School's Out

Well, almost. Anyway, it’s out for me. Mom is afraid to be alone at all now and the person who checks in on her for me is dealing with a health issue of her own for the next couple weeks, so it was time to quit working. At least I finished May with several nice days of work in a variety of settings.

My last two sub assignments were for a fifth grade class that I certainly enjoyed. It is a fun age because they are fairly autonomous, the curriculum subject matter is interesting, and the kids are cognitively capable of more in-depth processes and activities than primary grades. This particular class was also accustomed to working in small groups, and was currently divided into literature circles that were working their way through a mystery novel and accompanying worksheet packet. Cooperative learning is a skill that not every teacher takes the time to teach so it was nice to see it in action. When I tried a cooperative exercise with students in the same grade at another district, it was soon evident that group work was a new concept for most of them. This class, however, was definitely getting the hang of it.

It has been a great two years of substitute teaching. Being exposed to nearly every grade in different settings and situations has been really beneficial for me. I’ve been challenged and learned a lot about myself and the kids, picked up tips from other teachers, and gained confidence. Certified to teach no higher than eighth grade, I had originally surmised that I would prefer teaching nothing lower than fifth. Now, however, I know that I enjoy every grade because each has something different that is fun or exciting to me. Although no one is more surprised than myself when I say it, first graders have especially won my heart.

Whatever happens from here on out, I (rather restlessly) lay in God’s hands. I have no idea what He has in mind, but my current plan is to take some online classes through Oregon’s state colleges next year that will help me keep my teaching certificate. These classes can be taken randomly at any time to enhance a general license and they can eventually add up to a Reading Endorsement if I choose to continue. It isn’t the Special Ed. Endorsement that I originally thought I wanted, but, until God lays a new dilemma at my feet, I am at peace that it is the right thing for me at the moment. At any rate, whether I ever teach again or not, I find that this mental stimulation helps my sanity during the long, quiet days of caregiving. So, for now, here’s to a warm and relaxing summer vacation!

Lookout

Sometimes, when we are in the dining or living room area a scuffling sound attracts our attention just as we catch sight of a blur moving past us at the speed of light. No, Superman doesn’t live here; it’s Ellie going from the apartment window to the kitchen window for a better view of something that piqued her interest. She loves to perch on my sewing machine table in the apartment family room or climb over my kitchen sink to the garden window; either of which gives her a great view of the backyard. Heaven help us, however, if we are in her path when she spies a cat or bird in her territory.

Actually, I’m quite impressed that, out of the 34 windows boasted by this house, she has earmarked the two that give her the best views from different perspectives of the biggest part of our yard. Don’t think she doesn’t routinely check her domain from other viewpoints, but these two require the most hours of scrutiny.

I am sure there is a lesson somewhere in all this. A lesson on perspectives, determination, or watchfulness would all be appropriate, but my thoughts just keep circling around how much pets can add to your life..if you let them.

Hole in the Clouds

It is so nice to see the blue sky and sunshine break through the clouds these days. We’ve had more cold days of rain than usual this spring. Although that’s great for the land, it can be dismal for my spirits. However, even just the occasional glimpse of a brighter day is cheerful enough to sustain me.

Today Mom had a front tooth break off and she cried in frustration over her two recent bouts of falling and now this. In her misery, she wonders if she is being punished. I hope she is able to see through the clouds of disillusion soon and glimpse a different perspective. She has been blessed with good health all her life and may have forgotten that others have had to deal with these misfortunes and worse much earlier in life.

I know it’s easy for me to sit here and espouse a brighter attitude, but I hope she can see some hope shimmering through the hole in these recent rain clouds. Her psyche has become as fragile as her body, but she’s not alone, she’s with family who love her, she’s still a dynamite 96 year old, and I’m pretty sure the dentist can fix up her smile if she will just give him time.

It Has Begun

Well, the yard work around here has officially begun. Don has mowed several times now and I finally drug myself outside, kicking and screaming, to clean out my first two flowerbeds. I enjoy myself once I’m out there, but it is sure hard to get started. I also filled up my flowerpots a couple weeks ago and left them in the basement until I could trust the weather. This wasn’t an act of efficiency, by the way; I just couldn’t pass by the flower displays at BiMart any longer without indulging.

In spite of my groaning, weeding flowerbeds is actually a relaxing feat for me. My only complaint with it is the consternating fact that the damn things keep growing back. It seems only fair, in my humble estimation, that weeds should only crop up once per year. Once they are pulled out, they should play by the rules (my rules) and stay gone until next year. Really. Is that too much to ask? That the weeds NOT be the most ambitious thing in my yard?

Mothers Day

Madonna and Child (cropped) by Rafaello Sanzio

There is a type of love that comes with being a mother that, for me, can only be described as ferocious. It is so strong that it influences decisions, drives late night worry, and overrides mistakes, hurts, and doubts. At its worst it can become unreasonable, manipulating, and selfish, but at its best it is forgiving, healing, and empowering.

This year I have experienced Mothers Day for the 55th time as a daughter and the 35th time as a mom. Although I miscarried our first child at three months, the feline roar of that love had already begun inside of me. It is as a mother that I was able to better understand my own mom. Her sacrifices meant more to me once I was an adult than they did when seen through childish eyes. Like being able to replay a movie to get more meaning from it, I now understand her perspective. For instance, as a child, I didn’t understand why she befriended a neighboring woman and her three small children. The kids had snotty noses and seemed unkempt to me and I was horrified once when she asked me to take them to a puppet show during a church bazaar. But Mom was inviting me into the realm of empathy and compassion. Knowing the woman was on her own after leaving a drunken and abusive spouse, Mom sewed clothes for her kids and helped rebuild her confidence through acceptance and friendship.

As a daughter I have come to realize that, although I struggle to become autonomous and wrestle with my own values and decisions, I will always be a child in need of a Mom’s love and approval. Oddly, that doesn’t even change when you have to assume the role of your parent’s parent because of age or infirmity. Similarly, as a mother, I am experiencing what Mom warned me of many times: that you never stop worrying about your children even though your ability to protect them wanes.

I believe Mary and Jesus understand this kind of connection because they lived it. I did not appreciate their relationship fully until I became a mother, but now I can imagine what this woman went through at the foot of the cross because I know in my heart that as she looked up at her son’s tortured figure, she could still feel his tiny presence in her arms from when he was a baby. It is comforting to me to know that they understand the struggles and the pain and the love that we experience in this life, and that we can look to them for sustenance where our human experience is wanting.

The connecting thread between mother and child may be fine, but it can still be strong. Ferociously strong. Forever.

Pieta by Michelangelo

I Should Have Known

After the third time yesterday afternoon that Kim reconfirmed with me whether I would, indeed, sub again all day today, I should have known there was the portent of something unusual. I think I mistook the glimmer in her eyes and her laugh as an apology for forgetting if she had already asked me, but now I am left wondering if it was more mischievous than that. I certainly need to remember from now on to ask more questions of this high school secretary when she asks me to sub in the future.

Monday I subbed for only half a day and just wore some nice, but casual khakis and a pullover shirt. The classes I had that day were Algebra II and Web Design. Since I would be at school all day today, I decided to dress up a little more, topping my new sweater with a scarf and blazer. I tried not to cringe when Kim handed me the keys to the Ag. Room, since this meant one of my classes would mean fending off sparks during welding and wading through animal poop at the land lab when I took students there to feed the chickens. NOTE to SELF: If the information is not volunteered, ask which classes I will be subbing in. Waders, ear plugs, and a leather apron may be preferable to earrings and heels.

It is always a relief to see a well-thought- out lesson plan when I arrive. Last minute calls can be hairy because sick teachers don’t have the time or energy to prepare for a sub. For that reason, I have learned to bring a bag of tricks with me when I get an early morning request. As a general rule, however, getting a call the day before usually means that the teacher has had a chance to prepare a plan and leave some resources. So, today I only brought a book to read during the teacher’s prep period and, sure enough, was given an emailed plan that, although brief, seemed adequate in its directions. Apparently, this was not the first day of the teacher’s absence, though, and the sub plans hadn’t varied much from the day before so I had to weather some groaning when I directed the Biology students to take notes on the chapter that could then be used on the quiz. The first such class opened their books and at least appeared to jot down some facts, but the second class thought they might turn to ash if they had to do it aga-a-a-a-in. *sigh* A DVD would have been nice to have at that point. Or even a word find. NOTE to SELF: Ask for whom I will be subbing to give myself a heads-up about how much leeway there may be in the lesson plans. A Plan B should always be in my bag.

The final period of the day was to be either demonstration speeches or the Farming Game (no lie, it’s a board game). After giving the students the choice, two decided they would give their speeches and, since they were both cooking demonstrations, everyone was pretty ecstatic. We removed ourselves to the staff room, which is also the old Home Ec. Room, and I prepared to take notes on the students’ deliveries while the rest of the kids actually became the perfect, quiet audience. Would miracles never cease? The making of the brownies (from a mix) went well and, while they cooked in the oven, the next student began her fry bread demonstration. Suffice it to say, forty minutes later and three trips to the rescue by me to dump out the excess four cups of water mistakenly added, to stir in more flour because the demonstrator’s arms were tired, and to generally speed up the lagging process, the release bell rang. Flour and water muck were all over the counter, the brownies were not done because the oven temperature had been set too low, and only two half-cooked three-inch frybreads bubbled away in the hot pan. NOTE to SELF: The “easy way out” isn’t always.

“Can you sub Friday?” I heard as I finally checked out at the office. (Was that a chuckle or a smirk?)

“Uh, no. I have to work at the middle school.” *smile* “Really. I do.”