As I was walking around second hour today, I noticed a student had written, in all caps, “STUDY AP SETS” on the homework assignment they had just received.
They have an AP Set Quiz tomorrow.
I know most of these students don’t share my absurd passion for rates of change and my undeniable love of calculus.
And yet they throw themselves into this like it’s everything.
I’m tearing up writing these words…
Maybe that’s because I keep seeing posts about how millennials–the generation I teach–are lazy; about how they want instant results and immediate gratification.
Really?
Are we so sure about this?
The kids who spend all day in a classroom, all afternoon on the field, and all evening at work, and then still go home to do what they demanded of themselves twelve hours previously: study AP Sets.
This week I suddenly found myself wanting oatmeal, of all things. Almost as intensely as those pregnancy food cravings. It’s been a while, but I still remember those.
First pregnancy-Payday candy bars and Fresca
Second pregnancy-Mexican food, but definitely not barbecue
Third pregnancy-Pepperoni pizza with jalapenos
Those make sense. But oatmeal? And how could it be that difficult to obtain? My simple thought of oatmeal for breakfast turned into a three-day quest! At the first thought of it, the wise thing would have been adding to the grocery list. I did not. Remembered right when pulling into the driveway, after stopping at the store. “Oh well, tomorrow…”
Tomorrow came and went. My husband made the next trip to the grocery store. Thought to ask him to pick up oatmeal…as he was walking through the front door.
By day three, I was determined. The thought of Starbucks oatmeal crossed my mind, but I was running late for work. Not time for the drive-thru. Walgreens is on the way to work-surely, they’d have instant oatmeal in stock. Finally! A box of Quaker oatmeal in hand, I headed to school. Sounds like a happy ending. Well, not quite…
The plan was simple. Put a packet in a coffee cup and run hot water from the Keurig. Stir, wait, eat! Hint-you should not choose the biggest cup option on the Keurig when making oatmeal. Too much water. A follow-up attempt to microwave caused an overflow and a big mess to clean up.
Not ready to give up, a second try was underway. This time choosing the smallest cup option on the Keurig proved a better decision. A short time in the microwave was still needed, but this time a paper towel over the cup prevented any more messes. Success!
After my three-day quest, I was sitting at my desk, preparing for my first class, enjoying a cup of Quaker maple/brown sugar oatmeal. Not sure I’ve ever appreciated oatmeal as much as I did at that moment.
Reflecting on this little adventure, I kept going back to one question. Why? Why oatmeal? Why such persistence?
This week has been a struggle. Cold weather, not as much sunlight, not enough sleep. All working together, negatively affecting my mood. I began to sense low days ahead. Maybe the desire for something warm and comforting, particularly something simple like oatmeal, was an attempt to pull me out of this blue mood.
One thing is for certain. Tomorrow morning, I will have a bowl of oatmeal-at home-with my coffee. Sitting on my couch, only the lights of the Christmas tree shining. And hopefully, this small attempt at taking better care of myself will prove worthy of my three-day quest… for oatmeal.
Since I was a little girl, I’ve always been fascinated with the moon, the planets, and stars. Being far away from the city lights, able to see uncountable numbers of celestial objects, was something I looked forward to. I don’t even begin to understand the science behind these bodies. What are they made of? How long have they been shining? Will they burn out? Despite my lack of scientific knowledge, my fascination is not diminished.
Today was an exciting day! NASA sent another object to Mars-the InSight Lander. It has been traveling on a seven-month, 300-million-mile journey, and today was landing day! Apparently, it is supposed to spend two years studying the inner workings of the planet by measuring seismic activity. I know enough to understand that means earthquakes on our planet.
My point is not understanding all of the science behind today’s events or their purposes for our society. It’s really about curiosity and how events such a this spur the imagination. Sharing this information with some of my students, watching live while the scientists waited on the landing, their anticipation and excitement were contagious.
Even though we could not visibly see the InSight Lander, there was a countdown scrolling along the bottom of the screen. With each goal that passed-heat shield working-heat shield separating-parachute deploying-students would gasp as if they’d been holding their breath. Once the landing was announced, they clapped and cheered right along with the scientists in that NASA project control room.
Of course, there were some funny moments too. More than one precious kiddo asked, “Are we sending a man to Mars or just a robot?” “Mrs. Morris, I’m so excited about a person going to Mars!” “Not a person…not a person.” Also a few concerned, confused looks. Possibly related to watching too many sci-fi movies or playing too many video games. With a little reassurance and my simplified explanations, they were at least able to understand the basics of what was happening, and know that we were not being attacked by Martians.
I’m sure there will be some interesting conversations tonight if students are asked what they did in music class today. Who knows? Maybe that little detour from our music lesson sparked some new interest. It certainly reminded me of the beauty not only in our world but also in our universe.
We may not be able to see it all up close and personal, but we can appreciate it by simply gazing at the night sky, looking through a telescope, or viewing images taken in space and transmitted back to Earth…from a camera on a capsule…which traveled for seven months…and then landed on Mars.
I can’t wait to show my students the first image that was sent back from the surface of Mars today!
As Thanksgiving weekend 2018 comes to an end, I’m reminded of this truth. It may sound obvious, but for some reason can be difficult to admit. We often think the true test of success is independence. Hearing phrases like-“Be your own person!” “Do it your way!” “No one can stand in your way!”-push us toward a conquer the world attitude.
Maybe there are bits of merit/truth in those statements but they can’t represent our end goal. If that’s the case, the result will most likely be loneliness and isolation. In some ways, it’s actually harder to admit how much we need others than to be independent. It requires a level of openness that we tend to avoid.
A relative recently said to me, “You have no idea how much I need you guys.” Wow! Simultaneously simple yet powerful. My first thought was, “We need you too!” So why didn’t I automatically respond that way?
This admission made me think about my own life. There’s no doubt I need my friends and family. I need them to share in times of celebration as well as times of sorrow. They help give meaning and purpose to my life. And letting them know is important.
Expressing these sentiments gives those around us the opportunity to show love and support, to feel needed. If we trust others enough to admit how much we need their presence in our lives, our journey will be so much richer. Getting through difficult times will become a joint effort. Instead of feeling like we’re stranded on a deserted island, we will realize that we are not alone.
The truth is, we have no idea how much we need each other until faced with life’s difficulties. And those come when we least expect them. When they do, we can’t be afraid to say, “I need you.” Although it won’t take away the weight, it has the power to provide comfort by allowing someone else to share the burden.
No matter the circumstance, we need each other.
“Carry each other’s burdens, and in this way, you will fulfill the law of Christ.” Galatians 6:2 NIV
”Remember, no man is a failure who has friends. ” Clarence-It’s a Wonderful Life
Today is Thursday, November 22, 2018, Thanksgiving Day! As the day begins, I realize one of the things I’m most thankful for is the ability to remember. There are specific people, places and foods which come to mind with each Thanksgiving past. They all blend together, creating a beautiful tapestry.
As a child, my family spent Thanksgiving next door at my grandparent’s home. There were lots of aunts, uncles, and cousins. With thirty plus people present, finding a place to sit was often a challenge. Thus, the phrases “On your feet, lose your seat” & “Butt in the air, lose your chair” were uttered often with laughter.
I had two important Thanksgiving jobs growing up. One was stirring the pie filling for my dad’s chocolate pies until it began to thicken. It seemed to take forever, but oh so worth it! There would always be enough filling left for a few small bowls. My second job was chopping the pecans for mom’s four-layer carrot cake, using a hand-crank chopper. Remember those?
Our family also made the fruit salad, complete with marshmallows and coconut. The funny thing is, every year we’d forget to take it out of the fridge. About the time we were ready for pie, someone would say, “Hey, where’s the fruit salad?” Better late than never, I guess.
After I was married and had my own family, there were new Thanksgiving traditions. Sometimes we would host the family meal, having my family travel from Arkansas to Oklahoma to be with us. Other years we would have dinner in Owasso with Gart’s parents, his sisters and their husbands, and our nieces. There were also times our family would travel to Arkansas, and I would share childhood memories with my children.
A couple of Thanksgivings were spent far away from home. The first was a trip to Colorado. My parents, Gart’s parents, and our three children spent Thanksgiving in a cabin in the mountains. Complete with snow, fire in the fireplace, a big picture window, and deer in the front yard. Except for one harrowing drive during the snowstorm, it was a perfect trip!
Then there was Thanksgiving in NYC. A once-in-a-lifetime experience. Our daughter, Rachel, marched in the Macy’s Parade. Watching the parade on television had been a tradition every year for as long as I could remember. Seeing it in person was so special. Even though it was the coldest parade day on record, and we survived by taping hand/body warmers all inside our clothes and shoes!
So many great memories. So many things to be thankful for. Yet in the middle of them, there are moments of grief. The Thanksgiving we’ve talked about most the past couple of days is November 2015. The pictures confirm the meal was at our home. A photo of Gart, his dad, and Robert-three generations. Gart’s parents sitting at the bar. Gart’s dad in the kitchen helping his granddaughter, Hannah, and daughter, Andrea. Typical snapshots from any of our family gatherings. What we didn’t know, however, was that it would be our last Thanksgiving with my sweet father-n-law.
So, what are our plans for this year? Today will be a quiet day at home. Me, Gart, Gart’s mom, two of our children. We will watch the Macy’s parade, eat a simple meal, but we will also prepare food for Friday-cornbread dressing and chocolate pies! Friday we will all travel to Dallas. A huge meal and celebration have been planned at Paula and Martin’s home (Gart’s sister and brother-n-law.) Friends, family, even a great grandbaby will enjoy each other’s company, eat lots of good food, while adding to our beautiful tapestry of memories.
Will there be moments of sadness? Most definitely. People we love dearly will not be with us. Some for the first year, some for the third year, and so on. We miss them. Their absence felt even stronger on days such as this. Days we know they loved because they were about family. Yet through the sadness, we will be thankful. Thankful for the memories of Thanksgivings past.
“But You, O Lord, are a shield for me, my glory, and the lifter of my head.” Psalm 3:3
I have not considered this verse in a long time. Reading it in the past always reminded me of the song, “Thou, Oh Lord,” by Lisa Ireland. I’m not sure when I first heard or sang this song, but the beautiful overlapping melodic lines and powerful words are easy to recall. I can hear them in my head right now…
When this verse popped up on my phone today, I thought of the song for a moment, but then my thinking took a different direction. Three clear ideas came to mind-birth, sickness, and death. These notions shifted my focus to the last phrase “lifter of my head.” It’s an unusual phrase, certainly not one you hear every day.
The first thing that came to mind was a newborn baby. I pictured new parents, cradling the head of their precious little one. The baby does not yet have the strength to hold its head up. The mom and dad are the shields, protecting until the child grows stronger. I’ve experienced this feeling of responsibility with my own children as I held their tiny heads in my hands, keeping them safe.
The sweet image of newness was quickly followed by the idea of frailty and illness. Many of us have taken care of someone who is sick. Too weak to even lift their head, needing assistance to take a sip of water. If you have had the opportunity to help in this situation, you know it’s not easy. Here I’m reminded of my mom’s battle with breast cancer, and the assistance she required following surgery.
Finally, I pictured the end of life, the process of dying. A time when we are once again reminded of our weakness and frailty. If ever we need someone to lift our head, this is the time. What a comforting gesture, providing a shield against our fears. This one is the most difficult, one our family faced together as my father-n-law bravely battled cancer to the very end.
“The lifter of my head.”
In each scenario-birth, illness, death-this sweet phrase brings much comfort. Such reassurance in knowing there are people in our lives who love and support us during critical times. Even more so the knowledge there is a God who is concerned with each of these moments. And that He places people in our path to demonstrate this love.
While at my weakest, I do not have to be afraid. When I am unable to lift my head, help will come.
Feeling a little low? Need your spirits lifted? Just ask a group of first graders what they are thankful for. You will smile, laugh, and maybe even cry…guaranteed! And their answers just might surprise you.
Since it is close to Thanksgiving, I chose to do some silly turkey activities in music class last week. We used our voices by following changing lines to help Mr. Turkey escape from the farmer. Then we sang “Super Turkey!” It’s a riot. I’m not sure who likes it more, me or the kids.
Turkey Escape
Super Turkey!
After all the silliness, I introduced a sweet song called, “Let’s Be Thankful.” The tune is “Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star” and the words talk about friends, family, food, and being glad. Another plus, the song also has accompanying sign language.
Before singing the song, I asked the kids what they were thankful for. Their little hands shot up in the air, ready to share. Calling on them one at a time, I wrote their answers on the Smartboard. The list looked something like this:
• My mom and dad • Family • Dogs and cats • The whole world • All the people • My games • Food • Cousins • Friends • School • Music • Having a safe home
One little boy said what sounded like, “My wife.” I’m sure my facial expression showed confusion, so he said it again. Thankfully I realized he was actually saying, “My life.” Sweet baby still has a little trouble pronouncing certain letters.
The board was filling up quickly, but there were still hands in the air. And then it happened. I called on one sweet boy, “What are you thankful for?” With the biggest smile, he says, “I’m thankful for you, Mrs. Morris.” “That’s what I was going to say,” chimes in the little girl sitting behind him.
Needless to say, I immediately choked up. Taking a few deep breaths to help hold back my tears, I added my name to their list. “I’m thankful for you guys, too.“ I smiled as I wrote the word “students” on the board. Their faces beamed.
Moments like these help me come back to school each day. Some days I’m so tired, lacking in energy and motivation. Thoughts turn to how much longer I can continue this routine. But then there’s a precious reminder that what I do matters and I feel a push that says, “Keep going.”
So, what am I thankful for? So many things. I need to make my own list! Today it would begin with this:
• Kind words from a first grader
• Time to rest and refuel next week because it’s Thanksgiving!
I’ve been attending the annual St. Henry’s Christmas Bazaar for almost twenty-five years now. The first one I remember took place a few weeks after our car accident and before the birth of our first son., Robert. That was a special one. We were greeted with smiles and tears. So many expressions of thankfulness that we were ok.
This event takes place at St. Henry’s Catholic Church in Owasso, OK—the home church of my in-laws and the church where my husband grew up. We have many happy family memories associated with the Christmas bazaar, especially our kids with their Grandma and Papa.
If you arrived early enough there were homemade cinnamon rolls for breakfast. But if you missed those, no worries. Frito chili pie and tamales were on the lunch menu, as was pie. Any kind of pie you could want! It doesn’t stop there, oh no. We also had to visit the bake sale section before heading home.
The kids could expect to be spoiled by their Papa at the bazaar. He always bought too many desserts. Plus, there were toys, books, and Christmas ornaments. I still have a pair of green earrings he helped Robert sneak around and buy for me one year ago. The kids also witnessed Grandma making crafts or baking items for the event in the weeks prior, and we always enjoyed looking for her items on display.
Probably the only thing Papa bought more of than desserts were the raffle tickets! Sometimes the kids would get to help draw names out of the wire basket and call out the next winner. Such anticipation and excitement followed by a celebration for the lucky name called.
Looking back on the happy memories associated with our family through this church, it’s funny how nervous I was about meeting my sweet in-laws for the first time. My husband was raised Catholic and I was raised Baptist. Seemed like a big difference at the time. Not only that, I had been married and divorced, which would affect my membership in their church.
I was not excited about Gart sharing this information with his parents when we were dating. How would they respond? Would they understand? Of course, my worries were for nothing. They loved me like a daughter from the very beginning. And we’ve had many occasions over the years to attend services at both Catholic and Baptist churches altogether as a family.
Today I think about the special place in my heart for St. Henry’s Catholic Church and its annual Christmas bazaar. Tomorrow I will go once again, look at the crafts, possibly buy a Christmas gift, eat lunch with my mother-in-law, and of course, eat pie! My father-in-law, my kids’ Papa, will be missed as we reminisce over times past. But we will continue to make new memories and form new relationships.
Who would have thought so much joy could be found in a simple Christmas bazaar?
I hope I can get there in time for cinnamon rolls this year…
Have you ever felt stuck? You take a step, suddenly realizing it was the wrong step to take. I remember having that literal experience once as a kid. My cousins and I were playing kickball, a common activity when we were together. Someone kicked the ball into a ditch, and I went to get it. The minute my foot sank into the mud, I knew I was stuck.
For a brief moment, I felt a sense of panic. It seems a bit ridiculous looking back now. What could possibly have happened? Maybe I’d seen too many television portrayals of people sinking into quicksand. You know the ones. A bystander yelling at the would-be victim to be calm and still, yet panic sets in and they proceed to sink until their hand finally disappears.
All I needed to do was stand still and call for help. And of course, help came. With a group of cousins around, I certainly was not alone. One of them assisted with pulling my foot out of the mud. The only casualty that day was my tennis shoe.
Many steps taken in this life are much less literal, yet come with much more significant consequences. So what happens when a step is misguided or poorly chosen? Certain decisions in my teen and young adult years left me feeling trapped, afraid my life was messed up permanently. Regret and guilt crept in, causing me to feel like I was sinking further down in the mud.
Thankfully I eventually discovered ways to counter those fears. Simply choosing to be still, although difficult, was a start. If I could just wait instead of panic, maybe another bad decision would be avoided. Next, it was time to call for help. That help came in different forms. A prayer, a simple phone call to a friend or family member-often both.
“Casting the whole of your care (all your anxieties, all your worries, all your concerns, once and for all) on Him, for He cares for you affectionately and cares about you watchfully.” I Peter 5:7
“…but there is a friend who sticks closer than a brother.” Proverbs 18:24
A friendly listening ear often guided me toward a fresh perspective. There was not always an easy or instant answer, and that was sometimes hard to accept. Yet in spite of unavoidable consequences, with some guidance and faith, I was able to take a step in a new direction, no longer feeling stuck in the mud.
Piano Girl 