Mrs Shaw’s Fantastic Fourth Graders and the PG-Rated Day

 It all began when we viewed a science video on angiosperms and gymnosperms. Pollination was a bit risky as we took notes on the male and female parts of a flower. But the class was rather mature I thought, especially when asexual organisms like earthworms  were introduced.

They took it like adults.

But the animated  teenagers in the video discussing gymnosperms started to push the limits of 9-year-old composure. “Gym,” the perky cartoon figure explained, “means naked. So you see, a gymnosperm, such as a pine cone, is like an unclothed seed, it has no fruit or petals on. It is a naked seed.”

I tried to play it down—although I’m certain they’ll remember that fun fact—and divert the focus to spores and their vascular type of reproduction.

Along came Language Arts, where groups of five read around the teacher’s half-circle table. The nonfiction book at hand was about dams. The Aswan in Egypt, the Hoover in Colorado. It was all quite innocent until one sweet girl who wants to be pastor when she grows up could not quite get the words out. She was reading how dams are built with concrete walls. With extra emphasis, to spit the words out she had previously tripped over, she blurted, “...the dam wall!...” 

Then I, the teacher, became the least mature of them all and exploded into uncontrollable laughter which propelled the whole table and then the entire class into a roaring cacophony. I rocked and spun on my swivel chair for a good minute until we finally calmed down to let the next child read in turn. 

Every time the word ‘dam’ was read, snickers and giggles percolated up again. The last person continued to read about their construction and when she approached and read the word, buttress, a fresh tidal wave of laughter crested. I slapped my book closed, squelching a chuckle, collected the others and said, “That’s it! We’re done! I give up!” 

Aspiring pastor girl apologized profusely.”I didn’t  mean to say it that way, Mrs Shaw. I really didn’t!” 

“Of course you didn’t, Sabrina. That’s what made it so funny. You would never curse anything, much less a wall!”

It was a very PG-rated, hilarious day! The events of which most likely reached the dinner table and ears of many a parent!

The Least of These - Part 2

 Recently, I felt our nightly addiction to Netflex was a complete waste of time. Better that we did something significant. I suggested to Tim that we find and pray about some kind of missions trip to Cuba or Haiti or even nearby Belle Glade that we could join. He agreed. 

When we were first married, in the mid-70s, our bible study group took monthly visits to an orphanage in La Gloria, Mexico. It was a great adventure full of scruffy orphans, dubious bathrooms and cockroach-filled cinderblock whose residents visited us as we slept on the concrete floors. We helped with laundry on 50s vintage washer/wringers, played with the kids, built structures, donated food and clothing and swept screen-less stucco dormitories. 

I was hankering for a new adventure of loving on the least of these.

Be careful what you hanker for. A month ago, our prayers were oddly answered when Tim received a call from his mother-in-law's landlord. They said that her condo was in need of mold-remediation and roof repairs and that all residences had to be immediately evacuated. 

So, on Cinco De Mayo, my 92-year-old Mexican mother-in-law came to stay. And it doesn't look like it will be temporary. She took over the office/guestroom.

The first morning of her stay, the internet was strangely off. We called Xfinity and netgear to see what the problem was. Our Chinese exchange student was beside himself because he had to use a hot-spot to engage in his ever-so-urgent videos games. After a morning of trouble shooting, we learned that mom-in-law had unplugged the wifi and cable devices. (A worry of hers is that leaving lamps and appliances pugged in is a fire hazard). Tim, controlling his temper as best he could, told her not to touch the wires. "I know not to touch them," she replied indignantly. " I used to work in electronics on the space shuttle for crying out loud!" He bundled and fastened the wires so she could not detach them. 

Late that night, I get a text from the Chinese student that the internet is down again. I go into her room and sure enough, she's unplugged everything digital. I reattached them without telling Tim and all is well. This happens three nights straight. Finally when Tim reprimands her again, she blames me for unplugging them! "That woman did it." 

I am so happy she is here so we can feed her regularly. Even though Tim was delivering her meals at her retirement community condo, she would not eat the leftovers in between deliveries. 

She weeds the front and backyards, hand picking all the droppings from our messy Poinciana tree. The property has never been more beautiful. She cuts things she shouldn't, so we hide the trimmers. She feeds the dog our precious coffee creamer, so we are getting a small refrigerator to stash it in. She sneaks the dog her meals, so we quarantine the dog at breakfast , lunch and dinner, so she will eat.  The dog is getting a fur problem because of his new diet of hot dogs, sausage and pudding. Fortunately, we have geriatric drinks we can sit and watch her gulp down once a day. She feeds the dog people food, including orange juice in a small dish that often gets spilled on the carpet. Saturday was spent scouring the carpets with our carpet cleaner, followed by a rug topper in her bedroom.

Her laundry is interesting. We are finding ways to trim and wash her hair although she resists vehemently.

The least of these and our prayed-for, hankered-for missions trip all in one precious, beloved soul.

Mrs Shaw's Fantastic Fourth Graders

    Demetrius was short as fourth graders go. Just shy of four feet. But he stood ten-feet tall in personality, wit and intelligence. His cocoa-brown hair skirted his neck and long wispy bangs often draped his Eeyore-shaped eyes. When he smiled the brown eyes were more like Christopher Robin’s, sparkling with unpredictability. His words were soft, his vocabulary jarringly erudite, as if a seasoned professor was trapped in his 9-year-old body.

    He offered the adjective, "ungrateful" (the one I was looking for) to describe Magpie in the book FOX. Magpie had a burnt wing and Dog was carrying him through the forest. Magpie complained a lot. "Ungrateful" was the perfect description for Magpie's character.

    Demetrius was very good at parts of speech. During reading rotation groups, I had the class make a chart listing as many nouns, verbs, and adjectives they could think of or see around the room. If they needed a challenge, I said they could add a column of adverbs. “What are verbs, they asked? One bright student chirped ‘action words.' "Yes," I said, and adverbs describe the action word and often end with ly.

    My little Steinbeck brought me his parts of speech chart and proudly displayed his word, 'supercalifragilisticexpialidocious,' with a mischievous glimmer. I laughed. He was quite amused with himself. I complimented that he had indeed spelled it right and was surprised that this boy--a  grand-child of 1960s Mary Poppins movie--was familiar with the word.

Photo Credit - Education4equity.com

    My class had swollen from 19 – 22 students. I was happy I had more girls than boys and all were bright and gifted. When another class of 29 walked by ours in the hall, the envious teacher asked my class size. Little did I know that was a mistake. She marched in to the principle’s office and decried her large class. The law states that 22 is the max  for upper elementary grades. I was shocked yesterday that the principle moved 4 of her students plus another new one. My perfect-sized class became a whopping 27. I did not have enough chairs and small group reading rotations became an impossibility. I felt mistreated. Was it my age? Even after two emails and a comment to the principle, all I got was a surprise visit and, with the flair of a decorator, she showed me where I could squeeze in five more desks and chairs. "I haven’t had a moment," I said and mentioned that I had 27 students. “We will hire another teacher, “ she replied. I didn’t believe her, but commented on what a nice set of students I had anyway. I remembered a parent said their child was leaving at the end of the month, so I’d have 26 then.

But Demetrius’s Mary Poppins word made me forget the challenge of a large class and beamed a bright sunny spot on the whole situation.

“Number 1 – 25 on your paper,” I said after lunch. “We are going to take a flash spelling inventory.” I confided that the inventory was really a spelling test, but spelling tests have long since gone out of teaching fashion. The words were pretty simple at first. This was a diagnostic test to see what the kids already knew, this being the first week of school and all. After about 15 words, I looked up to see little Demetrius standing in front of me. He whispered, “Give them 'supercalifragilistic…..'” I half nodded and continued with the "inventory." At number 25, he raised his hand and said, “Don't forget the bonus word." So I gave them the word. As I spoke, little Demetrius chuckled, shoulders bouncing, eyes squinting, with the cutest giggle and half-snicker on his face. He was truly amused with himself.

 And so was I.

Oh yes. Did I tell you the sad news? Did I mention that it's Demetrius who will be leaving at the end of August...?

The Least of These - Part 1

 Yesterday, my husband recounted a high-school story to our church family. 

As a teenager and new believer, Tim was asked to lead a Bible study at his Southern California high school. While many friends promise to come, only one girl showed up, and she was his ride to the before-school gathering. She also had a crush on him. 

Week after week, it was the same story. One person to listen to a prepared expository lesson. 

The end of the semester drew near and a discouraged Tim questioned God, "It's just one, Lord. Why should I go to all this trouble and teach another semester for just one?" 

You know the response. "As you did it to the least of these, so you have done it to Me."

So of course, Tim acquiesced. 

At the start of the term, other friends asked Tim is he was still going to hold his morning Bible study. He said, yes, but was doubtful anyone would show.

Well, the first study came and there were more in attendance than just the infatuated girl who also was his ride. 

Week after week, the numbers grew. The Santa Ana Valley High principal called Tim in and offered him support of any kind for the meetings. Perhaps the principal knew that--in his rough, racially-strained low-income suburban district--the effects of students meeting to learn scripture would be nothing but positive.

Soon, the library where they met burst beyond capacity and the cafeteria became their new chapel. God was faithful even when Tim doubted. 

It's not the masses that count, but the one. Each individual soul.

Although Tim did not share this yesterday, I know that at one point, after he graduated, he was teaching studies in more that ten different high-schools. And later he took his speaking talents on a Jesus band circuit up the California coast to colleges like University of California at Santa Barbara and beaches and parks like Venice/Muscle Beach.