The Reach of a Teach

I like a teacher who gives you something to take home to think about besides homework. ~Lily Tomlin as "Edith Ann"

I had a hard time falling asleep the other night. This is unusual for me these days, but it was kind of nice. I used to do my best thinking before I fell asleep. These days, I guess I get by without doing much thinking.

Pregnancy is a nice excuse for being more scatter-brained than usual.

I laid there for awhile, thinking of things from my childhood. I started trying to remember all the teachers I'd had. I can only remember all of them through 6th grade. After that, when we began having multiple teachers and classrooms, I couldn't remember all of them. But, it took only the littlest things to help me remember some of the teachers woven through 13 years of schooling.

For example, I remember Mr. Pink, who one day donned a fake cape and "flew" around the room. He was usually so serious, so it really caught us by surprise. And, probably freaked us out a little. Had it not been for that, I don't think I'd remember.

There was Ms. Roche, my 6th grade teacher. She was energetic, young and fun. She wrote with her left hand and one day told me, while I was helping her with a project, that I was really good at cutting a straight line with scissors. Amazing how a good word can stay with you for 21 years.

I remember Mrs. Chan, who was the shortest teacher I think I ever had. She was Chinese but had such a solid American accent and she smiled a lot.

Stereotype much, Jen?

Mrs. Keyes was a bus driver. Because, really, how could you forget a bus driver named Mrs. Keyes?

Mrs. Calvert accused me of lying. She said I didn't complete a paper that I absolutely had. I was devastated. I even went to the principal to try and resolve it. I was mostly crippled by the accusation that I lied. Days later, she put on a sheepish grin as she waggled her finger for me to come over and then showed me the paper she had found.

In my memories, she was wearing a red business suit. Devil red.

My paper had fallen under some files in her cabinet. Situation resolved, but the pain never forgotten. She also read "I'll Love You Forever" to our class at the end of the school year, which forever tainted that book for me. Imagine a demon reading that story to you and you tell me if it leaves you with warm fuzzies.

Anyhow, the thought of a mom sneaking into her grown son's room to rock him in the middle of the night AND HE NEVER WAKES UP is just plan creepy no matter who reads the story to you. And the mom is near death by the end. What kind of children's bedtime story is that?!

I once had a substitute in 6th grade. I can't remember his name, but I remember him because after a girl accidentally passed gas, he told the class it was God's gift to be able to pass gas. And he was serious, too. I think.

Mr. Boone was my favorite princiPAL. I had him from 1st through half of 3rd grade. Before my dad was transferred to Virginia, on my last day of school, I stood in the school office. Mr. Boone knelt in front of me, place his hands on my shoulders, looked steadily into my eyes and told me to be a good girl. All of this as his eyes teared up. Something about his tenderness stayed with me all these years and I've longed to track him down and thank him. When I was much older, my dad told me that an angry ex-soldier threatened to hurt our family and that the strangers who were suddenly driving Scott and me to school everyday were actually armed to protect us. We had to move suddenly because of the threat and Mr. Boone was one of those watching out for our safety. So, now I see why Mr. Boone had been so intentional in his last remarks to me. Or maybe he was just that loving. Either way, I'll never forget those tender blue eyes filled with tears.

Then there was Mr. Born. Ninth grade biology. I did not retain a single lesson about biology, but we did make sandals out of yucca plants that year. We would trek out to a little stream way behind the school and beat those yucca leaves with rocks. Then, we'd sit out in a field and weave them into sandals.

Did I mention this was in Colorado?

We were very in touch with Mother Nature and yucca plants that year. But, I am proud to say we did not actually roll and/or smoke any yucca plants. Maybe that was saved for an upper level class. I am thankful to say I did not stick around another year to find out. We moved to Texas that summer, where I actually did learn some biology. Not enough to convince me to stay in Bio Medical Science my first year of college, but enough to help me pass the TAAS test so I could get to college and learn that a business degree was more suitable for the mind that wasted a year of high school making yucca plant sandals.

Incidentally, Mr. Born also built an enormous floor-to-ceiling bird enclosure in our classroom the year I was there. I believe it took up at least a quarter of the room. He stocked it with finch and quail, among many other breeds. I was curious to see if Mr. Born still had a job there so I checked the school website and, indeed, he is still there. I guess nothing ensures your job like building a gigantic aviary in the middle of a classroom. It's not as if you can pack that up neatly into a little cardboard box on your way out the door. I am amazed he even held his job through the bird flu epidemic.

Again, COLORADO...

Again, a stereotype.

Anyway, the point is, a lot of times what makes a teacher memorable is what they teach their kids outside the books. Sometimes I cut something out and find myself thinking of Ms. Roche and wishing I could remember her married name. Mr. Boone taught me that getting on a kid's eye level and telling them they are special will stay deeply tucked within their heart. They will even remember what clothes you were wearing and what your glasses looked like. Mr. Born gave me the gift of being able to fashion trendy footwear if I'm ever stranded in a desert. Too bad he didn't teach me that at 20% dehydration, a person dies. And, Mrs. Chan and I turned out to have a lot in common in the end, except for the Chinese part.

Finally, I don't know if she wears Prada, but I've witnessed firsthand that the devil loves books and she could still be teaching AP English somewhere. But not where I went to high school.

It would've taken a lot of yucca smoking to write all that if I knew she were in an hour's reach of me.

Adam & Eve - Made in the USA

The boys have a Bible memory match game. It's pretty handy for reinforcing some of the stories we've told them from the Bible and introducting them to new ones.

This depiction, however, of Adam and Eve caught my eye. I think it was the initial shock of seeing two very delighted people standing naked behind some bushes. I've been naked and I've stood behind bushes before, but never at the same time. And I'm guessing I wouldn't be in a state of bliss if I had.

Second, I'm guessing Eve did not come with bleach-blonde hair. Unless the garden of Eden came with a Toni and Guy. Which, in some people's utopia, it would. Anyhow, it's a wonder Adam named her Eve and not Barbie.
And who could resist that precious little snakie peeking out of the bushes and smiling? I mean, really, I'd always pictured an evil-eyed snake with a Gollum-like voice that slithered in and out of tree roots. This little character makes me want to pinch his snake cheeks and give him some cotton candy. It's no wonder Eve couldn't resist.

Is There a 12 Step Program for Facebook Users?

Because my name is Jen and I'm addicted to Facebook. I've been a user for too many months to figure out and I use several times a day. Even in the middle of the night. Even when my children are in the home.

I resisted joining Facebook for months. Brian kept telling me I'd love it, but I decided I didn't want to admit I couldn't figure out what all those Applications meant have time for it. Plus, I had MySpace and I'd even put together a song playlist and posted pics. It was enough for me and I was quite content in my new found social networking abilities.

Oh, how ignorant bliss can be.

Because, in case you haven't discovered, MySpace is to Facebook as Milli Vanilli is to Michael Jackson.

Girl, you know it's true.

I've learned so much just from those 120 character status updates. Some have made me burst out laughing and some have made me cry with and pray for friends. I've learned about job interviews, sick loved ones, baby announcements, fun ideas for new things to do with my family, who is heading out for vacation, that I am 78% Asian (I took a quiz), where to buy cowgirl boots (for camp and for the 22% of me that's totally white), who stays up as late as me, I've laughed at my friends' hilarious kids, cheered birthdays and anniversaries, swapped info on where to visit/eat/shop during various road trips and I've loved getting to see pics of my friends' families and adventures.

Facebook has brought me closer to people I don't normally bump into or catch up with. I just found out a childhood friend had a baby...I didn't even know she was pregnant! I also have accepted two or three friend requests from people I wouldn't recognize on the street and that is a little weird, I admit. But, I am also friends with people like Keela Carr, who intrigued me during a Fox News interview after she walked across America as an expression of gratitude for our troops. (She's walking across America again right now to support homeless veterans!) So, yeah, I even swap friendly messages with people I've never shaken hands with and maybe I'll learn something interesting about them. There are friends halfway around the world and I get to see pics of their wedding gowns, their newborns or the mission work they are involved in. I am blessed to reconnect with family members I haven't seen since I was a teenager, yet we can discuss family news like we talked everyday in between.

Some other lessons I've learned from Facebook...

One of my friends really, really loved Michael Jackson. Really. More than I do. I even saw a video clip of her usually reserved husband singing "We are the World."

If I ever start a band, I can count on at least one friend to do an awesome job of promoting it for free and ten dozen times a week. In fact, it will become her permanent status update. Except, oops, I think she prefers to link people to your band's MySpace site.

Seeing pics of friends come home after serving their country for months at a time is pretty special. Seeing them hold a son born while they were at sea is totally awesome.

Some people can post offensive videos mocking your beliefs on their wall, but write one sarcastic political comment on your status update and they may drop you as a friend. Way to promote open-mindedness.

Some of my friends need to pursue careers in politics. And/or Xanax. But, seriously, they would do awesome in the political realm.

Lastly, I've been reminded that Brian's sense of humor is precious. Really. For example, he once hijacked my account and created Yearbook pics where he pasted my face on hairdos of various decades. Here are some treasures gained from the experience...

Scary enough, I think I actually have a photo from my 8th grade homecoming that looks like this...

Minus the 5:00 shadow, of course.

And, if my hair would've done this in the '90's,

I would've thought I died and went to hair heaven. The sheer joy of seeing my hair achieve this glorious state might have actually killed me. Or maybe just inhaling all the Aqua Net it took to reach that state of bigness. I don't know.

Oh, and speaking of Brian, if you haven't seen his latest pics, he got a new hairdo. He likes to try out different cuts during the summer. Here's my little chia pet main squeeze.

And, no one sports a mullet as proudly as my man.

I keep reminding myself Mario Lopez rocked that look and so did John Stamos. And look where it got them. Total fame.

Incidentally, I came across this random family pic (not mine) on the net. It was actually captioned, "A mullet brings the family together."

Come to think of it, they do look happy together. Maybe they should come up with a mullet slogan like, "pleasant in the front, totally crazy in the back." Or, "I'm going to work my job in the front but meet me for happy hour in the back."

Hmm...that slogan needs some work. I think I'm gonna post that on my status update real quick and let my Facebook friends help me come up with a totally awesome one.

Siyanarr-bye! (sorry, that's my 78% Asianness, 22% honkyness coming out again)

401 K, Shmore 01K. IRA, I Thumb My Nose At You.

When I was pregnant with Noah and I found out we were having a boy, I began to pray, among many things, that my little one would be determined. I wanted my son to get after it and be a leader in his home, his community and his work. This prayer showed evidence of being answered the first time Noah started crawling - at five months of age. It became pretty clear early on that Noah isn't one to ever back down from a challenge. I mean, the boy will eat if you just tell him "so and so eats this and can cross the monkey bars as a result." He will down ginseng like it's koolaid just because his friend does it and Noah will not be bested by anyone. And, have you smelled the stuff? It's good for a number of things, but definitely not the olfactory system. He loves learning and, by gosh, all that busyness doesn't leave much time for sitting still.

Along came Lil T and, when I was pregnant with him, I prayed for a number of manly qualities. But there was also a Mommy part of me that wanted a baby who would actually sit in my lap and cuddle. So, I prayed for a snuggle bug and, boy, did I get one. This is my little lover boy. From a young age, he has always wanted to be in my lap, be picked up or hold my hand. One of my favorite questions of his is, "Mommy, can you hold my hand?" I love how he pats my back when he hugs and how he plays with my hair when I pick him up. He wants eye contact, he wants your face to be turned toward his when he's speaking to you, he loves to hug dogs, kitties and anything plush (like his M&M eating momma).

The point of this entry is this, I learn quick. This life lesson didn't fly over my head. For my next pregnancy, I'll be praying for these qualities...

Not the cau-bla-sian part of the pic (because I make my babies Jon and Kate Plus 8 style - three parts white and one part Asian). No, I am praying for those natural athletic skills! PGA, NBA, NFL...I'm not too picky.

Because, hey, this stay at home momma and her teacher hubby gotta retire someday. And, I prefer to retire in a castle like this woman...

Instead of in a van down by the river like this guy...