Dreaded Test Day

My class has been counting down to the ISTEP test since I started working with them in December. As with anything, it seemed so far off then. So many other important things to take care of and consider before the test arrived. Now, the day is here. Yikes!

This class has come so far. Yet I'm concerned. Is it far enough? Have we accomplished enough in this time span?

They've been through a lot this year. The entire school has. We started the year with a new to the school principal and assistant principal. Because we knew who was coming last year, much of the staff bailed to other schools in the district. We lost a lot of good teachers. The principal decided to hire a bunch of new teachers, many of whom were Teach For America teachers. Good thought, I guess. But the reality of teaching in an urban school is not the stuff of TV movies and fairy tails. Most of those teachers simply couldn't hack it and left. The only TFA teachers that now remain are teachers that were trained in the education discipline in college and decided to go with TFA for the perks, etc. The ones that left did damage of trust and lost instructional time to the classes they influenced while here.

Count my class as one of those. The woman who originally had my class just couldn't take it. The students sensed her fear of controlling a classroom. She thought she could reach them by being a friend. Or something. She simply walked out - middle of the day - with certain expletives, just not able to stand another minute. Another teacher took the class sometime in October. From the get-go she was wishy washy about classroom management. I remember going into her class one day, simply because the noise was so loud as I was passing by that I couldn't believe it. I just walked in, said, "Give me five," and the class immediately quieted, shamed to have been caught by me. Many of the students have known me from going into their classes in first & second grade or at least seeing me in the halls and such. Anyway, that woman would call in sick more than she would be present. She walked out sometime in November, again middle of the day with expletives.

Thankfully, the bad first principal of the year left sometime in September. Speculation is all we have, but one Monday afternoon at dismissal time we got an email from him wishing us well, but that he wouldn't be back. No love lost on anyone's part, in my opinion. Thankfully the first thing the next morning our new principal was introduced. Her first assignment as a principal after being an assistant for several years in the district.

Toward the end of November, following a morning staff meeting, the principal said she couldn't keep a sub in the room, no one was picking up the job, and there wasn't a viable candidate for the position in the HR pool. By this point the kiddos had been split into other classes throughout the building for at least a week. She wasn't sure what the result for the class would be. I'd been thinking about them. Remembering, the way they immediately turned off their nonsence when I went into their classroom. So I went to the principal and told her she'd have to find a sped teacher to replace me, but that I would take the class for her. She grabbed me in a hug, said, "Are you sure? You're an answer to a prayer!" So I switched from sped with first & second to being a gen ed teacher in third. Haven't regretted that move for a minute of the year. Even though it has been tremendous work to prepare for them each day.

Pre-data results show an increase in their work from the time I started working with them. Still, this is the real deal today. Hope they got me sleep than me last night!

My Marine

"Every morning we are born again. What we do today is what matters most." ~ Siddhartha Gautama

What a whirlwind of a couple of weeks! Off to San Diego last week for Derrick's graduation from boot camp as an official Marine. His father, my sister, her husband and I were all there to join in the celebration. I can't even begin to dissect  the feelings and emotions I have!

The one thing I am is exceptionally proud of my son. He grabbed onto a goal several years ago and worked, waited, and never doubted his path. He was so certain. Other people could have given up, or at least become overwhelmingly discouraged. But not Derrick. He always knew he'd make it.

Make it he did! The days in San Diego were amazing. Seeing him after so many months with only letters to communicate. Seeing the entire company on the parade deck, marching in precision. Meeting his friends and knowing he is in good hands. The leadership we observed. I'm thankful of where he's been and where he's going.

Each day is a new day. Derrick has so many adventures in his days ahead.

Little Things

Enjoy the little things,

for one day you may look back and

realize they were the big things.

Four artifacts. Old pieces, family pieces. I feel they connect me through years with women I love and my heritage. All are simple sewing tools. The basic items that a seamstress needs to complete a task.

The first is a simple sewing thimble. Sterling silver, misshapen, I found it in an antique stand years ago. I’ve always used a thimble, can’t hold a needle without one, as a matter of fact. As I slipped it on my middle finger, it seemed as though someone had purposely shaped it to fit my particular, one-of-a-kind, finger.


The next is a thimble, but not a simple one. Housed in a leather case, sitting on a velvet lined pedestal. A gold thimble! Shinny bright and engraved with my great-grandmother’s name, Mrs. C. F. Showalter. I never met her; only know her through stories shared by my mother, aunt, and grandma. She lived with them at home until my mother was about five. An Irish woman, deeply spiritual in a magical type of way. I’ve seen her stitches. Fitting for someone who sewed with a golden thimble. Fine satin stitches made with silken thread that simply glows. The piece I’m thinking about has vivid purples, gold, and green. A thread painting of thistle flowers on linen. Exquisite stitching.



Great-grandmother's golden thimble



These next two pieces belonged to my grandmother. A seam ruler and thread scissors. I learned much about sewing by observing Grandma. She was never without her current knitting project. In fact, she did teach me to knit. I wish I knew all the stitches she was capable of making. What I learned about sewing though, has served me well. She taught me that measuring must be precise and equal. Hide the loose ends of every thread. Use the point of the scissor to turn a sharp corner. NEVER use thread or fabric scissors on paper. These pieces are also silver. Well worn due to use over the years. The scissor is much sharper than any newer pair I’ve ever tried. I’ve had plastic/metal seam rulers that either bend or break.

Simple sewing tools

I like to think of the similarities I have of these women. I’m told I bear significant physical resemblance to my great-grandmother. Grandma used to turn my pieces over to examine the back. She never failed to remark how nice it looked, even on the back. “Just like Mama,” she’d compliment me. When I bake something special for someone, I’m nearly always reminded of Grandma. Her specialties were fudge, chocolate cake, and caramels. She’d make them with the person to eat them in mind, as an act of blessing. I often do the same as I prepare a meal or make a treat to share.



The differences can’t help but come to mind, however. I would never be known as a Mrs. of the man’s name. Even when married, I kept my maiden name as my own part of the wedded name, unable to toss that part of myself away. Of course, she lived in a much different time and world than me. I don’t always have the courage to stand up for what I truly believe in the way Grandma did. In fact, sometimes I’m not even always sure what my stance is on a particular issue, too able to see both sides of the story.



These artifacts remind me of my connection to these special women. I think my interest in sewing as an art form is a gift from both of them. As I either sew or create something else I feel the connection through them to my spirituality. I hope I can continue to grow in both my artistic and spirituality as a way of expressing my gratitude to the legacy they gave me.


Just as Grandma taught me sewing, along with cooking, caring for animals, and the ways of being a lady, by example, she taught me from a very early age about God and spirituality as a way of living life. She took me with her to the Sunday school class she taught. I remember literally sitting on her knee as she led the teenagers in the lesson. Her study time during the day was sacred, not to be interrupted. She would, however invite me in to share that special time with her. A beautiful example, as it was a daily discipline, done not out of duty, but love.

Sunny Departure

"One day you will ask me which is more important? My life or yours? I will say mine and you will walk away not knowing that you are my life." ~ Khalil Gibran

Saturday was spent in the warm sunshine, watching Derrick as he prepares for his departure to Boot Camp with the Marines in one week. For as long as we’ve waited for this day, I find my breath catches every time I think about it. Which is always.

This is what he’s wanted for years. I am happy for him, reaching this goal. Proud of his choices. Proud of the way he’s pursued his dream, kept his sense of determination and optimism throughout the process of it all.

The stark realization that this is what it is like to be a mother. I raised him for the purpose of letting him go to pursue his own life’s path. I should be as happy as can be. And I am. But the emotions overtake me in waves. Because my life’s purpose all these years has been Derrick.

So I’m left wondering, what now? Just me and the cats for the rest of my life? My life is full of other things, too. My work as a teacher. My alter life as an artist. My family and friends. All that means so much to me, more than I could ever express in words. There are moments I wonder if I’ll even survive this, as if all life will be totally sucked out of me, as if a vacuum has swept my heart away.

I know other mothers survive the departure of their children leaving them. Isn’t that the way the world has always worked? Maybe I feel this so intensely because I’ve been a single mother for so long. It has been just the two of us for the most part all these years.

Realistically, I know I’ll make it. Especially when I think about the other things I’ve overcome in my life. And this is a good thing. I would never take a dream away from someone, especially someone I love so much. The feelings I have seem selfish when I think about it with my head.

 

 

Really, I am so proud of Derrick. The sunburn on my shoulders from Saturday hurt, but I know that will heal oh so much quicker than the heartache of his departure.

When one door of happiness closes, another opens; but often we look so long at the closed door that we do not see the one which has been opened for us. - Helen Keller -

Door Ways

My little feet are running through the kitchen, through the back porch. I give the door a push and I jump over the step, into the backyard. The door immediately slams shut with a double bounce, so I hear it two times. Out I go, calling, “Grandpa? Where’s Grandpa?” A sense memory, complete with the smells of the garden, the sound of the door, the feel of the air on my skin, my heart filled with love. Now, this is but an echo of memory.

Doors are often transitions from one part of life to another. Once you go through the doorway, nothing is the same as before. Once you were out, now you are in. It is different. Sometimes you choose to go through the door into the beyond. Leaving behind what no longer works. Sometimes we stop to wonder at the difference. We say to ourselves, “That was then. This is now. Nothing is the same.”

We don’t always recognize the symbolic doors we pass through until sometime later. I think back to doors I’ve walked through. Leaving old jobs and colleagues behind. Walking out the door of marriage and a life ever altered for myself and my son. Walking through a school door and into a new career as a teacher. Doorways that I didn’t recognize as ended friendships. Thankfully finding new doors into fulfilling and healthy friendships.

I think of the doors that my son has already passed through. Doors that he will open without me in the days and years to come. Knowing my door, wherever it may be, will always welcome him home to me again. Yes, the door to my years as a single mother is starting to close as Derrick prepares to leave home in the upcoming months.

What doors I don’t yet recognize will open for me? One thing is certain, the door to my home now will be much quieter without the comings and goings of Derrick and his friends.

As I ready myself to enter new doorways, I think back to Grandpa’s door and do my best to realize that I’m always where I’m meant to be.

 When God closes a door, somewhere He opens a window.

– The Sound of Music

You Can Never Have Too Much Chocolate

Fudge Chocolate Cake Hershey Bar Hot Fudge Sauce Aztec Fudge Cake German Chocolate Cake Beate’s Killer Cake Chocolate Sheet Cake Hot Chocolate Ghirardelli’s Chocolate Soda


           

“You can never have too much chocolate.” Derrick’s words come repeated back to me as we walk out of DeBrands, stuffed to the gills. Barb and Derrick had taken me there after my birthday dinner. Needless to say, we were already full from that. (My birthday, but Derrick picked his favorite place to take me, Takaoka, the Japanese restaurant he loved to go to on his birthday.) I thought we’d go home after dinner, but Barb L and Derrick conspired to take me for a chocolate delight. Nowhere but DeBrands would do! What a treat! Too many choices on the menu, but I finally pick a chocolate brownie with ice cream and hot fudge sauce. Derrick was probably about 10 at the time. I remember enjoying the chocolate, but when I think about it now, what I really remember is the camaraderie of the evening, sharing conversation, laughing with each other, talking together, just being. Chocolate does that for me, helps focus in on the best of memories.

One of my favorite chocolate memories is actually tactile. Grandma made fudge. Truly a delight for all the senses! The sight of a freshly made batch, shinny in the pan before it has been cut. The sound of her beating the fudge by hand. What an upper arm workout! The smell of the chocolate concoction simmering on the stove. Don't stir yet or it will be ruined! Absolutely nothing compares to the taste of her fudge. She's gone now, but her tradition continues. My Aunt Nita makes it for birthdays and family gatherings. I make it for other family gatherings. I've even taught my college age niece to make it, assuring the tradition will go on well into the future. But the best part of thinking of the fudge brings me right to Grandma’s Love itself. She tests the fudge to cooked perfection, not with a candy thermometer as I do, but by dropping just a bit from a spoon into a cup of cold water. She pinches the small sample into a perfect, soft round ball. Then, on the tip of her middle finger, she asks if I would like to sample it. Every cell of my being can still feel the fudge and her finger on my tongue as the chocolate melts into my very soul. She’s already tested the chocolate to determine if it is ready to beat, rolled it between her fingers to feel if it’s cooked enough. Even that is a loving motion, followed through by my rolling the small fudge ball on my tongue, savoring it as long as possible.

When Derrick was born I was very particular about introducing food to him. Guess it was one way to show love and care to him. Protection even. I always knew what he had to eat and was certain the choices were the best. He didn’t nap a lot. So when he did take a nap, sometime in March of his first year, I was determined to make the best of it. I reached into the cupboard for my secret stash of Ghirardelli dark chocolate stir sticks. Left over from my Christmas stocking. Of course I couldn’t eat them in front of Derrick’s dad. But I knew where they were! I cozied into my chair with a book and ate a few of the chocolate pieces. Too soon I hear Derrick and up I go to return to mothering. Sometime later, I’m in the kitchen, keeping an eye on him in the family room, peeking through the fireplace so I know what he’s up to. He’s just started his cruising around furniture. I go into him and he turns around to face me from the footstool. I’m horrified to see his face, covered in dark goo. Has he gotten into a forbidden diapee? But then I notice the look of ecstasy and realize he’s discovered the joy of chocolate! The joy I felt then is immeasurable. Derrick takes after me! He likes chocolate! Later he would tell me not I want chocolate but I NEED chocolate.

Chocolate, streaming in and out of my life. Poured amongst the cracks and crevices of memories. Flavoring my life with richness, fullness, trust and love.

                 




Fudge Chocolate Cake Hershey Bar Hot Fudge Sauce Aztec Fudge Cake German Chocolate Cake Beate’s Killer Cake Chocolate Sheet Cake Hot Chocolate Ghirardelli’s Chocolate Soda



Simply must view this site!  http://www.debrand.com/

Joyful Things . . .

In no particular order . . .



1. Good health.

2. Extra time with Derrick, before he starts Basic Training as a Marine.

3. Being inside, warm and toasty dry, while a thunder storm rages outside. Who would guess in mid-November?

4. Finding friends in the area that make me feel I’m at home here.

5. Going to art shows two Saturdays in a row with my friends!

6. Time spent at the Lake this summer in the cottage. Lori and Dom are dear to share such a special place with me.

7. My Artist’s Way group that meets every Wednesday. I feel grounded after spending time with them.

8. Sunday meditations with Vince. Totally revives my soul and being.

9. Book study group discussions.

10. Yoga classes. I can never get enough.

11. Walking whenever I want. Another thing I never get enough of!

12. Chocolate covered almonds, brought by Demetrius. He said I deserve them!

13. Having a family that loves and accepts me.

14. The cats. Purring, playing, snuggling, asking for food. They never cease to bring a smile to my face.

15. Being the mom that Derrick and his friends enjoy sharing time and space with.

16. The trip to Arizona in October. Beauty, meeting a new friend, spending time with Lori, walking, old friends.

17. Henri the dove. Still working on the lesson(s) about that! No doubt in my mind Henri picked me of all people he saw when he was lost to live with. He has such a gentle coo to welcome me.

18. Mixed media.

19. My art instructor.

20. The women in the art group.

21. Engaged students.

22. A load of firewood to prepare for winter. 

23. Free coupon to watch Puss ‘N Boots. Plans for the weekend!

24. Students that say good morning to me before I have a chance to greet them. They’re learning!

25. Looking forward to seeing the entire family at Thanksgiving next week. Not to mention all the good food!

26. Recognizing myself as an artist.

27. Understanding that even if I'm not in a relationship, I know I don't want to be in the wrong one. Maybe, just maybe, there is the right relationship waiting for me somewhere.

28. Pulling a pair of stockings from the drawer that doesn’t have a hole in the toe.

29. Finding friends through the world of blogging. Even having a chance to meet one of them in person! (More about this to come soon.)

30. Fixing a wonderful meal and sharing it with friends.

31. Kayaking at the Lake.

32. Hanging out at the sand bar with friends with the waves making me feel a bit bouncy in the water.

33. Finding a book to read that I simply can’t put down.

34. Having someone open a jar of olives for me.

35. Realizing having a clean house makes it easier to keep the house clean. Also helps when Derrick goes away for the weekend!

36. Shelves and containers to keep my art supplies organized.

37. Having an espresso maker at home to enjoy a morning cup.

38. Knowing that nothing calms me quite like a cup of chai.

39. Chocolate. The darker the better.

40. Having faith to take the leap into the unknown. So much better than the push from behind.

41. Laughing with a friend.

42. Believing in love come true by watching Eric and Susan. Anything is possible.

43. Even if I would like someone to share my bed with, I know it’s special to have a room of my own.

44. Realizing one day, not that long ago, that most of the art I have hanging in my home is my art. What a surprise!

45. Getting my hair done and actually thinking I look good.

46. A new eye pencil.

47. Enjoying a dinner out with Derrick and the resulting conversation. What a joy to have raised such a fine young man.

48. Meaningful conversations.

49. Taking the time to write in the mornings.

50. The surprise of sunshine when I’m not expecting it.

51. Going to bed early enough to feel rested and able to dream good dreams.

52. Getting the laundry done and all put away.

53. Just when I was feeling down last week I was told by someone special that “You are loved. You bring us all such joy.” How could I feel anything but joyous after hearing that!