Yesterday

 Yesterday I left my class in the hands of an aide for 30 minutes before lunch and went to my dentist.  I had been flossing with one of those little flossers a few weeks ago and I have a dead tooth with a crown on it in the back.  The floss got stuck on the crown and I yanked it and my tooth has hurt ever since.

Actually my jaw hurt more than the tooth, because my bite was off.  You know what never hurt my jaw?  Not flossing.  Here I was trying to be a responsible citizen….

I was glad my dentist could get me in and glad he is a few blocks from my school.  He tried prying the crown off (hurt + didn’t work).  They took an X-ray and all was well with the tooth.  He thought maybe there was a piece of floss stuck under the crown causing the trouble.  He said there was nothing to do but let my body absorb it.  He said that it could cause swelling that could mess up my bite.  So he smoothed out the crown to fix my bite.

I wonder if it will be messed up again if the swelling goes down, but who am I to tell him what to do?

Again, not flossing never caused me a day’s trouble.

Back at school, we read a story called “Earth and Its Neighbors”.  They were riveted.  They are super fascinated by space.  One boy, who is an English learner and just tries to disappear in any class discussion was particularly curious.  He asked a million questions, like where does the sun go when it is night.  Another boy who has clearly learned a lot about space explained it all very well, and was even nice about it--sometimes he acts like other people are dumb.  They had questions about black holes, the Milky Way (no, it doesn’t look like the candy bar), life on other planets, aliens, why we don’t move to Mars, how long until we can move to Mars, how long would it take to travel to another solar system, and are there other Earths out there?

I knew a few of the answers, but a lot of them were I don’t know.  I absolutely love it when they are so engaged and asking question after question, even when I don’t know the answers.  It is the natural high of teaching that I’ve been chasing since college.

Right in the middle of our discussion, there were two police officers looking in the little window of my door.  My mind immediately went to a school shooting and should I let them in and a frantic risk assessment.  It is crazy to me that we have decided as a society that we just sometimes have school shootings, but here we are and teachers brains aren’t OK as a result.  (The other day, a second grade teacher was chatting with me during recess duty and we started talking about what we would do if there was a school shooter and we were at recess.  We’re not OK.)

Anyway, my spinning brain remembered that we were doing Read with Police yesterday.  My students were a little disregulated by them showing up too, but I welcomed them in and they wanted a book to read to the class.  The class requested Hooway for Wodney Wat, because the children have good taste.  One of the police officers took the book with trepidation and said, “Now I can’t read as well as your teacher…”

I told him he could do a lot of things better than me and yikes, bench press is on the list.  He was a big guy.

He did a good job reading and his partner cracked up right along with the students.  Hooway for Wodney Wat forever.

After recess, they had a little time to read on their own and several of them selected books about space.  

One girl said, “I never knew I was interested in space!”

Also yesterday a student was studying the map I have on the wall and said, "Wait, Kentucky is in America!?!  I thought it was in China!"

I confirmed it is in America.  He said, "Are you sure?"

I was very sure.

Another student showed me the mistake in his iReady reading lesson because of how crochet was spelled.  He said, "I know how to spell crochet and that is not correct."

I promised him it was and he did not believe me.  Not a bit.  I asked him how he would spell it.  He said, "Not like that."   

You win some and lose some with these guys.

School is endlessly varied and rewarding (besides the school shooting thing) and that’s the truth.

Weekend

Saturday afternoon out my kitchen window

It was a cozy autumnal weekend.  Sunny and bright.

The only really significant thing that happened on Friday was that we had some of the new school board and the superintendent and a few other district people come to our school and talk to us about school closures.

Like probably every other teacher in the district, we're hoping our school doesn't get closed.  Changes are for sure coming with school closures and even if Bonneville doesn't close, Matt is leaving. It makes my stomach hurt.

Mark had plans with his friend and Adam texted me this picture from sunny So Cal where he was at a WGU graduation at Angel Stadium.

I took myself to Trader Joe's and Costco.  I only got three items at Costco.  I was sure we needed more, but that was all I could think of.

Saturday I did a bunch of little things that needed doing.  Mark was doing homework, so I went to Winco by myself.  When he's around, Adam and I go to lunch and to Winco together.  I was at loose ends about lunch.  I didn't know what I wanted.  Part of Adam's role in our marriage is knowing what I want to eat.  I stopped at Maverik for a soda and Wendy's for a burger and missed Adam. (I had texted Adam that I missed him and I didn't know what to eat.  He texted back that he would make a Jersey Mike's order for me, which would have been good, but I'd already gone to Wendy's.)

I spent the rest of the afternoon finishing up little projects and finishing my book (it was a murder mystery Emma gave me and it was too intense for me). I finally finished sorting photos and started to fill them into the small plates (the secondary photo albums--I don't want to talk about it).

I have some photos I downloaded and printed from Family Search.  I wanted to put dates with the names, so I went onto Family Search.

When I saw my mom's account there, as a child of my grandparents, I felt this jolt of sadness.  Of course I know she is gone, but seeing it on Family Search startled me anew.  I miss her.  So many times I want to tell her about something that is happening in my life.  I want to brag to her about my children and grandchildren like you can only brag to your mom.  I want her to tell me I'm a good teacher although that opinion had nothing to do with her ever seeing me as a teacher and only to do with her unequivocal confidence in me.

I want to tell her about the book I just read or the movie I think she would like.  I kept putting photos in albums, channeling my mother's doggedness in doing a project.

I was feeling a great sense of accomplishment until I realized that I hadn't actually taken all the photos out of one of the albums.

I texted the sad tale to Emma.  She wrote back, oh no! I texted this:

I gave up for the day, because I know when I am beat.  Mark hugged me and told me that luckily there is no due date for the project.

Except I hate having a project hanging around.

Sunday morning, I was listening to the upcoming Follow Him podcast as I was getting ready for the day.  They talked about this from Daniel 3.

17 If it be so, our God whom we serve is able to deliver us from the burning fiery furnace, and he will deliver us out of thine hand, O king.

18 But if not, be it known unto thee, O king, that we will not serve thy gods, nor worship the golden image which thou hast set up.

 It made me think about my mom too.  God, whom she served, was able to heal her cancer.  She knew that.  She also had the same attitude of but if not and so does my dad.  Despite an outcome nobody wanted, they are a gleaming example of faith and goodness to me that I won't forget.

Sunday was long.  If Adam has to be gone, I would rather have it be during the week than on the weekends.  A bright spot in the day was that I had my phone call with my siblings and dad.  They anchor me and entertain me (and make me cry).  

Mark came up at the end of the call and said, "Well, it looks like you had a good cry."

I can't help it.  I cry.  I wish I didn't (especially because of my eyes), but this is the mortal experience I signed up for I guess.

The beginning

 We are meeting today in our sibling/dad call.  Olivia is running the show and asked us to share something we're grateful for from the past year and some ideas for my dad's life story because she and he are working on it.

I come from a life story kind of people.

I remember my mom working on helping some of my great grandparents with their stories.  She gave me a printed copy of Grandma and Grandpa Wood's and Great Grandma Jaynes's stories.  She helped create life stories for my Dahl grandparents and Jaynes grandparents.

Olivia helped our mom with her life story in some of her final months.  She really wanted to finish.  

So I have been sitting with all this life story stuff percolating in my brain and I decided to embark on a project.

I decided if it was on my blog, I would stay more accountable to it and Marianne and Olivia could tell me if I am not remembering correctly.

(My dad will also tell me that I have "a creative memory", but I am what I am.)

She who writes, writes history.  So here I go.

I was born March 23, 1973 to Mark and Coralee Dahl.  Both their families were from the Salt Lake area and both their parents had moved to Elko County to ranch.  They grew up together and were high school sweethearts and to my eternal fortune, were married.

My parents in high school.

I was born in Elko, Nevada.  My dad was working as a cowboy at the River Ranch at the time.  He lost his job and my grandpa, Homer Jaynes, died all in the same week. I can't imagine that for my parents.  I was 15 months old.

My dad started working for my uncle Demar, my dad's oldest brother.  He was still a cowboy.  We lived in a little single wide trailer nestled in some trees next to the bunk house on my grandparents' ranch.  It's the first house I remember.

This is a picture of my Grandpa Jaynes holding me:

I love this picture because he is looking at me so intently and it reminds me that I had a grandpa who loved me even though I don't remember him.  My mom had a tape recording of him speaking and also a recording of his funeral.  She listened to both tapes sometimes when she was cleaning.  She would tell us stories about him and she would say, "I wish my dad could be here!" whenever there was something big happening in our lives.  She also told me, "He loved you so much!"

I don't think I really understood until Adam became a grandpa. I saw how giddy he was about the whole thing and it occurred to me that maybe that is what my mom meant.

My dad told me once that he fell in love with my mom because he loved Homer so much.  

I am grateful for my heritage.  My ancestors were faithful and hard working and imperfect and passed on a legacy to me that I think about a lot and want to preserve.

Grateful Friday

 This week I have had playground duty before school.  Basically that means that I hang out with my student this year who is hungry for any attention he can get and a student who I had last year in the same category.  They both hover around me, talking over each other and I look longingly into my classroom where it is quiet and I could be getting things settled for the day.

A rule is no bikes or scooters on the playgrounds before school.

Some children super didn't get the memo. 

My two morning buddies deputized themselves (and they're so socially awkward, I don't think it's a good idea, but try telling them that).  They were zooming around telling kids to walk their bikes and scooters and the kids were ignoring them.

Then I'd call for the kids to stop riding their bikes and scooters.  They'd look put upon, but they'd get off their bikes or scooters.  My two "helpers" came dragging back to me, complaining that the kids wouldn't listen to them, only me.

I said, "Well, I have a loud teacher voice."

My boy said, "OK.  I will chase after them, and then you can use your rude teacher voice to get them to stop."

I said, "Nobody said anything about a rude teacher voice!  I said loud."

He shrugged like they meant the same thing to him.

These kids crack me up all day long and I'm grateful for them.

We are doing a coin drive to raise money to help some of our Bonneville families.  I told my students about it and told them to bring coins if their parents said it was OK.

A boy brought $23.  It was his own money and he said he wanted to help.

I am grateful for the over and over lessons I get to be more childlike.

I am grateful for the beauty of autumn.  I love it so much.

I stopped in my driveway to take a picture before pulling into the garage yesterday.

Those red bushes make my heart sing.

Then I took another picture when Kim and I were walking.  Such a pretty world!

And snow on the mountain is my love language.

I say this every week.  I love being a teacher.  One of my students was struggling with single digit subtraction at the beginning of the year.  It has been a team effort with our WIN time; I have worked with him some and Miriam has worked with him some.  We have used manipulatives and drawn pictures over and over.  Today a switch flipped.  He was working with Miriam and he completed a page with double digit subtraction with regrouping.  He was so proud of himself, he walked across the room to show me.  Three digit subtraction with regrouping is our grade level standard, but he is on his way!  It was exciting and the best part was how proud he was of himself.  When we got back to my classroom, I put a fat sticker on the paper and put it in the pile of papers to be passed out and sent home.  

Turkeys in disguise

 Yesterday we had a craft project.  We disguised turkeys.  I think Alissa and Miriam are both sending it home as a homework assignment, but I try to avoid anything that accentuates the gulf between the haves and the have nots, whether it is resources, parental involvement, or parental bandwidth.

So we did the turkeys at school.

During lunch, I lined the kiva with all the stuff I had purchased at Hobby Lobby.

Spirits were incredibly high!  First, we walked along and looked at all the supplies.  I told them they were window shopping.  No touching!  Then I picked sticks and let them take turns picking out supplies to use.  It all worked out that everyone got what they wanted.  It was a wild time and a terrific mess.  But I loved their creativity!

The mermaid delighted me!

Five minutes before recess, I told them that the room needed to be cleaned up before they could go.  About three girls were highly motivated because they wanted swings.  They led the cleanup charge with big sister energy.

Two students were still finishing their turkeys and students clamored around to help like it was The Great British Baking Show.

This is how the kiva looked when they left.

They had consolidated and made piles and the floor was spotless.

This class!

They are angels.

Big day

 

Yesterday was day 50 of our 50th year.  We convened on the field north of the school and Nicole was up on the roof and snapped this picture.

That sentence was way easier to type than it was to execute.

Matt had it mapped out and 3rd graders were placed first.  The 4th-6th graders were still in the school and we were supposed to stay in formation?!?

I started leading the 3rd graders in primary songs--the action songs.  Sometimes Utah County for the win.  They knew the songs.  We sang different versions of Do as I'm Doing over and over and over.  Having never been to primary, Alissa was flummoxed.  How does everyone know this song? 

After taking many years off of Matt's life, we finally got everybody in place and took the picture.

Since that wasn't enough for afternoon excitement, we also had the food bank come.  They come once a month and classes are disrupted and kids go down and drag back heavy bags of food and it is a wild ride.

Besides that, every class got a ziplock bag of 50th day of the 50th year bracelets.  They were ribbons with a bead to tighten the bracelet.  

The beads had claws that made it kind of like a zip tie.  I cautioned my students not to tighten them too much.  I said, "You won't be able to loosen them. The only way to get them off is to cut them, so don't pull them too tight."

About 6 students immediately pulled them as tight as they could.  They panicked and yelped, "It's too tight!" Their hands were turning red and their arms were swelling above the bracelet.

Friends, why do I try?

I got my scissors out and started cutting tourniquet bracelets off little wrists.

One boy had not tightened his too much, but had me cut his off.  He said, "I don't have scissors at home."

Some kids decided not to put them on, but to swing them around.  One girl removed her bead and was doggedly trying to thread it back in, while I was doggedly trying to teach reading.

I was regretting all my life choices.  The most recent one being handing out those bracelets.

I was not sad when the bell rang.

For the love of the game

 Yesterday was a PD day at school and I came home with markedly more energy.  Sometimes I am reminded that teaching really takes it out of you!

I also wore my Esprit sweatshirt that Whitney so KINDLY sent me from Atlanta.  

I sent my sisters this text:

Olivia requested a picture and I would do anything for my sisters.  Here is me, happy in the knowledge that I think I'm way cooler than I actually am:

At the meeting in the library I was sitting across the table from sweet Oaklee, who is young and fresh-faced and I am old enough to be her mother.  She asked, "What does your shirt say?"

I said, "Esprit."

She had a confused look on her face.

I told her she was very young. Then I told her about it, but there's no way to adequately describe the joy this sweatshirt gives me.  To her credit, she had a supportive look on her face anyway.

Jamie, who is my same age, got it.  Later in the day, she gave me a sideways look and said, "And are you wearing your Swatch?"

Yes indeed.  It's nice to have a fellow Gen Xer in the building!

I went to Hobby Lobby during the Seahawks game last night.  At the check stand, the woman working said, "I like your sweatshirt!  I have the blue one.  I wanted that one, but I couldn't find it."

I told her my sister-in-law sent it from Atlanta.  

She squinted her eyes at me a bit and asked, "Are you old enough to know about Esprit?"

Slightly offended, I said, "Yes. I know."

Then she told me about the Esprit bag she bought back in the day.  I usually don't love chatting with cashiers, but I think we were friends by the end.

I also am as pleased as I can be with my house project:

When Emma was here on Sunday, I told her to go look in the living room.  All she noticed was that I'd moved the clock.  

Esprit, new curtains.  It's OK if not everyone gets it.