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Once the gators were hooked and entangled in the line, Gwendolyn got out of the boat to shoot the gators right between the eyes from twenty feet. Did she use her twenty ri-two-fle? Did she sing, "You can't get a man with a gun"? When I'm with a pistol I sparkle like a crystal, Yes, I shine like the morning sun. But I lose all my luster When with a Bronco Buster. Oh you can't get a man with a gun.

With a gun, with a gun, No, you can't get a man with a gun. Shouldn't Gwendolyn have chanted the jump rope rhyme about the lady with the alligator purse? Mumps," said the doctor. Back in the mid to late Sixties I had to attend what seemed like millions of Cub Scout pack meetings in the basement of Eastridge Presby Church. My favorite Cub Scout song was the one about the lady and the crocodile, which could be a cautionary tale for Ms.

She sailed away On a bright and sunny day On the back of a crocodile You see, said she He's as tame as he can be I'll ride him down the Nile Well, the croc winked his eye As she waved them all goodbye Wearing a happy smile At the end of the ride The lady was inside And the smile was on the crocodile clap, clap Those were the years when I watched "The American Sportsman" on ABC Sports on winter Sunday afternoons.

Narrated by Curt Gowdy , the show featured celebrities stalking big game, with lots of heavy breathing, whispering, bootsteps, and wavering tall grasses, all in black and white on our little television. As the winter sun set early, we might watch " Mutual of Omaha's Wild Kingdom ". It seemed like Jim hollered, "It's got Marlin! My Bonnie lies over the ocean My Bonnie lies over the sea My Bonnie lies over the ocean Oh bring back my Bonnie to me Bring back, bring back Bring back my Bonnie to me, to me Bring back, bring back Bring back my Bonnie to me We kids all sang the song as an white-light-in-the-tunnel experience-- Now I lay me down to sleep If I should die before I wake Bring back my body to me, to me.

Blokus is a great game for kids and adults. Alas, it does not rhyme with hocus or pocus. The board is a grid, and I love grids. The pieces are colored transparent plastic contiguous squares, and I love colored transparent rectangles and squares. Preschoolers can play it, and AARP members won't be bored: Blokus is an abstract strategy game with transparent, tetris-shaped, colored pieces that players are trying to play onto the board. The only caveat to placing a piece is that it may not lie adjacent to your other pieces, but instead must be placed touching at least one corner of your pieces already on the board.

Moth of the Day. A udrey Hepburn would look great in this style! Nature is the greatest fashion designer of all. This beautiful moth was outside the door of the Highland Park Library when I went to work this morning.

I'm very excited about the macro possibilities of my inherited camera. It's nice to live in a city with a hour classical music radio station. You can listen to its streaming broadcast. One of my favorites is the 7: It helps the Buick and I both head off to work!

Flies are on my mind, but this blog is still rated PG. Many of my little students are doing work related to insects using larger-than-life plastic figures. Bee, butterfly, spider, beetle, termite, scorpion, ladybug, praying mantis, dragonfly, ant, grasshopper, and house fly are represented. The house fly has creepy red eyes, and the model is even larger than the horse flies that scared me on my first horse ride in Estes Park, Colorado when I was about ten.

There's a stomach bug going around--nausea, chills, low-grade fever. Students were "dropping like flies" yesterday. Many of our students and their parents do not speak English as their first language.

They probably wouldn't understand the idiomatic expression. Idiom Meaning - Falling down ill and in large numbers, often associated with a highly contageous illness. The little hero strikes seven flies dead with one whip of his belt. Speaking of flies and belts reminds me of raising my preschool sons. Seems like I spent most of toilet-training the three of them. After a day asking, "Did you flush and wash?

Small boys seemed to lack Early Warning Systems for restroom emergencies. Cute as they looked in overalls or little Levis, they just couldn't manage the buckles, belts, snaps, and zippers in what we might call a "timely fashion" when the need arose. Living in Oklahoma in the late Eighties, I was able to buy sweatpants and other elastic-waist pants for the guys at the Anthony's store. In the early Nineties in Texas, the Mervyns Cheetah brand sweatpants made fly-less operations simple and swift, and probably saved my sanity.

I love this example of the idiom: The words were so difficult that the spelling bee contestants were dropping like flies.

Perhaps our next preschool language exploration will be "dropping our drawers". Bush , fishing , insects , language , parenting , teaching preschool , toddler sons. Don't spend it erasing.

I teach thirty minute art classes. During those classes I prohibit using erasers. It's cruel and unusual, I know. Erasers may be appropriate for addition and subtraction problems that have one correct solution.

Erasers are counterproductive in most creative efforts. In a half-hour class, erasing can take a big bite out of the time needed for thinking, practicing, rethinking, imagining, and enjoying the experience. In our half hour class we: Get lined up with our group. Transition to a different room, get settled, and ready to learn. Listen to a short story or the introduction to an art concept.

Look at an example by a famous artist. Have a group discussion where everyone has a chance to contribute ideas. Review instructions for the project. Learn to use a new material or technique. Enjoy making the project. Talk about our creation.

Make sure our name is on our work. Put the art work into the drying rack. Helping children make their own good decisions by providing them essential information, frequent opportunities to make choices, and an essential underlying sense of safety and consistency. Helping children evaluate the outcome of their choices and decisions. Using questions to learn how they would like to change their decisions. Letting kids revise their work and explain their reasons for revisions.

Applauding their improved choices. Saluting their effort, thought-process, exploration, contributions to the group, self-motivation, creativity, and perserverance. Patiently offering opportunities to improve skills through repetition while gradually increasing challenges and responsibilities.

Respecting our kids' doubts and quandries; refraining from providing instant answers and evaluations. Letting them know that many situations have more than one possible choice, but that some choices are completely unacceptable--painting on a classmate's picture, drawing on the wall, not washing hands after flushing, or squeezing nine friends into the family car to drive to South Padre!

Allowing children their private world of imagination. We all like to imagine being on the beach at South Padre sometimes. Posted by Collagemama at 5: My printer has a hard life. I want it to print on strange types of paper and do other collaging tricks I can't devulge here. Then at any point in the two years I could return the printer to the store even if it was working just fine and receive a brand new equivalent printer as a replacement.

This has worked wonderfully. About every two years I get a new printer for the price of a new warranty. Just unplug the printer and leave the printer cable at home , drive over to the store, bring home the new baby. Takes half an hour. I'm on my fourth Epson printer, but it's two-year replacement warranty is due to expire soon. It still prints, but it has started singing the preschool Too-dee-Tah song. Too-dee-Tah or Tooty Ta is more of a repeated chant with body actions than a song. It's got a rhythm that seeps into your brain like a tapeworm.

Worse, my printer has started playing the same song. The chant reads like a college art major's schedule: After that it gets weirder, like the first time the college students have a nude model in drawing class: True, this is a body action imitation activity for preschoolers that is probably beneficial and age-appropriate except for the tapeworm mental damage to teachers.

It's not a song I want my printer to chant: The young man in the red shirt said they don't handle replacement warranties at the store anymore. He said I would have to ship my printer somewhere and wait to receive the shipment of a replacement.

This did not make me happy. He insisted I never ever ever could have replaced my printer at the store, and I said you could, too, because I've done it three times before.

He said basically, "G'won home now, lady, and call this toll free. Found my booklet that went with the replacement exchange program.

She eventually found a supervisor who had been with Comp USA more than six months and knew that, in fact, you did used to have to carry the printer into the store where it would be replaced instantly and with a smile. But, of course, they don't do that anymore.

So now Comp USA will "process my request" for another four days, and then ship my new printer. Then I'll have to ship the old one to them. In the meantime, I'm stuck printing with Ar-too D2 tooty-tah-tah. Haven't decided whether to buy another replacement warranty. Posted by Collagemama at 9: Each day that I head to school I feel like I'm going to a land of plenty, a place of abundant richness, curiosity, characters, subplots, and home-grown tomatoes. The playground garden alone supplies me with an hour's worth of research questions each evening.

What was that spider? This morning my drive to bountiful took forty-five minutes, even though it's only five miles. Rain poured down and drivers crept along bumper-to-bumper on What a performance to reward any viewer with patience and attention! What a film to put guys to sleep for lack of explosions and car crashes! At the end of the videotape I was sobbing, and my spouse was snoring. Working with preschoolers can't be confused with a life of ease, but it's never dull.

The phrase "land of plenty" calls up Cockaigne , the fictional utopia, best known by the Bruegel painting of sated villagers napping on the ground "in a lazy, luscious land". I'm happy when my students eat enough of their peanut butter and jelly sandwiches to settle quickly into a happy nap. Eighties movies , gardening , gender differences , old age , spiders , teaching preschool.

Everytime I've gone to the grocery store over the last sixteen years, I've said to myself, "As long as we can get beans, we're going to be okay. Sixteen years ago I met a man who had a young family and had lost his job. Did we call it "being downsized" back then? He was very worried about keeping his kids fed and finding a new job. The beans were what helped him see his situation with a some detachment. I watched his face change as he voiced his new mantra, "As long as we can get beans, we're going to be okay.

Around the world, the majority of families just hope to get beans. Finally had time to sit down and study the manual for the Canon camera I inherited from my Woolly Mammoth son. Been using it for three weeks, but there are features I don't understand.

Maybe I never will. The instruction manual he left me is in French! A picture is worth a thousand words, but I thought the words would be English. Why your cart squeaks and won't steer straight. It starts with a casual bump and shove. The second bump it gets a little personal, the shove back harder. Outside on the steaming asphalt there's a retaliatory slam in the cart return chute about four o'clock when the middle-schoolers are cutting across the parking lot with their saggy pants and bad haircuts, skulking to McDonalds for fries and acne.

Bad that there are so many witnesses. Now the grocery carts' friends get involved. A cart gets run through a discarded stinky Pamper.

Sun bakes the leaked meat and fruit juices to a sticky skin on the metal bars of the carts. The mentally-challenged grocery bagger girl who looks like a linebacker comes out of Albertsons with the tiny ancient bagger man from an impoverished unknown country. They collect the disgruntled carts in an enormous conga line, and somehow push them up the hill and into the store.

Nothing is said, but this business isn't over. Carts aren't bright, but their memory for slights is long. Get them out of there. The butchers and pharmacists left hours ago. The guy whose job seems to be breaking one egg in every dozen caught the last bus on 15th Street. Crickets gather mostly outside the doors adding their static sound.

Starlings, grackles and martins are standing room only on every wire at the intersection, raising the heat index with their din and droppings. Lights go down in Albertsons, thermostats are set higher. Soggy rolls of paper towels are left by the coolers and freezers to absorb more leaks and create tomorrow's atmosphere of chronic low-level depression. A ring of quivering fluorescent tubes lines the perimeter of the store.

Memory scents from the days of the live lobster tank seep up from the tired linoleum. At first there's feigned friendliness. The carts trawl the carnival midway and freak shows, the chips aisle, and the drain cleaners.

There's a fiftyish woman sitting wedged in the basket of a cart, knees crammed under her chin. Not sitting in the flop-down seat for toddlers--even in a dream that would be impossible. She's tired and cranky, and she's been sitting in that uncomfortable wire basket ever since Charlie Hamilton managed the Safeway on Cotner Blvd. She doesn't have a penny for the gumball machine.

She doesn't have a dime for the horsie ride. She has a twitch above her right eye. She's wearing light-up shoes with Velcro straps. The carts begin playing bumper cars. It's fun at first; a little dark; shrieking; a little scary; increasingly jarring.

It's battle-of-the-playground-bullies dragging the other carts in their posses into the fight. Round and round the store, a jaded roller derby of carts slamming each other, faster and faster, knocking down the cans of Rotel tomato and pepper, tearing cases of Ramen noodles four for a dollar.

Midway ride becomes demolition derby. The carts need to settle the score. The noise is deafening. The cops pull up out front, cherries flashing ugly pink light. The carts push out the automatic doors, roll and crash out of control all the way down the hill to Custer Street, slamming into each other. The woman's head is throbbing. She wakes up and can't get back to sleep. She takes an Aleve for her aching shoulder, but it doesn't help. Do you know where your grocery cart is?

High in the late Sixties. Instead it's the name of our emerging butterflies. Bordered Patch Chlosyne lacinia is one of the most varied butterfly species, I'm learning. Bordered Patch has "gregarious caterpillars" who "skeletonize the leaves of sunflower plants". That certainly describes our class experience. I didn't take photos when the children released our butterflies this morning.

There are many good "Bordered Patch" photos of adults and those gregarious teenage caterpillars hanging out playing billiards on Flickr. Feel like I lived with skeletonizing gregarious caterpillars and their sweaty socks in a small condo for most of the past decade. Loved nearly every minute, especially watching widely-varied teens emerge from their chrysalids and start pumping their wings.

The bordered patch , Chlosyne lacinia Geyer , is one of eight closely related "patch" butterflies on the family, Nymphalidae, called the "brush-footed" butterflies. Also found in southern Texas, this species is highly variable but characteristically marked above with a wide curved yellow-orange band and small orange spots on a dark-brown background and with white dots along the wing margins.

Larvae feed on a variety of Compositae including sunflowers and cocklebur. The Janais patch, Chlosyne janais Drury , also occurs in south Texas, but has distinctive large red patches on the bases of the upper hind wing surfaces on otherwise black-brown wings and with front wings and wing margins marked with white spots.

Ten beautiful butterflies emerged from their chrysalids inside the net tent this morning providing a fabulous experiential lesson for the preschoolers. They are absolutely gorgeous, and very wise! The first day of school we found caterpillars devouring the leaves of our sunflower in the school garden. The second day of school we collected the caterpillars inside a bug box.

The third day of school we fed the caterpillars in the bug box more sunflower leaves after we looked at the butterfly eggs on the leaves with a magnifying glass. We got out the butterfly books and tried to learn what these caterpillars might become. The fourth day of school the caterpillars crawled to the top of the bug box, hung upside down like the letter j , and made their chrysalids.

These caterpillars were writing the lesson plans! After the three-day weekend, the lessons continued. The fifth day of school we tried to dismantle the bug box so the butterflies could emerge into our class butterfly tent made of netting and wire. The screws were too rusty, so we cut away the screen, and put the whole bug box into the tent.

We tried to be very gentle. The students chose to do work about the life cycles of butterflies and sunflowers, and every other insect project and puzzle in the classroom. The sixth day of school we waited and wondered when or whether we might see butterflies. We talked about artists; how they observe, analyze, document, research, interpret, and add imagination. We observed the remaining sunflower plants, then made drawings.

The seventh day of school the first butterfly emerged just as the students were arriving. It hung very still for awhile, then slowly began moving its wings. The other nine emerged over the next hour and a half. They crawled around on the net as they gained strength. They visited the blossoms and sugar water, and began to fly around the tent. Then a butterfly escaped and flew right onto a student's cheek! It was caught gently, and released out the door. Another escaped during storytime! We put a strawberry basket over it, then released it.

Two more got out, and one flew into the restroom. The lead teacher and at least a dozen curious preschoolers jammed into the two-stall restroom to rescue the butterfly. We took it to the playground to release, and it flew two circles around the kids. The caterpillars wrote the lesson plan, and the butterflies gave the demonstration! The eleventh butterfly did not survive. It seems to have emerged missing some essential parts, fallen to the bottom of the bug box, and died.

We will retrieve the wings, and save them in the class insect center. We will have to talk about death and survival in another caterpillar lesson plan, and answer questions for awhile. That is a gift, too. All the parents came to our back-to-school meeting this evening, and got caught up in the butterfly excitement. Again, the timing was perfect. The class experience became a shared family experience.

Tomorrow morning we may have six checkerspots to release from the tent out on the playground. Or we may find that some have escaped, and are flying around in the school. We will hold open the doors and sing, "Glory hallelujah! Many preschoolers have already viewed hours and hours of marching penguins, crocodile hunting, meerkat family feuds, animal rescues, Galapagos tortoises, shark specials and poison dart frog features. Most first graders know they should worry about rain forest devastation and melting polar ice.

Not many of them have spent significant time chasing fireflies, watching roly-polies, holding ladybugs, or looking for caterpillars. Nature is something they see at its most extreme and distant on television or computer programs. It's not wiggly or warm or wondrous or personally experienced in the grass near their toes. It's likely to rain tomorrow. The kids expect the tornados of the Storm Tracker videos, with a hurricane, tsunami, or a West Nile virus epidemic.

Rain is for sitting on the front stoop and smelling the change in the air, for listening to the approaching thunder, for noticing the light as it becomes more greenish-gray, for twirling about in the yard as the first drops cool your arms and forehead.

Rain is for washing away the sidewalk chalk and for wondering where the butterflies go. Can't get all that worried about the munched canna leaves on my patio. A leaf roller caterpillar is having a splendid feast. Once I've identified it, I'm glad to sit back and enjoy its show. My old plastic patio chairs migrated to a student apartment in Lubbock, but didn't complete the return journey.

Now I can sit out on the patio and contemplate what to have for dinner instead of fresh asparagus. This caterpillar will roll up to create a lovely leaflike chrysalis. I hope it will pupate in my glass jar, but it is filling the jar with frass at a disturbing rate. It never was worth while, so Pack up your troubles in your old kit-bag, And smile, smile, smile.

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Pony rides and state fair gondola tragedies are forever linked in my mind. SpellCheck cannot tell you how to pack your duffel bag for a weekend getaway: The Woolly Mammoth emailed his fretting mama from Italy to say he is alive and well.

He wrote that he spent last weekend " on a beach near the town of Grossotto. No beach in sight. High on a hill with a lonely surfboard, Layee odl, layee odl layee-oo! Grossotto is the home of a solar park , a large array of solar photovoltaic collection panels used to turn sunlight into power.

It's probably a good place to catch some rays, but not necessarily to watch bikini volleyball. Studying the map of Italy hanging above the kitchen sink while loading my dishwasher, I'm guessing the Woolly Mammoth went to a beach near the town of Grosseto. Grosseto is near the sea and close to his study center. It sounds like a better place for swim goggles than for Google. My travel budget is for a weekend getaway to Gross-out-oh, Texas. That's where you find old men in Speedos holding sheets of HyVee store brand aluminum foil while beached in webbed lawn chaises after the Senior Swim at the city natatorium.

Do walruses get sunburned? One little student is working on the phonetic "G" sound. He has pictures of a goose, a goat, and a garbage can: Guh, guh, guh, juice. Guh, guh, guh, goat. Guh, guh, guh, trash! The Woolly Mammoth might oughta maybe better check the spelling before he departs next weekend.

He's going to look like severe juice goat trash wearing a Grossotto parka at the Grosseto beach. Posted by Collagemama at 8: Once the gators were hooked and entangled in the line, Gwendolyn got out of the boat to shoot the gators right between the eyes from twenty feet.

Did she use her twenty ri-two-fle? Did she sing, "You can't get a man with a gun"? When I'm with a pistol I sparkle like a crystal, Yes, I shine like the morning sun.

But I lose all my luster When with a Bronco Buster. Oh you can't get a man with a gun. With a gun, with a gun, No, you can't get a man with a gun. Shouldn't Gwendolyn have chanted the jump rope rhyme about the lady with the alligator purse? Mumps," said the doctor. Back in the mid to late Sixties I had to attend what seemed like millions of Cub Scout pack meetings in the basement of Eastridge Presby Church. My favorite Cub Scout song was the one about the lady and the crocodile, which could be a cautionary tale for Ms.

She sailed away On a bright and sunny day On the back of a crocodile You see, said she He's as tame as he can be I'll ride him down the Nile Well, the croc winked his eye As she waved them all goodbye Wearing a happy smile At the end of the ride The lady was inside And the smile was on the crocodile clap, clap Those were the years when I watched "The American Sportsman" on ABC Sports on winter Sunday afternoons.

Narrated by Curt Gowdy , the show featured celebrities stalking big game, with lots of heavy breathing, whispering, bootsteps, and wavering tall grasses, all in black and white on our little television. As the winter sun set early, we might watch " Mutual of Omaha's Wild Kingdom ". It seemed like Jim hollered, "It's got Marlin! My Bonnie lies over the ocean My Bonnie lies over the sea My Bonnie lies over the ocean Oh bring back my Bonnie to me Bring back, bring back Bring back my Bonnie to me, to me Bring back, bring back Bring back my Bonnie to me We kids all sang the song as an white-light-in-the-tunnel experience-- Now I lay me down to sleep If I should die before I wake Bring back my body to me, to me.

Blokus is a great game for kids and adults. Alas, it does not rhyme with hocus or pocus. The board is a grid, and I love grids.

The pieces are colored transparent plastic contiguous squares, and I love colored transparent rectangles and squares. Preschoolers can play it, and AARP members won't be bored: Blokus is an abstract strategy game with transparent, tetris-shaped, colored pieces that players are trying to play onto the board.

The only caveat to placing a piece is that it may not lie adjacent to your other pieces, but instead must be placed touching at least one corner of your pieces already on the board. Moth of the Day. A udrey Hepburn would look great in this style!

Nature is the greatest fashion designer of all. This beautiful moth was outside the door of the Highland Park Library when I went to work this morning.

I'm very excited about the macro possibilities of my inherited camera. It's nice to live in a city with a hour classical music radio station. You can listen to its streaming broadcast.

One of my favorites is the 7: It helps the Buick and I both head off to work! Flies are on my mind, but this blog is still rated PG. Many of my little students are doing work related to insects using larger-than-life plastic figures. Bee, butterfly, spider, beetle, termite, scorpion, ladybug, praying mantis, dragonfly, ant, grasshopper, and house fly are represented. The house fly has creepy red eyes, and the model is even larger than the horse flies that scared me on my first horse ride in Estes Park, Colorado when I was about ten.

There's a stomach bug going around--nausea, chills, low-grade fever. Students were "dropping like flies" yesterday. Many of our students and their parents do not speak English as their first language. They probably wouldn't understand the idiomatic expression.

Idiom Meaning - Falling down ill and in large numbers, often associated with a highly contageous illness. The little hero strikes seven flies dead with one whip of his belt. Speaking of flies and belts reminds me of raising my preschool sons. Seems like I spent most of toilet-training the three of them. After a day asking, "Did you flush and wash? Small boys seemed to lack Early Warning Systems for restroom emergencies.

Cute as they looked in overalls or little Levis, they just couldn't manage the buckles, belts, snaps, and zippers in what we might call a "timely fashion" when the need arose. Living in Oklahoma in the late Eighties, I was able to buy sweatpants and other elastic-waist pants for the guys at the Anthony's store.

In the early Nineties in Texas, the Mervyns Cheetah brand sweatpants made fly-less operations simple and swift, and probably saved my sanity. I love this example of the idiom: The words were so difficult that the spelling bee contestants were dropping like flies. Perhaps our next preschool language exploration will be "dropping our drawers".

Bush , fishing , insects , language , parenting , teaching preschool , toddler sons. Don't spend it erasing. I teach thirty minute art classes. During those classes I prohibit using erasers. It's cruel and unusual, I know. Erasers may be appropriate for addition and subtraction problems that have one correct solution.

Erasers are counterproductive in most creative efforts. In a half-hour class, erasing can take a big bite out of the time needed for thinking, practicing, rethinking, imagining, and enjoying the experience. In our half hour class we: Get lined up with our group. Transition to a different room, get settled, and ready to learn. Listen to a short story or the introduction to an art concept. Look at an example by a famous artist.

Have a group discussion where everyone has a chance to contribute ideas. Review instructions for the project. Learn to use a new material or technique. Enjoy making the project. Talk about our creation. Make sure our name is on our work. Put the art work into the drying rack. Helping children make their own good decisions by providing them essential information, frequent opportunities to make choices, and an essential underlying sense of safety and consistency.

Helping children evaluate the outcome of their choices and decisions. Using questions to learn how they would like to change their decisions.

Letting kids revise their work and explain their reasons for revisions. Applauding their improved choices. Saluting their effort, thought-process, exploration, contributions to the group, self-motivation, creativity, and perserverance. Patiently offering opportunities to improve skills through repetition while gradually increasing challenges and responsibilities.

Respecting our kids' doubts and quandries; refraining from providing instant answers and evaluations. Letting them know that many situations have more than one possible choice, but that some choices are completely unacceptable--painting on a classmate's picture, drawing on the wall, not washing hands after flushing, or squeezing nine friends into the family car to drive to South Padre! Allowing children their private world of imagination.

We all like to imagine being on the beach at South Padre sometimes. Posted by Collagemama at 5: My printer has a hard life. I want it to print on strange types of paper and do other collaging tricks I can't devulge here. Then at any point in the two years I could return the printer to the store even if it was working just fine and receive a brand new equivalent printer as a replacement.

This has worked wonderfully. About every two years I get a new printer for the price of a new warranty. Just unplug the printer and leave the printer cable at home , drive over to the store, bring home the new baby. Takes half an hour. I'm on my fourth Epson printer, but it's two-year replacement warranty is due to expire soon. It still prints, but it has started singing the preschool Too-dee-Tah song. Too-dee-Tah or Tooty Ta is more of a repeated chant with body actions than a song.

It's got a rhythm that seeps into your brain like a tapeworm. Worse, my printer has started playing the same song. The chant reads like a college art major's schedule: After that it gets weirder, like the first time the college students have a nude model in drawing class: True, this is a body action imitation activity for preschoolers that is probably beneficial and age-appropriate except for the tapeworm mental damage to teachers.

It's not a song I want my printer to chant: The young man in the red shirt said they don't handle replacement warranties at the store anymore. He said I would have to ship my printer somewhere and wait to receive the shipment of a replacement. This did not make me happy.

He insisted I never ever ever could have replaced my printer at the store, and I said you could, too, because I've done it three times before.

He said basically, "G'won home now, lady, and call this toll free. Found my booklet that went with the replacement exchange program. She eventually found a supervisor who had been with Comp USA more than six months and knew that, in fact, you did used to have to carry the printer into the store where it would be replaced instantly and with a smile. But, of course, they don't do that anymore. So now Comp USA will "process my request" for another four days, and then ship my new printer. Then I'll have to ship the old one to them.

In the meantime, I'm stuck printing with Ar-too D2 tooty-tah-tah. Haven't decided whether to buy another replacement warranty. Posted by Collagemama at 9: Each day that I head to school I feel like I'm going to a land of plenty, a place of abundant richness, curiosity, characters, subplots, and home-grown tomatoes.

The playground garden alone supplies me with an hour's worth of research questions each evening. What was that spider? This morning my drive to bountiful took forty-five minutes, even though it's only five miles.

Rain poured down and drivers crept along bumper-to-bumper on What a performance to reward any viewer with patience and attention! What a film to put guys to sleep for lack of explosions and car crashes! At the end of the videotape I was sobbing, and my spouse was snoring. Working with preschoolers can't be confused with a life of ease, but it's never dull. The phrase "land of plenty" calls up Cockaigne , the fictional utopia, best known by the Bruegel painting of sated villagers napping on the ground "in a lazy, luscious land".

I'm happy when my students eat enough of their peanut butter and jelly sandwiches to settle quickly into a happy nap. Eighties movies , gardening , gender differences , old age , spiders , teaching preschool. Everytime I've gone to the grocery store over the last sixteen years, I've said to myself, "As long as we can get beans, we're going to be okay. Sixteen years ago I met a man who had a young family and had lost his job.

Did we call it "being downsized" back then? He was very worried about keeping his kids fed and finding a new job. The beans were what helped him see his situation with a some detachment. I watched his face change as he voiced his new mantra, "As long as we can get beans, we're going to be okay.

Around the world, the majority of families just hope to get beans. Finally had time to sit down and study the manual for the Canon camera I inherited from my Woolly Mammoth son. Been using it for three weeks, but there are features I don't understand. Maybe I never will. The instruction manual he left me is in French! A picture is worth a thousand words, but I thought the words would be English.

Why your cart squeaks and won't steer straight. It starts with a casual bump and shove. The second bump it gets a little personal, the shove back harder. Outside on the steaming asphalt there's a retaliatory slam in the cart return chute about four o'clock when the middle-schoolers are cutting across the parking lot with their saggy pants and bad haircuts, skulking to McDonalds for fries and acne.

Bad that there are so many witnesses. Now the grocery carts' friends get involved. A cart gets run through a discarded stinky Pamper. Sun bakes the leaked meat and fruit juices to a sticky skin on the metal bars of the carts. The mentally-challenged grocery bagger girl who looks like a linebacker comes out of Albertsons with the tiny ancient bagger man from an impoverished unknown country.

They collect the disgruntled carts in an enormous conga line, and somehow push them up the hill and into the store. Nothing is said, but this business isn't over. Carts aren't bright, but their memory for slights is long. Get them out of there. The butchers and pharmacists left hours ago.

The guy whose job seems to be breaking one egg in every dozen caught the last bus on 15th Street. Crickets gather mostly outside the doors adding their static sound. Starlings, grackles and martins are standing room only on every wire at the intersection, raising the heat index with their din and droppings. Lights go down in Albertsons, thermostats are set higher.

Soggy rolls of paper towels are left by the coolers and freezers to absorb more leaks and create tomorrow's atmosphere of chronic low-level depression. A ring of quivering fluorescent tubes lines the perimeter of the store. Memory scents from the days of the live lobster tank seep up from the tired linoleum. At first there's feigned friendliness. The carts trawl the carnival midway and freak shows, the chips aisle, and the drain cleaners. There's a fiftyish woman sitting wedged in the basket of a cart, knees crammed under her chin.

Not sitting in the flop-down seat for toddlers--even in a dream that would be impossible. She's tired and cranky, and she's been sitting in that uncomfortable wire basket ever since Charlie Hamilton managed the Safeway on Cotner Blvd. She doesn't have a penny for the gumball machine. She doesn't have a dime for the horsie ride. She has a twitch above her right eye. She's wearing light-up shoes with Velcro straps. The carts begin playing bumper cars.

It's fun at first; a little dark; shrieking; a little scary; increasingly jarring. It's battle-of-the-playground-bullies dragging the other carts in their posses into the fight. Round and round the store, a jaded roller derby of carts slamming each other, faster and faster, knocking down the cans of Rotel tomato and pepper, tearing cases of Ramen noodles four for a dollar. Midway ride becomes demolition derby. The carts need to settle the score.

The noise is deafening. The cops pull up out front, cherries flashing ugly pink light. The carts push out the automatic doors, roll and crash out of control all the way down the hill to Custer Street, slamming into each other. The woman's head is throbbing. She wakes up and can't get back to sleep. She takes an Aleve for her aching shoulder, but it doesn't help. Do you know where your grocery cart is? High in the late Sixties. Instead it's the name of our emerging butterflies.

Bordered Patch Chlosyne lacinia is one of the most varied butterfly species, I'm learning. Bordered Patch has "gregarious caterpillars" who "skeletonize the leaves of sunflower plants". That certainly describes our class experience. I didn't take photos when the children released our butterflies this morning. There are many good "Bordered Patch" photos of adults and those gregarious teenage caterpillars hanging out playing billiards on Flickr.

Feel like I lived with skeletonizing gregarious caterpillars and their sweaty socks in a small condo for most of the past decade. Loved nearly every minute, especially watching widely-varied teens emerge from their chrysalids and start pumping their wings. The bordered patch , Chlosyne lacinia Geyer , is one of eight closely related "patch" butterflies on the family, Nymphalidae, called the "brush-footed" butterflies.

Also found in southern Texas, this species is highly variable but characteristically marked above with a wide curved yellow-orange band and small orange spots on a dark-brown background and with white dots along the wing margins. Larvae feed on a variety of Compositae including sunflowers and cocklebur. The Janais patch, Chlosyne janais Drury , also occurs in south Texas, but has distinctive large red patches on the bases of the upper hind wing surfaces on otherwise black-brown wings and with front wings and wing margins marked with white spots.

Ten beautiful butterflies emerged from their chrysalids inside the net tent this morning providing a fabulous experiential lesson for the preschoolers. They are absolutely gorgeous, and very wise! The first day of school we found caterpillars devouring the leaves of our sunflower in the school garden. The second day of school we collected the caterpillars inside a bug box. The third day of school we fed the caterpillars in the bug box more sunflower leaves after we looked at the butterfly eggs on the leaves with a magnifying glass.

We got out the butterfly books and tried to learn what these caterpillars might become. The fourth day of school the caterpillars crawled to the top of the bug box, hung upside down like the letter j , and made their chrysalids. These caterpillars were writing the lesson plans! After the three-day weekend, the lessons continued. The fifth day of school we tried to dismantle the bug box so the butterflies could emerge into our class butterfly tent made of netting and wire.

The screws were too rusty, so we cut away the screen, and put the whole bug box into the tent. We tried to be very gentle. The students chose to do work about the life cycles of butterflies and sunflowers, and every other insect project and puzzle in the classroom. The sixth day of school we waited and wondered when or whether we might see butterflies. We talked about artists; how they observe, analyze, document, research, interpret, and add imagination.

We observed the remaining sunflower plants, then made drawings. The seventh day of school the first butterfly emerged just as the students were arriving. It hung very still for awhile, then slowly began moving its wings.

The other nine emerged over the next hour and a half. They crawled around on the net as they gained strength. They visited the blossoms and sugar water, and began to fly around the tent. Then a butterfly escaped and flew right onto a student's cheek! It was caught gently, and released out the door. Another escaped during storytime!

We put a strawberry basket over it, then released it. Two more got out, and one flew into the restroom. The lead teacher and at least a dozen curious preschoolers jammed into the two-stall restroom to rescue the butterfly.

We took it to the playground to release, and it flew two circles around the kids. The caterpillars wrote the lesson plan, and the butterflies gave the demonstration! The eleventh butterfly did not survive. It seems to have emerged missing some essential parts, fallen to the bottom of the bug box, and died. We will retrieve the wings, and save them in the class insect center. We will have to talk about death and survival in another caterpillar lesson plan, and answer questions for awhile.

That is a gift, too. All the parents came to our back-to-school meeting this evening, and got caught up in the butterfly excitement. Braless Downblouse Pokies Milf Voyuered. Nipple Slip cute small teen. Braless, see through Nipples walking. Blonde MILF with small tits has anal sex. MILF with small tits sucking and fucking. Amateur french milf with small tits hard analized. Spying on really small tits. Same girl small tits. Scarf wearing girl, small tits dildo fucks flashing pussy.

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needed listen the

This once-a-year event requires standing in the grass slapping mosquitoes, making sure the kids don't run into the parking lot, making sure they hold onto their name card and don't cut in line, keeping them from touching and pushing everyone around them, all the while hearing them chant: Inky Binky Bonky Daddy had a donkey.

That's the favorite recess rhyme this week, but it seemed rather dismal next to the long-suffering photographer's ponies. I'm sure the photographer and his wife thought it would be a fun business when they started taking Wild West kiddie photos years ago. Imagine how many times in a quarter century you could put a child on the pony, put the bandanna, vest, chaps, and hat on the child, get the child to look photogenic, take off the costume, and transfer the child to another pony for a three minute ride.

A quarter century ago I became a parent. Thank heaven the job of parenting has much more variety and a lot more laughing over the long run. On any given day it can seem a lot like pony ride photography though: I was already having pony ride flashbacks when I opened my morning newspaper to read about the Texas State Fair is opening with a new sixty-five-foot high gondola Texas SkyWay ride.

Pony rides and state fair gondola tragedies are forever linked in my mind. SpellCheck cannot tell you how to pack your duffel bag for a weekend getaway: The Woolly Mammoth emailed his fretting mama from Italy to say he is alive and well.

He wrote that he spent last weekend " on a beach near the town of Grossotto. No beach in sight. High on a hill with a lonely surfboard, Layee odl, layee odl layee-oo! Grossotto is the home of a solar park , a large array of solar photovoltaic collection panels used to turn sunlight into power. It's probably a good place to catch some rays, but not necessarily to watch bikini volleyball.

Studying the map of Italy hanging above the kitchen sink while loading my dishwasher, I'm guessing the Woolly Mammoth went to a beach near the town of Grosseto. Grosseto is near the sea and close to his study center.

It sounds like a better place for swim goggles than for Google. My travel budget is for a weekend getaway to Gross-out-oh, Texas. That's where you find old men in Speedos holding sheets of HyVee store brand aluminum foil while beached in webbed lawn chaises after the Senior Swim at the city natatorium. Do walruses get sunburned? One little student is working on the phonetic "G" sound.

He has pictures of a goose, a goat, and a garbage can: Guh, guh, guh, juice. Guh, guh, guh, goat. Guh, guh, guh, trash!

The Woolly Mammoth might oughta maybe better check the spelling before he departs next weekend. He's going to look like severe juice goat trash wearing a Grossotto parka at the Grosseto beach. Posted by Collagemama at 8: Once the gators were hooked and entangled in the line, Gwendolyn got out of the boat to shoot the gators right between the eyes from twenty feet. Did she use her twenty ri-two-fle? Did she sing, "You can't get a man with a gun"? When I'm with a pistol I sparkle like a crystal, Yes, I shine like the morning sun.

But I lose all my luster When with a Bronco Buster. Oh you can't get a man with a gun. With a gun, with a gun, No, you can't get a man with a gun. Shouldn't Gwendolyn have chanted the jump rope rhyme about the lady with the alligator purse?

Mumps," said the doctor. Back in the mid to late Sixties I had to attend what seemed like millions of Cub Scout pack meetings in the basement of Eastridge Presby Church. My favorite Cub Scout song was the one about the lady and the crocodile, which could be a cautionary tale for Ms.

She sailed away On a bright and sunny day On the back of a crocodile You see, said she He's as tame as he can be I'll ride him down the Nile Well, the croc winked his eye As she waved them all goodbye Wearing a happy smile At the end of the ride The lady was inside And the smile was on the crocodile clap, clap Those were the years when I watched "The American Sportsman" on ABC Sports on winter Sunday afternoons.

Narrated by Curt Gowdy , the show featured celebrities stalking big game, with lots of heavy breathing, whispering, bootsteps, and wavering tall grasses, all in black and white on our little television. As the winter sun set early, we might watch " Mutual of Omaha's Wild Kingdom ".

It seemed like Jim hollered, "It's got Marlin! My Bonnie lies over the ocean My Bonnie lies over the sea My Bonnie lies over the ocean Oh bring back my Bonnie to me Bring back, bring back Bring back my Bonnie to me, to me Bring back, bring back Bring back my Bonnie to me We kids all sang the song as an white-light-in-the-tunnel experience-- Now I lay me down to sleep If I should die before I wake Bring back my body to me, to me.

Blokus is a great game for kids and adults. Alas, it does not rhyme with hocus or pocus. The board is a grid, and I love grids. The pieces are colored transparent plastic contiguous squares, and I love colored transparent rectangles and squares. Preschoolers can play it, and AARP members won't be bored: Blokus is an abstract strategy game with transparent, tetris-shaped, colored pieces that players are trying to play onto the board.

The only caveat to placing a piece is that it may not lie adjacent to your other pieces, but instead must be placed touching at least one corner of your pieces already on the board.

Moth of the Day. A udrey Hepburn would look great in this style! Nature is the greatest fashion designer of all. This beautiful moth was outside the door of the Highland Park Library when I went to work this morning.

I'm very excited about the macro possibilities of my inherited camera. It's nice to live in a city with a hour classical music radio station. You can listen to its streaming broadcast. One of my favorites is the 7: It helps the Buick and I both head off to work! Flies are on my mind, but this blog is still rated PG. Many of my little students are doing work related to insects using larger-than-life plastic figures. Bee, butterfly, spider, beetle, termite, scorpion, ladybug, praying mantis, dragonfly, ant, grasshopper, and house fly are represented.

The house fly has creepy red eyes, and the model is even larger than the horse flies that scared me on my first horse ride in Estes Park, Colorado when I was about ten. There's a stomach bug going around--nausea, chills, low-grade fever. Students were "dropping like flies" yesterday. Many of our students and their parents do not speak English as their first language. They probably wouldn't understand the idiomatic expression. Idiom Meaning - Falling down ill and in large numbers, often associated with a highly contageous illness.

The little hero strikes seven flies dead with one whip of his belt. Speaking of flies and belts reminds me of raising my preschool sons. Seems like I spent most of toilet-training the three of them. After a day asking, "Did you flush and wash? Small boys seemed to lack Early Warning Systems for restroom emergencies. Cute as they looked in overalls or little Levis, they just couldn't manage the buckles, belts, snaps, and zippers in what we might call a "timely fashion" when the need arose.

Living in Oklahoma in the late Eighties, I was able to buy sweatpants and other elastic-waist pants for the guys at the Anthony's store. In the early Nineties in Texas, the Mervyns Cheetah brand sweatpants made fly-less operations simple and swift, and probably saved my sanity.

I love this example of the idiom: The words were so difficult that the spelling bee contestants were dropping like flies. Perhaps our next preschool language exploration will be "dropping our drawers". Bush , fishing , insects , language , parenting , teaching preschool , toddler sons. Don't spend it erasing. I teach thirty minute art classes. During those classes I prohibit using erasers.

It's cruel and unusual, I know. Erasers may be appropriate for addition and subtraction problems that have one correct solution. Erasers are counterproductive in most creative efforts.

In a half-hour class, erasing can take a big bite out of the time needed for thinking, practicing, rethinking, imagining, and enjoying the experience.

In our half hour class we: Get lined up with our group. Transition to a different room, get settled, and ready to learn. Listen to a short story or the introduction to an art concept. Look at an example by a famous artist.

Have a group discussion where everyone has a chance to contribute ideas. Review instructions for the project. Learn to use a new material or technique. Enjoy making the project. Talk about our creation. Make sure our name is on our work. Put the art work into the drying rack. Helping children make their own good decisions by providing them essential information, frequent opportunities to make choices, and an essential underlying sense of safety and consistency.

Helping children evaluate the outcome of their choices and decisions. Using questions to learn how they would like to change their decisions. Letting kids revise their work and explain their reasons for revisions. Applauding their improved choices. Saluting their effort, thought-process, exploration, contributions to the group, self-motivation, creativity, and perserverance.

Patiently offering opportunities to improve skills through repetition while gradually increasing challenges and responsibilities. Respecting our kids' doubts and quandries; refraining from providing instant answers and evaluations.

Letting them know that many situations have more than one possible choice, but that some choices are completely unacceptable--painting on a classmate's picture, drawing on the wall, not washing hands after flushing, or squeezing nine friends into the family car to drive to South Padre! Allowing children their private world of imagination. We all like to imagine being on the beach at South Padre sometimes. Posted by Collagemama at 5: My printer has a hard life.

I want it to print on strange types of paper and do other collaging tricks I can't devulge here. Then at any point in the two years I could return the printer to the store even if it was working just fine and receive a brand new equivalent printer as a replacement. This has worked wonderfully. About every two years I get a new printer for the price of a new warranty.

Just unplug the printer and leave the printer cable at home , drive over to the store, bring home the new baby. Takes half an hour.

I'm on my fourth Epson printer, but it's two-year replacement warranty is due to expire soon. It still prints, but it has started singing the preschool Too-dee-Tah song. Too-dee-Tah or Tooty Ta is more of a repeated chant with body actions than a song. It's got a rhythm that seeps into your brain like a tapeworm. Worse, my printer has started playing the same song. The chant reads like a college art major's schedule: After that it gets weirder, like the first time the college students have a nude model in drawing class: True, this is a body action imitation activity for preschoolers that is probably beneficial and age-appropriate except for the tapeworm mental damage to teachers.

It's not a song I want my printer to chant: The young man in the red shirt said they don't handle replacement warranties at the store anymore. He said I would have to ship my printer somewhere and wait to receive the shipment of a replacement. This did not make me happy. He insisted I never ever ever could have replaced my printer at the store, and I said you could, too, because I've done it three times before. He said basically, "G'won home now, lady, and call this toll free.

Found my booklet that went with the replacement exchange program. She eventually found a supervisor who had been with Comp USA more than six months and knew that, in fact, you did used to have to carry the printer into the store where it would be replaced instantly and with a smile.

But, of course, they don't do that anymore. So now Comp USA will "process my request" for another four days, and then ship my new printer. Then I'll have to ship the old one to them. In the meantime, I'm stuck printing with Ar-too D2 tooty-tah-tah.

Haven't decided whether to buy another replacement warranty. Posted by Collagemama at 9: Each day that I head to school I feel like I'm going to a land of plenty, a place of abundant richness, curiosity, characters, subplots, and home-grown tomatoes. The playground garden alone supplies me with an hour's worth of research questions each evening. What was that spider? This morning my drive to bountiful took forty-five minutes, even though it's only five miles.

Rain poured down and drivers crept along bumper-to-bumper on What a performance to reward any viewer with patience and attention! What a film to put guys to sleep for lack of explosions and car crashes! At the end of the videotape I was sobbing, and my spouse was snoring. Working with preschoolers can't be confused with a life of ease, but it's never dull. The phrase "land of plenty" calls up Cockaigne , the fictional utopia, best known by the Bruegel painting of sated villagers napping on the ground "in a lazy, luscious land".

I'm happy when my students eat enough of their peanut butter and jelly sandwiches to settle quickly into a happy nap. Eighties movies , gardening , gender differences , old age , spiders , teaching preschool.

Everytime I've gone to the grocery store over the last sixteen years, I've said to myself, "As long as we can get beans, we're going to be okay. Sixteen years ago I met a man who had a young family and had lost his job. Did we call it "being downsized" back then? He was very worried about keeping his kids fed and finding a new job. The beans were what helped him see his situation with a some detachment. I watched his face change as he voiced his new mantra, "As long as we can get beans, we're going to be okay.

Around the world, the majority of families just hope to get beans. Finally had time to sit down and study the manual for the Canon camera I inherited from my Woolly Mammoth son. Been using it for three weeks, but there are features I don't understand. Maybe I never will. The instruction manual he left me is in French! A picture is worth a thousand words, but I thought the words would be English.

Why your cart squeaks and won't steer straight. It starts with a casual bump and shove. The second bump it gets a little personal, the shove back harder. Outside on the steaming asphalt there's a retaliatory slam in the cart return chute about four o'clock when the middle-schoolers are cutting across the parking lot with their saggy pants and bad haircuts, skulking to McDonalds for fries and acne.

Bad that there are so many witnesses. Now the grocery carts' friends get involved. A cart gets run through a discarded stinky Pamper. Sun bakes the leaked meat and fruit juices to a sticky skin on the metal bars of the carts. The mentally-challenged grocery bagger girl who looks like a linebacker comes out of Albertsons with the tiny ancient bagger man from an impoverished unknown country. They collect the disgruntled carts in an enormous conga line, and somehow push them up the hill and into the store.

Nothing is said, but this business isn't over. Carts aren't bright, but their memory for slights is long. Get them out of there. The butchers and pharmacists left hours ago. The guy whose job seems to be breaking one egg in every dozen caught the last bus on 15th Street. Crickets gather mostly outside the doors adding their static sound. Starlings, grackles and martins are standing room only on every wire at the intersection, raising the heat index with their din and droppings.

Lights go down in Albertsons, thermostats are set higher. Soggy rolls of paper towels are left by the coolers and freezers to absorb more leaks and create tomorrow's atmosphere of chronic low-level depression. A ring of quivering fluorescent tubes lines the perimeter of the store. Memory scents from the days of the live lobster tank seep up from the tired linoleum.

At first there's feigned friendliness. The carts trawl the carnival midway and freak shows, the chips aisle, and the drain cleaners. There's a fiftyish woman sitting wedged in the basket of a cart, knees crammed under her chin.

Not sitting in the flop-down seat for toddlers--even in a dream that would be impossible. She's tired and cranky, and she's been sitting in that uncomfortable wire basket ever since Charlie Hamilton managed the Safeway on Cotner Blvd.

She doesn't have a penny for the gumball machine. She doesn't have a dime for the horsie ride. She has a twitch above her right eye. She's wearing light-up shoes with Velcro straps. The carts begin playing bumper cars. It's fun at first; a little dark; shrieking; a little scary; increasingly jarring.

It's battle-of-the-playground-bullies dragging the other carts in their posses into the fight. Round and round the store, a jaded roller derby of carts slamming each other, faster and faster, knocking down the cans of Rotel tomato and pepper, tearing cases of Ramen noodles four for a dollar.

Midway ride becomes demolition derby. The carts need to settle the score. The noise is deafening. The cops pull up out front, cherries flashing ugly pink light. The carts push out the automatic doors, roll and crash out of control all the way down the hill to Custer Street, slamming into each other.

The woman's head is throbbing. She wakes up and can't get back to sleep. She takes an Aleve for her aching shoulder, but it doesn't help.

Do you know where your grocery cart is? High in the late Sixties. Instead it's the name of our emerging butterflies. Bordered Patch Chlosyne lacinia is one of the most varied butterfly species, I'm learning. Bordered Patch has "gregarious caterpillars" who "skeletonize the leaves of sunflower plants".

That certainly describes our class experience. I didn't take photos when the children released our butterflies this morning. There are many good "Bordered Patch" photos of adults and those gregarious teenage caterpillars hanging out playing billiards on Flickr.

Feel like I lived with skeletonizing gregarious caterpillars and their sweaty socks in a small condo for most of the past decade. Loved nearly every minute, especially watching widely-varied teens emerge from their chrysalids and start pumping their wings. The bordered patch , Chlosyne lacinia Geyer , is one of eight closely related "patch" butterflies on the family, Nymphalidae, called the "brush-footed" butterflies. Also found in southern Texas, this species is highly variable but characteristically marked above with a wide curved yellow-orange band and small orange spots on a dark-brown background and with white dots along the wing margins.

Larvae feed on a variety of Compositae including sunflowers and cocklebur. The Janais patch, Chlosyne janais Drury , also occurs in south Texas, but has distinctive large red patches on the bases of the upper hind wing surfaces on otherwise black-brown wings and with front wings and wing margins marked with white spots.

Ten beautiful butterflies emerged from their chrysalids inside the net tent this morning providing a fabulous experiential lesson for the preschoolers. They are absolutely gorgeous, and very wise!

The first day of school we found caterpillars devouring the leaves of our sunflower in the school garden. The second day of school we collected the caterpillars inside a bug box. The third day of school we fed the caterpillars in the bug box more sunflower leaves after we looked at the butterfly eggs on the leaves with a magnifying glass. We got out the butterfly books and tried to learn what these caterpillars might become.

The fourth day of school the caterpillars crawled to the top of the bug box, hung upside down like the letter j , and made their chrysalids. These caterpillars were writing the lesson plans! After the three-day weekend, the lessons continued.

The fifth day of school we tried to dismantle the bug box so the butterflies could emerge into our class butterfly tent made of netting and wire. The screws were too rusty, so we cut away the screen, and put the whole bug box into the tent. We tried to be very gentle. The students chose to do work about the life cycles of butterflies and sunflowers, and every other insect project and puzzle in the classroom.

The sixth day of school we waited and wondered when or whether we might see butterflies. We talked about artists; how they observe, analyze, document, research, interpret, and add imagination. We observed the remaining sunflower plants, then made drawings. The seventh day of school the first butterfly emerged just as the students were arriving. It hung very still for awhile, then slowly began moving its wings. The other nine emerged over the next hour and a half.

They crawled around on the net as they gained strength. They visited the blossoms and sugar water, and began to fly around the tent. Then a butterfly escaped and flew right onto a student's cheek!

It was caught gently, and released out the door. Another escaped during storytime! We put a strawberry basket over it, then released it. Two more got out, and one flew into the restroom. Amateur french milf with small tits hard analized. Spying on really small tits. Same girl small tits. Scarf wearing girl, small tits dildo fucks flashing pussy. Bound Big Nipple Slut!!!!!!!

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