Bright Futures Goes Historical

Before I invite you to read more of my Bright Futures students' writing, I want to introduce you to my "kids":

My two girls, from left to right, are Helen and Andrea (pronounced An-DREE-uh). Helen just joined us. She is only in 8th grade but is a really strong writer, so I brought her up with me for Writer's Workshop. Andrea is in 10th grade.

From left to right, my boys are Travis, Lelon, and Christopher. Travis and Christopher are in 12th grade and take the SAT next week. (Pray for them!) Lelon is in 9th grade.

I have uploaded new writings to Writer's Block. These are historical fiction pieces. I had a difficult time getting Lelon to understand the fictional aspect of this. As a result, his piece more closely resembles a report on an historical event, but we're making progress. If you have a moment, please read these pieces and leave a comment. As I've said before, these comments mean so very much to them!

Pond Water, Math Facts, and the Flu

Pond Water

Tuesdays are by far our most crazy days. We leave by 8:00 to get downtown for my Bright Futures class. After class, I take on the tricky maneuver of changing clothes in the car because I do not want to chase 3-year-olds/2nd graders/3rd graders all afternoon in my high heels and dress. Then because there's not quite enough time to go home, we grab lunch somewhere and then head to co-op.

This past Tuesday the lead teacher for two of the three classes in which I assist was out, so I had to teach them. We're studying the ocean, but to illustrate the fact that there are critters in the sea that we can't see, this time we had to grab lunch at a drive-thru and then head to the park to steal some water out of the pond.

It's been awhile since I've done much with a microscope, so I wasn't quite sure what I was looking at when I prepared the slide. I'm pretty sure my first class--the first graders--viewed some microscopic air bubbles. They thought they were totally cool, though. Thankfully, the 2nd and 3rd graders were able to actually view some microscopic critters swimming across the slide. Pretty cool.

On a side note, I mentioned above that I also teach 3-year-olds. You do remember, don't you, my awesome people skills with 3-year-olds? Thankfully, I'm in there with my friend, Mitzi, who found it very amusing that I got stuck in there. I know she won't mind my speaking for her, though, when I say she's not all that comfortable in there either. Tuesday we were with those precious little people by ourselves, minus the lead teacher who, incidentally, appears to be much more comfortable with the little people than the two of us. There were only 5 little 3-year-olds, but that was plenty, especially when one of them would not stop putting things in his mouth, taking off his shoes, climbing on things, and yelling.

It was a tiring day.

Math Facts

Again, let me emphasize the fact that I got my degree in secondary education for a reason. When I think back to my 1-year stint as a teacher of the second grade, two things come to mind. One is the tattling, the endless tattling that is not so prevalent in a high school classroom. "Mrs. Pierce, she's sitting too close to me." "Mrs. Pierce, she is using my pencil and won't give it back when I ask for it."

Another thing I recall are the short attention spans. Let's say we're in the middle of Charlotte's Web, maybe at the point that Charlotte dies and I as a teacher wish to have a deep discussion with my students about life, death. You know, deep stuff. So I pose a question about life and death. A hand goes up, and I think, Wow! We're really going to have a real discussion in here. Then student-with-the-raised-hand says, "Mrs. Pierce, we're going to Wal-Mart after school this afternoon."

Yes, those are the things I most disliked about being a teacher of the second grade. Now, it is a little easier teaching my young children because they are my children. However, I am finding I enjoy this homeschooling thing much, much more as the years go by. My 4th grader can now do her own research and almost all of her work independently. And I can hold deep discussions with her about books, current events, and the world around us.

But with my younger ones, I still have all of those pesky things to teach them: reading, math facts...The good news is that the boys have made great strides in their reading. In fact, this past week, they both got hooked on the Magic Treehouse series, hooked enough to read them for pleasure. Today, though, we've begun tackling the math facts. They haven't gotten them up until now. Alex was the same. But with her, I just told her she had to learn them NOW, and she did. On her own. But the boys. Oh, the boys. Long story short, I've decided to suspend all other math work next week and make it Math Fact Boot Camp around here. They will learn them next week. Yes, they will.

The Flu

Well, I got my flu shot on Wednesday. Apparently, I should have wrestled the kids into the doc's office as well. I had all sorts of wonderful things planned for science this week, including making Cell Cookies and doing some microscope work of our own, but these plans have been pushed to next week. Alex came down with the flu Wednesday and is just today finally beginning to feel a bit better. I suspect the Princess may be the next to succumb to the flu. My suspicions lie in the fact that the ottoman is not ordinarily the place where we tuck her in at night:

Stuff That's Happened

My mother-in-law is probably my most faithful reader, so when I received her email last night asking me if I was OK because she hadn't seen any blog posts lately, I knew I was in trouble. It's been a little busy around here lately. Nothing all that out of the ordinary, just Life. Here are a few samplings...

This past weekend, we rearranged the house. Again. Honestly, I've hated living here the last year and half because of that For Sale sign out front. With the ever-present possibility that this may not be our house for long, it's been difficult to settle down and make it our house. But I decided that I'd had enough of that. I'm just going to pretend that sign isn't there, and, really--who am I fooling anyway? No one but myself. Perhaps the sign will come down soon. Not that it's doing any good. I know, I already said that in so many words.

We had already done some rearranging at the beginning of the summer. The boys welcomed summer in their over-sized bedroom, otherwise known as the playroom. The problem with this room is that it's over the garage and thus is deathly hot in the summer and frigidly cold in the winter. I didn't want them to suffer another unbearable summer in it, so we moved them in with Audrey...back in to the room that was originally theirs in the beginning.

Although we tolerated this arrangement for the summer, things had to change. The problem is that Audrey enjoys an audience, especially after the lights are supposed to be out and little children are supposed to be dreaming of sugarplums. So it was a fight every night to get the three of them to sleep. We considered moving one of the girls back down to the guest room; however, the guest room has slowly but surely become of the Room of Homeschooling Mom. I am not ready to give up MY room.

So we moved Audrey into Alex's room. Alex was actually the one who suggested it, so she's OK with it. And she promised she would be firm with Audrey at bedtime! We moved the queen bed from the guest room to the boys' room. Now when I tuck them in at night, I call them Grandpa Joe and Grandpa George, a Charlie and the Chocolate Factory reference for those of you who have not read that in a long forever. We then spent an afternoon stealing a daybed/trundle bed from my brother-in-law's house (he's moving) for the guest room, which was much too crowded with the queen.

To make a long story short ('bout time, you're saying), I love my new Homeschool Room the Guest Room now. So much space, and the daybed makes a great reading area. In fact, Alex spends an hour or so in there every night after we bed the little one down. That way Audrey is already asleep by the time Alex goes in.

I know...waaay too many details. In other news, because we spent all weekend NOT cleaning the house, NOT preparing our Sunday School lesson, NOT planning for Bright Futures, and NOT planning for our new homeschool unit, I was very stressed out by Sunday. In fact, had it not been raining, I was willing to give up my afternoon of volleyball to get home and get things done.

That's when it dawned on me.

I am a homeschooler.

I can do whatever I want.

So I decided that I would take this week to plan things, clean things, prepare things, and take things a little more easy. It would not, however, be a week off entirely for the kids. They have had to do their core work, but it's been almost all independent work for them (translation: no work for me), and I'm not counting it as school (translation: checking the boxes on the attendance forms). Of course, it's already Wednesday tomorrow and I haven't cracked open a single lesson plan on Ancient Greece, but we'll get there. We've had other things going on anyway.

In case you haven't been watching the news, we've had a little rain down here. Thankfully, we have had no more than an old leak in the skylight, but it was a little scary to watch the water rise. The pool level got all the way to the top, but I was able to hook the hose up to it and siphon some out so our patio and then living room would not get flooded. Of course when I mentioned the siphoning on Facebook, I got some snide remarks about acknowledging modern times and purchasing a pump from Home Depot. Well, 1) I did not want to haul 4 children to the Home Depot in the pouring rain, and 2) I will not spend money on something I will not use again; the pool level has never gotten that high before.

Today the sun has been shining, and life has resumed Normal. For us anyway. We made our usual jaunt downtown this morning for Bright Futures and enjoyed a new book on tape during our journey: Dealing with Dragons by Patricia Wrede. All of the kids (well, minus maybe the Princess) are thoroughly enjoying it and can't wait to hear more next Tuesday. After, we stopped at a new mall downtown that I've always wanted to visit. Turns out not to be as exciting as it promised, but we indulged in a wonderful lunch at California Pizza Kitchen.

Tomorrow will be some more independent schoolwork for the kids while I begin that planning. And then, because our church flooded on the first floor, all Wednesday night activities are canceled. I think I have a little plan, though, that will make the kids happy. They love sleeping in my room. More than that, they love getting in my bed and watching a movie and then sleeping in my room.

I noticed Meet the Robinsons mysteriously appeared on our DVR, so apparently at least one of the kids wants to watch it. Since TravelDaddy's place is empty this week, I think we'll have a little slumber party in my room tomorrow night. But, Shhhh! It's a surprise. I think I'll begin to send them to bed and then start setting up the mattress (they can't all fit in Daddy's spot!). Then I'll start popping the popcorn (and, yes, I'll allow them to eat it in my bed--don't worry, TravelDaddy, I'll change the sheets), all the while dodging the questions, "Mommy, what are you doing? Mommy, who is that mattress for? Mommy, why do you get popcorn? Mommy, mommy, mommy..."

More Bright Futures Writing

Thank you so much to all who commented on my kids' last writing! It meant so much to them. We began that following class by reviewing the papers I had graded and on which you had commented. I thought that would be a quick activity...a few minutes to make some general comments about the papers and talk about what we would do next time. But the minutes ticked by as they poured over your comments. They were quiet at first reading them, but then one would nudge another and whisper, "Hey, look what this person wrote about mine!" I could tell they were very touched.

I hope you will take the opportunity to read and comment on their newest papers. These too are personal narratives. The assignment was to do sort of a show-and-tell. Each student brought in an item that is special to them--a memento, a picture, whatever. That was our brainstorming, and the personal narratives that you see at Writer's Block is the result.

Please understand how much these narratives mean to the kids. I had them do oral presentations on them, and two of the guys (the author of "Life with Montrell" and the author of "A Lifetime Treasure") had a difficult time getting through their presentation, the one with tears streaming down his cheeks.

Hats That Don't Fit

I wear a few hats around here: the Mommy Hat, the Wife Hat, the Teacher Hat, the Friend Hat. And I've worn lots of other hats over the years. Today I've put on a few hats that don't fit so well.

This morning I found myself in the 3s and 4s room at Sunday School. Alone because my husband was at home in bed (I'll get to that in a moment). I was in the 3s and 4s room by myself because I made a rash deal with a friend. We'll be on vacation on Sunday in a couple of weeks (if my husband is not still in bed, but like I said, I'll get to that in a moment) when we are supposed to be teaching our K-2nd grade class. Since I'm such a great volunteer, I decided to get a replacement instead of leaving the leaders hanging. So I traded weeks with a friend whose gifts obviously differ from mine greatly.

I know I've mentioned before that I am not a little kid person. I've never felt more strongly about this than I did this morning. There were only 9 of them. I've had 27 high school students in one class before. I even had one high school student who came in sporting his house arrest ankle thingy. But these were 3 and 4-year-olds.

It took a good 15 mintues to get them all sitting at their little mini-table. Once I would get two of them sitting and turn to round up the other 7, the two would escape. I finally got them all seated and tried the ol' "Let me see your listening ears" thing that works beautifully with my kindergarteners. Blank stares. And lots of fidgets. And noise. I passed out paper to dutifully complete the Bible lesson. They were supposed to draw stick figure disciples, but before the words "stick" and "figures" could escape my mouth, most of them had already scribbled all over the paper. I tried in vain to get them to flip the paper over for the stick figures. More scribbles. I told the Bible story very loudly to myself. Then broke out the Goldfish. Magic. Quiet for a few minutes.

Until the potty breaks began. I sent the first one in to the bathroom. A few minutes passed, and then I heard, "Will you help meee???!" I went in to the bathroom. "Can you wipe me?" "Can't you wipe yourself?" I asked, while my head voice said, Please, oh please, can't you wipe yourself?? "But it's poo-poo!" Oh. No. Not. Poo. Poo.

OK, confession time. In my whole life, I have only ever changed one poo poo diaper that was not my own kids'. With other people's kids, I don't do poo poo. I can't do poo poo. PLEASE don't make me do poo poo. It was indeed poo poo. I gritted my teeth, took a deep breath, tried to only look well enough to wipe and went in.

I made it. Then the same kid came up to me a little later on. "I have a booger." Are you kidding me??! I handed her a Kleenex. She stared at me blankly. I wiped her nose.

NOW do you see why I chose to go into secondary education? Please, please don't ever make me wear the 3s and 4s hat again.

The other hat I tried to squeeze into today is that of the Real Wife. You know, the wife that provides healthy meals everyday for her family? My husband is in bed. Flat out due to a herniated disk which has almost completely debilitated him. If you'll remember, he's the cook in the family. Really, I can cook, and I do cook when he's traveling. But to provide meals for him too? Well, mac and cheese just doesn't cut it for him. It's a little intimidating to cook for him. There I said it. There's nothing else about my sweet, wonderful husband that intimidates me but that.

So I've been planning meals for the week, always thinking in the back of my head that his brother may show up for dinner tomorrow night. Which is even more intimidating. I may cook gourmet pizza a la Little Caesars just to get out of it. I'm hoping and praying his back feels better soon so that I can hang the Real Wife Hat up. And so we can go on our planned Florida vacation. Oh, and so he's not in so much pain anymore either.

BFA, Week 1

I have to admit. I was really nervous this morning. I mean, it's been 14 years since I've been in a high school classroom. And I've spent the last 10 years with little people students who force me to issue commands like, "Sit still and keep your hands to yourself!" and "Please don't pick your nose; use a Kleenex!" and "You're holding yourself; do you need to go potty?"

So, yes, I was nervous as we glided down the carpool lane of the interstate on our way to Way-Faraway-Other-Side-of-Atlanta listening to Bank's Indian in the Cupboard on CD. But the moment I stepped into the Bright Futures house, I felt completely at ease. Some of the middle school and high school kids greeted me warmly, and I enjoyed mingling with them while they ate their breakfast. (Btw, Gail, who runs BF with her husband, amazingly puts out 3 healthy meals a day for these kids!)

After breakfast and a devotional, the middle and high schoolers separated, and I went upstairs with my 4: 1 Freshman, 1 Sophomore, and 2 Seniors. What a fun, honest, genuine, great group of teenagers! One activity I did was a brainstorming questionnaire on which they listed 3 possible answers to 18 questions or prompts, prompts like "People who have influenced you" and "Places you want to visit" and "Mistakes you've made and the lesson you learned." They were all very open about sharing these, and we had a great time listening to each other's thoughts in this way. I had an hour and a half with them, which this morning I had worried would drag on, but it flashed right by, and I soon found myself waving good-bye until next week.

As for my own children, I wish I could say they were little angels. Not quite on the angelic level, but fairly well-behaved all the same. There was a bit of a problem with completing their schoolwork. And the problem was not on my part. They had ample time to complete it and a perfect space in which to work. But left unattended...well, it is something we will work on!

The Unplanned Summons

We were at Wal-Mart today, and I spied a display of calendars and planners. I quickly selected a wall calendar and then began thumbing through the planners. Their covers were so delightful, the whimsical patterns and crisp colors soothing in a way. And as I turned the light pages, there they were--the empty squares, squares that needed to be planned and then filled in.

Alex stood beside me, flipping through the planners as well. "Mom, can I get a planner?" she asked.

"Why do you need a planner?"

"To plan things." (duh!)

"What kind of things will you plan?"

"I don't know. Things."

A girl after my own heart.

We purchased no planners, but I quickly had my calendar hanging gracefully on the wall beside my desk, its hungry squares inviting me to fill them up with plans, appointments, special dates. I marked our first school day in ink without hesitation and then found the date a week later. Unfortunately, I was only able to pencil in my first day of Writing Workshop at Bright Futures Academy.

It's not that I'm unsure of the date. It's just that when we checked the mail today, there it was. An official postcard stamped with a waving American flag across the front, encouraging--no, demanding--I perform my civic duty. A Jury Summons. For August 10. The day before I'm expected in my classroom downtown.

This day in court? It was neither inked nor penciled in, so how can it be happening? I'm crossing my fingers that the powers that be will excuse me on account of the fact that I'm responsible for 4 human beings whom the same powers that be have deemed too young to be at home alone all day. That and the fact that the official postcard with the American flag specifically says in big, red letters, "Do not bring children."

Already I'm rehearsing my phone call to the county seat on Monday. Do I lead with "I homeschool my kids...." Probably not. I have this irrational fear that if I mention the H word, DFCS will have a school bus waiting to take my children off to public school on August 10. I say irrational only because my husband says it's irrational. In my mind, I know it's a completely legitimate concern.

In the meantime, I'm trying to figure out what God is teaching me through this. I'm pretty sure I already know...best laid plans and all.

Laundry, Milkshakes, and Aliens

Yesterday was Laundry Day. After the clothes were all washed--and strewn about my bed--I considered what a gift it would it would be to TravelDaddy if he came home and didn't have to clear a place to sleep between laundry-fresh underwear and shirts contend with piles of unprocessed laundry. So I folded all of the clothes. I put away all of the clothes.

All in one day.

It was a momentous occasion. There may have been some singing and dancing to mark the accomplishment.

* * * * * * * * * *

We drove by Chick-fil-A the other day, and apparently they're running some sort of milkshake promotion because the entrance is nearly blocked by signs depicting the creamy sweet treats in life size.

"Can we have a milkshake, Mom? Plleeeeaaaase?" they all asked in unison.

"Why would I spend all that money on milkshakes," I replied, "when I can make you one at home..."

Why, oh why, did I say that? A simple "No" would have sufficed. (I may have done well to correct their "Can" to "May" also. Because I'm helpful like that.) Since then, it's been, "Mom, when are you gonna make us milkshakes?" "Mom, today are you gonna make us those milkshakes?"

Well, the day finally came. Yesterday I made them milkshakes. Which they we drank through licorice straws. Because I'm a cool mom like that.

* * * * * * * * * *

Incidentally, the licorice is left over from Mama's Magic Bag, which accompanied us to the movies on Tuesday.

* * * * * * * * * *

We sipped our milkshakes yesterday through licorice straws as I conducted my first Write Share. As you know, I've been doing a lot of reading lately, brushing up on my teaching writing skills. Besides the Writing Workshop I'll be teaching downtown, I've also mentioned I want to institute a little WW in my own homeschool academy. (WW stands for Writing Workshop, not to be confused with World War, although there are a few of those in my house every now and then.) I served a dose of it yesterday (Writing Workshop, not World War).

The night before, I printed out a bunch of handwriting pages from Donna Young and stapled them together like books. The next morning, the inevitable question came: "What are we doing today?" I handed them the books and said, "Guess what? You get to write your own books today!"

They all did pretty well. The older three wrote stories about their Webkinz. Apparently, they have been telling stories every night in bed which they are acting out with their Webkinz by the light of the moon--or a flashlight as it were. The Princess wrote and "read" a riveting story about aliens. It went like this:

One time there was 3 little aliens, and they were up really high in the gray room in the stadium. Then they go to the next room and the next room and the next room and the next room. They did all the stuff that was all in the rooms. They did coloring on paper in there and dancing in there. They had dinner in the other gray room and played games in the next and painted in the next. Now it's over.

"What is the title of your story, Audrey?" I asked.

"The Aliens are Lost," she replied.

"Lost?" I inquired, puzzled. "Where were they lost? I didn't hear that in your story."

"Oh...They got lost in the baseball stadium and then they found the other stadium. Now it's over."

The Stadium

* * * * * * * * * *

I've been schlepping around a big ol' spiral journal for the last couple of days. I'm going to require my Writing Workshop students to keep Writing Notebooks, so I thought I should practice what I preach and actually carry my own around. You know, since I'm living the Writing Life and all. Don't get me wrong. It's not like I can't/don't write without a laptop staring me in the face. Usually when my bloggy voice is narrating in my head, I just pull out one of a gazillion hotel notepads and jot my thoughts on it with one of a gazillion hotel pens. (God bless the Marriott and all of its offspring!)

My eldest daughter is somewhat the same. I have in fact purchased several writing journals for her, but they just end up stuffed under her bed. I know this for a fact because last week we did a purge in her room, and I discovered them all along with many other "things". But that's another story. Anyway, since she can't keep track of a Writing Notebook, she also jots things on whatever paper-type product is around. Here are some of the random thoughts that were swirling around her writing brain during our trip to Kentucky:

(These first few were triggered by the saying at the top of the hotel notepad: Leave a trail of genius.):

to: Thoose who need it

Leave a trail of genius...to those who need it. So rest your head in a good bed. To be the one to leave the trail of genius.

Rember it's hard to tell the dumb from the genius. So be cautios when chosing. Even those who look dumb may not be. Never judge a book by it's cover. Evreything is not what it seems. Be very careful through life. Those who may seem good might be bad.

Genius is in the heart and mind. Thoose who seek it may find it.

The soul and heart mind are powerful. So use them in the way that is good to evreyone.

1% smarts + 99% insperation = genius

The voice can hurt more than you think. So don't hurt people with your bad words. Encourage people with your words. It can make someone's day brighter.

If someone hates you do not hate them back. Tough (Though) you are sometimes wanting to give into the hatred. Resist the tempting push it away. Love your enmies pray for them at all cost.

Popcorn Rules!

to: those who need help

Pay attion to nature and nature will pay attion to you. To help the outdoors is to help the human race. So help and protect it for the good of you and your loved one's.

Wheelin' and Dealin'

"How much for this?" I would inquire, holding up the African souvenir.

"For you, Lady," the vendor would reply, "I give you special price of 2000 francs." His English was halting, yet well constructed from years of practice on a myriad of tourists.

"Oh, that's way too much," I would retort with mock indignation. "I'll give you 1500 francs."

He would feign offense, turn slightly away, and say, "1800, my last price." I would begin to walk away, and he would run up to me, tugging at my arm. "OK, OK, Lady. Last price. 1600 francs." I would agree to the price I wanted in the first place, pay for my souvenir, and move on to the next stall.

The Cocody Market in Abidjan was one of my favorite places to be. I'm not a shopping girl, but this was not your typical mall shopping. It was fun to peruse the souvenirs, but mostly it was fun to barter.

Bartering. That's something I'm sure many of us have done with God. "God, if you'll just give me A, I'll do/never do B again." I made such a deal with God yesterday. And with Chris. Chris is the children's minister at our church and, incidentally, one of my former students. He has also been a minister to inner city kids and teens for many years. He has long been an integral part of Bright Futures Atlanta. Recently, he and the founders of Bright Futures have begun working to create another ministry: a homeschool-type co-op for those teens and pre-teens who take part in Bright Futures.

I took Chris to Learning Things yesterday to check out some curriculum because, well, someone had to make him aware of the Treasure Warehouse Full of Curriculum. In conversation, I may have mentioned to him how much I would love to be a part of this--if only for one day a week--and of course he ran with it.

Believe it or not, when I first began my education to be a teacher, my dream was to work with inner city kids. That dream has been clouded over the years by my complete immersion into suburban living and all but forgotten as I've thrust myself into the job of motherhood. And now here is this Opportunity standing right in front of me.

Back to the wheelin' and dealin'. The problem with this opportunity is that it is quite far away. The other side of Atlanta far away. And if you know Atlanta at all, you know it is a sprawling city with terrible traffic. Anyway, I told Chris if we could sell our house I would help out because we intend to move about a half hour closer to civilization if we can ever unload this house. I felt quite satisfied with my deal--quite like I'd just gotten the price I wanted. Chris said he'd have everyone pray and we'd have the house sold in a week.

While I don't doubt that our prayers can indeed get this house sold in a week, I don't think that God wants me to be making deals with Him. I think He wants me to take steps of faith without the bartering. This is very difficult for me. I have spent so many years in self-reliance, years of making decisions without bringing God in at all. Consequently, I have very little experience in knowing God's will for my life. I mean, those open doors...are they open by chance, because I've led such a charmed life, or because God wants me to walk through them? Are those whispers from His Spirit or my selfish desires? These are common questions that rattle through my brain.

I'm so not good at this. It's really kind of silly because we're only talking one day a week that I would go down and help. And, while I know that raising my kids is my primary ministry right now, I also know that part of that ministry is teaching my children that there is more to life than the little suburban bubble in which we live. This would be a perfect opportunity. So why am I hesitating? I know it is my own selfishness which causes the hesitation. And laziness. That would play a factor too, of course, because saying "yes" would mean some extra planning and organization. And putting myself out there to be involved in others' lives.

I think I already know the answer--that this investment is worth a sacrifice. Why, then, do I still keep wanting to barter?

Occasional Remembrances

It's been 11 years since I last walked the halls of Meadowcreek High School, and it was only for 2 1/2 years that I left my footprints there. And so it absolutely astounds me when I run into one of my students! A couple of months ago, the kids and I made a trip to the post office. The lady who helped me looked very familiar, and her name tag said "Tamika." The thought occurred to me while I was at the post office, but the kids were going crazy and I just left. After I left, I mulled it over some more and was just positive it had to be Tamika Warren. But in Flowery Branch? No way. Today we were back at the PO, and Tamika helped me out again. This time I confirmed her last name.

Now Tamika wasn't one of my very fondest memories of teaching. Although I don't remember her specifically causing a problem, she was in the class that...well, suffice it to say that I am just pleased as anything that she's being supported by the government at the USPS rather than behind bars! While I'm sure a number of my former students are sporting black and white stripes, there are two I know of for sure: Melvin and Marvin Mitchell. And their situation breaks my heart.

I think of the twins Melvin and Marvin quite often ever since that newscast about five years ago. I don't often watch the local news, but I turned it on just in time to hear their names and see their mugshots flashed up on the screen. The two of them decided to rob an Ingles. That's not the worst part, though. As they were fleeing police, they were in an accident which killed the man they ran into. I often think of attempting to track them down just to send a note of encouragement or something. They were good kids. I taught their brother Michael as well, and he was a great kid too and really looked after his little brothers.

There have been several others I've run into in the last few years. I know it's cliche to say it's a small world, and I think I'd be missing the point entirely if I just wrote my "chance" meetings off to a cliche. I think every once in awhile God allows my path to cross those who are headed in the right direction as an encouragement to me that maybe I did touch a life way back then, if only briefly. And He sends me occasional reminders of those who made some bad choices so I can remember them and pray for them.