The Drive

I now drive 50 minutes (one way) each day to teach.  The drive gives me time to think and reflect.   I am reflecting that an hour commute is tedious, onerous, and overwhelming…

At the end of last year I was handed a piece of paper that in effect moved me 45 minutes from my home to the opposite end of a neighboring parish.   The paper was handed to me with the directions “sign or be fired.”   I signed.  No mention was made of negotiation or hardship.  The only directive “sign or be fired.”

Five minutes after I received that piece of paper, I was handed a job opportunity at a neighboring district.   The distance was going to be comparable.  I took a job at a neighboring parish that is 5 minutes further away from my residence.   I make more money and work four days a week.

The drive to move on was strong.  The drive to continue was strong.  The drive (in context) really is not that bad at all.

children road-trips, Uncategorized

The Road Trip

7/19/2016  my daughter ( Kelli )and I drove to Shreveport to pick up the 2 year old and her 3 year old cousin.  I need to drive as she just had surgery number 53.  This seems to be an easy task…I mean, I think this is an easy task.   We went through Stoner Avenue (and yes, I am sure that is what the sign said) and I am still thinking ‘easy task’.  If Stoners have their own Avenue it must indicate the town and trip are going to be soooo easy.

Arrived to see the other grandparents looking harried and I thought “eh?”  These are two toddlers and this job is a snap!  I know this because a million years ago I had two toddlers.  Oh, the things time glosses over.

We  Get both kiddos in the car and realize “HEY!  There is a waffle house right there” and Chloe loves waffle house.  I forgot the last trip… We get them inside. The three year old has realized I will laugh at anything.   So she begins telling the same joke over and over to make me laugh.   I do laugh because I cannot stop.

At last!  Food!   I remembered to hide my pickles so no repeat of the waffle+pickle incident occurs.  No, she dips toast in ketchup and eats it.  Auggh!  At least I stopped the mustard.

Kelli comes rushing back to table and informs me that her bandages are soaked and we need a pharmacy.    Great.  Put two toddlers in the car and brave the traffic.  Find a pharmacy.  While Kelli is inside a PINK bus passed on the road.  Chloe almost cries as she wants the pink bus.  Plus, she wants me to just leave Kelli and go get the bus.  “Get the bus and drive Gaga!”

Kelli finally makes it back just as I had lost all hope.   Chloe tells Kelli that she wants the bus.  Then I realize we are right by the interstate.  Look!  Wrong…  Now Chloe wants to get on the overpass and she wants the pink bus and she wants to be home and she wants to cry and leave her mom for taking so long.

We get on the interstate and she begins to sing song “So people can’t see us” when we go under and over pass.  She then adds “So people can’t see us” and “I told you” when we go over an underpass.   The trip is looking long and difficult now.   Then, just to keep me on my toes she and the three year old start with the “Are we there yet?”   So, I said “Yes, we are there.”  To have Kelli say “No, we are here.”  Which leads to a long discussion of why we can never be there along with the sing-song going in the back seat.

So, I was wrong.  Difficult task.  The two year old:  1- made me slightly ill with her culinary experiments, 2-wants me to enter a life of crime and steal the pink bus, 3-wants me to leave mom for taking too long, 4-makes me so happy to see her that all these things seem sane.     Typical Road Trip!


What it is like

Two years old and my mother is diagnosed with glomerulonephritis.  Degeneration of the kidneys.  At two years of age that means nothing. In the 1950s it was a death sentence.   I had a new brother that screamed night and day and a sick mother.  That I can remember.  At an early age I learned to worry.

I do not remember childhood being traumatic or trying.  Yes, I remember being sent to live with my grandmother (mammy) and granddaddy far away from my home.  I remember the outdoor toilet and the water-bucket on the back porch.  I can feel the sun and smell mammy cooking.  She cooked three square meals a day.  Rain or shine.  I don’t remember her ever looking on me as a burden.

I was allowed to go to the hen house with her.  I followed her to milk cows.  When I whined I was given a small container and allowed to pick cotton from the field beside her house.  I watched her quilt and work.  She had all sons and I was a welcome change I guess.  I hope.

My brother was sent to live with our other grandparents.  I missed him.  Our grandparents lived out in the sticks of Louisiana.    Back in those days travel was something that required a non-work day.  Phones were on a party-line and it was difficult to arrange things even though we were close in proximity.

My mother would, when told by the doctors at Ochsner’s that death was imminent, rise up and get better briefly.  My dad would gather us up and we would go home.  I still don’t know how my parents managed to hold together.  Most men would leave.  My dad and mom never gave up.

What is it like to have the opportunity to observe people that do not give up or give in to overwhelming odds?   It means you learn resilience.  It means you learn you learn to not whine and not give up.


6 year olds and love

I have been lectured to by a 6 year old, to-wit:

“you are like a tree that a bird pooped on.  Now you are afraid all the birds are going to poop on you. ”

My mom and I sat there in stunned silence.  My mother finally says that you know she might be right.

6 year old “You are afraid of all the birds.”

She may be right.  The lecture involves me ever loving anyone again.  I am afraid that I will be hurt.  40 years of marriage thrown out the window tends to do that to a person.  I wish I could say that I am not afraid.

But…the birds might find me.


H and the crazy day

I was in my room a few years ago with about four people.  They were desperately trying to catch up on work they had missed.  I felt like I was doing a fair job with helping some with science.  One or two of them needed help in other subjects,  I can try to help with other topics.

I heard the side door of the building open.  My door was open (right next to side door) so I looked to see what was happening.  It was H and he was sniffling.  He did not act like it was a cold.  H acted as though he had been crying.

I went back to my students.  I was going on as though I had not noticed H.  His hand darted through my door and grabbed a box of tissues.  I thought that MAYBE he was sick and MAYBE he was going to blow his nose.   The bathroom was right past my door.

All at once his hand reappeared around the door and he grabbed a bottle of lotion.  H mumbled to the others “May need this also…”  He then went toward the bathroom.  His girlfriend (who was in the room) and I looked at each other.  We then looked some more.

I told the rest of the room “best we don’t think about it.”   Never was brave enough to ask H about that day.  Never was brave (or stupid) enough to ask for tissue or lotion to be returned.  I now keep lotion (for after labs) in the lab area FAR AWAY from the tissues.




Me and My Dues

I have parents that are litigious and combative in nature these days. Every other word is “I am going to the school board” or “I have a lawyer.”
Now you might wonder why this is occurring. I am teaching and working with students all day long. Some parents feel that I can just give their child a grade. I have to justify your child’s grade. I have to hope that their EOC in some way shows growth. I have to hope that the material I cover is what some entity that is unknown to me has chosen to test. I have to hope that your child can retain material longer than five minutes. I have to pray that they are having a good day on test day. I have to pray that someone realizes that constant testing is leading students to quit trying on the tests. Test exhaustion.
Since I cannot stop this process to run to the school board each and every time the same two or three people threaten to “have me fired” – I pay union dues. Why?
AWESOME benefit of malpractice insurance. A teacher needs malpractice insurance?
I wish I could say that teachers are not going to need insurance.
I know I am not going to do the wrong thing. I wish I could say that about today’s parents.


Good To Know

It is good to know certain truths in life:  1- don’t spit out the window forward in a moving car,  2- don’t lie to your children, and 3- don’t eat a bunch of fiber if you have crohn’s disease.  Which leads to how I know the third is true.

J (the eldest) made chocolate and pb haystacks (with lowfat pb and all-bran).  I have an uncontrollable urge to eat chocolate and peanut butter.  I am seven years in remission from Crohn’s.  I ate one and NOTHING happened.

Fast forward to the next day.  I am cooking chili at the other child’s (k) home.  I spy some of said haystack candy on counter.  I ate one thinking that if one was did no harm…      Later, I ate another.  J came in and I informed her that I may have eaten a piece of candy.

J:  “That’s is okay I made them five, that leaves four.”

Me:   “um…three.”

J:  “I can’t believe you.”

Me:  “Yes. Yes you can, I don’t lie to my kids.”

J:  “That is NOT what I meant.  I can’t believe you sat there and ate two things full of peanut butter and all bran.  What were you thinking?”

Me: “They were good?  Besides, I was standing.”

Later, I was not standing.  I can’t believe me either.