Mrs. Wills aka My Mama

For those who do not know, my dynamic mama, Mrs. Linda Wills, is retiring from 40 years of teaching at the end of this school year (spring 2014). She taught elementary school from 1974 to 2014, give or take a few years she stayed home to raise her babies. But even when she was a stay-at-home/work-from-home mama, she was always teaching kids...daycare kids, us, and Sunday school kids, as well. We, as her family, have known for the past year or so that she was ready to retire soon, and we have all been excitedly looking forward to her having more free time for her hobbies and her grandchildren. But I don't think any of us realized, until now, the other emotions that come with the official end of a long career. So, I shall attempt to illustrate what those look like from my perspective.

Forty years ago this spring, Mrs. Wills was just finishing her first year of teaching in a little private Christian school in Florida, she went on to teach in the Twin Cities in Minnesota, the Logansport area of Indiana, a few different schools in the Mille Lacs region of Minnesota, in primary/kindergarten classes while also teaching college and supervising student teachers in Evansville, Indiana, and finally her longest tenure of around 14 years teaching in the Columbia School District in southern Michigan. Around the time she began teaching in Michigan, she got involved in the Reading Recovery program, and from my layman's view, she developed a new love for teaching children how to read. Whatever certification or official term they use in Reading Recovery for someone who teaches it, she has that. ;P She told me today that she has helped 58 students, kids who otherwise would be way behind and struggling in reading, learn how to read with Reading Recovery, and that doesn't count the after-school literacy groups or the kids who she has helped just normally in her classroom in the past 40 years.

Mrs. Wills circa 1974 and Mrs. Wills circa 2013. (sorry for the low res images)

Today, the elementary school where my mom teaches honored her and another retiring teacher in a surprise assembly. My younger brother and his family and my dad were able to attend. The school gave Mom 40 carnations for each of her 40 years teaching. Her principal said a few touching words, and several of her former students spoke and told everyone their favorite memories of having her for a teacher.

I wasn't able to be there, but I know for a fact that Mrs. Wills is an amazing teacher, and I can say that without bias because she was my teacher too, and no, I was never "homeschooled." She was my preschool teacher when I was 3 and 4. Then, when my kindergarten teacher took several weeks (months?) off for medical leave, Mrs. Wills was our long-term substitute. She also subbed for my first grade teacher. Then, she got hired full time at a private Christian school in the country where she was my second grade teacher and then third grade teacher the next year. So I've had her for a teacher more years than anyone else ever did, I think, so I think that makes me pretty much an expert on how great of a teacher she is. (My brother Jonathan is a close second, having her for a teacher for 2-3 years, if I remember correctly.)

Mom was very clear to explain to me that at home, she was mommy, but at school, she needed to be Mrs. Wills. I understood and apparently was able to compartmentalize well enough that when I was in second grade, one of my classmates heard me accidentally call her "mommy" once. This was well into the school year, and she was absolutely stunned to find out after all that time that Mrs. Wills was my mom! :D
 

I remember lots of the things we did in school. In preschool we made flying purple people eaters for a craft. I'm sure that ages me a ton because that is an OLD song, but I remember doing that. I also remember making "footprint paintings" outside by stepping in paint and then walking on a long piece of craft paper. Those teachers were saints to do such a messy craft with us preschoolers. I work with 2 and 3 year olds at my church, and I just can't imagine. I don't know if it was my mom's brainchild or not, but we made Minnesota loons in kindergarten. Funny how I remember the arts and craft projects. I know we did lots of other things, but those are the things I remember the most.

I remember Mrs. Wills' creative lessons from second and third grade very well, like when we learned about apples in September and incorporated math, problem-solving, reading, writing, art, and probably lots of other great lessons in that one theme. We did another one in October about pumpkins. I have so many memories from those years. All of the Bible verses we memorized. And the way we celebrated birthdays. The things we learned about nature. And one year, Mom and her fellow teachers wrote a play based on A Charlie Brown Christmas. There are lots and lots of amazing teachers out there, but I'm not sure how many would add the task of basically writing their own script for a Christmas play to an already busy time of year. That was HANDS DOWN the best and most memorable Christmas play I've ever been involved in – in the history of more-than-I-can-count Christmas plays I've participated in. I still remember all the details they added and how involved everyone was in designing the props and the costumes. Snoopy's dog house made out of a school desk with a cardboard cutout was just awesome. If you care to know, I was cast as the little girl, Violet, who at the beginning, Charlie Brown thanks for sending him a Christmas card. She tartly replies, "I didn't send you a Christmas card, Charlie Brown!" And that was my one line. :) I am so appreciative of all the teachers who go that extra mile to make an impression on kids for decades to come.

I have had lots of excellent teachers, but I think I owe a lot to the early reading and writing skills instilled in me by my mom in early elementary school. By the time I was in 8th grade, I was helping her grade college writing papers (basically doing it myself while she double-checked my work).  She was teaching a basic writing class at a local college for students who wanted to attend college but didn't pass the writing requirements to be able to enroll. She knew I was fully capable to grade their work because she knew I learned things in elementary school that those students hadn't learned. And she taught me those things...how to spell, how to write a complete sentence with a subject and a verb and the various alternate endings, how to construct a paragraph, and how to be descriptive in creative writing. I'm still working on how to be concise. ;) Thank you for teaching me those things, mama, and thank you for having the confidence in me to use what I knew at a young age. I truly believe I'm a better writer for it.

*cue the sappy*

I was looking at the pictures of my mom in her early teaching career and noticing how much Andrew looks like her and how much she looks like her dad, my GrampE. And then I got a little emotional because I know how proud her dad was and would be of her if he were still living. I know how proud he would be because I know how proud her mother is of her. I can't even imagine what it's like to live to see your only child RETIRE from her 40-year-long career, but I know she is bursting with pride. She constantly tells me, "she works so hard." GramE's right, and Mom does it because she knows the kids deserve it. See, my grandma remembers the little kindergartener/first grader who had a HORRIBLE, cruel teacher who embarrassed her and made her cry. She remembers the little girl that swore to herself that she would grow up and be a teacher . . . and that she would be a kinder and better teacher than that woman was. I think she has fulfilled that ten-fold. My mom is engaging, driven, patient, inspiring, and so many other things any teacher would want to be said about them. I see no comparison between the two, other than the title "teacher".

So in four more days, this 40-year-long career officially ends. But she will never stop teaching. She will continue to educate every child she ever comes into contact with because that is who she is. I can't wait to see what this next phase of life holds for her and the rest of our family.  I know I speak for everyone when I say that GramE, Dad, Andrew, Jonathan, your daughters-in-law, your son-in-law, your three-and-counting grandbabies, and I are so proud of you. I love you so very much, Mrs. Wills. <3 br="">

Hanukkah!

So last night, Nate and I took our niece to a Hanukkah service and party at our church. I should preface by saying that our church has a large-ish Messianic Jewish ministry, which means they minister to Jews who believe in Jesus as the Messiah. They meet about once a month on the first Friday evening of the month, which I believe is when the Sabbath technically starts (at sundown). We have been to a service before, as it is open to anyone who wants to attend and is not limited to Jewish people only. Since I've never been to a service at a Jewish synagogue, I can't say with any degree of certainty, but I would imagine this service is a cross between our regular weekend services and a traditional Jewish service.

I love experiencing new and different things as often as I can, so going to a Messianic Jewish service was an awesome cultural experience for me. A few interesting things to mention:

• They read from the Torah in Hebrew and then again translated into English.
• They do not write out God or Lord as, in Jewish tradition, God's name is considered so holy and revered that it's too holy to try to spell or write on paper. Instead, they write G-d and L-rd.
• They sing songs in Hebrew (I think?) and in English. We sang the famous song (in the movie/musical "Fiddler on the Roof") Hava Nagila as well as others. The song that got stuck in our heads the most is "Shema Yisrael" which means "Hear O Israel" and the rest of the song translates to "the Lord, our God, the Lord is one."
• There is a group who does traditional Jewish dances during the worship part of the service, which is soooo awesome.

So they explained Hanukkah to us, which I am going to sum up to the best of my knowledge. If this is totally off, please don't be offended. This is my blog and not a history paper, so I'm not going to do a ton of research for this. I am leaving out a lot of what I'm sure are important details, so if you are curious, look it up. :o)

Basically in the time between Malachi and the Gospels, there was a really bad king who forced the Jews to worship the Greek gods in the Temple and to slaughter pigs on the altar, which is obviously a huge afront to how the Jews were to worship the One Living God as per the Law in the Old Testament. One man rose up in rebellion and started a revolution that overthrew the Empire of this bad king. They rededicated the Temple to God. During the uprising, they only had enough oil to last one day, but it is believed that God made the oil last for eight days instead of one. The Menorah is a symbol of God's constant protection and provision for his people, Israel. I believe this is recorded in Maccabees, but since that isn't in our canon and I'm too lazy to look it up, I wouldn't know for sure.

Anyway, before attending this service, I had a very limited knowledge of what Hanukkah actually is. I knew what the Menorah was and the Dreidl, but as for their meanings, I had no idea. At the end of the service, the pastor of Jewish ministries, said this, "You can basically sum up all Jewish holidays like this: They hated us and tried to kill us. We fought back. We won. Let's eat!"

We laughed so hard. Love it. After the service, we went to the party. They served some traditional Hanukkah food, which is predominantly fried to remind us of the miracle of the oil. They did some more dancing to teach anyone who wanted to learn. There were photobooths, music, driedl games and the chocolate coins all throughout, and festive decorations. So much fun. The only thing I didn't like is that there were too many people for the size of the room! My niece, Ellie, loved the driedl! It was such a good experience, and I would recommend something like it to anyone who is curious about Hanukkah.

Ten Years :: My 9-11 Memories

Everyone has their own version and their own memories of the day. Mine are not especially significant. I didn't know anyone who was affected, and I don't have anything to say that is profound or really even worth sharing. In fact, on the tenth anniversary of this historic day, I even put off thinking about it because I didn't want to remember how I felt or how sad it was. It helps me to process my thoughts by writing them down, and so that's what I shall do.

Ten years ago. I was 17. Seventeen. I've almost forgotten what it's like to be a teenager. I was recently made painfully aware of this when hearing the age (15) of a babysitter who was going to watch my niece, Ellie for me so that Nate and I could go to a comedy night at our church. I thought, fifteen is too young to babysit a nine month...oh, wait. I started babysitting when I was 12 or 13. *facepalm* But the facts are that seventeen-year-old-me and my family had just moved to Michigan like a month prior, and school had just started about two weeks before September 11. I worked at McDonald's. All of my grandparents were still living (and I now only have one living grandma). I drove myself and my 13-year-old brother to school in my parents' 1983 Chevy Celebrity. I was also enrolled at a university, where I would later earn my bachelor's degree, taking a college-level Spanish class Monday and Wednesday afternoons, but Tuesday, Thursday, and Friday afternoons were free for me to spend extra time in the lab of my favorite class, Yearbook, of which I would later be asked to be editor. This is what I wrote as it appears in my high school's 2001-2002 yearbook.
9-11
They said we'd always remember 9-11. I could never forget. Could you?
By Laura Wills, Editor of the Royal Heir 2002
      It was a normal Tuesday morning, just like any other school day. I was sitting in government class, trying to stay awake, when everything changed. Mr. Barsuhn was called out of the room, and he returned with a serious expression on his face. He told us that a terrorist-controlled plane flew into one of the towers of the World Trade Center in New York. The class sat silently in disbelief. Later, we heard that another plane flew into the other tower of the WTC.
      This experience was frightening, but God did not want us to be afraid. The Bible is full of encouragement that applied to the events of September 11, 2001. God continually tells us not to be afraid because he sees the big picture. "...'Do not be afraid, nor be dismayed; be strong and of good courage, for thus the Lord will do to all your enemies against whom you fight' (Joshua 10:25, NIV)." God has also warned us that we will have trouble in this world. "In the world you will have tribulation; but be of good cheer, I have overcome the world (John 16:33, NIV)."
      Our nation will never be the same. Good has and will come from this tragedy. Let us never forget Who this nation stands for, and let us always be thankful for the freedom to worship Him. We must remember that God is always in control.

Obviously, I wrote this after I had had a lot of time to process the events that had happened. The things I said were true and still are. I don't believe our nation has been the same since. But that day, my emotions were raw. I spent nearly the entire school day in front of the one TV our small Christian school had in the "Cafetorium" (multipurpose cafeteria/auditorium). We started watching after the first plane hit the first tower, and so we watched LIVE while the second plane hit the second tower, the other plane hit the Pentagon, and the fourth plane crashed in Pennsylvania. That day, we had no idea that that would be the end of the planned attacks. We just knew that our nation was under attack, most likely from terrorists, and it was terrifying. For all we knew, there were many more attacks to come. For the first time in my sheltered American teenage life, I didn't feel safe. That day after school, I remember going out to dinner with my dad and my little brother to a little establishment in our small town. The restaurant was full of people, but the atmosphere was hazy and quiet. With only the news on the radio, everyone was silent in complete bewilderment.

Just today, I watched video footage of the second plane hitting the second tower of the World Trade Center. It is common footage that you can find a million times over by doing a simple search on Google or YouTube, but I hadn't seen it in years. Memories of how I felt the first time I saw it came flooding back to me. Those are the snapshots that replay in my head when I think of this day. Aside from the obvious countless lives lost, the surviving friends and family, the country at war with terrorism, and the renewed sense of patriotism, here are a few things I noticed while flipping through my high school yearbook that have changed. The New York City skyline. Airline security. Security to large public places and events (including amusement parks, tourist attractions, and sports arenas). The Sears/Willis Tower. The Internet. Facebook. The software we used to design the yearbook, Pagemaker, doesn't exist anymore; it is now called InDesign, and it's in its 5th version. There are countless more, but that's all that have come to mind just now.

The world has changed and will doubtlessly continue to change in the coming years, but of one thing I'm certain: my God is greater and more powerful than any evil in this world, and He is in control.

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"I'm pressed but not crushed; persecuted not abandoned / Struck down but not destroyed. / I'm blessed beyond the curse for his promise will endure / And his joy's gonna be my strength // Though the sorrow may last for the night / His joy comes with the morning." - Trading My Sorrows, by Darrell Evans

Birth of Ellie

The waiting was awful. I've never been so anxious about a baby's birth in my life. My brother and sister-in-law called yesterday (Sunday, November 21) in the afternoon to tell us that Valerie was in labor, and that they were getting ready to leave for the birthing center pretty soon.

I just about squealed on the phone, "Ohmigosh, are you serious?"

Valerie and Andrew laughed, "That was a GREAT reaction!"

Later in the afternoon, I had the opportunity to talk to them via conference call with my mom, dad, Gram E., and my little brother, Jonathan.

Every so often, Andrew would send a mass text message on the status of the labor. I was sure the baby would be born in the wee hours of the morning. Things seemed to have been moving so fast. But alas, when I awoke, no news. For twelve hours the only message I had was that labor was hard, Valerie was exhausted, and that the baby had not turned. I prayed and tried not to worry. If you know me, the trying-not-to-worry part was less than successful.

Finally, Andrew texted that all were doing well and that they were all exhausted. But still no other information. We had to read between the lines that the baby had been born. Ugh, men! I am partially joking about the gender stereotype, but that was just frustrating. We knew they had been through a lot, but we were sitting on the edge of our chairs emotionally with a text that provided no relief of our worries: "Please do not worry. All three are healthy. Valerie and I have not slept and are extremely exhausted and on bedrest. We are happy to call and share the news after some rest. Thanks. We love you all."

*sigh* At the time, it was good to know they were okay but really hard to hear so little. It was so awful to be 1,100 miles away from family through things like this. Andrew finally called at 6:15 pm to tell me that the baby had been born at 9 am, a beautiful, red-haired, baby girl named Ellie.