Mountaintops ...

On a day when many think about the future, I find myself thinking of both the past and the future through the lens of climbing and standing on a mountaintop, soaking in the sunshine and reveling in the wind.  I went up one of New England's mountains, Mt. Mansfield, with my father last summer.  This picture is taken looking back toward Stowe and, I think, part of the Worcester Range.

Ahhh..., Mt. Mansfield!  A pic while climbing up.  One can see why Baron von Trapp said Stowe reminded him of Europe.

Still climbing....  A view of Smuggler's Notch, a favorite place.

Up, up, up ... we're at the top.  Finally!  Our first view.

About to walk to the Chin!

At the top, looking out over Vermont, Lake Champlain, and at the Adirondack's!

Walking on a mountaintop....

Yo, Dad!  What say you?  Shall we look toward the future and go to the mountaintop again?  June?  Love, Your Daughter

Copyright 2013 -> Shannon

Firsts....

After school on March 12^th, I burst into tears.  I left school and found a birthday card in the mail.  It was the first time I cried over a birthday card or mail in general.  The card was from my grandparents and included my $25 check, a longtime tradition.  Why did I start bawling?  My aunt wrote the card and check for my grandparents.  For the first time in my life, I didn’t see the handwriting of one of my grandparents on my card. And, … I knew this was a first that I’d need to get used to. 

My grandfather, a B-24 pilot in WWII, broke his back in a crash.  He dealt with the after effects of that injury for the last several years, his spine degenerating rapidly since Christmas.  I knew, for the last month or so, he couldn’t walk or write, etc….  I didn’t know, though, that he was at the end.

So, there I was, a grown woman crying over a birthday card.  I walked into my place and saw my answering machine blinking.  Blinking like any other day of the week.  A red “2” flashing away.  I stood there, card in hand, and knew trouble was on the other end of that flashing light.  Knew.  Another first.  I'd never known a blinking answering machine held bad news before.  I didn’t know what it was and I didn’t much care.  I literally almost turned around and walked out, down the stairs, and to my car.  I couldn’t and wouldn’t deal with whatever was in those messages.  I’d get in the car and drive somewhere, anywhere.  That’s what I thought.  Then, ….

Ridiculous.  They were just messages on an answering machine.  Play.  Call when you get home.  Ominous feeling confirmed.  Why would my mother call at midday, twice, when she knew I was at school?  That’s when I found out my grandfather died that morning, somewhat unexpectedly and very quickly.

Mmmm….

Two and a half weeks later and it’s the day before Easter.  Another first….  Our first Easter without my grandfather and a year of firsts.  I’ve been thinking of my grandmother all afternoon.  I’m certain that’s going through her mind.  Her first Easter without him in well over 60 years.  Damn…! 

My grandfather NEVER swore in front of us, let us swear, or even say “God” or something like that.  Yet, when he was in the hospital a couple months ago and they weren’t letting him go to my grandmother, I’m told he used the word “damned” several times.  Damned hospital….  So, I’m guessing he might be okay with my using it tonight.

What to do when facing a year of firsts?  Something that connects all of us, a year of
firsts ….

The first thing I need to do is find that check.  That’s not a first.  Yup, Grandpa, if you can hear me, I think I misplaced yet another birthday check, something I’m notorious for.  Heck, I think I gave my grandfather something to do for the last several years.  Check his checking account over and over to see if I’d cashed my birthday and Christmas checks and touching base with my father to see when in the world I was going to cash them.  “Oh, Father ….  You know Shannon.  She probably misplaced it again.”  Shoot! I have not one clue what I did with that card and check after taking those messages and making that call.  Yes, Grandpa, I’ll look for it.

Of course, I also bought myself a book today.  Once I find and deposit that check, I’ll say it was from my grandparents.  We went to their house every Easter, if memory serves.  Close to every one, at least.  My cousins and I all had Easter baskets.  They’d keep them in the foyer by the front door … at the foot of the stairs we slid down with our grandfather.  I remember Tammy and I, both in our Easter dresses, running to that little nook and finding our baskets every year.

Oh, the pretty baskets with beautiful colors and ….  A book!  We always got a book!  Tammy loved the candy.  Who am I kidding?  I like chocolate.  But, I was always taken with the book.  That was the highlight.  What book would I get?!  Oh, the year I got one of the Little House books!  I thought I landed in a pastel and green plastic grass heaven!  Easter and books, forever tied together.  So, on this soon to be first, I turned to the past, bought a book and will spend part of tomorrow reading.

I don’t know how to end this particular post.  How to end things…?  The things you’d rather not end….  Thinking of one of my cousins whose grandmother-in-law died yesterday … right before my cousin's birthday.  A fresh year of firsts for her, as well.  No.  I have nothing witty to say, no special insight or connection.  Tomorrow marks a year of firsts, with a book and memories of Easter dresses and green plastic grass.  

Copyright 2013 -> Shannon 

Brown Paper Packages Tied Up With String ....

I called it ... ish.  Evening.  An email from my mother ....

"Chicken quesadilla is what your dad said he wanted for supper.  I started cooking chicken breasts. 

Your father headed to the computer, because I had told him about "Spring...".  Another post had come up.  He read "Spring...", then started to read the most recent one. 

He was bouncing in the chair, and started calling to me to come in.

I told him I was prepping his carrots and celery.  I cut up some extras, started making chicken broth, and prepped two sweet potatoes.  Since you're fighting an upper respiratory infection, and I was prepping most of the vegies anyway, I thought I'd make a small homemade chicken soup for you.

Your dad finished your post, and was calling to me to come in.  I called out, "I'll be there in just another minute.  You've got to read it to me. What's it about? 

He said, "Her being sick."

I went in and sat in the swivel chair.  "What's the title?" I asked. 

He said, "Knock, knock...".   

"Oh! She did it about Dixie knock-knock joke cups!"  Your father's bubble was burst.  

He still got a kick out of reading your post to me.  He would turn, and say he remembered making different faces on your plates, and described them.

After he finished reading, he said to me, "That wasn't much of a clue.  How did you get it as soon as I said knock-knock?"  Add two and two:  you were writing about being sick.  Knock-knock."

Yup!  Without even reading the post about the canned soup, homemade soup was "wrapped in a brown paper package and tied up with string" ... ready to go for tomorrow.

Knock, knock ...

An upper respiratory infection is making the rounds in these parts.  People were sick with it the week my grandfather died.  I sat at his funeral, listening to people cough behind me, and told myself I was NOT going to get sick and take that nasty bug back home with me.  As an aside, I think I get my strong will, at least in part, from my grandfather.  I didn’t bring that bug back with me.  However, when I got home, it was already circulating here.   

I fought it with disinfectant wipes, soap, and essential oils.  But, it knocked on my door this weekend and, after fighting it for days, I finally stayed home.  After coughing and feeling like I couldn’t breathe for much of the night, I was feeling pretty sorry for myself.  Yup, here I sat, stinging and watering eyes, reaching for my inhaler, cursing bacteria, when ….

My aunt messaged me, suggesting steam and some chicken soup.  My family and I place a lot of stock in chicken soup.  ;)  Then, a bit later, my father emailed me and asked if I needed anything.  Homemade chicken soup?  Of course, that would mean he’d drop everything, go shopping, and my mother would make some soup.  At that point, he’d drive an hour to bring it to me.  I told him I was all set.

Despite a coughing fit, their messages put a smile on my face.  I started remembering times when I was sick as a little girl.  My mother would make a “bed” on the sofa with blankets and tuck me in.  Fluids, fluids, fluids…!  I remember being in Kindergarten and my mother bringing me yet another glass of something.  I sat on my makeshift bed and said, “NO!”  I was not drinking another drop.  She sat and explained the importance of forcing fluids when sick.  I sat and stared at her.  I’m fairly sure my arms were crossed and my nose was in the air.  Whenever I was angry as a little girl, I had a habit of putting my head up and to one side, arms crossed or on my hips.  (I refuse to believe I still do that now…) My father told me a bird would come and eat my nose on more than one occasion, which usually led me to stomp my foot and go to my room, without even being sent there.

At any rate, after looking at my mother for a bit, I said, “I will only drink if you put it in knock-knock joke cups.”  I looked at my mother; she looked at me.  Then, she walked out of the room, out of the house, went to the market.  She bought knock-knock joke cups and came back victorious, proving I might also have gotten my strong will from her. 

Ah, the ‘70’s….  Do you remember the little paper cups with knock-knock jokes on them?  Little Dixie cups, maybe.  I knew a lot of knock-knock jokes by the time that cold passed.  I secretly suspect she made me drink more juice than she would have normally!  ;)  I also remember my father coaxing me to eat by arranging the food on my plate to look like a person’s face.  He was very artistic! 

Hmmm….  One of my colleagues and I had a conversation this week about the word “bad” and how we define it.  Yes, I could sit here on my sofa, without my blanket bed and knock-knock joke cups, and feel sorry for myself.  What bad luck!  After all, it seems as if I’ve picked up every bug that’s gone around this season.  Or, I could take this moment to focus on how much I’m cared for.  My colleagues who told me to stay home today and take care of myself if I wasn’t better this morning.  My mentor and friend who messaged me last night to check on me and told me she was glad I decided to take care of myself today.  And, frankly, she likely copied materials this morning for my classes.  (Thank you.)  My aunt and father who are pulling for me and suggesting soup.  My mother, who will likely, when she reads this, set about making chicken soup.  (Mom – I have canned soup.  Am about to heat some up now.)

It’s all about point of view, isn’t it?  When things knock, it’s up to us to decide what we hear.

Copyright 2013 -> Shannon

Spring ....

My students may or may not have been feeling a little feisty today.  Spring, perhaps, is in the air.  Of course, maybe they’re just incredibly imaginative.  What happened?

Well, ....

It was the last class of the day, and I’d just started them on a writing prompt.  Silence fell. Pencils and pens began scratching paper.  One of the boys said, “Shhh.  I hear it.”

I looked at him and scowled; I heard nothing.

“What?” I asked.

“I heard it….”

The class looked at me.  Then, we all looked at him.

He hunkered down and whispered, “I just heard the silent steps of the devil.”

Oh, really, ….

What did I do?

I gasped!

“Where?” I whispered.

“The hall…” he whispered back.

Really ….

Off I went, charging across the room, out the door, and into the hall.

What did I see?

The superintendent walking down the hall toward our room, just a few paces away.

I’m fairly certain my face looked like this …

:o

I walked back in the room and whispered, “It’s the superintendent.”

The next thing I knew, several students jumped and looked toward the door.

Their faces looked like this …

:o

I turned and jumped.  Sure enough, there stood the superintendent, waiting in my doorway.

I looked toward my students, many of whom were shaking their heads.  I swear I could hear a silent cry, “Nooo!”

But, clearly, the superintendent expected an explanation of some sort.  Though, perhaps, I should simply have said, “Good afternoon.”

Instead, I cracked like a walnut!

“Oh, one of the boys, who shall remain nameless, said he heard the silent steps of the devil in the hall, so I went out to check.”

My students and I waited, mildly horrified.  It sounded ten times worse when I said it aloud.  I think I might have closed my eyes….

Laughing, he responded, “No, it’s just your superintendent.”

As he left and was walking down the hall, I heard him say, “Some of the kids thought I was the devil.”

How long does spring fever last?

Copyright 2013 -> Shannon

Always Remember ....

March 22, 2013 -- School

Well, it started with me stopping at Dunkin Donuts for muffins and a large unsweetened iced tea with extra ice. I thought two of my colleagues could use a muffin.

When I walked in the building, one of those very colleagues was in the hall asking me to come in her room. Guess what? We were on the same page, a good thing for English teachers. She stopped at Dunkin Donuts, too, thinking the three of us needed a mental health pick-me-up. Ahhhh....

Now, I promptly, somehow, spilled my iced tea everywhere. I sat it on a desk and it was somehow propelled, as if by a rocket or something, and flew everywhere. I'm not going to focus on that, though, or the fact that my scream gave us a jolt we didn't need first thing in the morning. I'm focusing on the fact that, when I realized we weren't going to be able to clean it up by ourselves, Fred came speedily and took care of it for me, only saying, "Oh, dear .... What happened here?"

When I got to my room and walked to my desk, a HUGE “card” of sorts awaited me.  A note was written on a big piece of paper, saying I’m a caring teacher and a great addition to our school.  It was anti-bullying week with a focus on building people up and spreading goodness.  All faculty and staff came in to find such notes this morning.

At least two colleagues checked in with me to see how I was doing.

One colleague dropped everything and went to get a QRI book and helped me administer the test.  A few students wanted to move up to a higher-level English class and I wanted to be sure, to have some data. 

Two students came in and gave me a piece of coffee cake that they made in one of their classes. "We wanted you to have a piece. We made it ourselves!"

Seriously, ... ahhh ....

My para, who is going to another class, told me to call if ever I needed anything. She'd be right there.

I got to see a bunch of my former students ... my kiddos from last semester. They came for my signature and input on next year's English class(es).

You know where I'm going with this, right? Thankful, thankful, thankful.

The guy in the cafe gave me carrots, even though I didn't ask for them. Ummm.... Forcing myself to be thankful on this one. He's noticed, I think, that I forgo veggies on the days I get lunch from the cafe. Ugh.... "They're carrots flavored with ginger. They'll be good for you!" he said, putting a HUGE spoonful on my tray. I'm told I've been looking a bit tired, though, they've emphasized the word "tired".  Hence, I think, the carrots.  

Ummm.... Thankful-ish....

I swear, I know I'm forgetting something ....

Oh! When they found out I'm chaperoning their dance tomorrow night, the kids said I need to avert my eyes. Why? "Pelvic thrusting!"

:o

"There's going to be a ton of it! You need to avert your eyes...."

Ohhhh..... One of my boys used the word "avert" and was looking out for me. Who said kids are lacking in vocabulary and that chivalry is dead? I'm choosing not to focus on the pelvic thrusting part of that particular story.

One of the guidance counselors dropped everything when I couldn’t find an administrator and needed help with a student.

And, ... I had a lovely and relaxing chat with a colleague at the end of the day ....

What is the moral of this story?  Keep an eye open for all the things, the big and little things, that one can be thankful for.

Be thankful, thankful, thankful ....

Copyright 2013 -> Shannon

A Day in March ...

March 21, 2013 - Literary Challenge

"Okay, class. Before we start today, I have a literary challenge for you. The following line is from a book written about a legendary king. Several different versions of his story have been written and several movies have been produced. This is the opening line of whose tale...?"

Dramatic pause ....

"It befell in the days of Uther Pendragon, when he was king of all England, and so reigned, that there was a mighty duke in Cornwall ...."

Scowls ....

"Anyone? Have you ever heard of Uther Pendragon?"

Heads shook.

"Hmmm.... Uther isn't the legendary king we're talking about, but that is the clue. Let's see. Think ancient times. Think of all the kings you've heard about in great works of literature!"

Blank faces ....

"Kings, guys! Great works of literature!"

One of the boys raised his hand.

"Yes?"

"Ummm.... King Kong?"

Ummm...?

K.I.N.G. K.O.N.G.

It’s a good thing I was raised not to give up else this would have been the day literary challenges died!

Copyright 2013 -> Shannon