On our first day back, 4 first graders smiled widely to display their new hole and tell me of their recently missing tooth. They were so excited, this is what they had been waiting for. Some would smile and not say a word, expecting me to of course know what they were communicating, weren't we all waiting for this accomplishment? I am honored to be one to whom they can show their holes in their mouth. I realized this event in their lives is similar to the equivalent of me finding a job (soon?!) or my uncle's first day of fishing season or my friends buying a house or my other friends sending their final little one to school or my grandpa's welcoming of his first lavendar patch of the year. It's nice to enjoy eachother's "firsts" What are yours this spring?
In a completely unrelated manner please enjoy this dialogue between my mother and thirteen year old sister last night.
mom: (passionately) "Kadyn, with your body weight if you were to take three drinks you would have alcohol poisoning!"
kadyn:(pause) " Did you learn that from 'ER'?"
mom: (longer pause) "yes"
ER lives on, I guess those 15 years really impacted her.
Tuesday, April 7
Sunday, April 5
back to it
After a wonderful (and the most appreciated in my 10 years of charter school experience) two and a half week spring break, I will go back to work tomorrow. But enough about that, it's still Sunday!
I was reminded on Friday that a clear sign of a good friend is one who chooses to spend an hour or two in target instead of the necessary twenty minutes.
My male co-worker at Anthropologie educated me a bit on how you can tell where someone is from. I will share with you. I guess all you have to do is look at a girl's ponytail. He said "a girl is totally from the west coast if her ponytail is set high on her head. And she is definitely from the east if the ponytail rests at her neck."
Okay. I guess I've seen evidence of this but was not aware of the standard. I then asked him where I am from if I like to wear my ponytail (bad name) pulled back, I guess aligned with my ears.
Without taking more than a second, Brian told me I must be from the midwest.
Niiiice. I like the midwest and you can tell from my ponytail.
After a week of clouds, wind, rain and snow I spent my Saturday outside at my dear friend's second birthday party. It was perfect out. Perfect for chalk and bubbles, the constant grazing of good snacks, a lime in my sparkling water, sitting and closing my eyes in yes, a tank top and actually feeling that sweet sun, and perfect for my friend's favorite activity of the day, twirling and falling down so many times. Ah, yes.
Tonight I heard a beautiful piano recital by a friend who has spent months preparing. Superb. Then my dad bought me peanut butter n' chocolate ice cream at the only acceptable place to eat such a flavor. satisfied and blessed I will head to bed.
I was reminded on Friday that a clear sign of a good friend is one who chooses to spend an hour or two in target instead of the necessary twenty minutes.
My male co-worker at Anthropologie educated me a bit on how you can tell where someone is from. I will share with you. I guess all you have to do is look at a girl's ponytail. He said "a girl is totally from the west coast if her ponytail is set high on her head. And she is definitely from the east if the ponytail rests at her neck."
Okay. I guess I've seen evidence of this but was not aware of the standard. I then asked him where I am from if I like to wear my ponytail (bad name) pulled back, I guess aligned with my ears.
Without taking more than a second, Brian told me I must be from the midwest.
Niiiice. I like the midwest and you can tell from my ponytail.
After a week of clouds, wind, rain and snow I spent my Saturday outside at my dear friend's second birthday party. It was perfect out. Perfect for chalk and bubbles, the constant grazing of good snacks, a lime in my sparkling water, sitting and closing my eyes in yes, a tank top and actually feeling that sweet sun, and perfect for my friend's favorite activity of the day, twirling and falling down so many times. Ah, yes.
Tonight I heard a beautiful piano recital by a friend who has spent months preparing. Superb. Then my dad bought me peanut butter n' chocolate ice cream at the only acceptable place to eat such a flavor. satisfied and blessed I will head to bed.
Thursday, April 2
yes
I don't know of much better than a toddler you love finding the perfect hammock on your lap. Their relaxed head makes you feel the same and not care about the pull of your shirt or the squirms that come every thirty seconds. It makes you want to read Madeleine or Curious George a whole lot slower.
Tuesday, March 31
feeling it
tonight, sitting in what was I guess the front row, but instead front couch, listening to a nice band visiting from florida, I enjoyed dancing. But not the usual show dance or happy dance or group of friends who can't really but really love to dance.
Only my feet were moving, but man were they feeling it.
It was as if all of the energy that could be worn off by a full body dance (?) was directed to my feet. And I could watch from above like a puppeteer. This dancing was so satisfying. There were different movements for syncopation, felt mostly in my knees, a sort of steady unplanned "kick, ball, change" for keeping time and the toe to heel scatterings across the floor mirroring the mood and tempo.
It was too loud to really say much but I could look to my left and my right at Caleb and Kaysha, exchange a nod, maybe a point and know that they were dancing too.
Only my feet were moving, but man were they feeling it.
It was as if all of the energy that could be worn off by a full body dance (?) was directed to my feet. And I could watch from above like a puppeteer. This dancing was so satisfying. There were different movements for syncopation, felt mostly in my knees, a sort of steady unplanned "kick, ball, change" for keeping time and the toe to heel scatterings across the floor mirroring the mood and tempo.
It was too loud to really say much but I could look to my left and my right at Caleb and Kaysha, exchange a nod, maybe a point and know that they were dancing too.
Tuesday, February 24
2:40-2:50 pm
While winter was as cold as I try to forget, bus duty, my last ten minutes of my work day, has become a nice part of my daily routine. It is a harsh but appreciated transition of space. After hours of hushed reading and writing of students with wavering moods, I walk out the door, take two sharp turns and lead the first graders to the bus. These nice, forming creatures are just as happy as I to be filled with the fresh air- so much so that I am forced to politely yet sternly say, "Stop running please".
Then come the big kids. Or bigger kids. These ones are so excited and are somewhat preoccupied with getting the best seat on the bus, so I am forced to be a bit more forceful. "Stop running please, the rules have not changed!" (The most confusing run-in with the running rule is the dilemma of whether or not I should let them run if they are running late. If they are in jeopardy of missing the bus I of course do not stop them, yet I am letting up on my one and very important rule) There are a few who try me at least twice a week, hoping I will become bored of being the annoying bus duty girl. I am closer than ever before to understanding the eyes in the back of the head phenomena.
And then there are the days that I actually am bored, there are no children to stop from running, and I find it fun to sometimes join in on the conversations that are vital to get out before parting ways for a few hours, though most are so confused as to why I would contribute and forget what they were saying all together.
I have realized in the last couple weeks, now that sun has flown back north, that these ten minutes are one of the best parts of my day. I find myself smiling, laughing or singing without apparent reason. And then recognize it is the air, the beautiful sun, the kids laughing and yesterday even the wind that messed up my freshly salon-ed hair, that can at once make me thankful to be alive standing on the concrete at the charter school in the middle of some fields.
Then come the big kids. Or bigger kids. These ones are so excited and are somewhat preoccupied with getting the best seat on the bus, so I am forced to be a bit more forceful. "Stop running please, the rules have not changed!" (The most confusing run-in with the running rule is the dilemma of whether or not I should let them run if they are running late. If they are in jeopardy of missing the bus I of course do not stop them, yet I am letting up on my one and very important rule) There are a few who try me at least twice a week, hoping I will become bored of being the annoying bus duty girl. I am closer than ever before to understanding the eyes in the back of the head phenomena.
And then there are the days that I actually am bored, there are no children to stop from running, and I find it fun to sometimes join in on the conversations that are vital to get out before parting ways for a few hours, though most are so confused as to why I would contribute and forget what they were saying all together.
I have realized in the last couple weeks, now that sun has flown back north, that these ten minutes are one of the best parts of my day. I find myself smiling, laughing or singing without apparent reason. And then recognize it is the air, the beautiful sun, the kids laughing and yesterday even the wind that messed up my freshly salon-ed hair, that can at once make me thankful to be alive standing on the concrete at the charter school in the middle of some fields.
Saturday, February 21
driving
I was at the four-way stop by the glass shop, in between flying m and NNU and I saw the most interesting site.
A man in jeans and a flannel dragging a large cross over his shoulder.
I wanted to stop driving and watch and try to experience every possible contemporary vs. historical connection possible. But I continued to drive. Maybe he was trying to semi-experience the weight of the cross his Savior willingly carried.
I assume he was simply transporting the cross somewhere from one of the seven churches in the mile radius. But for me, I chose to let myself read deeper, I chose to begin my meditation on this upcoming season of Lent. Not only did Christ have to carry an awkward heavy cross while being beaten and ridiculed- he was the one nailed to it and killed. And willingly? And for me?
I pray to forget my laziness, my Grey's Anatomy, my list making, my worrying, my coffee, to attempt to experience each part of Lent, to come a little closer to understanding the sacrifice made for us.
As if that site wasn't enough to stop for, thirty seconds later I passed a large Budweiser semi pulling out of NNU. Ah irony.
(is that an appropriate use of the word irony, Chris?)
A man in jeans and a flannel dragging a large cross over his shoulder.
I wanted to stop driving and watch and try to experience every possible contemporary vs. historical connection possible. But I continued to drive. Maybe he was trying to semi-experience the weight of the cross his Savior willingly carried.
I assume he was simply transporting the cross somewhere from one of the seven churches in the mile radius. But for me, I chose to let myself read deeper, I chose to begin my meditation on this upcoming season of Lent. Not only did Christ have to carry an awkward heavy cross while being beaten and ridiculed- he was the one nailed to it and killed. And willingly? And for me?
I pray to forget my laziness, my Grey's Anatomy, my list making, my worrying, my coffee, to attempt to experience each part of Lent, to come a little closer to understanding the sacrifice made for us.
As if that site wasn't enough to stop for, thirty seconds later I passed a large Budweiser semi pulling out of NNU. Ah irony.
(is that an appropriate use of the word irony, Chris?)
Monday, February 9
It's snowing while I feel like I'm living in spring
This weekend I had the privilege of attending the Wesley conference. I was definitely a lay-woman in a room full of theologians, philosophers, psychologists and pastors but what a treat to be around such dialogue again. This year's theme was Christian Love: Theory and Practice and discussed the possibilities of altruism and God's intent for the necessary action. I appreciate that it was not all theory but also focused on the rich yet difficult experiential practice.
You can listen to part of the conference here
My journal is chalk full after the nice three days, also I was able to enjoy the company of five good friends who flew in for the conference. Oh happy days
You can listen to part of the conference here
My journal is chalk full after the nice three days, also I was able to enjoy the company of five good friends who flew in for the conference. Oh happy days
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