So when I'm able to lift my head off my pillow and focus, I've been surfing Youtubes. And I found this musician, Abby the Spoon Lady, and she is amazing!
Friday, January 26, 2018
Spoons -
Been down in bed, flat, since Tuesday evening. Yesterday, after visiting with my doctor, I was diagnosed with Influenza - the kind I was vaccinated for this fall. My doctor said it has hit epidemic proportions! And boy oh boy, it's horrible.
So when I'm able to lift my head off my pillow and focus, I've been surfing Youtubes. And I found this musician, Abby the Spoon Lady, and she is amazing!
So when I'm able to lift my head off my pillow and focus, I've been surfing Youtubes. And I found this musician, Abby the Spoon Lady, and she is amazing!
Monday, January 22, 2018
The Greatest Showman - Freaks -
There have been times in my life when I've felt "different," yet never a time in my life I've felt like a "freak," until . . . yeah, Cancer. And I felt this way - in my own soul, as well as getting that feeling from others.
These days I feel pretty darn normal, except . . . Yeah, in some situations I'm still the freak, or abnormal, or wrong, or contagious, or just someone others can feel sorry for.
So I guess it's time for me to surrender to win and wave that freak flag? Or to fight those oppressors off - but then isn't that also waving the same flag, just in a different direction?
I'm not someone to be pitied. Yet I'm not anyone's warrior, hero, survivor.
I'm just Ronda, an introvert who happened to have cancer. And if that makes me a freak . . . I'm speechless.
Anyone else?
I took some of my grandchildren to "The Greatest Showman" this weekend. My second time, and every bit as amazing. While there were several parts of the movie rang true to me, the "This is me," theme was so prevalent. And after a week of Diversity at the hospital, the idea of accepting others differences - diversity, resonated.
So, and for another time - let's just accept, not pity, not parade, not place on a pedestal or hide under a basket, differences. Freak or not, we all have souls, and we all want to be accepted - just get to know each other, celebrate.
Including me. Welcome to the circus.
These days I feel pretty darn normal, except . . . Yeah, in some situations I'm still the freak, or abnormal, or wrong, or contagious, or just someone others can feel sorry for.
So I guess it's time for me to surrender to win and wave that freak flag? Or to fight those oppressors off - but then isn't that also waving the same flag, just in a different direction?
I'm not someone to be pitied. Yet I'm not anyone's warrior, hero, survivor.
I'm just Ronda, an introvert who happened to have cancer. And if that makes me a freak . . . I'm speechless.
Anyone else?
I took some of my grandchildren to "The Greatest Showman" this weekend. My second time, and every bit as amazing. While there were several parts of the movie rang true to me, the "This is me," theme was so prevalent. And after a week of Diversity at the hospital, the idea of accepting others differences - diversity, resonated.
So, and for another time - let's just accept, not pity, not parade, not place on a pedestal or hide under a basket, differences. Freak or not, we all have souls, and we all want to be accepted - just get to know each other, celebrate.
Including me. Welcome to the circus.
Tuesday, January 16, 2018
5 Years Today - Chemo Sucks -
As I pulled into the parking lot at work today I thought a random uninvited thought, "I'm glad I had cancer." The second this came into my realization I worked really hard to push it out of my mind, but it was there. And I entered the office with a grateful heart.
I pulled open my computer, logged on, and Facebook popped up, and the first thing that came on that screen was the "Five Years Ago" picture. And there it was:
FIVE YEARS ago today I finished my last round of chemo. This photo was taken that evening, by Nick, who did a great job documenting my cancer journey. And let me tell you, I'm smiling here, but earlier that day I could hardly stand, needing the chemo nurses to hold me up and a wheelchair to get out of the chemo room and into my car:
I pulled open my computer, logged on, and Facebook popped up, and the first thing that came on that screen was the "Five Years Ago" picture. And there it was:
FIVE YEARS ago today I finished my last round of chemo. This photo was taken that evening, by Nick, who did a great job documenting my cancer journey. And let me tell you, I'm smiling here, but earlier that day I could hardly stand, needing the chemo nurses to hold me up and a wheelchair to get out of the chemo room and into my car:
That Facebook acknowledgement gave me some anxiety, and with it came many of the fears of chemo along with the realization that this is truly over, finished, gone, out of my life. And for that I am so grateful.
Sunday, January 14, 2018
My Dad and His Lasting Service - Missionaries -
Scott's oldest daughter, Natalie, has a son, Max, who is serving a mission for the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. He is 18 1/2 years old, never been away from home, and has gone from living in Utah to living in Florida (with his family), to spending time now in Fresno, CA, with a companion (probably several over the next 2 years), without family contact except for letters and 2 phone calls a year (Christmas and Mother's Day). It's quite an undertaking for the family and the missionary, and my personal belief is this is quite the maturing coming-of-age transition for any 18 year old, more for the missionary than for those they hope to convert to Mormonism.
I write Max every week - although I don't know him well, I feel strongly that I should be communicating with him. My letter, that he'll receive tomorrow, is this:
I write Max every week - although I don't know him well, I feel strongly that I should be communicating with him. My letter, that he'll receive tomorrow, is this:
Something pretty cool happened to my mother yesterday, and I
thought I would share. As you may know, my father passed away on July 5, 2016.
He and my mom are our next-door neighbors, and Grandpa and Grandma Weaver lived
across the street from them. That is the main reason we bought our home – to be
able to care for both sets of parents as they aged. And we’ve been able to. My
mother is now 81, and she’s doing pretty darn good, able to live alone just
fine, but she sure does love having us next door – as Grandpa visits with her,
takes care of her yard and her house, and I cook for her, listen to her, and we
both enjoy sharing time with her.
Well, my father was a branch president at the MTC in the
early 1980s. He was there for three years. He served the young men who were
going to English-speaking areas. He had them for three weeks, and he had a
lasting impact on many of them, particularly those who came into the MTC not
really prepared for serving a mission or sure they even wanted to serve. One of
these missionaries, JE, has stayed a family friend all of these years.
My mother received a Facebook message a couple of years
ago from a man looking for “Elder Walker who served at the MTC in the 1980s.”
Mother mentioned my father had, but then she never heard back from this man.
Then Friday night he messaged saying he didn’t get on FB very often, and was
glad it was Clyde (my father’s first name), and wondered how he was and how to
get in contact with him. My mother told him Dad had died. And then this is the
message (I’ve edited for length) my mother received back:
Time goes by so fast. I wish that I would
have checked these messages more often.
I thank you for sharing. I truly am sadden to
hear of your loss. I have called so many phone numbers over the years trying to
find the right Clyde Walker. After reading your loss I found and read the
wonderful tribute of his life and I realize that this is the right ELDER
WALKER. As a Branch President at the MTC he worked with our group. Our
leader/teacher was ill and Elder Walker stepped in to take care of us. He
played a vital role in my life as a young new missionary. I had a hard time
making the decision to go and leave a girl that I had been dating for 3 yrs.
Elder Walker had such a strong and wonderful spirit about him. He truly was
inspired and helped me to find the faith to be a missionary. I served a
faithful mission that blessed me with a foundation for my life and family. A
foundation of faith and understanding far more powerful than I could have ever
imagined.
He told me that the Lord would bless my life
with a wonderful bride when I finished serving as a missionary, if I would put
my faith in the Lord. He was right.
The lord did bless me with a wonderful
faithful wife. She is teaching gospel doctrine now and is a principle of North
Ogden jr High. We have 4 kids, 2 girls and 2 boys. . .
I want to thank you for your wonderful
husband and the life altering influence that he had on my life for generations
to come. He taught me to have faith and love.
I owe this legacy to my MTC
father Clyde Walker. I really wish that I could have shared this with him. The
time will come when I will be able to give him a proper thank you. If I may say
through you...I love you Clyde Walker! Thank you!
Isn’t this beautiful? The work of one man – he was just
doing what he knew was right, which was serving his Father in Heaven, and yet
all of these years later, one young man remembered my father’s love, and cared
enough to share! We never know!
Wednesday, January 10, 2018
I've Been Thinking -
Yeah - an introvert never stops thinking - perhaps thinking more than speaking, and definitely thinking before speaking. And there are a few things going on in my mind, that haven't necessarily been coming out of my mouth -
Tired - damn I'm tired. Is it age, still cancer recovery, or am I really doing too much?
Doing too much - I'm crazy busy, and I hate the word "busy," but my plate just magically fills - with goodness - but still overly full. And I dream of the time that I can remove some goodness from my plate and make time for a few other things, like being a me.
Me - who am I, really? I define myself by my roles - teacher, chaplain, diversity advocate, then - wife, daughter, mother, grandmother, and lastly, friend. I'd like to add a little more time to those last three roles, less to the others.
Grandmother - dang I miss my grandchildren. How do grandparents handle being miles and miles away from their grandchildren? I'm no more than 30 minutes away from 1/2 of my grandkids, and that's too far.
Growing Up - and yet I know that my children and grandchildren have lives of their own, and I step back, sometimes too far back, and give them space, but I do miss spending time with them.
Time - I know, we all have 24 hours in our days, and we all have to choose how we spend them.
Spending - I've about decided that I'd rather have time than money - time for grandparenting, friending, spousing, than time to travel abroad. I think I may be cutting back on income in favor of time.
Income - my dream is to be a full-time hospital chaplain. I strongly believe this is my calling. And if I could only get those in decision-making roles to understand the value of a full-time chaplain, perhaps my dream could come true. But finding someone to talk to, to convince, is like fishing in a fishless pond. Possible, but impossible.
Impossible - I love experiences. I'll gather experiences all day long. And nothing is impossible, correct?
Correctness - I'm finding I care less about being right and more about being compatible, unless it is really something I care about - chaplaining, teaching, mothering, being true to me. All else is just fluff.
Fluff - I could really use a soft pillow and fuzzy warm blanket right now.
Now - back to matters at hand.
Hand - grateful for the opportunity I have to type and blog about life and my journey. More on Journeys later.
Tired - damn I'm tired. Is it age, still cancer recovery, or am I really doing too much?
Doing too much - I'm crazy busy, and I hate the word "busy," but my plate just magically fills - with goodness - but still overly full. And I dream of the time that I can remove some goodness from my plate and make time for a few other things, like being a me.
Me - who am I, really? I define myself by my roles - teacher, chaplain, diversity advocate, then - wife, daughter, mother, grandmother, and lastly, friend. I'd like to add a little more time to those last three roles, less to the others.
Grandmother - dang I miss my grandchildren. How do grandparents handle being miles and miles away from their grandchildren? I'm no more than 30 minutes away from 1/2 of my grandkids, and that's too far.
Growing Up - and yet I know that my children and grandchildren have lives of their own, and I step back, sometimes too far back, and give them space, but I do miss spending time with them.
Time - I know, we all have 24 hours in our days, and we all have to choose how we spend them.
Spending - I've about decided that I'd rather have time than money - time for grandparenting, friending, spousing, than time to travel abroad. I think I may be cutting back on income in favor of time.
Income - my dream is to be a full-time hospital chaplain. I strongly believe this is my calling. And if I could only get those in decision-making roles to understand the value of a full-time chaplain, perhaps my dream could come true. But finding someone to talk to, to convince, is like fishing in a fishless pond. Possible, but impossible.
Impossible - I love experiences. I'll gather experiences all day long. And nothing is impossible, correct?
Correctness - I'm finding I care less about being right and more about being compatible, unless it is really something I care about - chaplaining, teaching, mothering, being true to me. All else is just fluff.
Fluff - I could really use a soft pillow and fuzzy warm blanket right now.
Now - back to matters at hand.
Hand - grateful for the opportunity I have to type and blog about life and my journey. More on Journeys later.
Sunday, January 7, 2018
Speaking Up -
My next two tattoos will be on the instep of each foot. One will say, "Be the change," and the other will say, "Faith in every footstep."
One foot in front of the other is what keeps me moving forward, and I have to have faith that my plans, or my Higher Power's plans, are the steps I should be taking.
So today, after years of complaining, I spoke up. I was in a church meeting I seldom attend, because I don't feel comfortable in my congregation, and when the question, "What should we be focusing on or doing differently this year, I spoke. "We are disjointed. We are not a congregation. We are divided by age, economics, longevity. We have so much turnover that we don't get to know each other. We don't know who's old, who's new. We need to belong. I need friends. You need me to be your friend. We need connection." And then I nervously shut up, because I had my say.
And the conversation, for the next twenty minutes, was surrounding this. And I wasn't alone.
After our meeting several women, my age and not, thanked me for speaking up.
But I can't leave it at that. If I'm going to complain, I have to be a part of the change. If I want to have a say, I have to be willing to change.
So a young mother, someone I admire, shared today at church. Simple, pure, from the heart. And after making some poppy seed bread, and making sure it was edible, I took her a loaf and a simple thank you.
It took courage today, and a little frustration, for me to share. I don't like putting myself "out there." But I don't like sitting still. I measure my words and my actions very carefully these days. I only have so much energy, and I try to use it wisely. And I guess today, I took a step in faith, that if I was feeling these emotions and this anxiousness, that I would put my faith in my Higher Power and speak.
Here's hoping my words, and my footsteps, will be the change I need - the change I need to make. One step at a time.
One foot in front of the other is what keeps me moving forward, and I have to have faith that my plans, or my Higher Power's plans, are the steps I should be taking.
So today, after years of complaining, I spoke up. I was in a church meeting I seldom attend, because I don't feel comfortable in my congregation, and when the question, "What should we be focusing on or doing differently this year, I spoke. "We are disjointed. We are not a congregation. We are divided by age, economics, longevity. We have so much turnover that we don't get to know each other. We don't know who's old, who's new. We need to belong. I need friends. You need me to be your friend. We need connection." And then I nervously shut up, because I had my say.
And the conversation, for the next twenty minutes, was surrounding this. And I wasn't alone.
After our meeting several women, my age and not, thanked me for speaking up.
But I can't leave it at that. If I'm going to complain, I have to be a part of the change. If I want to have a say, I have to be willing to change.
So a young mother, someone I admire, shared today at church. Simple, pure, from the heart. And after making some poppy seed bread, and making sure it was edible, I took her a loaf and a simple thank you.
It took courage today, and a little frustration, for me to share. I don't like putting myself "out there." But I don't like sitting still. I measure my words and my actions very carefully these days. I only have so much energy, and I try to use it wisely. And I guess today, I took a step in faith, that if I was feeling these emotions and this anxiousness, that I would put my faith in my Higher Power and speak.
Here's hoping my words, and my footsteps, will be the change I need - the change I need to make. One step at a time.
Thursday, January 4, 2018
Teacher Evaluations - MY Evaluations -
Every semester I "require" my students to take a Course Evaluation rating me, my teaching, our class, the assignments, etc (this is something the university requires, and I give my students credit for showing me they have finished the eval). Can you imagine having 60+ people, every 6 months, rate and evaluate your performance? This can be worse than a Rotten Tomatoes review! This evaluation then goes to the department administration who keeps these in "my file." On top of this, students often review, and look for professors, based on the website, "RateMyProfessor.com" where evaluations are snarky, succinct, and sweet.
Now I can handle a healthy critique - I'm always on the lookout for ways to improve my teaching - content, approach, relationship with students. But dang - it sure would be nice to be able to rate my students! See, these evaluations are not only my relationship with my class, but if the classroom culture is great, evaluations are great; if not, well, evaluations fall. And this has been more than apparent this past semester -
I taught all 3 classes from a new textbook with a new assignment sequence. 2 of those classes were the same level, with one being at 5:30pm, the other at 8:30pm. The 5:30 class connected from the very first day - relying on a couple of students to lead the way, and yet they all were engaged and involved. Most students attended every class, participated, and helped each other. On the other hand, my 8:30pm class was a bunch of stragglers, with about 6 students attending every class. They were more quiet, arrived late, and there were a few who chose not to be involved in the class. I taught the exact same material, as close to the same way. And yet my 5:30 class reviews were much stronger than my 8:30 reviews.
Ah gosh!
And lastly, on my rant - You decide. Beneficial, hurtful, awkward, rewarding, constructive critique, or criticism, venting?
Now I can handle a healthy critique - I'm always on the lookout for ways to improve my teaching - content, approach, relationship with students. But dang - it sure would be nice to be able to rate my students! See, these evaluations are not only my relationship with my class, but if the classroom culture is great, evaluations are great; if not, well, evaluations fall. And this has been more than apparent this past semester -
I taught all 3 classes from a new textbook with a new assignment sequence. 2 of those classes were the same level, with one being at 5:30pm, the other at 8:30pm. The 5:30 class connected from the very first day - relying on a couple of students to lead the way, and yet they all were engaged and involved. Most students attended every class, participated, and helped each other. On the other hand, my 8:30pm class was a bunch of stragglers, with about 6 students attending every class. They were more quiet, arrived late, and there were a few who chose not to be involved in the class. I taught the exact same material, as close to the same way. And yet my 5:30 class reviews were much stronger than my 8:30 reviews.
Ah gosh!
And lastly, on my rant - You decide. Beneficial, hurtful, awkward, rewarding, constructive critique, or criticism, venting?
5:00pm class
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Term
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Division
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Department
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Course ID
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Course
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Description
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Professor
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Evaluations
Taken |
Total
Enrollment |
%
Complete |
201740
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HS
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ENGL
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ENGL 2010 609
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28929
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Intermed Wrtg Hum Soc Sci CC
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Ronda L. Walker Weaver
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19
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21
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90.5
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8:30pm class
Term
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Division
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Department
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Course ID
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Course
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Description
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Professor
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Evaluations
Taken |
Total
Enrollment |
%
Complete |
201740
|
HS
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ENGL
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ENGL 2010 608
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11202
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Intermed Wrtg Hum Soc Sci CC
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Ronda L. Walker Weaver
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19
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22
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86.4
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1010 Beginning English Class - They were a total party - and as you can see, they knew this!
Term | Coll | Dept | Sch | Inst | Camp | Stat | Course | CRN | Description | Professor | Evals Taken | Total Enroll | % Comp | Reporting Disabled | |||||
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2017 FALL | HS | ENGL | F | LEC | M | A | ENGL 1010 609 | 10959 | Intro to Writing CC | Ronda L. Walker Weaver | 20 | 23 | 87 | ||||||
Total: | 20 | 23 | 87% | ||||||||||||||||
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