Art Show

The kids' school put on an art show this week, which we didn't attend. Some weeks you just have to pick and choose what's fitting in the schedule and what has to be by-passed.

Still, I have to recognize my kids' work. They love art class.

Here's the art work they did that was selected to grace the walls of their school.







An enjoyment of art might just be the one way my kids are all alike!

Character, Fairness and Voting

Clay won second place in an essay writing and art work contest at school sponsored by the National Association for Family and Community Education (FCE). Yeah, I'd never heard of them before.

He won $7 and a Character Counts ribbon and bracelet. Plus a Character Counts certificate of achievement from the local county chapter of FCE. Be assured that the seven smackers spoke volumes to my boy. The rest of that stuff is just for me... you know, to put in the keepsake box.

The topic was fairness. Something I'm certain Clay thinks he's an expert on, considering how many times I hear him say, "That's not fair!" Usually as it pertains to some heinous expectation we have of him as the oldest child in the family.

So here's what he wrote:

"I think fairness is being free and equal. Like during segregation the black people didn't get the fairness they deserved. And just think how good it felt when they finaly got the rights the white people had!

"Then there was the time before 1920 women couldn't vote! Our Socail Studys teacher told us that as soon as we turn 18 that she wanted us to sign up to vote. Then finaly in 1920 they got the right to vote. Thats only 89 years ago. See fairness is very important."

Then he drew a nice picture of bathroom doors labelled "White Men" "Black Men" "White Women" and "Black Women". And another segment of his picture showed women, picketing and holding signs saying, "Vote" and "We want to Vote". The stick women have upside down mouths... classic unhappy faces.

Ironically, when I picked up the kids from school today, Clay had a newspaper in hand and was reading a story under the headline: Obama signs historic health care overhaul.

After reading the article, Clay asked me some very smart questions. Tough questions. Things I couldn't answer. (I got a D in my college government class. The first time I took the class. And then I struggled the second time to get a C. And I still don't know how I accomplished that feat. I might be tempted to consider that my finest hour in college... except that I don't really think I learned anything. So there's no pride in it. I refer all political questions to Bruce.)

Watch out Washington... my boy is going to be a force to be reckoned with as a young adult voter!

Immunity

So, I was freaking out a little bit.

After school today, I had Allison unload the dishwasher while Spencer vacuumed the kitchen floor. Then at supper time, Bruce pulled a bowl out of the cabinet and... well, it was obviously dirty. Yuck!

Upon further inspection, several utensils were pulled out of their drawer... nasty.

What's up with that? I know I ran the dishwasher. And the ick on those dishes would have come off in there. So, after reloading the dishwasher with dirty/clean dishes and their close neighbors (because funk spreads!), I came to the conclusion that Allison must have gotten carried away and put dishes away that were left on the counter after snack time.

Mystery solved.

But the power of suggestion runs strong. And I have a healthy dose of hypochondria inside me, passed down from my paternal grandmother. I think it's genetic.

After supper, my throat started hurting. Just a little bit. Probably sinus issues brought on by allergy issues.

But... what if those kids have been putting up dirty dishes for some time now? What if today wasn't a fluke?

You know, strep is making a comeback at the local elementary school.

Gulp.

Just checking.

Yeah. It still hurt to swallow.

Probably a little bit more than it did the last time I swallowed.

"My throat hurts," I said out loud.

"What?! What do you mean 'your throat hurts'?" Clay asked.

"Well, my throat hurts. Like 'strep throat' hurt. That kind of hurt," I replied.

"How can that be?" he questioned. "Your immunity should be at its highest."

"Really? What does this kid know?" I thought.

Because even though I've been taking my multi vitamin and my calcium supplements, I haven't been drinking orange juice lately to really douse my system with extra vitamin C, which I've heard wards off all kinds of sickly bugs.

And I've had some sporadic sleep recently.

Plus some stress because of my grandpa's health issues.

And even though I started a training program last week to run a 5K by the end of May, I also ate at Chick-fil-A three times within six days, two times within a 24-hour period, because I was visiting my grandpa in Cookeville. And I always eat at the Cookeville Chick-fil-A. It's a family tradition. Kind of. (Well, it could be if we wanted it to be.)

But, you know, Clay reads stuff. He knows some interesting (sometimes boring) little tidbits.

Hmmm... I'll bite...

"Why is my immunity at its highest?" I asked my brain child.

"Because, you're 40," he said. "And you've been building it up for all those years."

And then he tacked on this...

"It's all down hill from here."

I hee-hawed.

Because laughter is the best medicine and I needed to do something quick!

I feel much better now.

But just in case, I'm going to have some hot peppermint tea. That always helps my sore throats.

A Butterfly Thank-You

I think our girl has been dealing with some test anxiety.

A few weeks ago, the first grade teachers sent home notes explaining that the students would soon be taking Accelerated Reading (AR) tests. Basically, the kids check out certain books within their reading range from the library and once they've read them, they take a short quiz on a computer about the book. Each student has a log sheet so we parents can list the books once they finish reading them and are ready to take the test.

Allison's log already listed her first book. And her test result. A 70.

Shortly thereafter, I noticed that Allison's library books weren't in her backpack. In the interest of not losing school library books or mixing them in with books from home or the local county library, the kids are supposed to leave their school library books in their backpacks. They can take them out to read them, but have to put them back in once they are finished.

But for a little more than a week, Allison wouldn't bring her books home. I asked her about it the first time I noticed their absence, and she said simply that she'd left them in her desk at school. I told her to bring at least one home so we could read it in preparation for the next AR test.

In one ear and right out the other one.

Or so I thought.

Because the next week... still no library book in her backpack.

I asked her about it again and that's when I got the waterworks. As she cried, she explained, "I can't take that test. I'm not ready. I've read the book, but I won't do well on the test. You saw! I failed the first one and I'll never do better."

On a side note, she took AR tests in kindergarten, so I wasn't sure where this was coming from. I thought it was ridiculous. She almost always does great on all her tests.

And since when is a 70 a failing grade?

I took a deep breath and told her, "Allison, you did not fail the AR test. So what if you didn't get a 100? Nobody gets a 100 all the time. And even if you did fail one, this isn't a score that goes toward your report card grade. It's so the teachers and your daddy and I can see how well you remember the details of a story so we can help you if you need help."

Whatever. That did not convince her one bit.

Sometimes my kids get this perfectionist bent and it drives me nuts. Obviously we've instilled it in them somehow, but I wish I realized how so we could stop doing whatever it is.

Finally, I told her that everyone messes up a test at some time. Dad did. Mom did. And even Clay does.

Hmmm... that got her attention. Because she thinks Clay is king of knowledge. Mostly because he spouts of trivia constantly. And since he's close to her age and not ancient like her parents, the possibility of Clay not doing perfect on a test started to make an impression.

While she went to the bathroom, I found Clay and whispered to him what was going on. I asked him his worst AR test, because I couldn't remember. But of course he did. A 60. I asked him if he would tell Allison and then reassure her that she'd do fine on her next test.

When she came out of the bathroom, he told her.

I thought we were over the hurdle, because she brought her books home after the next library visit.

But when I called her into the kitchen after school one day to have her read the book to me, she freaked out again.

"I'll never make a 100!" she said.

"Never" statements burn me up. And I don't have much patience for self doubt in my kids. I think they rock! So they should, too!

I told her, "Allison, you're going to read me that book. And when you are done, I'll go through the book and ask you all kinds of made-up test questions. Anything I can think of from the facts of the book. Let's just see how you do, okay?"

Most weeks, I give the kids practice spelling tests at home the day before their spelling tests in school. This concept was not new to her. So she agreed.

We had fun with the book. She did great reading it. And I asked every silly and serious question I could think of about the book. She nailed every one.

Then I told her, "I bet you get a 100 on that test!"

I volunteer to help the teachers with the students on their AR testing days. It gives me a chance to be around the kids that my children are around every day. You can learn a lot that way. And I don't mean anything about academics!

Allison was the very last student I worked with. And the only thing I said to her that showed special treatment to her as my daughter was at the beginning. I asked all the kids if they would read the test questions themselves or if they wanted me to read them. And then, for the ones that read them all by themselves, I remind them to ask me if they don't know a word. Allison tried to get me to read the test questions! Um, no. I told her she could read them all by herself, which she did.

Then I went on a mini-vacation in my head. Because I can't help the kids, even if I know the book they read.

At one point, I was pretty sure Allison answered one question wrong. Quickly I went back to hiking my make-believe mountain on my mental pretend vacation.

But when her test was over, she must not have missed it, because she aced that thing!

Whew! That was just a huge load off my back. I was so happy for her. Her little face just lit up. She knew she could do it now!

When she got in the van after school when I picked the kids up, she handed me something she said she'd made me. I told her I couldn't look at it right then, because I was driving. But once I got home, what I saw made my day.

She's such a sweet girl.

She made me this:



As a side note, she's done great on every test since then, too.

Homework Mix-up

Most of the time, I oversee the kids completing their homework each day. Long before Bruce gets home from work.

With Clay, that means nothing more than asking the question, "Do you have homework?" Usually, his reply is a simple "no". Because he does it before he gets home, either in some down time at school or if he rides the bus home.

With Spencer and Allison, I spend 30-45 minutes, mostly listening to them read. And actually, that time would be shorter if they'd come prepared to do homework with a happy attitude. Depending on how they are behaving, sometimes they'll do their homework together at the same time. If they're acting like snotheads, they go one at a time. I'm looking forward to them being in second grade next year, because that's when my hands-off approach to homework kicks in.

Occasionally, if I'm having a harried day, I'll ask Clay to listen to his siblings read and help them accordingly. And rarely, if I'm having a harried day and I'm running somewhere in the evening, Bruce will pick up on homework slack.

Clay missed a few days of school a couple of weeks in a row recently. He did well to keep up with all his work at home so he wouldn't fall behind once he got back into the classroom. But he had one extra credit assignment sheet that I'd left on the counter top. It wasn't due for a few more days, so we planned to do that over the weekend.

Along came a harried day when I also had plans for the evening so I asked Bruce to work with Spencer on his homework while I was gone.

When I returned home, Spencer had done Clay's extra credit assignment!

The assignment was to draw a picture of your hero and then list 10 adjectives to describe them.

Spencer drew a picture of Jesus. Sweet, huh?

Then he wrote a few sentences describing Jesus. Now, I'm not sure if that means that Bruce didn't really look hard at the assignment, which wasn't really Spencer's to do anyway. Or if that means that my husband has been out of an English class for far too long and no longer remembers what adjectives are.

No matter. The end results are blog worthy, so here's what Spencer wrote, in his own special way of spelling things:

"His name storts with a G. He live's in Hevien. He is a prechr. He loves us very moch. He Hls peopol."

With some effort, I figured it all out, but the last sentence. It is not "He hells people." Spencer said he wrote "He helps people." Yes, I like that much better.

When Clay did the assignment a few days later, he drew a picture of his dad. Awwww!

Here are the adjectives (and, yes, he definitely knows what adjectives are) Clay used to describe his dad:

funny
smart
cool
nice
tough
strong
great
weird
odd
youngish

Perfect adjectives for a hero. Aren't all your heros weird and youngish?

Father and Son

Doing a little catch-up blogging here. Last week was crazy. But here I am, chugging away again.

Early in the school year, Clay entered a couple of pictures in a county 4-H photography contest. The fourth grade social studies/science teacher at his school is excellent (don't just take my word for it... she's previously won the area title of Teacher of the Year... probably more than once, but at least once that I know of!). Mrs. T, as she is known to her students, even taught Bruce back when he was in school. And I'll tell you a little story about that in a minute.

Mrs. T works along with the county 4-H folks and gets the students involved in various projects. Clay doesn't do all of them. He wasn't interested in the cornbread making contest, although I'd have let him follow my grandma's killer cornbread recipe if he'd asked. Seriously, I'm sure he'd have won with her recipe! But he had no desire. Nor did he jump to be involved in the public speaking competition. Can't say that I blame him there. He can always get over his fear of being center stage when he's older.

But he was all over the photography contest. Probably because he's seen Bruce be so interested in photography.

So one fine day in late October last year, during a camping trip to Pigeon Forge, our family spent a day at Cade's Cove in Townsend. We really enjoy that place.

Bruce toted along his camera equipment. Clay brought tons of enthusiasm.

It was chilly, windy and kind of drizzling to boot. But perfect lighting for some outdoor photography.

Bruce took several pictures and then we found a very pretty spot for Clay to take his picture. Bruce explained some camera settings to Clay and then cut him loose.

Clay entered a couple of pictures in the competition, including this one...



... which won second place in the "water" category. Nice job, Clay! (And dad, too, for braving the weather while mom stayed tucked away inside the truck.)

Now for my story about Mrs. T and my husband. This story also features Clay.

A couple weeks ago, I started thinking about canning with a pressure cooker. Spring is just around the corner. We had a friend dig up a garden plot for us last fall. Seeds had been purchased for every vegetable that appealed to Clay the day he went shopping with me.

However, a few years back, for my birthday Bruce exchanged our normal range for a glass top range. I thought I'd love it. And when it's clean, I do. But it is harder to clean, in my opinion, than a regular stove top. AND, if you go online and do some research, you'll read all kinds of cautionary tales about not using a pressure canner on glass top stoves. Something about the weight breaking the glass. Or the base of the canner scratching the top. Or the variant heat not keeping the pressure regulated, thus leaving you with a chance of poisoning your family with botulism. Who knows which is actually true, if any.

But I am a rule follower by nature. I read instructions when baking. I heed traffic signs. I am a huge fan of directions. They make me feel safe and secure.

All that info is back ground, so you'll understand why I was spending a morning working through a junk drawer that I rarely open. It holds various things that won't be mentioned along with every single owner's manual for each and every kitchen appliance owned by our home's previous owner (who must also have had a great love of following directions). And since we bought our home nearly 10 years ago, we've just tossed into the drawer any owner's manuals for new appliances we have bought along the way.

I was sure I'd find the owner's manual for my glass top stove and it would tell me in no uncertain terms either "Do not use a pressure canner" or "Go ahead and can to your hearts content... all other contrary opinions are stupid."

I found no such great guidance.

But I did find an envelope addressed to my mother-in-law from Mrs. T. The letter had been passed on to me a few years ago, long before I ever thought that Clay might also have this same teacher. I had completely forgotten I even had the letter.

There was a note inside from Mrs. T to my mother-in-law. It said she had found a note that my husband had written to her back when he was in her class... on July 2, 1981. Bruce was in second grade at the time.

Then Mrs. T tucked in the note from my husband. I'm going to type it the way he wrote it after the salutation...

"I told my Mom and Dad that I cheated a few times this past year. I have asked them to forgive me, I have prayed and ask Jesus to forgive me and now I would like to ask you to forgive me. Thank you for being a nice teacher.
love,
Bruce"

I got a nice chuckle out of it, so I kept it out, planning to send Mrs. T an e-mail about it.

Later that day, Clay found the envelope and wanted to know what it was. I told him to go ahead and open it and find out.

He read both notes, got a silly little smile on his face and then said, "Dad was a dirty rotten cheater."

I burst out laughing!

Clay wasn't being disrespectful. He got a little glimpse into what his dad was like as a boy. And I think it was good for him to see that his daddy wasn't perfect. And he still isn't!