Grateful Friday

Today after school I'm taking down my February calendar and all the hearts and hanging up March and a few shamrocks.

The past few mornings the sky has been glorious in the morning.  It's getting lighter every day.  Last night the sunset reflected on the snowy mountains was beautiful.  Every surface was either glowing or shadowed  dramatically.

I like changing seasons.

There are other parts of life where change is...less welcome.  It's keeps me up at night and puts a pit in my stomach.  

I'm grateful for the lessons about change the seasons teach.  

Seasons change whether we like it or not.  I need to be accepting of change.

Seasons change in their own time.  We can do nothing to hurry them or slow them down.  I need to release my grip on timetables.

Some parts of seasons are prettier than others.  They all are part of the process.

And who knows?  With every change, maybe there will be gorgeous skies (and a few shamrocks).

The ups and downs

The other day I was in the office at school and a 6th grader came in and asked for a bandaid.  He said, almost apologetically, "I got hurt at recess and it won't stop bleeding."

I was amazed, mostly that his teacher didn't have bandaids in the classroom because I use bandaids daily.  I think third graders have a much lower threshold for what needs a bandaid and I must also.  I will slap a bandaid on anything because I want to get on with it.

A lot of my day consists of hearing complaints.  They come in from recess and tell me about the wrongs that were dealt them.  I say, "Did you tell the recess teacher?"

They say, "Yes."

So then I realize they aren't looking for justice, they are looking for sympathy and my outrage to match theirs.  I try.  "That's terrible," I say.  "I'm sorry that happened."

That seems to satisfy them.

Sometimes the aches and pains are general and vague.  My cure all is to go sit down and rest.  "Sit at your desk and rest.  Don't even get up to sharpen your pencil.  I will do that for you.  You need to rest."

They go to their seats and after awhile, come and find me again.  (No one has ever taken me up on the offer to rest and I'll sharpen the pencil.  I think they forget.)  "My leg/head/side/arm still hurts," they say.

"But you aren't resting!" I say.

So they go sit down again.

Soon enough they've forgotten any ailment and we can get on with it.

Because there is so much to get on with.

I was sitting with some of my below level readers and having them write word chains.  dim dime dine din fin fine.

One boy was writing along, puzzling over every b and d choice.  When he got to fin, he wrote phin.

"Not ph," I said.  "It's an f."

So he erased the h and left the p.

I go home exhausted every day.

There are such rewards though.  I love those guys.  I love when they burst in the room in the morning, excited to tell me something they only marginally remember.  "We are going to visit my cousins during spring break!"

"Wow!  That sounds fun.  Where do they live?"

"I don't know."

But I love that they want to share their good news with me.

I love that they draw me pictures and paint pictures for me in art.  They write things like I'm the best teacher in the world and I am really not but it's their way of saying they like me too.

I love the way one student finds me in the chaos of when the final bell rings and everyone is shouting bye! and I'm saying, "Don't forget your backpack!" and "Whose coat is this?"  

He finds me and takes a little bow and says, "See you tomorrow, Teacher."

And I'll be there because I know how lucky I am.

Brown eyes

 I have a student who is a constant delight to me.  She is tiny and spunky and creative and since she has older siblings, knows the words to Phantom of the Opera and Hamilton and belts them out at times.  A while ago, they wrote imaginative narratives. Some of the students wrote sort of non stories about the video game Among Us and some of the girls wrote stories about unicorns and rainbows.  

This girl wrote a multi-page story about how the school was evil.  She wrote about how the teachers gave so much work because they wanted to make the students heads explode.  The teachers also turned some of the students to their dark side by making their eyes brown.  When I was reading it and the student was standing expectantly waiting for my reaction, I said, "Hey, I have brown eyes."

"I know," she said.

In the story, the kids eventually were able to triumph over the evil school and the teachers became nice again.

A few weeks later I was giving them a math test.  This student said, "You really ARE trying to make our heads explode."

I bent over and looked at her sparkly blue eyes and asked, "What color are my eyes?"

She shook her head and giggled and did her math test.

I told my family about it because I usually have stories to regale them with about these kids I spend my days with.

The other night at dinner, Mark was telling me about some confusing sciencey thing like he does.  (He will explain things to me like how some groups of infinite numbers are bigger than others....).  I said, "You're making my head hurt."

He smiled at me from across the table and asked, "What color are my eyes?"

My Jacob Marley

 I love when Emma is magically here when I get home.  That happened yesterday.  She comes sometimes when she needs to focus and her apartment isn't cutting it.  I told her that all day I'd been thinking off and on (because I was teaching and that has a way of taking up my attention) about our new neighbors.  They are going to build a house in the lot next to our house that has been empty since we moved here.  We've known it was going to happen eventually but now that it is, I feel sad.  I like looking out the window and seeing sagebrush.  There's only one small window that it will impact, but still.  I keep returning to it like a toothache my tongue keeps finding.  

I said, "Speak comfort to me Jacob!" to Emma.  She started telling me how it wasn't that big of deal, how it wouldn't impact us that much.  I said, "Come outside."

I showed her the orange marks that I assume are the perimeter of the house.  She said, "Oh, never mind.  That's awful."

"Emma!" I said.  "You're supposed to be making it OK."

She said, "I'm trying."

Then she led me to the other side of the house and showed me our neighbors on the other side and how because of the differing levels and angles, our houses felt further apart than they actually were.

So then I told her she was doing a good job.  I felt better.

Everyone needs an Emma.

Grateful Friday

Things making me grateful:

I'm getting my second COVID vaccine tomorrow.

Taking Joan for a spin in the car wash.

Snow on the mountain.

The custodian at school who salts and plows the sidewalks and pavement, sits next to kids during lunchtime when they are struggling, and is willing to have students who need a reward hang out with him for a few minutes.  He puts them to work and they think they won the lottery.   

How much Braeden and Emma and Mark (and Anna) love each other.

Mark helping me study for Battle of the Books.  Every time I would say out loud...OK, how am I going to remember that?  He would respond, "Memorize it."

Thanks Mark.

I appreciate his help though.  The teacher team is going against the championship 3-4 grade team.  Three of my kids are on that team.  I love them, but it's go time!  Jamie bought us team costumes.  We aren't messing around.

I'm grateful, again and always for a weekend with Adam.

Birthday

Yesterday the National Weather Service had issued a winter storm warning.

Utah Department of Transportation asked people to delay travel until 10:00 AM.

Alpine School District said challenge accepted.  I don't know who decides we will or will not have a snow day but I think they probably have nerves of steel.

I was very grateful for Joan as I slip slid my way to school.  State Street, the major thoroughfare was covered with snow and following the tracks of the person in front of you was the only way you could pretend you were in your lane.

There were 11.7 inches of snow at the Salt Lake Airport (a single day in February record).

I texted my family about the craziness and Emma texted:

I told her to send pictures.

The last picture she said she was experimenting with her self timer.  Also it took her 1 1/2 hours to get home because the blizzard started.

When Emma said she wanted to go see the sunrise on her birthday, I told Adam she was crazy.  He said, "No, she's not.  She's complicated."

Truer words were never spoken about my girl.

Also I'm glad she has a Subaru because she has wanderlust.

I asked her Sunday what her plans were on her birthday.  She said she didn't have any.  I asked her if she wanted to have dinner with us.  She said, "Yes!  I am done with class at 8:00."

I said, "Um."

That's pretty late for me for dinner.

We decided instead that we would have high tea in the interim between me being done with school and her class that started at 5:00.  I picked her up and we went to Starbucks for hot chocolate.  (I burned my tongue.)

It was marvelous to sit and chat with Emma.  She asked me a question and said, "But I want to know how you feel about it."

(It's nice to have a daughter!)

When Braeden found out Sunday about her lack of plans, he quickly planned a surprise party for her.  He asked me for contact info for her friends.  I sort of came up empty.  I knew names but not phone numbers.  It was determined that the party would be at 9:00 pm.  Mark was invited and he's been late for school all week but whatever, they aren't counting attendance this year.  (If they were, that kid would be at attendance school for days!)

While we were sipping our hot chocolate, Emma told me that her friend Katie had invited her over at 9:00 and Katie was baking her a cake and they were going to have a little party.  She said, "Braeden is coming over at 9:00 to give me a gift but I'm leaving right after that to go to Katie's."

I called Braeden on my way home.  

He ended up telling Emma about his surprise and the result was two parties which I haven't heard about yet because Mark is still asleep.  

What matters is that my girl felt loved.

Because she is.

I'm glad she's ours.  She's funny and stubborn and creative and kind and loyal and fierce and tender.  She's complicated and I'm glad.

Prayers

 One of my student's mother emailed me yesterday and asked me to pray for them because they had their green card interview.  I said absolutely.  And I did pray for them.  My opinion is throw opportunity around like confetti.

Another student asked me how soon until March.  I said, "A few days."

He said, "What day is March 1st?"

I showed him on the calendar.  He said, "OK.  Because that's when my milk expires."

If you're wondering how much children share about their home lives, the answer is quite a bit.  And I told him he'd better get drinking.

I have a student who has a sentence written on a card that the special ed. teacher wrote for him.  He doesn't know much English, but he reads, "Mrs. Davis, will you help me please?"

I'd pretty much drop everything for him when he haltingly reads that sentence for me.

Over tacos ($1 street tacos at Don Joaquins on Tuesday night.  Please and thank you) Adam solved an annoying problem that had me stumped.  I also congratulated him on being the genius mastermind of getting Mark to talk.  Mark is not what you'd call an oversharer.

I'm sorry for everyone who doesn't have Adam as a husband.  

Today is Emma's birthday.  22 years old.  

22 years ago on February 16, I went to bed miserable and impatient.  You've never met a more impatient pregnant woman than I was with all three.  I prayed before bed and pleaded for relief.  I crawled into bed and my water broke.

I hope my prayers on behalf of green cards are heard as clearly and answered as swiftly.