A mountain adventure begins

This is my last entry for the evening... possibly for the weekend.

You see, I'm going on a little adventure tomorrow morning, one that I had not planned. It's one of those serendipitous events that we should all hope for and welcome when they happen.

You might remember that I explained (in a previous entry) how I came to my new teaching position for next school year.... but what you don't know is that the teacher whom I'll be replacing is in the process of moving to the mountains. Tomorrow.

She had knee surgery just over a week ago, while I was off at the coast playing with coastal clay and pondering dead flying ants. I found out she'd had knee surgery the day before we left for the beach.

She's on crutches now, so I offered to be her legs these past two days, helping her pack up the things she'll need to take with her, while at the same time putting away everything she is leaving behind. Teachers have to leave their classrooms all neat and tidy for the floor cleaners who come over the summer, you know.

When I found out she was only taking what she could pile in her car, I offered to drive my car too, so she could take twice as much stuff. She'll need someone to help her haul all those boxes  into her house. Me!

Besides, I wanted to go to the mountains for a two-day trip. I love the mountains in North Carolina.

I don't know exactly where we are going, but it will take us four hours to get there. I'm taking my camera with me, so I hope to have some interesting photos when I return.

Have a good weekend, all!

 

This artist paints on a rotating canvas!

                            

If you have never seen this video clip before, you are in for a real surprise! Watch it all the way through. It's a little over five minutes long, but worth watching... especially if you enjoy the unexpected.

(Just click once on the arrow in the middle of the image... two clicks will take you to the YouTube website to view it.)

This is artist Dan Dunn. I had never heard of him or seen his work prior to an email I received this morning from Sher (SWFerstl). She sent me the link to the YouTube video.

The artist paints to the rhythm of music, on a black canvas that can be manipulated and spun around as he paints. He paints from various angles, but you never really know what he's painting until the very end. I was so surprised.

This guy blends art with entertainment in a new way... he paints on stage like a performer, but produces a very memorable finished product.

Thanks, Sher, for sending me this one. Well worth looking into.

I hope you enjoy it as much as I did.

Tags: Artist Dan Dunn,

Public or private?

People who journal or blog know (or should know) that unless their blog/journal is identified private, anyone can read their entries. For ever and ever. As long as the internet is alive.

A n y o n e ... not just people in the blogging or aol journal community.

Anyone who goes on line to do a search can quite accidentally come across any one of our entries, at any time. Most of the time they will probably fall on page 83 of 260 pages of results or thereabouts. Sometimes they will show up on the first page of search results. Most of the time our entries will seem invisible, unimportant, or irrelevant to anyone doing serious searching.

I was doing a search this morning, trying to find a way to positiviely identify that rock-like object I found at the coast last week. I'm pretty sure it's clay, North Carolina coastal clay, but, teacher that I am, I want to know more, something substantial to pass on to students when I talk about this in the classroom during a lesson one day.

I tried a couple of searches, typing in "identify clay samples, NC Coast," and "clay in NC". The results were lesson plans and technical papers on identifying cores of sediment found off the coast, several miles out to sea. More than I needed to know.

Then, I typed in the words "clay washed ashore, NC Coast" in the AOL/Google Search bar, then clicked on search.

The very first two links sitting near the top of the search results were the following:

Atlantic Beach, Cape Lookout, Swarm of flying ants

We headed to our favorite part of the North Carolina coast, Atlantic Beach. ... Thousands of swarming black flying ants, washed ashore at Atlantic Beach on ...

journals.aol.com/bgilmore725/Wanderer/entries/2007/06/26/atlantic-beach-cap...

 

Wanderer

We headed to our favorite part of the North Carolina coast, Atlantic Beach. ... fell into the water from exhaustion, drowned, then washed ashore. ...

journals.aol.com/bgilmore725/Wanderer/

 

Well, imagine my surprise! My own entry. Simply because of words I had strung together in the search bar. Those words were also in my entry, very close together.

I found the second search result especially amusing. Read it and see if it makes the same sense to you.

But the reason I write about this today is for those who don't think about who is reading their journals. There is a wide range of audiences out there, from interested friends and family, to strangers with similar interests or strangers with dissimilar interests. From that wide range of audiences, we glean a few regular visitors whom we come to know as friends.

Usually when I write, I'm somewhat thinking of an audience, the people I know in this community who are reading it, but mostly I'm just thinking about an idea or an event or a thought that I want to write about. I don't usually think "so and so" might read this...nah, she doesn't even know I blog... it's okay if I write about her!

Well, she may not know I blog, but she can still find the journal accidentally one day. And will she appreciate what I've written about her? Will what I've written harm her in anyway? Does it put her in good light? If it doesn't, I won't write it.

It is never my intent to tear down, but only to build up.

Our next door neighbor, our cousins, our sisters and brothers-in-law, our parents, our colleagues at work, our friends in church ... present or past.... anyone with access to the internet can read our journal entries here. If someone wants to find your journal, and you feel certain as long as you haven't given them your address that they won't find it, think again!

A person can stumble upon it, just by typing in a few key words while doing a search like I did, or they can deliberately go looking for it. The only sure way to keep just anyone from reading your journal is to go private.

When it is public, the whole world can read it.

Just a thought!

Now, I've got to set up a more defined search parameter to identify my "clay" sample. Any suggestions?

Tags: Public vs Private journals/blogs

Atlantic Beach, Cape Lookout, Swarm of flying ants

Last Wednesday, Steve and I took off for a mini-vacation. We headed to our favorite part of the North Carolina coast, Atlantic Beach. There we caught a beautiful sunset.

                                                                 

When our son was a youngster, we would visit the beaches of North and South Carolina every summer, fulfilling a tradition that some part of the summer had to be spent at the beach. It's been many years since we went to the Carolina beaches as a family.

We sat and watched the sun go down while watching a young Hispanic family of boys chase each other, playing hide and seek. Reminiscing. What a restful evening it was.

                            

The next morning, after breakfast, despite that I wasn't feeling up to full speed, we took a ferry ride from Harker's Island to Cape Lookout National Seashore to visit the lighthouse there. So glad we went there. Myfuture vacations are already being planned!

                                            

You better believe I'm happy that summer time is here. Yes, Steve, please take a picture to show that I do smile, and I can enjoy time away from the classroom! This is Steve's week off, so before I get started on VBS, I'm going to enjoy this time away from any commitments.

                                        

Now, while at the lighthouse, we met this young man, Dean Pearce. Turns out he is the Keeper's Quarters Caretaker here at Cape Lookout. He and his wife, Marsha, are volunteers to take care of the Keeper's Quarters for a six week hiatus. Well, I didn't know volunteers did this, so I asked some questions.

He said anyone can register with the National Parks Service to be a volunteer Keeper's Quarters Caretaker, or caretaker at the Portsmouth Village. But there is that 5-6 week commitment. And a 3 year waiting list, he said. (for more information about the volunteer in the parks service at Cape Lookout, here is a website with more information.) 

While he greets the public from the porch of the house, answering questions, and assisting other Park personnel, his wife mans the Visitor Center just a short walk away from the house. (thatbuilding was air conditioned!) I suppose they may take turns doing their jobs, but I don't really know, I forgot to ask that question.

I'm thinking Dean enjoys the porch talk,and doesn't mind the heat of the day. He was repairing a fishing pole when we strode up to the porch. We talked for the better part of 30 minutes, and though he and his wife had only been there for the first week of their commitment, I think they are going to have a rewarding experience. So if you are planning on visiting Cape Lookout during the next five weeks, say hi to Dean and Marsha, Lighthouse Keepers, for me!

                

Dean asked if we wanted our picture taken together after I took one of him... of course, thank you~!! Here are some lighthouse facts regarding Cape Lookout:

It was completed in 1859. Originally a red brick color, it was painted a diamond black/white pattern in 1873 to distinguish it from two other light towers at Cape Hatteras and Bodie Island, which were built in 1872 ( they were also painted different patterns for the same reason).

It stands 169 feet above sea level (163 feet above ground level). Walls are 9 feet thick at the base, 1ft 7in at the top. Base diameter is 28ft 7 in. and top diameter is 13 ft 3 in. There are 201 steps (which we were not allowed to walk up, but there are times during the year when it is open to the public), ten windows, and 2 doors.

The light is produced by two rotating beacons, each a 1000 watt bulb producing 800,000 candlepower! The light can be seen 20 miles out to see, and flashes one flash ever 15 seconds. IfI were aboat or ship's captain, I think I'd be so grateful for lighthouse beacons... no wonder we use the lighthouse as a symbol for guidance through the night and through storms.

BTW, all the Lookout Lighthouse facts in the previous three paragraphs were paraphrased from a brochure I picked up at the Cape Lookout National Seashore Visitors' Center, and printed by the National Park Service, U.S. Department of the Interior. I'm reading it right this very minute. Just so's you don't think I'm all THAT smart.  : - >

Oh, and here are some directions to how to get there if you are visiting anywhere near the area (click on the link above).

                    

The most curious thing we observed (well, it was a curiosity to me!) was when we walked along the Atlantic beach that evening. I didn't notice it right away, but as we searched for shiny smooth pebbles washed up on shore in the receding tide, I couldn't disregard the water mark left behind. It was filled with thousands of black shiny insects. With wings. They looked like flying ants.

             

So Steve and I pondered on how they got there. Thousands of swarming black flying ants, washed ashore at Atlantic Beach on June 21, 2007. I wondered if they had all been out mating (hence the wings) and got caught up in a storm, blown out to sea, fell into the water from exhaustion, drowned, then washed ashore.

                                           

Here is a closeup. Are there any bug enthusiasts or people who observe weather patterns and their effects on insect populations who can explain this phenomenon? I don't know how common it is, but I'm guessing it is. I remember one coastal visit where we were attacked by a swarm of mosquitos that had blown in from somewhere, and they remained inthe area for two days.... it was miserable.

                                                       

What is this? I thought it was a rock at first, until I touched it. It was about the size of a baking potato. I went to pick it up, and dropped it immediately because my brain got the wrong signal... I saw a rock, I thought a rock, but I felt something very soft. I could dent it easily. It seemed the texture and density of clay on the inside. Curious, I sniffed it. No odor. It was black through and through.

So I called my scientific husband to come and look at it and give me his perception of the rock. He saw that I had already opened it up. I told him it felt like clay, looked like clay. "I didn't know we could get clay from the sea," I said.

Steve does not take long to come up with answers. Considering all the information I had given him he replied, "Well, it's probably something from somebody's bilge."

I could tell from the look in his eye and that mischievous grin that he was joking, but still... I ran to wash my hands, just in case it was. Like I said, there was no odor. But has anyone seen these things, and do you know what they are? There were a pile of them nearby laying in a depression created by the tidewaters.

 

Before I end this entry, here is one parting shot of Cape Lookout, and the Keeper's Quarters in the foreground. I guarantee you that in 3-5 years, I will be living in that house for a six week vacation. And you can come visit me there!

                                              

 

 

I had to come back and reduce the size of some of the pictures. Using the new picture tools have taken me some time to figure them out. While some shots are more effective in the large size, others seemed more appropriate in the medium size. I liked it when we could adjust the size after we inserted them, you know, adjust it to the page. You could see how it looked right there, make it smaller if you needed to. But now that control is gone. Darn.

 

Tags: Cape Lookout, Lightouse Keeper's Quarters, Atlantic Beach, Swarm offlying ants washed ashore on Atlantic Beach

Tags: Cape Lookout National Seashore, National Park Service, www.nps.gov/

Looking No Good, Terrible, Horrible, and Very Bad

You can tell I'm off from school. I have time to play with the Monday photo shoot ... on a Monday. I haven't done one of these in I don't know how long. So here it is, straight from By The Way:

Your Monday Photo Shoot: Show off a truly bad picture of yourself. One that's so bad it's not actually embarrassing, just, you know, inexplicably unrepresentative. If you would like, post a contrasting good picture, so people know what you really look like.

I did take a couple of pictures of myself clowning for the camera, and the wonder is that I saved them for some future purpose, so I guess this is that purpose. What else could I have done with them?

                                                   

Have my students ever seen this side of me? Probably not. But I do get animated sometimes when I am teaching, so it is possible that when I am portraying a character, I may twist my face or grimace for effect. I also make up accents when I speak to them, which gets their attention. But do I really sneer and growl like I seem to be doing here? Yeah, but I wouldn't want anyone to see me this way... well, my husband has. But he knows it's only temporary.

I don't have a recent contrasting good photo. Besides, I've put plenty of photos of me in this journal, so you already know what I look like.

Go ahead and post your Terrible picture of yourself, then come back and leave a link to that entry here for me. Don't forget to post one at John's journal as well.

Tags: Monday Photo Shoot, Bad Pictures

A Father's Day Confession

Dad. My Dad. Remembering him on Father's Day.

Sometimes you can never figure a person out. You get to know your father when you grow up in his presence. Then you leave home, and begin to see that he has a life apart from yours, and you are okay with that. In fact, more than okay, you are glad that your life is apart from his because you disagree so much with how he chooses to live.

But years later, when you are even older, say in your forties, you understand something else about your father: you understand that he doesn't have to fit your image of a father, just as you don't have to fit his image of a daughter. You also learn that he has always adored you, that you are his oldest daughter, his #1 child, and nothing will ever change that status.               

                                                            

My Dad was a military man. He joined the Air Force at a very young age, and from what I understand about his early years with my mother, my dad joined the military to make a better life for himself and his family. Looking back at all that my dad did with his life, I know that that one single event, joining the Air Force, indeed changed the course of his life. For the better.

I adored my Air Force dad. He was so handsome in his uniform. The image of my dad standing tall in his blues forever branded me to love men in uniform. And so it was no surprise that the man I married was also an Air Force man. Stationed at the same AirBase as my dad. My brothers also joined the military. I have a photo somewhere of all four of my brothers in their military uniforms, joined by our proud father in his uniform.

It wasn't without its sacrifices. My dad had to move from Air Base to AirBase, around the country, across the ocean twice. Always taking his family with him. My mother followed him around the world, her seven children in tow. I was a kid all those years, and from a kid's perspective, it was fun and exciting to move about from one part of the country to another, from one country to another. My dad's commitment to the Air Force, renlisting as he did to stay in each time he came up for discharge, gave his children the opportunity to travel around the world, to learn new languages, to meet people with different views about the world. It was a super field trip one would never get in a regular classroom

Not only that, but when a young man joins the military, he is given health care, and his family is given health care. Because of this, we were always taken care of in the matters of health. I can only imagine what we would have lacked had my dad not joined the military. I don't think I'd ever have made it to NC if we had stayed in Connecticut to live out our lives. Our family story would be oh so different had our dad not taken the initiative to run off and join the Air Force. I thank him always for doing that one thing.

My dad never earned high rank. Just before he retired from the Air Force, I remember he was promoted to Staff Sergeant. I can't imagine how difficult it was for him and my mother to raise their seven kids on the pay of an Airman First Class. I was in college by the time he retired.

But raise us they did, and my mother worked as long as I can remember to supplement the family income.

                                     

There we are, all nine of us in a photo that had to have been taken in 1995 or 96. Dad and mom in the middle on the left. It was the last time all of us would be photographed together. Since then, two of us are gone, my father and my baby sister. She's the one on the bottom left. We still grieve for her untimely death, and that of her daughter.

Dads are supposed to die eventually, and ours did. He was in his late 60's and a strong fighter. He'd had a stroke and triple by-pass surgery about ten years prior to his accident that broke his neck. In his last years, he suffered a great deal, and we could do nothing to ease his pain. Mostly it was emotional pain, but he tried to keep that from us. He shared bits and pieces with us from time to time, but my dad was holding back a lot about his own childhood that he didn't want us to know.

So, I want to say this to my dad: "I love you so much. I miss you so much. I wish you could be here one more day so I could kiss you one more time, to kiss the top of your head, my favorite place where you had lost all your hair. I want to touch that face one more time, hug your neck one more time, Dad, because in the end, there is no other dad for me like you.

I would call you today if I could, all the way from NC to Ga because that is what I always did on Father's Day, and I would hear your voice answer the phone, "Hello, my daughter!" for those are the words I remember hearing when I called you. No one is going to call me daughter like that again. Others will call me by my birth name, but it won't sound the same as when you say "Beatrice."  Those three words, "my daughter" and Beatrice were only spoken by you in the special way you had of saying it.  I will never forget the good times we had. Thank you dad for all that you gave. I know it was a great deal more than I ever gave back in return. I love you always and forever."

I know many of you out there have lost your fathers, others of you have fathers who live far away, or who are estranged from the family. For whatever reason, make peace. Call the man who raised you from a child.

I know some people had such horrid experiences with the man who was their father that they cannot be in their presence ever again. I understand. I am so sorry that some children have to grow up without a father, or with a father who is not involved with their growing up, or with a father who would destroy them. I don't know what to say to those who hate their fathers, and I am not going to talk anyone out of their memory, nor their response to that memory.

Daddy is a word saved for the man who fathers us, and who brings us up into adulthood. The word father carries with it a lifetime of images. Each of us carries that image based upon the experiences we have had with our own daddies. If you can take away all the bad memories, hold onto only the good memories, and treasure those, perhaps one can find peace and understanding of her father in this way.

For those who hurt because they felt neglected by their dad: Just try very hard to remember one good thing, and then perhaps another will follow. Your good memories will increase. Look at what a good parent you are now. Your father was a good man, and he spoke kind words, and he raised a fine daughter/son. You know everyone makes mistakes. No one is perfect. Your dad wasn't either. Give him that. It's okay. He loved you anyway. To the end, he loved us all.

 

Make your own graphics?

I just discovered a new website while visiting another aol journaler. I found Gif's link at Scalzi's journal. Gif linked to this graphic website (dumpr.net) that does fun things to your photos. I played with it for 30 minutes or so, and here are a few samples of what you can do.     

                                                         

        First, I tried the pencil sketch feature from a photo of me in college, circa 1974. This is at dumpr.net/sketch.

                                     

Then I made an Easter Egg from a photo of a lotus flower I had on my computer. This was made at dumpr.net/easter-egg.

                                     

My favorite was the Amazing Circles. I made this one by downloadinga picture of fish I had saved to my computer from an email someone had sent me. Isn't it cool? This is at dumpr.net/amazing-circles.

When you have some time, check it out. Make your own fun graphics and post them in your journal. Come back and leave me a link so I can by and look at what you made.

Tags: Gif's Corner, dumpr.net, make your own graphics

Earning a desk in school

My friend Mark often sends me junk emails.... no, not often, nearly every day I get an email with a spiritual message, a joke, interesting pictures from off the internet. Sometimes I laugh, sometimes I get goosebumps. Sometimes I say "Oh, brother!"

You probably have someone who faithfully remembers to send you such email. You know, the kind that you rush to Scopes.com or Urbanlegends.com to check out the truth of it. I love Mark. He's my neighbor, but mostly, he's a good friend of ours. Thank you, Mark, for sending me this one!

Every once in awhile I get an email from him with something that not only rings true, but is worth sharing. I'm sharing this one today. Snopes.com verifies the truth of it. Please take the time to click on this link and read what snopes.com had to say about this story. You won't be disappointed.

This is the story of the teacher who removed all the desks from her classroom at the start of the school year.

Back in September of 2005, on the first day of school, Martha Cothren, a social studies school teacher at Robinson High School in Little Rock, did something not to be forgotten. On the first day of school, with the permission of the school superintendent, the principal and the building supervisor, she removed all of the desks out of her classroom.

When the first period kids entered the room they discovered that there were no desks. Looking around, confused, they asked, "Ms. Cothren, where's our desks?"

She replied, "You can't have a desk until you tell me what you have done to earn the right to sit at a desk."

They thought, "Well, maybe it's our grades."

No," she said.

"Maybe it's our behavior."

She told them, "No, it's not even your behavior."

And so, they came and went, the first period, second period, third period. Still no desks in the classroom. By early afternoon television news crews had started gathering in Ms. Cothren's classroom to report about this crazy teacher who had taken all the desks out of her room.

The final period of the day came and as the puzzled students found seats on the floor of the desk less classroom, Martha Cothren said, "Throughout the day no one has been able to tell me just what he/she has done to earn the right to sit at the desks that are ordinarily found in this classroom. Now I am going to tell you."

At this point, Martha Cothren went over to the door of her classroom and opened it. Twenty-seven (27) U.S. Veterans, all in uniforms, walked into that classroom, each one carrying a school desk.

The Vets began placing the school desks in rows, and then they would walk over and stand alongside the wall. By the time the last soldier had set the final desk in place those kids started to understand, perhaps for the first time in their lives, just how the right to sit at those desks had been earned.

Martha said, "You didn't earn the right to sit at these desks. These heroes did it for you. They placed the desks here for you. Now, it's up to you to sit in them. It is your responsibility to learn, to be good students, to be good citizens. They paid the price so that you could have the freedom to get an education. Don't ever forget it."

Tags: snopes.com, teacher, Veterans, imparting moral lessons, blogplug

Caregiving to be featured on TV

Patrick (Caregivingly Yours/Daddyleer) is going have a spot on ABC News!!

I want to plug his journal so that those who don't receive his alerts might want to check him out before the broadcast. Go by his journal for the details.

What a wonderful opportunity for Patrick to speak about caregiving... it's a timely topic, and if anyone has something to speak about the subject of being a caregiver or caregiving in general, he's the guy.

Patrick has been working so hard for all these years to bring attention to the trials and tribulations of the caregiver through his aol journal entries. He may even be writing a book on the subject, but this is only a guess on my part.

Congratulations, Patrick!

Tags: Caregiving, Daddyleer, Caregivingly Yours

Happy Anniversary a day late!

                                                                        

Yesterday was the day I was officially told that I had the new position as CSI instructor. It was also Flag Day in our country. In some years, Father's Day falls on the 14th of June.

For my husband and myself, June 14 marks our anniversary... we've been married 32 years. I made the above graphic at some website last year, but now cannot remember where it was. Here's a brief summary of our first meeting.

I was a senior art student in the the Graphic Design department at the University of Georgia and he was an Air Forceman stationed in Warner Robins, Georgia. My parents lived in WR, my dad was stationed there as well. I met Steve at the NCO's club when he came to our table and asked me to dance. It was the fall of 1974, so you can imagine the kind of music we listened to in those days.

He asked me out on a date after a few dances. Two days later he drove me back to college, an almost two hour drive. I found out a few crucial things about him, and knew that this guy had a significant place in my life. 1) He had six siblings; 2) he drove a 1973 Challenger (it was a beautiful metallic blue color); and 3) he was from North Carolina.

I've mentioned this in a previous entry I think, but here it is again. That he was from North Carolina is what sealed the deal. Ever since the 11th grade, I had wanted to live in North Carolina. In 1973, when Dodge advertised their newest model, I decided the plum colored Challenger was the car I wanted someday. In my own family, I had six siblings. My father was Air Force, this guy was Air Force. The signs were all there pointing at him, telling me that "He's the one!"

But I needed more time to get to know him. I was afraid to listen to my heart in those days... I didn't know to trust my own intuitions. I just needed a little time with him to be sure.

After we had gone out on a a date, I learned that he was receiving his discharge in a couple of weeks. Looking back, I see that there was a very brief window of time for us to meet and begin a serious relationship. Three weeks from the time I met him in Georgia, he had to move back to his home in NC.

Every two weeks, on his days off from work, he would drive to Athens to spend a few days with me. Eventually, he moved to Athens, then we got married in June, and by November of 1975, we had decided to move to NC where we could both look for a job... North Carolina was to be the location of the rest of my life.

Three years later, we had bought a house, our son was born, both of us were working, we had a dog (Irish Setter)... the song "Our House" by Crosby, Stills, Nash, and Young described perfectly our happy life in that little 2-bedroom house on five acres of North Carolina land.     

                    

I cannot believe it has been  32 years... I still see him sometimes as that exciting Romeo, pursuing me, pleasing me, looking for times and places to be alone with each other. There was so much we wanted to know about this other person, me about him, and him about me. He protected me, cared for me, and taught me. What I know about fixing things I learned from him. What I know about relationships, I learned from him. What I know about support, trust, love, and forgiveness, I learned from my husband.    

                                      

Sometimes it's easier to joke about our spouses, and point out their flaws. Sometimes we even notice their flaws more than their consistent, undying strengths. Like their loyalty, their faith in us, their trust in us, and us in them. In any meaningful relationship, there has to be a balance of give and take (not always 50-50, mind you), there has to be trust, and there has to be hope for the future. All of these are blanketed with love, the greatest gift.

I believe that Divine Intervention brought us together during that three week window of opportunity. Yes, even in the NCO's club, dark, loud, and smoky though it was, God works miracles.

   Happy Anniversary to us!!!

         

This is not our car, but a picture I found on the internet. It looks like the one I fell in love with when I was 16 years old. Ours was metallic blue, not plum.

New Position Revealed

I hinted at change in the last entry... no, that wasn't a hint, that was a definite statement of fact... change was in the air for me, and now I can speak about it openly.

Today I had a formal job interview with my principal and assistant principal for a position I had applied for. The job is mine!

I will be the CSI instructor... but before you go asking how I could be a crime scene investigator at an elementary school, let me explain.

CSI stands for Creative Subject Integration. This is a position integrating math, science, social studies and literature with art. In other words, the CSI instructor finds out what each grade level is teaching each month, then creates art lessons that integrate a particular academic area in that grade level.

The former CSI instructor did a fine job creating lesson plans for each grade level from month to month. She is going to share them with me before she leaves. (I am so grateful! I'm going to pick up where she left off.) For example, fifth graders were learning about Native American Indian culture in one social studies unit. The CSI instructor taught the kids how to make tribal masks from masking tape and foil. And as the kids worked, she told them stories and historical facts, while in the background she played selected tribal drum music. She would bring the history of what they were learning in their social studies classroom into the art project. That's art integrated with social studies.

I am an EC teacher. I have taught reading-writing-math for the past eight years, and now I have an opportunity to teach 600 students art. Not just art for art's sake, but art for learning's sake.

I believe that most kids have some inherent creative talents from the time they are born. Some kids are better observers than others, which is why at some point some kids start to draw and doodle more often than others. They become good copiers, and they win the awe of their peers in elementary school.

Then, I've noticed, that the number of kids drawing and doodling dwindles between middle schooland high school, and by high school, you have a distinct population of kids who do art and kids who don't. My theory is that kids stop drawing somewhere in elementary school because they have heard comments like "What is that?" or "That doesn't look like a monkey, it looks like a horse." or "You can't draw like Mikey can." etc and etc.

Often, kids do find another area to express their creative talents, such as through sports, dance, music, or other clubs where their organizational talents are needed, or where they can apply their math talents. These are all good places for a kid to be.

By the time a kid is in middle school, he pretty much knows if he can draw or not, based on the words of encouragement he's received or the lack of them. When a kid gives up drawing, doodling, sketching, etc, he is giving up more than a chance to be an artist. He is giving up his sense of inner freedom, his confidence, and possibly some part of his innate desire to create.

I'm thinking that as the CSI instructor in my school, I can help reverse that thinking for these kids... as many of them as I can. I want to instill in them a desire to learn the academics through their desire to create with their hands. Using clay, watercolors, tempera, sculpture, paper mache, oil pastels, and various other media and materials, I hope to be a part of opening their eyes, their minds, and their hearts to the joys of discovery, creation, and learning.

I am now on the "Specials" team!!! Specials are classes like computer, library, music, PE, art, LightSpan, Read 180, and Guidance. Those are the ones we have in our school. But instead of art, we have CSI: integration of art with the core academics. For me, it is something new... very new, challenging, and I must say, very exciting!

This summer is going to be a busy one for me. I've got to move into the new classroom, inventory materials and supplies, and plan lessons for the year.

Thank you for your comments and giving your support, and sorry I had to play mysterious for awhile.

Now I'm off to school. I have one more car load to bring home.

 

Change: to be feared or to be embraced?

Change is in the air for many people this time of year. Ever since I became a teacher I have thought that August should mark the New Year simply because, in the community and culture of school, August begins the new year for teachers and students. A selfish thought, making me seem like one who is only aware of what goes on between the walls of the classroom. Which sometimes is true. But often not.

                                                          

I used to be afraid of change. Terrified is more like it. Several years ago I had a dream that changed my feelings toward change... actually, three dreams. They came to me in 1995/96, and each one carried me through a series of events that helped me understand the need for change in my life, not to fear it, and to trust the faith I have in God. They were all related. Too lengthy to describe the dreams, but I did write them down at the time, so I can read them to myself whenever I need a reminder of the message carried to me within those dreams.

                                                           

Many teachers are moved around this time of year. They may be told to move to another classroom, to another grade level, even to another school. The principal moves teachers where she needs them most. Teachers and administrators can be moved about within the school system as well, and placed where they are needed most. Moving is a lot of work. I don't like to move for that reason. There is no extra pay for the days we spend moving.

Other times, teachers make the request to move, as I did last year. I only knew I wanted to change something because I sensed that inside I was starting to feel bogged down. It turned out to be a good move because I was given a larger classroom, and I was able to continue working with my favorite grade level, fifth grade. I also had first and second grade students, and near the end of the year one fourth grade student. I was able to teach pull-out classes and do inclusion.  I had a little bit of everything, my days were full, and now looking back, I see that it was a good year to start in this school.

The winds of change are churning again, so soon. Things have taken place at school, and I don't want to go into details until I know for sure where I'll be, but just to let you know that something very big is brewing.

                                                        

Thanks to those dreams I had many years ago, I am not afraid of the unknown, I am not threatened by something changing my direction or my pace. I give in to it, I surrender to it, I will go with it, like when I lay back and float on an ocean wave. While I'm not looking, the waves will carry me away from the place where I set my towels and shoes. But I don't mind because being carried there by forces stronger than myself is a thrill. Besides, I can always walk back to my place of settling if I don't like where the waves are taking me.

When change faces you, don't fight it. Embrace it, accept the challenge. Especially if it is about making your life better, or the lives of others better. Sometimes sacrifices will be expected of you, and sometimes what you are familiar with will be pulled away from you. But trust in yourself, and if you are a person of Faith, trust in the Lord to take you where you will be made stronger.

Change gives you the opportunity to be what you want to be.

I hope my next entry will be more specific... perhaps tomorrow?

                                                                        

Tags: change, movement

Getting better!

Just a quick note to let those who get my alerts, and other friends, that I am recovering. From both the toenail-removal, and the pneumonia. I had the chest x-ray, and the doctor said it doesn't look like pneumonia after all, but bronchitis. Just the same, I am recovering, if a bit slowly. The antibiotics and sleeping every chance I could were the best remedies, I believe.

Feeling much better today than two days ago.

School dismisses 1/2 day this Friday. I have so much to do. Tonight I'm going to a surprise retirement dinner for our principal. It's being catered, and we're all dressing up. For teachers and staff and their spouses only. I'll have a band-aid on my toe, and I'll be wearing open-toed sandals, but otherwise, I plan to dress up for the occasion.

I don't have much time to ruminate tonight, but just wanted to give a big NC holler to everyone. "I'M OKAY... THANKS FOR YOUR THOUGHTFUL AND CARING COMMENTS!!"

BTW, River is back. I just got his alert today. He had been homeless for four months in Las Vegas, but is no longer. Can't wait to read what's been going on in his life. Here's his link. http://journals.aol.com/riversharki/JESUSLOVESYOU/