On Learning Curves and Teaching

Yesterday was a full, enjoyable but challenging day.

I could not believe how tired I was at the end of the day. So tired,

that I found myself composing a post while I was sleeping . . . honestly!

It was a good post, that's all I know. I can't remember anything else.

All I know is that it was not up when I got up, so I will just have to start from scratch. Is there anyone who can understand this feeling?

 I'm finding that as I plod along this journey with the Mennonite Girls,

I am learning things about myself. 

One of the hardest things to face is the fact that I don't do well at public speaking.

 I think I'd like to  . . .  I want to . . . but when I try, my thoughts don't flow.

 I need the keyboard to think. My fingers do the talking best, when no one is there.

So yesterday, when a certain film crew was there to interview Lovella and myself about our journey into, and with, MGCC, I froze. How does a mind see a script and tell it . .. how does a heart overflowing with feelings put them into words when a camera is looking at you? The film crew assured us that everything was fine and that sometime next month they will have a segment ready to put on our church website, part of a series that is being done to depict the pulse of the church in action.

Big sigh here! The rest of the afternoon and evening went well!

Lepp Farm Market staff always do a great job in preparing and setting up their open style kitchen for guests. Any given class will seat about 20 - 25, using the bar counter, as well as a number of high round tables.

It is not like a cooking class taken at school, rather like a dinner out, where you watch the cook in her/his kitchen and enjoy the entrees as they come out of the oven.

 

 We prepped for a class on Winter Comfort Foods -Mennonite Style . . . beginning with a salad and freshly baked bread.

For our main entree Lovella made her amazing cabbage rolls. Of course, we rolled up a couple of recipes mid afternoon to put into the oven, and then just a single recipe, to show how, during the teaching session.

Judy brought a dish of make ahead garlic mashed potatoes and made one there to show and share tips.

In a class such as this, each cook has utensils and ingredients ready to go before class. Kathy baked several Bodentortes at home and had this tray ready when she got miked for the visible presentation, with Bev assisting her.

After the main meal, coffee was served, along with a beautifully plated dessert.
Guests visited around tables and felt free to ask questions. We all got the feeling that for them it truly was an enjoyable evening, with the benefit of knowing that the proceeds for this class all go to Mathews House in Abbotsford. I enjoyed how many lingered long after class was over, making the most of their evening out.

Fifth Grade

Recently, when I was looking through a particular photo album, I came across my Grade five class photo, counting the students and testing my memory skills on the names of my classmates. I remember about one third by name, but I can’t imagine teaching a class of thirty-five ten/eleven-year-olds! Have you found me? There is one girl between myself and Mrs. Antenbring.

Some special memories come back of that year, mainly because it was my first real class in Canada after spending part of a year in a New Canadian class. At the moment, it's a year worth reminiscing on as I observe my granddaughter, who is turning ten this year, adjust to school in Canada.

My Grade five homeroom class was in the school library, the librarian teaching us language arts. Instead of sitting at school desks, we sat in groups around large tables. I remember a form of weekly musical chairs around these tables, as we got seated according to how well  we did on our language exercises. It was not done in a derogatory kind of way, but rather to motivate us to aspire to a higher table for the following week.

A book we studied was The Secret Garden. I was somewhat confused by what was reality and what was imaginative, but plodded through it. I remember Mrs. Antenbring taking time to point out books to me that I might like, knowing that this would help me in my language skills. She introduced me to the Little House on the Prairie series and then to mystery books, which I really liked.

One girl in particular stands out, partly because she tried to be my friend. She was always dressed very well and she was a confident type of girl. One day she came to school wearing baggy pants that she called elephant pants. I wonder if pants were not the norm. I am surprised to see all of the girls are wearing dresses. Was it because it was picture day?

Another memory that I have of this school year, is how I got caught playing hide and go seek in the bathroom at recess, or was it lunchtime? To this day I do not know if I actually played or just watched, but I was in the bathroom when a toilet tank cover broke and every girl who was at the scene got sent to the principal’s office. I had to hold up the palms of my hands and get the strap. Not only did my hands sting like fire, but there was the added humiliation of coming late to the next class. A couple of the boys on that photo came to my locker after class. Did we have lockers? Maybe so, because our classroom (the library) was used by the whole school. Anyways, they wanted to know all about the strap. I felt quite flattered by their sympathy and inquisitiveness. Cute boys.

And that was Grade Five at Charles Dickens Elementary in Vancouver.

How Will He not Also?

For many years now, out of my kitchen window, I've observed winter's bare, snow laden trees turn into a canopy of flourishing green in spring . . . never doubting that spring would come. If seasons bear the fruit of God's promise, how will He not also keep His promises to us?

 

I’m making my way through Ann Voscamp's book very slowly. Personally, I would prefer shorter chapters, but this way I re-read and mull over it a bit more. In Chapter 8 we come face to face with the love of God through the good and the bad, challenging to trust what we have learned in the good times to be true in the bad times.

A couple of things that rang a bell for me:

(1) Define stress for what it is. Knowing that we are told not to worry, I tend to define worry as stress. Honestly, it is still tied up with worry and worry is sin, because in a round-a-bout way I’m thinking God may just not come through this time. Maybe His warehouse of goodness will run dry. But when I give thanks for what He has already done, my focus changes to the fact that He can be relied upon. In one of Jesus’ final conversations with his disciples, He told them, “Do not let your hearts be troubled. Trust God. Trust also in Me.” (John 14:1)

(2) Remember what God has done. Jesus, in passing out the bread and the wine, told his disciples, “Do this in remembrance of Me.” When I remember that He has given His life for me already, I will be more apt to believe that He will also provide the rest. Ann writes that sometimes we don’t see that He gives us all things good until we have some perspective.

 “In time, years, dust settles,

In memory, ages, God emerges,

Then when we look back, we see God’s back."

She refers to the story where Moses, in desiring to have proof of God's presence, asked to see God. (Exodus 33 15-33) It's a picture I can’t get out of my mind now;  how God hid Moses in the cleft of the rock, in the dark, covered by His protective hand, until He had passed by. Then, when God removed His hand, Moses saw His back. It's a passage I've read many times, but never seen in quite the same light. 
I think of times I wondered if God was there and see now that when He removed his hand, the evidence is there that He was there all along. If the darkness is as light to Him, I can trust that He sees best. One day I will see fully, just as I am fully known and loved.

It all Comes Back to me Now

Tehya, Paeton and Makenna are staying with us for part of this week (while their mom and dad are de-briefing in Ontario) giving us a taste of days gone by. I wake up with a prayer, kiss the sleeping cuties good morning, cook some porridge or put some waffles in the toaster, pack lunches and make sure their hair is combed before two of them head out the door to Papa's truck.

I’d venture to say that, because this is not the norm for me, there is a sense of adventure  in the air, aided by the fact that the kids really are trying to be at their best behaviour.  On the first morning, after getting dressed, our conscientious seven-year-old came down with his pjs nicely folded, asking where he should put them . . . like, what is the routine here? Gotta love him.

The back entrance sports a pile of jackets and backpacks always ready, along with the musty smell of damp boots. Beds may or may not be made.  Blankets, cushions and all sorts of things have been strategically laid out on the floor, forming some sort of “safe” path that I am told not to destroy so that they can continue playing rocks and lava later.

While the students spend their day at school, I’m entertained by a running commentary from the view of an (almost) four-year-old.  She likes the smell of yeast dough, likewise, the smell of hairspray and she wonders why I’m putting lipstick on again. She reminds me of snack time and quiet time, during which I’m given privy to an audible expression of the picture she is drawing. What I love the most, are her facial expressions that accompany what she says. So dramatic! Do those who have seen her every day of her life notice?

The oldest two take their own baths, eat well and offer some interesting conversations and laughter about riddles printed on the cereal box, snake stories, thoughts of getting older (who would have thought?) and thoughts on how things work . . . while the youngest one tries to keep up with her own interpretation of what is discussed. It should totally make sense that islands become lions in her mind, should it not?

It was after a day of this familiar, yet unfamiliar, routine to me, as I was tidying up the bathroom and the kids were almost ready for bed, that one of them heard an involuntary sigh escape my breath. I thought it was quiet, but she turned to me and looked me square in the face asking,  

“Grammy, are you learning how to deal with kids?”

My perceptive girl, she is . . . honest and facing the truth straight on. I sure do love her!

 Yes, Tehya . . . I’m learning . . .  again.

A Surprise S'no Work Day

On Monday, the day I had planned out so carefully,
we woke up to a winter wonderland!
It was the day I had set aside
to surprise him on his 40th Anniversary with the company
and he had no idea that his day would be filled with interruptions.
The emails and calls started coming in almost first thing in the morning
and, as he wondered out loud what was going on,
no one let on that they knew anything.
 I got there with Julene, balloons and cake in hand for coffee break.
By lunch time he figured out that
it was not going to be a work day at all.
Sandwiches were ordered in as invited guests,
 one after another, popped in to say hello and chat.
 It became a day to reminisce . . .
 a joy to surprise him . . .
a perfect snow day.

Forty Years Ago

The High School he attended in Vancouver offered a semester system by which one could select the courses to graduate in January, rather than June. Being part of a family that emigrated from Paraguay 5 years earlier; he had done his time, learning a new language and adapting to North American teen culture. It was not easy being the target of humiliation at this age, but he took it in stride and managed the requirements to graduate as soon as he could.

His older brother, who had come to Canada ahead of the family and started his own family and business just out of Vancouver, invited him to room and board with his young family, while helping out by doing pick ups and installations. This was a good start. He would save some money before making further decisions about schooling.

As we now know, it turned out that life on the job became his education.  Starting at the bottom gave him a good knowledge of every aspect of the job, while attending design and trade shows gave inspiration and knowledge of how to keep up with the times.

One of his earliest experiences of helping some customers in the store brings back a smile now as he tells me how two obviously ethnic Mennonite women came into the showroom. Speaking in German, one commented to the other, “Do you think this good-for-nothing knows anything?” Upon which he commented back in German, “Yes, this good-for-nothing does.” It probably took a few years for him to realize that his long hair and jean jacket lacked some professionalism, so in the meantime these women high tailed out of there very quickly.

I remember his first business trip to Toronto, a couple of years into the job, during the time when we communicated by snail mail and I’d check for his letters after school. Whether he was across the country or at home, the letters went back and forth on a weekly basis, providing me with updates on what he was doing at work and telling me how much he missed me.

For our wedding gift, his brother booked us tickets to Hawaii. This opened a whole new appreciation for travel, which happened to be one of the perks that suppliers often gave as incentives for sales. His boss also came up with a few of his own, which eventually promoted him to sales manager and then to general manager. It was evident that he had found his niche.

In 1985 his brother offered to sell the business to him. It really was quite surreal, to think of continuing the family business in this way, but if there was any fear in this, he did not show it.  He had proven himself to be able to run the business and was up for the challenge of paying it off, feeling a keen sense of satisfaction in that and the privilege of providing jobs for others.

Forty years. How does one even imagine that length of time at one job? In some ways it does not seem like the same job.  As economics, styles, fashion or technology dictated a continual change in course, he adapted, enlarging and downsizing according to the times. It is interesting to see now that, while some people choose a career, he made something of what was in his hand.  Nothing was ever too low for him to do or too lofty to aspire to.

Honey, today I want to honour you and thank you, for the way you have provided for your family. I poked through some old letters of long ago and read of how you were concerned about how you would ever be able to afford to buy land to build a house on.  It was not a toy or a nice car you were concerned about getting, it was a home for your family. You have not only done that, but we have not lacked any good thing. There have been hard times, and mistakes made too, times when you could have just given up, but you always thought about those you loved. You sacrificed your time and energy for them in ways they will never know; always believing that where there is a will, God will provide a way.

The ride with you, beginning as a nervous teen coming along as your date, has been one I would never have been able to imagine. I count my blessings in all of this. In many ways, time has told the end of the story already; a story about your willingness to take from God's hand in the good and the hard times and to walk humbly in His ways. This I admire. You are a good man. I love you.

You have made  known to me the path of life;
 You fill me with joy in Your presence, with eternal pleasure at your right hand.
Psalm 16:11

PS As much as I value and appreciate comments from everyone, I would ask that family and friends remember to keep congrats and comments in line with the anonymity of this post. Thank you.