Tonight I am listening to the sleet coming down...and I am reminded to be thankful for a warm home with electricity and all the luxuries that many Americans have. Yet each night on the news the reports continue to come in regarding others who have lost their jobs. So many at this time of year are struggling to make ends meet, to provide for their family, and to have something under the tree for their children. I have to ask myself why am I so fortunate? I don't know the answer, but I do know that I am thankful.
It is winter, but inside of this home there is a warm glow of grace and love. As long as the light glows from within, I will do my best to help others. This Christmas, I have shared my blessings with others and have found that I find joy in giving away that which I have giving meaning to the saying: tis better to give than to receive.
My prayer is this: that I continue to have opportunities to help those around me. And even more, that I may see the needs before the opportunity has passed me by.
I love winter, and the weather that comes with it...for stolen days inside of the house, to reflect and to write.
Monday, December 15, 2008
Wednesday, October 8, 2008
The Ceramic Teddy Bear
My son will be twenty-one years of age later this month. As a mother, this is a monumental milestone for I have witnessed my firstborn son grow into a man. I realize that many have done this very thing, somehow losing its sense of uniqueness. However, I cannot help but wonder where has the time gone. I mean, really; one minute ago he was holding my hand. Now he is holding someone else's hand.
Since the time of his birth, I have had a ceramic teddy bear hook with me. First, it appeared in his baby room as a decorative piece. Later, as I divorced his father, the teddy bear became a remembrance of a time gone by, of days when even though disagreements appeared more frequently than I wished they would, there remained a symblance of hope that the marriage would work. I placed it on a hook in my bathroom, upon arriving in my new home.
It was a Saturday morning, not unlike other Saturday mornings. I was in the shower preparing for the day, when my friend with whom I share the house stepped into the bathroom to retrieve something from the dryer - also situated in my bathroom.
I suddenly heard a loud crash and then silence. I peeked from behind the shower curtain to see my friend leaning over the shattered pieces of the teddy bear. Feelings within raged inside of me, and I immediately began to sob uncontrollably. I don't know what came over me, but I was surprised of the enormity of emotions all wrapped up into that one ceramic teddy bear. I felt bad for my friend, for I knew that it was merely an accident. You could tell by her expression that she felt terrible for breaking the bear. I tried to comfort her amid my tear drops, but words would not come.
I reentered the safety of my shower enclosure and wept uncontrollably. I knew that the bear was gone and there was no recovering him from the ashes. All that he represented was lost forever - or at least that is what I thought.
Time has passed now and the two hooks that once held the bear still remain on my bathroom wall. I eventually quit crying that day and was able to verbally extend my forgiveness to my friend. However, the little teddy bear will always have a place in my memory reminding me of my little boy, my broken marriage, and a time gone by.
Since the time of his birth, I have had a ceramic teddy bear hook with me. First, it appeared in his baby room as a decorative piece. Later, as I divorced his father, the teddy bear became a remembrance of a time gone by, of days when even though disagreements appeared more frequently than I wished they would, there remained a symblance of hope that the marriage would work. I placed it on a hook in my bathroom, upon arriving in my new home.
It was a Saturday morning, not unlike other Saturday mornings. I was in the shower preparing for the day, when my friend with whom I share the house stepped into the bathroom to retrieve something from the dryer - also situated in my bathroom.
I suddenly heard a loud crash and then silence. I peeked from behind the shower curtain to see my friend leaning over the shattered pieces of the teddy bear. Feelings within raged inside of me, and I immediately began to sob uncontrollably. I don't know what came over me, but I was surprised of the enormity of emotions all wrapped up into that one ceramic teddy bear. I felt bad for my friend, for I knew that it was merely an accident. You could tell by her expression that she felt terrible for breaking the bear. I tried to comfort her amid my tear drops, but words would not come.
I reentered the safety of my shower enclosure and wept uncontrollably. I knew that the bear was gone and there was no recovering him from the ashes. All that he represented was lost forever - or at least that is what I thought.
Time has passed now and the two hooks that once held the bear still remain on my bathroom wall. I eventually quit crying that day and was able to verbally extend my forgiveness to my friend. However, the little teddy bear will always have a place in my memory reminding me of my little boy, my broken marriage, and a time gone by.
Friday, August 1, 2008
The Boy Behind the Mask
This week I have been involved in an intensive five-day training. On the 7th floor, we have been studying various teaching vignettes for quality of instructional methods. The day usually began at 8AM and concluded at around 5PM. Needless to say, we were all very tired when the evening would arrive. However, this one afternoon, we were given an early departure to go and enjoy the town in which we had been staying.
After going back to the hotel room and changing clothes, I stepped onto the elevator and hit the lobby button. I waited patiently as I listened to the cubicle moving past each floor, sometimes stopping to pick up a guest or drop one off. Eventually, the bell sounded announcing our arrival on the lobby floor. The wooden doors slid open and I began to step out.
My eyes immediately went to a small boy standing beside his father, and waiting to enter the elevator. The boy was wearing a very scary mask. My mind immediately searched the month, thinking momentarily that it may be Halloween. However, it was August so I put that thought aside. Then I began to wonder exactly why a young boy might walk around the hotel lobby wearing a scary mask. I couldn't come up with any substantial reason.
As I walked past him, the father said to me, "He's scary, isn't he?" I commented, "Most definitely" and smiled at the boy. How easy it would be to exchange masks for the many moods that I go through each day: a happy clown mask, a sad mask, an energetic mask, and even a scary mask. Too bad we think that masks are only for children or for Halloween, when we all have a vast array of them just waiting to pull the right one out to fool those around us.
After going back to the hotel room and changing clothes, I stepped onto the elevator and hit the lobby button. I waited patiently as I listened to the cubicle moving past each floor, sometimes stopping to pick up a guest or drop one off. Eventually, the bell sounded announcing our arrival on the lobby floor. The wooden doors slid open and I began to step out.
My eyes immediately went to a small boy standing beside his father, and waiting to enter the elevator. The boy was wearing a very scary mask. My mind immediately searched the month, thinking momentarily that it may be Halloween. However, it was August so I put that thought aside. Then I began to wonder exactly why a young boy might walk around the hotel lobby wearing a scary mask. I couldn't come up with any substantial reason.
As I walked past him, the father said to me, "He's scary, isn't he?" I commented, "Most definitely" and smiled at the boy. How easy it would be to exchange masks for the many moods that I go through each day: a happy clown mask, a sad mask, an energetic mask, and even a scary mask. Too bad we think that masks are only for children or for Halloween, when we all have a vast array of them just waiting to pull the right one out to fool those around us.
Saturday, July 26, 2008
We're Having a Heat Wave!
Today is blazing hot...yesterday was blazing hot...tomorrow promises to be blazing hot! I am not into blazing hot!
For several weeks, we have been "making do" without our heating and air conditioning unit because the freon leaked out. After having several repairmen come out and provide installation quotes, we decided to wait and save up the money, instead of buying a new unit on credit. This decision was made in light of the fact that we are trying to make wiser decisions about our money, about how we spend it and who actually provides it in the first place. However, we have been tested to the limit this week with several days of 99+ temperatures.
After making this decision to postpone our purchase, we rearranged our home and moved two twin beds in the back office area where the window unit is located. The remainder of the house is left unattended much of the day, except for meals and for bathroom stops. So far, it has worked out and I've actually come to enjoy the quaintness of the smaller living area. The living room has become our hang out, and nighttime movies have become our time of relaxation (I am referring you to an earlier blog where we turned in our cable boxes; so we have no television other than DVDs) prior to going to bed and reading.
Last night we decided to work outside for just an hour, and when we stopped due to the last bit of light slipping below the trees, I thought how good that window unit would feel once inside. It was at that moment that I realized how our perception shifts to fit our surroundings. Where once I thought that cable, AC throughout the house, and other conveniences were an absolute necessity to life, I have now realized that I can actually make it on much less and be even more happy and contented.
Never mind about the blazing hot temperatures...
For several weeks, we have been "making do" without our heating and air conditioning unit because the freon leaked out. After having several repairmen come out and provide installation quotes, we decided to wait and save up the money, instead of buying a new unit on credit. This decision was made in light of the fact that we are trying to make wiser decisions about our money, about how we spend it and who actually provides it in the first place. However, we have been tested to the limit this week with several days of 99+ temperatures.
After making this decision to postpone our purchase, we rearranged our home and moved two twin beds in the back office area where the window unit is located. The remainder of the house is left unattended much of the day, except for meals and for bathroom stops. So far, it has worked out and I've actually come to enjoy the quaintness of the smaller living area. The living room has become our hang out, and nighttime movies have become our time of relaxation (I am referring you to an earlier blog where we turned in our cable boxes; so we have no television other than DVDs) prior to going to bed and reading.
Last night we decided to work outside for just an hour, and when we stopped due to the last bit of light slipping below the trees, I thought how good that window unit would feel once inside. It was at that moment that I realized how our perception shifts to fit our surroundings. Where once I thought that cable, AC throughout the house, and other conveniences were an absolute necessity to life, I have now realized that I can actually make it on much less and be even more happy and contented.
Never mind about the blazing hot temperatures...
Sunday, July 20, 2008
The Ticking of a Clock
Today, I heard of a website that can actually provide you with your death date by simply inserting four key pieces of information. Once you have given the calculator your birth date, your sex, your outlook on life, and your body mass index (calculated for you onsite), then you wait for a couple of seconds and bam!...your death date appears with a clock ticking down the seconds you have remaining. In the background, you see the death angel waiting patiently.
I sat there and stared momentarily at the seconds slipping from me, and the sudden realization that that was my life disappearing - not just a clock marking time for someone else. It was marking time for me!
It is a strange thing when the impenetrable realization that your life will end comes into stark focus. And yes, I know that no website can accurately predict the date and time of anything, including death; there is no human being that knows that kind of information. However, I do believe that we were all created with a definite starting and ending point - and it is left to us to figure out what to do with the dash on the grave stone, with the time that represents life - my life.
The point in today's sermon asked what we might do differently if we knew that our time clock would cease ticking in 30 days. The question penetrated my heart and soul, and made me realize that I must be about life in a different manner than assuming life on earth in this body is infinite.
Just since I began typing this blog, seconds have gone - seconds that will never be experienced again. So why am I writing and why am I still here in front of this computer? As I mentioned earlier, writing to me is something almost mystical. I am compelled to capture my thoughts and my impressions on paper as an artist is on canvas. Words will remain long after I am gone. May I make my words count for something...
I sat there and stared momentarily at the seconds slipping from me, and the sudden realization that that was my life disappearing - not just a clock marking time for someone else. It was marking time for me!
It is a strange thing when the impenetrable realization that your life will end comes into stark focus. And yes, I know that no website can accurately predict the date and time of anything, including death; there is no human being that knows that kind of information. However, I do believe that we were all created with a definite starting and ending point - and it is left to us to figure out what to do with the dash on the grave stone, with the time that represents life - my life.
The point in today's sermon asked what we might do differently if we knew that our time clock would cease ticking in 30 days. The question penetrated my heart and soul, and made me realize that I must be about life in a different manner than assuming life on earth in this body is infinite.
Just since I began typing this blog, seconds have gone - seconds that will never be experienced again. So why am I writing and why am I still here in front of this computer? As I mentioned earlier, writing to me is something almost mystical. I am compelled to capture my thoughts and my impressions on paper as an artist is on canvas. Words will remain long after I am gone. May I make my words count for something...
Wednesday, July 16, 2008
Becoming a Published Author
In a few short months, a book will be published that will bear my name as editor/author. I have always wanted to create something in writing that would last beyond my lifetime, and hopefully carry with it words that would inspire others to live beyond the status quo. It seems that this specific dream will come true before the year ends.
But it is rather funny, because what I thought would be something transcendental has merely required small increments of fortitude. I don't necessarily feel any more or less of a person than I did before the work was completed. Yet, a dream has been accomplished.
What are dreams anyway? Are they something that starts as a tiny seed within our souls, and given enough sunlight and water, sprout into something tangible? Where do they come from? And how long will they remain left unattended?
I am working with a group of individuals who once had a dream to become a teacher, and now, after many years of meandering through life, have returned to that initial place. Their dream remained dormant; yet, it remained...and gnawed at their hearts until they had to give in and obey the calling.
Writing for me is like that. I have an idea and it remains for a period of time within me, until some point where it must come forth.
I am falling in love with blogs because there is no one to correct my formatting or my grammar or spelling...only my thoughts and my dreams, and that is enough.
But it is rather funny, because what I thought would be something transcendental has merely required small increments of fortitude. I don't necessarily feel any more or less of a person than I did before the work was completed. Yet, a dream has been accomplished.
What are dreams anyway? Are they something that starts as a tiny seed within our souls, and given enough sunlight and water, sprout into something tangible? Where do they come from? And how long will they remain left unattended?
I am working with a group of individuals who once had a dream to become a teacher, and now, after many years of meandering through life, have returned to that initial place. Their dream remained dormant; yet, it remained...and gnawed at their hearts until they had to give in and obey the calling.
Writing for me is like that. I have an idea and it remains for a period of time within me, until some point where it must come forth.
I am falling in love with blogs because there is no one to correct my formatting or my grammar or spelling...only my thoughts and my dreams, and that is enough.
Monday, March 31, 2008
The Baseball of Learning
I am seated in the lobby of the Marriot, located on the Chesapeake Bay.
Nearby, the start-up of another baseball season is underway for the Baltimore Orioles. The lights are shining brightly in the stadium as they play some other team. Pendants are up along the main streets, signifying the connection that the city has with their team. People roaming around the town are dressed in orange and black clothing. A band is playing in an outdoor ampitheatre.
People come and go, indicating their busy-ness. But for the most part, the number of individuals found in this hotel on this particular day are here for the NARST conference currently in session.
The ages vary, as do the ethnicity and socio-economic levels represented here by the attendees. However, we all traveled from a variety of places to meet here on this day to learn more about our profession, about our passion. Because of this, the field upon which we play is not related in anyway to baseball - but to science education. Wait - you know, as I think about it, there is a direct correlation between baseball and science education. We can link it in many different ways: physics (the speed of a ball thrown, the spin placed on the ball, the point of impact), engineering (the material found within a ball or bat), technology (the type of big screen television found throughout the stadium, the lighting system, the bar code scanners found in the souvenir shops), earth and space science (the weather and its impact upon a game), even biology (the science of human beings and our ability to hold a ball, throw a ball, hit a ball, run the bases).
With as much connection as that between baseball and science education, I can't imagine how anyone could find the topic boring. What if we handled learning like they handle baseball? PR people work long hours to find and keep alive the connection between humans and the all-American sport. It is done through advertising and promotion, such as designing T-shirts, caps, bobble-heads, and the like. Then we, because we want to be connected to our team, pay large sums of money to collect the trinkets.
What if we did that for learning - for science education? What if someone designed T-shirts and caps, and created bobble-heads of our favorite teachers? Would that make the public love us even more? Probably not. But what a wonderful world it would be if we had pendants hanging from street lights at the beginning of the school year...if bands would come out, announcing the start of another opportunity to learn.
And I bet we wouldn't have to have any more bake sales to raise money for supplies - if we had PR people creating trinkets for us.
Nearby, the start-up of another baseball season is underway for the Baltimore Orioles. The lights are shining brightly in the stadium as they play some other team. Pendants are up along the main streets, signifying the connection that the city has with their team. People roaming around the town are dressed in orange and black clothing. A band is playing in an outdoor ampitheatre.
People come and go, indicating their busy-ness. But for the most part, the number of individuals found in this hotel on this particular day are here for the NARST conference currently in session.
The ages vary, as do the ethnicity and socio-economic levels represented here by the attendees. However, we all traveled from a variety of places to meet here on this day to learn more about our profession, about our passion. Because of this, the field upon which we play is not related in anyway to baseball - but to science education. Wait - you know, as I think about it, there is a direct correlation between baseball and science education. We can link it in many different ways: physics (the speed of a ball thrown, the spin placed on the ball, the point of impact), engineering (the material found within a ball or bat), technology (the type of big screen television found throughout the stadium, the lighting system, the bar code scanners found in the souvenir shops), earth and space science (the weather and its impact upon a game), even biology (the science of human beings and our ability to hold a ball, throw a ball, hit a ball, run the bases).
With as much connection as that between baseball and science education, I can't imagine how anyone could find the topic boring. What if we handled learning like they handle baseball? PR people work long hours to find and keep alive the connection between humans and the all-American sport. It is done through advertising and promotion, such as designing T-shirts, caps, bobble-heads, and the like. Then we, because we want to be connected to our team, pay large sums of money to collect the trinkets.
What if we did that for learning - for science education? What if someone designed T-shirts and caps, and created bobble-heads of our favorite teachers? Would that make the public love us even more? Probably not. But what a wonderful world it would be if we had pendants hanging from street lights at the beginning of the school year...if bands would come out, announcing the start of another opportunity to learn.
And I bet we wouldn't have to have any more bake sales to raise money for supplies - if we had PR people creating trinkets for us.
Wednesday, March 12, 2008
Make Me Go Faster!
As a child, I would often find myself on the merry-go-round located in a nearby elementary school playground. My father and I would walk to the school, if the weather was exceptionally nice, and play for what seemed like an eternity before the sun would begin to sink behind the tall pine trees.
While on the merry-go-round, my father would push and I would yell, "Make me go faster, Daddy!" I loved going fast! Things around me would become a blur as I moved in a circular pattern. Slowly, the merry-go-round would slow down and I would find myself dizzy from all of the motion. I would lay flat on the bed of the merry-go-round and watch the clouds move above me...probably while Daddy was catching his breath.
What a ride it was!
I then advanced to rides such as the tilt-a-whirl and the octopus and the squirrel cages - all found at our local fair. I wished for them to go faster and faster, too. Speed really did something to me!
It's funny, but now, I wish the speed at which I currently find myself would slow down. I think that things are moving way too fast...things like my kids growing up, my parents aging, and my calendar filling up. What happened to the days when I found myself bored? I can't remember when the last time I was bored actually was...interesting.
I am currently reading a book entitled, "Chasing Daylight," and in it, the author suggests that we miss too many divine moments simply because we are waiting for tomorrow, or for the next best thing to come along. I don't want to do that. I want to cherish each moment that life has to offer...if only I could schedule that into my planner.
While on the merry-go-round, my father would push and I would yell, "Make me go faster, Daddy!" I loved going fast! Things around me would become a blur as I moved in a circular pattern. Slowly, the merry-go-round would slow down and I would find myself dizzy from all of the motion. I would lay flat on the bed of the merry-go-round and watch the clouds move above me...probably while Daddy was catching his breath.
What a ride it was!
I then advanced to rides such as the tilt-a-whirl and the octopus and the squirrel cages - all found at our local fair. I wished for them to go faster and faster, too. Speed really did something to me!
It's funny, but now, I wish the speed at which I currently find myself would slow down. I think that things are moving way too fast...things like my kids growing up, my parents aging, and my calendar filling up. What happened to the days when I found myself bored? I can't remember when the last time I was bored actually was...interesting.
I am currently reading a book entitled, "Chasing Daylight," and in it, the author suggests that we miss too many divine moments simply because we are waiting for tomorrow, or for the next best thing to come along. I don't want to do that. I want to cherish each moment that life has to offer...if only I could schedule that into my planner.
Friday, February 29, 2008
Goodbye Television, Hello Life
Well, today marked a new turning point in my life. I drove to Cabot to hand over my two cable television boxes and to request to be disconnected from my HGTV, my Weather Channel, and all the other stations that I have come to love and enjoy. Yes, my home no longer has television - other than movies played through the DVD/video player. I know you are probably thinking that she has lost her ever-loving mind...and I just might before it is all over with. I am sure that my withdrawal symptoms will resemble someone coming off of crack cocaine! If you see my shaking and eating lots of chocolate, then please understand where the symptoms are originating from...
A couple of Sundays ago, I heard a relatively simple story of a person watching so much television that that same person was missing out on life. There was little time to go outside, to offer help to the neighbors, to read, and to enjoy time with family members. I was really convicted because my work load (from school and from home) always seemed to be growing, while my time in front of the television was also growing. I was simply becoming an addict, and I knew what I had to do. I had to get rid of it all...to purge my home from all remotes, all cable boxes, everything.
So, I did it today. I drove up to the Suddenlink office in Cabot and walked right through the glass doors, boxes, remotes, and all. I laid them upon the altar of the lady sitting behind it and told her that I was now regaining my life, taking it back from the television companies. She smiled. I am sure she thought, "This person will be back, crawling to me and begging for the reconnection." I also smiled, feeling pretty darn good about the afternoon. I got home, turned on the radio, and got everything done that I had put off all week. Um, if this continues, I might actually get my spring cleaning done during spring! Cool, huh?
A couple of Sundays ago, I heard a relatively simple story of a person watching so much television that that same person was missing out on life. There was little time to go outside, to offer help to the neighbors, to read, and to enjoy time with family members. I was really convicted because my work load (from school and from home) always seemed to be growing, while my time in front of the television was also growing. I was simply becoming an addict, and I knew what I had to do. I had to get rid of it all...to purge my home from all remotes, all cable boxes, everything.
So, I did it today. I drove up to the Suddenlink office in Cabot and walked right through the glass doors, boxes, remotes, and all. I laid them upon the altar of the lady sitting behind it and told her that I was now regaining my life, taking it back from the television companies. She smiled. I am sure she thought, "This person will be back, crawling to me and begging for the reconnection." I also smiled, feeling pretty darn good about the afternoon. I got home, turned on the radio, and got everything done that I had put off all week. Um, if this continues, I might actually get my spring cleaning done during spring! Cool, huh?
Wednesday, February 13, 2008
The Little Red Schoolhouse
Last week, I had an opportunity to drive by the site where I attended kindergarten. It was actually in a little red schoolhouse, located on Mrs. C's property, right next to her home. It was a one-room building made of wood, painted in red and trimmed in white. There was a white picket fence surrounding the school on three sides, and in the backyard, a sandbox and a swing set. I honestly cannot understand how 15 students and one adult managed to fit inside of that building, with desks and chairs and drawing easels and toys joining us. I guess it was a marvel of physics...maybe it was just that we were so tiny, as was all of the furniture. And I also cannot understand where Mrs. C got the money to fund all the equipment and books and such. I don't think there were government stipends back then - or maybe there was. That's another mystery that will probably never be answered.
Nevertheless, the room was filled with inquisitive minds and mischievious youngsters. I remember on the day of our graduation, everyone was dressed up in their Sunday best. Our parents and grandparents were enjoying punch and cookies in our classroom, while the children were outside in the backyard playing. At some point, the girls turned on the boys and yes, I was involved in the great sandbox escapade! We poured sand on top of the boys, getting sand in their hair and on their clothes. I don't remember what happened next...I must have blocked it out for some reason that would probably require a great psychologist to unlock it from my neurons.
Oh well, such were the playful antics of kindergartners!
Anyway, the other day I drove by the little red schoolhouse only to find that they were tearing it down. I almost had a wreck! How could they remove such a vital landmark from the community? I thought about flinging my body in front of the man welding the crow bar, and I would have had it not been for my daughter telling me to keep driving and to not stop. She was embarrassed over my emotional outburst, since her high school friend was in the car. (Note: both are 17 and female - which brews up all sorts of emotions on any given day!). So I continued to drive, amid tears flowing from my eyes. My schoolhouse was being torn down. My memory was being destroyed.
I made a mental note to return and ask for a piece of the siding, as a nostaligic gesture...but because I am also in menopause, I forgot by the time I had dropped off my daughter and her friend at the high school.
I wonder if I will also forget the time spent within the walls of the little red schoolhouse? I sure hope not!
Nevertheless, the room was filled with inquisitive minds and mischievious youngsters. I remember on the day of our graduation, everyone was dressed up in their Sunday best. Our parents and grandparents were enjoying punch and cookies in our classroom, while the children were outside in the backyard playing. At some point, the girls turned on the boys and yes, I was involved in the great sandbox escapade! We poured sand on top of the boys, getting sand in their hair and on their clothes. I don't remember what happened next...I must have blocked it out for some reason that would probably require a great psychologist to unlock it from my neurons.
Oh well, such were the playful antics of kindergartners!
Anyway, the other day I drove by the little red schoolhouse only to find that they were tearing it down. I almost had a wreck! How could they remove such a vital landmark from the community? I thought about flinging my body in front of the man welding the crow bar, and I would have had it not been for my daughter telling me to keep driving and to not stop. She was embarrassed over my emotional outburst, since her high school friend was in the car. (Note: both are 17 and female - which brews up all sorts of emotions on any given day!). So I continued to drive, amid tears flowing from my eyes. My schoolhouse was being torn down. My memory was being destroyed.
I made a mental note to return and ask for a piece of the siding, as a nostaligic gesture...but because I am also in menopause, I forgot by the time I had dropped off my daughter and her friend at the high school.
I wonder if I will also forget the time spent within the walls of the little red schoolhouse? I sure hope not!
Friday, February 8, 2008
We're Not in Kansas Anymore
Upon leaving her house, Dorothy realized that she and Toto were no longer in Kansas but in a whole new land. All that was comfortable to her was no longer present. Those that she had taken for granted were no longer around, and as she moved through Oz, she came to realize that home was a special place.
I drove to my home town yesterday evening, to visit with my parents as they celebrate their 51st wedding anniversary - and to also talk with a variety of doctors about the possible amputation of my mother's leg. I found myself in a foreign land as I realized that what was comfortable and often taken for granted would soon change.
Before I drifted off to sleep, I thought about this house and all that has happened inside of its walls. I could almost hear my mom in the kitchen, cooking another fabulous meal and talking with my dad. I could almost see her walking through the den as she folded clothes or made up the beds. There are so many things in this house that have her fingerprints all over them...and I came to realize that this is a special place, too.
I wish I could've realized before now her presence and how it affected the entire family. Her laughter, her comical nature, and her ability to welcome all into this home - they were all very special. And we were unconditionally loved by her - which served as our foundation, our support to weather all that lay outside of these doors.
And as I talked with my own daughter, about her plans of school and work and her own future, I briefly saw the circle of life - but from a different perspective. From a mom's perspective. And life continues on in an amazing way...except this time, I want to appreciate all that make it up: people, places, and things.
I drove to my home town yesterday evening, to visit with my parents as they celebrate their 51st wedding anniversary - and to also talk with a variety of doctors about the possible amputation of my mother's leg. I found myself in a foreign land as I realized that what was comfortable and often taken for granted would soon change.
Before I drifted off to sleep, I thought about this house and all that has happened inside of its walls. I could almost hear my mom in the kitchen, cooking another fabulous meal and talking with my dad. I could almost see her walking through the den as she folded clothes or made up the beds. There are so many things in this house that have her fingerprints all over them...and I came to realize that this is a special place, too.
I wish I could've realized before now her presence and how it affected the entire family. Her laughter, her comical nature, and her ability to welcome all into this home - they were all very special. And we were unconditionally loved by her - which served as our foundation, our support to weather all that lay outside of these doors.
And as I talked with my own daughter, about her plans of school and work and her own future, I briefly saw the circle of life - but from a different perspective. From a mom's perspective. And life continues on in an amazing way...except this time, I want to appreciate all that make it up: people, places, and things.
Wednesday, February 6, 2008
Welcome to My World
I guess I should formally introduce myself to you. I am an educator, and have been for 22 years. Gosh, that seems like such a long time - but it really has gone by quickly. During that time, I have had so many opportunities to meet great people - students and fellow teachers - and have made wonderful - and sometimes funny - memories.
One such memory occurred just today. I was observing a pre-service teacher in a rural school setting near the university where I work. The middle school is rather new and the community is still breaking in the equipment. During the science lab, I was observing the students as they discovered more about acids and bases. Being a science teacher, I knew all of the standard procedures while in a laboratory setting. However, sometimes even teachers make mistakes.
The mentor teacher asked if I wanted to see the bag of sheep eyes that they would be working on later in the week, and I responded with a hearty "yes." I love dissecting, especially the comments and looks from the kids themselves. She placed the rather large bag onto the demonstration table at the front of the room. I couldn't resist touching the bag, lightly squishing the contents. After we talked briefly about the upcoming activity, she removed the bag and placed them back in the cooler.
I continued walking around the room, and forgot a simple rule of thumb: to wash the hands after handling objects. I rubbed my right eye, and immediately began to have a reaction. The lid started to swell and my eye became bloodshot. It was producing large quantities of tears. The mentor teacher and the preservice teacher asked if I should go to the school nurse. I reassured them that I would be fine, and excused myself to the ladies restroom where I washed my eye out with cold water.
Upon returning to the lab, the 6th grade students excitedly asked if I could demonstrate the eye wash station. They had never had a chance to use the equipment and saw this as a golden opportunity. I did not want to be the guinea pig for their pleasure, so I politely declined.
We all chuckled by the episode. I mentioned to the preservice teacher to remind the students what happens when one doesn't follow through with the safety precautions. I think the kids will remember this for several days to come. I know I will...
One such memory occurred just today. I was observing a pre-service teacher in a rural school setting near the university where I work. The middle school is rather new and the community is still breaking in the equipment. During the science lab, I was observing the students as they discovered more about acids and bases. Being a science teacher, I knew all of the standard procedures while in a laboratory setting. However, sometimes even teachers make mistakes.
The mentor teacher asked if I wanted to see the bag of sheep eyes that they would be working on later in the week, and I responded with a hearty "yes." I love dissecting, especially the comments and looks from the kids themselves. She placed the rather large bag onto the demonstration table at the front of the room. I couldn't resist touching the bag, lightly squishing the contents. After we talked briefly about the upcoming activity, she removed the bag and placed them back in the cooler.
I continued walking around the room, and forgot a simple rule of thumb: to wash the hands after handling objects. I rubbed my right eye, and immediately began to have a reaction. The lid started to swell and my eye became bloodshot. It was producing large quantities of tears. The mentor teacher and the preservice teacher asked if I should go to the school nurse. I reassured them that I would be fine, and excused myself to the ladies restroom where I washed my eye out with cold water.
Upon returning to the lab, the 6th grade students excitedly asked if I could demonstrate the eye wash station. They had never had a chance to use the equipment and saw this as a golden opportunity. I did not want to be the guinea pig for their pleasure, so I politely declined.
We all chuckled by the episode. I mentioned to the preservice teacher to remind the students what happens when one doesn't follow through with the safety precautions. I think the kids will remember this for several days to come. I know I will...
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
