Pray for the teachers

I loved school as a kid... and consequently assumed I'd be a teacher.

When the time came, I was so drained by the downside of life that I didn't have the energy to hang on for a teaching certificate. So I taught one year right out of college in a private school, then stayed home with my kids. I know it was where I was supposed to be. And fortunately, I enjoyed homemaking -- but I've often said, 'NO ONE loves doing anything 24-7.'

Now, with all the girls grown, gone, and married, it was a perfect fit to get back into a classroom. I decided I didn't have the stamina for 2 years in a teacher training program, a year of student teaching, then another year (or more!) waiting for a job opening -- only to teach another 2-4 years. Out of this was born the idea to sub. This has been a great answer for me -- 2-3 days per week -- to know them, encourage them, love them, hopefully motivate them.

Today I read my daughter-teacher's blog about her heavy load in a class with kids that need more than she can give. The world needs more than all of us put together can give! But for a teacher, looking at the kids assigned to her/ him, that's not solace enough. It breaks the heart of a parent to say, "I've done everything I can think of!" and the parent looks for one more chance to direct, or even rescue our kids. Her burden is more than I can imagine.

Whe I sub, I can look at kids and be sad or broken hearted, go home and remember them for months, even years, but I don't have the responsibility of that assigned teacher. I hope ALL of you teachers will bear a burden for your kids, but I hope you will equally lay down your burden at the end of the day, with the One who made the kids, who sees their needs, their longings, their sadness and despair -- who is the only one in the universe who can carry you or them through the tough (and tougher!) times of life.

Today I had a reading time with four kindergartners. One could write no letters but X. Another was determined to be sad because she missed her mom. A third was going to take care of the sad little girl. And the fourth was called (nicknamed) "Guapo" or "Handsome".

"Guapo", named Luigi at birth by his parents, is really a heart-tugger, a handsome little guy. Last December I met him in pre-school, speaking very little English, ready to snuggle up and "read" a book. Guapo will grow up and know how to turn on the charm, because he's doing it already.

One of the greatest blessings in life is the joy of children. But one of the saddest things is children without joy. We are their only hope! Their joy comes from their successes, at school, at home, or with their friends. We can teach them how to play together, how to recognize letters, how to keep trying! We teach them how to find joy in the tough times.

Tomorrow I go back. Today was an exhausting day. The kinders were the easy part. The rough part was the 5th graders who acted like kinders. But I'm needed. We're all needed. To encourage struggling kids, moms and dads who have lost jobs or don't speak English, teachers who are exhausted with what seems an impossible road ahead.

Let's each shore up someone! Send an email, a prayer, a thank-you, a smile -- or just a few minutes of listening. We need each other.

All for my man...

Lots of girls in my generation grew up watching mothers and grandmothers canning together. Some still do. I never lived nearby family after I left for college, and never got into the process when I was at home. We had garden during my middle school years, then not till I was in college.



When my kids were first born, we had access to free peaches. LOTS of peaches -- my favorite fruit. I'd loved peaches since highchair days, and it killed me to see any rotting on the ground. Now, 28 yrs later, I still struggle a little, but not much.



When Jenny and Joy were toddlers, I would peel and pit after they went to bed at night, then rise before them (imagine that!) and do the canning with the waterbath canner. I hated the work! but loved the peaches. The year before Lora was born, I think we canned 98 qts. I must have wanted martyrdom. Still we always ate them.



I remember once when Jenny was about 4, a Saturday night after the Mothers' Day Banquet, when Jenny and Joy together told their version of THE THREE BEARS (so cute!) , Jenny went downstairs to our pantry and managed to carry a jar up the stairs to the kitchen -- only for it to break on the kitchen floor. Sweet syrup all over the floor at 10 pm! plus broken glass......... We all lived through it.













These days I've long let go of canning. Some years I freeze a few pints of peaches -- yellow, not white flesh. Fresh white flesh are honey to eat, but not so good frozen. But I do enjoy making the jam ... just for my man.



My main man, Larry, can, and chooses PB&J for his EVERYday lunch -- unless I pick up a sandwich to share, or we visit Red Robin, or are out of town. Larry loves routine, and life is easier, thus more fun for him, if he knows what to expect and can control it. He starts on tomorrow's breakfast and lunch within 15 minutes of arriving home each night. To me that monotony is depressing; to him inspiring -- he has time to surf the web, make a trip to Lowes, or call me! He doesn't have to worry about lunch!



My mother brought us strawberry freezer jam all the years we were in Georgia. Scrumptious! But no longer available when we moved west. Also, she could only bring a few pints, not enough to keep Larry in stock all winter. He learned to love my jam, and now prefers it.



I picked by myself this year. Usually he takes me to the orchard and makes me taste several different varieties to make sure I like the taste before we start to pick. I DON'T CARE! I love them all. But I've learned to avoid, the bird-pecked, split pit, too small ones. He also usually picks twice what I want, but I don't want to argue. I love them all, but it becomes a burden to get them out of the garage frig before apples are ready for picking. So this year I picked one half box of the luscious white flesh, and a heaping box of yellow flesh.



About 8 days ago I remembered peaches were still sitting in the frig, and jam needed to be completed before subbing began. So I worked HARD for 5 days -- only Saturday off -- and made lots of jam, to last all winter for his PB&Js.



Last year Lora and Andrew took a few pints. Joy's bunch wants only raspberries. It's too heavy to carry or ship to Jenny's bunch. That's OK.



It's funny how work is fun when you're doing it for love. You really have to love a guy who WANTS what YOU make, day after day... after day... after day... after day.......



You know what he does for me? That breakfast he readies 15 minutes after he gets home at night? Oatmeal with brown sugar and raisins (for low cholesterol!) He's adding cinnamon and walnuts now, and perfecting the creaminess! Each morning he checks to see if I'm awake when he makes his. "... Do you want your oatmeal now?" WOW! Every morning a hot bowlfun with a cup of oj.



So glad he doesn't miss the canned peaches--I don't. I do miss never having canned with my mom and sisters. Maybe I would have learned to like it -- or learned some short cuts. I just boil the jam long and keep steaming water on my jars and lids so I don't have to do the whole water bath deal. Lora helped me a couple of years. I miss having the girls closer!



Soon it will be applesauce and apple butter time. I need to get these cuts and burns healed up before then .... My new knives are indeed sharp!