I'm just an old, blue canvas swing, in a bucket shape so people can relax and rest in me. Sometimes when the wind comes blowing, I fly high like a kite, swirling and dancing until I land in a tree branch. There I hang, sadly waiting until someone takes pity on me, and gets me down.
But oh - the things I've heard. I've heard the symphony of birds welcoming the morning sun. I've heard the sleepy dusk call of momma birds gathering their little ones and tucking them in for the night. The howls of hungry coyotes drifting up from the creek bed. The songs I've heard sung to babies and children, while they sit in me and sway to the music. Stories of daring feats, mysteries, fairy tales I've listened to over the many years. I've heard the booming of thunder like kettle drums crescendoing their way to the grand finale.The rain makes a soft pattering sound just as it starts, and then as it pours, it sounds like a thousand drums playing rhythm together. I've heard sad things - the weeping of a broken heart, of sorrow so deep a soul can barely survive. The best of all things is hearing the soft "I love you" whispered many, many times.
And oh - the things I've seen. Happy children running and playing, laughing at the top of their lungs and then collapsing on the grass just under me. I've seen fireflies like tiny diamonds winking in the pasture and happy children chasing them while laughing and giggling. I've seen a quiet doe slip across the pasture with a little one by her side - always with her ears up, listening for danger. I've seen jagged bolts of lightening streak across the sky and splinter into a millions paths of light. A brilliant flash of crimson as a cardinal shoots across the yard. But best of all is the peace I see when things are right with the world.
There are smells all around me. Wafts of fragrant lilac blooms and sweet apple blossoms. Fresh mown grass smelling of clean earth. Smoky smells of fireworks and smoke bombs. Delicious smells of hamburgers grilling on the barbeque. The wet damp smell just before a rain shower. The dusty and earthy smell of leaves in autumn as they flitter past me to the ground. But best of all is the sweet smell of a soft spring evening as the sun sets in the west.
I can also feel the love all around me as stories are read, songs are sung and babies are swung. I feel the blazing heat of summer as the earth scorches under the relentless sun. I've felt the wind rushing by me in a hurry to go somewhere else. The rain cools me, rinsing off the dust of the day and leaving me fresh and clean. I've felt the heartache sometimes around me of problems that won't seem to go away. I've felt the wonder of a tiny baby in arms, and the love and pride that babies always bring. But best of all, I feel the hope that comes with a new day, a new start and happiness that makes a glow all around me.
Sometimes I taste the salty tears of sadness and the anger over injustices to loved ones. The taste of heat shimmering in the air. I can taste the sweetness of a love that has lasted for over four decades. There is the taste of happiness and giggles and stories and songs and love. Cold iced tea as a few drops spill on my canvas. Creamy ice cream dripped from a small hand holding a cone. But most of all, I taste the love that surrounds me and keeps me swinging softly in the Oklahoma breeze.
I am just an old blue canvas swing. Come sit awhile and make some memories.
Tuesday, July 23, 2013
Thursday, April 4, 2013
Smoking aka cancer sticks
My rant for today - smoking hurts people, it drills hole in their hearts, it tears families apart and it pollutes the air that the rest of us breathe.
I don't intend to start a war over smoking. Enough of that in the media. BUT I am going to have my say, here on this blog, which is mine to say what I want - as long as I don't slander people.
I have a hole in my heart directly caused by smoking. No it is not a physical hole, it is an emotional hole. Two very special people in my life have been hurt by their smoking. One just died, and the other is suffering from cancer, having chemo and is fragile and dependent on others to help her right now.
Both were heavy, heavy smokers. I loved both of them, still do, but oh, the hurt that their smoking caused not only themselves, but others around them.
As we study early colonization of America in school, one of the first things my fifth graders learn is that Jamestown survived because John Rolfe introduced tobacco to the colonies. Jamestown people were starving, many people were dying. When John Rolfe introduced tobacco to Jamestown, the first colony in America began to thrive. Tobacco was grown everywhere - in gardens, front yards, back yards, and flower beds. The King of England called it "stinky weed" but he certainly didn't turn down the money he made from the colonists growing, curing and selling tobacco. My kids are always horrified that our first permanent English colony was founded on tobacco.
I am not nor have I ever been a smoker. So I can't say what it would take to quit smoking. I've been told it is one of the hardest addictions to overcome - not speaking of illegal drugs. I don't know. What I do know is that it costs Americans millions of dollars every year in medical bills - not only for themselves but for those around them that are harmed by second hand smoke. It causes sickness and death in families - and the survivors are left to deal with the horror of a loved one dying or having to take chemo etc. etc.
Tobacco companies have to suck in nearly 400,000 people per year as new customers to replace those that have died from tobacco, first hand or second hand. It is a disgusting, filthy habit - and I wish those tobacco companies would have to witness the horrors of lung cancer, or other cancer caused by their product.
I know I can't change the world, nor can I get people to quit using tobacco. If it was in my power to do so, tomorrow - every single tobacco product would disappear, along with the seeds to grow any more.
I think the King had it right - "stinky weed" and my dad had it right - he called cigarettes "cancer sticks, or coffin nails."
QUOTE:
It is more profitable for your congressman to support the tobacco industry than your life.
I don't intend to start a war over smoking. Enough of that in the media. BUT I am going to have my say, here on this blog, which is mine to say what I want - as long as I don't slander people.
I have a hole in my heart directly caused by smoking. No it is not a physical hole, it is an emotional hole. Two very special people in my life have been hurt by their smoking. One just died, and the other is suffering from cancer, having chemo and is fragile and dependent on others to help her right now.
Both were heavy, heavy smokers. I loved both of them, still do, but oh, the hurt that their smoking caused not only themselves, but others around them.
As we study early colonization of America in school, one of the first things my fifth graders learn is that Jamestown survived because John Rolfe introduced tobacco to the colonies. Jamestown people were starving, many people were dying. When John Rolfe introduced tobacco to Jamestown, the first colony in America began to thrive. Tobacco was grown everywhere - in gardens, front yards, back yards, and flower beds. The King of England called it "stinky weed" but he certainly didn't turn down the money he made from the colonists growing, curing and selling tobacco. My kids are always horrified that our first permanent English colony was founded on tobacco.
I am not nor have I ever been a smoker. So I can't say what it would take to quit smoking. I've been told it is one of the hardest addictions to overcome - not speaking of illegal drugs. I don't know. What I do know is that it costs Americans millions of dollars every year in medical bills - not only for themselves but for those around them that are harmed by second hand smoke. It causes sickness and death in families - and the survivors are left to deal with the horror of a loved one dying or having to take chemo etc. etc.
Tobacco companies have to suck in nearly 400,000 people per year as new customers to replace those that have died from tobacco, first hand or second hand. It is a disgusting, filthy habit - and I wish those tobacco companies would have to witness the horrors of lung cancer, or other cancer caused by their product.
I know I can't change the world, nor can I get people to quit using tobacco. If it was in my power to do so, tomorrow - every single tobacco product would disappear, along with the seeds to grow any more.
I think the King had it right - "stinky weed" and my dad had it right - he called cigarettes "cancer sticks, or coffin nails."
QUOTE:
It is more profitable for your congressman to support the tobacco industry than your life.
Sunday, March 31, 2013
Boats - and more boats!
One of the things I miss the most about my husband being a paraplegic is that we can no longer go boating. We sold our boat after our car accident when my husband became paralyzed. Camping and boating were a huge part of our lives, and I sure miss the boating part.
So memories just come flooding in like the tide - and come so fast that it is like a movie in fast motion. So I am going to share boat memories for those of you who love boats!
We bought an OLD boat when the kids were younger. It was very unique in that is was a deep V tri-hull. Boats could be Deep V - which meant that the bottom was designed in a V shape - easily to cut the waves and get up speed. The other popular boat was a Tri-hull - with three sort of V shapes - very stable but slower. Then some brilliant person came up with the idea of a Deep V tri-hull - which ours was. It had a deep V that then turned into a Tri-Hull! It was old - kind of a yellowy color, and the most awful faded yellow cushions you ever saw. We used it that way for a year or so, and then overhauled the inside. We did the work ourselves - and the only time I ever saw my husband high! We put down indoor/outdoor carpeting which required lots and lots of this stinky glue. It was also horribly hot - in the 100's, and no breeze what so ever! We worked together and suddenly realized we were laughing hysterically at nothing at all. Seems the fumes of the glue we used cooked our brains! We crawled out of the boat laughing hysterically, and finally got our brains aired out. BUT it sure looked good - that nice carpet. Put in new seats, and had new front cushions sew up - BRIGHT yellow! And boy did we fly on the lake. The Deep V and Trihull combo let us fly through the water like a bird! And since we are both speed demons, we rarely putt putted around!
Again - the nice thing about a Deep V tri-hull is that we could be on the lake in bad weather when most of the scaredy cats split for shore. The V hull made slicing the big waves easier, and tri-hull made us stable. Quite an adventure!
So now for boat stories! As I mentioned - we could be out in stormy weather longer than most. WHICH means that my husband stayed out until I thought we would be flipped into the bottom of Keystone! Had such a storm come up once, and hubby did finally say we should go in! (you think ????) Just as we got to shore to load the boat, we realized our backup gear went out. I pulled onto shore to let him hop out and get the trailer. NOW I NEVER EVER put the trailer into the water. I looked like a drunk person zig zagging down the ramp. So now there are BUNCHES of people waiting to get their boats out and I have no back up gear to back up the boat and line it up to the trailer. Charley hollared at me to try to walk it around by the rope, but it was too deep. Next thing I knew, men were swarming over the boat, pulling it around and getting line up for the trailer. I goosed it, got on the trailer, men hopped inside and pulled up the motor (remember - really old boat and no electric motor to tilt up the engine), had it tied up and Charley was pulling me out in minutes. So Charley parked our boat, hopped out and helped the other men get every single boat out of the water, onto trailers in waves and wind gusting somewhere around 35 mph. It was incredible - everyone helping everyone else so we could be safe!
I have a feeling this is going to have to be a 3 part blog. Just too many memories.
The next one will make Moriah and April hysterically laugh. Our kids ALWAYS had friends with them when we camped at the lake. And we enjoyed them so much. So our rule was that if you went on the boat, you had to prove to me or to Charley Sr. that you could swim very well, before we'd let them jump off the boat into the deep water. We pulled up on our favorite tiny island - think the size of a long skinny bedroom - and prepared to give the swimming test. Charley's friend, Dustin, passed with flying colors. The WHOLE time he is proving to me he can swim, Moriah and April are about to pass out from hysterically laughing. I really couldn't figure out what was so funny - it was a rule, and we enforced the rule. So it was time for Moriah to take her test. She swam out to the deep part, and swam back - really a good swimmer. I was satisfied that she could indeed survive in the water. Now while she is swimming, April continues to laugh until she is red faced. Finally, I was kind of ticked and asked her what was so funny. In between gulps of breath and laughing, she told me that Moriah was on the EHS swim team and had won countless competitions. OOOHHH - well, was my face red! I was reminded of that incident a LOT in the coming years!
One of the banes of our camping trips was the peace and quiet of the lake shattered by the really really loud speed boats. HATED them! On this particular trip, there was a really, really old boat puttering around the bay area - think a really old Thunderbird, pink! It must have been 20 years older than ours and ours was OLD. Teenage boys were laughing at the boat, pointing at it, making typical smart alec teenage boy remarks. So they take their fancy, schamcy speedboat out, roar up and down and up and down until I think all of us campers were ready to shoot out their engine. Then it got strangely quiet. About half an hour later, here comes the OLD pink boat - TOWING - the speedboat back to shore. Indeed - the entire people on the beach and in the camp cheered and applauded - while the teenage boys slumped lower and lower in their fancy boat. It was hysterical!!!!
Plugs are put in a boat to keep the water OUT of the boat while playing in the water, and then you take OUT the plug to drain what water is still left from the bilge pumps. We always were super careful to put that plug in before we put the boat in the water. Not sure what happened this particular time - probably a brain fart! We unloaded the boat, hubby parked the trailer, I picked him up at the shallow end of the ramp and we proceed to move out into the lake. Something didn't feel right about the boat. It was really sluggish, we couldn't get up speed. We looked at the back end, and it was WAY down in the water. Charley asked me if I put in the plug - I didn't remember so I asked the kids if they had. Seems nobody did. So we literally wallowed like a whale back to the ramp, let hubby out, pulled out praying the whole time that we wouldn't sink before we got the boat on the trailer. The bilge pump worked its little heart out, but even it couldn't keep up with the water coming in. Put it on the trailer, drained it, put the plug back in, and went back out. Trust me - we NEVER forgot the plug again!
OK - guess this is enough for part 1. More stories later including gremlins, skiing, eyeglasses and baby DJ.
Smile - its getting to be spring, enjoy the sunshine, flowers and bird!
So memories just come flooding in like the tide - and come so fast that it is like a movie in fast motion. So I am going to share boat memories for those of you who love boats!
We bought an OLD boat when the kids were younger. It was very unique in that is was a deep V tri-hull. Boats could be Deep V - which meant that the bottom was designed in a V shape - easily to cut the waves and get up speed. The other popular boat was a Tri-hull - with three sort of V shapes - very stable but slower. Then some brilliant person came up with the idea of a Deep V tri-hull - which ours was. It had a deep V that then turned into a Tri-Hull! It was old - kind of a yellowy color, and the most awful faded yellow cushions you ever saw. We used it that way for a year or so, and then overhauled the inside. We did the work ourselves - and the only time I ever saw my husband high! We put down indoor/outdoor carpeting which required lots and lots of this stinky glue. It was also horribly hot - in the 100's, and no breeze what so ever! We worked together and suddenly realized we were laughing hysterically at nothing at all. Seems the fumes of the glue we used cooked our brains! We crawled out of the boat laughing hysterically, and finally got our brains aired out. BUT it sure looked good - that nice carpet. Put in new seats, and had new front cushions sew up - BRIGHT yellow! And boy did we fly on the lake. The Deep V and Trihull combo let us fly through the water like a bird! And since we are both speed demons, we rarely putt putted around!
Again - the nice thing about a Deep V tri-hull is that we could be on the lake in bad weather when most of the scaredy cats split for shore. The V hull made slicing the big waves easier, and tri-hull made us stable. Quite an adventure!
So now for boat stories! As I mentioned - we could be out in stormy weather longer than most. WHICH means that my husband stayed out until I thought we would be flipped into the bottom of Keystone! Had such a storm come up once, and hubby did finally say we should go in! (you think ????) Just as we got to shore to load the boat, we realized our backup gear went out. I pulled onto shore to let him hop out and get the trailer. NOW I NEVER EVER put the trailer into the water. I looked like a drunk person zig zagging down the ramp. So now there are BUNCHES of people waiting to get their boats out and I have no back up gear to back up the boat and line it up to the trailer. Charley hollared at me to try to walk it around by the rope, but it was too deep. Next thing I knew, men were swarming over the boat, pulling it around and getting line up for the trailer. I goosed it, got on the trailer, men hopped inside and pulled up the motor (remember - really old boat and no electric motor to tilt up the engine), had it tied up and Charley was pulling me out in minutes. So Charley parked our boat, hopped out and helped the other men get every single boat out of the water, onto trailers in waves and wind gusting somewhere around 35 mph. It was incredible - everyone helping everyone else so we could be safe!
I have a feeling this is going to have to be a 3 part blog. Just too many memories.
The next one will make Moriah and April hysterically laugh. Our kids ALWAYS had friends with them when we camped at the lake. And we enjoyed them so much. So our rule was that if you went on the boat, you had to prove to me or to Charley Sr. that you could swim very well, before we'd let them jump off the boat into the deep water. We pulled up on our favorite tiny island - think the size of a long skinny bedroom - and prepared to give the swimming test. Charley's friend, Dustin, passed with flying colors. The WHOLE time he is proving to me he can swim, Moriah and April are about to pass out from hysterically laughing. I really couldn't figure out what was so funny - it was a rule, and we enforced the rule. So it was time for Moriah to take her test. She swam out to the deep part, and swam back - really a good swimmer. I was satisfied that she could indeed survive in the water. Now while she is swimming, April continues to laugh until she is red faced. Finally, I was kind of ticked and asked her what was so funny. In between gulps of breath and laughing, she told me that Moriah was on the EHS swim team and had won countless competitions. OOOHHH - well, was my face red! I was reminded of that incident a LOT in the coming years!
One of the banes of our camping trips was the peace and quiet of the lake shattered by the really really loud speed boats. HATED them! On this particular trip, there was a really, really old boat puttering around the bay area - think a really old Thunderbird, pink! It must have been 20 years older than ours and ours was OLD. Teenage boys were laughing at the boat, pointing at it, making typical smart alec teenage boy remarks. So they take their fancy, schamcy speedboat out, roar up and down and up and down until I think all of us campers were ready to shoot out their engine. Then it got strangely quiet. About half an hour later, here comes the OLD pink boat - TOWING - the speedboat back to shore. Indeed - the entire people on the beach and in the camp cheered and applauded - while the teenage boys slumped lower and lower in their fancy boat. It was hysterical!!!!
Plugs are put in a boat to keep the water OUT of the boat while playing in the water, and then you take OUT the plug to drain what water is still left from the bilge pumps. We always were super careful to put that plug in before we put the boat in the water. Not sure what happened this particular time - probably a brain fart! We unloaded the boat, hubby parked the trailer, I picked him up at the shallow end of the ramp and we proceed to move out into the lake. Something didn't feel right about the boat. It was really sluggish, we couldn't get up speed. We looked at the back end, and it was WAY down in the water. Charley asked me if I put in the plug - I didn't remember so I asked the kids if they had. Seems nobody did. So we literally wallowed like a whale back to the ramp, let hubby out, pulled out praying the whole time that we wouldn't sink before we got the boat on the trailer. The bilge pump worked its little heart out, but even it couldn't keep up with the water coming in. Put it on the trailer, drained it, put the plug back in, and went back out. Trust me - we NEVER forgot the plug again!
OK - guess this is enough for part 1. More stories later including gremlins, skiing, eyeglasses and baby DJ.
Smile - its getting to be spring, enjoy the sunshine, flowers and bird!
Sunday, February 10, 2013
Where is the joy??????
This blog will mean a whole lot to teachers or former teachers, maybe even spouses of teachers or just those who are keeping track of where education is heading in the U.S.
So I start this blog with three words: I am tired! Now this blog will sound like a whole lot of bellyaching - and well ........ it is!
I have only been teaching for 17 years. I know teachers who are on their 25th or 30th or even 40th year of teaching. To be quite blunt - I don't know how! 17 years and I am burnt out, and I am TIRED!
This blog has two aspects - why I am tired, and how the joy of teaching has gone with the wind. (hehe, a little humor there.)
I'm tired and the joy is gone because: (ooohhh - there is the cause and effect I have been pounding into my students' pointy little heads for weeks!)
1. Getting absolutely no respect from the general public. This includes our new Superintendant of Education of the great State of Oklahoma. The lady who we call "Superindentist" because she is NOT a teacher, never has been, she is a dentist who had the money to start a charter school. She has become known in Washington D.C. because she has done so much damage to education in Ok that Washington D.C. refused to give Oklahoma money from Pres. Obama's Race to the Top. Now that is unacceptable.
2. The taunts and name calling and degrading of us by the State Board of Education of Oklahoma who went around the room and called us names, degraded us, said we were whiners, we were 47th in the nation, and told us to SHUT UP in front of TV stations and reporters. We are 47th IN FUNDING. Not in academic success. DUH! We are way at the top in that area.
3. The focus on testing, testing, testing and more testing. (more on that later - may have to get the fire extinguisher out for that).
4. The 10 - 12 hour days AT SCHOOL, and then hours more at home grading papers, making lesson plans, putting grades on line, etc. etc. etc. I added my hours up one year - I had more hours for a year than most executives of big companies. It averaged about 60 hours a week.
5. Parents who don't value education enough to get their kids to school. Pull your child out to dress up and entertain at a nursing home. Pull your child out while you go on a cruise for a week (and yes, this has happened over and over). Pull your child out so you can visit relatives in Guatmala for 6 weeks, or Mexico, or ...... Celebrate whatever day they can think up - birthdays, oreo cookie day, the sun is shining day, and on and on. Kid doesn't want to go to school so mommie or daddy say, well, just stay home today. Missing a state test because the parents go somewhere - which then reflects on the test scores! GRRRRR I have to stop - but you can see that the excuses go on and on and on.
6. Feeling like everything I teach or do in the classroom is under a microscope like a BUG! Walking on eggshells hoping I don't do something wrong and get written up, or have a parent go bonkers on me, and on and on. Always looking over my shoulder, making sure I am teaching according to the 50 or so rules handed to us by the state and district.
7. Having no input into many things - right now it is the supply list. One size does not fit all. My coteacher and I have fought that for years. Lots on the supply list we don't use - just costs parents money they don't have. We wind up buying the supplies we do need out of our own pockets. AND IT IS GETTING EXPENSIVE. AND we send the supplies we don't use back home. SAD!
8. No half day planning. We rarely get a day without students so we can just plan, or catch up on grading, or sort, clean and purge our "stuff". We used to. It was heaven to me. As soon as those kids walked out the door at noon, my partner and I began planning. We got lots of weeks planned, got papers copied, got grades done, and on and on. But because some teachers decided to skip that day and go shopping - they were reported by irate citizens, and now our planning days are history. So the sins of a few make all the rest of us suffer.
9. AND ABOVE ALL ELSE - having my entire year of teaching boil down to test grades. If they aren't high enough - God forbid - there is hell to pay - trust me on that one. If a student doesn't test well and gets a low score - blame the teacher. If a student gets so stressed, they freeze - the score will be our fault. If they haven't gotten a good night sleep because parents aren't parenting - low score - blame the teacher. You get the drift - because I could go on and on. It is by far, the most discouraging aspect of teaching. The stress of that has caused many teachers to become physically sick! It has caused students to HATE school. Come standardized test day I have seen students put their head down on their desk and sob. I've seen them throw up. I've seen them totally freeze - deer in the head lights look.
OK - I see that this blog will never, ever have an end. I want the joy back! I want to take 20 minutes or 10 minutes and let the kids explore what they are learning. I want to have time for more hands on learning. I want to throw away the 2 grades per week per subject required, and let kids actually learn and be assessed on what they learned. I want to say - you kids worked so hard for me today, lets take a break and play a game for 10 minutes. Or do a puzzle. Or have an extra recess. Or let them just draw. Nope!!!!! Gotta keep on pushing!
So saying - I LOVE teaching with my whole heart and soul. I chose to do this regardless of the long hours and low pay. I love hearing a student say, "Mrs. B., I love your class. It is so much fun and we learn so much more than in other grades."
BUT I am tired!
So I start this blog with three words: I am tired! Now this blog will sound like a whole lot of bellyaching - and well ........ it is!
I have only been teaching for 17 years. I know teachers who are on their 25th or 30th or even 40th year of teaching. To be quite blunt - I don't know how! 17 years and I am burnt out, and I am TIRED!
This blog has two aspects - why I am tired, and how the joy of teaching has gone with the wind. (hehe, a little humor there.)
I'm tired and the joy is gone because: (ooohhh - there is the cause and effect I have been pounding into my students' pointy little heads for weeks!)
1. Getting absolutely no respect from the general public. This includes our new Superintendant of Education of the great State of Oklahoma. The lady who we call "Superindentist" because she is NOT a teacher, never has been, she is a dentist who had the money to start a charter school. She has become known in Washington D.C. because she has done so much damage to education in Ok that Washington D.C. refused to give Oklahoma money from Pres. Obama's Race to the Top. Now that is unacceptable.
2. The taunts and name calling and degrading of us by the State Board of Education of Oklahoma who went around the room and called us names, degraded us, said we were whiners, we were 47th in the nation, and told us to SHUT UP in front of TV stations and reporters. We are 47th IN FUNDING. Not in academic success. DUH! We are way at the top in that area.
3. The focus on testing, testing, testing and more testing. (more on that later - may have to get the fire extinguisher out for that).
4. The 10 - 12 hour days AT SCHOOL, and then hours more at home grading papers, making lesson plans, putting grades on line, etc. etc. etc. I added my hours up one year - I had more hours for a year than most executives of big companies. It averaged about 60 hours a week.
5. Parents who don't value education enough to get their kids to school. Pull your child out to dress up and entertain at a nursing home. Pull your child out while you go on a cruise for a week (and yes, this has happened over and over). Pull your child out so you can visit relatives in Guatmala for 6 weeks, or Mexico, or ...... Celebrate whatever day they can think up - birthdays, oreo cookie day, the sun is shining day, and on and on. Kid doesn't want to go to school so mommie or daddy say, well, just stay home today. Missing a state test because the parents go somewhere - which then reflects on the test scores! GRRRRR I have to stop - but you can see that the excuses go on and on and on.
6. Feeling like everything I teach or do in the classroom is under a microscope like a BUG! Walking on eggshells hoping I don't do something wrong and get written up, or have a parent go bonkers on me, and on and on. Always looking over my shoulder, making sure I am teaching according to the 50 or so rules handed to us by the state and district.
7. Having no input into many things - right now it is the supply list. One size does not fit all. My coteacher and I have fought that for years. Lots on the supply list we don't use - just costs parents money they don't have. We wind up buying the supplies we do need out of our own pockets. AND IT IS GETTING EXPENSIVE. AND we send the supplies we don't use back home. SAD!
8. No half day planning. We rarely get a day without students so we can just plan, or catch up on grading, or sort, clean and purge our "stuff". We used to. It was heaven to me. As soon as those kids walked out the door at noon, my partner and I began planning. We got lots of weeks planned, got papers copied, got grades done, and on and on. But because some teachers decided to skip that day and go shopping - they were reported by irate citizens, and now our planning days are history. So the sins of a few make all the rest of us suffer.
9. AND ABOVE ALL ELSE - having my entire year of teaching boil down to test grades. If they aren't high enough - God forbid - there is hell to pay - trust me on that one. If a student doesn't test well and gets a low score - blame the teacher. If a student gets so stressed, they freeze - the score will be our fault. If they haven't gotten a good night sleep because parents aren't parenting - low score - blame the teacher. You get the drift - because I could go on and on. It is by far, the most discouraging aspect of teaching. The stress of that has caused many teachers to become physically sick! It has caused students to HATE school. Come standardized test day I have seen students put their head down on their desk and sob. I've seen them throw up. I've seen them totally freeze - deer in the head lights look.
OK - I see that this blog will never, ever have an end. I want the joy back! I want to take 20 minutes or 10 minutes and let the kids explore what they are learning. I want to have time for more hands on learning. I want to throw away the 2 grades per week per subject required, and let kids actually learn and be assessed on what they learned. I want to say - you kids worked so hard for me today, lets take a break and play a game for 10 minutes. Or do a puzzle. Or have an extra recess. Or let them just draw. Nope!!!!! Gotta keep on pushing!
So saying - I LOVE teaching with my whole heart and soul. I chose to do this regardless of the long hours and low pay. I love hearing a student say, "Mrs. B., I love your class. It is so much fun and we learn so much more than in other grades."
BUT I am tired!
Saturday, February 2, 2013
Chapter 3 of My Journey
Don't know what happened, but this post disappeared and reappeared. During that time, I was able to read more letters and get more details and dates which I will add. Thanks for reading!
*********************************
Continuing the saga and love story of my parents. I finally found all the letters from March of 1942 until December of 1945. Way more than I thought. My project this weekend is to sort them into years.
After my parents met in person on December of 1942, the tone of the letters begins to change slowly. It makes me giggle to see daddy going from signing his letter very formally with first and last name and rank. Then it becomes - Levi. Then it becomes - Always, Levi. By the time he was shipped overseas about July of 1943, they were madly in love. From letters over 8 months and one meeting - they fell in love! My dad was quite the romantic letter writer which kind of fits as we knew him. He and mom held hands everywhere they went until they were separated by Alzheimers and nursing home. Mom also sat on his lap in the easy chair from time to time. We kids knew what real love was.
As far as I can tell without reading the hundreds of letters, my parents only saw each other one time before daddy was shipped over seas. Dad's letters are romantic but he hated the censorship. He said that every letter had to be read first and censored and that it bothered him a whole lot to have someone else read his love letters before my mom did.
Since it will take me a long time - months or a year - to read all of the letters, I will finish chapter 3 from my memory.
If I remember correctly, my parents saw each other twice more when dad came to the US on furlough. On one of his furloughs, they decided to take a long walk. They found a really nice place to sit and rest, under a big huge tree. The area was beautiful according to my mom, with lots of trees and grass. There, my dad proposed. When he proposed, daddy told mom that he guessed they would have plenty of privacy because he knew that the people around him wouldn't be bothering him. Mom looked at him like he was nuts because there wasn't a soul in sight. Then she started looking around at their surroundings. My dad had proposed to mom in an old GRAVEYARD! They both started laughing and she then said yes.
After he went back to Ireland, they continued to write. They wrote letters from March of 1942 to November of 1945. Three and a half years of letters. According to daddy's letters, his orders to come home were cancelled 3 times. They would get their hopes up, and then his travel orders would be cancelled. His last letter to mom was November 30. He was coming in on the Queen Mary, leaving England on Dec. 9. Dad told us kids that when their ship entered New York harbor, it was a wonder the boat didn't tip to one side. When the soldiers saw the Statue of Liberty, every soldier on the boat ran to that side of the ship to gaze at her. Makes me have goosebumps.
Daddy got to Pennsylvania on December 18. Mom and family picked him up at the train station, then they went on back to my grandparents home. Daddy stayed with his cousin while he was there. Mom and dad hadn't even set a firm date because they weren't sure when dad would get home. So my mom organized a wedding in about 12 days - set the date, got her dress, the photographer, the flowers, the church, the cake all in that time. 12 days - amazing! Daddy got a new suit and mom said he looked very handsome in it. Their wedding rehearsal was on New Years Day in the afternoon!
On the day of the wedding, January 2, 1946, my dad was a little late to his own wedding. He and his cousin were driving to the church from a neighboring town. The roads were icy and nearly impassable. They had to creep along so they wouldn't slide in a ditch. He made it, they got married and spent the first night with mom's sister and husband. Her sister, Elsie and husband, Al, put crackers in mom and dad's bed the first night!!!
As far as I can remember , my parents saw each other only 3 times before they got married. That is how powerful letter writing was back then.
And from that love story came us three kids, a move to Oklahoma briefly, New Mexico even more briefly and then to Fowler, Kansas where they lived for 53 years. On their 50th wedding anniversary, they renewed their vows - and there wasn't a dry eye in the church.
Rest in peace mom and daddy - I miss you every day.
P.S. I just found a pricelss letter. My grandma F. in PA wrote to my OK grandma the day after mom and dad got married. Ok foks couldn't come because of the distance and dead of winter. Grandma F told my OK grandma a little about the wedding but wanted mom and dad to share most of it. Grandma F told OK grandma that they all loved Levi (my dad) and hoped that they would love June. Grandma F says that June is kind of timid but she thinks the OK family will love her as much as they love Levi. Oh My goodness, what a treasure! In the letter, Grandma F. of PA talked about how they got mom and dad together!
*********************************
Continuing the saga and love story of my parents. I finally found all the letters from March of 1942 until December of 1945. Way more than I thought. My project this weekend is to sort them into years.
After my parents met in person on December of 1942, the tone of the letters begins to change slowly. It makes me giggle to see daddy going from signing his letter very formally with first and last name and rank. Then it becomes - Levi. Then it becomes - Always, Levi. By the time he was shipped overseas about July of 1943, they were madly in love. From letters over 8 months and one meeting - they fell in love! My dad was quite the romantic letter writer which kind of fits as we knew him. He and mom held hands everywhere they went until they were separated by Alzheimers and nursing home. Mom also sat on his lap in the easy chair from time to time. We kids knew what real love was.
As far as I can tell without reading the hundreds of letters, my parents only saw each other one time before daddy was shipped over seas. Dad's letters are romantic but he hated the censorship. He said that every letter had to be read first and censored and that it bothered him a whole lot to have someone else read his love letters before my mom did.
Since it will take me a long time - months or a year - to read all of the letters, I will finish chapter 3 from my memory.
If I remember correctly, my parents saw each other twice more when dad came to the US on furlough. On one of his furloughs, they decided to take a long walk. They found a really nice place to sit and rest, under a big huge tree. The area was beautiful according to my mom, with lots of trees and grass. There, my dad proposed. When he proposed, daddy told mom that he guessed they would have plenty of privacy because he knew that the people around him wouldn't be bothering him. Mom looked at him like he was nuts because there wasn't a soul in sight. Then she started looking around at their surroundings. My dad had proposed to mom in an old GRAVEYARD! They both started laughing and she then said yes.
After he went back to Ireland, they continued to write. They wrote letters from March of 1942 to November of 1945. Three and a half years of letters. According to daddy's letters, his orders to come home were cancelled 3 times. They would get their hopes up, and then his travel orders would be cancelled. His last letter to mom was November 30. He was coming in on the Queen Mary, leaving England on Dec. 9. Dad told us kids that when their ship entered New York harbor, it was a wonder the boat didn't tip to one side. When the soldiers saw the Statue of Liberty, every soldier on the boat ran to that side of the ship to gaze at her. Makes me have goosebumps.
Daddy got to Pennsylvania on December 18. Mom and family picked him up at the train station, then they went on back to my grandparents home. Daddy stayed with his cousin while he was there. Mom and dad hadn't even set a firm date because they weren't sure when dad would get home. So my mom organized a wedding in about 12 days - set the date, got her dress, the photographer, the flowers, the church, the cake all in that time. 12 days - amazing! Daddy got a new suit and mom said he looked very handsome in it. Their wedding rehearsal was on New Years Day in the afternoon!
On the day of the wedding, January 2, 1946, my dad was a little late to his own wedding. He and his cousin were driving to the church from a neighboring town. The roads were icy and nearly impassable. They had to creep along so they wouldn't slide in a ditch. He made it, they got married and spent the first night with mom's sister and husband. Her sister, Elsie and husband, Al, put crackers in mom and dad's bed the first night!!!
As far as I can remember , my parents saw each other only 3 times before they got married. That is how powerful letter writing was back then.
And from that love story came us three kids, a move to Oklahoma briefly, New Mexico even more briefly and then to Fowler, Kansas where they lived for 53 years. On their 50th wedding anniversary, they renewed their vows - and there wasn't a dry eye in the church.
Rest in peace mom and daddy - I miss you every day.
P.S. I just found a pricelss letter. My grandma F. in PA wrote to my OK grandma the day after mom and dad got married. Ok foks couldn't come because of the distance and dead of winter. Grandma F told my OK grandma a little about the wedding but wanted mom and dad to share most of it. Grandma F told OK grandma that they all loved Levi (my dad) and hoped that they would love June. Grandma F says that June is kind of timid but she thinks the OK family will love her as much as they love Levi. Oh My goodness, what a treasure! In the letter, Grandma F. of PA talked about how they got mom and dad together!
Sunday, January 27, 2013
Chatper two of my journey
Continuing the journey of my parents, and my journey in reading the suitcase of letters that dad wrote to mom during WWII.
Chapter Two:
When WWII broke out, my dad enlisted because he would have been drafted in weeks anyway. (that are his exact words). He graduated from Northwestern college in Alva, OK and joined the army 3 weeks after that. He was stationed in Louisiana. During that time, the government urged people to write to their servicemen, particularly the young ladies!
My grandma F in PA remembered that grandma N in OK had a son about mom's age and asked her if he was in the service. She replied that yes he was, so the two moms got their heads together and decided that my mom should write to dad in the service. Remember - my mom and dad hadn't seen each other since they were five - probably knew about each other, but had no contact whatsoever.
So mom (which shocks me to this day because she was about as shy as they come) wrote to dad out of the clear blue sky! That's where I start my journey. I started by reading the 7 or so letters that dad wrote to her before they even met. Unfortunately dad couldn't keep her letters because they base moved so much. I can reconstruct a lot of what she wrote because my dad was very good about answering her questions.
Dad was completed shocked to hear from mom! Just out of the blue. Eventually, I think mom told him that their moms set it all up for them to write - matchmakers back in the 1940's! So my parents began getting to know each other, their politics, their religion, their beliefs, each other's families. They wrote for six months before they finally got to actually meet in person. It was in PA before daddy was shipped overseas. He was going to be stationed in Ireland during the war.
I haven't gotten to those letters yet, as I have to read them a few at a time. They make me emotional because I am seeing a side of my parents I never realized existed. We knew mom had all these letters in a suitcase as we were growing up, but she refused to let us read them. I feel privileged to read them now. There are a few that dad managed to keep that she wrote, and each is 8 or 9 pages, singled spaced, typed. They wrote every single day! It is totally mind boggling.
I've read some of them to my husband, and he is loving the letters. So tune in for chatper 3 if you so inclined. I will continue my journey as I read more letters.
Chapter Two:
When WWII broke out, my dad enlisted because he would have been drafted in weeks anyway. (that are his exact words). He graduated from Northwestern college in Alva, OK and joined the army 3 weeks after that. He was stationed in Louisiana. During that time, the government urged people to write to their servicemen, particularly the young ladies!
My grandma F in PA remembered that grandma N in OK had a son about mom's age and asked her if he was in the service. She replied that yes he was, so the two moms got their heads together and decided that my mom should write to dad in the service. Remember - my mom and dad hadn't seen each other since they were five - probably knew about each other, but had no contact whatsoever.
So mom (which shocks me to this day because she was about as shy as they come) wrote to dad out of the clear blue sky! That's where I start my journey. I started by reading the 7 or so letters that dad wrote to her before they even met. Unfortunately dad couldn't keep her letters because they base moved so much. I can reconstruct a lot of what she wrote because my dad was very good about answering her questions.
Dad was completed shocked to hear from mom! Just out of the blue. Eventually, I think mom told him that their moms set it all up for them to write - matchmakers back in the 1940's! So my parents began getting to know each other, their politics, their religion, their beliefs, each other's families. They wrote for six months before they finally got to actually meet in person. It was in PA before daddy was shipped overseas. He was going to be stationed in Ireland during the war.
I haven't gotten to those letters yet, as I have to read them a few at a time. They make me emotional because I am seeing a side of my parents I never realized existed. We knew mom had all these letters in a suitcase as we were growing up, but she refused to let us read them. I feel privileged to read them now. There are a few that dad managed to keep that she wrote, and each is 8 or 9 pages, singled spaced, typed. They wrote every single day! It is totally mind boggling.
I've read some of them to my husband, and he is loving the letters. So tune in for chatper 3 if you so inclined. I will continue my journey as I read more letters.
Beginning the Journey
After almost 9 years, I finally got the courage to start reading letters that my dad wrote to my mom while they were courting. I've had them for nearly 9 years, in a suitcase, but just couldn't bring myself to start that journey of reading.
I began with reading the letters they wrote before they ever met. Hmmm - it kind of reminds me of "Sleepless in Seattle". Background information is a must - and it is the stuff that movies are made of.
My paternal grandma - Gr. N - lived in the pandhandle of Oklahoma. Hot wind, tumbleweeds, little rain, rolling pastures, constant dust, jack rabbits and sunflowers. Not a land that is easy to make a living in!
When my grandma N was 7 months pregnant with my dad, my grandpa was kicked in the stomach by a horse. He was hauling water in to their homestead for drinking, laundry and baths. In a week, when the family and friends realized that he wasn't getting any better, they took him to a nearby city, where he died. His spleen had ruptured and had become gangrenous.
My 4'11" grandma, survived his death, gave birth to my dad 2 months later and proceeded to live as a widow with three children - ages 3, 2 and newborn. I do NOT know how she did it. And my dad never got to meet his dad.
For ten years, she managed the farm, cooked, cleaned, sewed, made quilts, went to church, grew a garden, raised chickens for eating and eggs - all by herself. And we modern wives freak out when our washer or dishwasher goes on the blink! They lived in a tiny dugout.
Now flash to Pennsylvania - land of absolute gorgeous mountains, hills, green everywhere, trees and a more decent climate. My grandpa and grandma F lived there. Gr. F couldn't find work there so for whatever reason (I mean - PENN to OK - whoa!) they moved to the pandhandle of OK. They settled a mile or so from my other grandma who was still a widow.
Now we have the two families living close to each other. I think the oldest of mom's sisters was already born, so they had 3 in their family. My widow grandma had a family of 4. Two girls, a boy (my dad) and her.
Told you this was things movies are made of! My grandma N was a midwife to all of the surrounding OK towns that she could get to with a horse and buggy. When someone needed birthing help, grandma N came. NOW my grandma F was pregnant with my mom. Enter my OTHER grandma who became the midwife and brought my mom into this world.
So my two grandmas became very very close friends. They got to live close to each other for a little over five years. The grandparents from PA had another girl, giving them a family of 5. My OK grandma was still a widow with her three kids.
Confused yet -???? :) :)
When my mom was five, grandpa F decided he'd had enough of the lonliness, wind, heat, dirt and tumbleweeds of OK and moved back to Pennsylvania. From that day on, my two grandmothers wrote each other long newsy letters that they kept up until they became too old to write. I believe it would have been around 50 years of correspondence - give or take. Their letters always began, My dear friend.
Flash forward 25 years later to WWII.
That will be the next chapter of the background for my journey. As the cop from Dragnet said, "Just the facts, mam, just the facts!" Tune in for chapter two if you are intrigued or just bored or want more facts! :)
I began with reading the letters they wrote before they ever met. Hmmm - it kind of reminds me of "Sleepless in Seattle". Background information is a must - and it is the stuff that movies are made of.
My paternal grandma - Gr. N - lived in the pandhandle of Oklahoma. Hot wind, tumbleweeds, little rain, rolling pastures, constant dust, jack rabbits and sunflowers. Not a land that is easy to make a living in!
When my grandma N was 7 months pregnant with my dad, my grandpa was kicked in the stomach by a horse. He was hauling water in to their homestead for drinking, laundry and baths. In a week, when the family and friends realized that he wasn't getting any better, they took him to a nearby city, where he died. His spleen had ruptured and had become gangrenous.
My 4'11" grandma, survived his death, gave birth to my dad 2 months later and proceeded to live as a widow with three children - ages 3, 2 and newborn. I do NOT know how she did it. And my dad never got to meet his dad.
For ten years, she managed the farm, cooked, cleaned, sewed, made quilts, went to church, grew a garden, raised chickens for eating and eggs - all by herself. And we modern wives freak out when our washer or dishwasher goes on the blink! They lived in a tiny dugout.
Now flash to Pennsylvania - land of absolute gorgeous mountains, hills, green everywhere, trees and a more decent climate. My grandpa and grandma F lived there. Gr. F couldn't find work there so for whatever reason (I mean - PENN to OK - whoa!) they moved to the pandhandle of OK. They settled a mile or so from my other grandma who was still a widow.
Now we have the two families living close to each other. I think the oldest of mom's sisters was already born, so they had 3 in their family. My widow grandma had a family of 4. Two girls, a boy (my dad) and her.
Told you this was things movies are made of! My grandma N was a midwife to all of the surrounding OK towns that she could get to with a horse and buggy. When someone needed birthing help, grandma N came. NOW my grandma F was pregnant with my mom. Enter my OTHER grandma who became the midwife and brought my mom into this world.
So my two grandmas became very very close friends. They got to live close to each other for a little over five years. The grandparents from PA had another girl, giving them a family of 5. My OK grandma was still a widow with her three kids.
Confused yet -???? :) :)
When my mom was five, grandpa F decided he'd had enough of the lonliness, wind, heat, dirt and tumbleweeds of OK and moved back to Pennsylvania. From that day on, my two grandmothers wrote each other long newsy letters that they kept up until they became too old to write. I believe it would have been around 50 years of correspondence - give or take. Their letters always began, My dear friend.
Flash forward 25 years later to WWII.
That will be the next chapter of the background for my journey. As the cop from Dragnet said, "Just the facts, mam, just the facts!" Tune in for chapter two if you are intrigued or just bored or want more facts! :)
Coming back from the "dark side."
Well, it has been a LONG time since I blogged. When I first started my blog, my first reader and follower was a male cousin, whom I had only met in person two or three times in my life. We got reacquainted through FB and Email. He read my blogs, commented on them and encouraged me to keep writing and to publish my blog address so others could read.
Although I wasn't there during most of his 10 year journey with cancer, I was there long distance through the last few years. I learned so much about his perserverence, his integrity, and rising above the junk that comes with cancer. I got to meet his wife and children through the magic of FB. I believe that Tom was an inspiration to many of us cousins as we particpated long distance in his journey with the big "C". When he passed away, it hit me way harder than I ever dreamed. The writing just stopped in its tracks. It was an obstacle that I couldn't get around until now.
Finally, I am at a place that I feel free to write again. So to Tom - I'm glad you are peace and have no pain. Thanks for your part in encouraging me to write and blog! I begin the next part of my journey.
Although I wasn't there during most of his 10 year journey with cancer, I was there long distance through the last few years. I learned so much about his perserverence, his integrity, and rising above the junk that comes with cancer. I got to meet his wife and children through the magic of FB. I believe that Tom was an inspiration to many of us cousins as we particpated long distance in his journey with the big "C". When he passed away, it hit me way harder than I ever dreamed. The writing just stopped in its tracks. It was an obstacle that I couldn't get around until now.
Finally, I am at a place that I feel free to write again. So to Tom - I'm glad you are peace and have no pain. Thanks for your part in encouraging me to write and blog! I begin the next part of my journey.
Subscribe to:
Comments (Atom)