Today in class we continued with our peer reviews of our persuasive essays. The final copy is due Friday at the end of class. Vocab. wb less. #14 is due tomo. Quiz is on Friday. Students can work on revising and re-writing their rough drafts tomorrow and Friday. We are having a 1,000 blog hits party tomorrow during the last 20 minutes of class. I also told the students I'd like for them to write another letter to Josh. This is optional. I need those though by Friday.
And my story continues......
"Well, I don't care what the reason is--I'm just glad your free tonight and you can go to town with us!!"exclaimed Randi, leaning over in her chair and giving me a quick hug.
I could always count on Randi to make me feel better.
"Yeah, I think I can," I said, "but I'll have to do my chores first. What time are you guys wanting to go?" I was hoping they would say 8:00 p.m. That would give me plenty of time for the fresh cows to come in for milking, so I would have enough milk to bottle feed our 20 baby calves. We had a lot of baby calves right now, all heifers, which means when you live on a dairy farm, you keep them 'cuz that's money in the milk tank down the road. We usually sold the bull baby calves, and my dear old dad did NOT believe in feeding any of the babies milk replacer. He believed, and was of course right, that the milk from the Momma cows was way healthier and better digestively for the baby calves than the powdered-junk you could buy at the Co-op. But for me, as a 16 year old girl, anxiously wanting to get to Kingfishy to drag main with my friends, I hated waiting for those darned old cows to come into the milk barn. I swear it's like they had radar and knew when it was a Saturday night that I didn't have a ballgame and purposely came in towards the last! My mom would then have to milk them in the bucket, seperate from the big tank, which took extra time. All that hooking up the hoses and adjusting the bowls, while flipping certain levers on our milking system was just another process that slowed me down. Real milk--just so those dad-burned baby holsteins and guernsey calves could be healthy! It took forever doing it the right way. Little did I know this was just one of many lessons on the farm that would later translate to basketball, as well as my adult life. Sometimes doing things right isn't nearly as quick or as fun, but it is usually what's best and necessary.
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