by jphilo | Feb 11, 2013 | Current Events
As a former elementary school teacher and survivor of a respiratory virus that’s still holding the man of steel hostage, today I’m officially launching a personal research study into a new branch of science.
Tissue-ology
My interest in this area of research was first piqued during 25 years of teaching. Early on, I observed an interesting pattern. The number of boxes of tissues used by students in a given year correlated directly to the number of learning and behavior issues among those students.
Correlation 1: More learning + behavior issues = More tissues consumed.
Correlation 2: Fewer learning + behavior issues = Fewer tissues consumed.
Tissue-ology
More recently, I’ve discovered that the whereabouts of tissue boxes in our house are good indicators of the healthiness of the inhabitants of a household under respiratory siege.
Stage 1: Tissue boxes in normal positions in each bathroom = everyone feels hunky dory.
Stage 2: Tissue boxes the couch or end table = everybody’s in denial about how fast they’re goin’ down.
Stage 3: Tissue boxes on couch or end table + overflowing wastebasket nearby = hell health in a hand basket.
Stage 4: Tissue boxes back in normal position + stray tissues on bedside and end tables = getting better, but not quite there yet.
Stage 5: Tissue boxes in normal position + dust on the tissue on top = God’s in his heaven + all’s right with the world.
Tissue-ology
According to official scientific monitoring underway at our house, I am currently at Stage 4, while the man of steel is at Stage 3. I am also looking for volunteers willing to participate in this research study. At this point, I can’t afford to pay you, but your name will be added to the list of charter tissue-ologists, which will be a big deal when the field of tissue-ology gets up and blowing running. Leave a comment below if you would like to participate in the study. And remember, you heard it here first.
Tissue-ology.
by jphilo | Nov 20, 2012 | Top Ten Tuesday
Many of my Facebook friends are still participating in the November 30 days of gratitude project. As was mentioned in last Tuesday’s post, I missed the memo about when to start, and played catch up by listing 10 things for which I was thankful. This Tuesday, because I seem to have trouble remembering to post one thing per day, I’m back with ten more reasons (in no particular order) to be grateful.
- My twenty-five year career as a teacher provided our family a good livelihood and was perfect preparation to be a writer and speaker.
- Being an uncoordinated kid because it gave me compassion for students who hated recess.
- Our warm house, preferably mouse-free, but even with unexpected company, it’s a great home for over twenty years.
- My son’s early medical adventures and my father’s illness taught me to never take good health for granted.
- Being raised in Iowa and raising our kids in Iowa.
- Attending a church where the pastor preaches truth and makes in interesting.
- A loving church family.
- A mom who taught me to cook and to love cooking.
- Being able to spend most Tuesday’s with Mom, though this week she’s visiting my sister in Minnesota.
- Siblings who do all they can to make Mom comfortable and happy.
So what are you thankful for this Tuesday before Thanksgiving? Leave a comment…or two…or ten!
by jphilo | Aug 13, 2012 | Daily Life
Ten years ago this week, I began my twenty-fifth year of teaching.
My son with undiagnosed PTSD had just moved to an Orthodox monastery.
My daughter began eighth grade.
My husband worked crazy hours as an ICU nurse and loved it.
My mother lived in her own home and was a ball of fire.
Abby the dog was finally housebroken.
Our church met in the high school auditorium and had downtown offices in the basement of a renovated horse livery.
I thought my teaching career would continue another twelve years.
But I was wrong. Because God answered a prayer uttered during the return flight from a workshop conference a week or two before school started. Please God, I had whispered, if you want me to be a writer, I need a different job. A month later, I knew the 2002 – 2003 school year turned out to be my last as a teacher.
So much has changed in my life since then.
My son, after treatment for PTSD, is a husband and will soon be a father.
My daughter is a college graduate, married, and settling into a new home.
My husband works a regular schedule in a heart cath lab and loves it.
My mother lives with my brother’s family and has Alzheimer’s.
Abby the dog died after a full and pampered life.
Our church meets in a new building constructed on a former cornfield.
Two of my books have been published, and I speak around the country.
I feel ten years younger than during my teaching years, and I’m much healthier.
But many things haven’t changed. Many of my friends are still teaching. They go back to school today, facing a host of challenges and determined to make a positive difference in their students’ lives. Their students will be blessed to spend the next nine months in my friends’ classrooms.
My friends will work incredibly hard, come home tired day after day, correct papers and plan lessons late in the night, and catch every cold and flu bug that goes around. They need our prayers. And since God answers prayer, just as he did ten years ago, I’ll be praying for them. Dear God, give these teachers and dear friends strength and wisdom, enthusiasm and compassion to meet the needs of children.
Will you join me in praying that prayer?
by jphilo | Sep 15, 2011 | Current Events
Scuttlebutt around town is this. The workplace that was my home away from home for eighteen years, the school where my second family worked for nine months of every year, has been demolished. We all knew Bryant School’s demolition was going to happen. In fact, before the building closed in May of 2010, I went back to say good-bye, took pictures, even blogged about it.
I’ve been avoiding that part of town, ever since the building went down.
One thought of the empty block where Bryant School stood,
one mind picture of the ground leveled and grass growing over the foundation,
and I start crying.
Silly, I know.
But having a significant piece of the past erased (and a piece of my kid’s pasts, too, since they went to school there) is harder than I expected.
But this week, some breaking local news made me willing to confront the present instead of mourning the past. On the first attempt, our town passed a bond issue for a new high school. Pretty amazing since the community has a thirty year history of repeatedly voting down school bond issues, eventually settling on compromise solutions that are than second best.
But not this week.
The bond issue passed with 79% voting in favor of it. When the news came, I thought of something my son said when he was in high school. “Mom, why would I ever choose to live in this town as an adult when the people don’t care enough about kids to build decent schools?” I had no answer, only sadness for the message the voting public repeatedly sent to young people in our town. Today, on the other hand, I am proud of my town for passing this bond issue in the midst of economic hard times.
The bond issue news has me feeling hopeful again.
Hopeful enough to face the ghost of Bryant School.
Hopeful enough to dream about our children’s futures.
Hopeful enough, I think, to visit the place where my home away from home once was.
Hopeful enough to laugh through the tears when I drive on by.
by jphilo | Oct 2, 2009 | Daily Life
The season changed from summer to fall so quickly. One day the temperature was so warm, I wore a sleeveless shirt, capris and no shoes. The next day, it was so chilly we dressed in long pants and hoodies, then hurried to turn up the thermostat.
When did it happen?
My children changed from kids to adults. One day they needed me to wipe their noses, mend their broken hearts, listen to their dreams and pack lunches to take on hiking adventures with their dad. Now they both have sweethearts, grand dreams, and adventures of their own.
When did it happen?
My mother changed from an independent woman to a dependent one. One day she quilted for hours at a time, read thick books, traveled, and mowed her lawn with great delight. Now quilt patterns confuse her, she reads thin books, sits in her chair, and won’t touch the lawn mower.
When did it happen?
My life changed from teacher to author. For years, I woke every day and dreamed of writing a book, taught kids to read and enjoy books all day, and came home to tired to put my own ideas on paper. Now I wake and write all day, have had a book published, and go to sleep at night with a smile.
When did it happen?
