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Welcome to kindergarten! Join me as I share my experiences in the classroom, my professional learning and reflections and my love of teaching. Teaching is an exciting journey - come along as I share mine!


Thursday, March 17, 2016

Day 17: Iowa

I looked at my dad, with all my 7 year old wisdom, and calmly told him he was wrong.  

"It's called Iowa, Dad," I explained.  "Not, I-OWE-A!"  

It didn't seem to matter how many times I explained this to my dad, it never changed.  He was set in his ways and he was going to pronounce it his way.  He had several of these unique-to-him words and I tried my best to teach him the correct pronunciation, but I failed, this being my first teaching job and all.  He continued to say I-OWE-A.  There was also the word PO-lice, as in the people who give traffic tickets.  And let's not forget about "chim-ley," the brick thing on the outside of the house.  We used to pick on his about his pronunciation quirks often, and he would grumble about old dogs and new tricks.

My daughter and I were putting together a puzzle last night and her little 7 year old self continued impressing me at every turn.  Mind you, she's assembled this puzzle and played with this puzzle many times.  However, she's still only 7 and it still amazes me every time she tells me what state she needs next without looking at the box. 

She's working on the middle of the United States...Kansas, Missouri, and so on.

Maddie: Mom, can you hand me I-OWE-A please?

Me: What did you say?

Maddie: Can you pass me I-OWE-A?

Me: I stare at her with my jaw hanging open and she stares back wondering what my deal is.

Maddie was born a year and a half after my dad passed away.  While we used to tease my dad about his handful of odd sounding words, it's not a story she's ever heard.

Once I got past the surprise of hearing her use his special vocabulary, it made me smile. I couldn't help but think, at least for just a minute, that there was a special connection between them.  It made my heart (and face) smile.




3 comments:

  1. Like your Slice! It resonated with me. It is unanny how little things seem to be passed from generation to generation without any contact. My oldest son was born 3 months before my oldest brother died in a plane crash. No one in my family had my oldest brother's peculiar likes in food. e.g., sauce and pasta separate for spaghetti. It wasn't anything anyone ever talked about. But when he started eating spaghetti, my oldest son insisted it be separated. And that was just the beginning!

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  2. Awesome set-up and reveal. Thanks for sharing this connected moment.

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  3. What a thrilling moment that must have been for you! With my dad it was "pupcorn" and "pronasticate." Oh, and the car he drove was a tye-ota. No idea why.

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