Off to the Races--Random Thoughts

The end of the school year is drawing near. I have to try to remember that it is a marathon, and not a 50 yard dash. I feel like we're trying to pack tons of stuff in the last few weeks before our spring testing. We're going to be doing groups some more starting next week, but we're not going to be doing our reading groups. We're going to be doing skills-based groups regarding language usage. I'm working on sentence construction and parts with my groups. Another teacher will be working on nouns, one verbs, and the last will be working on pronouns. Seriously, we have students who still refuse to put a capital letter or an end mark on their sentences. At the end of second grade. How do you fix that? I don't know that I have an answer.

I am kind of excited for the end of the year. I'm fried. Really, truly, fried. I've decided not to even attempt to teach summer school this year, even though if I did get a position, the money is good and would be very beneficial for us. I just don't think its the right thing. My students for next year deserve a fresh and renewed teacher, and my students this year did not get that.

I'm wondering...does anyone really give a rat's behind about the Obama's new dog? All I know is that dog's going to be big. I'm happy to know that my tax dollars will be paying for a professional dog-walker. Maybe they should have adopted a chihuaua to build relations with Mexico.

Speaking of Mexico...I have an issue with the topic of illegal aliens. Over the course of my very short career in education, I have had the pleasure of teaching several students who are in the country illegally. And I do mean "pleasure." These students and their families are honestly some of the hardest working and most appreciative people. They know how good we have it here, and they risk life and limb to come.

I had a parent talk to me during conferences. This parent told me about their trip through the desert, and how they came in the dark of night. The parent was afraid because they're going to have to return to Mexico. This parent sat in my room and wept at the thought of returning there, because she knows that her children will not have the same opportunities in Mexico that they have here.

Don't get me wrong. I'm not condoning coming into this country illegally by any means. But I think that the general American people sees illegal immigrants as drug dealers and users, people who come here and suck our system dry, and to be honest with you, I haven't seen that with the kids and families I've interacted with. They work hard, they support their families, and even extended families. I think that they truly realize what a good thing we have going on here. If they didn't, they wouldn't do what they have to do to get here.

I'm babbling. And I'm tired. And I'm going to look through this catalog to see what I want to order for my classroom next year. Wooties.

No Shame

So I'm sitting here in my living room watching the Academy of Country Music Awards on CBS, and I see that there's just no shame. Sometimes I just don't understand how people can show their faces.

I see LeeAnn Rimes, who just in the past few weeks was accused of cheating on her husband. I don't know how you can show up without him with a big smile pasted all over your face and pretend like nothing's wrong, or that no one said anything about it.

I guess there's several choices in a situation like that, though. You can hide away, or you can go live your life with some humility or pretend there's nothing wrong. Everyone makes mistakes. I need to remind myself of that. I think I overestimate my moral fortitude sometimes...

Shame on ME.

My Grandpa

March 12 was my Grandpa Matson's birthday. I have it written on my calendar. We had his viewing on his 80th birthday. We even had birthday cake for him.

The point isn't his death, though. The point is his life, and all the wonderful memories I have of him. It seems like I see him everywhere I go, now. I see these cute, little, old rotund men who have "farmer" written all over them, with their tanned, weather-worn skin, and still-calloused hands. I miss my Grandpa.

One of my favorite pictures with him is when I was very young. I had on my farmer overalls, and we were in the barn, and he is leaned over me helping me stir milk replacer for the calves. I remember picking rocks with Grandpa (one of the chores all of us grandkids hated), and going fishing with him and my dad. I remember going on vacation with him and my grandma up north. They would sit together on the porch of their cabin or on the beach and watch the rest of the family play.

At their own house, it seemed like people would wander in and out all day. When my mom started working and I started going to school I would have to go over to Grandma and Grandpa's and ride the bus from their house. My dad would come in before work and have a cup of coffee and yak with them before he went off to work. In the summer after work dad and grandpa would head out to the fields to cut hay or plow, or just piddle around the farm yard "fixing." Grandpa was busy all day except when he came back home for his noon meal and nap. That man could suck the roof in with his snoring...

I remember when Grandpa's truck rolled down the hill because he forgot to put the brake on because he had to go to the bathroom. It hit a tree at the bottom but not before it killed some of his ducks. Grandpa had an amazing sense of humor. He was always teasing, and he had nicknames for all of his children and grandchildren--I'm Skeeter, by the way. Nice to meet you.

I just...I feel so blessed. I don't remember much of my mom's parents--I didn't spend that much time with them, and I was fairly young when they passed. But my dad's parents--man alive. I practically grew up in their home. And it was a home filled with laughter, and love, and fun. How many kids have what I did? Not very many kids these days, and THOSE days had that. So, my grandpa, he's got a special piece of my heart. I loved that man, and I still do, and I miss him daily.