The Zoo!

Aside from the small community zoo in town (which is really nice), it’s been a while since we’ve been to the zoo. Like, four years. So long that it dawned on me recently when we were talking about giraffes that Ethan had been so little he couldn’t remember ever seeing a giraffe. Which meant we were log overdue for a trip to the zoo.

 

My mom must have been reading my mind for it wasn’t long after that she texted that she and dad had bought a “Grandparent Membership” for the Indianapolis Zoo for the year.  So, this past weekend off we went!

 

You would have thought we were going to California just to go to the zoo all the sighs from Emry about how long it took to get there. We rarely go very far from home, so long car trips are a huge adjustment. Even hour long car trips. I think they found it well worth it, though. For we darted from animal to animal, pausing at the shark and manta ray tank in order to pet them. Then circling around to more animals, pausing again briefly to feed the giraffes. Then off again, this time with a pause for lunch and a fruitless search on the how to get into the butterfly house. (It was closed for expansion we learned when asked, much to Emry’s disappointment.) So, it was back to the sharks and manatees…where we left Ethan, Benito and my parents for the next hour as the boys darted all around that tank trying to touch the animals as often as possible. Ed, the girls and I went off to explore a few animals we hadn’t seen and discovered the dolphins where we sat for quite some time watching them swim around us. 

 

After that, we all met up and headed home, the three in the back playing they were various animals almost all the way home!

Benito and Ellyson looking for the elephant.

 

Ellyson and Ed.

 

Benito, Emry and Ethan…and Ellyson in the back doing her own thing – as usual!

My Teachers: Mrs. Finley

Second grade is the one year I don’t remember quite as clearly as my other years in school. Perhaps because, by then, I was on my third year at Marshall County Elementary so the novelty had certainly worn off. Because that school district split elementary between two schools (Kindergarten through 2^ndat Marshall County and 3^rdthrough 5^thnow at the new West Hills up behind our house), 2^ndgrade was considered “upper classman”. Aka: we were the oldest kids at the school. That, of course, meant we were also the coolest and best. 

 

My second grade teacher was Mrs. Finley. She was a family friend, although I don’t know how. I just know my parents knew her, my grandmother knew her, and even decades later when my grandmother died and she dropped a pie by the house she told my mom to tell me “hi”. She didn’t mind that my sister Katey (age 5 but not yet in Kindergarten) joined me in class if my mom was volunteering at the school. And I remember Katey and I helping her clean the classroom at the end of the year and then going to Horton Park for a picnic and swimming afterwards. Not something we did with any of our other teachers no matter how well they knew my family.

 

I will say Mrs. Finley was very different from Mrs. Steely. That isn’t to say she didn’t keep her students in order just as Mrs. Steely did, but she had a different way of doing it. She didn’t seem as strict, but I can remember her using the paddle at least once on the same boy who had required it of Mrs. Steely several times. She just had a easier-to-approach personality.

 

I do not recall anything I particularly learned in second grade that I have taken with me my whole life. Thinking back, the one thing I remember clearly is learning about the weather and clouds. In the days before the internet and smart phones, we did what people had done for centuries: opened the outside door in our classroom and looked up at the sky. One of us got to do this every day for our chart while we were learning about the weather and clouds, proudly reporting what just about everyone in the classroom could see out the window. After that, we did it one day every other week or so. Probably just often enough that we all got a turn to be the class “weatherman”. As fun as that was, I’m pretty sure not one of us grew up to become a meteorologist.

 

The only other thing I remember markedly clearly about second grade is accidentally popping open a small bag of Doritos in one of the aisles, the wrong end popping open and my chips scattering far and wide all over the classroom which meant every eyeball there was on me. I was so mortified I will not pop open a bag of anything to this day. In fact, I won’t let my kids do it either. I don’t want the same thing to happen to them…apparently, it could potentially scar them for life.

 

Me: second grade. I loved this dress!

Sports

It’s that time in our life: our kids are playing sports. Certainly not as many sports as some families I know. Nor do we devote half our lives to them, but as I do want my kids to have the opportunity to try different things, we are involved in sports. More and more, it seems.

 

Emry started taking dance the summer after she turned 4. The last two years she has been on the junior dance team (B-boppers) which is about all the commitment we can currently handle. Although I am very pleased with the program and how well she has done. She also enjoys it. 

Emry already for dance competition!

 

Ethan, now five, is very happy he is big enough to play t-ball. Although he has been somewhat disappointed that he must hit from a tee instead of being pitched to. We’ve been worried that the whole game will be a bit slow for him and in some ways I think it is. That and his inherited OCD seems to rise to the surface when he can’t go out and be Babe Ruth right off the bat. Still, he’s mostly enjoyed it:

Ethan at bat.

 

In a few short weeks, both Emry and Ethan will start tennis. I’m very excited about this one, for I really do love that sport. Their racquets arrived yesterday so we immediately hit the courts…and then went back today! It’s been a long time since I had a racquet in my hand, but my skills returned if a bit rusty. As did my love for the game. Emry also loves it. As does Ethan…when he’s not disappointed that he’s not Roger Federer.

 Our first tennis lesson!

 

And after that will come swimming lessons! Even Ellyson gets to join in this year. I’m curious as to what she will do. Sit on the side and “pout” because Mama left her with someone else? Or literally throw herself into it…and six inches of water. I guess we’ll see.

 

After that, soccer season strikes again. In the back of my mind I’m thinking of trying to avoid this awful sport by offering them basketball instead (which won’t take place until October at the earliest). Then Emry’s dance will begin again, although she has decided not to try out for dance team this year but take a year off to try hip hop and then tap. Ed would also like to see Ethan try some form of martial arts. And then Ellyson…well, we thankfully have a year or two before she’s ready for anything else. Although she already practices Emry’s dances with her – and does very well!

Williamsport Falls

Today was our monthly nature hike. After being rained out (twice) last month, it was nice to have a warm, sunny day. Especially as we were headed to one of the organizer’s favorite spots: the Williamsport Falls.

 

About 45 minutes from us, the falls are considered the highest in the state of Indiana, falling 90 feet. Nothing compared to Niagara Falls (which is what Ethan was picturing), but way better in other ways. After all, swimsuits are the attire of choice when visiting these falls.

 

It didn’t take long before the falls became one of everyone’s favorite spots. A great pool to wade in, a stream to walk along, rocks to climb, falls to admire, and rocks to toss into the pool (Ellyson’s activity of choice). It was such a great day that my kids were asking if we were going back the next day!

Ethan at the falls.

 

Ellyson finding rocks with her little friends.

 

Emry climbing some of the rocks.

My Teachers: Mrs. Steely

I’m not sure how many of the 20 or so kids in my first grade class would look back on that school year of 1986 – 1987 and say Mrs. Steely was their favorite teacher of all time. I’m pretty sure a couple of kids wouldn’t. But I would have to say she was mine.

 

Just this week she came up in conversation as I was telling someone about my love of history. Because she inspired that love. To be honest, I don’t remember what our history book even looked like, and I can’t remember what was in it. But I do remember her pictures and her stories of her trips to the Statue of Liberty, Philadelphia, and Washington, D.C. Oh, how I wanted to see those places!

 

In the small town of Lewisburg, Mrs. Steely was one in a long list of teachers who knew exactly who I was. Her husband, Coach Steely, had coached both my parents in various sports as well as taught them math way back when they were in junior high. She knew my grandparents. She knew my uncles. She knew my aunts. She probably knew more of my distant cousins than I did. But having Ogilvie blood pumping in my veins didn’t do me any favors. Mrs. Steely wasn’t that kind of teacher. In her class, everyone was equal. And if you crossed the line she set for you, you faced the consequences of your actions. She is the only teacher who ever put me in a corner. I disobeyed and was whispering during rest period. Me and enough friends that she almost didn’t have enough corners in the classroom to put us all in (she used the cloak room, too). I don’t think one of us ever did that again.

 

Mrs. Steely ran a tight ship. When she said she had eyes in the back of her head, you believed her. She was firm in her discipline, but fair. She expected every one of her students to work hard and do their work well. I remember messing up on a math page because I didn’t listen to the directions. I didn’t get put in a corner for that, but I also listened up from then on. Because she was a teacher I didn’t want to disappoint. Partly because of which family I belonged to and I was afraid a bad report would get back to my grandmother, but mostly because Mrs. Steely was just the sort of teacher whose expectations you wanted to achieve. Or at least I did.

 

In 2016, I saw Mrs. Steely again at my grandmother’s funeral. She still knew who I was. I was still partly afraid she had told my grandmother I had been put in the corner once. But mostly I wanted to tell her I had been all the places she had talked about: the Statue of Liberty, Philadelphia, Washington, D.C. And so very many other places I would have never imagined going if she hadn’t made history so real for me. And that is something I will always be grateful for.

 

Me in First Grade.