Once again trying to set an example as a writer as I teach writing. Today's writing lesson was Color Poems. Color is used to express and represent so many things: personalities, emotions, smells, sounds, tastes, holidays... The object was to express a color without coming right out and telling the reader the color. Here are my poems from today:
I smell of squishy, fresh mud and grainy sand storms.
My dust tickles noses and makes eyes itchy.
I am rough, scratchy bark and strong, smooth leather.
I tint many curls and eyelashes.
I am thick, creamy chocolate milk and a greasy hamburger.
I am the crunch of a nut or the tapping of a stick.
I flash suddenly and quickly to your cheeks,
telling people you are embarrassed.
I help celebrate the 4th of July
and many other holidays too.
I smell of rose petals and cherry chapstick.
I can taste like peppermints, spaghetti or watermelon.
I feel like a scratched knee or Santa’s velvety suit.
I sound like a heart beat or a siren.
Last year's attempt.
I can be as cold as snow or as warm as fur.
I enjoy the North Pole and grandpa’s scruffy face.
I’m an oval egg or a round golf ball.
I smell sweet like sugar
and I’m as soft as cotton.
This one is from two years ago.
I stain the knees of soccer and football players.
I color the leaves that shade you in the summer heat.
I command cars,
and many consider me lucky.
Monday, January 11, 2010
Friday, January 8, 2010
Life in Third Grade
I love teaching third grade. The kids aren’t too old, so they aren’t smart asses yet. They’re not too young, so no nose wiping or pant zipping necessary. Most are comfortable with the basics of reading, writing and math, so I can challenge them to think deeper and explain their ideas. They are the middle children of Lower/elementary school. No longer “babies,” but not as sure of themselves as fifth graders. They’re in the midst of their early school years, observing then beginning to discover themselves as learners. However, they are still kids and by Friday afternoon, no matter how much I love my class or teaching, I’m exhausted. Most jobs can do this. An experience from today explains why my job can be so tiring. It’s 10:00am, morning recess has just ended. My class is straggling in from the playground. They trickle into the room trying to eek out seconds more of play time. The last three enter the room loudly chatting. The one in the middle has something he desperately needs to tell me.
“Mrs. Johnson,” he says in a panic filled voice, “I lost something at recess.” I patiently respond with the question, “What did you lose?” Knowing that a third grader’s idea of an emergency and a teacher’s idea of an emergency is often very different.
“I lost part of my recorder.” Yesterday in Music every third grader was given a recorder for a five week unit. Many had taken theirs to recess so they could practice.
“What part did you lose?” I asked.
“My bracelet,” was his response.
With raised eyebrows I asked, “A bracelet?” In my head I was thinking, that’s not part of a recorder. He explained, “She gave us bracelets to wear so we can remember which hand goes on top.”
Now it was making sense and I had a decision to make. Do I let him go back to the playground and search? If I do he misses part of the directions. Also, I’m sure the music teacher has extra bracelets and she’ll give him another later during music. If I don’t let him search he’ll worry about it all day and be distracted. Hmm.
Just then a voice behind me says, “You lost your bracelet? I know where it’s at. I can show you.” Great, I think now two will miss directions. However, they shouldn’t be long since they know where they’re going. I make my decision.
“Okay, go look, but be quick.” They shake their heads yes and very seriously respond with, “We will.”
A few minutes later they return. “We couldn’t find it.” They tell me. I’m about to say that the music teacher probably has another bracelet when once again we are interrupted.
“Was your bracelet orange?” a boy asks, “ because I saw an orange one over by the slides.” The owner of the missing bracelet confirms that his bracelet was indeed orange.
“Go check by the slides.” I say.
At this point I’m a little frustrated with all the time we’re wasting, but decide to let him finish his search.
Again he returns empty handed. Since I let him look he’s less worried about his loss, because he knows he at least tried to find it. He shrugs his shoulders and shakes his head, no. He continues over to his cubby, taking off his coat and hanging it up. It is at this point I hear a surprised, “OH!”
This of course caused the whole class to turn their attention towards him. Sheepishly blushing a deep red he held up his arm saying, “I found it. It’s on my wrist.” And that is a moment in the life of third grade and why the teacher is worn out at the end of the day.
“Mrs. Johnson,” he says in a panic filled voice, “I lost something at recess.” I patiently respond with the question, “What did you lose?” Knowing that a third grader’s idea of an emergency and a teacher’s idea of an emergency is often very different.
“I lost part of my recorder.” Yesterday in Music every third grader was given a recorder for a five week unit. Many had taken theirs to recess so they could practice.
“What part did you lose?” I asked.
“My bracelet,” was his response.
With raised eyebrows I asked, “A bracelet?” In my head I was thinking, that’s not part of a recorder. He explained, “She gave us bracelets to wear so we can remember which hand goes on top.”
Now it was making sense and I had a decision to make. Do I let him go back to the playground and search? If I do he misses part of the directions. Also, I’m sure the music teacher has extra bracelets and she’ll give him another later during music. If I don’t let him search he’ll worry about it all day and be distracted. Hmm.
Just then a voice behind me says, “You lost your bracelet? I know where it’s at. I can show you.” Great, I think now two will miss directions. However, they shouldn’t be long since they know where they’re going. I make my decision.
“Okay, go look, but be quick.” They shake their heads yes and very seriously respond with, “We will.”
A few minutes later they return. “We couldn’t find it.” They tell me. I’m about to say that the music teacher probably has another bracelet when once again we are interrupted.
“Was your bracelet orange?” a boy asks, “ because I saw an orange one over by the slides.” The owner of the missing bracelet confirms that his bracelet was indeed orange.
“Go check by the slides.” I say.
At this point I’m a little frustrated with all the time we’re wasting, but decide to let him finish his search.
Again he returns empty handed. Since I let him look he’s less worried about his loss, because he knows he at least tried to find it. He shrugs his shoulders and shakes his head, no. He continues over to his cubby, taking off his coat and hanging it up. It is at this point I hear a surprised, “OH!”
This of course caused the whole class to turn their attention towards him. Sheepishly blushing a deep red he held up his arm saying, “I found it. It’s on my wrist.” And that is a moment in the life of third grade and why the teacher is worn out at the end of the day.
Wednesday, December 23, 2009
Buying a Fake Tree Saved My Marriage
The older I get I realize the importance of sparingly using the word "never." When I was young, naive and inexperienced I used to make two statements at Christmas. First, I swore I'd never buy a fake tree. Second, I emphatically stated that I'd never buy my own Christmas presents. Now I know, never say never. Giving into these two things has made life much simpler and happier.
I grew up in Washington state. My dad grew up in Arizona. We always had a live tree. I think it was one of his favorite parts of the holiday. When I was really little we traveled to a farm and cut down our own. The switch to a tree lot was a big deal and not an easy decision. As we got older and got busier it just seemed more difficult to plan a day at a tree farm. My husband also grew up with a real tree. When we married we agreed that a fake tree was a horrible sin. We would never have a fake tree. I remember snidely commenting on fake trees and not understanding how anyone could ever own one and enjoy it.
However, as the years past, we'll be married 18 years in May, our priorities changed and our "nevers" became weaker. Eventually, we realized buying a tree was a chore. We found little joy in the experience and it often caused fighting. First of all, trees are expensive. We'd go to the tree lot and wander around seeing trees we wanted, but not being able to buy them. Next, we'd settle for a pretty good tree in our price range. Finally, after choosing, we'd head home. The worst part was yet to come.
Once we were home we had to set the tree up. I dreaded this every year. I prepped myself to stay calm, but it rarely worked. Our cheaper tree always seemed to be too small for our stand. Mike would be swearing under the tree, while I tried to hold it straight. He'd harshly ask if I was holding it straight and them accuse me of not paying attention. I would be easily offended and huffily remind him that I was doing the best I could. After all, the tree was taller than I was and I was attempting to hold it straight while being poked in the face by branches and getting sticky with sap. I hated putting up the tree.
Next, came the lights. First, we had to go through each strand and make sure they all worked. Then we had to find the strands with the matching colors, some were more pink than red. The redder ones for the tree and the pinker ones for other decorating. Next, we had to argue about blinking, not blinking, and blinking pace. Finally, I usually ended up putting on the lights and then Mike would come back and fix them. (I'm getting ticked and frustrated just writing this.) Once the lights were perfect Mike would usually take a few pictures or video the first ornaments being hung and then disappear, trying to calm down. Not the way we wanted to start the holidays, but our usual pattern.
Finally, about five years ago I gave in and bought a tree on sale the day after Thanksgiving. One of the best decisions I ever made. It was a difficult decision, I felt so guilty. I felt like I was giving up. A few points swayed me though. First, we weren't killing a tree every year for a few weeks of pleasure. Second, in the long run it would save us money. Third, it was pre lit and I could set it up by myself. Wow, has that fake tree taken a lot of the stress out of the holidays. The pros definitely have out weighed the cons. The thing we miss most is the smell, but that's all. Putting up the tree for us was a similar male/female getting directions and figuring out how to get somewhere experience. What was important and how we viewed it were so very different.
Buying a fake tree allowed me to give up on my other Christmas never. I swore I'd never buy my own presents. I wanted to be surprised. I like surprises usually. Mike hated making decisions. He was stressed by the pressure to figure out what I wanted. I was frustrated because I felt like he was making it too hard. Eventually I started cutting out adds and making lists of things I'd like for him. He didn't find this helpful either though. He didn't think it was a surprise to buy something from a list. My argument was that I didn't know what exactly he'd get me from the list. I have to admit I was a little sad when I finally gave in and bought myself presents. However, once again so much of the stress of the holidays is gone that it was worth it. Also, the last couple of years I've wanted something big and kind of expensive. I've wanted the money he'd spend on me to pool with any other money from parents and grandparents we might get. I usually buy my present after the holidays when I see how much we have. One year I wanted home and away hockey jerseys and this year I want another tattoo. Two things I have to get myself.
So the moral of this story is never say never because the holidays are supposed to bring you together and not cause frustration and fighting.
I grew up in Washington state. My dad grew up in Arizona. We always had a live tree. I think it was one of his favorite parts of the holiday. When I was really little we traveled to a farm and cut down our own. The switch to a tree lot was a big deal and not an easy decision. As we got older and got busier it just seemed more difficult to plan a day at a tree farm. My husband also grew up with a real tree. When we married we agreed that a fake tree was a horrible sin. We would never have a fake tree. I remember snidely commenting on fake trees and not understanding how anyone could ever own one and enjoy it.
However, as the years past, we'll be married 18 years in May, our priorities changed and our "nevers" became weaker. Eventually, we realized buying a tree was a chore. We found little joy in the experience and it often caused fighting. First of all, trees are expensive. We'd go to the tree lot and wander around seeing trees we wanted, but not being able to buy them. Next, we'd settle for a pretty good tree in our price range. Finally, after choosing, we'd head home. The worst part was yet to come.
Once we were home we had to set the tree up. I dreaded this every year. I prepped myself to stay calm, but it rarely worked. Our cheaper tree always seemed to be too small for our stand. Mike would be swearing under the tree, while I tried to hold it straight. He'd harshly ask if I was holding it straight and them accuse me of not paying attention. I would be easily offended and huffily remind him that I was doing the best I could. After all, the tree was taller than I was and I was attempting to hold it straight while being poked in the face by branches and getting sticky with sap. I hated putting up the tree.
Next, came the lights. First, we had to go through each strand and make sure they all worked. Then we had to find the strands with the matching colors, some were more pink than red. The redder ones for the tree and the pinker ones for other decorating. Next, we had to argue about blinking, not blinking, and blinking pace. Finally, I usually ended up putting on the lights and then Mike would come back and fix them. (I'm getting ticked and frustrated just writing this.) Once the lights were perfect Mike would usually take a few pictures or video the first ornaments being hung and then disappear, trying to calm down. Not the way we wanted to start the holidays, but our usual pattern.
Finally, about five years ago I gave in and bought a tree on sale the day after Thanksgiving. One of the best decisions I ever made. It was a difficult decision, I felt so guilty. I felt like I was giving up. A few points swayed me though. First, we weren't killing a tree every year for a few weeks of pleasure. Second, in the long run it would save us money. Third, it was pre lit and I could set it up by myself. Wow, has that fake tree taken a lot of the stress out of the holidays. The pros definitely have out weighed the cons. The thing we miss most is the smell, but that's all. Putting up the tree for us was a similar male/female getting directions and figuring out how to get somewhere experience. What was important and how we viewed it were so very different.
Buying a fake tree allowed me to give up on my other Christmas never. I swore I'd never buy my own presents. I wanted to be surprised. I like surprises usually. Mike hated making decisions. He was stressed by the pressure to figure out what I wanted. I was frustrated because I felt like he was making it too hard. Eventually I started cutting out adds and making lists of things I'd like for him. He didn't find this helpful either though. He didn't think it was a surprise to buy something from a list. My argument was that I didn't know what exactly he'd get me from the list. I have to admit I was a little sad when I finally gave in and bought myself presents. However, once again so much of the stress of the holidays is gone that it was worth it. Also, the last couple of years I've wanted something big and kind of expensive. I've wanted the money he'd spend on me to pool with any other money from parents and grandparents we might get. I usually buy my present after the holidays when I see how much we have. One year I wanted home and away hockey jerseys and this year I want another tattoo. Two things I have to get myself.
So the moral of this story is never say never because the holidays are supposed to bring you together and not cause frustration and fighting.
Thursday, December 17, 2009
A Week Before Winter Break (Emotions)
A Week Before Winter Break
(Emotions)
By Meredith Johnson
Monday morning: Joy
Just one more week!
Monday afternoon: Dread
A whole week of this!
Tuesday morning: Hope
Today can’t be worse than yesterday.
Tuesday afternoon: Frustration
I’m only giving directions once.
One more time these are the directions.
Last time, the directions are...
Wednesday morning: Determined
I am the teacher.
I am prepared.
I’ve been teaching for years.
Wednesday afternoon: Vulnerable
I was teaching, but no one was listening.
Thursday morning: Brave
Giving a quiz today so they won’t forget over the break.
Thursday afternoon: Defeated
They’ve already forgotten.
Friday morning: Apprehensive
Expecting the worst.
Friday afternoon: Relief
I made it!
They’re gone!
I’m free!
Done.
(And my head only hurts a little.)
(Emotions)
By Meredith Johnson
Monday morning: Joy
Just one more week!
Monday afternoon: Dread
A whole week of this!
Tuesday morning: Hope
Today can’t be worse than yesterday.
Tuesday afternoon: Frustration
I’m only giving directions once.
One more time these are the directions.
Last time, the directions are...
Wednesday morning: Determined
I am the teacher.
I am prepared.
I’ve been teaching for years.
Wednesday afternoon: Vulnerable
I was teaching, but no one was listening.
Thursday morning: Brave
Giving a quiz today so they won’t forget over the break.
Thursday afternoon: Defeated
They’ve already forgotten.
Friday morning: Apprehensive
Expecting the worst.
Friday afternoon: Relief
I made it!
They’re gone!
I’m free!
Done.
(And my head only hurts a little.)
Teacher Poetry
Every December I teach poetry. We do a variety of styles many lending themselves to silliness and fun. I try to write my own poems while my students write. I enjoy it and it sets a good example. One type of poem they usually enjoy is the "Never Will I Ever" poem. It's an acrostic poem. Here's mine this year:
Never will I ever...
Endure complaints about hard work.
Vote to teach on the weekends.
Expect to only give directions once.
Race my class in the halls.
Withhold quiz information.
Indulge in more than three Diet Cokes at school.
Lollygag between specialists.
Linger past the bell in the lunchroom.
Invade another teacher’s classroom.
End a lesson without answering questions.
Vow to teach kindergarten.
Exercise my influence for evil.
Request a new class.
By Mrs. Johnson
Another style we attempt is called "Alphabet Soup Poems." My musing this year:
My Kids By Mrs. Johnson
Children, I love you, but you’re
Driving me crazy.
Everyone stop
Fighting!
Good job, now time for
Hugs.
We also experiment with List Poetry. This is my poem this year:
By Mrs. Johnson
Reasons...
My homework isn’t done:
I left it at school, in the car or at my friend’s house.
I was at a Jazz game, a concert or a restaurant until late.
My mom/dad wouldn’t help me.
I didn’t know we had homework.
The teacher didn’t give me the work.
We were too busy.
Your tests aren’t corrected:
I left the key at school.
I was at my daughter’s basketball game.
My son needed his paper edited.
The baby had a fever.
My favorite tv shows were on.
I fell asleep.
I know I repeat myself a lot. Sorry I can't remember what I've posted before. These are some of my favorite teacher poems I've written:
Things to Do Instead of Get Started on My Assignment
Sharpen my pencil
Get a tissue
Look for my pencil
Pull out the wrong book
Ask to go to the bathroom
Try to go get a drink
Talk to my neighbor
Stare into space
Walk to my cubby for no reason
Tap my pencil
Dig through my pencil box
Doodle on the edge of my paper
Ask for help before reading the directions
Things Not to Ask Your Teacher
Do we have to write in complete sentences?
When is lunch?
What time does school get out?
Are we going to have homework?
Do we have to know this?
Would you repeat those directions, again?
Do I have to finish this WHOLE page?
What did you just say?
I love to share these with my students. Some get the joke, others ask questions that should be in my poem. Poetry is such a good outlet. I love teaching it and writing it. Try some yourself and send them my way.
Never will I ever...
Endure complaints about hard work.
Vote to teach on the weekends.
Expect to only give directions once.
Race my class in the halls.
Withhold quiz information.
Indulge in more than three Diet Cokes at school.
Lollygag between specialists.
Linger past the bell in the lunchroom.
Invade another teacher’s classroom.
End a lesson without answering questions.
Vow to teach kindergarten.
Exercise my influence for evil.
Request a new class.
By Mrs. Johnson
Another style we attempt is called "Alphabet Soup Poems." My musing this year:
My Kids By Mrs. Johnson
Children, I love you, but you’re
Driving me crazy.
Everyone stop
Fighting!
Good job, now time for
Hugs.
We also experiment with List Poetry. This is my poem this year:
By Mrs. Johnson
Reasons...
My homework isn’t done:
I left it at school, in the car or at my friend’s house.
I was at a Jazz game, a concert or a restaurant until late.
My mom/dad wouldn’t help me.
I didn’t know we had homework.
The teacher didn’t give me the work.
We were too busy.
Your tests aren’t corrected:
I left the key at school.
I was at my daughter’s basketball game.
My son needed his paper edited.
The baby had a fever.
My favorite tv shows were on.
I fell asleep.
I know I repeat myself a lot. Sorry I can't remember what I've posted before. These are some of my favorite teacher poems I've written:
Things to Do Instead of Get Started on My Assignment
Sharpen my pencil
Get a tissue
Look for my pencil
Pull out the wrong book
Ask to go to the bathroom
Try to go get a drink
Talk to my neighbor
Stare into space
Walk to my cubby for no reason
Tap my pencil
Dig through my pencil box
Doodle on the edge of my paper
Ask for help before reading the directions
Things Not to Ask Your Teacher
Do we have to write in complete sentences?
When is lunch?
What time does school get out?
Are we going to have homework?
Do we have to know this?
Would you repeat those directions, again?
Do I have to finish this WHOLE page?
What did you just say?
I love to share these with my students. Some get the joke, others ask questions that should be in my poem. Poetry is such a good outlet. I love teaching it and writing it. Try some yourself and send them my way.
Monday, December 7, 2009
I'm the Boss
My youngest is two and a half. He is also 10 years younger than his sister and 12 years younger than his brother. I often wonder what life is like from his perspective. His life is dominated by giants who all have lots to say. Often he has plenty of attention because he has almost four grown-ups at his disposal. At other times he can be ignored in the bustle of daily life.
He has discovered that mornings are his time to be in charge. While the rest of us stumble around slowly waking, he quickly wakes up and is ready to go. As the morning gets busy he gets bossier. The closer we scramble to leave the house, the more orders he issues.
"Get your shoes on, 'Lessia." he directs his sister.
"Rilwyn!" he shouts down the stairs, "Time to go."
"Let's go Riwyn."
"Mom," he questions, "You ready?"
"You coming dad?"
"Open the door," he demands.
He directs us all until we're all in the car ready to head out for our day. Right now it's dang cute, let's hope his bossiness becomes more subtle and diplomatic as he gets older.
He has discovered that mornings are his time to be in charge. While the rest of us stumble around slowly waking, he quickly wakes up and is ready to go. As the morning gets busy he gets bossier. The closer we scramble to leave the house, the more orders he issues.
"Get your shoes on, 'Lessia." he directs his sister.
"Rilwyn!" he shouts down the stairs, "Time to go."
"Let's go Riwyn."
"Mom," he questions, "You ready?"
"You coming dad?"
"Open the door," he demands.
He directs us all until we're all in the car ready to head out for our day. Right now it's dang cute, let's hope his bossiness becomes more subtle and diplomatic as he gets older.
Wednesday, November 25, 2009
Thanksgiving, A Fine Holiday
Thanksgiving has grown on me the older I get. When I was younger it was just the holiday to get through until Christmas. It meant spending the day with relatives, some I liked, some I didn't know very well and some I was happy I didn't have to see again until Christmas. (Any relative I've accepted as a friend on facebook, you were in the first category.) Also as a child I anticipated Thanksgiving's passing because Dad wouldn't let us play Christmas music until after Thanksgiving. Our family tradition also included getting our tree soon after the turkey holiday.
My first Thanksgiving away from home was my first year at BYU. A friend from home invited me to Thanksgiving with her sister and all her sister's in-laws. I brought rolls, that didn't rise right. It was okay, I'm a people person, but again just a break before heading home at Christmas.
The next year I was engaged, but I'd promised to spend the holiday with my Grandma May in St. George. Just the two of us. I couldn't let her have Thanksgiving alone, but I also wished I wasn't leaving Mike. We were that sappy, all over each other, annoying engaged couple. Grandma drove to Provo to pick me up Wednesday. We drove to St. George that night. The next day we had planned to spend with the other retirees in the clubhouse at the trailer park. However, I think after a phone call from my Aunt Cynde, we decided to drive to Tucson. I was born in Tucson, but had never been there. My parents moved to Washington state soon after I was born. Tucson was where my dad grew up. It was the place of his childhood stories. My mom had lived there for a short time after they were married. Being a girl from Tacoma, Washington, she had hated it. I was curious about my birthplace and their conflicting opinions.
Early Thanksgiving morning Grandma May and I hopped in the car. We started our drive from St. George, Utah to Tucson, Arizona to visit Aunt Cynde. We drove for hours. Google says it should take between 10 and 11 hours. I don't remember anymore how long it took. I do remember thinking that it seemed that we were taking all the back roads and that it was the first time I saw Las Vegas. Grandma wouldn't let me drive over the speed limit. She made me set the cruise control at 55 mph. When we finally arrived in Tucson we stayed for an hour. Yep, a whole hour. Then we got in the car and drove back to St. George. That was one of the craziest, most memorable trips I've ever taken.
Thanksgiving 1993 will always be memorable. It was the first Thanksgiving after my dad died. He died in October of that year from cancer. My mom and my three younger sisters flew in to Las Vegas and drove to St. George. Mike and I drove from Provo and my aunt Cynde's family arrived from Tucson. We met at Grandma May's trailer. We didn't all fit, so some of us stayed at grandma's friend's trailer. Her friend was out of town. Mike and I were assigned the other trailer along with my sisters. We spent the night playing games and searching for an open store in the middle of the night. We found a gas station open and bought the hardest Red Vines I have ever tried to eat. The next day we gathered with my dad's family who we hadn't met very many times and enjoyed each others company. My father's Native American foster sister even arrived with her family. I remember wishing it hadn't taken his death to bring us together.
Once my children started school a new tradition emerged. Waterford, the school I teach at and my children attend, has Grandparent's Day every year right before Thanksgiving break. Grandparent's Day is a half day when grandparents are invited to attend school with their grandchildren. My mom wanted to participate so she started coming to visit us every Thanksgiving. She's here right now and we look forward to her visit.
I've started to enjoy Thanksgiving more with age for a couple of reasons. First, as a teacher I get a break. Next, it's a fairly easy going holiday. I've only attempted to host it at my house twice, I think. I didn't volunteer easily. Usually we go to my in-laws, my mom included and take our assigned piece of the meal. I do little cooking, get to spend the day with family eating, watching football and playing games and I get several days off work. What's not to like?
Thanksgiving isn't my favorite holiday, but I don't dislike it. It's a simple holiday and simple is good sometimes. I don't mind Thanksgiving at all, it's just fine.
My first Thanksgiving away from home was my first year at BYU. A friend from home invited me to Thanksgiving with her sister and all her sister's in-laws. I brought rolls, that didn't rise right. It was okay, I'm a people person, but again just a break before heading home at Christmas.
The next year I was engaged, but I'd promised to spend the holiday with my Grandma May in St. George. Just the two of us. I couldn't let her have Thanksgiving alone, but I also wished I wasn't leaving Mike. We were that sappy, all over each other, annoying engaged couple. Grandma drove to Provo to pick me up Wednesday. We drove to St. George that night. The next day we had planned to spend with the other retirees in the clubhouse at the trailer park. However, I think after a phone call from my Aunt Cynde, we decided to drive to Tucson. I was born in Tucson, but had never been there. My parents moved to Washington state soon after I was born. Tucson was where my dad grew up. It was the place of his childhood stories. My mom had lived there for a short time after they were married. Being a girl from Tacoma, Washington, she had hated it. I was curious about my birthplace and their conflicting opinions.
Early Thanksgiving morning Grandma May and I hopped in the car. We started our drive from St. George, Utah to Tucson, Arizona to visit Aunt Cynde. We drove for hours. Google says it should take between 10 and 11 hours. I don't remember anymore how long it took. I do remember thinking that it seemed that we were taking all the back roads and that it was the first time I saw Las Vegas. Grandma wouldn't let me drive over the speed limit. She made me set the cruise control at 55 mph. When we finally arrived in Tucson we stayed for an hour. Yep, a whole hour. Then we got in the car and drove back to St. George. That was one of the craziest, most memorable trips I've ever taken.
Thanksgiving 1993 will always be memorable. It was the first Thanksgiving after my dad died. He died in October of that year from cancer. My mom and my three younger sisters flew in to Las Vegas and drove to St. George. Mike and I drove from Provo and my aunt Cynde's family arrived from Tucson. We met at Grandma May's trailer. We didn't all fit, so some of us stayed at grandma's friend's trailer. Her friend was out of town. Mike and I were assigned the other trailer along with my sisters. We spent the night playing games and searching for an open store in the middle of the night. We found a gas station open and bought the hardest Red Vines I have ever tried to eat. The next day we gathered with my dad's family who we hadn't met very many times and enjoyed each others company. My father's Native American foster sister even arrived with her family. I remember wishing it hadn't taken his death to bring us together.
Once my children started school a new tradition emerged. Waterford, the school I teach at and my children attend, has Grandparent's Day every year right before Thanksgiving break. Grandparent's Day is a half day when grandparents are invited to attend school with their grandchildren. My mom wanted to participate so she started coming to visit us every Thanksgiving. She's here right now and we look forward to her visit.
I've started to enjoy Thanksgiving more with age for a couple of reasons. First, as a teacher I get a break. Next, it's a fairly easy going holiday. I've only attempted to host it at my house twice, I think. I didn't volunteer easily. Usually we go to my in-laws, my mom included and take our assigned piece of the meal. I do little cooking, get to spend the day with family eating, watching football and playing games and I get several days off work. What's not to like?
Thanksgiving isn't my favorite holiday, but I don't dislike it. It's a simple holiday and simple is good sometimes. I don't mind Thanksgiving at all, it's just fine.
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