now by TWO years if this goes through.  And a younger sibling who has also now passed (_____) by. (_____) will turn eleven years old in October. IT BREAKS MY HEART!  

Today, we broke the mold of checking one of the criteria and documenting it.  Today, we wrote a narrative to introduce those people who make the decisions to this child.  We are pleading the case and doing all we can under this law to help (_____) make it to the fourth grade. 

While I hate it, this is also the time of year when I know I'm doing exactly what I am supposed to be doing.  I know beyond a shadow of a doubt that I belong in education and at the school where I am.  For that, I am thankful.  

Still, tonight I'm whispering a prayer.  I'm praying this child, and all the others in our state with similar stories have someone to articulate for them.  I'm praying that someone will see the whole picture and make the right decision here.  After all, this child's future depends on it.  

You might remember that last year, we created a video at my school to help get the kids motivated for our state test. This year, our motivational video is a parody of Mama Mia called "I Can Read It". I work at one of the best schools on the planet! These teachers love kids, learning, and as the video shows...fun!

Inside His Head...

I love talking with my kids. It's fun to hear what is happening in their lives and working through their day-to-day journey with them. I had an interesting conversation with DS 4 the other day:

The other day on our way home from school, DS 4 said, "Do you automatically work when you retire?" We talked about the fact that people usually retire from a career that they have done for a very long time. Some people end up working a little "fun job" for a few years or they go back to work to make a little extra money to support them in their retirement.

He said, "So a person could work at Disney World when they retire?" I reminded him how many people we saw at the park the other day who were older and most likely retired. He talked about the coolness factor of working at Disney and how fun it would be. Then he said, "Hmm...I think when I retire I might work at Disney...that is if I am willing to make that two hour drive to work."

I have two observations:

1. Perhaps you should choose a career before you choose what you'll do in your retirement years.

and

2. Good Lord, he really DOES think he's going to live with his Dad and me forever!!

I'm going to church today but...

I already had a "sermon moment" on Friday afternoon at shool. I was out on my regular afternoon duty--directing cars in the parking lot. Here's what that looks like:

Kids line up in clusters of letters that are color coded. For example, A/B is yellow, CDE is red, and FGH is orange. Cars wait until there is a hole at their child's color and then we pull them in there. My job is to keep them in line and direct them when the openings occur. Even though it may seem to be a pain for parents, we move about 400 children and their cars out in about 10 - 15 minutes. I don't think that's too bad.

As you might expect, there are ALWAYS those who don't WANT to wait in line and try to scoot around other cars. I usually stand in the middle of the passing lane to prevent this from happening. I've sent them back around to put themselves in line properly if they try and cut in line.

Honestly, this whole thing has taught me that apples don't often fall far from trees. The parents who think the rules and procedures don't apply to them are the same ones who wonder why their child can't behave in school.

OK, back to Friday. One tattooed, ear-pierced, rough-looking father pulled in driving his battered van. He immediately pulled around the first ten cars in line to a spot that was "open" near the front. It was a space, but it was there for cars that may have needed to exit from another direction. He was heading to orange. There were three other cars in front of him waiting for the same spot.

The minute the car at orange started to pull out, he started to ease out of his spot ready to make a bee-line for it. I stood in front of his car and motioned for him to roll down the window. I smiled and said, "You have three cars waiting for orange in front of you. And, by the way, you may have also passed some other cars waiting for orange when you cut in front of all those cars behind you."

His reply was priceless: "I'm only doing unto others what they do unto me!"

I said, "You still have to follow the rules and it's "do unto others as you would have them do unto you." In other words, treat others the way you WANT to be treated! Thank you for waiting."

He smirked and although I knew he wasn't happy, he waited.

I am fairly certain he didn't know that he was was trying to quote scripture to me. And I'm certain he didn't know that just a few weeks ago the entire school read the book pictured above called The Golden Rule.

For me, I wondered just how many times I twist my own faith lessons to meet my own desires. The second thing I thought was: "In my opinion, this story will preach!"

When "Normal"...isn't!

The teacher called me yesterday and told me that she received an email from the school registrar. She’d been concerned about a student who has not missed a day this year and suddenly has been out for three days. The boy’s Dad is a bit different and makes them toe the line, and then some. In fact, it’s caused concern in the past. The boy, his brother and their Dad are considered “homeless”—although they do have a roof over their head.

The email read something like this: “The boys’ Dad took them to see their Mom in another city about three hours away this past Friday. He told the Mom he’d return for them on Sunday. He didn’t come. On Monday he still didn’t come. By Tuesday, he called and told her he wasn’t coming. She’d have to figure out what to do with them.” Abandoned, in a way. Just. Like. That.

******
He entered our school yesterday; a Kindergarten student who was quite reluctant to be here. There was concern among the staff because he’s living with his “cousin” who is also in one of our K classes. The cousin is rather unstable and a bit whiny. This new boy arrived and the struggle began.

He kicked. He flailed. He cried. He screamed. He broke things. He made it quite clear he did not want to be here. He made it less than an hour and was sent home because he simply disrupted the entire campus.

All I can think is, “He’s FIVE!” Later I learned that his Mom’s in jail. Dad is living with a Stepmother and he, too, has “issues”.

*****
She came to me a few days ago with huge crocodile tears in her eyes. She was visibly shaken and angry. When I asked what was wrong--words flew out of her mouth. It was a “he said/she said” school bus story-knot that I could barely follow.

It turned out there had been a referral for her behavior the day before. She was to take it home and have it signed. Instead, she tore it to shreds. One adult at the school put the shreds into an envelope and explained that she WOULD take it home and show her Mother.

She was scared. Except it wasn’t the normal kind of scared. It was true FEAR. Besides, it was her Mother who told her, “If someone hits you, you stand up and hit ‘em back!” It’s a survival skill she’ll need for her neighborhood and probably for the rest of her life.

I wonder just how you draw that line when they have to learn to survive in a world that I have only briefly glimpsed. It’s a fine line, for sure.
*****
Her Mother dropped her off yesterday in the wrong uniform. It’s not the first time. It won’t be the last. She is dirty and unkempt. Her long blonde hair appears to have been un-brushed for days.

Her teacher saw her in the hallway and asked where she was going. The girl replied, “I have to go get a uniform shirt.” The teacher said, “Where are your shirts? Don’t you have five?” The girl sheepishly responded, “Yeah, I have them, but some are at my Grandma’s and none are clean at my house.”

As the girl headed toward the uniform loan closet, the teacher shook her head and said, “One of our suitcase kids.” She never knows where she’ll be staying from night to night.
*****
He comes to school with his two brothers. They are 10, 7, and 6. There are four MORE brothers (4 and under) at home. Seven boys! They live in a two room hotel room where Dad does caretaking for the manager. The boys sleep on army cots that can be easily folded and stored during the day. They have been given many things by people at the school and in the community. Still, they struggle.

The oldest boy (remember he’s 10) sometimes misses school because it’s his day to “babysit. his siblings.” Babysit? Four young children? That’s right. Babysit.

The three school-aged children are part of a program where they take food home every Friday. A HUGE bag of food! Yet, they have told adults at the school that each family member has to rotate a night going without food so that there is enough to stretch out for the week. When it’s “your night’ not to eat…you are famished by the time you get to school the next day.
****

These vignettes are not "race specific". In fact, of the families discussed above, there are four different ethnicities represented. I could go on and on with these stories. They are part of my everyday life. And these are just a few of which I am aware. They break my heart. Here’s the thing that just rolls over and over in my head, though.

It’s “normal” for them. They don’t know any different type of life.

I can tell you that one thing I have learned in my time working with this population: just because I have a “different” normal, doesn’t make mine more right and theirs wrong. Initially, while working in the inner city of Tampa (which was MUCH rougher than where I am now), I learned that I wasn’t there to “save kids”. I wasn’t there to “rescue them” from their environment, their dysfunctional families, their upbringing. I was there to show them how to be the best young man or woman they could be. I was there to give them educational skills and strategies that would help them.

Some will leave it. No doubt. Some will not. Helping them means giving them tools for survival and hope for their future no matter where that happens to be.

For me, it is my calling. It is what I was designed to do. Every day I am thankful that I have the chance to hug a child that may not have been hugged that day. I have the opportunity to speak positive words into their lives. I have a chance to show them unconditional love. I get to smile with them, laugh with them, and talk with them. I am able to wipe away tears. I get to assure them when they're mad that I still care for them. I get to teach them. I am blessed to work in a place with so many adults who share that calling. It's quite special to me.

For me, there's nothing more normal than that!

To Catch a Thief...

I love to watch CSI and Law & Order. I know that I would never be a good detective, but I like to try and figure out the storylines of these shows. As you know, last week my purse was stolen right out of my car while I unloaded the groceries in my driveway. Last night I received a letter from the local police telling me they had "recovered some of my property" and wanted to return it to me.

And although my detective skills are sketchy at best, here's what I KNOW today:

The thief was probably not a woman or a girl. The purse, it's wallet and my coin purse are all "well-known" names and were left together with my cards/paperwork!

He/she was NOT savvy enough to figure out that a couple of specific store credit cards could have been easily used online. Instead, they were untouched and left in the purse.

This person most likely was NOT after "my identity" because my insurance cards, driver's license, and checkbook was left alone.

He/she was no fan of Disney...there are THREE Disney passes in the purse that have a day left on them. (I know that you have to stick your fingerprint on the machine...maybe they did too.)

This person is not "green" cause they THREW my purse on the side of the road. If I were a thief, I'd have thrown it in a dumpster somewhere where no one would find it. I'm glad they didn't do that!

This person is not a "reader". I know that's odd, but there are TWO gift cards for Borders and Barnes & Noble for $50 in there. I guess he/she wasn't smart enough to know that they could have picked up other things there too, not just books.

They most likely do not get headaches cause there were two bottles of painkillers in the bag!

In fact, other than having dinner at a local seafood restaurant for $20 on my credit card...and taking the cash that was in there, it looks to me like everything else was left inside the purse.

What have I learned? It's a "good thing" to get an "Ignorant Illiterate Environmentally Insensitive Thief"---cause it means you just MIGHT recover most of your stuff!

Foreshadowing...

I spent time in my DS's classroom today while his teacher had to go run an errand. DS 4 was out of school sick, so he wasn't there. Still, I love this class of kids. They are really fun to talk with and just all-in-all SWEET.

Anyway, while I was in there, one little girl (who struggles with almost every concept) asked me about MATH! In my heart of hearts I was thinking, "NO! Do NOT ask me about MATH--anything but THAT! I have to reach out to my own DS 4's village when it comes to helping him with math on a regular basis." My second thought was, "Maybe I can find the teacher's guide for reference." Suffice it to say, she DID ask me a math term and I could find no teacher's guide.

It was a simple question for which I should have had an answer in seconds. But I didn't. We muddled through it together. I am not going to lie...it was the BLIND leading the BLIND. Just not right.

Now a little over a week ago, my friend Sandy (her teacher) made a comment about elementary teachers being "afraid to teach math". She noted that this really shouldn't be THAT hard. I mean we've all got college degrees, right?

A little elementary math shouldn't make any educated adult fret and break out in a cold sweat. For the most part, she's right (except it DOES get me jittery at times). Just because I don't know a term or a procedure the way it is presented "these days" does not mean that I am incompetent and could not figure it out. I tell myself it's because I haven't been using each of these skills or concepts on a regular basis. I'm sure there's a little truth in that, though some of it may just be that it's "not my thing".

Despite her reminder that all would all be well, today made me realize just how reliant I will be on all of my mathematical colleagues and as many resource books as possible for support when I am once again teaching this subject. I'm so glad I work in a place where people ARE supportive and helpful in times of weakness.

Cause I know I'm not incompetent, but when it comes to this subject, I am definitely inept!

Overheard from the Pedicure Chair...

I've been working on a "very deep" post, but I can't finish it. So, I've decided to share with you a little episode I witnessed at the nail salon today.

This older woman was in the salon having her nails done by the nice Asian gentleman who runs it. When it was time to scrub, she grabbed her walker and began scooting over to the sink while singing: "You take the high road...and I'll take the low road...and I'll be in Scotland afore ye...for me and my true love will never meet again...on the bonnie bonnie banks O'Loch Lomond." Then she turned around to announce to the salon: "My Mother used to sing to me all the time when I was younger. Mostly hymns." And she scooted over to have her nails painted.

I'm quite sure this is not a popular song among young Asian nail techs. In fact, I'm not so sure my own children even know the tune. But I did. My tech rolled her eyes at me, but I was mesmerized by this woman.

Once she got to the new chair, I could hear her conversation with the new girl that was going to finish the job. The girl commented about this woman's age (88 years). She said, "My you look younger than 88!" {And she did.} The woman replied, "I looked much younger until a few weeks ago when I went in the hospital and they had to do surgery. They made me lose fifteen pounds." Then she proceeded to announce to the entire salon that she'd had diarrhea for several days...and at this point her conversation toned down to just include her and the nail tech.

I commented to my nail tech, "I hope I'm half that spunky when I'm 88!" She calmly said, "She obviously led a very boring younger life." I thought that was a strange come back and I asked why. The young girl told me, "You're supposed to get all that out of your system in your 20's, 30's and 40's. When I'm that age, I'm going to be sipping tea on my back porch and watching my roses grow!"

It was an interesting perspective...and I'll confess to you that my one thought was:

"Well, I still hope I'm more like HER at 88 than you will be! And I've had a blast in my 20's 30's AND here in my 40's!!"

But I've learned that some thoughts are better left unsaid.

And the rest of the day, I've found myself humming, "You take the high road and I'll take the low road and I'll be in Scotland afore ye..."

It's true...

I'm aging and I know it....

Last night I found myself talking about bodily functions with my brother that I used to cringe about when I heard "older people" discussing. I mean I always wondered why it makes national news when the President of the US goes and sees his Urologist. And now here I am having an ailment conversation that made my DS 3 blush! Oy!!

Today, my DSs 1 and 2 left for Oklahoma on a plane. They will meet their friend, Z, there and drive with him back to Florida.

Now DSs 1 and 2 are 20 and 18 respectively. I found myself wondering if DH should walk them inside the airport and help them navigate. He didn't.

I shudder a bit at them driving alone from Oklahoma to Florida...even though they are three young men who collectively know more about automobiles than I do. I mean when did they get old enough to do THAT???

I took my niece and DSs 3 and 4 to a bounce house last night. I found myself fretting if I didn't know where they were at all times...even though we were in a closed-in room with only one exit.

Yep, my feet are firmly planted in my forties for sure!

Fingerprint Friend

I believe that every person who crosses the path that defines your life and mine leaves a fingerprint. Some are more welcome than others. In some cases, the fingerprints fade over time. But they are there.

And in some cases, those fingerprints become an important part of our defining moments. Those moments that create WHO we are, and WHY we are, here in the present.

Last night, I learned that one such person who impacted my life left this Earth unexpectedly on Thursday evening. We really haven't kept in great touch over the last 22 years. But she is no less important in my mind or in my heart. We did have the opportunity to visit last year at the 50th anniversary of our childhood church. Looking back, I only wish I had had more time to sit and talk with her at that event. Or that I'd made the time afterwards.

Susan and I became BFFs before "BFFs" were all the rage. We met each other at church when we were 11 and 13 years old...although we had been going to church together since we were 4 and 6. Her Mother was our church organist (and still does the job there). Her Father was an usher and a trustee. Their family were charter members of the church.

When I entered the UMYF (Youth Group), I met Susan. We instantly clicked. Of course, it wasn't uncommon back then to meet "other Susan's", but we liked comparing the things that we had in common starting with our names. We each had younger brothers. We loved our families. Our Dad's worked for the same company. As our friendship grew, we shared EVERYTHING with one another. And I recall many times before one of us could drive, that our parents would drive us back and forth to each other's houses (almost a 30 minute drive) so that we could "hang out."

Our faith was being formed during those years. We talked hours and hours about God and who He was to us. We talked about what was right and what was wrong in the world. We sought out our purpose for existing here. We experienced many wonderful spiritual services in and through our church at that time.

As I reflected last night about all those memories I shared with Susan, beside our "faith talks and development," music was probably the biggest thing. We LOVED to listen to records...real vinyl ones...for hours. When 8-track tapes came in style, we listened to those too. Some of our favorites were: Linda Ronstadt, The Eagles, James Taylor, Carly Simon, Jackson Browne, Jimmy Buffett, Cat Stevens, and Billy Joel.

In fact, a few years ago, I was driving to Tampa and listening to the 70's station. On my way there, they seemed to play song after song that dredged up memory after memory of this time in my life. I remember driving up and down the beach to hear the Buffett album in it's entireity while eating Frosty's from Wendy's!! I remember choosing songs from these albums that made us think, and using them at our Youth Group meetings. I sent Susan and card shortly after that day to tell her what a neat walk down memory lane it was for me. She and I emailed with one another and "caught up" a bit after so many years.

And there were books. We shared a love for reading. She, for the more deep/thinking type books. I, for the more sappy/human-relationship type books. Still, it was because of Susan that I read Flowers for Algernon, The Hobbit, and a nonfiction book by Hugh Prather, Notes to Myself. It was also because of Susan that I tried to read the "monster book", Watership Down. I quickly got lost in the rabbit warrens and had to put the book down.

I also learned a little more about TV (and movie stars) during our friendship. We loved to watch Starsky and Hutch and Saturday Night Live (Mr. Bill and Roseanne Rosanna Danna). I remember going to the movies together to see The Way We Were, A Star is Born, Silver Streak, Smokey and the Bandit, and GREASE! In fact, I think we saw Grease more than five times in the theater that summer.

In addition to music, entertainment and books, there were trips with the Youth Group, working around the church, and weeks at their condo on the beach, vacations with my own family, just to name a few. Over the years, we laughed together and cried together. We fought. We became friends again. All of these things make up the fingerprint that this very special person had (and has) on my life.

Last night, as I was reminiscing, I pulled out my journal of "sappy teenage poetry" that I wrote back then. It also includes a collection of quotes that touched my teenage heart. She added some quotes from Hugh Prather in her own handwriting. Here are two that really struck me:

"Next time I will... From now on I will... --What makes me think I am wiser today than I will be tomorrow?" And the second, "I am what I started with, and when it is all over, I will be all that is left of me." And the third, "No one is wrong. At most someone is uninformed." (To which she added her own words, "I am never wrong!") Oh to be so young and naive again!

In there, I also found a letter from Susan to me. She wrote, and I believe these are HER words, "A friend is someone you can go to when you're scared and lost. Someone you can depend on, always." I thought, "Yeah, that defines my "take" on friendship still today." I think I learned what it all means to "be a friend" in those formative teenage years...from the fingerprint of my very best friend at that time.

And for that, I am forever thankful.

Life's Journey...

I have used this quote many many times in professional development for teachers. In the past 24 hours, it's taken on new meaning for me.

The real voyage of discovery consists not in seeking new landscapes, but in having new eyes. Marcel Proust

As I've said before, I occasionally get weepy. Some of it is directly related to being a Mom who is watching her boys grow right before her eyes...and perhaps before she's ready. Some of it is general life frustrations. Some of it is probably because I'm a mid-forty-something female.

This weekend, I've had a couple of weepy moments. My DS 1 was out on "drill weekend" with his National Guard unit. He leaves in a few short weeks for Basic Training and AIT. I have come to grips with the whole decision and am quite proud, but it doesn't mean that it doesn't make me emotional.

DS 2 is getting closer to heading off to college in the Fall. He'll be moving to Michigan. That's a long way away!

I love watching all four of them grow! Really I do. I'll admit there are times when I get frustrated....what parent doesn't? I find myself wanting them to fit MY mold, do things in MY time, and even in MY way. Perhaps it's like Proust says, I want them to "seek different landscapes". I've learned, though, that this simply isn't what's best. They must make decisions and move along their journey with my (and DH's) guidance...and they must fall sometimes to learn....

Yesterday, I found myself talking with God about some of my "would've", "could've" and "should've"s with regard to being their Mom. I asked forgiveness for those moments when we miss the mark. I asked Him to help me be the Mother they need. And I asked Him to help me see them through His eyes as they each take the next steps in their journeys. I asked Him to help me, as my sweet blogging friend, Lazy Daisy has taught me, to "Say little, PRAY much!" I asked Him to give me "new eyes" through which to view my young men.

And today, quite by surprise, I have seen each one of them in a new way---through NEW EYES!

DS 3 and DS 2 made me downright proud yesterday when they joined our church's "Roadie" team. This is the group of dedicated members who go up to the school on Saturday to prepare it for Sunday's service. When I watched them go, I realized they have become young men who care about others and are willing to serve when and where they can.

DS 4, along with DSs 2 and 3, pitched in to help me "greet" at church today. I know there are many young people out there who would go have a root canal before they helped out in such a way!

After church, I watched the three of them help clean up and never complain about lifting or pushing or packing all the "stuff". We enjoyed a lovely lunch together with DS 2's GF during which we shared wonderful conversation.

This afternoon, DS 1 came home from his drill and although he's tired, he was so proud to tell us that he got promoted to the next rank. He now has some leadership responsibility in his unit. This is quite exciting for him as it confirms that he is doing his job well.

When I gave birth to my second son, for a brief blink-of-an-eye moment, I wondered if we'd ever have a girl. I felt guilty and found myself speaking with God about it for I truly was so thankful to be a Mom with a beautiful new baby. God made it so clear to me at that time that DH and I needed to raise Godly young men who would one day become responsible husbands and fathers and citizens. I knew with each subsequent pregnancy when people would speculate if this was "my girl" that it was, instead, another one of God's young men.

Yes, they are growing. Yes, they will each reach that moment when they "leave the nest". Yes, all of our landscapes will change in the coming months. Yes, there are plenty of "would've, could've, should've"s BUT...when I look at them through the eyes of God, I see them differently. I see the fruit that is in each of their lives....I see their awesome potential as they get ready to face the world.

And I'm excited to watch the next step in each of their journeys no matter where it takes them!

Then and Now

Yesterday I shared with you my new "project" at school. First I want to share a little history. Here's a picture of Ms. Ineeda Word (Me) in our "Jungle" several years ago. She's on the right side pictured with Professor Sayit Clearly (a 4th Grade Colleague) and Granny Write (My Assistant Principal). {An aside: I could have used this photo for "Pink" the other day. The kids never could remember my name so they just called me Pink Lady.} Here are Ms. Ineeda Word and the Professor with Captain Wanna Write (Our Math Coach--in camo) and Captain Hook (my Principal). We are looking at good "Hooks" in student writing.
We had a great time each week talking about what good writers do. But like every good show, that one ran it's course. We were on for two years here at my school and figured it was time for a new "gimmick".

Our Jungle morphed into our school's Jungle Book set for last year's school-wide play:

Sooooo...as I told you in my last post, today we introduced the "Fab Five Farm" based on the "Fab Five Elements" of good Reading instruction: Phonics, Phonemic Awareness, Vocabulary, Fluency and Comprehension.

And HEEEERE are the first two characters on the Farm:Reada Reada Pumpkin Reader (Me) and Ms. Sadie the Cowgirl from Tennessee (My Friend D). We talked about how to choose a book that is just right. The kids and teachers loved it. Now we hear that Pa Pumpkin and Ma Pumpkin and possibly Ms. Reada's little brother "Peter Peter Pumpkin Eater" might be on...

It's all for the cause...So, I'll leave you with Mrs. Reada's poem:
Reada Reada Pumpkin Reader Had a book that wouldn't teach her She learned to pick a book just right And now she reads both day and night!

Nature Guilt

I admit it, I am guilty. It's Spring Break. DS 4 begged me to go to the beach the other day. Actually, this wasn't the first day in recent history that he asked to go. I put him off a couple of other times in the last three weeks or so. I promised him we'd go over Spring Break. And, Wednesday, I had to keep my promise. I confess as I drove down there, I was gritting my teeth. You see, I dislike the sand. I really don't like the feel of salt water on my body. Other than that, I "love" the beach.

We stayed for almost 2 hours. I read my book and watched DS 4 play in the cold water. He was having a ball. I loved watching him. And as I did, I asked God to help me to appreciate the wonder of this "paradise" in which we live(without exaggeration, many many people DO consider my area a "paradise"). I asked Him to renew my outlook on nature and His creation that surrounds me.

The impetus for my prayers started much earlier in the week as I read Danielle's Blog. She writes of how much she appreciates the Nature Coast (which is just a bit north of me). Again and again she finds such beauty in nature. And she displays the world as she sees it through her photos on her blog. I admit, I was thinking, "How could she love her surroundings so much when she's seen other parts of the country?"

I also found myself at Beckie's this week marveling at how she captures nature in HER photos. She finds beauty in HER world...the place that God has planted her.

And then, there was this morning when I went to the Friday's Feast. It was as if the last question, the DESSERT of all things, hit me right in the face: Where is a place you consider to be very tranquil?

I couldn't lie--especially over the "sweet stuff". I find tranquility in the Mountains. I always have. I dream of living on one someday. It's peaceful to me. I could sit outside ALL DAY on a mountain! It's much different for me, than the beach. I was struck a couple of years ago when my cousin and I were in Gatlinburg and I shared this with her. She said they (the mountains) really didn't do that much for her. I think that's when I realized that we DO all have our own preferences. And, as much as I want everyone to love the moutains with the same passion that I do, it's OK if they don't.

I posted my Friday Feast answer and began surfing blogs. It wasn't long until Hootin'Anni visited MY blog. I went to hers in return (as all good bloggers do) and found that HER most tranquil place is the beach! And she actually mentions that SAND and SALTY air in her post...I can almost picture her smile as she typed it. I found many others who agreed with her.

Then I found myself at Daisy's place where she talks about living in the country in Virginia. And I have to admit, I was a bit GREEN with envy. I hopped from there down to Georgia where Jane admitted that she loved her front porch. And my green eyes grew a bit bigger because she, too, lives in the country in one of my favorite places.

Then, I gingerly clicked over to Melli's place (knowing that she, too, lives in a beautiful place) and HER dessert just about "did me in"...she said, "Tranquility is not a place. Tranquility is a state of mind. And I can find it ANYwhere! But in MOST cases tranquility and solitude go hand in hand! And I am MOST tranquil when I am alone with God." And I almost audibly said, "OUCH!"

So, this afternoon, I took two of my boys, and my camera, to our local state park. I was convinced that I was going to find tranquility...peace...right in my own "backyard". And I was going to document it.

And, while I still find great peace in the mountains, I really DO believe that we live in a beautiful place. I also know that God's fingerprint is all around me. I just have to OPEN MY EYES and SEE it! Just look at some of the beauty we found in our travels:

Here are two gators resting on the shore of the river.

Here is DS 2 at the top of the "Canopy Walk". It's 75 feet in the air...and it was simply nature as far as the eye could see.
Here's DS 3 at the top of the Canopy. He didn't want his photo taken, but I got it anyway. This was taken right after I scolded two teenage girls up there for spitting on the railings (and people) below. That "might" explain the smirk on his face.
Here's a picture once we were back on the ground again.

I admit, I WAS at peace out there as I snapped photo after photo. They aren't the beautiful quality of some of my fellow blogging friends...but they are mine. And, I found myself whispering a prayer as I drove out of the State Park: "Thank you, God, for the beauty that surrounds me each and every day. Help me to recognize that it's YOUR handiwork! And, yes Lord, it's BEAUTIFUL and I felt tranquil there!"

Thursday Thirteen #43

Thanks to Loretta for the Header Design!

Today I am going to our district's Teacher of the Year Luncheon. I was privileged to receive this honor from the district several years ago. Now, my DH and I sponsor an annual grant for the Teachers of the Year, so we get to attend the luncheon. It's always fun to see excellent teachers get honored for their hard work.

Soooooooo.....for my TT....I am choosing to tell you about MY FAVORITE TEACHERS ever. Here they are in chronological order:

1. Mrs. Hudson: She was my first grade teacher and the person who taught me to love reading. I remember we had a contest to see who could read the most books. Her classroom was filled with Dr. Seuss books. I read the most. I received a little resin mouse as an award that year. I still have it. She gave it to me on the last day of school. I was heartbroken because I was sure that I would NEVER have another teacher that I adored like this one. (But I was wrong.)

2. Mrs. Woodruff: She was not my homeroom teacher, but did third grade enrichment in the days of "Open Classrooms". We went to her for special reading groups. I remember making our own movies in there, learning to carve apple dolls, and dressing up in Kimonos for a Japanese meal. I also know that she is the first person to tell me that I was a creative writer. It meant so much to me. The story I wrote was from a calendar picture of a doll walking along the road with a teddy bear. I don't remember the story, only that she liked it and told my Mother. I was so proud.

3. Mrs. Brewer: My fourth grade teacher always started the day with a silly little rhyme---Itty bitty fwy upon the wall/Him got no fwiends at all/Him got no one to comb hims hair/Him don't care/Him got no hair! Why I remember that so many years later, I'll never know. She also was the first teacher I remember having an aquarium. I loved watching the salamander that she had in there.

4. Mrs. Dretzka: She loved ceramics! We made a ton of things in her sixth grade classroom. It was a hot non-air conditioned school in inner city Tampa with HUGE windows and loud fans. She loved to laugh. I remember her desk was a MESS! It is something I still think of when I look at my own messy teacher desk. She would say, "Show me a teacher's desk that is spic and span, and I'll show you a teacher who isn't working very hard!" I should say that I DO know many teachers who work VERY hard and can keep beautiful desks....I also know that there those like me, and Mrs. Dretzka, who keep teaching and keep piling the desk for things that we needed to "get to"...and both styles are OK!

5. Mr. Psyche: Yep, that was his name. He was my seventh grade Science teacher. I don't remember too much about him, except that I got in trouble in his class. The one thing that sticks out for me, though, is when he had to teach us the "birds and the bees" lesson. He used I Corinthians 13 to tell us about "real love". It was a risk for sure in the public school even in the mid 70's. I also remember he wore a purple shirt with a pearl tie fairly regularly. The whole tie was made out of pearls! We laughed at it, but he loved it.

6. Mrs. S_____: I can't remember this teacher's last name (only that it started with an "S"). Anyway, she was my Social Studies teacher in the eighth grade. You might ask, "If she's so special, why don't you remember her name?" I don't know. She was the person who told us that we still needed to be creative even though we were in middle school. She had us do projects with construction paper and scissors---something totally out of character for teachers at that level at that time.

7. Mr. Andrews: I took World History from him in the tenth grade and LOVED it! I learned so much. He loved kids and loved teaching. Every day was an adventure as he taught us the history of our world.

8. Mrs. Sutherland: I would be remiss if I didn't mention my Chorus teacher. She loved music. She was someone who was told all her life that she couldn't sing, then ended up teaching choir. Amazing! She, too, loved kids and taught us the joy of all kinds of music. I learned to love the poetry of Walt Whitman and Robert Frost in her class as we sang some of their works set to music. My favorite is still "The Road Not Taken" by Frost.

9. Mrs. Haynes: She was my English teacher in eleventh and twelfth grade. She loved soccer and was a Tampa Bay Rowdies fanatic. People called her "Hank". She also loved the classics. This is where I read Wuthering Heights and Julius Ceasar. She taught me to love and appreciate both.

10. Mr. Acosta: He was not my "teacher by day", but was the band director at my school. He taught us self-discipline...to seek excellence...to believe in ourselves among MANY other lessons. I learned more on the field and in performance than I did in some regular classrooms during my high school years. When I watch Mr. Holland's Opus...I think of him. This man has touched countless lives through his tireless work in music education. He spent hours beyond his duty day teaching us all the value of hard work and teamwork, both lessons I have carried into my adult life.

11. Dr. Little: She was my first Education professor in college. I took Intro. to Ed with her as I sought a major and found my life's passion as a result. This was a lady who believed that education could be different and that teachers were such an important part of it. She taught us that ALL children can learn...and that most of them just needed love and someone who believed in them passionately. Her inspirational classes left me believing that I "COULD" and "WOULD" make a difference in the lives of those I teach.

12. Dr. Wynn: She was my supervising teacher for my internship. Because she was fresh out of an elementary classroom, she brought much excitement to our classes. She constantly pushed us to "pretty up" what we were doing for kids by adding pictures, bright contact paper, and to think BIG. She also was working on her PhD and taught us the value of peer coaching (way before it was en vogue). It is because of her that I have never minded anyone watching me teach and that I've been able to take feedback.

13. Dr. Peaslee: She was the Early Childhood Professor in my college. This woman is, without a doubt, the sole reason I STAYED in education. I had an advisor who told me repeatedly that I'd never make it as a teacher. She told me to "get out". She suggested that I wasn't good enough, smart enough, and would never be "effective enough". Dr. Peaslee, though, watched me teach kids (something the advisor never did) and said, "I know what she's been saying about you. She's wrong! You are going to be a GREAT teacher! Don't give up." I learned from that experience that you can either be discouraging or encouraging...we all have the choice everyday. Everyday I try to follow Dr. Peaslee's wonderful example.

Each of these people made special "deposits" into my learning bank. I can honestly say, many of them are the reason I do what I do today. And some, I've been able to tell exactly what they mean to me as an adult. They ARE a reminder that we never know the difference we might make with the seeds we plant in someone else's life.

Do YOU have a teacher who made a difference for you? If so, maybe you'll get the chance to say "thank you" someday. If not, then I say "Pay it forward" and pass along the special lessons you learned to someone else...after all that's the best response anyone could give!

Monday Memory

Slowly he poked his head through my door on that December day. The first thing I noticed was his toothless smile. His wasn't the toothless smile of most of my second graders. He had a mouth full of painfully rotten teeth. When he smiled, where there WERE teeth, you could see hints of black and gray on what used to be white enamel sticking out of his swollen gums. I was told that this was the result of years of being put in bed with apple juice and other sweetened juices.

It was one day before the Christmas break. The classroom was bustling with holiday excitement. I greeted him as always, "Good Morning, Johnny!" He crept slowly in the door, with his hands gripping his backpack in an I've-got-a-secret way, never once breaking that smile.

I didn't know what made that day different than any other for him. I couldn't really imagine him anticipating the holidays with very much excitement. But something was...different. His eyes followed me across the room as I prepared for another day of teaching before our Winter Break.

This was my first "real" job. Each day I found myself in a room full of eager second graders in a middle class suburb of Tampa, Florida. For the most part, they were well-fed, cared for, and generally well-adjusted children. There was just this one, Johnny, who broke my heart from the moment I started teaching him in October of 1986.

I met with the guidance counselor in early November to find out more about his story. My heart was torn even more. He was being raised by his Father--an alcoholic. He was abandoned by his Mother. Abandoned? I couldn't even fathom a Mother who could just up and leave her child. He lived with two or three older brothers. Their home had no windows, only holes where glass used to be. He slept on an old mattress on the floor. Yet, I was told, nothing could be done about it.

I was young and held out hope that I could change his world. I hoped that somehow I could find someone who would investigate and get him the care he so desparately needed. He was small, dirty, and completely disheveled most days. But he had the most enormous smile. The kind that made you look beyond the outward appearance and straight into a very large heart.

In the midst of trying to change his world, this day, HE changed mine!

Christmas. In some classrooms, the day before the holiday brings many carefully wrapped packages of coffee mugs, apple gizmos and gadgets, new books, and other "teacher gifts". My classroom was no different that year. The children came in one by one and placed their "treasure" in a pile of gifts for me. I was overwhelmed to say the least and excited to finally be able to open all the "teacher gifts" I had dreamed of during my teacher training.

As everyone took their seats and our day of festivities began, my students begged me to open the gifts first. Their anticipation was even more than mine. I LOVE this holiday and was quite happy to oblige. I opened gift after gift. I gave out hugs to everyone for their kindness as we oohed and aahed over the display. After the wrapped mountain had disappeared and all the teacher treasures sat proudly on my desk, Johnny made his way up to me with his hands tucked behind his back.

He said, "Mrs. N., I brought you a gift, too."

I thought, "No. I hope his father didn't spend money on me." I knew this family simply could not afford it.

My eyes were met by his beautiful smile as slowly, he took his hands from behind his back. I'll never forget what I saw. It was a fist full of dirty, torn, crumpled up notebook paper. There were giggles from my second grade audience. I gave them my best "teacher look" and the room suddenly hushed as I took the crumpled paper ball from Johnny's dirty hands as if it were a precious treasure.

He said, "I wanted to get this for you."

I uncrumpled the notebook "wrapping paper" and uncovered a shell. I was stunned. It wasn't the "I-went-to-the-beach-and-picked-this-up-for-you" kind of shell. Instead it was a "driveway shell". Many of the driveways in our area were covered with broken shell. Occasionally, if you dug hard enough, you could uncover a whole shell. This was a "I-found-a-treasure-in-the-driveway-and-I-dug-it-up-for-you-on-the-way-to-school" shell. And, in my mind's eye, and in my heart, it was worth more than all the other mugs and trinkets I received that day.

He held his breath until I spoke. Misty eyed, I said, "Johnny, this is going to look perfect on my shelf in the living room!" And that grin, the one that was unmistakeably love-filled, once again crossed his lips as I hugged him.

And that shell, still sits in a shadow box in my house as a constant reminder that it's not the size of a "gift" but the spirit in which it is given that sometimes makes ALL the difference. It also reminds me of why I am in education, as I think about Johnny and the countless others like him who have crossed my path over the years.

While I lost track of Johnny after that year, in my twenty years of teaching, I continue to meet more and more "Johnny's" each day. They come into my life and I still find myself thinking about what they "need" from me....wondering what I can "give" them. And I know that the best thing I can give is kindness and love mixed in with what little knowledge they may take from our time together. But, like the shell regularly reminds me, every year, from every student, through each experience, it is I who learn and receive SO MUCH!

For that, I will always be eternally grateful!

He Can See Clearly Now...

I took DSs 3 and 4 to the eye doctor on Saturday. I confess they have not been to a "real" eye doctor before. (I think somebody had a thing on their blog about a Loser Mommy---this "might" qualify!) Anyway, DS 4 is the person that sparked the visit because he has been seeing double. I haven't been for a while, so I decided to check my perscription as well...and I wanted sunglasses. DS 3 said, "I've been having trouble seeing the board." So we made it a "threesome".

DS 4 went first. He has to flex his eye muscles to help them see only one thing. No glasses. Vision is fine.

DS 3 went second. I stayed outside with DS 4 for this visit.

I went third. When I entered the room, the doctor said, "Your son is nearsighted. He needs glasses." Oops. Shrinks down into the exam chair wondering just how long the 12-year-old has had blurrd vision.

Then came the shopping part. Now DS 3 is not happy about wearing glasses. I know some of you have worn them all your lives. And I know it's really no big deal...but when you're 12 and when you're a boy and when...well you get the picture. We shopped for about 40 minutes looking for the "right" pair for him. In that time, I got two pairs (sun and regular).

In the course of our visit, we decided that DS 3 could get contacts. But I told him he still needed a pair of frames as back-ups. We finally settled on a pair.

Last night, I took him to pick up his frames. You would have thought that he was seeing the world for the FIRST TIME! Everything. Signs on the way home. Trees and their leaves. The carpet and it's piling. He couldn't believe how the TV looked (and we HAVE HD!).

And as I watched him, I realized that this is kind of how we are sometimes. We see through the clouds, our vision is blurry, and we can't tell what's "up ahead" in our lives. Then, suddenly, something changes. We get new perspective. A new angle. A fresh look. And it all looks different. I think this is what happens when Jesus gets ahold of us. We see people and things and situations in brand new ways.

Today, I'm going to try to see the world through new lenses. Maybe we'll call them "Jesus Glasses". And maybe, just maybe, the old will be brand new!!