Boy's joke 3

What is brown and sticky?


A stick.

The Love Tree

If you have ever attended my school, or lived in the neighbourhood you would recognize this tree.  It stands in the middle of the very large playing field.  All of the other trees on the yard have been relatively newly planted. 

This is called the "Love Tree."

Legend has it that the Love Tree was so named because years ago, students carved their intials in the tree.  KB + RB etc.

If you look way up, you can still see some of the carvings.

This tree marks the boundaries of the play yard.  Students are not to go past the Love Tree.  I actually say that on the annoucements each September.  "Remember, don't go past the Love Tree at recess."

When I first visited the school, the June before I was to become principal, I asked a group of students to tell me about the recess rules.  They each referred to the Love Tree.

When I meet former students, most inquire if this tree is still standing, and if it still marks "out of bounds."

I find great comfort in this tree.  I think it's the history it holds, and represents.  But it's not static -- you can't say the tree never changes, it does with each season.  Just like the kids who play beneath it. 

Just like me.
KB + RB 4 ever.

learning somethin'

On Friday I was called urgently to the Grade 2 room by one of the special needs students. 
"Camera, Camera" he was calling.
I rushed with my camera to find out what the action was all about.
The "action" was this.

The caterpillar/cocoon/butterfly was opening it's new wings.

Several weeks ago, the caterpillar escaped it's jar-house.  The class looked all day for it -- under desks, bookshelves and in the book bins.  By the end of the day one of the girls had found that it was no longer the caterpillar, but a cocoon had formed on the Science bulletin board. 

They've been watching it every day since.

So here's the cool thing. 

On Friday morning, the class noticed some changes in the cocoon, so they watched it a little more regularly.  Then they watched the butterfly emerge, plump it's wings and finally spread them.  It took a good part of the day.

So the 20 Grade 2s stood this still, oooo-ing and ah-ing and exclaiming at every movement, every change.

It was an amazing thing to watch -- both the butterfly and the kids.

I love that this teacher "let the day go" so her students could be part of such an event.

I think more learning happened here, than any book, video, podcast or DVD could supply.

And I was reminded of the power of wonder.

sane or not sane? that is the question

My last few posts have contained such words as "insane," "crazy," and "MHI."  Got me a bit worried, reading them over.  Thought I'd better have a check in with me moment, just to clarify my actual state of mind.

Here's my findings.  I am not crazy in the literal sense.  However, I recognize there are those that would argue that point (Sis, DH, Boy, Girl etc) on any given day. 

Here's my reasoning.  I figure a crazy person thinks they are perfectly sane, and everyone else around them is nuts.  Me, I figure I have some MHI, and everyone else around me is perfectly sane and normal.  I see myself as the only nut in the crowd. 

If one recognizes their own craziness, it must mean they aren't actually.

Right?  RIGHT????

confession of insanity

I've been mulling over this post for a few days now.  I decided to write it, 'cause it's been the thing on my mind for several days, so I've got nuttin' else to post. I"ll warn you now, it might make you itchy, or scared of me....

Here we go.

We had a team of volunteers do head lice checks at our school this week.  Whenever the thought of headlice enters my head, I get itchy.  (You are right now too, aren't you?)

That afternoon I became convinced that I had head lice.  Absolutely convinced.  I called DH.  He told me to calm down.  Then I called Sis, because she is a hairdresser, and she knows how this would freak me out.
The call went something like this:

Me:  Sis, I think I have headlice.
Sis:  Are you itchy?
Me:  Yes.  Everywhere.
Sis:  How long has your head been itchy?
Me:  Since this afternoon.
Sis:  (pause) Since the headlice ladies came to your school to check the kids?  Since you started thinking about it?
Me:  Yes.  And I know it's bad.
Sis:  You are freaking out, aren't you?
Me:  Yes, I'm freaking out. 
Sis:  Calm down.  I will check your head when you get home tonight.
Me:  Sniff.  Sniff.  Okay.
Sis:   Don't freak out.
.....

So what did I do? 

I freaked out.  I changed babysitting plans because I didn't want my teenage friend in a house crawling with  lice.  I made Girl help me strip all the beds, gather the decorative cushions and quilts, collect all stuffed animals, doll clothes, towels, laundry etc.  We carried all of it to the basement.  We created a mountain of laundry.  Possibly 30 loads worth....

Then it occurred to me I ought to check Girl.  Nope, she didn't have any sign of bugs or nits.
But me, I was sure I was crawling with them.  I told Girl to stay away from me.

Then I went to Sis's house.  I proudly told her all I had done to start the disinfecting process. 
Then she checked my head.  She took her time; she went through each strand.
Then she declared, "you do not have headlice."

Me:  Are you sure?  I'm itchy.  I can feel things crawling.  It feels like I am infested.
Sis:  You are infested with a raging case of crazy...  (these aren't her exact words, but I know her well enough to know she thought I was nuts.)

So now, bug free, I have a month's worth of laundry to finish this weekend. 
I also know that a saner person might just gather up the quilts and throw pillows and put them back where they belong. 

But it's been established that I have MHI (mental health issues) about some things, so I just can't put them back; they've touched a laundry basket and the basement floor.  I have to sort, wash, dry and then replace.

While I do that, I will try really, really hard not to imagine bedbugs.

Crazy things make me happy

My spice cupboard makes me happy. 
Happy because it's all lined up.
Happy because it's labelled.
All is in order.  It's easy to find.  It's organized.
When I open the cupboard, this truly makes me feel all is right with the world.
Weird.

This makes me a bit happy too.  Not totally over-the-moon happy, but definitely grin-generating.
I'd smile wider if the lasagne noodles were in containers, not their boxes.  And I'd be absolutely giddy if the lids were all the same colour.
But I'm pretty-okay-happy because I can find everything and the labels are all the same font.

I know.  Weird.  But that's the way I roll (and smile).

Lacey

This is Lacey.  I borrowed her a few times this summer for a class in Girl's horse shows.

Lacey has reminded me of the thing I was missing, that I didn't even know I was missing. 

I have missed horses, and I have missed riding.  (It's been 20 years...)

And now the show season is over and I have no idea what I will do with this new/old void. 

I do know that Girl feels the same way about riding Strawberry Shortcake.