Partying With My Students

Those of us in the English Language Institute in International Programs at Colorado State University-Pueblo have been partying the past few weeks.  I am just now getting the photos downloaded and posted.  I realize that Easter happened a week ago, but I really did want to share a bit about our fun Easter Egg Dyeing Party we had on the Friday before Easter.

On Fridays, we always have an activity for our students.  We have had some fun times throughout the semester by doing such things as riding the bus downtown to a coffee shop, touring the main library in town and a smaller branch library, walking along the Arkansas River and eating at the restaurant at the Nature Center.  Each of these activities were planned to allow the students to become better acquainted with the community in which the University is located.  

In order to familiarize the students with the campus itself, we held a scavenger hunt on campus.  The students were not familiar with the term "scavenger hunt" and had never been on one.  That didn't mean they didn't get into the activity with great enthusiasm.  They had to quickly familiarize themselves with various sites, departments, and people around campus if they wanted to win.  Once the hunt was on, the competitive nature of the teams became very apparent.  Fun times!

A Cultural Activity - Dyeing Easter Eggs

Easter Egg Cake and Easter Bunny Cookies

The Birthday Boy

On the Friday before Easter, we had a cultural event activity.  We dyed Easter eggs.  None of the students had ever dyed Easter eggs before.  They were excited to begin the new activity.  

Since Easter Sunday was going to be Mauricio's birthday, we celebrated with an Easter egg cake before getting down to work.

The students had to protect the tables used for the activity and read the directions about how to dye the eggs before we could begin.

Reading the directions

I think we need some vinegar

Shin had done her research.  Before class, she had googled Easter Eggs on her iPad.  She shows what the eggs should look like to the others.

We had 7 1/2 dozen eggs to dye.  It took us three hours to color the ones that didn't get eaten.  It was great fun!

A toast is made

Woo Huck toasts us with something that is pink.
It is not champaign.

How many eggs have you eaten?  Do you want some salt?  

What could be better than coloring eggs and eating Easter bunny cookies?

Glitter was added for a special look.

A bunny face was drawn on the egg by using the practice drawing as a pattern.

The creativity of each participant was fun to see.

Shin was very proud of her eggs.

Mauricio was determined to dye an egg black.  It didn't work, but he kept trying.

We decided to have a contest.  This Happy Family entry was entered in the "Most Creative" category.

Jung Hee entered eggs that she called, "Woo Huck and Shin."

Our judges were our faithful volunteers, Walter and Alda.

This rainbow was entered in the "Most Beautiful" category.

Walter selected this egg as "Most Beautiful."

We made Easter baskets to distribute to others and to take home.

Every student must taste a Peep.  They didn't like them at all!

I was given this beautiful basket to take home.

I will always treasure the memories we made this day.  Working with international students is an enriching and rewarding adventure.  Can you believe I get paid for having this much fun?

Stay tuned for this past week's party...

Remembering April Born Loved Ones

On this the last day of April, I am remembering my dearly loved departed ones who were born in April.

Song Of A Second April

April this year, not otherwise 

Than April of a year ago, 

Is full of whispers, full of sighs, 

Of dazzling mud and dingy snow; 

Hepaticas that pleased you so 

Are here again, and butterflies. 

There rings a hammering all day, 

And shingles lie about the doors; 

In orchards near and far away 

The grey wood-pecker taps and bores; 

The men are merry at their chores, 

And children earnest at their play. 

The larger streams run still and deep, 

Noisy and swift the small brooks run 

Among the mullein stalks the sheep 

Go up the hillside in the sun, 

Pensively,—only you are gone, 

You that alone I cared to keep.

Edna St. Vincent Millay

My Father:  William French

11 April 1916

25 March 2002

My parents
My brother and I

My dear Aunt Phyllis

15 April 1927

30 April 1988

Aunt Phyllis and Sally

My daughter, Julie Ann Christiansen

8 April 1976

29 May 2010

Julie

The End Is Near

I have not become a prophet who is predicting the end of the world.  I am just a very tired retired teacher who decided to come out of retirement and teach for a semester.  I am barely hanging in there until the end.  Thankfully, the end (of the semester) is near.

 I made the decision to go back to work because:

• The job was part time. In truth, I taught four straight hours a day.  With preparation time and etc., I worked five or six hours a day.  
• I missed working with students.  This is true I did.  I have loved working with students.
• I missed working with colleagues.  This is also true.  I have loved working with my colleagues.
• I wanted to stay busy during the winter.  I've kept busy and that is a good thing.
• I wanted to make some extra money.  Adjunct professors are paid ridiculously low salaries.  It really was not financially worth my time to work for what I was paid.  (I had to hire a housekeeper to keep up with the house while I was working.  Her hourly rate of pay is higher than mine!)

I've had a great semester.  One I would not have wanted to miss out on.  I have had the most wonderful students from three different countries that you can ever imagine.  We have worked hard together.  We have learned much from each other.  We have laughed often and had a lot of learning adventures.  Now, we are coming to the end of our days together.  That is always a very bittersweet thing.  I love the students.  I love the work.  I am also extremely tired.  My energy levels are not what they once were.

My husband also came out of retirement and has been working full-time this semester.  He is also exhausted.  We seem to be going to bed earlier and earlier every night.  Since Spring Break, we've just been barely hanging on.  

Last week, on facebook,  I posted this photo of the two of us that was taken one year ago while we were in Vienna, Austria.  I heard my husband, who never swears, say something about 'hell' after he saw the photo.  From my study, I called out, "What did you just say?"  He answered with, "We look like hell compared to how we looked a year ago."  

Sadly, he is right.  I know I have aged considerably since then.  I lost a child. I have spent most of the last year trying to grieve and heal from that shock.  My husband has been right there by my side throughout it all.

Then, we went back to work.  That was a good thing.  We both needed to get out among kids, educators, and do what we do best.  We are so grateful that we were able to use our skills to help others and to help ourselves heal.  

We are now really ready to go back to retirement.  Thankfully, we are seeing the light at the end of tunnel.  Tomorrow is my last official class.  We have a party on Friday at my home.  Next week we will have the final.  Then, I am finished with teaching.  Jim has to work until the end of May. 

We hope to resume the lives we had in retirement.  We need to get back to the gym.  The yard needs a lot of work.  We want to go fishing.  We want to take a few small trips.  We want to stay up late if we want to.  We want to get up without hearing the alarm go off.  We are ready to be retired again.  The end of our working days is near.  The beginning of enjoying retirement is finally returning.  

This time I really think we won't go back to work again.  We agree with the governor who decided not to run for president.  We just don't have the "fire in the belly" to keep working in education like we once did.  Thankfully, we have options.  After working for a season, we now choose to return to retirement.

Easter Reflections

My oldest daughter wrote this reflective piece and posted it on her facebook page.  With her permission, I am sharing it with you here.

Easter Reflections

by Keicha Christiansen

If I had to pick my favorite holiday it would be Easter.  I delight in the activity surrounding it--candy, coloring eggs,  egg hunts, family gatherings, an excuse to buy a new dress and get dressed up, sightings of new lambs in green pastures, mom's potato salad at Easter dinner, and the fact that it takes place in Spring, my favorite season. This year, I've been reflecting on Easter just one short year ago and all that's changed since.

   Last year, as I frequently do, I spent Easter in Colorado.  My two sisters and I hit the road with our traveling circus of three kids, one large yellow Lab, and assorted luggage and headed to mom's house in Pueblo for the weekend.  That Saturday brought a house full of people, as my three stepsisters, their spouses and all of their children came down for a party.  We had an egg hunt for the kids and a cookout.  A picture taken of me that day with my sisters captured my happiness and contentment.  At that moment I was surrounded by things that make me happy.  The sun was shining, family was all around me, our kids were laughing and playing,  my sisters were by my side.  Life was good.

Keicha, Julie, Amy
April 2010

That evening was spent like most evening's when we gathered at mom's-- in the family room in front of the fireplace with the dogs, Phoenix and Buster at our feet.  Julie and I shared a bedroom that trip, sleeping in twin beds just a few feet apart from each other.  I remember that night, drifting off to sleep in mid-conversation with my sister, loving that  feeling of returning to childhood with my mom down the hall and my sister sleeping across from me barely an arm's length away.  It was that familiar, cozy feeling of being home, which was funny because I didn't grow up in that house, none of us did.  But home is all about the feeling of a place, not the actual location. 

   On Easter morning, the entire household was up and gathered in the living room, in our pajamas drinking coffee and reading the newspaper, the kids eating chocolate eggs from their Easter baskets.  Julie and I eventually roused ourselves and went for a run, 7 miles if I recall.  It would be the last time we ran together, but of course I didn't know it at the time.  We ran through the streets of Pueblo, her old stomping grounds.  As we ran, she talked about her time there during high school.  I asked her a lot of questions about what it felt like to move to a new town as a high school student.  Was she scared?  Did she miss her friends?  How hard was it to make new friends?  She told me things about that period of her life that she'd never shared with me before.  I learned so much about her during that run.  Our route took us past many places that had meaning to her.  She explained all the happy memories she had of running on the cross-country team, and of the really good friends she made at East High.  She talked about her gratitude to our stepdad Jim, and how he made the transition so much easier for her. 

   Later, after Easter dinner we all headed back towards Boulder.  Julie and I ended up driving together, while Amy took all the kids in her car.  Our good chat continued.  We talked about so many things we'd never talked about before.  At Castle Rock, we pulled off for a pit stop and got ice cream cones and fries at McDonalds.  We giggled at our unhealthy snack and the silly satisfaction we gained from giving in to such a ridiculous craving.  When we got home to Julie's apartment, I once again drug my suitcase up three long flights of stairs.  We both lamented the fact that despite being runners, the climb to her apartment was always hard on our quads!  Almost immediately, we changed into warm jackets and took her dog Phoenix to a nearby park to chase a tennis ball.  Looking back on that evening, I'm again struck at how such a seemingly inconsequential moment in life made me so happy.  There I was swinging on a swing set, talking to Julie in between her laps around the park with Phoenix.  The wind was blowing, but we were laughing and happy.  Inside, I felt light-hearted, free from worry.  Being in Colorado with my sisters always had that effect on me. 

   The next day, Julie went off to work and I headed back to Utah.  Our goodbyes were always matter-of-fact.  "Goodbye.  Thanks for coming out. I love you. See you soon."  Of course we would.  We just took it for granted.  At least I did.  Little did I know the next time I'd be back in her apartment, it would be to empty it of her belongings after her funeral.  That time the climb up those stairs didn't hurt just my quads.  It broke my heart. 

   So, this Easter is different for me. Instead of joy, I'm reminded of all that I've lost.  Going home to mom's for Easter is a thought I can't even bear.  I'm afraid of how different everything will be.  Julie is gone, Phoenix will no longer be a part of our road trips, even my mom's dog Buster is gone. He died four days after Julie.  So much has changed.  Having a sister missing from our comfortable group of three leaves an unfathomable void.  Her absence is always there, just under the surface.  Amy and I carry on, but now when we're together things seem just a little off-kilter.  We haven't adjusted to our new dynamic of only two sisters. 

   Eventually I'll go home again.  Just not this year.  We'll all make new happy memories of Easter at mom's.  For now, I try to focus on the memories and the good feelings they bring.  I've realized that happiness in life is made up of so many simple moments.  Times that aren't planned.  Conversations that just happen.  Cravings that are indulged.  Laughter that comes for almost no reason at all.  Those are the moments we carry in our hearts. 

*I wrote about this past year's Easter Weekend on my blog.  If you are interested, you may read about it here:  http://sallysbloggingspot.blogspot.com/2010/04/easter-weekend.html

On Meeting a Favorite Poet

I must make a confession.  I like to read poetry, but it is not my genre of choice for reading for pleasure.  I guess I have to be in the mood for poetry.  Some poems have really spoken to me over the years, and I treasure them.  Poetry can touch the soul when prose can't.  As a teacher, I never liked to teach poetry.  I could almost hear the students moan before we started a unit on poetry.  And yet, I also have learned much about life and about my students after we have read poetry together.  Poetry brings people together.  It speaks to soul and to the heart.  It helps us share our deepest feelings with each other.

Having said all that about not loving poetry, and yet loving how it has touched my life, I wish I could have expressed my feelings by writing this poem with this title:  "The Trouble With Poetry."   This link will take you to an informal reading by the former Poet Laureate of the United States, Billy Collins.

Now, I must also confess I don't just love the poem, I have a huge crush on the poet.  Oh, ok, I fancied myself in love with Billy Collins at one time.

I heard Billy (I am taking the liberty of using his first name here) speak at a conference for English teachers about ten years ago.  I was enthralled with him and his writing as I listened to him read his poetry in his dry delivery style.  I went out and bought a bunch of his books.  I taught him when I had the chance.

Then, in 2007, my oldest daughter excitedly called me one day to announce that the school foundation board on which she served was bringing Billy Collins to town as their guest speaker for the annual author event fundraiser.  "Do you want to come over for it?" she asked.

The night of the big event, I was thrilled see that my daughter had a table for us right at the front of the room.  After the dinner, Billy read his poetry to his adoring fans.  It was then announced that he would sign books for those of us who had purchased his books.  Unfortunately, the book signing table was set up clear across the room from our table.  By the time I got in line with all my books and a flyer from the event for him to sign, there was already a big line.  My feet were killing me, but I stood dutifully waiting my chance to meet my favorite poet.

My daughter gave me her books to me to have them signed because she was stationed near Billy with her camera in hand so she could photograph the moment I would finally have with Billy.  Did I mention that I was at the very end of a very long line?  I think that by the time I got to Billy, my patience was worn thin, my feet were really killing me, my lipstick was long gone, and I probably really had to go to the bathroom.  Billy probably was also more than ready to be done with signing book after book long before my turn in line came.  Still, I was not deterred.  I would speak with Billy.  Maybe we could connect on some literary level.

I felt like a shy girl in high school when he took my books.  He didn't even look up when he asked what I wanted him to say.  He spoke so quietly, I had to lean over to hear him.  I thought perhaps I could chat him up.  I said, "I heard you speak in Colorado at an English teachers' conference a few years back."  He said, "I don't remember being there.  They all seem to run together."  He did look up as he spoke.  I had leaned over because I couldn't hear him.  My daughter snapped the picture.  She captured my moment on film.  I thanked him and walked away from the table a bit deflated.

My daughter came up to me and said, "Mom, I don't think you will want the photo.  Your cleavage really spilled out of your dress when you leaned over, you looked confused, and he looked bored."  I was mortified by my wardrobe malfunction, but at least I don't have to worry.  I am sure he will never remember.

I still adore Billy Collins and his poetry.  I have some books that he signed.  I kept the flyer he autographed.  I asked my daughter to destroy the photo.

Retired English Teacher: Self care

Retired English Teacher: Self care: "Love After Love The time will come when, with elation you will greet yourself arriving at your own door, in your own mir..."

Self care

Love After Love

The time will come 

when, with elation 

you will greet yourself arriving

 at your own door, in your own mirror

 and each will smile at the other's welcome, 

and say, sit here. Eat. 

You will love again the stranger who was your self. 

Give wine. Give bread. Give back your heart to itself, 

to the stranger who has loved you

all your life, whom you ignored

for another, who knows you by heart. 

Take down the love letters from the bookshelf,

the photographs, the desperate notes, 

peel your own image from the mirror. 

Sit. Feast on your life. 

 ––Derek Walcott

The Photographs 

Spanning Many Years

Many Roles

~ The Sweet Fragrance of Childhood ~

Student on Trip to England with Professor

Teacher in Classroom

Wife of
High School Principal

Mother of Five Children

Grandmother of Seven

April is National Poetry Month

Grandmother at Journey into Elderhood (click on either word to find her blog) posted the poem above on her blog today.  I was reminded that I had posted this same poem in December of 2009.  I have added a few photos to that original blog entry and am reposting it today.  "Love After Love" is one of my favorite poems.  Just as it did in 2009, it speaks to me again of the importance of self care.  I continue on that journey of finding "that stranger who was yourself."


Repost of thoughts about this poem from blog entry posted in December of 2009:


We play many roles in this life.  As mothers, as sisters, as wives, as teachers, I think we don't always take good enough care of ourselves. Not only do we neglect ourselves, but we sometimes find that we have become "the stranger who was your self."

At the end of 2009, I am working on becoming reacquainted with my self. What do I really want to do with the remaining years that I have left? What is really important? What remains in my life, and what do I discard?

I hope to start taking down those "love letters from the bookshelf" and explore who I was, who I have become, and what it all means. The demands of motherhood, career, and professional responsibilities are now behind me. It will be interesting to see what choices I make in 2010.