My Mama Bird

Lessons from a Mama Bird

The cat jumped off the kitchen counter as soon as I walked in. She knows she isn’t supposed to be on the counter, but a flutter at the window over the sink revealed the irresistible temptation to break my rule. A bird was building a nest in the window sill outside. I thought it odd, and when the nest sat empty for several days, I decided that Mama Bird must have been scared off by Minnie the cat. But a few days ago, I noticed that Mama Bird was back sitting on the nest, and neither my working at the sink, nor my cat’s repeated violations of the counter rule seemed to ruffle her feathers. So now each morning while I make my coffee, I say good morning to her and ask how she passed the night. I am looking forward to the day when little heads will be raising up and cheeping at me.

I worried about her the other night when thunderstorms moved through the area, preceded by strong winds and dumping more than two inches of rain in the space of an hour. But the next morning she was still on the nest and I was relieved. I’m curious about why she chose the window sill and not one of the dozens of seemingly more hospitable trees and shrubs in the neighborhood. After pondering it, I realize she probably has the safest nest on the block, thunderstorms notwithstanding. Instead of fighting a turf war with the gangs of squirrels that rule the trees, or risking her babes to one of the neighborhood’s marauding cats – my declawed, indoor cat not among them – she has chosen a spot where nothing without wings can reach her. Apparently her building skills could be the envy of New Orleans architects, as gale force winds did not disarrange a single straw from the nest.

I think she is a mockingbird, although my bird-watching skills are rudimentary, and my bird books are packed already for an anticipated move to Texas where, like Tennessee, the mockingbird is the state bird. I Googled mockingbird, and she certainly fits the physical description and coloring of a mockingbird, although Wikipedia declares that they build their nests in shrubs and trees. I may have to interact with Wikipedia (you can do that you know) and tell about my little mother who chose an unlikely, seemingly exposed location, which has proven to be a safe haven for her and her eggs.

Blog challenge #12: About me

Blog challenge #12

OK, I haven’t been doing all of the blog challenges as they come up, but I resolve to turn over a new leaf. Better late than never.

1) Right now I want: my house to be clean, my papers graded, and a chance to sit in my scraproom and be creative. At times like this I wish I could be Samantha (“Bewitched”) and just twitch my nose and have it done.

2) I wish I knew how to: quilt. I am so in awe of those I see others produce, and I am completely in love with the Elm Creek Quilt series by Jennifer Chiaverini. I find myself drawn to getting out the sewing machine that hasn’t been used in eight years. My problem is that any hobby I pursue requires me to buy a whole new bunch of supplies and I’m running out of space to put them and time to do them.

3) When I want to indulge myself, I: have a chocolate covered cherry. Not those cheap boxed ones, although when I get a real chocolate cherry craving, they will do because they are readily available. I’m talking about a giant cherry, wrapped in brandied fondant and dipped in premium dark chocolate. When you bite into it – you don’t pop these in your mouth whole – it oozes delicious goo. M-m-m-m-m!

4) You’ll never see me: naked. Other than that, you’ll not see me climbing anything.

5) A childhood memory that I love: When I was a kid, I used to climb trees. We had a big wild cherry tree on our property, and I would sit on a big branch and pick off the wild cherries and eat them until my mouth and fingers were stained black. That was my sanctuary, when I needed time to hide out from mom or escape the demands of pesky little brothers.

6) 2 things I do every single day: 1. I check in and read Scrapshare. If I have time, I will post replies and even, rarely, start a new thread. I consider these women friends and I have become bound up in their lives, their sorrows, their joys, and their longings. I hope they feel that way about me. 2. I read before I go to sleep. I always have a book, whether from the library or from my own collection, and I read for 20 to 45 minutes in bed. If I wake up in the wee hours of the morning and can’t get back to sleep, I will turn on the light and read until I go back to sleep, sometimes with the book on my chest and the light still on.

7) Happiest moment of 2008, so far: Friday, April 6, when I flew to Milwaukee to see my daughter’s family for the weekend. We picked up the six-year-old at school, who had momentarily forgotten that I was coming, and was telling her mom about her day, handing over her folder, and saying goodbye to her teacher. I turned to the back seat, and said, “Hi, Isabel.” and she squealed, “Grammy!” My grandchildren are the joy of my life.

8) Describe yourself in 3 words: enthusiastic, creative, disorganized

9) 2 scrap related goals for this year: I want to get my scrapping stuff organized and compacted so that it doesn’t take up a whole room My goal is to create a scrapping closet in my new house. Goal 2 is to get caught up, but that will probably still be on my list of goals for next year. Does one ever really get caught up??

10) You have $40 that you MUST spend on yourself – what do you do with it? Easy! It would go for scrapbook paper and embellishments.

It's a Jungle Out There

No teacher in touch with reality can long harbor the illusion that she (or he) will be universally loved. While we all remember teachers that we liked immensely and whose classes we enjoyed, it is human nature that different teaching styles and personalities are going to affect students in varying ways. In nearly 40 years of teaching in one capacity or another, I have encountered students that I connected with and students that I knew were just enduring my class until they could escape. But never, in all that time, have I been abused or threatened overtly until this past week.

It started with a poetry analysis that just sounded a bit too pompous—it wasn’t really even a perfect paper and I had already marked a couple of sentences as “wordy,” – but teacher instinct honed over the decades made me turn to Google and type in a few of the student’s phrases. Sure enough, they led me to an online site where essays, both free and available for purchase, contained paragraphs of the student’s paper. Accordingly, I printed them out, highlighting the plagiarized portions. My next step was to present them to my department chair. Blatant plagiarism, also called “academic dishonesty” in the student handbook, can be grounds for expulsion, but as this was my first incident with this student, I decided to give her a zero on the assignment and caution her that her future work would be under scrutiny. I felt I was being generous and prepared myself for tears, apologies, and “thanks for giving me another chance.”

I was certainly NOT prepared for a denial that the student had produced the work, that the computer had somehow sent it to me under her name, and, when that didn’t work, that there were students that were “out to get [the student] and some of them must have turned that paper in. At that, I decided to involve the Dean and promptly e-mailed both the academic dean and the dean of students, and gave a copy of the paper to the academic dean. Then I went to class.

When my class was over I came back to the office and checked my e-mail. My inbox contained a venomous, insulting attack telling me how much all of my students hated me and how bored they were in my class, and including childish personal attacks regarding my age, my wrinkles, and my ugliness. The e-mail sender was unknown to me, but the letter had a couple of phrases that suggested the identity of the sender. I forwarded the e-mail to the department chair and deans. The dean sent an e-mail to the sender’s address outlining all of the violations of university policy and the possible consequences, and cautioning the sender to have no further contact with Professor C, either by e-mail or any other means.

The next morning an even more obscene, venomous, and threatening e-mail appeared in my inbox. It included the phrase “we know where you live. You better watch your back.” This was perceived by the University officials as an overt threat and the local police were called in to make a report.

I do not know how this situation will be resolved. I do know that I am sad to close out a 40 year career of working with students and trying to help them to realize their potential with a fear that someone is reckless enough to really believe that violence (even in words) is the way to achieve one’s goals. I am disappointed that a student in a Christian university sees nothing wrong in stealing (or buying) words and ideas and passing them off as her own. I am alarmed that an adult, in chronology if not character, refuses to accept responsibility for her behavior and to learn from the experience.