Today started out in a rather unusual way.
Admittedly, the way life's been behaving lately, it's gotten difficult to distinguish between usual and unusual.
But this morning was "unusual" in a happily amusing sort of way. I got a text from my daughter Angel in Ohio almost as soon as I woke up. She said my four year old grandson, Jayden had called to her from the living room, saying "Mamaw Becky" was on t.v. Angel checked the screen and saw there was a Sylvan Learning Center ad airing which featured a woman whose name was displayed in the lower corner of the screen.
The name was "Becky Taylor"
How odd! Jayden thought his Mamaw Becky was on t.v. and the woman he'd mistaken to be me just happened to have the same name.
Of course, Jayden is only four years old and can't read yet. That would seem to eliminate the possibility he'd simply recognized the lady's name.
I thought about it and recalled seeing the same ad several months ago. I wouldn't have remembered it except for the fact that I'd noticed Becky Taylor and I shared the same name.
End of story, right?
After giving it more thought, I considered the possibility that the other Becky Taylor and I might also share similar coloring, etc, therefore making it possible that Jayden had the two of us confused as one and the same.
The name thing? Well, that part was surely a very funny coincidence!
If you've followed me very long at all, you'll know I can't let these things rest that easily. I had to investigate.
A quick "google" search revealed a photo of the other Becky, lending evidence to my theory that our similar hair and skin color had confused my grandson.
My attempts to find the Sylvan commercial online were not quite as successful. That came as a real disappointment because I really needed to figure out if the name "Becky Taylor" had been spoken at any time during the ad.
My curiosity was beginning to get the best of me, so I did what came most naturally.
I looked up the other Becky Taylor on facebook (yes, I found her there) and sent her a message explaining the situation to her.
Becky Taylor seemed to get as much of a kick out of the story as I, and verified for me that her name is not mentioned verbally in the ad at all. The only reference to "Becky Taylor" is the one printed on the screen.
Now, let's take a "logical" look at the facts, shall we?
What are the chances of there being more than one Becky Taylor in the United States?
"Becky" is a very common name, and so is "Taylor" ... so do the math. There are hundreds, if not thousands of us. Nothing remarkable to report on that aspect of the story.
The likelihood of any two of those Becky Taylors bearing similar physical traits?
Well, America is the proverbial "melting pot" of the world, so again, nah! No big surprise there either.
The possibility of a four year old boy living in southern Ohio, seeing someone on a t.v. commercial and mistaking her for his "Mamaw Becky" who lives in Georgia?
Still no big shock factor there. (YAWN)
BUT, a four year old boy in southern Ohio spotting a woman on t.v. whom he believes to be his "Mamaw Becky" and it turns out the woman on t.v. and his Mamaw Becky actually share the same name?
That's a bit more difficult to explain away.
Becky Taylor (of Sylvan Learning Centers fame) thinks Jayden recognized the name, and in conjunction with the other similarities, came to the conclusion that he was seeing his "Mamaw Becky" on television.
My daughter was hesitant to accept that possibility, until I reminded her that Jayden had likely seen my name written on the Mothers Day card she'd recently mailed to me. After a short period of convincing argument on my end, Angel finally agreed (or at least decided to humor me) to consider that possibility.
Long story short ...
It is a small world after all.
Reality is truly stranger than fiction.
My four year old grandson is most likely a genius (just like my other four grandchildren happen to be)
...and I have a new friend. Her name is Becky Taylor, just like me!
5/11/2010
Becky Taylor
Bold New Day! LLC
Personal Development Coaching for Women
http://www.beckyjtaylor.com
http://www.boldnewday.com
Showing posts with label school. Show all posts
Showing posts with label school. Show all posts
Tuesday, May 11, 2010
Tuesday, September 23, 2008
It Takes A Village (or at least one observant neighbor)
Gosh, I love having neighbors!
Adam got in the car after school today and announced, "the bus never came this morning". I asked him how he got to school, and he said he walked. (Seven miles ... yeah, right!)
He laughed and admitted, "Not really". Our neighbor, Trisha ended up taking him. Adam was waiting at the bus stop at the bottom of the hill along with Trisha's daughter and another neighborhood girl when Trisha happened by on her way to take her younger son to the middle school and saw them standing there.
The bus normally arrives at 7:40 and it was 8:20 by that time. Forty minutes after the fact and all three kids were still down there waiting for the bus to arrive.
Apparently, there was suppose to be a substitute driver and they didn't show up to work. Hence, no bus service to our neck of the woods.
That's odd enough but the great mystery lies herein. Why would the kids just wait down there, almost within shouting distance of their houses no less, a full forty minutes (and counting) after the normal scheduled arrival time?
Adam said they were discussing just hanging out all day and not going to school at all.
Now THAT, I believe!
But all's well that ends well. Trisha blew their little scheme and transported them all to the high school in her SUV. On the way, Adam mentioned that the school would count them "tardy" anyway, to which Trisha announced, "Hail, no they won't!" She escorted the three of them into the front office and informed the person behind the desk that the bus had not shown up. She went on to explain that not only were our neighborhood kids left standing by the street, the road that runs between ours and the highway was also lined with youngsters who were waiting on the same elusive bus.
I saw Trisha out in her yard this evening and thanked her for taking charge of the situation. She and I were both shaking our heads, wondering exactly how long our little angels actually would have stayed down there had she not driven by and intervened.
In Adam's case, he would have had to fess up eventually, since I pick him up after school, but Trisha's daughter and the other girl ride the bus to and from school every day. Their plan might have actually worked for them.
I'd been contemplating having Adam ride the bus home from school two or three afternoons a week. Needless to say, I'm reconsidering that option. I'd hate to get all the way to the end of the school year only to discover that my son hadn't been to school since early in the first semester.
Hey! It could happen if it weren't for my awesome neighbors.
Adam got in the car after school today and announced, "the bus never came this morning". I asked him how he got to school, and he said he walked. (Seven miles ... yeah, right!)
He laughed and admitted, "Not really". Our neighbor, Trisha ended up taking him. Adam was waiting at the bus stop at the bottom of the hill along with Trisha's daughter and another neighborhood girl when Trisha happened by on her way to take her younger son to the middle school and saw them standing there.
The bus normally arrives at 7:40 and it was 8:20 by that time. Forty minutes after the fact and all three kids were still down there waiting for the bus to arrive.
Apparently, there was suppose to be a substitute driver and they didn't show up to work. Hence, no bus service to our neck of the woods.
That's odd enough but the great mystery lies herein. Why would the kids just wait down there, almost within shouting distance of their houses no less, a full forty minutes (and counting) after the normal scheduled arrival time?
Adam said they were discussing just hanging out all day and not going to school at all.
Now THAT, I believe!
But all's well that ends well. Trisha blew their little scheme and transported them all to the high school in her SUV. On the way, Adam mentioned that the school would count them "tardy" anyway, to which Trisha announced, "Hail, no they won't!" She escorted the three of them into the front office and informed the person behind the desk that the bus had not shown up. She went on to explain that not only were our neighborhood kids left standing by the street, the road that runs between ours and the highway was also lined with youngsters who were waiting on the same elusive bus.
I saw Trisha out in her yard this evening and thanked her for taking charge of the situation. She and I were both shaking our heads, wondering exactly how long our little angels actually would have stayed down there had she not driven by and intervened.
In Adam's case, he would have had to fess up eventually, since I pick him up after school, but Trisha's daughter and the other girl ride the bus to and from school every day. Their plan might have actually worked for them.
I'd been contemplating having Adam ride the bus home from school two or three afternoons a week. Needless to say, I'm reconsidering that option. I'd hate to get all the way to the end of the school year only to discover that my son hadn't been to school since early in the first semester.
Hey! It could happen if it weren't for my awesome neighbors.
Thursday, August 21, 2008
The Good Old Summer Time
I remember summer.
I speak in past tense because I've noticed that summer is getting shorter as the years go by. In fact, I find that summers today only vaguely resemble those of my childhood.
Summer seemed to last forever back then. As a little girl, I looked forward every year to three full months of being out of school, enjoying long hot sunny days spent riding my bike, swimming with friends, picking tomatoes from the garden with my Dad, and hanging out at the county fair. Those glorious days arrived faithfully at the end of May and lasted until after Labor Day.
I also recall having mixed feelings as mid-August arrived, bringing along with it my birthday. That was back when I actually liked the idea of growing a year older, but in my mind the date was bittersweet as it also symbolized the beginning of the countdown to the start of a new school year. After August thirteenth, we only had a few weeks left. That aspect of my birthday never failed to dampen my spirits a bit. It was then, I'd begin feeling somewhat nostalgic about one more summer that was about to slip through my grasp, and start making efforts to squeeze every bit of enjoyment possible out of what was left of it.
Oh to have that kind of summer back again!
When we moved to Georgia a few years ago, I was excited over the idea of living in a warmer climate than my home state of Ohio had to offer. I imagined how much I'd cherish what would surely be the extended summers here.
Little did I know.
As it turns out, southerners don't embrace summer time in the way I am accustomed.
Maybe it's because they don't experience the same harshness of the winter months. They don't know what it feels like to look forward to mid-March when the official thaw begins every year.
Not once have they been stuck inside their house for days on end, or felt the pain of stepping outside and taking in a lung full of bitterly frozen winter air.
They have no idea how thrilling it can be to wave to the neighbors for the first time each spring as they emerge from their houses after months of seclusion.
No, instead I've discovered that most people here (my husband included) actually dread the summer months.
As if that sort of mindset isn't depressing enough, our school systems seem compelled to go above and beyond the call of duty towards screwing up the summer months. Remember, I said I use to consider mid-August the beginning of the official countdown to the end of the season? Here, the kids are back in school BEFORE my birthday even arrives.
It makes no sense to me at all. It's a hundred degrees outside and what do we do? We put our babies on buses and send them off to school in the sweltering heat!
About the time I am ready to really sink my teeth into the good old summer time, it's over! No more out of town vacations, no more spending weekdays on the lake, no more staying up late and sleeping in.
It ends as quickly as it began. Summer is gone! No more! Zilch! Disappeared in the blink of an eye.
Shoot! The stores here stop selling summer merchandise shortly after the first of July. In fact, instead of using my birthday as the all important marker of the "beginning of the end", I now start my countdown over Independence Day weekend.
In my ever so humble opinion, there's something very wrong with that!
I say, BRING SUMMER BACK! Instead of pushing our kids out the door the first week of August, let's fix another pitcher of sweet tea and head for the front porch swing. Let's stand in the yard and talk to the neighbors over the back fence until dark, without worrying about getting the kids to bed "on time". Instead, let's give them mason jars and tell them to go catch lightning bugs or hand them flashlights and send them out to play "flashlight tag".
Autumn will be arrive soon enough. The leaves will turn brown and fall, leaving the trees naked and gray. It will be dark by six o'clock every night and we will be turning on the furnace and staring at our calenders, not believing there are only "x" number of shopping days until Christmas.
Until then, C'mon people! Let's get out there enjoy the beautiful freedom of the summer days while we can!
I speak in past tense because I've noticed that summer is getting shorter as the years go by. In fact, I find that summers today only vaguely resemble those of my childhood.
Summer seemed to last forever back then. As a little girl, I looked forward every year to three full months of being out of school, enjoying long hot sunny days spent riding my bike, swimming with friends, picking tomatoes from the garden with my Dad, and hanging out at the county fair. Those glorious days arrived faithfully at the end of May and lasted until after Labor Day.
I also recall having mixed feelings as mid-August arrived, bringing along with it my birthday. That was back when I actually liked the idea of growing a year older, but in my mind the date was bittersweet as it also symbolized the beginning of the countdown to the start of a new school year. After August thirteenth, we only had a few weeks left. That aspect of my birthday never failed to dampen my spirits a bit. It was then, I'd begin feeling somewhat nostalgic about one more summer that was about to slip through my grasp, and start making efforts to squeeze every bit of enjoyment possible out of what was left of it.
Oh to have that kind of summer back again!
When we moved to Georgia a few years ago, I was excited over the idea of living in a warmer climate than my home state of Ohio had to offer. I imagined how much I'd cherish what would surely be the extended summers here.
Little did I know.
As it turns out, southerners don't embrace summer time in the way I am accustomed.
Maybe it's because they don't experience the same harshness of the winter months. They don't know what it feels like to look forward to mid-March when the official thaw begins every year.
Not once have they been stuck inside their house for days on end, or felt the pain of stepping outside and taking in a lung full of bitterly frozen winter air.
They have no idea how thrilling it can be to wave to the neighbors for the first time each spring as they emerge from their houses after months of seclusion.
No, instead I've discovered that most people here (my husband included) actually dread the summer months.
As if that sort of mindset isn't depressing enough, our school systems seem compelled to go above and beyond the call of duty towards screwing up the summer months. Remember, I said I use to consider mid-August the beginning of the official countdown to the end of the season? Here, the kids are back in school BEFORE my birthday even arrives.
It makes no sense to me at all. It's a hundred degrees outside and what do we do? We put our babies on buses and send them off to school in the sweltering heat!
About the time I am ready to really sink my teeth into the good old summer time, it's over! No more out of town vacations, no more spending weekdays on the lake, no more staying up late and sleeping in.
It ends as quickly as it began. Summer is gone! No more! Zilch! Disappeared in the blink of an eye.
Shoot! The stores here stop selling summer merchandise shortly after the first of July. In fact, instead of using my birthday as the all important marker of the "beginning of the end", I now start my countdown over Independence Day weekend.
In my ever so humble opinion, there's something very wrong with that!
I say, BRING SUMMER BACK! Instead of pushing our kids out the door the first week of August, let's fix another pitcher of sweet tea and head for the front porch swing. Let's stand in the yard and talk to the neighbors over the back fence until dark, without worrying about getting the kids to bed "on time". Instead, let's give them mason jars and tell them to go catch lightning bugs or hand them flashlights and send them out to play "flashlight tag".
Autumn will be arrive soon enough. The leaves will turn brown and fall, leaving the trees naked and gray. It will be dark by six o'clock every night and we will be turning on the furnace and staring at our calenders, not believing there are only "x" number of shopping days until Christmas.
Until then, C'mon people! Let's get out there enjoy the beautiful freedom of the summer days while we can!
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