I have a horrible memory. I blame it on pregnancy, children and the past 18 years since I became a we and not just me, (however, dang was just me fun).  Yet, I do have a vivid recollection of all my teachers in elementary school! This post is for them.

Midvale Elementary
Kindergarten. Miss Vigil. She liked reminding me that I was nothing special in very subtle ways. It's amazing I loved to go to school anyway. Who couldn't love it? Who from Midvale Elementary could not love the long slide that was clearly dangerous even before Jesse fell off of it, from the top.

1st grade. Miss Acosta. (shoot Midvale Elementary, you were progressive before your time.) She smiled. She was smart. She was fair. She taught us about American History. I was certain I was Navajo after that section. I was so in love with Joe M., he is Navajo.

2nd grade. Mrs. Miller. She read funny stories about a dolphin named Duso. He was a puppet who helped children with life lessons. When she gave an answer to anyone's questions, like," Mrs. Miller,
do I put my books in my desk?" She would respond, "yes, please do so." It would always make me laugh. We painted with that chalky paint like it was nobody's business too. I loved her class.

3rd grade. Mrs. Conder. She was patient. A little older like Mrs. Miller. She was probably as old as I am now.  Ancient. She let us bring almost anything to show and tell.  Patient, I tell you.

East Midvale Elementary
4th grade. Ms. Curly. She wore funny glasses. She introduced me to poetry in a more meaningful way. Every week we had a new poem to copy from the board. She would let us decorate those poems anyway we wanted.  She was also the teacher I ran to after discovering that my cat had died, but I was already on the bus. By the time I made it to her class she let me fall into her arms and cry my little 4th grade heart out. She consoled me, and let me grieve long enough until the bell was about to ring. It's making me tear up now! A teacher hugging it out with a child in the most innocent way. 

5th grade. Mr. ummm...hmmm...tall guy, balding, skinny, and then came Ms. Lisonbee. Young, hip, Farrah Faucett hair, only dark brown, and blue, blue eyes. She liked the girls that wore trendy clothes. I wore cute clothes, just not expensive ones. I once told her that the cinnamon gum I was chewing was aspirin gum just in spite of her.  She dismissed me,often, and once made me go to the library to write 100 times that I was sorry for whatever infraction she thought I had caused. It wasn't me. I went to the library and wrote 100 times ' I will not be sorry for something I didn't do' left the sheets of paper on the library table, walked strait out the door and went home a whole hour or so before school even was out. Rebel. I never was reprimanded for that.

Then I went to the cruel world of middle school for 4 long years. 

I learned many things academically at school. It fascinates me that what I learned I grasped not just because of the daily lesson, but because of how my teachers made me feel;  safe, trusted, and validated. In the end, it's in that environment that I learned the most, and still do.

A small insight

Here is my short analysis to the little girl's comment about why I should be a teacher. I think it is because she and so many other little girls like her can relate to me, to the color and texture of my hair (good thing I took care of that a couple of weeks ago, no noticeable root growth yet), the color of my eyes, my skin, and even my ability to speak Spanish. I was her. K-12. It's too late to delve into that perspective. I have more to say, but it's percolating somewhere inside my head and heart. Hopefully I will be able to express it one day.

Writing down my thoughts for others to read is a little scary after all! Yikes. Hang in there with me...

I forgot about this blog...

I said...

Let's try this again.

I have things to share

End of summer fun

I'm not feeling so well.
I had an incredibly busy week the last week of July. A trip to Cali. for Jeff's 20th HS reunion, camping as soon as I got home for a couple of days, a day to rest, and then an all day Lagoon day with my peeps.
Sat. I just crashed I didn't want to do anything but stay home. Sun. all I wanted to do was sleep. Mon. I woke up sick and so did Sara. I've battled a fever, a sore throat, a cough, congestion, sleepless night, laryngitis, and now disgusting chest stuff. And now Nic is sick too.
I haven't stepped out of the house for a couple of days. I'm ready...It's time... I'm done.

Now i'm more than frustrated...

I just typed a half hours worth of stuff...and the stupid internet disconnected and I lost the complete post when I clicked publish post...so I do not even know if it's worth retyping everything, it's too late to remember...
So here's the condensed version ...
I'm fat,
I'm broke,
but I have such nice neighbors whom all shared there washing machines with me, because not only am I broke, but so is my washing machine and my ghetto van that can' t be fixed. On Jan. 1 we found out that we needed to be out of the current rental and needed to make arrangements to be in another with a deposit and first month's rent due the first couple of weeks Feb. Good thing our van was paid off in Dec, bad thing that the money is already spent before we get to enjoy it. So back to the list...
I have clean towels.
So the original post was super entertaining...maybe when i'm in a better mood and have gotten more sleep like my doctor suggested...(she also suggested I lose weight) and it's not that I don't know i need to, I see myself and all my multitude of sin, like Jeff's grandma likes to say, every day...I practically have a year's supply of food stored away in my body! I wouldn't starve, that
's all i'm saying.... So when i'm in a better mood i'll write again.
I hope that whatever it is i'm supposed to be learning will be learned quickly and efficiently... I just asked my neighbors to help me out with some towels and sheets for crying out loud, I drew the line at underwear...Jeff did that tonight at the laundromat...He was approached by a drunk guy, he was peddling his Hot Wheels and baseball cards for some cash, needless to say...no mon, no fun.
Next time i'll write about a late night trip to the laundromat in McAllen, TX with my mom and sister!
So much for therapeutic writing...It's very late now...and I told my doctor that i would be trying to sleep more, not tonight. Maybe tomorrow will be better...

I should be cooking the hotdogs.

I do not like cooking. I'm not a bad cook. I just can't bring myself to take the time when I could be doing something more exciting like writing on this blog or just about anything else for that matter. I don't know how to fire up the ole' grill,(i'm afraid of explosions) and I know that grilled hotdogs are tastier then boiled ones. It's pretty sad. What's even more sad is that I wonder why it looks like I cook all the time, (maybe i'm delusional and it really just looks like I eat all the time). And anyway, do you cook hotdogs? Or just warm them up? Whatever i'm obviously just lazy. But it's a goal I have decided to reach and master for all the wonderful reasons that exist, especially the desire I have to nurture my children in every aspect. Hopefully future references will suggest that I am doing a fantastic job cooking nutritious meals. For now i'm going to do a fantastic job supporting my husband at the grill. I'll go get the buns...