Have a good day.....

The real power behind whatever success I have now was something I found within myself - something that's in all of us, I think, a little piece of God just waiting to be discovered.

Tina Turner, O Magazine, December 2003
US singer (1938 - )  

KNOW YOURSELF

Know Yourself

Always keep the faith, have a sense of humor, and do good deeds at random in your life. God will always have your back, if only you'll let Him. Don't take self so seriously. Keep levity in your daily life, as it really is the best medicine. Give aid to strangers, and the blessings will come back to you ten-fold, impacting their life and yours in a positive way. It might only be a smile, opening a door for someone, a small donation, or giving guidance along the way; but it will leave you with a positive affirmation of your good deeds.

It's a matter of validation of one person to another that we see them, that we care, and that they matter. We all need that sense of worth. Too often we fail in acknowledging one another, as we should. Make a concerted effort to say, "hi, hello, howdy, and thank you whenever you can, because it'll make a difference in keeping a positive attitude.

You don't need to worry about what others have or don't have. You don't need to keep up with the "Jones" or your friends, because you are living your life, not theirs. Be you. Do yourself. Find what you enjoy doing and be that in your living. Enjoy your work, for one-third of each day is spent in your labors. Find the right life partner, for your joy and happiness in life depends upon it. Live an exemplary life, for you are an influence to others who are looking for guidance in life. Know that God is always there for you, meeting your needs, guiding your pathway, and loving you more than you love yourself.

Don't wait until you are on your deathbed and talk about your coulda-woulda-shouldas and regret what you have or have not done. Instead, be prepared to meet your Maker with a smile on your face, reflecting the accomplishments of your life. I'm thankful to have enjoyed the things I always wanted-----a fulfilling and joyful life. You can't ask for any more than that.

Resepi Ayam Paprik

Funny Animated Movie

Present Moment

Narrative Writing: Assignment 1

Narrative

The five steps of the writing process are:

1. Prewriting
2. Drafting
3. Revising (which includes evaluating)
4. Editing/Proofreading
5. Publishing

Writing Standards (Fictional Narrative)

2.1 Write narratives:
a. Establish a plot, point of view, setting, and conflict.
b. Show, rather than tell, the events of the story.
1.6 Edit and revise manuscripts to improve the meaning and focus of writing by adding, deleting, consolidating, clarifying, and rearranging words and sentences.

Plot

Plot is the series of related events that happen in a story. The writer will introduce the characters in a setting and present a conflict for the main character. The main character will try to resolve the conflict, but complications and/or obstacles will occur; this is the rising action. These complications and obstacles build up to the climax, where the character will resolve the conflict. The climax is usually the most exciting event in the story. Will the main character resolve their problem or not? Then the story concludes with the falling action resulting from the climax.

Point of View

The story should have a consistent and reliable narrator. Students should decide who the narrator of their story is and tell the story from their point of view. A first-person narrator who is the main character will tell a very different story than a first-person narrator who is a minor character in the story. Students should choose their narrator very carefully. Many writers use a third-person omniscient narrator who can go anywhere and see anything in order to tell the story. This kind of narrator can present the thoughts of any character, whether the hero or the villain. Finally, the point of view should be consistent in terms of tense. Either tell the story in past tense or present tense, but switching back and forth between the two is confusing to the reader.

Setting

The setting(s) of the story are the places and times where the story takes place. Good writers help the reader visualize a story’s setting by using descriptive language so that the reader can imagine the world of the story. This is a good place to invoke as many of the five senses as seem practical, sight, hearing, touch, taste, and smell, to help the reader visualize what’s happening and where.

Conflict

There are many different conflicts that a main character may have, but they tend to fall into one of three basic categories:

• man vs. nature
• man vs. man
• man vs. self

Showing Rather Than Telling

Show rather than tell. Use language to show us what’s happening in the story. Don’t tell us the main character is thinking. Show us her thoughts. Don’t tell us about a conversation. Show us the conversation between the characters; use dialogue. Use strong words, verbs, adjectives, adverbs, prepositional phrases, etc. to move the story forward. Include details to help the reader picture the story in their mind.
A story should not be all telling or all showing. It should be a combination of the two, with more showing than telling. Trust the reader to get your message without you hitting them over the head with it. They’re smart and will figure things out if you give them enough information; this is why we study inferring. Know that your reader will infer many things if you provide them with enough information; you don’t need to tell them everything.

Grading Rubric

Standard	4	3	2	1
Plot	Plot develops an overarching problem and resolution supported by multiple episodes, building to a climax that creates tension.	Plot includes an overarching problem and resolution with multiple episodes, and includes a climax.	Plot includes a problem which may be resolved through multiple episodes. May or may not include a climax.	Plot may not include a problem or resolution with few episodes.
Point of view	Establish and maintain a consistent point of view through narrator voice that moves the plot forward.	Establish point of view through narrator voice. There may be minor inconsistencies, but none that interfere with the plot.	Point of view may be unclear or confusing due to inconsistencies in narrator voice.	Point of view unclear or confusing through inconsistent use of narrator voice.
Setting	Setting establishes the backdrop for the story within a context of time and place.	Setting is established with details. Time and place are apparent.	Setting is established. Time and place may be apparent.	Setting is mentioned, but time and place may be confusing to the reader.
Conflict	Presents, explores, and resolves an interesting conflict for the main character.	Presents, explores, and resolves a basic conflict for the main character.	Presents a conflict which may not be adequately explored or resolved.	Main character does not have a conflict to resolve.
Show, rather than tell, the events of the story	Consistently and effectively show the events of the story through vivid, descriptive language that evokes images and expresses sensory details, and through dialogue between characters.	Shows the events of the story through vivid, descriptive language that evokes images and expresses sensory details, and through dialogue between characters.	Sometimes shows the events of the story through descriptive language that evokes images and sensory details, and through dialogue between characters. Sometimes tells events.	Tell the events of the story instead of showing them.

Writing Standards (Personal Narrative)

3. Write narratives to develop real or imagined experiences or events using effective technique, descriptive details, and clear event sequences.
a. Orient the reader by establishing a situation and introducing a narrator and/or characters; organize an event sequence that unfolds naturally.
b. Use narrative techniques, such as dialogue, description, and pacing, to develop experiences and events or show the responses of characters to situations.
c. Use a variety of transitional words, phrases, and clauses to manage the sequence of events.
d. Use concrete words and phrases and sensory details to convey experiences and events precisely.
e. Provide a conclusion that follows from the narrated experiences or events.
4. Produce clear and coherent writing (including multiple-paragraph texts) in which the development and organization are appropriate to task, purpose, and audience.
5. With guidance and support from peers and adults, develop and strengthen writing as needed by planning, revising, editing, rewriting, or trying a new approach.
6. With some guidance and support from adults, use technology, including the Internet, to produce and publish writing as well as to interact and collaborate with others; demonstrate sufficient command of keyboarding skills to type a minimum of two pages in a single sitting.

 ASSIGNMENT:

1.Post ideas and thoughts in the form of dialogue,vocabulary,idioms,proverbs or storyline for the narrative question below.You can reply or give feedback on your friends ideas.You can write a sentence,a paragraph or even a whole story.It is not necessary for you to write the essay.
2.If you are giving ideas for story line,please indicate whether it is:
Exposition (Beginning) - Rising Action - Climax - Falling Action - Resolution (Ending).
3.Feel free to share your ideas and thoughts.
4.None of the post is right,wrong,good,better or best.
5.Enjoy yourself.

Title:

Write a story ending with:

'' ................................................................  he left and closed the door behind him quietly ''

Put Your Thinking Cap

Beauty of the World in the Smallest Water Drops

Such a beautiful world.....

Teacher,tqvm.......

She is a real teacher.......

I Am A Teacher

From The Canadian Teacher


I am a Teacher.

I was born the first moment that a question leaped from the mouth of a child.

I have been many people in many places.

I am Socrates exciting the youth of Athens to discover new ideas through the use of questions.

I am Anne Sullivan tapping out the secrets of the universe into the outstretched hand of Helen Keller.

I am Aesop and Hans Christian Andersen revealing truth through countless stories.

I am Marva Collins fighting fir every child's right to an education.

I am Mary McLeod Bethune building a great college for my people, using orange crates for desks.

And I am Bel Kaufman struggling to go Up The Down Staircase.

The names of those who have practiced my profession ring like a hall of fame for humanity ... Booker T. Washington, Buddha, Confucius, Ralp Waldo Emerson, Leo Buscaglia, Moses and Jesus.

I am also those whose names and faces have long been forgotten but whose lessons and character will always be remembered in the accomplishment of their students.

I have wept for joy at their weddings of former students, laughed with glee at the birth of their children and stood with bowed in grief and confusion by graves dug too soon far too young.

Throughout the course of a day I have been called upon to be an actor, friend, nurse and doctor, coach, finder of lost articles, money lender, taxi driver, psychologist, substitute parent, salesman, politician and keeper of the faith.

Despite the maps, charts, formulas, verbs, stories and books, I have really had nothing to teach, for my students really have only themselves to learn, and I know it takes the whole world to tell you who you are.

I am a paradox. I speak loudest when I listen the most. My greatest gifts are in what I am willing to appreciatively receive from my students.

Material wealth is not one of my goals, but I am a full-time treasure seeker in my quest for new opportunities for my students to use their talents and in my constant search for those talents that sometimes lie buried in self-defeat.

I am the most fortunate of all who labor.

A doctor is allowed to usher life into the world in one magic moment. I am allowed to see that life is reborn each day with new questions, ideas and friendships.

An architect knows if he builds with care, his structure may stand for centuries. A teacher knows that if he builds with love and truth, what he builds will last forever.

I am a warrior, daily doing battle against peer pressure, negativity, fear, conformity, prejudice, ignorance and apathy. But I have great allies: Intelligence, Curiosity, Parental Support, Individuality, Creativity, Faith, Love and Laughter all rush to my banner with indomitable support.

And who do I have to thank for this wonderful life I am so fortunate to experience, but you the public, the parents. For you have done me the great honor to entrust to me your greatest contribution to eternity, your children.

And so I have a past that is rich in memories. I have a present that is challenging, adventurous and fun because I am allowed to spend my days with the future.

I am a teacher ... and I thank God for it every day.

When God Created Teacher

When God Created Teachers From Devotional Gatherings website On the 6th day, God created men and women. On the 7th day, he rested. Not so much to recuperate, but rather to prepare himself for the work he was going to do on the next day. For it was on that day-the 8th day-that God created the FIRST TEACHER. This TEACHER, though taken from among men and women, had several significant modifications. In general, God made the TEACHER more durable than other men and women. The TEACHER was made to arise at a very early hour and to go to bed no earlier than 11:30 p.m.- with no rest in between. The TEACHER had to be able to withstand being locked up in an air-tight classroom for six hours with thirty-five "monsters" on a rainy Monday. And the TEACHER had to be fit to correct 103 term papers over Easter vacation. Yes, God made the TEACHER tough...but gentle too. The TEACHER was equipped with soft hands to wipe away the tears of the neglected and lonely student...of those of the sixteen year old girl who was not asked to the prom. And into the TEACHER God poured a generous amount of patience. Patience when a student asks to repeat the directions the TEACHER has just repeated for someone else. Patience when the kids forget their lunch money for the fourth day in a row. Patience when one-third of the class fails the test. Patience when the text books haven't arrived yet, and the semester starts tomorrow. And God gave the TEACHER a heart slightly bigger than the average human heart. For the TEACHER's heart had to be big enough to love the kid who screams, "I hate this class-it's boring!" and to love the kid who runs out of the classroom at the end of the period without so much as a "goodbye", let alone a "thank you". And lastly, God gave the TEACHER an abundant supply of HOPE. For God knew that the TEACHER would always be hoping. Hoping that the kids would someday learn how to spell... hoping not to have lunchroom duty... hoping that Friday would come... hoping for a free day.... hoping for deliverance. When God finished creating the TEACHER, he stepped back and admired the work of his hands. And God saw that the TEACHER was good. Very Good! And God smiled, for when he looked at the TEACHER, he saw into the future. He knew that the future is in the hands of the TEACHERS. And because God loves Teachers so much, on the 9th day God created "Snow Days."

TQ, Teacher........

A Message of Thanks for Teachers By Donna Fargo A Message of Thanks To All the Great Teachers In This World Thank you for being such wonderful teachers, exemplary role models, and caring people. Thank you for knowing your subjects and sharing your knowledge. Thank you for not being afraid to treat students like real people. Thank you for showing acceptance, approval, and appreciation. These are all gifts that are so important to a student's development and that your students will always remember, just as they will also Remember you. Words of encouragement, a little respect, simple gestures of kindness from a teacher promote the perfect climate for students to study, learn and grow. Your attitude translates into a spirit of friendliness and good will towards others in an atmosphere of creative freedom, joy and ease, and you foster this feeling in your classroom. I salute the good work you've done. I appreciate the people you are, and I think you for your positive influence. You have passed on invaluable instruction and wisdom and created pleasurable moments associated with learning that will Always be sweet memories. Thank you for answering the call to be teachers. Thank you for the enduring impression you've made In the lives you have touched. Every community needs people like you. Your contributions are immeasurable. Your lessons are permanent. You improve our world. You are so important.

Back To School

Back to School Teacher Blues

Back To School Blues For Teachers


Oh where did the summer go, it's lazy days all too soon slipped away,
Didn't I just pack up my classroom and strip the walls bare in silence lay?
Vacation seemed to pass so quickly and the new school year looms in view.
I'm getting a migraine just thinking of all the things to do.

I think fondly of beaches, clear blue water and white sand
Of sunsets and picnics and picturesque lands.
But I quickly snap back as I make my list of things to do,
My brain is so taxed as I think this new year through.

Time to unpack, stock and plan lessons without end,
Do bulletins boards, centers, and write letters to send.
I'm pulled away by meetings and workshops to bear,
I'm bombarded with papers and agendas to share.

I need desperately to work in my classroom, my nerves to steady,
My room is a disaster, for that ominous first day, will I EVER be ready?
Time to think of each new student and what new experiences they will bring,
I'm getting that all too familiar excitement when I hear the school bells ring.

And even though I'm exhausted already, and knee deep in paper and books,
I imagine the first day with all the anticipation and nervous looks.
I can put aside all the hours and hours I prepare,
And think of these bright minds that I'll open with care.

Just maybe I'm getting that teaching passion anew,
And amidst all the yet million things to do,
I yearn for the difference I'll make in each life,
I put aside my weariness and my overwhelming strife.

And I look to this new year as fresh and alive,
With possibilities to make great strides.
So I persevere and push on with all the preparations,
I slog through the posters, the folders and decorations.

To welcome my students into a haven of learning,
To open my arms and meet each yearning.
Yes, I miss vacation and the endless summer sun,
But I look forward to each young life, so my quest has begun.

- Heather Skipworth Craven, Heather's Bells, August 2005

The Teacher

This story was passed along to me on the internet. I believe that it has been circulating for a while and I think that the full story may be in the original Chicken Soup for the Soul. I hope you enjoy it and are inspired!

---

One day a teacher asked her students to list the names of the other students in the room on two sheets of paper, leaving a space between each name.

Then she told them to think of the nicest thing they could say about each of their classmates and write it down. It took the remainder of the class period to finish their assignment, and as the students left the room, each one handed in the papers.

That Saturday, the teacher wrote down the name of each student on a separate sheet of paper, and listed what everyone else had said about that individual.

On Monday she gave each student his or her list. Before long, the entire class was smiling. "Really?" she heard whispered. "I never knew that I meant anything to anyone!" and, "I didn't know others liked me so much." were most of the comments.

No one ever mentioned those papers in class again. She never knew if they discussed them after class or with their parents, but it didn't matter. The exercise had accomplished its purpose.The students were happy with themselves and one another.

That group of students moved on. Several years later, one of the students was killed in Vietnam and his teacher attended the funeral of that special student.

She had never seen a serviceman in a military coffin before. He looked so handsome, so mature. The church was packed! with his friends. One by one those who loved him took a last walk by the coffin. The teacher was the last one to bless the coffin.

As she stood there, one of the soldiers who acted as pallbearer came up to her.

Were you Mark's math teacher?" he asked. She nodded: "yes."
Then he said: "Mark talked about you a lot."

After the funeral, most of Mark's former classmates went together to a luncheon. Mark's mother and father were there, obviously waiting to speak with his teacher.

"We want to show you something," his father said, taking a wallet out of his pocket. "They found this on Mark when he was killed. We thought you might recognize it."

Opening the billfold, he carefully removed two worn pieces of notebook paper that had obviously been taped, folded and refolded many times. The teacher knew without looking that the papers were the ones on which she had listed all the good things each of Mark's classmates had said about him.

"Thank you so much for doing that," Mark's mother said. "As you can see, Mark treasured it."

All of Mark's former classmates started to gather around. Charlie smiled rather sheepishly and said, "I still have my list It's in the top drawer of my desk at home."

Chuck's wife said, "Chuck asked me to put his in our wedding album."
I have mine too," Marilyn said. "It's in my diary."
Then Vicki, another classmate, reached into her pocketbook, took out her wallet and showed her worn and frazzled list to the group. "I carry this with me at all times, " Vicki said and without batting an eyelash, she continued: "I think we all saved our lists."

That's when the teacher finally sat down and cried. She cried for Mark and for all his friends who would never see him again.

The density of people in society is so thick that we forget that life will end one day. And we don't know when that one day will be.

Remember, you reap what you sow, what you put into the lives of others comes back into your own.

Power of Teaching By Dr. Frank Trujillo I feel sometimes powerless and small, overwhelmed and inadequate, engulfed in thoughts and feelings that perhaps what I am doing is insignificant, that my life's pursuit, that my teaching, is futile. And I say "Who and I to change the world? Who am I to think that I can make a difference?" And then I reflect on the young people under my charge, and I think about my role and about what power, if any, I have. And I find that I am not devoid of resources or strength, that I am, indeed, endowed with talent and ability and strength. I do, after all, decide what will be taught. No one else. And it is largely my prerogative when it will be taught and how, and where, and why it will be taught. To a great extent I determine the curriculum. And the richness and intensity with which it is taught is in my hands. I have that power. And I have the ability to think and to plan and then to implement; to select from my repertoire of skills the one best suited to my purpose, yet still able to adapt myself to student needs with the dexterity of an artisan. Most adults would be fortunate to perhaps last out one day overseeing a roomful of kids. My orchestration makes enlightened music of the chaotic din. I guess you could say this is power! I have the power. I have the vigor to motivate, the fullness to laugh, the courage to control. I have the power to uplift and to create and, when I'm red-hot, the intensity to inspire! I can form my students into lines or circles, triangle or squares. My influence is such I can turn their very feelings into F's or A's. With just one look I can let a student know that everything is well with the world and that he or she has a perfect right to aim for the very top of it all! And I can use my hands, turned up to lift them up. Or turned down to keep them down. What power do I have in the system? In the eyes of my students I am the system. And I have the power to lead them places they did not know existed, to build them back up when society tears them down, to catapult them higher than I myself will ever reach; and to push them gently, but assuredly, into the unknown, painting for them in broad brush strokes a future I can never hope to see. And every day I have the wherewithal in my classroom to build walls or to build bridges between the generations. And it is within my discretion to design a rigid, competitive structure or a cooperative, helping network in my classroom. I even affect the weather! What I do every day determines whether their world will be indifferent cold or sweathouse hot, or warm, inviting, alive and vibrant with learning. I have an awesome power. If I succeed I pass the knowledge about what is important to the next generation. And, because their world will be the better for my labor mine is an important service to a just cause. Mine is a present power and a future power. If I can reach the children of today I touch the children of tomorrow. Mine is a giving power. All that I know about the world and about how one learns about the world I must give. And in the giving of my gift, I receive my greatest power: the power to teach my students to learn how to learn. Empowering them is o the essence, for if their teacher feels sometimes powerless and small, how insignificant must they sometimes feel? And when the last day comes, and it is time for us to part we gather together, say our good-byes, and separate. After that there is sadness but a certain contentment that I am sure only teachers feel. It is a happiness that comes from knowing that a part of us forever, transplanted, lives... No, thrives! inside of each individual who has gazed at us across tired brown desks and called us "Teacher." Even on a down day -- when I'm feeling puny and insignificant-- even I try hard to remember that all it takes is one person -- just one person! -- to make a difference in their lives. And, there is no reason in the world that that person cannot and should not be me! I can make a difference! That is my power. That is the power to teach.

Creation Of A Teacher

While the Good Lord was creating teachers, He was into His sixth day of 'overtime' when the angel appeared and said, "You're doing a lot of fiddling around with this one."

And the Lord said, "Have you read the specs on this order?
She has to: stand above all her students, yet be on their level, be able to do 180 other things not connected with the subject she teaches, run on coffee, cokes, and leftovers, communicate vital knowledge to thousands of students daily, and be right, have as much, and sometimes more, time for her job as she does for herself, have a smile that can endure everything from practical jokes to pay cuts, go on teaching when parents question her every move and the administration doesn't understand, and have six pairs of hands.

The angel shook her head slowly and said, "Six pairs of hands...not possible."
"It's not the hands that are causing me problems," said the Lord. "It's the three pairs of eyes that teachers have to have."

"That's on the standard model?" asked the angel.

The Lord nodded. "One pair that can see a student for what he is and not what society has labeled him. Another pair must be in the back of her head, to see what she shouldn't, but what she has to know. OF course, the ones here in front can look at a child when he goofs up and reflect, 'I understand and I still believe in you." without so much as uttering a word."

"Lord," said the angel, touching His sleeve gently, "Come to bed. Tomorrow..."

"I can't," said the Lord. "I'm so close to creating something so close to myself. Already I have one who comes to work when she is too sick ...can still teach a class when they don't want to learn...loves thousands of children that are not her own...and all of this in both sexes. And wait until you see my Special Ed teacher! She is truly special; she will never take anything her students do for granted."

The angel circled the model of the teacher very slowly. "It's too soft," she sighed.

"But tough," said the Lord excitedly. "You cannot imagine what this teacher can do or endure."

"Can she think?"

"Not only can she think, but she can reason and compromise."

Finally the angel bent over and ran her fingers across the cheek of the teacher. "There's a leak," she pronounced. "I told you that you were putting too much into this model. You can't imagine the stress factor."

The Lord moved in for a closer look and gently lifted the drop of moisture to His finger where it glistened and sparkled in the light.
"It's not a leak," He said. "It's a tear."

"A tear?" asked the angel. "What's it for?"

"It's for joy, sadness, disappointment, compassion, pain, loneliness, and pride."

"You are a genius," said the angel.

The Lord looked somber. "I didn't put it there."

- Author Unknown

Teacher's Story

It’s late in the afternoon of an off-site professional development day. The staff of the elementaty school has shared among themselves an event in their careers that has had an impact on them. One of the teachers has asked to share the story of a teacher in his group with the rest of the staff. It’s a story she is too shy to tell; but that has moved their group. He stands and tells this story…

Mrs. Alverez was in her first few years of teaching in a bad part of the Bronx. She was a second grade teacher and she had a quiet boy, Carlos, who was struggling to learn to read in her class. Carlos was living with his single mother in a run down apartment building in the neighborhood. His father, who had left his mother a few years before, lived in the same building but would ignore his son, acting as if he didn’t know him. He wouldn’t talk to him or eve nod hello. Needless to say, this devastated Carlos and the impact of it seemed to drive him even deeper into his shell. He had no confidence and his struggles at school added to his misery. Mrs. Alverez worked as hard as she could to help Carlos to read; but things weren’t going very well.
Towards the end of the year, Mrs. Alverez received her assignment for the coming year. She was given the opportunity to move to a position in another school. It was a good school and she was really excited.
One day after school, Carlos’ mother came to see Mrs. Alverez. She spoke in broken English, “You have helped my son Carlos this year. Thank you.”
Mrs. Alverez nodded modestly.
Carlos’ mother began again, “He still cannot read. I worry for him. If you would teach him again, I’m sure he would learn. I think he will disappear if he has to start again with a new teacher. I beg you Mrs. Alverez, please stay with my son. Teach him to read.”
Mrs. Alverez went home that night and thought about the plea of Carlos’ desparate mother. It was the plea of an immigrant mother who knew her son, and knew that so much of his life hinged on his ability to read. It would be easy for Carlos to fall through the cracks.
The next morning Mrs. Alverez asked her principal to let her move up a grade with Carlos’ entire class. He agreed. She called and politely turned down the transfer to her “dream job”.
The next year went by quickly. Mrs. Alverez taught as best she could, always giving Carlos a bit of extra attention. She hoped that things would “click” for this shy, frightened little boy. Carlos’ mother didn’t come back to the school that year.
Many, many years later, Mrs. Alverez was teaching at a school in another neighborhood in the Bronx. It was the end of the year and she stayed late to pack her things and clean out her classroom. When she was done she left the building to walk across the street to her car. As she got to the corner, she stumbled and dropped a sheaf of papers on the concrete sidewalk. A gust of wind scattered the papers in all directions. She sighed and without hesitation, she stooped to pick them up.
At that moment, two tall boys rounded the corner and saw her predicament. They both began chasing down and retrieving the papers that by now were all over the intersection. She sighed gratefully as the taller of the two boys approached her with her papers and a smile. “Thank you, young man. Thank you very much.”
Suddenly the young man’s smile disappeared. He murmured, “Mrs. Alverez?” In an instant they both recognized each other. It was Carlos, grown now, straight and tall and handsome. Without hesitation or self conciousness, they embraced. “Carlos, you’re so big. You’re a man now.” Carlos beamed with happiness.
The second boy, who had been chasing papers, interrupted, “Excuse me, you…you are Mrs. Alverez?” asked the boy incredulously. She looked at him, “Yes, I am, and do I know you?”
Carlos’ friend was very serious, “No, you don’t know me, Mrs. Alverez; but I know you. Last week, Carlos and I graduated from high school. Carlos was the valedictorian of the class. He gave the commencement speech in front of the whole school. He told us about a teacher named Mrs. Alverez that helped him learn to read and cared for him and inspired him. It was this teacher, Mrs. Alvarez, to whom he owed all his success. Are you THAT Mrs. Alverez?”
She stood there looking at the two young men. She began crying very sweet tears of joy. Carlos embraced her again. Carlos’ friend insisted on shaking her hand.”

The teacher telling Mrs. Alverez’s story paused for a long moment. He was tearing up, “That’s the story she told us in our group. I had to share it.” I looked around the room, which was completely silent. Our hearts were swollen. Here and there teachers were wiping their eyes.
I stepped from behind the lectern and reached out to Mrs. Alverez, who stood proudly amid the applause that burst spontaneously from the audience.
It was just one teacher’s story; one boy’s journey.
Just beneath the surface, in most teachers, beats a heart of service. It’s good to remember that when we get frustrated with the pace of change. It’s good to honor it, to know it is there. It is the “teacher’s heart” that will ultimately change the lives of our children. It is good to remember this, especially in this season of light, hope, and renewal.
peace
pete

Dedicated For My Beloved Husband

Love is not to forget but to forgive

Please spare some time from your busy schedule to read this

Amazing Love Story…. salty coffee

He met her on a party. She was so outstanding, many guys chasing after her, while he so normal, nobody paid attention to him. At the end of the party, he invited her to have coffee with him, she was surprised, but due to being polite, she promised. They sat in a nice coffee shop, he was too nervous to say anything, she felt uncomfortable, she thought, please, let me go home.... suddenly he asked the waiter. "would you please give me some salt? I'd like to put it in my coffee."

Everybody stared at him, so strange! His face turned red, but still, he put the salt in his coffee and drank it. She asked him curiously; why you have this hobby? He replied: "when I was a little boy, I was living near the sea, I like playing in the sea, I could feel the taste of the sea, just like the taste of the salty coffee. Now every time I have the salty coffee, I always think of my childhood, think of my hometown, I miss my hometown so much, I miss my parents who are still living there". While saying that tears filled his eyes. She was deeply touched.

That's his true feeling, from the bottom of his heart. A man who can tell out his homesickness, he must be a man who loves home, cares about home, has responsibility of home. Then she also started to speak, spoke about her faraway hometown, her childhood, her family. That was a really nice talk, also a beautiful beginning of their story.

They continued to date. She found that actually he was a man who meets all her demands; he had tolerance, was kind hearted, warm, careful. He was such a good person but she almost missed him! Thanks to his salty coffee!

Then the story was just like every beautiful love story, the princess married to the prince, then they were living the happy life... And, every time she made coffee for him, she put some salt in the coffee, as she knew that's the way he liked it.

After 40 years, he passed away, left her a letter which said:

"My dearest, please forgive me, forgive my whole life lie. This was the only lie I said to you---the salty coffee. Remember the first time we dated? I was so nervous at that time, actually I wanted some sugar, but I said salt It was hard for me to change so I just went ahead. I never thought that could be the start of our communication! I tried to tell you the truth many times in my life, but I was too afraid to do that, as I have promised not to lie to you for anything.. Now I'm dying, I afraid of nothing so I tell you the truth: I don't like the salty coffee, what a strange bad taste.. But I have had the salty coffee for my whole life! Since I knew you, I never feel sorry for anything I do for you. Having you with me is my biggest happiness for my whole life. If I can live for the second time, still want to know you and have you for my whole life, even though I have to drink the salty coffee again".

Her tears made the letter totally wet. Someday, someone asked her: what's the taste of salty coffee? It's sweet. She replied.

Love is not to forget but to forgive, not to see but to understand, not to hear but to listen, not to let go but to HOLD ON !!!!

Don't ever leave the one you love for the one you like, because the one you like will leave you for the one they love.