I don't have time to write tonight, but I feel that I must.
The last three or four weeks have been exceedingly difficult for me. We are implementing a new instructional model that I believe in, but actually putting it into practice has been rough. In theory, most of the class will be reading independently and responding in their journals while I focus on guided reading with a small group.
The reading part is getting better, for the most part. We started several weeks ago with 20 minutes of reading followed by whole-group instruction. That was a battle because over half of my students profess to hate reading. Every day, they'd say, "We're reading again? Why do we have to read every day?"
Each day, I calmly repeated, "This is reading class. That's what we do. You can't get better at reading without reading."
Sunday, December 9, 2018
Sunday, November 18, 2018
Good Times With a Hall Walker
I have three or four teaching stories saved up, and I hope to share them all over Thanksgiving break (thank you, Jesus!), in chronological order. Here's the first....
Remember Julia*, the student who was overwhelmed by a grade-level reading comprehension test? She continues to drive me batty on a daily basis in class, yet our relationship has been growing over the last few weeks. She came in for tutoring again about three weeks back; I'd arranged it with her mother in order to make up for the independent reading and response that she'd refused to do during class.
I'd expected a surly attitude, but she was surprisingly cheerful as we waited for the campus to clear after the final bell and then strolled to the cafeteria for snacks. I think she was happy to get the undivided attention that she clearly craves. We chatted easily about the day, and about the nearly empty box of donuts that she'd spotted on top of a cabinet in my room. Those had been a reward for the classes that behaved for the substitute when I had jury duty. Julia's class, the last period of the day, had definitely not earned them.
"There are a few donuts left," I said. "Would you like one?"
She nodded vigorously, and then she asked if there were any chocolate ones.
"No, I'm sorry. Only plain glazed."
She pursed her lips for a moment and then grinned. "That's okay. I'll still eat one."
"Great! I'll eat one with you."
Remember Julia*, the student who was overwhelmed by a grade-level reading comprehension test? She continues to drive me batty on a daily basis in class, yet our relationship has been growing over the last few weeks. She came in for tutoring again about three weeks back; I'd arranged it with her mother in order to make up for the independent reading and response that she'd refused to do during class.
I'd expected a surly attitude, but she was surprisingly cheerful as we waited for the campus to clear after the final bell and then strolled to the cafeteria for snacks. I think she was happy to get the undivided attention that she clearly craves. We chatted easily about the day, and about the nearly empty box of donuts that she'd spotted on top of a cabinet in my room. Those had been a reward for the classes that behaved for the substitute when I had jury duty. Julia's class, the last period of the day, had definitely not earned them.
"There are a few donuts left," I said. "Would you like one?"
She nodded vigorously, and then she asked if there were any chocolate ones.
"No, I'm sorry. Only plain glazed."
She pursed her lips for a moment and then grinned. "That's okay. I'll still eat one."
"Great! I'll eat one with you."
Sunday, October 28, 2018
So Proud of You
A few weeks back, one of my struggling readers stayed after school for a behavior conference. Julia* and I had a relaxed conversation while she helped me clean graffiti off the desks.
"Tell me how it is for you in my class," I said. "I know you don't like it. What's going on?"
"Well..." she said, hesitating as she scrubbed off a SnapChat user name.
"Go ahead," I urged. "Be honest."
"Well, usually I'm just bored. I don't get what we're doing. Sometimes I want to try, but it's too hard. And then my friends tell me to do things to make them laugh, so..."
"So you do things to keep them entertained?"
"Yeah."
"Tell me how it is for you in my class," I said. "I know you don't like it. What's going on?"
"Well..." she said, hesitating as she scrubbed off a SnapChat user name.
"Go ahead," I urged. "Be honest."
"Well, usually I'm just bored. I don't get what we're doing. Sometimes I want to try, but it's too hard. And then my friends tell me to do things to make them laugh, so..."
"So you do things to keep them entertained?"
"Yeah."
Friday, October 26, 2018
I Love You Even Then
Please forgive my long silence now that school has started. What a year it has been so far! There have been so many blog-worthy moments, but no time to write about them. I've lost track of the days I've gone home wanting to quit, but there have been many other days that made my heart sing. Yesterday was one of the latter, and I've decided that grading papers can wait.
I thought this year would be easier than my first year because I'd be teaching the same subject and could use some of the same lesson plans. Plus, I learned a lot from my mistakes last year, and I planned to start the year off on the right foot this time.
There was only one problem. Our students came to seventh grade reading at much lower levels than last year; our average student reads at the fourth-grade level, and some of them read at the second-grade level. It only took a few weeks to realize that last year's model was not serving our students. There is no point asking students who cannot read a passage questions about point of view, setting, and author's purpose.
What these students really need is time to actually read. As I've told them all year long, the only way to get better at reading is reading. But there are two problems with that: 1) The ones who need it most despise reading, and we can't force them to do it. They will use any diversionary tactic to avoid reading and to prevent their classmates from reading, too. 2) We are a middle school. We don't have books on the second- and third-grade level. [Our principal just now obtained funding to provide us with leveled libraries for our classrooms, as well as a consultant to help us implement a reading workshop approach. Hallelujah!]
For the last two weeks, I've devoted over half of my class time to silent reading--in theory. But a handful of students have made that time both unfruitful and highly stressful, at least for me. Wednesday was the low point. On the advice of an administrator who has been helping with my most challenging class, I sent every disruptive student to the office and set up parent conferences. Guess how many I sent out in one period? Six. Six! With all of that drama, only the most determined readers could have read anything.
I thought this year would be easier than my first year because I'd be teaching the same subject and could use some of the same lesson plans. Plus, I learned a lot from my mistakes last year, and I planned to start the year off on the right foot this time.
There was only one problem. Our students came to seventh grade reading at much lower levels than last year; our average student reads at the fourth-grade level, and some of them read at the second-grade level. It only took a few weeks to realize that last year's model was not serving our students. There is no point asking students who cannot read a passage questions about point of view, setting, and author's purpose.
What these students really need is time to actually read. As I've told them all year long, the only way to get better at reading is reading. But there are two problems with that: 1) The ones who need it most despise reading, and we can't force them to do it. They will use any diversionary tactic to avoid reading and to prevent their classmates from reading, too. 2) We are a middle school. We don't have books on the second- and third-grade level. [Our principal just now obtained funding to provide us with leveled libraries for our classrooms, as well as a consultant to help us implement a reading workshop approach. Hallelujah!]
For the last two weeks, I've devoted over half of my class time to silent reading--in theory. But a handful of students have made that time both unfruitful and highly stressful, at least for me. Wednesday was the low point. On the advice of an administrator who has been helping with my most challenging class, I sent every disruptive student to the office and set up parent conferences. Guess how many I sent out in one period? Six. Six! With all of that drama, only the most determined readers could have read anything.
Monday, September 3, 2018
Algo Mejor / Something Better
EN ESPAÑOL ABAJO...
[Here is my last bilingual travelogue for a while. School has started and I'm horribly busy with teaching now. For this bilingual series, I compose the story in Spanish and then translate into English so that we can see my progress in learning the language. Disclaimer: All grammar errors in the dialogue are my responsibility.]
ENGLISH TRANSLATION FOLLOWS.
[Aquí está mi último travelogue bilingüe por un tiempo. La escuela ha empezado y estoy terriblemente ocupada con la enseñanza ahora. Todos errores gramatical en el diágolo son mios.]
Allí conocí a un hombre mayor que se parecía a Mecho. Estaban sentados a la mesa, hablando y comiendo.
“¿Es su hermano?” le pregunté a Mecho.
El sonreió. “Sí.”
Le di la mano al hombre y dije, “Me llamo Sarah.”
Él miró a su hermano. Mecho repitío mis palabras. (Aperentemente, mi acento es muy fuerte.)
“Ah. Mi nombre es Israel, pero todos me llaman Lulu,” dijo.
“Oh. Me gusta mucho su nombre… Israel. Y tambien Lulu.”
Lulu reió.
Como de costumbre, no podía entender la conversación de otras personas, pero esto no me molestó. Miré a y escuché a los hermanos y comí mi desayuno con tranquilidad.
Después del desayuno, ellos fueron afuera, donde Mecho hábilmente le cortó el cabello de Lulu.
“Mecho, usted tiena muchas habilidades diferentes,” dije en mi discurso lento y cuidadoso.
Wednesday, August 8, 2018
Un Tipo Diferente de Aventura / A Different Kind of Adventure
EN ESPAÑOL ABAJO...
[This is not your typical travelogue, but an important part of my story in Costa Rica. For this bilingual series, I compose the story in Spanish and then translate into English so that we can see my progress in learning the language. (By the way, I'm back home now. It was a difficult adjustment.) Disclaimer: All grammar errors in the dialogue are my responsibility.]
ENGLISH TRANSLATION FOLLOWS.
[Todos errores gramatical en el diágolo son mios.]
El domingo siguiente mi tour de su campo, Zeidy y yo debíamos tener una cita en su casa. Recordé el consejo de mi amiga Kim el día antes mi viaje: “Pinta sus uñas. Quizás tú vas a conocer al amor de su vida.”
[This is not your typical travelogue, but an important part of my story in Costa Rica. For this bilingual series, I compose the story in Spanish and then translate into English so that we can see my progress in learning the language. (By the way, I'm back home now. It was a difficult adjustment.) Disclaimer: All grammar errors in the dialogue are my responsibility.]
ENGLISH TRANSLATION FOLLOWS.
[Todos errores gramatical en el diágolo son mios.]
¿Se preguntaba sobre que pasó con Walter? Me preguntaba tambien; pensaba sobre esto mucho.
“No tengo tiempo,” he contestado.
“Si conoces a un hombre guapo, vas a desear que había pintado sus uñas.”
Decidí que corro el riesgo.
Friday, August 3, 2018
Por el Borde / Over the Edge
EN ESPAÑOL ABAJO
[Here is another bilingual travelogue entry about my trip to Costa Rica for a Spanish Immersion program.]
[Here is another bilingual travelogue entry about my trip to Costa Rica for a Spanish Immersion program.]
ENGLISH TRANSLATION FOLLOWS.
En la tarde del día cuando visité a Turrialba, hice un excursión con mi profesora, Karen. Pensé que este canopy tour habían solamente cables, pero la experiencia incluyó más.
Una sorpresa esperó para mí: ¡Antes el primer cable, debemos hacer rappel debajo de una catarata! Nuestro guía nos mostró el proceso y me explicó en inglés.
Entonces, él me dijo, "¿Está lista? ¡Vaya!" Él pusó mi hombro suavemente.
No podía cambiar de parecer. La situación era misma que mi viaje entiro; aquí, nunca sé exactamente que va a pasar, pero he aprendido que tener confianza. Siempre, todo es bueno.
Wednesday, August 1, 2018
Un Tour de Turrialba / A Tour of Turrialba
EN ESPAÑOL ABAJO
[This is my fifth bilingual travelogue entry, chronicling both my travel experiences and my progress with Spanish in a Costa Rican language immersion program. Note that all grammar errors in the dialogue are mine.]
ENGLISH TRANSLATION FOLLOWS.
[Todos errores gramatical en el diágolo son mios.]
El día siguiente el día cuando conocí Walter, Amable, y el Chihuahua, mi profesora Karen me dio un tour de Turrialba, la ciudad más cerca de mi pueblo de Tuis. En el autobús, hablábamos sobre nuestras vidas. El bus iba muy lleno, y a mí costó concentrar porque las personas me apretaron.
[This is my fifth bilingual travelogue entry, chronicling both my travel experiences and my progress with Spanish in a Costa Rican language immersion program. Note that all grammar errors in the dialogue are mine.]
ENGLISH TRANSLATION FOLLOWS.
[Todos errores gramatical en el diágolo son mios.]
El día siguiente el día cuando conocí Walter, Amable, y el Chihuahua, mi profesora Karen me dio un tour de Turrialba, la ciudad más cerca de mi pueblo de Tuis. En el autobús, hablábamos sobre nuestras vidas. El bus iba muy lleno, y a mí costó concentrar porque las personas me apretaron.
Saturday, July 28, 2018
Un Día Sin Lágrimas / A Day Without Tears
EN ESPAÑOL ABAJO
[Here is my fourth bilingual travelogue entry about my experiences in a Spanish immersion program in Costa Rica. If you can read Spanish, please note that all grammar errors in the dialogue belong to me.]
ENGLISH TRANSLATION FOLLOWS.
[Todos de errores gramaticales en el diálogo son mios.]
En mi sexto día en Costa Rica conocí a unos amigos nuevos. Estaba hablando con Zeidy, la hija de Macha, y ella me invitó que acompañarla. No supe dónde, pero estaba feliz de ver cosas nueva.
"Vamos a ir a un lugar muy bonito," ella dijo.
Manajamos arriba una carretera estrecha con muchas curvas y rocas. Traté de concentrar en nuestra conversación y no me preocupé por mi seguridad.
[Here is my fourth bilingual travelogue entry about my experiences in a Spanish immersion program in Costa Rica. If you can read Spanish, please note that all grammar errors in the dialogue belong to me.]
ENGLISH TRANSLATION FOLLOWS.
[Todos de errores gramaticales en el diálogo son mios.]
En mi sexto día en Costa Rica conocí a unos amigos nuevos. Estaba hablando con Zeidy, la hija de Macha, y ella me invitó que acompañarla. No supe dónde, pero estaba feliz de ver cosas nueva.
"Vamos a ir a un lugar muy bonito," ella dijo.
Manajamos arriba una carretera estrecha con muchas curvas y rocas. Traté de concentrar en nuestra conversación y no me preocupé por mi seguridad.
Tuesday, July 24, 2018
Muchos Niños Lloran / Many Children Cry
EN ESPAÑOL ABAJO...
[This is the third in a series of bilingual travelogue entries, a record of my progress in a Spanish Immersion program.]
ENGLISH TRANSLATION FOLLOWS...
En mi tercero día en Costa Rica, escuela comienzó. Estaba nerviosa sobre el autobús, pero mi mamá Tica caminó conmigo y le dijo a el conductor donde yo necesité ir.
En el bus hubo tres profesoras de mi escuela, CISA. Caminamos en la misma vía del día pasado. El edifício sirve para escuela, misión, y iglesia.
Aquí encontré a 11 perros que viven con el director, Héctor. Ellos siempre entran a escondidas. ¡A veces trepan por las ventanas!
Inicié en una clase intermedia con cuatro otros estudiantes. Todas las instrucciónes estuvieron en español. Estuvo como el sermón de Hector en el día pasado. Las palabras fluyeron sobre mi cabeza pero no entraron mis pensamientos. Sin embargo, hoy debí concentrar. ¿ Cómo pude aprender si no entendí las instrucciones?
Quise llorar, pero no. Sólo me senté en la silla y sonreí.
Después almuerzo, asistí un clase intensiva. Nosotros practicamos verbos reflexivos.
Después mi clase, yo fui a la parada con una profesora, Malli. Llegabamos diez minutos después el bus salió. El proximo bus fue a llegar en cincuenta minutos, y yo debí esperar sola.
Pregunté a Malli, "¿Cómo le digo el conductor donde necesito ir?"
Malli me explicó, pero no comprendé porque estuve inquieta. Ella repetía sus instrucciones, pero yo todavía no entendí. Ella escribía en mi cuaderno:
Yo dije, "¿Debo...?" Me levante el brazo y bajé un cable imaginario.
"Sí," ella contestó.
"¿Cómo sé cuando necesito...? Todavía no sabía el verbo.
"Después del puenta."
"¿El puente? ¿Dónde?"
Inicié llorar. "Disculpe," dije, y cubrí mis ojos. "Tengo miedo."
"Es normal," ella me dijo. "Quizás puede llamar un taxi."
"Pero no sé cómo que decir dónde la casa esta. Quizás camino. Pienso que puedo encontrar la casa si camino."
"Pero esta lejos, y esta lloviendo."
"¿Llovi... la lluvia?"
"Sí."
A mí me parecía que la carretera fue peligrosa. Fue estrecha y los carros manejaron rápidamente. Normalmente, disfruto caminar, per no quise mormirme en este día.
"OK. Por favor, me ayuda que llamar un taxi."
Malli llamó a Ariel, el nieto de Macha, y él llamó un taxi.
"Sólo diga, 'La casa de Doña Macha, por favor,' " Malli me dijo.
No necesité decir algo porque el conductor llegó en cinco minutos. Malli le dio las instrucciónes.
Después tres minutos, estuve en mi casa.
En la cocina, dije a Macha, "A mí me hace falta mi autobús." Estuve orgullosa para usando un estructura de mi clase intensiva. Ahora, sé la correcta oración: "Perdí mi autobús."
"No sé cómo que decir dónde..." Lloré de nuevo. "Disculpe."
"No llore," Macha dijo. "Es normal. Es su primer día." Ella me abrazó.
Ahora yo reí, tan duro que casi no puedo hablar. "Sí, muchos niños lloran en su primer día en escuela."
Soy normal.
=========================
On my third day in Costa Rica, school started. I was nervous about the bus, but my Tica Mama walked with me, and she told the bus driver where I needed to go.
On the bus were three teachers from my school, CISA. We walked the same route from the day before. The building serves as school, mission, and church.
Here I encountered 11 dogs that live with the director, Hector. They always sneak in. Sometimes they climb through the windows!
I started an intermediate class with four other students. All of the instruction was in Spanish. It was like Hector's sermon on the past day. The words flowed over my head but did not enter my thoughts. However, today I must concentrate. How could I learn if I could not understand the instruction?
I wanted to cry, but no. Instead, I sat in my chair and smiled.
After lunch, I attended an intensive class. We practiced reflexive verbs.
After my class, I went to the bus stop with a teacher, Malli. We arrived 10 minutes after the bus left. The next bus was going to arrive in 50 minutes, and I must wait alone.
I asked Malli, "How do I tell the driver where I need to go?"
She explained it to me, but I did not understand because I was very anxious. She repeated her instructions but I still did not understand. She wrote in my notebook:
To La Selva (The Jungle), please. You can stop where Aldemar or after the La Selva bridge." [I still don't quite understand the instructions.]
"Must I...?" I raised my arm and pulled an imaginary cable.
"Yes," she answered.
"How do I know when I need to...?" I still didn't know the verb.
"After the bridge."
"The bridge? Where?"
I started to cry. "I'm sorry," I said, and covered my eyes. "I have fear."
"It's normal," she said. "Maybe you can call a taxi."
"But I don't know how to say where my house is. Maybe I walk. I think I can find the house if I walk."
"No, it's far. And it's raining."
It appeared to me that the road was dangerous. It was narrow, and the cars drove rapidly. Normally, I enjoy walking, but I did not want to die on this day.
"Okay, please help me call a taxi."
Malli called Ariel, Macha's grandson, and he called a taxi.
"Just say, 'Doña Macha's house, please,' " Malli told me.
I didn't need to say anything, because the driver arrived in five minutes. Malli gave him the instructions.
I dried my eyes and hugged Malli.
After three minutes, I was in my house. In the kitchen, I said to Macha, "To me it happened that my bus was missing." I was proud for using a structure from my intensive class. Now I know the correct sentence: "I lost my bus." [It is an idiom that we don't use in English.]
"I don't know how to say where..." I cried again. "I'm sorry"
"Don't cry," Macha said. "It's normal. It is your first day."
Now I laughed, so hard that I almost couldn't talk. "Yes, many children cry on their first day of school."
I am normal.
[This is the third in a series of bilingual travelogue entries, a record of my progress in a Spanish Immersion program.]
ENGLISH TRANSLATION FOLLOWS...
En mi tercero día en Costa Rica, escuela comienzó. Estaba nerviosa sobre el autobús, pero mi mamá Tica caminó conmigo y le dijo a el conductor donde yo necesité ir.
En el bus hubo tres profesoras de mi escuela, CISA. Caminamos en la misma vía del día pasado. El edifício sirve para escuela, misión, y iglesia.
Aquí encontré a 11 perros que viven con el director, Héctor. Ellos siempre entran a escondidas. ¡A veces trepan por las ventanas!
Inicié en una clase intermedia con cuatro otros estudiantes. Todas las instrucciónes estuvieron en español. Estuvo como el sermón de Hector en el día pasado. Las palabras fluyeron sobre mi cabeza pero no entraron mis pensamientos. Sin embargo, hoy debí concentrar. ¿ Cómo pude aprender si no entendí las instrucciones?
Quise llorar, pero no. Sólo me senté en la silla y sonreí.
Después almuerzo, asistí un clase intensiva. Nosotros practicamos verbos reflexivos.
Después mi clase, yo fui a la parada con una profesora, Malli. Llegabamos diez minutos después el bus salió. El proximo bus fue a llegar en cincuenta minutos, y yo debí esperar sola.
Pregunté a Malli, "¿Cómo le digo el conductor donde necesito ir?"
Malli me explicó, pero no comprendé porque estuve inquieta. Ella repetía sus instrucciones, pero yo todavía no entendí. Ella escribía en mi cuaderno:
Yo dije, "¿Debo...?" Me levante el brazo y bajé un cable imaginario.
"Sí," ella contestó.
"¿Cómo sé cuando necesito...? Todavía no sabía el verbo.
"Después del puenta."
"¿El puente? ¿Dónde?"
Inicié llorar. "Disculpe," dije, y cubrí mis ojos. "Tengo miedo."
"Es normal," ella me dijo. "Quizás puede llamar un taxi."
"Pero no sé cómo que decir dónde la casa esta. Quizás camino. Pienso que puedo encontrar la casa si camino."
"Pero esta lejos, y esta lloviendo."
"¿Llovi... la lluvia?"
"Sí."
A mí me parecía que la carretera fue peligrosa. Fue estrecha y los carros manejaron rápidamente. Normalmente, disfruto caminar, per no quise mormirme en este día.
"OK. Por favor, me ayuda que llamar un taxi."
Malli llamó a Ariel, el nieto de Macha, y él llamó un taxi.
"Sólo diga, 'La casa de Doña Macha, por favor,' " Malli me dijo.
No necesité decir algo porque el conductor llegó en cinco minutos. Malli le dio las instrucciónes.
Después tres minutos, estuve en mi casa.
En la cocina, dije a Macha, "A mí me hace falta mi autobús." Estuve orgullosa para usando un estructura de mi clase intensiva. Ahora, sé la correcta oración: "Perdí mi autobús."
"No sé cómo que decir dónde..." Lloré de nuevo. "Disculpe."
"No llore," Macha dijo. "Es normal. Es su primer día." Ella me abrazó.
Ahora yo reí, tan duro que casi no puedo hablar. "Sí, muchos niños lloran en su primer día en escuela."
Soy normal.
=========================
On the bus were three teachers from my school, CISA. We walked the same route from the day before. The building serves as school, mission, and church.
Here I encountered 11 dogs that live with the director, Hector. They always sneak in. Sometimes they climb through the windows!
I started an intermediate class with four other students. All of the instruction was in Spanish. It was like Hector's sermon on the past day. The words flowed over my head but did not enter my thoughts. However, today I must concentrate. How could I learn if I could not understand the instruction?
I wanted to cry, but no. Instead, I sat in my chair and smiled.
After lunch, I attended an intensive class. We practiced reflexive verbs.
After my class, I went to the bus stop with a teacher, Malli. We arrived 10 minutes after the bus left. The next bus was going to arrive in 50 minutes, and I must wait alone.
I asked Malli, "How do I tell the driver where I need to go?"
She explained it to me, but I did not understand because I was very anxious. She repeated her instructions but I still did not understand. She wrote in my notebook:
To La Selva (The Jungle), please. You can stop where Aldemar or after the La Selva bridge." [I still don't quite understand the instructions.]
"Must I...?" I raised my arm and pulled an imaginary cable.
"Yes," she answered.
"How do I know when I need to...?" I still didn't know the verb.
"After the bridge."
"The bridge? Where?"
I started to cry. "I'm sorry," I said, and covered my eyes. "I have fear."
"It's normal," she said. "Maybe you can call a taxi."
"But I don't know how to say where my house is. Maybe I walk. I think I can find the house if I walk."
"No, it's far. And it's raining."
It appeared to me that the road was dangerous. It was narrow, and the cars drove rapidly. Normally, I enjoy walking, but I did not want to die on this day.
"Okay, please help me call a taxi."
Malli called Ariel, Macha's grandson, and he called a taxi.
"Just say, 'Doña Macha's house, please,' " Malli told me.
I didn't need to say anything, because the driver arrived in five minutes. Malli gave him the instructions.
I dried my eyes and hugged Malli.
After three minutes, I was in my house. In the kitchen, I said to Macha, "To me it happened that my bus was missing." I was proud for using a structure from my intensive class. Now I know the correct sentence: "I lost my bus." [It is an idiom that we don't use in English.]
"I don't know how to say where..." I cried again. "I'm sorry"
"Don't cry," Macha said. "It's normal. It is your first day."
Now I laughed, so hard that I almost couldn't talk. "Yes, many children cry on their first day of school."
I am normal.
Friday, July 20, 2018
El Peor... y El Mejor
EN ESPAÑOL ABAJO.
[In this series of blog entries, I am writing about my experiences in a Spanish Immersion program in Costa Rica. I write first in Spanish, and then I translate it as faithfully as possible into English. This way, we can see my progress. You may notice that I am now using past tense. I must confess that the Spanish portion alone took me about five hours to write. This is great practice for me. I can write much better than I can speak. In conversation, I typically move back and forth between present and past tense, and my speech is painfully slow. I am having the time of my life! I have three more stories to tell you so far.]
ENGLISH TRANSLATION FOLLOWS
En mi segundo día en Costa Rica me llevanté muy temprano porque la luz comienza que brillar antes las cinco. Antes desayuno, me senté en el porche y leí mi nueva Biblia bilingüe. Fue mi primera vez que leer la Biblia en español, y ahora yo me di cuenta como glorioso es que escuchar la voz de Dios en otra idioma. Esto versículo tocó mi corazón:
"¡Es cierto!" yo pensé. " Hoy, voy a cantar con mis hermanos Ticos."
Corrí a Macha y la mostré el versículo. Ella me abrazó.
A las 9:30, fuimos para autobús a la iglesia. Debemos caminar en una colina y en una calle con muchas rocas. Con la humedad, me sentí muy caliente.
En la iglesia, me tomé mi segundo taza de café y me comí unos postres. ¡Que rico!
Mientras nosotros cantamos, comprendí casi todo porque hay palabras en una pantalla. La primera canción tiene una oración sobre la gente cantando ante las naciones.
Toque hombro de macha y señale a la pantalla. Pienso que ella tenía lágrimas en sus ojos, como yo. ¡Dios estaba hablando conmigo!
A mí me parací que Dios eligió todas las canciones para mí. Una tenió frases de mi favorito capítulo: Salma 139. El mensaje era que Dios me conoce mejor que cualquier otro, y Él está conmigo en cada lugar. No estaba sola aquí, donde la idioma es diferente. Yo estaba tan feliz. !Que bueno, esto día!
Cuánto el sermon comienzó, no comprendí nada. Hay no palabras que leer. El pastor decía muchas cosas, y después unos pocos minutos no traté de comprender. Sólo pensé sobre necesitando agua. Me sentí caliente y fría, y también más y más mareada.
Fui al baño y oré, "Por favor, no me permite que vomitar. Aquí no, en esta iglesia desconocida."
Me senté en el piso por un tiempo muy largo, hasta Macha vino a la puerta con su hija Vicky.
Ella dijo "¿Sarah, está enferma? Abre la puerta, por favor."
¡Ay! No quierí ver nadie, solo quizás mi mamá. ¡Que malo, esto día!
Fuí en mis rodillas al puerto. Macha me da manzanilla, un té por ayudar de digestión.
"¿Me causar vomito?" yo pregunté.
"Quizás," ella contestó.
"Necesito vomitar, pero no puedo."
Tomé un poquito. Entonces dije, "¡Go!" (No podía recordar cómo hablar español en ese momento.) Moví mi mano hacia la puerta.
Ellos cerraron la puerta.
Mi cuerpo tratío y tratío de vomitar, pero nada. Gemí, y agua llenó mis ojos. "Esto día no puede ser peor," yo pensé.
Por supuesto, podria ser peor.
¡El pastor, Hector, entró el baño! Con papel de baño, suavemente limpió el maquillaje aldredor mis ojos - cómo la máscara de un mapache. Habló conmigo en inglés.
"Voy a manajarla a la casa. Su va a ser más cómoda allí.
"No puedo ir," contesté en español. "Estoy muy inferma."
Él continuó hablar en inglés. "Voy a darla algo que se sienta mejor."
"Necesito una bolsa porque quizás vomito en su carro."
Él me dio una bolsa de plástico. Me senté en una silla.
Él puso unos aceites esenciales en mis manos. "Huela profundamente."
Inhalé unas veces. Después cerca 30 segundos, corrí al baño. Vomité y vomité hasta no quedó nada.
Después unos minutos, salimos. La calle fue tan áspero, pero no vomité más.
Muchas vezes durante la tarde, dormí y entonces me desperté. Me llevanté unas veces, pero me sentí náuseas de nuevo.
A las siete, tuve hambre pero tuve miedo que comer. Quieré galletas de soda, pero no sabía cómo describirlos.
¡En la cocina, Macha me ofreció galletas de soda! También me da agua de gelatina. Cuando era una niña, mi mamá me da estos dos cosas por enfermedad.
Dios es muy bueno. Él me dio otra madre cuando más la necesitaba.
Sí, era un buen día.
On my second day in Costa Rica I got up very early because the light starts to shine before 5. Before breakfast I sat on the porch and read my new bilingual Bible. It was my first time to read the Bible in Spanish, and now I realized how glorious it is to hear the voice of God in another language.
This verse touched my heart:
"It is true," I thought. Today I'm going to sing with my Tico brothers and sisters. [Costa Ricans are called Ticos and Ticas.]
I ran to Macha and showed her the verse. She hugged me.
At 9:30 we went by bus to church. We had to walk on a hill and on a road with many rocks. With the humidity, I felt very hot.
At the church I drank my second cup of coffee and ate some pastries. How wonderful!
While we sang, I could understand almost everything because there were words on a screen. The first song had a sentence about the people singing among the Nations.
I touched Macha's shoulder and pointed at the screen. I think she had tears in her eyes, like me.
It seemed to me that God chose all of the songs for me. One had phrases from my favorite chapter: Psalm 139. The message was that God knows me better than anyone else, and he is with me in every place. I was not here alone, where the language is different. I was so happy. How good, this day!
When the sermon began, I comprehended nothing. There were no words to read. The Pastor said many things, and after a few minutes I did not try to understand. I only thought about needing water. I felt hot and cold, and also more and more dizzy. I went to the bathroom and prayed, "Please, don't let me vomit. Not here in this unfamiliar church."
I sat on the floor for a long time, until Macha came to the door with her daughter Vicky.
She said, "Sarah are you sick? Open the door, please."
Aiyee! I didn't want to see anyone, except maybe my mama. How bad, this day!
I went to the door on my knees. Macha gives me manzanilla, a tea that helps digestion.
"To cause me vomit?" I asked [in broken Spanish.]
"Maybe," she answered.
"I need to vomit, but I can't."
I drank a little. And then I said, "Go!" ( I could not remember how to speak Spanish in that moment.) I moved my hand toward the door.
They closed the door.
My body tried and tried to vomit, but nothing. I moaned, and water filled my eyes.
"This day cannot be worse," I thought.
Of course, it could be worse.
The pastor, Hector, entered the bathroom! He knelt beside me. With toilet paper, he gently washed the makeup from around my eyes--like a racoon's mask.
He talked with me in English. "I will drive you home. You will be more comfortable there."
"I cannot go," I answered in Spanish. "I am very sick."
He continued to talk in English. "I will give you something to make you feel better."
"I need a bag because maybe I vomit in your car."
He gave me a plastic bag. I sat in a chair. He put some essential oils in my hands. "Breathe deeply," he said.
I inhaled a few times. After about 30 seconds, I ran to the bathroom. I vomited and vomited, until nothing remained.
After a few minutes, we left. The road was very rough, but I did not vomit more.
Many times during the afternoon, I slept and then I woke up. I got up a few times, but I felt nauseated again.
At seven, I was hungry, but I had fear to eat. I wanted soda crackers, but I did not know how to describe them.
In the kitchen, Macha offered me soda crackers! Also gelatin water. When I was a girl, my Mama gave me these two things for sickness.
God is very good. He gave me another Mother when I needed her most.
Yes, it was a good day.
[In this series of blog entries, I am writing about my experiences in a Spanish Immersion program in Costa Rica. I write first in Spanish, and then I translate it as faithfully as possible into English. This way, we can see my progress. You may notice that I am now using past tense. I must confess that the Spanish portion alone took me about five hours to write. This is great practice for me. I can write much better than I can speak. In conversation, I typically move back and forth between present and past tense, and my speech is painfully slow. I am having the time of my life! I have three more stories to tell you so far.]
ENGLISH TRANSLATION FOLLOWS
En mi segundo día en Costa Rica me llevanté muy temprano porque la luz comienza que brillar antes las cinco. Antes desayuno, me senté en el porche y leí mi nueva Biblia bilingüe. Fue mi primera vez que leer la Biblia en español, y ahora yo me di cuenta como glorioso es que escuchar la voz de Dios en otra idioma. Esto versículo tocó mi corazón:
Te alabaré, oh Jehová, entre los pueblos; a ti cantaré salmos entre las naciones.
"¡Es cierto!" yo pensé. " Hoy, voy a cantar con mis hermanos Ticos."
Corrí a Macha y la mostré el versículo. Ella me abrazó.
A las 9:30, fuimos para autobús a la iglesia. Debemos caminar en una colina y en una calle con muchas rocas. Con la humedad, me sentí muy caliente.
En la iglesia, me tomé mi segundo taza de café y me comí unos postres. ¡Que rico!
Mientras nosotros cantamos, comprendí casi todo porque hay palabras en una pantalla. La primera canción tiene una oración sobre la gente cantando ante las naciones.
Toque hombro de macha y señale a la pantalla. Pienso que ella tenía lágrimas en sus ojos, como yo. ¡Dios estaba hablando conmigo!
A mí me parací que Dios eligió todas las canciones para mí. Una tenió frases de mi favorito capítulo: Salma 139. El mensaje era que Dios me conoce mejor que cualquier otro, y Él está conmigo en cada lugar. No estaba sola aquí, donde la idioma es diferente. Yo estaba tan feliz. !Que bueno, esto día!
Cuánto el sermon comienzó, no comprendí nada. Hay no palabras que leer. El pastor decía muchas cosas, y después unos pocos minutos no traté de comprender. Sólo pensé sobre necesitando agua. Me sentí caliente y fría, y también más y más mareada.
Fui al baño y oré, "Por favor, no me permite que vomitar. Aquí no, en esta iglesia desconocida."
Me senté en el piso por un tiempo muy largo, hasta Macha vino a la puerta con su hija Vicky.
Ella dijo "¿Sarah, está enferma? Abre la puerta, por favor."
¡Ay! No quierí ver nadie, solo quizás mi mamá. ¡Que malo, esto día!
Fuí en mis rodillas al puerto. Macha me da manzanilla, un té por ayudar de digestión.
"¿Me causar vomito?" yo pregunté.
"Quizás," ella contestó.
"Necesito vomitar, pero no puedo."
Tomé un poquito. Entonces dije, "¡Go!" (No podía recordar cómo hablar español en ese momento.) Moví mi mano hacia la puerta.
Ellos cerraron la puerta.
Mi cuerpo tratío y tratío de vomitar, pero nada. Gemí, y agua llenó mis ojos. "Esto día no puede ser peor," yo pensé.
Por supuesto, podria ser peor.
¡El pastor, Hector, entró el baño! Con papel de baño, suavemente limpió el maquillaje aldredor mis ojos - cómo la máscara de un mapache. Habló conmigo en inglés.
"Voy a manajarla a la casa. Su va a ser más cómoda allí.
 |
| Hector en la iglesia (y escuela) |
Él continuó hablar en inglés. "Voy a darla algo que se sienta mejor."
"Necesito una bolsa porque quizás vomito en su carro."
Él me dio una bolsa de plástico. Me senté en una silla.
Él puso unos aceites esenciales en mis manos. "Huela profundamente."
Inhalé unas veces. Después cerca 30 segundos, corrí al baño. Vomité y vomité hasta no quedó nada.
Después unos minutos, salimos. La calle fue tan áspero, pero no vomité más.
Muchas vezes durante la tarde, dormí y entonces me desperté. Me llevanté unas veces, pero me sentí náuseas de nuevo.
A las siete, tuve hambre pero tuve miedo que comer. Quieré galletas de soda, pero no sabía cómo describirlos.
¡En la cocina, Macha me ofreció galletas de soda! También me da agua de gelatina. Cuando era una niña, mi mamá me da estos dos cosas por enfermedad.
Sí, era un buen día.
 |
| Yo y Mateo, nieto de Macha. Su fiesta fue en misma noche |
This verse touched my heart:
I will praise you, oh Jehovah, among the peoples; I will sing praises to you among the nations.
"It is true," I thought. Today I'm going to sing with my Tico brothers and sisters. [Costa Ricans are called Ticos and Ticas.]
I ran to Macha and showed her the verse. She hugged me.
At 9:30 we went by bus to church. We had to walk on a hill and on a road with many rocks. With the humidity, I felt very hot.
At the church I drank my second cup of coffee and ate some pastries. How wonderful!
While we sang, I could understand almost everything because there were words on a screen. The first song had a sentence about the people singing among the Nations.
I touched Macha's shoulder and pointed at the screen. I think she had tears in her eyes, like me.
It seemed to me that God chose all of the songs for me. One had phrases from my favorite chapter: Psalm 139. The message was that God knows me better than anyone else, and he is with me in every place. I was not here alone, where the language is different. I was so happy. How good, this day!
When the sermon began, I comprehended nothing. There were no words to read. The Pastor said many things, and after a few minutes I did not try to understand. I only thought about needing water. I felt hot and cold, and also more and more dizzy. I went to the bathroom and prayed, "Please, don't let me vomit. Not here in this unfamiliar church."
I sat on the floor for a long time, until Macha came to the door with her daughter Vicky.
She said, "Sarah are you sick? Open the door, please."
Aiyee! I didn't want to see anyone, except maybe my mama. How bad, this day!
I went to the door on my knees. Macha gives me manzanilla, a tea that helps digestion.
"To cause me vomit?" I asked [in broken Spanish.]
"Maybe," she answered.
"I need to vomit, but I can't."
I drank a little. And then I said, "Go!" ( I could not remember how to speak Spanish in that moment.) I moved my hand toward the door.
They closed the door.
My body tried and tried to vomit, but nothing. I moaned, and water filled my eyes.
"This day cannot be worse," I thought.
Of course, it could be worse.
The pastor, Hector, entered the bathroom! He knelt beside me. With toilet paper, he gently washed the makeup from around my eyes--like a racoon's mask.
He talked with me in English. "I will drive you home. You will be more comfortable there."
"I cannot go," I answered in Spanish. "I am very sick."
He continued to talk in English. "I will give you something to make you feel better."
"I need a bag because maybe I vomit in your car."
He gave me a plastic bag. I sat in a chair. He put some essential oils in my hands. "Breathe deeply," he said.
I inhaled a few times. After about 30 seconds, I ran to the bathroom. I vomited and vomited, until nothing remained.
After a few minutes, we left. The road was very rough, but I did not vomit more.
Many times during the afternoon, I slept and then I woke up. I got up a few times, but I felt nauseated again.
At seven, I was hungry, but I had fear to eat. I wanted soda crackers, but I did not know how to describe them.
In the kitchen, Macha offered me soda crackers! Also gelatin water. When I was a girl, my Mama gave me these two things for sickness.
God is very good. He gave me another Mother when I needed her most.
Yes, it was a good day.
Tuesday, July 17, 2018
Aventuras en Costa Rica
For this series of blog entries, I will describe my experiences in a Spanish Immersion program in Costa Rica. I will write the stories in Spanish and then translate into English as faithfully as possible. My Spanish is not very good yet, so expect errors in grammar and especially verb tenses. I speak only in present tense currently. Also, I don't know how to type accents on my phone. Also, I cannot see the uploaded photos on my phone so they may not be the right ones.
Llego en San Jose en el sabado pasado. Comienzo hablar en Espanol inmediatamente. La agenta de inmigracion me comprende bastante bien. Un hombre amable que trabaja para el aeropuerto me ayuda que busco a mi conductor, se llama Ronnie. El y su esposa me manaja a Tuis, cerca Turrialba. Un otra estudiante viaje conmigo en la camioneta.
El trafico esta horrible. La carretera es pequeno, y hay muchos carros. La vista de las montanas es muy bonita, con muchos arboles y flores. Durante el viaje, hablamos principalmente en ingles.
Mi familia en Tuis es muy amable. La madre, se llama Macha, sabe un pequeno ingles, pero hablamos casi todo en espanol. Cuando no estoy demasiado nerviosa, puedo comunicar la mayoria que quiero hablar.
Macha vive con su esposo, Mecho. Estan casado por 52 anos. Su hija adulta, Laura, vive con ellos. Ella es muy dulce.
Macha tiene mucha paciencia. Repete sus palabras muchos tiempos y habla despacio. A veces usa sus manos por me ayuda que comprendo. Macha canta con frequencia. No comprende las palabras, pero me da alegria. Tambien me alegra que su lee la Biblia. En su voz, la Palabra de Dios vive!
La casa es muy linda. (Es la casa blanca en el foto. Otro foto es mi calle-muy pequena.) Tiene muchos flores y mariposas con colores diferentes, tambien muchos tipos de pajaros. Hay un perico que come galletas!
Mi cuarto es bastante grande por mi. Me encanta la cocina, que tiene paredes rosas. Es tiene una moda de tiempos pasados. Es tranquila. Y la comida es muy bien!
Mi primer dia estoy mas facil que penso, pero no mi segundo dia. Pero es un otro cuento....
I arrive in San Jose on the past Saturday. I start to speak Spanish immediately. The immigration agent understands me well enough. A kind man who works for the airport helps me look for my driver, named Ronnie. He and his wife drive me to Tuis, near Turrialba. Another student travels with me in the van.
The traffic is horrible! The highway is small and there are many cars. The view of the mountains is very beautiful with many trees and flowers. During the trip we speak mainly in English.
My family in Tuis is very friendly. The mother, who is called Macha, knows a little English, but we speak almost completely in Spanish. When I am not too nervous, I can communicate the majority of what I want to say.
Macha lives with her husband, Mecho. They are married 52 years. Their adult daughter, Laura, lives with them. She is very sweet.
Macha has a lot of patience. She repeats her words many times and speaks slowly. Sometimes she uses her hands to help me understand.
The house is very beautiful. It has many flowers and butterflies with different colors, also many types of birds. There is a parrot who eats cookies!
My room is big enough for me. I am enchanted with the kitchen, which has pink walls. It has a style from times past. It is peaceful. And the food is very good!
My first day is easier than I think but not my second day. But that is another story...
Llego en San Jose en el sabado pasado. Comienzo hablar en Espanol inmediatamente. La agenta de inmigracion me comprende bastante bien. Un hombre amable que trabaja para el aeropuerto me ayuda que busco a mi conductor, se llama Ronnie. El y su esposa me manaja a Tuis, cerca Turrialba. Un otra estudiante viaje conmigo en la camioneta.
El trafico esta horrible. La carretera es pequeno, y hay muchos carros. La vista de las montanas es muy bonita, con muchos arboles y flores. Durante el viaje, hablamos principalmente en ingles.
 |
| Las casas son diferentes aqui |
Mi familia en Tuis es muy amable. La madre, se llama Macha, sabe un pequeno ingles, pero hablamos casi todo en espanol. Cuando no estoy demasiado nerviosa, puedo comunicar la mayoria que quiero hablar.
Macha vive con su esposo, Mecho. Estan casado por 52 anos. Su hija adulta, Laura, vive con ellos. Ella es muy dulce.
 |
| Macha y Laura |
Macha tiene mucha paciencia. Repete sus palabras muchos tiempos y habla despacio. A veces usa sus manos por me ayuda que comprendo. Macha canta con frequencia. No comprende las palabras, pero me da alegria. Tambien me alegra que su lee la Biblia. En su voz, la Palabra de Dios vive!
La casa es muy linda. (Es la casa blanca en el foto. Otro foto es mi calle-muy pequena.) Tiene muchos flores y mariposas con colores diferentes, tambien muchos tipos de pajaros. Hay un perico que come galletas!
 |
| Daniel |
Mi cuarto es bastante grande por mi. Me encanta la cocina, que tiene paredes rosas. Es tiene una moda de tiempos pasados. Es tranquila. Y la comida es muy bien!
Mi primer dia estoy mas facil que penso, pero no mi segundo dia. Pero es un otro cuento....
I arrive in San Jose on the past Saturday. I start to speak Spanish immediately. The immigration agent understands me well enough. A kind man who works for the airport helps me look for my driver, named Ronnie. He and his wife drive me to Tuis, near Turrialba. Another student travels with me in the van.
The traffic is horrible! The highway is small and there are many cars. The view of the mountains is very beautiful with many trees and flowers. During the trip we speak mainly in English.
My family in Tuis is very friendly. The mother, who is called Macha, knows a little English, but we speak almost completely in Spanish. When I am not too nervous, I can communicate the majority of what I want to say.
Macha lives with her husband, Mecho. They are married 52 years. Their adult daughter, Laura, lives with them. She is very sweet.
Macha has a lot of patience. She repeats her words many times and speaks slowly. Sometimes she uses her hands to help me understand.
The house is very beautiful. It has many flowers and butterflies with different colors, also many types of birds. There is a parrot who eats cookies!
My room is big enough for me. I am enchanted with the kitchen, which has pink walls. It has a style from times past. It is peaceful. And the food is very good!
My first day is easier than I think but not my second day. But that is another story...
Thursday, July 12, 2018
At Least You Know You're Alive
Last week I told you a bit about my family's recent road trip to Indiana. Now I'm going to tell you about the day that most of us will remember when we look back on this vacation.
Our last Tuesday was designated as Chicago Day. Rather than to brave the traffic and fight for parking spaces, we decided to take the South Shore commuter train that runs between South Bend, Indiana, and Downtown Chicago. I've actually ridden that route many times, and I usually enjoy the sense of adventure. This was my sister Amy's first time to ride the train since her stroke, but our sister Melody had done her research and assured us that the train was handicap accessible.
We decided to depart from Michigan City, an hour's drive away, because it had more return options than the closer South Bend station. On the trip out, we had the benefit of a one-hour time difference; we could leave at 7:00 and have plenty of time to catch the 9:00 train.
I got Amy and myself up that morning at 6:15, which seemed like plenty of time. But I had not factored in the shared bathroom, nor the multiple trips to the basement to holler at Allyson and her friend Kambry. Aunt Sue came to rescue by cooking our oatmeal and even washing Kambry's hair in the kitchen sink just moments before we left.
Following Melody and her husband Joe, we pulled out of the driveway around 7:20, not too bad in my book. While Kambry brushed her wet hair, Allyson routed us to the Carroll Avenue station. If all went according to plan, we would arrive with 40 minutes to spare.
Our last Tuesday was designated as Chicago Day. Rather than to brave the traffic and fight for parking spaces, we decided to take the South Shore commuter train that runs between South Bend, Indiana, and Downtown Chicago. I've actually ridden that route many times, and I usually enjoy the sense of adventure. This was my sister Amy's first time to ride the train since her stroke, but our sister Melody had done her research and assured us that the train was handicap accessible.
We decided to depart from Michigan City, an hour's drive away, because it had more return options than the closer South Bend station. On the trip out, we had the benefit of a one-hour time difference; we could leave at 7:00 and have plenty of time to catch the 9:00 train.
I got Amy and myself up that morning at 6:15, which seemed like plenty of time. But I had not factored in the shared bathroom, nor the multiple trips to the basement to holler at Allyson and her friend Kambry. Aunt Sue came to rescue by cooking our oatmeal and even washing Kambry's hair in the kitchen sink just moments before we left.
Following Melody and her husband Joe, we pulled out of the driveway around 7:20, not too bad in my book. While Kambry brushed her wet hair, Allyson routed us to the Carroll Avenue station. If all went according to plan, we would arrive with 40 minutes to spare.
Saturday, July 7, 2018
A Milestone for Amy
A couple of months ago, she underwent an experimental stem cell treatment using cells from her own body. (Our former brother-in-law, James, provided this treatment at no cost.) Since then, Amy has increased flexibility in her hip and is now able to extend her curled fingers by bending her wrist with her other hand. Her concentration is also improving, and she now reads murder mysteries and even dreams about math.
Our brother Rick strives to push Amy past her limits. He takes her out frequently and brings her home for dinner, and he always insists that she walk rather than use her wheelchair. His front and back porches have a small step, and she has become proficient in navigating those obstacles.
But this Indiana trip challenged Amy on a whole new level. We started with approximately 16 hours of driving over the course of two days. Traveling in a caravan of 12 with passengers ranging in age from 3 to 87, we made a lot of stops. It was a far cry from Dad's idea of a road trip: waking a couple of hours before dark and driving straight through, with everyone holding their pee until we had to stop and fill up or get fast food. No, this time we stopped every hour to hour and a half, and each stop took 15-30 minutes. At every stop, Amy laboriously pulled herself to her feet and walked across parking lots and through truck stops, up hills and down rest-stop sidewalks. This helped ease the pain from her stiff muscles, but all that walking wore her out and made her back hurt because of the way her limp shoulder hangs down.
Wednesday, July 4, 2018
Home Depot! Home Depot!
Yesterday afternoon, I rode with my mom to her bank, where we were meeting my sister Emily. We had an appointment to sign paperwork so that Emily and I could have access to Mom's safety deposit box.
"Where's your father?" Mom asked. "He was supposed to go to the bank with us."
"I don't know," I answered absently, but then I remembered what Dad had said to me after a sweaty hug when we passed each other in the doorway. "Oh, wait.... He said something about working on some lady's plumbing."
"Oh, he's at Lupita's, then," she said, drawing in an exasperated breath.
"Isn't it too hot for him to be working outside?" I asked. "They said on the radio that it's over a hundred degrees today [38 degrees Celsius]."
"Yes, it is too hot," Mom agreed. "That's why I made him promise to do the work in the morning. But obviously he didn't keep his promise. Every time those ladies call, he runs right over."
I raised an eyebrow.
"He wants the money," Mom went on. "I told him maybe I'll have to start giving him money so he'll stay home now and then."
Just then, Mom's phone rang over the car speaker, and I saw Dad's name on the dashboard display. Apparently his ears must have been burning.
"Where's your father?" Mom asked. "He was supposed to go to the bank with us."
"I don't know," I answered absently, but then I remembered what Dad had said to me after a sweaty hug when we passed each other in the doorway. "Oh, wait.... He said something about working on some lady's plumbing."
"Oh, he's at Lupita's, then," she said, drawing in an exasperated breath.
"Isn't it too hot for him to be working outside?" I asked. "They said on the radio that it's over a hundred degrees today [38 degrees Celsius]."
"Yes, it is too hot," Mom agreed. "That's why I made him promise to do the work in the morning. But obviously he didn't keep his promise. Every time those ladies call, he runs right over."
I raised an eyebrow.
"He wants the money," Mom went on. "I told him maybe I'll have to start giving him money so he'll stay home now and then."
Just then, Mom's phone rang over the car speaker, and I saw Dad's name on the dashboard display. Apparently his ears must have been burning.
Tuesday, June 12, 2018
More Things You Can Do With a Muffin
I'm beginning to realize that muffins have a surprising range of uses. My regular readers may recall that I recently tried to use them to win a man's affection. (For the record, I don't think it worked. Time will tell.) This past Sunday, I found a revolutionary new use for my beloved muffins.
Allyson, her friend Gabby, and I were attending the Harvest America event at the massive AT&T stadium, where the Dallas Cowboys play. I recalled two things from our first experience with this Christian rally at the same venue:
Allyson, her friend Gabby, and I were attending the Harvest America event at the massive AT&T stadium, where the Dallas Cowboys play. I recalled two things from our first experience with this Christian rally at the same venue:
- The food at the stadium is VERY pricey. Think $12 for a hamburger, $6 for a bottle of water. I may be exaggerating, but not by much.
- Security is tight. You can't even bring a purse, let alone a cooler.
So I studied the rules on both the stadium's website and Harvest America's. I learned that we could bring transparent plastic totes no larger 12" x 12", and we could bring water in the original manufacturer's bottle with the cap's seal unbroken.
I filled three plastic makeup totes with sandwiches, mini chip bags, grapes, and some homemade blueberry muffins I'd made around bedtime the night before in response to a wild craving. I found three water bottles leftover from last week's camping trip and threw those, along with everything else, into a cooler.
Monday, June 4, 2018
Sometimes You Just Need to Give Up... But Don't Give In
This past Friday, I administered final exams to my last three classes and headed out around 1:30 to pick up Allyson and her friend Kambry for our long awaited annual camping trip. Yes, I realize it's a little crazy to plan a camping trip for June 1 in Texas, but I knew I could enjoy it much better while unencumbered by teaching responsibilities. Besides, we'd gone a week later the previous year, and the temperature was fine.
This time, my niece Hillary was the first to arrive at Lake Ray Roberts, and she'd staked out a site right on the water's edge. For the third year in a row, I'd reserved a primitive campsite with neither water nor electricity, and we had to carry our gear down a dirt and gravel path. As the four of us carried in the first load, Allyson and I reminisced about our first visit to this same state park two years earlier.
This time, my niece Hillary was the first to arrive at Lake Ray Roberts, and she'd staked out a site right on the water's edge. For the third year in a row, I'd reserved a primitive campsite with neither water nor electricity, and we had to carry our gear down a dirt and gravel path. As the four of us carried in the first load, Allyson and I reminisced about our first visit to this same state park two years earlier.
Sunday, May 13, 2018
Choose Love
Don't you love the way God works in such mysterious ways? I especially love it when He answers prayers in ways that I could never have dreamed up.
On a Thursday about six weeks ago, I hosted our monthly student prayer meeting. Only two kids showed up, plus one more who was actually there for a behavior issue but took me up on the offer to stay for prayer rather than coming back the next day for a conference. All three boys were from the same class, my second hardest class at that moment.
I took advantage of the opportunity to talk and pray about the issues we were struggling with: mainly just the rude, obnoxious behavior--and constant projectile throwing--that you might expect from a class of 12 seventh-grade boys and 6 seventh-grade girls.
I prayed that God would amaze us with the way He would turn around our class. "Has God ever amazed you?" I asked my fellow prayer warriors. They all shrugged shyly, and then one shared a story of surviving a near drowning.
I shared one of my favorite stories, the time when God astounded me by delivering the same message through a phone call and an anonymous gift that came in the mail that same day:
"You just wait!" I said. "Just wait and watch what God will do. He's going to amaze us."
On a Thursday about six weeks ago, I hosted our monthly student prayer meeting. Only two kids showed up, plus one more who was actually there for a behavior issue but took me up on the offer to stay for prayer rather than coming back the next day for a conference. All three boys were from the same class, my second hardest class at that moment.
I took advantage of the opportunity to talk and pray about the issues we were struggling with: mainly just the rude, obnoxious behavior--and constant projectile throwing--that you might expect from a class of 12 seventh-grade boys and 6 seventh-grade girls.
I prayed that God would amaze us with the way He would turn around our class. "Has God ever amazed you?" I asked my fellow prayer warriors. They all shrugged shyly, and then one shared a story of surviving a near drowning.
I shared one of my favorite stories, the time when God astounded me by delivering the same message through a phone call and an anonymous gift that came in the mail that same day:
Be strong and courageous. Do not be afraid or terrified because of them, for the LORD your God goes with you; he will never leave you nor forsake you. (Deuteronomy 31:6)"Wow, miss!" they said when I'd finished my story.
"You just wait!" I said. "Just wait and watch what God will do. He's going to amaze us."
Friday, March 16, 2018
Love and Muffins
Disclaimer: I hesitated to write this entry, but the whole experience made me laugh so hard that I just couldn't keep it to myself. Before you read on, you have to promise that you won't get excited over the possibility of a little romance in my life. I promise you, there's virtually zero chance of anything coming out of this....
It's been five years since my divorce, and many of the people I love--including Allyson--often ask me if there's any possibility that I will marry again, or at least go on a date. I always say that I don't know. At this point, if God brings a godly man into my life, I'm not opposed. In the meantime, I've had a few crushes, which are always great fun.
It's been five years since my divorce, and many of the people I love--including Allyson--often ask me if there's any possibility that I will marry again, or at least go on a date. I always say that I don't know. At this point, if God brings a godly man into my life, I'm not opposed. In the meantime, I've had a few crushes, which are always great fun.
Friday, February 2, 2018
The Old Job Was Never This Fun
It's been a good week, our second one reading The Hunger Games. The last three days were a little chaotic, but I was proud of myself for trying something new that I had read about in an article. I divided my classes into six groups and put them through rotations of reading, blogging, and small group discussion. A lot of the time, the reading groups take so long to settle down and start their audio that they can't finish an 18-minute chapter in 22 minutes. And the bloggers have been writing mostly one-sentence posts so far, or even sentence fragments. But some of the discussions have helped me remember why I dreamed of being an English teacher--in those magical moments when the "self-directed" groups are actually self directing, and I'm able supervise the discussion groups as per my lesson plan.
It's so fun to hear their thoughts, and to help them connect a really dramatic story to their own lives. It's also fun to ask them about the shocking parts that many of them somehow missed. For example, when I ask them why Katniss isn't embarrassed to be naked in front of the prep team, several pairs of eyes open wide. "What?? When was she naked?" [For the record, it's not an obscene book. I promise.]
"It doesn't pay to get off task," I answer. "You might miss the really good parts."
The best part of my day is when some of my lowest performers step up as discussion leaders, sharing some perceptive views, or when a painfully shy student finds her voice. If I ever get to meet Suzanne Collins, I just might give her a kiss.
It's so fun to hear their thoughts, and to help them connect a really dramatic story to their own lives. It's also fun to ask them about the shocking parts that many of them somehow missed. For example, when I ask them why Katniss isn't embarrassed to be naked in front of the prep team, several pairs of eyes open wide. "What?? When was she naked?" [For the record, it's not an obscene book. I promise.]
"It doesn't pay to get off task," I answer. "You might miss the really good parts."
The best part of my day is when some of my lowest performers step up as discussion leaders, sharing some perceptive views, or when a painfully shy student finds her voice. If I ever get to meet Suzanne Collins, I just might give her a kiss.
Wednesday, January 24, 2018
Not So Bad After All
Okay, so I ought to be grading papers, or at least doing the dishes. But I just have to tell you about my day yesterday....
It all started when my eyes fluttered open in the early light of morning, instead of the darkness before dawn. With a gasp, I rolled out of bed and squinted at the clock. 7:23. Not too bad. If you're going to oversleep, 23 minutes is the way to go.
I rushed to Allyson's room, where she was lying sound asleep under the glow of the overhead light. Her alarm had gone off, but she'd been seduced back to sleep. "Get up, Allyson!" I shouted. "I overslept. It's 7:23."
She popped out of bed almost as quickly as I had. "I'm going to be late for school," she said.
"Not necessarily. Just pull on your clothes and brush your teeth. We gotta go!"
It all started when my eyes fluttered open in the early light of morning, instead of the darkness before dawn. With a gasp, I rolled out of bed and squinted at the clock. 7:23. Not too bad. If you're going to oversleep, 23 minutes is the way to go.
I rushed to Allyson's room, where she was lying sound asleep under the glow of the overhead light. Her alarm had gone off, but she'd been seduced back to sleep. "Get up, Allyson!" I shouted. "I overslept. It's 7:23."
She popped out of bed almost as quickly as I had. "I'm going to be late for school," she said.
"Not necessarily. Just pull on your clothes and brush your teeth. We gotta go!"
Saturday, January 20, 2018
Like Pieces of a Puzzle
Ten days ago, in the middle of my workday, I received a text that made my heart sink. My 33-year-old cousin Adam had passed away unexpectedly. My first reaction was sharp pain as I thought of my Aunt Sue and Uncle Jeff. Ever since I've been a mother, hearing about the loss of anyone's child tears at my own heart because I can't help putting myself in their shoes.
My second reaction was regret. I had been out of contact with Adam for a couple of years, and he'd been on my mind that very week. I wondered how he was doing and thought that I should send him a letter to catch him up on all of my teaching adventures. I'd had similar thoughts off and on for a long time, and now I was kicking myself for not taking the time when I had the chance.
Although Adam was 14 years younger than me and lived 1100 miles away in Indiana, I was probably closer to him than to any of my other 25 first cousins. Our friendship began in 2011 when Aunt Sue asked several family members to write Adam while he was in prison. Through the influence of a chaplain, he had grown closer to Christ in prison and had a strong faith, but he was lonely and sometimes discouraged by the poor conditions he encountered there.
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| A recent picture. Don't his eyes draw you in? |
Friday, January 5, 2018
Captured
Oh, I've missed you all! Are you ready for a few teaching stories? For today, I think I'll just tell two or three.
I'm already halfway through my first year back to teaching. What a ride it has been! It's every bit as hard as I remember it being the first time around, 20 years ago. Maybe even harder. But it's also infinitely sweeter. I have been very intentional about forming relationships, and that makes a powerful difference in how my students and I respond to one another.
At the beginning of the year, my new colleagues and I took a two-day course on classroom management called "Capturing Kids' Hearts." This amazing program gave me practical tools to accomplish the goals I had already set for myself. I was so excited to put them into practice. This year I would truly capture their hearts. I would have the opportunity to speak life to students who desperately needed to hear that they mattered, to know that they were loved.
During the Honeymoon Phase, all of those dreams seemed to be coming true. I was absolutely delighted with my students, and the feeling was mutual. Doing what God made me to do felt exhilarating, and I wondered why I'd waited so long to come back.
I'm already halfway through my first year back to teaching. What a ride it has been! It's every bit as hard as I remember it being the first time around, 20 years ago. Maybe even harder. But it's also infinitely sweeter. I have been very intentional about forming relationships, and that makes a powerful difference in how my students and I respond to one another.
At the beginning of the year, my new colleagues and I took a two-day course on classroom management called "Capturing Kids' Hearts." This amazing program gave me practical tools to accomplish the goals I had already set for myself. I was so excited to put them into practice. This year I would truly capture their hearts. I would have the opportunity to speak life to students who desperately needed to hear that they mattered, to know that they were loved.
During the Honeymoon Phase, all of those dreams seemed to be coming true. I was absolutely delighted with my students, and the feeling was mutual. Doing what God made me to do felt exhilarating, and I wondered why I'd waited so long to come back.
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