Nothing to blog about . . .

My daughter is always checking on the blog postings and mine are not as frequent as she'd like. But, the thing is, there just isn't that much going on that I think is interesting.

• I guess I could blog about my niece who plays softball for SLCC. She is an awesome hitter. I caught a picture of her hitting the ball on Saturday.
  
• I could report how Red Hanger lost part of my cleaning -- I went to pick it up on Saturday and it was nowhere to be found (the missing part). So, I went back today and still no sign of the shirts and stuff. I am so dumb -- I even paid for the missing cleaning.


• I could tell you how proud I am of my parents who in spite of their failing health still manage to get around town and even make it to a ball game now and again.


• I could write about my son and the big red thumb. He broke his thumb a month ago today and barely a complaint has come from him. He has taken the whole incident in stride. He made a bigger deal about the braces than the broken thumb.
  
• I could tell you about the women's conference talks I listened to on Saturday night -- Julie Bangerter Beck speaks with passion and conviction that I so admire. Plus, she is a "west side" girl (Granger High grad.).


• I could tell you about how nice it is to have my whole family here for dinner on Sunday afternoon. It's just the best feeling ever.


• I could bog about "fall" my favorite time of year for colors and how nice my yard looks.


• I could even mention the new addition to our backyard -- the pergola -- it is b-e-a-u-t-i-f-u-l.
  

Guess what -- it looks like I did blog about something.

What are kids reading?

I went to junior high parent teacher conferences yesterday afternoon/evening. You know, that's where the teachers all squish into the cafeteria sitting at tables with big signs hanging over their heads. There's a small amount of space for each teacher where parents and students line up (for hours) waiting for their turn to see what's up with the student's grades -- assignments turned in, general behavior, etc. Nothing is said to let parents and students know about their LEARNING -- Do the kids get this? Do they understand that? -- absolutely NOTHING. For me, it's a chance to observe teacher behavior, look at their long lines, and decide which teachers I don't want my kids to have.

That said, the other part of P/T conferences is the Book Fair -- you know that, too -- where the hot titles of the day are on sale for parents to purchase for their kid's good job at turning in assignments (not learning). What are some of the titles this fall?

Breaking Dawn -- vampire love story
Believe it or Not -- tattoo history 1010

Secret Codes -- for video games
Top Girl Picks (no such category for boys -- I guess they read the girl stuff)
Zoey Dean's Talent -- no matter how important and famous you are, friendship comes first
The Wild Girls -- how coming of age means finding your own answers
The Clique -- bratfest at Tiffany's
The Ashleys -- girls that rule the school, they are gorgeous

If we are what we read? You be the judge -----

Sometimes in the doing of we forget the reasons for --

The phrase used as the title of this blog post is one of my favorite. I am not sure where it came from, who said it, or in what context it was used. But it has inspired me more that once.

My professional work is all about helping adults to do better things for kids. By better things I mean -- better communicating and listening, better mentoring, better planning, better at making connections with kids, better at helping kids navigate a school system, better at helping kids find out where their interests lie, better at caring about kids, better at helping kids visualize a future, better and recognizing their (adults) ability to help kids, and so on. Sometimes adults make their work with kids more complicated than it needs to be. Adults create forms and checklists; they make schedules and charts; they have procedures and processes; and so on. They really do think these things help kids. Guess what -- most of the time, they are only obstacles to create a distance between the adults and the kids. Yes, there is a need for order and procedure, but I also know that if the adults in our schools would set their forms and procedures aside and do a little better job at making kids feel like they are important and valued, the results would be astronomical.

I spent time with a bunch of very diverse and complicated kids today. At first they were apprehensive about my intentions -- their faces said it all. But, by the end of each of three class periods, some smiled, some thanked me, and they all went on their way. I wished each one a great day and shook their hands or gave my hand to them in a high five. I didn't accomplish much more than that.

Life is tough enough. Our students are getting further and further behind in what adults are thinking they can or should do. Much of what happens in their lives inside and outside of school can put a damper on their energy and motivation to succeed. I hope every day that the adults in our schools will focus more on the reasons for their work (the kids) and less on the doing of (everything but focusing on the kids) -- it makes a huge difference.

Well, for what it's worth ------

Beware of Mothers Asking Daughters for Assistance

of Mothers . . .

asking daughters to help with stuff like this . . .

. . . the outcome is guilt (Toy Story reference - "I feel guilt.")

I don't know what I would do without my girls. They are my best friends and confidants! They are talented, capable, competent, and confident younger type women. We really do a lot for each other, but tonight I was the benefit of their support, help, expertise, and service. I have been asked to plan and carry out two RS craft nights a year. Well, I have never been much of a craft person. The first RS craft I did in my life was a few decades back -- painted a reindeer for Christmas. Next came a reindeer made out of a towel (I was so proud of it, it appeared in a family Christmas picture). Well the crafts I muster up for the ladies are of a technological sort. You see, I never cease to be amazed at the incredibly amazing works (techno crafts) my girls do via computer technology. For the February craft, we (with Annie's and Haley's skills) worked on digital scrap booking and photo collections on the Internet. Tonight, the techno craft was "word art" or "word clouds". Annie and Willie created their masterpieces a few weeks back. I just knew the RS ladies would be interested. So, we pulled it off tonight -- 20 ladies, 4 computers, and three hours later a quiet house.

Everything went well until the last 45 minutes or so -- Annie was tired, stressed, and out of balance in the sugar and energy department. Elliott conked out on Karl's lap -- he was an absolute angel all evening. Willie needed dinner -- 10:00 p.m. Haley needed to finish up some editing on a paper for Peter, and she hadn't seen James all day. Needless to say, I am feeling some guilt for the whole thing. The activity went well, but it was just more than Annie and Haley and Elliott needed to do for me and the RS ladies.

Next time, I think I'll need to revert back to vinyl lettering on painted wood.

Jellystone Park -- End of Summer Tradition

For the past 7 or 8 years we have made a summer's end trip to Yellowstone National Park. It's just one of those places I can visit time and time again and enjoy the next trip as much as the first. Karl and I drug our wounded (broken thumb) son with us this time. We stayed in a nice clean Comfort Inn in West Yellowstone and visited new and previously visited places all day Sunday, August 31. The weather was perfect! We walked out to Morning Glory Pool and then hiked up and down the staircase called Uncle Tom's Trail to the Lower Falls of the Yellowstone River. The animals were sparse, but we saw buffs, elk, woolly caterpillars, chipmunks, and geese. On the way home we stopped at Bear World -- interesting place.

Ethel Meranda Huber, September 7, 1906

Annie, Melinda, Haley, Grandma

(on Grandma's front porch, 427 Kensington Ave., about 1985-86)

I intended to write this blog post yesterday (Grandma's birthday), but the day came to an end and another day began. Grandma Huber would be 102 if she were still alive. She was a good grandma. I spent a lot of time with her because when I was 12 years old, I was lucky enough to work at the family grocery store during the summer. Ten years later, I was still working at the store. Grandma worked every one of those ten years, and before them, and long after them. In fact, Grandma died at 84 years and she worked a full day at the store the day before she died.

Grandma was an excellent cook. I loved her roast beef dinner, especially her gravy. If I think long and hard I can still taste it. She always had cookies in the cookie jar and cold Cokes in the fridge. We were welcome anytime and to anything in the house. Grandma's house was a lunchtime stopping place when my sisters and I were going to the "U" -- there was always something there for lunch and sometimes a note from Grandma.

Grandma was born under pretty poor circumstances in Myton, Utah, her mother passed away when she was a little girl of 7. She was raised by not so nice relatives and an ornery step-mother, Nana. She and her brother, George, were very close -- but he died in his forties.

She was a very classy lady. Grandpa always made sure Grandma had the finest -- china, linens, clothes, furnishings, and more. Grandma always had "club" -- a group of lady friends who got together a couple of times a month to play cards. In the dining room buffet, top drawer on the left, were many decks of fancy cards -- all colors and patterns on the backs. Grandma's best friends were Helen Bird and Norma Riches. I came to know these ladies almost as well as I knew Grandma. Grandma's white hair was striking -- when asked what her real hair color was she always said she couldn't remember.

Grandma worked hard to support her sons in scouting (both Eagle Scouts), sports, church, school, and everything else. She was pretty guarded in her conversations - never really complained, never really disclosed much. I knew she loved me, my sisters, my brothers, and my girls. Willie came long after she was gone -- maybe he knew her in heaven.

Eighth Grade!

I taught junior high school for four years (that was thirty years ago). It was the craziest experience of my entire career. I remember thinking many times in those years that eighth graders should be shipped to outer space and brought back to earth just before ninth grade began. It seemed then that seventh graders were innocent and impressionable while ninth graders were mature and somewhat reasonable. But, for the eighth graders -- every single day was an experience with raging hormones and bull-headed, thick skulls. I was never surprised when eighth graders wanted to hold hands or start fist fights.

I went through the eighth grade years with my girls and lived to tell about them -- mostly I tried to look past their drama of the day and their endless whining. When my girls turned 15-16, they became delightful young women, and I have enjoyed every day since.

In the past few weeks, I have been experiencing eighth grade again -- this time with my boy. I am not sure how to work through this experience. Eighth grade boys have weird voices -- like out of tune fog horns that squeak every once in awhile. My eighth grade boy has lived through braces and a broken thumb in less than a month. He also struggles to sleep without his pet manatee. And, no matter what question I ask him, his reply is, "What?"

For example --
"How do you feel?" --- "What?"
"Do you have homework?" --- "What?"
"Is Tanner in any of your classes?" --- "What?"
"Are you hungry?" -- "What . . . what . . ?" "Yeah, I am hungry!"

When I call my eighth grader to check on him while I am at work, he often answers the phone with, "Meow, meow!" He has grown four inches in less than a year. His feet are huge -- size 13 football cleats -- and smelly. His ears have cooties in them, and he rolls on the floor and lays on the couch a lot. Just about any comment his dad and I make causes him to bust up laughing. Just about everything is funny --- ha, ha! His sense of humor is never ending. At the same time he is very responsible and caring --- he worships his sisters and his little nephew, and he loves hanging out with his cousins. He will always kiss his grandparents goodbye. Then, at the most reverent, somber times, some unforeseen bodily function will explode from his person accompanied by more uncontrollable laughter.

Oh the life of a mother of an eighth grader . . . you've got to love it!