JC's Graduation and Party

JC graduated from high school and seminary on Thursday, May 23.

Me, JC (when did he get so tall??), and Craig.

Curt, JC, Lisa, Cole, and Sarah. 

Nine hundred kids graduated and the graduation took place in the University of Denver ice hockey arena. Needless to say, my photos did not turn out well - our seats were way up near the top of the arena.

Friday there was a joint party with seven other graduates from church at a local clubhouse.

The graduates' kindergarten pictures were posted for us all to see.

Todd's dad, Pat, put them on posts after Sarah made the pictures and put them into plastic sleeves to protect them.

JC's high school photo.

Cole, me, and Craig.

Matchey, matchey Aunt Lisa and Cambria! (With Cole in the background.)

There were not enough seats for everyone so we spread out on the playground.

Cole, Curt, Titan, Andrew, Jessica, Cambria, Lukie, and Lisa.

Vanessa.

Sarah.

Trinity (in black on the right) with some friends.

Lisa watches Lukie come down the left chute of the slide.

All eight graduates made shoeboxes for cards from well wishers.

I was so touched when I saw that, instead of a shoebox, JC had used a trinket box that he'd made with me one summer at Groompa Camp.

He kept it all these years!

An award that JC won his junior year - Most Valuable Lineman on the football team!

After JC's graduation on Thursday and the party on Friday, next up was Trinity's baptism on Saturday morning.

The Kansas Honeywell Graves

Finally! Craig and I made it to the Honeywell graves near Leoti, Kansas.

The last time we tried to visit, the roads (which are unpaved) were a muddy mess and a heavy rain was falling. There was a little mud this time, but the roads were mostly dry and so we were able to make it all the way to the cemetery.

The grave was easy to find as it was near the entrance and is one of the first you see.

Such a lonely pillar, way out in the middle of nowhere. It marks the grave of my great-grandfather, Frederick Robert Honeywell, who homesteaded this area of Kansas.

 His headstone faces into the prevailing wind and is weathering and becoming hard to read. This is the top portion.

 The middle section.

And the bottom.

 An infant son is buried with his father. The baby was never named, and apparently was born and died on the same day, October 13, 1900.

 It feels a little less lonely knowing that the two are together in this isolated prairie cemetery.

 Because it is not facing the prevailing winds, the baby's information is not nearly as worn as the words on my great grandfather's side.

I found myself emotional at being in their "presence."

 I laid an iris blossom at the base of each grave

 as a token of my love and respect for them along with the hope that I will meet them in the next life.

 After visiting the graves, Craig and I drove back down the lane to visit the Carwood Church.

 It was the church that my great grandparents attended, and used to be a large white clapboard building.

 I don't know when it was replaced with the new building - the 1960s, maybe?

Seeing as it's Kansas, there was an underground tornado shelter behind the church.

Visiting the Carwood Cemetery and Church took us about three extra hours in time, but it was most definitely worth it. While I don't have a bucket list, coming here and paying my respects was something I really wanted to do.

And now I have.

Tornadoes in Kansas!

Craig and I traveled west to Denver for JC's high school graduation at the end of May. This year the plains states have had the highest number of tornadoes in recent years, and more storms were forecast the day we were to drive through Kansas.

Well, it was our lucky day (depending on your point of view.) As we crested a hill in Junction City, I spied a tornado coming at us over the hill.

 We pulled off at the next exit and waited the storm out in a restaurant. The sirens were blaring and we had hail and rain, but the storm passed on and we hit the road again.

Unfortunately, more storms were approaching us.

 We kept an eye on these clouds for a while, unsure if they were anything dangerous or not.

Suddenly, a tornado dropped down into the fields to the right of us.

 It was moving away from us, so we actually pulled over the watch it.

As it intensified, another one began forming alongside of the first one. It thickened very suddenly and became wedge shaped

And then together they both began to lift and dissipate.

While seeing so many tornadoes in such a short span of time was thrilling, we decided that, since the storms were still coming, it would be wise to stop for the night and not chance running into any more, so we pulled over in Salinas and got a motel room.

What a way to start our trip!

School's Out! (Again)

School's out, and I have made it through my five weeks as the teacher for the middle schoolers at the alternative school. There were lots of ups and downs, tears, and frustrations on my part, but we had some good moments, too. My goal was to get them back in school, and for ten kids, that is going to happen. 

I began with thirteen kiddos, expelled two due to gross violations of the rules for being in the program, and a third left of his own volition. Of the remaining ten kids, I have hopes for them to be successful next year, but it is up to them. 

One of the very best parts of coming out of retirement is that I had a former student of mine working alongside of me.

I was Madeline's teacher for 3rd, 4th, and 5th grade. She is now studying to be a teacher at Purdue University, and so when they told me I could have a classroom assistant, I invited her to apply for the job.  What a treat to work with her! And she is going to be an excellent teacher herself.

It was a proud teacher moment for me when Madeline taught the students origami - something that I introduced her to when she was in my classroom.

The students were absolutely riveted and for many of them, it was an opportunity to be successful at something in school.

Some even took the origami to different levels, experimenting with various sizes of paper as well as making other shapes besides the cranes that Madeline taught them.

The very last day of school was the roughest we'd had in the class for at least a week. The kids were DONE with school and their behavior reflected that. It was a constant juggle all day long, and my patience was stretched as thin as I think it has ever been stretched before. One student became so angry at me that I was actually afraid that he was going to hit me at one point as he raised his voice and yelled at me. (I called the principal for help at that point.)

 My desk and things, all packed up for the end of the school year.

As difficult as those five weeks were, I did come to love the students. There were moments when the tough outer exteriors dropped for a few moments and I could see them as simply kids. We even had some laughter - the morning class had a running joke about always being hungry (none of them ate breakfast and so would be hungry an hour into the school day.) It became a fun joke of them begging for food or threatening to use their phones to order something and have it delivered to school. One boy even googled, "What to do when your teacher is starving you" and showed it to me, and we laughed and laughed over that one. So some good moments, some glimmers of who they could be if they would take the chance being offered them and change their focus to better things.

I wrapped up the last day by packing and closing down the classroom after the students left. I am exhausted and drained, and my emotions are mixed. Did I really make any kind of difference in those kids' lives? There was some progress - ten students will be back in school this August, their language was much improved, and they ended the school year far more respectful than they were five weeks ago when I arrived. 

Tough as it was, I'm glad that I took the position. I hope that perhaps the kids saw a different side of life and know that I cared about them. My fingers are crossed that they will find better success next year than they did this one.

It's now up to them.

Pat Syoen - Obituary

(The previous post has this same information but it did not format well so I am reposting it in a different format.)

I taught at Yankee Ridge after this woman retired, but she subbed frequently in the building and so I got to know her. The obituary describes her personality well, especially the words in the first paragraph that are in parenthesis.

She did not like boys and often misinterpreted their actions. (I hope it was misinterpretation.) She claimed once, after subbing in my class, that one of my African American boys had deliberately bumped into her, causing him to receive an in-school suspension.

I wasn't there and did not see it happen, but after talking to him, I do not think he deserved the suspension.

URBANA — Our aunt, sister, sister-in-law, friend Pat Syoen, was a wild and crazy woman. She led her life on her own terms, and she was both loved (and a little bit feared!) by those who knew her. 

Starting her life as the youngest child of Angie and George Syoen, with her sisters Mary Catherine and Barbara, she lived a childhood of not much money but lots of love in Depression-era Chicago. As a young woman, she joined the convent, becoming a Sister of Providence of St. Mary-of-the-Woods. Even then, she combined a deep love of God with a certain, shall we say, irreverence towards the rules involved in the pursuit of that goal. She was educated to become an elementary school teacher, which served her well all her life.

fter leaving the convent, she relocated to Urbana, where her experience, skills and unspoken but undeniable love of the children she served led her to years of teaching third grade in Urbana’s public schools. Yankee Ridge Elementary was her home, its students her beneficiaries.

But describing her life as a single woman who taught third grade all her life is only part of who she was. She was also fiercely devoted towards the goals of social justice. Who else marks her golden years bussing down to the School of the Americas to take part in peaceful protest outside its gates?

She chose her church membership dependent on its being a welcoming community in all senses of the word. The last years of her life she had a close and involved relationship with McKinley Presbyterian, enjoying both its warm, eclectic membership and its adherence to the tenets of love and inclusion that she so highly valued.

Finally, Pat had a wicked sense of humor. Fifteen years before she died, she wrote a letter to her nieces and nephews outlining her wishes for the end of her life. Stating that she didn’t want a memorial service, she said, “If you want to sit around and talk about what a nice person I was, that’s okay. Want refreshments? Buy them yourselves. Don’t charge me or my estate!”

She was a fount of stories about her years in the convent, her many cruises, most with her dear friend Diane Hines, and her favorite (or were they most challenging?) students over the years.

She was loved and respected. She is survived by her sister, Mary Catherine Hustoles; brother-in-law, Edward Hustoles; nephews, Tom Hustoles, wife Carol, and Paul Hustoles, wife Mary Jo; nieces, Mary Beth Hustoles and Barbara Hustoles, husband Don Smith; the community at McKinley Presbyterian, especially close friends, Associate Pastor the Rev. Keith Harris and his wife Amy (Amy’s son Gabe was unofficially declared Pat’s adopted grandson), and countless grandnieces and nephews and former third graders.

We are more in having known her, less in her passing. Pat didn’t leave a request for a charity to accept donations in her name. You choose. Someplace welcoming and inclusive.

“Lord I tried to, to see it through

But it was too much for me.

So now I`m coming home to you.

Yes, I feel like going home.”

— Charlie Rich (whose love child she would have had in a heartbeat)

Pat Syoen - Obituary

I taught at Yankee Ridge after this woman retired, but she subbed frequently in the building and so I got to know her. The obituary describes her personality well, especially the words in the first paragraph that are in parenthesis.

She did not like boys and often misinterpreted their actions. (I hope it was misinterpretation.) She claimed once, after subbing in my class, that one of my African American boys had deliberately bumped into her, causing him to receive an in-school suspension.

I wasn't there and did not see it happen, but after talking to him, I do not think he deserved the suspension.

URBANA — Our aunt, sister, sister-in-law, friend Pat Syoen, was a wild and crazy woman. She led her life on her own terms, and she was both loved (and a little bit feared!) by those who knew her. 

Starting her life as the youngest child of Angie and George Syoen, with her sisters Mary Catherine and Barbara, she lived a childhood of not much money but lots of love in Depression-era Chicago. As a young woman, she joined the convent, becoming a Sister of Providence of St. Mary-of-the-Woods. Even then, she combined a deep love of God with a certain, shall we say, irreverence towards the rules involved in the pursuit of that goal. She was educated to become an elementary school teacher, which served her well all her life.

fter leaving the convent, she relocated to Urbana, where her experience, skills and unspoken but undeniable love of the children she served led her to years of teaching third grade in Urbana’s public schools. Yankee Ridge Elementary was her home, its students her beneficiaries.

But describing her life as a single woman who taught third grade all her life is only part of who she was. She was also fiercely devoted towards the goals of social justice. Who else marks her golden years bussing down to the School of the Americas to take part in peaceful protest outside its gates?

She chose her church membership dependent on its being a welcoming community in all senses of the word. The last years of her life she had a close and involved relationship with McKinley Presbyterian, enjoying both its warm, eclectic membership and its adherence to the tenets of love and inclusion that she so highly valued.

Finally, Pat had a wicked sense of humor. Fifteen years before she died, she wrote a letter to her nieces and nephews outlining her wishes for the end of her life. Stating that she didn’t want a memorial service, she said, “If you want to sit around and talk about what a nice person I was, that’s okay. Want refreshments? Buy them yourselves. Don’t charge me or my estate!”

She was a fount of stories about her years in the convent, her many cruises, most with her dear friend Diane Hines, and her favorite (or were they most challenging?) students over the years.

She was loved and respected. She is survived by her sister, Mary Catherine Hustoles; brother-in-law, Edward Hustoles; nephews, Tom Hustoles, wife Carol, and Paul Hustoles, wife Mary Jo; nieces, Mary Beth Hustoles and Barbara Hustoles, husband Don Smith; the community at McKinley Presbyterian, especially close friends, Associate Pastor the Rev. Keith Harris and his wife Amy (Amy’s son Gabe was unofficially declared Pat’s adopted grandson), and countless grandnieces and nephews and former third graders.

We are more in having known her, less in her passing. Pat didn’t leave a request for a charity to accept donations in her name. You choose. Someplace welcoming and inclusive.

“Lord I tried to, to see it through

But it was too much for me.

So now I`m coming home to you.

Yes, I feel like going home.”

— Charlie Rich (whose love child she would have had in a heartbeat)

Carrots and Cats (Herding, that Is)

Ever heard the term, "herding cats?" If you think about it, it would definitely not be an easy thing to do. Neither, I discovered, is getting five horses and three kids under five to pose for a picture.

We were having a nice visit and feeding the horses some carrots when I noticed that the herd was lined up perfectly at the fence. Photo op!

"Quick!" I called to my son Curt, "I'll line up with the kids in front of the fence and we'll get a great photo of all the horses, the kids, and me at once!"

Well, things began to fall apart almost immediately. Abby pinned her ears at Sultanna and Hokey and warned them off while Trouble discovered a yummy tidbit on the ground.

The movement of the horses behind us was distracting to Lukie who kept turning away from the camera to see what they were doing. 

Curt was able to snap this one which is okay except for Lukie's tears and Ian's face. (And that no horse's face can be seen except for Hokey's)...

 ... and this one which isn't the greatest but you can at least see the humans' faces.

Then, Abby spied the bag of carrots I had set on the ground, thinking we'd snap a quick picture before she or anyone else noticed them. Hah! Who was I kidding!

She snagged them so quickly and had them on her side of the fence before I could put Lukie down and stop her. The carrots spilled out of the bag, and the horses began milling about, each trying to get one of the carrots off the ground.

Even more alarming, Abby was chewing the bag along with the carrot that had been left inside it, and the bag was slowly disappearing into her mouth as she chewed.

I ducked under the rail, dodging the arguing horses as I sped across the paddock, and was able to pull the bag out of her mouth before she ingested the entire thing.

This is what was left of it - Ian looks pretty disgusted, doesn't he? But I am so glad I got it before she swallowed it and colicked or it became lodged in her digestive tract.

No more thoughts of photo ops for me that involve five horses and preschoolers, that's for sure!