Tonight Keith and I enjoyed Lois’ “Summa Reception.”  I’d never heard of one until this year.  This is so cool.   High school seniors with 100+ grade point averages each choose one teacher who has most influenced them.  (Lois’ GPA is 108, and she is ranked 24th of 598.  Yes, I’m bragging.  Are you surprised?)

The students and teachers are honored at a reception and ceremony.  Tonight, 94 “summa seniors” at Ronald Reagan High School offered remarks about their “summa teachers.”  Several teachers were from elementary school days; several from middle school, including a band director (chosen twice) with whom we worship; two students chose their mothers who were also elementary school teachers.   A uniformed summa senior chose his ROTC instructor, a retired Army sergeant.  The Model UN sponsor whom Hannah admires so much -  chosen three times.  One summa senior quoted a long passage from Shakespeare to thank his English teacher.  Neat, neat, neat variety.

Lois chose Carolyn Trigilio, her calculus teacher of two years.   Lois, by the way, is secretary of the Calculus Club.  And took first place in the state competition for Latin Derivatives  last weekend, plus second in Latin Grammar.  But I digress.  Frequently.

Hard to hear, I know.  Here are Lois’ remarks about Ms. Trigilio:  “A recent study showed that students conform to a teacher’s expectations for them, and vice-versa.  If this is really the case, I cannot begin to guess what Ms. Trigilio expected of me.  I would often enter her classroom ready to learn with more energy than either of us knew what to do with.  Still, Ms. Trigilio was calm, oddly personable and a superb teacher.  Ms. Trigilio’s silent method and sly smirks proved not only efficient but also encouraging to her classes.  Thank you, Mrs. Trigilio for challenging and fostering me for two of the longest years of my life.”

During the reception, I overheard several teachers expressing their honor and delight at being chosen.  Wow.  What a motivator.    The teachers get a bucket of recognition from the parents and students, as well as the NEISD brass (the superintendent himself opened the evening.)  The students get the privilege of publicly recognizing the teachers.  The parents get to clap for their kids, plus personally thank the teacher – hard to gripe about property taxes with this kind of evening, right?   Win-win-win.  And what did it cost?  A few trays of sandwiches, two bowls of punch, 200 fold-over programs for the parents, and 150 multi-page booklets for the students and teachers.

I think that’s brilliant.

Like a certain high school senior I know.

The kind of “senior moment” I like to have!

Lean to the left!  Julia is front and center.  She thought her placement was because she was not as tall as some of the other performers, but Rachel assured her only the good dancers made the front row.

This was the last elementary school play for Keith and me, having attended our first in 1996 enduring enjoying kindergartener Rachel belting out “Baby Beluga, Under the Sea.”  More memorable Woodworth moments on stage included Lois-the-sheep “molting” while white cotton balls slowly loosened from her shower cap, Hannah-the-Greek Goddness singing a duet of “Greece is the Word,” and Rachel portraying a sausage in a play (whose name escapes me) about food products.  Seldom had I seen pork played to that depth.

We’re entering a season of “lasts” and “firsts” at home.  “Last” school play.  “First” child” preparing to leave for college.  “Last” child in the children’s ministry at church.  “First” summer we could just stop somewhere on the way home from work if we wanted to.  “Last” Sister’s Day coming up where all four girls will be home.  “First” year of serious boyfriends.  And the beat goes on.

The chorus struck a chord with me:

Desert sands that spin and blow

Distant stars that gleam and glow

Desert midnight

Camels lie sleeping

Silver moon shines bright

Desert midnight

Silent sands keeping

Watch all through the night

I think those “desert sands that spin and glow” are the sands of time, swirling more and more quickly.

I’m watching.  Some days for the first time, and some days for the last.  But I’m watching.

Boys and girls – put your hands in your laps and read along very quietly with me.  Try sounding out each word.  Raise your hand if you need help.

Illustrator Lois is known for her anime talent.

When Julia starts Middle School next year, it will be our first time since 1996 not to have a child (or two or three) in an Elementary grade.

Julia and I attended the Electives Fair a few weeks ago.  The idea of her choosing a few of her own classes is very strange to her.

Rachel-the-Shopper has found far more of Julia’s “cute” clothes than I have.

Julia has enjoyed  consistently excellent teachers in Elementary School.  We will always be grateful to them.

“Awesome big sister…”  Now whom could that be?!

Believe it or not, the Middle School administration says the biggest fear of new students is working the locks on their lockers.

“Shout” is such an ugly word.  I would have preferred her to use “reminding.”  DID YOU HEAR THAT, RACHEL WYOMING?  I SAID “REMINDING!!”

Yes, we will!

Lois is now a high school senior.  She’s worked hard enough to have some real choices about where she goes away to college.  Those decisions are bittersweet because while I’m thrilled for her, I know I’m going to miss her.  But while she’s considering her next educational step, we’re enjoying some fun now with her being recognized as a Commended Student in the National Merit Scholarship Program.  Woot!

Tuesday:  A lovely breakfast for Lois, Keith and me with other families at the local country club…..

….where each student announced his or her intended college and major.  For Lois:  Likely Baylor or A&M, majoring in Engineering.   Both of her grandfathers were engineers, so, it’s a family thang.

Tonight:  The students and their parents were recognized at half-time at the Reagan/Madison game.  Wish Keith could have been there, but he’s in Houston visiting his parents.  And Hannah’s at Girl Scout camp.  But Rachel took these pictures, and Julia clapped hard.  This was the fourth football game I’ve attended in my life – one as yearbook editor in high school to write copy; two when I was handling sports and events for SBC in Houston; now this game tonight.  Interestingly, my former SBC sports marketing boss and friend Mark saw us at the game, and posted his congrats to my Facebook wall.

Yeah, I had to practically run to keep up with her – but what else is new?

A medal from Dr. Brian Gottardy, NEISD Superintendent.   As I have blogged before - the single biggest blessing we’ve gotten from moving to San Antonio in 2000 has been the schools.  In Houston and in San Antonio – good neighbors, good friends, good church.  But schools in Houston?  Forget them.  Hideous.  I am profoundly thankful for the excellent NEISD teachers Rachel, Lois, Hannah and Julia have enjoyed, and the schools’ constant emphasis on achievement.  Rachel is an education major (also a family thang) at UTSA and hopes to join them one day.

I’m not exactly sure how Lois got to be a senior.  I mean, she’s my preemie.  The toddler who used to wear swim goggles, hold a flashlight and announce, “”Mom, I’m going on a mystery.”  The kindergartener I put on the wrong school bus our first week here.   The middle school alto.  Now the fierce Latin competitor.  And somehow a senior.

I’m clapping for her every chance I get.

Hannah and Lois know to complete every scrap of information possible on those mountains of school forms before handing them off to me.  Why, oh why, does NEISD still require so much paper when parents are also required to enter the same info electronically in the parent portal?  Sigh.  I am still a huge believer in my favorite motherhood trick:  Clear address labels.   My using them embarasses the girls now.  I don’t care.  The embarrassment should be on the part of any entity that asks me for the same piece of information more than once.  BTW – For friends that have never visited – Keith built our kitchen table using floor planking from a tear-down house in Houston in the late 90′s.  It is the heart, soul and center of our home.

School year 2011-2012:  Lois, 17, is a senior in high school.  I am already noodling her graduation party, because I’m hoping we will  have lots to celebrate.  Hannah, 15, is a sophomore in high school.  Her lunch period is 1:50 – 2:45 p.m. this year, and they’re out of school at 4 p.m.   There are going to be lots of hurry-up-and-swallow peanut butter crackers in her Vera Bradley backpack.  Julia, 11, is in 5th grade, and a safety patrol officer.  I think that explains the toy handcuffs on her bookshelf.  Rachel, 20 is a college sophomore at UTSA with an afternoon job in an NEISD after-school program.  She brings the most lively stories to the dinner table.

Julia brought home an “all aboue me” paper cube to cut, fold and tape.  Note that “Sometthing Important To Me:” is “Jesus + My 2 guinee Pigs.”

This school year is a big one for our family.  Lois will graduate high school, and she wants to go away to college – maybe Baylor, maybe Tech, maybe Houston, maybe Alabama – maybe it depends on the scholarship?!  And  Julia will complete elementary school.  That may not sound like a big deal, but it is.  Since 1996 – elementary school has placed more (PTA) meetings on our calendars and more checks in backpacks than any other single “anything.”

We’ve had a child in elementary school since Rachel-the-kindergartener in 1996.  I confess:  My standards have lapsed.  New Stride Rite shoes?  Not anymore.  We’re talking “I know we got them in the clearance bin at Wal-mart last summer, but they don’t have any holes.”  Matching socks?  If you can find two identical in the plastic clothes basket on the top of the freezer.  Hair bands?  Don’t care as long as the going-to-school hair matches my three rules:  Clean.  Combed.  A color occurring in nature.

Tonight at bedtime Julia asked God to help her be a good girl tomorrow and to not get her folder signed. 

Amen, Julia!  Amen!  Pray that 179 more times this elementary school year and we’re done!

Rachel – a college sophomore – is required to take one art class to fulfill the fine arts requirement of her education major.  She signed up for “painting” grudgingly.  She’d never painted.  Didn’t expect to like it.  Grumbled about the timing, the location, the materials required, etc.

And guess what?  She’s loved it!

I’ve long said that she has a better “eye” than do I for composition.  Her photos are almost always better than mine.  BTW – Neither Keith nor I have any artistic talent whatsoever.  The last thing I painted was our driveway gate in Houston when we were trying to sell the house.

My seven-year-old great niece Laura snapped this picture of herself this summer with Rachel’s iPhone.  It’s blurry and kind of silly.  I would have deleted it.  Rachel saw something else in it, and, fortunately, kept it.

The original iPhone picture, snapped by seven-year-old Laura…whose birthday is today, BTW. 

After sawing the wood for her own frame, stretching her own canvas and painting for 30 hours – here is Rachel’s rendition of – and commentary about -  Laura’s iPhone picture.

Used to be, I hung her “art” on the fridge.

This time – I think not.

Way to go, Rachel!

I really like NEISD’s feeder system for our neighborhood schools.  Every student in our local elementary school goes to one middle school, and that middle school feeds to only one high school.  School pride – both in your current school, and your next one – is encouraged.  Julia’s “Future Rattler” (high school) shirt was the envy of her classmates Friday.  No “splitting” elementary schools and junior highs as was the norm in Houston when Keith and I were students.  NEISD employees also get into the games free of charge – nice for Rachel, who works in an NEISD after school program.  Notice Julia’s new sneakers.  Her feet have grown – we are thrilled.   Got her some new Sunday shoes at our fashion center (Target) today, too.

Wednesday night – Lois drove us home from church, which allowed me to point my iPhone at the road.  It was a beautiful night….

…with a Harvest Moon, which Lois captured with my Nikon after we got home.  I love the layers of color in the clouds in this shot.

Now I must get downstairs and start some scalloped potatoes to accompany Keith’s meatloaf for dinner tonight.

Have a good evening!

The obligatory first day of school photo – really, it’s required, it’s in the “Mothers’ Manual.”  (l-r) Lois – High School Junior.  Julia – 4th grade.  Rachel – College Sophomore.  Hannah – High School Freshman.

My obligatory first-day-of-school photos started August 19, 1996 with this kindergartner.

Rachel made a new friend – they talked all morning.  Her name?  “I have no idea.”

Lois is sitting at the kitchen table right now, marveling in the wonders of AP Calculus.  “They started us with ‘limits’ – the first day!”  I would offer to help her, of course, but then she’d never learn.

Hannah’s first high school history class was shared with some repeating sophomores and juniors.  “Mom – how do you fail history?”

Julia was the first in her fourth grade class to complete a “really hard” word search, earning her praise from the teacher.  The child loves word games – she is her mother’s daughter.

Even though the school year is often a grind – I simply cannot complain.  I am too thankful for the excellent schools were enjoy here.  Of all the blessings we received in moving from Houston to San Antonio, the schools are definitely first in my heart.  I look back at HISD and shudder.

In addition to all the School Zone signs – there’s another that caught my eye today.  It’s 101 degrees this evening, and a few languid back strokes sound mighty inviting.

Sigh

Guess I’ll go get out my clear return address labels and do paperwork instead.

When I was told we had to move after having dodged the relo bullet for years, I cried every night for weeks.  Literally.

Lois and Hannah – Christmas 1999 in Houston.  12″ plastic tree on the coffee table; presents on the couch; stocks hung on the mini-blinds.  We let the girls unwrap their gifts Christmas morning – but no un-packaging.  As soon as they unwrapped an item, I placed in it a moving box.  Mean, mean Mom.  Our unpacking in San Antonio on January 13 was quite festive with the new toys, clothes, dolls, etc.

I sobbed when my dear friend Shelley – who had moved to San Antonio years before – called me.  Shelley laughed at me (she’s done that a lot over 33 years) and said, “Dry your ears, dearie.  You’re going to LOVE San Antonio!”

But I.  Did  Not.  Want  To.  Move.  Period.

And yet Keith and I had long cussed, discussed and prayed about our school situation.  We had managed to claw our way into a good elementary school for Rachel and – by legacy – Lois.  But there were no good public middle schools in HISD, and only one good high school, which we had no hope of attending.  What to do?  Should we move to the sticks and endure the commute?  One of us get an evening/weekend job to pay for private school?  Home schooling was certainly “out,” with our being pro-life.

So instead – we moved.  And I am so thankful.  When I think about all the time I spent crying, I laugh at myself.  What an idiot.

In honor of year 2010…and our 10th anniversary in Ole San Antone….here’s my personal “Top 10 Things I Love About San Antonio” list.   If you see this list later in a Chamber of Commerce brochure, remember – you read it here first.

#10  I Love the History

I’ve read that every real Texan’s home is San Antonio.  And why not, with the Alamo, its other missions and rich history?  Teddy Roosevelt gathered the Rough Riders at the Menger Hotel here  in 1898.   LBJ and Lady Bird (newest high school named for her) were married at St. Mark’s in 1934.    My first trip to San Antonio was to visit HemisFair in 1968, with its famous needle tower.

The city features tons of historical markers (or “hysterical markers,” as Keith calls them), fascinating street names (highly recommend this book) and engrossing cemeteries.

Hannah, Rachel and Lois at the Alamo, Christmas 2000.  “Remember the Woodworths!”

#9  I  Have Loved Watching Our Neighborhood Grow

When we moved to our neighborhood, the closest 24-hour pharmacy was seven miles away.  Ditto the closest Target – and it was small.  Not all the streets went through, and there were construction sites everywhere (handy for dead-of-night rock dumps when building a pond….if you know what I mean….)

It’s just been fun to watch everything grow – the shopping, more schools, four 24-hour pharmacies within two miles and yes – two nearby Super Targets.

The girls spent hours playing “fort” at the houses built on our street – like this one, behind us.  Keith and I walked those houses often, getting ideas.

#8  I Love the Buses – All of Them

We had no school bus service in Houston.  Here – bus service is provided if you live more than two miles from the school.  It’s been a godsend for elementary and middle school.

Keith and I have been riding the Express bus downtown to work since November, 2005 – we were its original riders.   It’s saved us a fortune, plus gives me to time to read in the morning, and nap in the afternoon. Everyone at home is happier if I get my nap, I assure you.

Julia and Hannah on the bus August 14, 2006 – the district’s first day of school, plus Julia’s first day of American school ever.

#7  I Love the Military Presence

Standing behind a full bird colonel buying a quart of milk in HEB….sitting next to parents in camo at a school play….attending moving-back-to-Germany parties at the end of every school year….watching the doctor from Ft. Sam hook his bicycle on the front of our downtown bus….that’s what we do, because San Antonio is a military town with Ft. Sam Houston, Brooks AFB, Lackland AFB and Randolph AFB.

USAA Insurance – one of the three biggest employers (USAA, AT&T, federal government) – preferentially hires veterans, like Keith’s brother Byron.

We’ve loved sharing Thanksgiving with airmen trainees from Lackland Air Force Base.  Those are our good friends John and Linda on the left, with whom we always co-host the holiday.  And those are our good friends Shelley and John on the right, who helped us unpack in 2000 – what a thankless job.  I remember Shelley sloughing her way through a sea of my Rubbermaid.

#6  I Loved Learning To Be New?

In gynormous Houston, you carve your niche.  My niche was bordered by Stella Link, Gessner, S. Main and 59.   If I went anywhere in that several square miles, I was bound to see a friend.  And I loved it.  It was sooo hard to be “new” in San Antonio.  I h-a-t-e-d it.  And yet – had we not been “new” – I never would have learned its loneliness.   And I never would have made some of the good friends we’ve made, because I wouldn’t have thought to encourage the girls to ask the “new kid” over to play, or seek the visitor at church.  I never would have thought of what to write down for a new neighbor – the trash pick-up days, when the pool opens, the closest 24-hour pharmacy, the nearest churches of their denomination.  It’s a lesson I needed to learn, but one I never would have pursued voluntarily.

After we moved, I was always encouraging the girls to invite friends over, particularly new-to-the-neighborhood or new-to-school-or-church friends. Being new stinks.

#5   I Love the 20-Minute Town

On our house-hunting weekend in 1999, we ran into my friend Bud at the airport who said, “You’ll love this place.  It’s a 20-minute town.”  Meaning you can get anywhere in 20 minutes.  At rush hour, that’s not quite true now – but still, San Antonio’s size, population (1.3M) and expanse is very manageable.

Keith describes San Antonio as “a small town of a million people.”   We quickly noticed one of the first questions locals asked was, “Where did you go to high school?”  Obituaries almost always list the high school, even if the deceased completed more advanced education.  San Antonio also uses street banners to advertise events.  Its freeway entrance/exit system is very small-town with a distinct lack of interchanges – the one thing I would change with my magic wand, if I had one.

I like the smaller-town “feel.”  I’ve long hated driving, and if everything I needed were within five miles of me, that’d be even better.

One of the best ways to get around (down)town:  The River Walk.  We go every Christmas to enjoy the lights, music and food.  It meanders behind the office buildings where we work.

#4  I Love Fiesta Texas

We have Sea World, Schlitterbahn and Fiesta Texas here – but Fiesta Texas is our favorite.  Sometimes in the summer, we go to just swim – it has a kickin’ water park, and it’s too hot to do anything else outside.   We renew our passes at spring break; go often in the summer; go once for Fright Fest, and once for Holiday in the Park.

Her first summer home, Julia would come to me and wave her crooked hand like a fish, asking “Bomp, bomp, bomp, bomp?” with an expectant smile.  That meant, “Hey, Mom – let’s go to Fiesta Texas and do some rides!”  Every summer, she races to check the height requirements for the bigger coasters.  When she grows tall enough for the Superman (54″) – listen for the shout.

We took Julia when she’d been home less than two weeks.  Our sainted social worker – Jennifer – thought we were stone cold crazy until she met Julia and got a feel for her personality.  We did not have to cocoon our post-institutionalized child as so many adoptive families have had to do.

#3  I Love the Patriotism

You may think #7 – Military Presence – and Patriotism are the same thing.  But they’re not.   Military towns are not necessarily patriotic towns.  And San Antonio is patriotic.

Fiesta Texas plays the national anthem before opening the park each day.  One day last summer – as we waited, hands over our hearts – a group of foreign-sounding high school students rudely talked and laughed and jostled.  I glared, then finally stepped over and said, “Excuse me.  That’s our national anthem.”  A girl answered, “I do not care.  I am French.”  I said, “You are a guest in our country.   I would hope you would show respect for your host.”  They did quiet themselves.  An older-than-me Hispanic woman walked over after the anthem to say, “I’m glad you said something.  I was going over to slap them.”

The first year we hosted airmen trainees for Thanksgiving (2002), I parked my eight-year-old Ford mini-van between a tricked-out Lexus and a beat-up Chevy yard truck filled with lawn equipment.   The families hosting airmen tend to visit, and it’s so much fun hearing how long they’ve been doing it, what they’re serving, etc.    Nobody talks about their their heirloom china, or the square footage of their dining room, or any “things.”  They talk about how happy it makes them to host trainees for dinner, and maybe their own military service away from home on a holiday.

God bless America.

Children’s Choir Members Rachel and Lois in 2001

#2  I Love Our Church

The third Sunday we visited Shearer Hills, Keith looked at me and asked, “Do you want to get this over with and join?”   We did.    We’ve made most of our friends there – been challenged to serve Jesus there – taught and been taught there.

There’s always something special about the church where your babies are born and if for no other reason, Westbury Baptist in Houston will always be precious to me.  But there’s also something special about the church where your babies are born again, and all four of ours made their professions of faith at Shearer Hills.

A church membership is not a substitute for a relationship with Jesus Christ.  But we are called to be members of the body, and when we don’t see our church family regularly, there’s a vague unease in our family life.    We do try welcome guests, too, as we felt so welcomed.  As Casting Crowns sings, “Jesus paid much too high a price -  For us to pick and choose who should come -
And we are the Body of Christ.”

Hannah’s 2003 Baptism

#1 – I Love Our Schools

We are profoundly thankful for our schools.  Keith knew – from online research – within two square miles where we’d live when we moved, based on the schools.  If we had to move, then we were going to solve our biggest problem, which was sub-standard public education for our girls.

Third-grader Rachel was an outstanding student in HISD.  When we moved into North East ISD in San Antonio – she was behind.  Badly behind.  Her teacher tutored her twice a week to help her catch up.

Other than three small bumps in the road, we have been very happy with Rachel, Lois and Hannah in their schools.  That happiness makes the steep property taxes worth it.

But with Julia – we’ve been more than “happy.”  We’ve been thrilled.  Julia’s English-speaking ability (which was “none”) was evaluated soon after she came home in May, 2006, in preparation for her upcoming kindergarten year.  NEISD brought in a Russian-speaking speech therapist to see if she needed speech therapy, which almost all post-institutionalized children require (she did not.)  Her kinder teacher – who also came to her baptism last year – kept a very watchful eye on her, to ensure she didn’t get lost physically or academically.  The school principal personally looked in on her once a week.  She received extra reading tutoring in first and second grades, and – as an ESL student – is regularly tested for any looming problems.  Her teachers couldn’t have been better if we’d hand-designed them.

We also appreciate the elementary after-school program – not available in Houston.  Because our kids could stay on-campus after school until we could pick them up, they could be in choir, chess club, storytelling club,  Girl Scouts, etc.  Rachel – an education major at UTSA – now works in that program at a nearby elementary school – and loves it.

This picture Julia drew for her kinder teacher at the end of the school year says a lot.

So that’s my X-File…… I’m an ex-Houstonian, and have now lived in San Antonio for X (10) years.   The truth is out there.  And it’s that I love San Antonio.

Come see us sometime!