second school: another kindergarten

          After the economy started getting bad, we lost our house.  We were forced to move to a much smaller house in a quite low income neighborhood. We spent the first night in our small house the last day in November. But I kept Jenna at her first school until after Christmas break.  Realistically it wasn’t a very practical commute.

If the economy hadn’t forced us to downsize – I don’t think I would have questioned Jenna’s opportunity for even just being considered for another school.  We were in the same district, but the boundaries were for another school.

          I had tried to transfer Jenna into the school nearest to our house – one we could actually walk to if we needed to.  But they were “filled up” and we lived “on the wrong side of the street”.  My main objective for wanting her over there was to keep her on year round.  There are four track systems for that particular school – and they were all full.  Or so I was told.

          I had made three attempts to get her in.  The faculty had always been unpleasant.  I had talked to three different people and each had responded as though she had used too much starch in her underwear and wasn’t allowed to smile. As I exited the building for the last time, I wondered why I would want to have my Jenna around all these uptight people anyway.

          So after four months of full day kindergarten and homework packets, Jenna started another kindergarten class going only half day and bringing home three assignments to be turned in at the end of the week.  We could seriously complete all three assignments in less than 10 minutes. 

          When the school called to let me know that a full day had opened, I jumped at the opportunity assuming the program would be the same as in her first school.  Not even close.  She was put in a class in which most of her classmates couldn't tell their elbows from their knees. Her homework dropped from three sheets a week to just one.  It was pathetic!

          Jenna no longer got up on her own.  She would ask if she could stay home.  Often she would fake illness.  I had lost my morning nightingale.  She had become a teenager shortly after our move in.  The saddest part was that she really did try to fit in, to be happy, and to present herself in a positive way.  It only backfired. 

          She had to be bused to the school that was part of the school boundaries where we currently live.  Same district.  But NOT a first rated school.  The faculty was really nice and friendly and welcoming.  But the academics were so far beneath us.

          I don’t mean to sound like a snob.  And I appreciate that there are schools that can cater to the educationally challenged – but Jenna is advanced.  She did circles around her classmates.  She had known things before preschool that her classmates still didn’t understand in kindergarten – such as rhymes, letters, shapes and so forth.

          If it wasn’t for the backpack program that her teacher had created for her more “gifted” students, her last four months of kindergarten would have been a total waste.  Roland and I were teaching her and creating homework sometimes on a first or second grade level.

Jenna would cry in the morning each time she boarded the bus, and I would cry as the bus drove away.  I just couldn’t have her continue at that school.  It wasn’t fair to mess up her education because our finances didn’t allow us to live near a more prestige upper class school.  But she just wasn’t learning anything.  And I didn’t foresee that education would become any better if she were to remain at that school.

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.

The start of education

          I’m not saying that Jenna has it easier than I did.  But I certainly didn’t have the modern conveniences that she doesn’t yet appreciate.  After all most (if not all) of them are older than she is.  Take computers, for example.

          Back in the dark ages when I went to school, number 2 pencils were required for taking tests.  We were to pick a letter from A-E and fill in the circle COMPLETELY.  If any student was just one answer off (and had marked “C” for answer 4 instead of answer 3) every answer which followed was also marked incorrectly – and so even if I did know many of the answers – I didn’t get the credit for it.

          Today (at least in her current situation) questions are given one at a time.  I suppose there is room for error with hitting the wrong button – but I don’t think that would throw off all other questions which followed.  I think she has it easier in that aspect.

          We didn’t have I-pads and Smart boards.  The teachers had black boards and chalk.  The students did at least have paper and text books.  I’m not so old that I remember the slate.

          We didn’t have the option of dual immersion programs or charter schools like we have today.  There was no email to keep in touch with parents or to go online to view your child’s grades.  It was like a different world.

          I’m grateful for the opportunities that we have to educate ourselves and for the variety of learning methods that are offered.  I am grateful for this opportunity to Blog my thoughts.

A week of education

Often times I will come up with ideas for posts and write down words and toy around with sentences and structure until I am satisfied enough to post them to my Blog. 

          I had a thought about education – Jenna’s to be specific.  I suppose I had a complete short Blog post but thought I might add to it later on.  I did add to it.  I added a lot – making for a very long post.

          Posts don’t always need to be long.  Often short posts just seem more inviting.  And so I have decided to split up my post on education.  I will dedicate the entire week to educational themed posts.  Enjoy.

53, Ageless and Never Gains a Pound

I have saved many things over the years due to sentimental reasons: “my friend gave me this” or “my cousin gave me that” or “this was sent to me from Germany”  I apparently did not build up any sentimental attachment to the Barbie doll, any of her friends or the doll clothes that mom must have spent hours making.

          I was never into Barbie as much as my friend, Julie, for example.  She had the Barbie dream house and the lush convertible, and all the latest accessories.  Not all of my friends were into Barbie as much as Julie was, but a lot of girls were.  Barbie, Barbie, Barbie. 

          Even back then Barbie just seemed too high maintenance for me.  I had a Francie doll.  Francine fell somewhere between Barbie and Barbie’s little sister, Skipper.  Francie’s hair was shorter than I liked.  She wasn’t near as popular as Barbie – or even Skipper for that matter.  And that is why I had asked for her.  She wasn’t popular enough to be high maintenance.

          My aunt had collected Barbie dolls – hers were much older.  Back when she was a girl, Barbie had a sister named Pepper who appeared to be the same size as Barbie but undeveloped.  Short ‘froed hair.  I thought she was kind of homely looking. Kind of awkward looking next to Barbie. 

I hadn’t considered having Barbies just for collecting. They were something to be played with and enjoyed. Dolls got old for me.  I preferred playing with the boys and doing “boy things” which didn’t include playing with dolls.  And certainly not collecting them.

          My mom and the neighbor across the street had worked hard at making a huge wardrobe of clothing which included a wedding dress made from the same fabric as my neighbor’s wedding dress had been., an orange and pink plaid poncho that matched a poncho that mom had made for me, and a yellow quilted jacket – just to name a few.  When I outgrew Barbie I gave the clothes to my neighbor’s daughter.

          Mom was upset about it.  She thought that I should be saving them for my own daughter.  I didn’t appreciate the hard work that had gone into them.  When I look back on it now, I’m sure that mom spent more time making them than I did removing them and clothing my naked dolls.  But I did keep it in the family.  And the neighbor’s girl probably took care of them and passed them on to her daughter – or so I’d like to believe.

          Certainly it would have been nice to have those really special (not to mention modest) clothes the two weeks that Jenna had played with Barbies – but as I had had Jenna late in life I realistically wouldn’t have saved the clothes for all that time anyway.  Who would have thought I would give birth to my first (and only bioloical) child at the age of 41?

          I had tried crocheting some outfits for Jenna’s dolls.  I even had a model – one the dog had chewed and Jenna didn’t want to play with anymore.  I didn’t really care for the yarn clothes when I was younger – especially swim wear which would never be made out of yarn for human people.  But as an adult, I realized that yarn would stretch and would be easier to get on and take off.  My problem was in using the right sized crochet hook.  My eyes wouldn’t allow me to go any smaller than a G hook – I think most of the patterns I had called for a C.   Too small.

Barbie ended up with a purple cape, a pink pant outfit, and sad looking mint green swimwear.  And oh, yes, an oversized poncho. Jenna had three dolls all claiming to be Barbie – they were all different sizes though.  Jenna has never truly loved Barbies though.  She would rather play dress ups and have tea parties and play with her stuffed animals.

From 1970-1973 Topper (don’t even remember that name on a toy company) introduced a line of dolls maybe half the size of Barbies leg. I actually preferred them to the Barbie dolls as I could strap them (along with my feet) to the old time roller skates that I would often wear in our then unfinished basement and pretend that they were riding cars.

I had Dawn, Longett and Angie.  I kept their accessories in the kitchen carrousel that was designed for Barbie.  The top cabinets were actually too high for the dolls to reach.  But as I was just pretending anyway, it really didn’t matter. It’s not as though the dolls would have lifted the the doors and retrieved the items out themselves either way.

Earlier this month Jenna’s paternal grandmother and aunt sent her a Barbie for “the day of the three kings” which is something that Jenna’s class had just learned about in school.  It is the first Barbie doll I have truly seen her get excited about.  But not because it was a Barbie.  It is an awesome Mermaid doll.

Jenna had received Ariel for Christmas, but the Mermaid Barbie is so much better.  Her tail is bigger. Her hair’s not so heavy that it pulls her underwater.  And she comes with a bunch of accessories.  Mostly Jenna plays with her dolls in the water – and so Barbie clothes really don’t matter.  I don’t think it would excite me at all to watch the wedding dress end up in the bath water alongside the sponge and mop.

So there is a brief encounter into my world of dolls. 

I do have a doll collection – nothing like my aunts or cousins have.  My collection consists of 40 or so identical looking dolls in different (non removable) costumes. 

Western Airline had done a promotion over three decades ago.  My grandfather purchased them for me.  I don’t know if they are worth anything.  Right now they are in a box.  I suppose I ought to dig them out.  Give them to Jenna if/when we finally have the room for display.

What makes Dr. Laura so high and mighty anyway?

Many people see the world as black and white.  No shades of grey.  Definitely no color.  Everything is absolutely wrong or absolutely right – there is no room for individualism.  We all need to be these perfect cookie cutter molds that would never dare venture out of the box.

          Dr. Laura – to me- sounds like a very black and white person.  And of course her way is the correct way.  No ifs, ands or buts.  Why is it that folks even call into her program?  Is it their wish to be humiliated on the air and given a “duh” speech and still not understand that they’ve been slammed?

          I don’t actually listen to her program intentionally.  Roland always tunes the car radio onto talk radio, and sometimes I just happen to be in the car when Dr. Laura gives common sense advice to her mostly pathetic callers.

For the most part I do agree with the advice she gives – but not necessarily the way she gives it.  Her tone often matches what I am thinking in my head – though I doubt I’d ever talk to a total stranger that way:  “why in the world are you even in this position when you are obviously too stupid to figure out what it was that even brought you here?”

Her answers are short, direct – never sweet.  Seriously.  Why are there callers who only encourage her to stay on the air?  After only three calls (if that) we are done.  If Roland and I have not arrived to our destination by then, I will change the station.  Please.

I copied this from a blog quite recently.  Love the message.  I wonder how many people get it though.

“Dear Dr. Laura:
Thank you for doing so much to educate people regarding God’s Law. I have learned a great deal from your show, and try to share that knowledge with as many people as I can. When someone tries to defend the homosexual lifestyle, for example, I simply remind them that Leviticus 18:22 clearly states it to be an abomination… End of debate.
I do need some advice from you, however, regarding some other elements of God’s Laws and how to follow them.
1. Leviticus 25:44 states that I may possess slaves, both male and female, provided they are purchased from neighboring nations. A friend of mine claims that this applies to Mexicans, but not Canadians. Can you clarify? Why can’t I own Canadians?
2. I would like to sell my daughter into slavery, as sanctioned in Exodus 21:7. In this day and age, what do you think would be a fair price for her?
3. I know that I am allowed no contact with a woman while she is in her period of menstrual uncleanliness – Lev.15: 19-24. The problem is how do I tell? I have tried asking, but most women take offense.
4. When I burn a bull on the altar as a sacrifice, I know it creates a pleasing odor for the Lord – Lev.1:9. The problem is, my neighbors. They claim the odor is not pleasing to them. Should I smite them?
5. I have a neighbor who insists on working on the Sabbath.Exodus 35:2. clearly states he should be put to death. Am I morally obligated to kill him myself, or should I ask the police to do it?
6. A friend of mine feels that even though eating shellfish is an abomination – Lev. 11:10, it is a lesser abomination than homosexuality. I don’t agree. Can you settle this? Are there ‘degrees’ of abomination?
7. Lev. 21:20 states that I may not approach the altar of God if I have a defect in my sight. I have to admit that I wear reading glasses. Does my vision have to be 20/20, or is there some wiggle- room here?
8. Most of my male friends get their hair trimmed, including the hair around their temples, even though this is expressly forbidden by Lev. 19:27. How should they die?
9. I know from Lev. 11:6-8 that touching the skin of a dead pig makes me unclean, but may I still play football if I wear gloves?
10. My uncle has a farm. He violates Lev.19:19 by planting two different crops in the same field, as does his wife by wearing garments made of two different kinds of thread (cotton/polyester blend). He also tends to curse and blaspheme a lot. Is it really necessary that we go to all the trouble of getting the whole town together to stone them? Lev.24:10-16. Couldn’t we just burn them to death at a private family affair, like we do with people who sleep with their in-laws? (Lev. 20:14)
I know you have studied these things extensively and thus enjoy considerable expertise in such matters, so I am confident you can help. Thank you again for reminding us that God’s word is eternal and unchanging.
Your adoring fan.
James M. Kauffman, Ed.D. Professor Emeritus Dept. of Curriculum,
Instruction, and Special Education University of Virginia”

I did not get Mr. Kauffman’s permission to reprint.  Nor did I get Dr. Laura’s.  But I do think it is something that should be shared.  And has been (as it was not Dr. Kauffman’s blog where I first read it.) 

(Now at this point Dr. Laura would tell me that I shouldn’t even have a Blog – as I am too stupid to figure out the gadgets and insert here to refer to another post.  And I really shouldn’t just let my feet dangle in the water unless I can prove that I can swim)

Scriptures have been used to prove and disprove certain lifestyles.  Take slavery for example.  Both north and south used supposedly the same set of scripture to oppose or endorse slavery.  Why God was for it.  Why God was against it.  I don’t believe the Bible is black and white.  It’s not complete.  There are oodles of grey. 

Where are the actual writings of Moses or Joseph or Methuselah?  Do we really have all the epistles that were written by Paul?  And what about the Apocrypha?  I would gander a guess that it is not even included in most Bibles.  And the Songs of Solomon – really?  Grey. (Or is it in colour?)

Pharisees were so busy living to the letter of the law, they didn’t take time out to understand why the laws were even given.  A parent who has a variety of personalities among his/her children knows that one method of discipline that works on one child may not work on another.

For example grounding Patrick to his room was treacherous punishment. But Corey and I actually preferred our alone time.  Banishing us to our rooms was actually quite preferable.  Whereas forcing us to go outside was torture – or so we believed at the time.  Actually forcing me to go outdoors in reality contributed to my becoming a more well rounded person.

The point is that individualism isn’t black and white.  There are several shades of grey.  But more importantly there is color.  Lots of color.  And what a blessing it is for us to have those rainbows in our lives.  And for those who will accept the rainbows and appreciate that not everything is black and white.

Sense of Smell: or lack of it

My mother was raised in an apartment.  Both of her parents smoked.  As a result, my mother lost her sense of smell.  So it can’t be genetic.  Not that I’ve ever had the most spectacular smelling senses.  But now I don’t seem to have any.  And I actually feel blessed that I don’t. At least at the moment.

           

          I love the smell of fresh baked bread.  Gingerbread.  My husband’s cooking.  I sneeze at the very sight of a candle – although I have enjoyed many fragrances – I do have allergies.  Perfumes, plants . . . don’t even get me started. I wonder if my allergies have dulled my sense of smell over the years and have finally killed it.

          But there’s a lot of smells I don’t miss:  I understand the dog stinks.  I’ll bathe him today.  But I can’t smell him.  I can’t smell the blanket that we’ve washed more often than the dog.  I can’t smell the gross odors when I am cleaning them – and don’t know if I’ve succeeded in making them better or not.  So that’s not good.  But not having to smell bad odors is actually quite wonderful.