School Days: when worms invaded my classroom

There are many lovely things I cherish about teaching 2nd graders.

I love their wide-eyed eagerness when they discover a new chapter book or series.

I love when we do well-done and worthwhile projects that enrich learning.

I love watching them present reports with growing poise and confidence.

 I love learning alongside them about the great men and women in history and then discussing worthy ideas like compassion, honesty, and self sacrifice.

I love watching their handwriting improve (hopefully) and seeing them learn, remember, and (again hopefully) apply the rules of the English language.

Did you know there are 29 spelling rules of the English language? Have you been staying up at night wondering why our words are spelled the way they are?

I love when science experiments work out the way I envision them in my head (though that doesn't always happen, like last week when my balloon ripped.  Talk about anti-climactic).

I love working at a Christian school where we can openly talk about God and His faithfulness, sovereignty, provision, and love.  I love memorizing Scripture along with my students, hiding it in my own heart, as they're hiding it in theirs.

I love that they think classifying sentences is fun.

I love the comical/odd things I overhear on a regular basis.

• "Did your uncle ever rob people at sea?  Because that's what pirates do" - (having misheard another boy who said that his uncle was a pilot).
• "Mrs. Jackson, thanks for making our brains smart." (said by quiet girl while lining up)
• When the students were tasked to bring in one special item that told us something about them the first week of school. - "I brought this to show the class because I love animals." (as he held up a clear plastic bag with a dead hummingbird scraped up from the parking lot).  Gulp.
• (getting out of line to walk up and tell me this, while flexing bicep) "Do you want to feel my muscle, Mrs. Jackson?"  No, I want you to get in line :)

What I don't love is when worms invade my classroom.

A couple months ago, my students and I discovered little white worms periodically here and there on the floor and in our basket where they keep their pencil bags.

Not worms.  More like grubs.  Larvae.   Ugh, I really don't like that word right now.

Exhibit A:

I finally figured out that the larvae was coming from acorns that the students were collecting and bringing inside from recess.

Now, if I'm ever a mom to little boys, I will certainly let them play in the dirt and hold bugs and touch worms. I see it as part of childhood and discovery.  Getting dirty doesn't bother me.  I had no problem with my students' little acorn collecting hobby (granted that they didn't eat them, throw them at each other, or get distracted by them when back in class). Harmless.  "They're just curious about nature," I thought, "and I don't want to stifle that."  But when little critters start to make their way inside and into places they shouldn't be, that's where I draw the line.  For a teacher, her classroom is like her second home, a place where she spends a lot of time.  And I don't want larvae in my home.

So, I did the only logical thing - I put a ban on bringing acorns into the classroom.

But then, these past two weeks the worms have been spotted again.  I don't know how many times the students said, "Mrs. Jackson, there's another weevil on the ground!"  And I would have to go pick it up with a kleenex and throw it away.  This happened multiple times the other day.  Five.  Maybe six?  It was getting old.

Each time, I noticed that the larva was located around the same little boy's desk.  Hmmm...

So I ask him, "_________, do you have any acorns in your desk?"

To his credit, he was honest.  "Well, I guess I have these..." (as he proceeds to pull a ziplock bag FULL of acorns out of his pencil bag.  The bag had holes in it and was moist with condensation - a larvae haven.)

I walked over to his desk and took a peek inside the pencil bag from whence the acorns came and saw (brace yourself) several little, white larvae inside among his tools, some dead, some crawling around.

(Let's all pause to wiggle our bodies at the grossness of this.)

Because of the class time missed to deal with the larvae situation, it was suddenly time to take my students to lunch (I know, gross timing, right?), then recess.

Needless to say, the boy (who I enjoy as a person and a student, though I didn't appreciate the worm thing) had to discard of his beloved acorn bag immediately and, during recess, clean out his pencil bag, check his desk for other critters, and wash his hands.

While the children were out of the room, I snapped these pics so that I could show my husband what the bugs looked like, so he could help me identify them.  They are indeed acorn weevil larvae.

incriminating bag

found in boy's pencil bag, crawling among his pencils

Here's a chant that another teacher suggested I could teach my class next:

No more Acorns in our room

Teacher must get out a broom

Little worms upon the floor

Really must stay out of door.

Isn't that great?  Some teachers get all the rhyming talent.

So there's a little peek into my teaching world.  Some days I feel great.  Some days I feel like I fail.  Some days I'm surprised.  Some days I'm delighted.  Some days I'm grossed out.

Leaf Peeping and Art Crawling

My mom visited last week.

Here are some of our highlights:

She shadowed me for a day at work.  In my ten years of teaching, she's never seen what I do.  So it was a treat to have her with me in the classroom all day.  During a few funny student comments, we met eyes and smiled.

Later, we went to Weston (a historic town north of us) to go "leaf peeping", which I thought sounded inappropriate.  Apparently that's the official term for looking at pretty leaves though.

peeping

We of course had to take her to the Nelson Atkins Museum.  It's free.  It's interesting.

Nelson Atkins Museum

On the steps of Nelson Atkins, looking out

On the grounds of Nelson Atkins

We popped in and out of some art galleries in the Crossroads District.  "First Fridays" is a monthly art crawl that takes place on the first Friday of every month here in KC.

We stood for a little while trying to figure out this piece.  Hmmm...
Sorry (again) for the blurriness.  I'm just not a great photographer.  It's hit and miss.

For some reason, we got a case of the giggles when Mom and I took turns standing behind this sculpture. The pricetag on it was something like $40,000.  I don't understand.

teeheehee

We gasped when we saw that these heads, by the same artist, were $90,000.  Wow.  And really?  I mean, I can see maybe $80,000, but 90? ;)


Thanks for visiting, Ma!  We loved having you.

Love, Matt and Liane

When Matt almost died before my eyes

I wrote here about our wedding anniversary in Kansas City last year.

This year, Matt and I had a bit of an unusual anniversary celebration.

On our actual anniversary, I had parent/teacher conferences until 9:30, and Matt had to study for finals.

No complaints.  Such is life.  And I like my job.

So, we decided to just pick a date a few weeks later to go out to dinner.

That alternative date arrived.

And I sounded like a barking smoker.  I had developed a deep cough and had lost my voice, due, I learned later, to bronchitis.

I really didn't feel too bad, except for my lungs.

We had a groupon to use, and Matt had already made dinner reservations.  I didn't want to postpone the celebration yet again, so we went.

All was well when we arrived.  The waiter kindly offered to bring me hot water, lemon, and honey when my cough started acting up.

I listened to Matt and held a little bit of a conversation, in a whisper.  The food came.  We ate.  And continued to talk/whisper.

Then, Matt got quiet.

He reached for his water with one hand and held his chest with the other.

He looked like how I feel when a pokey tortilla chip gets stuck in my throat.  Really uncomfortable, eyes squinted, trying to swallow to make the food go down.  Has that ever happened to you?  It's horrible.

I felt bad for him, knowing that uncomfortable feeling, but thought, He'll get it down.

After a few seconds of this though, his face started turning red and suddenly HE STOOD UP WITH WIDE, PANICKED EYES, leaning slightly over with his hands on the table.

Matt does not have a flare for the dramatic nor is he one to draw unnecessary attention to himself.

Oh my gosh!  He's really choking.

I yelled (squeaked/rasped), "MATT!!!!" and jumped up to help him.

I don't know what the other people around us were doing.  I wasn't paying much attention to them.  But I did hear a woman yell, "Is there a doctor?!" and a man across the restaurant yell, "He's choking!"

They must have thought I knew what I was doing, but I honestly didn't have a clue.  I felt helpless and scared.

I tried to administer the Heimlich Maneuver, but was kind of standing on his side and doing it wrong.  In between Hiemlich thrusts, I think I remember periodically hitting him on the back a few times.  Matt wasn't making any noises.

A fleeting thought passed through my mind - oh my gosh.  he's dying.  am i really losing him?  right here? now?  and out loud again, "Oh my gosh, Matt!!"

I don't know how long it lasted.  My guess is 15-20 seconds.  But it felt like an eternity.

Then, somehow, by the grace of God, he hocked up a long piece of meat onto his plate and started gasping for air.

Thank you, Jesus.  Thank you, Jesus.  Thank you, Jesus.

After a little more time, Matt gained his composure, nodded to people, held up a hand and said he was okay.   We apologized for the scene to which someone reassuringly responded, "If there was ever a reason to cause a scene, this was it."

We went to sit back down, people near us expressing kind relief.

The rest of the meal involved intermittent processing of the choking incident. - "I can't believe that happened."  "I thought I was losing you."  "I always wondered how I would die, and I was thinking, oh, I'm going to die choking on a piece of meat.  I'm going to die right here in this restaurant." "Didn't Mama Cass die choking on a ham sandwich?" and so on...

I'm not making light of death.  Or choking.  It happened, so we just talked a lot about it.

When we got home, I was coached in the correct Heimlich maneuver, to which I paid very close attention.

So that's our Happy 7 Year Anniversary celebration.



I am grateful for this man, and have renewed gladness for his life and for our marriage.

picture from 2012, Thanksgiving at my mother-in-law's house

And in case you ever need this:

How to perform the Heimlich Maneuver

(click link above for more detailed instructions)