Grateful Friday

Yesterday was more teacher meetings and I went away from it feeling frustrated and depleted.

I don't want to be a rigid teacher who won't improve because she wants to do it the way she's always done it.

I also don't want to jump on every bandwagon that comes along that is shiny and new and waste my time with it until the next shiny and new initiative comes along.

It is exhausting and maddening and makes me cranky.

I talked to Marianne while I drove home and lucky girl got an earful of my angst.  We talked about all the things and at one point I said, "If I ever got a tattoo, it would read, 'I tried'."

Then I amended it, "I'm still trying."

I'm not going to get a tattoo, but I will keep trying.

I'll eventually, hopefully settle into a schedule because I'm a toddler and need a schedule to feel right in the world.

It will all work out.

It will all work out.

I'll keep saying it.

I'll keep trying.

I'm grateful that one frustrating day does not a life make.

I'm grateful for people who listen to me even when I'm exceptionally whiny.

In between

These days are weird in between times.

It's not school and it doesn't exactly feel like summer (apart from the open the window/ turn on the AC debate which we will consider all summer except for those scorching days when it is only turn on the AC).  Yesterday was another round of meetings at Lone Peak.  Also, we realized that there is a window at Lone Peak High School where you can see this amazing view of Lone Peak, the mountain.  Another third grade teacher from another school realized it and we googled to make sure that actually was Lone Peak, because it's a lot more obviously Lone Peak from the Salt Lake Valley side.  It was indeed Lone Peak and we all nodded our respect for the powers that be who perfectly framed it in that big window.

Besides that, the day was kind of long.  I talked to Braeden and he asked if it was soul sucking.  I said, "Partly, partly it was engaging."

It was long in the same chair though and none of us are used to that.

I didn't come home and paint, but I came home and worked on my Sunday School lesson.  Mark came over to do some yard work, then when he was waiting for me to finish preparing dinner, he went to the basement to "divest" some of his cards.  He came up with a small stack and reported it was worth $132 and he was taking them to sell after institute last night.

The more desperate he gets for cash, maybe the more space we'll get in the basement.

Win. Win.

It was nice to have him for dinner though.  Emma and Mark realized awhile ago that when they are eating here, if I set the table, I put them across from me.  When Adam sets the table, he places them across from him.

We like those kids.

Maybe I'm just a whiner

All year, whenever we've had our monthly hour of professional development on google meet, I've said, "Why can't they just have a PD day and do it all then?  In person?"

Yesterday we had an all day meeting on the very uncomfortable and very air conditioning isn't working media center at Lone Peak High School.  

The AC worked in the rest of the school and there were over 60 of us crammed in that room like so many sleeves of crackers.  

Me, sitting in the same chair all day, whiny.

Me, having an hour PD once a month, whiny.

It's not a phase, it's who I am.

I went to donate blood and had a conversation with the lady letting my blood about the joys and discomforts of adult children and I've got to say, it made me feel better.  We need each other and our stories to know we're not alone.

I came home and painted some more to get the fortitude to do it all again the next day.  This time a copycat Kandinsky.  If I had another canvas, I would paint a Rothko.

I'm taking both of them to hang in Nevada.

If I only had one daughter, I'm glad it is Emma Jayne

Texts from Emma are one of the best things in my life.

I wasn't awake to receive these, because it was about 1:00 AM, but she sent this:

She is equal parts melodramatic and funny.

Last night I was painting a Piet Mondrian inspired painting.  I changed the colors and was mostly just having a grand time, but then I reached a decision point and maybe Emma isn't the only melodramatic one, because I sent her this:

She said she didn't realize I had said art emergency and she thought I was bleeding out. 

I'm not sure why I would text her requesting to FaceTime if I was bleeding out....

(Also, you always need to request an audience when you are calling Emma.  She never not ever answers her phone.)

I asked her opinion and she surveyed the painting and the Mondrian I was using as inspiration and then told me a few little tweaks to make.

Here is the original and then my take on it:

(I also have to give Adam a lot of credit for patiently helping me place painters tape to make the lines.  If there is ever a need to be precise, don't ask me.)

Weekend

 Friday was the last day of school.  I said good-bye to my class and I cried a little.  My sweetest boy cried and that about did me in.  He also slid a dollar across my desk at me.  I said, "You already gave me a gift yesterday!"

He insisted I take it.

We went back and forth and I finally decided to respect his desire to be generous and I took his dollar bill.

One of my girls grabbed my arm and walked around the classroom and said she loved it and pointed to the sign on the wall and read, "Everything you don't know is something you can learn."

It was like she was imprinting it all on her mind.

Some of the girls sat down on the floor and said, "We won't leave!"

When the bell rang, they lingered and I hugged every one of them, one by one.  My little guy who gave me so much trouble threw his arms around me and said, "I love you!"

It was hard to say good-bye.

We had more good-byes at the end of year teacher brunch.  Some of my dear friends are leaving and I can't imagine school next year without Emily, our special ed. teacher, who is moving to a new school.

That afternoon I finished my WGU orientation.  It was kind of a hassle and I hope the hassles don't continue as I continue with my degree.

I think Adam hopes they don't continue too, because guess who gets an earful about my hassles?

Saturday, Adam and Mark went with me to my school and spent hours building my new desk and drawer units.  It was very kind of them.  While they did that, I emptied three bookshelves and moved them and rearranged the contents onto two of them (I'm getting rid of one bookshelf).  On the one hand, it seems like getting rid of storage is the wrong move, but on the other hand, I have too much stuff and so less storage will keep me editing.

The rest of the weekend was lovely.  I worked with Marie Louise on family history.  When she came over, I said, "I'm in the middle of a soap opera."

She said, "Oh no!"

I said, "It's your family, not mine."

We unraveled a whole situation with a child being born whose mother was a "visitor" according to the census while the wife was still alive and living elsewhere.  A son on the census belonged to the father and visitor. Then the father married the mother of the second batch of children after the wife died five years later.

We just entered it all into Family Search, hoping they'll work it out in heaven.

We had dinner on the deck in perfect weather and my yellow roses from Nevada are blooming.  Liliana came as well as our kids and it is always so nice to have them.

Today we are doing the Memorial Day cemetery rounds and I couldn't be happier about it.

Grateful Friday

I feel very grateful today.  

Today is kind of the last day of school, but I don't know why we actually call it that when the day is so ridiculously short.  Yesterday felt like the last day and this is a little bit of fluff the next day for reasons beyond my understanding.

We will have a fun faculty party though.  I have no idea what we'll be doing, but I know who is in charge of it and I therefore know it will be fun.

I took my crayon initials I had made for my students and they were thrilled.  It makes me happy to make them happy.  My sweetest boy had told me the day before when I said I had a gift for them, that he would also have a gift for me.

It was a trophy, made out of tinfoil.

He is more often than not very solemn.  He said, solemnly, "It is a trophy that I only give to the best teachers.  Guess how many teachers I have given it to before this?"

I said, "How many."

He said, "Zero."

He also gave me a personal invitation for recess:

He meant it was the World Cup.  It was mostly some kids in my class against some kids in Miriam's class and those kids take soccer VERY seriously.  They have gloves they share for the goalie to wear.  They run around yelling GOOOOOOOAAAAAAAAL when they score and they fall very dramatically when they get bumped.  I had recess duty, so I couldn't watch the entire World Cup, but I checked in several times.

Another student brought me a picture his mom had painted for me.

She gave me the bottom picture after our field trip to the butterfly biosphere last fall and the turtle is reminiscent of our aquarium field trip.  She was a chaperone at both field trips and is just so kind!  I told her son, "Thank you!" and "I love it!"  

He said, "Oh...my mom painted it."

(I also messaged his mom a thank you!)

Right before lunch, a student gave me this necklace to untangle.  It reminded me of the Gordian knot, but I tried my best to emulate Alexander the Great.

It took me a good part of my lunchtime, but I untangled it!

While I was untangling, the assistant principal came and told me that during the 6th grade graduation that  morning, one of my former students had mentioned me in his speech.  He said, "Mrs. Davis taught me cursive and it changed my life."

That just cracked me up.  I guess that just goes to show that you never know what will be life changing!

I saw another 6th grader in the hall and he said, "If I knew then, what I know now, 3rd grade would have been so easy!"

That is the goal.

During lunchtime, Miriam's husband brought some steak he had grilled for her class.  They also had watermelon and an ice cream sundae bar.  Miriam came and told me to come and get some steak.  It was hands down the best steak I have ever had.  Miriam and Nate go to the world championship for grilling and they are amazing.

I told them I had some fruit snacks for my class and they don't even expire until May 24.  

Nate said, "Fruit snacks that haven't expired yet are a delicacy!"

In the afternoon we cleaned out desks.  I had a list of where to put everything they found inside their desks.  It was on my overhead for all to see.  I even read it aloud to them and pointed to every destination of folders and textbooks and papers.

About half of them just got to work and cleaned their desks.

The other half asked me over and over, "Teacher, where do I put this?"

I would say, "Look at the board."

I thought I was going to lose my ever loving mind, but we survived it.

One of my trouble makers had had a difficult morning and was skating on very thin ice after an incident at lunch recess.  He struggled really hard in the less structured days of the past week.  Even though the office told me I was supposed to give him zero more warnings, I gave him a few. When he couldn't stop messing with other people, I called the office and Matt came and got him.  Matt had another student, a first grader who is also on the behavior struggle bus, in tow.  The first grader happens to have the same name as my student and he said, "Hey!  It's a party!"

(Aside:  no teacher at Bonneville will ever name a child that name.  That name is dead to us and that is science.)

Matt said, "Yes, it is."

And they went merrily down the hall.

Finally, whether or not I feel busy enough this summer, I have been given homework.

My students, past and present, are insisting I watch Thelma the Unicorn on Netflix.

And don't you think I won't.

Not yet

 

World's Best Third Graders

School is weird this last week.  

The schedule is irregular and my students want to know what exactly is happening and when and it's a little fluid because I don't always know.  That doesn't do much to satisfy them.

Yesterday we had the dance festival (see above).  We had two performances.  The early morning one was for the school and parents and the afternoon one was just for parents and we had to march on and off the stage and back to class in a very regimented way and third grade had our parachutes and different ways to enter the stage than everyone else so people (the aides who had been deputized to keep everyone in line) were kind bugged by us, but our parachutes had a big wow factor and we felt entitled to buck the rules.

Also, how is the dance festival so exhausting?  Maybe because it involves over 500 children and they are ready to amble in any direction if you let them.  In the morning when it was time to go back inside, I was sitting on the side furthest from the school.  Matt made the announcement for students to go back to class. En masse, my students turned to me. I pointed for my students to go back to the classroom and they all crowded towards me.  They were each carrying a chair and it was regular gridlock.

I had to fight my way through the 4th graders to get to the school side of my herd of third graders so they'd follow me.

When we were lining up for the second performance, my student who doesn't speak English and bless her heart NEVER knows what is happening, lined up with the students who do tricks at the beginning.  I had someone ask her if she was doing tricks.  She said no.  I told them to tell her to go back with the rest of the class.

She went back to the classroom and sat there quietly alone and missed the entire second performance, thinking her teacher had sent her back to sit in the classroom alone.  I felt terrible!  I had my sweetest boy talk to her and apologize for the miscommunication.  She smiled and he said, "She said it was OK because she is home alone a lot too."

Ugh.

I've never had a student I can communicate less with!

In between the performances we did some math and writing.  They did a tiny bit of silent reading and I finished reading Ramona and her Mother to them.  They loved it and drew and colored and cut and pasted and made a tremendous mess while I read.

Everyone is organizing their classrooms before and after school.  We have this checklist we have to have people sign.  The librarian has to sign we have returned all our books.  The lunch lady has to sign we are paid up.  The secretary has to sign that yes, indeed, we have a key to our classroom.  A fourth grade teacher and I were doing it together yesterday and she said, "This is the most bizarre way to spend 30 minutes, walking around getting these random signatures."

She's not wrong.

There are a few teachers leaving the school and when I walked past their rapidly dismantled classrooms after school yesterday, I felt sad.  I felt sad because I'll miss them and I felt sad for them that they are leaving that school I love so much.

Maybe someday I'll be ready to pack up and go, but not yet.

Team mom

Yesterday was field day and the difference between field day for them and the track meet when I was in elementary school is vast.  This is SO much better.  

(Says the girl who came in last in every race.)

They play fun games and everyone participates and has a good time.

In the afternoon, the 6th graders play kickball against the teachers.  There are always plenty of teachers to play and I sit on the side with my class and any other random classes whose teachers are playing kickball.

And it's not that I'm old (although I kind of am).  It's that I don't want to play.  I wouldn't have wanted to play when I was a kid, but the great part of being a grown up is you can say, "No."

My students asked, "Teacher, why aren't you playing?"

My answer was very simple and honest.  "I don't want to."

A sixth grade teacher brought me her sunscreen.  She said, "Will you hold this?"

I said yes.

The PE teacher brought me his lanyard and keys.  He said, "Will you hold this?"

I said yes.

A sixth grader, who used to be my student, handed me a pile of candy (the PTA was selling candy) and asked, "Will you hold this?"

I said yes.

He came back for the candy.  I had to track down the teachers who are approximately the same ages as my children.  "Here's your sunscreen."

"Oh, thank you!  I forgot you had it."

"Here's your lanyard."

"Oh wow, I forgot all about that."

Everybody needs a mom and I'm here for it. 

Just don't ask me to play kickball.

Camp day

Yesterday we had the third grade "Camp Day."  First we did math.  Then we had three rotations, each class going to each third grade classroom for 45 minute rotations.  In my classroom, I read them the Berenstain Bears book Bear Scouts.  I loved it when I was a kid and they loved it too.  Then we did a camping art project--a night sky and a tent complete with a little person inside.  Some of them are very creative and some of them should not be allowed within 15 feet of scissors and glue.  

We got through it.

Finally, we went on a "hike" and played a game where I had a pattern for them to cross my rug, which is an array of 30 rectangles.  They had to guess the pattern and work together and I don't have the patience to explain it here, but it was really fun.

In Miriam's class they sat in tents and read by flashlight.  In Hannah's room, they sang camp songs. 

Miriam gave them s'mores and my sweetest boy brought me one and said, "Here you go, Madam." 

It was a fun day.

When Hannah's class was in my room, a boy in her class said he had never been camping and everyone freaked out and I could tell he felt kind of bad.

I said, "I hate camping."  He smiled at me with relief because they turned all their freaking out in my direction because how could I possibly hate camping?!?

I explained how nice my bed was and that I didn't see any need to leave it.

Later they started talking about monsters in the woods and I said, "This is why I hate camping!"

My fellow non camper pointed at me in solidarity and said, "See!?!"  There are only four days of school left, but he and I are now buddies.

In honor of camp day, I wore my pink checked flannel shirt.  Two of my girls decided I looked like the lid of jam.

Nothing quite like being compared to a jam lid.

I guess I could do a lot worse.

Weekend

It was a really great weekend!  

Friday was Art Day at school, which is something I made up for one of the end of school days which are kind of wonky anyway.  We study artists and do some art and listen to music and I love every minute of it.

They did research on some artists, wrote the facts they learned on sticky notes and stuck them in a section of the whiteboard where that artist was named.  Then they did an "Artist Study."  They kept running up to me and saying excitedly, "Teacher!  Did you know....?"

We had some deep discussions.  One girl raised her hand and asked, "Why is the Mona Lisa such an important painting?"

It felt like we were in an art appreciation class instead of a third grade.

We discussed.

They were floored to learn she was an actual person.

When one of them declared Vincent Van Gogh "crazy," we had another discussion about mental illness.  We talked about that not being a kind description just like we would not call someone a name if they had a disease like diabetes or a broken leg.  That led to talk of people they knew who had various forms of mental illness.  One brave girl raised her hand and said, "I have ADHD and I take medicine every morning."  We talked about how sometimes you can't always see what people are struggling with.

Besides that brief foray into kind of a heavy topic, it was a fun day.  They loved it too.  In the afternoon I let them "craft" if they wanted to (their name for it).  I had coloring pages of famous paintings but a lot of the girls used the blank paper I had fanned out on my desk and tape and glue and scissors and created 3D houses.  One of them used a sticky note for a blanket for her little paper doll and it was very clever.

One girl asked, "Is it OK if I read instead?"

Guess what I answered?  (Children asking if they can read is my love language!)

The good day only got better.  Braeden got there from BYU shortly after I got home.

He saw a plate I recently bought at a vintage store hanging on the wall.  He said, "I want to inherit that plate!  Where's a Sharpie so I can write my name on it?"

I said I thought I probably had about 30 more years at least before we needed to start deciding what people would inherit around here, but he persisted like only Braeden can persist.

I told him where to find a Sharpie.

All three kids eventually arrived.  Although we missed Anna and QE, who were still in California, it was wonderful to be together, laughing and talking over each other and just having a fine time.  Before we ate, Braeden FaceTimed with Anna and I loved to hear the wonder in QE's little voice as Braeden panned his phone around the room, "Nana!  Papa!  Emma!  Uncle Mark!"  She was mostly excited to see her dad though.

I looked across the table at my three all grown up babies and my heart swelled several sizes just like the Grinch's.  After dinner we played Quixx (while listening to yacht rock because that is the only way we know how to do it).  Braeden and Mark made me laugh so much I had to lay my head on the table to recover.  

Their aim is to try to make me hyperventilate and they are good at it.

I went to bed before everyone which is me living my best life.

Saturday morning Braeden wanted to mow the lawn for his dad, but Adam wanted him to be able to visit with me instead.  Braeden said, "I will do whatever you want me to, Mom."

Where was that attitude when he was 15 years old?

I enjoyed visiting with him though (which is of course what I picked).  I started to make him a smoothie for breakfast and our blender started smoking and smelled awful.  Braeden went to the freezer and pulled out some chicken tikka masala from Trader Joe's.  I told him he was a weirdo to eat that for breakfast and I said, "You still need to drink this smoothie."  I was attempting to finish it with the immersion blender.  

He said, "I am planning on both!"  He's always been a good eater.  That hasn't changed since he was 15.

Adam and Braeden and I drove to the Draper Temple to meet Emma.  

The garage door wouldn't close so Braeden jumped out to enter the code.   Someone (me) hit the garage door one time when backing out to take Mark to junior high.  Ever since, when the sun hits it just right it won't work from the car.

Entering the code reminded Braeden, "Hey we hacked into your Roku last night."

If there are kids in the world who don't eventually figure out all their parents' security codes I didn't give birth to them.  I don't think Adam and I would be very good spies with our easily guessed codes.

(Braeden also wouldn't be a very good spy because he cheerfully tells us everything he does.)

He said, "If it makes you feel better, Mark didn't think we should do it."

(How does that make me feel better?)

I want to always remember our temple trip.  I felt kind of awful with a headache, we were running late (the whole smoothie incident had set me back in my timing), Adam and Braeden had thought we were doing an endowment session and Emma and I had thought we were doing a sealing session and we had diverse appointments.  Besides that, there were a lot of weddings happening at the temple and no place to park.  Adam dropped us off to go find parking.  The ordinance workers were very kind to us, despite how disheveled we felt.  I explained that Adam was still coming and that I was sorry we were so late, etc.  A kind man looked into my eyes and said, "I'm so glad you're here today.  And you're in the temple!  Just breathe."

We all united finally for sealings and it was wonderful to be in the temple together.  It does feel easier to breathe when I'm there.

We met up with Mark for lunch.  We always have the limiting factor of gluten free options in choosing where to eat.  I suggested Red Robin.  Adam said that was kind of far for Mark to drive from Provo and Emma and I both said, "Mark won't mind."  He didn't.  He would probably have driven twice as far for Red Robin.

Braeden asked our server for the sauce that is kind of orange to dip fries in.  She said, "Fry sauce?"

I said, "Tell me you don't live in Utah without telling me you don't live in Utah...."

Braeden said, "Well it isn't exactly like fry sauce...."

During lunch, the broken Roku code came up and I said, "Braeden took two steps too far."  I told the others about the Sharpie and the plate.

Emma's eyes widened like they do at her brothers' antics.

Mark immediately reasoned everything he would inherit since Braeden would only get the plate.

Braeden said smugly, "But it's a really great plate."

Mark also said, "If it makes you feel better about the Roku, I didn't think we should do it."

(How does that make me feel better?)

There is an absolute audacity to Braeden that probably stems from him being the very center of my universe until Emma came along.  Those were formative years.

He was gathering his belongings before flying home and snapped his name tag under a magnet on the side of the fridge.  He smiled impishly and said, "I'm sure you'll want this."

He wasn't wrong.  I'll take any I was here reminder from our children that I can get.

Grateful Friday

The best news is that Adam is home!  The second best news is that Braeden and Mark are here.  Braeden flew in last night and Mark stayed over so Braeden can use his car--and so he could see Braeden.  

I'm looking forward to seeing Braeden (a little--he's at BYU most of the time participating in a political science event of some description).

Last night Mark and I met at Via 313 for pizza.  (His idea.) It was worth it.  He cheered me up and made me laugh and listened to me.  

I decided yesterday to NOT move classrooms.  I am 10% disappointed and 90% relieved.  It just felt like too much with the end of school and starting my master's degree at WGU and all the things.  I like my little classroom even though the other one is bigger and quieter.  

The advantage of my current classroom is that everything is already put away.

I'm grateful for the change of plans.  It feels like a good idea.

Yesterday, my same boy who was wondering about leg hair walked up to me and solemnly told me it has "been an honor to be a third grader."

He said he doesn't want school to end and I said neither do I!

They're all starting to get a little sentimental.  One girl asked me if I was going to save the pictures they drew me forever.  (In other words, are you going to remember us?)

I am.  I will.

Another girl wandered up to my desk and said dreamily, "I'm going to miss this classroom."

They were maybe more relieved than I am about me not changing classrooms.  It is their room and they don't want it to change.  I made them all promise to come back and visit me.

I love when I open the door after lunch recess and 4th  and 5th graders who used to be in my class try to sneak in.  I tell them to come back and be third graders again.

It's wonderful to become so attached to these hilarious and maddening and brilliant little people.

And they are thoroughly invested in Ramona.  We are on the 5th book in the series and they want me to read more and more every day. 

I couldn't be happier about it.

Boys

The boys are vastly outnumbered in my class.  It may be a reason my class is so much calmer this year, but also the mean girl stuff kind of offsets the boy activity.  Each comes with its challenges.

Though they are underrepresented, the boys still manage to have a presence!

Yesterday, for example, a boy pulled up his pant leg and held up his leg for me to inspect whether or not he had leg hair.

He said, "I think I am starting to get some."  (He isn't.) Then, he told me that someone had told him that "the puberty" starts at 8 years old so he thought he would get leg hair soon.

Very often I want to laugh but can't and have no idea how to respond.

My class was writing a paragraph yesterday: advice to third graders.  They had all sorts of good ideas (and some of them were ideas that I wish they would internalize, but I'm glad they at least recognize what they should be doing).

One boy said, "I'm going to say don't pull your pants down when you use the urinal!"

The other boys heartily agreed that was great advice.

Some of the girls looked a little stricken and some of them looked confused.

I wanted to laugh but couldn't and had no idea how to respond.

Joy

I feel this compression of all the things.  I crave margins and Enough Time and feeling in control and here I am with deadlines looming.  Worse, they're deadlines I can't start yet.  I can't move my classroom yet.  I can't start at WGU yet.  It's just all around the bend.

In the meantime, school has felt joyful.

I love when they tell me jokes.

Yesterday a super sassy girl said, "Teacher, what do you get when you cross a know it all with a bear?"

I said, "I don't know, what?"

She said, "Pan-duh!"  Her delivery was just perfect and it cracked me up.

Once I laugh at one person's joke, they all want to share one.  This one also delighted me.

Student: Do you know who is possessed by owls!

Me: Who?

Student: (silently pointing at me)

We have Orem policemen come and read to the third grade several times during the school year.  It is thrilling because they are wearing real guns and have walkie talkies and tasers and handcuffs.  They're also really kind.

Last week was their last time in the school year and they brought a box of books for the students, one for everyone.

This highly trained and armed to the hilt police officer looked at me helplessly and asked, "I don't know how we should pass these books out.  They're all different."

At least he knew not to just open the box and let 60+ kids fight it out.

I said, "We'll take the box and figure it out."

After school, my team and I lay all the books on my table and picked them for our students, which was fun.  Yesterday I distributed them to my class and told them why I had picked a particular book just for them.  80% of them were thrilled with my choices and the other 20% weren't that impressed.  I did my best.  They were so grateful though!  They kept thanking me and I kept reminding them they were from the police, not me.  

They're such sweet kids.

My very dear boy who often just comes up to me and asks if there's anything he can do to help me, walked up randomly to me yesterday with outstretched arms.  I said, "What are we doing?" and he threw his arms around me.

He said, "We're hugging."

Maybe they're feeling as sad about the end of the school year as I am.

Field Trip

I knew I was already feeling anxiety about the field trip because I dreamt about it.  I had a dream that I was sick and so I had to get a sub and I was SO STRESSED.  It was a relief when I woke up and realized I was not sick.

Over the past few weeks I've been arranging for chaperones.  One mother wanted to go.  She insisted her background check would be complete in time.  She texted me multiple times that she was going.  I sent a text to all the parents who were chaperoning on Friday, just confirming.  Yes, she was in.

Yesterday morning I was telling the students who were in their groups.  I said whose mom they were with.  My student said, like I was the crazy one, "My mom isn't going."

I said, "Yes, she is.  She said she was."

My student said, "No, she isn't."

I texted her and this delightful conversation was the result:

I mean, at least she said thank you?

I was immediately very stressed because guess what you need on field trips? Chaperones.  The aquarium in fact requires a certain ratio of students to parents.  Miriam saved the day by having more parents than she needed so she could take four of my girls.

The bus was the same frenetic counting of heads and then trying to keep limbs inside and trying to get them to sit down and stop yelling.

The bus is always the worst part.

The aquarium was fun though!  I was with five of my boys (including but not limited to the hardest ones).  They were so cute.  They were fascinated by everything and obediently stayed together and stopped to point out things to other patrons of the aquarium.  I love my class this year!

We reunited at the designated spot and can I just say that we need to be more explicit with parents?  You think things are obvious and they...aren't.

A dad bought four kids these giant pretzels and guess who else wanted giant pretzels?  Everyone.

A mother bought souvenir flattened pennies for five kids and everyone else wanted some too.  

One dad cheerfully lost one of his charges.  He smiled and shrugged when we asked where he was.

Another mother took her group on walkabout (and one of my students was with her!).  We were supposed to be meeting and they just went wandering outside.

We located everyone and got on the bus and counted heads again.  We were not finished making sure everyone was there and the bus driver took off.  I yelled, "Wait!" so he pulled over and we counted and yes, we had everyone.

We went to a park for lunch and then let them play at the park.  It's an awesome park in Bluffdale with lots of big climbing structures perfect for third graders.

We made it back to the school, unscathed and with everyone we left with.  That's always the hallmark of a successful field trip.

I'm glad we only have a few of them a year though.  They are exhausting!

Weekend

 Sometimes weekends feel like I am bailing out a boat.  I work, work, work and then it doesn't seem like much changed.

There are no shortages of things I want to do.  I'm grateful for the change that the weekend brings though.  It's nice to be with Adam and it's nice to be outside my classroom doing different work (although I did stop by my classroom for about an hour and a half Saturday morning because I needed to finish some things up).

This weekend I felt grateful for the mothers and grandmothers in my life.  Both grandmas, my sisters (and sisters-in-law), Geri and my mom are all examples to me of the kind of mother I want to be and I honor them.

I also feel grateful for our children and exquisite granddaughter.  What a lucky duck I am to have them!

Emma texted this picture on Saturday and said she stopped by my grandma's grave because she was in the area.

I texted back that my grandma would enjoy that pink sky.  I'm sure she's not there enjoying it though.  She has moved on to bigger and better things and I'm grateful for the knowledge I have of that.

I felt a little angsty on Mother's Day.  

Every year I feel this increasing desire to make it stop.  By it, I mean church and Mother's Day.  I just wish we could separate the two.

On Friday night, Adam and I were getting Greek food and ran into another couple in our ward.  The wife said that she hates Mother's Day and was going to stay home from church.

We've gone off the rails.

It's all well meaning, but people praise their mothers and the rest of us feel weird.  We hear about mothers who are angels and we know that we aren't and we feel weird.  Thankfully (because our new bishop knows what's what) we didn't do the "every woman over the age of 18 stand up and get some chocolate" because that's the weirdest thing of all.  I always have felt like I was at a high school dance waiting to be asked to dance while I'm standing there waiting to have my gift delivered.

I know that Mother's Day has the potential to make people feel sad.  There are women who aren't mothers who would love to be.  There are people who have lost their mother or their children or they have damaged relationships.  Does a piece of chocolate really soothe any of that?  I say downplay the whole thing, celebrate the mothers you love in private and just let it be a regular Sunday at church.

Nobody is asking, but there's my opinion.

Adam left Sunday afternoon for another business trip, which was depressing.  Emma and Mark agreed to play Boggle with me because I always win so it cheers me up.

Emma won.

She quickly texted a picture of the scores to our family group chat and Braeden texted back, "You monster."

I agreed.

Losing at Boggle notwithstanding, talking to Braeden and Anna and seeing Emma and Mark fill my bucket.  Emma brought me a book called Mother-Daughter Murder Night which is a "whodunit about a grandmother-mother-daughter trio who come together as amateur sleuths to solve a murder in their coastal California town."

She knows me.

So does Mark.  He asked if I was stressed about moving classrooms.  My mind has been buzzing about that and as the person who builds my bookshelves and moves them (and then moves them again) he understands.

I have a lot to be grateful for.  I love my quirky, hilarious and clever kids.  And since I taught Emma to read, maybe we both win when she wins?  Maybe?

Grateful Friday

I'm grateful Adam is back!  He was gone a whole week and that is too long.

I'm grateful for infrequent but happy flashes of teacher inspiration!  

Yesterday I had some math papers for them to do and I have a little pocket of girls who do anything and everything to avoid work.  They doodle, they chat, they go to use the bathroom, they are suddenly thirsty, they need to tie their shoes.

I said, "I have a google form for you to fill out who you want in your group on the field trip."

They all practically quivered with excitement.

I said, "You can't fill it out until your math is done."

When these girls started up their nonsense, I said, "I guess I'll just assign your groups."

You never saw them work so quickly!  Sadly it was for only that time, but what a glorious time it was.

I'm grateful that yesterday we did some Kandinsky inspired art work.  It was fun!  I had biome pictures hanging in the hall that they'd made for the art exhibition but the art exhibition had been pushed later and the biome pictures were disintegrating like everything does in the hall that gets brushed by 500 students every day.  We needed an alternative and Kandinsky concentric circles it was.

I loved how colorful they were.  The art teacher loaned me brushes and water basins and brand new watercolors because she said I have such a good class.  

I was demonstrating for them and one of them reverently asked, "Are you a...painter?"

Another said, "My sister told me she used to be an art teacher."

It's true.  For one day.

I'm grateful for my school.  It was teacher appreciation week and I felt appreciated!  Maybe my favorite thing all week was the three 6th grade student council members who delivered me breakfast yesterday.  The two boys were in white shirts and ties and the girl wore a pretty apron.  They gave me my breakfast as well as a little stack of yellow cards.  I asked, "What are these for?"

They looked uncomfortable.

They looked worriedly at each other.

One boy said, "Ok...cover your ears."  I obediently did, but I still heard him say, "These are for you to write thank you notes to your teacher."

It was delightful.

Also yesterday we had a meeting after school where some teachers shared ways to help us be better.  I'm grateful for the fun Matt has restored to Bonneville, but also the ways he pushes us to improve.  He has this incredible knack for validating our efforts and asking for more.

I'm grateful it's going to get warmer.  Full sunshine in the forecast!

This is why we can't have nice things

Yesterday we had a lockdown and an evacuation drill.  A two for one.  Before school, Matt was buzzing around the faculty room getting the breakfast ready that he was treating us all to for Teacher Appreciation Week (he's given us breakfast every day which is so kind!).  I said, "I have a question about the drill."

He said, "It's a drill."

I said, "But which kind exactly, the kind where we hide?  And then we evacuate?"

He said, "Yeah.  No big deal."

I said, "You say it's no big deal, but it is stressful."

That effectively stopped him in his tracks.  He is sort of a Tasmanian devil when he has a task in front of him, but if you're insistent, you can get his attention.

I explained how I don't really know where to have my students hide.  He said I should keep my blinds closed all the time for safety.

I died a little inside.  I know that, but I also hate being in a room with the blinds closed all the time.  If something actually happened and my students were at more risk because I like sunshine, I would never forgive myself.

So I kept my blinds closed all day.  

I explained to my students about the drills we were going to have.  They were a little bit excited but also nervous.  I gave them all the specifics and said they should take their coats when we go outside because it is cold.  I explained that we'd have the lights off and the door locked and I told them where to hide.  I had my interpreter whiz kid explain it to the one who doesn't speak English.

I have a student who daily puts her name followed by The Great on every assignment.  Sometimes she'll sign The Excited or The Awesome after her name.  I always give it a smiley face.  

Yesterday this is what she wrote on her paper.

I said, "Are you scared?"  She nodded.

I told her it was going to be OK. 

(We're practicing something where we are completely vulnerable to a gunman, but it's going to be...OK?  Sometimes I don't know what else to say.) 

When it was time for the drill and the announcement was made, they gasped and scurried to one of the two spots we'd designated.  I turned off the lights and made sure the door was locked.  I whispered that as long as they couldn't see out of the little crack in the window that the blinds don't cover, they were fine.

My student who had written on her paper that she was scared, pulled a pencil out of her pocket.  "For protection," she said.

When Matt rattled the door to make sure it was locked, they all jumped.

I huddled there with them.  I looked into their faces in the dim light and knew that if it really happened, I would take a bullet for any of them.  I would spread my body over them like a human shield.  I would do what I could.

I hate that we live in a society where teachers have to think that.

My students were worried they had left their computers on their desks.  "Won't the shooter know we're in here if there are computers out?"

I didn't say it, but the shooter would know we were in there.

A girl whispered, "What if this really happened and I was in the bathroom?"

I whispered, "You could knock on any classroom and yell your name and they would let you in."

A boy whispered, "No, at a high school the shooter said he was a student and then they let him in."

I whispered, "This is different.  The teachers would know it was a kid.  They'd let you in."

A few of the girls concurred that their voices are different than grown men, who they are assuming a shooter would be.

After a little while one of them whispered, "What if the shooter was right there by me when I was trying to get in the door?"

I whispered, "They wouldn't be."  (I mean what else am I going to say?)

I hate that we live in a society where teachers have to have conversations like that.

Weather

Yesterday was Marianne's birthday.  It snowed the night she was born.  One of those anomaly weather stories.  My mom was in labor and my dad was out feeding cows--not knowing she was in labor.  He lost his wedding ring and was looking for it and my mom was convinced her baby would be born fatherless.

Snow on May 7!  Crazy!

Until this year.

It's been a wild week.  We've had snow and rain and lots of wind.

Adam, in the Midwest, had this weather report:

He hunkered down during the tornado sirens and they parked Hootie (the WGU van) in covered airport parking to save him from hail up to the size of half-dollars.

Weather.

But then, yesterday morning, this happened:

A visit from the balloon fairy!

Marianne's birthday seemed like as good a day as any for the occasion.

Correction:  Adam says my writing is like an Impressionist painting.  I'm not hyper focused on details, no one would accuse me of that.  My mom is a detail person.  She sent me a (loving) email correcting my story.  My dad lost his ring in January.  His vehicle broke down the night Marianne was born.  So I guess no snow on her birthday.  So now the record has been righted.

How to decide if you want to be a teacher

Yesterday I had recess duty and it was cold and intermittently snowing and raining and I would just like May to know that I expect better of her.

A third grader (not one of mine) kicked a stray soccer ball way harder than he needed to return it to the game and it hit a kid.  I told him he should apologize.  He sneered at me and said, "I didn't do it on purpose."

(What can I say?  Some of them are very...charming.)

I said, "It's the right thing to do to apologize when you hurt someone even if it was an accident."  He looked unconvinced so I added, "It's what grown-ups do."

He said, "Well I don't even want to be a teacher, so there."

To my credit I didn't say what I was thinking, that school children everywhere would thank him.

At lunch time, the administrators gave us lemonade in fancy cups with paper umbrellas in honor of teacher appreciation week.  My students were very impressed.  They wanted to know where I got the cup and did I want to keep it.  I said yes I want to keep it, mostly because I didn't want them arguing over who got it.

I told them that it was for teacher appreciation week.

One of the girls said to the other, "I'm going to be a teacher!"

She replied, "Me too!"

So when deciding on your future career kids, teachers get fancy cups, but the downside is that they have to have basic manners.

I guess decide if it's worth it....

Weekend

 With Adam being gone, the best part of my weekend was hanging out with our kids (including telephone conversations with Braeden).  

Saturday Mark and I went grocery shopping (our relationship has evolved sufficiently that we can peacefully grocery shop together).  He came over and did several chores around the house, including washing windows.  There were streaks on the window above the front door.  I went and found him on the deck where he was working on the deck box he was building us.  I asked him if he guaranteed his work because there were streaks.  He sighed and said, "OK, I was afraid of that.  I'll get a bigger ladder."

It's nice to have a kid around who can do stuff.

Especially when the kid who can do stuff needs money.

I helped him finish the deck box (nobly holding the lid in place while he attached the hinges).  I enjoyed spending the day with him.

We met Emma at MOD for dinner and then came to our house to watch Star Wars.  May the 4th be with you. There was discussion about which movie to watch and Mark was thinking about Episode I because it is its 25th anniversary but I said, "But then we have to watch Episode I." 

Mark thought that was a valid point.  

We ended up watching Episode IV: A New Hope.  It's a good movie and it's part of our boys' childhood just like John Wayne movies were part of my brothers' childhood.

I was exhausted afterward and we prayed together and I told them good night and don't wake me up.  I have no idea how long they stayed, but adult children are pretty great.

Especially adult children who know better than to wake you up.

Grateful Friday

I'm grateful that after an abominably hard day at school when I should have handled things a lot better than I did, I have an understanding principal who made me feel better and a school counselor who stopped by my classroom to hug me.

I love where I work.

I'm grateful that after an abominably hard day at school I have Adam.  He is a soft place to fall and does much to buoy me.  Daily.

I'm grateful that Marianne is understanding.  We set a standing phone date and so far I've forgotten both times.

I'm a real champ....

I'm grateful Mark's car is back in commission.  He and I drove to Nephi to retrieve it and we had a nice visit.

I'm grateful for a weekend where I hope to rest and recharge and get stuff done in equal measure.

I'm grateful for optimism that leads me to believe that my to do list will get done.

Then there was one

About a month ago, a man was changing his tire on the side of the freeway near here and was struck by another car and killed.

I made my family promise me that if they were ever in that situation, they would get all the way off the road.  "Ruin the tire," I said.  "Destroy the rims.  I will buy you new ones."

I stand by that and I'm thankful that the other night when Adam was having tire trouble (he could tell something was amiss), he pulled off the road and was on a frontage road when he had a pretty intense blowout.  The studs that the lug nuts attach to were broken!  He had to call a tow truck and it was a whole ordeal because the first truck didn't have the wherewithal to load the car (they hadn't read the notes).  So it took a long time, but Adam came home safe and I'm very grateful for that.

I picked him up after 9:30 Tuesday night at our mechanic shop.

It's the third time in a week we called roadside assistance (Emma locked her keys in her car earlier).

I'm glad that we have Joan going strong!

Last night we drove to Provo to get Mark so he could stay here so he and Adam could drive me to work, so he could drive Adam to the airport and then pick me up at school later and hopefully we will go to Nephi!

Tabor is selling a horse and I think at this point, we should consider buying it.

I DO understand

Yesterday I had a girl in tears after lunch recess.  She is a tough girl, apt to retort with cutting words, but she was devastated.

Mean girl strikes again.

I said my oft repeated refrain of don't let her have power over you; go find someone else to play with.

She looked at me, big tears pooling in her pretty brown eyes, and said, "You don't understand how I feel."

I said, "I DO understand how you feel."

And in that moment I remembered how it felt to cry myself to sleep like I did multiple nights in 6th grade.  What seems like no big deal and just find someone else to play with to me, is a big deal to her.  I remember that.

Empathy has a power that mere sympathy does not and once we're safely removed from trouble, it's with gratitude that we can pick up empathy.

I said, "Once I had a hat I wore to school.  At recess I was playing kickball and I took off my hat.  This girl spit in my hat and I didn't know she had.  I put the hat back on when it was time to go inside and my entire class laughed at me."

Her eyes got wide and she said, "What?!?" and "Woah."

"I understand how you feel," I said.  "And I know that the only thing to do is ignore the mean girl.  Don't let her bother you.  That was the only thing that helped me."

I also have the vantage point of knowing that the mean girl in my class has a family in crisis and upheaval right now and she is grasping for control, even if it is only the control of being able to manipulate her classmates.

Mean girls lose their power.  Hair can be washed.  Someday you'll have a story to tell and maybe you can reassure someone else that life goes all the way on.

Sometimes empathy is worth the price we pay for it.