I spent some time this morning going through pages in the "My 1st Grade Giant Floor Pad" with my son. Listening to him sound out words, piecing together rhymes and creating new ideas beyond what the book asked of him, it fills my heart with joy and sadness. My boy's learning to read; soon he'll be able to tackle books on his own and that special time between us will be gone.
And that's parenthood -- excited for the next step and sorry to see this one go and missing the one that came before even though it might have been frustrating at times. I blink and it's gone.
I'm going to make him stop playing Wii now -- I need some more time with him tonight actually playing and talking with me. He doesn't understand why. In about twenty-five years he will.
Sunday, August 8, 2010
Thursday, August 5, 2010
A Lifetime in a Month
I feel my free time slipping away as we get closer and closer to the school year starting again. Actually, though, that's pretty lame of me. I'm trying to enjoy the moment and the work that I'm doing that's supposed to be fun for Fanboy Planet.
Right now in the valley a colleague and friend of mine really does have time slipping away. Diagnosed with stage 4 cancer, she'd barely made it home to hospice before she's become too weak to really do much of anything.
When the initial diagnosis came in, I thought, well, we'll all just have to pitch in together somehow and get the school year rolling, but she'll get well and pick up the slack. I mean, I just saw her a couple of weeks ago and she was fine. But that was June. And apparently a lifetime can pass in a month, because it just did.
She's not up to receiving visitors, and in the short window she was, I wasn't around, so I blew it. I doubt that I'll ever see her again, and I'm afraid to walk over to her office and see her empty desk.
God bless you, Rene. You are one of the finest educators I've ever met.
Right now in the valley a colleague and friend of mine really does have time slipping away. Diagnosed with stage 4 cancer, she'd barely made it home to hospice before she's become too weak to really do much of anything.
When the initial diagnosis came in, I thought, well, we'll all just have to pitch in together somehow and get the school year rolling, but she'll get well and pick up the slack. I mean, I just saw her a couple of weeks ago and she was fine. But that was June. And apparently a lifetime can pass in a month, because it just did.
She's not up to receiving visitors, and in the short window she was, I wasn't around, so I blew it. I doubt that I'll ever see her again, and I'm afraid to walk over to her office and see her empty desk.
God bless you, Rene. You are one of the finest educators I've ever met.
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