It's just shy of a dozen years that I've spent with the Asst. Zookeeper. Next month, it will be a full dozen - unbelievable.
We're both still living and still love to spend time together. Neither of us have any scars. Which, at times, is truly amazing.
He's still the same guy that took me out that first time. He's still laid back and easy going. He still loves to have a good time. And he's still sweet.
Several weeks ago, I commented on a Sunday afternoon that the van was in need of having its brakes changed. It was around 4 pm. He leaves for work at 6pm on Sundays. He spent most of his last two hours before work changing the brakes on my car. I remember thinking he was crazy. It didn't need done that day. And that wasn't what I intended when I made the comment. But I was strangely touched by his willingness to do that for me. I think that's proof that I'm married. :)
Today, he has the night off. It's his week to only work 5 nights instead of 6. He picked me up at work and took me to the bulk mail drop off and then we went and had lunch. Just us.
He picked me up in the Fiat - that I named Charlotte as soon as we bought her. I let him drive. I know he would have let me if I wanted too, but I enjoyed watching him drive. He loves that car as much as I do, possibly more. But he bought her for me in October so that I would have a toy.
How many guys are worried about their wives having fun? He said that he had his motorcycle and that he knew I wouldn't be able to have one for several years yet - at least until Heathen #3 was a few years older. And he wanted me to have a toy of my own. And he bought Charlotte for me. I remember being surprised that he was so worried about me having a toy of my own.
Here's to the Asst. Zookeeper - I'm a lucky gal.
Friday, April 18, 2008
Missing the Past
Today, just before lunch, I had a field trip of second and third graders here at the Heritage Discovery Center. And I really enjoyed talking with them about immigration before they took their tour of our exhibit America: Through Immigrant Eyes.
I work with student groups on a very random schedule. Sometimes I'll have a few in one week. Other times, I go months without seeing any. It depends on what our tour schedule looks like.
Right now, if someone offered me a third grade classroom, I would go back to teaching in a heartbeat. The kids today were bright, they were engaged, and they were eager to learn. Everything that I loved about teaching. And I loved seeing the look of pride on one of their faces when they answered a question correctly and were praised for it.
Some days, I don't know that I made the right choice in leaving my classroom. There are days when I think that dealing with kids is so much easier than dealing with adults. Even dealing with teenagers in high school was fun. I always knew what was walking through my door in the mornings.
I miss building a relationship over the course of a year or over several years. I miss knowing their stories and seeing them change and grow. When I was teaching, I had so many "kids" that I considered my own. I loved seeing them out and about in the town. Some days, this office is smothering and isolating. Even a bad day in a classroom is still an experience.
I was loured away by the promise of opening a children's museum. And I do love my job here. I love the fact that I'm more connected to the community. I know what is happening about the town. I've met some wonderful (and some not-so-wonderful) people. I've made some fantastic friends that I never would have made otherwise. I've done things that I never could have accomplished in a classroom.
Some days, I think I'll never return to a classroom. Other days, I wish I had never left. Most days, I don't know what the future holds for me. All I know is that today, I miss my classroom.
I work with student groups on a very random schedule. Sometimes I'll have a few in one week. Other times, I go months without seeing any. It depends on what our tour schedule looks like.
Right now, if someone offered me a third grade classroom, I would go back to teaching in a heartbeat. The kids today were bright, they were engaged, and they were eager to learn. Everything that I loved about teaching. And I loved seeing the look of pride on one of their faces when they answered a question correctly and were praised for it.
Some days, I don't know that I made the right choice in leaving my classroom. There are days when I think that dealing with kids is so much easier than dealing with adults. Even dealing with teenagers in high school was fun. I always knew what was walking through my door in the mornings.
I miss building a relationship over the course of a year or over several years. I miss knowing their stories and seeing them change and grow. When I was teaching, I had so many "kids" that I considered my own. I loved seeing them out and about in the town. Some days, this office is smothering and isolating. Even a bad day in a classroom is still an experience.
I was loured away by the promise of opening a children's museum. And I do love my job here. I love the fact that I'm more connected to the community. I know what is happening about the town. I've met some wonderful (and some not-so-wonderful) people. I've made some fantastic friends that I never would have made otherwise. I've done things that I never could have accomplished in a classroom.
Some days, I think I'll never return to a classroom. Other days, I wish I had never left. Most days, I don't know what the future holds for me. All I know is that today, I miss my classroom.
Thursday, April 17, 2008
Keeper of Words
If you look around my office, there are words everywhere. I have them all over everything. Sometimes they are "professional" words that are cut out of a magazine and laminated. Others are "everyday" words that are scrawled on a sticky note and slapped up somewhere within site.
I have a box at home in the basement where I keep words that I've cut out of magazines and from posters. They are words that make me think and I've kept them for years. Occasionally, I root through the box and reconsider things I've saved and why I thought it was important or profound in some way.
I've always been a sucker for the "quote of the day." I had teachers in school who gave us a new quote everyday and I always religiously wrote them down and saved them. I still have those notebooks - some of them from middle school.
Gmail puts new quotes onto the screen every time you complete a task or action, and I find myself hitting the refresh button just to see what the new quote is. The one that just showed up is by Franklin D. Roosevelt. "Men are not prisoners of fate, but only prisoners of their own minds."
Sounds like an elaborate was of saying "mind over matter" to me. But it still makes me think of life in a new way. I guess that's what makes me keep all of the words that I find. I buy books of quotes. I copy things down onto napkins. Someday, my children will be cleaning out my house after I'm gone and I'm sure they will think I was crazy, saving boxes of nothing but words.
I have a box at home in the basement where I keep words that I've cut out of magazines and from posters. They are words that make me think and I've kept them for years. Occasionally, I root through the box and reconsider things I've saved and why I thought it was important or profound in some way.
I've always been a sucker for the "quote of the day." I had teachers in school who gave us a new quote everyday and I always religiously wrote them down and saved them. I still have those notebooks - some of them from middle school.
Gmail puts new quotes onto the screen every time you complete a task or action, and I find myself hitting the refresh button just to see what the new quote is. The one that just showed up is by Franklin D. Roosevelt. "Men are not prisoners of fate, but only prisoners of their own minds."
Sounds like an elaborate was of saying "mind over matter" to me. But it still makes me think of life in a new way. I guess that's what makes me keep all of the words that I find. I buy books of quotes. I copy things down onto napkins. Someday, my children will be cleaning out my house after I'm gone and I'm sure they will think I was crazy, saving boxes of nothing but words.
Antics of the Oldest
It has been a long month for Heathen #1. Not only did he spend much of it walled up in the house due to the weather, but he's managed to cause one issue after another. Here's the timeline.
Beginning of March:
I get an email from one of the teachers at the elementary school. Heathen #1 was involved in a cafeteria fight. The extent of the damage was a bruise one of the boys received. Result: looses the privilege of going on the first spring field trip. This has been completely ineffective - it is now mid-April, and there has not even been a field trip announced, much less taken. At home, his television was removed from his bedroom, among other things.
Beginning of April:
I get an email from one of the teachers at the elementary school. Heathen #1 was sent to the Principal's office for making comments about one of the lunch aides. It turns out that she wouldn't let him sit by one of his friends and sent him to another table. At the new table, he sat and muttered about the aide. One of the little girls at the table turned him in and he ended up with a half day of in-school suspension. What child that age doesn't mutter when they lose an argument with an adult? At home, he was forbidden television or Wii until further notice.
Friday, April 11:
Heathen #1 calls me at work. He managed to burn his arm and his stomach and he was in tears because it hurt. I told him to strip and get in the tub with cold water and I headed straight home. I found him shivering in the tub ten minutes later with a second-degree burn on his forearm. Needless to say, we made an immediate trip to the ER. He knew he wasn't supposed to watch television, so instead he broke a different rule and used the stove to boil water in my teakettle. I still don't understand what he was going to do with the water. But he spilled it when the plastic cup he was pouring it into got hot and he dropped it. He's got a burn on his forearm that is as big as my palm, and another that is three inches long and about an inch wide on his stomach where the water splashed him. I can now say that I know burn care.
Wednesday, April 16:
I got another email from the teacher at the elementary school. Tristan got into another fight. This time with his best friend. David cut in front of him in line, so Tristan kicked him. David retaliated by calling him a "bitch." They lost two recesses each. At this point, I had to restrain myself from wanting to choke him. At home, he lost the weekend motorcycle ride the Asst. Zookeeper was planning with friends.
I'm to the point where I just can't wait for the school year to end. I'm sure the kids feel the same. I'm burned out with the morning routine and the rushing to get on the bus. I'm tired of making sure people have homework done, and I don't ever want to look for another backpack. I'm so ready for the summer routine of just getting myself ready and not worrying if the kids are late getting to bed.
Pray for sunshine this afternoon and evening - I need to be out of the house. And so do the Heathens.
Beginning of March:
I get an email from one of the teachers at the elementary school. Heathen #1 was involved in a cafeteria fight. The extent of the damage was a bruise one of the boys received. Result: looses the privilege of going on the first spring field trip. This has been completely ineffective - it is now mid-April, and there has not even been a field trip announced, much less taken. At home, his television was removed from his bedroom, among other things.
Beginning of April:
I get an email from one of the teachers at the elementary school. Heathen #1 was sent to the Principal's office for making comments about one of the lunch aides. It turns out that she wouldn't let him sit by one of his friends and sent him to another table. At the new table, he sat and muttered about the aide. One of the little girls at the table turned him in and he ended up with a half day of in-school suspension. What child that age doesn't mutter when they lose an argument with an adult? At home, he was forbidden television or Wii until further notice.
Friday, April 11:
Heathen #1 calls me at work. He managed to burn his arm and his stomach and he was in tears because it hurt. I told him to strip and get in the tub with cold water and I headed straight home. I found him shivering in the tub ten minutes later with a second-degree burn on his forearm. Needless to say, we made an immediate trip to the ER. He knew he wasn't supposed to watch television, so instead he broke a different rule and used the stove to boil water in my teakettle. I still don't understand what he was going to do with the water. But he spilled it when the plastic cup he was pouring it into got hot and he dropped it. He's got a burn on his forearm that is as big as my palm, and another that is three inches long and about an inch wide on his stomach where the water splashed him. I can now say that I know burn care.
Wednesday, April 16:
I got another email from the teacher at the elementary school. Tristan got into another fight. This time with his best friend. David cut in front of him in line, so Tristan kicked him. David retaliated by calling him a "bitch." They lost two recesses each. At this point, I had to restrain myself from wanting to choke him. At home, he lost the weekend motorcycle ride the Asst. Zookeeper was planning with friends.
I'm to the point where I just can't wait for the school year to end. I'm sure the kids feel the same. I'm burned out with the morning routine and the rushing to get on the bus. I'm tired of making sure people have homework done, and I don't ever want to look for another backpack. I'm so ready for the summer routine of just getting myself ready and not worrying if the kids are late getting to bed.
Pray for sunshine this afternoon and evening - I need to be out of the house. And so do the Heathens.
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