Jack rested his head on the window and kept his gaze on the interstate traffic.
I am always curious as to what others are thinking when they are in a stare. It thrills me to no end when my boys share their thoughts.....
Without moving, Jack begins speaking.... sharing his thoughts on Highschool and college kids "seriously" dating and their several short lived relationships.
"I just want to say to them, 'you aren't going to have any pieces of your heart left. You are giving them all away.' "
I am overwhelmed by the deep thoughts of my 17 year old. He has always been so mature and wise beyond his years. I want to express my impression...
"Aw, jack! That is a very mature and romantic...."
Suddenly Jack snaps his head up and, not listening to me, he interrupts my motherly praise.
"Hey! I'm so lucky! That dog just played peek a boo with me!"
An RV passes by his window and he continues the excited chatter about a dog popping his head up in the back window.
Jeff, with the same thought as me, quietly comments....
The moment with the mature young man is over.
Normal 17 year old boy returns to our reality.
My entire church congregation was on a train. The train was packed tightly, as all classes were having their Christmas parties on the train. I was in charge of kids and adults, making sure their activities were fun, organized and successful. I struggled to patrol the classes because the train hall was packed with commuters and clothing kiosks. I would grab the clothes with their hangers and carry them with me, just so I could squeeze around the clothes racks.
Soon the clothes started falling off the hangers and beautiful handmade clothing scattered over the floor, being trampled by the crowd.
My friend, Dina Peebles called my cell, "Margaret, nobody is in attendance at our class party. You need to make phone calls and get people here to play the games."
I decided I would call my family members and make them pretend they were part of our class. I hit contacts for the first call.
"Hey, this is Aunt Margaret. Who is this?"
"Tamara....who are you?"
I checked the number on the phone. I had not called my sister's family. I had called Luanne Donoghue's house.
"Oh! I have called the wrong number. Of course you wouldn't know who Aunt Margaret is! I am not YOUR aunt..."
I nervously rambled on....."er...can I talk to Luanne?"
Then I dropped the phone and it was buried under all the clothes and the mob was kicking it around.
In tears, I caught the phone and put it to my ear.
Luanne's husband was yelling. Who is this? We don't know you!
"Well, actually you do, but I need you to go play games at our class Christmas party.."
I was interrupted with, "Luanne said to tell you she is sick." CLICK
I had somehow made my way to the end of the train and 2 year old Max was sick in a bed. His fever was so high he was delusional and crying for his mom.
"I am here! I am here!" I tried to pick him up to comfort him.
"You aren't momma!"
I suddenly feel my tooth crumbling and I pulled out the tooth pieces.
An intricate ivory carving....
6 year old Jack looks at the ivory carved tooth piece, "my British History didn't say our teeth looked like that!!"
"We don't have British teeth." I explained....and then I questioned..
"Why are you studying British history in kindergarten?"
Jack rolled his eyes, "because you gave me all Highschool subjects! I am a stressed kindergartener, mom!"
I looked around at all the chaos that I was failing to manage. "Ugh! I am such an idget!"
Camille Holmes angrily spins around and gasps, "how could you say that word in front of all these kids?" She was so angry, she was spitting!
Confused I replied, "idget? It means idiot."
She angrily put two pink bows in my hair as punishment.
I woke up as train steam began to burn my forehead.
I woke with a migraine.
I am ready to revive the One Room Schoolhouse.
Teacher, counselor, disciplinarian, principal, and superintendent...
Those are my middle names. Those are my adjectives....
Those are my personalities that meet me in the early waking hours, converse with me on the weekends, and unwind with me in the evenings.
This cool weather brings back memories of early morning classes in my home, with my own two sons.
The heat would kick on to take the chill off the house as the sun begrudgingly rose over the city.
Once we put away our math manipulatives, we made hot chocolate and wrapped ourselves in our chairs, for reading.
By the end of the science projects, it was time for playing in the leaves, while I started dinner and prepared for that day's behavior training student to arrive.
If I found an old abandoned barn, made it cozy (with indoor plumbing), don't you think parents would send their children to The Classic School of MAZ?
And because of Squatters Rights, couldn't I eventually own the barn?
My students would receive
Fine and gross motor development
age appropriate academics
education in their learning styles while strengthening the weaker learning styles
Vocational skills as well as college preparatory academics
Hard and soft workforce skills
....these successful individuals
And MAZ in her fashionable little black dress
Would be a dream come true...