Thursday, October 29, 2009
Parent/Teacher Conferences & Report Cards
Sophie's grade has student-led conferences. She wasn't nervous a bit..she walked right in and took charge...even letting us know what she needed to improve on. She tested out of 2nd grade math at the beginning of the year so she got to skip it and go right on to 3rd grade math. There is about 83 students in the 2nd grade and only 18 of them tested out, then they had to have recommendations from their 1st grade teachers as to whether or not they could handle it. Third grade math for second graders is the first Gifted/Talented class you are eligible for at HSE so we are really proud of her for starting off on the right track. As of this grading period she had an A in math as well as all of her other subjects. 5 A's total. This is the first year they actually give letter grades so she was excited. She is also currently reading at level N. They currently expect 2nd graders at this time of year to aim for level L so she is a wonderful reader as well.
It was apparent when we first walked in that Lola's teacher just adores her. She couldn't say enough sweet things about her. She doesn't get letter grades in Kindergarten but she is right on track for everything. She knows all of her capital letters and most of her lower case. (b, d, q, are the troublesome ones) She knows many of her sight words that they are learning this year. She also knows all of her colors, shapes, and numbers. Despite having missed 10 days of school so far with all of her illnesses she is keeping up and learning a lot. We are super proud of her too.
Thursday, October 22, 2009
the wreck
Lola getting Mia ready for Winter
Tuesday, October 20, 2009
School Pictures
Thursday, October 15, 2009
For My Sister
- Ethel M. Kelly
Whenever there is company
And mother sends for us,
It's always 'bout the baby that
They make the biggest fuss.
They say,"She's sweet as can be!"
"Her hair, just see it curl!"
They never say such things to me,
'Cause I'm the middle girl.
And then they say to brother, "Why,
Is this the oldest child?
He'll be a man by and by!"
And after they have smiled
And held his hand, they look at me.
Mamma says, "She's begun
To lose her teeth," and then they laugh--
'Cause I'm the middle one!
Then brother speaks his little piece,
And baby sis is asked to sing;
But no one ever seems to guess
That I do anything.
Although my name is Cynthia,
And Cynthia means "pearl,"
Nobody thinks that I'm sweet,
'Cause I'm the middle girl.
When I grow up, and when I have
A family of my own,
I'll send up for the middle girl
To come down-stairs alone;
And I shall let her speak and sing
And have a lot of fun.
I'll not deny her anything
(I took some liberties with Ms. Kelly's poem. It has been adapted to fit our family.)
The Cremation of Sam McGee by Robert Service
There are strange things done in the midnight sun
By the men who moil for gold;
The Arctic trails have their secret tales
That would make your blood run cold;
The Northern Lights have seen queer sights,
But the queerest they ever did see
Was that night on the marge of Lake LeBarge
Now Sam McGee was from Tennessee, where the cotton blooms and blows.
Why he left his home in the South to roam ‘round the Pole, God only knows.
He was always cold, but the land of gold seemed to hold him like a spell;
Though he’s often say in his homely way that “he’d sooner live in hell.”
On a Christmas Day we were mushing our way over the Dawson trail.
Talk of your cold! Through the parka’s fold it stabbed like a driven nail.
If our eyes we’d close, then the lashes froze till sometimes we couldn’t see;
It wasn’t much fun, but the only one to whimper was Sam McGee.
And that very night, as we lay packed tight in our robes beneath the snow,
And the dogs were fed, and the stars o’erhead were dancing heel and toe,
He turned to me, and “Cap,” says he, “I’ll cash in this trip, I guess;
And if I do, I’m asking that you won’t refuse my last request.”
Well, he seemed so low that I couldn’t say no; then he says with a sort of moan:
“It’s the cursèd cold, and it’s got right hold till I’m chilled clean through to the bone.
Yet ‘tain’t being dead—it’s my awful dread of the icy grave that pains;
So I want you to swear that, foul or fair, you’ll cremate my last remains.”
A pal’s last need is a thing to heed, so I swore I would not fail;
And we started on at the streak of dawn; but God! he looked ghastly pale.
He crouched on the sleigh, and he raved all day of his home in Tennessee;
And before nightfall a corpse was all that was left of Sam McGee.
There wasn’t a breath in that land of death, and I hurried, horror-driven,
With a corpse half hid that I couldn’t get rid, because of a promise given;
It was lashed to the sleigh, and it seemed to say: “You may tax your brawn and brains,
But you promised true, and it’s up to you to cremate those last remains.”
Now a promise made is a debt unpaid, and the trail has its own stern code.
In the days to come, though my lips were dumb, in my heart how I cursed that load.
In the long, long night, by the lone firelight, while the huskies, round in a ring,
Howled out their woes to the homeless snows--- O God! how I loathed the thing.
And every day that quiet clay seemed to heavy and heavier grow;
And on I went, though the dogs were spent and the grub was getting low;
The trail was bad, and I felt half mad, but I swore I would not give in;
And I’d often sing to the hateful thing, and it hearkened with a grin.
Till I came to the marge of Lake LaBarge, and a derelict there lay;
It was jammed in the ice, but I saw in a trice it was called the “Alice May.”
And I looked at it, and I thought a bit, and I looked at my frozen chum;
Then “Here,” said I, with a sudden cry, “is my cre-ma-tor-eum.”
Some planks I tore from the cabin floor, and I lit the boiler fire;
Some coal I found that was lying around, and I heaped the fuel higher;
The flames just soared, and the furnace roared—such a blaze you seldom see;
And I burrowed a hole in the glowing coal, and I stuffed in Sam McGee.
Then I made a hike, for I didn’t like to hear him sizzle so;
And the heavens scowled, and the huskies howled, and the wind began to blow.
It was icy cold, but the hot sweat rolled down my cheeks, and I don’t know why;
And the greasy smoke in an inky cloak went streaking down the sky.
I do now know how long in the snow I wrestled with grisly fear;
But the stars came out and they danced about ere again I ventured near;
I was sick with dread, but I bravely said: “I’ll just take a peep inside.
I guess he’s cooked, and it’s time I looked”;…then the door I opened wide.
And there sat Sam, looking cool and calm, in the heart of the furnace roar;
And he wore a smile you could see a mile, and he said: “Please close that door.
It’s fine in here, but I greatly fear you’ll let in the cold and storm---
Since I left Plumtree, down in Tennessee, it’s the first time I’ve been warm.”
There are strange things done in the midnight sun
By the men who moil for gold;
The Arctic trails have their secret tales
That would make your blood run cold;
The Northern Lights have seen queer sights,
But the queerest they ever did see
Was that night on the marge of Lake LeBarge
I cremated Sam McGee.
Tuesday, October 6, 2009
Lolaisms
Lola - Do you miss your mommy?
me - Yes, I miss her.
Lola - Like everyday?
me - Yes, everyday.
Lola - I wonder what that feels like when your mommy dies.
me - What what feels like, dying or having your mommy die?
Lola - Having your mommy die and missing her everyday. Missing somebody makes me sad and you don't seem sad everyday. But I guess you are sad and then you look at me and it makes you soooo happy right?
me - That's exactly right Lola.
Conversation between Sophie and Lola in the backseat of the car.
Lola - I love it when I get to sit in the watcher seat.
Sophie - What's a watcher seat?
Lola - That seat right there.
Sophie - You mean the passenger seat.
Lola - No, I mean the watcher seat. That's the driver's seat and that's the watcher's seat.
Sophie - Mommy, Lola stuck her tongue out at me.
Lola - I did not, my tongue told my brain it needed air so I gave it some.