When It Was Ricks College

I attended Ricks College for one year.  Rexburg was over 200 miles away from my home and so I lived in the dorms near the campus. Believe it or not, I really did have three roommates with the same or similar names – though each spelled differently.  Christy Ann Howardson, Christie Lee Hill and Kristaleigh Phelps.  The girls who lived in the same dorm as we did would see me coming and would say, “Hi Christi-“ in which I would respond, “No, I’m the other one” thus earning my new nickname, “the other one”

We couldn’t refer to the Christie(y)s with just the last initial because they both started with the same letter.  And although Christie was willing to go by Christie Lee it was just too confusing for Kristaleigh.  And Christy refused to go by Christy Ann.  So sometimes I called her Howard – or Howardine – just to get a rile out of her. It was actually kind of fun.

As roommates go, we all had our peculiarities, our strengths and our weaknesses, etc.  Christie was a take charge kind of gal.  We called her mom.  She liked to bake.  And she baked well.  She once made an oatmeal cake in two round pans.  Never had an opportunity to put it together and frost it as one.  Christy ate one pan and I ate the other.  And I think Christie was okay with it. She loved to cook and bake but didn’t necessarily want to eat everything she made.

Most of the dishes in the kitchen were hers.  She had brought along these puny juice glasses which I always referred to as “Barbie doll” glasses.  I had asked her why she had brought so many “Barbie doll” glasses instead of something large enough to actually quench one’s thirst.  She said matter-of-factly, “Because I was hoping that I would get a roommate who would give them a nickname.”

Christy, who was one of the most gullible people on this planet, believed her.

Christy was a farm girl from a city in Idaho that nobody had ever even heard of.  She always had to explain that it was near Blackfoot – which more than half of the college attenders had never heard of either.  She was the role model of all blonde jokes.  Sometimes I felt like I was talking to someone from a foreign planet who had obviously never experienced earth life before.

Boys seemed magnetized to Christy.  Can’t say that I would have been interested in any of them.  Not that they’d ever give me a second look. Seriously.  They all needed ego boosters. And not all of them had good intentions.  And Christy was quite naïve.

Kristaleigh and I were the theatrical pair.  She actually majored in theatre – whereas I was just a ham.  I once practiced lines with her as she had an audition coming up.  She asked me to pair up with her for her audition.  She picked out my clothes so that I would look the part.  I told the instructor that I was not trying out for the part but had come to assist.  I wasn’t interested in the play itself nor was I interested in devoting my free time with practice.

After we had auditioned, he looked at me and said I could still be considered.  I told him no, thank you.  I’m so glad that I did.  For, according to Kristaleigh, everyone who had auditioned had been given a part – except for her.  I think she tried too hard and her acting was just that.  It never looked natural. I would have felt awful going to auditions that she wasn’t directly a part of. She worked it out so that she could be prop manager.

The dorm put out a newsletter once a month (I’m guessing) and Christie was one of the editors and had asked Christy and I to write pieces on occasion.  I actually didn’t remember having that newsfeed but had come across it when weeding through the scrapbooks that I could no longer save (see this post)

I had scanned the following:

Actually, Location Does Matter – but not Always an Option

I went out to see my mom at the assisted living yesterday.  The last two times I have gone, I’ve taken her out to see Aunt Trudy – who is currently in rehab and in a facility with a name similar to the place where mom is staying, but such radical difference in the two places.

Granted, the facility my aunt is in is not the last place that she will ever call home. It is a rehab center.  But it reminds me of some of the assisted living facilities that Corey and I had looked into but could not afford. I don't know how this rehab bill is going to affect Aunt Trudy – for I know that it will be more pricy than the bills Corey gets for mom.

The center where mom is currently seems understaffed.  And each of the staff members assists with the seating and the feeding and the meds and forms of entertainment.  They start setting up and bringing residents to the table starting at 11:00.  They don’t eat until 12:00.  There is one cook.

At the center where my aunt is (or even Sunrise – the place we would have put mom if money was no option) has staff teams.  I don’t know how many people were in the kitchen.  But there were three people at the table where my aunt had been seated (really fine dining atmosphere by the way – like some posh club or something) and there were three people that served them.  So each resident gets his/her own waiter?

I was asked if I wanted soup.  I was hungry but had brought my own lunch so as not to saddle my aunt’s bill with an extra expense.  I was told there was no charge for the soup.  It was really good soup!  I think they could have charged $5.00 a bowl, it was that delicious.

The residents (temp residents or patients, clients?  What would you call them) have a choice of menu items.  I don’t know how many people are in the kitchen.  I imagine the kitchen is bigger than the entire house where I currently reside (and that is NOT an exaggeration)

The food at mom’s facility? It is okay. Not that I’ve had a lot of it.  Usually there is no place to sit.  They don’t get to choose from menu items.  Eat what is served to them or don’t eat at all.

Aunt Trudy’s bed looks like it is just a single – but her room is huge!  Her bathroom is huge (but it has to facilitate a wheelchair and at least one nurse) I don’t know how often each staff member stops by.  But it’s routine clock work – I don’t guess there’s a single hour when somebody isn’t looking in on her.

Mom’s place – well . . . they have a schedule.  It gets altered a lot.  Things don’t always happen on time.  Sometimes personal items get misplaced (bras in the laundry – all with worn out tags) and sometimes overlooked.

I’m not blaming anyone.  You get what you pay for.  But there’s a lot of love and concern that goes into my mom’s place because they’re so small.  They know not just their residence, but all the family members who come to visit.  I see some smiles and genuine positive emotion with some of those who have worked with my aunt (or at least there in the facility) but I have seen just as many who are “just doing their job” who are there to get a paycheck and be polite – but their priorities don’t always seem to be set on those they serve. 

I could be wrong.  I’ve only been there twice.  Each time I’ve been overwhelmed by the “luxury”.  At mom’s I am underwhelmed for the most part.  Though I do appreciate the devotion of the staff.

  

I had a friend who had done rehab in an assisted living facility or nursing home, rather.  It seemed overcrowded and understaffed and reminded me of a veteran’s ward, actually. I knew of two real people that had been sent there to live for the remainder of their lives – one of whom is younger than I.  She had Huntington’s disease.  And her mom was not in a position to take care of her full time.  Same facility.

But my friend was in good spirits.  It’s certainly not the place she would have chosen for herself, but it was an option through the insurance company – and unlike many that were there, she would be returning to live with her family and would not be there until she died.

Sometimes we find that we just have to settle due to our own lack of control. Because we haven’t been blessed with financial wealth.  Because the economy robbed us of our house and were forced to move to a less expensive area.  Because the government is dipping into your paycheck because they say you owe money even though you were on welfare the last two and a half years.  Because the income you depend on has the name of your deceased spouse on it, it is automatically given to medical and you have no say in it whatsoever.

I love the school Jenna goes to currently.  I have to drive her two miles south each morning and then drive back to pick her up.  She rode the bus in her last four months of kindergarten.  We had moved to a different school boundary – one that caters to those who come from homes with a language barrier or those that are learning challenged or slow.  Jenna wasn’t happy there.  Neither one of us were.

It is such a different situation – entirely – when comparing the two schools.  Teachers at the former school kept everything under lock and key – even while in the classroom.  At her current school, teachers seem to trust students.  They close the doors and turn off the lights and that’s usually good enough for a student not to go in – or if he does, it’s to go through his own desk – never the teachers.

Jenna’s in a portable classroom this year.  I have had to use a pass to return to the main building.  The students at her current school are so polite.  They open doors for adults and stand there until the adult has passed through.  I don’t think that would even cross the minds of those in the other school that she went to.

At the former school, instruction seminars were held for the parents once a month – they would have the opportunity for learning proper hygiene, basic nutrition, things I had learned in junior high.  All of the seminars were done in Spanish and the school would supply English translators for those of us who didn’t speak Spanish (I’d gone to a seminar to meet other parents; I felt like a fish out of water) but the opportunity to mingle felt so limited.  I only went to twice.

At Jenna’s current school, there are very few that don’t speak English.  And there are several bilingual parents, teachers and students that no one should feel out of place.  There probably are a few parents who could use the basics, but no seminars are offered or morning mingles (which I learned was just a name – I did try to associate – but it just didn’t take.  But it helped me understand why Jenna was having such a hard time as she couldn’t seem to communicate either)

I loved the friendly faculty of the former school and didn’t feel threatened by anybody – but there was definitely a different atmosphere from the school Jenna attends today. 

Location.  The former is a boundary thing.  The one today.  Ironically she’s learning Spanish in the dual immersion.  But she has friends there.  She tried but made only one friend at the former – and then that friend moved.

It seems like I heard these words in Sunday morning’s session of conference: “It doesn’t matter where you live; whether it’s a nice neighborhood . . ." somehow I let those words set off my emotions.  There was a fuel burning inside of me that made me explode.  We didn’t choose our neighborhood.  We’re here because we had to settle. But perhaps I took the message out of context.  Perhaps it was my own interpretation made set me off.

 We are still struggling just to make ends meet.  The house across the street must be a section 8 and someone else is helping to fill out the required paperwork in order to get state support (I know they have to have assistance – the woman who resides there isn’t smart enough to do it herself) The police have been called I don’t know how many times because of her undisciplined children.  We certainly had absolutely no say as to whether we wanted them for neighbors or not.

Currently the police department in West Valley is being investigated by the FBI.  Should I be concerned?  I know that values start in the home – I know we can help instill learning in Jenna.  She is happy with her family.  But she shouldn’t be afraid to leave the house because of the idiots across the street.  Location does make a difference.  Sure, attitude does also.  But it’s hard having to be the strong one all the time.  It’s hard being one of 25 who volunteer and show up to see the same ones doing it again and again.  I’m worn out. 

I don’t want to have to settle because my husband’s ex wife is a habitual liar and the government won’t cut us a break.  I’m tired of living from paycheck to paycheck.  I’m tired of having needs that aren’t being fulfilled – forget about the desires.

The facility where mom lives seems to struggle just as my family does.  But they are family.  They are bound.  The facility where Aunt Trudy currently resides may have some caring family members – but I think the closeness that brings people together is lost somehow.  Who really has the greener grass?

We have been blessed with transportation.  And yes, we do have shelter for the time being.  Jenna and I have both been blessed with her current education.  And we’ve been so blessed by Church welfare and friends and family.  I guess there are pros and cons to every situation.

Bah, Humbug, Mother Nature

          The air has been of poor quality – particularly for those who have to live with asthma and other breathing challenges so I suppose the snow is a blessing – in more ways than one I suppose.  But three months worth of snow at once? 

          It started snowing just before 3:00 p.m. yesterday.  It paused perhaps at 9:00 or 10:00.  In some parts it never stopped snowing.  I can’t even imagine how deep the snow is in some parts right now – or how much damage it is causing so many right now. 

         

          The libraries closed at three and all workers were sent home.  Roland didn’t get home until almost 6:00.  He gets off at 4:00.  In decent weather his work is less than 20 minutes away.  Usually he is critical about Utah drivers and the snow.  All he said was, “It’s really bad out there.”

          In a way, I was hoping that school would be cancelled this morning – which I’m certain that it was in some parts.  Not our district.  It was said (for those driving) to take our time that they’d accept tardies and absences.  I wonder if that applies to teachers as well.

          Jenna’s first kindergarten teacher has to drive over three hours in this kind of weather – provided she’s able to get out of her snowed in community.  I admire her for being so diligent as she lives so far away.  I bet she drives through at least three other districts before getting to the one I’m in – though the school where she teaches is also twenty minutes from where I live.

          I’m happy with Jenna’s current school.  I normally drop off behind the school – but I knew the lot would be slick – there were still icy patches from the last snow.  I’m sure this morning had to have been worse.

          I didn’t go through the neighborhood to get to the back lot however.  Jenna announced that they could be dropped off in front.  At least it was clear.  And so was the road I had driven on.  But I knew I couldn’t go back that way.  A bus had been hit at the corner. 

I’m thinking maybe the police car had been hit also.  Hard to tell – but there was a car behind the police car – and one plowed into the bus.  Traffic was being derailed through a neighborhood street.  I’d think it very odd if I was to look out my window and see a public bus driving up my street . . . 

It took me longer to return home than it took going to the school.  Traffic for the most part was 10 mph or less – which is fine.  I’d rather have a bunch of overly cautious drivers on the road than just one speeder who ruins the commute with hurriedness.

Jenna, for one, is very excited about the snow.  In her mind, “It’s about time!” for she has missed it terribly. 

She loves to make snow angels and snowballs and build snowman and forts.  She likes to slip and slide and catch snowflakes on her tongue. I’m glad she has that attitude.  I’m glad she likes the snow.

I liked snow when I was much younger.  I still like it on trees, in the mountains, even in the yard.  Just not on my road or sidewalks.  No slush, no ice.  I want perfect driving conditions.  Actually, I wouldn’t mind giving up driving totally.  But I have to commute some way.  Public transportation is not always reliable.  Nor does it always take me exactly where I want to go.

Jenna will be having a hot chocolate party later on today – or perhaps she is having it now.  It’s snowing now and perhaps she got some snow-playing in before the party started (or will start) and for her, that will be a great kick off for a glorious hot cocoa celebration!

I included some photos of my boys in the snow in this post.  Now let me share some of Jenna growing up in the snow.

Online Schooling is Definitely NOT for me

          I have a friend whose husband is a recruiting officer for one of those online schools. He sits at a desk while the automatic dialer spins out call after call of potential students.  If/When one picks up, he introduces himself and states the purpose of his call. 

          I am certain that over 50% of their “potential students” are not potential at all.  They were victims of online job hunting believing that they were filling out an application for the a job that would hopefully tie them over and entered info on those pop-ups designed to retrieve information to so sucker you into going to their schools.

          I know as I have been a victim of this “potential” marketing myself.  I am livid at the method of “solicitation” – if I wanted to go to school, I would search out for the school – I don’t need someone contacting me to try to “sell” me a product that is going to put me further in debt than I already am. Thank you very much!

          Their biggest selling point (that I see) is that it works to the students convenience because he or she can choose his/her own hours and doesn’t have to be on a set schedule as with the campus schools.  They don’t clue you in as how the hours can literally swallow so much of your time.  But perhaps many really don’t know how time consuming it is. 

The recruiters are expected to have so many starts in any given month.  If they don’t make the quota, they are invited to leave.  That’s not really fair – given the circumstances that most of the “students” who are contacted are not interested in being called let alone making a commitment – which a large percentage don’t.

          The online schools don’t have near as much to offer in career choices as campus schools.  There haven’t been any that have appealed to me personally.  I prefer a hands-on – one on one if possible.  I like having a live instructor that can communicate to me without the benefit of a computer. Oh, don’t get me wrong – I value my computer – but not to the point of replacing an education the “old fashion” way.

          After a year or so with the company (I don’t actually know how long) my friend’s husband was entitled to take the online courses for free (provided he work with the online school for the next three years or come up with the finances on his own) for either himself or a family member.

          As he currently has only one child who would qualify – and that child wants to go into medicine (which is not an online program) and my friend isn’t all that thrilled about the programs offered either, her husband has decided to further educate himself – which is all well and good – but it is sooo time consuming.  His greatest sacrifice (in my opinion) has been giving up several hours of sleep.

          I’ve been to her house a few times when her husband has been trying to fulfill assignments.  It appears to be so frustrating. My friend has had to physically remove her children from the environment so that he is able to stay more focused.  But she is never gone long enough.  What is suppose to be “two hours any given four days in the week” turns into eight. 

She says that often he doesn’t get to bed until after 2:00 and then he needs to be up by 6:00.  Perhaps his body has adjusted to needing only four hours per night (uh, morning) but my friend says that he comes home physically and mentally exhausted.  And she is worried about him.

Right now he is an A student. It will be another three years before he “graduates” – and then what?  Will having his degree or certificate or whatever it is help him to land a better job?  Will all those hours he spent at the computer, giving up sleep (not to mention a few family moments) be worth it?

I can receive an education online without getting credit for it.  There is tons of information to learn and so much right at our fingertips (literally) but I have to go at my own pace – which is not a part of the schooling education

For some people, online schooling really is an ideal thing – particularly if they are only working part time and have inherited a good chunk of money – and single – without children – without interruptions . . . perhaps it for some it has its perks.  But it’s not for me personally.  I can actually understand why the drop-out ratio is so high.

I don’t think Jenna would survive Charter School

I had looked into a Charter school while Jenna was still in kindergarten (which I referred to in this post)   She needed to be challenged, and just wasn’t getting that in our assigned public school.  I am still on the waiting list.

          If she had started APA  in the first grade, I don’t think she would have ever questioned it.  She would have loved it in all the ways that I would have not, had it been available to me when I was a youth.  But after two more years of public school?  I think she would totally freak out and hate it even more than the school I was trying to get her away from.

          Jenna is very smart academically.  But organizational skills and prioritizing is not in her nature at this time (something that we will be working on this summer) and I don’t think she will adjust well going from free spirit to uniform and structure.  She tends to misplace things – which is NOT acceptable at APA (from what I understand)

          For example: on May 15^th Jenna brought some papers into me.  They were dated for March.  One was for the talent show that I remember her telling me about – but I didn’t see the form until six weeks after the fact.

          The other was about my scheduled conference with her teachers.  I was wondering where it had been. 

          I would prefer that she was more organized and cared more about her appearance and had more respect for belongings – but such a drastic transition (should the opportunity ever occur) would only discourage her – whereas she would have not even questioned it two years ago.

          And while there are things that I really like about the charter school, there are also things that I don’t like.  I would love to have her do more with music, but in the long run I think there will be more value in having her learn a second language.

The Most Awesome Principal Ever

When I was a youth, the only children that knew the principal were the ones who misbehaved during class.  And the only parents who knew the principal were the parents of the children who acted up.  I never knew my principal.  I knew his name.  I knew what he looked like.  But because the only children, who actually knew him personally, were the “bad” children, I had taught myself to be afraid of my principal. 

Growing up, the principals were always male.  A female principal was unheard of.  As I have checked out schools in ours and surrounding  districts,  I am finding that it is rare to have a male principal – at least over the elementary schools.

Two of the female principals I’ve encountered seem to have sticks up their butts, artificial smiles, and dagger themed tones to their voices.  Not pleasant.  But the principal at Jenna’s present school is so so different from any principal I have ever encountered in my life.

Actually the principal of my elementary school may have been a loving man and didn’t fit the horrifying profile at all – but my thoughts were so much different from being a child than it is today.  It’s too bad that I never understood him or saw him as a person and could only see the terminator that the “bad” children saw.

One thing that I really do like at Jenna’s school is the atmosphere.  I don’t notice tension among the teachers or constant ruthlessness among the children or fear.  I’m not saying it doesn’t exist.  As with other schools, Vantana has had its share of bullying and discipline.  But it’s not just the “bad” children who get to know the principal. 

Mrs. Randolf makes it a point to get to know each and every student in her school.  But not just the students, but every parent as well.  What a challenge!  And yet she really does seem to be able to place over thousands of names to the faces.  And she is such a pleasant woman!

Every Monday at lunch hour “good” and honored students are given the privilege to have lunch with her in the library.  They call this event “bug lunch” though I don’t know why.  How great it is for students to look forward for getting to eat lunch with the principal!  They see her as a human being – someone they can joke with, but can also turn to for serious matters.  I admire that!

So thank you, Mrs. Randolf.  Thank you for all that you do for our children and for the teachers and for the PTO.

Education in the Pod

          The elementary school that I attended opened the year before I started kindergarten.  At the time the school was designed with rooms that catered to entire grades – not just class sizes. 

          Three modular walls separated each group of students as there were four instructors assigned to each grade.  Each student was assigned a homeroom teacher.  But the homeroom teacher was not necessarily the same teacher assigned for math or reading or science, etc.  All of the students were taught by all of the teachers for that grade. It was actually a very good system.

          I did not appreciate it then.  Nor did I realize that it wasn’t the normal procedure for an elementary school to function in that manner.  Most every person that I know has had only one teacher per grade during his or her years at elementary school.  As I look back on it now, I appreciate having had the opportunities that I did for having been exposed to a variety of teachers and not just one.

          I have never thought it fair to either teacher or student to have to teach all subjects at every level.  Although Dick, Jane, Sally and Michael may be in the same grade does not mean that they are on the same level.  Dick may be exceptionally smart in math while Michael excels in reading.  Sally may struggle with science and Jane may struggle with spelling.

          The four teachers would teach the same subjects, but at different levels.  Mrs. Cleaver may have taught the gifted students math and taught the no so gifted Science and the average students reading. And Mr. Jones may have also taught an average reading class but taught a math class for students who were struggling.  Therefore Dick would have been in Mrs. Cleaver’s math class but may have had Mr. Jones for another subject.

          I was always in the “less gifted” class- sometimes average.  I was never put in with the gifted students.  For the most part I struggled.

          Backpacks were for camping back then.  The idea of taking one to school was unheard of. Each student had a tote tray with his or her name on it.  At the indicated time we would move our tote trays from one desk to another – walking passed the modular walls from one classroom to another.  We didn’t have to walk through the halls to get from one room to another.  The group of classes was called a pod and all our transitions were made inside of the pod.

          I know that some of the charter schools use the method of sending students to different teachers according to that level.  I would like to see it done in the public schools.  It makes more sense to me.

          I am grateful for having had the opportunity to learn from a variety of teachers. I’m grateful that Jenna has the opportunity for having at least two instructors per grade level while she is elementary school.  I am also grateful that she has a better grasp on education than I did.  I pray that she will continue to endure.

A much needed miracle: continuing education

         We were on the waiting list with a couple of charter schools.  I had even looked into homeschooling – which is probably what I would have ended up doing if someone hadn’t pointed out the dual immersion program.

          The dual immersion program allows students to learn a language in addition to English.  Students have two teachers, one who teaches in English for half of the day. The other will teach in a foreign language with math as the prime subject and will touch on the other subjects.

At the time there were only eight schools within this district that offered this dual immersion program.  Two offered Chinese, two offered French and four offered Spanish.  The school closest to where we are living teaches Spanish – which seemed to be the most logical of the three languages as we have contact with almost as many Spanish speaking people as English speaking.  Roland’s family members also speak Spanish – well, some of them anyway.

          I applied two months after the deadline and was put on yet another waiting list.  Within a week we received an acceptance letter.  We were in!  There is no question in my mind that it wasn’t meant to be.

          She may not have wanted to learn Spanish, but I figured she’d at least be learning.  So much seems to just come to her naturally that she needed a challenge.  She no longer takes the bus.  I have to drive her the two miles south each morning.

          So when Jenna started first grade, she had been in three different schools.  She is now in second grade at the same school. The grading system used in this district rates from 1-5 – 5 being the highest.  Thus far all of Jenna’s subjects have received 4s and 5s except for being able to spell words in Spanish.  She only received a 2.  It is something to strive for – which is a good thing.

          I still do volunteer work at the school.  I LOVE the opportunities that Jenna has – though she may not fully understand or appreciate them now.  She is still doing well – though she doesn’t love it near as much as her first school.  Her current school is actually my favorite of the three.

         

First school: p & k

          When Jenna was three, we would walk hand in hand over to the public school twice a week for a preschool class that was offered.  At age four she went for four days.  At age five we enrolled her in kindergarten.  All day kindergarten to be exact. We were also in year round school.

          I would volunteer in the class room once a week. We were both happy. She loved learning.  I loved her teachers. I never had any reason to look into another school.

          Her preschool teacher was great.  She loved those she taught.  And Jenna was forever learning – and socializing.  Jenna was quite popular in her class. Holding hands with Paul the first day of school.  Soaking things in like a sponge.

          Her kindergarten teacher was amazing.  She could teach every child at his or her own level without taking away from another.  Jenna was assigned to a group with two other girls; they were the top three students in the class. 

          She would bring home a packet each day and we would work on the assignments and she would get credit each day for each assignment.  Jenna LOVED school.  To her, there wasn’t much that was more important than school. 

          Having Jenna love school was so awesome.  It was never a struggle having to get her up.  She was always up and ready and eager to go.  The few times I kept her home due to illness, she cried.  I would still continue to educate her and we would have a session at home.

I love that Jenna loves to learn.