So it has come and gone, nearly the first quarter of the school year. I hate to think of all the memories created that I have already forgotten of this, my 11th year as a public school teacher. Rumors have it that Utah is the worst state in the union for public schools; teachers are poorly trained and lack personal care, the system is underfunded, and teachers are underpaid. On the last two out of three areas I can agree with the rumors (they ARE NOT rumors!), but to the poorly trained and lack of care, I can strongly disagree, at least in my neck of the woods.
This past week was spent with celebrations of Homecoming at Pine View High School. Those alumni who, in years past, opened and closed the doors of our school on a near daily basis for 3 years converged back to their roots. Many of those alumni I have been pleasured to have made acquaintance as I have been teaching at PVHS for nearly half of it's operating history. Statistically I don't know the number of names and faces that I have met there, but to say that I remember them all would be a half truth.
But there are SO many I do remember. Just today at the "drink store" (as E has always referenced the gas station/convenience store where Jud and I get our "fixes") I was greeted by Brooke, a current student; and Justin, a former student of approximately 5 years ago. We also had an incredible visit with Whitney and Nick, sister and brother who were both former students and very close family friends, at our home this weekend.
What other profession brings the long time pleasure of acquaintance, friendship, and love?
Education. It's the word that just always catches me off guard and makes me want to spill my guts. It's tough being a teacher these days, what with the national and state opinions of my profession, who can feel for and support us? After all, don't we just go into teaching just for summers off?
Hardly.
We go into teaching for the moments we can share with our fellow beings, a profession in which we can learn the value of listening, of hard work,and a profession where we can see that our being "there" made a difference.
A time for harvest is a time for thankfulness, not only of the great bounties of Mother Earth, but of the great bounties of association and livelihood. And this year, still 11 years "new" to teaching, I am thankful for my harvest. May it continue to grow and prosper many years long.
Sunday, September 28, 2008
Monday, August 4, 2008
The end is always the beginning.
My summer ended today. I officially attended my first set of meetings at Pine View High, thus starting the clock of a new school year. I don't really have a feeling as to what this year may bring, but it will be, I'm sure, one of adventure. After all, Ethan starts 3rd grade, Max starts Pre-K, and I still hate mornings.
I really like my chosen profession. The daily interaction with my "kiddos" brings much joy, entertainment, frustration, and exhaustion. These emotions are all great signs of pleasure associated with what one is doing, but I still think about the longevity of it all. I know I still have another path out there, and when it's time to move onto that road, I'll know. Until then, the pleasure that my kiddos bring to me is enough.
Tuesday will be more meetings, Wednesday the same. Thursday, Friday, and Monday are my days for the real preparation of their arrival. I always look forward to those three days as the real sensation of working for their good settles in. The busy work of planning and scheduling arrives, and doesn't usually ease up until mid-April, which is when the kiddos "check out" and so do I.
"School days, school days. Dear, ole' Golden Rule days....reading and writing and 'rithmatic, talk to the tune of a hickory stick........." The voice of my Dad singing this song used to thoroughly piss me off. Now, whenever this time of year rolls around, I find myself singing it right along with him. I would never say that for many of my kiddos, school days are the dear ole' golden rule days, but I would say that for me, they are.....that is, if we could only start at 9:00 a.m.
I really like my chosen profession. The daily interaction with my "kiddos" brings much joy, entertainment, frustration, and exhaustion. These emotions are all great signs of pleasure associated with what one is doing, but I still think about the longevity of it all. I know I still have another path out there, and when it's time to move onto that road, I'll know. Until then, the pleasure that my kiddos bring to me is enough.
Tuesday will be more meetings, Wednesday the same. Thursday, Friday, and Monday are my days for the real preparation of their arrival. I always look forward to those three days as the real sensation of working for their good settles in. The busy work of planning and scheduling arrives, and doesn't usually ease up until mid-April, which is when the kiddos "check out" and so do I.
"School days, school days. Dear, ole' Golden Rule days....reading and writing and 'rithmatic, talk to the tune of a hickory stick........." The voice of my Dad singing this song used to thoroughly piss me off. Now, whenever this time of year rolls around, I find myself singing it right along with him. I would never say that for many of my kiddos, school days are the dear ole' golden rule days, but I would say that for me, they are.....that is, if we could only start at 9:00 a.m.
Saturday, June 28, 2008
My new "companion"
I am still on my journey.....now I have a daemon. His name is Erasmus. Please meet him.
Sunday, June 8, 2008
Catching up to....
Sometimes I actually listen to my Self. And oh, am I glad this time I did.
August past I cleaned out some storage buckets in the green room. There, among the holiday village pieces was a box full of my early self. Letters, notes, cards, gifts, joys, and pains were all hidden among the blue #7 plastic of My Box.
I went through it all, piece by piece, memory by memory, surprisingly enjoying every heart-felt minute of it. The Box contained stories I had completely forgotten, and smiles I had so fortunately tucked away.
Many of those smiles came from a friend, my best friend. Chrysti (her spelling during our youth) and I were "together" for 4 1/2 years, almost exclusively. Then, as time does, we started to go our separate ways.
The last time I saw her was at her wedding when we were almost 20. She was marrying Bob Burns. How I remember his name, I'll never know, especially considering the steel trap my gray matter tends to be.
As I read through the hundreds of notes, cards, letters, and relived the memories that surfaced, I heard my Self encourage me to look her up. But, as life has it, the time past, life sped up, and seasons moved.
Several weeks ago, despite my mounding pile of papers to grade, assessments to give, and boys to attend to, I sat down and did "the" painless Goggle Search. If it had required much more than that, I would have never listened to my Self.
But there on the page was her name. My very first search, my very first hit.
I sent a quick, non-descript hello, to which I received a quick, non-descript, "Write me back."
I did. And wow.
Suddenly I find myself on a journey through time. The past 18 years have been eventful and for me, where to start was tough. I managed it, and stillthe sharing continues.
Christy (name now again traditional) too has had 18 years of experiences, and together we write, remember, and are working on catching up to the Now.
I like it when others listen to me. And for now, I'm thankful I listened to me, too.
August past I cleaned out some storage buckets in the green room. There, among the holiday village pieces was a box full of my early self. Letters, notes, cards, gifts, joys, and pains were all hidden among the blue #7 plastic of My Box.
I went through it all, piece by piece, memory by memory, surprisingly enjoying every heart-felt minute of it. The Box contained stories I had completely forgotten, and smiles I had so fortunately tucked away.
Many of those smiles came from a friend, my best friend. Chrysti (her spelling during our youth) and I were "together" for 4 1/2 years, almost exclusively. Then, as time does, we started to go our separate ways.
The last time I saw her was at her wedding when we were almost 20. She was marrying Bob Burns. How I remember his name, I'll never know, especially considering the steel trap my gray matter tends to be.
As I read through the hundreds of notes, cards, letters, and relived the memories that surfaced, I heard my Self encourage me to look her up. But, as life has it, the time past, life sped up, and seasons moved.
Several weeks ago, despite my mounding pile of papers to grade, assessments to give, and boys to attend to, I sat down and did "the" painless Goggle Search. If it had required much more than that, I would have never listened to my Self.
But there on the page was her name. My very first search, my very first hit.
I sent a quick, non-descript hello, to which I received a quick, non-descript, "Write me back."
I did. And wow.
Suddenly I find myself on a journey through time. The past 18 years have been eventful and for me, where to start was tough. I managed it, and stillthe sharing continues.
Christy (name now again traditional) too has had 18 years of experiences, and together we write, remember, and are working on catching up to the Now.
I like it when others listen to me. And for now, I'm thankful I listened to me, too.
Sunday, May 25, 2008
wHere dOes tHe tIme gO?
It is now seven years later and I'm still just as amazed, confused, scared, and overwhelmed as I was the day this little dude was born.
Today is E's birthday. He is 7 --going on 17.
He came into this world early, and arrived just as we asked; as an independent thinking child, one who didn't just sit in the corner and do everything we (or anyone else) asked.
And after that, and from the VERY beginning, he began to speak his mind.
We always called him our "reincarnated little ole' grumpy man who was just pissed off to be back."
We've since learned that he is an old soul and he HAS been here before, and he is wise beyond his years. And, seven years later, he is still just what we asked for...a non-sitting, independent thinking, outspoken child. We love it. We love him.
It yet it is all still so hard.
Like I said.....I'm still amazed, confused, scared, and overwhelmed as the mother of this little dude, as much as I ever was seven years ago today.
Today is E's birthday. He is 7 --going on 17.
He came into this world early, and arrived just as we asked; as an independent thinking child, one who didn't just sit in the corner and do everything we (or anyone else) asked.
And after that, and from the VERY beginning, he began to speak his mind.
We always called him our "reincarnated little ole' grumpy man who was just pissed off to be back."
We've since learned that he is an old soul and he HAS been here before, and he is wise beyond his years. And, seven years later, he is still just what we asked for...a non-sitting, independent thinking, outspoken child. We love it. We love him.
It yet it is all still so hard.
Like I said.....I'm still amazed, confused, scared, and overwhelmed as the mother of this little dude, as much as I ever was seven years ago today.
Monday, May 5, 2008
...and so he walks
As the days roll by, so do I. I work, I sleep, I eat. And then there is a moment in time, in space, that takes my breath away.
It was the story that we never wanted to share. We didn't expect it; he came from no where. He is Jonah.
The early days were so excruciatingly painful. That call came. I cried in pain at the restaurant. The moment still clear in my mind, no air for my lungs. He was to die.
And then a moment that took my breath away. He lives.
The milestones, the pain, the heartache. And then there is a moment in time, in space, that takes my breath away.
He is Jonah.
I took a walk with Jonah this Sunday past. We went along the sidewalk beyond the house. We had no intent, just that of seeing the world. "The rock, Jill." "The dirt, Jill." "Do you want to turn around, Jonah?" "No, Jill."
...and so he walks.
It was the story that we never wanted to share. We didn't expect it; he came from no where. He is Jonah.
The early days were so excruciatingly painful. That call came. I cried in pain at the restaurant. The moment still clear in my mind, no air for my lungs. He was to die.
And then a moment that took my breath away. He lives.
The milestones, the pain, the heartache. And then there is a moment in time, in space, that takes my breath away.
He is Jonah.
I took a walk with Jonah this Sunday past. We went along the sidewalk beyond the house. We had no intent, just that of seeing the world. "The rock, Jill." "The dirt, Jill." "Do you want to turn around, Jonah?" "No, Jill."
...and so he walks.
Friday, February 15, 2008
And the winner is.....
....Ego!
My continued journey through spiritual awakening has now included the book The New Earth by Eckhart Tolle. Despite the fact that Oprah's Book Clue is purely fluff (I don't really buy into this), her recent choice caught my attention.
I ordered the book, am reading the book, and the message resonates through my head.
My head. Is that my self resonating through the ego?
So many of the connections have, for me, been about "knowing more," "applying more," "sharing more," etc. The elimination of "need" for all of those things moves one further through spiritual awakening.
My meek (laugh) and humble (gawfaw) self has much work to do.
My continued journey through spiritual awakening has now included the book The New Earth by Eckhart Tolle. Despite the fact that Oprah's Book Clue is purely fluff (I don't really buy into this), her recent choice caught my attention.
I ordered the book, am reading the book, and the message resonates through my head.
My head. Is that my self resonating through the ego?
So many of the connections have, for me, been about "knowing more," "applying more," "sharing more," etc. The elimination of "need" for all of those things moves one further through spiritual awakening.
My meek (laugh) and humble (gawfaw) self has much work to do.
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