Everyday Heroes Teach Our Children
I live in a state with one of the worst education systems in the country. I live in a county in that state that has one of the highest proportions of children under the poverty line in our schools. I work in one of the poorest schools in the county as a volunteer. With great pride, I say, “I am a laminator.”
With great laughter, my grandchildren call out, “See you later, laminator!”
I LOVE laminating. I get to operate this hot shot machine, and I get to see materials our teachers are using to teach our children. With my graduate degrees, I still have a lot to learn. Last year, laminating, I learned the properties of minerals. Yesterday, I was reminded of the critical components of fiction.
I love the school, which this past year earned an award for its test score improvements. I love the children, so fresh, so adorable, so full of energy. The librarian sings “Bye Bye Butterfly” waving her arms, and all the eager kindergarteners sing loudly and wave their arms, too. “See you soon, big baboon” makes them laugh their heads off. They are fully engaged. They are learning what a baboon looks like. With any luck at all, this year they will get a field trip to the nearby zoo.
Most of all, I love these brave heroes who work in our schools. Our state has policies which seem anti-public education. The state supports vouchers for private schools that show no accountability, and the state is proposing we lower or eliminate property taxes, further indenturing our local governments to the poohbahs in control of our state house of representatives, the state senate, and the state governor. The state has placed on the ballot a proposition to make the school superintendent of schools an elected office, not an office selected by the Board of Education, not going through any vetting process, but making the Superintendent of Education a popularity contest.
In a county known for banning more books in the schools than any other county in the United States, we NEED professionals at the highest levels.
By the grace of God, we already have them in the classrooms at the school where I volunteer. Our teachers are educated, trained, and mentor one another. They are busy at the beginning of the year laying out strict boundaries to keep the education process flowing productively. They are gathering our youngsters, corralling them, teaching them civil behavior, and best practices to achieve the standards which will propel them upwards through the system.
These teachers and administrators are planners, and their good planning gives daily examples to the students of how to succeed – in school, and in life. They live their truth. They demonstrate self-restraint, humility, humor, and toughness. They give their students the tools to succeed. They give them the basics; the ABC’s, the maths, and they polish the rough edges and develop their social skills.
With little thanks, they get up early to be at school to greet the students with a smile, even joy, so early in the morning.
These are my heroes. Their reward is touching and changing lives.
These heroes are in every school in our county, educating our citizens of tomorrow.
Pray for them, my friends, that their burden be light and that the Spirit refreshes them as they face their daily teaching responsibilities and challenges. They do the Lord’s work, welcoming the stranger, teaching the children to be kind to one another, helping them treat one another with respect and civility, how to take turns, how to make room for differences, and the fundamentals of democratic society. God bless the work of their hands!
When the U.S. Guts the State Department
The new diminished Department of State showed this slide at a recent global conference, which misplaces every single African Country. Take a look. The Côte d’Ivoire, like it’s name, has a coast. The map shows it is landlocked. The nations are scattered. In Africa, right enough, but with no concern for their actual location. The Department of State took full responsibility and pointed the finger at a young person who OK’d an AI reprentation of the map, and who clearly had no idea where the nations really were.
State Department professionals were once educated. They were once conscientious about presentations. This map is more than inaccurate. It is disrespectful.
Please. Bring back professionalism. Please. Bring back real facts, data, and respectful behavior. Bring back a focus on creating and maintaining diplomatic relationships. Our current representation brings shame and disrespect upon our country.
We are neither feared nor respected “like never before.” The world looks in horror at our tasteless, ignorant, ill-mannered leader’s infatuation with trophies, gilt, flattery, and explosions, at the cost of dignified, peaceful relationships with our allies.
Life is so much smoother with friends, allies, and good will.
If nothing else, get the maps right.
What Happened to “The Buck Stops Here?”
Today, Heather Cox Richardson reports the following:
When a reporter asked Trump today why he didn’t “stick around for the signing ceremony with this Iran peace deal,” the famously camera-courting president answered: “I might, but I’d rather, this is a memorandum of understanding. It’s very important, but it might not be the kind of a document that I should be signing.” The reporter responded: “There is some element to this where you send the vice president. If it works out, great. You look like a genius for sending him. If it doesn’t work out, it’s the vice president’s fault.”
Trump responded: “I like that idea…. This way, if it works out, I’m gonna take the credit; if it doesn’t work out, I’m blaming J.D. You better be careful, J.D. He’s gonna turn his plane around and get the hell outta here. Yeah, I like that idea. I think that’s a good idea.”
If anyone else said that, and then said “just kidding!” we might believe them. When Trump says it, he means it. He doesn’t really know what the memo implies, doesn’t understand how it puts the United States in a worse position than before he started the war (the memo specifically calls it a war), and while he is already taking credit for it, he leaves himself an escape hatch in case the wires and mirrors stop working.
Citizens, more than ever, it is time to protect your vote and to make sure your vote counts.
Make sure you are registered to vote.
Call your Supervisor of Elections and make sure you are still on the rolls, and that your information is accurate.
If you intend to vote by mail, make sure you are listed for a mail-in vote, and when you vote, mail you vote at a post office, or deliver your vote to the office of the Supervisor of Elections in advance of election day.
Vote the scoundrels out.
Trump is in the process of doing everything in his power, legal or illegal (just look at the judges who stop his illegal mandates daily), to eliminate votes against his party. We, the people, must be vigilant!
The Buck Stops Here.
Stretching the Point
Anyone who has ever served in the military knows the term 86. We used it all the time, mostly for pieces of valueless paper. 86 meant throw it in the trash can. A translation of the above would be commonly translated as “Dump Trump”.
Dump Trump is an increasingly common sentiment in the United States. It does not have violent connotations. It means, vote out this cheap fraud, lover of gilt and self-adulation, and his entire cheap entourage, pigs at the trough. Use your vote.
If you want to see truly violent inciting rhetoric, check out 45/47. He is the master of crude incitations to violent behavior. He will tell you he will bomb you back into the dark ages, and he has the record to prove it.
I applaud you, James Comey, for your balanced and fearless response. The courts have supported your case before; they will again. Thinking a photo of seashells urging the dumping of a corrupt regime is no where near an incitation to violence.
We have freedom of speech. We are allowed to say Dump Trump.
What Country am I Living In?
As an American, I’ve lived in a lot of countries, often countries that controlled news coverage and punished those who reported news the leaders found embarrassing.
Many experienced people found ways around it. They phrased their reports carefully, leaving the reader to read behind the lines.
It’s not what you expect in a Democratic Republic. It’s not what I expect in the United States of America, where the very first amendment to our Constitution verified our right to have our own opinions and our freedom to state them (given that they were not, of course, a threat against someone else, or shouting “Fire” in a crowded theatre.)
And now the elected leader of the United States is trying to control any negative reporting about his War, a war that surprised his own country, his own people. A War which has not been supported by Congress, which has the right to declare War. As billions go up, literally, in smoke, or down in flames, Trump and Hegseth want the FCC to pull the broadcasting license of anyone reporting the events that are really happening. Trump has a long history of calling reality “false news” and claiming his big fat lies are truth. Like his endless whining about the election he lost to Joe Biden by more than 8 million votes. And he claims it was a fraudulent loss, a rigged election.
How on earth could that ever be a secret if it were to have happened? Crazy, delusional, whoppers!
And now he wants people whose reputations are on the line, newsmakers, journalists, photographers, soldiers, sailors – people who can see what is happening with their own eyes, hear the blasts and report the damages, and hold those accountable for their actions – he wants them to toe the party line? He wants the TRUTH to be what he pretends it is?
George Orwell got it right, he just got the year wrong. With this administration, we no longer have guarantees of personal privacy. We no longer have guarantees guaranteed by our Constitution. The Police are no longer our friends.
The president believes the truth is what he says it is and that the rights of the people are those he says they have. How have we allowed this to happen?
He CREATES situations, or makes them up, and then creates an oppressive measure to deal with it – look at what ICE, once respectable, has become. An entity protecting our entry points has become a gang of thugs who operate outside the law. When courts rule against them, they ignore the rulings.
When Trump looks at the polls and sees that he cannot win an election, he creates the “SAVE” act to deter, discourage and delete voter’s rights. Both ICE and “SAVE” address problems which do not exist, other than as avenues to giving this monster greater and greater power to feed his endless greed.
Do not listen to this man. Do not believe a word he says. Look, instead, at his actions. He fires the watchdogs. He fires those who would limit his power. He is what he always has been, a fraud, a con man, a liar, and altogether a very flawed man. He piles up wealth by making agreements that fill his pockets, his family’s pockets, and his cronies’. He bullies those who stand up to him. This is not a man of strong character; this is a human wrecking ball.
From Axios: America’s Healthiest and Least Healthy States
(The United Health Foundation was established by UnitedHealth Group in 1999 as a nonprofit, private foundation dedicated to improving health and health care. To date, the United Health Foundation has committed more than $845 million to programs and communities around the world, including a $100 million commitment to help advance and grow the health care workforce.” (from the United Health Foundation website)
This is one of the non-governmental agencies using facts and statistics to measure outcomes of health practices in the USA. Official statistics are disappearing. Entire years of government studies have been deleted from websites. Fortunately, there are people who saw it coming and who recorded the data from the websites, hoping for a future that respects science, research and statistics, and uses that research to create a greater good for us all, and shares that knowledge and best practices with the world.
“NOOOO! Noooo! Not Guinea!”
I was calm when I started. I believe technologies are a benefit, and we just have to overcome our brief discomfort and steep learning curve and we will master new and useful skills.
Prayer helps.
AdventureMan asked if I had arranged for overseas calling plans while we are on vacation later this month.
“Ummm . . . not yet . . . but I intend to.”
(Rats! Now I have to do it!)
I tried going online, but it’s been years since I chose a password, and I can’t make it work for me, but there is a phone number, so I call it. I know it will be some kind of automated system, but I speak clearly, and I just grit my teeth and know I’ll get through it.
(I don’t.)
The automated system doesn’t seem to understand me. It asks for the countries where I will be traveling, and the dates. I give them. The automated voice gets the dates – even the YEAR! – wrong, and tells me he is setting up an international plan for Guinea.
I hate when this happens, and I especially hate it when AdventureMan is home, because I can hear him laughing from his office as I scream “NOOOOO!NOOOOO! NOT GUINEA! I WANT TO TALK TO A REAL PERSON! REAL PERSON!” The artificial intelligence totally misunderstands, wants me to confirm my upcoming trip to Guinea (NOOOOOOO!!) and finally I find the magic words “LIVE AGENT” and after 53 minutes with a live agent, Ken, (who I believe is in the Philippines and wants me to adopt him) sets AdventureMan and I up with a plan for both our phones.
When all is confirmed, I can see AdventureMan’s plan, but mine never shows up, necessitating a trip to the Verizon office where they are able to confirm that THEY an see plans on both lines, even if I can’t. And this time, for the right countries.
Or so I believe.
Domme: One of the Best Days in the Dordogne
That title is misleading. We had so many best days, but later in this post you will learn why this one sticks out in my memories. Some days of the trip are cloudy, like “which day did we do this?” Other memories come out crystal clear.
(I just spent an hour of my life learning about Google’s Activity record – holy smokes! – and how, if I had had my location tracker turned on, I might have been able to provide you with the hilariously indirect routes we ended up on getting from place to place in the Dordogne. I am tempted. I don’t live a life with anything I need to hide. And yet, the thought of being TRACKED and a record being kept makes me uneasy.)
So arriving in Dome is kind of Wizard-of-Oz-y. It’s a very old city, built on a high hill, and streets are old and narrow. It’s sort of like those labyrinth puzzles you used to do as a kid when you needed to get from here to there. In this case, we totally depended on the Google lady, who said “turn right here” or “go 100 feet, turn left and then immediately right at the next street.” Getting from the entry gate, at the bottom of the hill, to L’Esplanade, at the top of the hill, was an exercise in indirection and circularity.
We got to the top. We could see our hotel. We had read about the parking, that there was no parking at the hotel and if you were very lucky, there might be parking on the street. There was not a single parking spot on the street. Even this late in the season, there were many tourists, and tourist buses, and some had drivers parked in no-parking places, with the engine on, ready to go and circle the city if the police came.
We decided to park in the pay lot, which had a lot of spaces. The night before, we had prepared our carry-bags with enough clothes for dinner and the next day, so we didn’t have to carry in our bags. It took us about 15 minutes to figure out the instructions. We put in the maximum in coins – I think 5 Euro, and that would take us to seven PM, when if we saw a parking space, we would move the car, and if we didn’t, we would put more money into the machine.
When we walked in, we received a very cordial and friendly greeting; the receptionist was Dutch and spoke English wonderfully. She told us that at seven, the parking machines are no longer monitored, and we are safe until ten the next morning, so that was a relief. She showed us to our room. You can see our room in the photo of L’Esplanade from the path, above; it is the corner room, one story up, and has a balcony.
The room was gorgeous. Maybe not quite so spacious as our room(s) at Domaine de la Vitrolle, but very spacious for France, and beautiful. And just wait until you see the view. My heart sang. I wanted to stay on that balcony and just soak in that view.
We can see all the way to La Roque-Gageac!
Beautiful Perigord farmlands . . .
Day is fleeting, and AdventureMan wants to explore, and rightly so. We are only in Domme for this one night. It was hard for me to leave that balcony; the view just sang to my heart.
Domme is walkable, and beautiful. There is something else about Domme – there are cats, lots of cats, and there are dishes out, hidden under benches, or visible on a step up to a house, or at the side of a doorway into a church. I imagine the cats keep the rats away, but it is lovely to see them repaid so generously and lovingly. The cats all looked very well fed.
Here is another church built in the same style as that of the church we saw in Audrix. I’m going to have to find out about this architecture. Domme is an old Templar town; I am wondering if this style is an indication of a Templar population?
Look at this barrel roof! Is that not beautiful?
A view of the church from the market square. We attended the market the next morning, but it was very small, and there is only so much hand-made soap I can buy!
The above photo was taken from in front of a very cool bookstore, which even had a large English section. They had thousands of books in all genres, all languages, and new and used books all together. It was a little bit of heaven, right there on the main square.
Actually, I lost my husband. He went into the bookstore, I took photos. I went into the bookstore, he wasn’t there! I tried to call him, and it did not go through. I knew if I went back to the hotel, we would eventually fine one another, but I kept looking, and we were both on the main square, just in different places. I too this photo in front of the wonderful book store.
Beautiful city coat-of-arms, no?
This was a wonderful place for us. We found this building, with these arched windows (which I love) and my husband found a plaque telling us it was the former mint, the man who struck the coinage for the area. As we went around the corner, looking in the window, AdventureMan said (very brave man!) “I think we need to go in there.” I had not been paying a lot of attention, I was looking in a window where the you could see the jeweler’s studio, with works in progress, which was fascinating. My husband was right, there were some beautiful pieces. I tend to buy jewelry in places just like this, where you can find original pieces, and, well, jewelry and silk scarves transport well. 😉
Inside, we met the jeweler’s son. As I picked out some pieces, my husband and him started a conversation, and as it got more interesting, I joined in. He talked about his family coming to Domme to seek new opportunities and new markets, and how wonderfully it had worked out for them.
I found the lovely chain-mail inspired neck;ace below in the tip of my stocking on Christmas morning 🙂
We talked about all kinds of social issues in France, and economic issues. We were all very cordial. At one point, Julien paused and then asked us, very haltingly, “You seem to be such nice people. How could you have elected a President like Trump?” We grimaced; it is a question Europeans ask us a lot. How could a country with the values we claim to share elect a man with no moral compass? He was horrified at what is happening in our country, and sad at our descent into corruption.
It was a hard conversation, and we all hung in there. At the end, we all hugged, and hoped for a better, more peaceful, less greedy world in the months and years to come. Sometimes the hardest conversations are those most worth having.
Meanwhile, back at L’Esplanade, we were eager to see what dinner would have to offer. L’Esplanade is well known for excellent cuisine, and we had reserved for dinner back when we made our hotel reservation. The dining room is lovely.
We think the settings are beautiful. There is a room where you can go have cocktails if the dining room is crowded and you have to wait, but tonight we only share the dining room with four other parties.
We order from the fixed menus. Our first course comes, a celery veloute’. It is a cream of celery soup, you can see it in the center of that great big black plate with a little recess in the center for the soup.
This was my main course, a little trout steak, decorated with a . . .potato chip. The little cubes of sweet potato were delicious.
AdventureMan had duck, again, decorated with a potato chip. He said the taste of the duck was exquisite.
His dessert was “Fig Three Ways” or maybe five, we couldn’t figure it out.
I loved my dessert, the raspberry sorbet part. It was decorated with passion fruit.
At the end of the meal, we were served this perfect little cookies.
This was another very quiet, very dark night of great sleep.
The next morning, we had breakfast in what I would call the garden room, and the owner’s family were all there, too, eating breakfast on their way to school, work, etc. It was really fun just being able to see them all eat, converse, be a normal family eating their breakfast together in the hotel. I loved it.
A Thousand Kisses
Schools started Monday in our county in Florida, so now we have two grandchildren with us after school. AdventureMan is the real hero; he is not only a good teacher, he is also a lot of fun, good at playing with and entertaining the kids. I am good for explaining things and talking about things – and for 1,000 kisses.
“What is 1,000 kisses?” you might ask?
It’s a game I made up when my own son was two and a half or so, a silly game, a mommy game, where I give his tummy a whole bunch of kisses really fast with loud smacking noises. It causes hilarious gales of laughter, helpless laughter, because it tickles, because I am very noisy (and only a little scary) and well just because it’s fun.
It also teaches about consent. From the very beginning, I tell them that whenever they say “STOP” I have to stop, and without fail, when one of the grandchildren says “stop”, I stop. I want them to know about “safe” words, and I want them to know that no one has the right to do anything to their bodies without their consent.
Our eight year old grandson came in today, pulling up his shirt, and said “How about 1,000 kisses?” and I said “Aren’t you too old?” He said no, no he wasn’t.
I can still keep him pinned enough that he goes limp from laughter, but he is getting stronger and stronger and the day will come when I have to stop. For him now, the fun is in the struggle. He thinks he can beat me, but he can’t – yet. Actually, with him, almost as tall as I am, I am already ready to stop, but he is not quite there yet. At some point, very soon, I am going to have to just tell him that he is too big, too strong, and I can’t play 1,000 kisses with him anymore.
There is still his little sister, just turning five, who also showed up with her T-shirt pulled up demanding 1,000 kisses, so I think I probably have a few good years left with her. She doesn’t even bother to put up any resistance, just bursts forth with gale after gale of lilting laughter that brightens my soul and my lights up my day. Soon enough, she yells “STOP!” and we are both ready to stop, catch our breaths, and have a good chat.
Some Things You Can’t Make Up
In Pensacola, as in other places I have lived, I have met some very fine people. It isn’t unlike my other adventures, I have had to learn to observe and to adapt. Sometimes I may disagree, but most of the folk I deal with are civil people, reasonable people, and if they don’t agree with me, most of them have the generosity of spirit to just shake their head and chalk it up to my eccentricity.
And some people, you just don’t even bother to disagree. You don’t comment. You look the other way. I was lucky this time, to have my camera with me because if I didn’t have the picture, I’m not sure I would believe me telling the story. Here is what I see:
I see this and I am a stranger in a strange land.
Recent Comments
intlxpatr on British Soldier Kidnapped, Esc… John on British Soldier Kidnapped, Esc… intlxpatr on British Soldier Kidnapped, Esc… John Smith on British Soldier Kidnapped, Esc… tigerbutterya0c5ff1d… on “Who Would Do Such a… Wikipedia Donate Button
Amazina
Early Voting in Florida
Here There and Everywhere 