The Adventures of Sammy the Skunk

2012-12-01T10:56:00.000-05:00

My name is Adele, and I'd like to invite you to come with me into the Deep Woods where Sammy the skunk becomes a hero to the animals that live there. When Sammy finds out Mrs. Porcupine has quil-la-ti-tus-i-tus, Mr. Beaver loses his teeth, little rabbit breaks his leg, the animals get caught in a mudslide, and there is a fire in the deep woods, what will Sammy do? These are only five of the twelve occasions where Sammy is called upon by his friends to help them.

At the end of each story, there are Life Lessons which includes a question for children to think about, a scripture verse, a truth about God, and a short message about the love God has for His children.

I hope these stories will stir your child's imagination, be fun to read, and teach Christian character values.

Take a Tour

Find out more about me and the story behind the stories by clicking the About tab above. Visit the Store for full product details or you can simply purchase the books from the sidebar. Hover over Look Inside to view story summaries, life lessons from each story, and story previews. Click on Events to see where Sammy and I have been featured and where we'll be next. In the Gallery you can view some of the illustrations from the book. The Blog contains posts I've done on teaching, story telling, childhood memories, and more. Finally, Contact me if you have any questions!

What Others are Saying

"Thank you - thank you- for your wonderful gift of Sammy. I just love the stories, especially the saving of Mrs. Porcupine quills from the dreaded quillatituitus. What a "GREAT" story teller you are, my dear friend. You need to get these stories out. Every church should have these stories for the lessons taught with each chapter. Religious schools should have copies!"

More Testimonials

May Giveaway! Win the Complete Book Set!

2012-04-30T09:53:00.000-04:00

And the Winner is....Ellen Lockhart! An email will be sent so you can discuss where to send your prize!

During the entire month of May, you'll be able to enter for a chance to win the complete Sammy the Skunk book series containing all four beautifully illustrated, full color books! This lovely collection is a $64 value, and a winner will be chosen at random at the end of the month. Only a few simple steps are mandatory, but you can earn multiple points and increase your chances by doing all of the following:

+1 Follow me on Twitter. (Use button in sidebar.)
+1 "Like" this post. (Use button at the bottom of post.)
+2 "Like" Sammy the Skunk on Facebook. (Use button in the sidebar.)
+5 Tweet about this Giveaway. (Earn points daily!)
+10 Leave a comment below on why you want to win.
+25 Post about Sammy on your blog (You can use the button at the bottom of the post for Blogger!)
+25 Post to at least 5 social networks (Use the + button in the sidebar for options.)

Click the "Enter to Win" button below to get started! Be sure to contact me if you have any questions. a Rafflecopter giveaway

A Trip to the Dump

2011-03-17T21:29:00.001-04:00

My father was very creative in coming up with the fun things we could do, and we were anxious to hear what he had in store for us. Dad was forty-five when I was born. I never remember him acting old. He was always ready to create adventures for us and some of these adventures were not fondly looked upon by my mother.
“Today we are going to visit the dump,” my father said as he smiled at us and looked at my mother. Mother had a disgusted look on her face. “Can’t you think of somewhere else to take the children?” My father quickly remarked, “Oh, there are treasures at the dump, and we are going to find them! We’ll come back with something you will really like. You wait and see.”

Mother insisted that we wear boots, and once we had the proper attire, we climbed in the car and headed off for our adventure at the dump.

Dad had a big stick which he used to dig through the ‘trash.' He uncovered broken toys, dishes, old broken furniture and then he came upon the treasure. “Here – this is what we need!” Dad pointed to something and then walked hurriedly over to a pile of old bricks. It was as if he needed to claim them before someone else saw this treasure too. He quickly gave us instruction. “You children take a couple of bricks at a time and put them in the car”.

Now we knew that dad had an idea and a plan for those bricks. We didn’t know what it was but whatever it was, we knew that dad would not disappoint us.

“We’re going to make an outdoor fireplace with these bricks,” said my father. “By tonight we will have it built and have an outdoor picnic around our campfire. How would you like that?” he asked.

When we got home dad told us where to put the bricks in our backyard. He then dug up sod and leveled an area of ground. Mom joined us as we handed dad one brick at a time. He carefully laid them one on top of another. Before long it took a shape of something that a fire could safely be started in. It wasn’t very tall, maybe around five bricks high, but it looked wonderful and professionally done to Jim and me. When dad had finished and all the bricks were in place, he stepped back and admired his work.

He smiled and said, “We found a treasure and you’re looking at it!”
That night we gathered some wood sticks and started a fire in dad’s creation. Mom brought out some hot dogs and after we finished eating, we enjoyed hearing dad tell stories.

That old outdoor fireplace was used many times. It was also built many times as it toppled over frequently. Of course, it no longer stands, but the memories I have of the treasure we found at the dump will last forever.

The Toboggan - Part 2

2011-02-05T21:33:00.003-05:00

My sister Roberta loved to read poetry. She was seven years older than I and would sit down with me, open up a poetry book and begin reading. She would leave out words now and then to see if I could put them in, perhaps was wondering whether I was really listening or not.

One of my favorite poems was a rather sad one. It was “Little Boy Blue” by Eugene Field. It tells of a young child who loved his toys, put them away for the night, died during the night, and the toys wondered where he was. The last part of the poem reads:

And they (toys) wonder, as waiting the long years through,
In the dust of that little chair,
What has become of our Little Boy Blue,
Since he kissed them and put them there.”

This really doesn’t sound like I am going to continue on with a story about our toboggan, but for some reason I began to think of that poem and our toboggan. It had been a fun ‘toy’ and we used it whenever we could. As we grew older and moved away from home the toboggan was forgotten about. It hung on the side of our garage, in the same old place, gathering dust for many years

Roberta and Jim married and had children of their own. I graduated from Western Michigan University in Kalamazoo and went on for my Masters Degree. Mom and Dad still enjoyed our home in Montague and the toboggan still hung in the garage. But one day it was once again discovered.

My future husband, Ralph, came to visit and as we were walking through the garage he noticed the toboggan. He questioned my dad about its stability and whether it was still useable. Ralph took it off the wall, examined it and because it was a beautiful winter afternoon, he decided we should have some fun and take it to the hills of Lake Michigan. First, however, he went to the hardware store and bought some wax. He waxed the bottom of the toboggan to make it slick. I don’t ever remember that it had ever been waxed before, but knowing that the toboggan hadn’t been used in years, Ralph felt it was necessary that it be waxed so it would go fast.

We put the toboggan on the car and off we went. We pulled the toboggan up to one of the highest hills at Lake Michigan. We actually noticed that other sledders had used the hill and that their tracks stopped before going into the lake itself. There were icebergs on the shore and we mentioned what a beautiful ‘winter wonderland’ we were looking at.

Ralph maneuvered the toboggan and told me to get on first. “Oh, you go down by yourself first and I’ll go with you the next time. I’ll push you and give you a good start,” I replied.

He got on the toboggan and I gave him a good push. He started down the hill and he began to go faster and faster. He reminded me of a commercial of the Santa on a Norelco shaver. It looked so comical that I began to laugh and couldn’t stop laughing. He was holding on as tight as he could. He easily passed by the tracks that other sleds had made, and I could see he was heading right for the lake. He tried to stop himself by digging his heels into the snow, but it wasn’t snow. It was ice and there was no way that he could stop. I thought that he was going to hit the icebergs head on, but instead he quickly and quite easily flew over the icebergs and went right into the water. Fortunately the water was not deep and I saw him and the toboggan sitting in the cold, icy waters of Lake Michigan. He was still holding on, but not happy. I was still laughing and that didn’t set real well with him. I think he thought it was a set-up. I ran down the hill to see him dripping wet and dragging the toboggan from the icy water.

Of course I was concerned whether he was okay. He hadn’t hurt himself. He was just cold and very wet.

We put the toboggan back on the car and headed for home. My mother and father came to the door and asked if we had fun. They took one look at Ralph and knew what had happened. I wanted to comment about the excellent wax job Ralph did on the toboggan but at that point I didn’t feel it appropriate.

The toboggan was put back on the wall in the garage and had more years to dry out before it was taken down and given away.

A Very Special Time

2011-02-01T16:31:00.004-05:00

My father, older sister and brother went to Chicago to visit my grandmother. I was only six and my grandmother made it quite clear that I was to wait until I was older to visit her. Of course I was disappointed as I saw them get into the car and leave without me.

Mom sensed my disappointment and as I sat quietly eating breakfast at the kitchen table, she smiled and said, “I’ve got an idea, Adele. You and I are going to do something special today.” She got her purse and opened it up. She counted the money that she had in it. “Adele, how would you like to take the Greyhound bus to Muskegon? We’ll even go to the Franklin House for lunch.” I was so excited. I had never been on a bus before and I had never eaten at a fancy restaurant. She continued, “We are going to dress up. You are going to wear that pretty pink Easter outfit I bought you with the little hat. Instead of braids, I’m going to curl your hair.”

Mom didn’t have a car, in fact, she never learned how to drive a car. As we began walking downtown she smiled and took my hand. “We’ll go window shopping”, she said and then we’ll have a sundae at Woolworth’s dime store. But, first we are going to have lunch at the Franklin House.”

Now the Franklin House was one of the best hotels in the state of Michigan. People who visited the White Lake area found a bit of luxury when they stayed at this hotel situated close to White Lake and Lake Michigan. It was built in Montague at the turn of the century and was the main attraction in this little town.

I was in awe as I entered the restaurant. It was elegant. White linen tablecloths were on each table with pretty centerpieces. We were directed to a table and at the request of my mother, we sat near a window. A young man with a white topcoat gave us very large menus and poured water into beautiful crystal glasses. My mother pretended that we had done this many times before, perhaps we were rich people coming into town to eat. She looked at the menu and ordered something for us. She winked and smiled at me. Even though the food was served in courses, all I remember of the food was the chicken noodle soup.

When we finished eating we walked down to the bus station. Mom requested that we take the scenic bus tour. Muskegon was only sixteen miles away but there were two ways in which you could go. The first was a bus taking you directly to Muskegon. The second was a bus taking the Scenic Drive. This route wound around the beautiful hills and countryside of Western Michigan. It passed by the inland lakes and Lake Michigan. It also went by the ‘Block House’ where the bus driver slowed down and told us the history of this wooden fort.

As we entered the bus, we found two vacant seats and mom insisted that I sit by the window so I could look out and see the scenery. I remember having to almost stand in order to look out. All this time my mother had the happiest look on her face. I had always seen her working around the house, tending to all of us, but now I felt I was seeing my mother for the first time. I loved her so much.
When we got to Muskegon we window shopped. There was no mall at this time, so we walked outside looking at the many displays until we got to Woolworths’ dime store. By now I was looking forward to a sundae. I had never had a whole sundae of my own. We sat at the counter and mom had me order two chocolate sundaes. I was indescribably happy as I looked at her sitting next to me.

We didn’t buy anything in the dime store. It seemed as if we looked at everything though. Finally we came to a machine that took pictures. Mom took out a quarter from her purse and insisted that I have my picture taken. She said I looked so pretty, and the pictures would be a remembrance of our time together. (I still have and cherish those pictures of me in my little pink Easter suit and hat.)

It was wonderful spending a special day with my mother. There was no brother or sister or dad. There were no interruptions with life’s daily routines. It was just mother and me, together, being a mother and daughter who loved one another. It was a very special time in my life.

The Toboggan

2011-02-01T10:43:00.001-05:00

I have no idea where my dad got the toboggan, but one day we saw a large wooden toboggan hanging in our garage. It was tied by ropes and was high enough so my brother and I couldn’t get it down. We knew that a toboggan was like a big sled and we were anxious to use it. There were plenty of hills for us to try it out, but we had to wait for dad to initiate the activity.

Dad loved to do things with us kids. In the summer he would take us swimming, fishing, and hiking. In the winter we would go skating, sledding and make forts for snowball fights. Michigan was ideal for winter activities. I can remember seeing heavy snow starting in October and never leaving until late March.

One day dad said, “Put scarves around your neck and face. We are going to do something today that you will need to be dressed as warm as you can be! And, mom, you’re going too! We’re all going on an adventure!”

He went out in the garage and took down the toboggan. We had no idea what he was thinking but we knew whatever it was, it was going to be fun. He found an old rope, put the toboggan on top of the car and secured it. We all got into the car, the 1935 Ford, and took off.

Jim, my sister Roberta, and I looked at one another in the car and Jim leaned over to me and whispered, “I think we are going to the hills along Lake Michigan!” We giggled with delight.

We didn’t drive to the lake where the big hills were and Jim and I looked a little disappointed. Dad turned down a road that was quite isolated from the main road. “Okay, everyone get out. We’re here.” There were no hills. It was only a straight road. What was dad thinking? What were we going to do with a toboggan where there were no hills to go down?

Dad took one end of the rope and tied it to the front of the toboggan. He then took the other and tied it to the bumper of the back of the car. My mother was a little shocked. “You’re not thinking of pulling us down the road in the toboggan are you? Oh, Robert, that is so dangerous. If you slowed down or if you go too fast we could go right under the car.”

Dad was very confident about what he was going to do. “Oh, I won’t be going very fast. I’m going to be creeping and I will keep an eye out on where you are at all times. Everyone get on and hold tight. Whatever you do, don’t put your legs out to stop! You could break a leg.”

We quickly jumped on board, secured ourselves and dad started slowly down the road with us on the toboggan. He would go from one side of the road to the other and we would sway back and forth. He drove very carefully, but as children we wanted him to go faster and faster. There didn’t seem as if there was any danger in what we were doing. We had such a fun time as dad pulled us in the toboggan down the road. It will always be a wonderful and memorable time.

The toboggan was in our garage for many years to come. In one of my upcoming stories I will tell what happened when my future husband and I took it to the hills along Lake Michigan.

Lake Sixteen

2011-02-01T10:37:00.003-05:00

I had often wondered if in this area there was a Lake One, Lake Two, etc., but to the best of my knowledge there was only Lake Sixteen.
Today if you traveled on US 31 North out of Montague, Michigan, you would come to a very small town called Rothbury. Just before you come to this ‘drive through town’ with a yield light to warn of a crossing, there is a road that leads to a lake. Thirty years ago I took this road and went back to Lake Sixteen and revisited a place that was very much a part of my childhood. I was surprised to see that Lake Sixteen was surrounded by homes. It didn’t look the same as I remembered it as a young girl.

By now, if you have read some of my earlier stories, you have learned that we were not wealthy. My father would arrange activities for us that did not cost much money. One of these activities was fishing at Lake Sixteen.

On a Saturday afternoon my mother would pack a picnic lunch and we would all climb in our 1935 Ford and head for the lake. Before we left it was our job to take a coffee can and dig worms for the big occasion. About a block from our home was a creek with very dark and rich soil on its banks. Dad would take my brother, Jim, and me down there and as dad dug we gathered the worms. I learned very early in my life that worms were not something to be squirmy about. They were a much needed part of a fun activity.

Mom and dad had no fancy fishing rods and lures. They both had bamboo poles with the line wound around the ends, and my fishing pole was made from a straight tree branch. Dad’s fishing equipment consisted of an old rusty tackle box that held extra fishing line, a stringer for fish, sinkers, and different sizes of hooks.

The road that led to the lake was a two- track dirt road. If it had been raining the night before, we were in danger of getting stuck in the mud. There were times when my father would stop the car, get out and check the road before continuing.

About one mile down the road there was a driveway that led to an old farm home owned by Mrs. Warren. From her farm home you could see Lake Sixteen. Mrs. Warren lost her husband and she became the caretaker of the farm. She would have been a perfect picture for Norman Rockwell to paint. She was tall, mannish, appeared muscular and strong, and every time I saw her, always had on men’s work shoes that were very dirty. She had a floppy old straw hat and her long cotton dresses seemed tattered, torn and somewhat big on her. She never wore makeup and her hair was always pushed up under that old hat. She was very tan and her skin was wrinkled from the sun. She had a low booming voice that scared me. However, my dad assured me that she had a heart of gold and I was not to be afraid of her.

Mrs. Warren charged my dad fifty cents to rent a rowboat for a day. Lake Sixteen wasn’t a public facility, but was open to friends and neighbors. There wasn’t a home built on the lake, and as far as I know, the Warren’s were the only ones who had access to it.

On the edge of the lake were four or five overturned wooden row boats. Mrs. Warren would tell my dad to see if he could find a boat that didn’t leak. Mom and dad would carefully look over each boat and when dad found a boat that he felt was safe, my brother and I had the job of finding matching oars.

The oars were lined up neatly on the outside wall of the farm house. My brother and I were careful to find just the right ones, and he would carry one oar down to the boat and I would carry the other.

My dad showed me how to put a worm on the hook and how to sit still and wait for the fish to bite. I was to slowly move my pole back and forth to entice the fish. This was serious business for my father. He loved being on the lake and we loved the serenity and quietness. We caught perch, bluegills, sunfish and once in a while a sucker. It seemed we always had enough for a fish meal for the next day.

My dad taught me how to row a boat when I was very young. I would sit next to him and he would take one oar and I the other. I couldn’t get the oar in the water most of the time and he showed me how fun it was just to go around in circles with him doing all the rowing. However, as I got older I became quite proficient as a rower, and my dad actually would rent another boat for us kids to have fun in. The rules were to stay close to the shore and to stay far away from where mom and dad were fishing.

The farm house is gone now. The path through the woods to the outhouse is no longer there. The barn where Mrs. Warren had the cows and pigs is gone. The chickens, ducks, and geese no longer wander around the property. The paths that we took for exploring are nothing but a memory now. Lake Sixteen is still there. People that live on that lake are collecting memories of their own. However, I believe I have the very best of memories when I think of being with my dad, mother, sister and brother on a Saturday afternoon, sitting around an old picnic table, eating fried chicken, and talking about the big ones that got away in Lake Sixteen.

The Grocery Store - Part 2

2011-01-28T19:31:00.002-05:00

I worked throughout the summer for Mrs. Jones. She seemed pleased with my capabilities, and when I was old enough for a work permit, she hired me to work in the store. She doubled my salary to fifty cents an hour. I was thrilled. I worked every night after school from four to six and then as many hours as I wanted on Saturdays. I never worked on Sundays. While my friends were playing after school, I was making money.

Even though it was over fifty years ago, I can still see the inside of the store. The candy case was on the left as you entered. This was where the neighborhood children sat on the floor in front of the candy case with legs crossed, pennies clutched in their sweaty little hands, making decisions to purchase one piece of candy with a penny, or to get the bargain of two for one. I loved to see them and to hear their little giggles and conversations. I didn’t hurry them to make any quick choices, but Mrs. Jones did not appreciate having them in her store.

Directly in back of the candy case was a freezer for ice cream and frozen items. I looked forward to seeing the ice cream vendor. He was a senior in high school and I fell in love with him. My heart would beat so fast when I saw his truck pulling up to the store, but I usually had nothing to say to him. He was always nice to me though, and I often wondered what would have happened if I actually talked to him. Many, many years later my brother happened to see him and asked him if he knew that I had a crush on him. I couldn’t believe it when he told my brother he had no idea that I liked him. That shows how well I kept a secret!

I had known Mrs. Jones for some time and understood and tolerated her almost vicious temper. She would frequently scold me, and the one thing she did that was extremely annoying was to spy on me. She would leave the door open between her home and the store and look into the store to see if I was working. Then she would yell quite loudly, “What are you doing? I don’t hear anything going on out there. I’m not paying you to stand around.”

One day I was on the ladder stocking cereal when she began her raving. I got down from the ladder, walked toward the door, told her goodbye and informed her I was quitting. She ran after me saying she was sorry and would never bother me again and begged me to come back. You see, most of the people who worked for her quit within weeks. I was determined I would not and was glad she apologized to me.

Not only did I wait on customers but I was shown every aspect of the grocery business. I worked in the stockroom, opened boxes, stamped the prices on the items and put them on the shelves. I ground meat and sliced meat. I learned who the vendors were and ordered items and checked invoices. I swept the floors, dusted and stocked the shelves. Mrs. Jones eventually gave me full charge of the store and felt comfortable leaving me alone. Her main concern was that someone would rob the store when I was by myself. She was quite adamant that if this was to occur, I should hand over the money without question. She never told me what to do if I saw someone stealing.

He came into the store when I was by myself. I had seen him in school and knew he was a few years younger than me. As he began walking slowly through the store, I asked him if I could help him find what he was looking for. He politely said “no”. I was stocking a shelf, but looked up just in time to see him unzip his jacket, take a jar of peanuts, put it in his jacket, zip up his jacket and walk out the store.

I knew I couldn’t let him get away with this. Even though there was no one in the store, I quickly followed him out the door. He was walking quite fast, but I began to run after him. I yelled as loud as I could, “STOP”. He then turned, and when he saw this somewhat crazy girl screaming at him over and over again to STOP, he did. A little out of breath I told him to hand over the peanuts or I would call the police. He looked so pitiful. I felt sorry for him as I knew I scared him half to death. He didn’t deny what he had done and unzipped his coat and gave me the jar of peanuts. “Don’t call the police”, he begged. I told him that I wouldn’t, but I made him promise that he would never steal anything again. Off he went and I took the jar of peanuts and carefully put them back on the shelf. Once I composed myself I thought, “I handled that quite well.”

Years later a young man approached me on the street. “Do you remember me?” he asked. Of course, I really didn’t. He continued, “I was the young boy you caught stealing a jar of peanuts. Do you remember now?” Then it all came back to me. He continued, “I always wanted to thank you. You see, up to that time I had taken quite a few items from different stores but was never caught. When you actually caught me stealing and made me promise I would never steal again, I believe you saved me from a life of crime. It meant a lot to me to know that you stopped me. I thank you for helping me.”

I worked in the grocery store on and off until I graduated from college. I worked under two different managements after Mrs. Jones sold the store, and was able to indoctrinate the new owners into the grocery business. Those were good years to remember. I liked working in the grocery store and knew that it would have never happened if Mrs. Jones hadn’t broken her collar bone in a car accident.

Oh, if I remember correctly, I ended up making ninety-five cents an hour.

The Grocery Store - Part 1

2011-01-23T23:31:00.003-05:00

My mother received a telephone call from a woman who owned a neighborhood grocery store. They talked for a period of time and my ears perked up when I heard my mother say, “I believe Adele would be happy to help you out."

I was thirteen years old and was excited to think I might get a real job. I was to meet Mrs. Jones (not her real name) the following day at her store to discuss what the job involved and how much money I would be making if I accepted the position.

Mrs. Jones had just recently been in a car accident and had broken her collar bone. She and her husband and two children lived in the back of the grocery store. She needed someone to help with housework and the care of her children. After talking with her, I felt I was up to the challenge and accepted the position for twenty-five cents an hour.

Now Mrs. Jones was not what you call a pleasant person. I realized that she was going through a trying time, and I tried to be very nice to her. We sat in her kitchen and she began to explain to me what she wanted done. I was to do the dishes and put them away. I was to fix the children’s lunches when they were home. I was to clean the house and pick up after the children. I was to put laundry away, make up the beds, and change sheets weekly. She led me through her home and showed me where everything was.

My first task was to do her dishes. There were quite a few piled up by the sink. She began to tell me about the china she had. The dishes were a present from a friend and she decided to use them every day. She explained that not one of the dishes had been broken since she began using them and to be very careful when I washed them. I carefully started washing her china, with her watching every move I made. There wasn’t much room on the counter-top, so I decided to pile the dishes I had so carefully washed and dried. To this day I don’t know how it happened, but I somehow knocked them over and down they went on the floor! The sound of breaking china was loud. Mrs. Jones was in a state of shock as I frantically tried to pick up the pieces. How I felt cannot be described. My first job, my first task, was a total failure. I knew I was going to be fired and I would have to go home and tell my mother. Of course, I repeatedly told Mrs. Jones how terribly sorry I was and that I would pay for the damage I had done. I don’t remember her saying anything for some time. Finally she curtly instructed me to get the broom and dust pan and to make sure that all the glass was off the kitchen floor. Now that task I knew how to do without doing damage to anything, and I quickly and adequately swept the floor.

I couldn’t believe that Mrs. Jones didn’t fire me. In the weeks that followed she became quite a mentor to me. Now my mother showed me very early in my life how to clean a house, but Mrs. Jones went a step farther. She showed me how to make square corners when changing sheets. She showed me how important it was to move every piece of furniture when cleaning the house, mopping behind everything and wiping down the baseboards. She had a place for everything and taught me the importance of organization. If you didn’t do as she asked, she would let you know by hollering at you. Despite Mrs. Jones’ disagreeable temperament I appreciated her.

I remember the time when she left instructions for me to open a can of vegetable soup for the children. Her request was to give them soup with milk. I fixed the soup, using a can of water, and gave the children a glass of milk. Somehow, I believe one of the children told her, she found out that I didn’t mix the soup with milk. Can you believe that even today, every time I open a can of vegetable soup, I think about how the soup would taste if I mixed it with milk instead of water.

Mrs. Jones made a deal with me. She said that if I did a good job for her, dismissing the broken dishes episode, she would hire me to work in the store when I got older. That was exciting for me. I shall tell you what happened in my next little story.

My Home

2011-01-21T23:34:00.003-05:00

On Saturday or Sunday afternoons my father would often want to take a little ride. We would pile in the car and off we would go to places unknown. I say unknown because it was always my father’s desire to find a two track road that we had never been on before. Our 1935 Ford would take us through the very bumpy dirt roads, the winding roads and sometimes to dead-end roads. When dad came upon an old vacated house he would stop and we would take the tour. As we were walking through these old homes, I can still remember my day saying, “If only these walls could talk. Wouldn’t they tell a story?”

Every house has a story doesn’t it? Within the walls of each room are hidden the thoughts, desires, pain and love of those who lived there. A house may look like another, but the people that live within are what make it unique. People can have wonderful memories that they will always cherish about their childhood home or homes, and some have memories that they want to forget. I am going to tell you about my home in Montague, Michigan.

Our home on the corner of Williams and Sheridan Streets was purchased as a gift for my father and mother from my grandfather. It cost the huge amount of fourteen hundred dollars. I never knew my grandfather but heard about him through the stories that my father told. My grandfather was a very successful businessman in the Riverdale/Dalton, Illinois area. He was the editor and chief of the local newspaper, “The Pointer” where my father and his brother, my Uncle Edward, learned the printing business. My grandfather contacted pneumonia when he was in his 60’s. He died, as I was told, because penicillin was not available to him.

My father and my Uncle Ed served in World War I. After the war was over, they both settled into the family business. However, my father was not a businessman. He did not like the city life and every year would visit his cousin who had already settled in Montague.

Despite my grandfather’s disapproval of my fathers’ decision to move to Montague with my mother, brother and sister, dad convinced him that he felt it would be best to raise his family in an atmosphere away from the city. He also assured his father that he could continue in the printing business and would establish a small printing business of his own.

In June of 1936 my mother and father packed all of their belongings in and on top of their old car, and with my brother and sister, left the Chicago area and rented a home in Montague. It was in this area where I was born, and the home in Montague was to become my only home.

I was seven years old when my grandmother passed away. Dad inherited a small amount of money and he and my mother began to plan on renovations to the home. Dad was still thinking about beginning a printing business and he felt a basement under our home would be a good place for a printing press, so a decision was made to raise the house and put in a basement. Because we heated mostly with wood, my mother and father thought it would be wonderful to install a furnace. The kitchen was very small and mom only had an icebox. They decided to redo the kitchen and install a real refrigerator. Because there were only two bedrooms, dad decided to have someone design two bedrooms in the attic.

Dad hired a man named Winston to design two upstairs bedrooms. I loved Winston. We were not to disturb him while he was working, but when we couldn’t hear any movement upstairs, my brother, sister and I would sneak up to see him. We would sit around him while he told us stories. I huddled close to him and wished I was older! One of the stories he told was about a snake that escaped from its’ cage on a ship before its delivery to a zoo in Chicago. That story was told over and over again when I began teaching school. I’ll always remember how kind Winston was to us, and it was a sad day for me when Winston finished remodeling our upstairs. However, my brother and I loved our new bedrooms upstairs, and now my older sister had her own bedroom downstairs.

Although grandpa never saw this dream of my dad’s come true, dad did begin a small printing business called, “The South Hill Press." His printing business was his second job as his actual job was as a typesetter at the Shaw-Walker Company in Muskegon.

Dad bought a small ‘Prouty’ printing press and it fit perfectly in our basement. He did letterheads, envelopes, business cards, and stationery for people in our area. If I remember correctly, I also believe he was involved in the printing of the very first school annual for Montague High School. Dad had a wonderful friendly personality and was soon known by the community.

A woodstove was installed in the basement to help dry the ink on the printed material. Dad had various old tables where we helped him lay out whatever he printed. He would fire up the woodstove and once we had the ‘job’ laid out, we went upstairs. Later, he would have one of us go downstairs and carefully put one finger on the printed material to see if the ink was dry. If it was dry we would help him prepare the material for delivery.

Dad never became the businessman like my Uncle Ed. Uncle Ed began a successful printing company in the Chicago area called ‘The Kinney-Hood Printing Co.’ We would visit Chicago once a year and Uncle Ed would take us through his offices. I often wondered what my dad was thinking as he watched this vast operation.

We considered Uncle Ed a rich man. I’ll always remember sitting in his new Cadillac which had air-conditioning, something new that was being installed in luxury cars. My father drove our 1935 Ford for many years. He never acted as if he desired anything else, or did he act jealous of his brother. In our family, our riches came not from material things, but from the love that we had for one another.

Our home in Montague is still standing. Mom and Dad lived there until their deaths in 1990 and 1991. Dad was 97 and my mother 88. I have many wonderful memories that I will always cherish and will share with you as I continue writing. You must hear about my mother.

Cherry Picking & Ice Cream!

2011-01-20T23:38:00.001-05:00

My mother never worked outside the home. My mother never learned how to drive a car. She was like Aunt Bea of Mayberry.In fact, she looked very much like her. Her favorite attire was a house dress, and an apron was always handy to put on. Our home was always open to friends and neighbors, and cookies were always available for sharing. Many Sunday afternoons became a time when popcorn and fudge were made, and friends were invited to sit around the radio and listen to programs that were funny or scary.

My older sister, brother and I never thought we were poor, and we never really asked for anything. We didn’t have a TV so we were separated from the ‘things’ of the world that would entice us.

There were times when I would see my father and mother opening a ledger and discussing money matters. They never really shared any of this with us, but every now and then I would overhear dad discussing our situation. At that time, nothing was too serious to me. I had a home, food to eat, clean clothes to wear, a sister and brother, and the love of my mother and father. That was all I needed.

When I was around eleven our neighbor came over and told us of a way to make extra money. A man who owned a cherry orchard needed workers. Mom was excited about this and told my dad, who in turn, talked to the orchard owner. It wasn’t long before my brother and I and my mother were hired to pick sweet cherries.

The orchard was around fifteen miles north of where we lived. Dad had a job around 20 miles south. Even though the distance was an inconvenience, my dad felt it would be good experience for us to work, and he agreed to drop us off early in the morning and pick us up late in the afternoon in his 1935 Ford.

I remember mom waking us at 5 in the morning and telling us to get ready to go to work. Even at this early hour, mother had breakfast ready for all of us and our lunches packed. She was excited to have a job, and Jim and I were not going to disappoint her or dad by complaining.

The orchard owner showed us how to put the cherry picking harnesses on and buckle the pails in front of us. He assigned us a row of trees that was red with cherries. We were expected to pick all the cherries from the top of each tree to the bottom. We were given a ladder, and it was my mothers’ job to pick from the top branches while Jim and I stripped the cherries off the branches we could reach.

For each lug of cherries we picked, we received forty cents. The most we ever picked in a day was fourteen lugs. I can remember mother telling dad that we had earned $5.60! Dad was very excited for us and we were anxious to see if we could outdo the fourteen lugs. But, we never did.
I loved the orchard. Dad would drop us off just at daybreak.& The sun would be peeking through the branches of the trees and shining on the mist and dew. There was a serenity that was indescribable. It was a scene that will be etched in my memory forever.

When pay day came, mother gave us the money that she felt we earned, and with her share she would go grocery shopping. She would put little “extras” in her shopping cart that normally she couldn’t afford. Neapolitan ice cream was one of our favorite extras. After putting away the groceries she had bought, she would take out our old card table, put it under our mulberry tree, and spread a tablecloth on it. We were indescribably happy as we sat eating our Neapolitan ice cream. There were no arguments or discussions whether we got the same amount of ice cream. We knew better than to complain. We remembered when my father could only afford to buy one dip of ice cream for the three of us and ask for three cones so each of us could have a taste. The ice cream that mom gave us was extravagant and much appreciated.

Each year, when the cherries ripen in Michigan, I think about my cherry picking experience. I think of my mother who gave us this responsibility. She helped us to know that when you work you are rewarded. I’ll never forget the contentment I felt eating Neapolitan ice cream under the mulberry tree with my mother and brother.

Ice Cubes, Pot Holders, and a Squirt Gun!

2011-01-19T23:44:00.001-05:00

We had a dime store in our small town. My brother and I would wander through the store and look at all the 'goodies.' We didn’t have any money to buy anything, but it was fun looking. One day I saw a pretty yellow squirt gun. I really fell in love with it. I looked to see how much it cost and it was 39 cents without tax.

As we walked up the town hill to our home, I couldn’t help but think how I would love to have that gun. My father never had a gun in the house so I didn’t get the idea from him. However, I was a fan of Roy Rogers and Gene Autry and perhaps that influenced me. I became fixated on buying that pretty yellow squirt gun.

When we got home I told my mother what I had seen and wanted. She became quite serious and told me that if I could earn the money I could buy it. She said she would help me. Together we began to think of ways we could make that money. It wasn’t too long until she suggested that she could make pot holders and I could sell them for a nickel a piece. Then she got the coolest idea ever. We were one of the first in the neighborhood to have a real refrigerator. This came about because my grandmother had passed away and left some money to my father. This refrigerator had a very small freezer which was big enough for only a tray of ice cubes and maybe a pound or two of meat. Mom suggested that I sell ice cubes for a penny apiece to the neighborhood kids!

That afternoon mom quickly sewed some pot holders and then made a sign for me to put out on our corner lot saying, “Ice Cubes for sale! One penny apiece”!” We put out our old card table and I waited for the customers! Now most of the kids in our neighborhood never saw an ice cube before, and it wasn’t long before I had my first customers. Of course, it was a warm day, and the ice cubes began to melt, so I was running back and forth in the house, trying to get the frozen ones to sell. Mom graciously kept a supply in the freezer. Before long I had sold eleven ice cubes and that was it! All the rest had melted. I looked in my little money cup and saw that I had eleven cents that I didn’t have before. I was so excited.

Now mother sent me out in the neighborhood with around ten potholders. I was scared to knock on the doors as I was quite shy, but I became brave when I visualized that yellow squirt gun in my hands. I actually sold some of the potholders for a nickel a piece. With the money I made selling the pot holders and ice cubes, I had enough to buy my gun.

The next morning I headed downtown to the store. I had hoped that no one had purchased my pretty yellow gun. I hurried to where I had seen it and there is was! It was just waiting for me. I picked it up, paid for it and headed up the town hill.

When I got home I showed mother my gun, and quickly filled it with water. I admired it as I held on to it tightly. I had no idea what I was going to shoot, but whatever it was I was ready for it!

My brother, Jim, had his own idea what he was going to do. He innocently asked me if he could see it, and I innocently handed him my gun. He had this little mischievous smile on his face and then it all began. First he squirted me and then ran around the house. He was three years older than I and I couldn’t catch him. I screamed for him to stop and he just laughed, turned and squirted me some more.

My mother heard me and came out the door to see what was going on. She immediately told Jim to get in the house. Well – he went in alright. He took my squirt gun with him. I became so outraged that I took a rock and threw it through the glass pane of our front door. Whoops! A big mistake!

After mother finally figured out why I was so upset, she had Jim give me the gun and said he was never to touch it again. She scolded me for what I had done, and when dad got home, she explained to him what had happened. Dad went down to the hardware store, got a piece of glass and fixed the broken pane. That door was a constant reminder to me what I did just because of my desire for a beautiful yellow squirt gun.

To this day I have no idea why I wanted that gun!

The Problem Child

2010-12-09T18:51:00.003-05:00

We don’t like to admit there are children in our classroom that we actually could label as a problem. These children are detected within minutes of entering a classroom. Whether they are three years old or older, a teacher recognizes a challenge almost immediately.

Of course, the first honest thought a teacher may have is, ‘Why is he/she in my class?’ Then the reality sets in that you must deal with him/her for the whole year.

When you think of the different personalities, the different backgrounds, the different talents, you understand that all children have their own idiosyncrasies and are definitely different from one another.

There is the child who loves to talk and to get all his friends involved in his/her conversation. He/she wants to be the center of attention. He/she is forever interrupting.

There is the child who is very active. He/she can’t sit still, wants to move around, gets up often and consequently causes distraction in the class. He/she could be labeled the ‘class clown’. He/she thinks his actions and speech are very funny and wants everyone to laugh with and at him.

One of the first things you must do as a teacher is to make the children realize that you are the teacher and they are the students. The first day of school is extremely important. You will be setting the tone of your classroom that will last the rest of the year. Once the students realize that you will not put up with these actions that disrupt a classroom, they will reconsider their behavior.

These problem children are usually challenging the authority of an adult. Children know that in school a teacher cannot physically touch them. They are wise in knowing that law suits are plentiful involving teachers who have. So, just how can you deal with these children?

Suggestions:

As soon as I see a child come into the classroom and begin to take over, I go to that child, whisper in his ear and tell him sternly and calmly, to sit down and be quiet. I look sternly into his eyes while he is sitting and tell him/her, “I do not want you to ever come into my classroom like that again. Do you understand?” (Now this may sound mean, however, you must become the leader immediately. If you allow a child to show off the first day of school and you do not handle it, his/her unwelcome behavior will continue.)
Separate that child from those who seem to enjoy his behavior. I would usually set that child close to my desk so I would know what he/she is doing at all times.
Make sure that you correct him/her sternly and quietly each time he/she may begin to disrupt the class. You do not have to embarrass him/her by speaking his name out loud. The children already have an idea of what you are doing. He/she does not want to give in to your authority so realize that he/she will try something again.
Compliment him/her when they are following the rules of the classroom and doing well.
Call on him/her to do special activities to make him/her feel important.

I often said that I would take a misbehaving boy over a misbehaving girl anytime. Boys seem to have a tender heart toward ‘training.' Girls tend to be more stubborn and defiant.

Bill, not his real name, was transferred to my fourth grade class because a teacher was having a very difficult time with this child. She was a new teacher and tried for a month to deal with him, but he almost drove her to quit teaching. Our principal put him in my class and the teacher warned me about what he was going to do. “He will take a pencil out and begin to hit it while you are talking. Then he’ll just sit and grin at you while he continues tapping the pencil.”

I introduced him to our class and welcomed him. I put his desk in the front of the middle row of desks. I stood in front of him as I began to teach. Sure enough, I was just beginning to speak when he took out a pencil and began smiling at me and tapping it. The children, who knew the rules of the classroom, sat silently, waiting for me to react.

I continued speaking and without hesitating, I went to my desk and got a pencil. I stood in front of him and began tapping the pencil on his desk very hard until it was quite loud. I didn’t stop while I spoke to him, “Do you like what I am doing?” He said, “No.” I said, “Good. I didn’t like it when you did it either!” I asked him to give me his pencil. He handed it to me and I broke it in two. I told him I never wanted him to tap a pencil on his desk again. I then gave him a new pencil.

He got the point and he became a delightful student to work with. He would visit me now and then as he continued through his school years. When he was a senior he came to visit me for the last time. “Do you remember my first day with you? I’ll never forget the pencil incident. You really cured me of misbehaving.” We laughed about it. I told him I never had to do that with any other student and probably would never have to again. (And I haven’t)

Children need to have someone who teaches. Teaching a subject is relatively easy, but it’s the development of self-worth that takes time and effort. A teacher needs to help a child obtain his potential at every level of his development.

Subscribe to Teaching Tips Feed
Subscribe to Teaching Tips by Email
Subscribe to All Post Comments

The Independent Child

2010-12-08T21:21:00.001-05:00

The desire for most parents is that as a child grows he/she will outgrow total dependency upon them and will begin to do things on his/her own. A parent certainly doesn’t want to continue for years doing simple chores that their child could do.

From the time a child is born, life changes. After the baby showers, looking at adorable outfits and all the gifts that were given and the excitement of decorating the baby’s room, comes the reality of raising a baby that is dependent on a mother and father for everything! It’s a brand new experience for almost all new parents.

I remember a nurse telling me, “When you take your baby home from the hospital remember it’s a 24 hour a day job for the rest of your life!” She was sort of kidding. However, I remember those famous words as I sat rocking my baby at 3 in the morning, feeding him every other hour, changing diapers, fixing formula’s, etc. My child was totally dependent upon me. As he took his bottle and looked so lovingly at me, I held him close and thought, ‘I will be here for you forever and ever, 24 hours a day for the rest of your life.’

As your child grows you have certain expectations. Baby books are plentiful and most parents want to learn if their child is developing physically, mentally and emotionally. It is important to know signs of a problem and to seek medical advice when there is a concern. You will know when your child begins to understand what you are saying to him/her. At this time you will become the greatest teacher your child will ever have. What you teach will influence him/her for the rest of his/her life.

How do you teach a child to be independent? When do you start? What is the best way to influence him/her?
Anything that your child could do by himself and you do it for him is making that child dependent upon you. When a child is just beginning to walk you certainly don’t expect a great deal from him, other than following directions that teach him/her to be safe. However, when a child is able to do little chores like picking up his toys or clothes, a parent should teach him/her how to do it. As the child grows older he should be able dress himself and do things around the house that a parent feels he/she can do. Children love to set tables, clear the table, do dishes, help with baking and decorate their rooms, etc. It takes time for a parent to teach these things that will make him/her independent. The time that you take teaching is invaluable. You cannot expect a child to wake up one morning and begin doing all those things that you wish he/she could. You cannot get upset with your child if you’ve never taught him/her what you expect from them.

Although it sounds ridiculous, I believe parents could learn about love, discipline and determination by watching a bear with it’s cubs, or an elephant with her baby. They have an inborn instinct to protect their young even if it costs them their lives.

There are ways to teach. I spoke about negative and positive disciplining before. Now I’m going to discuss a couple ways that I believe are the wrong ways to teach to teach your child to be independent.

Doing nothing! This really is the easiest way for a lot of parents. The parents believe the world is for experimentation and that a child should be allowed to learn on his/her own through trial and error. It probably will bring frustration on the part of the parents for a few years, but they believe they are developing their child to be independent. Doing nothing relieves the parent of the responsibility of teaching them right from wrong.

I remember one parent telling me that she would never tell her child to say ‘thank you’ , ‘please’, ‘I’m sorry’ etc. She felt she would be imposing on his true feelings. She went on to say, perhaps he didn’t really feel thankful or remorseful and she didn’t want him to grow up ‘lying’ about how he really felt. Consequently, this child was never taught the type of manners that are expected in our society. This child basically did what he wanted with little feelings about others. The mother, doing nothing, felt she was doing right.
Being too strict! There are parents who rule the roost! A child is to follow their rules every day with no variance. The personalities of these children vary from being extremely timid to being overly aggressive in their behavior. They are not allowed to express their feelings and begin to question whether they are loved. This is a difficult atmosphere for a child. A child must follow and do as the parent tells them. They will learn quickly to follow rigid rules to become independent.

I’m going to include two verses from the Bible that directly teaches how we should handle children.

Proverbs 22:6 “Train up a child in the way he should go: and when he is old, he will not depart from it.” (KJV)
Ephesians 6:4 “And, ye fathers, provoke not your children to wrath: but bring them up in the nurture (training) and admonition of the Lord.” (KJV)

Subscribe to Teaching Tips Feed
Subscribe to Teaching Tips by Email
Subscribe to All Post Comments

The Ignored Child

2010-12-08T18:41:00.004-05:00

School can be a very cruel place for a young child. It doesn’t take long before a child knows whether he/she is accepted by his peers. Usually the pretty and handsome children stand out amongst all the students and a child learns quickly that the ‘popular ones’ are favored and chosen first for most activities.

If you are a teacher you know exactly what I am talking about. As teachers we may have a tendency to pay more attention to some children even though we try not to. We tend to be drawn to the ‘well-rounded’ child who has developed a cute personality.

There is the child who I label ‘ignored’. This child could be the one who is quiet, not quite as cute as the others. He/she may be very attentive to instruction, or he/she may daydream and think of other places he/she would rather be than sitting in school. It is the child who doesn’t play with the others on the playground. It is the child who you wonder what he/she is thinking.

Bill, not his real name, came into my fourth grade classroom on the first day of school and I knew immediately he was not ordinary. His stature was that of a little man, he wore very thick glasses, and had difficultly walking. He took a seat in the back of the room and waited for instruction. I watched him as the other children came into the room. They ignored him and he didn’t talk to any of them.

On the first day of each new school year I would ask each child to stand, give their name and tell me one thing about themselves. When it was Bill’s turn, he stood and as he began to talk he definitely got my attention. His speech was impeccable. He didn’t just give me his name. He began a genealogy of his family. He wanted me to display the world map so he could pinpoint exactly where his ancestors came from. I had to cut short his presentation. He sat down quietly.

The children laughed at him. I knew I had a situation that was going to need all my patience and understanding.

I talked with Bill’s parents, got a better understanding of their child, and told them I was going to give Bill ten minutes every Friday to stand before the class and speak. When I told Bill he was delighted. I explained to the children about Bill’s abilities and how very special he was. I told them that it would be a time for them to ‘listen.' There would be no laughter directed at him.

Bill had a lot to say and his knowledge about history and geography was beyond mine! I needed to know that what he was saying was correct! I contacted a high school teacher to sit in our class and listen to Bill. As I expected, we both agreed that Bill had knowledge above that of most adults.

Academically Bill did fine. Despite his eyesight and rather poor hand coordination he completed the work and was a good student. Socially he was not accepted. The children viewed him as someone totally different and did not know how to respond to him.

He was never included in any of the outside activities and was basically ignored. On the playground he showed an interest in baseball. He watched the boys play, clapped for them when they made hits, but was never asked to play.

One day Bill was absent from school. I used this opportunity to have a heart to heart talk with the children. I discussed the handicaps of this child and how it must feel to never be included in activities, never to be asked to participate, never have anyone to talk to. I asked the children to put themselves in his place. ‘How would you feel? Would you be happy to come to school knowing that others were laughing behind your back when you walked and talked?’ I ended by asking them what we could do to show Bill that we cared.

The children were excited about including Bill. The boys decided to make him the captain of the baseball team. Because Bill had never hit a baseball, I was the instructor who helped him learn how to hold a bat and hit a ball. The exciting day was when he actually hit the ball all by himself. He ran as best as he could around the bases and the children cheered him on! The boys asked Bill to do other activities and it wasn’t long before he was invited over to a friend’s house.

The children learned a great deal from Bill. They began to appreciate his intelligence and realized how important it was to be sensitive toward a child who was different. Throughout the year I saw a young boy begin to develop confidence and a self-esteem that he had never had before. His parents were equally thrilled to see their child being accepted and trying activities he thought he could never do.

These ‘ignored’ children are all us. They may not be as obvious as Bill, but every child needs to feel accomplishment, acceptance, and understanding. Every child needs encouragement and a teacher has the chance to help a child realize his potential.

Teacher Tip:
If a game is going to be played that requires choosing teams, line the children up and number them 1 and 2. Do not pick a captain for each side and proceed to let the captain pick his team. It is very hurtful and humiliating to be one of the last ones chosen.

Subscribe to Teaching Tips Feed
Subscribe to Teaching Tips by Email
Subscribe to All Post Comments

The Letter

2010-12-08T07:52:00.005-05:00

My brother Jim, joined the Air Force in 1955 with two of his high school friends. Jim was called upon to study and complete a course in Serbo-Croatian language at the University of Indiana in Bloomington, Indiana. As he could not explain what his mission was to be, we had no idea what he was doing or the danger that it curtailed.

Jim wrote us frequently telling us where he was. We had just gotten a letter where he said he was stationed at Darmstadt, Germany and was to be transferred to Rhein-Main Air base at Frankfurt, and was scheduled to leave for Adana, Turkey in the coming days. In this letter he told us that he would be on a large cargo plane, a C-130. Of course, he told us no other details of his obligations. The letter was put away with the others he had written.

My father was quiet during supper time on September 3rd, 1958. We ate and then he looked at me and told me to get the last letter that Jim had written. I came back with the letter, and he went into the living room and came back with the evening paper.

My father asked me to read the letter out loud. I thought this all to be very strange, yet the seriousness of the tone of my father’s voice made me believe it was extremely important. I read the letter and put it on the table and then waited for my father’s response.

Dad took the evening paper and began to read something that I shall never forget. My mother and my sister and I listened carefully as dad read that a C-130 plane had been missing on a flight from Adana, Turkey. The plane belonged to the 7406th support SQ based at Rhein-Main air base in Frankfurt, Germany. Seventeen crewmen were missing.

Dad asked me again to read where Jim was and where he was going. I began,“He was transferred to Rhein-Main air base at Frankfurt and scheduled to leave for Adana, Turkey on a C-130”.

We couldn’t talk. We just sat as if we were frozen in time. Finally my dad broke the silence and said something like this, “When you think about the wars that we have had and the many, many young men who have lost their lives, we are no different than the hundreds of other families who have lost a loved one. All we can do now is pray and wait until we are officially notified as to what actually happened.”

The next couple of days dad tried to contact government offices that he thought could give him some answers to the whereabouts of Jim. We waited for the phone to ring.

Four days went by and we finally received a long distance call. Expecting that it was the announcement of Jim’s death, dad answered with hesitation. On the other end came a voice that dad hadn’t expected. It was Jim. He told the horrific story of how at the very last minute Harry Kamps, his friend, had replaced him on the C-130. Jim did not have all the details of the plane at this time. However, the plane was missing along with the seventeen crew members.

In the book, “The Price of Vigilance” by Larry Tart and Robert Keefe, the authors explain what happened during the attacks on American surveillance flights. Pictures were released by the Soviets showing the actual attack on the C-130. This book gives an excellent assessment of Cold War history.

C-130 60528 was the first American reconnaissance aircraft to crash on Soviet soil after being shot down by Soviet air defense forces.”

We don’t understand the things that happen. Jim lived and his friends died on September 2, 1958.

Discipline Techniques for Your Own Children

2010-12-06T19:27:00.001-05:00

This post is designed to give you some practical, real-life examples of how to implement some basic training techniques that use positive discipline. Everyone has different views on discipline, but I have found these to work well for teaching children not just to simply do what you say, but to learn how to be observant and caring to those around them.

Listening and Understanding

I read somewhere years ago that anytime you do something that your child can do, you are hindering in his/her growth. Do you feel your child doesn’t hear a word you’re saying?

Have you ever thought that perhaps he/she really can’t? If you feel you are instructing your child constantly and he/she walks away from you, take him/her to your doctor and have his/her hearing tested. If your child begins to make low guttural sounds as he/she is learning to speak, he/she may be partially deaf. Your child may be hearing vibrations from your voice but can’t clearly pronounce the sound.

Try this:
When you give instruction make sure your child is by you. Have him repeat your instruction so he/she knows what you are asking. Always make him/her do as you asked.

A sad story was told about a young woman who lost her little boy. According to the woman her son had always been a child who had a ‘mind of his own’. He never listened to her and it upset her terribly. On this particular morning he wanted to go outside to ride his tricycle. She told him that he needed to wait for her because they lived near a road that was heavily traveled. She walked into the kitchen to finish dishes and heard the front door open. She ran to the door to see her young son riding his tricycle toward the road. She saw a semi-truck coming down the road and called loudly and frantically to her son. He turned and smiled and continued right into the path of the semi.

If you feel you have a child that is stubborn and has ‘a mind of his/her own’, you must be consistent with your instructions. He/she will need special guidance and it will require patience. He/she needs to know that what you ask must be obeyed.

Private Property

Does your child open kitchen cupboards without your permission or get into things that he or she shouldn't? This is not just a matter of learning to respect the property of others, but there are also might be hazardous especially if children do this outside of the safety of your own home.

Try this:
Tell your child you are going to give him/her a very a special cupboard. Sit down with him/her and choose a couple of your old pans and lids. You can go to garage sales and choose inexpensive items that could be put in the cupboard. Your instructions have to be clear and understandable. Tell your child your cupboards belong to you and he may not open them up. Help him/her organize his/her own cupboard and tell him/her that when he is finished playing in his cupboard he/she must put everything away. You may have to help him/her put things away until he/she learns it is his/her responsibility.
If your child still continues to open “your” cupboards, calmly lead him to his cupboard and review instructions.

You probably are thinking, “I don’t have any extra cupboards!!” If you can’t spare one of yours, take a box and make a pretend cupboard. You can decorate it with contact paper.

When you explain instructions of any kind make sure you have his/her full attention and you and your child are not upset. Lean down to his level so you are looking into his eyes. Cup his face gently into your hands and tell him the instruction. Ask him/her if he understands what you are saying. If he acts like he doesn’t, repeat your instruction again.

Selfishness

Does your child demand you buy him/her something when you go into a store? Usually a child believes that when they go into a store he/she is going to get something. Many a parent has given into a child who is demanding.

Try this:
Before you go anywhere, tell your child where you are going. You may go over some things that you feel are important. (Examples: You may want to tell your child to stay close to you for you don’t want him/her to get lost. You may want to tell him/her that people do not shout in a store, run, etc.) If you do not plan on buying anything for your child that day, tell me before you leave. Make it clear. If he/she begins to plead with you in the store, gently lean down to him/her and remind him/her what you said before you left. If he/she continues to ‘complain’, take the cart up to a clerk and tell her you will be back. Take hold of your child’s hand and walk to the car. If crying happens as you leave the store, it is okay. Now you need to talk to him about what you told him/her before you left. Review your expectations again and ask him/her if he/she is ready to return to the store.

Your child will learn very quickly that what you say you mean. Of course, this is the goal of ‘disciplining’. You want your child to listen and respond correctly to your directions.

Cleanliness

Is your child’s room and other areas of your home a mess because of toys everywhere?

Try this:
Have a large container or containers marked “toys”. Place them where you feel they are needed. Tell your child that all toys will be put away in the toy box/boxes. Now that sounds rather elementary. Most all parents have a toy container somewhere in their child’s room. However, now it is time to make sure that the container/containers are actually used.

Buy a timer. Tell your child what you plan to do with the timer. It is to be a bell that tells him/her when it is time to pick up his/her toys. Set the timer for 15 minutes or whatever time you would like. This will give time to finish playing with what they may be playing with. Now tell your child you are going to reset it again and see how fast he/she can pick up the toys. Make it exciting and compliment him/her as she is trying to pick everything up before the timer goes off again.

You will have the responsibility to make sure your child completes what you ask of him/her. If your child refuses and will not cooperate, gently take him to a toy, take his hand firmly and help him pick it up and take it to the container. You must be firm and let him know that he/she will pick everything up. You are teaching him/her to be responsible for the things he/she has.

Does your child understand what “clean up your room” really means?

A ten year old boy wrote this down when the teacher asked the entire class to write down things they have learned. His reply was, “I’ve learned that just when I get my room the way I like it, Mom makes me clean it up again.”

Small children really don’t understand “clean up your room”. You know exactly what it means. You’d like toys put away, clothes picked up, their bed straightened and everything off the floor. This to you is ‘clean’. However, a child may get a pail of water and soap and believe they must pour it all over the floor. Maybe they think if they had a hose they could hose it down so it would be ‘clean’. We believe that our concept of clean, which has taken awhile to learn, is something a child is born with.

Try this:
Show your child what your idea of ‘clean’ is. For the first couple of weeks or maybe longer, help him/her organize the room each day. Let him/her have a say in where things should go. After all, it is his/her room and may have an idea of how it should look. You can suggest and help him place things. Don’t take it for granted that the one time you help him that he has been trained for a lifetime. Daily check the room and help him. Show him/her that you care. Tell him/her that you are very proud when they begin to do it themselves.

There are charts that can be bought quite inexpensively that can be put up. These charts have a series of jobs written on them and a place where a sticker can be placed next to the job that is completed. If you decide to do something like this it is very important that you are faithful in seeing that the jobs are really completed.

Temper Tantrums

Do you know what a ‘temper tantrum’ is? The temperament of each child is different. There are children who can accept any direction without much trouble. Then there are children who do not want to be told what to do. They try to become the teacher in the family. They decide it is time to let you know what they can do if you don’t let them have their way! The result is a so called ‘temper tantrum.'

Examples of different types of tantrums:

There is the child who cries and screams.
There is the child who becomes destructive and breaks things.
There is the child who bites and kicks.
There is the child who throws things.
There is the child who hits his head against a wall or floor.
There is the child who holds his breath until he turns blue.
There is the child who throws himself on the floor and kicks with his feet and strikes out with his hands.
There is the child who stares at you and doesn’t say a thing.

Children are very clever. They have never picked up a book and read about ‘temper tantrums.' It is by trial and error they choose an action they know will upset you. The main objection of your child is for you to give in to his/her demand. He wants your sympathy and to feel bad about what you did.

Try this:
First, you should make sure there is no medical reason why your child misbehaves.

When you feel your child is out of control, perhaps just putting him/her in his room will work. When he/she has calmed down, always explain to him/her what was done that you did not approve of. Make it clear that his/her behavior was unacceptable.

In a situation where you or your child may be in physical danger, you may try the following. Take the child and hold him firmly. Straddle him/her on the floor so he is unable to move, put your arms around him and hold him/her tightly. Now you will be close to his ear and you can talk to him calmly. You may say something like this. “Whatever you do, no matter how hard and loud you cry, kick or hit, you are going to do as I ask. There is no way you are going to get your way. I am going to hold you, no matter how long it takes. Do you understand?”

You are going to be firm. If he/she is screaming, you still continue talking with a calm and steady voice in his/her ear. Your child must know that you are in control and will not allow this type of behavior. When your child has calmed down you can release him/her. It is time to tell him/her why you did what you did. You may ask him what he thinks he did wrong. Remember you are ‘training’. If you feel it is necessary for him to sit in a ‘naughty’ chair that is up to you. However, he /she must know that what he/she did was wrong and is not acceptable.

Your child may be kicking and crying and has put himself on the floor.

Try this:

Walk over him! Continue on with your activities. Remain calm. When he has calmed down, and it may take time for he wants you to really know how horrible you have made him feel, talk calmly to him. Again say something like this, “Regardless of how you act you will not get out of following my directions. Do you understand? Wait until he/she says or nods his head, “yes”. Tell him/her you do not like that kind of behavior and it has to stop. If you must, repeat several times until he/she knows how you feel. Ask him to do what it was that began this fiasco in the first place. Make sure he does it!

What if you are at a restaurant and your child becomes loud and unruly?

Try this:

Before you go to a restaurant explain where you are going. Table manners should be taught at home and he/she should know how to sit at a table. If he/she misbehaves in a way that you feel is inappropriate, excuse yourself, take your child to the restroom. Tell your child how you want him to behave. Return and see if your child listened and follows your direction.

Correcting a child is courageous in today’s society. Parents feel embarrassed to think they must ‘train’ in public. However, a few times of correction will usually cure bad behavior. If a child knows you are serious and follow through with your ‘expectations’, he’ll/she’ll soon realize that you will not give in to his/her bad behavior.

Lying

Have you ever caught your child telling you a lie?

Children can act very innocent when caught in a lie. One of the reasons they deny what they have done is because they don’t want to be scolded or blamed. It is also embarrassing for them to be caught and found out. We would like to believe that everyone tells the truth. However, I don’t believe there is a child or adult alive who hasn’t lied sometime or other.

Try this:
Through evidence you have, make it known to your child that you know he/she is not telling the truth. This isn’t a time to think it is okay or cute. You want to make sure that your child knows that lying is very serious. It is not a time for condemning or belittling your child. Tell your child that you want him/her to always come to you because you love him/her. You want the truth always because it is the right thing to do.

Stealing

Has your child ever taken anything that isn’t his/hers?

My brother put a small comb in his pocket when we were in a store. On the way home he put his hand in his pocket and made a noise by taking his thumb over the teeth of the comb. He looked at me and smiled. We were sitting in the back of the car. My mother heard the noise and asked him what he had. He sheepishly took it out and showed her. Dad was driving the car. Without saying a word, my dad turned the car around and went back to the store. He took my brother by his hand, went into the store, asked for the manager and my brother stood before the manager and explained that he had taken the comb without paying for it. That lesson, without anger, without too many words, came through plain and clear. ‘Stealing’ was not an acceptable thing to do.

As a teenager I worked in a small grocery store. I was alone when I saw a young boy take a jar of peanuts and put it under his shirt and walk out. I ran after him, stopped him, and asked if he was going to pay for the peanuts. At first he lied to me and said he didn’t know what I was talking about. I told him to open his shirt so I could see. At that he gave me the jar of peanuts and ran off. Years later a young man stopped me on the street. He asked me if I remembered him. At first I didn’t and then he told me how he had taken a jar of peanuts years earlier and I had caught him. He began to tell me that I had saved him from a life of crime. He had taken several items without getting caught before the incident with me. After he was caught he said he never took anything again in his life.

Try this:
Stealing is a crime. Your child should be taught that this is a very serious thing. The consequences could be very harmful to him/her. If you feel a child has the tendency to ‘take’ things, it is important that you have him return the items and apologize.

I hope these ideas have been helpful. Please feel free to leave a comment with tips that have helped you when training your children.

What is Discipline?

2010-12-06T08:09:00.001-05:00

The definition of discipline in the Webster’s dictionary is “instruction." It is training which corrects, molds, strengthens, or perfects.

There are many books and thoughts on the best way to handle children, but in reality it comes down to you and your spouse as to how you are going to train children in your home.

It would be nice to have a ‘perfect’ child. In reality, and you wouldn’t want it any other way, your child is different from any other person on the face of this earth. He/she thinks, feels and reacts in his/her own unique way.

I will be putting down ideas that have been very beneficial to many parents. They have been tried and been successful. You may disagree and that is okay. You are the ‘teacher’ to your child and the final decision as to how you are going to ‘discipline’ is entirely up to you.

Positive Verses Negative Disciplining

It is your responsibility to train your child. The ultimate goal of every parent is to have your child listen and obey. There is a way, a manner, in which you ‘teach’. There should be ‘rules’ in your home. Children should know these rules are in your home because you love them. Positive disciplining isn’t allowing your child to do anything he/she pleases and being praised for it. Praise shouldn’t be handed out where praise isn’t due. A child must learn very early in life there are consequences to bad behavior.

Positive disciplining is achieving a goal without using negative responses. It is being firm without being mean.

Examples of Positive Verbal Discipline:

You did a good job on that!
Let me help you!
I love you!
You really tried didn’t you?
That looks good!
I’m so proud of you.
Is there anything you want me to help you with?
I’m here for you!

Examples of Negative Verbal Discipline:

What do you think you are trying to do? It looks awful.
You can’t do that.
You really are stupid.
You don’t behave like your sister/brother/neighbor, cousin.
You don’t know how to behave.
You never do what I ask you to do.
Why can’t you listen to me?
You really make me angry!

There is a also a difference between firmness and meanness. You and your spouse should set rules in your home. As a ‘teacher’ your job will be to follow them.

Firmness:
When you are instructing your child make sure you are at eye level. It is important that you have full attention. If he/she is very young and does not look at you, cup his/her face in your hands. Explain your direction. If he/she is old enough to speak have them repeat your instruction back to you. Ask if he/she understands. If he/she continues to do what you asked him not to, sit him/her down, and explain your direction again. If he/she disobeys you again, hold him firmly and give one good spank. Never spank when you are angry. It is up to your discretion whether you’d like to use a ‘naughty chair’ or some other type of action after this altercation. However, always make sure that your child understands that what he/she has done is not acceptable.

Meanness:
Meanness is malicious and degrading. It is not thinking of the feelings of your child. You may say things that you regret. You may do things you wish you hadn’t. Your child is watching and learning. He/she is receiving feedback about himself/herself through your behavior.

You may be asking a question, “How long does all this ‘training’ take? I can’t take the time to do all of this.” Some children will learn quickly. Others it will take time, but once they know what YOU expect from them, you will have children who WILL do as you ask.

Stay posted for real life examples on how to deal with every day discipline situations.

The Pageant

2010-12-06T07:46:00.002-05:00

Montague, the town I grew up in, was very much like Andy Griffith’s Mayberry. We lived simple and quite uneventful lives.

One day a woman came to live in our little sleepy town. She was very involved in the Miss America pageants. She asked the town councilman if she could have permission to begin a Miss White Lake Pageant. It was agreed that this would be a good cultural activity that the girls in our community would enjoy. However, girls were needed to participate.

My friend and I were asked to take the challenge. We thought it would be fun. In all, around nine girls from the White Lake area participated. None of us had real talent except Sue, not her real name. She had just competed in the Miss Muskegon contest and had lost. We found out that the Miss White Lake pageant was to once again give her a chance to win and then compete in the Miss Michigan pageant. Grace had been her coach for some time and saw that she had the looks, poise and talent that could give Michigan a chance in the Miss America pageant. We knew that Sue was going to win, but we appreciated having the opportunity to do something different in our little town of Montague.

The night came for the pageant. We had done all the preliminaries, like attending the judges’ luncheon, the practices for the swimsuit, formal gowns, and our learning how to walk on stage and present our talents. I was coached to do a dramatic reading from “Our Town." I was nervous, but I had the script down very well, and I thought I did okay, at lease I didn’t forget a line.

As we knew and anticipated, Sue won. My friend came in as Miss Congeniality. A girl that twirled a baton came in second. I don’t believe anyone was disappointed. We had learned a great deal and thought it was a privilege to be asked.

The second year of the pageant, I was once again asked, but thought I would sit it out and cheer for the winner. My best friend entered and won!!

The third year of the pageant, girls were beginning to volunteer for the pageant, but most were asked. There was a young girl from Montague named Nancy. Nancy felt she didn’t have any talent except sewing. Now Grace, being her coach, decided to try something entirely different. It was to be a ‘first’ in any talent presented in a pageant. A folding screen was on stage and Nancy was instructed to talk about each outfit she had made as she changed and then modeled it.

The judges loved her talent and so did everyone at the pageant. Nancy won the pageant, and my friend had the honor to crown her as the new Miss White Lake.

Nancy then competed in the Miss Michigan pageant. She won.

She represented Michigan in the Miss America pageant and she won! Not only did she win the title of Miss America, but she won Miss Congeniality and the swim suit competition.

The entire city came out to celebrate that night. The high school band was playing, church bells were ringing, people were driving up and down the streets honking their horns and shouting, “Nancy won! She’s Miss America!”

Our little town of Montague was put on the map for a moment in time. Nancy Fleming became Miss America 1961!

Chicken Feed Dresses

2010-12-06T07:38:00.001-05:00

I had an interesting conversation the other day with a woman who knew all about 'chicken feed dresses.' You can see one pictured on the left (taken from the National Museum of American History). I was amazed that I found someone who had similar experiences with chicken feed bags as myself.

As I was growing up in the small town of Montague, Michigan, we had a chicken coop which housed a couple dozen chickens. Twice a year my dad would pick up a dozen of young chicks and we raised them for meat and eggs. We had an old wood burning stove in our kitchen. That stove not only kept us warm, but it incubated the young chickens. If it was cold outside, mom and dad would put the young chicks in a box, cover them with a blanket, and carry them into our kitchen. There were times when one or two of the little chicks would escape from their supposedly warm and snug home, and my mother would have to find and catch them. I can still hear her saying quietly, “Now come to me. You’re waking the entire family. Now where did you go? Oh, there you are. You get back with your brothers and sisters and go to sleep without a peep.” After she caught them she would cover them up again, and the peeps would come at longer and longer intervals until finally there was complete silence.

It was hard for us to kill the chickens. They had become family pets, and we named them after Hollywood actors and actresses. Betty Grable was the hen with the perfect legs, and Clark Gable was our handsome rooster. Of course, there came the time when Clark was gone from the chicken coop and my brother and I were very concerned. We went into the house to notify mother of his disappearance only to find her at the stove frying up a chicken. We immediately figured out where Clark was. Needless to say, Jim and I sat quite solemn at the dinner table that night and there was some left over chicken.

Dad would have to buy feed for the chickens, and if it was time for a new dress for me I would go down and pick out the material that I liked. Mom would always tell dad how many bags she would need to make me a dress and that he needed to find matching material. You see, the chicken feed bags came in printed, flowered, striped, and plain cotton material. I remember going into the feed store and seeing the bags stacked almost to the ceiling. Dad would ask me to pick out the material I wanted and then would have the salesman move the bags around until I had four bags of the same material. This was an exciting day for me.

Once we had the chicken bags at home, dad would open them up and pour the feed into another box. Then mom would carefully un-seam the bags, wash them, iron them, and begin her creation of a new dress for me. She would even make hair bows for my pigtails with the left over material.

I never remember asking mom to take me to a store to buy me a dress. I knew that times were hard for my mom and dad and I was very satisfied, proud, and happy with my ‘chicken feed dresses.'

Proud to be an American

2010-11-15T07:54:00.001-05:00

On November 11th, Veterans Day, I put our American flag out at dawn and took it down at dusk. I couldn’t help but think of my dad and our neighbor Mr. Ford. I was very young when I first noticed Mr. Ford, early in the morning, raising the American flag on his tall flagpole. I watched as he pulled that flag higher and higher until it was waving high in the sky. He secured it tightly and then stood back and saluted. At dusk I would see him go outside, and slowly lower the flag, fold it neatly and go inside. I remember asking my dad why Mr. Ford did this every day, weather permitting. My father answered something like this, “He is proud to be an American. The flag represents our country and all that it stands for. It is a symbol of freedom and for the sacrifices that men have given for that freedom. You don’t have to salute when you see it, but always put your hand over your heart out of respect for our country.”

My father lived to be 97 years old. He was a World War I veteran. I still have his uniform and other items that he had kept in remembrance of his duty. There was a story I loved to hear him tell.

During World War I he was ready to be shipped out to France when his ship was sabotaged in the harbor of New York. He remembered the total confusion – the darkness – his buddies that were hurt and asking for help. There didn’t seem to be any way out and he knew the ship was sinking. There was a stairway that the men needed to find to get to the deck, but being pitch dark, no one seemed to know just where it was. Dad said there was a sudden feeling of helplessness. Then my father remembered he had found a box of matches earlier that day. He reached into his pocket, took them out and as he lit one match at a time there was enough light for the men to find their way out. Dad was a hero and lives were saved because of a box of matches!

World War II

During World War II my dad would come home at night from work and after he ate supper, the radio was turned on and we all sat quietly while dad listened to Gabriel Heeter. At quite an early age I became aware of what was going on in the world. I was also concerned about my cousins and other young men in our neighborhood that were fighting in the war.

The day came when our neighborhood became a time of celebration. President Roosevelt declared that the war was over! Dad gave each of us a small American flag and we ran around the house shouting and then joined our neighbors as they were dancing in the streets. Did I understand at my age what our country actually went through? Did I understand how many young men gave their lives for the freedom of this country?

I remember collecting milk weed pods to be sent somewhere for making parachutes. I remember helping my mother pack care packages to be sent to the men in service. I remember dad putting on an army helmet and going up and down the block during a night raid, making sure all lights were out in all the houses. I remember the prayers that were said for our country. I remember the young men who served in our country and a homecoming they received in our community. I remember Memorial Days when everyone in our town seemed to be at the Memorial Day service. I remember my father, never missing the opportunity to march in the parade in his American Legion uniform. To this day all these things are very clear to me.

Those are my thoughts for today. I pray you are proud to be an American!

Do You Want to be a Teacher?

2010-11-12T21:36:00.011-05:00

I was a senior in high school and was required to talk to the high school counselor about my future. I was nervous as I sat across from him in his office. I waited for him to speak. He knew I had planned on going to college. He looked at me and asked what career I was pursuing. Without hesitation I told him, “I want to be an elementary teacher.” I thought he would be pleased that I knew exactly what I wanted. Instead he told me he didn’t think I had the personality to be a teacher.
It was true that I was not ‘outgoing’. I didn’t participate in a lot of the school’s activities. I wasn’t the ‘popular’ girl in school. I tried not to get attention from anyone. I was simply a good student.

He looked at me and I think wanted me to agree with what he said. Instead I didn’t say one word. I excused myself and left. My heart was hurting. How could anyone say that to me? His words sparked a desire in me that was stronger than ever. He would not discourage me from being what I had always wanted since I was in third grade. I was going to be a teacher and I would be one of the best.

I began my teaching career in 1961. Later I received my Masters degree in counseling and a CDA to work with younger children. There has never been a time when I felt I had chosen the wrong profession. Teaching is a privilege.

Do you want to be a teacher? Do you have the desire to work with children? If you do, don’t let anyone try to discourage you. Teaching is an exciting and honorable profession. Molding the minds of young people is a privilege that most people in other professions will never experience.

Discipline Techniques for Pre-School Children

2010-11-11T21:36:00.001-05:00

Introduction
I’d like to label my teaching tips for three and four year olds, “Tell and Show."
Whatever it is that you are trying to teach you tell. It is proceeded by the show. Children may hear you as you give directions and instruction, but they really begin to understand when they see you do it.

Let’s talk about the ‘needs’ of your little ones. When you are teaching you will need the following:
1.) A safe and healthy learning environment.
2.) A social and emotional atmosphere where a child feels accepted and secure.
3.) A program that is well run and purposeful.

Children need to know what you expect of them. Never allow children to ‘run the show.’ You must set your rules down immediately. Your rules may differ from another teacher and that is okay. You should analyze your teaching methods and perhaps ask yourself these questions. Are you happy at the end of the day? Are the children doing as you’d like? Are there areas that you would like to see changed?

I’m going to give you some ideas on how to handle different situations. Remember, you may feel differently and that is okay.

Teaching a child to hang up his coat in the classroom.
Have a place especially for him/her. You may be familiar with 'symbols.' A child should know his 'symbol' and it should be placed by the coat rack. Show the child how to hang the coat up and of course, where it goes. Tell him/her that you will expect the coat to be hung up every day. (If it falls on the floor, make sure he/she goes over and picks it up.) This will be a daily routine. Boots and or shoes go on the floor under his/her coat. Show all the children the routine of hanging up a coat. Show them also what it would look like if they didn’t. Ask them why it is important to always hang it up.

Teaching children to come into the room quietly.
I never allowed the children to ‘pick their place’ during circle time. I taped their symbols on the floor, with their names printed on them. Occasionally I would change them, but I felt it was necessary for them to know exactly where they were to sit so there was no confusion.

I showed them how I wanted them to come in and sit in the circle. We would ‘practice’ until I felt they all knew what to do. I always tried to make ‘practice’ more of a fun time. Example: “You came in so well today! I’m so proud of you. Let’s do it again!!” If a child didn’t follow directions, I would have him continue until he knew what to do.

Showing the children is so important. It is interacting and having fun with them. They don’t realize you are actually ‘disciplining’. Example: I would pretend I was a child. I would come into the room shouting and running. I would throw my coat on the floor. Now I would ask the children, “Do you think I did the right thing?” Then I would give them a good example. I would come in quietly, speak to my friends in an ‘inside voice’, take my coat off, hang it up, go to the circle, find my symbol and sit down, legs crossed, lips closed, hands folded. Now I asked the children. “Did I do okay?”

Working with a child who is belligerent.
Expect children to be defiant at times. You may never know when it’s coming but you must be prepared. What do you do? I had a special chair for this time. I would tell the children that I didn’t want to use it because I didn’t feel anyone in my class would do something that would hurt or make someone else unhappy. But, the chair was there and if I felt they needed to sit in it I would use it. Sometimes I had to firmly put a child in it and hold them until they understood they were not going to get up. When they calmed down and thought about what they did, they could join the class again.

Story:

I remember a time when I saw a child sitting in the chair. I went over and asked “Honey, why are you sitting in the chair?” With innocent eyes he looked down at the floor and said, “I just know that today I am going to do something wrong. I’m sitting here before you have to put me here.”

Always do your ‘disciplining’ in front of a helper. Try not to humiliate a child. They must know that what they did was wrong and other children will see it. Children understand about behaving.

Subscribe to Teaching Tips Feed
Subscribe to Teaching Tips by Email
Subscribe to All Post Comments

Truth in Real Life Moments

2010-11-10T21:37:00.001-05:00

Are you looking for ways to teach your kids or your students about historical Christian figures or missionaries from the past? I've already shared links to the Kids 4 Truth daily devotional site where you can read and listen to short dramatizations of Christians from the past. Now, Kids 4 Truth has just finished publishing a CD set featuring all of these stories. See the description below to get a better idea of what these CD's are all about.

Truth with boots on..."

What does a life transformed by the Gospel really look like? It looks like Jesus. And although nobody comes close to Christ’s perfection and beauty, we can and should catch glimpses of Him in the lives of godly believers. Through these short audio biographies, you and your children will meet many such believers.

Truth in Real Life Moments is a 2 disc set jam packed with over fifty short biographies of people that lived out gospel truth. These dramatized readings are designed to help children see that God’s truth produces changed lives...
...able to weather life’s toughest storms because of faith in Jesus.
...defined by service to the King.
...demonstrating the awesome power of God.
...have the sweet fragrance of God’s grace.

If you’ve ever wondered how best to apply doctrinal truth, then spend some time observing the lives of those cataloged on these CDs. These believers were gifts from God to help us see Him and His truth at work.

These CDs represent the entire set of audio biographies featured on our devotional site (http://kids4truth.com/devos) in a convenient package designed to play on any standard CD player.

Please visit the Kids 4 Truth Store to listen to samples from these CDs or to purchase a copy.

Subscribe to Teaching Tips Feed
Subscribe to Teaching Tips by Email
Subscribe to All Post Comments

A Half Pound or a Pound and a Half?

2010-11-10T18:56:00.001-05:00

Today is a good day to blog! Here I am sitting at my computer wondering who will read what I am about to write. When I think of the millions of people in the world, there is only one special person reading this, and it is you.

We moved from Missouri to Oliver Springs, Tennessee a year ago. We live in the foothills of the Cumberland Mountains and I can see the mountains from my window as I am on the computer. Even though it is November, it is a beautiful day and we’re enjoying the 70 degree weather. I’m sure it won’t last long as winter will soon be upon us.

You will see on my blog a story about Sammy the Skunk. If you have read something about my background, you will find how this storybook all began. These little animals that I have created have become real to me. I can see them talking, laughing, caring, getting into trouble, wondering what to do, as they live in a special place called the “deep woods."

I consider where we live here in Tennessee as being in the middle of the ‘deep woods’. A fox visits once in a while, a buck and his entourage of doe come by, a friendly raccoon comes every night for his dinner, an opossum shows up occasionally and of course, the sounds of other animals and birds can be heard at night. I feel fortunate to see the animals in their natural habitat.

Right after the great depression, my father was fortunate enough to find a job as a typesetter for a company in Muskegon, Michigan. My sister, brother and I did not really know that we were poor. Looking back on it now, I believe everyone that I knew was in a similar situation as my parents. The word “charging” was just a part of life, and the merchants in our town gave everyone credit if there was any evidence that it would be paid back eventually. I am going to tell you what happened to me when I was very young.

One afternoon mother told me I was old enough to go downtown to our neighborhood grocery store and get a half pound of bologna. As I skipped downtown I forgot the exact amount mother had told me. Did she say, “A half pound? Or did she say a pound and a half?”

When I arrived at the store I was asked what I wanted. Without hesitation, I replied, “My mother would like a pound and a half of bologna sliced thin, and charge it please!”
He looked at me questioningly but took the large bulk bologna out of the meat case, and started to cut. He kept cutting more and more and as I pressed my nose up against the meat case to watch him, I saw all the bologna that he was cutting. I knew immediately I had made a terrible mistake. I didn’t know what to do so I just continued watching him. My heart was beating fast as he wrapped up the meat and handed me a very huge package. He wrote up the charge slip and gave it to me. I quickly put it into my pocket. “Oh dear, I thought to myself, what am I going to do with all this meat?”

On the way home I noticed a tired old dog sitting under a tree. He was panting and as I approached him his tail began wagging. “Poor old dog. I bet you are hungry. You’d like to have some of my bologna wouldn’t you?” I was almost ready to give him some when I realized I had the charge slip in my pocket. Mother would surely know. I walked toward home very slowly with my huge package of bologna, not looking forward to what my mother would say.

When mother saw me she gasped, “What in the world do you have there?” Tears streamed down my cheeks as I handed her the large package of bologna. Mother looked at it and lovingly said, “Well, we’ll have a week of bologna! I can make bologna sandwiches, ground bologna, and anything else I can think of that has bologna in it!

Mother wasn’t angry with me. She actually laughed about it. I learned one thing that day. There was a big difference between a half pound and a pound and a half!

Well, that is just one of my childhood memories! I have many more to write about!!

Have a great day.