A Tribute to My Girl's 1st Teacher

Today the kids, like many of their peers, went to school for the last day of the 2014-2015 school year. How-the-what?! 

Last Day of School

First Day of School

Last night, as I was putting MAK to bed, we prayed a special prayer that turned out to be a long "Thank you" list for all that her school was and is and for her teachers and all that she has learned and become. When we finished, she stood and announced, "I have the BEST SCHOOL EVER!" My heart galloped a merry beat! We spoke a little about next year and how she is already excited for it. I KNOW, already psyched! I flippantly mentioned, "Yeah, tomorrow is your last day that Miss Diane and Miss Brittany will be your teachers." Instant realization dawned her face with a side of impending tears that spoke clearly, "Wait! What!? I hadn't thought about that. NO!!!!" As she floundered momentarily in her fears and sadness, without showing it (I did the best I could), I was having the exact opposite reaction. This is what I longed for, what I prayed for, and ached for, a Miss Diane, a 1st teacher that would "get her" and preserve her quirks and quips and who my girl would find magic in. As I thanked Jesus once again for Magical Miss Diane, I was reminded of a letter I drafted about a week before the start of Kindergarten. I wrote it in all kinds of suffocating angst and fears, but then a hot minute later, we found the exact school we were looking and hoping for, and much of my unsettledness subsided. I chose not to post the letter. It seemed to have served its purpose of simply getting my feelings out of me and clearing my head to enjoy the ride. Now that I have met and fallen in love with "Dear Kindergarten Teacher," I wanted to shared the letter, for Miss Diane did all "the things" and more!

Thank you, thank you, thank you! Thank you for speaking the wisdom of rainbows, unicorns, and pixie dust! What about me, you ask?  Well, I have a few more days of speaking boring, boring, boring dust. 

Mama Bear

___________________________________________________________________ 

FALL 2014

Dear Kindergarten Teacher,

I know that you will likely never read this, and that my girl is only one of the thousands of students that have/will cross under your wings during your career, but I feel the need to cathartically purge my thoughts about the ending of a great era for my little family. For that is what this feels like. We have known nothing but a slow-paced, relaxed, unstructured, and purposefully unscheduled lifestyle. As a family, we thrive under the idea that life is not an emergency. Slow down. Take your time. Try not to miss opportunities to revel in the unexpected wonders of this little thing we call "life." As parents, we have been zealously pursuing the simpleness of childhood, trying to stay at our girl's level whilst always looking one step ahead. She has thrived here. In this zone.

I know that it is not complete truth–these feelings of loss that I have toward this "habitat" that we have created for our girl–but in so many ways it feels as though she is flying the coop. She is entering the world of schedules and single-file lines, of gym class and lunchrooms, of hand-raising and homework (oh please do NOT do this in kindergarten!). There are so many things that are different now than when I was in kindergarten. I am pretty sure all I did was play in the sand table with many other little hands (learning social skills) and eat paste (because, truth be told, in small doses a little Elmer's is good! It is!) and Mrs. Thompson and kindergarten were AWESOMENESS! I pray that my girl will reminisce about kindergarten and its awesomeness as well.  Which is a likely story, for you have a lot of things going for you...

Surely you understand, and I will judge-you-not for capitalizing on my daughter's belief that you are an innately angelic being that speaks in rainbows, unicorns, and pixie dust! Please own this, do this, be this for my girl... you know, to the best of your magical abilities. For, likely, you will quickly become the automatic authority on all things! From one educator to another, when exactly does this change? I attempt to educate a much older crowd, who automatically assumes I am an innately demonic being that speaks in boring, boring and boring dust! Oh! and did I mention these gems believe me to be the automatic authority on nothing?! Ah, high school. Its such a lovely phase of life! However, at home, my girl has always allowed me to be the one who "just knows everything." Though I know our moment is coming, and we like to think that we are braced and ready for it, my girl has only ever known and allowed her dad and I to be her "authority on all things." I will do my best to make room for you (*WINK*)!

Understand that this hyper-emotional state of being feels so foreign to me. I am NOT this girl! I don't freak out. I am really good at not being too sensitive or fragile. BUT my first born going to school... WHAT THE JUNK SWEARS!? I AM NOT DEALING!!! Ahem. I am having a difficult time articulating exactly what it is that I am not dealing with. But I'll give it a go anyway!

As aforely-mentioned, we have common ground in the field of education. As likely is the case for you, as for myself, one of the treasures we seek is the front row seat to the learning process of our students. For we have a free pass to our students' quests for knowledge (and if we are really lucky we are present when the metaphorical lightbulb goes on!) In short, I'm super J. You get the coveted seat to watch my girl learn. You will see her write her whole name first (she tells me her "nickname" (initials) is "good enough"). In reality, she is right about that. Hence, I haven't worked hard to change that. You are so lucky, and I am excited to hear about it.  But, there is a part of me that so-much-wishes I had as good of a "seat" as you do.

The other big ticket item... and I mean BIG ticket, is my girl as a whole, my girl. She is so awesome! Due to her extreme awesomeness, she has some side-effectual weirdness. Good-weird. Excellent-weird. The best kind of weird, but weird nonetheless. Can you just do me a favor and preserve her weird? I am full of serious about that. We have molded and shaped her awesome-sauce-ness whilst fervently un-diluting her weird. Edgar Allan Poe said it well: "There is no beauty without strangeness." If you knew people who knew my girl, they would likely tell you that she is magically awesome... Honest. Cross-my-heart! If I were laying all my cards on the table, this is the biggest issue: I don't want my girl's innocent awesomeness to be diminished. 

There is another thing, she is crazy smart... when she is using her powers for good, that is. Initially this may appear as a dream come true. However, if these powers are not challenged, I fear you will have a handful-of-challenge on your hands! Fo' rizzle. Stay a step ahead. Make her chase you. It will be exhaustingly rewarding! Keep her discovering, keep her asking, keep her busy, and keep her playing! 

Purely as a heads up, I believe you should be aware of the fact that I pray blessings over my girl, that she will be an encourager of others, that she will be persistent in her quest for learning, that she will always hunger to know more (but not more than is good for her), that she will continue to bring joy to those around her, that she will seek out those that need a friend and be that friend to them, that she will keep her heart soft.

In my humble opinion, you will have succeeded if my girl leaves your class still weird, leaves your class excited for first grade, leaves your class with more questions than when she came in. Know that I am rooting for you. I am in your corner. I am incessantly praying for you... you have my girl, you'll need it! With our powers combined, we will make this year totally radical!

When all else fails, let them eat paste!! Please. Cool kids eat a little glue from time to time!

Sincerely, 
Mama Bear

It's a curtsy... Obviously

Party for the Pentecost 2.0

This last Sunday we took a pause and partied the Pentecost! Just to toss this out there, it was TOTALLY WICKED! Now, Saint Lucia may be my home-girl, but Pentecost is ma' jam! Again, this year we asked people to bring dishes that represented the land from whence they hailed, a dish reminiscent of childhood memories, or simply a family favorite. Nothing needed to "go together," nothing needed to be rounded-out, no one was counting how many fruits or vegetables you had on your plate, or even if you started with dessert. I will label those "the additional Spirit fruits," for those that were in attendance! There were many nationalities and traditions all speaking the international language of FOOD! Again ma' JAM!

This year I tackled our German heritage, and attempted to replicate my Oma/Mom's rouladen and red cabbage. WHAT WAS I THINKING?!? For starters, when I phoned my mother for "the" recipes, I found out they don't exist. These women just "make them." No need to waste energy writing anything down, "just do it." This resulted in my mom searching the bowels of the World Wide Web–whilst on the phone with me, mind you–looking for something "close." It was futile. So, I ended up "just making them" by combining recipes I found online. Though there are already a couple of things I would do different for the ease of the process, both turned out JUST LIKE MOM MAKES THEM!! I may have high-fived myself.

The Pentecost cake was another story. I am about to give up on this cake. Not only did it come out of the oven with an obvious grade to it, but all the symbolism and counting of gifts and fruits and apostles is clearly beyond my capabilities, for I have screwed it up TWICE now. If I get it wrong three years in a row, I will quit. I will!  (Silas even said that he wanted a piece "from the short side.")

Celebrating the gift of the Holy Spirit by sharing food and time and laugher with old and new friends brought smiles around the table and surely a couple of divine winks from above! Thank you, friends, for celebrating with us and making memories with our children that hopefully they will carry with them into their own families someday... someday... a long time from now! A. Long. Time.

Happy Birthday Sassafras!

She has only been six for a few mere hours, but I already do not much care for it and want to know where my baby went?

 

My girl has been possessed by the attitude of a teenage gurl-friend, the astronomical daily-word-quota of her father, and a sense of community that I covet.  My daughter is a walking greeter–a vocation that would send this mama crawling into the ground, not to resurface until sufficient promises of solitude were granted. Just today at the park, it was MAK that introduced me to a fellow mother and got us talking and laughing and well "breaking ice." Well played, girl. Well played!

I have been granted the pleasure of spending ALL of the last few days with this little-big girl. More than once I found myself just staring at her. That beautiful face, with those deepest of deep brown eyes. That cuter-than-cute button nose, and that mouth! That mouth is, and will likely continue to be her trouble spot–her largest "not-so-much." These last two days have been like a verbal mirror. It is me. Those are my words, my inflections, my tone, my oh-my-what-have-I-done?! In my day, I was not much of a trouble-maker, not a rebel-rouser, or rule defier. Nope, I just ran my mouth and ran it well... too well. How does that saying go? Karma is a what?!

Six appears as though it will shape up to be full of her gregariousness that makes each day a party–a celebration of life itself. We are breathing, therefore we shall PAR-TAY! Along with that whimsical, celebratory nature comes a force of strong-willed, opinionated passion for the desires of the moment. This has the potential to go very well for her... or she might become a drug addict. That is it, only two options. She is a strolling conundrum. She is a lady–a true mystery-maintaining lady. This day we celebrate and say thank you for all that she is, and all that she will be!

 After the friends had left, she had her way with the cereal. Again, she is a lady and waits for the witnesses to leave!

Today is her actual birthday and so we made-a-day-of-it. Monkey bread for breakfast, day at the park, big wheels in the driveway and a water balloon fight with her brother! All good things!

"Squirrel" is our affectionate term for our little lady, and outside of Elizabeth Bennet, our girl is the next best embodiment of this description. I love her times infinity! 

And she makes me tired!

Differentiation of this Family Unit

I've it before and I'll say it again, having a Sy is like having a dog... He needs to be "let out" daily. The trouble in the winter months is that no parental wants to spend the much needed time in the elements with the boy child. Therefore, cabin-fever has been building up for months. Laster-night we all received the gift of the out-of-doors. We were all the better for it!

I snagged my camera on the way outside, I haven't picked it up in a while and thought it was time to air it out too. What I captured fascinated me. The differences in personality between the offspring are becoming more and more apparent.

Differentiation of this family unit. Here are some visual representations:

 The Warrior Boy Child

The Contemplative Girl Child

I love, loving them!

Teaching Year 9 - February Musings

Over these last few weeks, I have been seriously reassessing why it is that I continue to do what I do. Do I really only teach for the insurance? As for the first semester of every school year... yep, that's certainly for insurance. I find myself struggling to find the glimmers of hope and sunshine... I mean, its all doom and gloom. I am fully aware that this is one of my "not-so-muches."

Then, the end of February hits and suddenly, the clouds begin to part as my flesh occasionly finds moments of sweet, glorious radiation. Now, I am by no means riding a peguses named Thor as I assend to a prepared residence in the clouds of relaxation and warmth... No, that's called June. But it is this time of year that I find myself thinking thoughts like, "hmmm, maybe I can do another year... maybe... just maybe..."

But its only the end of February, and just today my morning went something like this:  left home on a fresh batch of powder on the roads, with what looked like minimal attempts at plowing, and just like that, here comes an SUV careening toward me from around the bend... completely sideways! First thought: "Sweetheart we do live in the IL, for the love, we should know how to drive in the white stuff, it is NOT our first snowfall!" Second thought:  "Huh, risking my life to for INSURANCE... this is ironic!"

I get to school to realize I failed to make copies of our activity, so I found myself risking life and limb a second time on the ever-slippery "cheese grater" we commonly referr to as a "ramp." I look at the oncoming faces and scream things like, "Never fear young ones! This is what we call extreme-educating:  my life for the POGIL, must make copies of the POGIL!" (Problem Oriented Guided Inquiry Learning... for reals... they're great!) They tried to get me to turn around, saying things like, "It's not worth it!" or "You mean more to us than a POGIL!" All of this was surely said out of pure affection and care... definitetly NOT in an attempt to get out of work or knowledge.

As evidenced by this blog post, I did survive the "ramp" and the slippery, snowy, walk across traffic. The copies were made and the knowledge was made availble for the taking. But did they partake in the knowledge? The knowledge was free for the taking. I could not GIVE IT AWAY this morning. They were bucking the system. They refused to turn on their brains, refused to see the importance of the content perviously learned... At some point, early in the hour, I had reached a state of rage! It was ugly! I even asked the teacher next door to draw a target on my juglar (to which a student informed me I "don't have one of those!" Turns out he thought a juglar was an Adam's apple! HASHTAGnolies) I needed them to make it swift, for what they were currently doing to me was cruel, brutal, inhumane! For what... insurance? It was about this time that a student began singing, "Jesus, Take the Wheel." True story! Hysterically ON POINT as it was, it was the reminder that I needed.

For He is doing a work lately, He is on the move in NN107. He keeps showing me glimpses of things beyond insurance. He keeps pointing out the smiles, the laughter, the dragons (sorry, thats an in-person story). Insurance is a gift. It comes with the job. The job is caring. The job is kindness. The job is smiles. The job is laughter. The job is support. The job is cheerleading. The job is a mission! I am being reminded of such... exactly when I needed to be... in the form of kind words from students, email from parents, hand written letters from the librarian.

I am reminded in the quiet confines of NN107... in the hours after 3:00 when all is calm and the smiles are still there from the "did-that-really-happen" crazy-town that ensued that day. This can be done. It can even be enjoyed. The focus just needed to be shifted. Here's to my yearly reminder!

Nevertheless, I still refilled the M&Ms. Teaching requires Jesus and chocolate! #TRUTHS

P.S.: If you are my husband and are reading this, do not see this as a reason to stop hunting yourself a job with insurance. Jesus will likely tire of dragging me along! LOVES for you!

Pretzels Today, Rainbows and Unicorns Another.

Yesterday was a Saturday like most in this home: no big plans, and purposefully so. Typically, that is one of the reasons we SO love the Saturday. Though there are those Saturdays when the stars fail to align, or the cosmos deem that all children under our care and instruct shalt lose the ability to henceforth hear the words that come radiating fromst our beings. For, I speak both verbal and non-verbal fluently. With that, the stage has been set for the occurrences of "laster-night."

The "interesting" part was that we had no idea what was looming. Usually, when these sorts of "events" with the children take place, we are made fully aware from the onset. Their wee waking breaths speak volumes... usually. As it turned out yesterday, their wee waking breaths were actual "thrones of lies!" I need to insert here that I had succumbed to a morning migraine that had me balled-up in the fetal position for a good portion of the morn. Likely, it was in these dawning hours where all the parental patience that is required for a 24-hour period was completely squandered. At this point, gaskets had been blown–repeatedly–with little to no notice. Heaping piles of consequences had been dished out for menial-at-best disobedience. Apologies had been given and taken in a vicious, cyclical nature... all-the-live-long-day.

It was round-about the 38th request for a snack that we hit the eye of the storm and things quieted down for a few moments. As we find ourselves at the beginning of the Lenten season we have been talking about Jesus' 40 days in the desert–about the importance of remembering and prayer–about discipline and fasting. We have this children's book, "Walter the Baker," by Eric Carle. It has been read a number of times during the witching hour, otherwise known as bedtime. (Side note: I am not a lover of this time of day. I know there are some moms that are way better/nicer/relishers of times that will all too quickly be gone.  Nevertheless, I cannot seem to convince myself to be one of those moms at bedtime. If we come home from a night out and the babysitter has navigated a successful bedtime, it was worth every, I mean EVERY single penny we paid them! My Love knows that the most direct path to my heart is hearing the words, "I'll put the kids the bed tonight." This is one of those areas I should likely feel some shame, but #ain'tgottimeforthat. All that to say, I have never read the page that follows the actual story of "Walter the Baker." I had no idea, until the father of my children–the bedtime extraordinaire–love of my life–informed me that he already knew that pretzels were a Lenten tradition because of the last page in "Walter the Baker." Huh. Oh well. I went through my whole explanation with the kids anyway.

It took all morning for the dough to rise in our freezing kitchen, but it finally did. The kids and I started rolling out the dough and talking about how pretzels were typically made just out of flour, water, and salt– fitting with all the fasting that often takes place during Lent. But the coolest part is in the actual shape of the pretzel: the shape is based on an ancient posture of prayer where the arms are folded across the chest. We talked again about the importance of prayer while Jesus was in the desert, how important it is for us, and how we spend this time of year being even more intentional about such things.

So we rolled... and we talked... and we laughed.

We dipped... and we salted... and we baked.

Then we ate! And Praise be to the Lenten Lord of all things Pretzel! Holy WOW! These pretzels are the food of celestial beings! They were out-side-standing! I believe it is safe to say that I can no longer remember a time in my life without these pretzels in it!

We consumed mass quantities of pretzels, whilst watching past Tony-award-winning broadway show tune performances. Because, yes, that is us. That is what we do. Judge if you must!

Then... the eye passed us and we were back to loosing our salvations! Rainbows and unicorns another day!

Recipe for the Lord's pretzels can be found here: http://www.fashionedible.com/2013/09/oktoberfest-homemade-pretzels.html