The White Before Christmas

I like snow.  I don't say that real loud because there are many people that loathe snow.  But, I love snow. 

During the past 24 hours, there's been a blizzard bearing down on Iowa.  Therefore, it's time for me to make bread.  I equate homemade yeast anything (rolls, bread, cinnamon rolls) with snowstorms.  Mom always would bake when there was bad weather...so I have been conditioned to think that if it's nasty outside, it's time to warm up the oven and get out the flour.

Snow storms could either be really good =electricity, plenty of food in the pantry, lots of family and friends, board games, jigsaw puzzles, toboggans, hot cocoa, warm fire, the snow beautiful and airy.

Or snow storms could be bad  = No electricity, no food (one time I college I had a carton of stale cottage cheese and a six pack of skunky beer- that was it), no friends or family, no wood, heavy snow where the trees get weighted down and the limbs break off,  so cold you don't want to go out (I remember negotiating with one of the family pets--I had to make a little area where the dog could potty.)

But, there's part of me that wants to be looking out the front door window in the house in State Center.  From this window, we could see the street light and judge the quality of the snow.....heavy, fluffy/ strong winds, no wind/ big flakes, ice pellets.  We used to be our own "Al Rokers"-- the caterpillars were especially numerous with thick coats-- a bad winter for sure-- the barometer was falling like a rock--here comes some precipitation.  12 inches of snow fell in State Center today-- goodness sakes!  Here's my brother, Dan Malloy, cleaning his driveway in Des Moines.  All of Iowa felt the effects of the storm.

But, it was the magic of sitting by the radio listening to KFJB in Marshalltown waiting to hear if we had school that was the most fun.  Yes, we had to make up snow days, but having a day off at an odd time was like finding a frozen Snicker's candybar in the freezer--it wasn't the norm but it was sure good. I loved hearing that there would be no classes held in the West Marshall District.

I even liked snow days as an adult.  I especially loved snow days that cleared up by noon so I could go shopping.  One evening (when Bill and I lived in Centerville, Iowa, and I taught fourth grade), there was a forecast for a bad storm that would hit in the middle of the night.  I stopped by the local grocery for the necessities-- toilet paper and cat food.  I ran into the president of the school board that evening at the store-- he had toilet paper and cat food, too.  He looked at me and said, "I can see where our priorities are."

As a teacher I liked to get to school early.  One morning it was snowing like crazy but I felt sure they would still have school  I left home in my little red car and promptly got stuck.  The snow wasn't too bad, so I just walked to Lakeview Elementary.  It was about a mile....I got to work and the janitor met me at the door and told me school had been called off.  I turned around and just walked home.

So, I'm having my own "snow day" here in Central Georgia.  I have the Weather Channel on, I've baked bread, and I haven't left the house...and the thermometer still says 62 degrees.   I've loved the snowy photos on Facebook-- I'm showing you one that Jeff Merrill took of downtown State Center early Thursday morning.  It is a picturesque town and it means the world to me.  Nothing is prettier than a small town covered in a blanket of fresh snow!

I need to go take the bread out of the oven.

A Parent's Worse Nightmare

Twenty sets of parents were told today that their young children were killed.

I can't breathe.  I can't think about anything else.  I have a headache.  I have heart ache.

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I loved teaching.  I never felt unsafe in any of the schools where I worked.

Oh, God, please hear my prayers for all of these sweet families.

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Gun control has never been a issue for me.  I believe that hunters should be able to hunt.  I believe that people should be able to protect themselves.  Guns don't kill people; people kill people.

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I believe the Ten Commandments.  Thou shalt not kill.  Thous shalt not kill.

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Why do criminals think the way they think?  A wise judge told me that criminals are not 
NORPS-- Normal, Ordinary, Responsible People.  Is it mental illness, is it a sense of entitlement, is it a deformity in the brain?  I don't know.

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I have read the book, "When Bad things happen to Good People."  And I have read it again.  And I have read it again. It will be started again tonight.


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I keep thinking about the school secretary.  She would have known everyone.  School secretaries are the "point" people in a school.  A great school secretary is the "top of the key"-- she sees the plays and makes sure the team follows through.  Secretaries keep track of everything and everyone.  Please pray for the secretary.

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There's been lots in the news about the fiscal cliff.  I'm more concerned about the moral cliff that we have obviously have not only gone over--we are free falling into the abyss of extremism.  The individuals that I meet that have the "I'm right- you're not because you don't have the same _________(values, beliefs, religion, race, gender, sexuality) as I do.  I am right....because I'm me.  AND I'm always right" seem to be growing in number.

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Please pray for all of the people who were at Newtown's Sandy Hook Elementary School today. Please pray for our world.  Your prayers got my family through the nightmare-- now, we have more people to help.  I know that your love and kindness made us get up in the morning, put one foot in front of the other, and kept us living.  Proverbs 17:17

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Let there be peace on earth, and let it begin with me.

General Petraeus, 9th Graders and Sir Isaac Newton

Pick any Monday morning in a high school........it's too darn early for life to start.  The weekend is always brought to school.  Always!  ALWAYS!

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7:00 a.m....The front desk secretary brought me three students.  She handed me a cup of black coffee and the write-ups, raised one eye-brow and said, "This is a wild one.  Call me if you need a refill."  She looked at the students and said, "Sit down.  Dr. Weaver will be helping you now."

The three 9th graders sat in straight chairs right in front of my desk.  The boy was "boohooing" like there was no tomorrow.  Both of the girls on either side of him looked as mad as wet hens.  No, they were madder.  They were ANGRY and that boy kept up a noise that could be mistaken a howler monkey caught in a trap.

As an assistant principal, I saw students who, shall we say, have made bad choices.  I rarely saw students for something good and I could tell from the volume alone, this was going to be a doozy.  

The three had been causing a loud ruckus in a hall before an early morning class and the teachers had wanted me to get to the bottom of it.  The teachers wanted it stopped.  Now.

I handed each student a clipboard with lined paper on it.  "No talking to each other.  Write your side of the story for me to read before we start discussing this,"  the standard  message came out of my mouth.  "Write the truth as you see it and then we'll compare your stories."  

Furiously the girls began writing and writing and writing.  AND writing.  The boy was still gulping and crying.  I handed him a box of tissues and he wrote one sentence and handed me the clipboard with his statement.  

"She said my ding-dong was small."

I read that sentence at least three times.  I looked up and the boy was still sobbing.  

The synopsis of girl number one was that she was the boy's girlfriend.  AND he was showing his tallywacker to other people.  AND she didn't think he should show his wiener to anyone else.  He was her boyfriend.  AND he had done this weekend.  AND she didn't think that was very right.  

Girl number two had looked at his private parts and declared them "SMALL".  She wrote that all she was doing was telling the truth.  And he shouldn't have been showing it to everyone after the movies Saturday night if he didn't want people to talk.  She was telling everyone before school because it was so tiny and it looked like a miniature Johnson.  She'd never seen such a teeny weeny peeny.  

(I can't make this stuff up.)

The students were interfering with the orderly running of a public school.  I sweetly called the secretary and asked her to get me a refill on my coffee.  "Yes, Ma'am."   At this point I said a quick prayer in my head for wisdom and not to laugh right out loud.

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The punishment was simple.  I had each of them call their mother and tell their own story.  All three of the moms came and got their children.  All three of the mothers were aghast.  All three of the children got more punishment from their parents that they could ever get from me.  All three of the families hide from me whenever they see me.

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I'm going to tell General Patreus what I told those children.  If you show your privates to someone, they will talk.  If you are in a relationship, you don't need to show your privates to anyone else.  If you do show your privates to outside parties, you  have made a choice and you need to live with the consequences.  It's physics.  Just like Sir Issac Newton stated, "For every action, there's an equal and opposite  action."

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It's all about the academics, isn't it?

  

Confessions of a Midnight Cat Wrangler: Laughing in Church

Confessions of a Midnight Cat Wrangler: Laughing in Church: I turned 62 last week.  I'm ready for social security.  I have been a high school principal.  I am responsible, mature, kind, and orderly. ...

Laughing in Church

I turned 62 last week.  I'm ready for social security.  I have been a high school principal.  I am responsible, mature, kind, and orderly.

My mother has banned me from ever sitting by my brother, Jim, in church.

I don't mean to laugh.  I just do.

It is awful, it is embarrassing, it is the type of laughter that shakes the pew.

He doesn't have to do one thing.

I start laughing.  AND if he eggs me on, by say, lifting one eyebrow, I completely lose it.  I laugh silently until my insides shake and hurt.  I laughed when he was being sworn in as a judge because he smirked at me.

I have been known to cover my face with my hands and pretend I'm weeping-- WRONG!  That is so, so wrong.....but it worked at my grandmother's funeral when it looked like Uncle Justin had a flame sprouting from his head.  Jim shouldn't have whispered, "Uncle Justin, the Candle."

My mom had a stare that could wither a grown man.  It never helped.  This ban has been in effect 50 years.

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I think God understands.  I hope he understands.  I know he understands.  He made me.

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I have laughed at inappropriate times my entire life.  Graduations, births, funerals, weddings, superintendent meetings, faculty meetings....I have an ultra-sensitive sense of humor.  Some people say that it's nerves.....nah, I think I just like to laugh.  I can't blame it on anything except poor self control.

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Yes, I laugh at tv shows and movies that are funny-- but to me, real life is 100% funnier.

I was having a focused reading group with a bunch of 10 year olds.  I asked, "Do any of you have any questions?"

A little guy looked at me and said sweetly, "Have you ever seen moth balls?"

I answered, "Sure."

 Without missing a beat he piped up, "How did you get his little legs apart?"

I excused myself.  Got up.  Walked into the hall.  And howled.

I rest my case.

The Sky

When I was in the fifth grade, our second floor classroom had windows that opened to the western sky.  When I started teaching sixth grade, my first classroom at Milford Township had windows that opened to the west--it was on the second floor, too.  I love the western sky.

I have had a "thing" for windows my entire life.  I like the outdoors. I like watching the clouds.  I love the Weather Channel.  I'm impressed by the stories the sky can tell me.

I love looking at the Iowan sky.  Remember, I grew up on the land of the prairies.   The trees that dot our town were purposefully planted by the settlers.

I had a wonderful view of the western sky at Lakeview Elementary in Centerville, Iowa where I taught fourth grade for six years.  I loved seeing the heavy gray clouds lumber towards us bringing snow.  Snow clouds are full....they look like feather pillows bursting at the seams....snow.....an automatic, "Put up the books and put on your coats.  We're going to catch fat snowflakes on our tongues."

The green skies of the tornado season puts fear in my heart.  I'm cautious on those days when the clouds start building skyscrapers with their anvil tops.  You can watch the clouds bubble and gurgle as their height increases.   "Bring In the laundry from the line.  Hurry!  Rain is coming."

The true tornado sky in my book of "Erin's facts that she has proven herself"is one where the sky looks like hundreds of large marshmallows.  Somewhere someone is going to have a twister.  Betcha' a dollar!  Shoot, I'll bet you a ten-spot!  And if you do see a sky like that, head for cover and grab a flashlight.  Don't worry about hearing a warning....your eyes will tell you faster than the siren can sound.  Beware of the marshmallow sky!

Tonight I stood on the front porch of the house where my father was born.  I watched the sun set in the western sky.  Pinks, purples, and periwinkle clouds on the horizon......yesterdays, todays, and tomorrows in the sky.

When Mary Met Sally

"Little fingers, little toes, little eyebrows, little nose."



I haven't held Sally much but I've held my little buddy a great deal.  I think MM is doing well.  Sally Weaver Patterson was born on October 19, 2012, at 11:53 a.m., 8 lbs. 4.5 oz., and she was 20" tall (or 1ft. 8 in.).    This past month has been a blur....a really good blur.  Sally has gained two pounds and Mary Michael has gained a sister!


Molly Michael is intrigued with Sally.

"Cooking and cleaning can wait 'til tomorrow
'Cause babies grow up we've learned to our sorrow,
So settle down cobwebs, dust - go to sleep,
I'm rocking my baby, and babies don't keep."

Thanksgiving was a family affair.  Terry and Jim Patterson came from Concord, NC, Janie Weaver-Sobel was here from Charlotte, NC, Dan was home from Atlanta, and Brad, Molly, and the two girls came from McDonough.  Everyone brought something-- the turkey came with Jim and Terry in a big cooler.  Aunt Lisa and Uncle John Brewington were at their home in Cincinnati-- but our hearts were with them.

MM likes Sally.  We have seen the ugly head of jealously raised once; FYI-- do not let the baby use MM's pinka (blanket).  MM threw a fit of major proportions.  (and she didn't shed one tear as she was shrieking, "My pinka!  My pinka.")  It was an exiting from the  interstate, finding a place to regroup, laughing  Nana, howler monkey type of fit.  If there was  a "fit throwing category"in the Olympics, MM could have won a gold medal that day.  It was a true Southern hissy fit!

But, the next day, the true colors of the sisters' relationship emerged.  

At play group, another child bent down to look at Sally reclining in her baby carrier.  He decided to pat Sally gently on her head.  From the midst of a crowd sprang Mary Michael, "No, no, my baby.". She took the handle of the carrier and started to drag Sally away from the boy.  Ownership had been established, lines had been drawn, blood is thicker than water AND the Patterson girls were forged at the hip!

Elf on a Shelf

"Doda", the elf at the Patterson house, creeps me out.  He moves around.  Does weird things.  Drinks syrup out of the bottle with a straw.

I grew up with the "bathabees" and the goblins of Ireland scaring the stew out of me.

The nuns scared me.

Walking in front of people scared me.

Talking in front of a class scared me.

Flying monkeys scared me.

Loud sounds scared me.

But, elf on the shelf -- I stand up straighter and I keep me eye out for him.  He has the same grin as "Chuckie".  He shows up where I least expect it.  I am on my best behavior when I'm at the Pattersons.  I don't want to get on Santa's naughty list.  I think Doda would enjoy turning me in.....

Bill should probably get an  "Elf on the Shelf."