Pencils

I hate pencils. Just thought I would share that with the world. I wish I was clever enough to invent a good alternative.

Reason #1:
At school time when pencils are less expensive than other times in the year, parents buy less expensive pencils. The thing is, the good pencils cost about the same every day of the year. The other thing is, the less expensive pencils have been known to land in the circular file right when I start to sharpen them (that is another fascinating story which is part of Reason #2) because the lead falls right out when you start the sharpening process. The WHOLE lead. All of it. This is the reason the less expensive pencils are less expensive.

Reason #2:
I am a teacher because of pencils. That is a good thing. I love teaching, as I think any regular reader of this online journal will attest. HOWEVER, because of an incident which happened to one of my own personal children when he was in the middle school (his teacher made him call me and tell me that "I am so dumb that I can't remember to bring a pencil to school."--in front of the class) I sharpen each and every one of the pencils my students use. This means I sharpen approximately 15-30pencils a day. I have had many different kinds of sharpeners and they all pretty much stink. It gets old, but I will not have any of my students being unprepared or wasting time on pencils--or feeling bad about themselves because they forgot one. It is worth it to me to have them ready for use each morning. Additionally, there is a lot of satisfaction in looking at a holder full of freshly sharpened pencils. The sharpening is not something I love though.

Reason #3:
Parents are suspicious of teachers who put all the pencils in one container for the students. I have to justify saving their students pencils for them. I have even heard it said that 'teachers save those pencils for their own personal use." I would refer you back to Reason #2. Those pencils are of the less expensive quality. The pencils I prefer are a Ticonderoga black or traditional. Now that's a good pencil. Some also say they buy the less expensive pencils for their students because, "there are always students who don't bring any, and I don't have to supply pencils for EVERY student." PUH-LEEZE, I know that no one who reads this would ever say that, but for the rest of the world I would just like to ask..."You don't feel like you can spend an extra quarter on a kid whose parents can't afford to buy him pencils? Think about it, its a quarter...do you honestly think they just don't buy them because they know you will?" Once when I was shopping for students (sometimes they come without supplies), I overheard a conversation similar to the ones described here. I gently tried to explain the pencil process because I know its the same in every classroom, although some teachers may let the children sharpen their own pencils. She didn't buy it. She was a little cynical about pencils. And teachers, I guess.

Today I spent about 40 minutes sharpening the cutest Dr Seuss pencils that I will give the kids on the first day of school. They really are adorable, and they match my theme this year--"Our class is funner than a Cat in a Hat!" I know the kids will love them, and I know they are necessary, but I really do not like pencils. I just wish I could come up with a good alternative.

Work

When I went to ISU, we were actually taught that we shouldn't ever say these words,"I wanted to be a teacher because I want summers off." They said it wouldn't go well in an interview. I believe it, but I haven't ever felt that way. I never want school to end. I want to play with my students all summer, then make a smooth transition to the next kids like the blink of an eye. But no, its not great for learning, so we send them home.

But I just can't stay away. I have taught summer school every year, even when i wasn't a "real" teacher. It fills a need I have. This year, however, no summer school.

Even when there is summer school, I go to my room to get things ready for the next kids, I clean and organize. I just love my job. Sadly, this year I lost my keys. I couldn't just go in at random times to see my classroom. Nope, I have been forced to stay home. I have been lethargic. I haven't planted flowers. I let my house chores go until Wednesday or Thursday every week. I have watched almost every episode of "Say Yes to the Dress" and Four Weddings. I watched a commercial about depression and thought...well maybe.

But today....da da da DUM! I got my keys. Now I can go and look at my room whenver I want. It feels a little like winning the lottery. I am SO happy!

Summer and Cousins Camp

This summer has been odd for me. Usually, I spend all of June doing migrant summer school. This year, there is no money for such things in our district. I was thinking of just tutoring out of the goodness of my heart because I just don't know what to do with myself.

At the end of June, my grandkids came from Washington and stayed until just yesterday. We had a cousins camp again this year. It was mainly two days, but we spread it out over the whole week. We cooked outside, went to a fun water park in Rexburg, had a sleep-over, made individual fruit pizzas, attended ball games, watched movies, played at Jensen's Grove, had water fights and played on the slip and slide. This year we had to ban Mark from the slip and slide. (He gets too excited and breaks it.) Here are a few pictures of cousins camp:


This is Chantel, my niece. Technically she is a cousin.


The kids chose waffles for breakfast.

They also had fun playing in the water.

Autobiography

At the end of this school year I had the kids write their autobiographies. I have taken the liberty of combining them into one autobiography of a second grader.

I was born in the year of the house (horse). That is when everything started in my life. When I was a baby my mom would put me in a baby swing. I would watch football all day long.
When I was little I ran into everything, so I had to go to the eye doctor. When I was a baby I got two scars. One was when I was jumping on my bed and it cut my forehead, there was blood everywhere. The second one was when I was walking with my dad and I hit my head on the table.
I was very small and was always sleepy. I was born second. When I was about 1 I got very sick and my hair turned gray.
When I was 2 years old I could walk and talk very well. I met my grandma when I was two.
When I was about three I learned how to ride my blue bike. I built a block tower and my sister knocked it down. (She's nicer now.)
I was a great eater when I was four years old. When I had my big birthday party, my mom had a baby boy.
Years past (!) and I'm in school. I went to kindergarten, and I got in trouble because Preston pushed me. We went to the zoo. We got to see all the animals, we went in groups of 5.
In first grade I missed school alot. We went on a field trip to the farm to see the baby pigs and bunnies. We went to see the plants at Kesler's. When I was six I found out that my mom's name is Jen.
Now I am 8, I am in second grade. I don't remember when my dad left me. I went with my family to Honulooloo. It was fun! Everyone here is nice. Mrs Behrend is so funny, she's also the class clown. School is cool. I love my teacher, and she loved me.
My life is great. Very, very great.

I did love them, and my life is great. Very, very great.

Posted by a teacher who is missing her babies.

The Day before Mother's Day

This has been a fun day, but also one of reflection for me.

Today many of the women, and one man from the Oram family went to lunch. My Aunt Marti was down from Montana. Around the first of the year, she had a heart attack, followed in four days by a massive stroke. It is nothing short of a miracle we still have her with us. She has been have therapies for her speech and occupational therapy so she can learn to walk, and get some of her fine motor skills back. As a kid, she was the "fun" aunt. She knew the cool people, did the cool things, and went to the cool places. She was ALWAYS laughing. So, I was a little nervous about how she would be when we saw her this time. Physically, she seems about the same. She needs help up, walks slowly and sometimes needs help getting around. Verbally, she can say "no deal," "I can do anything," and "die" best of all. She also says "no" to every question you ask her. You have to pay attention to her head, because she will nod what she means. Up and down "no" means yes, and side to side "no" means no. Once in a while she pops out with a word that surprises the listener. After we went to lunch, we went to my grandma's house for desert. That is when the fun really started. She was so communicative with her limited vocabulary, and so expressive with her face, that there was no doubt what she was trying to say. As I watched her, I thought of what a blessing to know that what makes Marti what and who she is, is still in there. Her eyes say it all. She is very aware of what is going on around her. I think it must be so frustrating to want to say something, and not have the words. She received a blessing while we were there, and I know that she is prayed for all around the country. I have faith that she will be alright.

As I sat around the table at lunch, I was overwhelmed with the blessing of all of those women in my life. Every one of them is a powerhouse of strength and love. Some are at different emotional, mental, and spiritual places in their lives, but all are working toward the best place. I am so grateful for their great examples, and the many things they do to help me be a better person.

Moving my parents

My parents have moved from the house we all shared for forty-nine years. There are many happy memories for me there. When I was a little girl there weren't houses in the back. We called the area "THE FIELD" and officially it was the best place for a girl like me to grow up. I never was one for dolls, but I could spend hours building hills and driving toy trucks through the dirt. We could ride horses in the field and around on the street with my aunt Marti. It was a quiet street to learn to ride a bike. There was a tree in the front yard that technically didn't belong to us, but on Sundays we would go and sit under it with my dad and he would tell us of his adventures growing up in Northern Idaho. We girls slept in the basement. The basement was our own little world. We hung from the pipes, and bounced on the bed. We made cookies from questionable ingredients. We listened to classical music, show tunes, songs from the 50's, 60's and 70's, and cinematic sound effects booming from upstairs on the stereo. We tickled each other's backs until we went to sleep and shared our dreams. We all shared one bathroom, and the kitchen barely fit all seven or eight of us--depending if grandma was there. Its a house where I brought my friends, my dates, my husband, my babies, and eventually my grandchildren. It is a small home, but large in love.

When my parents first told us they were moving, some in my family were shocked and surprised. Could Christmas eve be the same if we weren't all crammed in like sardines, drinking hot chocolate and eating grilled tuna? How could grandpa do laundry without hanging it out (or in) to dry? Family dinners with the kids in the basement, sometimes freezing since it doesn't have much heat? The house had become as much the tradition as the tradition itself.

Not so much for me. I am so happy that I don't have to worry about my parents falling down the stairs. I'm glad that we don't have to try to figure out how to replace the fixtures that are original to the house, or upgrade flooring, plumbing, or windows.

When we went into the new house, it felt like home. I really am so thankful that we are moving them into a house, and not a "retirement facility." I'm glad that it is big enough for the whole family to get together in one place, and the out-of-towners can even spend the night.

AND, it has a bomb shelter.

PS...I have written a lot about my dad lately. I just wanted to add that he showed an incredible amount of integrity when he bought this home.
He has had his eye on this home for a long time. When it first went on the market, they were asking in the high 210's. The market started to bottom, and after a while the price went to the 190's, then fell to $160,000. I don't know how serious he was about buying a new home, but he started talking about it A LOT more when the price got that low. The Friday before Easter, he noticed that the realtor had reduced the price even further to $130,000. That got my dad. He decided right then and there that this was too good a house to go for such a price. Additionally, somehow he is related to the sellers, so he went to the realtor and offered.....$160,000. He said if the house was worth that much one week before, it still was. He also said that $130,00 wasn't a fair price, and he wouldn't pay it. I hope I can someday have the kind of integrity my dad has.
PPS Even with that level of integrity, he still had to convince the mortgagor to finance him. He is an old-fashioned kind of guy and wanted a 30 year loan. He is 75 years old. They gave him the loan. Of course, I think it will take him less than 15 to pay for it, but he was willing to fight for the 30 year contract.

I love him.

What to cook....

For your pleasure I have added a link to my friend Tiffany's recipe blog. You know how you have this friend and everything she makes is fabulous? This is Tiff. (When you make a blog with recipes, I will add you too, Angela.)
Anyway, the recipes are simple but delish and each comes with a photo of how it should look. Find Tiff's Kitchen on my sidebar and enjoy!

I am kind of excited to try the Oreo Truffles. Yum!

Hope everything is good in your neck of the woods.
Kathy