Thirteen Things You Probably Wouldn’t Know About Mrs. Rombach–Unless You Hired a Private Detective!

Create your own avatar at mybluerobot.com.

ThIrtEen: When my entire family traveled to Ireland and, one by one, took their lives into their hands to buss the Blarney Stone, I refused to risk life and limb to kiss a gray stone swimming with germs. I regret that decision now, but, at the time, my all-consuming fear of heights ripped all remnants of courage from my shaky limbs.

TwELvE: Brilliantly, I broke my arm running down a rain-soaked slide at Newport News park. My younger brother laughed hysterically as I pushed myself up, screaming wildly as my S-shaped right arm hung limply at my side. I have held that against him for a lifetime. He owes me pounds of Twizzlers as repayment–and I haven’t even gotten one red rope.

eLEveN: When I was twelve, my Mom let me paint and wallpaper my own room. I was orange crazy at the time, so my curtains were orange, I had giant orange poppies wallpaper on one wall, and three of my four walls were, you guessed it, orange.

tEn: I might have been a certified tadpole farmer, had there been such a profession when I was a preteen. Where I grew up, ditches lined every neighborhood road. During springtime, I was harvesting tadpoles from the swollen ditches, and transferring them to a litter box turned tadpole resort. There’s nothing quite like watching legs sprout from a black dot. The magical transformation transfixed me–as I witnessed hundreds of tadpoles jump out into the world as teeny frogs.

NiNe: Before there was Katniss, there was Mrs. Rombach, a 12-year-old national archery champion. If I can find the newspaper article, I’ll post it to prove my prowess with a bow and arrow (The aforementioned arm break, by the way, occurred after a weekend practice and officially ended my archery career.).

EiGHt: One Halloween–I don’t remember which year–there was a pumpkin shortage, and our family waited a few days too late to purchase our orange porch sitter. Instead, my older brother, Tom, designed an uber cool pulley system that dropped a white-sheet ghost on the unknowing victims who dared to climb our front porch steps. The ghost was out of commission early in its haunting career–a jammed pulley, if I recall correctly–but the memory sticks with me. My older brother, who would rather have been making mischief with his teenage posse, saved the day–or at least our Halloween night.

SeVEn: At sixteen, I served as a friendly, front-end cashier at Squire’s Galley restaurant in the England section of Busch Gardens-Williamsburg. Yes, I smelled like hamburgers and french fries all day–and all summer long.

SIx: For possibly eight consecutive Halloweens, my witchy green face, smeared with Dad’s thick, hunting camouflage paint, cackled across the neighborhood. From my wickedly black hat to my flowing, Mom-crafted robe, I was 100% Dorothy’s nemesis. Each night, after collecting our Halloween loot, my brother and I dumped our bounty on the living room floor and spent an hour trading candies. I loved bartering for Baby Ruths and Butterfingers, my chocolate dream team.

fIVe: I am the proud, adoring mom to five fabulous kids (Don’t I sound like a mom?) who are now ages 14, 17, 19, 21, and 23. They make my life complete.

FOuR: Minions make me HAPPY. They’re all over my classroom. Last Christmas, I tried (unsuccessfully) to convince my husband to order me a full-size minion costume–the kind a college mascot would wear. My children joined forces with my hubby to boycott the purchase–at least for this year. Muhaha!

tHReE: Before my career in the publishing industry, I dreamed of dancing on Broadway. I never took one dance lesson, so this dream was never a possibility. That said, I definitely believed in the impossible when I danced in front of a full-length mirror at home, breaking into some Tony award-winning moves while the BeeGees blasted from my record player. Did I mention I can’t sing either? It’s important to have dreams–even if they stay only dreams.

twO: My favorite number is two. I’m not sure why and when I picked the number two, but I’m a Libra. Maybe it’s because I like balance.

ONe: I’ve dated–or been married to–my number one husband, Mike, for a total of three decades. I’ve spent more time with him than without him–and for that, I consider myself extraordinarily lucky. He’s a cool guy to hike with, sip coffee with, or to ramble down some unfamiliar road with in a top-down, Minion yellow Jeep!

As the sponsor of the Eagle Ridge Blog Club, I’m happy to post this year’s All About Me. What’s one thing I should know about you?

Mrs. Rombach http://mrsrombachreads.edublogs.org

The Sweet Poetry of Where I’m From

credit: ww.painesplough.com

credit: ww.painesplough.com

Writer and teacher George Ella Lyon’s Where I’m From poem became the snowball that launched an avalanche of poetic memoirs. Writers of every age have tried their hands at creating their own versions of this autobiographical poem. Here at Eagle Ridge, our own band of young poets has turned out a glorious collection of tenderly crafted poems. Here today, I present a mere morsel of the creativity that poured out of my sixth grade poets. All of these excerpts were drawn from my third block of students. I’ll post stanzas from my other blocks over the coming week. Enjoy every little word.

 

I am from the bitter taste of the salt water

dripping into my mouth

From the rumble of my stomach

before we sit on the old rusty dock

to eat our peanut butter and jelly sandwiches

-Casey E.

 

I am from the blanket of snow that spreads across my yard

I am from the leaves that zoom across my house

From the dark sky that scares the sun

From the clouds that fly across the sky

–Jasmin H.

 

I’m from laser tag and paintball

football and biking through the forest

I’m from eating crepes in front of Le Tour Eiffel

from feeding the pigeons gyros in Athens, Greece

–Jenna A.

 

I’m from the rumble of urethane wheels as they speed across the pavement

to the clang as the trucks hit the rail

From the rolling past a random stranger’s blood

to sharing my own with the concrete

–Major L.

 

I am from good night kisses to warm hugs

every night before I go to bed

From the rough dad chin rubbing

against my cheek

–Sarah F.

 

I am from the cold snow and dirt that let me stand

I’m from the cars that passed by and the leaves that crunched

I am from the trees that bloom when I walk by

I’m from the skateboard that brought me home when it was time

–Austin B.

 

I am from the fireflies that roam the dark sky

in Michigan at Aunt Natalie’s house

from the glazed glass jars we catch them in

to the shiny windows where we let them go

–Morgan C.