Amazing Moments

It all started this morning with a tweet to @mr_fines, a Kindergarten teacher in my PLN on Twitter.  Within minutes, Mr. Jon Fines, was tweeting back lots of great technology lesson ideas to use with K-kids. At that moment, collaboration went global and energy surged! My colleague Jenny and I had been brainstorming and planning together for a bit before we tapped the Twitter network.  When Fines chimed in, it was energizing, like a firework exploding with bright colors in a dark sky. Our exchange went like this: “ I teach them to open Word,  increase font size, change font, then type the letters of the alphabet in order. Keyboarding+ Letter Assessment,” Fines tweeted. “GREAT ideas!!! Thanks so much! We have Paint and Word, so will give that a try. Any Christmas ideas?” I asked. “This is one of our Christmas favs. I use on IWB but PC's are great http://sprintsweets.com/ & http://bit.ly/8YSLHV is also a fun one,” Fines replied. “You made my day!!! I LOVE these sites!!! Can

I was on Twitter yesterday and ran across a link from @cybraryman1 on Random Acts of Kindness. The story I read was about a couple who gives a new crisp $50 bill to a waitress at a random restaurant right before Christmas.   What a great idea!  Giving something nice to someone who is not expecting anything is just as much fun as receiving a gift.   Giving a $50 bill not only made that person’s day, but will be a story they will share for the rest of their life. I was once a recipient of a random act of kindness and I will never forget the joy, disbelief, and happiness that flowed through me.  Here is my story. I had dreamed of owning a piano for many years. After I was married, I visited our local music store and fell in love with a Baldwin Acrosonic piano.  I picked up a glossy flyer with the beautiful cherry piano that included all the details and started saving for it.  I would go to Schmitt Music often and play the piano on the show room floor, then go home and keep saving.

Our first snow of the year ushered in a calm start to the week-end.  It was the perfect kind of day to just stay home, snuggle up, read a book, or even clean out a crayon drawer. Our crazy crayon drawer was overflowing with crayons,  like foam running over the top of a glass of bubbly soda.  Every end of the school year, the kids dump the contents of their pencil boxes into the crayon drawer, so to say it was full was an understatement   Every color had to be represented at least two dozen times if not more. My son looked up at me and said, “Mom, are we crayon hoarders?” I had to laugh. “No, son, but we could be if we keep buying more than we need and don’t share, “ I replied. Having a sea of crayons got me thinking about a time when there was only one special crayon box. This special crayon box had exactly eight colors. They were the fat crayons, perfect for all sizes of fingers that would use them over the years.  These crayons resided in the top drawer of the buffet in my g

Recently I ran in the Race for the Cure. Every corner I turned there were cheerleaders right there to give all of us runners encouragement.  Their enthusiasm and energy were invaluable.  As I was running a steep hill in the middle of the course, I felt myself losing steam, just like a balloon with the air seeping out.  I was going flat.  Then, there they were, the cheerleaders telling me I could do it and that the top of the hill was just ahead. I soaked in those encouraging words and replayed them over and over as my feet pounded in rhythm up the hill.  They knew I could do it and so did I!  Because they believed in me, I knew I must keep going. I needed to dig down deep, push through the pain, find a new gear, keep the legs moving, and finish the race. The encouraging words from the cheerleaders were personal and meaningful and inspired me to keep running the race.   Educators are like those cheerleaders, they have the ability to encourage students everyday in a meaningful way.  O

What can be said about the calloused hand from a life time of hard work? This hand belonged to my grandpa who was a German immigrant to the United States shortly after the end of World War I. Times were tough in Germany and he embarked on a voyage to America in hopes of finding a better life.   A non-English speaker with only a second grade education, he was at the mercy of those he met. His path eventually took him to Kansas where he worked on a farm, met and married my grandma, and started a family.  Needless to say, they didn't have much. For shortly after arriving, the stock markets crashed and World War II began.   He worked long hours as a farmer and a heavy equipment operator to support his family.  Even though he had a job, things were scarce.  They had what they needed, but luxuries such as toys, new shoes, or new clothing was something unheard of.  Kids had to use their imagination and pretend.  Toys R Us was decades from opening and a welfare system did not exist.  I

“Always date your mate,” a wise woman whispered in my ear at my wedding 20 years ago.  The words she said as well as the timing of her advice struck me as bizarre at the time.  “Seriously? Who wouldn’t go out on dates with their husband,” I thought, dismissing the comment.   Twenty years later, that advice is so welcome and needed.    I heard myself recalling those words one Friday night last fall, as I headed one direction with a couple of kids to high school football game and my hubby took off with the other two in another direction.   I don’t even think we said hi as we met each other in the garage ready to zoom off in different directions.  When we finally got home that evening, it was late and we were exhausted.  We collapsed into bed and we were out in seconds. I don’t think we moved all night. I woke up in the morning reflecting on those words, “date your mate.”  When was our last date? Why did we quit dating?  The answer is easy.  The intensity of raising children, the demands

Someone once told me a long time ago that it is impossible to be grateful and unhappy at the same time.  I have found this is so true.  No matter how bad a day I had, I could always find something to be grateful for, even if it was as simple as an earth to live on and air to breathe.  Every time I was grateful, I felt so much better. It naturally raised my spirits.    As a family, I started a tradition of sharing what we are grateful for at the dinner table when the kids were very young.  This tradition still stands today. Each person gets a turn to share what he/she is grateful for as we begin the meal. The only rules are that we need to listen when people share and  there are no repeats. The kids look forward to sharing and even start sharing without being prompted.  Tonight, it went like this.  “I want to start,” said my son.   “I am grateful that I get to play basketball,” he said.  And then we went around the table.  “I’m grateful for this amazing meal that mom co

I live off of a very busy highway that once was very rural, but in the last few years has transformed into a community complete with subdivisions, grocery stores, gas stations, and even a high school.  As the community continues to grow, so does the traffic.  It is now a major corridor connecting several suburbs.  This highway now has the most fatalities in the state.  The high speed, congestion, young drivers, distracted drivers, turning drivers, hills, and blind frontage roads, all contribute to this hot mess.  I was on my way to the high school football game with my son last week.  We were stopped at the lights.  The lights turned green and my white van stayed put. “Go, Mom,” he said.  I didn’t answer, I was counting to two.  Sure enough, a car zipped through the intersection racing along even though the light was dark red.   Had I turned when he said go, this speeding car would have hit the passenger side of my car where the most precious cargo, my son, was sitting. Two se

I had the craziest thing happen as I was driving my youngest son to a birthday party at a good friend's house in a neighborhood near our home.  On the main road out of the neighborhood, I couldn't help but notice the car in front of me.  It was a white car decorated with shoe polish on the windows.  It drew my attention, probably everyone's attention,  because of the words on the back windshield, "honk if you are h- - - - -".  Wow...why would you put THAT on your car unless you needed attention?  Certainly drew the eye right to the rear window of that car. The car seemed to be going where I was because it left our subdivision and was heading toward the adjacent neighborhood.  As I turned to go up the steep hill into the neighborhood, the white car pulled off to the side of the road. As I went around him, I verified it was indeed a teen aged boy.  As I continued up the hill,  he pulled back onto the street behind me. My mom radar was instantly activated.  Since

It was the eve of my business trip to Florida, October 1997.  My colleagues, my boss, I and were attending a conference and  my husband was coming along with the kids to enjoy Sea World and the Magic Kingdom.   Our daughter was just nine months old and our son was four, so needless to say we were much more efficient at packing when they were snoozing. My husband and I got the kids down early and were busy packing into the wee hours of the night.  Finally, we loaded up the white van, came inside, dove into bed, and looked at the clock.  2:00 am. Our plane was scheduled to depart at 6:35 am.  Sleep or no sleep, that was the question.  We were both beat, so we decided a little nap would be a good idea.  We set the alarm for 4:30 am. The next thing I saw was my four year old son standing next to the bed and the red numbers on the clock boldly glowing 5:50 am.  I leapt out of bed, woke my husband, and quickly jumped into my clothes.  He was right behind me. "Get the kids," I o

It was a beautiful day, one that you just want to hold on to forever. As I drove up to my house after a late meeting at work, I was greeted by the happiest looking driveway I had ever seen and a bunch of people I love; my parents and three of my four kids! The entire driveway was full of colorful, interesting chalk illustrations, each as different as the kids that drew them.  In some squares there were stick drawings, in others a game of hopscotch, and in another light sabers. In one square, there were lots and lots of words written in cursive. My third grader stood next to his masterpiece just smiling his sweet smile waiting for me to open the car door! I jumped out and gave him a hug!  "Guess what I learned at school today?" he asked. "I can write in cursive," he gushed on quickly.  I told him I was so proud of his hard work and that his handwriting was superb. He just beamed! Then, I looked at the next set of squares and it was full of beautiful p

When my oldest son was two, we adopted our dog, Champ. He is a great pooch, part border collie and part cocker spaniel! He is high energy, fun loving, and does not have one mean bone in his body. He quickly became my running partner, protector, and faithful friend. When I was home alone at night, Champ would be on duty, laying on the top of the step with his muzzle on his paws, watching over everything until my husband would come home from his night shift. During the day, he is always by my side or at my feet. I doted on Champ nearly as much as my son. The three of us were inseparable. My faithful friend, always there, always protecting us, always loving us, and ready to go for a run anytime. The years went by and the house dynamics changed. Champ's spot at the top of the pack dropped dramatically. There were several years between baby one and two, baby two and three, and ten years between baby one and four. As we added babies to the mix, I had less and less time to spen

The kids hovered around the television waiting. The school closings scrolled across the bottom of the television screen and finally their school was listed! Whooo hoo, it's a SNOW DAY! Our yard was transformed into a winter wonderland and snow continued to fall. We spent the morning baking cookies and by afternoon it was warm enough to go sledding. A group of teens were organizing a group sledding outing at the tallest hill in the city. My oldest son, a senior in high school, was itching to meet his friends and he wanted to drive. My first instinct was no way, too slick and too inexperienced. But I gave my husband a quick phone call. He gave me some reassurance, and we decided to let him go. Of course he didn't leave the driveway before I gave all my winter driving tips. My last words to him were to text me when he got there. As he took off, I began to worry. Then worry and check the phone. What had I done? Was I crazy to let him drive on these snow packed roads? I

I had just dropped my son off at Apple Camp and my youngest son and I found ourselves at the outdoor mall with nearly an hour and a half on our hands. The scrapbooking store was calling my name. For just a moment, I thought of how I would spend the time if I were alone. My thought was interrupted by my eight year old saying, "What are we going to do now? I want to go home." As he said that, I thought about an inspirational poem by Sally Meyer called, "Just for Today." I thought, "just for this morning, I will push all my grown up thoughts away and spend this precious time with a very special eight year old boy." "What would you like to do?" I asked. "I want to touch the giant ball that is spinning on water," he said. "Let's do it," I replied. He ran over and explored. "Now, I want to make a wish in the wishing well," he said. This was the beginning of our magical time together. We closed our ey

Weird. That’s how it felt writing my son’s address in my address book. You see, he headed off to college over the week-end. For the first time in his life, he now has his own address and for the first time in my life, his name is written in my address book. As I was writing his name in my address book, I glanced at the page. Many addresses were smudged a bit due to the erasing. You see, I only write in pencil. I guess you can say, my address book is a place of transition. I have found that the simplest questions such as where do you live, who do you live with, and what is your name, are really questions that have multiple answers in a lifetime. When I look at his name in my book, I wonder where life will take him. Will he have a name written next to his? Where will he live? Will he have children? As the years go by, my address book will tell his story too for it tells the story of life.

I went to the doctor for my son’s three year old check up. The doctor was horrified to discover that he still sucked on a pacifier at three years old. She showed me how his teeth were not growing correctly due to sucking on the pacifier during nap time and at night. I felt like the world’s worst mom for not taking it away sooner, but to be honest, he slept so well with it, that I hated to change a good thing. Getting rid of the pacifier proved to be a larger challenge that I thought it would be. He was attached to his “binky”. In fact, he had several spares in his bed just in case something would happen to one. He never slept without one. His pacifier was something he loved above everything. At night I would take it out of his bed after he was asleep only to find him in the morning with another one that he had found from his stash. Later that week I found myself shopping with him. We liked to stroll down the toy isle at the end of our shopping trip to check out the toys. Tha

My nearly five year old was playing the brand new Baldwin piano, more out of curiousity than skill, as I went downstairs with a load of laundry. The piano had been in the house a week after I had saved for it for years. Suddenly I heard a loud thud followed by a cry as loud as a siren. I raced upstairs and found the piano bench tipped over, the seat hanging haphazardly from the hinges and my son sobbing uncontrollably. The unheard of had happened. The piano, mom’s prized possession, was damaged. The piano bench had hit the coffee table on the way to the floor, so the lid and legs were chipped and scratched looking more like a piece that came from the junkyard than from the store. It was terrible. I wanted to cry. The bench was ruined. My son was scared, shocked, and so very sorry. My husband tried to fix the bench, no luck. He took it back to the store to see if it could be repaired, but the damage was irreparable. So, we moved the bench out to the garage and pulled a chair

In middle school, lunch is a big deal; the lunch line, even bigger. When the bell rings, it is a mad dash to line up. Of course, if you are first, you get the longest lunch and the best choices on the menu. Needless to say, the front is where it is at. Although it is against the rules, many people in the front offer “cuts” to friends or to popular people they are trying to impress. These lucky middle schoolers are pulled up from the back of the pack right to the front. The end of the line becomes like the island of misfits. There, at the end of the line, is always the same girl. She is chubby, has greasy hair, and wears clothes fits as tight as a glove. She is always alone. One night at dinner, my 14 year old daughter announced that she offered cuts to this girl. She said that her face lit up, she rushed up to the front of the line and chatted and chatted about her day. She smiled and thanked my daughter for giving her cuts. My daughter remarked, “You know mom,

The Timber sits half of a mile off a gravel road, nestled in the rolling green hills of north east Iowa. The kids were filled with excitement at the thought of spending the day in grandma and grandpa’s timber playing in the spring fed stream, trout fishing, and riding four wheelers. As the one lane gravel road curved to the gate of the property, the kids let out a gasp. There, at the end of the green meadow, nestled below the old oak trees sat an RV! As the kids tumbled out of the van, they raced to the RV for a tour. The RV was stifling hot inside, the air still, yet the excitement propelled the kids through the trailer with great speed. As promised the day was hot. The kids spent the afternoon wading in the stream, skipping rocks, and exploring the lush woods while grandpa cranked up the fuel powered generator in hopes of cooling the RV. Much to his dismay, he discovered the air conditioner would not work. The sun penetrated our clothing; our foreheads beaded with per

The principal at one of the high schools in town said these ten-two letter words to the graduating class of 2011 this past May. Interestingly enough, I didn’t hear the speech at the ceremony. I was at a graduation a party the next day, when a senior shared that part of the speech with us. These ten little words made an impact him. Since then, I have been thinking about these ten little words, too. "If it is to be it is up to me." Empowering words! There is never a time you get something for nothing. If you really want something, you need to dig in and do it. You have everything it takes to do anything! What do you think of these ten-two letter words?

I was out for a run the other day enjoying the beautiful summer day. The smell of honeysuckle hung in the air, the sky was the most beautiful blue, and a gentle breeze made it a top ten day. As my feet got into a rhythm, my mind drifted back to another time that the smell of honeysuckle hung in the air. It was the summer of 1975 (I can remember that because it was the year the tornado blew through town), and I was about six years old. I would jump out of bed, race down the stairs, and out the back door. I would rush to a swing and try to start swinging before the back door would slam shut. I would pump my legs as fast as I could to get higher and higher. Summer vacation ushered in a whole new season. As I grew older, summer days meant that the yard would be full of neighbor kids and the fun would begin when the sun came up. We would start the summer game of kick the can that never had an end until school started back up. Everyone would come over and play every day from morn

It my first year teaching middle school and my classroom was quickly becoming a second home to me. I even had a small fridge in my room. I would often find myself at school well into the evening; grading papers, planning lessons, and making worksheets. On this particular evening, I looked up and saw several of my students walking down the street and duck behind the gas station. Curious, I headed out. I also ducked behind the gas station and startled my teenage students who had lit cigarettes handing off their lips. They were flustered to find me standing there. Giving them an out, I invited them all to my room. Over chips and pop, I discovered they basically ran the streets of Olde Towne unsupervised until late evening. They were starting to stir up trouble. I extended an open invitation to them to come to my room, 136, any day. Why not, I figured, I’m always here. Well, to my surprise, they took me up on it. The next night, there they all were, all five of them. We

YUM! As a young girl, the smell and sight of peanut brittle at Grandma’s house meant one thing…Christmas was here! One of the special treats of the season was a giant candy plate overflowing with peanut brittle. As grandma and I both grew older, I was able to help make this delectable treat. The process, I soon discovered, was very time consuming. While we waited for the bubbly pot of corn syrup, sugar, and water to boil, we had plenty of time to talk about the good old days. Grandma would talk and stir, I would measure the temperature and listen and so we would pass the afternoon. My legs would get SO tired just standing there next to her. This soon became our holiday tradition, making peanut brittle together. Grandma grew older and now I was married with children. The seasons changed. This particular Christmas season started as we normally did. Grandma was at the stove stirring, a little slower than usual, and I was doing my job measuring and keeping track of the tempe

It all started many years ago when I found myself alone, with three small children on Friday nights. My husband worked nights at a manufacturing plant 6 days a week, 10-12 hours a day and was never home on Friday or Saturday nights. People would talk about all the fun they were planning to have on the week-end with their families or friends and sometimes I would find myself feeling a bit jealous and bummed that I was not out there having fun somewhere. So, I thought about it. Every Friday, I was home with the kids. I needed to shift my perspective. Instead of feeling like I was missing out on something, I needed to think how lucky I was to be home with my amazing children. It was up to me to make being home fun, exciting, and memorable. That is when Special Treat Night was born. Special Treat Night is kicked off by enjoying a delicious home cooked meal, prepared as if company were coming over. I get out the special dishes and glasses. The kids pick what I cook, taking tur

As a young girl I dreamed of playing the piano. My best friend could play the piano so beautifully. I loved listening to her play. I loved the way her fingers would gracefully glide up and down the keys. How I wished I could be like her. I dreamed of taking piano lessons. For me, piano lessons just weren’t in the cards. It was the 70’s and times were tough. My dad just lost his job and my mom was back at work. Money was non-existent. Piano lessons were we not in the picture. One day, our music teacher announced that there would be a talent show in the spring. Anyone could audition. My best friend wanted to play a piano duet but didn’t have a partner. That is when we came up with a brilliant idea. My best friend started giving me lessons during recess in the music room. I was so excited and so was she! The moment I had waited for was now happening; I was going to learn to play the piano. Recess was my favorite time of the day! She diligently taught me the notes and ga

Our car was totaled, thanks to an older woman who couldn’t see out her smudged windshield one sloppy January day. So that is how we got a car upgrade to a used Camry, only a few years old complete with a sunroof, iPod outlet, AND a viper security system. The Viper Security System. That is where my trouble began. This viper security system is guaranteed to keep the car secure. In fact, our first night home with the car was quite an event. Within moments of parking, the kids swarmed the car and the alarm went off. It wasn’t just any alarm, this alarm meant business. It has sirens, whistles, the horn honks, lights flash, the works, and it goes on for at least three minutes. We had no idea how to shut it off. Every time the door opened, the siren started up again. We started to laugh, it was so loud and no matter what we tried, it would not stop. The dogs howled, the kids plugged their ears, and we shut the garage door and ran into the house. Finally, after a chat with th

Shampoo I never thought about the value of shampoo until I was a stay at home mom and money was tight. I clipped coupons, shopped sale racks, and I used the cheapest shampoo possible, whatever was on sale. I had recently had a new baby, baby number four! I was feeling a little blue because I still had the baby weight, was not sleeping great, and lots of children to tend to. I decided to splurge and bought an expensive shampoo from the salon! I loved this shampoo. It was like gold, expensive, rare, and wonderful. I made sure not to use too much so it would last a long time. It smelled great and I felt like it made my hair look fantastic. It was such a perk! On this particular day, my bottle was starting to run low, below half. I was giving my three year old son a bath in my tub, when my new baby started to cry. I left him for a moment and dashed down the hall to get the baby. When I came back, I was aghast to see the lid off the bottle and my son holding the shampoo und

There’s nothing out of the ordinary about the inside of my fridge. It serves its purpose, keeping stuff cold or frozen and serving out ice cubes and water like a champ to four thirsty kids. The outside of the fridge is the family hub, where the bright colored magnets secure calendars, photos, and invitations. When the kids began to draw, these were shoved to the side as art projects, school work, and report cards competed for the center spot.  Each week, I clear off it off and make way for new masterpieces found in the backpacks.  The kids love to see what I choose to display. And so it has gone on for years. As the kids move through the grades in school, fewer papers come home in their backpacks.  So the fridge continues to be full of elementary papers, and rarely something from middle school or beyond. Just the other day, I looked over at the fridge and there, front and center, was a calculus test proudly hanging in the prime spot of honor, shining like a lighthouse on a dark, stormy