Personal Childhood Web

I was a very fortunate child in that I had a strong and loving support system.  The five people who had the most impact on my development were my brother, my mother, my father, my grandmother and my grandfather.  I think back on all of these relationships as positive, and have very happy memories of all these people during my childhood years.  Additionally, I recognize the influence of these people on the adult I have become.

The first relationship I had, and the closest, was with my mother, JoAnne Yapp.  When I think of my mother during my childhood, I think about all of the things she taught me, and how she was always there to help me with any problems I was having.  My mother always spent time doing projects with me like cooking, crocheting or bike riding.  She helped me until I could do things on my own.  also, she helped me study and helped me to develop a sense of academic pride.  My mother stayed home when my brother and I were young, only going back to school and then to work once we were school age.  I am quite certain that it is because of my mother's influence that I became a teacher of young children.  because she was always there when I was little, I wanted to be close to my children as well.  Plus, she showed me what a big difference it makes for a child to have somebody who will spend time helping them understand the world.

While my father is a brilliant, hard working, man, when I think back to my childhood, the way I remember his is as a big playmate.  my father was gone at work all day, but when he came home, he spent hours playing with my brother and me.  He would let us climb on his back and ride him like a horse, or he would pretend to be a monster and chase us all over the house.  He would have parties with us where we stayed up late, watching TV in sleeping bags and eating chips and drinking 7-up.  He also took us on bike rides, camping trips, beach trips and hikes.  My father instilled a sense of fun into me as well as a love of nature.  It is because of fond memories of him that I play with my children, and take them camping and hiking and swimming.

I still see my parents several times a week, and am very blessed that they have a strong influence on my children's lives as well.

Another person who had a huge influence on my development was my brother, John.  John is two years older than me, and was, therefore, always slightly better at things than I was.  I looked up to my brother and strove to be like him, which made me work very hard on everything I did.  In turn, my brother always encouraged me to do the things he enjoyed, and was patient and willing to help me improve.  when I was seven, John was on swim team, and I, therefore, wanted to be a competitive swimmer as well.  He welcomed me onto the team, and I continued to swim competitively throughout my childhood and teenage years.  This positive experience with my brother did a lot to form the person I am, and taught me to live a healthy and active lifestyle.  Having an older brother like John meant always having a confidante and supporter, and I now try to be that type of person to those in my life.

When I remember my grandmother, I think of tenderness and love.  My grandmother was always kind, always caring, always soft, and always approving.  She was always understanding, even when I screwed up, and she was never disapproving or angry.  My grandmother was, however, very wise.  She had a keen understanding of people and their motives, faith that even the worst situations would work themselves out, and the ability to give sound advice exactly when a person was ready to receive it.  There were times in my life when I made very poor choices, and got myself into situations that seemed hopeless.  My grandmother made me feel loved and worthwhile even when I did not love myself or live like I was worth anything.  Her love and faith made me love myself enough to decide I deserved a good life, and made me feel I had the strength to create the life I envisioned.  My grandmother taught me how important it is for a child to receive unconditional love.

When I think about all of the people who loved me when I was a child, the first person who comes to mind is my grandfather.  I know, and always knew, that my grandfather loved me.  He always did things to make me feel special.  My grandfather passed away when I was ten, but I still have vivid memories of him.  I remember when he took me on a special trip to see Fantasia at the movie theater.  I remember how he would always hide money in my bedroom and pretend elves had left it for me.  I remember how, even though he had to wear a surgical mask to protect his ailing lungs when it was cold, he took me for winter walks to see neighborhood Christmas displays.  I also remember how he was funny, kind and good.  When my grandfather died, I lost a piece of my heart, but to this day I still feel his presence in my life.

These people, as well as others, taught me how important it is to make a child feel special and lovable. I have gone through some difficult periods in my life, but throughout it all, I was anchored to a family.  for this reason, I have overcome hard times, and have come to be a mother and a teacher who believes in making children feel important and worthwhile.   Because of the people who helped to form me in my younger years, I have dedicated my life to helping form confident people.

My family exploring the world together

Are You My Mother?

Today I read the book "Are You My Mother?" by P.D. Eastman to my five year old class. I chose this book for several reasons. The first is that is was a favorite of mine as a child, and I have probably read it over a thousand times. I like reading books that are familiar because then I can be much more dramatic.

Another reason I like this book is because it presents an issue that the children in my school must deal with every day. Namely, the sadness of longing for their parents who are away at work. In the book, when Mother Bird realizes that her egg is getting ready to hatch, she goes out to find some food for her baby; low and behold, the egg hatches while the mother bird is gone. The baby bird immediately misses his mother, and goes out looking for her. He goes on an adventure, meeting several animals and things that are not his mother, for whom he is fervently searching.

The children in my class were enthralled by my reading of this book. When the story reached it's climax, and the poor baby bird found himself lost, alone, scared and in terrible danger, one little girl right in front of me said "I think I'm going to cry," which made me think I was going to cry.

Joyfully, the baby bird was reunited with his mother, and all was well. Still, at the point of this happy conclusion, the same little girl said "I still think I'm going to cry," which brought a feeling of tenderness to my heart. That moment embodied all of the reasons I love teaching young children. My class and I all lived that story and we all loved that book and we all experienced it together.

As happens in preschool, the event concluded far too quickly. Once the book was over, there was no time to linger. We were already late for outside play, and there is a certain danger involved in not allowing a large group of preschoolers to have their full playground session. So, the moment ended, but the feeling held on. I am looking forward to another day of teaching.

The Writer

I don't know, exactly, when David became a writer. Maybe he was born that way. I, however, didn't meet him until he was four years old. I do know that, by four, he was already a writer.
Don't get me wrong, he could neither read nor write by the age of four, but he had stories in his head, and he could dictate. Dictate is what he did - for hours and hours and hours.
At that time I was working as a nanny for the Pedigo family. David, as I said, was four, and his brother Jonathan was eight months old. My son, Steven, was eight months old as well, and I spent my days learning and growing with these three little boys.
I must admit that Steven and Jonathan learned early independence and developed a keen sense of mischief because much of my time was spent transcribing the stories that flowed out of young David's mind. I dare say that, at four, David was more prolific and more productive than Eliot, Hemingway or King. He had no distractions, no responsibilities, no burdens and no other focus. Every event in his life became a story, and he had a natural love for experiencing his words on paper.
So, for years, while Steven and Jonathan poured water into vents, peeled wallpaper off of walls, destroyed Lego masterpieces, and mixed potions in the toilet, David dictated and I recorded his words.
Those words were put into a file, and now, seventeen years later, they still exist. The words of four year old David did not dissipate into the wind, they exist, and always will exist, because David is a writer.