Of Cell Phones and Other Conveniences

There is a lot about modern technology that I don't like, mostly the cost of it. Cell phones, telephones, computers, air conditioning, dishwashers, refrigerators, microwaves, DVD & VCR's, CD players/stereo systems, and cars. There's so much you have to learn to work the things, the inconvenience and uselessness of having them when there is no power, or the times when you can't get a signal, combine to make one wonder what did I ever do before I had one of these?

I remember washing dishes by hand, and towel drying them before putting them away. I remember hot and humid summers without air conditioning. No one had air conditioning when I was a kid, at home or in their cars. We just dealt with it, and dressed accordingly, and paced ourselves a little better.

I can't remember when we didn't have refrigerator, so I'm not that old, but I do remember when microwave ovens were only in the imaginations of science fiction writers.

I remember rotary dial phones... I have to admit, the pushbutton variety are a great improvement, especially with the added re-dial feature, and the message machine is a nice bonus for the person who is away from home every day.

The 8-track tape player in the car was a short-lived hot item once upon a time, but when it first appeared in our cars, it was the greatest thing next to the car radio! I still don't have a car CD player, and I don't have a DVD player for the backseat kiddies, probably because I don't have any backseat kiddies. I have a DVD player and a VCR player in my living room, and three CD players in various rooms of our home.

I am not a stranger to technology. I have never had trouble learning how to use any of it. Generally, I have been resistant to accepting something new because of the cost, and because I know it's one step closer to being controlled by my environment. But, once I've gotten over the initial newness of it, I can't imagine what I would do without it.

I remember in 1981 when we bought our first dishwasher. It was installed brand new in our brand new home. I didn’t use it for three weeks because I didn’t want to admit that I was finally becoming part of the “better off” population. I had been proud of myself for doing without new things for so long. I was pleased with how welived within the limits of our income. We had used cars, we paid for our own wedding, we scrimped and saved every dollar that wasn’t needed for living. We stayed home on vacation days to save money. We had very few possessions by the time we moved into our new home even though we had been married nearly six years. We had our three-year old son, a dog, a stereo, TV, refrigerator, dishwasher and dryer, some books, dinnerware, pictures, tools, and our clothes. The necessities.

When we moved into our new home, something changed, at least for me. I was better off than I had ever been before, and instead of celebrating that time in my life, I could only think about the rest of my family who was not better off, who were still scrimping and saving, and doing without. Having a “nice” house at last did not make me feel good about myself. I resisted using the new dish washer because I didn’t deserve it. How could I have a dishwasher and know that my mother was washing and drying her dishes still? I don’t remember when I started loading it up with dishes, but at some point, my husband eased me into the practicality of it, and, besides, we had it so we might as well use it.

I have come to rely on technology in my life, at home and at school, and appreciate the time it saves me, allowing me to do other less dreary kind of work, like read, draw, work as a teacher, and research on the internet, among other things involving relationships. Besides, I am controlled by my environment, and so how is one more new technological item going to lessen my quality of life?

I'm speaking of cell phones specifically. I don't own one, nor have I ever owned one, and I don't plan on owning one. However, this week, if it wasn't for a little technological feature that my husband had installed on our phone the day before my mother called me, I would not have been able to call my mother to find out how she fared during the storms that blew into central Georgia Monday.

You see, when she called me Friday to tell me she was safe in Georgia, she also told me her new cell phone number. I didn't realize until I hung up that the number she had given me was only the area code and the last four digits. I was missing the middle three digits. I couldn't call her back. Just today I mentioned to my husband about the mis-stated phone number, and he said all I had to do was check the numbers of who called recentlyon our phone.

"When did we get caller ID?" I asked. "A few days ago." So he checked the caller ID list of recent callers, and sure enough, there was my mother's phone number. I was able to call her, and found out that she is safe in Georgia, and will be returning to her RV at the campsite in Gulf Shores, Alabama. She had called her landlord there and found out that only one RV at the campsite was blown over, but hers was okay. She will be headed back to her temporary Alabama residence tomorrow.

She assured me she would try to set up a PO Box so that friends, family, and checks can be sent to her by mail.

I am not proud of my dependence upon technology. I'm not ready to ride a bike or a horse to work, and I don't think I want to trade electricity in my home for candlepower and kerosene lanterns, nor do I want to take cold tub baths instead of hot showers. I'm sure I would not benefit from washing my clothes in a barrel of rainwater, so I'm not going to give up my washing machine. I like flushing toilets and dishwashers, and microwave ovens. Also, the computer has opened up a new world that I only discovered in the past few years, that of the great, invisible web of connections around the world, and I'm not giving that up either.

The consequence of all this is that I have to pay for what has become, in my mind, necessities, things that other people in other parts of the world live without and would probably call indulgences.

Journal Name Change

You aren't imagining it. I did change the title of the Journal. I still have the ant farm, but there are other things to write about now that school is in full swing.

Of the Hurricane, Independence at 71 years, and Mother Teresa

Several things are on my mind before I turn it over to lesson planning for the week: Hurricane Katrina, my mother, and the teaching of our pastor this morning.

I haven’t been watching the news during the past week due to my attention to school. When school starts, and often throughout the school year, I have a very narrow focus. During the school year, my life is categorized into two broad areas: school, and not school. Five days a week, I devote and dedicate my time and energy to matters related to public education including lesson planning, parent conferences, staff development workshops, student academic and personal needs, curriculum, behavior management, and any paperwork that is necessary to complete a student’s education program. Oh, yeah, and teaching. The other two days a week I combine resting and church activities. Sunday is officially my day of rest, but sometimes I rest on Saturdays because spending three hours on Sunday evenings planning for the week hardly counts as rest.

So, when my mother called me yesterday afternoon to tell me she was alright, and back in Georgia, I didn’t know for sure what she was talking about, and I paused for a moment to consider her words. She continued with the news that the hurricane was heading for her new home place at Gulf Shores in Alabama, but she had driven to Georgia until it would be safe to return. Her voice was heavy with worry. She didn’t think there would be anything left when she returned to Alabama.

I told her I was glad she was safe, and hoped her worse fears were not true, and we talked about other matters. She was in her home, a temporary arrangement for that matter, as the bank has claimed the unpaid mortgages on her home, and she must be out of it by end of September. My mother is seventy-one years old.

She is an energetic, alert, and active woman for her age. She is stubborn, and fiercely independent now that she is alone. My father died three years ago this week, leaving her with heavy debts that were unintentional, but no less damaging in their impact on her present life. She is flexible in the way she deals with life’s turns, blows, and challenges. When she gets knocked down, my mother gets right back up and moves on. Nothing stops her from moving on, and nothing sways her from her strong faith and cheerful attitude that “Everything is going to bealright, Bea.”

Her children are not happy with the turn of events in her life, and have tried to help out financially, as much as any of us could. The dilemma is complicated by the fact that she lives so far away from me. My brother in California wants her to come live with him and his family of wife and two daughters in college. I have offered the same in my home. My sister in Georgia also has offered a house to my mother for a rent she can afford.

But my mother refuses us all, and I can’t help but think of her as the rebellious teen-ager, running away from her family so she can start her own adventure. She doesn’t put it into those words when we talk about what she is doing, or why, but she is clear about one thing: she does not want to live with her kids just yet. She is not helpless yet. She has her health. She has her dogs, and she has a male friend who is old enough to be her son, young enough to be my younger brother. He is living with her, she says, to take care of her, more like a friend than an adult offspring, and she takes care of him, more like a friend than a mother. I believe her heart is open to something new happening in her life. They are the oddest of couples, but in my family, no one is laughing.

I cannot with proper respect discuss the details of their friendship, but will say that my mother has always took in strangers into our home, letting them live with us for a day, a few days, a week, or longer. These were people she met through her various jobs as she went about her daily life. They sat at our dinner table and slept in our beds until they could get back on their feet. More than once I gave my bed up for a stranger, someone who had been evicted from her home, had no place to go, and I would sleep with my sister. We didn’t mind. We knew we were doing something good for someone. My father also brought in airmen off the base who needed a family for Thanksgiving dinner or to be with at Christmas. My brothers and sisters, and myself, never thought anything unusual about it then. I don’t know why we do now.

She doesn’t have the money to support herself properly, and that is our concern. At the age of 71, my mother is going against the norm of her life, and shocking us all. Her children react in different ways from, anger to denial, to acceptance. We all have promised to provide for her, we’re all ready to take her in and give to her what she sacrificially gave to us all of our lives, but she is not ready to be dependent on us. She is fighting it with a vengeance that troubles some of the youngest family members, her grandchildren.

There is one aspect of her situation that complicates everything, which is too complex to write about here, and causes the most concern, but it is something that is out of our control, and in her hands, but mostly in His hands. We have to trust her judgment about the character of her house friend. We don't want her to get hurt in the course of her autumnal adventure, but I know that life is messy, and we sometimes get hurt searching for what moves our hearts. My mother knows this, too, and she is okay with that. She sounds happy, and her only concerns are financial. She prays to God every day, and she is sure that He is taking care of her. I can only hope that this is so. It is the prayer of my heart, as well.

This morning’s sermon at church gave me goose-bumps. Our pastor was talking about finding Jesus in unlikely places. Citing scripture (Romans 12:9-21), and the movie Places in the Heart, he reminded us that God is among us where we least expect Him. My arms chilled and my stomach fluttered, I think, because only this morning I had opened my St. Anthony Messenger issue and read an article about Mother Teresa. Mother Teresa believed and taught that “we meet Jesus - not a reminder of Jesus, not a symbol of Jesus, but Jesus himself, face-to-face,”  hungry, thirsty, unclothed, longing for compassion and love. I can think of many people in these places of the heart, people as far away as Zimbabwe, and as close as Alamance County. They don't have to be standing on the side of the road holding a sign asking for a job, money, or food to be recognized and counted as one of the needy longing for compassion and love. They are here, among us, our neighbors who live in another neighborhood, who shop in the same stores we do, who have to pay outrageous gas prices like we do, and who try to kick their bad habits, just like we do. I   haven’t always responded to them as though they were Jesus. But Mother Teresa did. We are called to do the same.

I close this entry with my mind and heart on the great storm in the Gulf Coast that has forced evacuation of the people in those areas, and sent thousands of others into public shelter on higher grounds...and of my mother who wonders what she will find left of the new life she had hoped to start in Alabama.

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#1 “Mother Teresa's Hunger for God” By David Scott. St. Anthony Messenger, September 25, 2005 (http://www.americancatholic.org/Messenger/Sep2005/default.asp).

Of a Tea Shop on State Street in Greensboro, NC

Photo copied by permission.

If you like to drink tea or coffee, hot or iced, this entry may be of interest to you. Today, accompanied by a few friends, I stepped into a shop I had never before visited.

Carolina Coffee and Tea, in Greensboro, North Carolina, is a quaint little café tucked away in a quaint little part of the city, at 400 State Street. I had never heard of the place before, but in the pursuit for my preferred hot beverage, I decided to check it out, and my friends and I were pleasantly surprised.

Not only is the café stocked with a great variety of whole bean coffees from all over the world, but their supply of tea, loose and bagged, is equally impressive. The aroma of coffees from Ethiopia, Kenya, Tanzania, Zimbabwe, Costa Rica, Guatemala, Mexico, Nicaragua, Brazil, India, Jamaica, and Italy tempted the olfactory nerves. A colorful array of tea packages bore exotic labels from England, China, and Japan. There were the usual black teas, herbal teas, and the clean Green teas, but also the brown Oolong Teas, and the rarest of teas, the delicate and subtle White tea.

I love drinking hot tea. My husband says I enjoy the idea of drinking tea more than the drinking because I seldom finish a cup. I attribute this to the fact that I sip tea slowly. I hold the tea more than I drink the tea. I relish the warmth of the tea cup cupped in my hands, especially in the fall and winter, but also early in the summer and spring mornings. By the time I get to the bottom, or even half way through a cup of tea, it is cool, and by then, I no longer require the drink. The first few sips, perhaps even half the cup, are all I need to get started in the morning. For my evening cup of indulgence, I select a non-caffeine tea like White or Oolong, and sometimes Earl Gray.

Tea is light and undemanding. It calms and relaxes, even when it has caffeine. Dark teas, in my opinion, require cream or milk and sugar to enhance the flavor and texture of the drink. I adjust the amount of sugar by the strength and flavor of the tea. For generic, any grocery store variety black or orange pekoe tea, I will add about two teaspoons of 1% milk and a half spoon of sugar (not sugar substitute). For the White or Oolong, I might add honey or sugar, but no milk. It is all a matter of taste.

I started drinking tea when I was about five or six years old. I know this because that is when my father, an Air Force serviceman, was stationed in England, and during the three years we lived there, I remember every morning my mother made hot tea with lots of milk to cool it off for her kids. There were four of us old enough to hold our own cups by then, and a baby. I don’t remember if she poured the tea into mugs or cups, but my guess would be cups. She would steep it in a teapot, just like the ladies of England, and she would serve it with our oatmeal and peanut buttered toast for breakfast. I think she started making tea because “everyone in England” drank tea, and, when you acclimate to a culture like military families often do, like we did, we began drinking tea. Not only drinking, but enjoying the tea. When we returned to the States, I was in third grade, and our morning breakfast ritual of peanut butter on toast, oatmeal, and hot tea with cream and sugar continued.

I don’t know if my brothers and sister still drink their hot cup of tea and eat their peanut butter toast, but to this day, it is one of my favorite go-togethers.

Back to the tea shop I went to today... the little courtyard behind the shop, enclosed by trees and shade plants, invited us to come in and sit down. We could have been in Italy or France, or even Charleston, South Carolina. It did not feel like Greensboro the City. Inside, the mixed aromas of coffee and tea begged for our attention, so we ordered our drinks from the menu. I was surprised that I had ordered a coffee drink despite the fact that my initial intent this afternoon, when I set out, was to enjoy a cup of tea.

I am not writing this to sell anyone on coffee or tea, as most folks already have their favorite morning beverage routine, or to plug a café, although this I am certainly doing because the hour we spent there talking and browsing was relaxing and friendly, but to note that for awhile, I learned about the varieties of tea (while drinking my coffee, I might add) from the owner of the café, Robert Hedrick, who graciously answered my questions, which I’m sure revealed my ignorance of the subject matter. Remember, I said I liked to drink tea... I didn’t say I knew much about it. In fact, he learned from me what I liked about tea, how I preferred it (with milk and sugar), which teas I had already experienced, and what I wanted from the drink. From what I told him, he was able to recommend a robust dark tea from England. And because I enjoy the ritual of making the tea, he showed me several items that would enhance the process. There were tea cozies, tea pots of various styles and color, tea cups for every hand size, Japanese tea sets, accessories in silver, ceramic, and stoneware. There were coffee mugs and brewers and other related paraphernalia, but I didn’t even look at them. I finally selected a bag of loose English tea, Yorkshire Gold, and a brewing basket in which to steep the tea leaves.

He also explained to me that when steeping green or white tea, one must start with hot water, but not boiling water, and with oolong, black, and herbal tea one should use boiling water. Steeping times vary with the variety of tea, and all the teas come with instructions for the perfect cup. Generally, steeping too long will result in a bitter, unpleasant taste. He suggested that if I wanted a stronger tea to add more tea leaves rather than steep for a longer time.

After we finished our drinks while sitting at the wrought iron and stone-top tables at the Carolina Coffee and Tea shop, we thanked the owners, and left out the back door into the country villa courtyard once again. We spent the next hour walking from store to shop to store that lined the street in this little community of what appeared to be renovated and remodeled homes. It may even be an historic district, judging by the age of some of the homes. We browsed in an art gallery, a consignment shop, an antiques shop, a couple of ladies clothing stores (one for plus size women), an eclectic shop with candles, incense, music, and other meditation aids, and a gift shop of accessories from around the world.

I will go back to State Street and the Carolina Coffee and Tea cafe, but first, I have many cups of tea to drink. If you happen to be in my neck of the woods, come on over for a spot of tea!

Of Being Tired, Second Graders, and Prayer

I am tired, and do not have much to say except that I am tired. The first two days of school wore me out. What am I going to do next week when we have five days of school?

The truth is, I'll feel better next week because by then I will have gotten into the routine of going to bed by 9:30 or 10:00 pm rather than staying up past 11:00. I heard other teachers saying the same thing: that they were not getting much sleep, either because they are not going to bed early enough, or because they go to bed early but can't fall asleep thinking about all that needs to be taken care of each day.

Many of our teachers have young children and/or infants to take care of when they get home. I don't know how they do it. My child is grown and living on his own. I know I could not have been a teacher and raised a child. I am often mentally exhausted when I get home from school, and need the down time to rest and rejuvenate. I know a mother of young children or babies does not get much rest. If she does, she has a very helpful husband at home. I admire our young teachers. God bless them each and every day.

When a few second graders came into my classroom today for reading, one of them, who had already seen the ant habitat, told the others about it, then they all wanted to see it. I knew I had to take it out and show it to them or I would not have their attention during that class. For five minutes we talked about ants and their tunneling habits, and I answered their questions.

Second graders are an interesting group of kids... they already think they understand the things of the world, and are not afraid to announce what they know. They have a trusting nature, and feel pretty safe in their world. Their questions are endless, and honest. They want to know why people do the things they do, why animals and insects act the way they do. In fact, they already have an explanation for everything that moves.

I understand why Art Linkletter would put them in front of his camera and ask them questions about their parents. They always had such funny, and often insightful, answers. Today, one of the boys wanted to know about a bug enclosed in acrylic, setting on the top shelf of my bookcase. I told him it was a preying mantis. He said he had never heard of those. Another boy immediately responded with, "They are big, and poisonous, and if they bite you, you will die." He  spoke with such authority and certainty. I asked him who told him that, and he said his grandmother. I assured him that preying mantises found in North Carolina were not poisonous, and that it was against the law to kill one. He shrugged his little shoulders and said, "I told her they wasn't poisonous, but she didn't listen to me!" 

A friend of mine emailed me a reminder from another teacher who cannot get through the day without prayer. I agree. I could not get through the day without taking a moment to be silent and still, and I do mean a moment, in which I send a breath prayer out to the Lord of All Creation, and feel its return to my heart, assuring me that I only need to walk one step at a time, one day at a time. Though I am tired, I am not weary for I know that all I need is given to me each day, and I don't ask for any more than that.

Of Changes and the Importance of What I Think

Today was the first day of school, and though my schedule still needs tweaking, I think that by next week, we will be settled in our working routines.

It doesn't seem appropriate any longer to call this journal Ant Farm Analogies, although I do have the ants in my classroom. My focus has shifted, as it should, from the amazing ants to my amazing work.

I spoke to a little kindergartner today after she had completed her first day in school. I work with her mother, also a teacher, and the child was waiting for her mom to come back to her classroom. I asked how was her first day of school. She told me all the wonderful things she did today with excitement, her eyes wide and alert as any healthy five year old can be. "We danced, and sang, and played, and made art, and had fun today." Then she went into details about her visit to the library. "We went to see the lady in the library, the lady who owns the library, and she let us look at all her books." I thought that was so cute. I've got to tell Nancy about that one... the lady who owns the library.

Today the kids learned of our expectations of them, and the rules, and learned that we are learners together, learning with them. Teachers, yes, but learners first.

We want them to be respectful and caring people. We want them to take care of their things, their books, their classroom, their school, and by the time they are adults, we hope they will become just as caring for the earth that grounds them, feeds them, and inspires them. We want them to read, and write, and solve problems in their heads and on paper, but more than that, we want them to understand community, and living together with others, whether they are like themselves or different. We want them to regard their words and the effect of their words on those who hear them spoken, whether spoken with compassion or anger. We want our children, the future caretakers of our world and of us, to value life, to honor their elders, to think beyond their little circle of friends and try to see things from another's point of view. A little compassion can go a very long way toward making peace between two people, two families, or two nations.

Academics are important, and it's convenient to evaluate a person's achievement and assign a grade to it, but let's not forget the achievements that often go unrecognized. Being a good citizen, responsible, dependable, trustworthy, fair, kind, and compassionate are all good qualities that we take for granted in others when we see them. For some kids, it is all they have going for them right now. And for some kids, it is all they will have when they graduate from high school.

We are building citizens here and now. These are our future neighbors, pilots, doctors, nurses, policemen, teachers, engineers, entrepeneurs, writers, bakers, mechanics, restaurant service personnel, cooks, electronic engineers, recreation directors, entertainers, landscapers, food producers, songwriters and artists, interior designers, real estate agents, custodians, government employees, city planners, board of education members, politicians, craftsmen, ministers, veterinarians, farmers, plumbers, home construction workers, and so on. Surely, some of our kids will grow up without a sense of responsibility toward others, without a sense of being a part of the community that raised them. Some, when they are grown, will look back and wonder where was the community that should have raised them. They won't know because others did not get involved in their lives, and because they didn't experience compassion from another.

I write this to remind myself that while I am trained to teach reading,writing, and mathematics, I cannot forget to model caring and compassion with my words and my deeds, but first with my thoughts. I am what I think, and what I think grows from what I experience, what I see, hear, read, and do. If I think someone is a hopeless case, I will say things that make him sound hopeless to others, and I will do things that will encourage hopelessness. I must recognize the potential each person has, and nurture that. I must find what is good in a person and nurture that. I must encourage them in their strengths and help them overcome or compensate for weaknesses. Every child has strengths, and every child has weaknesses.

It is the same for adults. We don't stop growing just because we are 30 or 40 or 50 years old. We never stop learning. Not while we live.

Open House Tomorrow

The ants are doing well in the classroom. They have even gone back to work in the tunnels. I was surprised this morning when I took a good look at the habitat. There were two almost complete tunnel shortcuts, each just a centimeter or two from intersecting with another tunnel. Once again, I admired their handiwork, the practicality and fragility of it, the great effort they put into constructing the elaborate tunnels, and the shortness of their life.

Our Science Resource teacher has caught “the bug,” too. She bought an Ant Factory last week, and can’t wait to order the ants. Her habitat comes with sand. I saw her reading over the instruction guide today in between all the other things she has to do to get her classroom organized and materials sorted.

That makes three of us with ant habitats in our classrooms now. Our custodian must be laughing at us, though, because he can remember last year when we had to call him to get rid of the ants in our rooms. They were tiny black ants that marched along the floor in a long line from somewhere in a wall or floor. They were pests, an unsightly inconvenience. The habitat ants we have now are not pests. They are harvester ants from another state, and are selected for their larger size, their incredible mandibles. and particularly for their best talent, tunneling, which they do with gusto. They will actually have another job to do besides tunnel: they will be teachers. The ants will model and demonstrate how they tunnel and communicate, and the students will learn important observation and writing skills.

Speaking of students and teachers, tomorrow is Open House at our school. Parents will come by and meet their children’s teachers between 2:30 and 4:30. The teachers are busy getting their bulletin boards completed, desks and chairs in place, books and folders out where they can be seen, and all the other little details that make for an inviting environment. Those that have their classrooms ready are working on their first week’s activities and lessons, wanting to get ahead, knowing that the unexpected always happens. We’re great and getting greater!

Of New Beginnings

There is an excitement in the air at my school. In a few days, the kids will be there with their new bookbags and new shoes, their notebooks filled with blank sheets of wide-ruled lined paper, colored pencils, #2 pencils, 8 bold color markers and maybe some fine point markers, too. The teachers are there with their own hopes and dreams for the year as well, some having twenty years of teaching behind them, some more than ten years, others less than ten, and a few just starting out their first year.

Though we have different backgrounds, different family structures, some are married and some are single, and we come from different parts of the state or the country, with different perspectives of what it means to live in this world and in these times, we all have one thing in common: we want to learn. We love to learn. We live to learn. You might have thought I was going to say we love to teach, but it is the learning we love more.

Not About Ants, But About Hoarding

There’s dust on the fan blade. I notice it this morning as I open my eyes. Usually, the fan blade is turning slowly above the bed, gently circulating the air in our bedroom, but this morning, it is motionless, and I see the dust draped lightly along the edges like icing on a cake.

Sighing, I roll out of bed. I know what I will be doing today. Dusting and sweeping and vacuuming. This is exactly why I don’t like housework. Once I get started, there’s something else right beside it that needs my attention. Before I know it, I will have spent the entire day scrubbing, dusting, washing, and re-organizing things, and have nothing but a temporarily clean house to show for it.

Max and Misty greet me in the living room, and I pet them as I pass them. I brew a cup of tea, noticing the burner liners on the stove need a good scouring. I let the dogs out, and brush my teeth. A glance tells me that the bathroom needs cleaning, too. Does it ever end? I get dressed, and check my email. When I get to the kitchen, I feel a gnawing in my stomach reminding me it is lunch time and I haven’t even had breakfast yet, so I boil water to make some Ramen noodles. After lunch, I let the dogs out again, and think about the work that’s waiting for me. As I walk past the bookcase, I notice a stack of birthday cards, Valentine’s Day, Mother’s Day, and Anniversary cards that have piled up on one of the shelves where they have been displayed since they were sent or given to us. Before I drop them into the desk drawer in the spare bedroom, I write the year on the back of each card, then bind them together in a big rubber band. At a time in the future, when I will clean out the drawer, usually in December, I will put all the cards and letters I received for the year into a special box in the attic.

Before leaving the spare room, the computer reminds me that there are three music CD’s I’d like to copy onto my music program, and I sit down to do that. It’s nearly two o’clock, and I haven’t even started on the housework. Every room I walk into holds something that catches my attention, and I do whatever it is that needs doing. The mailman delivers a package. I scour the four stove burner liners until they shine like new, then I clean the toilet bowl and sink in the bathroom. I put some clothes away, pick up shoes in one room and place them in another, collect 4 issues of National Geographic from the bathroom and set them in another room where I stack things that need to go downstairs. I will go downstairs when I have an armload to carry.

Could I be a borderline hoarder? I saw a woman featured on Oprah this week. She had been diagnosed with hoarding. I had never heard this word applied to an illness or disease of the mind before, but it seems to have some psychological roots. A hoarder keeps everything over the years and her living spaces become crammed with all the things she’s collected, interfering with her daily life. Some hoarders can’t even throw away their trash. The woman on Oprah could not clean up her dog’s feces and as the cameraman walked through her home, dog poop could be seen everywhere, even in the shower stall. There was left-over food in every room, remnants of past meals molding on the kitchen counter, and her refrigerator was a hazard zone. No, I’m not a hoarder. Not even close. I do collect things, but animal poop isn’t one of them.

I find it difficult to throw things away that still have use in them, so I give them away or donate them to charity when I don‘t need them any more. I am a teacher. When I find things outside in nature that can be used to teach a lesson, I save it for that purpose. Shells, rocks, leaves, bugs, flowers, seeds, frogs and tadpoles, and skinks are all potential lesson starters. I buy and store paper and pencils, pens, markers, crayons, folders, notebooks, and dividers because I know they will be needed in the classroom. My husband tolerates this hoarding instinct of mine and has built shelves to accommodate my various storage needs. He understands the collecting and storing mechanism. A few years ago, he built a workshop which doubles as a storage shed in the backyard. A man in his fifties accumulates a lot of things in his lifetime… the lawn mower, tools, building materials, old lawn mower parts, other yard equipment, car cleaning supplies, not to mention the stuff our son left behind when he went to college eight years ago. My husband doesn’t like that he has collected all this stuff over the years, and he makes an honest effort each year to downsize. We both agree we should get rid of as much of the stuff as we can while we are healthy enough to do it ourselves.

I collect and store things, but I don’t like clutter. I don’t like knick-knacks and little dust collectors sitting on shelves, although I do have a small fish collection that collects dust. I really like having the fish out where I can see them on a book shelf. The fish, made of wood, soapstone, clay, porcelain, and brass, remind me of my faith, of stories in the Bible, of being fed, and of the apostles. I’ll bring them in for a Sunday School lesson every now and then. My other weakness is books. Every room in my house is a haven for books. Books are easier to dust than knick-knacks, books can be read over and again, and loaned out to one‘s friends. I’d rather go to the bookstore to buy a book than to the library to borrow one because once I read the book, I like to keep the book.

There’s a little hoarding instinct in all of us, I think, but most of us keep it under control. When it looks like we don’t have enough room to keep things, we know it’s time to re-evaluate what is important to us. That’s when we look at a thing and ask ourselves, “Have I used this in the last five years?” If not, it’s gone. It seems logical that if something has not been used during the last five years, it will likely not be needed during the next five. Good rule of thumb for those who haven’t figured it out yet.

No, I’m not a hoarder in the true sense of the word. I know this because in between writing this entry and eating dinner, I got my house cleaned!

Of Escaping, Rescuing, and Roller Coaster Rides

Photo #1: AntWorks habitat in my classroom on a shelf, in front of open book of Chris Van Allsburg's Two Bad Ants and beside Magic School Bus Gets Ants in the Pants.

Photo # 2: Two Bad Ants with ant habitat, beside Space Shuttle launch poster.

The ants are well. I checked on them yesterday when I returned to school. They were all snug in their sanctuary of safety at the bottom of the habitat. I knew that I should open the lid and let in some fresh air, so that was the first thing I did after I turned on the lights.

The lid fell out of my hand and onto the floor when I lifted it. I retrieved it quickly, though, and replaced it. No ants escaped, that I was aware of. The fresh air revived them immediately and they quickly filled the tunnels to get to the surface. I can only imagine that a few of them wished they’d been fast enough to get out.

About ten minutes later, young Nicholas, a 2nd grader whose mother is a teacher, came to look at the ants, and while standing at my desk, he looked into the open desk drawer. “Hey! One got away!” he called to me. “Are you sure?” I asked. He wasn't there earlier when I had opened the habitat.

He pointed into the opened center drawer. “Yeah, look, it's in the drawer. Look, there it is!”

Sure enough, an ant was hesitantly climbing over unfamiliar terrain. Pens, pencils, an eraser, some coins, a paper clip, and sticks of gum foiled her get-away as she clambered about. The little boy stepped back to let me do the job of rescuing the lost ant. I had to be quick, I told him, to avoid getting stung. I couldn’t pick up the ant and have my hands free to lift the habitat lid, and I couldn’t open the habitat first then catch the ant… that would be like inviting the entire colony to join her on the desk.

Looking for something to contain the single ant until I could figure out a safe way to return it to the habitat, I noticed a red plastic egg-shape laying in the drawer… Silly Putty! I removed the plastic putty from the egg, then located the ant… it was still clambering about the strange obstacles, slowly and awkwardly. In fact, slow and awkward enough that I could easily press my finger gently on its back to prevent it from running off again, then carefully lift it up between my thumb and forefinger. Nicholas watched with interest as I dropped the ant into the empty plastic egg-half, then snapped on the other half. He wanted to know what I was going to do with the ant, how I was going to get it back into the habitat, and how did it get out anyway?

I explained about the need keep the ant in the plastic container so it wouldn’t get away again, that I needed to wait until all the other ants calmed down and settled at the bottom of their home before I could open the lid, and how it must have escaped earlier when I opened the lid. Then he wanted to know why I opened the lid, what if all the ants got out, and why did I want to keep ants like that? I answered his questions. He was satisfied, asked if he could play with the Silly Putty for awhile, so I gave it to him and off he went to his mother’s classroom.

The classroom is nearly in order, my schedule is almost completed, and none of my lessons have been prepared for the first few weeks. I have much to do, and feel very excited about the coming days and weeks. I've talked to many of the other teachers, and while most feel that they could use another week to get ready, especially those that had to change classrooms this year, or those that are teaching for the first time, or even the few that just moved here from another city or school, there is one thing we all have in common: we feel like kids standing in line at the tallest roller coaster ride, and we're about to get on!

 

A Conversation Between Lazy and the Guide

I haven't seen the ants in two days. As mentioned in the previous journal entry, I left them at school. I don't know how they are doing. I can only imagine that they are well enough because their food and water are provided. I'm very curious about any new tunnels that may have taken place these past two days.

You know, I haven't made any new tunnels lately, either.

I don't know why I'm so surprised or disappointed that I don't see a new ant tunnel every single day. But that is just the way I have been acting when I look in on them. It's like I'm saying to them, "So, what have you done lately? Don't sit back and think all those wonderful tunnels you made are going to cut it. You've got to make another one. Get to work, ants!" I wouldn't want anyone to say that to me, to infer that I'd gotten lazy and didn't want to do my work, my job, or whatever it was I did that others expected me to continue doing, and certainly I wouldn't say that to another person... unless I knew they needed a little pushing. Sometimes a student needs a little pushing, sometimes a friend does, sometimes even I do.

But what have I done lately that is new?

I have a tendency to say to myself, "Look, I'm taking a break for the summer, okay? I taught Sunday School all year, didn't I? I worked hard and with great enthusiasm to help make Serengeti Trek a Vacation Bible School the kids won't soon forget. I've kept my journal up all through the summer, and I did get my annual physical done on time this year." Still, nagging me at the back of my mind is a voice that asks, "Yes, nice, but is that enough?"

But I've been reading, and studying, and I'm learning about Zimbabwe, and I'm getting things ready for school to start. "Yes, but is that enough?"

It's like I'm having a conversation with myself, between the part of me that is lazy and content with things just the way they are, and the part of me that wants to be better, that believes there is always room for self-improvement in one area or another.

For instance, the lazy part of me, let's call her Lazy, hates housework. She doesn't like vacuuming, or sweeping, or cleaning toilets, or dusting. Lazy doesn't have a problem with the leaves and sticks carried in on her dogs, and she doesn't always sweep them up right away. A few dirty dishes in the sink means when there are more, they'll get put into the dishwasher. Dinner dishes can be cleared away after Big Brother is over, or at least, between commercials. Lazy cleans the house when she knows someone is coming over to visit. She can get the house looking pretty good in a very short time because she is organized and orderly. Let me add that Lazy doesn't like a dirty house, but sometimes she will let nonessential things go when other more important things need doing. She prioritizes very well.

The other half of the conversation is lead by the part of me that wants to improve herself. Let's call her the Guide. She's the one that asks "Is that enough?" She wants to be the best she can be in whatever endeavor she undertakes. She is not so much concerned that she be better than anyone else in what she does, but just that she be better than what she was before the undertaking. The Guide likes to keep things in order. She knows how things should be, even if they are not that way right now and she is always trying to get them the way they should be.

The Guide pushes, pulls, instructs, and coaches. She may whisper or she may shout, but however she communicates to me, I usually listen because she knows me from deep inside, from a place I am not aware of when I am awake. She is the one who questions what I do, and sometimes says "And so?" when I think I'm doing something pretty good. She keeps my feet on the ground, and keeps me focused.

Of course, the reference to the house is a metaphor, but in reality, I am Lazy, and I am the Guide. I do prioritize the housework, and I dislike housework because other works seems more enjoyable, more productive. Even after the house is "clean", it gets dirty again. Lazy says, "What's the point?" Living gets the house dirty, disorganized, messy. Sometimes life gets real messy. I clean it up when I have to.

Lazy is satisfied where she is at, the Guide is not. The Guide thinks we can do better. Lazy wants to know how we can do better, and why bother? "If someone is coming over to visit, then I'll take care ofit, I'll clean the house then," is Lazy's attitude.

But the Guide points out, "You should always be ready for a visitor. Act like every day someone is coming over to visit. Keep the house clean as you go."

Whether I'm talking about cleaning the house or improving the world we live in, the meaning is the same. Part of me resists and wants to go to sleep, and part of me seeks to wake up and do more.

I don't speak of this aspect of myself because I am proud of it, but only noting a truth about myself. Some truths about ourselves are not pretty, not likeable, not appreciated by others. I used to hide these truths, even from myself, and pretend to be someone I was not, but pretending is tiresome. It wears you out. I've decided to stop pretending. There are a few of my closest friends who know the truth about me, and they still like me, or at least, they like something about me and forgive the rest. I'm okay with that!

Of Cleaning Up the Classroom and Peeking

I went to school today to clean out drawers, cabinets, and shelves. I had to get rid of some old materials I haven't used in a few years to make room for the new books and materials. If you are a teacher, you know what I mean. Teachers generally like to keep books and materials from year to year in an as organized fashion as possible, but after a few years, we just don't have enough shelves or cabinets to store it all. Our husbands are sweet. They build us new shelves, or we go out and buy new shelves, or we make a request of our principal to provide us with new shelves, but in the end, at some critical point, we face the reality: we have too much stuff. All the games, and books, magazines, activity folders, flash cards, workbooks, and more books from home: books to read for fun, books about science concepts, and social studies books. There's science materials and math materials: rulers, calculators, protractors, solid figures, colored chips for all kinds of activities, shapes for geometric problem solving, dice for probability activities, and measuring cups. All these hands-on materials have to be kept in storage containers, and the storage containers have to sit on... well, shelves, or in cabinets or drawers. And did I say books? Text books, books of different reading levels in many areas of interest, thin books, chapter books, books of poetry, and books of history. These are the things we use from year to year, but sometimes we have a tendency to keep things that aren't used from year to year because we might need them, and, truth is, we hate to throw things away, particular when they still look useable. And we know what will happen if we give them away or discard them... that's when we'll find a need for them, and we'll be thinking, "I just gave those away last month...  I wish I had kept them now!"

To keep, or not to keep, that is the question. Still, orderliness and organization usually wins out, and we try to give as much away as possible knowing that in the giving, the possibility that if we needed the missing book or game or workbook, it would only be a phone call away. Which leads me to what I did today: I cleaned and organized and moved things out that I felt... that I thought... that I pretty much knew I would not be needing this year. And if I do find out a month from now that what I got rid of today could have been used in the classroom, I'll just have to let it go. Or, as someone I know has a way of saying it, I'll have to "suck it up" and move on.

The reason I'm even mentioning all this now is because I brought the ant habitat to school today. I decided to leave them at school, in my classroom. It's a way for them to transition to the new environment. In about two weeks, the kids will arrive, and I wanted the ants to be comfortable with their surroundings before the students begin picking up the habitat to see the littlest tunnel architects. After I had reached a good stopping place (I'm not finished, but with two workshops to attend over the next two days, it means I won't be back in the classroom until Thursday), I turned off the light, took one last look at the ants, and shut the door behind me.

Several hours have passed and I'm about to go to bed. I caught myself getting up to look at the ants to see what they are doing... it's something I've been doing ever since they came to live in my home. It's not that I miss them, but that something is missing. The last time I looked in on them, they were not tunneling. This means that for three days now, the ants have not tunneled, and I am worried about them. Somewhat. I don't know if this is "normal" ant behavior, to not tunnel. I was under the impression that this particular species of ants, the Harvester Ants, have a reputation for tunneling. So I wait to see what happens next.

I may be going through Ant Withdrawal. I'm accustomed to having as many peeks a day as I want, you know, to see what they're doing so I'll have something to write about in this blog. When I first got the ants, I was peeking all the time, all day, a few times during the night, and first thing in the morning before I even brushed my teeth. I had it bad. There were times I'd have a peek, and wouldn't tell anyone. I would especially have lengthier peeks when my husband wasn't home. He thought I spent too much time with the ants. Now I see that he may have been right about that.

So, during these few days before I officially return to school, I thought I should try to reduce how many peeks I allow myself per day. Yesterday, I only had three peeks, one in the morning, one after lunch, and one after dinner. Today, I decided to give up the peeks cold turkey, and that is why I left ants at school. I haven't had a peek since I shut the door at 5:15 p.m. Now, it's about 11:15 p.m. and I'm trying to fight off a head-ache. If only I had the ants to look at, I'm sure it would go away. Fortunately, I am tired, so the desire to peek at the ants is practically non-existent. However, if they were here, I would peek. And I am not ashamed to say it, either.

It'll be two days and three nights before I can peek at them again. I don't know if that will ruin it for me, if I'll want to bring them home so I can peek on them at night, but right now, the plan is to leave them in my classroom until school starts. No more peeks for me. I can handle it. I know I can. If other ant enthusiasts can do it, so can I.

Some ant enthusiasts go to those AAA meetings. You know, Ant Analyzers Anonymous. I don't think I'll need to attend any AAA meetings, though. Someone I knew went for ten weeks, and he said it helped him to give up peeking. Although, he added, during the last two weeks, every time he gets around an ant farm, he gives in and takes a peek. When he is alone and away from ant farms, he's okay and has no desire for a peek. I remember when he went through it, and he really did have a rough time, but he's like a different person now. He can even watch another person peeking without wanting to do it himself.

It could be a disease, but I don't think it is. I think it's all in their heads. I say they can stop peeking any time they want to. All they have to do is set their mind to it, and quit. I hope I'm right about that, because right now, I sure could use a peek! Maybe I could look into those new skin patches that you can wear in an inconspicuous place. I hear they help reduce the number of peeks a person needs a day, but they're very expensive. Still, it might be worth the extra money just so I can have my ants and peek at them, too.

 

 

Of Formic Acid, How Ants Sting, and Etymology

I’ve searched closely, and I can find no new tunnels today. It seems the ants either are taking a long break, or have given up tunneling. There are a couple of unfinished tunnels, that is, tunnels that were started a few days ago, but lead to know where. They don’t join with other tunnels. They just end in the middle of the gel, unlike all their other constructions which either end at the intersection of another tunnel, at the surface, at the bottom of the habitat, or at either side of it. I had a theory that when ants start a tunnel, they don’t stop until it is finished, until it reaches some logical destination. Yet, for two days now, there has been no digging. They spend most of the day at the bottom of the habitat in their sanctuary of safety. I don’t know if they are sick, or just bored.

While I wait for them to get back to work, I do a little research of my own. I’m curious about their ability to sting, like wasps and bees. I find out that ants belong to the order Hymenoptera, from the Greek word for membrane, referring to the membranous wings found in this order of insects which include wasps and bees, and the family Formicidae, which comes from the Latin word for ant, formica. What we call poison in the sting of the Fire Ant or the red ant or any ant that bites/stings is the formic acid, a vinegar-like chemical that burns when it is sprayed or injected into our skin. I happened to watch a documentary on tv last night and a slow-motion close-up of one ant attacking a human hand clearly showed the ant biting his skin, and injecting the venom from a stinger in its abdomen into his skin. The narrator said that ants spray their enemies with the toxin from a distance of centimeters, and others inject it directly. Some bite the victim, then spray the acidic chemical into the wound. However it gets there, the result is the same: a fiery, burning sensation. Even the tiniest of ants can get our attention with their little drops of formic acid. Rule of thumb when walking in the grass: where shoes!

http://library.thinkquest.org/C007974/2_4ant.htm Read about the value of formic acid in the nest of ants. Did you know that ants use the formic acid as an antiseptic to keep their nests free of bacteria and fungi?

http://encyclopedia.laborlawtalk.com/Formicidae This encyclopedia page gives an easy to understand definition of Formicidae, the history of ants, how ants develop, communicate, behave, and relate to others.

http://www.takeourword.com/TOW170/page1.html I enjoyed this site very much. If you are into language and word development, this is a very entertaining site. But if you are not, skip it!

http://www.takeourword.com/links.html Even if you are not into etymology, you have got to check this site out! It is packed with links to dictionary websites, etymology sites, English language sites… I can’t even begin to describe the other sites that explain, define, expound upon the words of our language, and the languages that make up our language. I added it to my list of favorite places.

The Original Ant Farm, Of Internet Access, and Of The Greater Cause

This is Day 11. That is, eleven days ago, I began the "ant farm". But it's not really a farm. I don't know why, "they" came up with the idea of a farm, except that the original ant "farm" that was sold as a toy for kids did have a silhouette of a farm on the surface of the habitat, and I don't know who "they" are. That got me to wondering again. Who developed the first ant farm? When? And where is he/she now? What is the story about the original Ant Farm? I decide to go to the "net" to find out.

For eleven days now I have been surfing the net whenever I can tear myself away from washing clothes, vacuuming floors, and getting ready for school. Which is actually most of the time. It’s a new habit of mine, searching the net to answer my questions, but it is yet to be determined if this is a good or bad habit.

Having internet access is truly one of the best additions to one’s home or office, especially if one likes to learn, read, study, and write. It’s like having a team of experts at your beck and call. You don’t even have to get up and find the right book to search, nor do you have to scan countless tables of contents or indexes. It’s truly an amazing thing when a person realizes they no longer need to keep every magazine for reference, they don’t need a set of encyclopedias, and they don’t need a home library filled with reference books. When you have the internet in your home, you have every available piece of information at your fingertips. All you have to do is ask the right question, enter a few key words, and click on search.

So, that is what I did a short time ago when I wondered about the history of the Ant Farm®. I typed in the key words “ant farm, history” and was shown several pages of search results. I selected a few to peruse, and soon came to know the man behind the original Ant Farm® Milton Levine, better known in the toy world as Uncle Milton. He developed the first Ant Farm® in 1956. Next year will be the 50th anniversary of Uncle Milton’s Original Ant Farm®. It was marketed as a toy back then, and sold for $2.98. Yeah, and today, it sells for as much as $28 for the giant version, and $7.00 for the mini-version. Still a good buy when you consider how much kids and parents will pay for electronic/digital games that keep the kids spell-bound for hours at a time improving their eye-hand coordination..

Keep in mind that I don’t consider what I have a "farm" of ants. They are prisoners, in a real sense. I bought them, and I put them in the habitat. They are well fed, they get all the water they need, and they have plenty of room to dig their tunnels. But they have nothing else going for them that resembles a real ant life. I wish I could let them go at this point because they seem to have served their purpose: they have dug several beautiful tunnels. It’s not that they no longer delight me, for they continue to move about through the tunnels, and occasionally I notice bursts of activity and a new tunnel takes shape. I have caused them to be removed from their original home. I am a consumer. A considerate one, but a consumer just the same.

I justify it by saying, “I’m learning something through observation of a species.” And this is very true. This ant habitat has taken me up and down many winding pathways and tunnels of facts and stories, leading me into places I hadn‘t even thought to do more than wonder about. I assure myself that I haven’t hurt them in anyway. Still, I feel a little glum about the whole thing.

School starts in a couple of weeks. This is a good thing. I know that bringing the super cool space age gel ant habitat to school will liven up the classroom as kids discover a whole new world crawling at their feet. Wait until they see the tunnels! They’ll want to read more about ants, beetles, dragonflies, bees… there’s no end to the learning that will be sparked because of this little blue world of crawling insects. And that is the reason I bought it in the first place… to spark another mind, to awaken someone’s interest, to ignite the fire of passion… to boldly go where no man…. wait, that one’s already been used… to get those kids to read more about the things living in our world,  to observe the world around them, and to go outside and discover the world in their own backyards.

BG

http://shop.store.yahoo.com/kazootoys/unclemilton.html Here, you can lookat Uncle Milton’s Ant Farm®, in three different sizes, as well as an Ant Village. Also, other toys he developed for kids, all with a science theme. Also, you can order them at this site. Note: Ant Farm® is a registered trademark.

http://www.toy-tia.org/Content/NavigationMenu/Library/Betcha_Didnt_Know1/Betcha_Didnt_Know.htm Here’s an interesting site with stories behind your favorite toys, including the original Ant Farm® developed back in 1956. Other toy histories: View Master, Lincoln Logs, Play-Doh, Candy Land, Match Box, Crayola Crayons, Silly Putty, Mr. Potato Head, Scrabble, LEGO blocks, Etch-a-Sketch, and many more. Permission to link granted.

http://www.unclemilton.com/ For those who are totally excited about Uncle Milton and his cool science “toys”, here is a web-site for you. There are some new science toys I’ve never even seen before. I like the Morph-It toy. You can place orders and get more information at this site as well. Permission to link granted.

Of Eurotunnel, trench warfare, and 1963

I have no pictures to show of the ant habitat today. There are no new structures that I can see at 7 a.m, but the slightest bud growing off the left side of the tornado-like tunnel I spoke about in yesterday’s entry. It is an exciting development, a promise of another tunnel taking shape, but I know it won’t show up very well in a photo, so I don’t try to take a picture.

When I come home this afternoon after a day-long committee meeting with school staff, I am pleased to see that the little tunnel bud had grown into a short branch, not quite meeting its destination, which is clearly to join with another tunnel less than ¼ inch to the left.

Since my ants are doing nothing when I check in on them, except gathering in their sanctuary of safety, an area I describe in detail in yesterday’s entry, I think it is a good time to open the lid and let in some fresh air. None of the ants respond to my prying up the lid. I gently blow some air into the habitat. Twice. The air makes its way through the tunnels. I can tell when it reaches the ants when they suddenly come to life, spreading out in all directions, filling the tunnels to reach the surface. By the time they reach the top, I have the lid snugly in place. "Just kidding," I say.

I enjoy watching them scurry through the tunnels. They look vital, alive, and interesting this way. I don’t know if I like the ants more, or the tunnels they create. The tunnels do not exist without the ants, and the ants live to create the tunnels. The two seem inseparable. Take away the ants, you have no tunnels. Remove the tunnels, if you could, and the ants will just make more! This is what happens when one is looking at ants up close… one starts to think about deep topics like… well…, like tunnels.

When I was a little girl, I loved building roadways and tunnels in the sandy play area behind our home in Manchester, New Hampshire. That would be 1963. I was ten years old. I remember that time because that’s where we lived when President Kennedy was assassinated. Like everyone else my age, you remember exactly where you were when JFK was killed. We lived in a recently built neighborhood called the Projects. That’s what we heard our parents, our neighbors, and our friends call it. I didn’t know what “projects” meant back then, but as a child, it was my home, and the home of all my friends. We played freely in the open backyards of each apartment building. We walked to school from there because bussing kids to school had only just started and I did not want to ride the bus. What a strange idea that was to me at that time!

My favorite activity to do when I was alone, which was rare as I was the oldest of six children by then (number seven had not yet been born, but was on the way), and there were children living in the apartments above us and below us, was to sit in the sand and soil mix, and run my hands through it, creating paths, then roads, then tunnels, through which I could maneuver my brothers’ little cars and trucks. It wasn’t a sandbox, mind you, as there was no frame to box in the great play area. It was just sitting on top of the ground, like it had been left over from construction at the site. Of course, I didn’t know where the sand came from, and never even wondered about it. It was there, and I loved to indulge in my childish fantasy of other places and other worlds. I was the creator of these worlds. I designed neighborhoods, villages, then towns, with carefully planned roads that wound up hills and disappeared into dark holes... until another kid would show up and either join me in my endeavor, or step all over them.

The sixties were a tumultuous time for adults, but I was not quite a teen-ager when America began sending soldiers into Viet Nam. I must have had some anxiety about the world, for I remember doodling on paper when I was supposed to be doing my homework. I had imagined an underwater tunnel network. My drawings showed rooms, or chambers in which my imaginary families could live safely. I planned elaborate stories about the people, what they did in each room. These undersea tunnels could be extended to include multiple families, but my drawings focused on the needs of one family. I drew a chamber for the kids to sleep in, a living area, a cooking area, and even an area to put the trash. One chamber was designated as “my room,” and I put a lot of detail into what my tunnel chamber would look like if I could live there. In this world of underwater tunnels, I felt safe and happy. I must have read about the ways of ants, or heard about them, because they pretty much resembled ant tunnels.

Looking back, I don’t know why I became preoccupied with the tunnels and connecting chambers. Partly, I think the design of the curving, winding tunnels, and the rounded, wider chambers they opened into, were comforting to look at. In my mind, they represented safety and security. They calmed me at a time when I didn't comprehend the news I heard of civil rights violence, of young men going to war in Viet Nam, and of National Guard soldiers firing at college students. I didn't understand the real world at all. And here I am today, once again preoccupied with tunnels. What am I anxious about, I wonder? What am I trying to dig out of, or into, in my life? Tunnels symbolize searching the depths one's life. Yes, that is what I'm doing! A journal topic not to be covered here (no pun intended!).

Tunnels, underground walkways, secretive, hidden, living, thriving, growing. Keywords that come to mind when I think of tunnels. Other images crop up when I think of tunnels, for instance, the chunnel, or the tunnel in the English channel which connected England to France for the first time in 8,000 years. It was completed in 1991. It cost 13.5 billion dollars, is 7.6 meters in diameter, extends over 23 miles underwater, and was funded by 220 banks in 26 nations. Eleven boring machines costing 90 million dollars, drilled at the rate of 300 meters a week. Many construction crews of various nationalities worked on this project for four years. It was an amazing feat, a celebrated accomplishment for both the French and the British, in fact, for greater Europe. Strong, practical, friendly, connecting, and transportation. Keywords for this kind of tunnel.

When I see the word tunnels, I also think about tunnels that soldiers have to dig in times of war for their own protection. Known as trench warfare, it was a common practice during World War I, specifically in a small town in Belgium. Soldiers not only lived in these tunnels while fighting raged on the land above them, but they also used the underground pathways to attack their enemies from below. Hidden, daring, secret, safe, and attack. Keywords for this kind of tunnel.

There are many more kinds of tunnels, many famous tunnels, but why should I have all the fun doing the research…? I invite you to surf the net yourself. So many interesting facts on nearly any topic imaginable. I give you a few below. I’m sure you’ll find many more that are even better. Leave a comment in this entry regarding your favorite web-site.

Or, if you know me, email me some of your favorite websites, and don’t forget to give some details regarding why you like it. It doesn’t even have to be about ants or tunnels. Just a favorite of yours, and why. If I get enough responses, I may add a journal entry to include them this week. So, go ahead… get on the net, and read something that is so interesting, you want to find out more, and more. Learn about something new today!!

Come again. Thanks for visiting me today. BeaG

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http://www.hotchkiss.k12.co.us/hhs/English/webfolios/mattjen/chunmj.html Read here more details of the Eurotunnel in a paper by Matt Jenson. I tried to email him for permission to link, but it seems the email address is no longer valid. However, above is the link in case you want to read more about this topic.

http://library.thinkquest.org/3893/  Click here at this educational website designed by Indian Hill students for more about famous underground tunnels, caverns, and caves.

http://www.bbc.co.uk/insideout/eastmidlands/series6/underground_tunnels.shtml  Here you can read about the importance of tunnels for soldiers in WWI, and the meaning of trench warfare. Linked with permission.

Sanctuary of Safety, Curious Questions, Ant Buddy

Photo#1 Front view. Enlarge it for better viewing!

Photo#2  Back view. The latest tunnel is just to the left. It seems to reach to the top, but not quite there yet. See where they congregate on the far right? I call it the sanctuary of safety.

Photo#3 View from the side. Notice build up of gel debris at the surface. Looks like snow.

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It’s getting harder to find the newest tunnel amidst the serpentine subways of the crystal-like blue gel habitat, but there is a new tunnel to show off today. The pictures show the new tunnel taking shape at the back side of the habitat. It starts at the very bottom on the back side, and reaches up like a slender tornado toward the surface. At 7:30 this morning, it was only a mere 1/8" from breaking through the surface, but when I got home today from a school committee meeting, I could see that it broke the surface nicely.

I am certain that the lower left area of the bottom tunnel is their chamber for sleeping. Although it is not singly cavernous compared to the other tunnels, the ants have done a wonderful thing here. I didn’t realize this earlier, but now that I’ve thought on it, and observed them over a few days, that is my conclusion. I will try to describe the arrangement they have created for themselves:

Try to imagine the two horizontal tunnels running parallel along the bottom length of the habitat. Each of these are completely open against the acrylic walls. Visibility is good here. Looking from the front, beginning from the left side, the two parallel tunnels are connected by a perpendicular short tunnel, or short-cut as I call it, along the short left side wall. When I hold the habitat up to view it in the light, the side tunnel is cut out up to the acrylic wall. I can see into it, no obstructions. Now, imagine, about an inch along the long parallel horizontal tunnels, there is a vertical tunnel that cuts directly to the surface at almost a 90 degree angle, and where they join is a short-cut tunnel, about ½ in length, connecting the parallel tunnels, creating a five-way intersection. Then, just a half-inch further along the parallel horizontal tunnel is another vertical tunnel reaching to the surface, and another shortcut connecting the horizontal tunnels, creating another five-way intersection. It is here, between and within these two five-way intersections, that all of the ants gather in the deepest, largest open space, where they feel the safest, I presume. This must be what one would call “home.” (It's best seen from the back view in photo#2 above.)

I remove two dead ants today. It is easy this time, and I don't have to refrigerate them first. I had noticed that all the sisters were down below in the sanctuary of safety, snoozing or snacking, I couldn’t tell which without the magnifying glass. I thought “Hey, this would be a great time to remove the dead ants from the surface. I can get them out before the others realize the lid is off.” Carefully, I pry up the lid, my eyes on the slumbering insects, careful not to startle them. As I lift the lid, one light sleeper scurries up, but she takes the long road, and I deftly tweeze out the two dead ones, replacing the lid before she appears at the tunnel entrance. She sends the alarm and all her sisters scramble into various tunnels. They seem so excited, and crawl all over the surface, the walls, the ceiling, but within seconds they have calmed down again.

I have thought of some experiments I could do in the classroom, or on my own. When you look at the ants in their little artificial world (I am apologetic, but I’ve got to move forward with this project), you wonder things. Things like, I wonder what they would do if half of their habitat felt cooler than the other half? Would they scurry to the cooler side? The warmer side? Or would they be indifferent to the change in temperature?

Or, what if I had two ant habitats, one in darkness and one in light, would their tunneling efforts be different? Or, it would be really interesting to have a colony with a queen and eggs to see how the ants behave differently. I wonder if my ants sleep so much because they have nothing to do after a tunnel is completed.

Or, what about the effects of sound on ants? We could play music periodically, making sure the sound waves reach the habitat. Would this affect the ants? How?

Lots of curious questions surface as I watch them. I'm thinking children could do the same thing... look, wonder, take notes, write journals.

My husband found an ant colony in our yard yesterday, and he came to me and said, “Do you still want a queen ant?” I asked, “Did you find one?” He said, as we walked out the door, “Well, there’s a colony out here, so there must be a queen.” We walked several yards into the grass, near the woods, and there in the lawn was a busy community of little red ants, their numerous tunnels visibly gaping from the red clay particles spread all around. “Yep, that looks like a colony, but I have no way of keeping them right now. I’d have to have the ant farm ready before we dig them up.” We stood and looked at them awhile, watching them carry what may have been eggs into the holes. Looked like they were moving in to a new home. I sighed. Someday, I thought. My next science project.

I talked to my "Ant Buddy" today. That's what Linda called me when we met for school business. She grinned when she said it. I guess she is as amused as I am that we have been caught up in this quest to learn more about ants. Bitten by the bug, I suppose. I told her I want to compare our habitats, to see how different the tunnels are. They should be similar since the ants came from the same colony. That's my theory. When we get them together, I'll take pictures and post them here to satisfy your curiosity as well. I know you're just dying to find out!

I watched the Space Shuttle Discovery land yesterday morning, and like everyone else, felt very relieved that the astronauts made it home safely.

Please come back for updates! Thanks for visiting!

Day 6; of Papillon and Thelma and Louise; and websites to link to

Photo #1-3: Just look and compare to previous photos. You may notice some condensation around the surfaces of the habitat. That's because they had just been in the refrigerator so I could remove 3 dead ants. It was very warm outside. Condensation. 

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It seems the ants have become accustomed to their new environment, and every time I look in on them, they are very busy working in the tunnels, either widening them or keeping them clean.

I had a close call this morning when I went to remove three dead ants. I used to think that when you disturb ants, they all run away, into their ant hills, ant holes, under cover of leaves, every which way in a frantic panic to get away from the disturbance. However, these little critters are not shy. It seems they know when the lid is about to come off. Maybe they can feel me prying open the lid with the knife edge. Instead of running for the tunnels for protection and safety, they run to the surface to make their escape. After I lift one edge of the lid a mere centimeter, I decide it won’t work. Two ants are snug against the top edge just waiting for their opportunity. I imagine Papillon and Louis (Steve McQueen and Dustin Hoffman) standing on the rocky cliffs of Devil’s Island, staring out to sea as they contemplate their escape. Except my two are more like Thelma and Louise running away from home. That makes me the bad guy in this scenario because I‘d be trying to catch them if they manage to squeeze through.

I decide to chill them first. There are too many escapee hopefuls clinging to the upper edges of the habitat. They learn fast. I set the container in the refrigerator, then leave for a few minutes, which actually stretches into 15 minutes because I forget they are in there. As soon as I realize my error, I run quickly through the living room, my husband glancing oddly at me, wondering of my urgent concern in the kitchen. He might have thought I had forgotten the rhubarb pie in the oven by the way I flew past him, but that was yesterday, and I didn’t forget that. I say one word, “Ants,” and he understands.

I quickly carry the now cooled container outside before the ants thaw, lift the lid, then tweeze out the bodies. I manage to snap the lid back on just as one ant scurries to the top, but I am too fast for her. Steve asks me how do I know which ones are dead and which ones are just really chilled. I tell him I remember where the bodies are lying. Good thing I had looked before I put them in the refrigerator, I think. A cold ant looks very much like a dead ant. I learned that the first day I had them.

So all is well in this queenless colony. Still, I wonder, why do they keep tunneling when they seem to have plenty of tunnels already? There are enough tunnels for each ant to occupy one by herself. Which remnds me, where are the rooms? I thought there would be little ant rooms, places to store things. Then I remember, what do they have to store anymore? No eggs, no ant larvae, no queen. No wonder. So they continue their endless tunneling. I wonder, also, when will they stop tunneling? Since they are not expected to live very long, they will probably die before they run out of gel to tunnel through.

As we wait for Discovery to return from its ISS mission, my thoughts again return to the 2002-2003 ants-in-space experiment. I have found some additional websites that might be of interest to some of you.

http://www.timeforkids.com/TFK/news/white/0,6258,418863,00.html  A Time for Kids article that answers kids questions regarding the Columbia Shuttle tragedy. Good questions about the mission, the investigation, the crew, the experiments, and pictures of Columbia and the late astronauts. It was written during the week of the accident in February, 2003

http://ask.yahoo.com/ask/20030205.html  Ask Yahoo answers the question What was the mission of the astronauts aboard Columbia?

http://spaceflight.nasa.gov/shuttle/sciencegained2003-03-21.pdf  Just what I had been looking for these past few days! I wondered how much of the data results from their Ants In Space experiment the Fowler teens were able to retrieve before Columbia’s accident destroyed all evidence. This chart shows in great detail all that was gained from all the experiments, and it clearly shows that the students were able to obtain 95% of their data from down linked video and photos prior to the accident. The only part of the experiment they could not complete was to analyze post flight tunnel behaviors.

http://www.spaceflightnow.com/shuttle/sts107/030129crewconf/  Article published just a few days before Columbia’s accident. The astronauts talk about their 16- day mission, the students’ experiments, and their hope for the future of the space station.

http://news.nationalgeographic.com/news/2003/02/0204_030204_antsinspace2_2.htmlRead this National Geographic article about the students who created the ants in space experiment, and of their resolve to continue the experiment despite the loss of Columbia in 2003.

http://www.chron.com/cs/CDA/ssistory.mpl/space/sts107/1761189  Houston Chronicle article about the 80 experiments that took place on Columbia during its final mission.

http://www.floridatoday.com/columbia/columbiastory2A42967A.html  Another article (Feb. 6. 2003) relating the impact of the Columbia tragedy upon the people who had spent years designing experiments for the space mission program.

http://www.aft.org/pubs-reports/american_teacher/apr03/news_trends.html  One of the students at Fowler High School who participated in the Space Ants experiment comments on the effect of the tragedy, and her advice to other students to get involved in Science.

Again, thank you for visiting. I don't know how much longer I can keep journaling about the ants. Once school starts back up, I will be focused on other matters that take me way beyond ant farms. However, I am seeking a way to use this as a project in the classroom.  BG

Observations, reflections, Argentine ants and Carpenter Bees

PHOTO #1: Notice the new tunnel going up the right corner. Enlarge for a better view.

PHOTO #2: Back view: notice how most of the ant population are gathered at the bottom corner. An early morning shot. Maybe they were sleeping there during the night.

Observations: All the ants are busy rushing around the tunnels, and now I understand a little better why they may not have moved around so much before, during their first two days of tunneling. The tunnels today seem to be wider than they were two days ago. It’s far easier for the ants to transport the gel pieces because they seldom run into another ant now. There seems to be little opportunity for traffic jams now that there are many branches and intersections.

Reminds me of our roads and highways. We all have our favorite shortcuts to drive from one place to another, whether we choose the highway or the back roads. Seems the ants have developed a few main “roads” and have created little shortcuts to connect parallel tunnels. I don’t watch them often enough to notice if they use some tunnel-ways more than others.

There is now one continuous tunnel running from one end of the front floor of the habitat to the other, and in the back side, there is another running parallel to that one, though not yet all the way across. The ants have about two inches to chew through before they meet with the far left floor tunnel. When they do reach the far side of the habitat’s floor on the back side, there will already be six short perpendicular connector shortcuts. They’ve already "planned" ahead for that somehow! Amazing. How do they do that?? I don’t know how well the pictures will show you this marvelous architecture, or even if some readers come here have access to the pictures.

Interesting FYI: Here’s something interesting about one ant species, the Argentine Ants. If you live in North Carolina, you may have seen them. They are very tiny, 1/16th of an inch long, and dark brown. Their antennae have 12 segments, if you happen to catch an ant and want to count antennae segments to make sure! You might even have stepped on one of these non-native ants. They came to our country about a hundred years ago from Argentina aboard a coffee shipment to New Orleans.

The bad news is that in southern California, the Argentine Ant is responsible for the decrease in the horned lizard population. The Argentine Ant is very aggressive to other ant species, and has wiped out the native ant populations in that part of our country, resulting in a reduced food source for the horned lizard, which eats only ants native to southern California. The horned lizards are starving to death. The balance of life is often very delicate in our world.

The good news, at least from a homeowner’s perspective, however, is that the aggressive Argentine Ant will kill termites, paper wasps, and carpenter bees. We have carpenter bees around our home, which is made mostly from cedar siding, a lovely thought when we first built it. We didn’t know about carpenter bees back in the 80’s. We just wanted a rustic looking home in the woods. Apparently, that’s exactly what carpenter bees want, too, and we now share our home with them, albeit, unwillingly. My husband has done everything he can do to thwart the bees from tunneling into our outer walls short of painting the house, but what’s the point of having cedar if it’s painted? A few of our neighbors suffering the same problem opted to paint, or side their homes with vinyl.

So you can imagine my delight when I read that Argentine Ants kill carpenter bees. I’m thinking, get me some of those ants, pronto! But when I read about the near demise of the horned lizard in southern California, I thought again, and wondered what animal population could become extinct in my part of the world if I were to help save the Argentine Ants? Well, the carpenter bees, for one! Just kidding. I’m not into importing invasive and aggressive insects and plants to harm our natural habitats. It was just a thought. Steve will just have to develop another plan against the carpenter bees. I’m arming him with the information. (http://www.insecta-inspecta.com/ants/argentine/index.html for more information about the Argentine ant. Friendly text.)

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Reflection: do they know where they are going, these little ants who scurry about in their blue gel home? If they were still living in the earth, as God would have them, would they know then where they were going? They do their work dutifully, without question, without complaint. They don’t seem to complain when others are sluggish, and they don’t fight amongst themselves.

Frankly, I don't know where I am going, in the big picture of life. I just try to go in the right direction. I don't know where what I am doing will take me, but I am willing to go where I am called to go. I just need to listen very carefully. For the directions. One day at a time.

Consider Proverbs 6:6-8.

Go to the ant, you sluggard;
consider its ways and be wise!
It has no commander,
no overseer or ruler,
yet it stores its provisions in summer
and gathers its food at harvest.

Then, metaphorically speaking, what I am doing now is storing provisions in the summer. Provisions meaning the things I need inside, in my heart, my mind, my soul, to prepare for the fall harvest, the start of school. Teachers must do more than prepare their lesson plans and classrooms. They need to prepare their hearts and minds as well, and so the need for some time off, alone and with their families and friends. They need time to regroup, reflect, and reorganize. I went by my school this week and found teachers in their classrooms already, putting up the bulletin boards, making plans for the year, and reorganizing their planning files. There is much to do in the weeks to come, but for now, for just one more day, I want to watch my ants, play with my dogs, watch a good movie, stroll through the woods, and of course, I admit, shop for clothes and school supplies. I am storing up provisions of rest, reflection, and restoration so that in the fall, and the winter, and the early spring, I won't lose my focus.

I've got to remember to keep my eyes on the One Creator so the fires of famine will not consume me. Like the little ant, we just keep moving forward, and do what we have to dol We step out of the way of those moving faster, and take care of the very young, the sick, and the dying. Some of us will look for a way out, while others keep digging.

Sometimes we don't know where we are going on this earth, but we know that there's always one more tunnel to dig. 

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                  My Recommended Websites to Visit

http://www2.tltc.ttu.edu/thomas/classPet/1998/antfarm/ant_teacher.htm  Here is a classroom lesson designed for 3rd and 4th grades, but easily modified and extended for other grades. There is a link to the corresponding student page as well. Great lessons that connects science with math, reading, and language arts. Daily student observations and recording of data are essential as they watch how ants respond to a change in heat. This is one I would like to try this year.

http://nasaexplores.nasa.gov/show2_5_8a.php?id=02-034&gl=58.  Teachers will love this page which includes the article about using animals in the space program with lesson plans, teacher pages, and students pages.

http://www.wgby.org/edu/lessonplans/ntti/1999/amazingant.html  Another lesson plan for teachers of grades 2-4 using books, The Magic School Bus: Gets Ants in its Pants video. Music, art, poetry, science integration. Many activities.

http://www.hunkinsexperiments.com/pages/ants.htm  How to make an ant farm with anillustration. This design requires adult supervision; probably for adults or older students. Uses two pieces of glass and putty. Permission to link granted.

http://www.woodrow.org/teachers/bi/1998/ants/antfarm.html  Another ‘how to make an ant farm’ idea using 2 sheets ofPlexiglas and modeling clay. Sounds easy. Haven’t tried this one either, but keeping all these ideas for future use.

http://www.eduplace.com/author/vanallsburg/  Here you can review any of Chris Van Allsburg's books, but for this reference, I want to point out the connection to his book, Two Bad Ants. Read his biography, an interview with the author, and for teachers, making connections with other stories through art, creative writing, science and social studies.

http://www.ncsu.edu/news/press_releases/03_07/185.htm  NCCSU News Release about the Argentine Ant, how they came to live in NC, why they may exhibit different behaviors in the US than in their native land of South America, and theories on why they haven’t moved further north in our country.

Tomorrow, I'll have some relevant NASA Ants in Space sites that I have discovered. Too much to put here with all the lesson plans. Come back again! Thanks for visiting. Bea