Dougher of the Word

I have been composing a few posts in my head the past few days, but the truth is, I could either work out, or blog. If you know me at all, you know which I will chose. And no, Mother, I will not blog about my work out.

I am so lucky: I got to hang out with my Dad and climb up one of the most majestic land forms in the world. Half Dome in Yosemite National Park has captured my imagination since I first saw an Ansel Adam's print on my parent's coffee table when I was young.  I am not Ansel Adams. That is why I offer you these reasons to NOT bring your camera to Yosemite. 1. You end up with awkward photos of you with John Muir, who if he was alive, would be appalled that he's in bronze in a tourist-y Visitor's Center. 2. Your camera-person will inevitably cut off the natural phenomena you're trying to capture (in this case, the trickle that's left of Yosemite Falls) 3. Embarrassing things  DO  get captured.  A little sunscreen + a bike ride through the valley in flip-flops = embarrassing pictures that I'm inexplicably posting anyway. 4. No matter how good the camera, no matter how visionary the photographer, a picture can never capture the gra...

Some call me reckless. Many call me silly. I say that once I've gotten an idea in my head, I simply must carry it out! Today's idea was grocery shopping. My sister had left me a list of all the items she would need for the next 40 days of her Eastern Orthodox, paleo-like, Lenten fast and I would not fail her! Since I would be sharing her food, I didn't mind doing some of the shopping. "Now, " you might say, "grocery shopping is not reckless or silly at all!" and you would be right. The only problem with grocery shopping is that it usually includes a number of bags of heavy cans, and produce that must not be squished. Grocery shopping is also usually completed with the aid of an automobile. My trusty steed Brad being in the shop, I decided to have a little adventure and take the closest bus. As soon as I stepped out of my apartment, it began to rain. Not to be deterred, I zipped up my hoodie, turned up my jams, and trotted the 6 blocks to the bus stop. ...

Back when I was getting up at the crack of dawn to ignite young minds to new planes of consciousness, I had a battle before me every morning. Every morning at 6:47 am, our sprinklers would go off. Now, this would not normally be a problem if one was not on a schedule. The sprinklers became my alarm clock. If I was still home when the sprinklers went off, I was behind schedule. If I had to walk through the sprinklers to get to my car, it meant that I would have to fight the lines of fellow teachers in the copy room. It also meant that my hem would get wet as those dumb sprinklers watered our sidewalk instead of the lawn. There was a pesky sprinkler in the corner that was a little haywire that could getcha in the face if you weren't careful. If you had copies to transport to the car, you would have to guard them with something water-proof (like my sweater... NOT water-proof) 

I was reading Psalm 119:71, 75 from the always-perfect Streams in the Desert... The gist was "I'm glad I was afflicted, because the Lord was able to show me His faithfulness." God is so good to remind me of how badly I need Him, in my classroom, in my home, in my grad classes, every hour. Every hour in my classroom, my students get rowdy. It is during those times I remind them of how I've trained them to say two things. Whenever they get loud, I give them my quiet signal, wait for them to settle down and ask,  "What is the only thing I should be hearing right now?" To which they respond in unison: "The scribbling of our pencils!" The sounds of scribbling commence for about 3 minutes, then, as the hum of their voices continues, I again give them the quiet signal and wait for them to quiet down. I then say to them, "Students, I am not happy, and we all know that a happy teacher makes..." and they all say, "HAPPY STUDENTS!" Then ...

I'm not sure if the cyber-world cares, but in two days, I will be entrusted with the education of 24 seventh graders. I remember reading Anne of Avonlea when I was young, knowing full well, that one day, I would be in Anne's position: inwardly quaking as she faced her pupils. Well, Anne, here it goes!