The Legacy

My curiosity about FFA started in 2005. I was a mere 8th grader and barely knew anything about FFA other than Eldon was well-known for it (with 230 members we were the 2nd largest chapter in the State) and my sister, Jessie, was in it. That year she competed in Parliamentary Procedure with 5 of her classmates: John, Curtis, Emily, Kristen, and Dara. They placed 2nd at Area, 2nd at Districts, and 1st at State. (They were utterly shocked winning State after placing 2nd in both competitions previously.)

Winning State sent them to Nationals, where they finished 3rd. They were the 2nd Parli team (and 3rd of any team) in Eldon to ever make it to Nationals. (Until I watched my sister's team do a parli demonstration, my 8th grade mind kept thinking Parsley Team. Which isn't too far of a stretch considering it is FFA and she was on the Soils Team the year before, right??)

Thanks to my sister, I joined FFA my freshman year of high school and hit the ground running.

(Nerd alert!) That first year I was a Jr. Officer, Most Active Member, Star Greenhand (the top first year member), and placed 5th on the FFA Knowledge team at State. Considering I was the epitome of an awkward freshman, super quiet, and at the time terrified of public speaking (no matter if it were in front of 5 people or 230), I surprised myself by stepping so far out of my comfort zone.

My Greenhand Initiation.
Me, Jana, and my sister, Jessie.

I was beginning to find my place in the world known as high school.

Sophomore year was much of the same. However, you are not allowed to do the same contest team again once you place at state so that year I competed on the Meats Team. Yes, it is what it sounds like. You judge meat. Determine if it is beef, pork, or lamb, what cut of meat it is, and where the cut is located on the animal. (Perks, I know how to pick out a delicious tasting steak with the perfect amount of fat to add flavor!) We won Districts and did alright, but not great, at State competition. I was satisfied though. Going into Meats Team, I knew very little about looking at meat, so I had challenged myself and learned a lot in the process.

Our Meats Team. We called ourselves
Avery's Angels.

Finally, my Junior year arrived! In Eldon, you have to be a Junior to be on the Parli team. Needless to say, my friend Lauren and I had been waiting for this moment since 8th grade. Her brother, John, was on the same Parli team with my sister that went to Nationals. She and I had been on Knowledge and Meats together, each time hoping we would live up to our siblings' legacy. We knew the Parli team was going to be our best shot at making it to Nationals.

I'm not sure if people had high expectations of our team, but Lauren and I put a lot of pressure on ourselves, because of who our siblings were. Unfortunately, it was a little out of our control. Parli is the only FFA team that competes solely as a team, no individual scores.

We wanted to be as successful as they had been, but in the back of our mind, we thought the odds were surely against us.

Luckily we were in the hands of Mr. Biddle, aka, Papa Parli. He was 1 of Eldon's 3 agriculture instructors, and had been putting Parli teams together for several years. He had taken 2 teams to Nationals: 2000 and 2005. With each year that followed, he learned more about what he needed to adjust to form the best team possible.

Mr. Biddle knew how much it meant to Lauren and me, and in return we knew how much it meant to him.

This was our time.

Napoleon Dynamite and Blue Jackets

Parli.

Huh?

Parliamentary Procedure.

What's that?

It's the proper way to conduct a business meeting.

Blank stare.

I competed on it in FFA. It's how to make motions, 2nds, and amendments.

Oh. Okay. FFA has contests?

Yes. *eye roll* Like on Napoleon Dynamite. The dairy (milk drinking) contest. That's a real contest. No, I didn't do that one!

Weird.

That's about the extent of the conversation when I tell people I competed in FFA on the Parliamentary Procedure contest team.

What I'd like to be able to tell people...

First, FFA is NOT just for farmers! It teaches leadership, sometimes through agriculture.

Second, on Parliamentary Procedure...

Each of the 6 members on a Parli team take a 25 question, multiple choice test.

Then the team demonstrates a mock meeting.

In 10 minutes, with a 30 second leeway, members have to:

• Make the motion given on their card (5 total)
• One member makes the main motion, also given on card
• Debate the main motion twice (10 total)
• Debate two other debatable motions (10 total)
• Make an extra motion, not on the card (5 total)
• Vote on the given main motion and leave no unfinished business
• The Chairman must properly preside over the meeting
• The Chairman must adjourn the meeting

The card is not seen by members before the mock meeting. You are given 1 minute to look over the card, but cannot discuss it with teammates.

Following the demonstration, judges ask each member and the chairman questions about their given motion. Following that is a 2 minute, free rein questioning session about the demonstration in general.

The nerdy side of me would love to go into a 30 minute conversation about FFA and contest teams, but I do my best not to bore people with it. So I figure the quickest way to help them understand is by using the Napoleon Dynamite reference, even though I hate the movie and have only seen it once from beginning to end.

However, what seems weird to most people had the biggest influence on making me who I am today. FFA and it's contest teams pushed me more out of my comfort zone than I had ever been. Parli made me more nervous and challenged me more than I had ever been at 16. So even if it means using a Napoleon Dynamite reference, in the end I get to talk about something I hold dear. And yes, I rocked my blue corduroy jacket, black skirt, and black tights.

It pains me to include this picture.
But for those of you visual learners...

Very Soon

Eeeeeek!

Spring Break is quickly approaching.

Unless someone else is visiting a lifelong friend, I'm willing to bet no one is as excited as I am for break to arrive.

Bright and early Saturday morning I will be flying to Boise, Idaho for my 4th annual Spring Break adventure.

First, you must know, Emily and I have practically been friends since her birth. I was born in July, she in October. We are told we met in the nursery at church.

Growing up, if there was a Caitlin there was an Emily not far behind. If there was an Emily there was a Caitlin nearby. People grew to expect to see the two of us together.

Caitlin and Emily at Emily's 4th birthday.

In 2009, I left for Ozark Christian College and MSSU in Joplin. In 2010, she left for Lincoln Christian University in Lincoln, Illinois. Gone were the days of being inseparable.

Emily got married in 2013 and a year later moved to Rhode Island where her husband had gotten a job as a worship minister. Thus began our annual Spring Break get-togethers.

This moment from her wedding is more fitting of us
than the staged pictures.

(Her family still lives in Eldon, so she usually visits around Christmastime and once during the summer. I repay her by going to her for Spring Break.)

The first two years were in Providence, Rhode Island. We also made trips to Boston both years.

Last year, her husband was working on his master's degree, so to Arizona I went. Conveniently, while I was there, they welcomed their first child into the world. (I'm sure they were thinking of me and planned it to happen while I'd be there on Spring Break.)

Spring Break years 1, 2, 3, and a space for very soon.

This year will be Boise, Idaho, where Bart is once again a worship minister. Ainsley Ida has her first birthday while I'm there.

Yesterday, I got a short, sweet, and to the point text from Emily. It read, "Very soon." I knew exactly what it meant.

Very soon, there will be an inseparable Caitlin and Emily again. Very soon.

Phamtastic Friday

Back in September, I suppose I was feeling particularly brave and decided to draw a Cardinals player for my white board art. However, drawing real people is a challenge for me. Making the face look like the actual human's face is terrifying. (As if drawing a real human wasn't enough pressure, I decided to start with the Cardinals... Clearly, I didn't think that through!)

Anyway, one of the Cardinals breakout stars of 2017, Tommy Pham, had another breakout moment during the Little League World Series games against the Pittsburgh Pirates. (He had hit a 2-run walk-off home run!)

My latest Cardinals Magazine had taught me that Pham had been with the Cardinals Minor Leagues for nearly 12 years. For those who don't know, Minor Leaguers make next to nothing, and that's a long time to live that way. He had almost given up his dream when he didn't make the Cardinals 2017 Opening Day roster, and I can't say I would have blamed him.

Through interviews, he impressed me even more. He was never satisfied when he had a good game. He might have hit 3 for 4 that day with a jumping over the fence catch in the outfield to save a run from scoring, but he would bring up the one time he struck out and how he could improve on that.

On top of that, he's legally blind in his left eye. He has Keratoconus, a rare eye disorder that causes degenerative vision problems.

To add to the impressiveness that is Tommy Pham, he had also recently made MLB history by joining the 20/20 club (20 stolen bases/20 home runs in a single season). I couldn't do that and I have 2 eyes with better than 20/20 vision. Needless to say, I had T. Pham on my mind.

So, I decided I would attempt to draw him. He is the longest I've spent on a white board drawing, but I think it paid off.

As with all of my white boards, I post them on Social Media. I strategically posted this one later in the evening after the Cardinals finished playing that day.

A while later, I was checking Instagram and noticed THE Tommy Pham, with a blue check mark, had liked my post. (Insert a bajillion heart eye emojis here!)

Then shortly after, my Twitter notifications started blowing up. THE Tommy Pham had retweeted my Tweet. (Insert an insanely loud, high-pitched, girly squeal here!!!) Oh, how my heart fluttered and still flutters thinking about it.

Tommy Pham stayed on our class white board for a few weeks, because I just didn't have the heart to erase him. I intended for my students to have a Phamtastic Friday, but their teacher got one instead.

Reading Goals and Backflips

I have a confession.

I don't like reading.

As a teacher, I feel as though I should and hate admitting it, but I don't.

When I was in school, I would do anything to avoid reading during silent reading time. Luckily, I was quiet. Since I was a good kid, who followed the rules, I perfected sitting quietly, pretending to read while turning pages in my book for 20-30 minutes. I have to say, I never got caught!

It's not like I never read. I just read when I felt like it and faked it when I didn't. Also, because I was a good kid, I always made sure to make my A.R. Goal, even if that meant I squeaked by getting it the last day of the quarter. (I know... what a great role model for my students!)

However, I ultimately think it has made me a better teacher. I can relate to the students who hate reading. I can catch the students who are fake reading. More importantly, I can figure out ways to motivate those students. (Also, I do find ways to motivate myself to read now. Probably not as often as I should, but I do read.)

Monday as I conferenced with the students who didn't have their A.R. Goals yet, I knew there was one in particular student who was going to struggle. (Not because he's a low reader or struggles with reading. Reading just isn't his thing.) He was reading Hunger Games, was only about 1/4 of the way through the book, and only had 45% of his A.R. Goal. (That was a teacher fail moment, because I should have noticed this before Monday!)

I also knew if he could finish Hunger Games and pass the A.R. test, he would surpass his goal. So, I dug deep into the archives of my memory to think of how my teachers motivated me and what I could do to motivate him.

First, I announced to the class if everyone reached their goal I would buy donuts next week. This perked up all of their ears as well as intrigued them to know which students weren't there yet.

Next, I talked with the one student who needed the most motivation. I thought back to the time in 3rd grade when my teacher bribed me to make my A.R. Goal. She knew I had just started gymnastics, so we struck a deal. If I made my goal, she would do a cartwheel. Eighteen years later, I made a deal. If my student made his A.R. Goal, I would do a back handspring. He seemed halfway interested.

Fast forward to Wednesday morning... I walk in to class after giving high fives in the hallway. My class is 100% silent. If a student started to talk, the others quickly shushed them. I heard whispers of students saying they were being quiet to help *Fred focus on reading to make his goal.

My heart burst with pride and joy to see my entire class rally behind one student. Whether it was because they wanted him to make his goal or because they wanted donuts, I was still proud.

I knew Fred had read at home every night that week. He updated me every morning with how many pages he'd read the day before. At the end of the day Thursday he had 80ish pages to go. I told him I was going to wear my stretchy jeans Friday, because I believed in him.

Friday morning he proudly came to school with 2 chapters left. Once again, my homeroom was silent so Fred could finish reading. I caught him in the hall while he was in Science class. When he saw me, he raised his hands in the air and smiled really big. I knew what that meant so I raised my hands, smiled, and jumped up and down.

While the kids were at recess, I went behind the school to practice a few back handsprings. (I challenge myself to do this once a year, so I can say I'm 26 *fill-in whatever my age at the time* and can still do a back handspring.)

When recess ended, my homeroom knew why I was outside, so they gathered near the picnic tables for a front row seat. I made sure Fred had the very front seat while Mrs. Cox made sure the rest of our pod knew what was going on. My class started chanting and off I went. It was a fun bonding moment with my kids.

I had two very proud moments during the day.

One was seeing how hard Fred worked to reach his goal. I knew through conversations with his mom it had been very much a team effort at home, too. I appreciate that he has parents who reinforce learning at school and home.

The second proud moment came after recess. Fred still needed to ring the bell outside of the library signifying he had made his goal. Since it was a shortened schedule, we went directly from recess to social so I told him we would do it then.

As our class packed up their belongings before heading to social, they asked if they could stand in the hall while Fred rang the bell so they could cheer for him.

Oh, be still, my teacher heart. Yes, by all means, scream as loud as you can.

If anyone wondered why there was excessive bell ringing and screaming during social Friday, sorry, not sorry, that was my darling homeroom, celebrating a hard fought battle with one of their classmates.

Monday my class will be scarfing down donuts, and I might be confessing to them that I don't particularly enjoy reading. However, I'll also be sure to tell them about when I was in 3rd grade and my teacher inspired me to read.

*Fred's name has been changed for privacy purposes. ;)

Part Three: The Rainbow

My snow day had resulted in completely unexpected chaos, however, all I felt was blessed. God had indeed provided me with many rainbows throughout the flood as a reminder of His faithfulness. People kept apologizing that I had to go through such an event. I usually responded with one of the following:

1. We had a snow day. I can't imagine the damage that would have been done had I not been at home as soon as the flood began. Therefore, when we are still in school on May 23rd, I will not complain and I will be thankful. (However, May 24th, I did NOT wish for that extra day and I will be wishing we were already on summer vacation.)
2. God sent me an army of angels to help out. I had multiple people offer their place for me to stay until my apartment was ready. (I stayed with Bri and her husband in Carthage.) At the drop of a hat, my dad took off work, drove 3 hours, helped me for 4, drove back 3 hours, and was back at work the next morning. Plus, many others.
3. My landlord and the owner of my apartment were amazing. I've heard horror stories about landlords not taking care of their tenants during disasters. Mine texted me everyday with updates until I moved back in the following Wednesday. The very first thing the owner asked me when he arrived was if I had renters insurance. (I think he was pleasantly surprised I did.) As soon as I confirmed, he instantly said, we'll pay your deductible. Hallelujah! Is this real life? 
4. The detailed description that may have seemed pointless about spending 3 hours the day before looking for a new bed frame and my mattress being in the floor... I would have been crushed if Jodi's antique bed was still at my apartment and had water damage, but it wasn't. Also, I had actually ordered a bed 6 weeks earlier that I was frustrated never came. In hindsight, praise Jesus! It was just a very old mattress that got ruined. Nothing antique, nothing brand new.
5. I got new carpet! Whoot! Whoot! The old carpet wasn't gross and I learned it was only a couple years old. But now I'm the ONLY person who has ever lived on my carpet.
6. The day before the flood, Fonda had sent me a snap of The Andy Griffith Show. In our texts the day of the flood, I told her I was missing the simplicity of Mayberry. The night of the flood my insurance adjuster left a voicemail... his name? Eric MAYBERRY! Okay, God, You have a twisted sense of humor, but I hear ya loud and clear!
7. The irony of my best friend waking me up that morning to ask if I had renters insurance was not lost on me. It was one of the first things I reminded her of when she arrived at the scene of the crime.

My mom got this wall hanging for me last summer.
It had been replaced with winter decor and sat in
the floor of my closet. Jodi rescued it, and quickly
showed it to me as a reminder that "this too
shall pass."

Yes, I was inconvenienced that day as were several other people on my behalf. Yes, a few things were ruined beyond repair, but nothing irreplaceable. Yes, all 4 of my high school yearbooks have water stains and wrinkles within their pages, otherwise known as containing new/more memories than they did before. Yes, living in Carthage out of a suitcase for a week got old, but I had a comfortable place to stay with many backups. Yes, I wish the flood had never happened and I had gotten to enjoy my pancake that morning while watching Live with Kelly and Ryan.

However, two by two my loved ones showed up and reminded me of how loved I am. Two by two, the blessings poured into my apartment through very personalized and unique forms. By the end of the day God showed me a very full, double rainbow that I so desperately needed from Him.

After school this past Monday as I was struggling to decide what to blog this week, I checked my mail. It was a letter from the owner of my apartment reminding me to send him an invoice of my insurance claim so he could reimburse my deductible.(Ironically, I think our mail crossed paths, because I'd sent it last week.) I was once again impressed, because he could have "conveniently forgot" about paying me back. I took it as a sign from God to precede with a blog I had already been considering. I had put it off afraid most people would find it long and insignificant. One day when my memories fade, I think I'll be glad I made note of all the blessings and humor God sent me that day.

*If you ever know of anyone looking for an apartment, I highly recommend the Village at Wingfield Apartments and Duplexes. This is not a paid advertisement, just a very happy and satisfied tenant.

Part Two: Two by Two

Finally, Brianna called me back and headed over. Jodi called and provided the motherly support I was longing for (my own mom was at work, so I had texted her but not called). Eventually, Fonda also texted and helped ease my nerves as we cracked a few jokes. 

Somehow during all of the chaos I managed to turn off the stove burners that contained a fleeting memory of a once delightful snow day.

Fifteen minutes later my landlord came to my rescue. Or so I thought, until he discovered the knob to turn the building's water off was frozen. While he called the city, the water was seeping into every room in my apartment, so I hurried to remove important items up to any open space I could find. I raced around as the water permeated all but 4 square feet in the corner of my bedroom.

Meanwhile, my landlord attempted to shovel water out my front door. As the water hit the concrete it froze instantly, because there was a below 0 windchill that morning. It was better than being in my apartment though, I suppose.

At long last, Brianna walked in and it was as though the calvary had arrived. By then my nerves needed a friendly face more than I needed help moving things. I had already crammed my sentimental possessions onto every elevated area I could find. Two by two, or so it seemed, help started arriving to get things done. 

As if on cue, the city had gotten the water turned off. I had a sense of relief knowing the 3 inches of water wasn't going to be rising anymore. My landlord offered Bri and I the idea to use tupperware containers to get legs of furniture out of the water. (Brilliant idea that I highly recommend!)

As the owner and landlord assessed the building damage, I called my insurance company to make a claim. My dad called to let me know he had taken off of work and was coming down to help.

A little later, Jodi texted to let me know there was free McAlister's at the high school. She was heading there with her daughter, they'd pick some up for Bri and me, then be on there way over with lunch and 2 more sets of helping hands. (My once glorious idea of a pancake breakfast had never panned out. No coffee had been consumed. It's a miracle I was functioning.)

To appease my very concerned landlord, I finally decided it would be a good time to put some socks, shoes, and pants on instead of the bare feet and shorts I had been wearing all morning. (To this day, his biggest worry is the lack of warmth I provided my feet. Cold, bare feet were more appealing to me than soggy socks!)

Once again I was gaining control over my life.

The apartment owner decided it would be best to rip out the waterlogged carpet and replace it. Even when the carpet cleaners insisted once dry it should be fine, he remained adamant to replace it.

Bri, Jodi, Abi, and I packed up all of my decorations into plastic tubs so they wouldn't accidentally get broken when furniture was moved. They kept things coming my way to decide if I wanted to try to salvage them or count them a loss. With all the help, the initial clean-up seemed to move quickly.

Around 2 o'clock, my calvary dispersed. The carpet men were in the beginning stages of drying my carpet, so I left to get a cup of coffee and a shower at Bri's house. (If you know me, then you'll know that I usually have 2 cups of coffee in the morning and I had, had none yet that day. Even more shocking, while driving to Starbucks I highly considered forgetting about the coffee altogether. My feet were tingling and frozen, like the coldest my body has ever felt. Which is also an impressive feat, because my hands are always cold. But in the end, coffee won. Priorities!)

By the time I was caffeinated, warm, and clean, my dad had arrived in Webb City. I met him at my apartment around 4. I was amazed when we entered. The men were gone, the carpet was ripped up, and there were industrial sized fans and de-humidifiers in each room.

My dad, being a typical man, assessed every nook and cranny for damage. We wanted to make it easier on the carpet installers, as well as make sure nothing else was damaged in the process, so we moved every plastic tub and small piece of furniture into my 2 bathrooms.

No, I did not claim my pancake on 
insurance. Although, I really wanted 
to just for kicks and giggles.

While we gathered any trash that had been left behind, I pointed out my pancake to my dad. There it sat, untouched, in the skillet on the stove, right where I had left it that morning. It was slightly dark brown on one side with chocolate chips precisely poked into the center. Sigh. My dad and I got a good laugh about the pancake as I joked I needed a picture of it so I could claim it on insurance.

At 7, both mentally and physically exhausted, my dad and I went to grab a bite to eat at Culver's before he made the trek back to Eldon. When I sat down to eat, it hit me it was the first time I'd sat down since 9 that morning. I couldn't recall a time when sitting down felt so refreshing.