I'm a bad blogger.
I've said it before, I know. But I really, really mean it this time.
Bad.
Bad.
Bad.
But happy!
Tomorrow's my 39th birthday. I felt like a princess today at school. (Perhaps a matronly princess, not quite queenly.) As with all birthdays in my tiny Christian school, our administrator announced, "We have a birthday today!" at our school opening. Of course I was expecting this. We celebrate every single birthday and half birthday for the summer folks. We always do this after our pledges to the American flag, the Christian flag and the Bible. We do this after we've sung a patriotic tune and prayed. What I wasn't expecting was the din of clapping and whooping and hollering that echoed in the gym. As I walked up to the front, I felt such love. I hugged my dear friend as she handed me the card. I could feel my heart swelling with joy. Then the birthday ritual began, the great singing of the Happy Birthday song with a few Wooooos tossed in for good measure. My own personal second grader, Camden, was the loudest, out-singing everybody. Still, I could even hear the ultra cool seventh graders singing to me. Me! And to think I was terrified of the big kids when I arrived here a year ago.

God has blessed me beyond my wildest dreams here at this school, in his ministry. A few years ago I thought I'd never teach again. Too much No Child Left Behind (No Child Gets Ahead). Too many days spent practicing for tests. Too many bubbles to fill in. Too many statistics. Not enough time spent learning how to read and write and think. Not enough focus on what children need to learn. Not enough faith that we could do it for the right reasons. Not enough support.

I've come to realize that God has blessed me with a gift for teaching young children. I may not have all the answers, but I know how to find them. I know where to go to read the latest research on teaching reading and writing, developing number sense, drawing and singing and playing and being a 6-year-old in this big wide world. And today God patted me on the back with the voices of these children and their teachers. He reaffirmed my life's work. I am a teacher. I make a difference. I am where I belong. And daggonit, even the 7th graders like me.

I remember where I was 6 years ago today when I first heard about the terrorist attack on the World Trade Center.
Mrs. Casey pulled me out into the hall from my suburban middle class 2nd grade classroom. She quietly let me know that a plane had just crashed into the World Trade Center. They didn't know why. They didn't know anything else, but that the crisis team was letting teachers know. "Don't tell the children," she said.

After I dropped the kids off for lunch an hour or so later, I met the other teachers in the lounge where a TV had been plugged in and tuned to NBC's Today Show. We sat dumbfounded. The art teacher was crying. The other second grade teachers were in shock, eyes glued to the TV. Before long, most in the classroom-turned-staff room were in tears. Then, our lunch period over, we dried our eyes, put a smile on, and retrieved our classes. We acted like nothing had happened. Some parents arrived to pick their children up early that day, and we allowed them to go. We sent the rest of the students home in a perfectly normal dismissal. Then we quietly packed up our things and made our own way home to our own children, husbands, families.

The sky was a clear, bold blues blue - a perfect late summer day with low humidity and puffy clouds. Nothing appeared wrong in the heavens. Then, as CNN played for hours on end, we gradually learned that, indeed, everything was wrong.

Now, 6 years later, OBL is still alive, threatening America and Christianity. I don't have a clue if the war is the right thing or the wrong move. I don't have any answers. I don't even know who to vote for to find the right answers. All I have is prayer. And so I pray to God for wisdom, strength, courage and a holy boldness for America. We will never forget.

The Steelers beat the Brownies tonight 34 to 7. Cool, huh?


Of course, I didn't see the game. Instead, I've been home with two sick youngins while Curt played Bear Scout at the local Scout Reservation Camp Conestego this weekend. He had a blast. I had a quiet weekend running to the pharmacy to get antibiotics and praying I don't wind up with strep throat like them. I felt sorry for them, too. Especially in the middle of the night when Benjy awoke in tears whenever he coughed and when Camden spiked his fever and could barely walk. Pitiful things. They're so strangely still and quiet when they're sick. So unlike the rambunctious boys they typically are.


So, instead of watching the Steelers and eating Curt's homemade chili, I made beer meatballs and beer bread and watched Sprout all day. Our favorite: Jakers. Those sheep are a trip. And, yes, the beer flavored the meatballs and bread but completely burned off the alcohol. So, nobody was flying around this house tonight. :)

Blog?
What's a blog?
Since I read Harry Potter and the Ghostly Hallows, I haven't blogged. I've read plenty... Reading With Meaning, About the Authors, Growing Readers, First Grade Writers (all school literacy books for teachers - no surprise there). I've also managed to read some Lee Child crime fiction novels and more magazines about country primitive decor and scrapbooking than I can count. So, let it be known that I've been a bit busy. Yes, that's the ticket. But, I haven't even considered blogging. Until now.

Kristen emailed to ask if I'd fallen off the earth. Mom wants to know what's happened to the blog. That's it. I don't think anybody else reads me. But hey, 2 for 2 is not bad. So, the blog is back. For now. :)

School has been back in session for 2 weeks. And, naturally, I had to call in a sub today because Benjy has a croupy cough. He's on a steroid now that he refuses to take. HOW IN THE WORLD DO YOU GET YOUR CHILD TO TAKE MEDICINE HE REFUSES TO TAKE??? Benjy's gag reflex is so strong that he can throw up anything within a minute of ingesting it. And though we tried to coax his medicine down his throat, he ran to the trash can and spit it out, then gagged out everything else. Yuck. I'm calling the dr. tomorrow to ask for advice. Benjy's one tough cookie. And he's going to school tomorrow as far as I know.

I took this pic at the Colonial Arts and Crafts Festival last weekend. The boys were enjoying some fresh-squeezed lemonade and a funnel cake (yum!!!) in 90 degree temps. Aren't they so cute?!