Showing posts with label the past. Show all posts
Showing posts with label the past. Show all posts

Wednesday, April 9

Friends from Virginia

I apparently forgot to blog about East Coast friend time a few weeks ago! The stars aligned and my old high school pals, Megan and Carrie, were both able to come up with their families for a few fun days in ole PA. They've both made many appearances on the blog over the years--we've been so luck to live close to them for so long.

 photo solandrachel2014-03-110949AtthezoowithmyfavoritefivemonkeysThisistheelusiveBlueFleeceBlondeMarmosettribe673821057693743861_2_zps721ca143.jpg

Carrie and I have birthed five darling boys in total--and they all look good in blue jackets. We took the team to the zoo and they were all very well behaved (unlike last time with Finley seriously just pulled his pants down and peed in the middle of the road. Horrified.) We also love that our stroller doubles as a clown car. Finley loves to ride his bike with Edmund and did a decent job of sharing his Legos.

 photo solandrachel2014-03-111846WeareresponsibleforalotofsmallpeopleAnddogsvivalabscbarrettscottwoodsfuntimescantstopwontstopzoned_zps0b9a97b4.jpg

I am struggling to remember to get out the big camera--more and more my pictures are on the iPhone, which luckily does a pretty good job. We love the way this crew has grown! Here's one of the first pictures of our group that I posted. So many sweet memories--here's to many many more.

 photo IMG_0205_zpsb4a00830.jpg

Wednesday, September 1

A story from when I taught in Boston

Victoria and I were setting up our classrooms a few days ago and started reminiscing about the good ole days at our inner city schools. We laughed about our belongings getting stolen, and my mind went to the (first) time my wallet and phone were stolen. This is a kind of long story, but it's one I never want to forget.

It was my second year at my school in Roxbury--the not so nice area of Boston. I could tell it was a not so nice area before I knew anything about Boston because of the looks I got when I told people where I would be teaching. After a long school day (just kidding, my contract ended at 1:45!!!) I opened my desk drawer to grab my purse and go home. Funny. My purse normally weighs more than--DANG IT! Where is my phone and wallet?

Frustrated and embarrassed, I made my way down two flights of stairs to the office. Why didn't I lock my purse up? I don't know, because it's too much work to take the padlock off the closet every time I need something? The secretary urged me to get on my carrier's website to see if the culprit had made any calls. Sure enough, they had.

And sadly, I knew exactly who took my phone the minute I looked at the screen. Eight calls had been made to Taunton and one of my favorite, sweetest boys' mother lived in Taunton. We called the number to make sure it was his mom--initially she confirmed it, then denied it when asked if her son had called her. Joel (or Joely as I liked to call him) was still in the building at the after school program, so we hunted him down.


We chatted/interrogated Joel for well over an hour. The sad thing about eighth graders is that they really think that they might be able to get away with it. Joel never confessed. He eventually told us the wallet was in the boy's bathroom trash (where 3 fires had been set this year) and that maybe one of his friends used the phone to call his mom? Why would one of YOUR friends call YOUR mom, Joel? I don't know. It was sad. I was heartbroken for him--heartbroken at his hope that maybe he could still get away with it. A few dollars were missing from my wallet, presumably so he could take the bus to go see his mom. Even with the mountain of evidence against him, he wouldn't fess up to his mistake.

Eventually Joel's dad showed up. And this is where my heart REALLY broke.

Joel refused to leave with his father--he told us that his father beat him. He was planning to run away to his mom--who wasn't allowed to see him because of drug problems. Out of the eight calls sweet Joel made, his mother only answered the first time. She wouldn't take his call the next seven times. I wanted to take him home with me. I thought about what it would be like for him to sleep on my couch--could I trust the kid who went through my desk for bus money? What would it be like to drive him to school with me every morning and home every night?

Eventually child protective services came and took him. He wouldn't--and we couldn't--send him home with his father. Joel was in foster care for awhile after that. And really, he was never the same.

The way little Joely will always be in my mind is the sweet, grinning kid in the baby blue polo shirt. We had a uniform policy--white or navy polos--that very few kids followed because very few teachers enforced it. Joel showed up every day in the same baby blue polo shirt, following the policy as closely as he could. After he was in foster care for awhile, he didn't wear the polo anymore. He wasn't the sweet boy I knew--he started wearing t-shirts 4 sizes too big with pictures of rolls of cash, guns or Tupac on them. He always carried around his baseball hat with the big flat rim. He grew about a foot (likely not due to foster care) and started walking with his own special swagger. He hung out with the wrong kids and misbehaved in class. He was one of the VERY few kids we held back that year (although MANY kids deserved it.)


I saw Joel several times a week after he was held back, and my heart broke a little more every time. Sometimes he would still say, "Hi Mrs. Scott!" with his shy smile when I saw him in the hallway. And sometimes if I was feeling mischievous, I would say, "Hey Joel, remember when you took my phone?" And he would say, "Mrs. Scott!" and we would laugh.

That's not my favorite memory from my time in Boston, but it's an important one. It reminds me of the important work I did there, and how much important work there is to do still. There are just a lot of kids to love.

Tuesday, August 17

Chris Mann was never my Boyfriend

Once upon a time I went to a youth group in Wichita. This group was filled with kids from all the different high schools, and I'll be the first to admit I showed some partiality towards the boys from Southeast. They just seemed... so dangerous. You know, because they went to an inner-city school. (Ironic, no?) Also, I'm kidding about them being dangerous. But I was fairly terrified every time I went to one of their school dances.

Well back in high school, I made a terrible mistake that I regret to this very day--I never dated Chris Mann. This could have been because he was a waiter at Macaroni Grill and I didn't want to sully my lovely relationship with their establishment. Or it could be because he didn't know who I was. I didn't realize my mistake in not dating him until several months ago when I realized he was semi-famous. I tried and failed to stalk him at Blogher. It made me a little sad.

Chris works for GLEE, I'm still not sure what he does, but he does it, and I love GLEE.

He sang on an OfficeMax commerical that will tug on your heartstrings. This is why my baby will never go to school.

And he made a music video remake of a George Michael song (that will remain unnamed due to Google search) that is borderline inapprorpriate to post on the blog, since this particular blog is rated PG-10.

But I'm going to post it anyway. He's cute and you'll probably like it. Maybe don't watch it with your grandma in the room?


You're welcome! (And hey Chris! Do you remember me yet?)

Thursday, June 10

A Found Treasure

Thank goodness I have a mischievous baby. Finley was getting into stuff on our bookshelves today--while he napped I picked up the mess he made. And look what he found!

Photobucket

The prodigal picture returns! You might recall the search for this picture from my mom's post; I'm so happy it has been found. Or embarrassed. But mostly happy.

As you can tell I used to be a snobby child. I clearly was NOT happy that my communion dress was not a mini-wedding dress like my little friends. (I did love those flowers in my hair. Thank you mama.) This picture is a constant reminder for me to stop thinking my life sucks--it's been all uphill since the blue dress debacle.

And I did get to wear a white dress eventually. Thanks for marrying me, Sol, even though I tend be snobby and whiny.

Photobucket
Related Posts Plugin for WordPress, Blogger...