Author: Joy Hurt

How did the internet capture my classroom so perfectly? The only difference is that the other ten would be talking, writing on the desk, hiding under them, poking Sally, making faces at Ben, asking for drinks or bathroom breaks, and otherwise not attending to the task of learning.

Oy Vey.

What was I thinking??????????

That’s the very point.

I WAS thinking.

This is the most fun EVER!!!!!!

My kiddos make up a deliciously adorable little group of people, truly the best I could’ve ever hoped to meet. I also have one adult in my classroom. I will name her the Goddess of All Things Right and Pure. She is not an Aide. She is my right hand adult in a sea of littles. Together we see all, hear all, and correct all. I am so blessed to have another grown up in the room. Without her, I would be at a definite disadvantage.

Miss Goddess has been at this awhile. She is a beautiful and quiet woman who is assigned to one particular child, while helping three others, as well. She is cheerful and competent. She has wonderful suggestions about improvements that are helpful. I trust her opinions about the things that are going on in Room 56. We laugh at the same antics and I love her already. I am blessed that she is there.

I plan to round up the moms very soon. Any mom that identified herself as a possible helper in the classroom will be commissioned. These children will learn in a quiet and focused environment if it is the death of me.

I will say that their attention is improving every single day. I’m getting more eyeballs on the teacher. Their writing is improving, even though they don’t know exactly what they are doing. Today, we need a lesson on how to hold a pencil, which most do not know. I still need to corral my left handers to give them some aide. The list of details is endless.

I’ve started assessing the words they know to find reading levels. Most are below Kindergarten level. A lot of improvement will be made this year. To be a grade level reader is our goal. I’m sure after testing the entire group, I’ll have some readers at 2nd grade level and some at Pre-Kinder. That’s the world of the classroom. One size doesn’t fit all.

Now, I’m in no way saying these kids are naughty children. They just don’t know what a real classroom is like. They are still wondering where the playtime, graham crackers, and milk went. Believe me, I’m wondering about where my daily Noon-Nap went. Retirement is just a fuzzy memory. Adjusting, we’re all finding our way in to the second day of the third week of school. Seems like yesterday that I interviewed? The time has flown and now the school by which I drove for two years is my daytime home.

The AC is “fixed but not working well”, according to a supervisor. No kidding. Nice until lunch followed by a brutal three hours of 90+ degrees. Everyone leaves at 3:30 when the day ends. It’s just too hot. Funny, no administrators come to my room in the afternoon. It would be lovely to see them in professional dresses and suits. I hope they come to watch a lesson at 2 PM. We look forward to their visit, as long as it is in the afternoon.

1st Grade Teachers are thinking about a field trip to the pumpkin patch. It’s still under consideration, as we all have classrooms full of very busy people. 105 littles on buses to a farm doesn’t seem like good thinking on paper. But then, neither does teaching 1st grade at 66.

I do find that I’m not so exhausted at the end of the day. Why, just yesterday I had enough energy to defrost some homemade spaghetti sauce and boil some noodles for dinner. That’s a step in the right direction. Last night, my grading only took an hour. I’m organized for the day. Things can only get better from here.

Yesterday, we worked through another guided drawing lesson. It’s so cute to watch them drawing. The resulting pictures warm my heart. We drew “Pete, the Cat” yesterday. Everyone was serious and trying to get their picture just right. Yes. 6 and 7 year old children are people at their finest in every way. I’m one lucky teacher.

This weekend is one that will be quiet and reflective. I plan to celebrate Saturday, Sunday, and Monday. Monday will mark 35 years ago since I ran into VST at our 14/15th combined class reunion. A catered barn dance under the stars. A night that changed my life forever. He was 33, I was 31. Looking back, we were kids with kids. I haven’t planned all the festivities for this weekend, but there will be some laughter and some tears, I’m sure. I may need to call on the gal pals for dinner.

But, days away from the 5th, I need to focus. With Oliver fed and a shower and blog finished, I need to scramble some eggs and get on my way to school. The morning hours are calm and reflective. I can dream of all the things we’ll finish throughout the day. Thinking of the day before, I again move children from one spot to another, finding the one spot that the talking will be the least.

The 2022-23 school year goes on. It will be grand in every way. We’ll make it so.

More tomorrow.

This is a first for me. Living in the last bit of civilization before Gerlach, Nevada and BURNING MAN! How could I have forgotten that I should be ready? Due to Covid, Burning Man hasn’t been held the last two years. This weekend would be my first experience as a local.

Burning Man is a one week extravaganza in which people I do not understand fly, drive, crawl, bus, or bike all the way to the PLAYA to camp in the desert sun for one week. I must remind you, it is still very, very hot here. Desert hot. 100 degree + hot. The Playa offers no relief from the heat. The Playa is an ancient sea bed. Dry as a bone. Everything necessary must be trucked in and trucked out, including 2.5 gallons of water for each person, per day.

VST and I were once RVing and noticing vehicles covered in whitish-grey moon-dust. I mean covered. We didn’t understand what it was all about until someone explained that they were “Burners”, the name given to anyone who goes to Burning Man.

After a day with littles, I’d stopped by Subway to get Friday night Dinner-Lunch-Dinner in the form of a 12″ Cali-Fresh Turkey on Whole Wheat. This is now my favorite sandwich after a long day at work.

I had to wait for a very long time due to call in orders. Each order included five foot longs. This takes a minute to put together, so the sandwich artists and I started to talk.

“Well, they’re here, you know.”

Hmmmmm. Just exactly was this “They” referred to by the sandwich artist?

Seeing my confused expression, he continued.

“The “Burners”, Dude. They’re all over town. Buying out Walmart right now. You need to go over there and check it out.”

These “Burners” come from around the globe. Every part of our area is impacted. The airports are bustling. Transportation. RV rental stores. Everyone waits all year for the “Burners” because they drop lots of cash as they go on their merry way. In fact, the Subway was almost out of oil and vinegar for the sandwiches. That is only one very tiny example.

Although I haven’t been grocery shopping, I heard the shelves are bare. No more dairy, fruits, or vegetables. This wave of strangers wipe out the town twice every year, with their arrival and the following weekend with their departure. Our town is the last and first civilized spot they come to on their journey. We get hit the hardest. A city of around 60,000 people just stopping by.

These partiers profess love, kindness, and total respect for the environment, but each year, they leave behind thousands of pounds of trash, including at least 5,000 bikes. No error there. 5,000 discarded bicycles on public lands. It takes weeks to cart away the bicycles. They are often given away for free. I thinking of driving up to Gerlach next weekend to grab one.

With curiosity in a frenzy, I had to drive to Walmart to check it out. The parking lot was a sea of RV’s. But, there was something else very strange. Strategically placed at the end of the parking lot were 7 or 8 huge industrial sized dumpsters. These were all brimming with discarded packaging and garbage bags. Oh, I see. Totally environmentally friendly anywhere buy our little town, now left with the duty of discarding their trash at our small transfer station. It all makes perfect sense. Just leave the trash at the wide, dusty spot in the road off the interstate. No one will ever know the difference. Except the residents that actually live there.

The towns people here are amused with the antics of the burners. Even more so with the money they spend. The roach coaches were in full swing, as the number of restaurants are limited right now. Walmart was “burned” again this year. Now, we wait until they leave. Then things can return to normal.

One of the more bizarre stories is the legend of the woman that went into Walmart covered in body paint of the American flag. That’s all. Just paint. I hear she was asked to leave almost immediately, but not until a few hundred shoppers had time to look in amazement at the stars and stripes. Only at Walmart, for sure. Almost never in my little town, also for sure.

If you are interested in a front row seat, Google “Live Feed Burning Man”. It is a pretty good overhead shot of the playa and a video of how things are going. Tens of thousands of festival goers locked in a fence in the desert for one week. No one goes in or out once the gates shut. Only “Burning Man Rules”. Nothing can go wrong, right?

Stay tuned for any late breaking local details.

More tomorrow.

I’ve decided Thursday is the longest day of the week. I think someone snuck 6 extra hours in there somehow. All between the hours of 8:40 and 3:05. I have busy little hombres to control. As the children are becoming more comfortable, they are now showing themselves. Whew! What a bunch!

In our room there is every type of personality known to mankind. The only additional challenges I’m not facing are language barriers. I better not say that too soon, or I’ll get another student. Most of them are still six. I remind myself of that so many times in a day. When dealing with a group of kids like this, I have very high expectations because they are very bright children. Already, I’m seeing improvements. It’s a slow journey to January 9th, 2023, when they will transform into Almost-2nd-Graders.

In a typical day, one must be ready for fire alarms, unplanned messages over the intercom, visitors coming and going through the room, children running in, children escaping. Trip and falls that result in blood on the knee. Bloody noses. Frantic children racing to get to the bathroom. Children needing help with their math questions. All the while, the AC has been “fixed”. My room remains at 94 degrees in the afternoon.

I would suppose working in sweat shop conditions is shrinking my carbon footprint. I’ve noticed that 78 degrees when I arrive home feels absolutely bone chilling. Of course, I’m seeing red while being more environmentally green during the day.

Having a 30 minute, duty free lunch is glorious, except noon aides aren’t available, so we handle that, too. I think I got an 18.5 minute lunch yesterday. People always comment on how fast I eat. After 22 years of teacher lunches, you learn to pack a lot into 18.5 minutes. You listen to co-workers worst case scenarios and silently thank God he gave you the kids he did. You tell your worst and co-workers are saying that same prayer to themselves. God never messes up the class lists. He gives you the students you need.

After that exchange, there is barely time to speed eat, take a potty break, grab your whistle and get the kids. The days race by one after another while the kids learn and grown.

I’m happy to report that I didn’t misplace anyone at the end of the day. At least, I haven’t heard if I did. One student tried. Thank goodness for a tag team of administrators that stepped in and corrected the situation. I’m too old to chase anyone, let alone a little at 3:05 PM.

With every last Mustang (our mascot) rounded up and accounted for, I rolled out of Room 56 with my cart full of homework at 3:40, ten minutes after my duty day ended. Arriving yesterday at 5:30 AM, there is only so much time I should be giving away. It doesn’t come at the end of the day in a room that is 94 degrees and “fixed”. Besides, in my rolling cart at least two hours of homework is waiting.

After picking up pizza and a salad, I made it home to dark, cold, and quiet with a side of a snuggly pup. Oliver is handing our new schedule like a champ. I have a dog now and not a nutty puppy. As long as he has his meals on time, he isn’t too upset about my absence. He’s so happy to see me at the end of the day. His wiggles and antics make my day complete.

I need this weekend to regroup, plan, and carry on with next week. I’ll be back on Monday with a report on the antics at the afterschool meeting I’m attending tonight. What a marvelous idea to meet with adults after work. I’m planning to enjoy every single minute. They already know the darkest, coldest, and quietest place in town and let me in on the secret. It’ll be a new place for me. I feel lucky to have been invited to the inner circle of our school. I can’t wait to enjoy a wonderful evening with great teachers.

I’ll be back Monday.

Ahhh, the fire drill. Today is the first of many throughout the year. In 22 years, I’ve helped lead children through many fire drills, but this one feels different. Too many school tragedies make the serious nature of emergency procedures heavy and all consuming. I don’t see that my class feels that because they are so very small. I hope they don’t.

We have been practicing forming straight lines and walking quietly in the halls. Oh my. Have you ever tried to nail Jello to a tree? Or bagged lightning? These kiddos are adorable busy every second of the day. Their minds are absorbing every detail. They know incredible facts, with brains that race a million miles a minute. But, their bodies are 6 and 7. And, we have a serious lack of teeth in our group. I guess I fit in that respect.

The drill starts with ear shattering alarms, piercing the brain. I am sure these are heard in the next county. Why they are at that decibel in a room full of littles, I have never figured out. Along with the unsettling buzzing, there is are two strobe lights that flash repeatedly. This is to alert the deaf. Well, might be after the intense noise. Between the two parts of the alarm, the children must race to their pre-designated place in line. In seconds, we will be walking across the gravel playground towards the land of the lawn.

Movement must be in a speedy but silent straight line. I must grab the class roster and my paddle and three squares of paper. A green, a yellow, and a red. I hold up the green if I have my entire class with me. A yellow if one student is gone receiving services, like speech, or the red if there is someone that is unaccounted for. I’ve had principals that would sneak kids away just to throw a wrench in the drill.

This blaring and flashing lasts until every child, (almost 700) at our school, is accounted for. Usually within 15 minutes, we are back to penmanship and our ABC’s. Pretty amazing, actually. I hope today goes well. My class if full of amazing children. They need to rise to the occasion and do their best. I already know of four that melt down with loud noises. These littles have been through the wringer with Covid. They are survivors.

We have just started the chapter book, The Lion, The Witch, and the Wardrobe by CS Lewis. It is my very favorite read aloud, and I’ve read my copy to a countless number of children. I’ve never wanted to see the movie because it would destroy my own thoughts of Narnia. I’ve never read the other books in the series. Just this one is enough.

At first, I didn’t know if they would even be able to follow a story without pictures. Boy was I wrong. They are glued to every word. Even my most busy students are listening. The next day, we review what we read and go on. As we finished Chapter One yesterday, they were disappointed that we had to stop. So was I.

We’ve now experienced the first indoor thunderstorm of many. During an indoor thunderstorm, the children take three books and find a spot where they can stay “dry”. For 20 blissful minutes, we read quietly. Zero level voices. Mind on reading. When everyone gets ready, (just before the first hint of thunder, of course), the storm begins. Thank goodness for the blessing of a good cd player. Yesterday, every foot was under a table while every child was enjoying a great book. I haven’t met a kid yet that didn’t enjoy a good old indoor thunderstorm. I remember having a few when I taught continuation high school. Something are just too fun to miss. For somethings, we are never too old.

My grade book is filling up while my grading is stacking up. The dust bunnies again form along my baseboards. By 7 PM, I am completely exhausted in the best way ever. I hope I manage to tired my littles out because they do me in.

Friday afternoon has new meaning. A group of teachers meet every after school at a popular spot in town. From 3:30 – 6:30, they become regular women that have created magic for an entire week. With superpowers of kindness, love, compassion, and empathy at a low, they meet to regenerate for a weekend with family and friends. This sounds like the healthiest idea yet. I plan to join them this week.

That’s the news of the day. I’m off to prepare for the 9:20 event. Please keep me in your prayers. I’m really trying my best to stay out of trouble.

More tomorrow.

Whatever “normal” is. At least a New normal. My littles are a resilient little bunch. Even with an older gentleman substituting, they did their job wonderfully. I received a nice note from the substitute about the class and their behavior. The usual suspects were on the list for both good and not so good accomplishments. The huge stack of work that I’d prepared was completed. All seemed to have gone as planned.

But as with any absence, it takes a minute to roll back into routine, especially when a routine is just being established. That’s for both the children and me, by the way.

Preparing dinner for one isn’t something I enjoy, or even want to do on a good day. And after being with 20 littles from 8-3:30, I want three things. Low light, a cold room, and food service. At least two days a week, I’m going out for dinner. Not sure where, but I’m going out for dinner. It might even be to the city to the east. A drive might just do me good. I’ve exhausted all meal options in my town.

How is it that a town of over 20,000 can’t have a descent restaurant? Even the roach coaches that frequent the town are better than the stick and brick establishments. Dismal at best. Yesterday, I went to one of the six restaurants in town. It’s in a casino just on the east side by out of town park. I parked in a full parking lot, realizing this must be the place for the best food ever.

Not even.

Everyone was crowding in for the hot game of bingo. As I ate in hamburger and sweet potato fries in glorious solitude, the bingo guy droned on. For those of you that know me well, Hamburger and sweet potato fries is the only thing on the menu for me. The buns need to be grilled, there better be no “Secret Sauce” or mayo, and the meat need not be pink. Simple. Or it should be.

The loud speaker blared in the restaurant with Bingo numbers. I had to laugh at the voice of the man calling numbers. He sounded like he had smoked something other than cigarettes, had a few to many drinks during the day, OR just got done teaching 20 littles.

“B-4”.

An extra long pause.

“N-#”. Another extra long pause.

“O-something.”

“1,000 to the gal in the blue.”

My ears perked up at that.

$1,000?

Maybe I’m in the wrong game.

After finishing my dinner in a darker, cold, somewhat quiet restaurant, I drove home. Oliver was overly excited to greet me, for one reason only.

Dinner.

I was 30 minutes past his dinner. How could I? He was crazed after a day of crazy. I hate kennel cough. Oliver’s vacations at puppy camp help both him AND me. We get cabin fever. I’ll be glad when the kennel cough season is over. We’ll both appreciate his next visit all the more.

After one more hour the work of grading papers and entering grades in my grade book, it was finally time to stop. Last night’s soak in the hot tub was like a trip to the spa and Christmas all rolled into one. I’m so blessed to live in a silent neighborhood with brilliant sky hanging over the loveliness of Winterpast. I think I’ve never enjoyed the spa as much as I did during last night’s late summer sunset.

With that my day was over. It was filled with drama, the details of which I cannot speak. There were intense moments in which the teacher won, because this teacher always wins. There were sensitive moments of shared hugs, both adult and little. There was plenty of heat amid the ongoing saga of the broken air. There was a sweet apology wrapped in a smile and lots of work.

All this takes me back to the fall of 1996 when I was a brand new teacher with a brand new set of 1st grade littles. These adorable little kiddos were my first educational responsibility and they taught me so much. The very first girl who read her very first book while sitting very close to me made me cry. Remembering it as if it was yesterday, she is my inspiration. It wasn’t an easy journey for her to become a real reader, but, she made it. I know. I was the first person to whom she read an entire book.

Other things have made me cry through my 22 year career.

Mean, egotistical, vindictive principals and superintendents. A moldy room that made my littles and I sick for one whole year. The fencing of a community playground, ending weekend use. The death of 35 children over the course of 5 years as a hospital teacher. Useless spending of tax dollars. Wasted time on senseless professional development. Mean parents. Abused and psychologically abused children. The murder of a student. Cancer in a co-teacher.

Having lived out school drama for that many years, there was bound to be every kind of celebration and tragedy known to life. After all is said and done, school is just a micro-community.

I can’t explain how this summer of miracles has changed my life for the better. It’s become my favorite summer of all. That’s saying a lot because I hate summer with a passion. I’ve learned more about myself in the past three months than I have in a very long time.

I am finding that I’m stronger than I thought. Even though I’m exhausted at the end of the day, it’s a welcome feeling. I have tangible benchmarks and end goals that affect the lives of 20 littles. I’m teaching them about respect, kindness, goodness, and friendship. I’m also teaching them about time management and pride in a job well done.

How did I ever think for one moment that I was too old to teach? For goodness sake, I’m at my prime. So far, although physically beat up at the end of the day, by morning I’m repaired. With the right shoes and a good attitude, I plan to make it to June 2nd healthier and down a few pounds. That’s a win-win.

More tomorrow.

What a productive day I had yesterday! Different than my normal days since August 1 when I received the keys to my classroom. It was a change of scenery and purpose. I needed that more than you know.

Rising early, there was still a mound of work waiting for me. I’m now officially planned for the next two weeks of school. I still have nightly review to be sure I know exactly what I’ll be doing the next day, but to have the bulk of the work done will alleviate a lot of stress. Who knows, maybe I will actually get back to cooking myself a real dinner.

Leaving the house later in the day felt strange. Like I was doing something sinister. I should’ve been in my classroom preparing for my day with the littles as the Jeep flew down the road towards the Department of Education and then, Fingerprinting Express (FE). It is of the FE experience I will focus.

After my meeting at the mothership, it was on to FE in the biggest little city town to the north of the capital city to the east of me. The associates were bustling about getting ready for the onslaught of people coming for their services. I watched as they even mopped the floor. The place was immaculate. I was amazed at how many people need fingerprints from the DOJ. From police and teachers to ladies of the night. Everyone comes to one spot. FE.

I remember the first time I had fingerprints taken. It was in Virginia City, and let me tell you, it was creepy. Here I am in my mom jeans and hoodie, waiting for someone to help me. The jailer came to the front of a tiny jail and asked if I needed something. I told him “Fingerprinting”. His entire demeanor changed.

“Well, let me be the one to help you.”

This guy was linebacker big and cowboy strong. Quickly grabbing me by the elbow, he steered me into the actual jail. It would be there he would strong arm ten fingerprints out of me, rolling each finger in ink and onto a paper card. The one prisoner, (Judy Black’s suspected murderer husband), was within earshot of me. I was in the bowels of the jail. Bench seats had chains and handcuffs suspended on the wall above.

“Do I need to be handcuffed?”

His steel blue eyes were cold. He just looked at me and I gave him the first hand. Now, fingerprinting is tough for me. You need to relax your fingers and the person taking the fingerprints rolls them. Of course, in VC, there is not electronic anything. The guy didn’t even have on gloves. He just grabbed and rolled, five times on each hand. I must say, I felt sufficiently intimidated while promising myself I would never get in trouble in VC. EVER.

I LOVE VC’s Sheriff and deputies. They are the kindest men and women, always ready to help. They helped me so much the day VST died. But, I would not want to be arrested there. I think there are two sides to that story.

Yesterday was an entirely different situation. FE is in a strip mall store front. It almost looks like a kiosk you might find in Las Vegas or Universal Studios. Everything is done digitally, even registration. After waiting a little while, they called my name. The room where the prints are taken was dark. Very dark. Not tripping-because-you-can’t-see-dark, but almost.

The fingerprints were all done digitally and immediately forwarded to the Department of Education through my portal. In one day, I went from a locked account to a fully-licensed State of Nevada Credentialed teacher. The only thing that changed is that I’m $180 poorer and I have been fingerprinted at FE. Life goes on.

Now the fun begins. My grade book is set up with enduring standards and a few grades. I have appropriate lessons that will coincide with Common Core Standards. Funny. Just a few years ago, that was the phrase about which everyone was upset. Now, there are many things much worse. CCS’s just give teachers exact areas on which to focus for each grade level. Example. A first grade focus is phonics. The details can be found in a CCS. You can look them up per grade level. Teachers need to know the skills their students are to master during the year. It drives the curriculum.

On the way home, I happened to see an RV dealership with a row of travel vans. My Jeep turned off and I found myself in the showroom talking to a very nice salesperson. In the heat, he showed me several possibilities. A travel van has been on my bucket list for awhile. My silly dream of returning to the road. After two hours with this man, I can tell you one thing I have learned.

FERGETABOUTIT.

That ship has sailed into the night. I barely drive my pickup because of the size. Standing next to the vans, I realized all the reasons I will not be RVing anymore. The best part of that realization is that its okay. I am fully able to stay in any hotel I choose. Some may even include room service. All hotels accept dogs, so Oliver may or may not come with me. I can pack my Jeep full of every little essential I need and next summer, off we will go.

Sometimes in life, one needs to know when to hold ’em and when to fold ’em. Yesterday was a wonderful day to accept the fact that my RV memories are wonderful, BUT, I need to make no more. That door is closed.

Driving home on the interstate, I took time to think of all the ways I have grown in the 2.5 years since VST left. It amazes me. I’m not that scared, frail woman who didn’t drive for 6 years. I am steering my own life and doing well. Not to say that an unplanned flat tire or wrong turn won’t change my course again. Things will surely happen. But for this moment in time, life is wonderful. For that I’m truly grateful.

Take time today to think of the next year and consider possible adventures. If you don’t dream it you can’t scheme it. Right?

More tomorrow.

Smiling from ear to ear after completing the application for my credential, I ran off to the grocery store for Saturday supplies. I drink Folgers coffee and have since my first cup in 1973. Never much considered of the price of coffee, it being so much cheaper to make it at home. After 50 years of drinking a certain brand, it’s just habit to buy the same thing.

Well, shiver me timbers!

The price of a tiny container of coffee was $15.79. This is FOLGERS. Did I mention the TINY container? Not the mega one I usually order. This tiny little container would last me a week, at best. Our Discount store in town doesn’t carry any major brands. Period. They just deal in off brands. I might add, this was a sale price. The store was PROUD to offer this product as this reduced price

The coffee I buy from Costco comes in a large container. When I got home, I checked the price on Amazon. The pricing was similar to the grocery store, although not quite as high. It was then I decided it was time for a Costco run, online-style.

Bless that store. A huge container is still $14.72. Almost three times as much coffee as the local stores. I bought three. Costco Online is a great way to save money. I also save by avoiding the brick and mortar Costco. Too many temptations. Online, I order the needed staples and call it good. When things arrive in two days, I’ll be stocked up for the fall. Thank goodness I’m lucky to have storage space in my garage.

Strange things are happening all around us. Beware and keep your pantry stocked. I don’t believe the supply chain story anymore. This is something deeper. There seems to be no supply shortage when ordering on-line. Hasn’t been for anything I order from Amazon. But, shockingly, local store shelves are bare of many essentials.

When I lived in Russia, a recurring nightmare haunted my sleep. I would be walking up and down the aisles of Safeway. In 1977, that was my store of choice. Up and down those shiny aisles I pushed a huge shopping cart as the store music played on. I’d buy everything I wanted without hesitation. Oreos. Cashews. Potato chips. A chocolate cake. Ice cream. Just had it all. In my dream, the basket was overflowing, but nothing ever fell off the cart. The store music was sweetly familiar, composed of all my favorites.

Each morning, the dream would end and I would again wake up to the hell known as the communism.

The little town in which I lived had waited ten years for their new grocery store. It opened the summer I lived there and I was given a pass to the front of the line on opening day. Once inside, I almost believed I’d died and gone to heaven. There was cheese. Of course, without the protection of real shrink wrap, flies were zipping in and out of the packaging. Meat and cheese were not sealed properly. Refrigeration cases were cool-ish. A brand new grocery store with flies and fly strips handing overhead. Go figure.

On that first visit, the store could have almost passed for a US version of a grocery store. Almost. There was a little meat. Some cheese. A variety of canned goods. Some produce. A little milk. No frozen section, because most homes had no refrigerators. Some still had no electricity or running water. Tiraspol, Moldavia. 1977.

Communism. Such a great thought.

Not.

Returning one week later, I needed more cheese.

Shock of shock.

Every single aisle in the store, every last one mind you, was full of cans of green peas. From floor to ceiling. Canned peas. The entire center of the store. Canned peas. A sea of them. Not Jolly Green Giant canned peas. These were moldy-grey in color, overcooked in an oily substance that had a putrid odor. I know. I bought six cans that day because there was nothing else to buy in the entire store.

The meat and cheese aisles were never filled again that summer. The milk case stood empty. The only thing in that brand new supermarket was canned peas. Customers went in and out with their little bags of peas, excited the new market had finally opened. I returned to shop the outdoor market where live nutria were on sale for the dinner table. I’d never heard of or seen that critter before. Animals are kept alive until dinner time. It’s better for everyone that way, as there’s no refrigeration.

Fast forward to our own Walmart here in town. First of all, the entire place is a tripping hazard. There are not enough employees to put out the stock. The store is using the “Just in Time” method. There is no storage in the back anymore. Things arrive and are placed on the shelves. Groovy if the supply chain issues didn’t mess that up. So, now, things that didn’t sell are still on the shelves, while new stuff sits in boxes in the middle of the store.

But, I noticed something else. Normal, day to day items are gone from the shelves. For so many years, I could buy my favorite Stone Wheat crackers anywhere. I tried my first one in 1977. Now, they are not to be found anywhere. At the grocery store, an empty spot sits waiting for them to arrive. It’s been empty for three months now.

Again, checking Amazon, I found them. Red Oval Stone Wheat Crackers. Not Keto approved, but so wonderful with cream cheese. Yes. I can get them. Sure. $24 for four boxes. CRACKERS. These are CRACKERS.

After 50 years, maybe I need to change the products I have loved for so long. If I could adjust to losing VST after 50 years, I can adjust to anything. Life is so different now. Somedays, it’s just better to stay home.

Today is not the case. Off I go to the Biggest Little City to the West. I’ll be fingerprinted, again. Again, I’ll be cleared of murder, robbery, and cat burglary. The dust will settle and I’ll be Mrs. Hurt until June 2nd.

Whatever you choose to do today, inventory the important things in your home. Especially necessary medications. Don’t forget your furry friends. Keep a stash of chocolate. They are already talking about shortages for Halloween and Christmas. Oy Vey.

More tomorrow.

As promised, my story continues.

Yesterday, putting this entire credential mess out of my head, I turned my attention to more pressing matters. For goodness sakes, I can’t change the slow pace of government and all state agencies are closed on Saturday. When trouble hits, I tend to fixate on specifics. Long ago, I learned a wonderful technique. I’ll only allow myself to worry during the hours the problem can be fixed. Government offices are open 8-5, M-F. Those are my worry hours. Then and only then.

So many things I left by the wayside last week. Laundry. The lawn. Mopping and vacuuming. Washing the car. Grocery shopping. Check off all those things, because this woman was on fire. I love days like that when accomplishments stack up like fire wood.

The neighbor across the street has now moved, and Ninja Neighbor held an estate sale for them yesterday. People were coming and going, which was an odd feeling for our neighborhood. It was crawling with strangers. I went over to see the house, which was lovely in every way. They have a solarium, which is a nice idea, but maybe not facing to the sun in the summer. All in all, I won’t be selling Winterpast to move across the street, even though they had a beautiful soaking tub.

It was there I ran into another widow who’s been healing her broken heart just a few doors away. We started talking and another miracle occurred. She is now experiencing what I experienced this summer. Isolation and loneliness. With the walls closing in, she’s ready to go back to work. She would love a dinner partner once in awhile. Translation — another new girlfriend! All these things happened when I turned my frustration over a silly credential to my very real and blossoming life.

Oliver was in heaven. He moved from this bed to that one, all the while keeping a watchful eye on his Mom-Oh. He’d been scheduled for puppy camp, however, an outbreak of kennel cough canceled that plan. I am so glad he didn’t go. Oliver and I are having the best weekend together.

With happiness growing in every nook and cranny of Winterpast, my focus finally turned back to my credential and I decided to check my emails. It was then I couldn’t believe my eyes.

Utter amazement.

“Your credential issue has been resolved. You are now allowed to reapply for your Nevada Teaching Credential. Go to our website immediately. Blah. Blah. Blah.”

Shrieking with excitement, I first called K. She’s my go-to. Aren’t all daughters your go-to? I so missed out earlier in life. Anyway, K was happy for me. Immediately, my focus turned to business.

On the website, a very long line of checkmarks awaited me. One by one, data was entered and red check marks turned green. Two hours later, my email arrived.

“Your application is complete. Get fingerprinted now!”.

The long awaited email had arrived. Fingerprinting is mandatory for every teacher and necessary to be cleared to teach. On Monday, I will be printed.

Another string of miracles had just occurred.

Just Thursday morning, a voice told me to email my principal and request a release day to settle this problem at the Nevada Department of Education. She wasn’t too keen on the idea but agreed this problem needed immediate resolution. She arranged a substitute.

Monday, I’ll check in with the Mothership to make sure everything is really in order. From there, I need to travel one hour to the Biggest Little City to the West for fingerprinting. And then, I’ll travel back home on the interstate. Just driving that loop will take 2.5 hours. Things aren’t next door around here. Add the wait time, it will take me most of the day to complete these two tasks.

Later in the day, I ran right into one of my gal pals at the grocery store. It’s impossible to go anywhere in town without running into friends these days. I love it! Anyway, SHE is going West on Monday and would like to meet for an early dinner. Well, HECK YES!!!! We’re going to a little place that uses only locally grown products in their foods. I can’t wait to find out more about her new shop, opening October 1st. Mainstreet Flowers!!! What luck to have a friend that has access to beautiful plants and flowers. I can’t wait to learn about everything she is doing to prepare for her new venture over a delicious meal.

Disaster avoided.

I’m settling in with my students for a wonderful year. I love each and every one of them. They already listen and work their hardest. They are good friends with the nicest parents. I have grade level co-teachers that are kind, dedicated, and funnier than any teachers should be. My principal covers us all with her protective wings and best intent.

It just doesn’t get better than this.

Have a wonderful Sunday. I’m going to enjoy a leisurely breakfast and then prepare for church. I have lunch plans after with the girls. Oliver understands and will watch the back yard for signs of intruders. You know, toads and lizards. Team work makes the dream work.

More tomorrow.

To say this has been hot whirlwind of activity wouldn’t even begin to cover the last few days. Just like that, I know 20 beautiful little children that are skipping towards 2nd grade with me. They are bright, inquisitive, and ready to learn. They listen like they have been doing their best in school forever. They are Nevada at its finest.

In my class, I have a perfect blend of boys and girls. I’ve discovered they love to talk, their not shy, and they adore dancing. They giggle a little while still trying to figure me out. They are beginning readers. They can read Max the Cat, you know.

They KNOW people don’t have eyes in the back of their heads, BUT, they aren’t sure about Mrs. Hurt. She’s a teacher, you know. Teachers are different. They know they need to move so they are not squashed by my Size 11 shoes. They know how to sit crisscross-applesauce. If you don’t understand, don’t worry. You aren’t a 1st grader.

When I asked them to describe their first day in class, they all responded that they were sad. I get that. Sadness is true and deep when you are six and need to leave Mom at a big door. Even more true when Mom is crying. Independence is a tough badge to earn with the first day of First Grade is a milestone. They’re big kids now.

I’ve used my lunch box ice brick to help a child’s bumped kneed. I have wiped tears and hugged away loneliness. I forgot what wonderful hugs 1st graders can give. Just out of nowhere. Hug. “Now, class, we are going to….” Hug. Hug. “What is 1 + 0?” Hug. Hug. Hug. Spontaneous. First Graders are just that. A wonderful pint size package of spontaneity.

It is still desert hot here. We are not allowed to prop open doors for obvious reasons. The bad guys have won, stealing fresh air from children. Our huge, west facing windows do not open. Although tinted very darkly with shades over them, the heat blasts through. The AC is still not working, being an ancient unit. AC parts are so hard to get right now. This is truly a supply chain nightmare. All this is no fault of our amazing Mechanical Marvin. He fixes everything at the drop of a hat. This problem is bigger than me, the school, or even the district. IT ISN’T THAT NO ONE CARES. There’s no blame necessary, as everyone scrambles to make due for now.

This is a life lesson and I am learning from the littles. You dress accordingly. You sweat some and carry on with a smile. Years ago, I would have been a grumpy mess about this, but, as you know, grumpy solves nothing. Children accept what is. Not one of my littles, mind you, has cried about the heat. It is sweltering. Not One. I have learned patience from these kiddos.

Not one of them has complained about anything. They are so happy to be in school. And, this is the reward of it all.

Every story must have drama and mine has plenty. So much so that I continue with the fretful part of my story.

As you all know, I just completed my college class. I could’ve learned from my littles then, as I complained a bushel about the last assignment. I earned a perfect score and got an A, by the way. Glory be!!!

My credential has been locked because I didn’t hadn’t completed this one class. I WAS retired. I was assured that as soon as the State of Nevada received the transcript it would be unlocked. Everything has taken time. The professor had to grade 20 culminating assignments. The University had to process my order for transcripts and then send them. The State of Nevada must process them which is now the biggest snag of all. No sign that has happened and school is now in Week 2.

After 22 years of teaching without one hint of a problem, my career could end because of State bureaucracy. Not overly dramatic. Quite true. The district is in a pickle. They hired a teacher some technical difficulties. I found out the severity of this problem 15 minutes before Back to School Night began, leaving me shaken. My career could be over if this isn’t fixed, and fixed now. I have until October 11th for the State to process this application.

My job performance? Spot on. My relationships with co-workers? Growing every day. Student performance? Outstanding. My happiness level? Through the roof. But. Because of this glitch…. it may turn out to be one of the saddest losses of my life. If I would have had any idea, I would have never applied to a school district that is so desperate for teachers. And no. I’m not working as a long term sub. It’s the full credential, as I was promised by state workers, or nothing.

Cliff hanger, right???

I’m taking the day off from my littles on Monday to travel one hour away to the Mother Ship. Nevada Department of Education. I will sit on my favorite bench and be there right at 8 AM. There, the two little people that told me this would be resolved so quickly will help me, or I’m not leaving. My account will be unlocked, so I can submit my $180 fee, get fingerprinted and get on with my year. Or, I may face devastating news that this won’t be resolved until Christmas, at which point, I will face some heartbreak.

I will need to focus on my coffee cup that says “She believed she could, so she did.” And then, Oliver and I will need to take a very long road trip across the country, or something else wild and free. Sometimes, the best laid plans go awry.

Now, I wait until Monday.

Before then, I have many things to prepare. I need substitute plans and materials for Monday and the rest of the week. Somewhere between now and then, I need to mow the lawn, do the laundry, clean Winterpast, order more on Amazon, and rest.

Life is interesting. God is teaching me patience, and showing me wonder. Each day as I walk the halls of my new school, I pray for our safety and for the goodness of teachers, administration, and kids. I pray for fall to arrive quickly to give us relief from this heat. I pray for more monsoon rains cool us. And I pray that I will be a teacher when my littles walk out the door towards summer.

Enjoy whatever you choose to do today. Find something that makes your heart sing a jaunty little tune. Even in the worst situations, find the lesson you need to learn. For me, its tolerance, patience, and maturity. This will just be the beginning of a great year of stories. I know it. Please pray for great answers on Monday. My students and I are depending on it.

More tomorrow.

Tonight, at least 21 happy families and children will come to Room 56 to begin our journey together through 1st Grade. There will be moping. Tears. Fear. Hesitation. Terror. And then, I’ll breathe deeply and know God brought all these children and me to Room 56 with his love, mercy, and divine wisdom. Knowing that, it makes tonight all the more exciting.

I have one more day to get the room in order. I still have teacher cabinets that need straightening, and a very messy desk that needs to be put in order. The children are covered and that’s all that matters. As Kindergartners, they already have a full year under their belts. I’m sure they’ll fill me in on important details.

At church, members have been telling me about the most wonderful Kindergarten teacher who works at my school. She’s been absent from church for awhile, but everyone assured me that she is one of the very best around.

Yesterday, as I worked on name tags and seating arrangements, the sweetest woman came to find me. Yes. Everyone at church had been correct. Lovely in every way, she welcomed me to the school with a hug. Such a connection between my spiritual world and my occupational world occurred. I’ve never experienced this before. It was a little surreal. I’ve been busy making friends, and now, connections are intersecting. I’m starting to know someone who knows someone else I know. That’s the beauty of small town living.

There are many of us at this school. On a certain morning for a few minutes at a certain time each week, we’ll quietly meet as teachers of faith. As she named off Christian co-workers, the names were from all grade levels. Schools have many sides to them. Tiny little details that never get coverage on the news. Very good people from all walks of life choose teaching because they want the best for children everywhere. What a blessing to have met such a wonderful teacher.

“Oh, you have Johnny Bell! I can tell you, he is one of the best students I had last year! You’ll love him! Sally Grenish!!!! Ahhhh, she’s a little shy at first, but hang on to your hat! She is handful! Mitch!!!! What a writer! You are going to have a great year, Joy.! Your kids are wonderful!”

Words I needed to hear from someone who loved them throughout their first year of school.

With that, I must close for today. I’m taking a short break and will be back on Saturday morning to fill you in on all the fun! Until then, I need to remember to breathe in and out, knowing that I’ve got this because I’m covered. God wouldn’t have placed me in this school at this time in my life without blessing me with the proper amount of courage, strength, fortitude, laughter, and wisdom. It’s my time to shine doing something I love. Yes. Teaching is my calling.

Whatever you do today, smile at kids getting ready for school. Know their parents are counting the seconds until they can catch a breath themselves. And so it begins.

More on Saturday.