Kentucky Gives Day

Ky Gives Day 2014

BA @ Kids Matter

24 hours of online giving to nonprofits in Kentucky Gives Day beginning April 9, 2014.  Support the Child Care Council of KY!

In a little less than 24 hours, Kentuckians will have a 24-hour window on April 9 to give online to their charities of choice in the 2014 Kentucky Gives Day, sponsored by the Kentucky Nonprofit Network.

This annual fundraising event brings state residents and their organizations together for the chance to raise as much money for local causes as possible on a single online giving site in a single day and night of 24 hours.

All donations made online from 12 a.m. to 11:59 p.m. to participating Kentucky nonprofits are tax deductible. In addition, the top five organizations in each category that raise the most are given additional bonuses of from $250 to $2,500. There will be 10 mini prizes called “Golden Tickets” awarded to organizations throughout the day ranging from $100 to $250.

The categories for nonprofits are: Animals, Arts and Culture, Children and Youth, Community and Society, Economic Development, Education, Environment, Health, Humanitarian Aid, International, Religion and Science and Technology. Donors can use the search function to see organizations in their category of interest or search by a nonprofit’s name. All donations made with a credit or debit card will be counted as part of the fundraising totals.

There is no maximum donation limit, but there is a $10 minimum donation.

The website is operated by the Razoo Foundation, a public charity for online giving, which will keep a 5.9 percent fee for each donation received. Out of that, 4.9 percent will go to credit card processing, customer service and platform maintenance and 1 percent will return to the Kentucky Nonprofit Network to help cover a portion of the event management costs. For customer service, call 866-437-1952 or e-mail support@razoo.com.

The organizations each donor chooses to support will receive donor name and contact information, unless the donor chooses to make a contribution anonymously. All tax receipts are e-mailed to donors by the Razoo Foundation upon successful processing of the donation.

For more information, see Kygives.razoo.com.
From the Kentucky Non-Profit Network, KNN

It’s that time of year again!  Last year we raised almost $900.00 in 24 hours.  Not a bad days work, I might add.  I hope that we can raise that much and more this year.   What does it take?

It takes all of us to get the word out and ……………to give!

Please consider a gift and encourage others to do the same because Kids Matter - Invest Early –Invest Often!!!

“Let’s PLAY!”

“Let’s PLAY!”

By: BA @ Kids Matter

I lived in a small town when I was growing up; in a quiet neighborhood where everyone knew each other. We moved to that neighborhood when I was about four years old, and lived there until the summer of my senior year in high school. It was a nice, new, white house with a big yard, driveway to ride my bike, and roller skate. There were kids to play with… and summertime was just the best.

In those days,  school got out at the beginning of June and did not go back into session until the day after Labor Day. Ah, those were the days, my friend. If you have never had the opportunity to have a summer break for that long you have really missed out on something great. Summers would stretch out in front of us like a long and winding road. It was the days of sleeping in, eating breakfast late, watching “Howdy Doody” and “Uncle Al” then hitting the great outdoors for endless hours of pure enjoyment, fantasy, and magic. I had to be  practically dragged in for lunch and supper. Often, my mother would let me eat lunch on the front porch. I couldn’t stand to miss a moment of what was happening outside!

Play was the name of the game!  My best friend lived down the street and we literally spent every waking minute together. I walked to her house or she walked to mine.. And, we were followed everywhere by our pets.  I had a beagle named Missy and she had a little bulldog named Skipper.

 At my house, we played dolls and each of us had a “house” on either side of the front porch.  We had tea parties and dressed up in our mother’s (donated) high heels, jewelry, and dresses.  If we played bride then sheer curtains were our dress and veil. We also played with our doll houses under the big tree in the front yard. Sometimes we were allowed to play in the sprinkler and would laugh and squeal as the cold water sprayed us.

 She lived on a farm (yes, there was one in town) and at her house we spent hours riding our bicycles up and down the long driveway, making a playhouse out of the chicken coop, looking for little fish in the stream that ran through the property, climbing trees, and putting on  talent shows on the loading chute.  We also mastered walking along the top rail of the horse fence surrounding the property.

At night, we played hide and seek and hunted lightening bugs. We walked the railroad tracks that ran through our neighborhood. Our mother’s didn’t worry about us because if we did anything wrong, a neighbor would be there to reprimand and then tell our parents! Neighbors were also there to lend a hand if we got hurt or when we needed someone to talk to. I was an only child and my friend had two sisters and a brother.  It seemed like one huge family. It was a great time to be a kid! 

We each had to be home by 10:00 p.m. to wash up and go to bed. There was no such thing as air conditioning so it was shorty pajamas and a black metal fan to cool me on those long hot nights. I would drift off listening to the sound of that fan. I never remember being uncomfortable (probably because I was so tired from playing all day). 

As we grew older our playtime changed; boys became part of our growing circle of friends. We played wiffle ball and had endless tournaments. We challenged kids from other neighborhoods to play against us.  At night we would play badminton, or my all-time favorite, croquette. We were allowed to walk to the library and stop for ice cream at the “ten cent store”. If it was a rainy day, we would meet on my friend’s covered front porch and play board games.  Anyone who came by would stop and play. 

Soon we became interested in those boys that we had been playing with for years.  They magically started to look different in our eyes and we developed secret crushes on a new boy every week. We walked to the local movie theater. The boys sat behind us and would later follow us to the drug store for a coke. We spent Saturday mornings at the local bowling alley.  The boys were there, too.  We went to the local pool and sure enough, those boys would show up and show off. If there was a slumber party, you could bet that boys would be hiding outside and tapping on the window until someone’s mother caught them and sent them running home.  Being a “tween” in the summer was so much fun. It was all so sweet and innocent. It was all so easy and peaceful.   

My friend and I shared many, many, many summers together… many good times that we will never forget. When we entered high school we each had different activities. She was a cheerleader and I was a color guard in the band.  Our friends grew to include lots and lots of other people and we slowly began to drift apart. Her life went one way and mine went another. The funny thing about it is that we are still friends, even though we rarely see each other. The impact we had on each other as we were growing up is still with us. We shared so much together back then… and now we have those fond memories to share. We could probably pick up right where we left off. I know we could.

Now that’s an idea… “Hey Carolyn, grab your dollhouse and come on over. I have a big tree in my backyard. Let’s PLAY!!”

Want To Make A Difference? Sure you do!

Want To Make A Difference?  Sure you do!

BA @ Kids Matter

Have you ever thought about how a small gesture on your part can make a big difference in someone else’s day and maybe even in their life?  It happens all of the time. Sometimes it’s deliberate, meticulously planned out, and sometimes it’s spontaneous.  You get on the elevator and smile at a stranger, you speak to a person on the street, or you throw a few coins into the cup of a street performer. Maybe it’s donating to the local food bank. You offer your neighbor a ride, read a child a story… the list can go on forever.  Most of the time, these deeds are just simple things that you would do normally.  This time of the year seems to bring out the best in people. 

People want to help… and generally, they just need to be asked.  The Child Care Council of Kentucky is asking you to spread some of your generosity to help provide quality education for children who are in early care (birth to age five).  The Child Care Council of Kentucky provides training to the teachers of young children in a large region of Kentucky. 

Many children, nowadays, spend the better part of their day with a child care provider.  These dedicated early care professionals are working along with parents to build a strong foundation of learning for those little ones in care, however, research shows that many children enter school for the first time unprepared to succeed.  Early care professionals MUST receive the education and training necessary to prepare children for school!

You know it and I know it… all children DESERVE quality child care provided by well-educated caregivers.  Take a moment on Giving Tuesday (Dec 3, 2013) and make a donation for the quality education of all young children.

Investing, even a small amount, can pay off with a big gain for our children.  Help the Child Care Council of Kentucky.  Make a deliberate decision, by clicking on the link below, to donate to a cause that will directly improve children’s school readiness:  

http://www.razoo.com/story/Kids-Matter-Giving-Tuesday

Thank you and always remember that KIDS MATTER®

Memories of My Daddy

Memories of My Daddy

By BA @ Kids Matter

I grew up during a time when people were, “dodging the draft” and protesting war. I have never spent a lot of time thinking about freedom.  I don’t know about you, but I kind of take it for granted. 

Recently, a simple request to write a paragraph about Veteran’s Day prompted me to think about the men and women who serve our country every day who are willing to give their lives so that we can keep our freedom. Would you be brave enough to enlist in the armed services during war time? My father was one of those brave young men who did that very thing.

At 17 years old, my father was too young to enlist and had to have parental permission to join the U.S. Navy.  Times were different then.  It was World War II and young men were longing to “march off to war” and protect those they loved.  The world was in turmoil as my father begged to be allowed to enlist.  His mother would have none of it.  After all, he was an only child and he had not been drafted.  Why would he want to do something so foolish?  He was just a child, she argued.  Over and over he pleaded and argued his point.  His mother was adamant that he was not going. After several days finally my grandfather signed the necessary paperwork and he was off to join the Navy.  My grandmother was devastated.

Underage, young, and impulsive, he quickly realized that he would have to pass the necessary requirements to become a sailor.  One of those requirements was that he would have to be able to the read the colorful signal flags that were flown on ships.  Not so hard you say? My father was colorblind but that was not going to deter him!  He simply memorized the flags (not by colors) and passed the test. 

He was sent to Chicago for basic training, where he trained on the Great Lakes.  After basic training, he was stationed on a large destroyer, the USS Rogers, where he served as a radar man. He was deployed to Hawaii sometime around 1943.  As the war progressed and the Japanese became more and more aggressive, my grandmother was in constant fear for his life. After Pearl Harbor, it became apparent that drastic action would have to be taken; the U.S. would have to join the war.  We all know from history what drastic measures were later used against Japan.  After the bombs were dropped it was days before Japan surrendered. 

My father was on one of the ships that went into Japan after the bombings.  He never talked much about the actual events.  There are a few souvenirs that he brought back: two Japanese rag dolls, old black and white photos, and his Navy picture in his dress blues, his white uniform, sailor hat, and his medals that are saved in a suitcase with his uniform. All of these are now simply memories of a young sailor who served his country alongside thousands of other young men, my uncles included, and women in all branches of the service. This suitcase holds a part of my father that I did not know but, having inherited these things after his death; it somehow makes me feel closer to that 17 year old.  I am proud to say that I am the daughter of a “Tin Can Sailor” who survived World War II.

Thank you, Daddy, and all of the other Veterans who will be honored on November 11^th.  We can never, ever, repay you.

Peace and Love

Peace and Love

By: BA @ Kids Matter

It was the summer of peace and love.  The corner of Haight & Ashbury in San Francisco was alive with the sound of music and incense was floating through the air.  Young people with flowers in their hair traveled from all over the country to meet; searching for something… or someone.  They were searching for themselves; trying to understand and change the world around them. We all were.

Hundreds of thousands of people traveled to a town in upstate New York for one of the most remarkable events of the century; celebrating peace, love, and rock & roll.  It was a dream. It was a fantasy. It was romantic.  It was Woodstock. Hippies were cool.  Of course, that was not the reality. That summer was a time to believe in something.  After all, the Beatles told us, “All you need is love.”

I lived in a small town and led a very sheltered life. I spent summers riding around town with my friends, at the pool, and working at Day Camp as a counselor. In the fall, I went to football games, school dances, and participated in the high school band. Life was far removed from what was going on in the world. We knew what we saw on TV and heard on the radio. But we were young, therefore, bad news simply did not compute. Reality was what happened to other people. We were invincible, or so we thought. We greeted each other with the universal sign of the times and uttered the word “peace”.

That summer we fantasized about San Francisco and Woodstock. To celebrate the summer of love a group of us got together and staged the “Psychedelic Ball”. We met every day for weeks planning the perfect party.  We painted a huge mural in neon colors filled with peace symbols, flower power, and other influential graffiti. The mural was hung as the major focal point for the bash.  Giant colorful tissue flowers were everywhere. People were invited to come dressed as hippies complete with beads and bare feet.

When the black lights came on and the music began to play, we were transported away. Peace and love was alive in our little town. Everyone was there. We thought it was the greatest party ever.  We were young and naive.   So… very… naïve!   It was one of the last innocent moments that we would share before we went our separate ways.

College called some names, the draft called others. My father warned me to stay away from college demonstrations. Look what happened in Ohio (four dead) he told me. The war in Vietnam was in full force. Nightly news stories showed the horrors going on halfway across the world. Protests were raging all over the country against the war. People were losing their lives for our country. Makes you grow up fast! 

As we grew older, we realized that we were in the center of a world that was changing at such a rapid pace. We were right in the middle of history in the making.  The first man on the moon, the assassinations of John F. Kennedy and Martin Luther King, segregation, integration, discrimination, and social unrest… as the Temptations suggested it was “a ball of confusion”.   

Living through the turbulence was “the best of times and the worst of times”. We lived through it and are better people because of it. Every generation thinks the same thing and it is probably true to some extent. We all have one thing in common and decades later it is still evident we continue to search for peace and love. John Lennon was right when he said, “Love and peace are eternal”. 

I’m not sure the search will ever end.

Peace

Halloween Memories

Halloween Memories

BA @ Kids Matter

Ah, Halloween….. 

How do I love thee… let me count the ways:

1.      The decorations,

2.      The costumes,

3.      The food,

4.      The magic, and mostly,

5.      The memories…

When I was growing up, Halloween was one of my favorite days of the year.  The week leading up to the big night, always meant a trip with my mom to the local 5&10 cent store, J.J. Newberry’s, on Main Street to pick out the perfect costume.  We would walk down the street, stop under the striped awning, enter through the big heavy swinging double doors and stroll across the wooden floors in search of the Halloween display.  There it was… a glass enclosed counter with the individual boxes of costumes stacked to the top.  Yes, costumes came in a cardboard box; nicely folded with the mask peeking through the cellophane window in the box top. 

You could be anyone you wanted to be; a clown, a witch, Howdy Doody, the Lone Ranger, Cinderella, a lion, or a scarecrow.  It was all so enticing to a six year old!  As well as I can remember, the costumes were some sort of satin material that slipped on or pulled up, over your clothes and had a plastic tie at the neck.  A picture, to represent who you were, was stamped on the front… Cinderella also had some glitter on the front.  The masks were lightweight plastic and covered your entire face. You could hardly breathe in them.  But who cared?  It was great fun!!

On Halloween afternoon, when my dad got home from work, he and I would head to the back yard. He would cut the top off our pumpkin with a big butcher knife and let me stick my hand in to pull out all of the slimy insides.  He would carve a scary face, put a candle inside, put the top back on, carry it to the front yard, and ceremoniously place it on the front porch steps.   Then, it would be time to finish homework and eat a special dinner.  My Mom always made chili and sandwiches on this occasion.   But who could eat? 

Evening was beginning and soon my best friend and I would be donning our costumes and meeting to go Trick or Treating!  As I was getting ready, I always pictured a witch flying in front of a big yellow moon with wolves howling below.   Strange creatures would be lurking behind every tree.  I couldn’t wait to get outside in the dark, cold, eerie night. 

We would go from house to house. Each neighbor would comment on how scary, funny or beautiful we were in our costumes.  They always pretended not to know who we were, even though my dad was waiting patiently on the sidewalk.  We could count on wonderful goodies like popcorn balls, homemade cookies, caramel apples, big suckers, and chocolate bars!  Oh, the magic and wonderful innocence of it all!

I can still feel the warm memories come flooding back every year about this time…..the sweet simplicity of the late fifties.  I wish it could still be like that, but it was a long, long time ago and times have surely changed.  Those times were not so bad.  It was the simple things in life that made us what we are today… big kids who still love Halloween.

Ask Lots of Questions

Ask Lots of Questions

BA @ Kids Matter

During high school and college I worked every summer as a camp counselor at “Camp Little Acorn,” our local YMCA day camp.  It was a wonderful experience for me. For eight weeks in the summer it was attended by lots of children. Each day after the flag raising ceremony, the children had a schedule of fishing, hiking, archery, riflery, camp crafts, nature studies, boating, and a flag lowering ceremony.  Each day the children were transported, by bus, to the YMCA pool for a swim before going home.

On the first day of one particular camping session I gathered all of the children in my group around me to sit and get acquainted. One very important thing for a counselor to find out was if a child could swim. Any child that could not swim was required to remain in the shallow end of the pool with a counselor. All of the children in my group could swim except one little boy. So I made a note to myself to keep him in my mind. 

Our camp was bounded by Houston Creek on two sides. Although in most places, you had to wade, some places were actually deep enough to float a boat. And, of course, the children also went to the pool every day. At that time, the pool was a small (and I mean small) indoor pool located in the basement of the YMCA.  The pool was from 3 ft. to 8 ft. deep and was about the size of an in-ground backyard pool. Slippery concrete floors surrounded it with a few windows strategically placed for ventilation. 

Each counselor had been given trained on first aid, CPR, water safety, and boating safety… we were also given a limited amount of training on lifeguarding. There was always a trained lifeguard on staff. Camp counselors took turns on “pool duty” which involved standing in street clothes, around the side of the pool and watching the children. Sounds easy, but it was a small pool and there were lots of kids! When they got in the water it was a noisy, crowded and busy place for sure! The lifeguard needed all the help he could get.

Well, on the first day of this particular session I was put on “pool duty”. No big deal, I had done it many times. I always kept my eyes and ears open because I took my job as a counselor quite seriously. I had been assigned to the deep end of the pool by the diving board. 

Each child waited patiently in line for their turn on the board.  When you got on the board you were to wait until the previous child had made it to the ladder before you could dive or jump off the board. We had been trained to watch as they went off the board and safely made it to the ladder and then watch the next child. That day was no different than any other as swimmer after swimmer went off the board… over and over again.  And then it happened!!!

I looked over and there he was… the little boy who could not swim!! It took only about 30 seconds but seemed like it was an eternity and all in slow motion. He was smiling, running, and jumping off the diving board. My mind was telling me, you know he cannot swim!

This little boy, without a care in the world, plunged into the eight feet of water and promptly sank straight to the bottom. I kid you not; he was on the bottom of the pool looking straight up at me with his big eyes and totally in shock. I can still see him to this day. I prayed he did not try to take a breath down there! Without thinking I, along with the lifeguard, immediately jumped in after him.  We pulled him to the side and up the ladder.  He was spitting water, coughing, snot was flying, but he was fine.  I took him to the locker room, dried him off, and he got dressed.  We spent the rest of the day in the gymnasium.

As we sat on the bleachers in the gym, me with wet hair, wet shoes, wet clothes, and still a bit shaken, I asked him what he was thinking when he got on that board and jumped off.  “You told me this morning that you can’t swim.” I reminded him. He looked me straight in the eye and said, “I can’t swim, but I know how to jump off stuff! I jump off my bed all the time!” 

Well, I learned my lesson that day. Be sure to ask all of the right questions… even if you are not sure what they may be! Too much information is better than not enough. Just think like a little boy and it might just save someone’s life! Or, at least, keep you from getting soaking wet!  

Kids……you gotta love ‘em!

Sometimes It May Be Better To Disregard Signs

BA @ Kids Matter

Recently, I was on vacation in Florida.  I love visiting my son, going to the beach, and getting out and sightseeing.  Photography is also a hobby of mine.  I like to take pictures of my family, people, and nature.  But, I also like quirky and interesting things. 

One day we were on our way to my favorite restaurant, at a local fish camp, when I spotted something of which I just had to take a picture!  We were driving on a relatively congested street and there it was, right in the middle of a busy intersection.  It was not a family member, an interesting person, a beautiful Florida flamingo, not even a seagull.  It was just a black and white sign.  Why would I take a picture of a sign?  As soon as I saw it I knew there was a “blog” idea behind that simple message!

The plain black letters on a white sign, including a phone number, simply read:

“Need a Babysitter?   Safe – Reliable   Background Investigated”

Now, I am quite sure that hundreds of people pass that sign on a daily basis.  How many of them have thought about it?  Has anyone called the number?  Could someone truly think that this would be an appropriate way to choose a caregiver for their child?  If so, that parent could definitely use some education on how to choose quality care.   Another sign should be erected in the same location that says:

“Looking for Quality Child Care?  Call your local Child Care Resource and Referral Agency!”

I have worked for the Child Care Council of Kentucky (CCC), a local Child Care Resource and Referral Agency (CCR&R), since 1997.  A CCR&R is a great educational resource for parents and guardians. Local staff can provide an abundance of information on how to choose quality child care. Check out the CCC and parent resources on our website at http://cccofky.com/.  There are agencies of this type all across America.  To find one near you, simply do an online search for Child Care Aware (a national resource for parents). Make an educated, smart choice when choosing care for your child. It’s one of the most important decisions a parent or guardian makes.                                                                                                   

It may be best to disregard those signs at busy intersections!

Little Big Wig

By BA @ Kids Matter

My student teaching experience gave me the opportunity to work with and learn from some very good teachers but I learned the most from the children.  My second grade classroom was a typical public school class. The children were a mixture of different levels of learning, a wide variety of personalities, different family backgrounds and rich with diversity.

On my first day I was outnumbered by 30 to 1. I struggled to remember everyone’s name and connect it to a face; there was one student who caught my eye.  She sat in the second row, about four seats back, and was a little African-American girl. She sat very still and spoke quietly. When I asked her name, she looked me up and down with a certain amount of suspicion. She had the biggest brown eyes that I think I have ever seen and I noticed that she had no eyebrows.  She was dressed in a skirt, a blouse that was half tucked, and tennis shoes. She looked just like a typical second grader…but there was something that made her different.  She was wearing a wig.

Now, this wig was not one for a child.  It was an adult wig; a black, bob cut, with bangs that would have fallen right at an adult’s ears.  On her it came to her collar, the bangs were practically to her nose, and were held back with two bobbie pins. Oversized was an understatement. 

This little girl never missed school. I couldn’t wait to see her every day.  She rode the bus to school and when she arrived her wig was always askew. Sometimes it was sliding off the back of her head, pushed forward or just generally crooked.  Once we got it straight, it stayed that way until recess.  After recess, it might be sitting half over one eye or slid over to one side.  It never seemed to bother her. 

Although she originally seemed quiet and reserved, I made a point to include her into lots of conversations during our lessons. She began to come out of her shell but she still seemed a little shy around me. I know teachers are not supposed to have favorites. Every child is special, but she was just so darn CUTE!  By the second week, we had bonded. She was always eager to help and accepted any task that she was given. She really started showing an improvement in her school work.  She was learning at her own pace.

One day, my supervising teacher shared with me that the little girl’s mother had put some kind of acid on the child’s head when she was a baby. That’s why she had no eyebrows or hair.  It had never grown back after the incident. That explained why the wig did not seem to bother her;  she was just used to wearing it.  What a tough thing for a child to have to go through.  This was something that she would have to deal with her whole life. I thought about her a lot, still do.

One afternoon after school I was sitting at the teacher’s desk and my supervising teacher was sitting at the table in the back of the room.  I was grading papers when the little girl approached my desk.  “Miss Rice?” I looked up. “Yes, sweetie, what can I do for you?” “Well,” she started slowly, “you know, um, well ummmm, I used to be afraid of white people, but I’m not afraid of you!”  And she reached up and gave me a hug.  I returned that hug with all of my heart, thanked her, smiled and straightened her wig. She ran out the door. That happened in 1972.  It’s funny how things stay with you. I wonder if she even remembers me.          

I think about that brief exchange between the two of us, how important that was to me and to her and how a true connection can touch your heart forever.  I also wonder whatever became of that sweet little girl. I hope that she grew up to have as big a heart as she showed me that day. We never really think about the impact we have on people throughout our lives.

Big Ears

By: BA @ Kids Matter

One day I was in the lobby of my local YMCA, where I was employed as the Executive Director. I was feeling very good that particular day because we had just finished a very productive board meeting. Everyone had shown up for work happy and the sun was shining outside.  In addition, I had just gotten a very new and very chic haircut. 

Now, everyone who knows me knows that I have always been particular about my hair.  In high school I had the popular blond “flip” with bangs and spent hours perfecting that flip.  Many nights were spent rolling my hair, using Dippity­-Do, sleeping on plastic rollers, then teasing and spraying until it was just right.  Later, in college I would come to love the kind of hippie “shag”; short on the sides and long in the back.  Somewhere in there was that Farrah Fawcett layered look, too.  At one point, when my children were little, I wore it pulled back in a ponytail and always wore a ribbon that matched my outfit.  Oh, yeah, and then there was the “bobbed cut”.   I do try to stay on trend! It took me a long, long time before I would let just anyone touch my hair. I searched and searched for someone who I could trust and I had finally found a beautician who I loved.

Anyway, as I said, I had just gotten a new haircut and was feeling pretty darn good about it. It was very similar to the popular Princess Di cut; short, sleek and a little bit sexy.  I was standing in the lobby talking with one of the members. It was pretty crowded that day and we were very deep in conversation when I felt a gentle tug on my skirt and heard a little voice interrupting with, “ Mrs. Allen…Mrs. Allen?”  Then louder……”Mrs. Allen!”  More tugging….  I looked down into the precious face of one of our little preschoolers. His class was on the way to the gym with their teacher.  “Yes, Jim, what can I do for you?” I asked.   In a voice that I will never forget, he announces to everyone within earshot……“Mrs. Allen, you’ve got really BIG EARS!”

Silence fell as everyone tried not to burst out laughing and waited to see what my reaction was going to be.  I looked down, held back my own laughter and simply said, “Why yes, Jim, you are so right!”  And off he happily went to play in the gym.  So much for feeling good about myself and my new hairdo!!

I still wear a similar version of that haircut to this day and always remind my beautician, “Not too short over the ears”. 

Kids-You just gotta love them!!

Teach On

In my final semester of college I did student teaching in Montgomery and Fayette Counties. I loved time spent with my Kindergarten students in Mt. Sterling, Kentucky.  The children were wonderful, the teachers were helpful, and my time there was memorable. It seemed way too soon when the time came to leave those children, but I was assigned to head to Lexington, Kentucky, to a second grade classroom.  I arrived bright and early on my first day at the new elementary school.  I went to the office and checked in.  I was then directed to my classroom to meet my supervising teacher.  I was a nervous wreck. My heart was pounding and my pulse was racing. 

This school was a lot bigger than the little four room school house I had just come from.  I made my way down the long hallways with the other teachers who were arriving for work and finally located the room where I would spend 6-8 weeks.  The door was closed; I knocked tentatively.   “Come in, come in!” I heard a friendly voice say.  I opened the door to a classroom of thirty little empty desks, long windows looking into a courtyard and a teacher with the biggest smile ever.  She was very dressed up.  She wore a nice suit, high heeled shoes, a beautiful pin, and earrings.  I wondered if she was that dressed up for me, but I later realized that she looked that nice every single day.  What a great role model!

We began to chat and she asked me all kinds of questions about myself as she busily wrote the work for the day on the blackboard. Soon the bell rang and children began noisily filtering into the room.  One by one they came, until all the desks were filled. Wow! Thirty little faces staring at me.  I was a stranger to them. I took a seat in the back of the room, eager to watch the class and the teacher perform their daily classroom routines.  I could hardly wait to see how she handled each lesson and the transition times.  Would she be a strict disciplinarian? Would she be laid back?  Would there be a standard daily class schedule? Would she just “play it by ear”?   So many questions, so many things to learn, so many things to observe.  I decided to sit quietly and listen.

The morning announcements were read over the loud speaker.  Everyone listened to what the principal had to say, then rose to recite the Pledge of Allegiance.  When they finished, they settled back into their seats.  The teacher started by passing out paper and pencils.  She had a writing assignment and some busy work on the blackboard that had to do with October and fall.

So far: so good.  I settled in and relaxed just a little bit. My heart stopped racing and my pulse was back to normal.  I thought that everything would to be all right. No need to be nervous.  The teacher would probably let me help her today and give me something more specific to do tomorrow.  It was getting easier.

After introducing me to the class, the bomb dropped.  She told the children that I would be taking over the class.  And she meant THAT MINUTE…NOW!!  Really??  Seriously??

I had nothing planned…Why hadn’t anyone warned me about something like this happening? What was she thinking? How could she do this to someone she did not even know?   It was only 8:30 in the morning!  Was it a prank on the new, unsuspecting, student teacher?  Nope… She went over and sat down at her desk and wrote in her planner.   I managed to walk to the middle of the classroom.  I asked the class, “So, it is fall and this month is October.  What kinds of things happen in October?”  As children began to answer we built a conversation on those responses. Everything clicked!

I ended by asking them to look at the blackboard and, in their best handwriting, copy the paragraph that the teacher had so nicely printed that morning.  I walked around and complimented each one on their fine writing skills and helped the ones who were having a little trouble.

The rest of the day went smoothly, and at the end of the day the teacher handed me her plan book. This was the most remarkable book that I had ever seen because it was so well planned.  It was written in pencil, with every detail in place!

The teacher told me that she would take the little reading group that was having some difficulty and work with them daily, but basically, the class was mine. Go for it!  I was astounded by the trust that she showed me that day and I wanted to excel because of it. Our relationship grew so strong.  She was one of the best role models that I have ever had.  She helped me when I asked, was never judgmental, and we developed a mutual respect for one another.

One day in the school cafeteria, one of the other teachers took me aside and told me that my teacher had said that I was the best student teacher she had ever seen. That comment made me feel wonderful because I wanted to do well for her and the children. My teacher, however, was not the type to tell me that personally.

I was glad that the other teacher had told me about that comment… but, for a completely different reason.  My teacher had been absent from school a few times during those eight weeks.  She never said why, but she had a nagging cough that she couldn’t shake. I hated when she was out. The substitutes took over, but I felt like it was MY classroom, not theirs! Of course, they were only doing their jobs. 

When my time was over in that classroom, I was very sad. It was mid December and I wanted to stay until the Christmas break, which just wasn’t allowed. But, I was invited back to the class holiday party two weeks later.  When I arrived the children jumped up and ran to meet me.  I was greeted with hugs all around …and my teacher’s smiling face. 

We exchanged presents.  I gave her a beautiful, vintage pin and matching earrings.  She gave me my first planner book.  It was such a sweet day that I cried on the way home. I would really miss them, but I also looked forward to what would happen next.  Where would I get a job?  In January??  As happens in life, I got busy job searching and we did not stay in touch.

I was hired as a substitute teacher. Before long, it was late summer and I had landed a job as a first grade teacher.  By chance that fall, I learned that my teacher had passed away from cancer, earlier that year. She had not said a word to me about her illness. I was stunned and saddened.

When I got my own classroom, I used many of the techniques that I had learned from my teacher. I just wished that I could tell her.  Maybe she knew; maybe she was right there still guiding me because one thing I had learned from her was always with me. There was nothing more important than a detailed monthly planner (written in pencil) to keep your classroom operating on schedule. Even when it had to be adjusted…it was essential. 

My first planner was always open on my desk. It was detailed, precise, and completed 6-8 weeks in advance.  It was my guiding light, just like my teacher had been! 

BA @ Kids Matter

When I was in college I was an Elementary Education and Early Childhood Development major.  I couldn't wait to graduate and have my own classroom, however, before I could actually do that I had to practice and be graded by doing my student teaching. This adventure would happen under the watchful eye of a classroom teacher and my Fundamentals professor.  After filling out and turning in the required paperwork, I anxiously awaited the letter that announced where I had been placed.  Would it be a new school? Would it be an old school? Who else would be placed in the same school and who would my supervising teacher be?

 

When the placement letter arrived I was happy to find out that I had been assigned in Mt. Sterling for Kindergarten and Lexington to a 2^nd grade classroom.  I couldn't wait to get started and was thrilled to be going to the Kindergarten classroom first.

The Kindergarten was actually located in a four room, former school annex located behind the high school.  It had a central hallway, tall ceilings, big rooms with windows and hardwood floors.  There were two teachers who did “team teaching” and the children would change classrooms for different academic activities.  A small playground with a huge shade tree could be seen from two of the rooms.  There was a morning class and an afternoon class with about twenty five children in each session.  

I remember that the children were adorable and so smart. As the weeks went by, I was allowed to plan all types of activities for them to do.  There was literacy, math, science, and my favorite, art.  I became close to my supervising teacher and studied her every move so that I could perform to her satisfaction which was very important.  The biggest test of all would be an observation visit from my college professor to see how I could handle the classroom.  When she came you were required to handle the class all by yourself!! 

Oh, the planning that went on before that day!  And oh, the stress of thinking about her sitting in the room and watching every little thing that I did and listen to every single word that I said. During her observation visit she would bring an evaluation form, and fill it out in front of you, to let you know your progress.  Thank goodness she was only coming one time to Kindergarten!

The day arrived for the observation and I was a nervous wreck.  My mind raced with all of the things I planned to do.  My professor arrived and said hello and went in to talk with my supervising teacher.  The children started to arrive.  Where was she?  More children arrived.  They were still talking!  OK, all the children were there. Should I wait? Should I start?  If I didn't start soon things might get out of control so I called everyone for “morning circle time”.  Let’s get this show on the road!

Everyone gathered on the rug and we began our morning ritual. We sang our morning welcome song, did our roll call, talked about the weather and filled out the weather chart.  When they heard we had started my professor came in and took a seat in the corner of the room.  She was carrying her trusty clipboard and evaluation form!  We began to talk about which day of the week it was and what activities we would do that day.  

Suddenly, one of the little boys, who arrived late, burst through the door and headed straight for the circle of children to find his place.  He settled in just as I asked if anyone had anything that they wanted to share with the group.  (We did this every morning and most of the time children shared stories about pets, a new toy, and birthdays, all of the things that are important when you are 5 years old).  So, the little boy who was late raises his hand, waving it excitedly to get my attention. I called on him to share. 

He stood up in the middle of the circle, put his hands on his hips, opened his eyes wide and exclaimed,   “My Daddy got drunk and threw up all over the T.V.  My Mommy had to clean it up and she was really, really mad!”    He looked at me for some sort of validation.  Oh, dear, what to say?

“Well,” I said, “sometimes those things happen.”  He shook his head in agreement; none of the other children said a word or seemed to think anything about what he had just said so we continued on with the lesson. I have no idea what anyone else had to share that day!

In the corner, my professor was quietly cracking up and writing a lot on that clipboard…… and, by the way, I got a great evaluation and a story to tell many years later.  Whew!

Kids. You gotta love ‘em! 

BA @ Kids Matter

"Quirks" We All Have Them

We all have little “quirks”….you know, those things that you do that are totally “your” thing.  Oh come on now, don’t act like you don’t have any!!

Most of the time those “quirks” are kept to yourself; maybe you share them with your very best friend, husband or wife.  Quirks often begin at an early age and sometime provide a certain level of comfort and security.

When my son was a baby, I always put him in a snuggly, warm, soft blanket sleeper at bedtime.  This would assure that no blankets were kicked off or accidentally wrapped around his head. As he got a little older he began wearing footed pajamas. You know the kind, they fit snug and the shirt snaps into the pants to stay tucked in. By the time he was about three he was wearing regular pajamas with the pants, long sleeve top that buttoned up the front and cute animal shaped slippers. 

After bath time we would put on his PJ’s and slippers, read a story, sing a song, listen to some music, get that important drink of water, take a trip the bathroom and he was ready to “hit the hay”.   Tucked in, a kiss goodnight and he was “out like a light”.

Every night, I would go back in to check on him, and he would have kicked off his covers and be sound asleep….with his slippers on.  I would tiptoe to his bed. Gently, very gently, remove the slippers, cover him back up and sneak out of his room. Within 5 minutes he would be awake, have the slippers back on and no covers. 

This routine went on three to four times a night for months.  I finally gave up. You know, sometimes you just have to pick your battles. His feet were warm, he was warm and as long as those slippers were on his feet, he did not wake up. Apparently he loved his slippers! And I needed my sleep.

His love of slippers continued. It got to the point that he wore them every time he did not have on his shoes.  His grandmother, my mother, would buy him slippers as a surprise, for Christmas, for birthdays, because they were on sale, or just because she found cute ones. She really did like to spoil him. He had slippers at our house and at her house. He wore them constantly. He did not care if they were for boys; if they were pink and had fur he would still wear them!  Now mind you, he was only 3 years old.  

I was beginning to think he was obsessed. So I began to reason with him…... “You know your feet really need some air.” and “You know your feet will be sweaty and smelly if they don’t get some air.”

He didn’t care, the slippers stayed on those little feet.  I resorted to white lies. “You know your feet may fall off (fingers crossed behind my back) if they don’t get some air.”  Nope! Even the loss of feet didn’t cause the slippers to come off.  Finally, one night in exasperation, I asked, “Why do you wear your slippers and shoes all the time?”.

Here was his serious answer, directly to the point…...  “Mom, if I take my shoes off my pants will fall down!”  All I could do was to pick him up and give him a big hug.   I tried to convince him that his shoes did not hold up his pants, but he was having none of it.  

Well, my son is 33 years old now and I am very sure the “quirk” continues. On the plus side, his feet haven’t fallen off yet and I am pretty sure he now knows that his shoes are not holding up his pants.

Kids. You Gotta Love 'Em!

BA @ Kids Matter