School Journal, part 2
I was doing my student teaching with Mrs. Fox, a fifth grade teacher. In the afternoon, after some testing for placement, Mrs. Fox passed out yet another test. There were groans from some of the pupils.
"Do you think this is too much?" Mrs. Fox asked in an innocent voice that fooled me for a few seconds. Some of the pupils assured her that they thought this was definitely too much work. "Well, there is still room in the fourth grade for anyone who finds this work too hard," she said, springing her trap. "Now who thinks this is too hard?" No one did!
In choosing seats, the boys clustered together in a group at the back of the room. "I'll have to break that up," Mrs. Fox announced to them.
"If we are good, can we sit together?" the boy at the very end of row three asked. A heavy shock of dark brown hair tangled above his big dark eyes. His long lashes against his cheek gave him a winsome appearance.
"If," repeated Mrs. Fox. "If is a little word that's like a rubber band. It stretches and stretches." Everyone laughed.
Day 2: Today our kindergarten teacher told us that she told her children this morning, "You can't talk unless you put your hand up." She was busy and heard them talking. She looked up to find them chatting with each other, their hands high in the air!
A School Memory
From my journal for Spetember 1, 1970:
This is my month, my beautiful, cherished month. Welcome September! It is one of the coldest days I can remember for this time of year. It was 41 degrees. Billy wore his winter coat for his back to school picture in the early morning sunlight.
"How will I know it's your first day of school picture?" I asked. He answered, "You'll have to write on it when you get it back."
Billy was very unhappy about his first day of school. He cried last night and he struggled with tears this morning.
"Think happy things," I tried to comfort. "It won't be so bad." He could only nod. Couldn't speak. But I know how it was when I was a kid. I hated school, too.
I don't hate or fear my first day of school (as a student teacher) as Billy does nor as I did when I was a child. But I don't embrace it, either. Impersonally, I accept it. I hold it at arm's length and examine it.
Marlin, Jr. was full of energy and almost eager to get to school. He had a moment of doubt yesterday when I told him that second and third grades are together this year and Mrs. Johnson is his teacher. But he was eager to meet his friends again and he wants to learn to read more.
Thirty-five kids showed up for class this morning and we had only thirty four desks. One tall girl in a sunny yellow dress, her hair divided into two tails, very self-consciously waited for two boys to bring her a desk and chair.
How long ago that was but the description I wrote of that day brings that classroom back to mind very clearly. I think I remember who that girl was! I think she's the daughter of one of my friends today. I had no idea that I would get to know her mother well.
It's an interesting memory to me.
Weather
The biggest topic of conversation in my small circles these days is weather. It isn't true that if we didn't have this weather we'd have nothing to talk about. If we were having a mild winter and we could get out to our routine chores and activites, we'd mention weather, any way. We would say that it is unusual to have such nice weather in January and surely we'd have to pay for it later. And then we would talk about our usual enterprizes.
But now we have snow piled everywhere. Snow is up to our knees and more in our yards and off the shoveled path. Big dump trucks are being filled with some of the piled up snow and it's being hauled to some out of the way spot so we can see at intersections and can continue to use parking lots. And still it snows, every day a little or a lot more. Yesterday and today were days when it snowed a lot more.
Our one car never moved out of the driveway today and the car that was out, couldn't get back into the driveway. Our neighbor's snowblower couldn't handle all the new accumulation. And still it snows.
Tonight's newspaper announced that we have far more snow this year than we did last January. We know that we had tons of snow last January and it's not entirely surprising that we have more snow now.
Now everyone is saying that they can't believe that we haven't had a break from all this snowing. Next we will have to be concerned about where it will go when it leaves us. Will these mammoth icicles drip down gently or will they crash murderously? Will some places flood when the snow melts?
For today, the snow blankets everything and covers a multitude of ugliness with it's pure, glistening white. For today, I am content. One of these tomorrows, we'll deal with melting snow, but it's here to stay tonight.
Getting Ready to Paint
I love to paint! I get excited when I smell oil paint and turpentine. I look at other people's paintings and I think, "I really want to get started on a painting. I can hardly wait to get started."
So, why is it so hard to actually get it started? I finished the church newsletter yesterday, which means I earned the right to celebrate and my choice of celebration is to do some oil painting. But first, I had to choose a subject to paint. That took me a long time this morning.
Now I have my choice. It's the back entrance to a cottage at Miracle Mountain Ranch.
The scene is against a woody area of tall trees. There is a tall, wooden fence with the gate open and a stone path leads through the fence. In front of the fence is a bed of wild flowers. There's a wonderful assortment of greens, the fence is painted gray and the wild flowers are shades of pinks and reds with blue morning glories climbing the fence at one place. It should be fun to do.
The next step was to scan my photo and crop it to show just what I wanted to paint. Then I enlarged the picture and printed it.
So now I'm ready to get out the oil paints, and the canvas, set up the easel and get started. But now it's time to get dinner!
However, I've learned by experience that if I jump into a painting without thinking it through first, I'm disappointed that I didn't plan it well enough. I've slowed my process today, putting off the enjoyment of brushing paint on canvas until I'm more sure of just how I'm going to begin. I may not get to the paint itself until Thursday morning. Slower is better, and I want this to be a better painting. Anticipation is part of the enjoyment.
Pen Pals
When I was about 12 years old, I sent my name in to a pen pals column in our Sunday school paper. I loved having pen pals. It cost three cents to mail a letter back then and my mom was very frugal about money. She thought it was a good idea for me to have pen pals but she didn't went to spend three whole cents for me to mail a letter if I hadn't filled the page when I was finished writing. That makes me chuckle now, but actually, it was good training for me. It probably was an important part in helping me develop in my interest in writing.
In my early days I probably had about 10 pen pals, perhaps a few more than that. I wasn't into making lists then and I don't think I ever listed them all. One was from DeMoines, one from Sioux City. I don't remember all of them. One was from a town in PA which I assumed was miles away and well beyond the chance of us ever meeting each other. How surprised I was when I grew up to discover that the town, one that I had never heard of before, was in actuality only about 20 miles from us. It would have been so easy for us to get to meet each other then.
Sadly, I don't know where any of my pen pals are today. We never continued to write to each other as we grew up. I've never given up my interest in writing letters. I still love to write letters and to receive letters. I love getting letters in my mail box on the porch, or in my mailbox on-line.
Today if I had a pen pal twenty miles away, I'd certainly be knocking on her door some day, and I'd expect her to be knocking at my door, too. Exchanging letters should help to build lasting friendships. I wish I knew where my pen pals are today and if any of them ever wonder about me as I wonder about them.
A Surprise
How do you feel about getting a surprise? I suppose that a really nice surprise is a fine thing and in many instances, it's fun to be surprised. Often it's very difficult to keep a secret and keep something a surprise. And often, the surprise is not a good surprise.
I'm thinking about gifts. Once early in our marriage, my husband was giving me a gift that he was very excited about. He wanted to tantalize me, which is the purpose of a surprise. He gave me clues about my gift. It had a slanting top, I could store things in it, I would use it every day, --and perhaps many more clues. I was so sure it was a drawing table and I could hardly wait.
He wasn't home the day that it was delivered. It wasn't a drawing table. It was a dishwasher!! I was so sure it was the wrong thing. I kept telling the men who brought it that it couldn't be a dishwasher and they kept telling me that was the order they received and this was the place. I had to accept the fact that it wasn't my artist's drawing table and wondered why he had led me to believe that's what it was. The top only slanted when you lifted the lid to put dishes in or out. I don't know if I was able to keep him from kowing how disappointed I was. I see now that it was really a double surprise. I was surprised that it wasn't a drawing table and if he realized how I felt, which I tried not to tell him, he was surprised that I didn't want a dishwasher.
I remember the surprise party the people at Warrendale gave us before we moved from there. We were doing serious packing to be ready to load the truck. One family asked us to come to dinner. We thought we really just needed to get the work done, but they said that we'd need to eat, so just come. Don't clean up, they had said, just take a little time and come have the meal.
And then I got the phone call from a very dear friend. "I'm so sorry," she said, "but I can't come to your party." My mind raced. Party? What party? And then I understood, it wasn't just a meal for us, it was a going away party. My mind processed this while she kept telling me her reason for not coming. I don't remember what that was, just that we were going to a party instead of a meal.
I didn't tell the others in the family that it was a party, but I made sure that all of us got cleaned up and looked presentable. I let them be surprised, and I was very glad that I knew the surprise ahead of time.
I'm remembering when our friend Helen was honored with a special award in a big meeting. We were all sworn to secrecy, "Don't tell Helen that this is happening." No one told. When Helen's name was called out to go to the platform in the front, she was startled and frightened. She thought she would fall going up the steps to the platform. She thought she wasn't dressed in her best. She didn't enjoy the honor because it was all in all a frightening experience. She would have loved it if she'd been prepared and anticipating it. A surprise can be brutal!
What might be a nice surprise for me is that if I have to leave home before I get the dishes done, to come home and find that the dishes are done for me. I know, I know! I should have valued the dish washer more than I did!
Ants
This is a poem I really like that I recorded in my Journal from 1978. It was written by a boy in fifth grade in 1965.
Ants
by Larry Smee
An ant is an insect you can hardly see,
But he works much harder than you and me.
To find a creature who earns his worth,
Don't look for a factory, look at the earth.
The nearest anthill is a place of motion,
Everyone works like he's up for promotion.
Under the hill ants live in the nest,
But I often wonder if they ever use it to rest.
Good-bye to a friend
Today we say good-bye to Captain Kangaroo. How well I remember him as a friend to children. He began his program for children in 1955 and it ran until 1985. How the kids loved him and the other characters on his show. My own children all knew him well in their pre-school years. He offered them entertainment as well as teaching them interesting things. He wasn't afraid to laugh at himself, a trait which I find to be very admirable. I just learned that he got his name because he had really big pockets and he always had interesting things in them. He called them his kangaroo pockets and soon it became Captain Kangaroo. It's sad to say good-bye to this friend.
On Writing a Journal
Recently in our Sunday school class we had a discussion about writing a journal. I think it fit in with the discussion for the reasons for the writing of the Gospels and other New Testament books. Someone asked about the purpose of writing a journal. Is it meant to be read? Why would we want it to be read since it's personal?
This has been a question I've asked myself for a long time. I write a journal for two reasons. First, I want to sort out my feelings about problems that trouble me. Writing about it relieves my tension and gives me a peace about dealing with the problem. And second, I want my grandchildren and great grandchildren to know something about me and how I coped with my problems, my troubles and my happiness. I know nothing about the attitudes and way of life of my great grandparents. I would love to know, especially about my dad's mother's mother, Carolyn. I think I have this feeling because when I asked my dad what her name was, he said, "I don't know. We always called her Grandma." But Aunt Marge knew her name.
That made me think. I want my grandchildren to know who I am, what I've thought about, what motivates me, what I thought were my achievements, and of course, my first name. I try to write for them.
In 1972 I read a Mary Steward novel, Touch Not the Cat. There is a character in her story who writes diaries which were not kept locked up but were safe enough because she was such a dull woman that no one was interested in reading her dull thoughts. This brought some concern to me. What if I write all these things so that my family will know more about what made me tick and then they think I've lived such a dull life that they aren't interested in reading them!!
If nothing else, at least my Harriet Books, as I call them, have been a good tool for me to vent about my problems and to evaluate my thoughts in general. However, I have tried to not be dull, but I know that some days, I'm dull as gray!
Little Poem
There are things that I've forgotten
And things I never knew
That influence the way I think
And make me do the things I do.
I was thinking about things that influence a person, things like family pressures, learned responses, subconscious motivations that influence people, even though they aren't aware that today's reactions to experiences have been shaped by these influences of the past. I know my past has influenced my thinking about today, and I'm sure it's not just the things I recognize about my past but there are also influences that I'm unaware of.
Gardening
At this time of the year when we reach our lowest temperatures and snow blankets our world, we who love gardening start to think about what we will do in our gardens come spring. I like to listen to Art Drysdale talk about gardening. He a Master Gardener broadcasting in Canada.
This morning he was talking to people who wanted to plant their indoor seeds now. He said it's too early for most things to be planted indoors. They would get too spindly when they couldn't be planted outdoors where they get more sunlight and have room to grow.
I think that my houseplants satisfy my need to see green growing things. Right now my African violets are doing so well. I especially like to see the pink ones these days. After months of nothing but leaves, both of them are putting up masses of beautiful double blossoms. I think it was three years ago that I bought one pink violet at a store in Erie. It had to be divided after a year and I took one plant to my mom. That plant thrived for months but then it was over watered for too long and it died. However, I had started leaf plants from them and one of them has grown to the point where it has made beautiful pink flowers, too.
By raising violets and other houseplants, I can work at a form of gardening all year long, but I, too, am starting to think about what I'll be doing in my flower beds this spring.
Catalogs
A lot of catalogs came in the mail in November and December. There were more catalogs than I could buy from. Some of them are very interesting, though. The ones I like best are for books, (Dover and Edward Hamilton), Dick Blick for artists' materials, and gardening.
I love to think about getting supplies from Blick but the truth of it right now is that I don't allow myself to get more art supplies until I use up some of what I already have. Some day soon I will get out the oil painting materials again.
Books are another thing I need to be careful about buying because I have too many books as it is. I like to read through the catalogs though and see what might be available at a reasonable price. Usually I can get what I'm interested in from the library. However, I really appreciate our library. I was there again for a few minutes today and I see that they are having a book sale again in February. They are calling it "Cold Mountain" of books. I plan to contribute something to this sale, and perhaps look for something to bring home again!
I only get one gardening catalog and I'm surprised that I'm getting it because I don't order through gardening catalogs. But I do love to look through the pictures of the beautiful plants and see what new gardening tools are being offered.
Today is an especially good day to look at the pictures of beautiful summer flowers. I think the high today must have been 8 degrees! There is snow piled up everywhere and it's too cold to be outside for more than a few minutes. It's a good time to look at the pictures and make plans for summer beauty and then relax with a good book and a cup of cocoa.
In a few days I'll bundle the catalogs for the recycling bin, but before long there will be a fresh supply to look at.
Memories of Long Ago
Here's a memory from my childhood that almost became lost. I seldom revisit the memories of my childhood. I have so many things to think about today that I don't have much time to keep the memories of the past polished up. But here's a memory of how things used to be many years ago, and it's a "used to be" that I'm glad is left in the past.
Taking baths: Before we had our indoor bathroom set up and in use, we used a round wash tub for our baths. We filled it with water, carried in a bucket, and the hot water from the teakettle. Most of the time I had my bath in the kitchen. I remember that by the time the bath was over, I was cold. How comforting it was to be enfolded in a big towel and rubbed dry.
I have a memory of Mom bathing in the tub in their bedroom and the water was too hot. I brought some cold water to her, hurrying because the bath water was too hot for her. Then I threw the water right on her feet, to keep them from being burned by the hot water. She yelled with the shock of the cold water on her feet.
I remember, too, that we had to respect the privacy of the person bathing. The kitchen was strictly off limits to others when the Saturday night bathing ritual was going on.
I don't remember how the tub was emptied. It must have been too heavy to pick up and carry to a drain. Perhaps Dad or Mom bailed it out with a bucket and poured it down the drain in the kitchen sink.
I'm so glad that bathing can be an every day event now, and that the hot and cold water run right into the big, comfy bathtub, in the bathroom where it belongs.
I Used to . . . .
I was thinking today about things I, or we, used to do. My thinking started with how we celebrated Christmas years ago and how different my Christmas is celebrated nowadays. Then I progressed to thinking that there are many other things that I used to do but don't do any more. Some of them I'd like to do still, but others are just as well left behind.
I regret the change in my Christmas celebration because it can't involve family as it used to do. The part where I think about the birth of Jesus and what He came to do is the same, but the part where my whole family is together and we have gifts and good food and lots of love is changed. I have to stay in Corry and my family has to stay in their home places and I'm missing the Christmas celebration I used to have.
This led me to think how my Christmas celebration started with my parents and my then immediate family. Now that Dad is gone and Mom is far away, physically and emotionally, it's impossible to continue that phase of what we used to do to celebrate.
There are things I'm glad about. I used to dread going back to school in September and in January after vacation. That's over now. I can love January now and in a way, it's as pleasant to me as May. The days are getting longer, and the house plants are greening up and starting to look better. The promise of summer is beginning to work it's beauty.
I used to be such a nervous wreck about playing special songs for the choir. I don't do that now. I love not being nervous and up tight about playing for the choir. It frees me to do my job better.
I used to walk Rhombus every morning. I can't walk Rusty. He's too energetic. I miss those morning walks. They were good for me. But now I exercise at Aquarobics and I love doing that. It's been good for me.
We can't keep on doing the things we used to do. Change is inevitable. Some day I'll recall fondly the things I used to do, or the things I left behind in January of 2004. What a thought!
Contentment
Contentment must be a gift. I think it must be hard to say to one's self, "I will be content with what I have," and then contentment happens. And yet, that may be how contentment begins, --with a determination to make it so.
Tonight I am contented. I've done some work and I've played some today. I've been out to get groceries and talked to some people. I've prepared and eaten good meals. It feels so good to get my work done. I'm warm enough on this cold winter night. I have a warm bed to sleep in tonight. I am blessed.
I have what I need. Contentment is a wonderful gift. The writer to the Hebrews gives us insight into the real reason for contentment. "For He hath said,'I will never leave you or forsake you.'" The ultimate reason for contentment is that God is with me at all times.
I would that I could always be contented as I am right now. However, when the unrest comes, (as it will), I know that I can get right back to the source of all contentment and bask in His presence.January Snow
It's been a long time since I went out walking in a blustery winter snow but today I bundled up and went to the library, on foot. The snow was well over my ankles on the way up to my knees, and the sidewalks hadn't been plowed but the roads were open and passable. The wind blew from the West and I walked with the wind in my face just about the whole way. But I was bundled up warmly. I had my coat snapped closed up past my chin and the hood pulled up and also snapped shut at my chin. Under my hood I was wearing my furry hat which kept sliding down to my eyes. Later I discovered that it was on backwards and that was probably the reason it didn't stay put, but it kept me warm.
There were few others on foot and there weren't a lot of cars either. I was glad to be walking, getting exercise, enjoying the mild storm. When I got to the library, I tried to stomp and brush off most of the snow but I carried a good bit of it indoors with me. My glasses fogged up and I could not see. The warmth of the library engulfed me.
I picked up the book they were holding for me and intended to choose one more book and then head back home again. While I was at the check out desk, Edia came in. I knew I was able to walk home again but then I decided that it was probably providential that he came when he did. Therefore, I asked him if I could hitch a ride home. He was happy to give me a lift.
He was only out because it was his day to drive the senior citizens to shop around town. He had thought that they would say that none of them wanted to go out in the snowstorm. However, four of them were eager to get out and shop so he had to get his car out and take them. He said he would never have got his car out of the driveway at Pleasant Manor if he hadn't had positraction. He couldn't believe that they had been so willing to go out in such bad weather. Since he was out, he returned a video to the library.
At home again, I put my books in the house, grabbed a snow shovel and cleared our porch steps and sidewalk. I enjoyed my winter exercise in the afternoon snowstorm.
Forgetting
Forgetting: Have I written about this lately? It seems like I may have but I think I've forgotten.
Any way, again today I'm thinking about forgetting. I just had wonderful company over New Year's and there were things I wanted to share and/or ask. While I had the opportunity to do so, I forgot! I still have the potato chips that I intended to put out for the party, but I forgot! I bet people would have eaten them if I'd remembered. But I forgot and kept forgetting them!
And salad. I meant to have tossed salad with the ham dinner. But I forgot to put it out. Maybe it wouldn't have been eaten as well as the potato chips, but some people would have eaten it.
And ask. I wanted to ask the football fans, what is a "pancake" play? Or maybe it was another word with that pancake name, but all I remember is the pancake. It intrigued me and I'd like to know what it might be in football. If it leaves the opponent as flat as a pancake, it can't be good. I think I heard the person on the radio say that the pancake play didn't work, or something like that.
I think I've forgotten much more than this, but then again, I forgot what!
Syndicate this site