Home Ec

At fourteen I cut the pieces carefully
According to the directions
And stitched that hideous
Kettle cloth jumper
That I would not wear
It did not fit
Nothing much fit
When I was fourteen

Written for Day 11 of Writer's Digest November PAD

Off My Usual Topic

This was written for a "job" on Amazon Mechanical Turk.....

Mrs. Candle’s, was a much respected member of the local church whose life was snuffed out yesterday after a strong wind made its way into the sanctuary. Known for her elegance, she has graced the weddings of generations of lovers as she played a crucial part in the ceremony that united husband and wife. A pillar of the community, Mrs. Candle glowed as she worked, never tiring of shedding light in the darkness. A beacon of hope in the midst of trials, a shining light for all to see, her luminosity preceded her everywhere she went. Preceded in death by her first husband, Mr. Lighter, she leaves behind four votives and seven tealights. The candlelight service will be held at Radiance Gardens, after which Mrs. Candle’s remains will be melted and recycled according to her last wishes.

What's Next?

This will be a bittersweet posting for me and a complete change is in store for this blog. After eighteen years (five homeschooling and thirteen in the classroom) I will not be going “back to school”.

As a kid I loved school, especially the beginning of the year. There was the trip downtown to Sears to get a few new clothes, the excitement of meeting a new teacher and seeing friends again, the school smell that seems to be universal. When it was time for my kids to go, I loved picking out lunchboxes, buying them a few new clothes at the mall, and taking the first-day-of-school pictures in front of the house. And there was still that smell when I entered their classrooms.

When we homeschooled I enjoyed buying curriculum as well as making my own. I loved the planning and the teaching and the days when we read Little House on the Prairie. I was thrilled when I taught my youngest to read at five and saw her begin to devour books, just like her siblings.

In 1996, I took my first paid job teaching in a Christian school and then began the final leg of my education in January of 1997. Finally, in 1998, at age 39, I graduated with a BS in Elementary Education. I have been teaching in many diverse areas ever since, both in Polk County and St. Johns County, Florida. I’ve been in schools where over 50% of the students were Hispanic and whose parents could not speak English; and I’ve been in schools where some of the kids lived in million dollar homes with maids and nannies. I’ve taught gifted children as well as learning disabled, physically disabled and autistic. I’ve been praised by parents and put-down by principals, hugged by little ones and disrespected by middle schoolers. Over the years I’ve received many gifts, from hefty gift cards to a large pink rock. But the best gifts were the ones no one could see. Like the parent who told me her child had never like writing and now she had a notebook with her everywhere she went. Or the note thanking me for teaching poetry from the kid who then gave me a copy of an excellent poem he had written. Or seeing my students win awards for speeches so full of their own thoughts and ideas, delivered with excellent rhetoric.

Where do I go from here? I do not know. It is a bit of a grieving process. Earlier this summer I read these words from Psalm 6 and could definitely relate: vs.6 – I am weary with my groaning; all night I make my bed swim; I water my couch with my tears. vs.9 – The LORD has heard my supplication; the LORD will receive my prayer.

Then I came upon chapter sixteen, vs. 11 – You will show me the path of life: in Your presence is fullness of joy; at Your right hand there are pleasures for evermore. I don’t know what the future holds, but I know Who holds the future. It may be a trial or an adventure, or I may even return to teaching one day. But for now I will try to make the best use of my time and wait for what lies ahead.

Walter Jones Historical Park

Walter Jones Historical Park

Posted using ShareThis

For Peek's Sake

What would you do for a peek? We’ve become a nation of peekers. We want to know what everyone else is doing. Photographers who peek get their photos on the cover of The Enquirer. “Peeping Toms” who peek and get caught are arrested. Students who peek and get caught get an F.

But, I’m peeker, too. I’m a Facebook peeker and it’s addictive. I don’t watch reality shows on TV, but Facebook is like the Ultimate Reality Show. These are people I know, or friends of a friend, or maybe I don’t know them at all. It’s like middle school all over again – who has the most friends or who has the most posts on their wall. For those of us who don’t have a huge friends list there are always photo albums. We just know everyone’s dying to see Uncle John blowing out candles at his 79th birthday party. Or Junior crying because he’s tired and doesn’t want his picture taken AGAIN! And what is with everybody sticking our their tongues? It’s just not funny anymore. Yet, I keep taking a “peek” thinking I’ll miss something important. Meanwhile, my dishes are dirty and I haven’t made those phone calls yet and where did the time go? It’s 5:30 and I have nothing to cook for supper!!

He Was in a Big Tree House with Him and His Self

There is no escaping ourselves. Wherever we go, there we are with us. Though the grass seems greener on the other side, when we go to lie down in the meadow we find those same red ants biting at our legs. To use a popular expression, we take our “baggage” with us most of the time. Be it problems, personality, habits, or the extra twenty pounds.

When we lived in Lake Wales, Florida we rented a house with a tree house about 10-12 feet off the ground. The way to get in was by climbing a rope, so that kept me out. Our three older children loved it! I imagine it was great fun to have a place to go to be alone, or play with each other – a place where the grown ups didn’t go. A place to pretend or read or spy on those people below. A place to escape the world for a while, but never to escape from self.

So, here I am now in this “big tree house” with myself. I am alone often, so I can read or daydream or spy on the neighbors. But, what can I do here to glorify God?

I thought moving would make a huge difference for me four years ago. And it did make some differences for the better. We were able to purchase a nice home, live closer to our parents and reconnect with family. We were here when our family needed us and I am thankful for that. I see, a little but not enough, that God’s ways are not our ways. I think of the story of Joseph and his brothers. They wanted to harm him when they threw him in the pit, and he did suffer for many, many years. But, God meant it for good. This was the way Joseph was placed in the right place at the right time and saved Egypt during the seven years of famine.

Oh, I wish I were like Joseph. I wish I could endure being in the pit without feeling sorry for myself. I don’t really know how Joseph felt – maybe he DID feel self-pity. But, I know he endured it to God’s glory. He stayed an honest and upright man and became the second in command under Pharaoh. This is my prayer – to be an honest and upright woman and to be used of God.

“You want to Know Where Baloo is? He is in New Hamsterdam”

With the abundance of technology available to kids with the internet and television, it’s amazing that so many students still have no grasp of geography. I must admit it’s not my best subject, but it amazes me when a child in upper elementary school doesn't know that Kentucky is a state or Australia is a country. Recently, I had a sixth grader answer on a test that England was in West America!

As a teacher I wonder how to get this knowledge to them so they can see the big picture. I think they need to know where in the world they are to help them decide later on where they want to go and what they want to do. When I was growing up I never thought much about countries, except for the fact they were “foreign” and, I supposed, all backwards compared to the United States. I assumed most countries, except perhaps England, were still fairly primitive. I never knew about the big world out there. Now that I do, I want to see more of it. I want to visit the places I read about in history books. I want to see the wonders God created. I want to see Holland; not Amsterdam, or “New Hamsterdam”, but Delft.