Teaching Tip: Wait and See

Last September, I met a prekindergarten child in the cafeteria at dismissal time.
She was out of control.
She hit a teacher, called one a mother $)(&@”#%*, and was just generally out of control.
Yes, a prekindergarten student. Age 4.
Today, this same child came up to me at dismissal and smothered my face with kisses.
A colleague and I looked at each other and shook our heads.
Is this child rehabilitated? No.
She is in the office almost every day.
But she’s better than she was.
Miracles take time.
These children need love.
Don’t forget it.

Reminder

It is the easiest thing in the world to obey God when he commands us to do what we like, and to trust him when the path is all sunshine. The real victory of faith is to trust him in the dark, and through the dark.

–T. L. Cuyler

Amen. And we will.

Sunday’s Song: Adjustments

We really don’t know what we are doing yet along this road of cancer. It’s a blind walk. We hit some walls. Hard.
I know, though, we are not the first to walk it.
My dad had an inoperable brain tumor.
My mom–multiple myeloma.
Tonight we attended yet another rosary for yet another pancreatic cancer victim.
His six year old grandson, (another cousin), sat in the front pew, a victim of brain cancer.
The treatment is as bad as the disease his mom whispers to me.
She motions toward a wheelchair waiting in the corner.
He is six. Six.
My husband is forty-six.
I repeat that a lot too. Like saying it will make it go away, because it can’t possibly be true.
These are days of waiting, days of prayer.
Days of picturing a positive outcome.
Days of knowing our lives changed in an instant, yet still fighting to preserve what we called normal.
I’m taking notes, dear readers.
My friend Dee Ann met me today. She’s the friend who already knows where we will meet. All we need is a time. We never even say a place. We all need a friend like that, believe me.
I poured out a lot of words. She said I needed to write them down.
I know I do. I know these days are like thickened air, but there are moments of clarity too.
I know things now.
I thought I knew what something like this would feel like. I was wrong.
I’m learning what matters for me: prayer, family, being home, connections with my friends.
I’m learning what means nothing: pettiness, nosiness, immaturity.
The strangest things matter: good pillows, comfortable shoes, coffee in pottery cups. Flowers. Real ones.
It’s a time of nurturing. Each other and ourselves.
It’s a time where explanations are not needed, where people need to practice giving the benefit of the doubt.
It’s the text, the message, the call that says You matter to me. Keep going.

Saturday’s Snapshot: Life

Grass is growing…as are wildflowers as well as store-bought ones… and a hummingbird rests on an oak tree branch. Good.

Friday’s Five

This week has been hard, folks.
But, was there joy? Laughter? Goodness? Prayer? Love? Yes. And in the hardest times, I’m so glad I know to seek these.

Weekly Photo Challenge: Up

A candle in a church lit for good intentions…heaven is as “up” as I know…
My mom taught me about prayer and petitions and the light that believing brings.

Color Splurge

Bought three sets of flowers today: coral geraniums, red kalanchoe, and a black urn of yellow, red, and purple something…not sure what, but they are blooming, beautiful, and trailing.
A burst of color for the front porch, the backporch ( and nearby hummingbirds), and the kitchen entry.
I decided color is needed here.
I tend to dress and paint dark, but this is not the time. This is the time for clean colors, vibrancy, hopefulness.
No muted tones.
So, I filled my cart and then the backseat of an already stuffed car, and headed home.
Procrastination did not win today. Each flower has found its new home. We will come and go throughout the days and our eyes will rest here. It’s good.
Living things to care for. That’s good too.
I’ve always known it. Now I know why.

Teaching Tip: Testing Reminders

How many tests have I administered through the years?
I dare not count.
Years give one perspective, they say. It’s true.
Today fourth graders took the state math assessment. Tomorrow, reading.
What has changed?
Well, I’ve seen TAAS, TAKS, and STAAR. Those before me saw TABS and TEAMS.
The test is not the only thing that’s changed.
I no longer count down to testing day with my students. I don’t go over and over strategies and tips.
I just encourage and tell the kids they are plenty smart. To stop stressing. My goodness. There’s plenty of time for that.
I see no value in the way we test these children. We don’t even have good guidelines for this assessment, not even clear passing standards, yet teachers and administrators are posting all over Facebook how important this day is. Asking for prayers. Really.
Eye roll. A giant one.
These tests are not that important for the students or the teachers. It’s a big moneymaking system. It’s politics at play.
There was a day when I stressed over district scores. Silliness.
A child met me in the hall this morning with a stomachache. I’m worried I won’t pass. This is an average kid, a kid who will grow up to follow any career path that she likes. She shouldn’t be second guessing herself.
I told her You got this, Chicky. Do your best and don’t worry one second about it.
In the afternoon, my students and I took an hour and just read books and wrote. Whatever we liked. There was a sound of concentration that I recognized as real learning. It’s what matters.
Our encouragement. Our support. Our reminding that one test on one day isn’t worth the price some insist we charge.

Clarity

These are the days…we all have them sooner or later…days when every little thing is magnified. You know it as it happens. You remember it when day is done:

the plastic knife cutting into a hotel biscuit

azaleas and callas blooming profusely along a hospital path

the paper clip on an elevator floor

parking garage tickets/an unwanted validation

a circle of hands clasped in prayer

the nod, the glance, the message that says Keep going

realization that some live,
never knowing

but you see it all.

Sunday’s Song: Prayer Request

No tears in the writer, no tears in the reader.
I can’t recall who said it, but I know it’s true.
And while I don’t want you crying, dear reader, I must write honestly. And lately, that is hard because this is an intensely private time.
My family is facing an illness crisis. My husband is seriously ill and we meet with an oncologist surgeon tomorrow to learn the plan.
You might wonder how I can write now.
I wonder, too. But then I get mad and think Cancer will not be the thing that stops my writing. Not today.
My husband is a private guy; never asks anything of anyone.
But he knows he is on every prayer list I can find, and he is glad.
So, if you pray, please pray for Sam.
We are going to go on about our lives and I hope to write about gratitude and teaching and post my pictures of good things.
But this is our life today.
So if you can, lift him up.
We will feel every prayer.
And while I might not post my intended daily entries through July, I might.
I’m learning once again we really don’t know what we will do until we are doing it.