9/11

Every generation has that one event that makes people stop and take note of their surroundings and etch them in memory forever. For my mom and her generation, it was November 22, 1963. For her parents it was December 7, 1941. For this generation, it is September 11, 2001. Like other tragic events, it seems so long and such a short time ago all at the same time. Today as we remembered the day at school, I realized that after several moves, I teach in the same classroom as twelve years ago. I remember answering the phone that morning to hear my friend and fellow teacher ask if I had heard the news. By the time my students arrived, all four planes had gone down and both towers had fallen. We spent some time watching the news in shock and knew that our lives would be forever changed. Now here I am twelve years later in the same classroom teaching students who were either very young or not even born at the time. Despite this, they know the story, thanks to parents and others who take time to share the tragedy and teach them how our country stood together in adversity. The days and weeks that followed brought us together with more patriotism and faith than I had ever witnessed before. It is sad that it takes an event such as this, but also wonderful to know that we are one nation, under God. In the words of Alan Jackson, "Where were you when the world stopped turning on that September day?"

Smile...It's Picture Day!

Once again, School Picture Day is upon us. Memories flood through my mind as I think of all the picture days I have experienced. There are always those accidents like chocolate pudding on a crisp white dress shirt or a fall at recess that causes a nice fat lip. One memory that will always make me cringe is the 5th grade girl with her hair stuck in a brush curling iron. What would be worse--a picture WITH the dangling curling iron, or a bald spot where we cut it out? Luckily, we finally got it untangled and didn't have to decide. When it comes to picture days, though, my most memorable is not as a teacher, but as a student. When I was in 5th grade, my mom lovingly sewed me a red plaid jumper to wear on picture day. The day came and she worked to fix my hair just so and made me wear the jumper and lacy white shirt. I'm sure it looked exactly like she pictured it. I, on the other hand, was far from thrilled to be wearing this outfit--and it showed when we got the pictures back a few weeks later. My "smile" (more of a smirk) was the reason Mom opted for retakes. Lucky for me, it was not nearly as publicized and somehow I forgot to mention it to Mom. The day arrived, and I happened to be wearing my favorite clothes-- a purple sweatshirt with bright green bell-bottoms (of course the pants would never show, but I remember them to this day!). My hair was definitely not curled--it may not have even been combed! This is one of those cases where I got my own way but have lived to regret it. Sorry, Mom!