Home

                                   
"Home is where the heart is"---or is it?  Maybe it is the place that becomes an individual residential address?  What about an escape from reality?  Even my ninety-year old grandfather claimed that some people consider home where "he hangs his hat."  The definition of home has been redefined for me over the last several years.  I consider myself extremely fortunate to call many places home because of the unique settings, lasting memories, and of course the amazing people.

When introducing myself to my new group of students each year or just a random stranger, I call myself a true North Carolinian loving all regions from the mountains to the sea.  All parts of my life are found all the way in between from the rural towns to the growing suburbs to the adventurous cities.  So do these places eventually become home?

Boone-The birthplace on my birth certificate and the story my mom shared every birthday explaining having to wait on the doctor to return from an Appalachian State University Football Game before my entrance into the world.  Ironically, 18 years later, I would be the one waiting on the Mountaineers football season to start.  This college town transformed my life from the time spent as a student but also as a Boone resident appreciating the beauty of the NC Mountains.

Banner Elk-Even though my beginning years of life were spent in this ski resort town, I still can recollect some memories of the time spent there.  Especially on the beautiful campus of Lees McCrae College and our house that sat on the top of a mountain along the winding Hickory Nut Gap Road.  This land is now mine. You can only imagine the many dreams of building my own cabin on the hill.

The house where I spent my childhood.

Highfalls-

My great-grandmother's house

I would get excited to see this name on a map.  A Deep River Community that keeps everyone connected.  My father's roots belong in Caviness Town and it was an honor to grow up in a house that sat on the land that he is used to farm as a boy.  The K-8 school shaped me into the individual I am today with the love of learning from numerous influential educators.  Each year I teach my own students, I reflect on my own educational experiences in that small school.

Troy (Montgomery County)

One would never guess this would be on my home list, but anytime I ride through this area, I cry.  Not because of sad memories, but many beginning chapters of my life were started here.  I began my teaching career at Page Street Elementary and still remain grateful for the networks established with dedicated teachers while working there.  Some of those educators remain my closest friends and colleagues, and I am forever indebted to them for their guidance and encouragement during those first five years of teaching.  I also reminisce of that time period by riding past the "chicken coop house" on Russell Street.  The 12 x 12 window in the front of the house brought in so much sunlight for the young married couple who started their life there.  Even though the house was sold a few years later and the light faded when they both separated on different paths, some of the fondest memories were spent there.


Bennett-another small town, right down the road from Highfalls, became my safe haven.  An amazing woman allowed me to live in her home place, and this house became more than a home to me.  Surfaced right across from the Baptist Church, the bell hymnals and church sign quotes, got me through the toughest time of my life.  It was also a blessing working in the neighboring town of Bonlee.  This small community school welcomed me with open arms and my short time spent there turned into a lifetime of learning experiences and genuine friendships.  I will always remain a "Dragon."

Outer Banks- I would have not considered myself a beach girl, but my first visit to the Outer Banks, took my breath away.  I am somewhat embarrassed to admit I had never traveled to this part of the state prior to my mid-20's, but I instantly became captivated with the history, geography, and culture of where our country originated.  The tales of the Lost Colony, Blackbeard, and World War II German U-boats are nothing compared to the local narratives shared by the coastal inhabitants whose family generations date back hundreds and hundreds of years ago.

Ocracoke-I fell in love with this island town years before it became home.  The primary reason for my first visit to the island was speaking to the Board of Trustees who represented the North Carolina Center for the Advancement of Teaching (NCCAT).  It was exciting to have this amazing organization stretched from the mountains in Cullowhee to this beautiful remote island on the coast.  The NCCAT facility on Ocracoke was the former Coast Guard station, so one can only imagine the history of that building!  A few months following my first visit, I returned with my NC Teacher of the Year Team focusing on a teacher leadership.  Our seminar experience was enriched by the kayaking and walking tours of the island, including the small school that served Pre-Kindergarten through twelfth grade students.  I would have never guessed that five years later, the top corner classroom on the 2nd floor of the elementary building would belong to me.  And my fourth graders.

 The walk down historical Howard Street became the highlight of that trip because of the stories that were told by native Ocracoker, Alton Ballance.  I still consider that road to be somewhat magical, almost similar to something out of a storybook, because of Mr. Ballance's stories.  That special road connects all generations of islanders.  Even some outsiders like myself.  That same Ocracoker has shared his stories with the world after publishing his book, Ocracokers, in the 1980's.  However, his closest friends and family know his best stories are shared from the porch swing of his grandmother's house.  Alton's stories  will be passed down to the next generation in hopes that they will be carried on forever.  I am proud that my own daughter has already been part of this rich family history.  Emma Reese Ballance will celebrate being part of this island culture and already exhibits so many of her daddy's qualities.
Island time has brought new meaning to my life.  And it isn't what we would assume of the typical Jimmy Buffet song with toes in the sand and a margarita in hand.  It isn't (completely) about the time rushing or missing the ferry.  It isn't about the time of being lazy in a hammock. It is the time that I have found myself at home.

Home.  It is where the heart is.  The soul.  And the mind too.  I might consider myself "homeless" or maybe just plain "homesick" because my heart, soul, and mind reside in all of these places.  As I click my heels together three times, I know there is no place like home.

It's a Wonderful Life

I debated about entitling this blog entry "Shirley Jones" or "The Beginning Days of Bennett".  The text included was taken directly from an email describing a snowy day when first moving to this small town.  The days of uncertainty, doubt, and loneliness that eventually turned to days of happiness, confidence, and independence.  I know all of us have watched the holiday classic, "It's a Wonderful Life" and this message reminded me of that particular movie plot.  The email below to a dear friend (who also later became the love of my life) depicts why I grew to admire Bennett so much and a lady who became more than my landlord.

 

 As expected, I woke up with a complete blanket of white outside.  Bennett probably has 4-5 inches of snow.   I always love the sight of a winter wonderland and become excited with the thoughts of possibly making snow cream or a snowman.  This excitement quickly vanished when I realized that I was alone.  My sister was an hour away with the snow covered roads and mom was working.  My dad and stepmom were probably enjoying the snow in Asheboro.  So I spent an hour having a pity party, but then immersed myself into distracting work.  I was actually able to acquire Internet access through my cell phone to retrieve some data files that needed to be completed last week.  Many teachers were late sending me this information, so now I will be able to finish the report to send to the district this week.  So yes, I will admit to working a little today.  Then my doorbell rang….it was Mrs. Shirley Jones, my sweet landlord bundled from head to toe and demanded for me to get dressed because we were going walking.  We were the only people outside, and she gave me the grand tour of this quaint little country town.  She told me stories of the people who lived in houses we passed, and she knew quite a bit after working at the post office until her retirement a few months ago. 

After walking a few blocks, she told me to come and visit with her.  This was the first invitation into her own home---it was also another charming older house that had a warm fireplace and picture frames were on every wall serving as reminders as the memories that were shared there since 1963.  In her den, the walls were covered with portraits of lighthouses and an 11x13 photograph taken in Ocracoke.  I expressed my own fondness of the Outer Banks and the beauty of the lighthouses, and she told me that her parents went there every year before they passed away.  She has only visited a few times since their deaths, but loved the island you call home.  From the pictures on the wall, she told me the stories of her parents, siblings, children, grand-children, and her newest great grand-child.  I was able to meet the man she has shared her entire life with for over 50 years, Ray.  He was watching the weather and kept telling his wife he was cold.  He is a feeble man but his passion for Carolina basketball was evident with his Tarheel sweatpants and sweatshirt.  Being a State Fan, we laughed about the ABC rule---Anybody But Carolina..ha!  Mrs. Jones fixed lunch, which were the leftovers from her Christmas dinner from the night before along with several desserts.  It was delicious---turkey, roast beef, mashed potatoes with gravy, corn (grown in their garden this summer), cranberry sauce, biscuits, and hoop cheese.  True southern home-cooked meal, which was much better than my regular cereal and soup meals.

We then walked to the oldest house in Bennett to see Christmas decorations that are shared with the community throughout the holiday season.  Lucy enjoys hosting these visitors, and especially likes the company after losing her husband a few years ago to cancer.  You know my love for decorations, so I was like a child myself walking through her home.  There was a village that had over 120 homes and businesses, complete with an ice skating rink and train track.  It was beautiful and you can tell this lady was so proud of this display  After looking at painted pictures of various homes and buildings in Bennett, I told her she needed to write some of this history down or at least talk into a tape recorder.  She just smiled.  Her son, who also lives with her, shared a coat that his great-great-grandfather wore in the Civil War.  So much history in just one hour!  Mrs. Lucy also shared a recent photograph she received in the mail a couple of days ago after she was an honored guest to christen a new ship for the coast guard.  She had served in the military during WWII, and Michelle Obama honored these ladies for their service. 

Instead of a day full of bleakness and depression on this snowy day I experienced history of a small town and thoughts of Ocracoke...

Shirley Jones became my own angel that day and I will miss her when leaving my cozy little house on Chatham Street.  She understands the importance of change throughout the chapters in our lives.  This amazing woman has been the strong foundation for her family through the best and worst of times by becoming stronger through her sincere Faith.  She is the true example of a genuine Christian woman who has dedicated her life to helping others and has touched the lives of everyone around her.  Words can never express how Shirley Jones changed (and saved) my life years ago, and she continues to remind me,

 "it's a wonderful life..." 

Moving On

I have not published any writing on this blog in several months. Thoughts have remained in "my documents" due to recent personal and professional changes, which explains this specific blog entry. I will refrain from rambling, but look forward to expressing so many things in writing and will try to do this more often.

Moving On---two words so frequently used during transitional periods of life. Possibly moving on from job to job; moving on after the death of a family member; moving on after a natural disaster; moving on forgetting about the person you loved. Yes, we move on...but do we truly keep going without remembering the places and people we leave behind? Do our memories move with us or are they stored safely away to never travel again past a certain destination?

People move on every day, it is part of life. If we do not move on, we are not going forward, and forbid if we ever move backwards. We cannot relive the past, nor dwell on the present or predict the future.

A month ago, I sat in a Uhaul truck. My family and friends would be shocked to know this fact since I am the country girl who cannot even parallel park in a regular sedan. So of course it was going to be a challenge to drive a vehicle this size and not even have a rear view mirror! I was just hopeful the side mirrors would guide my way safely down Highway 64. This truck became more than a moving van; it was the transporter of memories for my life as an educator and as an individual.

It held years of students' wax museum projects, bilingual books, scrapbooks of field trips to Washington, D.C., literacy station activities, math notebooks. All thrown in tubs and boxes ready to ride down the path towards a new professional journey. I am forever grateful for two close friends and colleagues who laughed at how much was in the corner of a classroom, but never questioned why each box still needed to be loaded. I could vividly remember the time of my life when reading a specific children's book and why that story was chosen. Yes, I would agree with my sister that most of this "stuff" was junk and needed to be purged, but each box represented me as a dedicated teacher. Each student letter and photograph defined who I am right now and strive to be in the future.

This transporter of memories also hauled furniture from a beautiful home in a country club suburb community. The new flat screen televisions and expensive video equipment stayed, but the family heirlooms that have been passed down through generations were loaded. The china dishes and pottery were wrapped neatly in bubble wrap, just like it had been packaged by the young married couple six years ago. The wedding album and portraits were placed carefully in boxes knowing these pictures would never be viewed again. The Christmas decorations that were used for so many joyous holiday celebrations would be stored with hope that they will be displayed in a new home.

The task of unloading this truck was physically straining with numerous heavy containers and several emotions flowed with each moment that was shared within these boxes. Memories of a life were moved in a few hours and were piled high in an empty living room. Even though it was an overwhelming feeling of where to start first, I knew this was a fresh beginning.

Which brings me back to the question, "What is moving on?" Is it...

-Relocating to a different place with the emphasis of a simple life and not worried about daily conveniences such as cable television or Internet?

-Trying to find kindness instead of anger to deal with financial burdens and hurtful lies?

-Understanding that it is okay to recall the good times and smile at those memories while others are made?

-Remembering what life has to offer and traveling to new places?

-Appreciating the people who show continuous love and support and never need an explanation?

-Reassurance that everything happens for a reason and happiness will be found again?

Not having a rear view mirror in the Uhaul truck allowed me to not look back and to remind me about the importance of MOVING ON...

Caviness Town

I bet many of you didn't know a town really existed, but there is a community that the folks of Northern Moore County refer to as "Caviness Town." This two mile loop consists of families who have resided in this area for generations. Even though I am a Caviness, I grew up down the road from this area, and not all Caviness' live in this loop. However, since numerous ancestors of the Caviness family established their roots here, this was the primary reason a community was named for them.

This past weekend, I returned "home" to reminisce of the good ol'days in Highfalls, which was complete with the typical southern meal of chicken dumplings, pinto beans, cole slaw, and can't forget the persimmon pudding...

A dear friend once told me that returning back home after several years can allow us to have a tourist's perspective that we had never considered before our departure. I never understood the true meaning of this statement until today when I found myself taking pictures of the places I love the most in this rural area. It made me appreciate being surrounded by the family I admire and becoming more proud of where I grew up. Winding through the familiar curves on the country road with the bluegrass music blaring in the background, childhood memories instantly flooded my mind.

North Moore High School provided more than a high school diploma, the teachers and friends instilled confidence and life lessons that I will carry with me forever.

Highfalls Elementary represented the uniqueness of a K-8 education and the joy of spending nine years with the same classmates. Yes, we knew one another very well! The teachers here established the foundation needed for my academic success and made me want to reach for the stars.

Deep River is what connects us all in this close-knit community. Today, I had the chance to take a walk with one of my best friends and instead of us skimming rocks on the water, her three year old son had that privilege. We stood at the same place where I caught my first catfish and now twenty years later, Isaac was enjoying the thrills of the river.

Mamaw's house was built in the 1900's and this is where my family began. I was blessed to pass it each time I drove home on Grover Road. What I wouldn't do to renovate this old home!

"No place like home"....

Cool Fall Nights

Image taken from thsst.edu

This is my favorite season of the year, reminds me of the mountains with the cool, crisp air and the calm colors of autumn. Even though this is my favorite time of the year, it has become the most stressful due to the many demands of professional responsibilities and personal obligations. I have missed seeing the pumpkins and mums on the front porch steps along with my annual fall decorations that remain in the basement because I haven't had time to even take down the spring/summer. After discussion with colleagues at school, we continue to encourage one another to prioritize in order to get everything accomplished, which reminds me "What is really important right now?"

Celebrating my parents' birthdays, who both share another year older in the same month.

Watching my niece's eyes light up after watching her favorite Nick Jr. television come to life on stage.

Talking and reconnecting with old friends.

Being inspired by educators who are working diligently each day to make a difference in a child's life.


Jack-O-Lanterns.

Bubble bath.

Football.

Exercise, including clogging.

State fair, really wish I had a chance to go this year.

Candy corn.

Writing.

Sleep, how I have missed it.

The Decision

Where will LeBron James decide to play basketball? Cleveland, Chicago, New York, Miami, or who knows? This was the question asked around the nation for an entire week. This became the only topic that repeated continuously on every news headline. I would jokingly think, "Am I really going to lose sleep where this NBA star decides to play basketball?"

Image taken from: http://hondajvx.files.wordpress.com/2008/06/lebron-james.jpg

However, due to our sports crazed society, millions of Americans turned their televisions to ESPN at 9:00 to see and hear this athlete's decision and of course it was broad casted LIVE. I admit for being one of those viewers (my husband's fault who would watch Sports Center all day) during that hour special. After remaining patient through several highlights, numerous commercials, and the sportscasters' predictions, Mr. James' decision was made. This amazing athlete will be enjoying South Beach playing for the Miami Heat.

Of course this was no surprise since two other phenomenal athletes were added to the Heat the same week, and this trio will supposedly dominate every team in the NBA league. (ESPN video)
Since I do not watch professional basketball, this really was not a major concern for me. However, the interview and response from the nation regarding this decision is what prompted me to write this blog. This decision can be related to our own lives as we make choices throughout life and dealing with how others respond.

How do you make decisions? What factors are considered? Why do you choose a certain pathway that leads you in another direction? Every decision is different...

During LeBron's intensive interview, I became nervous and anxious for him. It was obvious this was a difficult decision for LeBron and he had to announce it on national television (which was also his decision). He had played for Cleveland seven years and was their "native son." Cleveland was his home and he continued to say that over and over again throughout the interview. He apologized to his former teammates for leaving, but reiterated that he had to do what was best for his career. Was this a bad thing? Obviously, it only took hours for LeBron's former owner for the Cleveland Cavaliers to make a defensive statement regarding LeBron's "bad decision."

Within one minute of an "official announcement", Cleveland had quickly forgotten the last seven years that this athlete had devoted his time, energy, and heart to their team. None of that mattered anymore---he was now considered a selfish traitor for doing what was best for his career.

It is the worst feeling in the world to be forgotten after you have poured your entire heart and soul into something. It hurts after spending years in a community trying to positively influence the lives of others that those people will turn their heads away to avoid speaking just because you chose to be in a different place. It no longer matters to them since you decided to do what is best for your life. How could they forget?

My daddy always provides the best advice and a tidbit of information that remains with me each day is to never forget what people do for you (especially the good). This doesn't mean live in the past, but it does remind me to be forever grateful for the individuals who have influenced me to become who I am today. There will always be a hello and a thank you for a possible old friend from elementary school, former high school teacher, or past colleague...I will never forget your kindness and sincerity, no matter where you are.

LeBron James-I commend you for deciding what was best for you and America will eventually understand there is a time to be selfish---and just a reminder: Ignore the people who forgot you.

Gosh, I haven't written in awhile---it has been months. Why? Maybe I have been at a loss for words? Busy? Maybe because I know twenty-four students are not checking on me regularly? Today deserved a blog entry since it was the last day of another school year, my sixth year in education.

180 days of school---each day is counted by the kindergarten teachers during calendar/carpet time. Each day is slashed on our busy planners to make it through another year. Some colleagues start the first day back to school by chanting, "Only 179 more days." The last day is more than just a day, it is the beginning and ending of life's chapters.

We have all experienced walking down the barren halls in our elementary schools that last day knowing we are growing up to middle school. Some of us attended the same elementary school for ten years (K-8), so departing for high school on the last day became especially difficult. The last day of high school meant walking across the stage to receive a high school diploma and finally becoming an "adult" (but with several things still left to learn). The last day of college equated to entering the real world. Each of those days stay engraved in my mind.

Of course the last days of school are bittersweet for all teachers. I created a last day ritual for my class---circle of reflection. This was a simple activity by asking the students to sit in a circle and share their favorite memory of the school year and what they looked forward to in the future. Of course, the typical answers were field trips, watching a movie, and the usual PE time....but the memories that were expressed the most revolved around the friendships formed in our classroom family. No matter what "kind of year" we experienced, good or bad, we still had that last day to say thank you to one another. "Thanks for making my life different." This time was always solemn and serious without any reminders or prompting how to behave. Following the activity, I would see both smiles and tears in all directions. It was always surprising to me that the toughest, coolest kid would be the one walking to the bus crying because this was the last day. As the teachers would wave our last day good-byes to the buses, I would be one of many teachers crying because it was the last day.

This year I didn't have my circle of reflection, instead I smiled at an entire school of children going home for the summer. Every teacher needed a touch of the shoulder to say a job well done. I would say this was a good last day..

However, my last day was not complete until I glanced at the five class pictures that hang overhead in my office. I thought about those last days of school.

Thanks for making my life different...