The View from Here

Thanksgiving

November means the countdown to Christmas has begun. It also means that if you aren’t careful you’ll skip over the best holiday on the calendar- Thanksgiving. I love Thanksgiving! It’s my favorite holiday. It’s a relaxing time of food and fellowship without the pressure to buy gifts or lavishly decorate everything. There aren’t a lot of preconceived ideas about how everyone should celebrate Thanksgiving. There isn’t a lot of stress. There are football games on the television and sales at the mall. Everyone is happy.

          Thanksgiving doesn’t always get the attention it deserves. We’re just getting over the costumes and candy and parties of Halloween. We’re getting into our “rush, rush” mode for the “holiday season” because Christmas not only means shopping, but also writing and mailing cards, wrapping gifts, attending parties, visiting friends, cooking goodies, decorating, and more shopping. Thanksgiving sort of gets the squeeze! I went to WalMart today and there was a whole aisle of Halloween merchandise, two aisles of Christmas items being stocked (with a dozen more planned I’m sure), and one little third of one aisle of Thanksgiving stuff. I know, I know…I just said I like the fact that there isn’t much to buy for Thanksgiving. But that also means it doesn’t get the attention it deserves.

          It’s easy to plan and decorate for Thanksgiving. Most people already have a few pumpkins and scarecrows left from Halloween. Add a turkey or maybe a cornucopia. Once you’ve decided what you’re cooking you just have to make a list. Shop a couple of times, spend a day cooking and you’re ready. But  the simplicity of shopping for Thanksgiving allows you to spend more time on the important things- fellowship and gratitude. 

I like Thanksgiving because it reminds me that I am so blessed. Not that I need too much reminding. I begin my nightly prayers with a thank you to God for my family and friends. I say a little prayer each morning when I arrive safely at work. I’m generally aware of how blessed I am. So I guess I don’t need to actually make a list for Thanksgiving. However, Thanksgiving always reminds me of the big things for which I should be thankful. I suppose it’s because I realize that people are gathered all over the nation doing pretty much the same things, that I take the time to be thankful that I live in the United States. I can’t imagine how different my life would be if I had been born somewhere else. Maybe a list wouldn’t hurt. Maybe if I wrote down everything I’m grateful for I could pull it out and read it once a month. 1. I’m thankful that I have the freedom to voice my opinion. 2. I’m grateful for the work I do and the fact that I can work where I want to work. 3. I appreciate being able to worship the way I want to worship. 4. I’m thankful that I can read anything I want to read, and decide for myself if what I read is the truth. 5. I’m grateful for my health. 6. I know I’m blessed to have my husband and children…My hand will probably start hurting by the time I get to number 50! I saw a poster that said “923 things to make you smile”. I think I could probably list 923 things to make me feel grateful!

Thanksgiving is a fun time at school. The children love to read about and make turkeys and cornucopias and pilgrim puppets. They love to talk about food and anticipate the taste of the turkey or ham or whatever special dish is traditional at their house. We always do that goofy project “tell me how to cook a turkey” and everyone enjoys it. I send home giant construction paper turkey feathers that the children decorate with their parents and return to school. We attach them to a huge turkey on our display wall and the children “o-o-o-h and a-h-h-h” over how pretty it looks. We make pumpkin cheese cake and share it with the other teachers.

Thanksgiving brings back memories of dinners at my mother’s house and my grandmothers’ houses, and my great-grandmother’s house. It reminds me of church potlucks and generosity. It reminds me of people who have shared our table over the years. It reminds me of the year a group of us had a Thanksgiving picnic at Yosemite. It reminds me of love. I hope you take time this November to think about Thanksgiving and to be grateful for all of your blessings. Plan to share Thanksgiving with someone you love. If your family isn’t nearby then plan to cook or serve at a community dinner or a church or a nursing home. Above all take the time to relax and enjoy yourself! It’s your last chance until January.

People Watching

My husband Gary and I went “people watching” last weekend. Our cover story was that we were going to the big monthly flea market to look for bargains. But you know the truth- we went to see PEOPLE. People are those strangers who do things and say things and wear things you and I never would…never ever.

People are stupid…we’re forgetful or mistaken or “having a senior moment”.

People are fat…we’re a few pounds overweight.

People wear the dumbest things…we were just in a hurry, or too tired to iron.

People have brats…we have children who are “having a bad day”. 

People are loud…we’re excited.

People are great entertainment…

            The flea market we went to is large, busy, and very well managed. There are open booths, permanent booths, food vendors, animal breeders. It’s sort of like the fair, a yard sale,  and a craft show all rolled into one. The crowd was huge and the weather fantastic. We walked for about an hour. (That’s my physical limit these days.) During that time I made the following philosophical observations:

1. We’re fat! We’re all fat. Not plump, or overweight. Not  round or stout or chunky. We’re “oh, my gosh, put down that corndog” HUGE! It used to be that a fat person was conspicuous in a crowd. I felt conspicuous in a crowd! Now my fat behind is just one of hundreds. I would calculate that every third person I saw was at least 75 pounds overweight. And every other person was eating or drinking something. Gary and I decided to forget about business ideas or retirement plans, we’ll just get a little food booth at the flea market and sell something fried!  People love fried food! I watched people devouring fried turkey legs, corndogs, curly fried potatoes, and onion rings like there was no tomorrow. (For that woman with the extra large turkey leg there might not have been.)

2. The more tattoos a person has, the more naked they will be so you can see all of their “artwork”. Now I’m not against tattoos if that makes you happy. My son has a tattoo. I have friends with tattoos. Getting a tattoo is not a sin. I think there are cultural taboos against tattoos if you work in certain occupations. I think having a lot of tattoos may give people an impression of you that isn’t necessarily good. My biggest complaint about people with tattoos is that they think I want to see them. People with tattoos will cut their hair, shave their necks, roll up their sleeves, wear low-cut blouses, wear short skirts, or walk around without a shirt just so everyone else can “enjoy” their tattoos. Please, please, please…just keep your clothes on. If I want to see your tattoo I’ll ask. Thanks.

3. We’re falling apart because we’re fat and don’t exercise. Maybe it was just a coincidence. Maybe I was there on “rehab” day. I don’t know. There were people everywhere with canes, oxygen tanks, braces, casts, electric carts, and crutches. Yes, I actually saw a woman with a cast, on crutches, walking around the booths. I also saw several people heaving and panting like they needed oxygen and a cane. And I told you that walking an hour on blacktop was my limit. By the time we got to the car my feet and legs were angry with me for dragging them around over hill and dale. (What exactly is a dale? Oh, well, a topic for another blog.) We have to get out more. We have to walk. We have to breathe. We have to lose weight.

4. People with small dogs annoy me. Now I’ve offended at least three friends. But notice I said “people” with small dogs…not anyone I know. J Friends I understand; it’s people who are crazy. I saw a woman carrying her dog in a “baby carrier” strapped to her middle. And of course she was talking to it like it was a baby. I saw another one buying “doggy clothes”. One booth had dog accessories for the little mutts that I didn’t even know existed- dog costumes and hats and jewelry. Maybe that’s another retirement idea for Gary to think about!

And my last observation, 5. People with cell phones are getting to be ridiculous! Does anyone realize how funny they look sitting alone on a bench jabbering and waving their arms? People talk while they’re walking. They talk while eating. They talk while shopping, parking, and waiting. I imagine some of them are trying to figure out a way to talk in their sleep! Give me a break. Give yourself a little thinking, creating, listening time. Unplug and be silent for a moment. Turn off that phone and let people wonder what you are up to!

That was so much fun I may do it again. Or maybe I’ll just go sit in the mall. It’s starting to get cold.

New Beginnings

We call January the beginning of the “new year”, but any mother will tell you it is not. Once summer is over and school begins, “real life” starts. Fall is the beginning of the new year. It doesn’t matter if your fall begins in September or October. Fall is filled with schedules and meetings and obligations and festivals and events. Fall means a return to sports and practices and games. Fall signals an end to daylight savings time. Fall begins the countdown to Christmas.

Fall is our new beginning each year. The first cold wind startles us out of our summer lethargy and reminds us to prepare for winter. We drag our coats and sweaters and blankets out of storage and make sure our winter boots are still in good shape. We check the heaters and stock up on candles. We start thinking of stews and oatmeal and baked beans. And if you’re like me you start thinking of things you are going to do differently this winter, this holiday, this New Year. Because fall is also a time for new ideas. I don’t know why. Perhaps because in the back of my mind I know our “official new year” is looming up ahead, I begin to think of new ideas when the first crisp winds of fall arrive. I begin to think of things I want to change. I think of places I want to go. I think of things I want to do. I think of the new me I want to be.

A friend of mine suggested several months ago that I write about “new beginnings”. I guess it has sort of stayed in the back of my mind because I was thinking about it yesterday as I did some fall clean-up in the yard. I love gardening. Spring is my favorite time of year and I look forward already to the beautiful blossoms of the peach tree and the bright colors of the irises. Right now my yard is filled with leaves and dead flowers and seed pods and weeds. I tried to clean some flower beds and prune a few branches yesterday. Cleaning and weeding are not my favorite chores. And sometimes in the fall they seem even more burdensome because I know it will be months before I see the results. New beginnings are like that. Sometimes we have to go through pain and upheaval and messiness before we get to the “new”… to the “change” we are so looking forward to with anticipation. 

Our little town is in the midst of just such upheaval. There are changes and improvements that need to be made. There are great ideas being discussed. There are people willing to work together to create something better. But in the meantime there is some messiness and pain to go through. There is some disagreement. There are disappointments. And there is work…so much work. But we will survive and progress to the “new”, to the “change” we are so looking forward to with anticipation.

          My grandchildren’s school district is in the midst of a new beginning. The teachers have been on strike for a week. No matter how their concerns are settled, no matter when they return to work, changes have occurred…in attitudes, in expectations, in feelings. My grandchildren won’t feel as secure in their classrooms. They won’t feel as confident in the adults around them. But hopefully the strike will end in such a way that they will be able to at least see that adults can work through their problems and create a change that is better for everyone.

          My life is going through some changes. I’m adjusting my attitude about my health and making some lifestyle changes. I’m thinking ahead to some possible changes in my career. I’m anticipating some financial changes. I’m making some changes in the creative areas of my life. Some changes are enjoyable, others are stressful. I don’t want to exercise more. I don’t want to face any challenges. I want everything to stay secure and predictable and comfortable. I think change frightens us because we know that some changes can’t be taken back. Some changes lead to other changes and we aren’t sure where they will stop. If a new beginning leads to a new life, will we like it? Will we ever be able to go back to our old life if we don’t?

We talked about sin and forgiveness in Sunday School this morning. God knew when he created us that we couldn’t do this alone. Life is just too complex for us to get it right the first time. So we stumble and fall, get up and try it again. I suppose what eventually draws us to the grace of God is the hope that we can do better, be better, live better if we begin again. “Give me one more chance and I know I can get this right.” I’m a firm believer in “once saved, always saved” and I’ll show you the verses to back it up. However, I’m also a firm believer in “if there is a way to sin we’ll try it”. Humans are born self centered and independent. I’m not sure why God chose to give us free will. Maybe unthinking robots just wouldn’t have provided much companionship. Free will is what we’re stuck with and we have to work with it.

Sometimes I know days in advance what I will write about here. I think about it and plan it in my head. Today’s topic just arrived unannounced. I guess it will seem like rambling to some. But I swear it all ties together if you think about it. Fall is upon us and it’s time for new beginnings. There are hundreds of possibilities. And that’s the real blessing of  “new beginnings”…the possibilities. Which one you need, which one you choose, is up to you.

Sunday School

I’ve always enjoyed attending and teaching Sunday school. I went to Sunday school as a child whenever I could. I went with my grandmother when my mother wasn’t available, or was too tired to take me. Since my mother and grandmother attended different denominations, I grew up with a “well-rounded”, but somewhat confusing and even conflicting religious education. And my grandmother threw in a few lessons of her own. Remember my blog about coffee? She told me my Sunday school teacher had a mustache because she “drank too much coffee”. She told me about people in the church to respect, and those who were “struggling with problems”. She taught me to sit up straight, carry my offering tied in my handkerchief, and pay attention to my teacher.

My first teaching assignment in Sunday school was a class of three-year-olds. They were so sweet and trusting. They listened to our little Bible stories at a horseshoe-shaped table made by one of the deacons. We ate crackers and colored pictures. We sang songs. They didn’t know or care that their sixteen-year-old teacher didn’t know a whole lot more about the Bible than they did! And I learned my first lesson about teaching. A good teacher studies more than her students.

I’ve taught several age groups since that first little class, but for years my favorite was four-year-olds. So curious. So intuitive about people. So eager to please. Now fifth grade girls---that’s a whole other blog! I gradually eased into teaching adults. You know how it goes. You agree to be a substitute, hoping the teacher is never ill. Then you teach a small group and no one makes fun of you. Pretty soon God takes you by the hand and says here, “Teach this class”, and you do it without fainting! The Christian life is a series of challenges that make you grow and change, whether you want to or not.

I love the class I’m currently attending. It’s just the right size. We have twenty-eight members and twelve to fifteen of those regularly attend. It’s designated as a “couples” class, but that guideline was ignored years ago. We have couples and widows and singles. We’re “mature” so that means anyone from 50 to whatever. I serve as the substitute, which means I teach about ten Sundays a year. That’s just enough to keep me from getting too lazy!

           Sunday school was designed as an evangelistic tool, but it’s also a great learning experience for Christians. Our class is studying Romans this quarter. It’s all about salvation and peace and faith and grace.  We have great discussions and we respect our differing opinions. We pray for each other and share problems and painful experiences. I know that I can call anyone in my class if I need something. Being a Christian isn’t easy, and if you think, as I did growing up, that it gets easier as you get older…well, it doesn’t. Today’s world doesn’t have the “black and white” “good or bad” “sin or not” clarity of the years when I was growing up. The world today is all gray and tolerant and “oh, whatever makes you happy”. That makes it hard for a Christian to take a stand without seeming intolerant or even hateful. Attending Sunday school helps you cope.

I’m not sure I would feel the same about my church if I only attended the morning worship service. There’s a certain amount of ritual and formality to any worship service and I suppose there should be, but there never seems to be enough time to really get to know people. And of course there isn’t much discussion during a sermon! You might get in a couple of questions if you stay around after the service. And studying on your own isn’t nearly as enriching as talking with other people. Sunday school seems to be the perfect way to get to know other people, study the Bible, get some encouragement for the week, and maintain your faith in a changing world.

If you aren’t attending Sunday school I  hope you will give it a try. I’ll tell you a secret- I can almost guarantee there is someone who has been praying for you to join their class!

Testing

Make sure you have a number two pencil and do not open your booklet until I tell you to do so. We’re going to talk tonight about testing. Let’s begin.

            Didn’t you always dread that word? TEST. It was like the ultimate punishment for being a kid. I’ve always been a good student, but I had to learn to work within the system. I had to learn to study what my teachers wanted me to know. I had to learn to follow directions and fill in the appropriate blanks. And I had to learn to answer quickly. Heaven forbid you should think about your answers! I hated being timed. Even in college I remember asking a professor to please stop telling us how much time we had to complete an essay. It just made my brain freeze to hear the words! 

Tests tend to ask the dumbest things, especially if they are written by teachers. I hated sitting in a tension-filled room wondering what bizarre bit of knowledge I had failed to study this time. I once had a teacher whose favorite test question was “who is the author of your text book?”. Of course word leaked and everyone learned that bit of trivia and she had to find a new question. I’m sorry, but there is a science to creating tests, and most teachers haven’t studied it. That’s why it usually takes an expert, or at the very least a group of teachers, to write a really effective test. Even then, tests aren’t always a measure of what a student knows. I remember taking a test in college that was supposed to measure what I had learned in my first two years as a student. It was one of those professional, standardized, national, whiz-bang tests that was going to tell the college how they had fared in preparing me for the world.  Every junior had to take the test because there was some recognition and money for the college tied to the final scores. Well, the math portion of the test MUST have been written in a foreign language because I didn’t understand a word of it! So I decided to do what every self-respecting student does; I randomly selected answers. Of course I did it in a slow, methodical way that kept pace with the rest of the test so I wouldn’t look like a jerk by finishing in two minutes. I think I used the A-B-C-A-B-C answer pattern.  I remember my shock when I got the results of the test! The passing grade for the math portion was 60 and I got 67! Think about that for more than a minute and you’ll understand the cosmic implications of my score.

Tests are supposed to have a purpose. Most simply indicate that you have spent sufficient time and effort in a class to be given a passing grade. Some measure your ability to perform a task. Others test your readiness for a career. Some measure your worthiness to receive fame or fortune. Some are even designed to target your weaknesses so you can be given extra tutoring. We give a lot of those in elementary school.

We’re testing our kindergarten students this month. We’re giving a standardized language skills test.  Then a state-mandated test designed to identify those students who need extra help. Then our regular checklist of skills for their report card. One of the tests is new to our staff so we had to go to a workshop to learn how to give it correctly. I have to study my workbook this week to make sure I remember everything about the language and timing of the test. I have to have a sub take over for me so I will have the time to give the test.  All of that costs money. And to tell you the truth, I’d rather have the money to spend on my class than have another way to test them. But our president doesn’t want any child left behind and he’s decided that more testing is the way to make everyone “accountable”.

When all of the testing is finished I will know which of my students need extra help with basic skills. I’ll know which of my students need some extra challenges because they are ahead of their peers. I’ll know which of my students are really too immature and unskilled to be in kindergarten this year. I’ll know which of my students are developing the skills they need in order to start reading by the end of the year. The ironic thing is that I already have all of that information without giving the tests. I’ve worked with these children for over a month. I’ve talked to them, listened to them, and observed them. I know which students need help. Now I need the help.

The sad part of testing children and identifying who needs help is that we can’t afford the “help” part.  Or at least we say we can’t afford it. And I’m not talking about my school or my district or even my state. Look around. I’m talking about our nation and where we spend our money. Each time our president commits another billion dollars to some “worthy cause” I wonder how and where he’s printing the money because  we didn’t have it the last time we asked for it for education. What helps children is more adults, more supplies, and more time. We need assistants in every classroom. We need more teachers so we can have fewer students in each class. Those two changes equal more time for the teacher to spend with each individual student. More supplies mean that students can have books and activities geared to their particular needs, not just those that can be used by the “majority”. Those things cost money. We can test every child to determine what they need, but if we aren’t willing to give it to them, what’s the point?

You may put your pencil down and close your booklet now.

I Think My Brother Hates Me

A depature of sorts tonight. I was looking through some old manuscripts and ran across this. It happened to also be on disk (I'm so lazy) so I decided to share it. I wrote it to express a little of what it was like to grow up in a family of boys. My four brothers never really appreciated me! I guess it was kind of a drag having a girl around sometimes. But I love all of them and I don't think any of them hate me anymore...at least I hope not. Enjoy...

I think my brother hates me…

I think my brother hates me.

He won’t let me touch his baseball cards.

He won’t let me play with his robot.

I can’t even go in his room,

unless I knock,

and give him a cookie,

and just look, but

don’t touch anything.

My brother even says he hates me.

He said “I hate you!”

When I told Mom about the two cookies,

four plates,

three glasses,

and half-eaten apple core under his bed.

He said “I HATE you!”

when I told Dad about the snake

he borrowed from Jimmy Winters

and hid in his closet in a shoe box.

He said “I REALLY HATE you!”

when I told Grandma what he said

about the long black hair on her chin.

But maybe he just likes to say

“I HATE YOU!”

because it sounds BIG

and LOUD

and TOUGH.

Brothers are like that sometimes.

I think my brother does hate me,

sometimes.

But other times,

when he isn’t thinking about being my brother,

he sort of likes me.

He says I’m funny.

He says I’m “not so bad, for a girl”.

He tells me about curve balls,

and space invaders, and wrestling.

He even showed me how to spit.

My brother said “I love you” once,

when I had a fever

and little spots all over

and I had to stay in bed for days.

He brought me a Popsicle.

“Why?” I asked.

He said, “Cause I love you,

you little squirt, now shut up.”

I think my brother hates me,

but only a little,

and only sometimes,

and only for now.

Because he knows

and I know

we’re family.

Cleanliness

I’m not much of a housekeeper. No, you don’t have to check the archives. Yes, I did say in an earlier blog that I’m not much of a cook, either. As my grandmother was fond of saying, “I have my good faults and my bad faults.” Back to the topic at hand- I’m organized. I dislike clutter. I usually take care of dishes and laundry in a timely manner. However, I’m not one of those people who waxes and polishes and worries about streaks in the windows. I don’t keep a different type of cleaner for every room in the house. I don’t have lots of cleaning tools. What I do have is a bottle of Lysol, a few rags, a broom, a scrub brush, a duster, and a vacuum cleaner. I use all of them from time to time. Honest. It’s just that I have so many other things to do that are more important, more enjoyable, and more rewarding. That’s why I have cobwebs next to my television. That’s why all of my baseboards need to be cleaned. That’s why my kitchen floor is a little sticky.

         It’s not that I don’t know how to clean and clean quite thoroughly. I worked as a professional housekeeper for several years. I had ten regular clients and others on a waiting list for special occasions. Most of my clients had beautiful homes. I polished and waxed and even did windows. I loved my job at the time. I had flexible hours, worked for good people, and enjoyed seeing that “model home” look when I finished. I didn’t have to see it messed up again the very next day. I didn’t have to pick up after anyone. I didn’t have to organize. I just arrived once a week and cleaned.

Maybe I’d have a better perspective on my own house if I just “arrived once a week and cleaned”. Instead I clean a little, do something else, clean a little, go to work, clean a little, do something else. By the time I’ve cleaned a little in each room I not only can’t tell where I started, but anything I did needs to be done again. I never get that feeling of accomplishment that I did when I was cleaning for others because the job is never done!

           I wonder if my mother’s generation felt that way about cleaning. My mother cleaned constantly. She moved furniture. She dusted corners. She scrubbed. She mopped. She polished. She waxed. And yet I can never remember her complaining. Oh, she complained if we got things too dirty or tracked mud on the kitchen floor. But I can’t remember hearing her say “I hate to clean!” That’s practically my mantra!

I’ve mentioned before that we had a neighbor who ironed everything because she was phobic about germs. Well, if you thought ironing underwear was a bit over the edge, you should have watched her clean. She washed the walls every week and mopped the floors every day. She washed and starched and ironed curtains. She polished everything that could shine. And she killed every living organism that could possible creep into a nook or cranny!

Most men don’t understand cleaning. It’s women’s work. It’s something they do occasionally “to help out”. It’s never anything they feel responsible for or take control of or find a way to do better. And they always want you to be grateful and say they did a good job!

I suppose I could be a better housekeeper if I spent less time in the garden. I could be better if I didn’t have cats shedding and knocking things on the floor. I could be better if I didn’t live in the country on a dirt road that sends up a cloud of dust every time a car goes by. I could be a great housekeeper if I changed my way of life. I guess that’s why I’m NOT. People, especially women, have to have priorities. Cleaning is somewhere near the bottom of my list. Whoever said “cleanliness is next to Godliness” to justify their obsession with Windex was using the wrong Bible. The Bible talks about cleaning up my soul, my lifestyle, my thoughts, not my messy office!  I don’t want my children or my grandchildren or my friends to remember what a clean house I had. I want them to remember something I wrote, or something I created, or something I did for the community, or something I taught them. Cleanliness? It’s next to impossible, and not worth the trouble anyway.

Heritage Day

            Here are some photos of Heritage Day, as promised. We had a wonderful day and a great crowd, despite the rain. I also want to let you know that I'm starting a new blog just for Caddo news and views. We have a lot of things going on in our small town and I felt that I needed a forum for topics specifically about Caddo. Since I'm the public relations person for the Town Restoration Association of Caddo, I decided to start a blog! We'll also have a website at some time in the future. I started the Caddo blog with a repeat from here...but you have to forgive me. I just needed something to fill the space while working on the design and getting the word out.

Kindergarten

My daughter, Karen, told me to write something cheerful or she’s going to stop reading my blog. I think I’m always cheerful…or at least positive. But that may be a matter of opinion. Anyway, tonight I’m going to tell you why I teach kindergarten.

It takes a special person to teach kindergarten. I think the layman’s term for it is insane. Kindergartners are dirty, whiny, annoying, mischievous, loud, disruptive, untrained, uncivilized little animals. They wipe snot on their sleeves, lick their shoes, and eat out of  each other’s plates. They tease, torment, and tattle. “He’s touching my backpack!” “She talked in the bathroom!” They complain about everything from the temperature of the room to the color of their pencil eraser. “That’s not the way my preschool teacher did it!” “Are we having crackers again?” “You played that song yesterday!” They hit, punch, kick, and pull hair, but they always say, “I didn’t do it.” They scream, cry, whistle, hum, and make clucking noises…usually in the middle of a math lesson.

Kindergartners are also sweet, funny, curious, smart, creative, resilient, kind, enthusiastic, sociable little angels. They forgive you when you make mistakes, and love you with their heart and soul. They give you hugs and compliments. “I like your dress.” “Your hair looks pretty like that.” “You’re the best teacher in the world.” They try to please you even if you ask the impossible. “I can’t write my name, but I can make a T!” They make friends with each other and somehow know who needs to be protected. They laugh with you  and they make you laugh even when you’re down. They make astonishing progress in reading skills and when one suddenly blurts out “HOT, that word says h-o-t, HOT!” it makes your heart skip a beat.

Kindergartners know a lot more about us that we think. They watch us and listen to us when we least expect it. I always cringe the first time I hear one of my students do a perfect imitation of me explaining a lesson or a rule. And the first time they tell another student,  “You know Mrs. Maurer said…”, it’s an instant reminder of my responsibility as a role model. Kindergartners have to have “people smarts”.  They have to learn a lot about so many people in a very short time! We caution them about “talking to strangers”, yet they have classmates, teachers, administrators, bus drivers, and a dozen other people to get acquainted with almost instantly. In most cases they have very little information to base their relationships upon. What I’ve found out about kindergartners is that they have a keen  intuition about people. If one of my students doesn’t like someone, chances are I won’t either.

           Sometimes they are so wise that it amazes you. I told my students that my mother is dead. One girl looked me calmly in the eyes and said, “You don’t need her. You’re a big girl.” That’s a kindergartner’s equivalent of “look, this is how the world works”. Another said, “So she’s watching you from heaven…with my grandma.” One day a student said, “I don’t have a daddy anymore.” Another piped up quickly, “Of course you do! Jesus is your daddy all the time!” How can you argue with that kind of logic?”

          Kindergartners never forget…at least not anything you’ve ever promised to do for them.  My students know I try to keep my promises, but sometimes things get overlooked. The second time I forgot to buy playdough one of my girls said, “Didn’t you read your WalMart list?” When I bought a new doll bed for our play area I overheard one girl tell another, “I’m glad I told her we needed one!”

I teach in a circus town so my conversations with students are sometimes a little “different”. I remember a few years ago when we were talking about occupations. One little boy said “My mom hangs by her teeth.” I guess I looked perplexed because he went on to explain that his mom is an acrobat. Now that’s one you don’t hear every day!

I could talk about my kids all day, but I guess I teach kindergarten because nothing else could bring me such a daily blessing. I teach kindergartners because they remind me to slow down and look for caterpillars. They remind me to enjoy chocolate. They remind me to take time for hugs and compliments. They remind me to laugh and love. Life is too short for anything less.

Random Thoughts

My mind has been scattered lately. I feel as though I have a thousand thoughts and projects going at once. I crave peace and quiet and calm, but can’t quite seem to find them. I seek order and cleanliness and organization, but instead find piles of laundry and unfinished projects. I’m a person who likes to be in control, and it seems as though I’ve lost control of a few areas. I’m spending more time at school than I did last year. I’m spending less time in the garden than I’d like. I can’t seem to get into a good “get things done” routine.  I’m spending too much time coming and going, and not enough time sleeping. I fell asleep at the wheel Friday afternoon and jerked awake just as I crossed the center line. Scared me half to death and I was agitated  for the rest of my drive home. Perhaps what I need is some crisp, cool fall weather instead of the hot, dry cycle we are still plagued by.

            We did get some rain yesterday. Just hours before our annual Heritage Day Celebration and parade it thundered and stormed. We were just about to leave at 6:15am when lightening struck so near the house that I decided to wait another half an hour. By the time we drove to town it was just softly sprinkling and dozens of people were carrying on with preparations for the day. The 5K run started on time and the runners were actually pleased with the cooler conditions. The vendors managed to get set up without too much trouble, although they had to stop a couple of times for heavier showers. The parade was wonderful and was very well attended. I noticed several people in the crowd pass umbrellas up to friends and family members who were on floats. Caddo is a tough little town and it was evident all morning that the blessing of some much-needed rain wasn’t going to dampen the spirit of celebration for anyone. I promise to post some photos later in the week. I still use one of those old-fashioned cameras!

            I tasted my first bison burger yesterday. It wasn’t different enough to make it worthy of any praise, but I understand that bison is much leaner and healthier than beef. Anyway, I can say that I’ve eaten one! I wasn’t so cooperative with the last trendy food- emu. Never tasted it, never want to.

            I spent the night in pain. I guess I spent too much time walking on concrete yesterday. I’ve had weeks of persistent pain, numbness, and tingling, first in my legs and then in my feet and now in my left hip. I’m losing sleep and getting grouchy. I’ve become a whiner. I don’t like whining. In fact, I dislike it so much that I can’t keep it up for very long. I’ll just work through the pain to a point of tolerance and go on. It’s annoying to have something interfering with my plans! The doctor has scheduled more tests to find out if I have nerve damage. There will be answers then, and decisions to be made. Why can’t our bodies just get better as they age instead of falling apart?

            I discussed my whining with my aunt yesterday. She’s had more than her share of back problems. She’s flying in from California this week and I’m really looking forward to seeing her and “catching up” on events in her life. I haven’t seen her in a few years and she hasn’t been in Caddo in many years: families are so scattered these days! My husband and I were talking about that during the hurricanes. It used to be that a disaster in another part of the country effected “those people”. Now it effects us all because our families and friends and our neighbor’s families and friends live everywhere. I can’t even count the number of people I know who have friends and/or relatives  in one or both of the hurricane areas.

            My neighbor came over last night to see pictures, sent by email to me,  of her new great-grandchild in Indiana. The computer is a marvelous tool for sharing happy events! She’ll go in person to see the baby in a couple of weeks, even though her last flight to visit family members was fraught with delays and problems.

            Yesterday was a day of visiting with friends and family members who traveled to Caddo for Heritage Day and for the reunion of the class of 1955. It was also the last day on earth for my great-aunt, Anna Marie Alexander. She was my grandmother’s sister-in-law and a respected member of our community. I’ll miss her smiling face and warm hug on Sunday mornings.

            My friend is returning to work tomorrow after the accidental death of her only child. I find it hard to think about comforting her. I don’t think there are words I can say to lessen her pain. I don’t think I even fully understand what she’s going through. Even the loss of my mother wasn’t the same. I knew she was ill. I had a chance to prepare my mind for her loss.  I’ve never lost a child and I hope they all live to stand over my grave. I can only pray that I will have the courage to be a friend and to support her with my love.

            So, these are my random thoughts tonight. Not musings, but more like ramblings. Heritage Day has come and gone for the twenty-first time. My husband is off to Houston again. My great-aunt is dead. The hot weather persists. My pain annoys. My aunt is coming for a visit. My neighbor has a new great-grandchild. Life goes on…change is inevitable…and I am blessed.