A Simple Woman's Daybook. 3.25.13

It feels like a Daybook kind of night. So I'm linking up here:  A Simple Woman's Daybook.

FOR TODAY

Outside my window... we are waiting for the predicted "dusting to an inch of snow."  However,  considering the track record of professional weather forecasters here in Maryland, we probably should have bought a generator today.

I am thinking...about all the things on my DIY project list.  Yesterday I posted a biggie (framed pegboard) that I'm eager to start. But, on a much smaller scale--with a higher priority--is a sewing project.  Today my future daughter-in-law brought me the fabric to make the  pillow that the 3-year-old ringbearer will carry. Oh, my goodness, he is going to be so cute with this little 7x7 thing! (For the record, no, he will not be carrying the actual rings!)

I am thankful...that I have not been sick for the entire winter.

In the kitchen... on the table, is a bouquet of flowers I bought myself for my son's 25th birthday. After all, if it weren't for mothers, how would children be born??

I am wearing...a plum-colored cotton V-neck tee from Lands' End.  So comfy I ordered two more--one in white, one in royal blue, and I wear all three QUITE a bit. I also am wearing some black pants and red indoor/outdoor slippers.

I am creating... a new craft/guest room, and having so much fun.

I am going...to show you the shields that my art class created for the school play. The director "commissioned" us to produce eight shields, each to fit a 20x20" space, with heraldry, Maryland colors, our school logo, a likeness of our county's seal, and a cross/tree combination. Here's how they turned out. Sorry for the poor  photo quality. I couldn't get a good angle, didn't have the right setting, and was surrounded by a crowd.  I created one of the shields. See if you can guess which.

 

I am wondering...if a heel spur is what I have. Terrible pain in my left heel and it's been like that for going on two months or more. I've kept thinking it would get better, but it's gotten worse. It affects my gait, my posture, my productivity, and my mood. I think it's time to see a podiatrist and hope he doesn't tell me bad news.

  

I am reading... a few different books:  Power Thoughts, by Joyce Meyer; Followed, by Elaine Dauber Thornton,  Simple Secrets of a Beautiful Home, by Emilie Barnes.

I am hoping...that April is as warm as March has been cold.

I am looking forward to... the "seaside ladies' retreat" in early May.  It's been many years since I've been on a retreat, and my soul is thirsty for a spiritual lift, fellowshiping with other women
(I only know a few from the church we've been attending since Christmas).  And I can't think of a better place than on the Chesapeake Bay.

I am learning...that letting go of children as adults is its own kind of labor pain. 

Around the house... is much less clutter, thanks to my giving up "stuff" for Lent. Feels good!

I am pondering...getting involved with a particular "homeless" ministry of sorts. It's called Samaritan Women and is a home for young women, a beautifully restored Victorian mansion on 23 acres. The women,  who have been rescued from sex trafficking, suffering from PTSD from combat, or physical abuse, find hope and healing at this Christian farm. They are also taught to grow their own food, as well as how to prepare nutritious meals from it.   This place has all sorts of needs and ways to offer help. I would like to volunteer to teach a six-week, once-a-week art class. Creating beauty is a big part of the healing process.

A favorite quote for today...

Acts 4:12 Salvation is found in no one else, for there is no other name under heaven given to mankind by which we must be saved."  (NIV)

One of my favorite things... is finding notes like this, written by my 11-year-old boy.

A few plans for the rest of the week:

 -Monday : wash mountains of laundry, finish an mixed-media art project, build a snowman snowbunny?
-Tuesday : attend Passover seder  (anyone got a good recipe for a carrot dish--no leaven, not a dessert?)
-Wednesday:  teach a class
- Thursday : work on my craft room
-Friday: attend a Good Friday service


A peek into my day...  for lunch we ordered the second thing from the top on the right of this menu. My daughter likes to call them Hoochie Mamas. 

Illuminated Manuscript

Also known as the illuminated text, this art form was popular between 400 and 600 AD in the Roman Empire. Painted on vellum, the most common examples featured a single large initial letter, sometimes two-thirds the height of the paper or stone canvas. Borders were ornate and often repetitious. The illustrations of the text helped the common illiterate peasants to get the gist of the words by simply looking at the pictures.

For this assignment, I gave the students a week to find a Bible verse to depict. The instructions:

1. It should be a fairly short verse for the size paper we were using.
2. The initial letter must be quite large.
3. The illustration should "illuminate" the text by showing what the verse is about.
4. They had to have a repeating border, and could free-hand it or use either the roller kind of rubber stamp or repeating a single stamp all the way around.
5. The entire paper had to be filled with color. No "vellum" showing. (We used lightweight, pale yellow paper.)
6. They were to use a mix of crayon and marker.
7. The font should be fancy.
8. Complete the assignment in one class period.

The students love this project (especially the rubber stamps) and I was really pleased with the finished projects. I particularly like the way the student illustrated the verse "Jesus wept." If you look closely, you'll see that it shows teardrops falling from the top of the J, and the bottom part of the J is a pool of tears. Week after week I stand in awe of the creativity in children. I love my job!

Egg Yolk Paintings

My fifth and sixth graders have
been studying the Byzantine period
in their history class, so I came up with
an art project to go along with it.

We talked about artists working with what is available to them at the time.
Paint has not always been readily available, but every culture has found a way to paint with natural ingredients.

Paint has to have three things: a solvent, a pigment, and a binder. In this case, our solvent is water, the pigment is food coloring, and the egg yolk is the binder.

("Recipe" per color is 1 egg yolk, 1-2 drops of food coloring, and 1 tsp of water per color.) I happened to have neon food coloring available which the kids thought was cool. The paper was fingerpaint paper.

The egg yolk dries fast, so this painting has to be worked quickly. It took two class periods (about 80 minutes of actual hands-on time).


The three main subjects depicted in Byzantine art were the Virgin Mary, Jesus, and saints. The backgrounds often featured gold halo-like effects and movement with color,the people were shown with big eyes, and their attire was vivid, sometimes adorned with jewels.

For this assignment, I told the students their subject would be Mary, she had to have a gold halo effect around her hair, they had to use a sunburst border, and Mary should have big eyes. (I added the note about big eyes in my lecture while they were working, and unfortunately one artist had already painted closed eyes. I didn't take points off because it was my fault.) One kid was allergic to egg, so I allowed him to use chalk pastel (the one with the wide open mouth is chalk pastel). I'm not sure where my other four students' work is. I thought I photographed them all.

At any rate, this project is one I would gladly do again. One thing we learned was that farm-fresh eggs (as in less than a few days old) create richer pigments than storebought eggs. The consistency is thicker and it holds food coloring brilliantly.

That Reception for our Teacher-Girl

Our daughter invited us to a parents' luncheon at her university, an occasion to honor the December graduates of the College of Education. We were pleased to be asked, and had looked forward to everything she was excited about, or what she envisioned: a sit-down luncheon, a slideshow with a couple pictures of herself in her placement schools, and the chance to introduce us to the professors she highly esteemed and vice versa. That's kind of what I was expecting as well, though nothing was in writing.

Funny how expectations have a way of making themselves known only when they meet with reality. I think we all expected that there would be tables and chairs, plenty to eat and drink, maybe a Kleenex moment when we got to see the slide of our girl teaching at either her second grade or kindergarten placement amidst a slew of other student teachers' slides in the show.

What we got was the polar opposite. After trekking up three flights of steps in the parking garage, uphill for 1/2 a mile on cobblestones and concrete, in heels, with a brisk chill in the air, we finally arrived at the "ballroom," ready to sit down. Good luck with that. The ballroom was outfitted with high, round tables and no chairs. Lots of balloons. More balloons than food, as a matter of fact. Too bad I wasn't hungry for latex.

I wondered, as did many others from the sound of it, who on earth was put in charge of "traffic flow" of these food lines? Picture this: 400 cold, hungry ,tired students and their middle-aged parents at 3:30 in the afternoon trying to fill plates the size of a nickel. Imagine long skinny food tables butted up against each other, about the length of a football field, but catered by Jenny Craig, with fruit at the 10 yard line, veggies at the 20, salsa and dip at the 40, shrimp at the 50 yard line, and of course crab yummies in the end zone. Imagine also that some people started at the end zone, loaded up, .and made their way toward the fruit, not sure whether to play offense or defense in the game of dining. At the fifty-yard line was a gridlock. Paul and I never made a touchdown for the crab thingies before they were gone.

I think one man at the mic thanked everyone for coming, but he made a point to mention that this event was usually only put on for the May graduates ,and that because of budget constraints, they almost didn't do it for the December graduates. Wow, did he really say that? That's a bit like saying, "Welcome to our home. Don't eat much or stay long, even though you've paid for the kitchen and all the dishes in it."

As for the slideshow, three departments were asked to submit their photos--Early Childhood, Early Elementary, and Secondary Ed. Our girl is in Early Childhood Ed. Well, the secondary ed folk were in charge of putting the slideshow together, so guess who didn't get so much as ONE picture of herself in it? We were so disappointed for both her and her best friend in the cohort.

The keynote speaker was addressed as the county's teacher of the year. As if that weren't enough, the speaker himself reminded us in his (not so brief) speech that not only had he been chosen as Teacher of the Year for the county, he was also selected as Teacher of the Year for the State o' Merlin. Apparently humility is not of the core values being highlighted this year.

There were supposed to be many professors in attendance, mingling with the parents and students in a "fond farewell" atmosphere. They must have been more fond of their Berkaloungers and Snugglies than of the people who butter their proverbial bread.

I'll stop here with my moaning and groaning. All I could think was, "for crying out loud, if our kids are in college, we are old enough to need chairs .Please, is that asking too much?" Evidently so. The balloons broke the budget. Chairs would be extravagant.

But at least there was a parting gift for each graduate. They were each given a calculator. And as a bonus, it came with a set of printed directions for how to use it. You can just never get too much cutting-edge technology in the classroom, ya know.



So we got maybe one decent shot (not really). It looks like my hair has taken flight to London or something, but if you look closely, it's my daughter's blending in from behind. My hubby's expression pretty much sums up my thoughts.

A Rant about How Students are (dis)Honored by Colleges

The University of Baltimore is the school from which our oldest son, Ben, has earned his Bachelors of Science in Accounting. We are so proud of his achievement. It's a tough school, and he has studied very hard for his degree. But we're angry--"we" being namely me. Let me explain why.

Yesterday was the graduation ceremony, but we weren't there and neither was he. Why? Because the school ran out of tickets. Originally they posted on their website that each graduate would be allotted "only five" due to the unusually high number of seniors this year. We figured our five would be there in a school office, on reserved for Ben who could waltz in during business hours and pick them up. Simple, right?

Well, fast forward to six days prior to graduation. Ben's taking a breather on the deck while studying for finals. He came to me and said, "Mom, if I can get tickets, it'll only be two. And you might end up being put into an overflow room to watch the service on a big screen.The lady at the office said kind of rudely that there are no more tickets. You can email fellow students to see if they have any they're not going to use."

What? Let me recompute. Only two? What kind of college only gives out two tickets to each grad for graduation? Don't they think that by the time you reach that point in your life that you might have several people who might want to be there? Don't they see that they've squeezed and squeezed our collective wallets for tuition, book money, parking fees, honor society dues, not to mention the gas and tolls it takes to show up on campus?

University of Baltimore is mainly a business and law school. Translation: they specialize in handing out degrees in business administration, in accounting, in criminal justice. How ironic, then, that the powers that be cannot see in September that X number of seniors are enrolled, therefore X number (or close to) will be graduating in May? So let's book a venue that will hold (X times 5) to accommodate all five guests per grad. Granted, I majored in English, so math isn't always easy, but in this case, I find it rather elementary, my dear Watson.

Colleges are businesses, first and foremost. They exist to make money, and perhaps, to educate. I am convinced of it. Students are the "customers" keeping them in business. We have spent thousands of dollars to help put Ben through UB. And now he has to fight for two stinkin' tickets because they ran out. Why could they not plan for the end back at the beginning? I'm sorry, but as a parent, I feel that's an injustice. I really do. I am not a person to just shrug it off and say, "Oh, well, what are you gonna do about it?" I am angry. This past weekend I was boiling over with anger. I love ceremony, love to see my kids receive their well-deserved diplomas as they take the stage in cap and gown and special "robe thingeys," as Sarah calls them. And I even bought a dress for the occasion. (Okay, so it was doing double-duty for a wedding, but still!)

Isn't it the LEAST you can do, then, U Balt? Can't you honor your graduates and their parents by providing either a larger venue or having two ceremonies broken down by the various schools ( e.g. School of Business at 1 pm, School of Law at 5 pm, or on two different days)? Can't you plan for the "unusual volume" of grads with an equally high volume of tickets? There will always be people who don't want to go to their own ceremony, let alone invite others to the "boring event," but let those be the extra tickets after the ample five have been claimed, say in the last 48 hours before the ceremony. Don't tell students who are studying for finals to scrounge for two tickets like rats in a concentration camp.

Make no mistake: earning their good grades takes a lot of hard work and sacrifice. Late nights, saying "no" to a lot of fun things, fighting for points to keep their GPA up there. And for their parents who have saved since they were born, can you not honor us as well with two reserved tickets and a seat that's not in the overflow room?

No, you planned so poorly that your mistake has resulted in countless let-downs. No cap and gown for our son. No ceremony pictures. No tassle to hang on the rear-view mirror. No corporate feelings of pride and elation with other "cheerleaders" in a crowded arena. Nope. Nothing. Oh, yeah, and how about the money he paid to apply for graduation? Shouldn't that at least come with a handshake from the Dean?

------
Next up, "How Sarah was 'Honored" Tonight"

Flashback Friday: Of Things That Bounce and Things That Shouldn't

Tie your tennis shoes, folks. Today's Flashback Friday topic is Phys Ed when you were a kid in school. I'll bet the very mention of the subject has made you think of something immediately. Positive or negative, but not neutral. "Gym class" is a phrase that does things to people's long-term memory, huh?

Let me share a little of my personal memories of PE. For reference, my earliest memories of gym class are from third grade. I think James Monroe was in office. Or was it Grover Cleveland?

Here are the questions.


Was physical fitness a focus in school when you were growing up?

I don't think we thought much about "fitness" when I was in elementary school. We were so active outside that we naturally burned off everything we consumed. Personally I was a runt, but a healthy runt. Our family went through a "poor" time when Daddy was a pastor, but our entertainment was predominantly fun outside with my friends. My mom was nutrition- conscious, so we rarely got sugared cereals or sweet treats except if we walked "uptown" to the penny candy store with hard-earned nickels. There were hardly any fat kids in my early school days, that I remember. We were always running around outside, playing hide 'n seek, Kick the Can, freeze tag. We climbed trees and ran foot races. Occasionally we rode a neighbor's Shetland ponies that we had no business riding. On hot summer days we swam in my friend Barbie's horse tank full of cold water from the hose.

Was recess organized games or just free playtime?

Both. In fifth grade, the game we "organized" most often was kickball. I loved it because I was a decent pitcher, a smart kicker (knew where the "weakest links" were and aimed accordingly), and could run the bases like a greyhound. (I am not making this up, kids!)

During free playtime, I liked being on the teeter-totter (see-saw) except when certain people decided that it was rather fun to keep their 77 pounds on the down side while suspending my 65 pounds in mid-air. I think I learned a fear of heights on the teeter-totter.




What are your memories of P.E. in junior high/middle school and high school?

My overriding memory of P.E. in junior high flashes to mind every time I see a pair of studs. And I don't mean two good-looking men. I mean earrings.

One day I was in the locker room of our Christian school getting ready for gym. I was changing out of my dress, which meant having to take off my slip. (Does anyone wear slips any more?)

Well, just as I was lifting the thing up over my shoulders, the fire alarm sounded. HARNK! HARNK! HARNK! Scared me so bad I jerked the slip off my head sideways and the left strap got caught in my earring, slitting my earlobe. (Sorry. I should've warned you queasy folks that was coming.) I don't know what I put on to run outside, but all I could think of was what a tough decision: to appear in front of the boys half naked, or burn up trying to avoid it. I chose to get dressed and take my chances. But the earlobe damage stayed with me my whole life. That is why I have to wear dangle earrings, because a post ("stud") in the left earlobe sits so low it appears to be falling out.

What did your "gym suits" or "dress out" clothes look like?

Oh, I wish I had pictures! They were the most hideous garments ever worn by humans. I kid you not. The girls' uniforms? White button-down oxfords and red knit shorts to the knee. For the sake of modesty, they were to the knee, yes, but ironically, skin tight. Tighter than brand new tube socks. In order not to have panty lines show, you had wear an enormous shirt that hung way down over your butt, an option which obliterated most of our hopes for accentuating what precious little we had up top. Most of the girls wore the same shorts all four years of high school so they could show more leg as they got older. *Notice I say "they."

The boys' shorts were embarrassingly short, designed with an "open-airy"concept at the leg, and made of cheap, thin, red cotton. I think some of the boys wore their same shorts for four years also, for what reason I have no clue. But I'm haunted even now to remember our co-ed trampoline classes when we had to "spot" each other. Can you see where I'm going with this? Ai, yai, yai.

Was P.E. a favorite or dreaded subject?

Except for the aforementioned recreation of "spotting" things that shouldn't be spotted until your wedding night, I looked forward to gym class, and usually our classes were NOT co-ed. I relaxed much more when it was just girls being athletic girls, without distraction or displays of adolescent machismo.

Every class in Christian school began with prayer, and I'll always remember how the boys' gym teacher started his class. "Let's bow, guys, let's bow," while tucking his shirt into his sweatpants. It seemed he did more tucking than praying, and it was an uncomfortable sort of tucking to watch. (Why I was watching instead of praying, I don't know. Maybe it's time I repent of that.)

We also had this mini session in high school gym class called Christian Charm taught by a very ladylike teacher, Miss Brooks. The only thing I remember from it is that ladies should never ever go out in public with a run in their hose. We should be prepared at all times with clear nail polish to stop a run, but better yet, carry a spare pair of nylons in our purse and change as soon as possible. Yeh, um. I'll get right on that.



Did your school do the Presidential Physical Fitness Program?

Yes.

How did you do with that?

I was always proud of my performance. I had endurance for jumping jacks like you would not believe. Isn't that a claim to fame. Upper body strength without an upper body to speak of. Go figure. I was good at the ropes and rings, too. Cracks me up to picture myself trying those things now.

Did you take the minimum amount of P.E. required or did you take more?

I always did what was required, but not more. My parents stressed academic prowess, not physical conditioning. They said that one day the body would go and you'd want to be sure to have a sound mind.

Well, they were partly right. Come to think of it, though, I do have a sound body.

Creeeeeak.

Pop!

Sigh.

So that's my PE history. Aren't you glad you invested the last few minutes of your life finding out what's in my bag o' memories?

Ideal Job

I was telling my care group tonight that it's been somewhat of an epiphany to me that
I don't have to enjoy homeschooling. It's my job right now. And I actually have liked it this week.)

Somehow I --and it seems other women I know-- feel they have to like a job to even consider taking it, or they quit as soon as they can if the job isn't something they're fond of. I guess I'd bought the cultural lie that if I don't like it, it's not for me.

Well, guess what? This is really kind of funny to admit. Hello? How many people don't like their job but they stick with it because it pays the bills and feeds the family? And I don't just mean in this bad economy. I have been hearing women and men both complain about their jobs for the past 20 years. Just seems like women talk more about their feelings toward co-workers, whereas men refer to the workload or the pay not suiting them.

I think I'll try to start viewing my job as a homeschooler more like a man would from now on. But I will try not to complain about the load or the pay. They're both pretty light:) As for my co-workers, I love them all! Not that I see them much around here during the school day.

Just let me know if my manly viewpoint ends up with this chick wearing muscle shirts and
a moustache. I tend to take things a bit far.

Sarah's Graduation

My one and only daughter, Sarah, graduated at the end of May this year.












Sarah loved this school, a local community college
where she earned an AA in Early
Childhood Education. She graduated with High Honors.
(Joel calls the Phi Theta Kappa stoll on her neck "your smart thing.") She has since moved on to a state university, continuing her "education education".

A most special email from a professor in her last semester at HCC said something like, "Dear Sarah, You
are the only person in all my years of teaching who has received a 100% on both the final research paper and the
final presentation .Congratulations! If you ever want to interview with Baltimore County Public Schools, please call me. I'd be more than happy to recommend you."

When she read the email to me, I cried. As a mom, and especially a homeschooling mom of 15 years, it was like being lifted up in a hot air balloon (minus the nausea) and carried along on clouds. Confirmation of something I had wrestled with (probably from the Enemy), thoughts such as "Will homeschooling ruin my kids? Will anything really good come from all this? Will she hate me for making her write and rewrite until her papers are as good as they can be? Is it worth it?" Yes, it's so worth it! Thank You, God. Thank You for this moment of blessing. I thought of the verse, "A man's gifts make room for him. " My girl has had doors open wide for her because of how she has used God's gifts to her.

It's no surprise she chose this major; from the
time she was two I could tell that her love for
children, books, and learning would probably
lead her to become a teacher . 'Tis her God-given
"bent," and "when she was old, she did not depart
from it."

As a child Sarah was always lining up baby dolls and stuffed animals on her
bed, sticking pencils in their hands or paws, making them pay attention. Often a bit bossy, her
tone sounded scarily like mine. "It's not 'nack time, Fweddie. It's yisten time. You 'post to yisten to me now, kay?"




What the heck? Yes, I meant to include this picture. It's the back
of Ed and Lisa G, and Bob K, parents
and grandpa to Jessy, who graduated with Sarah. Jessy's two grandmas were also there. Blast from the past: Ed's sister-in-law, Ina, was in the same freshman class with me when I attended Seton Hill. I got to see current pictures of Ina--beautiful as ever--and thanked God for redeeming the two of us.

Ed took out paper and pen and calculated what time we'd get out of there, based on each candidate's 13 seconds of fame plus all the yada-yada. We were famished by the end .



My parents attended with delight. They were so proud of their granddaughter. Love her to pieces. This school was also where my mom got her nursing degree at age
57 ! She is degreed in poli sci, religious ed, and Jewish studies as well (LOVES to study!) but the nursing was something she had dreamed of and begun to pursue at age 19. She dropped out to major in mothering--a lifelong course, eh? My dad, a KU alum (Mechanical Engineering) and MDiv (Midwestern Baptist Theol. Sem.) has always shared a love for living near colleges and family.



















Ben, 22 --accounting major
Sarah, 21- Early Ch. Ed major
Joel, 8 -- trouble major
Stephen, 18-- computer science major








And here we are. Happy, proud, and hungry.

Oh, Happy Day!

Some of you may know the song.

Oh, happy day, happy day.
You washed my sins away!

Well, today I gave my students the best news they've had in looooong time. Since their Greek posters averaged an A, and since I know that they know the material, and since I have beaucoup cleaning to do before my sister arrives from Texas--cleaning being more valuable than test-making this week--, I announced at dismissal, "Tomorrow: No Greece test!"

One girl said, "Mrs. Zubrowski, you're wonderful!" To which I replied, "I know. Once a year I try to be."
(And the second girl said, "Oh, you've been wonderful about 50 times this year." )

Melt my heart. Over the course of 36 weeks, I guess that means about 1.5 times a week. Not bad for an ogre.

Anyway, cheers and high fives all around the room. We had just come back from a fabulous field trip lunch at Box Hill Pizzeria. We loved the Greek food, the attention from the Greek owners, the memories they made.

But the chant one boy sang cracked me up.

"Oh, happy day, happy day!
You washed my Greek test away!"

This 'n That

So much to write, so little time. Here are some snippets from what I've been doing and plan to do, Lord willing.

Have been:

-enjoying the transformation from living with a family room that wasn't "me" (wasn't comforting to me, didn't draw me in, screamed "Hodge Podge Lodge") to a room that beckons me in to sit a spell and join others in the welcome. This is quickly becoming--check that, is now --my favorite room in the house.

-loving the new paint color and carpet in the basement. Pictures coming, I hope. You know me, I'm slooooow.

-anticipating my sister Rachel and her kids coming from Texas this week. They land Thursday night at my sister Jill's house. On Friday the three of us are getting pedicures. Yay!

-wondering how I'll feel on the last day of school. We have 9 days left. Then our school will close for good after 30 years .I have only invested two in teaching there, so I'm not as melancholy as most teachers, but still sad. I am excited to see what God is going to do, especially in the up-and-coming youth.

-painting my porch furniture. It was country white wicker. With a couple cans of brown spray paint, they are now, I think, more modern and hip.

-planning Olympic games of sorts for my class to wrap up our study of Greece. A field day, but with some goofy sports and some bona fide tests of strength, speed, agility, and endurance to bring out the Spartan in all of them. So it's for the athetes as well as the non-athletes to enjoy, and prizes for everyone!

-mourning the loss of another young person ( my age, which is young, in my opinion). Scott died from a long, slow battle with a form of brain cancer .

-trying not to think about the fact that both Sarah and Steve will be gone for 8 weeks at New Life Camp starting June 12th--the day after our school closes. Sniff, sniff.

-praying that the entertainment center I spotted goes down to the price Paul wants and that we get it.

-needing to weed the garden , but it doesn't thrill me. I like thrills and flowers. That's about it for my gardening incentive.

When Preaching Meets My Daily School Life

An exciting thing happened Sunday: Pastor Arie's message from Acts fueled my passion for the very subject matter I'm teaching to my 5th and 6th graders. We are studying ancient Greece, and the sermon Paul preached at Mars Hill to his Greek audience grabbed my attention in a new way. I sometimes wish I could go back in time and listen to the great preachers of old. The Apostle Paul would top my list!

But Arie's message(link not working; go to sovgracemd.net to find it) is one I will definitely listen to again. I felt like shouting out, "Preach it, brother!" but I am not that type. I wanted to "Amen" loudly after nearly every sentence, but I would probably get "the knee" from Paul or Ben. I said a few, but not as many as I felt. Many messages are good, but few are anointed, in my opinion. This past Sunday's message left no room for debate: God anointed it. Pastor Arie's joy and passion for the gospel have a levitating effect on my heart. What a gift he is. What an extra bonus that God stirred this message in my heart, and I can sort of "preach it" next week after absorbing it again, so as to give my students a spiritual lift. I had the privilege last week of sharing with them the simple, powerful truths I heard from Elyse Fitzpatrick, so as to encourage them that His love is not dependent on their good or bad behavior, their school successes or failures, or anything of themselves. If they are in Christ, God sees Christ when He looks on them. I just melt when I "get it" and when I get to evangelize in my own classroom. Wow. What a privilege.

Socrates, Plato, Aristotle. The Big Three.

Ain't got nothing on the Father, Son, and Holy Ghost!

My class is studying China right now, and I'm
having them build a replica of a section of the Great Wall, using shoeboxes, cardboard "walls," and gift cards cut up like cobblestones on top. We will be painting it tomorrow.

Searching for pictures, I came across this waterpark ride. Oh. My. Goodness. What I wouldn't give for tickets to this place. I could spend all day at a waterpark. Doesn't it look cool? Wow.

Making Decisions Isn't Always as Hard as Announcing Them

Yesterday I had the formidable task of interviewing my seven students for their jobs at Biz Town. There will be one CEO, one CFO, one Sales Manager,
two Food Managers, and two Beverage managers.

Each student was to list his or her first, second, and third choice. I was hoping it would be as easy as plugging everyone into their first choice position.

Not so.

I had four students who wanted to be the Sales Manager.
Two who wanted to be the CFO.
No one who wanted to be the CEO.
One who wanted to be the Beverage Manager.

One who would make a good CEO sees it as an office job, and prefers to be with people. That child needs to see that a CEO is, indeed, a people person with good admin and math skills, but is not strapped to the desk.

Some want to be the chief but not an Indian. I had to tell them, "Everyone will push a broom. Trust me. CEO, CFO, makes no difference. No work is beneath any of us as servants of Christ." They nodded in agreement. When push comes to shove, though, who will push the broom with gladness, as if Christ were about to come into the restaurant for a Coke and some Fritos?

I have to announce my decisions today or tomorrow. (I am tempted to put it off till tomorrow, but I don't think the decision would change.) Deciding took some prayer and evaluation of interviews, work habits, leadership abilities already proven, and a report card, and "hashing it out" with my co-teacher, Cheryl, who is well-qualified to speak of their abilities and potential and who was with us last year at BizTown to see them in action.

Deciding was not hard. Telling the students could be. I hate to disappoint people, but I love to call them to the challenge of accepting God's sovereignty in their young lives.

Yesterday they were nervous about their interview. It was cute. One boy who is normally quite poised and outgoing, had a quivering lip. We asked if he was nervous. He said, "I'm cold." Another had obviously rehearsed his greeting over and over. Walked in, shook hands confidently and said, "Hello, I'm {So and So}, it's a pleasure to meet you." Then he waited, as I had instructed them last week, until he was asked to please have a seat. On one application, the person answered the question: "Who do you admire?" with "Mrs. Zubrowski," and when Cheryl asked why, "Because when she doesn't know what to do, she prays." Aww.

Today I am nervous about announcing the jobs. Will that be cute? Will my lips quiver? Maybe layering up will help? No, I doubt it. I need God's grace to be the gentle messenger . I don't know how best to go about this.

Guess I'll pray.

A Mom Looks at Education through a Microscope and a Telescope

The school where I've taught for only a year and a half has been around for 30 years, but, because of the economy, the school has to close at the end of this year. Many people are in grief; they've had a long history and thousands of memories with folks at our little institution.

I confess, the news did not shock me, but I cried a bit when we were told. Not a sob fest, but I cried --mostly for the people who had not schooled any other way and were (are) sensing fear with the thoughts, "What next? What are we going to do? This is all we've ever known."

Perhaps the reason I didn't fear is that I had already begun to hear God about schooling differently next year. Emotionally I was missing Joel. Yes, I was glad to see him every day just across the hall from my room. Yes, I always gave him a hug when we saw each other. Yes, we talked about school on the ride home or reviewed his math facts for homework (plus a lot more because he soaks up numbers and numeric concepts). But it wasn't the same as what he and I had at home for kindergarten: leisurely mornings after breakfast, snuggling on the sofa, reading first the Bible and then a book of prose or poetry (Falling Up being his favorite) . I've missed having his company when I decided to bake a dessert in the mid-afternoon. I've missed much conversation. Seven and a half hours a day, times five days a week, times 36 weeks a year. That's a lot of missing his little voice, his blue eyes and soft skin, his wit and laughter. I've missed the spontaneity of being able to take off days when his daddy had a day off, or being able to visit grandparents during the day when they have energy. In short, I've missed him. I have three grown children in my home as living proof of how quickly the time goes! Can I please just sit and enjoy my seven-year-old for a little while longer?

So these past few months I was thinking I don't have to miss him. I can homeschool him again. Granted, he won't have the social life he thrives on, but then again, he won't have the social life that's been spent mainly with equally immature people as himself. I guarantee I won't be playing tackle football with him, but I'm confident he can "tackle" more science, math, and reading when he isn't having to keep a certain pace. I won't have as many other eyes on him in the course of a week to see his growth in godliness (or lack thereof), but I will see him more, and train him with the firstfruits of my energy, not the leftovers. I guess that's my main regret: pouring more of my energies into the education of other peoples' children at the neglect of my own for these past fourteen months or so.

My first three children, who are now between the ages of 18 and 21, were all homeschooled--Ben until his senior year, Sarah all the way, and Stephen through tenth grade. I can honestly say I do not regret those 15 years. (Parts of them, yes-- who doesn't? If you're a sinner, you have regrets.) I think they've all turned out well (because of God, not because of our choice of schooling). They belong to God, they walk with Him, they are ambitious in school and work, they love the church, they have social lives in overdrive, they are respected by peers and adults alike, they get along with each other, they sharpen their dad and me. I don't pine away with thoughts like "I wish I'd spent more time with them."

To the contrary, I have not had enough one-on-one time with Joel. While sending him to school was what we believed right and good for first and second grade, I've been sensing that, regardless of the school's future, Joel and I need more together time during our best hours of each day.

It's been a blessing to see education through both a microscope and a telescope. Both are beneficial; neither is wholly right nor wholly wrong. Just different. As for me, I'm going to miss the telescope of the classroom style of teaching, but I wouldn't regret setting it down. I might easily regret, however, viewing my son and his studies from across the hall--the distance of a telescope.

So, while our decision is not set in stone, I feel God calling me to examine this treasured specimen of DNA under the microscope. When he's 21, he might only be visible with a telescope. And how well I know that the span of years from 7 to 21 feels like just fourteen feet.

History Class on the Playground

If I get permission from parents to post their kids' pictures on my blog, I will. I took my camera to school today for photos of them learning about ancient Egypt. I had them take their sketchbooks to the playground and each one had to draw a certain Egyptian god, goddess, or pharaoh. We talked at length about what a great vizier Joseph was, and all the jobs he'd been given as second in command. "He was a busier vizier than most, "I remarked, which solicited groans from a few, and landed the rest an easy A. (Just kidding.)

We talked about King Tut. Did you know that he himself did nothing great during his short reign? I did not know that till this week, as he has never really interested me before. Come to find out, he became king at age 10 and died at age 19, poor thing. What he's remembered for came centuries later in 1922 when archaeologists found his tomb. His grave had been robbed, but his mummy was still there. (Didn't find his daddy.) From the things that remained in his tomb, we know a lot about how pharaohs lived and died. I commented that 1922 was a revelatory year for archaeologists, as the students should recall from our previous chapter. It was the same year that the city of Ur, from whence came Abraham, was unearthed by Sir Leonard Woolley. (Ur was un-ur'thed, not Abraham; did I make that clear?) Ur was in modern-day Iraq.

Tell me now, since a corny riddle has been swirling 'round my head, if it is original or if you've heard it?

Q: What did the ancient Egyptians have in common?
A. They had Tuthenkamen.

If I Were the Teacher for a Day

Last week I gave my fifth and sixth graders a choice of three writing prompts. They had 15 minutes for this creative assignment. One of the topics was "If I Were the Teacher for a Day." Thought you'd enjoy what one boy wrote. Here's the rough draft.

If I were the teacher for a day the students would have 30 seconds of work. Then we would have recess all day. The students would be able to play tackle football. When they get dismissed I would take them all to Mcdonald's to eat. I would have no rules and nobody would go to the principals office. If anybody hurts somebody, I would make them sit out of recess for 10 seconds.




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I made minor corrections on his paper, and wrote, "Where is the wisdom in your fantasy? :) "

Better than a Paycheck Could Ever Be

After school today, one of my students came up to my desk and said sincerely, "Mrs. Zubrowski, I just want you to know that I'm doing pretty good in grammar now." (I smile at the irony.) "I never understood it before. I've never been good at it till this year. As a matter of fact, I've been praying for a good grammar teacher since kindergarten, and finally got one."

I wanted to hug him and cry. I looked him in the eyes and said, "It makes me happy to hear that, and I'm so glad you understand grammar better. Thank you for saying that to me."

"Oh, I'm not just saying it," he added. "It's true!"


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for Tuesdays Unwrapped-----------------------------------

Methodists, Mexicans, and Medicine

Because of a horrible mattress and having my dog be my personal trainer in our home gym, I screwed up my back big time. But with 400 mg ibuprofen in me, I headed out to a rummage sale at a local church.

The first room I hit was the jewelry room. I had birthday money from a friend to spend on my wardrobe or whatever, so I decided to accessorize. The moment I walked in, a barrage of "sales ladies" offered me ugly scarves, watches without batteries, and a Methodist lapel pin. (Don't know how my ensembles have survived this long without such a pin.)

Then it happened: I spotted a bright striped poncho with matching sombrero. The teacher in me pictured dressing up in it when we study Mexico. I made the mistake of asking how much they wanted for it. They said ten dollars.

"Sorry, I"m a teacher. Has to be less than five."

One said, "Okay, 4.99," and I smirked. Methodist humor.

A third took it upon herself to make me try it on, slipping it over my head, adjusting the hat, and pointing me to the mirror. "You look wonderful in it!" she flattered.

"Ya'll are desperate for a sale, aren't you?" I asked.

"We sure are," she said. "How about 4.50? This is brand new, never been worn," and I was almost sold. Nothing like knowing you're paying good money not to contract head lice.

"Okay, 4.50," I agreed, and forked over my cash.

I peeked into a room marked "Better Men's Clothes" and asked where the Better Men were. An old codger piped up, "Right here, ma'am. I'm a Better Man." Those Methodists. Gotta love 'em.

I looked around in the Great Hall, as they call it. More like a Great Junk Room. A few vintage purses tickled my fancy, but my back pain was taking my breath away. Wondered if I could buy a hot dog and Advil both at the concession stand.

Then I remembered: at noon everything is marked down to a quarter. It was 11:35. On any other day I could've easily held out for a bargain, but I was about to double over and do some "hee hee ho ho" breathing exercises to relieve my back pain.
I got in the car and drove home with my "ola, senora" costume that I paid 9 times too much for.

How do you say "BUMMER" in Spanish?

PS Just to clarify: That is not me in the picture. Only the legs and new costume belong to me.

Wardrobe Malfunction on the First Day of School

Thankfully it wasn't mine this time, and thankfully it wasn't in public. But God saved the day, yet again.

Last week I had Joel try on all his old uniforms and the new shirt and pants I bought for him. Most of them still fit. (Any takers for his old uniforms?) His shoes were just fine, too.

The one item I had forgotten to think about was the belt. So last night at bedtime I made him try it on with his pants. Well, the buckle broke. One part appeared to have snapped off from the other. I freaked out. (Doesn't take much sometimes.) He told me to calm down and watch him screw the thing back together. Smart kid. It worked.

Temporarily. As in, worked last night at 9, but not this morning at five till 8. I really wanted him in full uniform for my obsessive photo shoot on the lawn, and to be properly attired for school, but the belt simply wouldn't do the job. I glanced into my closet, don't know why, didn't remember ever having an extra belt for him. Lo and behold, hanging in full view, was a small belt, just his size. "Praise the Lord!" I shouted. "How did this get in here? I don't remember that you ever had two belts."

So, we got the belt taken care of and he was good to go. Missed having a first-day-of-second-grade photo shoot, but I have no one to blame but myself.

As for his attitude toward school, I wish I could find a spare "happy
'tude" hanging in the closet. Some mornings there are worse things than not being able to find a piece of one's wardrobe.

Quoting a Nationwide Commercial

I saw one of my students at church today and asked him if he was ready for school. He said, "Yes, but I could go for another month and a week of summer. Life comes at you fast."