{"id":14053,"date":"2020-09-23T01:03:47","date_gmt":"2020-09-23T07:03:47","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/woodriverweekly.com\/?p=14053"},"modified":"2020-09-23T01:03:47","modified_gmt":"2020-09-23T07:03:47","slug":"third-grade-at-home","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/woodriverweekly.com\/index.php\/2020\/09\/23\/third-grade-at-home\/","title":{"rendered":"Third Grade At Home"},"content":{"rendered":"

By JoEllen Collins<\/em><\/p>\n

\"\"
JoEllen Collins\u2014a longtime resident of the Wood River Valley\u2014is a teacher, writer, fabric artist, choir member and unabashedly proud grandma known as \u201cBibi Jo.\u201d<\/figcaption><\/figure>\n

The title of my column might refer to the troubles families and teachers are having concerning school, due to the pandemic.\u00a0However, in a recent piece, I mentioned my time spent in the third grade in only one room (and a bath) at home.\u00a0As I began pondering that time of isolation (and this is not meant to be applicable to everyone), I recognized some of the positive and character-strengthening results of that eight months, three weeks and eleven hours in bed.<\/p>\n

In brief, we had moved from San Francisco to L.A to be near my adopted older sister, who was dying of tuberculosis. (Both of my siblings and I were adoptees.) My baby brother had club feet that my mother massaged for hours every day, and, in a fall, I had broken several ribs, exacerbating my severe and worsening asthma. In addition, I was feared to be a possible TB victim.<\/p>\n

Oddly, I don\u2019t remember feeling angry or abandoned or without friends, but because I was always a \u201cgood\u201d girl, I somehow made it a passable time. I listened to the radio, colored a lot, played with my Storybook dolls on my brightly squared quilt, making mountains out of patches ready for the arrival of Prince Charming, was visited by a teacher once a week who collected my homework, and read voraciously.\u00a0At that time children\u2019s books were usually bound in leather and lavishly illustrated. Although often scary like Grimm\u2019s Fairy Tales, the stories where I imagined being in China or Japan and having to deal with the fanciful worlds I encountered were stirring. I developed a thirst for wondering what it would be like to exist in these places or conditions. I also learned to love my language.<\/p>\n

Now, several decades later, I can see why I call myself a storyteller, and why I talk too much (radio, radio\u2014Jack Benny making me laugh). I even worked in radio for a while! Travel beckoned: I yearned to see the world: my first big trip was in a prop plane when I was 19 volunteering to work at 11,000 feet near Quito, Ecuador, building playground equipment at six rural schools. From then on, I found that travel through volunteering is both inexpensive and rewarding. I had learned to do without fancy clothes and live simply.<\/p>\n

I couldn\u2019t practice my piano but sang along with the radio and am now resuming the joy of playing the piano on a keyboard and love singing. I learned hand sewing by making small doll clothes and later in life developed a passion for appliqu\u00e9ing memories on fabric as a means of communication.<\/p>\n

I was lucky to have a very affectionate and supportive family sitting at the hall doorway and talking and reading to me or bringing me my mother\u2019s inimitable Swedish cooking and her chocolate cake. I knew I was loved. It could have been worse.\u00a0Who knows what patterns we might acquire in our current, challenging new world?<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

By JoEllen Collins The title of my column might refer to the troubles families and teachers are having concerning school, due to the pandemic.\u00a0However, in a recent piece, I mentioned my time spent in the third grade in only one room (and a bath) at home.\u00a0As I began pondering that time of isolation (and this […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":7944,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"tdm_status":"","tdm_grid_status":"","_pvb_checkbox_block_on_post":false,"footnotes":""},"categories":[2,22],"tags":[],"class_list":{"0":"post-14053","1":"post","2":"type-post","3":"status-publish","4":"format-standard","5":"has-post-thumbnail","7":"category-commentary","8":"category-on-lifes-terms"},"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/woodriverweekly.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/14053","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/woodriverweekly.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/woodriverweekly.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/woodriverweekly.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/woodriverweekly.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=14053"}],"version-history":[{"count":0,"href":"https:\/\/woodriverweekly.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/14053\/revisions"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/woodriverweekly.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media\/7944"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/woodriverweekly.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=14053"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/woodriverweekly.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=14053"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/woodriverweekly.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=14053"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}