Discovering the Inner Me, and Good Drugs!

The procedure went well enough. To make a long story short, the doctor was late getting there due to a previous surgery, so I had to wait on the stretcher bed, all prepped, with IV in one arm and blood pressure cuff on the other, until two thirty-ish. Good thing I had come prepared with a book to read.

When the doctor finally showed up at 2:40, everything happened very quickly. I could tell the instant the sedative was administered through the IV, feeling a very pleasant sensation in my brain. Very nice! Could I take some home with me please? Made me forget all about the nasty sodium phosphate I had had to drink. Made me forget about a lot of things. The last thing I was aware of was the tv monitor in front and above me. I remember saying "Will I be able to watch you work?" And the doctor said, "If you can stay awake." 

The next thing I remember is waking up and looking at the monitor again. I could see the inside of my intestine! and I saw the device clipping or cutting at a thing on the intestinal wall. It looked completely harmless. So that's what a polyp looks like, I thought. It wasn't that big! and where's the loopy cutter thing I had seen in the video on the internet? What was all that sloshing... oh he is probably rinsing it out ... and then he cut another little bump, the instrument opening and closing over the bump like an alligator mouth. It pulled, and blood, oh, look it's bleeding. Just a little. Not much. Is it supposed to bleed, I wondered? I thought you would cauterize it, but maybe there's different techniques to removing different sized polyps. And what is that thing? And where are you now, I wondered? What are you doing? I was very interested in what was going on inside of me, and wondered at how I didn't feel a thing. My eyes blinked dryly several times, but I refused to stop watching.

Then I heard the doctor's voice saying, "Well, that's it."

 "You're done?" I asked. "That didn't take long at all." I vaguely remember being wheeled back to the curtained room, and after that I really started waking up.

A nurse kept checking my blood pressure, and when it finally came back to a normal number, she told me I could get  dressed. My husband showed up to help me dress, making sure I didn't fall over, but as long as I stood straight up I was okay. A kind young man dressed in a blue jacket came by with a wheelchair to take me to the lobby. My husband got the car, and by 4:30 we were on our way home. "Where do you want to go eat?" he asked.  I couldn't stop thinking about that great broasted chicken sandwich that Hursey's Barbecue in Graham makes. "Let's go to Hursey's," I suggested. "I want one of those chicken sandwiches. I might eat one and order one to go."

So we did, and I did, and on the way home we stopped at the grocery store for a few necessary food items. I bought some chocolate eclairs for an evening dessert. As we passed Thompson Funeral Home, we were reminded of the passing of one of our friends' aunts this week. The visitation was today, and there were people already in the parking lot at 5:50. Still feeling tired, and uncertain about the need for facilities, I decided not to go to the visitation, but my husband went to give our regards and support to the family.

About 6:15 or so, the phone rang. It was my doctor calling to tell me how well everything went. I told him I had tried to stay awake to watch the whole thing, and he laughed. "You slept through the first half, but then you woke right up in the middle. After that, you were the back seat driver the rest of the way."

"What do you mean?" I asked.

"You watched the monitor, oohing and aahing, and said, 'What's that?' and 'What are you doing now?' and 'Oh, that's what they look like!' and 'Now what are you doing?'"

"I was talking? I said those things out loud?"

"You were like a kid in the car, 'Are we there yet? Are we there yet?' Most people just sleep right through the whole thing." He laughed again. "You handled it well, and I'll call you next week with the lab results."

What else did I say? I wondered after I hung up the phone.

I took a nap while my husband was at the funeral home for the family visitation, and felt normal by the time he got home.

It wasn't a bad experience after all. The worst part was drinking that nasty sodium phosphate stuff.

 

 

Of Liquid Fasting and Sodium Phosphate

Today is the day.

I will eat today. I don’t know what time exactly, probably after 3:00, but as soon as I leave the hospital, I will direct my driver husband to the nearest slow foods restaurant, possibly Golden Corral where I can choose from a wide selection of meats, vegetables, salads, and desserts. In that order. I have some making up to do.

My last meal was Wednesday night at 6:30 pm. It is now 9:30 a.m., Friday. When I awoke this morning, I was surprised that my stomach wasn’t growling angrily in protest of being denied food. Actually, it felt nice and calm. I got up to face a leisurely morning, a gift of time. Most Fridays, I am in the classroom by 7:10 or so, but this morning, having The Procedure scheduled for some time after 12:00, I had a preparation regimen to continue, and I wasn’t looking forward to it. Still, there was the peaceful pace of a Saturday-like morning, and there was time to make a journal entry. I would take advantage of the “free” time I had been given.

The preparation regimen begins the day before the procedure. A liquid fast of clear liquids is the menu for the day. Beginning with breakfast, clear liquids, including tea and coffee with no milk or dairy creamer (sweetening is okay); clear boullion or broth; Kool-Aid, Sodas, and clear, pulp-free juices are allowed. Not a great choice, but it would keep me going throughout the day, and keep me hydrated, the most important thing to be mindful of when one has to cleanse one’s bowels. I know, too graphic. I’ll try not to mention that again.

Lunch menu is the same. So is dinner. Clear liquids. And guess what you have to drink after you take the first dose of sodium phosphate? Several glasses of water or clear liquids. That was my day yesterday, and I got through it pretty easy enough. I didn't have to take the first dose of sodium phosphate until 3:00, and I knew I could get home in time for that.

My fears over how I would get through Thursday’s class schedule, without dying from hunger from the smells of a hot lunch permeating the halls, were dismissed on Wednesday. That’s when I found out that I had to attend a writing workshop on Thursday. I wouldn’t even be in the classroom! An unexpected reprieve.

Indeed, yesterday I was sitting at a workshop, relatively passive, listening and learning, and away from any odors of cooking foods. I had a can of soda, two bottles of apple juice, and two bottles of water in my bag. I had also brought some chicken boullion cubes to which I could add hot water for lunch. It was a worthwhile workshop. I took notes as ideas of how to implement what I was learning came to me. During the lunch break, I told my co-teacher I’d had some ideas of how to present it to our kids, and she told me she did, too. I can’t wait to find some time to meet with her and get this writing approach started in our grade level. It won’t be before Monday, though.

I followed my doctor’s instructions to the “T”, calling his office before 3:00 to find out what time the procedure was scheduled for on Friday. I was told to be there by 12:15, but really I should arrive 30 minutes earlier to complete registration paperwork.

I drove straight home, wanting to get started on the regimen as soon as possible, to get it over with. I drank the first dosage on time.

I suppose the chemists and doctors involved in creating this laxative solution have made it as palatable as possible, however, it is still very hard to swallow. Saltier than country ham, sweeter than pancake syrup, it had a slight lemon-ginger taste that did little to help it get past the back of my tongue, which almost refused to relax and let it all pass. I told my husband it was like drinking a half-glass of water mixed with 6 or more alka-seltzer tablets dissolved, but without the bubbles of carbonation. I couldn’t drink it all at once like I can that night-time blue cold medicine that takes care of every cold symptom and helps you sleep. I had to ingest it in big sips, followed by a swig of cold water. The only good thing about having to drink it is that after you drink the last dose (there are two), it is done.

I won’t go into the details of how the stuff works, but one must be close to toilet facilities. The label says it should work within 30 minutes to 6 hours. Ten minutes is more like it. Since I hadn’t eaten all day, it all went very easily. The roughest part about the evening was watching the food commercials during Big Brother. Foods that normally don’t get my attention suddenly became very appealing. Hunger pangs were mild, some growling occurred, no more than you would experience had you skipped a meal. I noted that the hunger I felt at 10:00pm was no worse than the hunger I had felt at 10 a.m. that morning. In fact, it is 10 a.m Friday, and the hunger is no worse than it was yesterday morning at the same time.

I kept myself very busy after I got home so I wouldn’t be preoccupied with the hunger thing. Since my bathrooms and kitchen floors needed washing, I set myself to cleaning both bathroom floors, the dining room, and kitchen floor. This is a process that takes about two hours from start to finish if I follow through on removing all pieces of furniture and accessories, including floor vent covers. Only the kitchen floor needed waxing after the washing as the other floors are no-wax, and they look great after a good mopping. After awhile, I told my husband it was okay to go ahead and fix himself something to eat. I didn’t mind if he ate in front of me. He re-heated some leftover pizza (which smelled unusually appetizing to me) while I gave myself a manicure. Staying busy is very important when you can’t eat food. I hear boredom is the worst of triggers to snacking and over-eating.

I took the second dose of sodium phosphate this morning at 9:15 a.m., and now it is just a matter of drinking clear liquids and getting ready. I took a shower, washed and conditioned my hair, and washed a load of clothes this morning. I’m almost ready to go.

I have no idea what to expect except what was told to me by the doctor, and from what I have read on the internet. I will be sedated, and I will be able to return to normal activities within 24 hours. Good thing tomorrow is Saturday. Today, I can sleep and eat, and sleep again.

There are risks, but they are rare. I don’t know for sure if insurance will cover the expense. Was told that I did not need prior approval for the procedure, and that I would find out what’s covered after the insurance received results of the procedure. A Mayo Clinic article on the net said it could cost $800 to $1600, and additional fees may apply. I really don’t care at this point what it costs because two younger siblings have had polyps removed in the past, but there may be others who have not informed me of their health conditions over the years.

So far, the worst part has been drinking that sodium phosphate solution, and the hunger.

Mom Called, Teachers and Subs

She called me last night around 11:30. She is okay, and she is in Georgia. Of course, that could change today. She plans to return to Alabama, to her camper near the Gulf Shores. I couldn't reach her this week because her friend's phone expired, but she has a new one now. I told her how worried I was because she hadn't called, and asked for her landlord's name and number in case it should happen again. If I can't reach her in the future, then I can call them to check on her. They have a landline.

Apparently, that part of Alabama did not get hit too bad despite it's near vicinity to Mobile.

It's Labor Day, and I have the day off. I'll meet a friend for lunch, shop for a baby gift, give myself a manicure, and start in on my plans for the classroom next week. Actually, I have two weeks to plan for because I'll be absent on Friday, my usual day of planning for the next week.

I've called a substitute for that day. I don't like doing that, planning for a sub, because it's more work to plan for someone else to do my job than it is for me to do it.

Subs are not babysitters. They have a teaching role to fill in the classroom, and the subs we repeatedly call year after year are reliable. They are often retired teachers themselves. Others are people wanting to work in the classroom without having all the responsibility of planning and testing. For some, it's a good way to supplement family income, work steadily, and work when they want to. Many subs are so in demand that they work as many days as full-time certified teachers. But subs do not have to plan the lesson. Understandably, that is the teacher's job.

Even planning for one day is extra work for the teacher who will miss a day of teaching, but if you want a sub, that is what you have to do. Think about it this way: you have several jobs to do during the day. If you are a Clipboard personality, you will make a list of some kind for what you plan to do. Just a brief list, something you can glance at to remind you of the items you need to take care of. Some people will check them off as they do them.

A teacher has to do more than make a list. She has several subjects to cover during a day, and within each subject, there is a concept to teach, review, or practice. There are pages to read, questions to ask, a worksheet handout or two, activities for students, and so on. She, or he, has a planning book in which to write her plans in a very brief format. Just enough info to let her know what the objective for the lesson is, any text page numbers, handouts, overheads will be needed, and a title or brief description of an activity the kids will do to practice the learned concept, and finally, a closure statement or question. All this info is printed in a little square block of about 1 - 1 1/2 square. We learn to write very small. This is done for every lesson, for every subject. For each day. A glance at the little block in her planning book lets the teacher know exactly what to do and when to do it. She doesn't need to see all the details written down before her because she already knows in her head, she visualizes, what she will be doing with the kids each hour throughout the day. The block in her planning book is like a jobs list, but with more details.

This is what the sub sees when he or she comes into the classroom. Sometimes, a teacher will talk to the sub on the phone the week or day before if her absence was planned. And sometimes not, if she is suddenly sick, and someone calls for her. A sub needs more written information than the planning book provides, although it is a good guide as to how the whole day will look, how the whole week will look.

A sub needs specific instructions regarding the assignments, the teaching of the concept, especially when you are working with a structured program. Teachers have to write far more for someone else to teach their lesson than they would have written for themselves. But that is the nature of the job. This is not a complaint, not a rant. These are just the facts, the way of things. It’s what we do.

This is why we have our list of subs to call, with favorites highlighted. I have a list of six I prefer to call. If we really want a particular sub, we will call them well in advance of the day needed. When you can’t plan ahead, like when you are sick, you make do with the first person you can reach. Hopefully, you are able to reach your first choice of subs, but often that is not the case. Sometimes, calling a stranger who has never subbed for you before is a boon. You discover that they are a really great sub, so you add them to your list of preferred subs. Life is full of surprises, especially at school.

However, the general rule I try to follow is this: don't get sick! In my six years of teaching, I have been blessed in this department. My mother has always been on the healthy side. I think I inherited that from her. I don't want to ruin the record by being boastful, so enough said.

Still, there are other times when a teacher needs a sub, like when she attends a workshop on a school day. Most workshops we attend are on school days. I like going to workshops. They expand upon what I already know and do, and they help me be a better teacher in every way. Workshops are necessary and desirable for a teacher.

Some workshops are far away, in another county, but most are local. Some run over a series of several days because of the training involved, and others are only two hours long, and are held after school. Some are held on weekends, in which case a teacher is giving up her after-school (family) time to attend it, and some are held during school hours.

Some of the best teacher workshops are held over the summer. (I went to the most fun environmental/science workshop over the summer with several teachers from my school held. It was held at the Pisgah Forest Institute in Brevard, North Carolina. For five days we learned about practical ways to bring science, with an environmental slant, into the classroom. I could devote an entire blog page just for that topic, and I will, but not today.)

This wondering wanderer has wandered enough. I didn’t realize I’d be writing my thoughts about substitute teachers today, but that’s where it went.

A final thought: a teacher couldn’t do her job without someone to take her place. We do get sick, our children get sick, our husbands are in the hospital, we have to go to the doctor’s once in awhile, we have to have surgeries, and malfunctioning parts removed. Subs are on call for that (subbing, not removing malfunctioning parts). Teachers have babies, subs help us out for weeks and months at a time for that, too. Teachers have parents who suddenly become ill and need their adult child to come home temporarily. Subs help us there. We get hurt and break bones, suffer from diseases that require treatment, and you get the picture. Teachers don’t like getting sick, I think, more because of the disruption it causes in their teaching routine, than because of the disruption it will cause in their lives. Certainly, I’m not speaking for all teachers, but I hear it a lot. They are a dedicated bunch.

I am grateful for the subs who have answered my call, and for those who will answer my call this year. I haven’t been disappointed in any of those who have subbed for me thus far. I have only been disappointed when I called them and they couldn’t fit me in because they were already committed to sub for another teacher that same day.

So now you know how I spent part of my Labor Day: writing a blog entry!

A Missing Mother?

I don't know where my mother is.

She could be safe somewhere near the Gulf Shores, near Bon Secour, in Alabama. But I don't know for sure because she hasn't called to tell me. I don't even know how bad the storm hit that area last Monday. I saw some video on the news of the hurricane's affect in Mobile, and it looked fearsome. My mother's camper is on a campground about 20-25 miles southeast of Mobile. I can only hope that she is safe and dry.

I called her and left three messages on her cell phone, but could only leave messages to return my call. A friend at church suggested the possibility that the cell towers could be down, and she is unable to make a call, or even to receive her messages. Not being acquainted with cell phones, I hadn't thought about that.

Still, I am hoping for a call soon. She doesn't normally call me every week, but since she moved to Alabama, I had asked her to call me once a week to let me know how she was doing or I would worry and send out the Search Crew. She agreed to call, and for the past three weeks, she has called me faithfully.

I guess I shouldn't worry, though. I did talk to her last Monday or Tuesday, I can't remember which day. She did say she was going back to Alabama the next day. I haven't heard from her since.

She doesn't have a mailing address, nor a PO Box yet. She was planning on getting a post office box this week, but so far, I've not heard anything by phone or mail. I'm not quite ready to call the Baldwin County Sheriff's Department, but if I haven't heard from her by Tuesday, I will do just that.

She'll be embarassed, but she'll understand. She would do the same for me.

“Be patient, and watch me work.”

I had just got home from church today. I was glad when our pastor announced that our church is not only sending Health Kits, but also volunteers to help prepare them, and money. In that way, we can help. It seems so little, but with proper coordination of relief efforts, those people will eventually receive the outpouring of love and caring that far away communities are sending.

Our pastor told us that 300 people from the stricken areas will be arriving in the Triad soon, and will be sent to the area hospitals to be screened for health and medical needs. Area churches are being asked to appeal to citizens who have vacant rental homes, apartments, mobile homes, and such in which to settle a family. Many of the displaced will return to their homes in a few months but many more will likely remain in our state, and seek employment, and send their kids to school here. They will need the kindness and generosity of North Carolinians to begin their new lives.

When I got home, the first thing I did was to turn on Headline News to see the latest developments. Immediately, there were two stories being shown, one of a woman and her husband returning to what was left of their home, and the other of a family and their miniature horses.

Of the former, a reporter accompanied the couple to the home site, the neighborhood littered with splintered trees and house parts. The woman found a part of a chair, and lifted it up from the mud. As she picked through the debris, certain items were recognized. “That was in our bedroom,” she said holding what looked like a broken crystal candle-holder. She could not bear it any longer, and began sobbing. The reporter could not stand apart from the sorrow and loss he witnessed that day. As he tried to express his own feelings about being there in the middle of the torn land, he could not find the words. He waved the camera away. A reporter, a man of words for every event and occasion, standing low and lost, just like the couple kneeling on the ground, sifting through the rubble for what was their life. That was the first stab to my heart.

The next story showed a man and his wife standing in their yard. They had weathered the storm. Their home was broken, but enough was left standing that they could live there. I don’t remember where they lived, Louisiana or Mississippi, but as the camera panned their yard, a dead horse lay on the ground. It was one of two miniature horses that did not survive the hurricane winds. They have seven miniature horses that did survive, but now they have a greater problem: there is no hay to feed their little horses. They will lose them all if no hay or feed is found. The man was in tears as he expressed his sorrow over the dead horses and the hungry ones who survived. That was the second stab.

I may be a thousand miles away, but I hear what they are crying for. They cry for what they have lost, and for the help they may have never needed before, but need now. They want someone to hear their stories. The reporter with no words for the woman's sorrow and the man who lost his horses are just two of many thousands of stories that are to be told. I cried.

As I walked down the hall, heart heavy with all the suffering and the sorrow, I raised my arms in a plea. When I pray, my words are very simple. “Lord, what do we do? It’s so much.”

And then, through the tears, came the calm, quiet whisper in my mind, the answer to my prayer.

“Be patient, and watch me work.”

Then I remembered what our church was doing, and what thousands of other churches across the country are doing, and what thousands of other individuals are doing in the cities with the losses. The National Guard is helping now, American Red Cross and other organizations are there, and I realized it was true. He is already at work through His people. It will take time. We must be patient. Watch Him work!

Of Hurricane Relief and Of Doing Something

Certainly, there is nothing on our minds this week more than the crises facing thousands in and around New Orleans. Many of us who want to help, are thinking “how can we help?” The urgency of the needs of people stranded at the Superdome, and those isolated in what is left of their water filled homes in all affected areas, strikes us in a personal way, for all we in North Carolina can complain about is that gas prices are higher than ever, leaving us feeling completely guilty because we can get in our cars and drive to the grocery store, knowing there will be groceries to buy when we get there. We have clean running water for drinking and cooking, we take showers whenever we want to, and we can flush our toilets because they work just fine. Our pets are safely sleeping on the floor at our feet, and our children are tucked in their warm and dry beds. We retired each evening this week in our own homes, and watched the replay of the hurricane devastation and its aftermath, shaking our heads, feeling sorry for the victims, praying for them, but doing little else.

It's time to do something. Many will do something. They will donate to the American Red Cross, the Salvation Army, the Humane Society, Feed the Children and other organizations set up to give aid to countries and communities at times like these. Many will look to their churches or organizations linked by their churches like the United Methodist Committee on Relief, Church World Service, and Southern Baptist Disaster Relief Fund, B'nai B'rith International, and United Jewish Communities for taking their monetary donations and sending it where it is needed, (clicking on any of these links will take you to their homepages if you would like to help). Still others, all across our nation, will open their homes to strangers, feeding and clothing them until they can start over on their own. The latter I think will be the more humane.

Helping others out in their hour of need is often a very personal matter. One doesn’t have to discuss with others the degree to which she helps. I know many good folks who prefer to remain anonymous when they help out with a financial or material gift. I myself prefer anonymity when making monetary gifts. I know my church will be involved, and it is through my church that I will give because I know that 100% of the donations will go to those devastated by the hurricane.

It’s really a shame to watch the news and know that our great country leaps into action to help disaster victims on the other side of the world, but when our own people suffer, relief efforts are begun late, leaving people dying in their wheelchairs. I don’t understand why or how that happened, but it’s painful to watch and listen to the stories of the poorest and the least protected as they make their appeal for food, water, and shelter while standing in water up to their ankles and or knees. It’s been four days of waiting, and help from the National Guard started arriving Friday. I am sorry for those people in the Gulf who have lost their homes and family members, their cars, their pets, their entire neighborhoods, their schools, stores, nursing homes, and so on. Sorry that something wasn’t in place to help them before it happened.

It’s not like we didn’t know it could happen. Just last year I saw a documentary, on PBS I think, that showed a very realistic computer generated graphic simulation of what could happen if a tidal wave or a huge hurricane should ever hit the New Orleans area directly. The devastation was much worse than what we see with Hurricane Katrina. However, even the documentary spoke about the city preparing for such a disaster, and evacuation was one of the preparations. But my question is, why wasn’t a relief/rescue/assistance plan set into action before the hurricane hit? The sophistication of hurricane tracking these days allows for pretty accurate predictions for timing and location of landfall. I watched for a few days prior to landfall as the hurricane developed and meteorologists were predicting its path and strength with certain accuracy. Seems like our government could have begun mobilizing sources of water and food, blankets, beds, tents, port-a-potties, anything to serve the basic needs of those having to survive without electricity and clean water. It’s more than disappointing to know this happened in a country as well stocked and well organized as ours.

The truth is, the federal government cannot take care of everything all of the time. That is why it is important for neighbors to help neighbors. Churches are always the first to jump in and help people in regions overwhelmed by natural disasters. It is the most important commandment of our Christian faith, and of other faiths as well, to love one’s neighbor, in times of distress and sorrow. Loving means more than having good feelings toward a friend or even an enemy. It means taking care of someone who is unable to take care of themselves, for whatever reason. It even means taking care of someone who has offended us.

Americans will pitch in and help the stricken people of the Gulf Coastal communities, but certainly the folks waiting in New Orleans need it now. Their situation is dire, they are dying from health related conditions or illnesses. Many folks need medication, babies need their formula, everyone else needs food. They are outraged. I would be too if I were having to deal with the unhealthy, filthy conditions they are now living in.

The kind of help these people need is more than a tent and a truck load of food, even more than ice and a week's supply of fresh water. They need a place to live, a place to start over. We can see from the pictures on the internet and on the news that the residents of the coastal areas of the Gulf have lost everything. There are no homes left for them to go back to, the streets of their cities are covered in mountains of splintered and broken wood, cars, boats, and all their furnishings and possessions. Sending them off to a shelter in another city is only a temporary solution. Helpful, but temporary.

What the stranded and homeless need is for Americans to open their homes and hearts, to bring these broken families into their homes. They'll need to be fed, they'll need to recover from all that has happened, from all that they have lost. I'm thinking many churches are already doing this at local levels.

We have got to start taking better care of our neighbors. I don't know how many churches exist in our country, but I wonder if every church adopted one family (bigger churches could adopt two families), pitched in and provided a home and necessary furnishings, food, etc, that the whole of displaced persons sheltered in the Superdome could be taken care of in a caring, neighborly way. Eventually, that family could get back on their feet.

For some, it might be an improvement compared to what they had before Katrina took away their homes. We have all heard that those citizens who had money were able to high tail it out of the area when they heard the evacuation orders. I'm even sure that some started for safer havens before the order was given. If my family were living there, we would have been one of those evacuating families. We would have loaded our dogs and all the clothes and food we could pack into the car, picked up our son, and headed north.

Look at who was left behind: the poor, the elderly, the sick, the crippled... the helpless. These are the people Jesus commands us to take care of: the least of these. Who can be more in the "least" category than the people who were already downtrodden, broken, lost, alone, forgotten, neglected, hungry, and sick? Does it matter if they didn't have jobs before the hurricane happened? For some it does. Does it matter if they were on welfare before the hurricane? For some it does. Does it matter that many of the victims of Hurricane Katrina lived at poverty level, and didn't have much to lose, but it was all that they had? It does matter to a lot of folk. Are we only going to put out our hands in giving to those who are like us?

It shouldn't matter to a Christian. Christians have many favorite Old and New Testament stories to recall in times of trial to help them struggle through life's tragedies and challenges. One of these stories is the parable of the Good Samaritan (Luke 10:25-37). Replace the character of the robbers who set upon the man and stripped him of his clothes, robbed him, beat him, and left him laying on the road half dead, with the character of Hurricane Katrina, who literally did this to the people in its path. Of the various passers-by who saw the man laying on the road, injured and bleeding, helpless and homeless, only the Samaritan took pity and gave aid to the half-dead stranger. He didn't just provide water and bind up his wounds. He took him to an Inn, and gave money for the man's expected care and needs. At the end of the story, Jesus tells the young man who questioned him to "Go and do likewise." It is asked of us now. It is asked of me. Will I respond as the Good Samaritan?

I hope to hear stories of charity in the wake of this most destructive storm a year from now. I hope to hear stories of courage and perseverance, for that is what we are made of. I hope to hear stories of recovery and regeneration, renewal and rebuilding, not only in the physical, architectural sense, but also in the personal, communal, and spiritual sense as well. I hope to hear that Americans, Christian or Non-Christian, reached out to help "the least of these" in our own country.

Of Learning Styles and Multiple Intelligences, and Ants

The ants found themselves in a disturbing situation today. One of my more curious students was holding the ant habitat in his hands, carefully looking them over for a few minutes, like he usually does when he first comes into my classroom. Accustomed to him doing this, I fixed my attention on the other kids in the classroom, and talked about a writing prompt we had just begun the day before. From the corner of my eye I caught a movement that was too animated to ignore, and turned my head to see what the student was doing. I couldn’t move toward him fast enough.

He was turning the ant farm over and over again like a wheel, spinning it slowly, watching the ants adjust to the change of orientation with each turn. I noticed a ball of gel rolling about at the bottom of the habitat. That’s when I realized it was upside down completely, and the ants were tumbling about within the tunnels.

I refrained from yelling, for this student would have had a significant emotional reaction, and he would have been angry with himself far greater than was appropriate or necessary. I approached him quickly, but calmly, saying his name, and “No, don’t turn the habitat upside down like that. The ants don’t like it when you do that. It makes them…” I started to say, but he finished it for me. “Crazy. It makes them crazy.”

“I was going to say dizzy, but crazy might be a good word to describe it. Just don’t do that anymore, okay?” He apologized immediately, and said he didn’t know. I hadn’t told him not to do it. It was true. I had only told him to handle it carefully, and not to open it. I think he had a misunderstanding of the word carefully.

He let me take the habitat and put it safely back in the shadows of the highest bookshelf above my desk. His breathing had become more rapid. I could tell he was starting to get upset because he had done something wrong, but I assured him with the tone of my voice, that the ants would be okay this time. I knew he wouldn’t do it again now that he knew. He agreed, and his breaths slowed down to a more normal rate.

The other students in the room were very calm and kind about it. We don’t talk about learning disabilities in the classroom, but the kids seem to know and understand when one of them doesn’t grasp something that‘s being taught. They don’t laugh at each other when one of them makes a mistake. I think they have this awareness because they know each of us is weak at something. Every one of us. We try to help them find out what their talents are, whatever area it may be found in.

However, we do talk about their strengths. We encourage them to do better in what they are good at, whether it is academic, physical, creative, social, or a combination of areas. We understand that kids have different learning styles. Some are auditory learners (learn best through listening, like to read out loud), some are visual learners (need to see lots of images and printed materials), and some are tactile/kinesthetic learners (learn better with hands-on approach, need lots of activity and exploration). We attempt to include in our daily activities something for each of these learning styles to better reach them all.

Teachers know that their kids may have extraordinary, intuitive skills in intrapersonal and interpersonal relationships. Or a student might be musically inclined, or kinesthetically gifted. Certainly there are the brilliant math students and the amazing spellers, and some kids have a memory for facts and figures. The multiple intelligences theory of Howard Gardner is embraced by those of us who teach in the classroom because we recognize the varied abilities of kids at the same age. Parents, too, see it among their own off-spring. One child is an artist, another a writer, another a musician, another a math genius, each talented in their own way although they all grew up in the same house with the same parents.

The student who was turning the habitat upside down was studying the effects of his action upon the ants, without any concern for the welfare of the ants. Even a child with mental limitations that label him educably and mentally disabled has a level of intelligence that allows him to learn, and a talent for something.

This boy likes to read about insects and other animals. When you tell him the name of an insect, he remembers it as well as anyone with an interest in bugs. One day, last year, I found him bent over, intently staring at the lower part of a tree trunk while all the other students were listening and watching a man, dressed in colonial times-clothing, loaded and fired his musket. I wondered what the student was looking at, and sure enough, there was the largest preying mantis I had ever seen crawling around the trunk. The student never tried to hurt it, or pick it up, or disturb it in any way. In fact, when I told him I would take a picture of it for him, he was quite happy, and continued watching the insect as it slowly made its way up the trunk. I know of other boys his age, who have little regard for other living creatures, particular the six-legged kind, who would have knocked it off the trunk and stepped on it just because they could.

The school year is off to a great start, and I and my colleagues are beginning to feel the magnitude of what we must accomplish in one year. For now, testing pressures are weeks away, but we know it is something we must do. Our focus for now is on the kids’ learning, and learning how to learn. We are thinking about the questions we ask our kids, pushing for the deeper, higher level thinking we want them to become accustomed to. To do that, we must ask questions of ourselves regarding the world and our place in it, and the universe around us.

And since it is getting late and I don’t have time to continue along this line of thinking, I’m going to close this entry with a link to Venus and Jupiter, which can be seen tonight. I didn’t see it, but maybe you did?