Yesterday Flash met me on the back steps as I came in from work with a lawn mower wheel in his hand.  As he showed me how it broke right off the wheel mount, I became instantly empathetic to my dad, as I remember how he used to say, “Can I just get in the door before I have to deal with something?”

Broken clean off, it didn’t give one hint of “fixable” but screamed of “replace me!” the idea of shopping for a new lawn mower sounding about as inviting as cutting each blade of grass by hand did.

I decided my best plan was to not deal with it right then.  I had absolutley no idea what to do about it, and I wanted nothing to do with buying a new one.  So, like a good middle child, I simply postponed the decision.

Today, I had a message from WG, “Have an idea about the mower.  Let me take a look at it today.”  He was an instant hero in my book simply for taking the burden of figuring it out off my shoulders.  Tonight, he backed the Jeep into the drive and pulled my briefly broken mower out of the back.  He showed me how he fabricated a new mount and bolted this thing to that and adjusted the-I didn’t even car what, I was over the moon excited!  HE FIXED IT!  He took a wheel that was broken off…. BROKEN OFF – a concept that in all my stubborn independence, I am afraid I know nothing of how to fix things that are BROKEN OFF – and he returned my mower ready to go.  He even topped it off with gas as he knew my little red tank was empty.

I could not even formulate a thank you sincere enough or deep enough grateful enough for what I feel.  It isn’t just that someone fixed it, or that the cost was $5, or that it was up and running the very next day, it’s that I never even had time really to worry about it.  I didn’t have to stress about buying a new one, or shouldnI just buy another used one, or do I take it somewhere to see if they can weld it?  I never had to even THINK about the broken mower.

WG did.  he thought about it all morning at work.  If you get a steak from the market that seems a bit more choice than prime, it’s because he was a bit distracted while grading cattle this morning, trying to figure out how to fix what I assumed was unfixable.  For me.

Maybe, just maybe, God wanted me to be single all these years so I wouldn’t take for granted these amazing things that WG does for me.  If that’s the case, may I never, ever forget to be grateful.  These are the things that mean the most.

I had no idea the trouble that would come from playing Scarbble with WG.  First, it was just a casual game or two, out on the deck usually, occasionally with Flash and his girl, but usually just the two of us.  For a man who is often stuck on what word he means to say, WG was quickly addicted to what I originally thought was an ill-suited game.

It got worse when he discovered the iPhone app.  Now he plays at work against the computer, or he plays with me, when he is at home watching the Tigers game and I am at home curled up in bed reading on my iPad.

Then we started playing on our devices sitting next to each other on the sofa.  Sad, perhaps, but now that he can use a built-in dictionary and has a quick reference to all the two-letter words, there is no going back to the traditional board version of the game.

He has gotten to be such an addict that he will mention how many points a word is in regular conversation.  Or he’ll announce how many of those letters are in the game.  He can tell you what word he has scored the highest with, and what his highest point total for a game has been.  I was already looking into a 12-step program for him before tonight’s incident.

Tonight, sitting side by side on the couch, him with his iPhone and me with my beloved iPad, we went back and forth in a couple of games.  As I sat wondering what the odds were for me to get a “c” to make the word “juice”, I inquired of the new Scrabble genius at my side, “How many c’s are in Scrabble?”

To which my beloved man answered by exiting the game and looking at the name on the app, “There is only one ‘c’ in “Scrabble”.”

He knew his error the minute the last word came out of his mouth, but by then I was in a fit of giggles.  Oh my dear sweet man, I meant in the game itself.

I never did get the answer, but I think he might be calling the hotline even as I type.

“Hey, Eliza, did I tell you about the rose I have in the yard?  It has this long stem, and it’s this gorgeous color, and the minute it starts to bloom and open….”

“Yes, WG?”

“I’m going to cut the %#&$@?! thing for you!”

“Aw, WG, you’re such a….romantic!”

…who buys me beautiful flowers because the last ones he bought me have died.

…who surprises me with books and games for my classroom.

…who sits at a football game with me to watch a child that is not his play in the band.

…who is perfectly happy eating leftover meatloaf for dinner.

…who listens to me ramble on and on about my kids at school.

…who not only watches a video of my students but wants me to stop and tell him about each child.

…who drives me to and from the football game so I don’t have to be ther as early as the band kids.

…who does all these things on HIS birthday.

Happy birthday, WG!  We will celebrate in much better style tomorrow, but I didn’t want today to slip by without me saying how blessed I am to have you in my life!

Yesterday was one of “those days”.  Shuffled through meetings, lengthy discussions about tangential aspects of teaching, time spent in training sessions on skills I am already adept at, more updates and news trickling down from administration that makes little sense to those of us in the classroom, and the latest batch of oh-by-the-way-we-have-this-to-deal-with-this-year challenges.  Sigh.  The kind of day when I want to call up the local university and persuade undecided majors not to choose the teaching profession.

When all was said and done, I returned to my classroom.  While I have been there every week all summer long, I still have a to-do list that isn’t to-done.  Thats’s just part of teaching; I spent days creating materials and thinking through logistics for my writing station, but that’s just one small segment of our day.  There’s still math, spelling, reading….the list truly never ends.

I made headway, but still had miles to go when I called it quits and sat at my reading table to reflect and gather myself before heading home hours later than originally planned.  And that’s when I started to cry.  Looking around the room, there is endless possibility for 25 second graders.  I already know three that are more than just a little behind.  I know one who had such a terrible year last year that his parents were going to transfer him out of our district.  One of my students from last year is returning to my room specifically because I will probably be able to handle his extreme emotional needs better than a new teacher who hasn’t had a year’s experience with him might.  I thought about the increase in expectations on teachers, how we might as well write “miracle worker” next to some of the requirements.  I thought about our fledgling curriculum, on the downhill spiral due in part to apathy and part to bad press and passing responsibility, but added pressure in any case to show its merits.

To say I am overwhelmed is an understatement.

But then it hit me.  The kids are coming!  In just 24 hours, my room will be buzzing with excited little second graders.  They will be checking out their desks, and showing their parents around the room.  They will find their cubby and their bug in the hallway.  They will hug me and shy away from me and giggle and be nervous right there beside me.

And I breathed a sigh of relief.

I will do my best.  And my students will too.  Most days.  Somedays I will be tired, and some days they will be tired.  Some days we will learn so much and others our brains will not absorb a single thing.  We will laugh and play and sneak in hours of learning disguised as fun and yet we will also spend time discussing better choices and practicing behaviors and sitting with heads down at our desks.

And no matter how the year ends, no matter what my scores say on my evaluation, or what the state says about the status of our school, or what the politicians say should be happening in my classroom, I will know that I poured my heart and soul into my kids.  I will know that they got every bit of energy and enthusiasm and passion that I have for my profession, often at the cost to my own child.  All of us in Room 18 will know that we had the best second grade year ever.

And that is what counts in my book.

I recently updated my classroom website and included a wish list generated on Amazon.  I just thought all my faithful readers might like to see it, too.  I have 25 Bright, Unique, Generous second-grade students (B.U.G.S.) this year who would love some of these games and books!

http://amzn.com/w/356EC7H8NGW0E

🙂

I cannot watch American Idol.  Under circumstances of extreme work avoidance, I have watched two episodes of America Has No Talent Whatsoever.  I don’t turn on The Voice, or X Factor or any of these supposed talent shows.   For one reason alone.  I get so angry at the loved ones of these poor kids.  Why has no one along the way had the grace and courage to tell these people that THIS is not their talent?!  That God has big plans for their lives but it does not involve singing, or dancing or balancing on cement pipes or whatever it is.  I think we owe it to these people to nudge, or in some of these cases, shove them toward their true talents.

Which is why people, I am upset with you, my dear, faithful readers (all two of you. Ex-boyfriends just stalking to see if I got married yet don’t count, and for the record, no, I haven’t, but you still weren’t Mr. Right).  I just wrote my 1200th post.  TWELVE HUNDREDTH POST.  Seven years of complete drivel and none of you have stopped me.  You should be ashamed of yourselves.

To think, if one of you brave souls had told me seven years ago to stop this ridiculous writing and apply myself to a craft, I might be your next American Idol.  For shame, people, for shame.

I would like to give a shout out to my long-time reader, first-time commenter, real life “second mom”.  It made my day to have an actual comment on a post!  This is my huge, Internet hug, full of gratitude!

XOXO

EJ

I have been wishing for someone on our staff to step up and lead this new program, to keep it supported and strong.  To encourage and help others.  To train, to motivate, to provide answers if possible.  I have been hoping for someone to begin a focus on the parents in our community, to teach them parts of the program so it stops being something foreign, and becomes something they advocate for, too.  I have been waiting for someone to make this program a priority.