Caden and I were across the street talking with neighbors.  They are a mother/grown-daughter team.  Pretty amazing ladies.  The daughter used to work for PBS doing educational workshops in South Central Kansas.  She said she doesn’t fit the mold of a school teacher, but likes to let the kids learn using hands-on methods.

She told two stories in the time we were there that left me stunned at how much I could relate:

She has found a lovely, brightly-colored finch in her backyard tree.  She really wants to catch it and take it to Via Christi Village’s cage of beautiful birds.  She said, “Notice how he’s not sitting in among the leaves?  He’s out on the bare branches instead?  That’s because he’s used to being in a cage.  I set out a few branches on the ground, and once he feels safe enough, he will fly down and land on them.  Once he trusts me, all I have to do is hold out a perch and he’ll fly onto it.”

Later: “See how Rosie [her dog] has her ears down?  That’s when I know she’s listening to me.  When her ears go up, I know she’s listening to everything but me.  I like it when her ears are up; she looks really pretty like that.  But she’s not listening.  I want to be able to take her to school with me and work with the kids, but I have to get her to quit jumping.  Once I break her of that, she will be able to lie down among the kids and walk in between their desks calmly.”