An Anniversary Wish

Mom and Dad at the 2009 H**** Family Reunion

I want to send out an anniversary wish to my parents, Gene and Betty. As of today, May 31, they have been married 59 years!!! Happy anniversary, momma and daddy! I love you both and am thankful to have you as my parents.

And, as this is Memorial Day, I hope we all stop and remember that freedom is never free and take a moment to think of those who have served and are serving our country. May God continue to bless our nation and watch over our troops.

As promised...

Here are some pictures from John-Heath's pre-school graduation.

My little graduate. Doesn't he look handsome, minus the scrape on his chin from where he released the cocked hammer on his toy gun a little too close to the face?

Receiving his diploma from Ms. Penny, one of his teachers.

Ma-Ma reattaching his cap.

With the family (L-R) cousin Meg, big sister Ren, Uncle T, Aunt Sissy, John, Ma-Ma, and Pa Gene.

John-Heath with Ms. Penny

With his good friend Kolby at the restaurant owned by Kolby's family for an after-graduation party.

100 Facts About Me - Installment 4

61. John viciously lies about me when he says I snore.

62. I have a Simmons Beautyrest mattress that is less than a year old for which I paid nearly $1,200 (for the mattress only - can you say "highway robbery") and I am no more beautiful or rested than I was before. Actually, if the truth be told, I am much more sore, tired, and ugly. I should sue. They could admit my whole body as evidence in such a court case.

63. I love to swim - or just walk around in the water. Doesn't that count as swimming?

64. I miss our old pool. We don't have one at our new house.

65. We do have a pond in our yard though. But I would prefer not to get covered in leeches or eaten by a giant snapping turtle. So swimming at home is out of the question.

66. Once on a Sunday afternoon with some friends from church I swam the width of Bledsoe's Creek at a fairly wide spot because I didn't want to look like a scared little school girl. I was in my early to mid teens at the time. Only made it 3/4 of the way across before a rescue was needed. To get me back across they floated this scared little school girl on a log. Don't think I ever told my parents about that one. I guess they know now.

67. As a general rule I do not allow my daughter to go on picnics with friends near a body of water larger than a bird bath.

68. As a child I had a recurring nightmare of falling through the hay drop in the upper level of my pa's barn and being trampled by the cows. I attribute this to my love of red meat today.

69. I was known to sleepwalk at times growing up. I remember doing this twice. Once waking up at the very back of our yard next to the woods and the other time on the kitchen trash can, undies around my ankles. Take a guess.

70. I am distantly related to Howard Hughes - or at least my mother and about half the residents of Westmoreland were told this in the late 70s. Still waiting on that inheritance.

71. Somehow managed to catch my veil on fire at my wedding while lighting the unity candle. On the wedding video you can see me reach up and put my hand around the veil, followed by a little trail of rising smoke.

72. During the first few nights we were married John and I stayed at the Hermitage Hotel in Nashville. Yep, Nashville. Yes, the one in Tennessee, all of 50 miles from our hometown. Please - try not to be jealous.

73. The Sunday afternoon following our wedding - less than 24 hours after our wedding - John's family showed up at the hotel to visit us ON OUR HONEYMOON!

74. During some down time on this epic adventure of a honeymoon struck up a conversation with a nice old man who lived in the hotel who went by the name Minnesota Fats.

75. My only other brushes with fame have been when my father worked for a while as one of Conway Twitty's contractors in the early 80s and seeing Reba McEntire at O'Charley's in Gallatin on two occasions.

76. My mother once took pictures of my teenage bedroom and threatened to submit them to the local paper for publication if I didn't clean it up.

77. I became lost in the bowels of the Cannon House Office Building in Washington, D.C. the day of Clinton's inauguration when I left a reception for Tennesseans, in search of the office's cafeteria for better food.

78. In my youth and naivety I asked a couple from Spring Hill whom I had just met to watch our camcorder while I went on this journey.

79. The aforementioned recording device belonged to John's school. He, as a history teacher, had borrowed it to record some inaugural events.

80. Almost two hours later when I finally found my way back to the reception area this same couple from Spring Hill was still there - even though the reception was loonngg over. Aren't Tennesseans the nicest people? Though they probably spoke a few choice words about me during the time I was gone and in years since refer back to it as, "You remember the time that stupid girl left us holding her camcorder while she went to stuff her face and we missed seeing the president in the parade?"

The Weekend - Where Did It Go and Why Am I So Tired?

John-Heath and cousin Dylan after playing against each other. Unfortunately, team orange was victorious.

John and I both feel wiped out. And it's not even because we've had that busy a weekend. Ren and I went to the graduation Saturday and then John-Heath had a soccer game that day too, but other than that there was nothing else causing us to rush through the weekend.

John-Heath with his first trophy. He thought getting one was pretty cool and told Ren she could set it up on the shelf in her bedroom with all of hers.

John thinks it may be the mowing and weedeating of 5 acres every week. And, though he has always maintained that he would never enjoy living in a subdivision, even a posh one like Fairvue, he freely admits it would have its advantages and even suggested selling everything and moving some place with a smaller yard. Of course, we won't. Not until the kids are both out of school, at least. And since our little surprise is not yet 5 it looks like we'll be here for about 13 more years.


Anyway, with no energy to write anything else I'll just have to settle for posting a few pics from the weekend.

Ren and one of her friends at the graduation ceremony - just three more years and they'll be walking the line (hopefully)

Here's looking forward to the last week of school.

Ren and her cousin playing around before church this morning.

Bmmm Bm Bm Bm Bmmm Bmmm

Bmmm Bm Bm Bm Bmmm Bmmm Bmmm Bm Bm Bm Bmmm

That's me humming Pomp and Circumstance in honor of my little boy's graduation. John-Heath officially graduated from New Hope Child Learning Center's Pre-K program tonight. I'll post pictures and news from the ceremony tomorrow.

In honor of John-Heath's big day, as well as our graduating senior class at the high school (many of these students were in my 3rd grade class during my eighth year as a teacher), I thought a little trivia about Pomp and Circumstance might be fun for today's post.

It was composed by Sir Edward Elgar in 1901.

Its full title is Pomp and Circumstance Military Marches.

A series of 5 marches for orchestra make up the total work.

The title is taken from Shakespeare's Othello:

"Farewell the neighing steed and the shrill trump,

The spirit-stirring drum, th'ear-piercing fife,

The royal banner, and all quality

Pride, pomp, and circumstance of glorious war!"

Even though we could not imagine one without it, it was not originally intended for graduations. Instead, the march was used for the coronation of King Edward VII.

Its use at graduations began in 1905 when Elgar was honored at Yale University with an honorary doctorate (played as a recessional). After Yale used it other ivy league colleges used it too and soon it became a graduation standard.

It was recorded in November 1931 at the opening of <a href="http://www.abbeyroad.com/">Abbey Road Studios</a> in London.

It was used in Disney's Fantasia 2000

Now, don't you feel better? When you attend a graduation this year and hear this familiar tune you'll have all sorts of trivia running through your brain.

Birds of a Feather

One of John-Heath's best little buddies is a fellow named Cooper. He and John-Heath have been together at the same babysitter's/day care since they were one. Theirs is what we have defined as a "love-hate relationship".

This is how that looks in flow-chart style.

...and so on and so on.

Yesterday when John arrived at the pre-school to pick up our son, Cooper came running. This was the little conversation they had.

"John! Hey, John."

"Hey, Cooper."

"Hey, John. Hey, John-Heath got his name today."

"He did? What did he do?"

"Yeah, he got his name put on the board. (pause) It's up there beside mine."

The Power Within

My children love each other. I know they do. However, to the untrained eye it might not appear this way. They can fight at the drop of the hat. Ren gets very easily perturbed by John-Heath (who can be quite the annoyance to a big sister who is a teenager) and sometimes will say things for which she later apologizes. Of course, John-Heath rarely needs one to step in to defend him. He manages quite nicely on his own - verbally or physically. Sometimes a little too physically. At any rate I doubt he will get bullied at school. Which is a good thing.

This weekend, Ren was trying to tell us all the details of seeing the new Nightmare on Elm Street movie with some friends. John-Heath was trying, at the same time, to tell us something, anything. He just likes to talk. I can't hold that against him though, as I have a whole list of former teachers who would back me up when I say he gets it genetically. Anyway, at some point Ren says to him, "Sometimes I wish you'd just stop breathing." (This would be a case of her saying something without thinking it through and then later feeling bad that it came out that way). John-Heath's reply was "Uh, Ren! I can't help it. God made me and He put that power in me." I thought that was pretty cute. It's nice to know that even children as young as four know their very breath is a precious gift from God.


A mini-moment...John, John-Heath, and I went out to eat this weekend. While John was paying John-Heath and I excused ourselves and went and waited in the little breezeway between the sets of doors. It was pouring down rain and I told John-Heath that it was raining cats and dogs. After explaining to him what that meant he thought he would announce it to everyone entering or exiting the restaurant, "Sure is raining cats and dogs, huh?".

Attack of the 50 Ft. Hubby

My favorite shot from all the pictures made of him that day.

Well, they went and took my husband's picture and they put it on an oil can. A really, rreeaally BIG oil can. In TEXAS! And you know if it's in Texas it's going to be big. Everything in Texas is big! That I learned from watching Dallas with my sister (her favorite show, by the way). Big hair! Big hats! Big houses! Big Business!

A couple years back John was invited to model for the talented, award-winning artist David Wright. David, who just happens to live down the road in Gallatin, is what I consider a painter of American history. He's done countless projects depicting Native Americans, the Civil War, and frontier times, and John has had the great fortune of being able to work for him on a few of these. I love it when he gets a call from David! Visions of free artwork dance in my head.

To see more of his beautiful work go here. You won't be disappointed.

Anyway, for this particular project some people from Native Sun Productions out of Ohio used David's place as the location to shoot images of various models in period costumes depicting the struggles of the early Texans. These images were later transformed into some GINORMOUS murals.

Last year, the murals were finally put in place on large oil storage tanks owned by Shell. These tanks are located along Hwy 225 in Deer Park, Texas. I keep telling John we need to drive out and see the tanks in person (I mean, how many people can say they've seen an image of themselves on that scale and magnitude?) but he has yet to give in to that idea.

That's John in the blue. Cute hat, huh?

So for now we'll just have to look at the pictures. And you can look, too, unless you want to drive to Texas to see the real deal. Hey! If you do, can I go?

One of the big tanks.

A closeup we, just today, found on the internet. Good thing his nose was clean.

H -or- Why I Think My Son May One Day Be President

I have had an epiphany. My son will be president. Yes, I know that's a bold statement to make about a boy who is only four. But isn't that what an epiphany is - a sudden perception of the essential meaning of something through events simple or striking?

John-Heath is having trouble writing his letters. He knows them all. He knows the sounds they all make. Ask him a word and he can give you the sound its first letter makes and tell you the letter. But he is just not good at writing them. There are two reasons for this (well, three, if you count the fact that we don't work with him on it like we should).

1.) He's a lefty. John and I are righties. It is hard to model the correct way to hold a pencil or form letters to a lefty when one is a righty.

2.) He has a tee-tiny attention span for things such as this. You know the line in the Bible that speaks of having faith like the grain of a mustard seed? Well, that's how much of an attention span John-Heath has.

The other night John and I were talking about this. We have told John-Heath that if he does not learn to, at least, write his name correctly then he will have to stay back in Pre-K another year. This causes great consternation for him..."But then I would be with the babies." Of course, he won't really have to stay back in Pre-K but we thought a little fear might make him more motivated to learn. Anyway, John said that we may just have to settle for John (or even J-H) for now and add the -Heath later. I commented that people who name their sons Bo and their daughters Lu are smart. Can you imagine naming a child something like Maximillian Bartholomew? Whew! Kindergarten would be a nightmare.

Ah, yes. Getting back to that epiphany. While reading the card the kids gave me for Mother's Day I noticed that John-Heath had simply signed his name H. I'm pretty sure he did this on his grandmother's card too. And it hit me. H. John H. Creasy. You know, kinda like W.

Now you may be thinking, "John-Heath? President?". But just how many of our presidents were nice, polite little children? Weren't most quite active and inquisitive and just plain handfuls for their mothers, grandmothers, or nannies?

If these truths (and my epiphany) hold up to be self-evident then, who knows, one of these days clerks from a previous administration may be taking the H's off all the computer keyboards in the White House. We'll just have to wait and see.

For his part he has already put in some practice for his future role. During the last presidential campaign he was a keen viewer of the television ads and took them as his opportunity to stand high atop a plastic tub behind the kitchen counter and declare, "I Rock ObaNa and I PROVE this message."

Zzzzzzzz

I stayed home this morning with John-Heath who has been feverish since yesterday morning. John stayed with him all day yesterday and came home at midday today to stay with him throughout the afternoon. Any other time I would jump at the chance to be home with him all day except that

1.) This is a busy time of the year for me with library books and textbooks being due, Battle of the Books coming up, and lots of overdue and fine notices needing to be sent

and

2.) John has like a gazillion sick leave days and I have four. Actually, I have many more than four but I don't have a gazillion and that is why John gets to stay home with him.



Sometime around 5:45ish and after sending out a few school-related emails I burrowed again beneath my covers. John and Ren left the house before 7 so that Ren could get to school a little earlier for math tutoring. At some point after this I was joined by my sickly one and we snuggled together and fell asleep. A little after 10 my heavy eyelids gradually opened. Turning my head to the left I saw my little boy - wide awake and looking at me.

"Mommy, why were you snoring?"

"I was snoring?"

"Yes."

"What did it sound like?"

"Like this!

100 Things About Me - Acte Trois

41. I have not been formally trained to speak or write in French.

42. I do know how to use an online English-to-French translator, though. Check out the title to this post. Huh? How 'bout that? Acte Trois. That means "act three".

43. I do not particularly enjoy cooking (remember...pancake chicken?).

44. I am a night owl, albeit an older night owl. I tend to stay up late and sleep in late on weekends and during the summer. If we ever have to add time on to the school day my vote will be to add it to the end of the day.

45. My husband is a pretty lousy gift giver (ok, that is a fact about him - but one that greatly impacts me).

46. To take my niece trick-or-treating I once dressed as a bunch of grapes AFTER I had gained bunches of weight. Not a pretty picture. And to answer your question - no. All photographic evidence has been destroyed.

47. I routinely break the tenth commandment. Oh, don't go dragging out your Bibles. I'll tell you. It is the Thou Shalt Not Covet rule. Don't think I'm proud of it, but I do frequently find myself seeing something someone else has and thinking, "Oooh. I want one".

48. There are three things I hate about going to the beach: sand, seaweed, and saltwater. Other than that we're in good shape.

49. I have been known to play pranks, mostly harmless ones but there have been a couple of which I have since repented.

50. My daughter was planned...reeaallly planned. I mean using-a-thermometer-and-a-chart-planned.

51. My son was sooooo an accident.

52. My daughter looked more like John when she was a baby and favors me somewhat now.

53. My son was the spitting image of me as a baby and is beginning to resemble John more now, though he'll always have my eyes.

54. I played on a faculty volleyball team and became accustomed to hearing my coach and co-worker Manny yell, "Move your feet, Tyla". Despite my non-feet-moving we were pretty good and Manny and I remain friends to this day.

55. My daughter plays volleyball now and regularly hears me say, "Move you feet!"

56. I once purposely misbehaved to get myself assigned to detention because I saw a certain cute guy's name on the detention list. Upon arriving in detention that afternoon I found that said cute guy had wiggled his way out of detention.

57. My favorite toys as a child were my Barbies. I had tons and kept them even after getting married.

58. Lost all my Barbies when the storage facility which John and I rented caught fire and burned to the ground in 1995.

59. I have never flown (we are the royal family of road trips though) and now I think I might have a fear of flying.

60. I know I have a fear of washing dishes due to this one terribly traumatic incident from my childhood/mid- teens in which my father stood over me (belt in hand) and made me wash the supper dishes. Swallowing hard and bravely forcing my hand into the water, DIRTY DISH WATER might I remind you, I pulled up what I thought to be the rag and there, draped over my fingers, was a slimy tomato slice. My eyes rolled back in my head and I passed out on the spot!

Mom's Day Loot

A pancake breakfast compliments of my daughter. She does have a sweet side that peeks its head out every once in a while. She made pancakes for everyone and brought our plates to the bedroom and waited for us to wake up. And then waited some more. Still we slept. Finally, she woke us up and said, "Hey! Can ya'll come on and eat? It's getting cold." She was right. They were cold by then, but still delicious.

John-Heath provided many little gifts, too, including his own version of breakfast in bed which was a Nutri-grain bar stapled to a sweet little poem (see below). He later asked if he could eat it. He was hungry.

Flowers from my children and husband which liven up the kitchen.

Flowers from my niece which liven up my bathroom.

A Paula Dean skillet (Heeyy, yaaa'll) from my sister. I think she feels bad that the cookware set she bought me for Christmas didn't quite pan out (pardon the pun).

Aren't special days fun?

This is the poem that was attached to my gift from John-Heath.

Breakfast in Bed

Since it is your day,

I have something to say:

Don't lift your head.

Have breakfast in bed!

Just take a look.

You don't have to cook!

I don't like to brag

But it's breakfast in a bag!

My Mom Betty

Momma and Me - August 6, 1988

May 9, 2010. Mother's Day. A day when we honor those women in our lives who nurtured us through childhood and helped us become, for better or worse, what we are today. I had considered for a moment writing an eloquent "thank you" letter to my mom for all those things throughout my 40 years (and my sister's 56 years) she has done - all the times she did without so I could have, the spoiling she did out of a desire for my youth to be easier than hers had been (I think she may have regrets about the level of this spoiling though), the leaving of a job to be a stay-at-home mom when the money would have come in handy in order to be there to see me off on the bus to school and greet me when it brought me home, the clean clothes that magically appeared in my drawers and closets and the meals that always filled our table. Yes, there are many reasons for which I should honor my mother . My words, however, could never do them justice.


Therefore, a few simple thoughts on the woman who gave me life.

Marvelous cook.

Yielded her heart to Christ years ago and never looked back.




Ma - Ma to five grands and two greats.

Obsessively clean in her housekeeping - a trait that was not passed on through shared DNA.

Married to my Daddy for 59 years and counting.

Beautiful.

Ever there for me.

Temperamentally hot on occasion, yet tender-hearted (these traits were passed along).

Takes her card playing seriously.

Yearns for, at age 77, the health of youth.

Momma and me - 1970 or 71.

My parents still have this table and chair set in use in their breakfast nook and it looks practically new.

Happy Mother's Day, Momma! And thank you - for everything.

Taking a Wild Animal to See Other Wild Animals

Real monkey in a zoo.

My monkey in our zoo.

Thaaat's right. Yesterday was zoo day. A day in which my husband and I accompanied our little boy and 20 other adrenaline-fueled Pre-K students on a field trip to the Nashville Zoo. Now, normally I would not pay real money to go observe these type animals. I mean, I see (and smell) it all every day. Monkeys. Wild cats. Birds. All in the configuration of a 4-year-old. Plus, I'm really not a big fan of animals. I know, it's shameful to admit. I can tolerate a dog (until he chews the corners off the bottoms of the columns holding up the porches on our new house) and I like the idea of certain other animals but that is about as far as my love towards animals goes. Getting back on track...there was no chance in you-know-where that I would let my baby boy go on this kind of field trip without the added security of two extra pairs of eyes to watch him, a fast dad to catch him when he inevitably runs off, and a dog leash in my bag...just in case.

Well, the day went pretty much as I had imagined. John-Heath paid limited attention to the actual animals and more to other things found in the park, such as the sewer grates, electrical boxes, trash cans, power lines, caution signs, concession stands, and airplanes taking off or preparing to land at NIA.
He did enjoy the petting zoo and the goats (he kept calling them loaded goats in a reference, of course, to an Andy Griffith episode) and he loved the Jungle Gym - a large playset. He managed to get away from us (actually John) in this place for a few minutes - a very scary few minutes for me. It had been a long time since I had been to this zoo. I didn't remember this play area or know if there were multiple entrances to it. It's sad that the world has gotten so dangerous that the first thing a parent thinks when a child is lost like this for a few minutes is that some pervert may have spotted them and lured them away.
Another mom made the comment that everyone at the zoo now knew what her son's middle name was and I felt the same about John-Heath. If we called his name once we called it 500 times. Usually, because he wanted to dart ahead of us - caused by, you know, a limited ability to focus for more than 10 seconds on any one thing.
9:00 a.m. Monkeys! Cool! What's next? Oh, yay. Meerkats. Look! A plane! Hey, birds! What's this, daddy? A sewer grate? What's a sewer grate? Hey! You got two pennies so me and Kolby can buy something to drink? There's a boat over there. I'm hungry. Yeah. I see the Zebras. 9:03 a.m. ...
Well, he may have one of the shortest attention spans known to the scientific community but he is still good with directions. He asked John at one point while we were still in the park if we had seen all those trains and train tracks on the way to the zoo (he had ridden the bus and we followed behind). John told him that we hadn't. He was unsure of what John-Heath was talking about at first and then he remembered that we had passed by Radnor Yard, an area where many train tracks meet. John-Heath rode home with us and about a mile before we got to this area he spoke up and said, "Daddy, up here's where we need to turn to see the trains." Sure enough, he was right. This was his first trip ever to this area of Nashville. We were impressed.
All in all, a pretty fun day followed by milkshakes from Shake n Steak.

Serving Up Some High Quality H2O

Photograph by Touchstone Pictures

I found myself in a somewhat unusual place this afternoon around 5:30ish. I was parked in a car outside the football practice field waiting for practice to end so that I could pick up my DAUGHTER. Yep, Ren had football practice today.

Yesterday, she and a friend were approached by the school's head coach during lunch and asked if they would be interested in being the team's water girls. Apparently a couple friends on the team had recommended them. Of course, they would be interested!!!

She was soooo excited when I picked her up from school. What ensued was a game of "Guess What". You know how that one is played...


"Mom, Guess what?"

"What?"

"Guess!"

"I don't know. So and So asked you out?"

"No. Keep guessin." (we in the south tend to drop our g's quite frequently in conversation)

"So and So #2 asked you out?"

"I wish, but no. Come on. Guess!"

"You're doing better in Spanish?"

"Well, yeah, a little. But that's not it. Come on! Guess! Guess! Guess!"

"Ren, I Don't Know. What is it?"



And that's how I was informed.


We had a long talk about it at home last night weighing the issues. Conflicts with volleyball. Less time for school work. The heat. Day after day of practice. The heat. Does one really want to wait on a bunch of hot, sweaty, dirty guys hand and foot and get hot, sweaty and dirty yourself in the process? The hot, sweaty, dirty guys part was one of the pros for Ren. Oh, and throw in shirtless. The heat. We kept trying to point out that it will be a lot of work and require a lot of time. And, the heat. Tennessee summer heat. Hot, humid, hair-kinking, muggy heat.


Anyway, we've still not decided whether or not we'll let her do it. There are still some questions that need to be answered. But, in the meantime, we've agreed to let her help them out until we find out some more details and are able to make a final decision.


I have to say that, during the time I was able to watch she was doing a really good job. I know it's just filling squirt bottles, but that little bit of non-mom-choreographed -responsibility might just be good for her.


When I asked her how she liked it she said she loved it, but that she heard sounds she really doesn't want to hear again. I'd say that will be the least of it. I'm sure there are many sights, sounds, and smells that she'll be able to add to her base of knowledge should she stay long enough.

Things That Irk Me

Found this picture on the internet. It speaketh the truth.

My sweet husband needs a break. Yeah, I agree. He's not that sweet. But he still needs a break. A break from what? A break from my incessant complaining about public education and where it seems to be headed.

Now, before someone, a public school teacher or teacher's relative perhaps, begins to feel a little on the defensive before I even get started let me share with you that I, too, am an educator in a public school, as is my husband. And, as such, I have a license to speak on such an issue.

Seeing as how there's just more and more about public education that leaves a bad taste in my mouth, like a cheap off-brand diet soda, I'll have to break it down into periodic gripe sessions.

For my inaugural issue on school matters that rile...

Yearly Achievement Testing Given Before the End of the Year, Waayy Before.


It has always been somewhat perplexing to me that teachers are given a yearly curriculum and ten months in which students are under their tutelage and said curriculum can be covered and yet the achievement test - covering a year's worth of learning - is given in March or Early April. Originally, the powers that be stated that the tests must be given this early to ensure (or is it insure? I always get mixed up on that)they are scored and returned to the schools and students by the end of the school year. This apparently isn't an issue anymore as we NEVER get the tests back until well into the summer. So what's the rush?

Early in my career it wasn't such a problem. I taught third grade. If I was unable to get to, let's say, long division by March it wasn't a big deal! I would keep right on teaching and before the end of the year we would cover long division. And, you know what? My students actually learned more than they do today.

How is this possible you may ask. It was made possible by being given time. Time. To. Teach. You taught something, practiced it, reviewed it, tested over it, and retaught when needed. And that practicing part could last a few days. The important thing then was making sure that most of your students became proficient in the skills. By the end of the year my students had a solid foundation on which they could continue building in the years to come.

But, Tyla. Aren't grade school students being introduced to things that you or I didn't learn until high school or college? Why, with all these changes, students today should be much smarter than their parents. So, what gives? I'll tell you what gives - High stakes testing.

Now, with all this testing nonsense the government is insistent on shoving down everyone's throat teachers can't take the time to truly teach and children are not allowed the time to learn. New skills are thrown up on the board, practiced, reviewed and tested within 2 school days. It's become a "teach to the best and drag the rest" world. And despite the hope that no children get left behind they still do.

The group getting left behind is a very large one, too. We call them our "average students". You see, your high achieving students typically have an easier time learning new information so it doesn't necessarily hurt them when a new skill is taught and quickly left. And, of course, special education students have always had ooodles of help - from tutoring, special classes, and individualized education programs (we call them IEPs), which allow them to do less work, have more time to do less work, and make failing almost impossible. It's the average students - who can and will master the material when given the time to thoroughly practice it - that are getting left behind.

Of course, the powers that be tell us that if we throw everything at them early on and keep doing this year after year they will eventually master it. They dream. You cannot divide unless you know how to multiply. And if students aren't afforded the time to master this skill they're, pardon my language, screwed when it comes to most every math skill thereafter.

Again, in today's test-obsessed society there is no time for teachers to teach at the pace most of the students sitting in their classroom require. All material must be covered by March. Still haven't figured out what think April and May are there for.

I should have known we were headed in this direction when I heard the following comments come out of the mouth of a central office supervisor years ago...

1.) "Make sure all new learning is done by January so that you can start reviewing for the test." Yes, THE test.

AND

2.) This little conversation that took place when a supervisor overheard a group of third grade teachers discussing the skill of telling time.

Supervisor: "Telling time? Why are you teaching that?"

Teachers: "Because it's in the math book and it's something they need to be able to do."

Supervisor: "Nope. Skip it. It's not on the test. Don't waste the time."


Well, they may not know how to read a non-digital clock but, BY GEORGE, they'll know how to take a test.

100 Facts About Me - Volume deuce

21. I am habitually late for everything-have been since high school.

22. My first car, besides the green bomb and it doesn't count because it was my parent's, was a Mercury Topaz.

23. I was in the band - percussion section. Bass drum, bells, and xylophone. Ohhh how I longed to play the snare drum. Darn those double-stroke drum rolls - never could get the hang of them!

24. On one of the first nights after returning from our honeymoon John and I stayed at my sister's house. We slept in my nephew's room on his water bed. During the night I had a snake dream and jumped up yelling, "Snakes!!!Snakes in the bed!!!" - at which point I tried to jump out of the bed, caught my foot in the sheets, and landed face first on the floor in .04 of a second. I was always sooo graceful.

25. I once received Soft Soap as a Christmas gift from an in-law who shall remain nameless. This was my only gift from this person that year. Yes, soap. For Christmas. And it wasn't even one of those resplendent soap-on-a-ropes. It was SOFT SOAP in a pump bottle!!!

26. Two of my favorite movies are Gone With the Wind and To Kill a Mockingbird. Duh, born and bred southerner here.

27. Passed on the chance to stay with a relative in NYC for a week in 1985 because Power Station (and without Robert Palmer) was coming to the Municipal Auditorium. Words like idiot, nimrod, blockhead, ignoramus, dumbbell, nitwit, and nincompoop come to mind now.

28. I was the 2nd Runner-Up Miss Southern Belle in 1986, as part of a celebration in my hometown to honor Tennessee's Bicentennial.

29. My husband was sort of the assistant director for my band when I was in high school. This is where we met. We began dating during my senior year. I guess this kind of thing might be frowned upon now.

30. If you are easily sickened don't read this one....In getting to know John over the years in school I found he detested to be around sick people, a real germaphobe, so as a joke on the band bus during my junior year I chewed up a bunch of french fries from a recent stop at McDonald's, feigned feeling sick, and spit up the entire contents of my mouth in John's direction (into a bunch of paper towels I just happened to have in my hands).

31. He still asked me out.

32. But it took a year.

33. I was a "grave/ghost hopper" in my youth, which is to say I enjoyed going to thought-to-be haunted places.

34. I'm one of the one-in-three Americans who believe in ghosts.

35. Despite that, socially and politically I tend to be more conservative.

36. I have attended one Presidential Inaugural Ball - Clinton's. Okay, so maybe I'm not that conservative.

37. Sadly, I have never been off the continent of North America.

38. I lllove turnip greens. Yummm, Yummm.

39. The first car I ever bought myself was a new, red Mustang - got a great deal on it.

40. Two weeks later found out Ford was changing the body style of the Mustangs. My new car was already a has been.

Little Miracles Abound

A house at the end of Pleasant Grove Rd. A photograph by Chena Garrison Spears. Reprinted with permission.

This weekend will go down as one most Middle Tennesseans will remember for a very long time. Early Saturday morning the rain began to fall and it didn't stop falling until Sunday evening. The experts are still collecting the data but by all appearances this rainfall was a record-breaker. Someone from the Army Corps of Engineers said this was a "once in a 1,000 years flood."

Garrett's Creek Church. A photograph by Chena Garrison Spears. Reprinted with permission.

Thankfully, our family and close friends are all okay. No one was hurt and very minimal property damage has been reported - a little gravel washed away, a tree or two down. Others were not so lucky. Several people in the mid-state have died and hundreds, if not thousands, are sleeping in shelters tonight because their homes are more than a little wet.

Dutch Creek spills out of its banks in front of the house where my husband grew up.

Many were stranded for hours on flooded interstates (would you have ever thought that the interstates would flood?) and in the upper rooms of their houses just waiting for the waters to recede or help to come.

Thinking of all the rescues and rescuers on Sunday evening caused me to recall an old joke - bear with me a moment. When you are raised the daughter of a preacher you hear all the latest church/religious jokes. I promise I am not making light of this terrible situation. I will have a point.

A man is standing on his front porch when some neighbors in a car drive up and warn of possible flooding and offer him a ride. He says that he will just stay put. God will protect and save him. An hour later the water is flowing throughout the first floor of his home and he is looking out an upstairs window. A boat approaches the house and two rescuers offer to take the man to safety. Still the man refuses stating that God will protect and save. An hour later the man has crawled upon his roof as his house in now nearly completely submerged. An emergency helicopter hovers overhead and pleads with the man to climb aboard. Again, he refuses. God will save and protect. An hour later the man dies and goes to heaven where he asks St. Peter why God had failed him. St. Peter replied that God had not failed to protect him. He had provided three different means of rescue for the man. Why had the man not taken advantage of these?

Dutch Creek - the house to the right (behind the tree branches) is the Old House, where John and I lived for the first ten years we were married.

Sometimes we want to think of God's miracles only in terms of grand events, when we should remember that His hand can just as easily be felt in the small gifts - the volunteer rescue workers who tend to the needs of their neighbors for hours upon hours before even checking on their own homes, the churches that open their doors to shelter and feed those in need and the church members who make this possible, the one who loans a wetvac to his neighbor and then stays to help clean up a flooded basement, and those who would risk their own life to save a stranger.

A small stream that runs through a ditch spills out into the road - oh so minor flooding compared to places further south like Nashville.

He is within us and leads us to do good, to help our neighbors. Can you even imagine a world where His spirit doesn't exist? To me, this would be the greatest disaster.

Oh How I Love May!

And the countdown to the end of this school year begins. Time to start filling in the calendar with all those end-of-year activities.