PRESCHOOL CURRICULUM 21st century

What do you think of when you hear PRESCHOOL? Do you want to send you child? Are you sad? Do you want to control every environment your child will be in? Do you just want a break from your child? Worried? Happy? Stressed?

All emotions are valid. Talk yourself through this. It will be okay.  Some people think it is time to teach your child the ABC's. But before you you teach that we should be teaching them to identify feelings. MAD, HAPPY, SAD, EXCITED. This will help them to understand themselves. NOT the ABC's. And they are egocentric at this age any way. ABC's come naturally and so do most things kids need to learn.

Have you ever had a teacher teach a lesson and you didn't care for the content or their voice? Well, how do you think a kids feels? When a child is not interested they get up and run around. They leave the area. They do not sit still. I taught in the classroom and can tell you that there are some kids that will sit through a lesson and some kids will not. What do teachers do with the kids that won't sit? Get a $379 CUBE chair and make them sit. Give them a toy in the cube chair so they do not disturb the other children. That child is getting nothing out of it. The other children may get something out of it. Are they listening? 

Education needs reforming. The younger kids are always on the back burner of getting help. Colleges are starting to recognize that Freshman need support because of the high drop out rate and suicide rate. And high schools are trying to help kids. Middle school is starting to have calming rooms and grade school has more psychologist and calming rooms for students and teachers. And Preschool is Preschool. 

Obviously, kids and adult need some more help with the sky-rocketing anxiety and suicide rate. Let's teach kids how to recognize anxiety before it becomes habitual thought. Help them develop skills before it's a problem. DBT, Dialectical Behavior Therapy, is a new therapy that teaches that you can cope and there may be more than one truth. Everything isn't black and white. If we look at Piaget's theory 

We learn that he found 4 specific stages we learn from.

Now. If we are the genius human's that we claim to be wouldn't we perfect education by now. No. We know a lot but the only education system that follows Piaget's theory is the Swiss. They start formal education at age 7. In the United States they start at 5. Preschool is optional in the US and Kindergarten is optional in some states (Utah). With our knowledge of our learning stages the United States Education System still doesn't listen to the specialist. They continue to begin teaching kids younger and younger. 

What happens if a child skips a stage of learning? What if he doesn't get enough sensorimotor experiences?

A child will not skip a stage of Piaget's theory. Does that mean that we must go through each phase. In my experience if a child doesn't get sensorimotor, they are still in that phase for a while longer. 

Do they move on to the next stage? Do we still believe kids are capable of Formal Operational Stage in the 21st century? Kids are much more immature than in the 20th century. 

So the reason we can't perfect being a human is because as soon as we figure out what it means, it changes!

However, the Sensorimotor has not changed much. Baby Einstein tried to mess with this stage by teaching babies to talk on the television.  

It didn't work.

So! All this points to teaching kids more...

Here is my curriculum. 

So have fun and remember all this above means PLAY WITH YOUR CHILDREN.

Nothing takes place of Interactions

 How can you tell a good school from a not so good school?

Does a good school let child cut with knives?

NO, a good school allows as many interactions to take place as possible. 

 Ratio is 1:4. Kids are not afraid to speak up and are allowed to feel heard. 

Does a good school let child cut with knives?

NO, a good school allows as many interactions to take place as possible. 

 Ratio is 1:4. Kids are not afraid to speak up and are allowed to feel heard. 

I would say to judge a place by interactions. Wholesome interactions. Supportive interactions. Learning interactions. If the ratio of teacher/ child is too low, 1:1 it may not get enough interaction. That is why mom's know it is easier with 2 kids vs. 1 child. Because 3 is more fun than 1 and 3 is also a number that is pleasing to the eye in the arts. 3 is also a significant number, with many stories. But don't make this your determinant for having another child. 

In this video the child is talking on the phone that his father called him on. His father is in the other room. He has 2 other adults supporting him in his interactions. He is 15 mos. and has the typical babble talk with connotations. 

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Self guided study to understanding language. 

I believe the most interesting thing about Language is that we all acquire it. We do not have to have sit down lessons on. We learn by doing. We make mistakes. We create new rules. Then, slowly after 3-5 years we got it. Our language continues to grow until age 12-13.  By then we have it. Ages 0-3 are the most important years for learning language. We begin listening to language in the womb and continue learning as long as we want. If you are in a dual immersion class we will be able to write and speak, but interacting will always be a struggle until we do it. Interactions are the best. 

Next in my self studies are : How do cell phones interrupt interactions? 

Click below  to read the study: 

Language study in early childhood 

I delved ... here are the highlights:

By way of summation, according to the behaviorist (e.g., Skinner [9], children learn language through reinforcement and association, whereas Chomsky took the view that children have an inborn capacity for language understanding and use.

The most distinctive print of a culture has been defined as its language.

 Notably, interaction has a significant role in language acquisition.

Acquisition of a child’s first language begins at birth and continues to puberty (the ‘critical period’). Spada and Lightbown [6]; DeKeyser and Larson-Hall [2] noted that during the first three years of the child’s life, the child gets exposed to the language in his/her environment.

linguistic environment where they can continually hear, interact and communicate in that particular language. 

Language is a social phenomenon. According to Spada and Lightbown [6], children can also be exposed to the language through audio-visual media, but that exposure is without interaction, but, without using the language to express themselves, the children cannot acquire that particular language.

Children communicate first by using different languages, such as body language, sign language and oral language

Therefore, the first words the child learns are those that directly relate to the child’s sensory experience and connect the child to his or her exploration of the environment

age Newborn: This is the first stage of language where children babble and coo according to Tomasello      and Bates [12], just to exercise the articulatory organs in an experimentally random and playful manner.

age 6 mos - 9 mos: the second stage is when the child starts to babble in a pattern similar to the patterns of adult speech, this happens between the ages of six to nine months.

age 12mos. one-word stage, where babies use only one word

age 1 yr 8 mos two word stage, "dada chair"

age 2- 2.5 telegraphic stage, rudimentary sentences, "I good girl."

age 2-  predictable phonological errors or deviations

children first start by over-generalizing the rules

processing the rules of language

a process of development to full competence of the language use leading them to understand the exceptions to the rules

a process of development to full competence of the language use leading them to understand the exceptions to the rules

 language grows organically in the child’s mind rather than artificially constructing it in the process of learning

There is no disagreement about the effectiveness of early language acquisition, but what if the language learner has a positive attitude towards the culture in question. Positive attitudes produce motivations in the students. According to Spada and Lightbown [6], “The overall findings show that positive attitudes and motivation are related to success in second language learning, [and consequently acquiring a second identity]” (p. 56). There are two kinds of motivations at issue in this process: a. Curiosity: A desire to understand a group of people and their way of life; a desire or interest to know why a group of people do things differently from us, or why they believe in so many things that we have never considered. b. Empathy: Upon repeated exposure, one might come to the conclusion that this group of people has a more sensible handle on things than we do. 

Instinct versus Choice

Animals are instinctual. A dog does not look at a squirrel and think...should I chase it? Should I stay on the leash with my owner? Or a cat doesn't think...I shouldn't hiss, that wouldn't be nice.  He can be trained to stay next to his owner, but that is training. Animals DO  NOT deliberate in their mind what they are going to do.  This is something only humans can do.

We, humans, have choices. We can use our minds to make up something in our head. We can believe that something exist that isn't there, for example, God. However, even that sentence would be offensive to those that believe in God because in their mind, GOD DOES EXIST.  Or, vise verse, we can believe something didn't happen when it did. We can make up our own mind.

Protestors, for example, like to change peoples minds.  They think ALL people should think they they do. OR they believe that they can change peoples minds. OR for people that haven't made up their minds, they persuade them to believe the same as they do.

Others that try to change your mind and do not value your opinion, thoughts, or perceptions are abusing your mind. Your mind is yours. If you talk about something that isn't there, people can have empathy for you, but they should not devalue your mind. They do not convince you're wrong. This would be a form of abuse. They are attempting to control what you think.
We can change our mind. We are never forced to do drugs. It is not instinctual to be addicted. Addiction is an illness, but we still have a choice if we want help.

The MIND is fascinating. We change it when ever we want. We believe what we want or We believe what we don't want. 

The most WONDERFUL thing about being human is that WE CAN CHANGE OUR MIND!

Why feel bad about canceling the wedding the day before, it is the most inherited right from above, to CHANGE OUR MIND. 

Some people get upset when people change their mind! IT IS OKAY TO CHANGE YOUR MIND. If humans decide they don't want to do something they just change their mind. Some people do this frequently. But I have never met anyone that likes to change their mind. It is seen as a negative thing. As if, the person didn't know better. They were ignorant. Changing your mind may mean you were enlightened or deceived. If it is the latter, change your mind again. DON'T FEEL OBLIGATED!
And children will hold you to your word if you said you would take them to the park. But, explain this: I can change my mind. Because children need to understand that it is OKAY TO CHANGE YOUR MIND. 

The mind can also block unwanted memories. This a protection for humans. The mind can exaggerate       things. This is fascinating. Just as in the Movie "A Beautiful Mind". He believed things were happening and no body could just say to him, this isn't real. He believed it. It was an illness, but his mind saw and heard things that were not real. A child can believe what they want. 

No body can make you believe something that you don't want to. No one can take away your beliefs as true or false as the may be. People can talk to you for hours, and try to change your mind, but it won't happen unless you choose. I can decide to like someone or not. You can't change my mind. It is wonderful to have control over this.  

This is why I love our minds. People can try to control your mind. But, people ultimately have control over their minds. Someone can talk to you until they are blue in the face. Someone can make you repeat phrases or say things you don't mean....But you still believe what you want to believe.  They can't see your mind. You and only you can know what you believe. The MIND is fascinating. 

So, if you are ever worried about changing your mind....don't be. It is your inherent right to change your mind. You are not an instinctual animal. 

Teenagers...ahahahah!

I love babies! But Teenagers? 

First born girls are more likely succeed [because their mom's didn't give up]. Hence...Beyoncé, Hillary Clinton, Sheryl Sandberg, Oprah, J.K. Rowling, Lena Dunham, Kate Middleton and Angela Merkel were all firstborns.

What about boys...24 out of 44 U.S. Presidents were first borns. 21 out of 23 Astronauts were first born sons.  One reason first borns are so success full....

according to wise geeks...... "because oldest children tend to be given more responsibilities, such as babysitting their siblings, which might translate into the older children becoming comfortable with being leaders. First-born children might also have more confidence because they do not have to share attention with others as much during the first years of their lives, and their milestones are often more celebrated because they are the first in the family."

and this business insider will give you lots of theories....business insider "first born children smarter"

I have watched mothers give up on their teenagers. They sink into their own lives and stop telling their kids what to do. 

Statistically, first children are more successful....because their mothers have not given up on them. 

BUT forget theory....Both Bill Gates and Mark Zuckerberg have older siblings.

It all comes down to ....

Mom is  TIRED

Layers of Getting Back up and Trying Again

I went to the Grand Canyon and Antelope Canyon this month with my beloved husband. He is the one that pesters me, laughs at me, makes fun of me, makes me the pun of his jokes, and believe it or not, loves me. He has taught me to laugh about the small things and I have taught him to laugh at the big things. We each deal with problems in our own way. I could name all my big problems for you, but you have your own to forget about. We move on, past our problems, but we don't forget them.

Antelope Canyon

Page, AZ

Our problems, progression, mistakes, pains, joys, and gifts,  are all engraved on each of us. Each one is like a layer in the Grand Canyon. It took years to get all those beautiful layers of rock, silt, dirt, and minerals. Some layers are thicker than others. Some are thin. Some even have little pebbles embedded in the layer, like the scars we carry with us. And after each layer water would come and wash in a new layer. I would be baptized with rejuvenated hope. And then, the water would dry up again and leave another layer. Each time another problem would come, I would blame my creator. Why? Why me? The layer would dry eventually leaving another bed of dried rock to carry on top of the others. Then the rocks crashed against each other and some were raised and others went deeper into the earth forgotten and out of sight. The ones that raised above the earth reached for the sky and revealed their layers. People would come an look at these rocks and behold their beauty. All those layers revealed her secrets, yet it was beautiful.

Then the sandstone that filled the crevasses, the years of no joy, no learning, no pains, were washed away by the rushing water.  We must have those years of no joy, to see the joy. We must have the years of pain, to enjoy the years of no pain. No layer is more important than another. They all work magnificently to create a breathtaking view. Now thousands of people love to visit these Canyons and see her years of creation. It was the time that created her, and it will be time that creates our beautiful life. We must stick through the tough time and see that there will be beauty to behold.

Grand Canyon

Arizona

South Rim

I think back to my young life at 17. I got pregnant and married. I remember times when I would go pick up my child from kindergarten and some moms would not talk to me because I was so young. I could feel people look at me with pity, "That poor girl is already pregnant. She will never get to enjoy life. Her marriage is doomed. Her poor child." The women that sought out different things in life only pitied me.  "Your not old enough to have a 10 year old! How old are you?" (I still hear this!) Your not old enough to have a son that's married! I have already prepared myself for, "You're not old enough to be a grandma!" I will say, "Oh dear! Enlighten me on the age requirement. And what is the age requirement for having a doltish tongue?"

Then there were the ones that didn't judge me for those social standards the world set. They saw a girl wanting what was best for her child and marriage. They saw a young girl, but one that was determined. I just used my "handicaps" to weed out the women that abhorred me. It was easy to like me or hate me. Those that didn't see my life as pitiful became my friends. I was fortunate to find some wonderful friends. I have never regretted having children young. Infact, in third grade I said I wanted 100 kids. I have since changed my mind. I may have different layers in my life that create a different canyon. That is the beauty of it, we all have different lives. I was fortunate that I couldn't hide my differences (becoming pregnant at 17), but some people try to hide their differences from society. Don't hide it. Use it. Show your layers.

If you suffer from a mental illness, don't be embarrassed.
If you have a medical diagnosis, don't hide it.
If you made a mistake, own it.
If you lost, congratulate the winner.
If you failed, wipe off your knees and try again.

I love myself!

(FICTION)

When I was 5 and learning to ride a bike I would fall. "Get up, get up. Try again." I learned to ride the bike in 3 days.


I NEVER heard, "How come you fell off!? Don't you know you have to keep peddling!"

Then I turned 11 and tried smoking with my friends. "What were you thinking!" I learned to hide my mistakes.

INSTEAD, I needed to hear, "You can try again at this game called life. Get back up and try again. Tomorrow is another day."

Then I was 15 and watched some porn. "You are going to be a sex addict and never understand relationships." I learned to hide my curiosity.

INSTEAD, I needed to hear, "You may have curiosity, but this is addictive. Try again tomorrow and keep peddling through life."

Then I was 17 and became pregnant. Silence. Sadness.  I learned to regret my life.

INSTEAD, I needed to hear, "keep peddling in this game we call life. This will one day make a beautiful layer in your life if you let it."

Now I'm 22 and have 3 kids. I tell them for every mistake they make, to get back up and try again. We all have to keep trying. We make mistakes, we fall down. We don't master being a teenager in a week. We need encouragement to get back up and try again. We don't master motherhood in a year. We must try again. Masters were not created in a month. It takes years. Just as a canyons take years. And we may not ever master it, because we are ALL always learning.

Keep on clogging!

OBSERVATIONS of LOVE..unedited

Observations of LOVE... unedited

I wonder if people know how to love. If they can't love, where did they learn to not love?
What makes you LOVE? Who taught you to love? Who gave you the security to put you heart out there and love other people?

Love is a decision.

First, we choose not to love when we say we can't love. Love takes effort and continual fighting for.

Falling in Love usually includes a denominator of sexual passion. This is a kind of love, but not the kind that we should continue. (The Road Less Traveled.) But, let's admit it, passion is a plus.
Then there is the love that comes when we have kids. This is the kind most people think comes naturally, but if we haven't learned to love, the kids can really end up screwed up!
Then adopting. Some people know they can't ever adopt because they just wouldn't love the child the same as their own. (not my words). I have heard it said before this way, "if my house was burning I would grab my own kids first, then the others." TERRIBLE.
Then kids learn to love their parents and siblings from watching their parents. Hopefully, parents do not teach their kids to love conditionally.
Then men have to learn to love their mom's and let them go to love their wife. Some boys have a hard time doing this. We can blame the mom's for this.
OR vise versa, every woman is not as mean as their moms. The boys have to learn to let their guard down and love a girl fully.
Then the daughters have to learn that every guy is not as nice as their dads. So they leave the house and are naive.
OR Vise versa, every guy is not as mean as their dad. The daughters keep a guard up and do not love fully.
Then there are the cat people and the dog people. They use their pets to replace a significant other because they will never be rejected.

Bottom line, don't live in fear. Bust a move. Quit being so selfish and ego-centric. Who cares if you get hurt? Get back up and love again.

I got married when I was 17 years old. I didn't have a clue what I was doing. I came from a "broken home". I lived with my mom and from 6th grade on. I also thought that my dad was a horrible person. I didn't trust people and thought that all boys were 'out for one thing'. I was also told by Donahue and Oprah that I would marry someone just like my dad unconsciously. That was the last thing I wanted. I  had seen Forest Gump, and the only nice man that I saw was handicapped. So, I got pregnant soon after I turned 17. I just plunged into marriage and hoped for the best. I knew he was a nice guy. He supported me in my dreams. He took care of my little family and loved my new baby. He told me every morning as he left for work, "I love you." I would pretend I was asleep sometimes. Other times I said it back. But he kept saying it, every morning. He would get on my nerves sometimes. I would tell him everything he was doing wrong and he never told me anything I did wrong. He worked. I stayed home with the kids and quit school. I just kept truckin'. I thought I wanted to divorce him when we had a rough year.  I made plans and soon the rough patch healed. We made it through the good and the bad. He didn't judge me when I was losing my mind and I let it go when he had a bad day at work. He helped me at home with the kids and I helped him stay on the straight and narrow. When I struggled he held me up, and when he struggled I held him up. Then 20 years passed. I woke up one morning realized, This guy really does love me. He has stayed with me this long, put up with my chaos and always showed his devotion to me. Then guilt swept over me. I hadn't always let him know how much I appreciated everything he had done. Although he wasn't the romantic kind, he had always been there. That was much more than adorning me with riches.
I thought of how every older woman had gotten under my skin by letting me know that a man is one that is romantic, or that he remembers your anniversary. But that wasn't my man. He was simple and unconditional in his love. He loved me with my unshaven legs and feisty mouth. And I loved him when he sat and watched TV for hours. It was hard with little kids. Somedays I felt like I held everyone together. I cleaned up the puke, called the insurance company to appeal unpaid bills, paid the speeding ticket, then made dinner and did the dishes. Some days are like that. But, I do think that finding someone to do all that stuff with matters. When it is all said and done I look back and say, we have made it that far.

Looking at the "adulting" that people hate now, It does suck. I remember thinking that adults had it all. But when I got to that plateau of adulting, I realized that adults can really suck. They can be self absorbed, alcoholics, beating, cheater Sons of Bitches. But Adults can be good. I sometimes look at old people and wonder how they made it through. The same way we have over the last thousands of years, getting back up and trying again. It sucks. My grandma died eating a Snickers everyday, but she had lived and survived. She deserved that Snickers everyday. But I also think that we have to be NICE as we do it. And if we can remember that, it can be GREAT.

Adopting a New Identity for Advantage

Is it okay for someone to decide to be black, or African American? Is it okay for a black person to become white? We don't have a problem with boys becoming girls, so why have a problem with changing our race? I would hope that all people embrace themselves and love who they are, but not all people feel comfortable in their skin. I can't imagine feeling this way. But wait, we have certain rights for blacks, Native American, yellow, red and whites, ei. scholarships for college based on race, and "special" treatment by (some) police officers.

 I wouldn't mind being a black woman sometimes. They have a stereotype of, "I am a strong woman." But if a policeman pulled me over I would definitely want to be white. While shopping I would not want to be brown. White or black is good. In school, it would depend on the geographical region. In NM, being brown would be better. But being black in Utah is not. Being in a jungle fever relationship in the south, not so much. Being a white boy in Tennessee...you get the picture.

Women and men have a set of stereotypical ways they are treated by some in the work. Woman, don't be emotionally driven or else you will be looked at as a .... woman. Heaven forbid. In Interstellar Hathaway was driven emotionally and shot down for it. Brand argues in the film that love is a propulsive force, sending us in the directions we need to go. Sometimes we feel that we are tapping into that force of love; other times, it picks us up and forcibly pushes us toward the right decision or action. This isn’t unique to Interstellar; other sci-fi works ascribe much the same power to love, including the ability to manifest as a weapon and the power to induce self-awareness and evolution.
http://www.tor.com/2014/11/13/love-in-sci-fi-interstellar-speech/

Yet, men still decide to be woman and women decide to be men. Here is a quote from the 1850's.
  
And treatment in the workforce being a woman is not always equal.

Now to the racial identity part: 

And as you will read that one adopts a new identity if it is to their advantage. 

     I couldn’t help but think of Rachel Dolezal as I watched “Yellow Face” at Salt Lake City’s People Production. This winsome small theater supports African-American Theater in Salt Lake City.  “Yellow Face” should have a second run considering the unfolding of events in Spokane and the themes that are brought to light in a laugh out loud comedy directed by Kerry Lee. 

     Henry David Hwang, a Chinese-American playwright, won an Emmy in 1988 for “M. Butterfly”. He went on to write another play called “Yellow Face” in 2007 that grappled with his idea of racial identity. He used satire to reveal his comedic view of racial identity. By the end of the play it turns toward a serious question of “Who We Are”.  

     “Yellow Face” shows us how someone can accidentally take on another identity and use this to his advantage. This mixed up character hasn’t lied, yet hasn’t been truthful about his identity to his lover, friends, and employers. This may sound familiar with the headlines. However, integrity is at the base of revealing Marcus’s true identity in the play.

     Just as the sincere character in “Yellow Face” takes on Asian American rights, so does Rachel Dolezal. Can we blame her for fight for African American rights? She has a son that is half black. Her brother that she adopted is black. She has a vested interest in the NAACP.  Does that make it okay for her to take on a new identity? “Yellow Face” also address the flip side of being a racial minority. Just because Hwang is Asian, does he have to be an activist for Asian American rights?  I can’t go join a Native American Tribe and become a chief just because I identify as an Indian. Or If I was a Native American, do I have to take on an active role in bettering education on the Reservation.

     When we start pointing out who is what we are really only identifying with stereotypes. We have all done it and they have been here from the beginning but they also change.  Chinese Americans were once seen as uneducated and now they are identified as all being smart. White people can’t dance, and black can. Oops, that’s a fact. Stereotypes are funny in “Yellow Face”, but as Terri Lee has said, “They can be confusing.” Beyond the stereotypes is our heritage, we can’t erase that. It’s at our core imbedded in our soul.  

     When someone doesn’t love who they are or where they come from, that raises questions. Is it okay to choose our racial identity? If it isn’t, then why is it okay to choose one’s gender identity? Are interracial adoptions healthy for the child’s identity? If a child is in an interracial adoption, what is his racial identity?

     Cynthia Ann Parker, who was taken captive in 1836 by the Comanche, adopted the Comanche ways, and was essentially an Indian in her eyes. Did Rachel Dolezal take on another identity to survive her internal crisis of not being able to be herself? Where do we draw the line in the sand?  And Marcus G. was fooled into accepting his Asian identity in “Yellow Face”. Does that make it okay?  I thoroughly enjoyed the play and praise David Henry Hwang for being brave enough to tackle some of the themes he has in his plays, even amidst some of the uproar from his own Asian Americans. Let’s have “Yellow Face” back for another run!

Getting Rid by Jessica F. Ivins

Friends have talked of their own experiences and sister's experiences of abortion in the 50's. I never had an abortion but did become pregnant at seventeen. If I had lived in the 50's I am sure I would have had worse pressure from society. The fifties were a shaming society that let one know of their faults. One woman I spoke to sat in the abortion clinic in the 60's with her mom and got up and walked out the door. Her mother was ashamed of her and had taken her to the clinic.    I was advised by a co-worker to get an abortion and how easy it was. I never would have. To see what he is and has become is evidence that abortion kills. Children have a right to be here. Women hold that right for children. It is their job to protect that right for children.
This is the story of a girl, Carol, that needs an abortion. Little does she know that she is just following in her mother's footsteps.



Short Story: Getting Rid

"Look what I found! A Pete Alexander rookie card!" The boy could hardly contain himself.

"Where’d you get it!"

"It was at a pawn shop my brother works at. He got it for me! Who'd want to get rid of this?"

"Yes, sir-ee, he could pitch in to a tin can. You know he started with the Phillies back in 1911," the other boy kicked the dirt and reached for the card.

"No way, you can't hold it....Good Ol' Pete is mine and I'm not getting rid of him."

TWO WEEKS EARLIER

It had been another day of answering phones and listening to people request medical records for the returned veterans for Margaret. The repetition of the day carried on as she took the bus home and walked two blocks to her two bedroom house and two daughters. She hadn't gotten her hair done in over two years. She dreamed of the short hair cut with a saucer hat. That was about all she could dream about. Her thoughts were most often about how God had taken her husband and left her with two daughters.

Lucy and Carol worked down the street on a farm. They didn't grasp the idea that they were poor because it was all they knew their sixteen and fifteen years.  Margaret knew Lucy would help buy some groceries when she got paid. Carol, the first-born, not a chance.

Sweeping the floor for Margaret was like watching a somber dance. The same thoughts always came to her.

Lou was gone. I haven't had a man's touch since 1941. Why couldn't Carol or Lucy have been a boy? Her high button shoes and her dull grey dress danced around her selfish sad thoughts. Her shoes were just as ragged as her miserable life.

"I'm pregnant," a voice entered from behind.

Margaret stopped sweeping for a moment. The words were like a cold wind had just crept in and ruined her daily pattern. Margaret started sweeping again, continuing her drab thoughts of how this added to her nadir of life. Carol. Pregnant?

Carol waited for her mom to do something, or show some sort of emotion, None. Margaret stopped sweeping long enough for the words to enter her ears and then slowly started gathering the pile of dirt on the unfinished, worn hard wood floor. She wasn't finished sweeping, but her nightly routine of sweeping was suddenly disturbed by her daughter's cacophony of words.  There wasn't much dirt. But it only takes a little dirt to make the floor dusty. It only takes a word to change the feeling in the house. And it only takes one mistake to change a life. 

Margaret continued sweeping and turned her thoughts from herself to her daughter for a fleeting moment. Hadn't she inculcated the idea that education was important? She was barely seventeen.  How would she go to school and support a child.  The war was over and prices were rising.  Milk was now a quarter a jug. Why hadn't Carol learned from watching her mom struggle making $1.40 a hour. 

A tear slipped down Margaret's cheek.  Her thoughts completed the circle and returned to herself. The tear landed in the little pile of dirt as she stooped down to sweep it into the dust pan. Carol saw the tear hit the floor.  She had never seen her mom cry before. Carol thought her mom was incapable of crying since she never saw a tear when father died. It was as though her mom had wanted him to die. She had seen her mother be turned down at the grocery mart to charge milk, lay in her bed for two days without eating, but she never cried. It was almost a relief to see her mom cry, but she wanted more than a tear. She wanted help. She wanted comfort. Guidance.

. 

Margaret had cried plenty when she was in high school and determined that it didn't do any good. That man she called her husband was nothing more than a paycheck. He was going to be shipped out and took Margaret out on one last date. He had forced himself on her virgin body and she became pregnant. She took hot bathes and hot douches that burned her insides. It was done. She was pregnant and nothing could rid that baby inside her. She waited three months for him to come back and told him. It was all she could do. There were married two weeks later and Margaret hid this secret of 1916 from everyone, especially her daughters. 

Carol tried to be palliative. "Here, let me do that." She bent down to take the dust pan. 

It wasn't going to make the pain any less.  Just the sound of Carols voice was like a dagger in Margaret's heart. She remembered when Lou had taken her to the building in New York after they were married. He said he was goin' to fix things.  It was more acceptable then that a married couple do this sort of thing. Lou had told his buddies he "got'er fixed.  Margaret had tried to not think about it since. The splintered wooden desk with her legs spread for the woman.  Lou told her to lie and say that she didn't feel the baby moving inside of her. She wanted to run, run out the door and never see Lou again. Anna Johnson ended up dead, maybe she would too? She tried to bring void to her mind. Lou always got what he wanted. He didn't even like spending money, but he came up with the forty dollars for the deed. 

To have the same thing happen to her daughter brought anguish. She pictured herself watching the baby and how dreadful it would be for everyone. Just when Margaret thought life couldn't get worse it did. Abortions were at least more acceptable for Margaret's mother, but since Dr. Johnson came around forty plus years ago, he convinced everyone it was murder. 

How much could an abortion be now. She tried to erase the thoughts from her hapless mind. She didn't even have money for butter. 

Swish, Swish

The broom broke the silence. Carol was still standing watching her mom. She stood for a moment holding the dust pan. Nothing. Couldn't Margaret at least shout at her. What have you done? Why? But, nothing. Carol walked to the kitchen in the silence and dropped the dirt from the floor into the tin trash can. The sound trickled as it finally hit the bottom. 

Margaret when to bed early that night. It was Carol's turn to put the dirt in the trash can. She knew what her mother wanted her to do.

Carol had heard of a midwife in Delaware that could, "fix'er." She talked to Steven about driving her down south. He said he couldn't miss any school or his dad would whip 'em. Carol threatened to tell his parents. This quickly changed his childish mind to the more prominent problem. Punishment for skipping school was more desirable than a pregnant girl. It would take nearly four hours to drive to Delaware over the Delaware River Bridge. 

"We need fifty dollars." She looked him in the eyes to be sure he heard. 

"Where do you expect that kind of money?" He put his hand to his sweater vest and shook his head. 

“I can't wait any longer, I'll be quickening." She quietly said and looked down ashamed.

Steven had a quizzical look on his face. "What's quickening?"

"When I can feel the baby move. I have to do it before." She looked behind her to see if anyone was near. She knew nobody was near, but it was a nervous habit. All she could see were the trees crowding in on her and suffocating her every word.

Steven's baby face resolved. "Okay, I'll get the money."

Then he mumbled, "There goes my Pete Alexander rookie card." He kicked the dirt. He thought of his grandpa giving him that card on a Sunday. Grandpa always caught the foul ball from behind home plate. He had went to ever Phillies game and told Steven to never get rid of it.  

Carol didn't wait for him to have a moment of sympathy over a baseball card. She wanted Friday to be here now. She hated the thought of a baby inside of her. Everybody always knew somebody that had had an abortion and now, that someone, was Carol.

One can't wait for spring to come after a long hard winter. Especially a Northeastern winter. Friday seemed to be that spring that Carol was waiting for, but it wouldn't hurry. It was only March. The day began dark and cold as most do in March. A storm had come in during the night and brought howling winds and dark clouds. Carol's mom went to work as she did every day. She walked to the bus stop and waited for the bus to take her to Philly.  She never strayed from her routine of nodding to the bus driver with her melancholy smile- if you could call it a smile.

The 1935 Ford pickup truck finally arrived. It was Steven's dad's, but he let him drive it on some Friday's because he had meetings. Steven had unplugged the mileage so his dad wouldn't notice that he drove to Delaware. If Stevern could take it back he would. He tried to tell himself that he was a man for taking care of business. For some reason, he felt like a little boy trying to hide the broken vase from a mom. His parents were well known in the town and he knew that he'd better take care of business. His mother knew every disciple at Saint Peter's Church and his father was on the township board. His parents would be utterly embarrassed if Steven was not the perfect baby boy they had raised. Steven was their oldest, and the younger sister looked up to Peter for his wonderful singing voice in church.

The midwife that her friend's cousin had went to was more difficult to find than the secret bases the Soviet Union were setting up. The first address Carol was given was a pharmacy. The cashier was a nice man with greased back hair. He was young. 

Carol whispered, "I need to get fixed." 

The young man didn't flinch, he found for the pharmacist and handed him a pencil and paper. They gave a tacit nod and the pharmacist began writing the address. 

401 South Derry Drive Apt B

He wrote it fast and Steven disrupted the exchange like a dull awl, "Are you sure this is the address?" 

The man didn't listen he just turned around and went back to work. She knew it was in Delaware. The only bridge was the Delaware River Bridge. They could take the New Castle Pennsville ferry, but it would take forty-five minutes just to cross the river. The ride was full of nonplussed air.

Mme Bryan- the sign read in the front grass square. They parked across the street and walked to apartment B to find another sign: Please use back door. The words were painted with white paint and the B was washed away. 

"Do you want me to wait in the car?" Steven said hoping that Carol would say yes.

"I didn't make this thing by myself, and I won't get rid of it by myself." Carol didn't give him a chance to reply with his talk through his hat.

The door squeaked as they opened it. it was a kitchen without a table and four wooden chairs for a make-shift waiting room. A woman was knitting. Carol peered around the corner and a bedroom door shut in a hurry. A big woman with an apron came out and said, "Have a seat. I'll be out in a minute." 

The knitting woman never looked up. She simply said in a monotone voice, "It's quicker than a hog eatin' brock."

Carol sat on the chair thinking of the other women that had been her. Should she feel guilty? Was this the girl’s mom knitting? Would she feel better if her mom had come? 

It was past the 1800's when everyone knew what an abortion was, a form of birth control. It wasn't until the 1900's it was called infanticide. Carol kept her ear keen to the door opening. She was nervous when it did open.  The heavy woman washed her hands in the kitchen and said to the knitting woman in a warm Irish accent, "She needs a wee bit of rest. It's well if ya' want to stay the night." 

"We will leave. Thank you Ms. Bryan. How much do I owe you? "The knitter said.

"No payment till she's ready to leave."

The Irish woman turned to Carol. "Come on back me lad." She smiled as to offer comfort.

Steven stayed glued to his seat. Carol walked to the room and the door closed. Steven sat thinking of where his Ol' Pete card was by now. The pawn shop probably had sold it by now. 

Carol took a seat in the lone chair in the small bedroom.

"Ya don't need to tell me too much- 'bout how far along are'ya?"

"Probably eight weeks." Carol looked at the wooden brown desk  and then out the window to the pelting rainstorm. The storm in Jersey had caught up to them in Delaware. 

"Britches down and on me desk. Put the wee blanket over your bottom half." 

She turned and got a curette. It looked like a giant silver bobby pin. Carol kept her eyes on the ceiling and feeling every touch, every sensation, every pain. While starring at the ceiling she noticed a water leak. It simply was a dark spot that was obviously from the pounding rain. The water spot slowly grew from a pin tip size to a penny in a matter of seconds. 

Ms. Bryan brought herself back to a standing position. "Rest for a moment dear." Carol laid there waiting for the uncomfortable pain inside of her to go away. The midwife took the wooden bucket out of the room. The flushing toilet sound told Carol it was done.

After fifteen minutes Carol tried to tell herself the pain was better. She held a cloth between her legs.

"The bleeding will stop soon dear." She smiled comfortlessly. 

He held his jacket over her shoulders as she walked carefully to the truck. He took the ferry back. Carol was asleep for the drive home so it didn't matter anyway. When they pulled up to the little ranch house it was only almost four. It was a long drive. The towel between her legs was now heavy and warm. 

"Sorry." Steven said as he opened the truck door for her. 

She dragged her baby-less body to the humble home. Steven watched her until the door closed. The sun had just shown it's face for the first time that day. Carol plopped on the couch and didn't move. She fell fast asleep. Steven quickly drove for the pawn shop.  He hoped he could still get the card. He wondered why the abortion didn't cost a thing, but all he wanted was his Pete Alexander rookie card. 

"Do you still have the my card?" Steven asked as if he was a 10 year old boy again. 

The man chuckled, "That card was gone the day we got it. I bought it for my little brother. Sorry about your bad luck." The pawn shop worker turned, "but we have a DeMaggio guy from the Boston Bees.  It's the only rookie card I have."

"No thanks, it was my grandpa's card. 

"Why'd you get rid of that?" The man said to deaf ears. Steven walked out without saying a word.

Carol lay on the couch as the bleeding became heavier. She woke up once to a thought of relief.  It was done. Her mom came home at 5:15 every evening, but she was late that day due to flooding from the rain. Carol was lying on the couch when she walked in.

"Hi dear. Where is your sister?" She walked to the kitchen to get the broom. 

Margaret began sweeping but there wasn't much dirt on the floor today, the rain had settled the dirt. She started thinking about her Lou, and how he had done the family wrong.  She was so wrapped in her thoughts that she didn't notice that Carol never answered her. 

Foster to Adopt

Firm believer that there are plenty of kids in America to adopt.

The Alchemist

I loved the book. Santiago was a wonderful character that "followed" his destiny. Through conversations a couple of days ago I heard a woman say that she was going to wait to get married because of "The Alchemist." She said had Santiago gotten married he would have never found the treasure. Was "The Alchemist" about waiting to get married and finding your treasure, or following your destiny? I am sure you can see my point of view. If this poor girl waits around to get married and never finds her treasure because all along her destiny was to get married. Who knows if her treasure would have been a husband and/or child/children? Whether or not you get married, you can still follow your destiny. It will FIND you if you call it.

Santiago's destiny was to travel and to be enlightened. It was a different time period. Today, there is people that can't travel, and people who can. If you have the desire to travel, you can find a way.
I think that so many people look to books, movies and other people to tell them what they should be wanting...when all along they needed to simply look to themselves. People vacillate too much in our world. Make up YOUR mind and follow YOUR destiny. That is what  "The Alchemist" was about to me.

Morning after Pill for thought....

Chicago


In 1915 Anna Johnson got pregnant by her boyfriend. Marshall, the boyfriend got abortifacient pills from Dr. Shaver's son for Anna. When the pills failed, Marshall arranged for her to go to Dr. Shaver's home for an illegal abortion.

What happened next was not thinkable. In a abortion gone bad night, Anna Johnson was found dead. Dr. Shaver said that she had hired Anna Johnson as a maid and the girl had committed suicide.

It was speculated that Shaver killed Anna to cover up a bad abortion.

Newspaper headlines such as "Unmarried Lead Deaths" and "Health Committee to Take up Baby and Women Killing Inquiry at Once" all emphasized the deaths of unmarried women following abortions. The Tribune grandly displayed photos of Shaver's apartment, Anna Johnson, and the pills she had taken. 



Now, 84 years later, the abortion pills are available over the counter without a prescription.
Now, there is no shame. You do not have to go to the abortion clinic. There is no moral decision making to do. Because that would exhaust you. Just pop a pill and live with out responsibility and consequences  It's like giving kids a pill to take if they crash their car. Take the pill and your car will be good as new tomorrow. No consequences. Do it again next week...We are raising people who lack ability to make moral decisions and an understanding of direct consequences.
source



2006 state status and morning after pill



update on per state legislation click here
As of 2012 there are some states that have the right to refuse to fill and vice verse  they can't refuse to fill the prescription.



update and stats on morning after pill usage. click here
Pennsylvania College and Morning After Pill vending machine click here

Don't Go It Alone

Whoever heard of a great Baker without the help of an oven.
Or the momentous Speech with out the help of a mouth.
Or the Swimmer without water to glide in.
Or the man who doesn't pray.
For only the fool thinks he can do it alone.
For you see, we do nothing a lone.
The writer has his pen.
The Entrepreneur has his customers.
The best Cardiologist uses an EKG machine.
The Pianist would be nothing with out the keys.
The Child his mother.
God has his prophets.
The Greats all had support.
They didn't go it alone. 

Being the Perfect Mom is Over-rated

I have been a mom for almost 18 years. I have washed dishes 365x18...6570 and then some, because we all know that we have to do dishes more than once in a day. I have taken my kids on family field trips. I have taken them to church almost every Sunday. I have read to them every night until they could read on their own. I have been as close as I can to the perfect mom.
I have also never cared what other people think. I have done it all for my kids. I have never cared if they wanted to wear shorts in the snow. Because, sooner or later they would learn it is better to be warm. I have relished in learning moments for the kids. When they got their first F or when they forgot their lunch. I have quietly relished in the moments I simply suggested they make a plan and theirs didn't work out. I believe the best lessons in life are learned, not taught.
I have learned a lot being a mom. I have never compared myself to other moms. I have had fleeting thoughts about my style of parenting but I have erased those thoughts as I have always thought about what was best for my kids.
The biggest lesson I have learned is that I am not aiming to to the perfect mom. Whoever thinks they are the perfect mom is striving to please others, to look good in front of the neighbors. My kids will not answer my question.." Am I the perfect mom?" kid 1: "I'm reading." kid 2 "hah, you can answer that."

I like not doing the dishes every now and then. I like sitting down and relaxing. I like reading my book. I like saying NO. I like saying Yes. I like saying I don't know. I like not pretending to be the perfect mom. It's less stress. I am only trying to teach my kids I will always be there for them and that I love them, not that I was the perfect mom. That would only be a medal around my neck, not theirs. 

"Use-ta-be Mormons"

I have recently moved to Utah. Capitol of Mormons. That is not any big deal if you are one, but according to some people if you aren't a Mormon, you will be ostracized. Another term I will use here is Use-ta-bees. I can not tell you how many people I meet that will say, "I use-ta-be a Mormon."



Case #1
My neighbor that is not a Mormon, who is really nice, crosses the street to tell me:

"You are so lucky. I watch you talk to all the neighbors and you already have friend. I am really jealous of you. When I moved here it took so long to have what you have in just a week."

"Really?"

"I wasn't a Mormon, and so it just wasn't like that for me. You are really lucky."

"Well, that isn't how it is suppose to be. I am sorry."

"oh no, It's great now. It was just so bad then. I had my two little girls and they never had anything to do with me and I stayed home just like them."

"Well, I hope things are better now!"

"Oh, it's different now. My kids are grown. But it woulda been nice to have had friends when they were young. But, (points to a Mormon house) She is great. She is great and this is just a wonderful neighborhood."


Case #2 


This is a young man. He tells me he works at BYU, contracted.

Me: "oh, what is it like working at BYU?"

Young Man: "Oh, it's different. Everyone is Mormon."

Me: "ohhhh, yeah. That is one reason I was nervous about moving here."

Young man: "yeah, if your not one of them, you'll never fit in."

Me: "I'm Mormon. I have always heard about the "Utah Mormons" but so far so good.  Everyone seems not as bad as I expected.

Young Man: "Yeah, I use-to-be one. They never accepted me."

Me: "That isn't how it is suppose to be?"

Young man: "Ohhhh...they let you know if your not one of them."

He really shut down after I told him I was Mormon. The conversation died off real quick.

Case #3


I am in Costco. I am with my 4 year old daughter and we purchase a piece of pizza. When we go to find a seat there are none available. So,  I see a man sitting alone and ask if we may sit there. He gladly says that is fine. He is in his sixties, black leather jacket and appears half way normal (whatever)

Man: "I have been watching those twins. They are somethin' else."
He smiles at my daughter.

Me: "So are you going somewhere for Thanksgiving?" (It is the week of Thanksgiving.)

Man: "No. I have kids but they are all busy. How about you?"

Me: "We just moved here and are happy to finally be able to go to family's house for a Holiday."

Man: "Oh, where'd you move from?"

Me: "New Jersey."

Man: "Oh, I could tell you're not from around here. Because any other woman never would have sat by a man. Not a woman from Utah!"

Me: "Really?"

Man: "Oh, yeah. They are really strange here. They don't talk to men. There are a lot of Mormons here."

Me: "Oh, yeah. I have heard about the Mormons...."

Man: "Yeah, I use-ta-be one. You see the SUV with the sticker of all their kids...yeah that is how many kids they have. They are encouraged to have a lot of kids."

Me: "Oooohhhhh.....I have seen that. Its that right?"

Come to find out he doesn't talk to his kids any more. That is why he didn't have anywhere to go for the holiday. I don't know his whole story, but he seemed very down. He thought that Mormons were weird and different and he never knew that he was talking to a Mormon the whole time. Why didn't I tell him? Because I had met others that said, "I use-ta-be one" and they stopped talking. I wanted to see what the whole story was.

(on a side note to go with this one. My son started HS and on the first day he was sitting with a group of kids that were not Mormon and they said, "the Mormon girls won't talk to you unless your Mormon." It was matter of fact.)

Case #4

I met someone through my husband. She was really nice and just moved her from Vegas. She was fun to talk to and easily carried on a conversation. Then it turned to this: She has a friend that is not Mormon. Her friend moved to Spanish Fork, Utah and her kids were ostracized for not being Mormon. She then moved to American Fork, Utah and it isn't much different.

Girl: "Yeah, the Mormon men are traditional...they expect the woman to stay in the kitchen."

Me: (I had complained to her about my husband, so I really may have built her argument.) "Really...?"

Girl: "Yeah, they expect the woman to do everything. My friends husband just sits on the couch while she serves him. And (so and so) well...his wife rubs his feet when he gets home from work!"

Me: "Wow. Well, I guess I haven't said too much that can argue with that!" (BTW, I do not rub my husbands feet.)

Case #5

I went to get my massage, facial and manicure...that my son bought for me! The woman that did my nails was fun to talk to. She asked me what my son was doing after high school.

Me: "He'll go on a mission. Are you LDS (a Latter Day Saint/ Mormon)?"

Her: "Well...I use-ta-be one...I really don't go anymore. I married a non member."

Me: "Oh...why are there so many people is Utah that Use to be a Mormon?"

Her: Laugh "There are...I don't know? I just try to not be friends with any of them. I mean, I'll go once in a while. It's not bad. They just really are different?"

Me: "Yeah, the school here are a lot more clickish than other schools my kids have been to."

Her: "They shouldn't have a problem fitting in because they are Mormon." (insinuated that if they weren't they would have a problem.)

Me: "Not really. She actually doesn't hang out with any Mormons at school. She prefers the non-mormons."
         Not that we don't go. I really have a strong testimony of the things they teach and the programs are          
        wonderful for the kids. There is nothing negative taught. I am suprised thought. Utah Mormons are a
         lot more normal that I thought. (I mean it could have looked like FLDS! Nah, they have been great
        so far. The only thing I hate is when you meet someone that is not LDS, they think you are trying to
        convert them if you say HI!)

Her: "I joined when I was a kid. My neighbor use to take me to church all the time. My parent smoked and
        drank. That was why I joined. But now my husband isn't a member sooo... we just don't go."

We had a great open and honest conversation. I go back to get my toes done in a couple of weeks!

Case #6


I am at the Chiropractors office in a massage chair room. Three women. One in her twenties. One in her forties. and ME.


Between Me and Woman #2

-We moved her not to long ago."
-where from?
-NJ
-Do you like it?
-Surprisingly, yes.
-well, if you don't like it at your two year mark, get out!
-yeah, okay.
-you won't have a problem as long as your Mormon
-yeah, is it that bad. I mean we are Mormon, but I still think the school are clicky. My daughter doesn't want to be friends with some groups that are stuck up and mostly Mormon.
-Oh yeah, it is that bad. My daughters have been bullied out of two schools. I'll tell ya, I'd move if I could but we've been here so long. I use to have lots of Mormon friend, then as soon as they heard lies about my daughters they just quite talking to me, just like that. And we had been friends forever and they always said, "no we wouldn't do that to you, we will always be your friend.." and then just like that. They won't even say hi to me.

Woman #1 chimes  in:
- I am Mormon too. But the Utah Mormons are different. I am what you call a Minnesota Mormon. I imagine you (me) are a normal Mormon too because your from New Jersey. They are different.

Me: "I agree that there is that stereotypical Utah Mormon, but I would have to say my whole nieghborhood that is 50/50 is really great. Everyone is really nice.

( I am sure woman #2 is thinking : sure...because your Mormon.)
Look, there are a variety of people everywhere. But because you are a Mormon, you are expected to be nice. If you aren't it isn't because you had a bad day, or your still in your robe. It is because you are Mormon that you are not nice)

Case #7

This took place at my husband workplace. There are lots of Mormons and non-Mormon. Frankly, he has never worked with so many Mormons, so church conversation comes up more than usual. He and another Mormon were talking with a woman that was not a Mormon.

Woman: "Yeah, you Mormons tried to convert me the day I moved in!"

My Husbad: "What don't convert you mean?"

Other man: "Yeah?"

Woman: "They came over and helped me move in and we're all friendly."

My husband and other man: "So they were nice?" Doesn't mean they were converting you.

BTW: If a Mormon really wanted to convert you they would invite you over for dinner and have the missionaries over or simply hand you a Book of Mormon. I really do not know the type that try to convert a person the day they move in.

If your too nice, and your Mormon...then you are trying to convert them. If you are not nice enough, then you are ostracizing them. It sounds like a catch 22. 

 BTW Mormon's really aren't that bad. If you want to understand them more visit www.lds.org,  or  http://mormon.org/people

So, What do you think?

Why are there so many use-ta-bees?
Take note, Catholics just say I was raised catholic but I don't go? Everyone in Utah says, I use-to-be one?

And, are the younger Mormons in High School so snobby they bully kids?

I understand there are two sides to every story. Come on, tell my your story...