Monthly Archives: December 2012

Looking for funny


sols_blueI’m looking for funny today.

I like writing about funny life happenings.

Today it isn’t funny, it is serious, way too serious for me.

We are walking the picket line for a serious issue,

Smaller numbers than 34 first graders in a class with only one teacher.

That teacher is also paid just a smidgen of what she is worth.

I believe she is worth piles and piles of giant gold coins and more

For what she brings to her classroom every day,

But what does she bring?  

She brings perseverance, hope and a warm and loving heart  

Yes, she is worth her weight in gold for ushering in,

The joy that only reading,


And thinking,

Can provide a life with,

Why does our community not recognize,

And value, the gifts that she gives daily?

As I picket, I walk shoulder to shoulder with the strong and courageous,

We hear the honks and see thumbs up,

But see also the faces that glance and

Drive on…

I’m looking for funny today,

But it’s not.

PS Our district is a community district, the third largest in our state.  After striking for one day, we have our first contract that includes necessary class size caps.  I marched with new teachers and many that I have known for thirty-five years.  I was proud to be among these dedicated teachers.  But then again, every single day, I am amazed by their commitment to the children and families we serve.  XO Nanc

My Grandma’s hands


sols_blueI’m nervous as a little cat.  Tomorrow is the day.  They are negotiating and I’m praying for a miracle and also running to the washroom after every small group I see.

I look down at my hands, typing on my keyboard.  I’m trying to relax.  Trying to let the words flow out through my fingers, through the tapping.  I look down at my, 50 something hand again.  I see a few spots, bigger than freckles.  The are reminiscent of another hand, a familiar hand.   My bones are more pronounced and I  catch a glimpse of a bluish line that seems to pulse a bit as I type.  My fourth finger on my right hand is the giveaway.  It is a small, simple band with four small diamonds.  My hands are not my hands any longer, they become my Grandma’s hands.  I sigh, I tear,  remembering her hands, her loving and hard-working hands.  I wear the only ring I ever saw on her hand to bring Grandma to mind every single day.

What would she say to me  today?  The day before I walk the line?  Would she be proud?  Or would she pretend she didn’t know me and mutter words of disdain that many of us will hear tomorrow?  I continue to type, to write and I clearly see her reading all her books in the bay window with the sun shining down.

I hear her say, “Reading is a gift that keeps on giving, Nancy.  Fight to keep on reading, fight to keep on learning, fight to keep on….teaching the children.”

I imagine her typically solemn eyes and say to myself.  I am fighting for the next generation of children, 34 first graders with only one teacher to teach them.  I’m fighting for their right to a quality education with a teacher that has time to sit beside them, listen to them, confer with and laugh with them as they are enjoying Pete the Cat’s latest adventure.  I’m walking the line for them.  I pray tonight for a miracle.  I’m glad my hands look like my Grandma’s now, lined  and freckled but still strong and very determined.

XO nanc

PS I wrote this after school today.  We all just found out that tomorrow we will walk the line for the children of our community. I would appreciate the prayers of our ‘slicing’ community.

I’ve always loved this song by Bill Withers…I love song lyrics

Grandma’s hands
Used to hand me piece of candy
Grandma’s hands
Picked me up each time I fell
Grandma’s hand

If I get to Heaven

I will look for Grandma’s hands.