We survived Tsunami 2010

Even if it was just 3 feet high -- better that than the alternative!  Meli and I evacuated just before 6 this morning and got home a little after 2.  So, our plans were changed for this Saturday, but we're glad that nothing major happened around here and hope nothing else happens as it heads on its way.

The lines were crazy long at various stores and gas stations around the island, but highway traffic wasn't to bad.  Sirens went off at 6, 10:30 and 11...it was a bit eerie heading down the highway and hearing them this morning!

All is well here and I'm sure many people are breathing a sigh of relief -- us included!

Just a reminder...for when:
a four year old throws anything within his reach across the room and laughs--every time you see him...
you don't know what to do with this student...or this one over there...or that one...
parents ask for more minutes...
school staff/parents think all we do is play games...
the 4th graders act like preschoolers...
But also for when...
a 5 year old calls hopscotch hip hop and hop hop in the same session and makes you laugh
a pre-k stops carrying his lunch to start a conversation with you
a K student tells you heck no when asked to repeat using his good sounds (it really was funny at the time..)
a 3 year old asks "what is it?" while he'd rarely put two words together before he started school this year.
the week is NEVER dull...even if it is only 4 days!
I AM THE CHILD

(Author Unknown)

I am the child who cannot talk.
You often pity me, I see it in your eyes.
You wonder how much I am aware of -- I see that as well.
I am aware of much, whether you are happy or sad or fearful,
patient or impatient, full of love and desire,
or if you are just doing your duty by me.
I marvel at your frustration, knowing mine to be far greater,
for I cannot express myself or my needs as you do.

You cannot conceive my isolation, so complete it is at times.
I do not gift you with clever conversation, cute remarks to be laughed over and repeated.
I do not give you answers to your everyday questions,
responses over my well-being, sharing my needs,
or comments about the world about me.

I do not give you rewards as defined by the world's standards -- great strides in
development that you can credit yourself;
I do not give you understanding as you know it.
What I give you is so much more valuable -- I give you instead opportunities.
Opportunities to discover the depth of your character, not mine;
the depth of your love, your commitment, your patience, your abilities;
the opportunity to explore your spirit more deeply than you imagined possible.
I drive you further than you would ever go on your own, working harder,
seeking answers to your many questions with no answers.
I am the child who cannot talk.

I am the child who cannot walk.
The world seems to pass me by.
You see the longing in my eyes to get out of this chair, to run and play like other children.
There is much you take for granted.
I want the toys on the shelf, I need to go to the bathroom, oh I've dropped my fork again.
I am dependent on you in these ways.
My gift to you is to make you more aware of your great fortune,
your healthy back and legs, your ability to do for yourself.
Sometimes people appear not to notice me; I always notice them.
I feel not so much envy as desire, desire to stand upright,
to put one foot in front of the other, to be independent.
I give you awareness.
I am the child who cannot walk.

I am the child who is mentally impaired.
I don't learn easily, if you judge me by the world's measuring stick,
what I do know is infinite joy in simple things.
I am not burdened as you are with the strife's and conflicts of a more complicated life.
My gift to you is to grant you the freedom to enjoy things as a child,
to teach you how much your arms around me mean, to give you love.
I give you the gift of simplicity.
I am the child who is mentally impaired.

I am the disabled child.
I am your teacher. If you allow me,
I will teach you what is really important in life.
I will give you and teach you unconditional love.
I gift you with my innocent trust, my dependency upon you.
I teach you about how precious this life is and about not taking things for granted.
I teach you about forgetting your own needs and desires and dreams.
I teach you giving.
Most of all I teach you hope and faith.
I am the disabled child.