February 2025 Purging Progress

In order to really stick to any resolution, it helps to be intentional and accountable for progress. When I undertook my 2023 Facebook Prayer Project, I held to particular structure and documentation. This was a tremendous help in keeping me going. This year, my documentation is meant to keep me plugging away at my two-part goals of fasting and purging. Thus, I try to keep a daily tab on these efforts. Plus, purging is hard for me. When I find something my heart longs to keep, I can make note of it and move on with more ease.

I struggled with the record-keeping, however. At first, I was writing down what was eliminated. This was simple when I was dealing with Christmas items, shoes, books, magazines, and even writing utensils. Those were easily calculated. However, then I began sorting through old teaching files and correspondence. Tossing piles of papers is a bit harder to quantify. In looking back over my daily notes, I purged 537 items. Since some of these were merely pencils or pens, I kept track of bags filled for Goodwill (5). Speaking of pencils, how is this even possible???

I decided to offer the better school supplies (certainly not this pencil nub), teaching materials, and games to my local elementary school (once I've cleared the whole section of the basement that I am tackling). Thus, I have two bags heading there (if they respond with interest). By January 22nd, I began tracking how much time I spent in purging activities. Of those 37 days, I worked 30 hours (approximately 3/4 hour a day). Mainly, I am keeping track of things in order to keep up the momentum and to be able to prove to my husband that I CAN, indeed, tackle my clutter.

What amazes me is how much fun I'm having. I have always dreaded tackling my clutter. But, I'm knee-deep in things of the past and loving every minute of it. There is still a tendency to keep more than I should (how do I get rid of all the correspondence from my beloved Mitchell family in England?), but I can take photos of what I don't keep. Or I can write of them here.

Some funnies I found but wanted to toss:

hipatitus = being perpetually cool

intaxication = the feeling of elation one gets when receiving a tax refund, lasting until you realize the money was yours to begin with

bozone = the layer around some people which inhibits wisdom from penetrating

- Energizer Bunny arrested - charged with battery

- A pessimist's blood type is always B-negative

- Shotgun wedding - a case of wife or death

- I used to work in a blanket factory, but it folded

- Marriage is the mourning after the knot before

- A hangover is the wrath of grapes

- Banning the bra was a big flop

- Sea captains don't like crew cuts

When I discovered my sons' 4th grade journals, I actually sent a thank you note to their teacher (still teaching at their elementary school). It was so funny to read their entries. In one, Sean was bemoaning the fact that his older brother would not be returning home for the summer because he was going to live in an apartment near an internship. He wrote, "They grow up so fast." Ha!

Next, I tackled the files from my minimal years of teaching. My experiences with teaching were not entirely pleasant. In my first year, I was the sole English teacher for a small rural Illinois high school. I had 6 preps: Fresh. Eng., Soph. Eng., Jr. Eng., Sr. Eng., Creative Writing, and Drama. Not only was I stretched to the breaking point, but I had such high expectations and ideals. I felt it was all on me to prepare them for future college expectations. Perhaps I confused the two. In any case, while purging, I found a letter from a mother requesting extra work to help her daughter save an abysmal grade. I shuddered as I read my response, touting the importance of fairness and accountability. I was mortified! I actually sought this mother's old email (she had worked at the local university) and sent her a much-belated apology letter (it is out in the ether, even if she never receives it). Now that I have longed for a second chance for a child, I can sympathize. Back then, not so much!

Thankfully, I also found files from my favorite class, summer school speech. What a blast I had with those students. Not only had I softened, but I gave so many hands-on, interactive activities. When I taught non-verbal communication, I brought in a television and showed 5 minutes of "Bernice Bobs Her Hair," with the sound off. Then, I turned the tv around and showed 5 minutes with just the sound, and finally 5 minutes with both visual and audio clues. Each time, I asked the students to make predictions about what was going on. Then, for sheer fun, we watched the whole movie. To teach personal space, I moved all the desks into one clump in the center of the room and required students to sit in their chairs there for 5 minutes. They were so relieved to move back to the original desk arrangement.

I found 2 copies of my college commencement program (seeing all those old names sent me searching on FB). When I found Bryce's baby book, I discovered the newspaper announcement which had his (later) best friend's announcement just above his. I sobbed when I found an unused, now defunct, $20 Borders gift card that had been a parting gift when we moved to Indiana. I actually tossed all but the few written on pages from my own baby book. In happening upon this photo from when I was five, I'm wondering why I didn't get the memo to wear white like everyone else?

Sorting through my college folders brought back great memories. In my Theology of Culture class, I had to keep a current events journal. Isn't this entry a kicker?

I had always remembered my Bible Geography class for the creative way the instructor tested our knowledge. Thus, I was thrilled to find and capture this quiz from his class:

Finally, it was such fun to re-read old correspondence. I found a letter my dad had sent when I was in the Philippines on a mission trip. In it, he explained the events of one evening when he woke at 4 a.m. realizing he had forgotten to have his evening devotions. He was praying and heard a tapping sound outside, coming from the Pizza Hut next door. He watched a burglar enter and called the police. Eleven squad cars surrounded the place and they came begging a hanger, so they could break into the back door. They returned again to ask if he was positive that the burglar was still in there. He assured them he had been watching faithfully. A few days later, he learned that the man had shut himself into the large cooler and passed out. Lucky for the burglar (an ex-employee who had already broken in once before), they found him and saved his life. My dad ended that paragraph with, "No, we haven't gotten a free pizza yet." Ha!

Here's a flyer I found for one of our Salvation Army outreach events, showcasing a photo of my baby brother, Tim, playing an Alto horn:

I had to text Tim a photo of a letter he sent to me with highlights from his vacation when he was around ten. He detailed every state they went through, even including multiple ones "where nothing happened," and every item he purchased. He finally explained that he had saved up $51 from his paper route job and spent all but 13 cents of it. He ended by saying, "Well, I guess I should get to bed. I started at 3 and now it's 10:27." He texted back, "What's going on? This letter took me 7.5 hours to write!! I'm so glad I gave such a detailed account. Even of the states where nothing happened! Hilarious!"

See what I mean? Great fun poring over items hoarded from the past. This is the reason I'm a pack-rat. I cannot bear to part with the detritus that makes me smile. Still, after 2 months purging work, I'm making some progress!

Mid-month Mention: Wheaton College Summer Institute

This week I received an e-mail about an opportunity I desperately wish I could snag. Wheaton College, my alma mater, wrote to inform alumni of their Wheaton College Summer Institute for high school students. Yes, I have a high school student who fits the requirements (will enter junior year with a strong academic record). No, I do not have a high school student willing to participate. I mentioned to Sean that Ivy Tech was offering free summer school courses to high school students this summer. His response? "Why would I want to take summer school? Besides, I plan on getting a job." Well, there's that. Plus, I cannot imagine Sean heading off for two weeks to a camp experience, even if it would prepare him for the college application process. He always hated our annual Bible camp excursions. But this opportunity sounds like something I wish I could give my child.

The Wheaton College Summer Institute offers a two-week campus stay from June 18th through July 1st, 2023. Students not only experience living in the dorms and eating in the cafeteria, developing friendships with other college-bound teens, but also take one college course for credit. There are 16 courses to choose from and I see several that appeal to me (say Shakespearience, Otherworlds of Imagination in C. S. Lewis, The Brain: A Neuroscience Primer, or The Makings of Middle Earth). Besides earning college credit, they receive hints and strategies for college entrance applications and essays. Plus, if you complete the program, you gain an expedited Wheaton College application (with fee waiver) and the chance to earn a renewable $500 scholarship.

My time at Wheaton was wonderful and full of many happy memories. It was a chance to make life-long friendships and sit under excellent professors who taught fascinating courses. I enjoyed the Wheaton-in-England program and the rare opportunity to work in The Marion E. Wade Center, transcribing C. S. Lewis' correspondence. Although it was expensive, I received outstanding financial aid and worked three jobs to keep myself afloat. I could think of nothing better than to send my child off to experience the same. Perhaps you have a teen contemplating a Christian college journey. Look into the Wheaton College Summer Institute today!

Book Review: The Tale of Despereaux

Kate DiCamillo is one of my favorite children's authors. Her books hold timeless truth and suck the imagination into alternate realities with compelling characters and plots. I will never forget the experience of listening to Ms. Sharon McKee read this book aloud to her third-grade class in DeKalb all those years ago. The eagerness of the students for each read-aloud session was palpable. That is the sign of a truly outstanding book (and also of a truly great narrator, Ms. McKee).

The Tale of Despereaux tells of a small mouse, an abused servant girl, some rats, and a princess. It communicates the light available for our dark world through story. It emphasizes the tremendous power of love. In a kingdom saddened by the death of a queen, Despereaux is born to fulfill a purpose he cannot imagine. Even though all the mice are against him, love drives him to right a wrong. Every child needs to hear this story as a reminder you can overcome darkness with light, and hatred with love. 

Of course, in seeking an accompanying photo from Amazon, I discovered many negative reviews (in most, the readers didn't finish the story). They argue the tale is "incredibly dark," and "promotes evil and torture," "makes light of child abuse and death." I would argue that children are going to encounter darkness in this world where sin is rampant. Yes, they might even encounter death (indeed, one boy in that class mentioned above had already lost his 2-year-old sister). Some may know what it is like to be abused or to be dismissed because they do not fit the mold. If you stop there, of course it is incredibly depressing and demoralizing. But redemption shines throughout the tale. We live in a dark world, yet the light can penetrate the darkness if you bother to light a candle. (Sin exists to reveal our need of a Savior.) Kate DiCamillo's message is clear. Story holds healing power, but only if you see it through to the end. One abandoning reader remarked, "at what cost for the journey?" Journeys that cost are often the most worthwhile. If you've never read this book, please do so now and let me know if, after fully reading it, you regret that decision.

Book Review: Letters About Literature

What a fun little find! Letters About Literature: 2017 Winning Letters by Indiana Students offers up 100 letters written by 4th to 12th grade students to the authors of inspiring books. Not only will you enter into the minds of young readers to learn what connections they are making to the literature they read, but you will also get a feel for what books are popular with today's students. I was thrilled to find that the very first letter in the book was addressed to one of my favorite authors, Gloria Whelan, for my favorite of her books, Listening for Lions. Some of the books I had read, and others I hadn't. I came away with at least one suggestion for my middle son (who is a reluctant reader but loves books about football players). I plan to mention this reading-writing contest, sponsored by the Indiana Center for the Book, to my sons' teachers next fall, in the hopes that our small community might be represented in a future book. I'm just thrilled that I stumbled upon it. Since I could not find a cover image, I used this image taken from the www.read.gov site. I imagine that many libraries carry the small volumes containing the winning letters for their state. It was a very interesting read and I plan to seek out the two other volumes in my library's holdings (2015, 2016). Always great to see how literature makes a difference in people's lives.

Kudos to this Exemplary Teacher

This teacher, Mr. Stroup, profiled in an AOL article deserves special kudos. What an outstanding teacher! What a kind soul to take such an enduring and intimate interest in his students.

One of my favorite things about my job back at Littlejohn Elementary in DeKalb, IL, was the opportunity to write to some of the students I encountered during my days. They had a wonderful program called Wee Deliver and I enjoyed sending and receiving letters. I recently found a letter in my photos/memorabilia box downstairs. It was from my son and sent with Wee Deliver during his second grade year. It was spare and perfunctory. Next, I opened the next letter and it all came back to me. He never wrote back when I sent him a letter, so I finally bribed him. I offered him a trip to Chuck-E-Cheese's if he would write back. Hee-hee.

When I moved away from DeKalb, I continued to keep in contact with a few students. I sent a birthday card to J., the student I had served for three years as an aide, for a few years. Then, when she reached her teen years, I thought she probably didn't want to receive a card from me. I skipped her 13th birthday. This past year, I was in DeKalb and stopped by to see her. She actually mentioned the birthday cards and wondered why I hadn't sent one last year. I will try to resume that practice.

I am presently in a 6-week Bible study, using Dr. Leslie Parrott's book, You Matter More Than You Think. Her goal is to remind us of our areas of passion and to encourage us to continue to make a difference in the lives around us.

I want to say a special thank you to Mr. Stroup (who just happens to be from my present neck of the woods), for reminding me of the little ways we make a difference in the lives around us.

Oops!

My mouth quite often gets me into trouble. In fact, using this topic alone, I could probably blog a whole month of daily posts. It distresses me, too, because many times I feel deeply saddened by the outcome my verbal vomit produces (sometimes it is even penned puke - you would think that in the process of writing something down, I would realize that it isn't the best thing to say, but, alas, the knee-jerk tendency even occurs when I am writing).

A few days ago, I found myself re-hashing one of these incidents to my ES (I don't even know what brought on the conversation, although I know Amy's blog post about teaching prompted tonight's thoughts). It was yet another of those oops moments, where I instantly regret having spoken without really thinking. But, at the same time, I meant every word I said and only regretted the fact that someone may have been offended or hurt by it.

Back when I was teaching high school, I had my fair share of difficult students. Oftentimes, I found that the difficult students were the ones I remembered fondly at the end of the year. In the midst of the behavior I would feel supremely irked, but over time, I would come to appreciate that student and realize that those irksome moments were all part and parcel of the individual.

Brad J. was just such a student. He was a sophomore who was delegated to my freshman English class because he had failed freshman English at the school where he had previously attended (even his school switch had been prompted by behavior, I believe). He was fearless and outspoken. Crossing teachers seemed to be a challenge he eagerly anticipated. Quite often he would question my authority in front of the entire class. (I wonder if he has any regrets??)

By the end of the school year, I thought of Brad with a mix of frustration and deep fondness. You see, he was as colorful as he was defiant. One day, we were reading a play aloud in class. He raised his hand to volunteer for a particular part and I (what was I thinking?) agreed. In his usual way, drawing all attention to himself, he read with more expression and enthusiasm (and probably a fair amount of sarcasm)than I had ever heard before. The class was in stitches. I laughed along with the students. It was a day of teaching I would happily live over if I could. It was a day I wish I had been recording. Would I find it as funny in re-play? I don't know, but it was such a clear example of this student's vibrant personality and character.

Several years later, I was in counselling, struggling with a troubled marriage. I went for marital sessions, individual sessions and group therapy. (With all that counselling, I should be entirely fixed now, right? HA!) One day, as I sat waiting for my appointment, I was passing the time with the only other individual in the waiting room (I believe she was a member of my group). Suddenly, Brad J. bounded up the stairs of the entryway, without really even looking at me, and knocked on my counsellor's door. A moment later, a young woman entered and took a seat in the waiting area. I resumed conversation with my friend and commented on the appearance of Brad (I think we were both a bit stunned that someone could just go up to the door, knock and be allowed to enter, in the midst of the counsellor's schedule).

I began telling my friend about my knowledge of and experiences with Brad. I explained that he gave me quite a bit of difficulty in my classroom but that I had come to really like him. I told her about how colorful he was. I may have even told her about the day where he stole the show!

Our conversation only lasted a few minutes. Brad exited the counsellor's office and, with the young woman now trailing away with him, left the building. Immediately, I realized the young woman was probably "his young woman." She would, no doubt, recount to him my every word. I hadn't said anything rude about Brad, but I hadn't expected my words to be repeated to him.

I mentioned it in my appointment and the counsellor explained that Brad was hired to do some construction work. This was one of my more harmless moments. Knowing Brad, he probably sloughed off my teacher's opinion of him. Perhaps, he even wanted the girl to think he was a troubled student who both harassed and humored his teachers. For me, it was just one more time when I should have learned to think before I speak. Unfortunately, that lesson just keeps coming up again and again.

Book Review: A Time to Keep Silent

I stumbled upon Gloria Whelan's writings in the same way I stumble upon other great writers - accidentally. I was working as an individual assistant in a 5th grade classroom with Mrs. Brown. She, as I have mentioned before, graciously allowed me to do almost all of the read-alouds for the entire school year. I have to say, if I could get a job just doing that, I'd do it, no matter how low the pay. I get such a charge out of leading kids into a good book and then building up a rapport with them based upon the story. To see their enthusiasm mount as we get deeper into a book thrills my heart.

Mrs. Brown had been on a safari in Africa the summer prior to this particular school year and she planned to share a power-point on her experience with her students. The students were busy creating their own power-points (my student and her partner presented a fun one on cheetahs) and we wanted a read-aloud which would mesh with these plans. I began searching for appropriate books to share. Around the same time, a new book showed up at our library, Gloria Whelan's Listening for Lions.

I absolutely loved the book, but didn't end up using it as a read-aloud, only because the school year schedule required a shorter length of time. We chose a book of short stories about Africa and they worked out well, but I did feel bad that I hadn't been able to share Listening for Lions with my beloved 5th graders. However, one of the other perks to my assistant position was that I often sat at the front of the classroom monitoring and reading during tests and silent work. Students would see me reading and enjoying what I read and, often, they would ask about whatever it was I was reading at the moment. I'm hoping some of them went on to read Listening for Lions.

A few weeks ago, I was at the library looking for another E.B. White book to begin with my MS (he is on an E.B. White kick at the moment - we are listening to Trumpet of the Swan). While in the W's, I noticed a few small books by Gloria Whelan. They were published by William B. Eerdman's, so I wondered if they had a religious slant.

I decided to try one entitled, A Time to Keep Silent, which was originally published in 1979. It was very similar to Whelan's other book. It featured a young, female protagonist (daughter of a pastor, instead of a missionary, this time), struggling with a familial loss and facing a move and difficult decisions. In this book, Clair Lothrop has just lost her mother and has stopped talking (again, elective mutism has always intrigued me). Her father decides to leave their affluent suburban church and begin a mission in the woods of northern Michigan. Despite her silence, she manages to make a friend in Dorrie, a local girl trying to survive life with and without her alcoholic father.

I am now anxious to go back and read more Whelan books. This one, published earlier, wasn't as finely tuned as the other, but it was an equally enjoyable read. It made me wonder about Gloria Whelan's life, now that I have read two books featuring young girls (PK's, no less), who after a move, grow through their relationship with another individual. I tried to search for a biography on-line, but only came up with information that she has worked as a social worker (among other jobs) and moved from Detroit to a cabin in the northern woods of Michigan. Thankfully, she has written many books, so I will have lots of opportunities to explore her writings.

I would heartily recommend both of these books to any young girl in grades 4-8. I would especially recommend both of them to my niece, Paige, who is a PK and has moved a time or two in her life! (Of course, I'd recommend them to my nieces who haven't moved as much, as well!) Neither of the books are overtly religious or preachy, but both of them are effective at teaching lessons about moral and ethical dilemmas, our choices and their consequences, and the value of relationships for personal and emotional growth.

What Makes Me Unique

Back when I taught high school classes, I used to begin each new class with an ice-breaker about unique traits. First, we would discuss what it means to be unique. Then, I would encourage them to think up at least three unique traits about them within this particular group of people (hoping to settle on at least one for each student).

It was a great way to get to know something unusual about my students and it helped me to remember them by name by the first or second day of classes. I still remember the names of many of those students and some of the unique traits they chose to share.

Of course, to give them a bit of help and some extra time for thought, I would always start out by introducing what I considered to be my three unique traits and we would see if any of them had to be crossed off (to think up new ones). For the first one, I had to be sure to wear sandals (or heels with nylons).

My first unique trait always had to do with my feet and the students always wanted to see evidence. I would tell them: "I think I am probably the only person in this room who can say that they have only 8 toenails." Gasps would ring out, followed by the expected demand to see my feet. Then, of course, I would have to tell the story of my feet.

When I went to the Philippines with a Salvation Army service corps, I knew it would be a life-changing experience. But, I didn't know that some of the changes would actually be physical. The area of Tondo, where my partner, Jody, and I lived for the summer had no drainage systems in place. When it rained, as it often did, the water rose and the area flooded. If we headed out on a dry morning, we could easily find ourselves trekking home in knee-deep waters. Sadly, we had no "wellies" (British rain boots for tramping about in flood waters)!

To make matters worse, you have to remember that in the Philippines, "all of God's green earth is a privy." So, this water was filled with human waste and other "basura" (Tagolog for "trash"). Apparently, whilst traipsing through this lovely basura water, I decided to play hostess to a fungus (not the only thing I ended up being hospitable to).

At first, the infection was merely bothersome. My large toenails yellowed and became difficult to cut. Then, the infection began to spread. I tried several over-the-counter remedies, but never really met with much success. Finally, I was growing really annoyed with the problem and saw an advert for a free foot exam with a podiatrist.

Of course, it wasn't surprising to discover that I had a problem. What was surprising was just how persistent the problem was. The doctor suggested that the large toe-nails were the most likely to cause significant damage and should be removed via laser surgery. One was so badly gone, they would have to remove it permanently. The second one, they would remove temporarily and see if it grew back in healthy. The smaller toenails would have to remain fungal and be treated with other medication.

I had the surgery. I dealt with the follow-up care. I waited. The second toenail grew back fungal. I had the surgery again. I dealt with follow-up care again. One of the toenails, began to grow back, but only from the middle of the toe-nail bed. The doctor said, "Hmmmm. This is an anomoly. I've never seen this happen before. Perhaps a small amount of the nail cell fell just on the middle and is now growing... Oh well. That's all we can do."

You really wouldn't want to see what the students saw. I don't think I ever took a photo. One large toe, devoid of any toenail. Another large toe, with a small bump of nail in the middle. All the other toenails in various stages of decline with the continued fungal growth. Topical Lamisil didn't help, and I think I didn't go on the oral because I was wanting to conceive.

Anyway, for years, I absolutely hated my feet. I still wore sandals, but tried to find ones that would cover my nails. At one point, my friend, Beth, informed me that her mother-in-law had noticed my bare feet while I was over at her house and had thought I had a really bad case of "chewing off the nails." EWWWWW!

Finally, I banged my smallest toe into a table leg and had to see another podiatrist. This one urged me to take care of the problem completely. I took the oral Lamisil (for months) and my other toenails became healthy again. Then, the dr. performed another surgery (with a knife - no laser, this time) and cut and stitched the toe where regrowth was occurring. Follow-up treatment was far more strenuous than I expected (and it was complicated when, the day after having the stitches removed, one of the third-graders accidentally stepped on it - YEOWWCH!).

Now, I feel free to share a photo of my feet with my blog-readers. I feel comfortable wearing sandals. Sometimes, I paint the toenails and it even looks like I have toenails on the two big toes. But, mostly, I just recognize them as the thing that makes me truly unique.

Book Review: Tuesdays with Morrie

I have been trying to get out of the house at least one night a week. Unfortunately, I usually end up at the library (where I can browse the shelves and the book sale unencumbered) or the thrift store (exciting, huh?). A few weeks ago, I picked up a stack of books at the sale (yes, Shopaholic Takes the Library Book Sale!). Tuesdays with Morrie, by Mitch Albom, was one of them (only 50 cents). I have thoroughly enjoyed the other Albom books I've read (One More Day and The Five People You Meet in Heaven). I'm not surprised that this one, like those others, has been made into a movie. I've only seen "One More Day," but I'll keep my eye out for the others now.

I enjoyed this book, but not as much as the other two Albom books I've read. It was an easy, inspirational read. I don't know if his perspective carries more umph when it is set in story form. I still would recommend this as a good read. The whole time I was reading it, I couldn't help but think of my father-in-law. I will probably pass my copy on to my mother-in-law; however, I don't know if she'll have time to read it.

My father-in-law has been very ill for quite some time now. Every Father's Day, birthday and Christmas, my husband wonders if it will be the last. My father-in-law, like Morrie, was a college professor. I doubt that I would suggest the book to him - a bit painful to suggest a book on dying to a man who is probably in that process himself. But, my mother-in-law bears the brunt of his care for now and works tirelessly trying to make his last days more comfortable. I think that she would be touched by reading about this account of Morrie Schwartz's final months and his insights into living and dying.

The book also made me think about teachers and professors I have admired and loved. My most memorable elementary school teacher was Mr. Bouchard. He was handsome and unconventional. He taught his class by calling us up individually to make learning contracts each Monday. My competitive soul took to this like fire. I wanted to read more SRA's than any other student. I wanted to be his most successful student! At the end of that year, he married the kindergarten teacher. I wonder where he is now? If I looked him up, would he have great lessons to teach me?

My most memorable junior high teacher was Mr. Wadleigh (I looked it up - I was right). Mr. W. was my 6th or 7th grade English teacher and he encouraged me to share the stories I wrote. He taught me how to write a query letter. He even helped me send off a few of my stories (I laugh now, though, because we sent them to Cricket magazine. Couldn't he have set my sights a little lower so that I might have actually gotten an acceptance letter?).

My most memorable high school teacher was Harsh Ms. Karsh (I've written of her before). She was creative, demanding, inspiring, flamboyant and involved. She clearly cared for her students and wanted to know them more. She read my journals and made comments. She encouraged me to write. She encouraged me to teach. In fact, when she learned that I had earned a teaching degree, she invited me to come back and teach one of her classes for a day (I never took her up on that).

My memorable college teachers were Dr. Lyle Dorsett (more on him later, I'm sure), Dr. Lundin, Dr. Rapp (an interesting Victorian history professor), Dr. Hein, Dr. Ryken, Dr. McClatchey, and Dr. Lake. How sad I was to hear that Dr. McClatchey had passed away.

The two memorable professors from graduate school would have to be Dr. Arnstein and Dr. Winton Solberg. Both of these individuals helped me tremendously and were warm and encouraging. I have often thought about dropping in to see them when I return to Urbana to visit my in-laws.

How rewarding it would be if I discovered that one of my students considered me to have been a memorable teacher in his/her life. I only know of one who has commented about me. When I was teaching GED, I had a student who was interviewed by the local newspaper after her graduation. She said some wonderful things about me. I was thrilled to have been able to meet her. Perhaps some day I will share her story (it is inspiring and I recently shared it with my ES as we were talking about jobs and job security. Yes, I did really have a conversation about that with my 11 year old after he attended something called BizTown, where he held a job for a day!)