a visit with the kids!
Wednesday, January 9, 2013
Tuesday, January 8, 2013
Fifth Grade, once upon a time. #T
Almost inevitably there was in every class I taught over the years one child who has it all. She* is cute, personable, likes everyone and treats them with respect, gets the top scores in every subject. It would in the broader scheme of things seem to be a bit more fair if she had a flaw, say rich, cute and smart, but arrogant and insufferably intolerant of others.
But no. Lou Ann is perfect in every way.
Billy, same class, repeating the grade, hold-back from the previous year. Physically awkward, dressed in the same sweats a week at a time, loud, obnoxious, and bidding fair to barely pass this year.
You see, this is the "great experiment" which is public education. These two children, along with 37 others, are thrown together in some series of random accidents which place them all in the same classroom, and thus their lives impinge upon each other for nine long months. Longer in small communities, for they are apt to be thrown together again and again.
Then there is "outcome based evaluation." And this not of the students only, but of the teacher as well.
This is not a treatise on educational practice. It is simply a set of recollections of times I spent pursuing my vocation.
And you know what? I had the best job in the world!
*Some years it was a Mr. Perfect.
But no. Lou Ann is perfect in every way.
Billy, same class, repeating the grade, hold-back from the previous year. Physically awkward, dressed in the same sweats a week at a time, loud, obnoxious, and bidding fair to barely pass this year.
You see, this is the "great experiment" which is public education. These two children, along with 37 others, are thrown together in some series of random accidents which place them all in the same classroom, and thus their lives impinge upon each other for nine long months. Longer in small communities, for they are apt to be thrown together again and again.
Then there is "outcome based evaluation." And this not of the students only, but of the teacher as well.
This is not a treatise on educational practice. It is simply a set of recollections of times I spent pursuing my vocation.
And you know what? I had the best job in the world!
*Some years it was a Mr. Perfect.
Monday, January 7, 2013
Mail Pouch or Kentucky Twist?
A little while ago I had occasion to call at a local funeral home. Now the proprietors are neighbors, friends, people I have known since they were children, yet a visit to their establishment is almost always connected with a loss of a friend or acquaintance. In this instance, the decedent was an acquaintance of many years and a man for whom I had great respect.
For eight years he had been a member of the school board, and thus in a manner of speaking, my employer. Later, his daughter was a teacher on my staff. It was for her primarily that I made the call, for Don was no longer with us. I'm sure it didn't matter to him one way or the other.
Following a wait in line for over an hour, I was privileged to visit with Don's family members for a few moments. Then I went into a parlor where many people were gathered. Here it was that a young man of, say forty-something, approached me.
" Mr. L! Hi, do you remember me?" (Always the first question the guys ask thirty years after our last encounter.)
"Of course," I said. "How are you, Justin?" (This part was easy, since I had just visited with his sister a few minutes earlier. She had pointed him out across the room.)
"Remember how you tried to get me to give up chaw?" Justin asked.
"I'll never forget it," I replied. Justin was a student in my school for six years, kindergarten through grade five. The chewing tobacco issue came up in his second grade year. It never went away. "Hope you've dropped that foolishness."
"Nah. Still chew." Said, apparently with a great deal of pride, as though his standing there before me in apparent good health somehow proved he was right. And coincidentally, that I was wrong.
"Sorry to hear it. But it is good to see you again." We chatted a few minutes about his doings, and I headed home.
Quite possibly a lot of our efforts, well-intentioned as they may be, go for naught.
For eight years he had been a member of the school board, and thus in a manner of speaking, my employer. Later, his daughter was a teacher on my staff. It was for her primarily that I made the call, for Don was no longer with us. I'm sure it didn't matter to him one way or the other.
Following a wait in line for over an hour, I was privileged to visit with Don's family members for a few moments. Then I went into a parlor where many people were gathered. Here it was that a young man of, say forty-something, approached me.
" Mr. L! Hi, do you remember me?" (Always the first question the guys ask thirty years after our last encounter.)
"Of course," I said. "How are you, Justin?" (This part was easy, since I had just visited with his sister a few minutes earlier. She had pointed him out across the room.)
"Remember how you tried to get me to give up chaw?" Justin asked.
"I'll never forget it," I replied. Justin was a student in my school for six years, kindergarten through grade five. The chewing tobacco issue came up in his second grade year. It never went away. "Hope you've dropped that foolishness."
"Nah. Still chew." Said, apparently with a great deal of pride, as though his standing there before me in apparent good health somehow proved he was right. And coincidentally, that I was wrong.
"Sorry to hear it. But it is good to see you again." We chatted a few minutes about his doings, and I headed home.
Quite possibly a lot of our efforts, well-intentioned as they may be, go for naught.
Sunday, January 6, 2013
Busy, busy, busy.
Mobile. On the go. Grab your mobile phone. Do your mobile banking. Don't stop for anything; you might get run over from behind. Haven't time to...
What a frenzied life-style people have chosen. I almost wrote "chosen to live." Just in time to stop the silly fingers, I realized that this is not living. It is frenetic, frantic, and all too often pointless activity.
The scriptures tell us to "be still." I am not making this up. I am cherry-picking my texts, but it is in there.
The verse that comes most readily to mind is Psalm 46:10 in which the Lord tells us, "Be still, and know that I am God." Reflect on that a bit. Does it not suggest that we cannot get to know God if we are consumed with frenetic activity? So to "be still" gives us an opportunity to make the most important connection we can or will ever make.
Psalm 4:4 says, "Stand in awe, and sin not; commune with you own heart upon your bed, and be still." Perhaps it is the case that we fail to grasp the awesome nature of our God because we do not take time to commune with our own heart. We are not still long enough to even consider the possibilities. We certainly can't "be still" while motoring down the road at a good hickory, mobile device in hand, staying connected with everyone else, but making no connection with the Creator.
First Samuel 9:27 says, "Stand still a while, that I may show you the word of God." Short of being still, we may get the word of all our friends but totally miss the Word of God.
Second Chronicles 20:17: "Stand still and see the salvation of the Lord."
Indeed.
What a frenzied life-style people have chosen. I almost wrote "chosen to live." Just in time to stop the silly fingers, I realized that this is not living. It is frenetic, frantic, and all too often pointless activity.
The scriptures tell us to "be still." I am not making this up. I am cherry-picking my texts, but it is in there.
The verse that comes most readily to mind is Psalm 46:10 in which the Lord tells us, "Be still, and know that I am God." Reflect on that a bit. Does it not suggest that we cannot get to know God if we are consumed with frenetic activity? So to "be still" gives us an opportunity to make the most important connection we can or will ever make.
Psalm 4:4 says, "Stand in awe, and sin not; commune with you own heart upon your bed, and be still." Perhaps it is the case that we fail to grasp the awesome nature of our God because we do not take time to commune with our own heart. We are not still long enough to even consider the possibilities. We certainly can't "be still" while motoring down the road at a good hickory, mobile device in hand, staying connected with everyone else, but making no connection with the Creator.
First Samuel 9:27 says, "Stand still a while, that I may show you the word of God." Short of being still, we may get the word of all our friends but totally miss the Word of God.
Second Chronicles 20:17: "Stand still and see the salvation of the Lord."
Indeed.
Saturday, January 5, 2013
Pack up your pack!
We were here-- a year ago today.
Here we are now. So far as a southward migration is concerned, I have to say we are making zero progress.
BBBH, however, sees an opportunity. Evidently. For she told me last evening that tomorrow we would be on the road. That may take some doing, but then, I'm guessing it is up to me to get it done. Today may be a long day.
Wish us luck.
Thursday, January 3, 2013
Spandex shorts and butt cracks
Had to venture out to get bread and laundry detergent. Headed to the checkout when from a ninety degree approach two young men stepped directly in front of me. Not a problem, or it wouldn't have been except that the one nearest me who was handling the transaction with the clerk, tall, skinny-- but I didn't notice him first. His buddy to his right had on a pair of "shorts" of the kind that come to the knee, spandex print fabric, bare shanks (180F outside) and lumberjack boots. Idiot.
Then I turned my attention to the tall, skinny young man in front of me. Unfortunately my eyes wandered to his waistline where I saw only grey undershorts, for his jeans were belted around his, I know no other way to put it, butt. The shorts covered it, but three or four inches of butt crack were evident under the taut flimsy material.
First impulse, and fortunately I am not an impulsive person, was to put my index fingers in the belt loops and drop his pants to the floor, maybe giving him a little nudge in the shoulder to complete his contact with the floor. But that, of course, would be A & B, so I refrained. Next I thought to say, "How old are you, anyway?" because these guys were not teenagers. They were clearly twenty-something and much too old to look like idiots, unless of course they were idiots. Well there you go, then.
I didn't do that either. Bad vanilla. How judgmental. Good man; how sensible. And yes, they are free to wander around in public in that condition, but that doesn't mean they should.
Then I turned my attention to the tall, skinny young man in front of me. Unfortunately my eyes wandered to his waistline where I saw only grey undershorts, for his jeans were belted around his, I know no other way to put it, butt. The shorts covered it, but three or four inches of butt crack were evident under the taut flimsy material.
First impulse, and fortunately I am not an impulsive person, was to put my index fingers in the belt loops and drop his pants to the floor, maybe giving him a little nudge in the shoulder to complete his contact with the floor. But that, of course, would be A & B, so I refrained. Next I thought to say, "How old are you, anyway?" because these guys were not teenagers. They were clearly twenty-something and much too old to look like idiots, unless of course they were idiots. Well there you go, then.
I didn't do that either. Bad vanilla. How judgmental. Good man; how sensible. And yes, they are free to wander around in public in that condition, but that doesn't mean they should.
Wednesday, January 2, 2013
Free snow; haul it away.
Tuesday, January 1, 2013
I Love It!
About two and a half years ago I participated in a meme that Chuck sent my way. I passed it on to several blogger friends. It came back around yesterday when Bob and Jan of Little Green Truck fame mentioned it on their facebook page. They reposted their ten loves. It seemed appropriate at the beginning of a new year to review the things I claim to love. I went back to the old post and copied it over here. I had to tweak the age, but otherwise, it is still the same!
1. I love the Lord Jesus Christ who is my savior.
2. I love my wife whom you have met as "BBBH".
3. I love my family which has become so large and so widely extended that it is a challenge as I age to remember all their names.
4. I love being 78 years old. It's sort of a testimony to perseverance Next up, 79! and who knows how far one can go from there!
5. I love the community in which we live. It is not "Perfect" in spite of the fact that I have referred to it in that way on the blog; but it is the best place in which I've ever lived, and that's saying something.
6. For the most part, I love blogging, both writing my own and reading others. I have tried to quit, really I have; but BBBH says I'm addicted. There are worse addictions.
7. I love political cartoons and comic strips and their creators. I don't read them all, just half-dozen of the former and dozen of the latter. I love to laugh; and laughing at the nonsense of politicians and the foibles of our fellow-man keeps us from going nuts.
8. I love Coffee.
9. I love Texas. Admittedly I have never been there between May and September. But, subtext 9a. I love the ocean and 9b. I love the desert. Texas has plenty of both.
10. I love living green things. This was my answer to the question, "Why did you ever choose to move to Indiana?"
What do you love?
HAPPY NEW YEAR!
What do you love?
HAPPY NEW YEAR!
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)