Last week I congratulated six-tear-old Sam
on a neatly done, correct paper, saying,
"You must be proud of yourself!"
He looked me straight in the eye and replied,
"You know pride is a sin."
Tuesday, November 27, 2007
Saturday, November 17, 2007
Powerpoint Lesson
This morning I went to a PowerPoint links class.
I've long appreciated the organizational aspects of PowerPoint,
and thought I could use it well.
... and I may,
but this morning's class taught me other lessons as well.
It reminded me what it is like to be a slow learner.
I arrived slightly before the class began
and chose a corner computer
where my lack of skills would not be as noticeable.
Ten minutes into the class,
a younger,
enthusiastic,
technologically skilled person
sat down beside me.
During the down time,
she zipped to the youtube site
for entertainment,
singing moms,
dance history,
shadow bunnies*,
and used a plug-in stick (?)
to show her son's first grade year.
I envied her prowess.
As we worked on PowerPoint (PowerPoints?)
hers danced
and talked
and had many colors.
Mine stared at me,
malfunctioning,
and it was my fault.
After trying whatever made sense to me
and some things that didn't,
I raised my hand for help.
My neighbor knew the answer before the teacher even got there.
How does she know that?
Eventually I got through everything twice;
the first time blindly following directions,
the second time writing things down
and beginning to understand the "whys."
On the drive home,
I had more sympathy for Holly
who seems to have no idea how adding works,
and Derrick
who has great difficulty with letters and sounds
and makes so many of his letters and numbers backwards.
They keep smiling
and trying their best
as they get individual attention.
When I got home,
I went directly to the computer.
Microsoft Powerpoint 2003...
It isn't the same as the school's.
Forget the links,
I tried three different times to find a way
just to make a second page.
No luck so far.
Aaaaaauuuuugh!
So instead I complain to you
and give thanks that most learning comes easily.
I will try again in a few minutes
praying for intuition.
S
*The shadow bunnies were AMAZING. Shadow puppetry to "Wonderful World." Click here. Maybe it will work!
I've long appreciated the organizational aspects of PowerPoint,
and thought I could use it well.
... and I may,
but this morning's class taught me other lessons as well.
It reminded me what it is like to be a slow learner.
I arrived slightly before the class began
and chose a corner computer
where my lack of skills would not be as noticeable.
Ten minutes into the class,
a younger,
enthusiastic,
technologically skilled person
sat down beside me.
During the down time,
she zipped to the youtube site
for entertainment,
singing moms,
dance history,
shadow bunnies*,
and used a plug-in stick (?)
to show her son's first grade year.
I envied her prowess.
As we worked on PowerPoint (PowerPoints?)
hers danced
and talked
and had many colors.
Mine stared at me,
malfunctioning,
and it was my fault.
After trying whatever made sense to me
and some things that didn't,
I raised my hand for help.
My neighbor knew the answer before the teacher even got there.
How does she know that?
Eventually I got through everything twice;
the first time blindly following directions,
the second time writing things down
and beginning to understand the "whys."
On the drive home,
I had more sympathy for Holly
who seems to have no idea how adding works,
and Derrick
who has great difficulty with letters and sounds
and makes so many of his letters and numbers backwards.
They keep smiling
and trying their best
as they get individual attention.
When I got home,
I went directly to the computer.
Microsoft Powerpoint 2003...
It isn't the same as the school's.
Forget the links,
I tried three different times to find a way
just to make a second page.
No luck so far.
Aaaaaauuuuugh!
So instead I complain to you
and give thanks that most learning comes easily.
I will try again in a few minutes
praying for intuition.
S
*The shadow bunnies were AMAZING. Shadow puppetry to "Wonderful World." Click here. Maybe it will work!
Wednesday, November 14, 2007
Haikus for Jews
I had no school on Monday due to Veterans Day
(though what better place to remember than school?)
and I went to Ollie's,
my favorite cheap bookstore.
It was there I found Haikus for Jews by David Bader.
I laughed so hard the checkout that I distracted
the checkout people several displays away.
That night I reread it in bed.
Poor Denny.
Between my laugh decibels and my sneeze decibels
it's a wonder that he has any hearing left.
Following is a smattering:
Scrabble anarchy
after Putzhead is placed on
a triple word score.
Like a bonsai tree,
your terrible posture at
my dinner table.
The spitting image
of her father. Down the road
rhinoplasty, yes?
Today I am a
man. Tomorrow I return to
the seventh grade.
Left the door open
for the prophet Elijah.
Now our cat is gone.
Bare autumn branches,
the old crow sits. Mother, come
down from there at once.
Hava nagila,
hava nagila, hava--
enough already.
S.
(though what better place to remember than school?)
and I went to Ollie's,
my favorite cheap bookstore.
It was there I found Haikus for Jews by David Bader.
I laughed so hard the checkout that I distracted
the checkout people several displays away.
That night I reread it in bed.
Poor Denny.
Between my laugh decibels and my sneeze decibels
it's a wonder that he has any hearing left.
Following is a smattering:
Scrabble anarchy
after Putzhead is placed on
a triple word score.
Like a bonsai tree,
your terrible posture at
my dinner table.
The spitting image
of her father. Down the road
rhinoplasty, yes?
Today I am a
man. Tomorrow I return to
the seventh grade.
Left the door open
for the prophet Elijah.
Now our cat is gone.
Bare autumn branches,
the old crow sits. Mother, come
down from there at once.
Hava nagila,
hava nagila, hava--
enough already.
S.
Tuesday, November 6, 2007
Squirrel Thoughts
What is on the Squirrel's mind these days?
If the approach of our winter
means the northern hemisphere is tipping away from the sun,
and that means the rays have to travel
through more atmosphere before hitting the ground,
and more atmosphere means brighter colors at sunrise and sunset,
wouldn't the most spectacular sky color
be found during December and January,
the closer to the Arctic Circle the better?
(North of the Artic Circle would be dark all of the time,
but the Aurora Borealis should make up for the sunset/sunrise color loss.)
Keep your eyes on the skies....
He wonders if the rumor about
dropping the comma in front of and in American lists is true.
If so, who gave the OK?
And how did they get that power?
He also agrees with the kindergartener
who told him that plastic army guys look better
after you play with them in dirt.
The Squirrel wants you to know
that he handles all academic and aesthetic questions;
social questions are now referred to his new neighbor,
the Inner Duck.
The Inner Duck wishes Katrina a happy birthday,
and Denny a happy belated birthday.
Much love to both.
S.
If the approach of our winter
means the northern hemisphere is tipping away from the sun,
and that means the rays have to travel
through more atmosphere before hitting the ground,
and more atmosphere means brighter colors at sunrise and sunset,
wouldn't the most spectacular sky color
be found during December and January,
the closer to the Arctic Circle the better?
(North of the Artic Circle would be dark all of the time,
but the Aurora Borealis should make up for the sunset/sunrise color loss.)
Keep your eyes on the skies....
He wonders if the rumor about
dropping the comma in front of and in American lists is true.
If so, who gave the OK?
And how did they get that power?
He also agrees with the kindergartener
who told him that plastic army guys look better
after you play with them in dirt.
The Squirrel wants you to know
that he handles all academic and aesthetic questions;
social questions are now referred to his new neighbor,
the Inner Duck.
The Inner Duck wishes Katrina a happy birthday,
and Denny a happy belated birthday.
Much love to both.
S.
Sunday, October 28, 2007
Lost Ukranian Memories
Last night the Ukranian dance troupe Voloshky was in DuBois.
I thought, "Mom was an exchange teacher to Russia in the 90's.
She will enjoy this,"
so we made plans to pick her up.
My mom is 71 and looked great,
red turtleneck, black pants, and a black and red sweater,
hair freshly washed,
rail-thin but energetic.
Mom, are you ready to go?
Not really. I had a lot of company and they just left.
She stood by the counter and folded some paper napkins.
Who was here?
I don't know.
Patty?
Yes.
We employ Patty from 8-6 daily to attend to Mom's needs,
but she sees Patty as company
and lets her do very little.
Get your coat on.
Do I need my Bible?
No. We're going to see dancers.
The car was filled with the powdery smell of an old lady.
When did that happen?
On the way, we stopped at the Goodwill store
and ran into a friend of mine.
We all chatted,
but when I thought Mom was shopping,
she was following Leslie around.
Denny watched their conversation from the car
and reported that Mom showed Leslie the unnecessary safety pin at her wasteband
and the baggy crotch in her pants.
Upon leaving, she carried up a broken ninety-nine cent picture
of a harlequin child with enormous eyes.
Mom, do you want that?
Yes!
This from a woman who lives with hundreds of dollars of original artwork.
We found a seat in the auditorium and waited.
Mom told the talkative women behind us that she loved to hear old ladies laugh,
then unnerved the child in front us
when she touched her and whispered some cheerful comment.
During the colorful, entertaining performance,
Mom failed to recognise the recurrance of the Master of Ceremonies.
Who is that man?
Each appearance of the instrumental soloist brought
What is that? Is it a piano?
She was in each moment, but the moments never connected,
as she repeatedly obsessed about the coats on the seat beside her.
Are these things yours?
Are these things yours?
Are these things yours?
Upon leaving,
she ran away from us
up to an unfamiliar vehicle and opened the door.
You all are the nicest-looking old ladies I've seen all night!
She'll have no memories of the dancers today;
they were probably gone before she got into the car.
Mom has always been a friendly person,
a people person,
many students' favorite teacher
who corresponded with loads of them for years,
who led hundreds of Bible studies
and led many people to faith in Jesus Christ.
The friendly part is still there
but the marbles cracked one night about ten years ago
when she hit the ice with her head.
More marbles seem to be cracking with increasing regularity.
Why?
"For now we see through a glass darkly,
but then, face to face."
Mom in her best moments realizes that there is a glass,
and often wishes that she were on the other side of the glass.
Until then, we are faced with many questions,
today's being:
Is it worth making others uncomfortable
and insulting older women
to enjoy disjointed, ephemeral moments of interest?
Should I follow up Mom's comments with whispered apologies and explanations?
What if she hears?
The jury is still out.
Sue
I thought, "Mom was an exchange teacher to Russia in the 90's.
She will enjoy this,"
so we made plans to pick her up.
My mom is 71 and looked great,
red turtleneck, black pants, and a black and red sweater,
hair freshly washed,
rail-thin but energetic.
Mom, are you ready to go?
Not really. I had a lot of company and they just left.
She stood by the counter and folded some paper napkins.
Who was here?
I don't know.
Patty?
Yes.
We employ Patty from 8-6 daily to attend to Mom's needs,
but she sees Patty as company
and lets her do very little.
Get your coat on.
Do I need my Bible?
No. We're going to see dancers.
The car was filled with the powdery smell of an old lady.
When did that happen?
On the way, we stopped at the Goodwill store
and ran into a friend of mine.
We all chatted,
but when I thought Mom was shopping,
she was following Leslie around.
Denny watched their conversation from the car
and reported that Mom showed Leslie the unnecessary safety pin at her wasteband
and the baggy crotch in her pants.
Upon leaving, she carried up a broken ninety-nine cent picture
of a harlequin child with enormous eyes.
Mom, do you want that?
Yes!
This from a woman who lives with hundreds of dollars of original artwork.
We found a seat in the auditorium and waited.
Mom told the talkative women behind us that she loved to hear old ladies laugh,
then unnerved the child in front us
when she touched her and whispered some cheerful comment.
During the colorful, entertaining performance,
Mom failed to recognise the recurrance of the Master of Ceremonies.
Who is that man?
Each appearance of the instrumental soloist brought
What is that? Is it a piano?
She was in each moment, but the moments never connected,
as she repeatedly obsessed about the coats on the seat beside her.
Are these things yours?
Are these things yours?
Are these things yours?
Upon leaving,
she ran away from us
up to an unfamiliar vehicle and opened the door.
You all are the nicest-looking old ladies I've seen all night!
She'll have no memories of the dancers today;
they were probably gone before she got into the car.
Mom has always been a friendly person,
a people person,
many students' favorite teacher
who corresponded with loads of them for years,
who led hundreds of Bible studies
and led many people to faith in Jesus Christ.
The friendly part is still there
but the marbles cracked one night about ten years ago
when she hit the ice with her head.
More marbles seem to be cracking with increasing regularity.
Why?
"For now we see through a glass darkly,
but then, face to face."
Mom in her best moments realizes that there is a glass,
and often wishes that she were on the other side of the glass.
Until then, we are faced with many questions,
today's being:
Is it worth making others uncomfortable
and insulting older women
to enjoy disjointed, ephemeral moments of interest?
Should I follow up Mom's comments with whispered apologies and explanations?
What if she hears?
The jury is still out.
Sue
Friday, October 19, 2007
Mom-isms
A friend at school showed me the youtube comedienne singing all the things that moms traditionally say. I looked up the lyrics and decided there were a few Shaffner sayings that were missing:
- Don't run with that stick.
- Scrub. Hard. Did you scrub?
- Time's up. Get out of the shower. Thankfully we now have a new well.
- Leaving in five.
- Four....
- We'll wait for you in the car.
- Whose day is it? Paul had choice on even dates, Luke on odd.
- No Man's Land. Stay on your own side of the car. Nobody touches the middle.
- There's a kitty treat in the basement. Litter box duty.
- Not in the house. BB guns, paintballs.
- Home again, home again, jiggedy jig.
- Go directly to bed. Do not pass GO. Do not collect $200.
- When the music comes on, the lights go out. Read, then listen to whatever music I think you need to be exposed to.
- Good night. Sleep tight. Don't let the bedbugs bite.
- Love you Paul. Love you Luke. Love you Dad. Think "Waltons".
- Choose wisely.
Sue
Sunday, October 14, 2007
Luke: Now and Then
Our son Luke is 22,
is stationed at Lackland Air Force Base in San Antonio,
and will take his final test to complete tech school on October 30.
Results of this one test make the difference between continuing in the USAF
and being discharged.
Please pray for his wise use of time,
good judgement in what to study,
and a clear mind.
I found a letter from July 1994 that described Luke at age 9:
Luke collects sticks,
things that fly,
and whatever isn't permanently adhered to his pockets.
He loves Dinosaur Bones ice cream,
cartoon books and the Picture Bible,
playing piano by ear,
rollerblading with a fast dog on a leash,
and climbing trees.
He can be quiet--
when I make a snowman, I love the "crt crt" sound,
--or not,
and thinks he might be governor someday because he's friendly:
I walk up to someone and trip on a pretend rope.
They laugh.
Then we play.
Luke loves drawing Claw cartoons,
isn't ready for camp,
and is reason-impaired:
...the reason I'm wearing three pairs of underwear is because I'm cold.
He recently learned to dive,
wakes when dragged out by his toes,
loves to dissect lobsters,
and asks questions like Wouldn't it be neat to paint air?
and If I sit real still, would maggots get in my leg?
He's a lovely child and gift of God.
I miss the nine-year-old,
but am very proud of the man.
For I know the plans I have for you, declares the Lord,
plans to prosper you and not to harm you,
plans to give you hope and a future.
Jeremiah 29:11
Sue
is stationed at Lackland Air Force Base in San Antonio,
and will take his final test to complete tech school on October 30.
Results of this one test make the difference between continuing in the USAF
and being discharged.
Please pray for his wise use of time,
good judgement in what to study,
and a clear mind.
I found a letter from July 1994 that described Luke at age 9:
Luke collects sticks,
things that fly,
and whatever isn't permanently adhered to his pockets.
He loves Dinosaur Bones ice cream,
cartoon books and the Picture Bible,
playing piano by ear,
rollerblading with a fast dog on a leash,
and climbing trees.
He can be quiet--
when I make a snowman, I love the "crt crt" sound,
--or not,
and thinks he might be governor someday because he's friendly:
I walk up to someone and trip on a pretend rope.
They laugh.
Then we play.
Luke loves drawing Claw cartoons,
isn't ready for camp,
and is reason-impaired:
...the reason I'm wearing three pairs of underwear is because I'm cold.
He recently learned to dive,
wakes when dragged out by his toes,
loves to dissect lobsters,
and asks questions like Wouldn't it be neat to paint air?
and If I sit real still, would maggots get in my leg?
He's a lovely child and gift of God.
I miss the nine-year-old,
but am very proud of the man.
For I know the plans I have for you, declares the Lord,
plans to prosper you and not to harm you,
plans to give you hope and a future.
Jeremiah 29:11
Sue
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