A Rite of Passage

I don't know of many of you had pets when you were growing up, but the Walker children always had some animal or the other. My mom, when she was going through her hippy, mother earth phases, fancied herself a farmer -- though maybe more a gentleman farmer than a real famer. So as we were growing up, we had doberman pinchers, goats, geese, chickens, horses, cows, and cats. I dont' remember them all, but I remember several.

Red - a large red doberman. He was really really big. Once he bit my neck - though in retrospect, I believe that he barked and my neck was in the way. When we lived in California, we used to let Red pull us around on our skateboard.

Mandy - she had a floppy ear, also a doberman. And what I remember most about her is that whenever someone called her, I thought they were calling me.

The White Rooster -- evil creature, I believe I've posted about it before -- if not, let me know and I will - it's a horror story.

The Geese - who seemed to get their joy from hissing and chasing us given any chance.

Harley - the boy goat who would pee on himself - apparently it's some sort of cologne for goats and oh so appealing let me tell you.

Camille - If I remember correctly this is the goat that would stand up on the root cellar and rear up so that she appeared 20 feet tall and ready for action.

Nothing - this was one of our cats - she once had kittens that Jodi and I helped deliver - Jodi made me a book about her when we lived in california and used her thumbprint to make the cat - it was pretty cool and I think i still have it somewhere.

Poopee -- a white furry dog - would ride on the back of mom's motorcycle -

Pooh - a poodle that we got, she'd jump up into your arms

Pooh 2 - the not quite as good as the first replacement

Tigger - my poodle - 3rd and last.

Seymore - 1/2 siamese 1/2 persian - cat with attitude - she lived for ever.

We've had so many more animals than this - and have had more animals than I have finger and toes get killed or run away or disappear. but they've always been there, marking the moments of my life.

Jesse, the stray cat that we got from Eleventh Street, has had 4 kittens. And Elijah and Isaiah have been entranced. Isaiah more because he thinks they are pretty cool toys - and has to be constantly watched because his favorite thing is to sit on a kitten or lay on it - i think he thinks that the meow is like a squeaker. But he will come up to the box and look at me and say his equivalent of "mine, mine, mine?" And Elijah, has also fallen in love, and I dread the battle that will occur between him and Jose when it comes time to give the kittens away. Elijah wants to pretend that he's their father, or uncle, or big brother. And spends a lot of time with one or all of the kittens on his belly as he watches t.v. or plays video games. Although, I did catch him using the kittens as toys in one of his little documentary dramas (he was making them talk and growl back at each other like he does with his dinosaur toys). But this summer, for Elijah and Isaiah, will be the summer of the kittens, and that's something special. To see them from an hour of their birth until they get to that playful stage. It won't be much different from Grandma Walker's - who always had kittens every summer it seemed - and though it must have been a hassle for her - seemed like a gift that she gave us each summer as well.

New Endeavor

For those of you who know me, you know that I've had a rough year at Eleventh Street. Mostly because of our new director.

And even though many of you do know me - most of you didn't know that one of my professional goals was to be disney's teacher of the year some day -- Not that it will ever really happen, but it really signifies the type of teacher that I really want to be.

So next year, I'm going to be teaching special education at Alvaton Elementary School. I will be teaching preschoolers, kindergarteners, and first graders. And, I can't decide how happy I am about it. Part of me feels prepared because I've spent the better part of the last year coming up with activities for Isaiah in hopes that he'll succumb to a whim and begin talking. Which isn't happening - so now I'm hoping that he doesn't start talking until after he turns 3 so that I can get him in 1/2 day free preschool with county schools - which will cut down on daycare costs (which this year will be more than my house payment - there's something wrong with that). My second thought was - oh my god, how do i teach these little kids - they don't even know how to read?

But I'm confident that I'll figure it out. I'm hopeful that I'll do a good job. Because there is quite a bit more responsibility in teaching young children that at-risk teens. Here I am laying the foundation that they will build upon for the rest of their lives and that's a huge responsibility. At Eleventh Street, I was trying to get my kids to take ownership over their own lives and decisions and seeing that they have the power to become what they wish, not what others see. I'm sure that I'll let you guys now how it turns out --

A Day at the Beach

What is about getting older that turns us into water snobs? I remember when I was younger happily swimming in ponds and lakes and thinking nothing of it -- until I saw JAWS - at which point I was sure that any time spent in the water was going to result in a shark attack. In the summer, as a child, water was water was water and it didn't make any difference. But as I got older, my mindset toward what was acceptible swim water shifted. I didn't want to swim in brown water any longer -- oh no - I only want crystal clear, shiny blue water that tempts your senses with a slift wafting chorline scent - not unlike a gym loccer room. The only concession that I readily make is to swimin the ocean - which by the way isn't really swimming- it's more like a wade and squat. Move out until you are about waste deep, then squat down a bit and drift in the waves -- JAWS really lives in the ocean and I don't want him to think that he's found a beached narwhale off the shores of the Southern US - thank you very much.

Elijah, Isaiah and I all made the trek to Lake Barkley beach last week. My thought was that the kids would enjoy the sand if nothing else. And in case you have forgotten, sand is very very hot in the summer. Especially at lake beaches where the tide doesn't come in and shift that stuff around. So no one played in the sand. And of course, the snob in me begins to critique the people who are at the beach - invariably there is the one family, all in cut off jeans and tee-shirts, mom's got bleached blonde hair, smoking camels or basics, and walking into the water with the cigarette hanging out of her mouth, shouting at her kids to get the hell away from the bouy. And her kids, well they are reaching down to the lake bed and pulling up god only knows what and hurling it at each other - thinking it's such great fun. And I'm thinking, please don't hit my children with that nastiness, quickly followed by "please Elijah don't think they look like someone you'd want to play with -- they are a DJJ case in the making." Me - thinking such things. When did I turn into that person who wrinkles her nose and people who live like I used to? I used to be that kid hurling mud and sand at my brother or sister. Of course, I suppose the difference is that I never wanted to be the poor kid in class -- I wanted to independently weathy - still do -- but am not sure it's going to happen anytime soon.

Anyway, back to the water issue. Elijah and Isaiah - had a great time for the brief two hours that we stayed at the beach -- 2 hours is the limit with a 2 year old - mostly because I don't want to sit in 4 inches of water, roasting and sweating, to prevent him from swallowing the water, or eating something he finds in it. We'll most likely return -- because sand is such a nice thing for the kids - and well, they aren't water snobs like I am.