In Commemoration of a Life Well Lived

I'll be the first to tell you that teaching 6th grade ELA was never a part of my plan. It just so happened that God had other things in mind for me than writing a Great American novel or a groundbreaking Broadway play. When I first decided to teach, I wanted to have seniors in high school. I had dreams of teaching kids that already knew how to write. We were going to write plays and synopses over "A Midsummer Night's Dream" or "Sir Gawain and the Green Night," all of the literature that enamored me when I was in high school. I wanted to teach about the Beatniks, who went overseas to write about their perspectives of America and American life. I was going to be just like my senior ELA teacher, Shirley Webb, one who inspired me in ways I never imagined possible. (Ironically, I had the pleasure of teaching with Shirley the first two years of my career--in middle school.) So, I worked my heine off and finished grad school and student teaching in a year. My certification was in ELA and Reading, grades 8-12. Now for the job hunt . . .

I submitted resumes and made phone calls to places an hour away. I spent money we didn't have on classroom enhancements--posters, tape dispensers, markers, and more. By the end of summer, I'd had two interviews and didn't get either job. Our bank account was getting ridiculously low. Carl was working hard at a dead-end job that paid a lot less than it should have. I was worrying if I'd made a wise decision about going into the field. I enlisted as a substitute teacher for the fall semester. I spent the first 5 weeks of school subbing in LISD and Frenship, where I did my student teaching the previous spring. I'd given up on getting a real job that year. Carl and I were cutting back on our expenses as best as we could. Then the call came. I interviewed at Dunbar for a position in sixth grade that suddenly opened up. I knew I got the job before I was even told. I thought if I could just stick it out until the end of the year teaching kids that knew nothing about writing, I could move on to my dream job, already having a year under my belt. I had no idea what I was going to teach. I would be the head ELA teacher in 6th grade. My colleague taught reading mostly, but she helped me through a really difficult year. When I was worrying about curriculum, I tried so hard to think back on what I learned in sixth grade ELA. The name Joanna Dunn will forever be in my mind as a teacher that taught me the most.

Joanna Dunn was my sixth grade English teacher. She was old even when I had her. She was extremely familiar with the Branson clan, since she taught my older sisters and younger brothers. Anyone with that amount of experience with our family remembers us long after we left elementary school. She had us spouting off prepositions, identifying prepositional phrases, diagramming sentences, moving to a rhythm while we conjugated verbs. We learned grammar and had fun learning it. I decided to model my teaching after what I could remember, which was quite a bit, of hers. I go into the school year promising my students only one thing . . . that they will learn. I believe Joanna made the same promise to us. We did not always enjoy her classes. She got onto us for yawning in her class. She was tough, and sometimes we moved on when I wasn't quite down with the current concept we were learning. But, she was a good teacher, a great teacher, who was passionate about what she was doing. That passion came out everyday. And, it was obvious.

I saw Joanna just last year. She was older and looked more worn. I talked to her for several minutes, making sure to tell her I still knew all of my prepositions by heart. She was proud to know that I'd grown up and sort of followed in her footsteps. She offered me advice about how to teach certain things and gave me her email address so we could exchange ideas. She was now teaching at MacKenzie Middle School, having moved up with the fifth graders when they converted junior high into middle school and changed the grade levels contained to 6-8. She told me she was having a tough year because of the change and leaving Honey Elementary behind. She talked about retiring in the near future. It was good to see her and to know that she was proud of me.

My brother and Carl, who are basically best friends, were talking last night, and Carl told me that Joanna Dunn was killed in a car accident earlier that morning. I immediately kicked Carl off the computer and looked it up online. Her picture was on the first page of local news. The caption read "Beloved Teacher Dies in Car Accident." I read the story. The jaws of life had to remove her from the wreckage. She was speaking on site, so they thought she might live. Surgery was conducted, and she died before it was over. She was in her 49th year of teaching, quoted at saying she hoped to make it to 50. It made me sad to think about her family and her students, how this happened just before the Christmas holiday. I imagined her granddaughter, whom she was very close to, receiving the news. But, Joanna lived a good life. She was a devout Christian woman, who was passionate about family, friends, and teaching. She touched lives because of that passion. I thought about her all last night, said a little prayer for her family and students. I was sad but didn't cry. She lived a good life, and I suspect that yesterday was her victory, although it was our loss. God rest her soul.

We Have a Mover!

Our third ultrasound was today. I must confess that I was sort of nervous because some of the girls on my fertility website have had recent miscarriages. They were due around the same time as me. For some reason, I tend to associate myself with everyone else. I've always been that way. I remember hearing stories about kids getting kidnapped and being terrified that I would get kidnapped, too. So, when these girls announced miscarriages at or around 11 weeks, I got a little worried. In the back of my mind, I knew I was worrying about nothing, but I still wanted assurance that my pregnancy was going the way it should. I got more than just assurance today, and I was so thankful. The little one is growing and moving around like crazy. We saw it's eyes and ears. We saw legs and arms and hands. It was so amazing! He or she currently measures at 12 weeks 2 days, meaning that it is measuring ahead by nearly one week. I asked if that meant my due date is moved, but she told me it doesn't. It just means that the baby is growing rapidly and is big. The differences between this ultrasound and our last one were phenomenal. It is amazing that so much has happened in just 3 weeks. I also "graduated" from my specialist doctor and can now go see a regular OB/GYN. I had to get a new doctor because my previous one evidently decided to stop delivering babies. I haven't made the appointment yet, but I am going to call soon. Please continue to keep Carl, me, and our sweet little miracle in your prayers. We feel so blessed in so many ways.

Ticker

Update

Hey, all! I just got back from our second ultrasound. It went so great!!! I actually got to see our little one move around in there! Wow, so cool!!! I wish Carl could have been there, but he was stuck at work. They did video it for us, and we got printouts of the pics. Our sweet baby is measuring 2 days ahead, at 8w 4d. It looked so big compared to last time! It had the beginnings of arms and legs. Its head was huge compared to everything else. Its little :heart: was beating at 159 bpm. And, I was reminded that by our next u/s, which is December 2, our baby will look like a real proportioned baby. Yea!!! This is too cool. I called Carl as soon as I got out, and he was really excited to hear about the new developments. My mom and sister were, too. I love this feeling! So, anyway, I felt awful most of the day yesterday, didn't throw up, but I felt like I could have. Today, I woke up nauseated, but still went to work and made it through the day without too much trouble. When the people at work don't know anything yet, it is easy to make yourself put on a smile despite feeling sick. At our department meeting, they talked about more things they want us to do this summer as professional development. I am going to have to tell them that I cannot make any committments for summer. I want to wait until after our 3rd ultrasound, though. Does anyone have any advice for telling people? I am going to tell my friend, Malli, at work tomorrow. I am only spilling to her, though, because she's been doing me lots of favors by watching my class when I have an appointment. She's getting curious. I am going to tell her that she can't tell anyone else, though. Well, I am off to eat something. My stomach is growling. I hope everyone else is doing A-OK! Thanks for your congratulations and responses. I am trying to keep things updated more now. I wish I could post a pic from our ultrasound, but I didn't get a CD and don't have a scanner. I'll see if I can figure something out.

Wow!

Time is flying by, and I am getting old. Funny how that happens. I don't update this blog much, because I don't really know that many people interested in reading about my crazy life. So, here I am, updating at my older sister's request.
Life is funny. The older and wiser I get, the more I realize that God has a hand in everything that comes and goes. It becomes more and more apparent that He knows exactly what he's doing, too. We live our lives, make countless mistakes, and ultimately learn our valued lessons, without ever realizing how truly perfect it all is. It occurred to me when I was in the ninth grade that in the end, things just work out. It may take a lot of drama to get to the end, but things happen exactly the way they are supposed to at exactly the time they are supposed to. I adopted this philosophy, but I never really understood it. Knowing God has a hand in everything and truly realizing it are two different things.
The past two years have been nothing short of trying for Carl and me. We've been struggling with infertility for just shy of two years. I have PCOS (Poly Cystic Ovarian Syndrome). I was diagnosed with it after we'd been trying for the better part of a year and a half. We've been seeing a specialist for the past 4 or so months. There were times in this journey that I wasn't sure I would ever make it to motherhood. I was a little jealous of people I knew who were having babies and adding to their already beautiful little families. I felt isolated. Carl and I shelled out quite a bit of money to pay for an IUI procedure that our specialist doctor redcommended. I thought it worked, even convinced myself that there was no possible way it couldn't have. It broke my heart to get confirmation that the procedure was a failure. I spent a day feeling sorry for myself. Carl was so sweet to me, but I didn't feel much better. I got it in my head that I was likely not able to get pregnant, which made it even worse. Then, something happened. I reunited with an old aquaintance who helped me realize a few things. She was going through a similar situation, but she voiced these words of confidence that stuck with me: "I know I can get pregnant." It struck me then that feeling sorry for myself was not helping the situation and was making me feel worse. If I wanted to conceive a child, I was going to have to fight against this infertility with all that I had. I knew that God was on my side, because I could just feel it. I'd been praying steadily for guidance and patience since we first started having trouble. I knew God would never turn his back on me. We had our second IUI done on September 26, which was a Friday. I am a school teacher, so finding time to relax is almost impossible. I found it that weekend, enjoying time with my man and just focusing on the good things life has to offer. I know this sounds really crazy, but I am almost convinced it has something to do with the end result. I promise I am sane. I started talking to what could be my future baby the day after my IUI. I would tell it and myself that we were going to fight, I would fight for it and Carl would fight for it, and with God on our side, we simply could not lose. About 9 days later, my BBT (Basal Body Temperature) dropped, and I thought it was over. Carl and I had a long talk about what we were going to do if it was indeed over for that cycle. We even decided that if we don't get pregnant within a year, we would adopt. I felt better. The next two days, my BBT shot back up. I still was not hopeful. I refused to take a pregnancy test until my scheduled blood test. I went in two Fridays post-IUI feeling broken but okay. I was pretty sure I would not get the result I wanted, but I was convinced that I would eventually. If this cycle was not the one for us, then the next one would be. I got the call at my sister's house later that afternoon. I was sort of panicky when I answered the phone. I stepped outside and heard Angie on the other end say, "You're very pregnant." I cried like crazy, asked if they were sure those were the correct test results, and thanked the Lord for really being with us all along. It occurred to me later that evening that I'd read several stories about people finding out they were pregnant and being happy enough to shed tears. I always wanted to be one of them. I remembered wishing I would get a happy surprise, and I got one. I went inside that afternoon and told Carrie that she was going to be an aunt again. Then, I left and went to Bear Castle, which is like Build-A-Bear, to carry out the plan I'd developed two months prior for telling my husband that he was finally going to be a daddy. When I gave him the bag carrying the bear and birth certificate, he reached for the certificate first. He stared at it for a few minutes, then the sweetest, most genuine smile crossed his face. "We are?" was all he could say. Our first ultrasound was yesterday, and we got to see our little coffee bean and his or her heart beating at 130 bpm. I am not sure I have ever seen anything more beautiful than that little baby. I know Carl agrees.

Quite Possibly the Worst

After the new Hastings opened just down the street from us, we decided to rent the first movies we'd rented in at least four months. The new store was really nice, and we knew they gave a $2 credit for rentals returned the next day. As we were roaming down the aisles of new releases, we stopped in front of "No Country for Old Men." We picked it up off the shelves, thinking, "This movies has to be good because it won an Academy Award this year." WRONG!!! SO WRONG!!! We watched it on Saturday with my little brother, Colin. After it was over, we all three simultaneously said, "What? Who would vote for that?!" The story had no redeeming value whatsoever. Despite the outstanding acting, it still sucked. The story line was weak. There was no resolution, and nothing got solved or even close to being solved. It ended with no point. I thought Hollywood must've lowered it's standards for Academy Award winners. I am a literature buff. I read constantly, and I am always looking to learn about parts of history. All I got out of the movies was some old guy with no sense of direction and a creepy serial killer who killed for absolutely no reason other than just to do it. I would not recommend watching it to anyone. However, it beat the heck out of the other movie we rented.

We decided that if we were going to rent one Academy Award winner, we might as well rent two. So, we picked up "There Will Be Blood," since we had heard raving reviews from people obviously on crack. It was quite possibly the worst movie I've ever seen. I feel sorry for myself because I saw it. After eating dinner with my family at Cracker Barrel, I told my sister, Carrie, that we were going to watch it. She told me she had seen it and absolutely hated it. Carrie and I typically have similar tastes in movies, so when she said that, I figured I probably would not just love it. We paid $4 to rent it for a week, so we decided to watch it no matter what. I am also a big believer in making up my own mind about things, so I wasn't going to let Carrie's opinion shape mine completely. We popped it into the DVD player, and it began. At first, I found it confusing and a little on the boring side. I didn't hate it, but I didn't really care for it. There was no action, other than the occassional guy getting popped on the head with part of the oil rig or barrel or whatever it was. Carl looked at me and said, "You don't really like this do you?" I told him that I didn't really get what was going on and that there was not any real action. He explained that it was documenting the rise of industrialization and how the world was affected by the oil industry. I understood that. I do love history, but I was falling asleep from boredom and missed some parts. I decided to stay awake and see if it picked up. It did, and about halfway through the movie I thought it might be an okay movie after all. WRONG, again. Daniel Plainview, the lead character, randomly started killing people and not caring at all about doing it. His killing spree seemed to come out of nowhere. The scenes got pretty bloody, which doesn't really bother me, but it certainly did not help me to like the movie any more. It, too, ended with no redemption and no point. The last scene was horrific and didn't really make much sense. I will say that I understood the movie in the long run, but I absolutely hated it! It sucked!!! Carl and I looked at each other with this horrified, confused expression. He didn't like it at all either. We both decided that whoever nominated and chose this movie to be the winner of an Academy Award has some serious issues and wouldn't know good movies if they smacked them in the face. At 11:30 at night, we went to turn the movies in. It was dark, and Hastings is new, so we didn't know where the drop off was. At the front of the building sit two big, green trash bins. From a distance, they looked like they might be return bins. Luckily, we figured out they weren't and found the return bin. But, as we were driving off, Carl said, "Both of those movies could've gone in the trash." I said, "I know. I feel like we need to save people from watching them." I am literally sad for myself for having watched them. For years, the worst movie I have ever seen was "The Talented Mr. Ripley." Now, I am almost convinced that it is "There Will Be Blood." Carl and I are not trusting Hollywood any more.

Litter Sucks!

Carl and I live in this not-so-nice-not-as-trashy-as-they-come neighborhood. Our house is one of the cutest on the block. It is small, but we love it. We've been homeowners for a little over four years. During those four years, the only neighbors we really got to know were the ones of both sides of our house. The house across the street, a cute little blue number, is a rent house. The people that live there currently have only been there for about a year. Before that, I think some college kids rented it. Most of the homes on that side of the street are rent houses that run between $600 and $700 per month. All of the houses on our block, including ours, are small, two to three bedroom, suitable for college kids or small families just starting out. Our neighbors to the left are older than my parents.

My complaint is that the neighbors to our right and the neighbors that rent the house across the street keep trashing our block. First off, the neighbors to the right are decent people with no class whatsoever. We know them by name but choose not to associate with them very often. Their children are 4 and 2, and they practically live outside. Their parents are smoking and beer-drinking folk nearly every time we see them. They continuously have people over for parties, and they do not pick up their trash. As a matter of fact, half of the time we find their trash in our yard. Sometimes, it is even in our back yard. Their curb is currently littered with an empty 12-pack box of Miller, napkins, and plastic cups, amongst a few other bits of trash. The neighbors across the street are African-American and have about 5 kids of various ages at their house all the time. I actually do not know how many children belong to them. I've seen up to ten kids in their yard shooting hoops at one point. Their children are always outside, riding bikes or playing basketball, typically unsupervised. One day, I was driving home after a big rain and witnessed a 12 or so year old playing in the muddy water along the curb. I was horrified but dismissed it quickly as simple child's play. Once again, no parents were in sight. Their curb is completely littered with trash, too.

When I got home, I noticed that there was a lot of trash in my front yard and along my curb. I do not litter, so I knew I did not put it there. I looked around the neighborhood and realized that not only was my yard trashed but the whole block looked trashy. Now, I am not too much of an environmentalist. I do care about the environment, but my concerns are limited to picking up trash and planting trees and that sort of thing. I grabbed a trash bag and started picking up the trash, so I could water my poor, brown lawn. I was so annoyed that my yard was full of litter that I did not put there! If our neighbors do not care about the appearance of their house, fine. I cannot make them and would not try to convince them to attempt to look like decent folk. However, I do care about the appearance of my house. I certainly do not appreciate non-sensical, thoughtless idiots making it look like I can't take care of my property. It angers me! So, Carl called his ex-lawyer dad to see if there was anything we could do about this problem. Joe recommended talking to the people first and asking them to please make sure their trash does not wind up in our yard. If it happens again, then we should file a report with the city to make them aware of the situation. We skipped step one. It would be different if this was a once-in-a-while thing. But, we have this happen on a near-daily basis. We'll see what happens. I seriously doubt the city will take the time to investigate one couple's complaint, but maybe, just maybe they will.

August 2, 2008

So, I really don't know why I decided to get my own blogspot. I guess I noticed that everyone has one, so I needed one, too. I'm so easily influenced! Anyway, I used to blog a lot on MySpace, but I sort of stopped. I get so busy living my life, that I forget to do things like blog. Those of you that read this will probably notice I'll go long periods of time without exercising my right to blog. Today, however, I felt like I needed a blogspot. And, I don't want my page to be blank and without blogs. That would defeat the purpose, right?

So, what's on my mind? I am being quite the computer nerd today. I've almost literally been at my computer all day. I blame my husband. Anyone who knows Carl would know that he is an extreme computer nerd. He even plays World of Warcraft! How nerdy is that?! I love my computer, but I did not love it this much until after Carl was on it constantly. I guess that proves that you tend to want things you cannot have. Carl's at work right now, so I am going to make the most of the time I have to spend being lazy and typing away on my computer.

I don't know where to begin. School is starting soon, and I am not really ready. I've been spending nearly everyday with my nieces and nephews. During the school year, I don't get to see them all the time. I sometimes go 2 weeks without seeing those sweet kids. Since it's summer and I did not teach summer school, I've been helping my mom and Carrie (my sister) out with my other sister's (Amy) three kids. Carrie adds another 3 to that picture, so I've basically been spending the summer with 6 kids. It really has been fun. I love getting to see those kids daily. When school starts, it will be hard to go back to seeing them every couple of weeks. My nieces and nephews are the cutest kids I've ever seen in my life. They have this great zest for life. It reminds me of what it was like to be a child and things were so much simpler. I cannot wait to have kids of my own. I can only imagine how great it would be to hear someone say, "Your daughter looks just like you!" or "You're son is the most intelligent kid!" or even "Wow, your kids must take after you because he/she is so bright!" Yes, kids are great.

I used to think I wanted to be a writer of Broadway plays. I even wrote my own one-act in college. It was silly and dumb, but I was proud of it. I couldn't live in New York, though. I would miss my family (especially my mom) way too much. I've actually never even been to NY. I almost got to go once. Carl's old band, 80's Combat, was touring, and I flew down to meet them in New Jersey. Speaking of, that is one state I do not recommend visiting. Our experience there, however short-lived it was, was clouded by a young guy throwing the F word into every sentence as much as possible and this stench that beat the pants off of the cow smell we get in TX. Anyway, when I planned to meet the band in NJ, I had the understanding that we would be going to NY the next day. As it turns out, the band decided to go to NY the previous day, therefore resulting in my missing a trip to NY. Boys suck. I did get to go through several East Coast states, though, and it was a good experience overall. I still wanted to go to NY, though. I'll get there, eventually.

My one claim to fame is that a small, homey restaurant posted a saying that I had come up with on their marquis. Glazed Honey Ham has these comment cards, typical of most restaurants, and I decided to fill one out sometime last year. The last question on the comment card was reserved for Additional Comments, and I penciled in that I thought "I think, therefore I ham." was a superb slogan for the restaurant. This probably sounds strange considering I haven't given you the back story yet. It all started several years ago when I was taking Carl to one of his band member's houses so they could embark on yet another multi-state tour. (This was one I was not going on.) It was something like 6:30 in the AM, and I passed by Glazed Honey Ham. I'd never eaten there before, but I have a habit of reading every marquis and billboard I encounter. Theirs said, "Will trade ham sandwich for clever saying." I went home and unable to drift back into peaceful slumber due to my sadness over Carl's departure, I started writing down as many clever sayings as I could possibly come up with. I carried this paper in my purse for months, never stopping at Glazed Honey Ham to turn it in and retrieve my ham sandwich. I forgot about it until my man and I decided to try Glazed Honey Ham on one of our Friday night date nights. In exchange for my "clever saying," I received not a ham sandwich, but a gift card for two meals and two desserts. They also displayed my "clever saying" on their marquis for about a week. I have a picture of it somewhere.