Dear Deer

This morning I turned left on Stone Valley Road to see a crowd of students around a baby deer, stuck in this wrought-iron fence. I heard the baby crying but drove into the faculty parking lot, for I had much to do before finals began at 8. As I opened my car door, the pathetic creature howled. I grabbed a beach towel, ran across the street, and covered her head so she wouldn't panic. Instantly, she relaxed in my colleague Carol's arms while my other colleague Solomon and I tried to pull apart the bars so the little girl could escape. I managed to pull the bars off of the fence(!), but not wide enough to free the fawn. The missing brick scraped up my leg as the fawn kicked it off.  Three teachers couldn't liberate this baby.  

Then, Lisa K., a parent of one of my students, ran up with a tire jack. Solomon applied it to the bars, and we jiggled the fawn free. Carol handed her to me like she had just come out of a birth canal, and the fawn jumped into my arms. We wrapped her in the towel, and I carried her up this hill and let her go, far away from the traffic. About 30 minutes later, this deer in the picture, who is her mama, came down the hill and paused at the sidewalk. I opened my classroom window, called out to tell her that her baby was fine (while my students were howling with laughter), and about an hour later I saw them reunited. What a lesson during finals week!

The feeling of that baby deer in my arms- her pounding heartbeat - as I calmed her down and felt her heartbeat steady, before I made sure her limbs were OK, and her scraped hip wasn't too bad...Well, let's just say I'm a mother, and she knew it. I'd like to hope Mama Deer will keep a closer eye on her baby.

Not a bad view from my classroom.  I've seen this little family a few times this year!

Old School

Welcome to my first blog, focusing on the research I do as a classroom English teacher, volleyball coach, and student of life.  It's my attempt to join the 21st century.  Old school only goes so far, and I'm going on the road.  I don't have time to learn how to do this, so I'll be putting into practice my favorite volleyball metaphor:

READY   FIRE    AIM

This means that rather than creating the perfect blog, I'm just going to start writing.  I'll recalibrate once I translate my thoughts into "ink" here.  (That's still old school, isn't it?)

Soon I'll be leaving for Flanders Field, the Western Front, and the 100th anniversary celebrations of the WW1 armistice -  across the pond in England, France, and Belgium.  I'll pay my respects this June to several British poets who wrote and died along the Western Front between 1914-1918, and visit the site of the Christmas Truce soccer game between the Germans, Scots, and French soldiers on Christmas Eve, 2015.

May you live a life you love,

Jenyth