Monday, October 31, 2005
Halloween should not happen on a Monday
I have been corrected for the previous post in that oldest son Joe was a construction worker with a beard. The tool he used, and which had a light source, was a new-fangled measuring device for figuring out the square-footage of the work site.
My friend who has a 3-year-old daughter updated me in that the door-to-door time would be from 5pm to 8pm. It has rained all day, cold and blowy, but I did turn on the porch light, just in case anyone could brave the weather.
At 7:40pm, several college students came to the porch and asked for non-perishable groceries for a charity event. They refused any of the chocolate bars, and when I said I had no canned goods ready because I had given somewhere else, they just thanked me for my time and went on their way out into the cold, wet darkness.
Seems like this whole holiday has been a downer for me. I’m stuck on doing that Comp paper. The one that must be 10 pages in length. My guys tell me it is emotional, I fret too much, just get to it, only a Rough Draft due tomorrow. Total Stressville.
Maybe I should ask my therapist. Even she says that what must be done just must be done and face up to it.
I can do it when I am down to the deadline, when I get a chance for Revisions. Why can’t I plan far enough in advance? I’ve been reading sources for a week. I had about 3 pages typed on Saturday and got frustrated and said Discard because I didn’t think it was good enough and I would never use it.
My everloving spouse persuaded me that some caffeine would be good for me. In mid-afternoon, he drove us in the VW Beetle Bug (which has no windshield wipers for awhile) to the coffee shoppe. I got a cup of the new Peppermint Mocha, and that cheered me up but did not do any typing.
Although the lady at the library said she likes the apples embroidered on my sweatshirt. I suppose that should count for something….
~~love and Huggs, Diane
Sunday, October 30, 2005
Happy Halloween!
Our young sons.
Joe (age 8) was an alien from outer space, complete with a raygun that lit up (his dad used an old camera flash).
Lucas (age 5) was a crossing guard.
Mom the sailor girl.
Chris (age 3) was a fireman.
This photo was taken the last year that I can remember taking the boys trick-or-treating—1988. The reason I can say so is because I went back to a time-clock job the end of May 1989 and was working Halloween nights pretty much for years until they got old enough to go out with their friends.
Their dad took them a couple times, and was great with costumes, but all the organizing and chaos was not up his alley. There was one year that our town outright banned going door-to-door, and another year when it was permitted only in the afternoon before dark. I remember Lucas saying there was no fun in that!
This year, I didn’t even see in the paper when trick-or-treating was going on, so I never turned on the porch light. I guess that bag of snack-size Mr. Goodbars will have to get consumed here in the house.
~~love and Huggs, Diane
Saturday, October 29, 2005
Recipe for Apple Cake
A couple weeks ago I bought a bag of apples. For the first few days, I was eating two or three a day because they were so fresh and yummy. I gave a few away to kids at HCC.
Last weekend I made Apple Crisp and its whole panful disappeared in a couple days.
Yesterday, I got home from class and could smell apples. The rest of the bag had been forgotten next to the leg of the kitchen table.
I decided Apple Cake should finish off the fruit.
I went through my box and came across a recipe written in my sister-in-law’s handwriting on notebook paper. She’s a very busy business owner, so for her to have taken the time to write this down meant she really really likes it! I believe the last time I made this cake was when Middle Son was in grade school, so, yeah, it’s been quite awhile.
My aching feet can tell you why. The prep time is quite lengthy, and I did most of it standing at the counter. I suppose I could have peeled the apples while sitting down, but that would have been a very big temptation for the cats to use their curiosity factors.
However, my guys and a couple friends and I agree that this cake is a worthwhile endeavor.
APPLE CAKE
Preheat oven to 350o
The pan is 13x9x2 but requires no prep
In mixing bowl, sift together:
3 cups flour
1 teaspoon salt
1 teaspoon soda
Set aside.
*****************************
1 cup nuts, chopped (walnuts or pecans)
4 cups Apples peeled, cored, and chopped
Prep, measure, and set aside in separate dishes.
******************************************
In a large bowl:
3 eggs, beaten together
2 cups sugar
1 1/2 cup oil
Cream together a couple minutes with mixer on medium until bright yellow.
*****************************************************
Stir in by hand with a strong arm and a sturdy spoon
2 teaspoons vanilla
then the flour mixture
then the nuts and apples
**********************************
Pour into pan and bake in pre-heated oven for about 45 minutes until tester pick comes out clean and the cake pulls away from the pan a little bit.
Meanwhile, prepare Topping in a medium saucepan.
1 cup brown sugar, 1/2 cup unsalted butter (which works best, but I guess margarine could be used) melted together
then add 1/4 cup milk.
Bring to a low boil and stir for 2 1/2 minutes.
Let it cool to just above room temperature in the pan.
While cake is hot out of the oven, pour the topping gently over all.
Let it sit for about 30 minutes. Some of the topping will be absorbed to make the cake moist.
Ready to cut while still warm in about 45 minutes.
Great with vanilla ice cream or whipped cream or even warm applesauce.
Friday, October 28, 2005
Pretty Thread Fun
Pretend you are a 16-month-old toddler.
Doesn’t this item look interesting?
All the pretty colors, and it’s up high. Ooohh—just out of reach.
But the lady sitting next to it is a stranger, and that means danger—proceed with caution.
Except the lady who owns that pretty thing up there is a mom of three sons, and worked for a long time in a daycare center, and really and truly knows the inner workings of a boy’s toddler mind.
This is what happened in the HCC cafeteria yesterday. I finished my Math problems in a record 45 minutes, and didn’t really want to be in the library looking for another source for my Composition paper. The paper ain’t due ‘til Tuesday, what’s the rush?
So I went to the cafeteria and pulled out my ever-present companion crochet supplies. I was making a bookmarker from itty-bitty granny squares, so easy and no pattern needed.
The little guy is the son of another student, and she brought him out from the daycare room to have lunch with her.
They were sitting at the next table, without a high chair.
No such thing at college.
Of course he’s at the moving stage, so he got down off his chair no problem. And that pretty thread up there was just calling out so loud that I could hear an echo.
He moved in closer, then backed off when I pulled off some more thread to do my work. This left a loop of string hanging down beside my chair. Now THAT was Fascinating. His mother cautioned him back, but I waved my hand in a sign of it being okay, no bother.
I pulled off about a yard so’s I could continue working, then snipped the thread, leaving the tail dangling in a most tantalizing fashion. What small hand could resist?
He came over and touched it, and when I did not push him away, he got bolder and tugged on it.
With only a slight nudge of help from me, the whole ball came tumbling down, hit the floor and began to unwind, since he was still holding the end.
I swear, this is better than watching my cats with a wad of aluminum foil.
He looked dumbfounded. How could this have happened?
His mother began to admonish him, saying to give it back, let the nice lady alone.
I told her that it’s quite all right. If I didn’t want him near then I would say so and take back the thread.
Besides, no one can resist those colors.
He chased down the ball and brought it back to me, offering it up so innocently.
Then he said, plain as you please, “Tie” and held up his arm. Even at that young age, he knows that string needs to have knots.
So I cut off about 10 inches and tied a nice bow around his wrist. He fingered the loops, but did not loosen it.
His mom said that it was time to go back to his room because she had to get to class. I was holding the ball of thread, and he reached out and touched the pretty colors with one hand and my wrist with his other and said “Bye.”
My heart just melted.
How much they know and can figure out at that age.
What joy can be had with string of many colors.
~~love and Huggs, Diane
Wednesday, October 26, 2005
Shopping and my Guys
The guys and I had lunch today, down at Latte Time with sandwiches and chips. There was actually a bit of a Noon Rush, and I am very excited to see that happening, since I really like the place and want to keep going there! Purely selfish motives, but I’m glad he’s getting good customers.
Having the afternoon off, more or less, (the Composition paper’s next little bit of writing hovers), I ran a few errands and did the grocery shopping. I really don’t like grocery shopping, even in the middle of the day when most of the customers are little old ladies or moms with little children.
All the noise, the bright lights, the decisions. When a package gets a new look, I am lost. I’m very visual, but my favorite type of potato chips has a bag which went from a light tan to a golden color. I had to read the fine print to make sure this is the one I wanted, even knowing the company that makes ‘em.
Chris had a request for a special shampoo. They all look alike to me. I stood in that aisle for several minutes before I could figure out which end of the shelf holds shampoo and which one conditioner. Then, and only then, did I have a clue about the particular bottle.
Having survived my circuitous route through the store, I had to get everything up onto the belt in front of the cashier. Just as I plunked down the case of bottled water, she asked if I needed help with lifting anything. I told her that my doctor says I need more exercise, so I’m trying to work some into the everyday routine. My wrist wasn’t happy with me, though, and my left hand went numb for a few seconds while I was driving home. I believe I’ll have to sleep with my splint on tonight. I don’t want the carpal tunnel problems returning.
There are a couple pictures below the fold.
More Shopping and my Guys... below the fold
Monday, October 24, 2005
An early picture
This was taken the Autumn of 1983. I love my man in that hat! It’s too bad it was covering his beautiful hair.
I can’t remember why we were sitting on the floor beside the refrigerator, probably doing something with the middle son who had begun to crawl about that time. Our oldest son (then about age three and a half) was the photographer.
~~love and Huggs, Diane
Sunday, October 23, 2005
Our 25th Wedding Anniversary
This week, we celebrated our 25th wedding anniversary. Husband says I am trying to do too much in a small space and time and that I should spread out 25 years of information and keep you all on the edge of your seats and wanting more.
Beginning at the beginning…..there are some pictures coming…..
More Our 25th Wedding Anniversary... below the fold
Wednesday, October 19, 2005
This is the Life
Friday, October 14 there were no classes at HCC for a mid-term Fall Break. I decided I was going to do something that I wanted to do, and not feel guilty at all about it. No worrying about research or Math problems or church stuff.
I called Husband and said I would be at Latte Time, and it being a Friday afternoon, maybe he could knock off early and come on over.
I got there about 2:30, crochet bag in hand. I carried my Cappuccino Smoothie to a table in the corner and sat with my back to the room. Spread the pattern pages out, set up the thread holder, put the ball onto it, chose the correct size hook, and made my slip knot loop. Aahh…..
Leisure Arts Leaflet 2594 Crocheted Bookmarks c1994 and I couldn’t find another copy anywhere, so it must be out-of-print.
An acquaintance came over and said she hadn’t seen me in awhile. Idle chatting, while my hook lay still on the table. I downed an inch of my smoothie in the meantime. Then she went on her way.
I got three chain loops going. In comes a family, is what I gathered from their voices. Next thing I know, two little girls about ages 7 and 4 are staring at my pretty color of thread and wooden stand. Their questions and comments were the most natural thing to take in and answer, and the dad had to call their names 3 times before they were willing to leave this lady’s crochet curiosity.
My smoothie is half way gone, and I ripped out row One seven times. I finally figured out that the pattern is wrong by the count of one stitch. One stitch on the first row means the rest coming later don’t have a chance.
Husband comes in about then. I was on row Three. Which I pulled out 4 times. The trial and error went on from there.
I got another smoothie so that he wouldn’t have to drink alone.
One thing about this pattern is that it repeats. I lost count of my rows, and finally just marked the numbers in the margin of the page.
More This is the Life... below the fold
Tuesday, October 18, 2005
A Glimmer of Hope
Tonight’s class:
Composition papers Graded and returned.
My source annotated bibliography earned a 25/30.
My Paper 2 Revision went from
Not Ready for Grading to a 97/100.
But the surprise was the paper written last week as an In Class assignment.
The topic was VALUES.
Sit there in the lab at the computer with the awful keyboard and the mouse so old it still has a little ball on the bottom and TYPE.
No sources, no revisions.
Straight thinking and going at it for 50 minutes.
I tied in the movie POLLYANNA, and a story about picking up pebbles on the beach, and reading aloud to the sons at bedtime.
The command for Spellcheck and Done…..
The grade? a 99/100 with a pretty purple capital A and the word Excellent written beside it.
Whew! Maybe this writing gig ain’t so bad after all.
Update: Wednesday morning. Music Appreciation research paper on Guitar History came back with an A+ /100%.
As if the mother of a Guitar Performance Major could do any less.
I am gonna have to ride this for as long as I can hold on.
~~love and Huggs, Diane
Saturday, October 15, 2005
Being 20 Being Right
The other day, when I looked at Kristine’s Random and Odd for Stuff Portrait Friday, one of the assigned pictures was the best one I have of ME.
That was as far as I got because of classwork and crochet angst. I figured out a how to do a new pattern (in about four and a half hours) and the result is quite beautiful, if I do say so myself. Its picture will be for a post at a later time.
Husband says if I would be willing to put such extremes of effort and pride into a decent research paper for Composition, I would be passing my class with flying colors.
Well, anyway, I went hunting for pictures of me which I might be willing to post for all the world to see. I came across this one, taken the summer of 1976.
My graduation picture and almost a Licensed Practical Nurse. Twenty years old.
About a million feelings came flooding back because this was on a page in an album with a bunch of other friends, most of whom are still nurses. The one of the guy across the page (so that he would be rubbing up against me when the book is closed) died in a motorcycle accident when he was only age 38, so here came the tears welling up for how much time we have lost. His wife is re-married, his daughters in college. Pardon me, my lip is quivering again….May he rest in peace.
Every time I look at this picture I see the nurse I wanted to become. This was the person I thought about whenever I read all the romance novels about heroines who happened to be working as nurses. This was the nurse I idolized when I was a teenaged Candystriper and thought nursing was so glamorous and everybody looked up to them as angels sent to ease the suffering of the less fortunate.
I was going to be the best doggone nurse since Clara Barton.
Isn’t that a nice picture of a NURSE?
About a week after my appointment when this photo was taken at the portrait studio, maybe two months before our actual graduation ceremony, I was on the last week of rotation in Pediatric (Children’s Wing) clinicals. The Instructor from Hell had earned her reputation as a hardass, and every day at least one of the ten of us in my Cluster had tears dripping on the way to the parking lot.
We were going to know how to be proper nurses if it killed us in the trying.
ssshhh I’m thinking that most of the following story got written as a comment over at Army of Mom’s weblog, but, because of finding the picture, I have to write about it here again, these months later.
Pediatric Wing—I got an assignment to do a New Admittance, coming up from the ER. A boy about six years old, the fretful type, with a hovering mother. Oh joy.
The kid maybe I could handle, the mother not so well.
I took his vital signs, as if they hadn’t been done 20 minutes before, downstairs. I began asking questions, looking at the child, and using all my experience of years of babysitting and being a teacher’s assistant in Vacation Bible School. The mother answered all of them, the boy sitting there wiggling around on the sheet like he wanted to put a new hole in it to give the seamstress something to do.
I looked over the notes from ER. Scrotum reddened.
Oh joy. I get to check his private parts.
I told him in my best nice nurse voice what I needed to do, told him what position to take and looked at the area usually covered by underwear. His mother was talking at my side the whole time, saying things like “he won’t leave himself alone down there. He’s always wiggling and scratching.”
It reminded me of when my neighbor’s dog was scootching his backside along the sidewalk and giving this low howl/growl of torture. Turns out his anal sacs needed treatment.
I finished what I needed for my chart work, and went down the hall to the nurse’s station. The ER doc was there writing notes for Admittance until the private pediatrician could be notified that one of his patients was at the hospital. My Instructor had been with another student, but checked my notes to make sure I hadn’t left anything off before putting the pages into the book.
While I was standing there waiting for the doctor to get done, I happened to lean over the counter and say “You might order the Lab test for pinworms, ‘cause that’s what he’s got.”
You would have thought I had cast a spell on them. Everybody in the nurse’s station froze in mid-motion. The doctor, ward clerk, the head nurse, my Instructor. Even the phone was silent, which never happens on Peds.
I realized I had horribly violated a forged steel link in the chain-of-command. Someone in a green and white student’s uniform had given directions to a full-fledged medical doctor, in front of many others between us in the hierarchy.
Although my Instructor was all white around her tight lips and the vein at her temple was as purple as a plum, the Head Nurse found her voice first.
“Now, how would YOU know that?” she asked in a much too syrupy voice.
Oh, gawd, all that studious nursified gazing I had done at the portrait studio would be for nothing. I was never gonna be a nurse now. Me and my mouth in trouble again. So many times this has happened before. I made it to age 20 and still don’t know when it’s time to shut up. However, I was age 20, and old enough to know one must be right some of the time or else not be able to look in the mirror for the rest of my days.
I was right this time, my gut instincts and previous experience told me so.
Since the Head Nurse was the one who asked the question, I looked at her while giving the answer.
“Well, he lives in a house about six blocks from where I grew up. I had pinworms when I was about his age. At that time, the doctor said it was because I bit my fingernails. His scrotum is red, with darker red dot marks around the anus. His mother says he is constantly wiggling and scratching himself down there. He bites his fingernails, a known method of transmission.”
I turned my head and looked at the doctor. “My observations are written in the admitting nurse’s notes. You can read them after I put them into the chart you have there.”
The muscle of his jaw worked itself into a knot the size of a walnut. He slammed shut the book, dropped it on the desk and went striding off down the hall.
My Instructor grabbed me by the elbow and led me to an unoccupied room, and closed the door behind us.
I stood at attention, staring at the wood work at the edge of the window.
She walked around me in circles, getting in closer to my ears at times. The gist of it being that a pissant student nurse has no ideas and no voice. I have blocked out all the words she said except for “NEVER EVER speak to a doctor in THAT Tone of voice AGAIN!”
When we came out of the room, she told me to go be with my patient. I got to his room to find his mother getting him dressed in his street clothes. She looked at me, smiled sheepishly, and said the doctor himself came in and said they could go, he would not be admitted. She should pick up his written prescription at the nurse’s desk and get it filled at the pharmacy down the street.
I watched them leave, then put some pent up energy into stripping the bed. The child had been wiggling around on it for a half hour, so it definitely needed cleaning.
The rest of that afternoon, indeed, the week left of Peds Rotation, not another word of the incident was mentioned by the staff, my classmates, nor the Instructor.
I showed up and did what was expected to the best of my ability and the Instructor ignored me except for the most basic words pertaining to my assignments. I don’t know if there was ever a write-up in my permanent file, nor if anyone ever talked about it behind my back.
In October 1976, I earned my Certificate of Practical Nursing and the gold pin which comes with it. I passed my Board exams a month later.
These days, my Academic Advisor is trying to get me to take that route again for my education. I’m told that current doctors and nurses have a better team approach to patient care.
I have my heart set on babies and daycare, so my classes pertain to an Associate Degree in Early Childhood Education.
I like working with non-sick children. Even if the diagnosis is only pinworms.
Looking at that picture, more than 29 years have passed. So many ideas squelched, dreams dropped and forgotten.
Back in the day, I had a wall poster which said
The old understand more about being young than the young know about growing old.
You could not have told me that when I was 20.
Life must be lived to understand certainties.
~~love and Huggs, Diane
Tuesday, October 11, 2005
Reading a little something
This is the most fun I’ve had reading in weeks.
The book arrived, as ordered online, through the mail, and I managed to bring it from the mailbox to the back steps.
Then Chris got his bicycle from the garage to head off to class.
I sat down on the top step and wondered at how thin and small the book is. I began reading, maybe just one chapter. Homework and housework could wait just a few minutes.
Next thing I know, the complete book was done, and I closed it, with a sigh escaping my lips as I realized I had been holding my breath for the whole last page.
Chris came riding his bike back up the sidewalk. I had read all of Lilies of the Field by William E. Barrett in about an hour.
What a pleasant distraction!
~~love and Huggs, Diane
Friday, October 07, 2005
Some Pretty Things
I am so p-o’d. I had this wonderful post almost ready, with the picture coded in and everything, and Windoze decides to do some sort of Updating.
With about a minute’s warning, all tabs that I had Open just closed down and the computer shut itself blank, then re-booted.
I tried to stop it, I tried to save the writing, then dark screen. DoF will probably come home and tell me I have some horrid germ that will take hours and diskfuls to overcome and refresh. Eerrgh!
Maple Lawn Homes of Eureka, Illinois is having its Fall Fest this Saturday. I sent over my latest crocheted things for the Crafts Booth.
There is a pretty shades of yellow and white baby afghan, blessed by my friend Amy when we were at Women’s Retreat.
There are four bookmarks, admired by other folks in the waiting room where I was working while Husband was having some brain tests.
Just for good measure, I practiced doing some potholders from the pattern I got in my crochet class last summer. There are four of them, all made from yarn given to me. I think they are too dark, but a friend pointed out that the kitchen stains won’t show too much. Everything is cotton of one form or another.
I like working with cotton lately. This picture doesn’t do it justice, but the other one with the flash looks all washed out.
I haven’t felt like getting creative with the camera.
I got these done last weekend, knowing I am getting into the deep stuff at mid-term for classes. I haven’t picked up a crochet hook for almost a week. Another reason for me being cranky it seems.
You folks are too too nice to me.
Thanks for all your far-off support.
~~love and Huggs, Diane
ps I am procrastinating on a Friday afternoon and came across a link to Broadway World where there is a cool video sneak peek at Rosie O’Donnell as Golde in the play Fiddler on the Roof.
The bottle dance is so beautiful, and the song 25 years is so pertinent for us this month.
Thursday, October 06, 2005
Round and backwards
Brenda’s answer about the cows and chickens is correct. I’ll be posting the answers soon.
Meanwhile, I am still doing documentation for that lesson, figuring 4 Math problems for homework, writing a 2 pager about guitar history for MA class, and have to come up with a topic proposal for Composition, alongside doing a re-write for the last paper, which came back with a ‘Not Ready for Grading’ note on it.
Five pages 3 sources to shuffle and print.
I H-A-T-E college classes. Trying to meet someone else’s idea of what is good writing and train of thought to follow. There’s reasons why this is my Fifth try, and it’s only for an Associate Degree. My therapist says that nothing worthwhile comes easily. If it does, we wouldn’t appreciate it enough.
People keep telling me I’m so smart. Why have I never been good at earning money?
I got my Social Security report awhile back. Dismal and dreary wages over the years.
Six years with nothing at all: big round Zeroes in the little boxes. The best time of my life when I was home with my sons and I didn’t have to worry about meetings on snowy days and could walk the floor half the night with a baby cutting a tooth, and then sleep until Noon.
The salary of my spouse is much better. His generosity with it is legendary. HE already has a Bachelor’s Degree and would Just Love to be taking college classes for a Master’s and learning new stuff and debating ideas with people smart in his areas of interest.
This is a very lopsided partnership, and I’m doing the dragging.
I have 5 pages of typing to do for something else. It has to earn a grade of B, and not turning it in at all (which is my first thought) means I flunk the class. A required class within a podunk community college is about to cause me a nervous breakdown, even after I dropped an Ed Psyche class so I can focus on Composition.
Going round and round like this for days has not helped much. I guess I’ll have a cup of hot chocolate then face this screen again.
Sigh….
It’s a long time until the end of May.
~~love and Huggs, Diane
Tuesday, October 04, 2005
Math problems
In a comment for the previous post, Anne asked some valid questions.
“I got lost between the math lesson and the recital of the apple cake recipe. What happened to the child’s lessons? How does your math grade hang in the balance? How does the child’s? What topic are you working on with the child? Does the child despise, enjoy or feel apathetic towards mathematics? Was the recipe a part of the math lesson? Cooking is great for ratios, fractions, measurement (obviously) and estimation lessons.”
And they are all quite reasonable. I’ll try to elaborate.
The apple cake was baked by my friend (the child’s mother) because she wanted to do something nice and have a snack because I was coming to their house.
She mixed and baked it while the kids were in school, so there was no lesson involved. Well, maybe when a friend comes visiting, have a something to eat and serve iced tea.
I read aloud the recipe just to be a smart aleck and to entertain the children while their mom was slicing cake and putting it onto plates, and pouring tea or water or milk into glasses, and setting the table.
My math grade depends on how well I set up the situation, the child’s response to the lesson, and my write-up/follow-up given to my Instructor for a grade.
I had beads and bowls to use as counters and holders, extra scratch paper, questions to ask, problems to solve. The child is simply doing this as a favor for me, and because he likes to have the extra attention, and he likes Math. His school grade does not depend on this in any way.
My assignment is to explain to the child and watch how he goes about getting the answers. These problems are aimed for late Second Grade, early Third Grade. The student I was with is early Second Grade, but he’s the closest boy I know within the age group.
He did solve all the problems in a typical and timely fashion.
“Have your student solve these nonroutine problems. Report how the problems were solved and discuss the solutions in relation to Direct Modeling.”
Problem 1) 19 children are going to the zoo in a minibus. The minibus has 7 seats. How many children will have to sit 3 to a seat, and how many will sit 2 to a seat?
Problem 2) Maggie has 3 boxes of cupcakes with 4 cupcakes in each box. She eats 5 cupcakes. How many does she have left?
Problem 3) In a field with cows and chickens, I counted 30 feet and 11 heads. How many cows were in the field? How many chickens were in the field?
See how well you do. If you need to, get some beads and bowls and lay them out. Or you can use tally marks, count on your fingers, and plenty of scratch paper.
Consider that you do not know multiplication, very little subtraction, nor how to “borrow” from the other column of numbers.
~~love and Huggs, Diane
Oh, and Anne, you are a very good teacher.
Asking for clarification, expecting thorough answers.
Same stuff my Composition Instructor is trying to hammer home inside my head. There’s a 10 page research paper looming in the weeks ahead. This weblog is bringing in some good practice, eh?
Monday, October 03, 2005
Grade, Math Lesson, Apples, and a Tuba
For a Monday, this was a good one.
It began with Music Appreciation class. He passed back papers and mine had a grade of an A and a note saying I had done a thorough job of background research for each name, and the description is concise. The other was a day’s class notes, which he surprised us by saying “pass in the sheet of paper you have in front of you”. Mine did not have doodles nor a splotch of blood from pulling my cuticles, for which I am forever grateful. Its grade had an A+ and “good interactive notes”. Husband asked how good does it feel to get an A, but this one came easily. If I don’t take good notes in class, I cannot ever expect to know anything for a test and beyond.
The other thing that happened in class was that he asked an open-ended question about the Reformation. I asked if he meant when Martin Luther nailed his complaints on the door of the chapel in Wittenberg. He looked relieved, and said Exactly that!
Who woulda thunk that something learned from a Humanities class at Milligan College in 1978 would come back and save us in the knick of time.
This afternoon, I had a meeting with a Second Grader and we are working on Math problems. He did a bunch of work, I have to describe our lesson session, and my college Math grade hangs in the balance. His mom baked a most delicious apple cake to help us over the rough spots. I picked up the recipe paper and began reading the glowing description of this cake’s greater assets. I did it with all the skills I learned in Oral Communications class, and by the end I had an adult lady and several children laughing out loud! Perhaps my next calling is as an actress.
Move over Rosie O’!!!
On the way home, I came upon a roadside stand with a big sign for APPLES. I pulled in and there was a whole cart full of sacks of apples and a list for the prices and a box for the money. It is the Honor System, and I did my best calculation and left the required amount. I chomped into a red beauty before I got back into the car. Oh yes, Yum-mee.
Tonight, there was a recital of the Chamber Winds in one of the music halls on the ISU campus. I am responsible to attend two concerts this semester, and will receive credit in my Music class for going to each. I walked down (the parking problem is unending) plus I need the exercise walking home after sitting for an hour and a half.
I never before realized how big a tuba is! and the fella playing it looked like he might have stroke on any note.
My position is a bit unique. I am a parent of a Music Major student; I am a college student (albeit up the street the other direction, but my credits should transfer to State) and have to write my opinionated report; and I sat in front of a couple who are our neighbors and are ISU Music Department faculty—the coaches of the performers.
I know just enough about each part to keep interested to see what happens next.
My, so late already. Time does fly when busy.
~~love and Huggs, Diane