I had the career of a lifetime. I was a teacher. I began my teaching career believing that one person could make a difference, and throughout the years, I never lost sight of that conviction. Teaching connected me to my students in ways quite humorous, as well as heart breaking. I hope the reader laughs a lot and cries only a little, while walking in my footsteps as an educator. Laugh with me as you read about Fred, the crusty cockroach we set free to find his wife and eighty-seven children. In addition, there is always my favorite story about the scary monster under the bed holding a student's homework hostage. I fed a rooster and his hens bread crumbs for breakfast each morning, until they tried to follow me, in single file, into the school board building one day. Some difficult students in summer school mistakenly believed my black patent leather belt to be a black belt in Karate. Who was I to tell them differently? Coming right on top of the laughs were the times I went home to cry. I remember the student, new to our school, who went home one evening and hung himself, his cries for help coming too late. I remember with equal sadness, the foster child we sponsored in Kenya who died because help did not reach him in time. Closer to home was the overage student who was shot and killed while he participated in a home invasion, just days after he finished summer school. Outside factors reached inside our classroom as well, reeking havoc with the emotions of both the children and me. The disastrous space shuttle, with the teacher on board, happened before our very eyes; while the greatest tragedy of all was the destruction of the twin towers on 9/11. These stories and many more comprisemy educational career, and although there was no easy button, I would do it all over again. I was a teacher.

Do I believe in angels? This is the question of the century. I'd like to take a minute to share a different concept of angels. The beautiful angels with golden halos and soft, gossamer wings, seen floating around mysteriously searching for people to help are only seen in pictures. I believe angels do exist and can be found in our thoughts as an explanation for something we can't explain in any other way. Angels are God's thoughts passing to mankind and there's an angel thought with each of us, ever present, always available to comfort. The Bible tells us that we will hear what God, the Lord, will speak. All we need to do then is to be still and listen for these soft voices from a benevolent God who loves us unconditionally. There's an angel thought reflecting every idea needed by humanity. The stories that follow are all true. Each one demonstrates the power in listening for the still, small voice. Ask me again. Do I believe in angels? Yes, of course, they are the continuous flow of right ideas from God to man.

Pretend You Dont See The Elephant is a personal memoir about the authors life growing up in the 1950s. Throughout the narrative, the elephant represents the silence surrounding familial dysfunctional behavior. Christian Science provided the background of denial in a home where physical, emotional, and verbal abuse ran rampant. The severity of the abuse and the denial of it destroyed the authors desire to live and at the age of twelve, she tried to commit suicide. Failing to die, she was exiled to an alcoholic uncles home, barely escaping sexual molestation before being returned home to her parents. The Christian Science religion of her mother was responsible for the refusal of medical attention, leaving her to die after a ruptured appendix. The author was told every day of her life that she was a failure as a Christian Scientist and her illnesses were her fault. From her father she was told she was so clumsy and ugly that no one would ever marry her. Dont talk, dont tell was a way of life, and she spent a lifetime living under this code of silence. emotion abuse would ride on her shirt tail for the rest of her life. This then is the story of a victim who became victorious. The memoir continues on as she faces a tragic automobile accident. Accepting medical assistance removed her from the Christian Science Church at a time when she needed her faith the most. The success of her story is celebrated when she comes to terms with who God is in her life. It is with peace of mind that she now shares her story, lifting the veil of silence from the little girl, to tell the story that she was told never to tell.

Do I believe in angels? This is the question of the century. I'd like to take a minute to share a different concept of angels. The beautiful angels with golden halos and soft, gossamer wings, seen floating around mysteriously searching for people to help are only seen in pictures. I believe angels do exist and can be found in our thoughts as an explanation for something we can't explain in any other way. Angels are God's thoughts passing to mankind and there's an angel thought with each of us, ever present, always available to comfort. The Bible tells us that we will hear what God, the Lord, will speak. All we need to do then is to be still and listen for these soft voices from a benevolent God who loves us unconditionally. There's an angel thought reflecting every idea needed by humanity. The stories that follow are all true. Each one demonstrates the power in listening for the still, small voice. Ask me again. Do I believe in angels? Yes, of course, they are the continuous flow of right ideas from God to man.

I had the career of a lifetime. I was a teacher. I began my teaching career believing that one person could make a difference, and throughout the years, I never lost sight of that conviction. Teaching connected me to my students in ways quite humorous, as well as heart breaking. I hope the reader laughs a lot and cries only a little, while walking in my footsteps as an educator. Laugh with me as you read about Fred, the crusty cockroach we set free to find his wife and eighty-seven children. In addition, there is always my favorite story about the scary monster under the bed holding a student's homework hostage. I fed a rooster and his hens bread crumbs for breakfast each morning, until they tried to follow me, in single file, into the school board building one day. Some difficult students in summer school mistakenly believed my black patent leather belt to be a black belt in Karate. Who was I to tell them differently? Coming right on top of the laughs were the times I went home to cry. I remember the student, new to our school, who went home one evening and hung himself, his cries for help coming too late. I remember with equal sadness, the foster child we sponsored in Kenya who died because help did not reach him in time. Closer to home was the overage student who was shot and killed while he participated in a home invasion, just days after he finished summer school. Outside factors reached inside our classroom as well, reeking havoc with the emotions of both the children and me. The disastrous space shuttle, with the teacher on board, happened before our very eyes; while the greatest tragedy of all was the destruction of the twin towers on 9/11. These stories and many more comprisemy educational career, and although there was no easy button, I would do it all over again. I was a teacher.

Pretend You Don''''t See The Elephant is a personal memoir about the author''''s life growing up in the 1950s. Throughout the narrative, the elephant represents the silence surrounding familial dysfunctional behavior. Christian Science provided the background of denial in a home where physical, emotional, and verbal abuse ran rampant. The severity of the abuse and the denial of it destroyed the author''''s desire to live and at the age of twelve, she tried to commit suicide. Failing to die, she was exiled to an alcoholic uncle''''s home, barely escaping sexual molestation before being returned home to her parents. The Christian Science religion of her mother was responsible for the refusal of medical attention, leaving her to die after a ruptured appendix. The author was told every day of her life that she was a failure as a Christian Scientist and her illnesses were her fault. From her father she was told she was so clumsy and ugly that no one would ever marry her. Don''''t talk, don''''t tell was a way of life, and she spent a lifetime living under this code of silence. The effects of Christian Science denial, coupled with the physical and emotion abuse would ride on her shirt tail for the rest of her life. This then is the story of a victim who became victorious. The memoir continues on as she faces a tragic automobile accident. Accepting medical assistance removed her from the Christian Science Church at a time when she needed her faith the most. The success of her story is celebrated when she comes to terms with ''''who God is'''' in her life. It is with peace of mind that she now shares her story, lifting the veil of silence from the little girl, to tell the story that she wastold never to tell.

Gustav Peter Larson Mouse, called Gus by his mama and three little brothers, is a delightfully innocent character who forgets his mama''s warnings. Readers can easily identify with Gus, the five and one quarter inch high little hero, who is full of the wonder of the world around him, not to mention his uncanny ability to get into trouble. Gus remembers his mama''s warnings too late it seems and we find Gus out in the middle of a Wisconsin Lake in an abandoned rowboat. At first he seems unaware of the danger as he plays pirate. That is until he looks up to see the largest, biggest boat in the world headed right toward him. Gus cannot swim, a fact he realizes all to late. In fact, all he can do is to stare in terror as the big ship comes toward his little rowboat, sounding her whistle as a warning. The reader shivers along with little Gus as he whispers his prayer, closes his eyes, and holds on tight. Along with Gus, the reader begins to realize that it''s a pretty good idea to listen to their parent''s advice.