Crew
Picnic
A special memory from the Venture backyard will
always stand out to me. I always feel like I have the best kids out
of the whole pod. I don’t know how that works, but it always happens
to me.
One sunny day, I was feeling kind of happy inside
with how great my crew was, and I was trying to think of a way I could share my
appreciation with them. And then an idea hit me…a picnic.
I needed some bonding time with them. We
usually ate separately, them in the lunchroom and me with my other colleagues,
but I was thinking…just for today, a picnic would be a great extra time
together.
And do you know…we had a fabulous time
together. We played and ate together. I swear the other
playground must be more magical than ours. That slide is a deal
breaker. I’m excited for future playground dates with my kids.
Chasing
a Kid
It’s always a K-2 kid! Why can’t kids
just line up when we blow the whistle? It’s a simple
concept. “Tweet, tweet”…run in as fast as your legs will carry
you.
It seems the K-2 pod has not gotten the
memo. They love to be the last in line, like they think surprises
will be waiting for them.
So one day the K-2 teacher on duty was whistling in
her kids. She must have not noticed the 20 or so monkeys hanging
around for their imaginary surprise. Slowly they trickled into the
line, but there was one kid who just didn’t care. So I started
pursuing him. We do you know, that kid ran away.
I thought to myself, “Oh buddy, you are being
defiant to the wrong teacher!” I chased him, grabbed him by his
shirt collar, and walked him back to his line. You do NOT mess with
the Rabe!
A Sneeze in the Hand
As I checked my students one by one
off for having their math homework, I noticed a very, unsmiling
face. The person that it was attached to is usually very smiley so
this was unusual.
“Mackenzie,” I began as I lifter her
chin with my hand…
“Achooooo,” she sneezed right into my
outstretched hand, now filled with her wet germs.
“Ewww!!!!” I screeched. “Go
get me the anti-bacterial soap. Hurry!!” I cringed at the
puddle of snot as I pumped clear soap into the mixture. Hopefully
the germs shriveled and died right there in my hand. But…you never know.
Becoming District Leader
As all 30 or so of us 4-H’ers waited
on the traditional piece of wood that covered the last row of benches in the
auditorium, I was filled with anticipation and fear. I had dressed
up in PJs, slippers, and pigtails all weekend while carrying a heavy cornflake
sign, shaking hands, and introducing my platform all weekend long.
All of the tiredness left me although
as I found myself shaking nervously for the results. Only 11
district leaders could be chosen of the 30 who had been
campaigning. It was a prestigious, coveted position.
Killing my First Wooly Bear
As I unlocked the back door to dismiss
my students for the day, I heard a collective gasp. “How could you,”
I heard, and “I can’t believe you killed him.” I followed their eyes to the
ground where I saw a black, velvety caterpillar with yellow guts now oozing
over the pavement.
“You killed a Wooly Bear,” another kid
said to me. I had indeed killed the creature that had met my now
messy, cross-training shoes. Ah, what a shame it had to be so close
to the action.
Needles are Terrible Friends
Needles have never been my close
friends. As I waited for the nurse to collect my blood, I shook with
nervousness.
“Tell me about your job,” she said as
she swabbed my veins down with alcohol.
I looked away and through gritted
teeth said, “I’m a teacher.” I closed my eyes tight as the needle
came closer. I gasped as pain shot up my arm and I squeezed Fred’s hand as
it continued to sting. The stinging didn’t stop and I took a chance
and looked over at her progress. No blood was coming
out. The small tube was only splashed with blood.
“I need to fill at least 4 tubes,” she
said as tears filled my eyes. “You’re too dehydrated to give any
more blood today.”
I held back more tears as she bandaged
me up and sent me off to reschedule an appointment. If one poking
wasn’t enough, two in a row would scar me for life. Crying all the
way home, I worried what the next day would bring.
Thanksgiving Meal Down the Drain
Throwing up a whole Thanksgiving
dinner is really not fun! As I sat in my warm tub, I regretted those
9 green, crunchy pickles I had forced down my belly. The tub of
tangy cranberry sauce probably didn’t help either.
I called for Fred to bring me a bowl
just in case I could not make it out of the tub in time. And do you
know, I filled that container twice before I could even make it to the
porcelain god. What a colorful dinner it turned out to be, as it
swirled down the pit of despair.
Saturday Fort
It was an easy decision to make on a
Saturday morning. The woods beckoned us to come. How
could we resist? A fort would be built today, come rain or
shine.
We gathered a few branch-chopping
tools, some rope, and some snacks to feed on when hunger would stop us from
working. Deep into the woods, we gathered around our well-used
fire-pit. We laid down our tools and looked around at the trees that would
surrender their branches to us. Sacrifices had to be made.
Josh made the first
blow. It was on a dead tree whose limbs barely seemed to be staying
in place. It was construction mayhem after that. Lynsey,
Josh, and I fought diligently for our fort walls.
Certain limbs resisted being snapped
and had to be twisted in every which a way. Our pile of dead branches
grew. So did the scratches and scrapes that covered our arms and
face.
Finally satisfied that our pile was
large enough, Lynsey and I started lining them up, almost as in an execution
squad. Josh pulled the rope in an out through the limbs, hoping
to interweave them together.
He pulled them together tightly, but
they had had enough. They slipped out of the rope, fleeing for their
escape. We tried again, this time making many reinforcing
knots.
“This should hold em,” my brother
muttered as he tightened the rope one last time.
A row of 10-12 sticks stood straight
to the sky and within the minute we tried to add more wall, it bucked under the
pressure.
“This is too hard,” I
complained.
“Let’s do something else,” Lynsey
suggested.
I am sure as the branches watched us
walk away, they cheered in triumph. They would never give in to the
fort-building bullies.
Student of the Month
The clock on the wall ticked its last
audible sounds as the school day drew to a close. I noticed cars
pulling up around the pick-up area, waiting for exiting students. I
heard fingers tapping anxiously on wooden desks and tired teachers glancing at
their watches. Some students opened their backpacks, checking to see
that their weekend homework was in place. Others glanced at
their phones, eagerly waiting to return promised phone calls. The
two hands on the clock appeared frozen in motion.
“Come on,” I thought. “Stop
waiting for the grass to grow!”
It seemed everyone was eager to leave
except for me. I wanted to stay until the final announcements for
the week were said. This was the moment I had waited for all month,
the announcement of who were the new students of the month. Our
school always chose two students from each grade, a boy and a
girl. These students must have shown outstanding behavior and earned
exceptional grades. I felt I was deserving of this school honor.
Others think of me as a typical kid, a
normal student. Deep within me, I do not feel ordinary or
normal. I feel extraordinary and special. Maybe it was
the way I was raised, with loving, supportive parents. Or maybe it
was just the way I felt about myself. I felt special. I
felt important.
So with all these feelings I had about
myself, I couldn’t understand why it was invisible to everyone else around me,
especially my teachers. I remembered to myself all the times I had
tried so hard to please my teachers, to help others around me, and to excel at
the work they gave me. I knew I was only a little fish in a big, old
sea, but I still felt shiny and unique. “Why couldn’t they see
that?” I wondered. Maybe today would be different.
“Crackle, crackle,” I heard the
loudspeaker complain. Excitement bubbled inside me as Mr. Harrison
cleared his throat. I sat up straight in my chair as quick as a
wink, put my feet out in front of me, and clasped my hands together
tightly. My body leaned eagerly towards the gray intercom high above
me on the white-washed wall. This was it…the moment I had been
waiting for all month!
The announcements seemed to drag on an
on. First it was the Homecoming game and where to buy the
tickets. Next they announced the Homecoming parade and the reminder
to get your votes in for Homecoming King and Queen, and their Royal
Court.
“Bah! Who cares about that,” I
thought. Everyone knows the most popular kids are always picked.
My hands started to sweat as the
announcements continued to roll out of the loudspeaker.
“Now for the student of the month,” my
principal continued.
“Yay!” I thought as my breathing sped
up. Finally after many long minutes, he said the two names I had
been waiting to hear all month….Ben Trice and Dorus Yu. Wait! I
didn’t want to hear THOSE names. I laid my head on my desk, covered
my face, and cried. I was a failure to be noticed once more.
1st
Ultrasound
Instruments of all shapes and sizes
covered the glassy counters. Round bins filled with silvery, sharp
daggers, a square monitor screen to show surprising news, and an uncomfortable,
plastic-lounge chair to wait added to the tension. This is the place
I would discover my fate for the next 9 months.
As I sat on the sticky plastic, with
only a towel draped over my bare legs, the clock ticked louder in my
ears. Even though Fred was sitting near me, his presence felt
invisible. I was alone.
As the sun set in the window frame, I
noticed the silver door handle rise and fall. It was
time. My heart pumped harder as the midwife walked through the open
door.
“Is this your first baby?” she asked as she
started fingering her equipment.
“Yes,” I nodded as I sat back
expecting the worse. She covered an extra-large ultrasound stick
with jelly and told me to lean back and take deep breaths. She
plunged the cold stick up and before I could protest, I saw something moving
out of the corner of my eye.
I saw a small screen to my right that
showed a ultra-violet black surrounding a tiny white center. “Is
that my baby?” I asked in wonder. She nodded and she continued to
maneuver the stick from other angles.
“Huh…” I said to Fred, “that’s our little
jelly bean.” I watched as the midwife measured our baby from head to
toe. It wasn’t even 2 centimeters yet. What a tiny
miracle!
