Author: Joy Hurt

This has always been one of my favorite pieces of art since I first saw in in 1973. A beautiful example from the French pointillist painter, George Seurat, There are so many stories to be told from this piece, it boggles my mind. I plan to use this in 1st grade, observing which details will capture my students imagination. Most will probably pick the monkey or dogs, but, what about the faceless little girl in the center????? Or the team of rowers??? Sailing on a Sunday. The lovers showing PDA. The jilted woman looking off into the distance. The crazy man talking to himself. Or, the modern dude in the tank top and ball cap front left. There are so many ways to go with this.

I remembered this painting while thinking about the 1st annual church picnic at Out of Town Park. It will be coming up next month, complete with games, a piñata, and 60 homemade cupcakes provided by ME. I didn’t say baked, because I may or may not make fancy ones of my own creation. I need to start practicing, if that’s to be the case. I may simply go to the local grocer and order some up. Not sure yet.

Our church hasn’t had a church picnic for a very long time. Everyone is buzzing about it. Why, yesterday, it was the talk of the after-church-continuation-of-fellowship luncheon held at The Bear That’s Black Diner. It seems our town has come back to life, while all the help in town is down for the count. One restaurant (we only have seven), has shuttered it’s doors again for lack of employees. With the added travelers from the interstate, the locals don’t have much of a choice in places to eat. Going to lunch took over two hours yesterday, time spent laughing, talking, and catching up. There was one waiter serving with an entire room of diners.

Time spent with friends is never enough for me. It was so lovely to get caught up with my besties from the bible study. I will really miss them on Thursday mornings. From a new flower shop on Main to the church picnic, the gals filled me in on the latest news. Not gossip, because gossip is never helpful, but real town news. Their friendship and support on the first day of my first week back to school was better than ten naps and a soak in the hot tub. Lunch was grand.

The discussions we shared made me think beyond the words I read in my own daily bible study. Often perplexing, the bible is one tough book to read. Like any interesting book, there are some things that get shelved in the back of my brains, and other things that capture my attention. I continue to marvel at timeless beauty and truths captured over 2,000 years ago. While studying Romans, it seems I’m reading about current day troubles in our society. On the other hand, the Psalms remind me that trying situations will surface during the school year. I need to be ready because storms are on their way.

The rest of the day was spent planning lessons for the first 2.5 weeks. The writing program is delicious. Although I would have approached it the same way, without direction from the teacher’s manual, I would’ve been thinking “Am I doing this correctly?” It’s lovely to get direction from those who created the teaching materials, all supported by the school district. Any parent complainers need to head to the district office. This teacher is following district approved curriculum. The writing program will work out just fine.

Today, I have more planning to finish. I need to write out 21 ID name tags for my littles. I don’t want to be the 1st grade teacher who loses a child on Day 1. I have cubbies to mark with numbers and tables and chairs to sanitize once more. Along with a long list of Amazon orders to make. For me, it’s the best kind of busy there is.

Going back to work has been the most appropriate decision made so far, right behind buying Winterpast while moving 17 days after VST died. My life has never been conventional. This is just one more crazy bend in the road that couldn’t have come at a better time.

I do wish I would’ve had a chance to work under the Principal that hired me. It seems she was just in place for that moment in time. My new principal brings me smiles every time we speak. I plan to learn a lot about leadership from her. Love and support from the staff cover her. How lucky she is to start the year in a school full of co-workers who are also dear friends. Many of the teachers I work with have known each other since grade school. Small town living has its rewards.

Today, I must hurry and scurry. I was quite sure I’d take a little break from the blog to get started. Now, I know I need to keep writing, or time will devour something I love doing so much. Beware, there may be a few days in which more is not in me. On those days, I’ll let you know.

Have a marvelous Monday, whatever you choose to do. Make it grand. Try your hand at your own writing skills. Really look at “Sunday in the Park with George” and find your own little drama to ponder, all the while remembering, “Writing IS life.”.

More tomorrow.

Wow. Just WOW!!!

With only days until I meet my littles, I’m in a really good place. This new endeavor has taken total focus and determination. With hours and and hours left of things that must be done before Tuesday night’s Back to School function, every NEXT thing gives me more energy.

I took a selfie two days ago and the image said it all. It’s the first picture in a very long time that shows a smile radiating from my heart. I seem to glow in the picture. I was the only person in the room. I took it on my first paid day. The picture says everything. I made a good decision to return to the work I so dearly love.

To add to the wonder of the moment, I’ve now seen pictures of my class. Tiny little thumbnails taken one year ago, these students are the readers and writers I’ve been waiting to meet. With adorable names that I can’t share with you, these children are going to teach me more life lessons than I can count. They are going to make me laugh more deeply than anyone on the planet, and they are going to cause me to cry in my pillow. That’s a given. Another given? They are all brand new writers, even at 6 years old. Who knows, I may meet the next Jan Karon who will enchant readers for generations to come.

I started preparing my lesson plans for reading, writing, and phonics last night. Teaching in 10 minute blocks, the kids don’t know it, but they are going to be the exhausted ones at the end of the day. These kiddos are so lucky to be taught by a real writer knows what works and what doesn’t. I turn writing into one of the best things in life, because, as I was told by a 5th grader, “Writing IS life”. You’ll be happy to know I’ve personally handled every book from which my littles will learn to read. I’ve found no hidden agendas anywhere. I did find many adorable books that made me giggle and laugh. All the more fun to teach from books like these. There are many titles I remember from reading with my own little boys.

The kids are going to write their first three page book on the first day of school. I can’t wait to see what they come up with. Now, they are not illustrators. That’s a different skill. We’ll focus on the words, ideas, and messages. My illustrators will need to wait just a little while to practice their skills. Kids always have a lot to say and I can’t wait to listen.

Last week, I ordered another “Raffi” cd. In case you don’t know, he is quite the children’s artist, singing “Baby Beluga” and “Down by the Bay”. Singing with Raffi yesterday took me back to 1996 and my first classroom. Yes. Returning to work is a very, very happy thing.

As promised, I am here to tell you I earned 100% on my 30 page culminating project. 350/350. If my instructor is reading, thank you so much!! I hope it’s the last college course ever required of me. I’m at the top of my pay scale in both years of teaching and college units. Nothing more will increase my pay other than time and in that commodity, I am limited.

This summer has been one for the books. Thinking back to June when I was fretting about renewing my driver’s license, so many miracles have taken place. The stars aligned to carry to me to this, the last Sunday of my summer. I’ll need to wait until June 3, 2023 when the summer will be, again, full of possibilities. Until then, it’s pedal to the metal. Mrs. Hurt is back.

Our staff is having a potluck lunch tomorrow. That should be a fun time in which to get to know more people. There is another widow on our staff that lost her husband in 2019. I need to speak with her. Her son is our computer tech. At least she isn’t physically alone.

My grade level gal pals continue to give me strength through scaffolding, strength, and love. We’ve all been working massive amounts of unpaid overtime to be ready for the first day. Today, I need to create a 3-D bee-hive, as my beautiful bulletin board never arrived. Thank goodness the bees arrived. Everything will be picture perfect on Tuesday at 4:30 when it will be showtime. Twenty phone call invitations will go out tomorrow.

Whatever you do today, spend time with a child, if any are around. Talk to them about how important it is to act respectfully at school. Tell them their teachers are just as nervous and excited as they are. For goodness sakes, I have my new Barbie lunchbox AND school backpack ready to go.

More tomorrow.

As the days go by, so do my Amazon arrivals. A box of this and a bag of that. A beautiful classroom takes work and $$$. Consider this. All five of us brand new teachers have donated all our hours from August 1st until August 10th when our pay began. We will again today, Saturday. That says something about the sacrifice teachers make every year. Multiply that by millions of American teachers. It’s all donated for love for our students and our profession.

I was a bit disappointed the other day when a man I really respect was poking fun at my school. Being a “city” school in a economically depressed little town, he was laughing because some of the teachers were stolen by a bigger school district to the West. Just like the Wicked Witch of the West, evil magic had lured away primary teachers for better pay and signing bonuses. While speaking with this person, I could feel the disdain in his voice for public schools. I wish this attitude would cease. With the news media on fire against public schools, it seems to worsen every day.

I’m going to spread the message that needs hearing. Every single retiree should run, not walk, to their local school and volunteer in some capacity. From being a crossing guard, to a lunch aide, to in-room support, volunteers are needed. Then, after volunteering, you need to spread the word about the very wonderful things being taught to our littles. Things that were taught to you in your own grade school experience. These should be aired on television. Stories about kindness, courage, respect, and school loyalty. Goodness comes from school rooms. If someone sees differently, they need to get involved to fix the problem. That is why they are called PUBLIC schools.

Your teachers are neighbors. They sing in church next to you. They quietly provide for the students that need help. They give countless hours of their time at home, preparing for the next day. They lose some sleep each week thinking of new ways to help Johnny and Jane do better. No one talks about that.

Principals are at the front line of the battle. Send them flowers. Support them. Support every single school employee, because, they keep our kids happy, healthy, and safe.

Whew, I feel better now.

This year, it’s my mission to find at least five adult volunteers for my school. Not just for my classroom, but for the school. Five adults that will help the staff and kids have a wonderful year, while finding out that our elementary school is a fun place to hang out. Honorary Eagle Grandparents. Fingerprinting is necessary. A smile and good attitude are mandatory. Can’t get there? Volunteer at home. There’s plenty of prep work to go around. As this blog is read in 50 states now, this should start a little movement across the US.

Last Saturday, I found it necessary to find my co-teacher at school. I knew she would be there, yet, without a phone number or way to contact her, I had no way to confirm it. It was the first day I needed to open the double gate with my gate key, drive through, and lock it behind me. With no sign of any other teachers there, I’d just drop off a few things and go back home. It’d been worth a try.

To drive to my outside door, I need to travel through a maze of “Oh Goodness, I hope I don’t hit this or that”. Teachers love putting their car by their door instead of countless trips with a rolling cart to the parking lot. After missing all the obstacles by the cafeteria and rounding the back of the 4th grade wing, the treacherous part begins. The GRAVEL. I’ve been told three times that I’ll get stuck if I don’t have 4-wheel-drive. Thank goodness, Barbie’s Jeep came with that and I know how to engage it. Whew.

Over the gravel,

And threw the courts,

To Room 56 I go.

Quite a trek, even in a vehicle. There was no familiar car outside my neighbor’s classroom, and I will say, I was a little deflated. She’s just the sweetest gal. Her smile and twinkling eyes make everything better! Consistently, she shines and her positivity is infectious.

Entering my classroom is like breathing for me now. I really wish I could sleep there. It’s adorable in every way, but especially with the mural with six galloping mustangs under a soaring Golden Eagle. I looked in the hallway for an interesting cast offs. All of a sudden, my neighbor popped out of her room!!!!! She WAS there!!!! Yes! Yes! Yes!

Just like a new 1st grader, I was showing her about possible block schedule plans. She told me of a Monday morning meeting at 10. We exchanged phone numbers and contact information. I told her about “Adopting a Cow” and she was so excited we almost danced in delight.

I stapled up some silk sunflowers on my “Welcome to our Hive” bulletin board. I plan do a picture blog next week to reveal the most beautiful room in the world. Room 56.

To the world, I say this. School is such a positive place. I doubt many news pony-tails would make it one day in a classroom with 20 littles. They’d run to the parking lot crying with a broken heel and smudged makeup. The focus at my school this year is positive relationships and rock-solid teaching. Very simply. That is our mission. To teach our littles to read, write, and manipulate numbers. If you think differently, please, come. I need volunteers.

More tomorrow.

Hold on just a cotton-pickin’ second here. I signed up for 1st grade. That included sitting on a colorful carpet with “crisscross applesauce” legs while enjoying a graham cracker and a great story. Maybe in the 1900’s, but not in the classrooms of today. Yesterday, I attended a serious new teacher training. So many things happened, I don’t know where to start, so I’ll start with the union.

Our teacher’s union is a very small group of dedicated people that do wonderful things for us. Yesterday, they fed us a tri-tip lunch complete with beans, mac and cheese, beans, and salad. Add some sodas and cookies and it was delicious. While doing that, they gave away $1,000 in $100 amounts to lucky teachers that joined yesterday. Nice in every way. And then came the plea to join them. I mean, really join them. Pay $$$ every month to join them.

Here’s the thing. I’m not buying what they’re selling. In my first career as a teacher, there was no choice. At that time, $80 a month was stolen from my paycheck over 20 years to support a machine. The California Teachers Association. Never did I run for office or go to their functions. No little BBQ’s or raffles held there. All the money was syphoned to the mother ship supporting causes in which I had no say. Robbed. We were all robbed.

Without ever willfully giving the money, it was quiet thievery of the worst kind. A large portion went straight to support the NEA head-quartered in Washington, DC. I visited there one time with VST. I just wanted to get a pencil that said “NEA” as a souvenir. A guard at the door interrogated me, refusing us entry unless we had a scheduled meeting time. I bought them a lot of pencils over the year. We couldn’t even enter the building.

No. In California you have no choice. If you take the job, you will be robbed. Period. Please remember that when you talk about teachers and the union. In California, teachers do not have a choice. If they did, I assure you, the Union would lose a huge portion of their membership.

In Nevada, things are different. Teachers DO have a choice. We are not judged if we say NO. And, for the 3rd time in a row, I’ve done just that. I do thank the union for the lovely lunch. It was great! We’ll see you all at our schools, for we are all united in teaching our students.

The meeting with new teachers was wonderful. The youngest teacher was 18. The oldest teacher looked to be 70-something. From 8 until 2:30, information was pumped into our brains. We met District Administration. We got an adorable T-shirt. And then, it got very real. We broke up into groups with our team leaders and went to work on language arts.

Language Arts is my favorite subject to teach because it was my favorite subject in school. Very early on, writing became my passion. The paper heard every word I said, displaying it in slashed charcoal words shooting across the page. I had the most wonderful teachers throughout school. Intelligent and wise, they were experts in their fields. There was no retirement back then. Teachers taught until they couldn’t, and then, maybe they just died in the closet.

Some girlfriends that started teaching in 1981 made $6,000 a year. Of course, by the time they retired, they were paid back in full. But, at that time, there were no big pensions or paychecks. People taught because they loved children.

For hours yesterday, I learned about our reading program and how best to implement it. There are no colorful student books or workbooks provided with our program. This is an authentic program in which the children read out of books of their choosing and write stories through pictures and words. Our goal is to work up to 35 minutes of both reading and writing by the end of the school year. I think my class will surpass that because I already know I’m getting the writers. All kids have stories to tell. Great ones.

I’ll have 23 children in my room. 23 busy little people with opinions, troubles, and happiness to share. That’s 46 little legs running as fast as they can to an open door and 1st grade. That’s a lot of energy.

My teaching group is a solid group of women in this for the right reasons. We will provide a united front to conquer the masses. All the while, we will find things about which to laugh. We’ll also comfort each other when we need to cry, which will probably be every day at lunch.

Yesterday was another wonderful day. Chapter 1 in a book of memories. I’m not committing to more than this year. Time will tell whether or not this will prove that I am really old, or prove that I will be the oldest teacher in the school that dies one afternoon correcting papers at her desk. Today is the first real day of the school year for all teachers. The new has rubbed off. Off I go to school!!!!!

More tomorrow.

What an amazing and exhausting first day.  I can’t even tell you the number of times my mind was frying, both from the heat AND from sensory overload.  In our brick school in the desert, with windows that do not open and doors that must remain shut, the AC is broken.  It is humid and almost too hot to think. Before everyone gets angry about that, our district employees are the very best available and dancing as fast as they can. No doubt everything will be fixed before the first day of school. It’s just a little warm at the moment.

There are teacher angels at my school, from each grade level.  This team of women know everything about what I need before I do.  They know where all the hiding places are in the school and they stand ready to help.  I now have all the teacher manuals necessary for 1^st grade thanks to their help.

            It’s a daunting experience to enter a classroom that has empty cupboards. Not just a little empty, stocked with antiques from the 1900’s, but, really empty cupboard that have a hollow sound when you close them.  My cupboards that are slowly filling with necessities.

            With 23 littles showing up next Wednesday, this teacher has a lot of shopping to do over the weekend.  Snacks for those that don’t have one.  Toys to keep some of the class busy while the rest are working with me.  A refrigerator to keep some water cold.  A coffee maker to keep my mug full.  The list is endless and every increasing.  Remember what I said.  Teachers across the country are doing this very thing.  Teachers buy a large part of the consumables for American children with our own money.  Many districts prohibit teachers from asking parents for help.  Kids must learn.  Teachers must teach.  I’m so glad I hit Walmart early, as their shelves are now filled with Halloween goodies.

            Yesterday, all the new teachers met with the very new principal and vice principal.  All I can say is this.  God saved me the best for last.  These two women are the kindest and most focused of all the principals under which I have served. And there have been many.  Also new, they are observing everything about the beginning school year with a critical eye.  Their main objective is to start the school year repairing and making new connections between the staff, parents, students, and community.

            In the fall of 1996, my very first principal was the worst.  She loved sitting on counters in her mini skirt with legs crossed while flirting with my male co-worker.  They were both from Connecticut.  Although older than him by a good ten years, he was her special project.  Neither were the sharpest knife in the drawer.  One day, she came in to interrupt my teaching day with a photo album.  She wanted to share her body building photos with me.  Not sure of her thoughts on why this was a good idea in the middle of class time in my 1st-2nd grade class, but, she was in charge.  We marched to her orders. Oy Vey.

            As a first-year teacher, I said, “Of Course” and “Sure” to anything that needed to be done, while my male co-worker skated.  As I understand it, he is now close to Superintendent status, with a salary 4X that of this lowly teacher.  I think back to the chart he put on the wall for Open House that listed Knee and Elbow as Pronouns (in black and white for all to see).  Such is our educational system.  Some days there are just no ways to distinguish which direction is up or down.  Great scammers rise to the top.

My new school took a real hit when Covid came through.  All schools did.  Returning to the classroom environment is different now.  Some kids will be wearing masks.  Some kids not.  Some kids will be vaccinated.  Some kids not.  Some kids will be terrified of what they just went through.  Some kids are too little to remember.  It’s like walking into a vast wilderness to create a new town and a safe place to learn.  That’s the point from where we’re starting.

            Our school lost ten teachers.  Schools are families, so this one just lost a quarter of the family members to other districts.  That’s left some wounds that need to heal.  My town is located about as far away from civilization as you can get.  With the price of gas higher than anything the news is reporting, commuters have no relief.  Any way you look at things, the drive from the nearest town is a good 30 minutes, at the minimum.  On a beginning teacher’s salary, that drive isn’t feasible.  So, we have the teachers we have and are going to make it a great year.  I wish a few more retired teachers would dust off their credentials and come back to work.

Yesterday’s trainings were informative and basic.  A school tour.  Snacks fed our nerves.  Especially the chocolate cupcakes in the afternoon.  Best principal EVER.

            Today, it’s the district’s turn to tell us newbies what we will and won’t ever do.  Reinforcing the rule that teacher’s always walk in lock step while marching to a tune that sometimes doesn’t make sense.  We’ll get passwords, logins, directions, and mandates.  We’ll sign more papers and leave with brains fully loaded with stuff we need to re-learn at the beginning of every school year.  All this while sitting with all the new hires in the district. 

            While getting into our new routine at Winterpast, Oliver was better this morning.  He ate his breakfast while I showered, therefore banking valuable writing minutes.  I grabbed my freshly brewed coffee from my new, automated coffee maker, and we went to the studio.

            Attempting to log into my blog, it was then disaster struck.  The blog site is DOWN.  Not just a little slow.  DOWN.  After making a call, (the first one of the day at 4:00 AM), it was confirmed.  DOWN.          

            I am writing this on WORD at the moment and may not post it until late this afternoon.  Good writing minutes can’t be wasted, when every minute of every day counts.  Working schedules are demanding.

            As you start your day today, know that I’m having the best time of my life.  I can put all my energy into something I dearly love and have missed so much.  I’m making more local friends as my desert roots sink deeper.  Twenty-three littles are going to enjoy the best school year of their lives with Mrs. Hurt.  I’m going to make sure of it.

            More tomorrow.

PS–Thank you Bluehost for getting everyone back online.

I know an old lady who was very lonely.

She was smart, nice and never a phony.

Painting and thinking, she was turning quite crone-y

Now, THAT is for sure, a lot of baloney.

I know an old lady who had enough

Of dust bunnies, TV, and other boring stuff.

Looking around at her life in a castle,

She needed adventure, and even some hassles.

She needed a reason to get out of her bed,

A very good reason for a hat on her head.

I know an old lady who’d had enough,

Of dust bunnies, TV, and other boring stuff

So she searched through the want ads

Became brave and tough,

For this very old lady, that had enough

Of Dust bunnies and painting and other boring stuff

She knew something better just had to be found.

Something for her the next corner around

I know an old lady who had just enough

Of dust bunnies, TV, And other boring stuff.

Scared as she was, she went for a meeting.

All the others were staring at her and her seating.

Specialists in this and Experts in that

All staring at her adjust her hat.

Answers, they poured out of her head.

The answers she had could’ve put them in bed.

They tried trick questions that some might not know,

But off course, of course, her they couldn’t throw.

I know an old lady who had enough

Dust bunnies, TV, and other boring stuff.

So she threw down her vacuum and her controller,

She dug out her briefcase, (a fine one, a roller).

She found her old whistle, still bright as a jewel,

And waited for THE call from this sweet little school.

I know an old lady who had quite enough

Of dust bunnies, TV, and other boring stuff.

She answered the phone to a principal dear,

They wanted her close, they wanted her near.

In Room 56, with 1st Graders around her,

So much to learn, even at her old age,

66 is the new 30, or that’s what they say.

I know an old lady who’s going out the door

Not to the market, or bank, or the store.

She’s un-retiring to teach the little’s she loves

A class picked for her from her Father above.

I knew that old lady, because she was me

Growing older by the minute, I had to get free

And back to my work, so much left to do,

And with that, I bid you a fond and quite happy

Toodle-Oo!

More tomorrow.

Well, today is the last day of summer for me. When I finally get around to looking at the gardens again, leaves will be falling. Until then, I have so much to do, it’s mind boggling. Yesterday was a day of setting up my classroom library. Sounds easy enough, except that at the start of the day, I didn’t have enough books for even one shelf. Because of my wonderful teacher sisters, I now have two full bookcases holding a wide variety of reading materials. All well used and from the 1900’s, there isn’t a bad book in the group. I know. I looked through them all while organizing them.

Today is ladder day. Amazon is such a blessing. Each box arrives holding just a little more to adorn my room. Today, I’m stapling and sticking charts and color up. Then, with a quick cleaning, I’ll turn my attention to the desk and student materials and planning.

There are NEVER enough hours in the day, (even if a teacher didn’t sleep), to finish 100% of everything on any given day. But, there is progress towards the finish line of June 2nd. By setting goals, I’ll avoid the agony of defeat of being left behind my lofty goals.

These are some daily benchmarks I’m coming up with.

Don’t trip over anything. Above all, do not fall in front of the children.

Smile at least 25% of the day.

Don’t let the kids make you cry in front of them. It a bad look.

If you don’t know the answer, look it up in front of the students. No Guessing, Miss Teacher.

Hold firm and don’t cave to their adorableness. It’s their secret weapon.

Drink lots of water and eat a good lunch.

Enjoy the first three days of school while it’s still puppies, kittens, and flowers.

Repeat. “I am the teacher.” at least once every 3 minutes. NOT OUTLOUD, JOY! Just to yourself will do.

There are so many more things I need to remember. There are a lot of things I’ve already learned through 23 years of experience.

I can teach out of a box. Don’t sweat the lack of curriculum or materials.

I don’t need to save the world. Just 20 adorable littles who are just as excited as their teacher.

Everyone will learn many things each day, especially me.

With a good plan, the details will fall into place. Don’t map out the year, it won’t go the way you planned anyway. No one could every pre-plan the surprises the school year holds. Just look at 2020 and Covid.

Love each minute. Embrace it. Experience it. At the end of the day, it will have turned out just as God planned, even if it doesn’t seem so at the time.

The last teacher to be hired for our team is seasoned with sage just like me. She lovingly came out of retirement like me to teach again. We have much in common. We both gave away every box of teacher stuff we had. Now, we’re starting from scratch, all over again. The difference is that she is down a week. She just got her keys yesterday. Another difference is that she has a husband to help her. How envious I am of that. VST was the best support person that ever lived. It will be lonely teaching without him.

In my personal journal, I’m keeping close notes of all the happenings. In May, I promise to re-read the school year to decide if there will be a second. Nothing written in stone to say this won’t be my fourth retirement from teaching. It is kind of fun. You get to have a little party and cake. But, there’s also nothing to say that I won’t smile at a summer rich with possibilities while collecting more stuff for Year 2.

At this point, my heart is saying, “Way to Go!!!” Although many don’t understand how or why I could want to go back to the classroom, I do. That’s all that matters.

So, I’ll be a 50% for the first week. For everything I plan, if 50% is accomplished. It will be a win. If 50% of my yard looks, okay….. Ya-Hooo! If 50% of the dust bunnies get vacuumed, Oliver will lick up the other 50%. If it takes me 50% shorter of a time to fall asleep, (at present that is about 45 seconds), all the better. Yes. 50% is enough for the first 7 days. Then, we’ll work towards 75% the next week.

A teacher never finishes 100% of her dreams. At least, not this teacher. But the dreams fulfilled are magical, just as they should be. Dreams are magic in the making. My room full of littles and I will dream big this year, and trust me, it will be magical!

That’s 100% the truth.

Whatever you do today, have fun. Be ready, because life can throw a curve ball and you need to react. I’m off to the ladder, stapler, and glue. That just might be the title for tomorrow’s blog.

More tomorrow.

After working all morning Saturday, a trip to school was necessary to see if my next door teacher was working in her classroom. I expected she wouldn’t be, it being a beautiful and rainy Saturday. Without a phone number or email address, I couldn’t contact her. It was the first day I opened the large parking lot gate with my very own key, drove through and locked it behind me. An extra procedure making everything all the more real. With no other teachers in sight, I’d just drop off a few things and go back home. It’d been worth a try.

Driving to my room, I travel through the land of “Oh Goodness, please don’t let me hit this or that”. Teachers love driving their cars to their door instead of taking countless trips with a moving cart. After missing all the obstacles by the cafeteria and rounding the back of the 4th grade wing, the treacherous part begins. The GRAVEL. I’ve been told three times that I’ll get stuck if I do not have 4-wheel-drive. Thank goodness Barbie’s Jeep came equipped with that and I know how to engage it. Whew.

So,

Over the gravel,

And threw the courts,

To Room 56 I go.

It’s quite a trek, even in a vehicle. No car was parked outside my neighbor’s classroom, and I will say, I felt a little sad. She’s the best co-teacher friend. Her smile and twinkling eyes just make everything better! She shines when she talks about her littles. She has Kindergarten experience, so I plan to learn a lot from her.

Entering my classroom, I breathe in my future. I really wish I could sleep there. It’s adorable in every way, but especially because of the mural with six wild mustangs galloping across the desert. Looking in the hallway for an interesting cast offs and finding nothing, my neighbor surprised me as she popped out of her room!!!!! She WAS there!!!! Yes! Yes! Yes!

Just like a new 1st grader, I showed her the daily schedule I’d put together. She told me of a grade level meeting on Monday morning meeting at 10. We exchanged phone numbers and contact information. I told her about Adopting a Cow and she was so excited we almost danced in delight.

I stapled up some silk sunflowers on my “Buzz Into our Hive” bulletin board. I plan do a picture blog this week to show you the most beautiful room in the world. Room 56.

Yesterday, another miracle occurred. A most important woman to me, (regularly tending to my hair), saw me at 3PM! I had so many wonderful things stored up to tell her, but it was she that had the biggest surprise of all. There’s a 2023 Valentine she just can’t wait to meet! Her new February baby! A baby I will get to hear about on a regular basis! She even invited me to give him or her a little pat yesterday! What family is complete without littles running around? My desert family is no different and I plan to be a really good honorary Grandma. With 2 sisters in high school, this tiny little will be a window into what my life looked like when I was born, when my two oldest sisters were in high school. My friend’s oldest son is 19! With three high school kids and a 5th grader, she’ll have lots of help.

Driving home with a huge smile, I wonder if people think I’m pretending. How could one woman feel so good? It doesn’t seem right or possible she is me at this time in life. I’ll continue to smile, causing people to wonder just what’s going on with that woman who lives within the walls of Winterpast. “What’s up with that one????” they’ll whisper. It’ll just cause me to smile more.

Regarding college, all assignments are now submitted and class ends tomorrow. Yesterday, I calculated a worse case scenario. In order to get a C my class, I’d need to bomb the final assignment. At 30 very intense pages, although not exactly my best work, it’s far from F quality. So, now, we wait with a renewed credential depending on a passing grade. I’m at the final sprint with an A- and the heat is on. With 20 + students all turning in 30 to 40 page assignments, it may be awhile before I learn my fate. I assure you, as soon as I do, you will know the outcome. This was my very last attempt at college life. And, no. There was not even one wild party. The college experience of today isn’t as it was in the 1900’s.

God holds all of us in his hands. At this moment in time, he’s presented me with a summer full of the most lovely miracles. New friends. A career, refreshed and alive with wonder. A home dearly loved. Grown children and grandchildren thriving in their own worlds. A new baby to celebrate. Acceptance and appreciation that I am enough. It took a life time for that realization. I don’t need anything else for personal validation. Not a mother. Not a father. Not a husband, boyfriend, or neighbor. Friends and family are wonderful jewels that enrich my life, but at the end of the day, with Jesus as my Savior, I’m enough in my own skin. 66.5 years it took to grasp that concept. Slow learner, I guess. Maybe I’ve really been a C student all along.

Whatever you do today, be kind to yourself. Remember the good parts of your day before you close your eyes to go to sleep. Be grateful for all the beautiful things in life. We are blessed every day with the wonder of life. Just focus on the good. The bad will work itself out because, as we all know, nothing lasts forever.

More tomorrow.

Happy Sunday, Readers!!!! Yesterday held so much fun with the birthday celebration for Oliver blanketing the entire day with a colorful confetti of happiness! Oliver thanks each and every one of you for the good wishes. Last night, he was so exhausted, he chose to sleep in his own bed. It was quite the party complete with two helpings of Iam’s Lamb and Rice kibble and his favorite bones. Pretty sure he might have eaten one unlucky lizard or toad as a party favor, but he keeps those things to himself knowing I don’t approve.

During the day, I worked on my schedule of teachable minutes. Assigning daily minutes to language arts, math, science, and social studies in 900 second blocks is always fun and challenging. In all my years of teaching, math has always been taught in the afternoon. Language Arts in the morning. Science and social studies included when time permits. That’s just how it is when teaching littles.

In reality, the littles have very few minutes left for anything else, although the science book looks so delicious, we’ll steal a little time from something else. The first lesson is all about living things and what they need to thrive. Not a threatening word in the entire chapter. The experiment involves sprouting beans and making observations. I can’t wait to hear their squeals of delight when the first seeds sprout. We will be observing them with hand lenses. Very scientific.

While getting jazzed about the first three days and instruction of classroom procedures while assessing and getting to know the littles, I ran across an unusual project. We’re going to adopt our very own COW!!!!!!! This is an amazing group of lessons offered by Nevada to classrooms across the state. If you want to learn more, Google “Adopt a Cow — A Mooving Experience” Kolo 8 News. It’s a great story about the farmer who owns a dairy in a little town east of here. It’s from his farm that the calves are adopted.

Our application is in, and Room 56 has been accepted. Our furry friend will be ours starting October 1st.. Possible fieldtrip to a dairy??? I can only hope so. I hope the principal loves cows, because I’m pretty sure the five 1st grades are all adopting them. Good thing we have a really big playground with lots of grass.

In the flurry of activities on the First grade wing, the four classrooms are about to become five with a new teacher onboard as of Friday. We are all pretty new to 1st grade and bonding!!! There is nothing better than the sisterhood of teachers, and I’ve fallen into the best group ever. We are smart, organized, and preparing to circle the wagons, hold hands, and pray for a great year.

God has all of us in his hands. At this moment in time, he’s presented me with a summer of the most lovely miracles. New friends. A career, refreshed and alive with wonder. A home dearly loved. Grown children and grandchildren thriving in their own worlds. Acceptance and appreciation that I am enough. It took a life time for me to realize that. I don’t need anything else to validate me. Not a mother. Not a father. Not a husband, boyfriend, or neighbor. Friends and family are wonderful jewels that enrich my life, but at the end of the day, I’m enough in my own skin. 66.5 years it took to grasp that concept. Slow learner, I guess.

Whatever you do today, be grateful for all the good things that happen. From a really great breakfast to a perfectly formed tomato in the garden. Maybe a bird happens to sing a beautiful song just for you to hear. Listen. Look around. Feel the summer breezes. Take time to smile. Life just doesn’t get better than it is this second.

More tomorrow.

I can hardly believe the car sick little puppy placed in my arms on Christmas Day, 2018 has turned into this handsome boy celebrating his 4th!!!! He has grown up to be quite the companion, although, I’m the only one that knows this. Visitors still see the Tasmanian devil barking like crazy as he is led away. I wish like heck he would realize we are not under siege here at Winterpast. He is a dog on high alert and all visitors are suspect.

VST wasn’t a dog person. Yes, weekly, he would hoist 40 pounds of dog food into the back of the truck for the two English Mastiffs that guarded the ranch. He put up with the littles named Iniki, Chloe, Freckles, and Barkley. But, never did he enjoy them like a dog lover does. They were tolerated. They were MY responsibility. That was that.

So, in the fall of 2018, when I had been pining for a dog because I finally had time for one, I was shocked when he said, “Let’s look.” Of course, with VST, looking was the mission with no end. Every town we visited while RVing was a source of investigation. SPCA’s. Humane Society’s. Craig’s List. Every town could have been hiding my new furry friend, but as the towns fell to the rear view mirror, there was no dog for me. This went on for months of miles.

My very first dachshund was Fritz who was a red miniature smooth coat who lived outdoors on our ranch. He was a superb watchdog. Nothing got by him. He slept soundly on a burlap bag by the back door, eager to great us each morning. He knew everything about the farm and things were in order under his watch. No feral cats, skunks, mice, or lizards too close to the house, Fritz guarded us. I was six when my dad and I drove to an old red barn to pick him out of a litter of four. Fritz was the fun one.

My mother wasn’t a dog person either. Not that we didn’t have dogs, just like every other ranch. She did tolerate Guide Dog for the Blind Puppies in her house. But she found no enjoyment in dogs. They added to the work of a farm wife. So, when she mentioned to my dad that we needed to go get a smooth red dachshund one day, I was shocked. Fritz was the dog I remember growing up with and he was a wonderful friend. One night at dinner, when I had aged out into a Senior in high school, I realized I hadn’t seen my grey-muzzled friend when I came home from school. Mom and Dad were a little quiet at the table. Fritz died earlier that day on the farm he loved so much.

Many people doubt Oliver’s heritage. A standard dachshund is a biggish little dog. His size is the first thing that throws everyone off at 25 pounds. Then, there’s the color. He is a cream dachshund. The spots? He’s a piebald (spotted). He’s cream with brown spots, not brown with cream spots. Then, there is the liver base, which gives him the brown nose and green eye color (not shown in the photo, because his pupils were wide open in the low light. In the sunshine, their green). The wire hair is another difference. All those things together, and people ask what pound he came from. Often.

Although he didn’t come from the pound, he was a discount dog. His relatives cost three times what I paid for Oliver. No one wanted him and it was getting close to Christmas. He waited for me and I for him.

What a ride it has been with this dog.

Oy vey.

At this point, he impresses me more very day with the words and phrases he understands. He will immediately understand ANY command for a cookie. He knows them all and will work ONLY for food. Pay up or FERGETABOUTIT.

He no longer chews on anything but his bone. He’s happy to sleep hours on end as long as it is at my feet. Oliver only cuddles at night and loves sleeping with me. VST, stop frowning. He doesn’t snore or hog the blankets. He just burrows under the covers and sleeps until morning. At 3:59, his intent gaze awakens me. Nothing interferes with potty time and breakfast at 4.

Oliver’s morning potty breaks are on pee-pads. He learned to use them when we RV’d with him as a puppy. On long trips, his bathroom breaks were quicker than mine. This is so great when preparing to get ready for work. It is also delightful when winter temperatures keep the snow on the ground from melting. Done with morning duties in under 2 minutes, we have that down to a science.

I don’t have any idea how many hours I’ve spent training Oliver. I know, on some days, I’m rather tired of being trained by him. I know that after three weeks of his intensity, he needs to go on Puppy safari and I need a break. There isn’t a chore that he ignores, making them more difficult by his inspections to make sure I have all the necessary items. Oliver is a watcher.

I wish, in his life, I could’ve provided him with a job. He would’ve loved being a drug dog or TSA suit-case checker. He would have been a grand termite finding hound or been the best on gopher patrol. On the ranch, he would’ve loved sleeping under the stars to keep the coyotes at bay. But, he is just Sir Oliver of Ashworth Hall, keeper of the grounds at Winterpast. I mean, when your name is Sir Oliver, what else would one expect?

VST had been working on his genealogy the week I talked to the breeder about the strange little discount dog shown on website. I was having doubts about whether this puppy would be a good thing or a bad thing in Virginia City. We had no yard and 12 feet of snow in the winter. This puppy would be in the house 100% of the time.

“What’re you going to call him?”

I had not a clue.

“Here’s a good name. Sir Oliver of Ashworth Hall.”

He was named after VST’s relative from the 1600’s. That would do just fine.

I’m not sure how Oliver and I will celebrate this wonderful day. Lots of ear scratching and treats. He knows me better than anyone these days. He knows all my aches and pains and reminds me to get over them because it’s dinner time. He reminds me in the evening that unfinished chores can wait, but bedtime cannot. He loves me when I find myself unlovable. He is patient and considerate, until he isn’t, just like me. Yes. We’re a match.

VST, I’ll scratch Ollie’s ears for you. Sometimes I think he can see you sitting in your recliner watching over us. My sweet angel, thanks for the best Christmas present you could have ever given me. Like I told you then, it was the last one you ever needed to give me. Our little Oliver.

Whatever you do today, appreciate your pets. God was smiling when he decided to make dogs and cats. What wonderful little souls placed on this earth for no other reason than to love us and be loved in return. I’m sure glad they were part of God’s plan.

More tomorrow.