Two Pages

This morning I was talking to my mother when my blog came up in the discussion. She told me my fourth grade teacher would be happy about my blog because it is just like writing in my 'Two Pages' notebook. I thought about it for a second, and realized she was completely right. 

In fourth grade we were required to have a notebook to be used only for writing assignments. We were asked simply to fill two pages in the notebook with creative writing every week. You could write anything you wanted. It could be a story that you made up, or just random thoughts or ideas, or as I found out, even just write a bunch of jokes to amuse the teacher. At first glance it seems fairly easy. Just write something, and you get a week to do it. Well, when you are a fourth grade slacker prone to procrastination those writing deadlines seem to come up really quickly. I'm not sure how, but it seemed to me that every time the day arrived to turn in the notebook, I had not yet started writing. 

Fourth grade seems a bit premature to have come down with writer's block, so I'm guessing it was panic that made the job so difficult to accomplish under such impossible time constraints. Week after week I was forced to write two pages of material early in the morning, before the school bell rang. Desperately trying to come up with something to get down on the paper I tried everything I could think of. Being class clown seemed to be my role, so I tried writing jokes. You wouldn't think that coming up with original jokes could be so hard, but it seriously is. (Except for those darn sitcom writers who seem to do it week after week. God bless them for helping to make me less productive even as an adult.)

I wrote lame jokes, stories with endings that oddly concluded exactly on the last line of the second page, humorous poetry, even long winded two page excuses for why I didn't have anything to write about that week. Through it all, week after week Mr. Andrews made sure I turned in that notebook. Looking back at it now, I see how important that notebook was. It forced me to think creatively, to work under pressure, to complete a task, to practice my writing skills, and to learn that even under pressure I could do it. 

It was, at the time a silly fourth grade notebook. As I got older I thought about it quite often. I don't know how many college papers were put off until the last minute and I would remember that notebook and think,"It's Two Pages all over again". I always knew that I would get it done. I even started to enjoy the pressure of time. I remember several times, most likely in an alcohol induced stupor, that I actually thought to myself,"I don't need to do it today, I work better under pressure". Somehow, just thinking it seemed to make it come true. 

As I got older, and yet older still, I realize that I have always loved writing. I have some type of need to express things in writing and I wonder if that weekly assignment wasn't somehow the cause of it. When I got a motorcycle in my late thirties, one of the first things I did was start a blog to express what I was feeling and seeing and experiencing. It is almost as if it doesn't really count if you don't write about it and share it. I know that is strange, but there is something about writing it down that I love. The line from Socrates that says, "an unexamined life is not worth living" may express it better. Writing just helps me take a look at what I have done, and then as you write about it you have a chance to examine it and see who you are a little better. 

So here I am with yet another milestone in my life, raising children, and soon after the urge to write comes back. It is something I should learn about myself I guess. I like to write. I may as well face it, it is my therapy and my memory aid at the same time. Thank you Mr. Andrews for encouraging that with that crazy two pages assignment week after week. Thank you to all my other teachers along the way who pushed me, and forced me to write down my ideas and thoughts. Now when people say my posts are too long, I can always point the finger to all of you and say, "It's their fault." Now, on the other hand, the people who want to know why I didn't actually learn how to write well, that's my fault. Ill keep trying, and maybe someday I'll get a whole blog post without a dangling participle, run on sentence, or even a single split infinitive.

Two Pages

This morning I was talking to my mother when my blog came up in the discussion. She told me my fourth grade teacher would be happy about my blog because it is just like writing in my 'Two Pages' notebook. I thought about it for a second, and realized she was completely right. 

In fourth grade we were required to have a notebook to be used only for writing assignments. We were asked simply to fill two pages in the notebook with creative writing every week. You could write anything you wanted. It could be a story that you made up, or just random thoughts or ideas, or as I found out, even just write a bunch of jokes to amuse the teacher. At first glance it seems fairly easy. Just write something, and you get a week to do it. Well, when you are a fourth grade slacker prone to procrastination those writing deadlines seem to come up really quickly. I'm not sure how, but it seemed to me that every time the day arrived to turn in the notebook, I had not yet started writing. 

Fourth grade seems a bit premature to have come down with writer's block, so I'm guessing it was panic that made the job so difficult to accomplish under such impossible time constraints. Week after week I was forced to write two pages of material early in the morning, before the school bell rang. Desperately trying to come up with something to get down on the paper I tried everything I could think of. Being class clown seemed to be my role, so I tried writing jokes. You wouldn't think that coming up with original jokes could be so hard, but it seriously is. (Except for those darn sitcom writers who seem to do it week after week. God bless them for helping to make me less productive even as an adult.)

I wrote lame jokes, stories with endings that oddly concluded exactly on the last line of the second page, humorous poetry, even long winded two page excuses for why I didn't have anything to write about that week. Through it all, week after week Mr. Andrews made sure I turned in that notebook. Looking back at it now, I see how important that notebook was. It forced me to think creatively, to work under pressure, to complete a task, to practice my writing skills, and to learn that even under pressure I could do it. 

It was, at the time a silly fourth grade notebook. As I got older I thought about it quite often. I don't know how many college papers were put off until the last minute and I would remember that notebook and think,"It's Two Pages all over again". I always knew that I would get it done. I even started to enjoy the pressure of time. I remember several times, most likely in an alcohol induced stupor, that I actually thought to myself,"I don't need to do it today, I work better under pressure". Somehow, just thinking it seemed to make it come true. 

As I got older, and yet older still, I realize that I have always loved writing. I have some type of need to express things in writing and I wonder if that weekly assignment wasn't somehow the cause of it. When I got a motorcycle in my late thirties, one of the first things I did was start a blog to express what I was feeling and seeing and experiencing. It is almost as if it doesn't really count if you don't write about it and share it. I know that is strange, but there is something about writing it down that I love. The line from Socrates that says, "an unexamined life is not worth living" may express it better. Writing just helps me take a look at what I have done, and then as you write about it you have a chance to examine it and see who you are a little better. 

So here I am with yet another milestone in my life, raising children, and soon after the urge to write comes back. It is something I should learn about myself I guess. I like to write. I may as well face it, it is my therapy and my memory aid at the same time. Thank you Mr. Andrews for encouraging that with that crazy two pages assignment week after week. Thank you to all my other teachers along the way who pushed me, and forced me to write down my ideas and thoughts. Now when people say my posts are too long, I can always point the finger to all of you and say, "It's their fault." Now, on the other hand, the people who want to know why I didn't actually learn how to write well, that's my fault. Ill keep trying, and maybe someday I'll get a whole blog post without a dangling participle, run on sentence, or even a single split infinitive.

Preschool Closed Unexpectedly

Due to budget cuts T's preschool was closed. CLOSED! It was state funded as a part of the local technical college, and apparently the governor cut their budget so they cut the preschool completely out because it was not making money. I have to admit we were as stunned as the teachers of the school were by the news. I mean, this was not some local daycare run by the neighbors, this was a full functioning child development center that is a part of the school and was used to train teachers for their certifications in early childhood education. 

As parents, we loved this school. When you are looking for a school for your three year old you have a lot of fears. There always seem to be news reports about some child being abused in a daycare, or nanny cam videos of baby sitters or nannys mistreating kids. Anytime that T is not with someone in our immediate family I am paranoid. Does that make me over protective? I'm not sure, but if I could I would never let him out of my sight. That not being practical, the technical college was the next best thing. They made us feel comfortable. They had two way mirrors on the walls of all classrooms so that us nervous parents could stand and watch without being seen. We could go in at any time and peek in on the classroom with no one knowing, and see what was happening. 

I could see not only what the teachers were doing, but also how T was relating to the teachers and the other students. It made us feel more relaxed that he was adjusting well to the class, and that he was being treated well. But now, they went and closed it on us, forcing us to find another school and start over. 

L did a great job researching our options for a new school. None of which really compares to where he was going as far as I am concerned, but out of necessity he has to go to school somewhere since we both need to work for us to survive. We made a choice and enrolled T.

This new school seems to be OK, but really, how do we know? We send him there and thoroughly quiz him when he gets home about his day, his teachers, and his friends and hope that nothing comes out that makes us regret our decision. I just wonder how accurate of a method that is when your child has a great imagination? For example:

T comes into the living room and tells me,"Tigger is all wet." Tigger is his stuffed animal.

"How did Tigger get all wet?", I asked.

"A big wave came out of the ceiling and went SPLASH all over him and made him all wet.", he tells me in all seriousness.

I tried to get more clarification on that to see if maybe the wave came from the bathroom sink, or toilet, since he just used the restroom. He stuck to his story about the ceiling. We washed Tigger anyway, just in case. 

It is even more difficult to send him to school, when dropping him off is heart wrenching. I took him there Friday, and going into the school was fine, but he never left my side while I was in there. When I needed to leave he was screaming,"No daddy, don't leave me here! Don't go!" If L had not taken him the day before and came back with a similar report I would have taken him right back home with me. But when L picked him up after school yesterday he was all happy and had a great day. I was worried anyway and asked L to pick him up early today just in case he was having a bad day. When she got there he was playing and again, having a good time. He even had a friend that he was playing with. 

I asked him today,"T, do you like school?"

"Yes."

"What is your favorite thing about school?" I ask. 

"Playing." he says. 

"What is your favorite thing to play?" 

"Fire trucks" he tells me. 

"Is there anything you don't like about school?" I ask wondeing if pandora's box may open and make me regret asking.

"Yes" 

"What don't you like?"

"I don't like when you leave, it makes me sad."

Sounds normal to me. He had this same type of problem at the other school from time to time. It just didn't seem so bad in the morning. I am hoping though it is the same type of thing. He is just having some attachment issues because it is very stressful going to a new school. It is a big change for someone who is only three years old. Since it took him a while to get used to his old school, I guess it will take a while for him and us as well to get used to the new school. I just can't help but wonder, if our country wasn't spending billions of dollars a day in Iraq would our economy be better and the budget cut would not have to have happened. 

Preschool Closed Unexpectedly

Due to budget cuts T's preschool was closed. CLOSED! It was state funded as a part of the local technical college, and apparently the governor cut their budget so they cut the preschool completely out because it was not making money. I have to admit we were as stunned as the teachers of the school were by the news. I mean, this was not some local daycare run by the neighbors, this was a full functioning child development center that is a part of the school and was used to train teachers for their certifications in early childhood education. 

As parents, we loved this school. When you are looking for a school for your three year old you have a lot of fears. There always seem to be news reports about some child being abused in a daycare, or nanny cam videos of baby sitters or nannys mistreating kids. Anytime that T is not with someone in our immediate family I am paranoid. Does that make me over protective? I'm not sure, but if I could I would never let him out of my sight. That not being practical, the technical college was the next best thing. They made us feel comfortable. They had two way mirrors on the walls of all classrooms so that us nervous parents could stand and watch without being seen. We could go in at any time and peek in on the classroom with no one knowing, and see what was happening. 

I could see not only what the teachers were doing, but also how T was relating to the teachers and the other students. It made us feel more relaxed that he was adjusting well to the class, and that he was being treated well. But now, they went and closed it on us, forcing us to find another school and start over. 

L did a great job researching our options for a new school. None of which really compares to where he was going as far as I am concerned, but out of necessity he has to go to school somewhere since we both need to work for us to survive. We made a choice and enrolled T.

This new school seems to be OK, but really, how do we know? We send him there and thoroughly quiz him when he gets home about his day, his teachers, and his friends and hope that nothing comes out that makes us regret our decision. I just wonder how accurate of a method that is when your child has a great imagination? For example:

T comes into the living room and tells me,"Tigger is all wet." Tigger is his stuffed animal.

"How did Tigger get all wet?", I asked.

"A big wave came out of the ceiling and went SPLASH all over him and made him all wet.", he tells me in all seriousness.

I tried to get more clarification on that to see if maybe the wave came from the bathroom sink, or toilet, since he just used the restroom. He stuck to his story about the ceiling. We washed Tigger anyway, just in case. 

It is even more difficult to send him to school, when dropping him off is heart wrenching. I took him there Friday, and going into the school was fine, but he never left my side while I was in there. When I needed to leave he was screaming,"No daddy, don't leave me here! Don't go!" If L had not taken him the day before and came back with a similar report I would have taken him right back home with me. But when L picked him up after school yesterday he was all happy and had a great day. I was worried anyway and asked L to pick him up early today just in case he was having a bad day. When she got there he was playing and again, having a good time. He even had a friend that he was playing with. 

I asked him today,"T, do you like school?"

"Yes."

"What is your favorite thing about school?" I ask. 

"Playing." he says. 

"What is your favorite thing to play?" 

"Fire trucks" he tells me. 

"Is there anything you don't like about school?" I ask wondeing if pandora's box may open and make me regret asking.

"Yes" 

"What don't you like?"

"I don't like when you leave, it makes me sad."

Sounds normal to me. He had this same type of problem at the other school from time to time. It just didn't seem so bad in the morning. I am hoping though it is the same type of thing. He is just having some attachment issues because it is very stressful going to a new school. It is a big change for someone who is only three years old. Since it took him a while to get used to his old school, I guess it will take a while for him and us as well to get used to the new school. I just can't help but wonder, if our country wasn't spending billions of dollars a day in Iraq would our economy be better and the budget cut would not have to have happened. 

Chicken Farm Photos

There are those that are curious as to what a chicken farm looks like. That way they can have a picture in their mind of where we live and better understand the chicken farm stories. I want to try to use this blog to make a little picture story for you.

 

The first picture is looking down from our house towards the farm. You can see the shed/office on 

the right side. That is a small office building attached to the shed where we keep our John Deere tractor and tractor accessories like mower, blower, spreader, trailer. All those things that end in -er. On the left you see three of the six chicken houses we have. They are 40 feet wide and 500 feet long. Each one holds about 22,000 chickens. In this picture the doors are open because it is between flocks and we are cleaning it out and getting it set up for the next flock.

In the second picture you see inside the chicken house after we have cleaned it out, had pine shavings spread on the floor, laid down paper under the feed bowls, and dropped down the feed bowls and outside drinker lines. This is my favorite time of the flock. The houses smell very nice with all the pine shavings on the floor, and it is nice and level, and no worry about stepping on a chicken. Currently we are between flocks, but are still in the process of having the litter removed. After that I blow all the dust and cobwebs out of the house with a high powered blower that runs off the power from the tractor. Next, I call the shavings people and they back a truck into the house and drive it out, spreading shavings pretty evenly all over the floor. 

The next step is for the company to come and deliver the baby chicks to us. A large heated tuck comes filled with baskets of chicks. Each basket has 100 chicks in it. They take them off the truck and slide them onto our trailer. They put how ever many chicks will go into one house on the trailer and then we back the trailer into the house. Once in, the tractor driver, currently my dad, drives out of the house very slowly. 

As he drives forward the two guys who drove the truck to the farm and myself dump the chickens out of the basket onto the floor. There are a lot of baskets to dump out, so the tractor never stops going forward towards the door, and we never stop dumping the chickens onto the floor as quickly as we can. If the tractor stops it would allow the chicks to run under the wheels, so we can't stop. The chicks are dropped right next to the food, and once the trailer is out of the house drinker lines are lowered. There are four lines of drinkers and two lines of food. Also notice that between the bowls are piles of food.  For the first week the food gets dropped into the bowls and onto the floor twice a day. This allows all the birds to have access to food to get off to a good start. After the week is over the food only goes into the bowls to reduce waste. The chicks are big enough at that point to eat from the bowls. 

In this picture the chicks have grown. They are about five weeks old here. I can tell that because they are almost through molting. They have changed color from the cute yellow baby chicks into the white feathers of the adult chicken. If you look closer you may be able to see some of them still have yellow heads, which tells me they are not quite there yet. Usually around six weeks the yellow is completely gone. 

This picture shows the length of the house. At five weeks there is still plenty of room on the floor for them to move around. By the time they are eight and nine weeks old the floor is white from one end to the other and walking through the house is practically impossible, but still necessary.  The bight light at the end of the house comes from large tunnel fans which suck the air through the house. 

Finally, after about 63 days the chickens have grown to hopefully near an average of 8 pounds. I then get scheduled for a pick up. The company comes to the farm with two crews of workers, two fork lifts, and an unending flow of tractor trailers to carry the birds away. The crews go in and pick up the chickens by hand, placing them into cages which the fork lifts pick up when they are full and load onto the trailers. They work about four hours per house to empty about 21,000 chickens out. The crews typically do two houses and then are replaced by another crew. I believe a crew that goes into one house is about 8 people. So each guy in the crew picks up around 2,600 eight pound chickens and puts it in a cage. I would not want the job. 

They take them away, weight them, and process them. After that they give me an estimate for how many days I have before they bring my new chicks, and I get back to work cleaning the houses out and setting them up again. So that is a tour of our farm.