Everything 50's

Wednesday I received a phone call with the horrible news that my uncle, my mom's baby brother passed away.  I thought when my cousin called she was going to tell me that a new baby was coming to our family so when she gave me the news I was absolutely blown away.  My feelings, however, are not what I want to write about. I want to write about my memories of my Uncle Fred, so that his kids, my cousins, will know how much he meant to me.  I can only hope he knew. The first memory I am going to write about is not really a memory, but a story I have been told.  When I was born I was the first grandchild and my Uncle was only 15 years old.  He was the baby of the family and was a jokester.  I do remember him playing with me a lot at my mamaw and papaw's house and always thought he was the best.  My mother has told me this story so often it seems like a memory.  Evidently he taught me to say the word "shit" thinking it would be really funny to hear a ...

I teach high school English.  This year I am teaching sophomore literature, Indiana Literature, and a class of students who are repeating freshman lit.  My classes are pretty full, some have over 30 students, some just under, so all total I see about 170 students each day.  It has become harder and harder for me to get to know all their names as I get older, and that bothers me. It hurts me when I call a student by the wrong name because I see in their eyes that they must not be important to me.  That is not it at all.  It is that I have three boys in one class who all are brown headed and wear their hair the same way, hang out together in class and I can't tell one from another. Or that I have three Zachs in one class, three Allisons in another, three Alexis in two others, two Brayden's (different spellings), and two Madisons.  I don't know why I can't keep it straight. What does help me to remember them is to get to know them.  I try really hard to...