Monthly Archives: May 2015

Saturday on Repeat

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So summer’s here…as in school’s out.  And honestly, I can’t believe it.  It doesn’t feel like it to me at all!  Not sure why but regardless, it hasn’t been Saturday for the past two days – it’s actually a Thursday and I’m not at work.  I’m sure it won’t take me long to acclimate to being at home…it never does!

I had to leave you with one more funny from perhaps the funniest group of students I’ve ever had.  Actually two.

How to protect whales.  Public Service Announcement - please read and adhere to number three!

“How to Protect Whales.”  Public Service Announcement – please read and adhere to number three!  And if you see a whale in a lake, please tell the authorities ASAP!

And secondly (and my last, I promise):  What does the mother buffalo say to her son going off to college?  Bi-son!   Like I said, funniest class ever.  I will truly miss them.

Here’s my wish list for the best summer ever:

Go to Mackinac Island (check – going in July)

Write every day

Read every day

Soak up some sun

Sleep late on occasion

Be thankful every day that I have nine weeks to recharge my depleted battery

That’s not an unreasonable check-list and I plan to make sure each one is accomplished!  To all my teacher peeps, Happy Summer!  And yes, it’s really a Thursday, not Saturday set on repeat.

No Longer Little

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I was doing well…honestly, I was.  Then it happened.  Across the way, as I sat on the playground watching a group of four-year olds march in line, I saw him.  They’d almost made it to the equipment when a little fellow fell over his own feet.  Crashing hard, he bounced on his knees across the gravel.  Time stopped just for a second before he slowly stood up, brushing at his banged up knees and then hobbled on.  It hit me then, hard and fast.  My easiness with my son’s graduation was suddenly over.  In that moment, I lost it.  I couldn’t see the boy’s face, only his tiny body, and suddenly he was my little boy.  It’s what would have happened to my child…busted knees, dirty from head to toe, always needing a band-aid.  And just like that, it hit me that my boy was no longer little.  I couldn’t scoop him up and put him in my lap anymore, and that’s all I wanted to do in that moment.

I cried that afternoon.  Hard.  I cried again when my hubby got home and I told him about it.  I’ve cried a few more times since.  And no matter what I try, that child is still in my mind.

Kindergarten Graduation

Kindergarten Graduation

So, my youngest is graduating from high school, hence the hysteria over the unknown little fellow.  After thirteen years (12 years plus kindergarten), he’s done.  One part of me is ecstatic, relieved, thrilled, thankful.  The other part of me is losing it a little – maybe a lot.

Honestly, school has never been easy for my boy.  His happiest year of school was kindergarten when he was still allowed to be himself.  He had a teacher who let him be wild and free, let him still be a horse-loving, laughing little boy.  Then the real world set in, and he had to learn to read and sit and be a student.  (I train children to be students every year so I know how important it is.)  After that, some of the joy in his care-free, little boy eyes began to vanish.  School became work, even though he loved his teachers and friends.  School became something that was hard for him.

Outside of school, he was still funny and wild.  He loved easily and was honest to a fault.  He was loud and always needing to change out of filthy clothes into something clean (he still does that today).  With each year he became more and more dependable and steady.  The wildness slipped away to be replaced by a type of bravery I didn’t know existed.  He faced horrible circumstances along the way, and when a lot of children would have begged to never go back to school, he never asked to stay at home…not once.

As a teacher, God sent me a very important lesson.  He sent me a child that struggles so I would understand the struggling student.  He sent me a child that didn’t make straight A’s so I would appreciate each child for who they are and where they are. We are not all designed to be the smartest in the class, and truthfully, most of us are average…perfectly, wonderfully made just as we are.  The world is run by many, many average people who work hard to make up for perhaps a less than top-notch IQ.  (Sidebar to all the seniors – never let anyone rank you by a number on a paper.  Live by your heart.  Live what you love.  The box society puts you in only works if you allow it to hold you.  If you are strong enough to be yourself and love others, I’m convinced you can do anything in life.)  As for me, I’ll take kindness, strength and a giving heart any day of the week.

So why am I sad?  I guess because it’s another step on the journey of raising people.  Another step away from the best years of my life.  Part of me feels like I should be graduating too.  Part of me just knows that change is hard.

But why should I be happy?  Because so many prayers have been answered.  Because I’m proud of both my children just as they are.  Because I know with one ending there’s always another beginning.

Senior Year

Senior Year

Seniors...some here, some watching over us.

Seniors…some here, some watching over us.

Mother’s Day in Reverse

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Since I no longer have an earth-bound mother, Mother’s Day has become a (sometimes) forced holiday.  It isn’t easy losing a parent, and everyone who has lost one knows that.  Losing my mother at 35 forced me to, very suddenly, grow up.  Not that I hadn’t been doing that very thing, but I still had a momma that was there if I needed support or a hug or just her presence.  All at once, that very concrete tie to the earth was shattered.  All at once, it was just over and done.  And ever since, Mother’s Day has left me a little weepy and disconnected.

(Still, I wouldn’t wish for my mother to come back.  I haven’t wished it one time.  Sure, I sometimes long for her hugs and her smile, but would I truly ask her to give up her heavenly home for this world again?  Absolutely not.  She lives where I plan to be one day.  I’ll get her back then.)

So, this year I’m reversing things.  Instead of thinking about what is lost, I’m choosing to think about what is here. This year, I’m thinking of my children.  To my kids, this moment is to say thank you for being my children. No matter what, I’m your biggest cheerleader, your strongest advocate, and your toughest life-coach.  I truly would not change one hair on your head.  Your difficulties have made me a stronger person and a better teacher, and your glories have filled me with a giddy joy.

The only thing I would change if I could would be to take some of the pain you’ve had to bear and make it my own, and truly I’ve carried your pain with me every step of the way. As a momma, it’s hard to watch you kids suffer, but I know hard times are part of living, of growing. It takes the good with the bad to become a polished soul.

To my not-so-little babies, thank you for your laughter and silliness, your kindness and strength.  Keep striving for the good and the right in life.  I love you, Hunny and Little Buddy!

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