Sisters, 1976

This is a picture of us—
Nine and three before
Death knocked
On our door and took away
The one focused on us.

This is us bonding in love. And comfort.
Understanding.
Tolerance.
And Patience.
Before we knew we’d need it.

This is life before we were
Defined by careers,
Computer identities,
Love—and love lost.

This is where we belong—
side by side.
Playful—
On a new sled in the middle of winter.

This is a picture of us.
Together.
In the harshest of elements—
Smiling.

180 days and counting....

Today kicked off a new school year for me. I love teaching. I keep complaining and saying I need to do something different, or I need changes in my life, or I need a better job with better benefits and a better salary, but the truth is I love the classroom. It fills so many needs for me. It's my comfort zone, my mission field, my challenge in life, my good times, my bad times. It's the place I see a dozen smiles a day and hear a dozen curse words. It's the place I see the hardest workers in the world, and the place I encounter the laziest. It's the place that makes me feel like I'm ahead in life, and the place that puts me behind in life. It makes me cry; it makes me joyous; it makes me less judgemental; it makes me appreciate.

It defines me.

I've been working on my syllabus, rearranging my classroom, putting up bulletin boards, deciding what to wear, and organizing my thoughts for the first few days of classes. It's a big job, and gets bigger every year I teach (And I thought the longer I taught the easier my job would become...WRONG...definitely not in the technology age!) But what a great time in history to be a teacher!

So as I started thinking about this year, this cartoon always come to mind. I've searched for it online, but couldn't find it to post...so I"ll just write it for you.

One student, with backpack in tow is talking to a lawyer.
"I want to sue my teacher for stupidity," he explains.
The lawyer replies, "Your teacher is stupid?"
"No," says the student, "I am."


I've gone to tables this year rather than chairs. I've been asking for the last four years and this year I just finally did...the age-old adage "it's easier to ask forgiveness than permission" seems to still work. So, with the new furniture and new look of my classroom will come a new phrase..."GREAT NEWS! There's lots of room for learning in here today!" :)

In my cooperative learning groups this year I'm going to focus on remembering three things:
First...individual written work
Second...bring that individual work to a small group....then come to a consensus within the group
Third....take that to large group discussion...thus mediation/arbitration
Then...moving further...we might use this to solve a problem....???

I read Marzano and Kendall's new book "The New Taxonomy of Educational Objectives" last week and I want to keep in mind that students can interact four grade levels higher than their reading level.

I hope this year my classroom is going to be one Giant Metacognitive Organism....Thinking, Reading, Discussing!

Prince Charming on a Lily Pad

The pool has been fixed. After much delay, a lot of money, a lot of time, and a lot of elbow grease by Dad, Kory, and Caron, there is water in the pool and people to enjoy it.

My last official day off for the next 10 months was today. So Caron and I spent the afternoon lazing around on rafts, enjoying a cool, refreshing drink, and sneaking off for an afternoon oreo blast from Sonic.

I occasionally did some work...like watering the plants around the water garden. And it was here I found this adorable prince charming floating on a lily pad. He wasn't about to budge. He stayed there through the rain showers of the plant watering, and he stayed there long enough for Caron to get out of the pool, see him, go inside the house for the camera, and come back to snap some pictures. What a cutie. He just wouldn't let me catch him to try out that kissing theory. Too bad. I think he might be the one. It's hard to come by someone who just sits around and does nothing and says nothing. hehe.

Now that the day is winding down, I've enjoyed dinner just after the sunset on the deck and relaxed in the little bit of coolness the summer evening has provided. And now that I'm not coaching volleyball, I'm hoping to have many more of these over the next three weeks or so before the pool officially shuts down and summer officially ends.

ALL... I want for Christmas...

is a Lady Taser. Yes! It's true, ladies. You can get your very own pink Lady Taser this year. I am impressed by this and putting it on my list well in advance. I mean, any taser is good. But to have a Lady Taser...oh the things I could do.

Thanks to The Salchow Spot for finding this article. :) I stole it from her.

the vacation chronicles...an answered prayer

Nuria from Ethiopia took me to Alamo Car Rental out by the airport in New Orleans. She misses her family and has been in the States four years now, driving in NOLA for a year. She was smart and pretty, and honked and waved at every cab driver we passed.

She took two phone calls on the drive and I took one. Thirty minutes later I hugged her, thanking her for her kindness, with my mind prepped to drive into the sunrise toward the Gulf Coast.

Problem: I had no idea where I was heading.

Solution: There's a Ramada up ahead on the right, I'll pull in there, get out my travel atlas, ask the front desk clerk how to get out of town, and I'll be on my way.

Problem: My briefcase is missing.

Solution: It's in the trunk.

Problem: It's not in the trunk.

Problem Magnified: My briefcase is in Nuria's cab.

Solution: None in sight.

Panic starts to overtake me. What am I going to do? I have to have that back. Ohmygosh---I'm never getting that back. I don't even have a receipt.

I manage to think clearly for a second and call my only hope...the bellman at the Hilton Riverside who put me in Nuria's cab at 6:30 a.m., less than an hour ago.

"Hi, My name is Casey and I was a guest in your hotel. I checked out this morning."

What can I do for you?

"The bellman put me in a cab and I left something in that cab? Would you have any idea if I could talk to my bellman?"

Let me put you through to security.

This is Terrance.

"Terrance....Hi...I....I took a cab from the hotel this morning to Alamo Rental Car out by the airport...and I've left something in that cab. Do you think there's anyway the bellman would know the cab driver?"

What color was the cab?

"Ummm. I have no idea? Tan? It was a mini-van. Maybe it was multi-colored. I don't know. Ohmygosh. I have no idea?!"

Did you get a receipt?

"....no...."

Do you happen to know the cab number?

"....no...."

I'm completely defeated.

Honey, can you tell me anything else about the cab?

My voice is deflated: "I had a woman driver, from Ethiopia, she's been here four years, she misses her family, she likes driving a cab...." I shake my head and close my eyes.

Well, that certainly narrows it. I'll go out and see if she's possibly returned here. How can I reach you?

"Do the cab drivers usually head straight back to the same hotel? Do you think she's gone over to the airport or somewhere else?"

No, usually they do come back here.

"Then I'm on my way."

Terrance takes my number and tells me he will call as soon as he knows anything. He gives me directions and on the 30 minute drive back to the French Quarter I silently, and selfishly, pray that my bag falls into the hands of good people. I had faith in that, but doubt planted by the media after Hurricane Katrina kept seeping into my thoughts..."New Orleans is full of crime...everyone steals in New Orleans...beggars will take your belongings...." How will I explain this to the school? What is Mrs. James going to say? How am I going to pay this back?

Please...let it fall into the hands of good people. Someone who will find me.

There was nothing in my bag that would identify who I was or where I lived. But my school computer was there, my I-pod, a digital camera, my planner for work, and most importantly, something far more precious...pictures of me and my mother...I brought them along to do some writing about us over vacation. My praying intensifies.

Please...let it fall into the hands of good people. Someone who will find me. Or one good person. Someone who will do what it takes to find me.

Problem: When I arrived at the Hilton, my good buddy Terrance, the security guard who calmed me on the phone, was on break.

Solution: Call another security guard.

Second solution: I'm going out to talk to cab drivers.

"Hey."

I'm in the middle of Poydras Street and Convention Center Blvd when the new security guard yells at me. I turn around to walk toward her when, from behind, someone else yells..."Casey!"

I turn back around to find Nuria. I started running toward her, my hands on my head in disbelief.

"I have your bag."

Ohmygosh! I cannot believe you found me.

"I drove all the way back out to Alamo to find you."

Ohmygosh. I cannot believe it. And I hug without even getting my hands on the bag yet.

"You have pictures in there. And journals."

I know....you don't even understand...those are of my mother and me...before she died. I was 10. You don't even know how important it is to me to get those back.

"I was going to find you."

Thank you. Thank you! Thank YOU!!

She leads me to her cab and I grab the bag and look at the envelope with the pictures. I don't even think about the computer, the i-pod, the camera. The photo I pull is a faded one, but my mother's smile still glistens when I kiss her cheek in the dining room.

I kiss Nuria's cheek. "Thank you," I whisper one last time in strong embrace.

She walks me to my car and says a prayer for my safe journey. Two hours later, I'm finally heading toward the sunrise.

Problem: Doubtful of the goodness in the human race.

Solution: Leave important belongings in a cab on a Saturday morning in a city of 2 million people, still living in disaster zones, and meet Nuria, an immigrant from Ethiopia.