Fisherstine

Check It Out

2010-11-16T20:20:00.002-06:00

As a project for graduate school,

I've started a new blog. Goal? To get the non-academic reader interested in the classics.

I might be back once in a while,

But not as long as I'm writing papers like, "Madly Re-Inventing the Heroine: The Reconciliation of the Virgin and the Vixen in 19th Century Literature."

Come see me once in a while: themustystudy.com

Playing with Fire

2010-06-02T23:13:00.003-05:00

I have been writing and writing and writing and writing.

And It hasn't been here on blogger! I'm currently enjoying midterm "break" by writing a paper. For some crazy reason, I decided to discuss Promethean themes in Romantic literature. At this point (and this is subject to change), my paper is titled:

Playing with Promethean Fire: The Creative Manipulation of Archetype in Romantic Literature.

So, yes. . . between burying myself in Critical Literary Theory, reading 300-500 pages per week, and writing and writing and writing. . . .

I'm not writing here. Maybe I will this summer?

The Questions That Plague Me

2010-03-29T21:36:00.002-05:00

Who knew that writing a bio for your fellow-students at graduate school would be so exhausting?

We're all "distance learners," so in my opinion, this first introduction is rather important. I mean, I've got this fake persona to create, and it's so hard finding the balance between "outlandish" and "too humble."

Of course, I'm kidding.

But really. How "real" should I be? I want to write like I write, but would that be right? On the right, there is objective truth, but then what is left on the left? I fear there is only frilly fluff.

And these are all "academia" people and all that jazz.

...Not interested in being boring.

But no one probably cares anyway.

I was thinking about words like "wanderlust," "whithersoever," and "whilst," and quite frankly, those words seem appropriate to me. Should I let my true self shine through? Or should I hide behind a facade of boring normalcy.

These questions plague me.

I wonder what it will be like to do real work?

SWEET TOENAILS!

2010-03-19T23:24:00.003-05:00

"Well, I went and done it, Pa."

"What'd you did, Ma?"

"I got some a that 'OCD in a Bottle,' and I done cleaned out every drawer and closet in this here house of our'n."

"Well, SWEET TOENAILS! You done did it! Shor'nuf! Lets eat off of the tile in that-thar kitchen."

"Well, aint that what it's fer, anywayz?"

Artsy Susies Share a Common Thread

2010-03-05T20:37:00.003-06:00

They thrive in brokenness.

I've often wondered why I don't feel the need to have things hoity-toity and organized. I don't understand "clean house OCD." I mean, I enjoy having things in order; I just prefer taking my house from a state of chaos to a state of perfection. Trying to live in a constant state of wonderfulness is not something that makes me tick. I wish it did. I want some hoity-toity juice in my lemonade, but I can't buy any at the health-food store.

I'll admit it. I like the ups and downs of life.

I visited my grandma at the nursing home tonight. As we walked closely by an impressionistic painting, we took note of the use of a single LINE to draw the legs on the people walking in the rain. I owe much of my "slap it together and call it good" tendencies to Nanny. Some people would call this a curse, but I'm blessed by her gift. She's a painter. I've painted a thing or two. We both prefer our pictures to be looked at from afar.

I guess we're both impressionists.

But maybe "Artsy Susies" arent so bad. We all could take a step back now and then. Sometimes our lives don't seem to make a lot of sense. They're jumbled and confusing and lack focus. Looking at things right in front of our eyes sometimes gets us down. We're broken due to many experiences that we've been blessed to endure.

But with those broken and confusing lines, blotches, and smudgy areas, God goes and "pulls a Monet." He's gifted like that. I can't see it, but I know it's there.

KAPOW!!

2010-01-26T19:24:00.003-06:00

My brain is about to explode with information.

I knew that teaching Logic was going to be difficult for me this year. But oh, how I love it!! I love it when I'm working out the problems at home around my dining room table. When I'm learning something new, I'm a quiet processor. Give me a library and some Pandora Radio tuned to "Piano Solo, Romantic Period," and I can solve all sorts of difficult dilemmas. Give me a classroom with buzzing and sometimes sarcastic eighth graders, and. . . WELL. . . .

But John Milton Gregory clearly tells us that a teacher must have a THOROUGH knowledge of the subject matter being taught in order to transfer information. This is when my brain starts the countdown to explosion. It's not my job to merely understand; it's my job to excel.

Introductory logic was a piece of cake. Intermediate logic is AMAZING! APPLICABLE! FASCINATING! And it makes my brain hurt.

KAPOW!!

Graduate School

2010-01-25T17:19:00.004-06:00

Essay-check
Recommendations-check
Fafsa Paperwork-check
Transcripts-check
Sanity- nowhere to be found

If this happens, I'm planning on purchasing a few hippie skirts.

Saturday Night: Much Different than 1988. . .

2010-01-16T20:01:00.004-06:00

It's Saturday night.

As a teenager, it was my obligation to find something fun and exciting to do on Saturday. If I didn't find that opportunity, then I felt deprived or cheated. It seemed like having a good time was a basic human right.

And boy, do I like having a good time.

This week, while snuggling into bed, my teenager insisted that I was ". . . having fun playing with [my] iPhone." To which I vehemently snapped with my eyes, my tone, and clear words: "I'm not having fun, I'm READING THE BIBLE!" My kids thought this response was HILARIOUS, and haven't let me forget it.

Please refrain from judgemental thoughts or comments.

Just like my students don't always appreciate my assignments (but see personal growth nonetheless), so I don't always appreciate the spiritual disciplines (but see personal growth nonetheless).

So on this Saturday Night, I'll be doing some exciting things:

I'll be writing the best Macbeth Test ever written. My cousin Charissa and I happened to be in the same Senior Literature class. We've had years of enjoyment screaming "SEEYYTONNNN!!!!" for no apparent reason. I'm happy to announce that my eighth graders LOVED Macbeth. They're amazing.
Time to study for Intermediate Logic! (EEEEKKK!!!)
Revise and tweek a grant proposal for a summer trip to Oxford. (I'll be shocked if we get this one.)
Should I push that "send" button for my Master's application? We'll see if that happens or not.
The kids are vegging out, watching YouTube "American Idol" clips, playing on their iPods, and watching movies on our LED projector. "Oh, I love technology!"

Saturday night: Much different than 1988. . .

My Mind Has Turned to Mush

2010-01-08T20:19:00.003-06:00

Every time I sit down to write a blog post, I end up deleting EVERY. . . SINGLE. . . WORD! I guess it's because I don't want to be a "Negative Nellie."

In fact, I would almost categorize my emotional state these days as "ghastly and horrible." And really, who wants to read all about that? (In fact, I'm afraid my "inner Goth" is coming out. Have you seen me lately? The black eyeliner keeps growing in thickness.)

So, for no particular reason (and with no cohesive topical unity to the above frightful introduction), I'll entertain you with a recap of today thus far:

"My Mind Has Turned to Mush"

- -An exciting dramatic interpretation of a perfectly fine day through the eyes of a melancholy soul who has nothing to complain about but feels like being grumpy anyway.- -

(To the tune of "The Adams Family")

I got out of bed too late.

My kids, dry cereal they ate,

In school to parti-ci-pate,

My mind has turned to mush.

Frankenstein, Don Quixote,

Macbeth and Logic Whoop-ee;

Plato and Wharton you see,

My mind has turned to mush.

Came home and went to Wal-Mart,

(That really wasn't too smart).

I filled the whole dang push cart,

My mind has turned to mush.

I want to get my Master's,

(Will that just prompt disasters?)

I wish I could run faster.

My mind has turned to mush.

(Boo-Hiss, COUGH!, Tomatoes! Boo!) I can only offer my apologies for my inability to sing it for you in person. (Oh ya, and for the poem itself.) But you can do it at home by yourself. All that is required is a bunch of water-based mascara, a truckload of tears, and a good healthy drama-queen attitude.

Never mind. I guess I'm happy after all.

False Alarm! False Alarm! Don't call for the straight jacket!

Trudging

2009-10-13T16:17:00.003-05:00

My marathon training is keeping me running in circles. In about a month, we'll embark on a journey to trek 26.2 miles along a coastal highway.

And every year, I swear I won't sign up for another race the following year, only to find my heart betraying me by secretly planning the next grand footrace. Yet, it needs to be clarified that I'm not racing anyone at all! For me, the adventure of simply covering a large amount of miles is the point entirely. At one point, I had time goals, but now I realise that running a race is in and of itself the point. Just. . . running.

There have been plenty of times in life that I've wanted to step off of the course that has been set before me, but I have to keep plodding along. I might not be the fastest, the best, or the most graceful, but I'll move forward nonetheless. There's pain, plenty of setbacks, and inevitable disappointments.

Cliche? Of course. Overused? Yes. Still applicable? Well. . . for me? Yes. So I run, and I trudge, but I do move forward (or at least in circles).

Stepping out in Greek Underwear

2009-09-12T12:28:00.005-05:00

It's dangerous to teach with an antihistamine hangover.

Ever since I began teaching, I've dreaded the day that I forget "who" or "where" I am and say something REALLY inappropriate. I've felt the danger escalate this year as I've become more and more comfortable in my role. Sometimes I notice myself letting down my guard. This is dangerous, indeed!

And really, when discussing Greek mythology, the mind really goes into uncharted territory. So when I started talking about "Greek Underwear" (instead of the Greek underworld) in class the other day, I shouldn't have been surprised.

Thankfully, the debacle provided me with a humorous anecdote to begin a speech that I was giving that evening. What wasn't so humorous, however, is that my microphone didn't work, so I was reduced to yelling and comparing my distinguished audience to a "group of ninth graders that I have to yell at anyway."

I'd be lying if I didn't tell you I cried a little bit that night.

Moral: "Don't speak publicly with an antihistamine hangover." Otherwise, you might feel like you stepped outside in your "Greek Underwear."

Crazy Ladies and Pears

2009-09-02T21:50:00.005-05:00

How would Monica blog?

"Stiney stole pears from the neighbors. He's doing well with his Rhetoric and Classical Languages, but I'm worried about him. All I can do is hit my knees, and earnestly cry out to my Father God for his repentance."

I've never been a big fan of Christian "parenting books." Sure, I have my personal favorites, but somehow Christian "How-To" books really tend to irritate me. Sometimes I think that women of the past had the better idea. They weren't looking ANYWHERE BUT UP for their information. This crazy little thing called the Internet doesn't help matters. We're constantly trying to diagnose, figure it all out, and get a "plan."

Well, I have a plan, alright. As we enter the teen years with a crazy vengeance at the Fisherstines, beware. If you see me walking around Wal-Mart mumbling to myself, well, I'm actually holding a never-ending dialogue with the ONLY one who has the PERFECT answers.

And, again, please think better of me than my daughter does. Oftentimes, she hears me cry, "OH, GOD!!!" I'm immediately chastised for swearing, all the while explaining to her that unlike the flippant schoolgirls of the Disney Channel, I'm actually . . . PRAYING!!! IMAGINE THAT!

So, I'm going to pray like Monica, even if it makes me appear like the "Crazy Lady Down the Street, or a Disney Debutant"

Kleenex in My Back Pocket

2009-08-29T18:15:00.005-05:00

The first full week of school ended the same day that my eldest daughter celebrated her very own "tween" birthday. Of all the presents she received, I think her favorite was a bottle of Starbucks Frappuccino. She drank it in "chug, chug, chug!" fashion, at which point it started squirting out of her nose. Very enjoyable to watch, but simultaneously painful for everyone present.

I've been thinking a lot about the next five or six years (I've also been thinking a lot about how alot is not a word, but a lot of people think it is...but I digress). Right now, I have two Jr. High children, and I would be telling a lie if I didn't admit that DRAMA is an overwhelming constant at our house these days.

But like any great stage, it's the DRAMA that keeps it interesting. Sure, we have our "Jerry Springer Moments," but there is also a lot of "Jerry Lewis Laughter," and there is certainly no lack of love. I know that the "teen" years are precarious, but I also know one thing for certain.

I know that my coffee-snorting ballerina is just the kind of screwball actress that makes me smile. And the best part? I've got the best seat in the house, and a box of kleenex in my back pocket. Bring on the show.

"It Must Be Hard Being Married to a Nerd"

2009-08-24T22:07:00.005-05:00

I overheard a student make this remark after I told the following story (I have super-sonic hearing; it's my superpower.)--

My husband and I are training for a fall California marathon. It's going to be lovely. Beautiful beaches, cool morning air, and a bit of time away as a couple. With a race, there is of course training, and many hours of running and talking.

During a particularly difficult run, we were silent and steadfast. We stopped to walk for a minute or two, and I asked my gentle, sweet husband, "What do you think about when you run?"

With a glare in his eye and a fist violently shaking in my direction, he vented, "I was thinking about that teenager that is racing throughout the neighborhood. He's going to hit someone!!! If he comes by here again, I'm going to stop the vehicle and explain to him what's going to happen if he keeps driving like that!"

After an awkward silence, I replied, "That's funny, because I was thinking about introductory participial phrases."

It must be hard being married to a nerd.

My Very Own Jackson Pollack

2009-08-21T21:56:00.003-05:00

Yesterday. When my eldest son graduates from high-school, I will look back upon yesterday. I was wondering what it would be like to be his teacher.

Well, now I know.

We're together for two classes: Literature (from the fall of Rome to the Reformation), and Logic. He's a reader. He likes abstract ideas. He enjoys a good discussion. And... well... apparently... he has no organizational skills, he wiggles, he doesn't listen, and he disconnects from the "general flow" of the class. I've never been so befuddled by a student in my life. Confusion reigneth.

Yesterday. Facebook privileges were banned. The cell phone was removed. The television was off. His bedtime came at the same hour as his baby brother. There were fingers in his face, lectures in his ear, and pleading glances cast his direction. Color me crazy.

Today. Today was different. The Logic teacher (me) asked the students to give the Latin word for the term "girl." The teenage boy had the answer, "puella" (obviously). I asked the students to give an alternative meaning to the term "belief." They all knew that "belief" means "accepting something as true," but could't quite take the next step. He raised his hand. "Well, belief originally meant 'to put faith or trust in.' " Ummm....yes. That is true (but how did he know that?). I'm quite confident that we can thank our resident PhD Bible teacher for that.

Tonight. Tonight I sleep better knowing that he's going to be fine. He may be a wiggly, crazy mess, but he's my personal Jackson Pollack. (And I love abstract art.)

Oh, and by the way, here's the history of the word "Belief"from the online etymology dictionary:

...[B]elief used to mean "trust in God," while faith meant "loyalty to a person based on promise or duty" (a sense preserved in keep one's faith, in good (or bad) faith and in common usage of faithful, faithless, which contain no notion of divinity). But faith, as cognate of L. fides, took on the religious sense beginning in 14c. translations, and belief had by 16c. become limited to "mental acceptance of something as true," from the religious use in the sense of "things held to be true as a matter of religious doctrine" (c.1225). "

I guess it's time I quit believing (accepting as true) that my abstract thinking, creative out-of-the-box kid is a befuddling mess, and start believing (trusting ) in the beauty of his unique character. Move over Mr. Pollack.

Eeyore or Theoden?

2009-08-10T21:16:00.003-05:00

It's that time of year. I'll be spending a lot of time over the next few months watching the red table and all of the young minds and hearts who gather here to sup at the table of knowledge.

Frankly, that intimidates me. In the past, I've gone forward with confidence, sure that my enthusiasm and passion would be contagious. But that's just it. I fear my poor students might be immune to Mrs. Fisherstine.

Socrates says that being a teacher is a bit like being a midwife. Teachers are simply there to gently draw forth the knowledge that is waiting to be born in the student. Ah, Socrates. Nice plan, but where do you believe they got the knowledge in the first place? (Don't answer that. I know what you think and it is positively silly, but I like you anyway.)

***Sigh*** I think I sound a bit like Eeyore. What do melancholy Eeyoresque types do? Well, they plan. I might be able to cook something up that will spark a hearty appetite for learning. (At least that's what I keep telling myself.)

Logic, Ancient Literature, American Literature, British Literature, and the Moderns....breathe... Progymnasmata, Thesis Papers, Poetry, Grammar, Worldview, etc...etc...etc....

It's a good thing that I'm very comfortable with the war analogies. Perhaps it's time for me to read the Iliad once again. (Nah, teaching feels a bit more like Middle Earth.) Teaching is not like serving dinner, midwifery, or "catching" a disease. To me, it's about doing battle for the hearts and minds of the next generation. I'll answer that call. Today, I feel a bit like Theoden of Rohan running into battle: "TO DEATH!!!!"

Thrifty

2009-07-22T21:56:00.005-05:00

In these hard economic times, it's imperative that we all pull together. We should sit on our front porches and enjoy the simple pleasures of life such as a glasses of fresh squeezed lemonade. We should play frizbee golf (better known as frolf), and board games (known as bored games to me--well--except for the farming game). We should pick home-grown flowers (weeds) and we should purchase gently used clothing (thrift-store finds).

Pish-posh. I'll have store bought lemonade and a good book, thank you. But girlfriend I was raised on thrift-store shopping. The beauty is that my girls have caught the bug. Let me tell you that I bought 60 items today for $125.00. The only time that I "check the label" is at a thrift store. And moreover, I only shop on HALF PRICE day, because really why would you buy used clothes for the same price as 75% off new clothes? Senseless.

So I made a spreadsheet when I got home, and we discovered that if they had been brand-spankey new (oh. some of it is), our haul would have eaten a minimum of $1,200 (conservative estimate) of our hard-earned cold hard yummy cash. We're loaded with Abercrombie, Ann Taylor, Old Navy, Gap, Harolds, Dockers, Mudd, Arrow, Bugle Boy, Hollisters, Arrow, Dickies, Charlotte Russe, Talbots, Tommy Hilfiger, and the basic Class Club, George, and Arizona brands ( I probably spelled something wrong there because in regular shopping life, I look at the price not the brand name).

I worked as a social worker for about seven years. A lot of people might not know this, but when my clients needed help paying their utility bills, we often went to the Salvation Army to get assistance. The $$ earned at many thrift stores such as Goodwill and Salvation Army is used to provide employment as well as help for community members. Win-Win if you ask me.

I guess I'm just man enough to brave it (or that might be the false bravado in me....maybe I'm just stupid enough). We've been doing laundry all night, and we're set for the school year. Don't get me wrong. We shop at regular stores, too. But we're fans of thrifting. I guess it makes me feel...I don't know...Thrifty.

How Does She Come Up with this Stuff?

2009-07-21T21:18:00.005-05:00

What do you get when you cut an apple directly down the center, split the stem, and cut out two triangles?

Apparently, a very creative butterfly.

How does she come up with this stuff? As an ex-caterer who used to read "garnishing" books in my free time, I've never seen this done. Maybe I'm out of the loop.

What a Week it Was!

2009-07-19T16:21:00.004-05:00

It was my second time to Logos, but I'm afraid I might be addicted and I'll need my "Logos Fix" sometime in the future. Listening to the speakers almost brought me to tears a few times (I'm afraid that's not a joke). It might have been the fact that we stayed up until 4am the first night we were there. There's nothing like physically tired emotion combined with passion to fill my eyes!

(part of my) Commonplace Collection:

"Many Christians spend a lot of time worrying, sinning on their knees." - Wilson

"You can't always 'do the math' to understand how the Holy Spirit moves." -Wilson

"Godliness is not a way of figuring out how to lie to yourself." -Wilson

"To determine your character in a story, you need a 'plum' line to determine if you are a protagonist or an antagonist. That 'line,' or 'lens' is scripture."- Whitling

"Rise of technology is often equated with rise in culture. The opposite seems to be true." -Garfield.

"Why should we act like the world is a game and they have the only ball?"- Garfield

"Just because you might not be using negative words, it doesn't mean you're using positive words."- Wilson

"The power of the tongue is enormous. We assume the power of the tongue is ALWAYS destructive. Words are powerful CONSTRUCTIVELY!"- Wilson

"Just because it is true doesn't make it necessary. Think of 'due season'."- Wilson

Finally, I love this thought so much, I think I'll put it on my wall this year:

"Beware of verbal scribbling."- Wilson

(And ironically, I put "word scribbling on first!" LOL! Looks like I have some learnin' to do!)

Repressed 7th Grade Social Anxiety

2009-07-10T20:27:00.003-05:00

Wouldn't it be grand if I had something witty and wonderful to write?

Alas, it is summertime, and I find myself in my usual bloggy rut. I have a kid with a broken ankle, a teenage son gone for a month working on the family ranch like a miniature man, and two daughters who are constantly in search of entertainment.

I've read, but not as much as I would have liked. Next week, I head to Logos for training. It will be the second time I've been, and I am very much looking forward to being a student instead of a teacher. However, and oddly, I find being in FRONT of the classroom much easier than being a part of the class. I always feel nervous as a student! (What if the teacher calls on me and I don't know what to say? What if I need to go to the bathroom? What if my stomach growls?) It feels like Jr. High all over again.

Oh, but all the repressed 7th Grade social anxiety in the world is worth it. (But I WILL be looking for a seat on the back row, and/or closest to the nearest exit.)

And getting away from the oppressive Oklahoma heat? Please. Just say when, and I'm there.

"All The World's A Stage..."

2009-06-20T15:53:00.002-05:00

Thanks, Jaime. I think this is hilarious. It reminds me of Shakespeare's words (was it in "As You Like It"?) "All the world's a stage, and the men and women are merely players" (or something like that).

Random Summer Thoughts:

2009-06-14T21:37:00.006-05:00

Most Importantly: I'm rather thankful that HE intercedes for me. He's "got my back." Fairly (understatement) thankful for that. I wonder what He says to the Father?

Less Importantly: I get rather annoyed with judgemental Christians. They get annoyed too often. Believe me, the irony of this is not lost with me. (See "Most Importantly" above.)

Zero Importance Whatsoever: Do you think it's possible that "Please" is the once singular version of "Plea" that has morphed into a new "appropriate" plural word? Because I'm beginning to think I shouldn't teach my kids to "plea" for what they want. Instead, maybe they should be more "Austenian" in their approach. Eg: "It would delight me greatly if....," or "I would be most grateful if...."

Addendum: Lovin' Kanakuk and "I'm Third."

Plundering English Villages

2009-06-04T23:03:00.005-05:00

I have come to the poignant realization that I do not like an empty house. I'm not sure that I ever will enjoy solitude the way I should. My idea of solitude is sitting on a beach surrounded by strangers. This gives me quiet time, but it also gives me a false sense of security. EVERYONE loves a good fictitious sense of safety. All four of my children are gone, so I have been restaurant hopping in order to read a book and write a few lines. What does this mean for my golden years? I may indeed become a Golden Girl. Have my children EVER all been away from home for more than two hours at the same time? Indeed, they have not.

This, my friends, is history in the making. I feel like I should be crying or having a bunch of personal epiphanies, but instead, I'm just sort of in a state of shock. Nevertheless, I keep looking at that to-do-list and checking things off one at a time.

I know no one really cares, but in case there is just ONE SOUL that is listening, let me say that RUSSIAN LITERATURE is just simply amazing. I don't know. The psychology of it all just resonates with me. Anna Karenina makes so much sense. It's so... "real."

We're running again. Mr. Clyde, the Viking, is a very big strong man, and I love to watch him dominate the course. I imagine that centuries ago, his ancestors were plundering English villages carrying the goods upon their backs, running like crazy to the ships.

Summer's Evil Dictator

2009-05-31T22:13:00.003-05:00

SO excited for summer.

My to-do-list is so unrealistic, it just might make me laugh. But...not in a slap-stick "Three-Stooges" kind of a way; but rather, I'll laugh in a maniacal "Evil Dictator" kind of a way. There is SO MUCH TIME!! MOOAAHHAA HAA HAA HA.

My pathetic unproductive life has been beating me over the head with a rubber bat, and then, "POP!" the bat explodes in the heat of the warm summer sun.

The Books! The Writing! The Learning! The Teaching! The Applications! The Cleaning! The Scrapbooking! The Playing! The Studying! The Running! The Sleeping! The Cooking! The Gardening!

I think I can put off my mid-life crisis for at least a few more months. There is time to be looney AND productive in a lazy summer day. Summer months mean my life can change in crazy ways, thus satiating my need for constant change.

-NightFat

Techno Confessions

2009-05-18T22:51:00.006-05:00

Just to let you know: If you take too many "What kind of bubble gum am I?" tests on Facebook, I'm going to hide you from my feed. Our friendship will shrink a little bit, because I won't be able to give you a thumbs up when you say something like: Krenshaw is happy because his son just won the Nobel Peace Prize.

I'll give you about ten quizzes per month. After that, well, we both know how it's going to end between us.

Oh, and FYI, I'm Green Apple because I'm sour, sweet, and green with envy and naivete. Chew on that. :0)

Techno Confession: I have no idea what Twitter is. Plea: Please don't tell me.

Theses Rhymes With...

2009-05-12T21:03:00.005-05:00

"Ma! Pull yerself up right cheer next-uh me, and listen to these here book learnin' kids doin' their fancy talkin'."

That's right. It's "THE WEEK." The week that sprinkles salt on top of their high school savory pie. It's the nutmeg on the latte, the cheese on the grits, the lemon on the salmon. Ladies and gentlemen...it's the proverbial "cherry on top."

And even though technically, the plural form of "Thesis" is "Theses," I refuse to use the word. I've explained this to my class. Why? Because giving your senior Thesis at ACS should NEVER bring to mind connotations of...well...you know.

There is nothing...NOTHING more exciting to me than to watch a high school senior present, by memory, a 12-14 minute speech on a controversial topic, and then field questions from a panel of intimidating characters (plus their kind hearted and oh-so tender English teacher).

One big thing that impresses me is that these kids know that knowledge and spiritual development are NOT antithetical.

These kids are better speakers than 97% of the adults I know! Then, after their awe-inspiring speech, they manage not to cry or fold under the heckling. I'm telling you--C-Span, Fox News, CNN, TBN, MTV, CBS, NBC, ABC, MSNBC, CMT, TNT, TLC, and whatever C you want to be, you can just get back. You outa' wack, Jack.

They're ready for college. Spread your wings, little birdies. You make me smile.

Soma Holiday?

2009-05-05T20:41:00.004-05:00

No thank you.

I would rather feel the pain that comes with these precious things: TOO, TO, TWO, THERE, THEIR, ITS, IT'S, "S" AND " 'S ".

I also wouldn't be able to tell my students that prepositions are terrible things to end a sentence with. (Yes, I noticed.)

I wouldn't be bothered by the misuse (or lack of use) of this: " ;".

Would I cry when I watch "David at the Dentist?" I think not.

The Seniors are graduating. And I'm crying AGAIN...just like in 2008. I just adore them. The JR/SR Banquet was May 1st and Mrs. Fisher spoke to the students...MISTY-EYED.

I'm teaching Oliver Twist, Confessions, Brave New World, and Ivanhoe. A few of my students and a couple of adults want to read Austen over the summer. Book 1 is Mansfield Park which will be discussed with Victorian Flair June 18 @ the Fisherstines. If you're reading this, you're invited. Wait...I think I found my Soma.

Late Nights and Cuss Words

2009-04-19T23:15:00.003-05:00

Can someone please tell me why the only time my teenage boy wants to have a conversation is at 11pm? He sure is early morning sunshine at this hour! There is a lot of bribery: "Can I get you a drink?" There is a lot of reaching out: "Would you like to read my paper? Look at the section about the Gladiators." Concerns are expressed: "I don't think our play about Julius Caesar is going to be long enough." Advice is given: "You don't need to worry about it. Isn't it the same as last time? Why would you expect anything different?"

Earlier, six year old boy confessed: "I just hate it when I can't get a cuss word out of my head." I asked him what cuss word he had on his mind. (I was hoping it was "chaos," the word he thinks sounds like and in fact seems to be a cuss word.) Nope. He spelled it for me. The good news is...he can spell. The bad news? He can spell cuss words.

Essay prompt:

2009-04-16T19:54:00.003-05:00

What IS the importance of being earnest?

I'm thinking of participating in this assignment.

Vicarious Living

2009-04-14T20:17:00.003-05:00

I've abandoned "Lit Happy." I hope to have time to blog about all of my favorite books this summer. Maybe I will...Maybe I won't. Who cares?

As of today, I'm a little obsessed with "The Idiot," which I finally got around to starting this last weekend. I'm a little worried it's going to cost me a sleepless night or two in the near future. I'm not a big fan of taking months and months to read a book. I'm more of a freakishly obsessive reader. I'm supposed to be re-reading Beowulf this week, but since I've read it several times already, I think sparknotes will do the trick. I'm adding new and different books to "Mrs. Fisher's Book List 2009." Can't help it. I read one, I want to read a different one... this reading business has a life of its own.

Can I also tell the world that my seniors twisted my arm into completing 20 pieces of literature this year? And with all of that, we're slated to be finished two weeks early. I'm pretty sure we'll just watch movies and talk about old times and future times during our last week. :o)

The freshman are acting out "The Importance of Being Earnest," and laughing their tails off. Denise, your boy is just plum funny. I keep forgetting to tell you that. I crack up every day. I caught the sophomores talking about how cool it was that Camilla (in the Aeneid) was saved from certain death by her father by being strapped to a spear and thrown across the river as a baby. Apparently, they're secretly enjoying the book.

So I haven't been blogging, because...I mean really...who out there cares about this fantasy land of literature where I live? Let's call it like it is: I'm vicariously living via lit. There. Now all of you non-readers can "feel sorry" for me. You're LIVING LIFE. I'm just "delusional."

I'm turning into one of THOSE people. I need to trow some mothballs into my closet so I'll smell exactly like I feel.

Introducing....

2009-04-12T17:59:00.004-05:00

A beautiful little girl started her own blog.

Add her to your Google Reader!

Falling off and Getting Back on the Train

2009-03-21T18:11:00.006-05:00

Let's see...

Spring Break 2009.

I finished three books that I've been working on for some time:
the God who is there, by Francis Schaeffer
The Pearl, by Steinbeck
The Knowledge of the Holy, by Tozer

the God who is there boggled my mind like I expected. Actually, I would say it is life-changing. It's a book about finding common-ground, and respecting our fellow man because EVERYONE is made in the image of God; therefore, they are lovely.

The Pearl--people say this book depresses them. I didn't shed a tear.

The Knowledge of the Holy is unfathomably quotable. It's a book about the attributes of God. Tozer's big message seems to be that God doesn't have to account for Himself, but when we seek to understand Him...our beliefs will undoubtedly change us.

I painted a room with "One Coat" paint. I put on five coats. It still isn't sufficient. I had a "crazy lady" showdown with the Wal-Mart paint dude discussing the fact that since the CAN was different than the last time I purchased the paint (which covered horrifically ugly wallpaper in ONE coat), perhaps this paint WAS DIFFERENT. Don't go to Wal-Mart with an agenda in paint clothes, zero makeup, and a bad attitude. This type of psychotic array will undoubtedly prove fruitless. (I should have read Schaeffer's book before I pained that room.) Put that in your back pocket.

I went on a diet. It lasted three days and I enjoyed thinking about food the ENTIRE time. (I wonder if other people think about food that much? WOW. It was painful.) Today, I decided to get out and start exercising. I keep trying to get that train rolling. If I plan on running (or "completing") a marathon this fall, it's time to shed those ten pounds I'm lugging around and get back on the training train. (I prefer that to the "no carb" train).

So...Like..WHA?...Duh...Because....Uuuh-Huh

2009-03-11T23:54:00.006-05:00

Today in my Rhetoric class, I motioned for each member of my class to draw a slip of paper from my basket. On each paper, I had written a single word or utterance. Words like, "oopsie-daisy," "because," and "ummm...." Lastly, I drew my word from the basket. It was: "DUH..." Wow. Class, can you say "Providential Irony?"

So I explained to the kids that they could ONLY say THEIR word the entire class period. (I explained it by saying "DUH.") Luckily, they were smart enough to get my point.

This was, of course, in reaction to a conversation the previous day (the best teaching opportunities). In Rhetoric, we are constantly discussing the subtle nuances, connotations, tones, and implications of words. One kid was tired of it, and sarcastically implied that we should simplify language. Not having read 1984, and unfamiliar with Newspeak, he was unable to grasp the implications of his desire. I HOPE I convinced him otherwise after today.

On the other hand, everyone seemed to have a good time working on their "figures of speech" exercise uttering their little words.

Even without the full English vocabulary at my disposal, I was able to say "BE QUIET" saying "DUH." I was able to answer questions with "DUH," and I was able to even offer some encouragement.

Sometimes, I find just the right words to express how I am feeling. On other days, like today, I just want to say "duh" and hope someone is there to whom I can express myself. It doesn't need to be eloquent; it simply needs to be expressed. I hope we are listening to the not-so-eloquent communication directed our way.

I'll take a real-life friend to whom I can say "duh" and know she is there over a friend who needs my rhetorical skills any day. (Wait...maybe that kid was right...."duh.")

Carpe Diem

2009-03-03T23:26:00.004-06:00

It's 11:26pm, and I should be writing a Rhetoric quarter exam. There are a stack of essays begging for my attention. Animal Farm and Sherlock Holmes tests peer at me from inside the "to grade" folder.

Instead, I sit on my laptop searching for the catharsis found in writing. I'm wondering if I can take a sick day tomorrow for "mental health" purposes. My husband sits with me tonight (he's on his laptop purchasing cars; I'm on mine thinking about books), and he tells me that it would not be appropriate to drop out of life right now.

My Little Mr. Man is reading--finally reading, and actually reading quite well. I credit his teacher for that. She has believed in him. She has challenged him. She has pushed him.

I think about Pretty. She has grown SO much as a student this year. In her spare time, she likes to diagram sentences, work on her division facts, practice cursive writing, and highlight her Bible. I thank her teacher for that. This teacher has been diligent, inspiring, and has kept the standard high.

Big Sis, with the help of friends, has become quite a debater this year. The last debate tournament gave her medals in Cross-Examination, Standard Oratory, Humorous Duet, and Dramatic Duet. I wonder if she could have achieved those things without a teacher to inspire her? A team of teachers have worked alongside her to make this a reality.

Big Bub-- my little (big) man-- His grammar is the second highest in the class, he -amazingly- writes paragraphs with topic sentences, a coherent middle, and a conclusion. Big Bub tells me things about Messianic OT scripture that I barely understand. His grasp of history amazes me. I thank his teachers for that. They have inspired him.

I think about tomorrow. I wonder if I'm making a difference, and then I realize the difference that teachers have made in the lives of my children. I think I'll get up and face the day after all. I think I'll stand on a table tomorrow and yell, "Carpe Diem!"

Secondhand Smoke

2009-02-24T19:57:00.003-06:00

I've been thinking about starting a brutally honest private blog. You know, the kind of blog that operates more like a fancy email. I'll let you know if I go unfiltered. For now, you're just breathing in second-hand smoke.

But not tonight. Tonight I took a sleeping pill. If you call me right now I will probably tell you everything that I don't want you to know. If I go unfiltered right now, I might set something on fire.

Augustine talks about whispering his secrets into God's ear. Interestingly, however, he also talks about getting his ear close to God's mouth. Presumably, this is to hear what God has to say JUST to him.

I wonder if I'M being quiet enough to hear his whisper?

The Viking Plunders Aldi

2009-02-15T19:55:00.003-06:00

Every Sunday, my Viking Warrior goes grocery shopping for me. He makes me give him a list. After I handed him the following, I laughed until I cried.

Milk
Grated Cheese
Gravy Mix
Brownie Mix
Corn Kernels

That's pretty much the essentials, right? I'm so terrible at being a housewife. I would ask the world to pray for me, but I think my family needs prayer more than I do.

Luckily, he came home with extra things such as half-price yummy smelly candles, soap and not one but EIGHT packs of gravy. AAAHH!! THE PLUNDER!

I Confess; I Feel I'm Living in a Dystopia

2009-02-13T23:39:00.005-06:00

I'm getting ready to re-read the Confessions of St. Augustine with my Senior Literature class. I've blogged about this extraordinary work before, but I must say again how critical and life changing Augustine's words are. There are many scholarly reasons to read Confessions, but the reason I love it, is that it pulls at my heart. Augustine is candid, vulnerable, and equally insightful. His salvation was a poignant process.

I often feel the urge to post my own "Confessions" on my blog. Interestingly, however, Augustine's confessions were more about his confession of faith in a Holy God and less about himself. I must confess, that there are times when my heart is so heavy and burdened, I ache to confess and explore my frustrations online for the world to see.

However, I think there is an element of depth that is added to Augustine's confessions because they were private, not written for the world. His confessions were written to God alone. They were later published, and for this I am thankful. Watching his struggles-this great man of God- gives me hope for my own life.

In addition to works like Augustine's Confessions, I'm also rather obsessed with dystopian literature. I haven't read as much as I would like to, but I'm always looking for more. I wonder what prophesies could come to fruition as a result of the disconnected and impersonal relationships we are developing online? What happens when a tool becomes a replacement for a relationship? I must confess, it leaves me lonely. (There is a book waiting to be written.)

Reading Confessions reminds me of the importance of intimacy. Intimacy first with my God and Savior, and next with my friends and family. I know of no other writer who has moved my heart like Augustine. It's well worth the read.

Keep Smiling Casserole

2009-02-09T21:24:00.008-06:00

Start with a healthy dose of insomnia. Fold in a a midweek cousin sleepover. Mix that up with a heavy dose of Shakespeare and an unexpected dash of clean house OCD. Gently stir in one vomit covered third grade child. Let the mixture rest while laying on the couch eating carbs and gaining weight. Purchase new fat pants. Next, bake with a dash of overnight debate tournament. Just before the casserole comes out of the oven, add a thirteen year old with a fever and a sore throat. Sprinkle with overnight house guests (leave broccoli out of the mix-- broccoli is resting at gma and gpa house). Put the casserole in the oven on Sunday while you lay around feeling nauseated. Serve with a side of broken leg still in a cast and an eleven year old with toenail "surgery." For dessert, care for the puke kid, the toenail kid, the cast kid, and the fever kid. Garnish with a spunky attitude. ENJOY!!!

***This just in!!!*** Since my post, cast kid = cast/projectile vomit boy! Keep SMILING! I'm a robot! I'm a robot! I'm a robot! I'm a robot! I'm a robot! I'm a robot! I'm a robot! I'm a robot.....robot...robot...r...r....

B= A++

2009-02-05T21:30:00.003-06:00

It only took my nephew B the Rock a few hours to find the best reading spot in my house.

Broccoli also found our favorite family reader.

Little Mr. McMan knew immediately that the Brockinator would be a great storyteller. Brocktastic read "Sister for Sale," and then added a moral morsel. "That's not about your sister."

B-coli is setting a great example for the kids already by keeping his room squeeky-deeky clean, and even does dishes without being asked. Big Sis has him pegged to be her G-Tar teacher.

Having the Brockinator stay at our house for a while is going to B Rockin.

An Example, but of WHAT??

2009-01-30T19:26:00.003-06:00

I'm beginning to fear that my worst nightmare is coming true.

It's the nightmare where your kid doesn't want to do what you do, so they do the opposite of what you are doing. (I know I just made an incredibly profound statement there. Try not to be intimidated by the brilliance contained therein.) If you've seen Spanglish, you know what I'm talking about.

I think I'm going to need to quit reading the classics in my spare time and start laying around on the couch reading Danielle Steele while munching on cheese puffs instead. And if there are any Danielle Steele readers out there, PLEASE stop reading that. It's just no good for your brain. I read one once (A lady on a plane gave it to me to get me to shut up. I read it in a single flight...). I couldn't believe I had spent an hour and a half reading that book.

Anyway.... there is also the possibility of eating only sugar, staying up late watching MTV, and tiVo'ng all my favorite shows so I could get my "picture box fix." I wish I was kidding when I tell you that big sis LOVES the show "My Redneck Wedding," and just because I think it's the most IDIOTIC show around, she's telling me how she's going to have a wedding like that.

I'm not convinced that "setting the right example" is the best plan. I'm sorry, but many awesome people don't look back on their childhoods as perfection personified. I wonder if I could be the example of what NOT to be instead. It feels like I'm just dangling somewhere in the middle and my family is confused.

So what do I have to do? PRETEND to like a bunch of junky brain-mush stuff so they try to be different than I am? Really. This teenage stuff is a mind boggler. I keep trying to be perfect, but that angle aint workin.

"look At mee....I da CRAZZZYYY mamaaaaaaa.............You NEEDS to be gettin yo'way n dis WERLD, cuz MAMA NEEDS YOU to be everything I CAINT! I CAINT do't! ***cry, blubber*** mama da Needs you to get her a drink of water ***drink/ spill/ slobber***"

I mean really, would this help things? Because I'm up for pulling the crazy card.

And I really am no good at being demanding. I prefer inspiring. Only thing is, these kids of mine know all of my tricks!

It's time for me to go play Wii.

He or She Plays by His or Her own Rules

2009-01-29T17:40:00.005-06:00

It would be just awesome if I could tell you that this type of thing wasn't perfectly normal around my house.

But then I'd be telling a lie, wouldn't I? And everyone knows what they say about liars. (Actually I'm telling a lie I don't know what they say.)

I've been wondering why my refrigerator smelled like spearmint every time I opened the door.

I'm going to be asking my kids all about this very very soon. The fact is, I know EXACTLY who did this, but I don't expect the guilty party to come forward. It's pretty much the same person who makes his or her own rules. He or she is one of my favorite people in the world, and he or she is very creative. He or she likes thinking outside of the box, and he or she will be very successful, in spite of and because this person, who remains nameless, is not bound by traditional rules of engagement. He or she is a leader, an innovator, and a genuine, certified free spirit.

Relaxation Junkie

2009-01-28T08:50:00.004-06:00

I think I'm a Relaxation Junkie. On snow days like we're having, I seem to thrive on doing nothing. I did clean out a closet or two, but that only got me 2% closer to where I needed to be. Instead, I've been sitting on my cozy couch, listening to Pandora "Library Tunes," watching the snow fall, and reading Longfellow. Truly, he amazes me. His work is simple, but in the grand old style using American word-pictures. Apparently, he has gone in and out of vogue, but I enjoy his writing. I came across this simple poem:

THE WITNESSES
by: Henry Wadsworth Longfellow (1807-1882)

In Ocean's wide domains,
Half buried in the sands,
Lie skeletons in chains,
With shackled feet and hands.

Beyond the fall of dews,
Deeper than plummet lies,
Float ships, with all their crews,
No more to sink nor rise.

There the black Slave-ship swims,
Freighted with human forms,
Whose fettered, fleshless limbs
Are not the sport of storms.

These are the bones of Slaves;
They gleam from the abyss;
They cry, from yawning waves,
"We are the Witnesses!"

Within Earth's wide domains
Are markets for men's lives;
Their necks are galled with chains,
Their wrists are cramped with gyves.

Dead bodies, that the kite
In deserts makes its prey;
Murders, that with affright
Scare school-boys from their play!

All evil thoughts and deeds;
Anger, and lust, and pride;
The foulest, rankest weeds,
That choke Life's groaning tide!

These are the woes of Slaves;
They glare from the abyss;
They cry, from unknown graves,
"We are the Witnesses!"

It would be great to feel a sense of relief because there are no longer slaves in this world. Unfortunately, there are more slaves living today in this world than were trafficked during the African slave trade era. Slavery doesn't always look the same today as it did then. What is it? Modern-day slavery is human trafficking, forced labor, forced prostitution, debt bondage, contemporary slavery, forced marriage, transferring of wives, inheritance of wives, and transfer of a child for purposes of exploitation.

"Probably the most startling statistic is the estimated 27 million slaves still in the world today. These slaves come in varied forms, and may be very different from the slaves in the days of Wilberforce. But they are slaves nonetheless.

Millions across the globe are bonded into slavery with men, women and children toiling on plantations. Then there is the deplorable and prevalent trade in humans to serve as sex slaves.

Let's look at the statistics: an estimated 800,000 people are trafficked across international borders each year; approximately 50 per cent of all victims are children; 126 million children work in the worst forms of child labour - one in every 12 of the world's five- to seventeen-year-olds; there are an estimated 300,000 child soldiers involved in over 30 areas of conflict worldwide, some younger than 10 years old." Source

The statistic "27 million" seems unfathomable, but I've checked this statistic over and over from multiple sources. This is the most CONSERVATIVE estimate.

Well...

I didn't mean to ruin anyone's day. I do think, however, that we need to be in prayer for those helpless ones across the world (and right here in the land of the free) who face circumstances much worse than we could imagine. The church is being persecuted, and the truly helpless are being exploited.

I've been spending a lot of time thinking about these things, and I've hesitated to discuss it on my blog, since it's such a huge and dark issue. However, I'd really appreciate it if you would join me in prayer.

I'll be ready for Christ to return any time, won't you?

Wilbur is in Solitary Confinement

2009-01-26T19:05:00.003-06:00

I wish something funny was happening around my house. But NO! Nothing funny happens around here anymore! My funny bone must be broken, because I have very little comedy in me these days.

I'm not having emotional problems or anything, but I just don't feel funny! And if Wilbur has died, WHO AM I???

This is truly an identity crisis. Is this my midlife crisis? My hubby bear made his "very own" batch of cookies tonight. I should have gotten out the easy-bake oven for him, but he used the big boy oven instead. Not being a baker, he decided to add "extra" butter. This is the funniest thing that has happened to me all day! Oh wait... he just yelled, "Where's MY PEAS!!! BRING ME SOME PEAS, WOMAN!!!"

There's a whole lot of comedy building up inside of me right now. I wonder when it's going to pop out? I'm building up steam. Let's just hope that when I explode, it's not in anyone's direction. It's going to be scary.

****He keeps yelling for his peas. This is surreal*********

When does comedy turn scary? When Wilbur becomes ravenous after being starved too long.

Lock Me Up? Or Lift me Up.

2009-01-22T21:45:00.014-06:00

We listened to "Sinners in the Hands of an Angry God" by Jonathan Edwards yesterday in Rhetoric. It was a follow-up to Aristotle's discussion of how to use fear to persuade an audience.

My students and I were all sufficiently humbled and awe-struck. The sermon was a great reminder to me that without the Good that is God, my own sin would eat me alive.

God cannot tolerate an ounce of sin. This is bad news for me, because on my best days I can usually count at least 100 times my mind has wandered where it should not, my tongue has said something that it should not have said, or my heart has nursed a secret bitterness.

Sin, unchecked, creates an unfathomable hardness of heart. I knew I was in trouble today when I told one class that I thought Miss Havisham (a classic Dickens character) was a "...funny lady. I hope I can be as blunt and crazy as she is when I am old." One student said, "I think you've got a pretty good chance of seeing that dream come true; You're off to a great start!"

But guilt can be a beautiful thing. I realized afresh today that I am a wanted woman. My sin makes me an outlaw. I have broken the rules. I deserve death.

I'm so grateful that there is someone who paid the ransom for my sin! Scripture says that Christ sits at the right hand of God to intercede for me. He's speaking to Him on my behalf. I am no longer an outcast, an outlaw and a sinner. The debt was too much for me to pay, but HE paid the price for my lawlessness and disobedience. I truly am redeemed. As a bonus, I know I am constantly restrained from evil by His providential hand. For this, I am truly thankful.

I am not a wanted woman; I am a wanted woman.

So, yep.... I'll admit it.

2009-01-20T22:09:00.003-06:00

It's time to come clean.

I REALLY love those students of mine. But for their part, I think LOVING a teacher generally has to do with getting a good grade.

A=love (You didn't mess up my life.)
B=tolerable (This is unacceptable, but I might survive.)
C=dislike (This is extremely inconvenient.)
D=anger (Who do you think you are, Teacher?)
F=inane, insatiable blood boiling hatred

I had all of my classes watch a Martin Luther King video montage this week in class, and I gave them an ambiguous assignment. "Write a short essay in response to the video." This boggled many of their minds.

One asked me, "If I don't do well on this, are you going to be angry with me?" I responded, "Of course not! I'll feel exactly the same way about you that I feel about you now! YOU, on the other hand, might feel entirely different about me depending upon your grade. "

Their debate t-shirts say it best: " 'Corrupted Youth' Plato, Apology 24." Are we corrupting them? I sure hope so. Tell me: How do you grade THAT?

So, yep...I love them. Just thought you should know.

Do You Like My Poncho?

2009-01-19T16:47:00.012-06:00

I REALLY need to know how you feel.

I put my reputation as the quintessential fashionista (cough) on the line this week for my Rhetoric students. We were discussing "truth," and TELLING the truth.

I know for a fact that there are at least four blog-readers out there who might LOVE this poncho. You might love it because it reminds you of another time in your life. A time in Guatemala... Earthquakes, missions, and learning about God's call on your life. I love it for that reason, too. It reminds me of you.

There are others of you who might not find this poncho appealing.

I asked my Rhetoric class to respond: "When do simple questions require direct and simple answers?"

The question is simple. Are you suffering from Post-Modernism Post Traumatic Stress Disorder? Am I?? Do we think that EVERYTHING has a "black and white" answer? We all want to be able to discern TRUTH, but maybe we have failed to realize that LIGHT doesn't create Black and White. LIGHT creates COLORS.

When Martin Luther was asked to recant his writings that were based entirely on his understanding of Scripture, he said "Here I stand, on the word of God alone. I can do no other." When someone asks me "do you like my poncho?" (or some other equally irrelevant question), It's important for me to understand that my opinion is not necessarily TRUTH. It's a matter of TRUTH versus Opinion. Do I have to respond? I don't think so.

I'm wondering if we, as Christians, are at times tempted to "take a stand" for something that isn't a real issue, because we want everything to fit into a box? We're so afraid of being wishy-washy that we make issues out of things that aren't really issues. Is PMPTSD the new legalism?

Someone this week told me that he was on a mission to "reclaim the rainbow." I agree. This beautiful reflection of God's many colors shows his promises and covenant with man. I can't help but also think about the Trinity, and the beautiful differences contained therein.

I think that when we draw a line in the sand, we need to be sure that we aren't standing in front of the Light of Truth while we are busy making our point heard (or seen).

St. Augustine said it best. "Most people don't want the truth to be found, they simply want their opinions to be heard."

I'm grateful for the differences of opinion in this world. This exchange of ideas, cultures and tastes allows for an "iron sharpens iron" effect. I think it's critical, however, that when we share our opinions, we're realize the difference between...OPINION, and the Holy Word of God (Truth). I'm grateful for differences when they help lead me to truth. I don't think there's a truth to divine in a poncho (or other "seemingly" serious issues).

BTW, I did spell poncho "pancho." I'm a poncho neophyte.

I'm taking a stand. I don't have to take a stand.

But...that's just my opinion.

Just Curious...

2009-01-15T18:41:00.004-06:00

After sending my thirteen year old to his room for the night , when asked to explain "Why??"

Should I have responded by saying: "Because. You're a back-talking goober face!"

PMPTSD

2009-01-15T16:03:00.002-06:00

It has become crystal clear to me in the last few weeks. I've been struggling with a few issues that have become a driving, obsessive personal force in my life. And then, yesterday...it hit me.

It "seems" to me that many Christians (myself included) are suffering from:

Post-Modernism Post Traumatic Stress Disorder.

I feel free. Sat on that branch long enough. Time to fly. Oh man. I'm awfully close to the cliff. I wonder if I'll make it across????

More to come...

Chapters 1-3

2009-01-12T16:33:00.006-06:00

Chapter One:

I've gained eight pounds since the marathon. Did you ever notice how short I am? (No of course you didn't because I always wear heals.) Eight pounds on me is like twenty on a person who is not vertically challenged. Those pants...they don't fit sister!!! What happened to mini-me??? SOOO, I started training for the half marathon yesterday. I remembered why it is that people exercise. In the words of Elle Woods, "exercise makes people happy."

Chapter Two:

For some reason, the students in my class today decided to start discussing whether or not we HAD to "tell the truth" by responding to someone when they ask a point blank question. For example, if someone says "Do you like my vest?" (their example), my students feel that the response must be completely honest. I think you can avoid answering the question by saying something like. "Do YOU like your vest?" I don't think it's NECESSARILY a sin to remain silent. Of course, this doesn't apply to vests covered in pornography or dripping blood from a recently murdered person. In that case, I think the answer is a clear "NO! I don't like your vest, Mr. Porno-murderer." Really, does a vest have anything to do with morality? Sheesh. Pick a better example, or I refuse to dignify the question with a serious response.

Chapter Three:

Am I the ONLY PERSON in the whole world who finds the following church sign incredibly ironic? I kept discussing it with my students and they were looking at me like I was C-rayyyy-a-Zee!!!. "Well done is better than well said." (I agree. Well said.)

Here, God... Here's the Pen. It's Yours.

2009-01-03T20:23:00.006-06:00

It’s 2009, The beginning of a new year.

I’m not inclined towards “new year” resolutions. In fact, I vehemently, in both theory and practice, oppose them. I’ve never kept a resolution for an entire year. I suppose some people are able to do so, but I have been a miserable failure in this arena. Several years ago, I gave up the practice altogether. My life has stagnated, but at least there is no guilt (just kidding...but about which statement?).

However, one cannot help but be inclined towards realizing the hope that comes with something new. A new year brings an opportunity to re-focus.

There are those of you out there (like me) who are easily bored and will glance down this post and realize it goes on and on. You will not continue reading. Bravo. Your time is your own, and I value your choice. Go make a sandwich. For everyone else, here goes an unusually serious post.

I’m a literature teacher, so forgive me if my personal epiphany has been couched literarily. In the great novels, the protagonist always comes face to face with a “defining moment.” It is generally a singular moment in time that defines the character’s entire prior life as nothing more than a precursor to a singular act. The protagonists that we see as heroes define this climactic moment most often by making a heroic moral decision. Sometimes the hero of a novel will realize his or her moment has arrived. More often than not, however, the hero is too absorbed in his own story to have the ability to reflect upon his actions. The hero simply lives how he or she has always been living. The hero makes a surprising choice, but the choice generally falls in line with his or her character traits.

What will the consequences of my character be in 2009? Will I face that defining moment in my life? If I do face it, will I realize that it has come, or will it pass me by unnoticed? Will I be a hero or an anti-hero?

I have a tendency to believe that there are many defining moments in our lives. It is no great epiphany to realize that life is a series of ups and downs, rising action, climax and denouement that is all a part of the every day.

But what if 2009 is THE YEAR? What if 2009 contains that singular moment in history that will define who I am? What if I’ve found my life’s work? Can I maintain a safe distance from myself, so as to not make every move a self-conscious and affected mess??? When providence is at play, I think it is important to live with a measure of selfless abandon.

I don’t think that greatness is generally defined by strategic planning. I think greatness is generally achieved when we realize that we are in a providentially ordained moment (a space in time written just for us by the Divine Author), and we embrace it. We must act on our previous experiences, our character, and most importantly Faith in God that he has prepared us for such a time as this.

To some, the previous has been nothing but garbledy-gook. Someone else out there might know just what I’m talking about. Nate Wilson once challenged an audience: "What type of character are you? How will history remember YOU?" In 2009, I plan to be an active participant in my story. I hope to do this by handing the pen to God.

"Outspoken" Little Sis

2009-01-01T19:50:00.007-06:00

I don't know of many women who were socialized by four older brothers.

In my formative years, they were all teenagers. So it's actually closer to the truth to say that I was socialized by teenage boys. Wow. That explains a lot.

Goofy humor and good-natured sarcasm were all part of the package.

Once in a while, I meet one of my own. We immediately bond. Let me tell you, that the experience is one of a kind.

They are all older, born between the years of 1960-1965. I came several years later.

My parents felt guilty that I was "left out" because my dad neglected to purchase me one of these Christmas sweater vests for the ski trip. Don't worry Dad, I'm really not offended. (Honestly, You really thought I would be???)

The bottom line is that I have EIGHT men in my life that I hold in the highest regard. My husband, my two boys, my father, and my four brothers. I had two grandfathers who were Christian patriarchs in their own right.

I've never been one of "the boys," but likewise they aren't "the girl." I wasn't a pampered princess, but I certainly learned the importance of living a disciplined life sprinkled with a great deal of humor from these four guys. I love them all deeply.

Thanks boys.
-Your Bratty (a.k.a. the euphemism "outspoken") Little Sister

We Could Have Stayed Home and Played Wii....

2008-12-27T09:04:00.007-06:00

It began like this. Ideal. Beautiful. Serene. Exciting.

It ended like this. Sad. Worrisome. Painful. Depressing.

Freak accidents happen, and this was one. He was on a run he normally could handle just fine, because he's such a strong little skier! I don't think this will squelch his confidence in the future. I'm sure he'll never forget this Christmas!!!!

Luckily, we were with my ENTIRE family, so I think the attention he got from ten female cousins, two sisters, a brother and two male cousins MIGHT have made
"Tiny Tim" feel better.

God Bless us, Every One!

OOOHH....LIGHT!

2008-12-18T15:57:00.004-06:00

Nutcracker Week + Finals Week = Tears

Next semester, I'm really thinking about being "nice," and just putting ten questions on each test. They'll be worth 30 points each.... Fill-in-the-blank.

"Excuse me doctor, could you put some Diet Coke in an IV for me?"

I've been eating chocolate like a starving puppy dog. I realize I'll be sick from it, but I don't care!

On the bright side, I'll be skiing a week from today.

I came out of that cozy cave. "Mommy, mommy, the light scares me!"

Personal Epiphany

2008-12-17T12:40:00.004-06:00

The indoor expedition due to a snow day = a great discovery.

Get out your flashlight and your spelunking gear. We're going to take a walk into the deep caverns of my mind. It's a little murky in there....an impenetrable darkness. But over the last two days, I've been able to chase away the bats.

Here's my personal epiphany:

***I WORK FULL TIME AWAY FROM HOME****

I'm not sure I've ever fully accepted that fact. I now I accept that I'm not an insane or incompetent domestic goddess. Things are a LOT easier to keep up with when I am...HERE...!

***I'm just extremely busy***

Thank you, snow day. Your icy frigid storm drove me into the cave. It's cozy in here.

Jana...

2008-12-12T19:39:00.002-06:00

This is for you!

Simplicity With a Side of Sentimentality

2008-12-09T21:52:00.008-06:00

There is nothing like a simple Christmas. For the past few days, I've been reading "Mary's First Christmas" to the Littles before bedtime. As we read, we get to take in the aroma of our Christmas tree and bask in the radiance of its glow.

This weekend, we purchased a FRESH tree, and the kids and I sat around stringing popcorn and cranberries while we listened to Christmas music.

It was all so very picturesque, really. I'm sure they'll be requesting this tradition to take place in the future. There was a little bit of blood involved, but no more than is appropriate when decorating a Christmas tree. (That's normal, right?) There was the saw to cut off the bottom, and needles to string the popcorn. Being rugged is...well...rugged.

SHHHH!!!! Don't tell anyone that the real motive is that I'm trying to keep Christmas as simple as possible. Remember? Last year my Christmas treee didn't get put away until... MARCH.

Everything going on THIS tree can be thrown into the BON FIRE (and it WILL be thrown into the bon-fire ASAP).

I think we'll make paper snow flakes for it this weekend. By the way, if you're just lost this Christmas, maybe this article will help. Obviously, the author never watched ELF. Everyone knows that the best way to spread Christmas cheer is singing loud for all to hear.

Another fun activity to get into the Christmas spirit is to go to a Christmas play to watch your small children sing to their hearts content. When your first grade child YAWNS the second the first chord is played, and continues to YAWN the ENTIRE performance and barely sing, well....that's just good for the soul.

Did I say simplicity with a side of sentimentality? That's a misprint. What I meant to say is Simplicity with a side of "I wonder where else I can cut corners that will not cause my children to feel deprived?"

Wii Need to Face(book) Facts.

2008-12-07T15:35:00.011-06:00

I'm not so sure how I feel about Blogger anymore.

I also don't entirely get Facebook. I actually enjoy the "interaction" and connection with friends. But I don't understand gifts, snowflakes, flair, etc....

I really like getting pieces of flair, but I don't know what to do with them after I get them.

I'm worried that our lives are all trapped inside of these computers. It's a bit like the Matrix. Did anyone see that commercial where two GROWN LADIES were playing Wii in the middle of the day and having a conversation while they "virtual walked" through the woods? It was VERY VERY frightening. It made me want to throw the Wii in the trash immediately.

I just read Fahrenheit 451, and I'm afraid it's a little bit too timely. Was Bradbury prophetic?

I'm not saying I'm giving this all up, I'm just saying that I'm beginning to weird myself out.

Folks, I got nothin'. NOTHING I tell you!

2008-12-01T18:40:00.005-06:00

NOTHING!!!

I woke up at 4:30 am this morning and I couldn't get back to sleep because I was worrying about the fact that I don't feel I have enough photos and video footage of my kids. I stayed awake until my alarm finally started going off at 6:00am tossing and turning with concern.

At one point I scared myself when I heard a scream, "Photos! Videos!"

It was a nightmare.

What are memories made of? Are they pictures and videos or are they the lasting impressions stamped on the hearts of our children?

Sometimes I fear that I'm raising a household of comedians, rebel-rousers, and "go-with-the-flow hippies." I'm not sure what impression I'm leaving with my children.

But I will say this: I do hope it is nothing. I hope they have learned to be a blank canvas so that they are not too distracted by their own beauty to see the face of someone who has stamped HIS image on their hearts.

And I can't take a picture of THAT!

The Miserables

2008-11-25T15:51:00.003-06:00

Most of us have probably seen the play or movie, Les Miserables. If you are like me, thinking about reading the 1433 page book is a little bit daunting. I added Les Miserables to the senior reading list this year. Since they read 7-8 books per semester, I thought the 640 abridged version would be fine.

I read the first chapter a couple of weeks ago, and finished it up this weekend. I "neglected" my kids a little (I fed them, clothed them, protected them, but didn't play with them). But as I was reading a book filled with Parisian street urchins, it made my children seem like pampered royals.

I was up until 3am last night finishing the book.

I cried, I underlined passages, and I cheered. Please oh PLEASE don't underestimate the power of fiction to relay tender TRUTH. A few ladies and I are reading this. Anyone else want to join us?

Here's the passage that seems to have inspired the title (for you Greek philosophers out there notice the Socrates allusion):

"What! a mere wall separated him from these abandoned beings, who lived by groping in the night without the pale of the living. Undoubtedly they seemed very depraved, very corrupt, very vile, very hateful, even, but those are rare who fall without being degraded; there is a point, moreover, at which the unfortunate and the infamous are associated and confounded in a single word, a fatal word, les miserables; whose fault is it? And then, is it not when the fall is lowest that the charity ought to be the greatest?"

I won't tell you what happens to those behind "the wall." Les Mis does address the depravity of man and the appropriate reaction to our own weaknesses as well as the weaknesses of others (a.k.a. sin). It is poignant, it is important, and it is TRUE.

And I have the puffy eyes and tear-stained pages to prove it.

God and Singing Cats

2008-11-19T20:06:00.003-06:00

It was a moment this evening that will live in my mind for eternity. There is one person, and one person only who constructs a sentence like this in order to practice her acting and enunciation skills:

"The cat walked downtown while singing a song about puberty."

Oh man, that Big Sis. You are your mother's daughter. (okay...There are two people.)

On another (not entirely unrelated) note, I accidentally caught a student listening to an iPod in class today. Luckily, I like this student oodles. I was talking to him about my accidental discovery (oops...someone forgot to tuck their headphones back into their shirt), and heard myself inadvertently saying:

"I think God is on MY side, don't you?"

I'm tired and I'm stressed, and I'm just saying right now that I'm not sure what is going to come out of my mouth tomorrow. It's 8:12. Big Sis and I better go to bed.

yep.

2008-11-18T23:10:00.003-06:00

I'm being eaten alive by essays, progymnasmata exercises, and presentations. Thanks to the Giving to the Breakitie-Brizake.

Mrs. Fisher's Book Club

2008-11-17T19:16:00.005-06:00

Behold, The list to end all lists. Does anyone want to be in Mrs. Fisher's book club? This does not replace your daily scripture reading! I'm looking for a great deal of silence in the comments section (that was a shameless attempt to try to get people on board while protecting myself from shame and disgrace when no one wants to be my book friend).

1.) The Knowledge of the Holy-Tozer
2.) The City of God-Augustine
3.) The Communist Manifesto-Marx
4.) The Twilight of the Idols-Nietzsche
5.) The God Who is There- Schaeffer
6.) The Essays–Francis Bacon
7.) The Man Who Was Thursday: A Nightmare– Chesterton
8.) In Defense of Faith–VanTil
9.) God in the Wasteland–David Wells
10.) The Problem of Pain- C.S. Lewis
11.) Till We Have Faces-C.S. Lewis
12.) Essays on Criticism- Alexander Pope
13.) Phantastes-George McDonald
14.) 1776- McCullough
15.) The Irresistible Revolution- Claiborne
16.) The Red Tent- Diamant
17.) Crime and Punishment-Dostoevsky
18.) Fear and Trembling- Kierkegaard
19.) Enders Game-Card
20.) Slaughterhouse Five-Vonnegut
21.) Metarmorphoses-Ovid
22.) Plato’s Symposium
23.) Divine Comedy-Dante
24.) Angela’s Ashes-McCourt
25.) Ethan Frome-Wharton
26.) Brothers Karamazov-Dostoevsky
27.) The Pearl-Steinbeck
28.) For Whom the Bell Tolls-Hemingway
29.) Metamorphosis-Kafka
30.) Martian Chronicles-Bradbury

I Promise Not to Get Too Wordy, Too Boring, or Too Preachy...

2008-11-16T22:43:00.008-06:00

But...

I’m feeling rather solemn. I just finished reading Foxe’s Book of Martyrs. I have to echo a student’s evaluation of the book and say:

“Those guys were AWESOME!!”

I learned so much about church history, the reformation, and the importance of the Word of God. There is so much to learn.

There is Cheap, and Then There is...ME.

2008-11-14T16:48:00.004-06:00

I took the girls shopping. I made a B-Line for the sales rack. Big Sis was searching on my behalf. She held up an adorable shirt. "Never mind," she sighed. "It's TWELVE dollars."

I've trained her well. That's right. Nothing over $7.50 cuts the mustard. I WILL make the purchase, but not without an incredible amount of emotional pain. It's not that I CAN'T spend the money, it's just that I can't spend the money.

I long to be a pioneer. Three dresses. That is all I want. A Sunday dress, and two rotating daily frocks. Of course, I would need three or four aprons to cover my precious dresses.

With this attitude, I'll soon be wearing a "house dress" and slippers everywhere. Complete with my false eyelashes, rhinestone bracelet, orange hair, sun-damaged skin and man voice.

I'm IT...! 7 Random(ish) Things About Me.

2008-11-08T11:51:00.014-06:00

I’m Jealous of people w/ OCD tendencies. I’m the antithesis of OCD.

I can’t spell and write on the blackboard at the same time. This reduces my ethos exponentionally (did I spell that right?). I CAN spell. I just have a hard time writing, teaching Socratically, listening, thinking to the next point, and SPELLING at the same time. It’s a weakness, and for some reason everyone expects the ENGLISH teacher to “spell correctly.”

I’ve been told that I have an uncanny ability to survive in chaos. I’m pretty sure that’s a backhanded compliment. Someone once told me, “I wish I could let my kids eat toast in my bed like you do.” Yes…I’m awesome like that.

People tell me on a regular basis “I didn’t think you liked me,” or “Do you like me?” I try to keep the response ambiguous, thereby lowering or eliminating any expectations. I’m sure that doesn’t assuage their fears. Just to clear the air, I LIKE YOU!!!!

I make someone furiously mad at least once every year (I know that is SOOOO surprising). The only way I can avoid it is by staying home. Alone. But then someone thinks I “don’t like them” because I'm not socializing. Please...eliminate all expectations directed my way. Pretend I'm not here, and I'll just float in and surprise you once in a while like a forgotten but beloved specter.

I’m deathly afraid of pickles (Just kidding).

Ironically, in spite of my complete lack of OCD, I’m really no good at the “random” post. I always have an agenda.

And the game goes on... Auntie Beth, Little Dalene, and my comrade ChristyO, you're it!

Quixotic Hope?

2008-11-06T16:28:00.004-06:00

There has been a paradigm shift in my life this week. I've cried THRICE.

I was in the fetal position when McCain conceded. He was so classy, and he made me proud to be an American.
I can't help it. A Tale of Two Cities makes me cry. If you didn't cry, I will have to have some other proof of your humanity.
Several students recited the St. Crispan's Day Speech from Henry V in Rhetoric today. They did SUCH a great job. I was moved. I didn't go fetal, but I was misting.

Perhaps one must be a little MAD to feel the hope that I have today. But to tell you the truth, I'm very excited about the future. I'm so thrilled to know that FAMILY VALUES just became a little more important. Lackadaisical? Absolutely NOT. The ball is in MY court. That's just where it belongs.

Our futures are not established by our governments. Whether you were a Maverick supporter, or are a MoBama fan, the reality remains that the FIRST line of defense is... YOU. The family is the vanguard of our future. I'm so glad that God is sovereign and I'm excited to see his mysterious hand at work.

Quixotic? Perhaps. But then again, while Sancho is stuck in a hole, I prefer to see a grand adventure.

The Drama of the Great Debate

2008-11-03T19:08:00.009-06:00

Is there anything better than combining a great debate with a little bit of humor?? Maybe that's why America is fascinated by SNL right now. There's nothing like humor to lighten a situation and drive home a point simultaneously.

I can't help but feel that as we enter the future, there is a great need for logical minds, who know when and where to use their rhetoric. However, there are times when the best thing to do is to "take a chill pill" and laugh at ourselves.

It's sort-of sad that much of the rhetoric we see today is nothing but a theatrical, shameless appeal to pathos. I'm concerned about the dubious "tomorrow." Not just election day, but 20 years from now. I hope we are taking the time to train our children how to think, debate, and most importantly love their neighbors by finding common ground from which to persuade.

My friend Wilbur said it best. "I'z reely hopin that them thur yungins iz doin skool learnin on howtu be teachen the peoples about all the rites and rongs in the wearld. I'z sorta trubled about the future of this hear nation, who like fancy talkin but aint been taught howta do their own fancy talk. I wished I could do it."

I'm SO Grateful for so many friends (in the blogosphere and across the nation) who are being intentional in the training of their children. We are training the people who will be making decisions for us when we are in our rocking chairs!!! You all rock at what you do! I love reading the stories that you each post...to be honest, I'm totally intimidated by all of the rocking awesome moms out there. WE'll be rocking together at the nursing home some day. For now, I watch you in awe.

With the necessity for a new generation of leaders (and my gooberness), I can't tell you how grateful I am for the Speech and Debate team at ACS, where my daughter (with the help of two friends) just received two medals for Cross-Examination (3rd place), and Humorous Duet (2nd place). Poor Big Bub. If you want to win a medal, it helps to know your lines. Good lessons. Conversely, if you want to get a medal, you need to have a smokin funny partner and a mean old-lady impersonation.

Christy and I had a great day with our girls. With seven years of speech and debate impending on their high-school resumes, could we be training the next Sarah Palins??? (or Tina Feys????)

Encore: Pigs. 86 the Blanket

2008-10-29T18:55:00.006-05:00

As the weather has taken a turn to the cool side, the comments have started to roll in. In a shameless attempt to avert the flood of concern on my behalf, I'm re-visiting portions of a previous post. Some of you have read it, some haven't. Either way, consider yourself informed.

Don't expect to see me walking around in "shoes" in the wintertime.

I wear three types of shoes: Sandals (any variation), Boots (to make me look tall), and Sneakers (for running).Sometimes in the winter, I simply do not want to wear my boots (because I most likely have no socks folded and I don't feel like digging through the clean sock basket). I simply cannot wear my sneakers with black slacks or a dress; therefore, I might gallivant about in flip flops.FYI, this does NOT concern me. Even though it may be 12 degrees outside, and my arms are cold, I can assure you that my feet are NOT COLD.

I am stupefied at the number of people who are concerned for the welfare of my feet. I can understand their need to satisfy their curiosity, but perhaps a more poignant question than "Aren't your feet cold?" could be concocted.

Isn't the real question: "Are you an idiot? It's 12 degrees outside!" To which I could reply: "REALLY???? I did NOT notice. So THAAAATTTTSSS why my feet are cold! I have been getting frost- bite, and I couldn't figure out WHY! THANK YOU SOO SOOOO much for pointing that out to me. NOW I know that someone really cares about me."

I'm astounded by the number of people-friends and strangers- who enjoy pointing this out to me. A few months ago, at the GAS STATION, a man pointed out to me my lack of appropriate footwear. For some reason, I responded: "Yes, I realize that, but I'm just so HOT all of the time." I didn't realize that was opening a door for him to respond with a "pick-up line." I won't tell you exactly what he said, but my daughter was in the car and we laughed for about an hour after that.

Point is, I got SMOKIN HOT feet, O.K.? My little piggies DON't Need NO Blanket. They're Extra Spicy Cajun Jalepeno with a side of Tobasco. And hey, I might wear a coat, I might not. I try to keep life simple and coats are just another thing to remember. Not wearing a coat is a small price to pay for not forgetting the coat that you don't own.

I. Have. A. TEENAGER....Today!

2008-10-28T06:40:00.004-05:00

13 reasons I'm excited:

13.- Maybe he'll start to like girls and 86 the stinky boy thing.
12.- He's big enough to give me a big bear hug (even though he doesn't like to).
11.- We haven't had any Jerry Springer moments together yet. Could there be one in our future?
10.- Clearasil, Clearasil, Clearasil.
9.- Three years until there's another driver.
8.- Can you say good looking? He might be a heart-throb... I don't know.
7.- Then again, there's the Napoleon Dynamite tendencies.
6.- We're actually discussing colleges.
5.- He's becoming the family expert on scripture. YIKES.
4.- Two years until he has Mrs. Fisherstine as a teacher.
3.-He may be a teenager, but I can still call him my Snuggy-Buggy-Mr. Mannie-Poo. He loves that.
2.- Guess what? He's in charge of the lawn.
1.- He will handle the role of FIRST teenager in the home with flying colors.

Myrmidons BEWARE!!

2008-10-23T19:58:00.005-05:00

As a young bride, I had a propensity to burn the stew. Mr. Clyde was so kind, often commenting that my creative concoctions tasted like I had simply added liquid smoke to the recipe.

There is a time for liquid smoke. It goes well in a roast. Combined with garlic powder, Tabasco sauce, and cheese, it is arguably the most critical ingredient in my favorite grits recipe.

It has been a rare event, indeed during the last decade of my life to have "inadvertent" smoke flavor inserted into my culinary inventions. In fact, since I added "Caterer" to my resume, I can't recall a single time that I have cooked with "Mr. Clyde's Favorite Liquid Smoke."

Until this week. TWICE (One, Two...), TWICE I have burned my stew. This is a head-scratcher indeed. Both times, I've walked away from the stove, underestimating the time frame of my household errand. Alas, my past is coming back to haunt me!!! I thunked I wuz gettin smart-dur, but maybe I'z gettin not smart-der.

I dunno. Maybe it's the four children with homework, relational, and hygiene needs. Maybe it's the full-time job, hubbie, and marathon "madness" (as my niece Jaime calls it). Perhaps my brain cells are at maximum capacity, and there is a civil war between the "original" inhabitants of my mind, and the "newcomers." There just isn't enough man-power to go around. Call me crazy, but I'm quite confident there is a battle that would make the Myrmidons squeamish.

And there is smoke to prove it.

Grammar Boot Camp

2008-10-20T16:52:00.006-05:00

It's the week I've been waiting for. (Please ignore the dangling preposition...this is the blogosphere...O. KAY?????)

It's the week that I get to yell at my students and everyone knows it's all in "good fun." I've set strict rules. "Don't speak unless I speak to you." "You are only allowed to bring ONE pencil to class." "No back-packs, purses, or Bibles allowed." (You heard me.)

I've threatened push-ups, running, and general pain. All in "good fun."

They don't know it yet, but next they will be tortured with the "Perfect Paper Project." Anything with that much alliteration is sure to be a success.

One of my mommies (you know who you are out there) even asked for her own homework (for fun). I LOVE YOU SO MUCH!!!! YOU DON'T EVEN KNOW!!!!

I aint gots a reason two B teachin this stuff, I just likes it. When Grammduh be taught good, there ain't nothin them kids caint set there sites too. Shucks, the main reason I be doin it is so's I can dress up.

(and I keep finding grammatical errors in the post....ironic...)

Cry, Praise, and Laugh

2008-10-15T20:14:00.009-05:00

I am now, as always, amazed by cousin Jason's insight. I have copied his last post to my blog (Jason, I hope you don't mind...). I can't share this with any more eloquence. Friend, both cyber and flesh-n-blood, please add Jason's family to your prayer list.

His post is as follows:

Jr. High Swimming Pool Locker Room

Today was not the worst day of my life.Today doctors told my wife and I that we need to start a 3 year regiment of Chemo treatments for my 3 year old son because he has Leukemia. (Kudos to the doctors for being masters at delivering bad news. I bet my mechanic must have skipped that class.)

My spell checker tells me that this disease is foreign to me. And while I've heard of it, I don't really know what it means.

As a younger man, I once imagined what it would be like to get some really bad news like this. It feels so weird now that it is happening....like I’m supposed to be more dazed than I am.

I always thought something bad like Leukemia would be the worst day of my life. Actually, the worst day of my life was when I had to change in front of my peers for Jr. high swim lessons in my pre-pubescent existence. I'm still whirling from that one.

I cried some today. I did fine at the grocery store and at the service station that fixed my flat. I was strong for my daughters in explaining the more naive version of Von's sickness to them. In my sadness for what Von and Lisa will be going through, I came to realize that God is ok with us crying.

As my friend Rick Suarez told me today, King David, the man after God's own heart, did two things in the Psalms. He praised God and he cried out to God. That makes me feel good. Big warrior David not only did the right thing and praised God, but he also did the human thing and cried out to Him.

In the next few days, I'm going to cry a little, praise a little, and be sure to laugh a little. Von and Lisa wouldn't want it any other way.

Do You Want the Truth?

2008-10-12T21:24:00.006-05:00

"YOU CAN'T HANDLE THE TRUTH!!!"
(the truth is...maybe it's I who can't handle the truth)

It was 85 degrees today.

Not ONE of the eight people that I ran with met their goals. In fact, most of us came in 30mins-1.5 hours behind our projected time.

Running 26.2 on a sunny 85 degree day is...well...NOT a good thing.

A week ago today, I was still hurting (psycho-pain) with an injury from a month ago. Taking 2 weeks off running didn't help. So I went to the doc on Mon, and ran the race on Sat...after taking a total of 3 weeks off of running.

So, even though I ran SLOWER than my first marathon (significantly), I finished.

The TRUTH is, covering that much ground is ...well...hard on a good day. Today was NOT a good day. I didn't have ONE easy mile, but the miles did pass.

And Mr. Clyde is exuberant with joy regarding his finish. He deserves to be. It was a good day.

Chicag...OH!!!

2008-10-11T22:42:00.004-05:00

A person should really be asleep at 10:45pm on the night before a marathon. It's a good thing I slept well last night. Those two Advil PMs didn't hurt. But I couldn't feel my tongue until noon today.

So I chose to forego the sleep-aids.

And I blog instead.
I'm the epitome of...WisDumb today.

I like 4:00am, I LIKE 4:00am, I like 4:00am.
When I ran the Kansas City marathon, someone dressed like the devil ran behind me. Nothin' makes a person run like being chased by the devil.

I wonder what my motivation will be tomorrow?

Oh Yes...He DID!!!!

2008-10-07T21:16:00.003-05:00

Not to beat a dead horse, but...

We are now within FIVE pounds of one another.

AND he is taller than me. As of today.

He's so much easier to hug. I can lay my head on HIS shoulder now.

I'm liking this.

I Hired A Maid...

2008-10-06T17:01:00.005-05:00

She has eight legs and eight arms. She knows where everything belongs in my house. The maid has a personal interest in having my home tidy. She even does her own laundry. I love working along side of her.

And all I have to pay her is a few pieces of pizza.

She really doesn't have to work that hard, because she sends her arms and legs in so many different directions, that each part carries a teeny bit of the load.

She does such a GREAT job. And when she grows up and has a family of her own, she won't be a house-cleaning doofus. No. She will have experience for her domestic resume. Even the testosterone-driven side of her.

P.S. I can't figure out why doofus isn't in the blogger dictionary.

Delight in Tears....

2008-10-05T00:56:00.006-05:00

Am I the only one who cried during "Enchanted?" Perhaps I should purchase some Happy Pills? Actually, Lil Mr Man and I both started taking Fish Oil this week. His is to help with brain development and concentration (aka he is a SPAZ). My pill is to keep me from kicking someone.

I knew it was bad this week when my husband asked me if he could rub my feet (ouchie running feet), and I was like... "whatever." The next morning, he made my favorite breakfast (chocolate chip pancakes and bacon), and then FED ME while I was getting ready for school (because I couldn't be bothered to sit down). I gave him a half-hearted thanks.

(I know I know...you all had me on some sort of a pedestal and now you see the real me [ha ha "right, sweetness...keep telling yourself that if it helps you sleep at night"] Okay, I will tell myself that because I'm not sleeping right now)

Since you stole my pedestal, I'll get out my soapbox.

I'm standing on the soapbox now.

I'm opening my mouth.... Here comes the big thought.

Nope. I got nothing.

Except this: Henry V made me cry. Little Women made me cry. Lots of tears over great stories. A student cried this week when Boxer was sent to the glue factory in Animal Farm.

And that made me giggle with delight. Because she cried.

FEEL!!!!

It's All a Blur

2008-10-01T21:46:00.002-05:00

I've painted a mural or two in my day. Murals require very little attention to detail. I don't feel restricted or constrained by a mural. Painting on a small canvas means itty-bitty precision. I'm no good at that.

Tom Garfield says that "Women use their intelligence to justify their intuition." I certainly believe that statement to have a measure of truth. When painting on a large canvas, what seems blurry to those up close is crystal clear from a distance.

And right now, I'm so very close to the canvas.

He's Almost Thirteen. 'Nuf Said.

2008-09-23T21:28:00.002-05:00

We were discussing birthday party plans. I asked him, "Now that you are almost thirteen, are you going to start thinking that I am stupid?"

He looked at me with earnest and gentle eyes. He implored me to search his soul with his demeanor. I could tell that I had hurt his feelings by suggesting that he would disrespect his favorite lady.

He responded hurtfully, "I have NEVER said that out loud."

Bless his heart.

To Teach is to Transfer Knowledge...

2008-09-22T19:33:00.004-05:00

First Graders and Reading... Awesome.
Lit Teachers and Reading with First Graders...Not Awesome.

Pointing to a sentence and saying: "De-Code that" apparently means nothing. All I got was laughter, and "Mom, I don't know what you're talking about." He keeps eating bananas because they are "good for (his) brain." I asked whether he wanted orange juice or milk, and he responded, "which one makes you the smartest?"

He's honestly learning things so fundamental, I didn't know the rules existed. It makes me wonder; How do we transfer knowledge to our children when the vast majority of the knowledge that we have learned was learned prior to our cognizant memory of having obtained said knowledge? You know? No rule is too small, no instruction too minuscule.

Still, the heart of teaching is the transfer of knowledge. Watching my first grader learn to read inspires me to become a better teacher myself. If my mom can teach my kid to read, I can teach that other high school kid all about compound-complex sentences, parenthetical expressions, independent elements and predicate adjectives (etc, ad nauseum).

Thanks, Mom for teaching Mr. Man to Read, and for teaching me to teach.

I Went to the Gas Station Today...

2008-09-19T21:22:00.003-05:00

To get gas. I prepaid $40. Walked out with my Smart Water and a Mr. Pib for Big Bub. Then I left. I got to the othe side of town. On Fumes.

I made it back to the gas station. ON FUMES. The 59 year old cash register lady with the fancy tatoo on her chest let me get $33 of gas, because "Thars u credit on thayt pump fer that. I caint give you no more 'n dat, Yull have to tayk thayat up with the manager." Another cash register lady yelled at me from the back room. I didn't know what she said. My brain was too busy screaming in my ear. I was watching myself from a distance. I wasn't angry. Wasn't angry. The lady with the rose on her...chest... said, "Aye dont know why anyone'd just tayke Sevn' dollrs. They should'a taken all uvit."

Yes, they should have taken all of it. That makes sense.

$7. I hope it went to someone who really needed it.

Seaworthy

2008-09-18T23:53:00.002-05:00

If you haven't had a "Jerry Springer Moment" at your house, then in my book, you haven't lived.

Big Sis and I have been trying to practice our act. I'll know, however, that if I ever get invited to a big city, and my daughter requests that I meet her at a TV studio for a "makeover," that I am in big trouble.

The drama of the two queen bees coupled with our mutual choleric-melancholy personalities is a sight to behold. I need a writing/ art/ reading/ running studio where I can go and de-stress. So does she. But let's face it...that AINT gonna happen.

In case anyone was wondering, there is no "MAJOR" crisis. There are about ten minor ones. Granted, these might seem MAJOR to some people, but it's normal stuff around here. Just not ten at a time.

I told a student recently, that it is best to learn to stay afloat in the tempest, because if you are waiting for calm waters to set sail, you'll most likely stay on the beach. Sure there will be those beautiful and picturesque days, but often, they will be stormy indeed. I'm not sinking to the bottom just yet. My boat is not fancy, but it is seaworthy.

Thanks for the calls and emails.

Not a Great Day...

2008-09-17T17:36:00.010-05:00

And I feel like writing a really dark, melancholy post. Oh the metaphors that I could use, the hyperbole, the satire and the dramatic dialogue!

My heart hurts so much I'm inclined to change the background of my blog to black. Perhaps I should dig up some black fingernail polish to commemorate my glum mood.

I might need to put a sign on my blackboard tomorrow that says: "Don't speak to me today. Don't look at me, and Don't even DREAM of breathing audibly. Violators will be fed to the dragon of despair."

Yet...though I do walk through a valley, I know that others have valleys much deeper and more treacherous that they are walking through right now.

I remind myself that a reward is something that you work for. A blessing is a gift. I am blessed beyond compare, for I fear that my work has never measured up. Prayer is so essential. Due to my complete lack of "normal" life skills, I am constantly reminded of my inadequacies. Honestly, I'm okay with that.

Today, however, I'm looking for a pic-axe and a rope to climb out of this valley.

Word!

2008-09-15T22:07:00.004-05:00

Words:

I'm ADDICTED to dictionary.com. Am I the only one? Not only can you read about words, you can also LISTEN TO THEIR pronunciation. .......oooohhh.....

It helps when you speak a bit of Old English, and you can say to your children, "You're a lyin'. I can see it in your eyen!", and your grammar remains intact.

Chaucer starts this week. I love that crazy guy. His tales were INSANE, and contained so much satire. I think the kids will dig it. We're doing a very non-classical thing, however, and reading only PORTIONS. Medieval humor was...well... let's just say the sailors would be blushing.

Exercise:

When I run, sometimes I become very emotional. Deep Thoughts + Deep Pain = Emotions Galore. Major prayer and God-n-me time. Crazy. Crazy connections. I ran for a couple of hours on Sunday, and I about started crying three times. Not cute little "glistening" tears, but the kind of crying where you look something like Large Marge from Pee-Wee's Big Adventure. However, I don't want to be the crazy lady who runs around the neighborhood crying. So I put on my stoic costume and ran around instead. Large Marge kept wanting to come out, and I had to keep pulling out the costume to cover up her contorted face.

Words and Exercise:

If I have something to say, and I still have something to say when I'm done running, it's probably worth saying. And I have something to say. I'll say it later.

LitHappy

2008-09-11T23:20:00.002-05:00

I'm back at it, and I'm bursting...

I love Lit, and since it's a bit "Areopagus-ish," I'll leave it in its place. I have a lot to say about the books we're covering right now. My goal is to add a snippet for each book. So there you have it. All two LitHappy Readers can come for a visit.

Oh, how I long for the Areopagus...

2008-09-10T20:36:00.010-05:00

A gathering place where minds would dialoge about the issues of the day...wrestling with a mass of opinions, ideas, and proof in order to squeeze out the truth.

But...In the precarious tight-rope walk of ideas, the tension is oftentimes too much for the acrobat to bear. The tiny rope that leads me from one side of the chasm to the other is likely to snap, and I fear I will fall to the bottom of the ravine, never to be found again.

For today... I choose not to walk that rope. Instead, I cast my vote for gooberness.

Case in point: Little Mr. Man went to the bathroom tonight. As soon as he sat down, I heard him shout: "FIRE IN THE HOLE!!!"

No, the Areopagus is not as interesting as goober humor.

I Just Wrote Two Irritable Posts

2008-09-08T21:51:00.003-05:00

One: Palin
Two: My Life, TMI

And yet, I don't push the button: PUBLISH. Despite my ornery husband's encouragement to do so.

Impulse Control...I think I can, I think I can...

And now, we can all still be friends. Your minds can wonder about my opinions, and I will gladly give them if you pick up the phone and call. But girlfriends, thay ain't goin' on the WEB! (well..at least not tonight...).

Tonight, no one will be chastised.

I will simply say: Hey ladies... You all rock. Take a twenty and buy yo-self sumpin purty.

Oh, and the Boyz-trying to be Men, too... We ladies are pretty glad you all are on this planet. Go kill a deer or something.

Time, Do tell...

2008-08-31T13:41:00.005-05:00

Time.

We don't have enough of it in our lives. I'm convinced that TIME is one of the greatest gifts that will be afforded in eternity.

We are forced to make choices in our lives based on the lack of TIME available to us. Lack of TIME is one reason that I choose to NOT watch Television. I did NOT watch American Idol, I've never seen an episode of "24," and I hate to say this, but I actually only watched about an hour of the Olympics (parts of each marathon).

I could spend an eternity....

Talking to my husband. I love his perspectives.
Laughing and playing with my children, rocking EACH ONE to sleep (yes, even the big ones if they need it... didn't you read "I'll Love You Forever?"). We would go on a never-ending vacation free from the distractions of responsibilities.
Searching the Word for insight and wisdom...searching every commentary to understand the literary, historical and spiritual significance of each passage.
Reading EVERY ONE of the great classics...while sipping my coffee on my front porch, reclined in a chair. I would find others who were also interested, and share meaningful conversations with them.
Painting...developing a natural talent that I simply do not have TIME use.
Investing personally in the lives of my students. Serving them continually...
Visiting and listening to my family members...
Exercise... I would dedicate myself to marathons in a new and grand way, by hiring a trainer, and giving myself only the BEST nutrition.
I would get my Masters Degree...
I would finally write that book I've been thinking about, an act of service to a forgotten community of sufferers...
I would spend time with each of my friends, look them in the eyes, and listen to their heart. We would laugh and share with each other.
The list goes on....

But alas, while each one of these pursuits would be worthy, I am left with very limited resources in the TIME arena.

I simply seek the guidance of the Father of Time, who knows my hours and days. But as long as I am chained to a temporal existence, I must accept the fact that I will NOT accomplish everything on my list.

So what will it be? How will I invest my most valuable resource?

Only Time will Tell.

Dalene

2008-08-28T22:31:00.005-05:00

There she is... Dalene.

I once joined an online club for Dalene's. It was really fun until it started to get really weird.

I once heard that the name DALENE is the most **southern** name that a person can have. DAY-LEEEEEN!!!

On the west coast this summer, several people were fascinated with the name...DALENE.

It's not Darlene, or Daylene, or Duh-layne.

In my world, it's simply "Big" Dalene, and "Little" Dalene. I'm "Big" Dalene. I abhor the day when this tradition passes, and I become "old" Dalene, and she becomes "young" Dalene. Luckily, we no longer have the same last name. Hey Dalene, stay away from Swedish men.

I've been called Mean Dalene, Dalene the Green-Bean, and thanks to my maiden name, Frankenstein (but that's another story).

I'm trying to pressure her into writing a cookbook with me, called "Dalene Cooks Twice the Fun." This is one of those crazy dreams that's mostly just based on the fact that there are two Dalene's. I'm not sure a publisher would go for that. She's a world traveler (currently in Korea); I like to travel no further than 5 miles.

So, Goodnight Dalene!! Be safe on the other side of the world.

Maybe I'M a GOOBER-BERRY PIE, TOO!!!!

2008-08-27T17:58:00.007-05:00

My days these days...

9th grade...Uncle Tom's Cabin: SLAVERY STILL EXISTS!!! Did you know there are still 27 million slaves in the world? That is MORE slaves than were trafficked during the FOUR HUNDRED years of African Slave Trade. Let's wake up.

10th grade.... Mythology, by Edith Hamilton: Artemis, Zeus, Hermes, Prometheus, Odysseus, Orestes, Agamemnon, the Trojan War, etc... There's nothing better than a bunch of stories about the Ancient Greeks! What a bunch of Goober-Berry Pies!

11th grade.... The Faerie Queen, Book 1: Edmund Spenser, reportedly a favorite of C.S. Lewis, took great pains to make sure his books were antiquated when they were written in the 1500's. Dragons, witches, knights, ladies in distress, blood, vomit, tears and FORGIVENESS!!!!! There is not a better piece of fiction written on the pains of aspiring to holiness.

12th grade... Walden: Thoreau was brilliant, and brilliantly lost. A father of American Transcendentalism, he asked us to simplify our lives, and simplified his by mooching off of a bunch of other people. Nevertheless, the commonplaces in his book are PHENOMENAL Thoureau reminds me to look for reflections of God in uncommon places (only I'm not sure he was worshiping the same God that I am).

Rhetoric: Acts 17 & Paul's speech to the Greeks.... Plato and Socrates and their vendetta against the Sophists. Epicureans and Stoics, and best of all the One AND the Many. Aristotle defines Rhetoric as "The art of observing in any given situation the available means of persuasion."

Dirty House, Tired Muscles, Four Busy Kids, Amazing Hubby, Grade the Papers, Cook the Dinner, Clean the House, Do the Laundry, Help with Homework, Write the Test, Study for Rhetoric, Copy the Papers, Read my Bible, Listen to my Bible, Dirty House, take out the Trash.

Metamorphosis? I may become a Goober-Berry Pie.

Carb High

2008-08-25T20:40:00.003-05:00

Something is amiss in my life. I don't normally think this much about food. Those who know me well could attest to that fact. Perhaps it is the marathon training? My body is DEMANDING to be fed, and I am very happily feeding it. I still lost five pounds last week for no apparent reason.

Nevertheless, and at the risk of losing a grand majority of my readers as I keep putting up posts about what I'm putting into my mouth, I can't resist telling the world.... I am standing on a mountainside. The wind is blowing through my hair and the sun is setting in the distance. A single cloud passes by. A bird passes over my left shoulder and as I turn to listen to its mid-air melody, music begins to play in the background. With a big grin on my face, I spread my arms wide and declare:

" I had barbecue chicken, grits and a yeast roll for dinner!"

I'm laughing so hard right now. I'm in a state of histrionics. This might not be funny to anyone else, but for someone who normally can't even come up with ONE thing to say when questions about food are asked, I sure am excited. I think I'm on a Carb High.

Weekend= A-.

2008-08-24T17:50:00.005-05:00

Oh stack of papers six inches high,
I stare at you and then I sigh.

All weekend long we've sat together,
Reading you sure takes forever!

Tests, compositions, worksheets and such,
I don't like grading all that much.

But oh the brilliance that does appear,
And in my heart I start to cheer!

They're Smart! They're Bright! They're Funny! They're Cool!
Those kids are why I love my school.

This Topic ISN'T OVER....

2008-08-20T22:14:00.006-05:00

Carrot Cake...

Carrot Cake AND Coffee.

It freezes well, it tastes amazing, and it's worth every penny. I'm not talking about CARROT CAKE MIX. We all know stories of well meaning housewives who have been demoted in the eyes of their peers and admiring followers when they attempted to make this delicious dessert from a mix. NO. This fantastic yummy treat requires grating, slicing, chopping, cutting, measuring, mixing and SINGING. Everything tastes better when you sing while cooking. I learned the secret of "singing spice" during my brief adventures in catering. Cooking and singing, sprinkled with crazy dancing are teeny tiny blessings that you can bring upon YOURSELF. Cooks singing to food is as gardeners talking to plants. We don't know why it works. We just know it works.

Attempting to make this cake from a mix is just wrong. But McAlisters has it right, and I'll be enjoying this new-found discovery (the fact that someone in town sells this amazing treat) on a weekly basis for a long time to come. Or at least until I get sick of it...which might be in about a month.

I've actually struggled to identify my favorite treat. The search is over. At least for a month or two. After that, it will just be me and my coffee.

Red Furniture

2008-08-18T23:21:00.009-05:00

2 Corinthians 12:9 But he said to me, "My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness." Therefore I will boast all the more gladly about my weaknesses, so that Christ's power may rest on me.

There is a red table in my room at school. To me, It symbolizes the pursuit of Truth. I love this big red chair. I've been thinking about its significance as well. I think it has something to do with how tiny I am, and how happy I am with that.

Happy as a teeny tiny piece of nothingness.

My Weakness?

2008-08-14T22:59:00.003-05:00

Coffee, I love you.

You are my weakness. I'll admit that when I hear people talk about macchiato's, I feel it is my duty to come to your defense. It is not necessary to mask your awesomeness with caramel, vanilla, steamed milk and whipped cream. Give me a real macchiato any day of the week. A double shot w/ a hint of cream... love in a shot glass. Thank you Broadway Cafe for the perfect roast. I'm spoiled forever by your relentless pursuit of coffee perfection.

The goats danced and the shepherds took notice. A couple thousand years later, I reap the benefits of their discovery. Like the monks of yore, I meet you in the morning.

Goodbye Chocolate Cake. Goodbye Lemon Bars. Hello Coffee.

It's not an addiction. It's a lifestyle.

Just on the Edge of Grumpy

2008-08-12T21:43:00.004-05:00

Well.... Here we go again! My lifelong friend and sweet precious darling adorable cousin Charissa tagged me for a game. I'm just letting everyone out there know that I'm not going to tag anyone, but I think this is a great post idea, so feel free to copy the awesomeness that is known as the "six random things about me" post.

Ahhemm...

Dear Blogosphere, I welcome your disapproving sighs. Hold your breath.

1.) I skipped school in FIRST grade.
2.) If I say "no thank you," when you ask me if I want a piece of chocolate cake, I actually DON'T want a piece. It isn't a conspiracy on my part to make you feel guilty for enjoying YOUR piece of cake. Get over it already.
3.) I don't like your dog. I barely like my dog.
4.) I prayed for a sister and God gave me SEVEN awesome Sister-in-Laws. We all know how I feel about the number SEVEN. It rhymes with Heaven.
5.) I'm still shedding tears when I see the seniors who graduated in May from my school. What is my problem? I'm not ready to let them go. HOW are their parents feeling?
6.) I would just like to repeat here that I would like to be able to say no to dessert without anyone feeling offended. Oh, and no I don't want to kiss your dog.

Exercise that Brain!

2008-08-11T20:56:00.003-05:00

Tomorrow is the first day of school.

It would be difficult to clearly communicate my passion and love for teaching. I feel like I live inside a daily miracle when I am teaching. Sometimes, I don't know where the words come from, and then I remember that it is not me who is teaching, but God who is teaching through me. He seems to care so much for my students, that he is able to use a very inadequate person. I've been fascinated that He guides EVERY step of the process. I often pray for inspiration, and it is amazing how the "perfect" idea pops into my head at just the right moment. He is good to me, and I am blessed. I desperately need him tomorrow as I introduce Uncle Tom's Cabin, The Epic of Gilgamesh, The Tempest, the Scarlet Letter, and the Rhetoric of Aristotle. I try not to begin 5 books simultaneously, but alas it is the first day of school...so what is there to do? I'll tell you. Pray.

I hope EVERYONE has a great year.... public, private, and home school alike! Exercise that brain! It's the only one you'll ever have.

Am I In Trouble?

2008-08-09T21:55:00.005-05:00

This young lady will be teaching my Little Mr. Man His three "R's" this year... Reading, wRiting, and aRithmetic. Our small school was in need of a first grade teacher, and they thought that it would be awesome to have a teacher with 30 years of teaching experience and a masters degree on staff. I agree.
So Little Mr. Man, be nice to Grammy. She's coming out of retirement for you. No "getting out of work by pulling out the 'love' card." No "Grammy-Poo this or Grammy-Poo that." Don't even try your little "cutie love bug" tricks, because she knows of your secret powers of persuasion. And no calling her "Grandma." That's Mrs. Rovenstine to you, buddy.

With Grammy as your teacher, every day will be as "beautiful and grand" as the "most beautifulest place I (you) ever seen in my WHOLE life." I mean, Mrs. Rovenstine.... Oh, and be good. I don't want to get in trouble.

Coffeehouse Questions

2008-07-29T16:15:00.025-05:00

My favorite coffeehouse in the whole wide great big universe is in Moscow, Idaho where the Christian classical school LOGOS is located. A fabulous used-book store resides inside this coffeehouse where I recently purchased Yellowstone for Families, The Story of Philosophy, and Brush Up on Your Poetry.

We drove several hours out of the way on our vacation to visit this coffeehouse. Besides their amazing espresso and aesthetically pleasing environment, the owners have created an environment that seems to beg: "THINK! Go AHEAD, ASK!" Big thoughts creep into my head as I enter the door. Big grand "Godly" thoughts, and Big sad, "No-No" thoughts. Questions about my place in the world, God, and my relationships. These questions have answers, of course, but in order to get to the answers, I have to be allowed to ask the questions. As a teacher, nothing is more endearing than having a student who keeps asking questions--earnestly seeking Truth. But I wonder...have I created a coffeehouse environment with my life? Am I afraid of questions because there may be no easy answers? And if so, WHY? Don't the words communion and communication have the same root ?
In our home, we have a coffeehouse, complete with a commercial espresso machine, a couch, pub table, and all the sugary syrups a heart could desire. I envision many late-night talks with my own children during their teen years in this room. When they start asking the hard questions, will I be defensive or abrasive because they have ASKED?

The open forum of coffeehouse culture is being embraced by the young people of this generation. They don't seek to simply have their questions answered, but they also seek to simply be allowed to ask. There is a lot of dialogue happening, and we need to jump into the discussion. It seems to me that we have too many answers today, when whe haven't actually taken the time to figure out the real questions. We don't listen.

Right now I have some pretty BIG questions. Some of these questions are about my life, some burdens I bear for others. I get pretty frustrated, and while I humbly ask, I still want to....ASK. These are questions to which I THINK I already know the answer, but I still want to voice to Someone who knows my heart. He can handle it. His intelligence can bear my frustrations. And best of all, HE created the coffee bean.

And now for that Latte...

Schoolhouse Pizazz

2008-07-23T22:17:00.006-05:00

I'm starting to feel ready for school...finally! I've read 14 books this summer, I've reviewed the grammar curriculum for next year, and I'm starting to really miss my students.

And thanks to the 1/2 price sale at the Salvation Army, I feel that I can go to school with a little "pizazz." Last week's pick was gone this week, but I like this one even better.

I really love my job, comfy shoes, and hugs.