<?xml version='1.0' encoding='UTF-8'?><?xml-stylesheet href="http://www.blogger.com/styles/atom.css" type="text/css"?><feed xmlns='http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom' xmlns:openSearch='http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearchrss/1.0/' xmlns:georss='http://www.georss.org/georss' xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17639433065923428</id><updated>2011-07-21T08:14:36.674-04:00</updated><category term='al'/><category term='bh'/><category term='jj'/><category term='jm'/><title type='text'>Stories from ESD as told by the ones who lived them!</title><subtitle type='html'>In an attempt to help those who are interested in ESD or those who may be recruiting workers, please share stories from your ESD experiences.  Remember to value privacy - perhaps refer to a student as HE or SHE rather than stating names if there are incriminating or embarrassing details.</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://esdstories.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17639433065923428/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://esdstories.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>Betsy</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-8BJnH7YVrYA/TigX_7rpPeI/AAAAAAAAACs/TC3SDRR2jIc/s220/betsy%2Borange.jpg'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>12</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17639433065923428.post-6612221295175588138</id><published>2008-11-25T09:22:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2008-11-25T09:24:14.651-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Edgar prays</title><content type='html'>One of my recent joys is to watch Edgar, our youngest student as he prays.  He is not using many signs yet, but when he prays he closes his eyes and moves his hands about (no real signs used) and then signs a very emphatic Amen when he has finished.  It's so cute to see.  I am sure God must smile as He watches him.  Please pray for this little boy to know what it truly means for him to know Jesus. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;from a newsletter by Judy More&lt;br /&gt;November 2008&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/17639433065923428-6612221295175588138?l=esdstories.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17639433065923428/posts/default/6612221295175588138'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17639433065923428/posts/default/6612221295175588138'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://esdstories.blogspot.com/2008/11/edgar-prays.html' title='Edgar prays'/><author><name>Betsy</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-8BJnH7YVrYA/TigX_7rpPeI/AAAAAAAAACs/TC3SDRR2jIc/s220/betsy%2Borange.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17639433065923428.post-860961087144515187</id><published>2008-11-25T09:21:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2008-11-25T15:16:36.518-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Graduation 2005</title><content type='html'>By On the Spot reporter Gabriel Bravo – an e-mail report sent home to his mother.  Gabriel has been associated with ESD as a friend and volunteer for  four years.  His sister, Nicole was our junior missionary for the 2004-05 school year.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;ESD Closing Ceremony 2005&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;ESD  held its closing ceremonies May 24, 2005, and they put on a really special evening.  Betsy said this was the biggest turnout in parents she's ever had, and there were a lot of people there.  Some of the parents knew sign, and were pretty at home conversing with the kids. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A pastor from the neighboring area shared a song with his compadre, in a very classical sounding fashion.  The music was beautiful-- the theme this year was "to God be the glory." The Sign Language Class parents performed a song in sign language.&lt;br /&gt;  &lt;br /&gt;(Nicole and I were working on a song for a couple of weeks-- "There is None like You."  And though we both thought we struggled, Joy said she enjoyed it-- just that the guitars weren't amped, and some of the song was inaudible.  But Nicole and I are learning to play fairly well together with that song.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;One lady had attended ESD in 1961, and she helped in a worship song presented in sign.  Carlos Motta, who did chapel for the kids on Fridays, shared a message with the parents.  Some of our buddies from Calvary Chapel of Guaynabo Puerto Rico came down and participated in the worship time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(Even Lei and Josh, came to enjoy the evening-- those crazy Samoans/Mormon missionaries --  they were right at home talking and hanging out with everyone.  I know Lei was touched:  "My neighbors are awesome" he said while giving me a hug, "I just wanna tell people… Look, these guys are my neighbors."  He's so funny mom, I wish you could've hung out with him more. &lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;At the close of the evening, after Carlos' message, Nicole took the stage in "talk-show-host" fashion, because this year marked the 20-year anniversary of Betsy Hoke's ministry there at the school: "Betsy this is your life."   A picture shined on the wall, of Betsy in her early twenties.  .  .   All the kids were backstage preparing, while Nicole carried on a monologue: &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"At 23 years old Betsy had the craaaa-zy idea of visiting the deaf school here for six months.  .  .  Betsy was always fond of the beach growing up, and could always be seen with a Pepsi in her hand for beach outings.  As Nicole said this little Marcos walked out (you didn't meet Marcos, but he's a funny lil' chap) and he had a tag around his neck that read "BETSY" and oversized beach glasses, a Pepsi in his hand, and a beach ball in his other hand with a beach towel wrapped around his neck.  He walked over to Betsy as all the parents laughed.  She kissed him on the forehead, and took the Pepsi from his hand; all the parents laughed while Marcos went to sit down.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Betsy always wanted to be a teacher growing up, because she loved telling people what to do."  Juan Luis  (one of the older boys) walked out pointing his fingers at everyone, with a Pepsi in his hand and wearing glasses.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Betsy's mother said she was a very obedient child growing up, she would tell her to go play in traffic, and Betsy would do just that”:  Rebeca walked along the wall with a bicycle, carrying it onto the stage and pretending to ride it, when a blur of James came running from the other side of the room with a cardboard cut-out of a car, and slammed right into little Rebeca.  She fell over on the floor, Pepsi in hand, and nobody was hurt, but the moment was dramatic.  Everybody laughed. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“When Betsy was 12, she met and couldn't understand why this person couldn't understand her, until she realized the person was deaf- this was her first deaf friend and the beginning of her learning sign language”: Johanely and Gemary acted out a confusing conversation of course with ‘Betsy’ holding a Pepsi in her hand. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; "Then Betsy graduated from Penn State University in 1983”: Adriana came out with a cap and gown.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; Nicole said a few final words, and little Daniel ran out with glasses, and a dunkin' donuts box in his hands.  By this time Betsy had tears in her eyes, and Nicole said: "Betsy this is your life," as Nicole and Laurie pinned a colorful banner over the stage, "Twenty years of Growing children for God."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/17639433065923428-860961087144515187?l=esdstories.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17639433065923428/posts/default/860961087144515187'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17639433065923428/posts/default/860961087144515187'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://esdstories.blogspot.com/2008/11/graduation-2005.html' title='Graduation 2005'/><author><name>Betsy</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-8BJnH7YVrYA/TigX_7rpPeI/AAAAAAAAACs/TC3SDRR2jIc/s220/betsy%2Borange.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17639433065923428.post-1111814895376303275</id><published>2007-05-19T08:38:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2007-05-19T08:42:35.761-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Pencil stories</title><content type='html'>What’s with the pencils?!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A recent visitor reminded me of her story:&lt;br /&gt;As a junior missionary, Sara was working with a new student, Kevin.  Kevin was a recent transfer from a school in the Luquillo area and had limited communication skills in sign language or spoken language.  Sara had asked Kevin to please do some kind of writing and Kevin simply sat there.  Sara showed him on the paper what to do and Kevin still did nothing.  Now, Sara was thinking, “this is one stubborn kid!” when she noticed that silent tears were creeping out of Kevin’s eyes.  She had no idea what to do nor did she understand the problem.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Another teacher walked in.  Sara asked for help and explained the situation.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As it turns out, Kevin was holding a mechanical pencil and had no idea how to make the lead progress so that he COULD write. Once that problem was solved, Sara saw that Kevin was a very intelligent and cooperative young boy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;_ _ _ _ _&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Miss Hoke for years had the habit of taking away pencils and weaving them into her hair.  For example, while she was teaching and the little kids were playing with the pencils, she found it convenient to simply put the pencil within reach by putting it into her hair (it was longer hair and often secure by a scrunchy or French braid).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;One day she asked her students (all boys!) to get their pencils and get to work (since she had so diligently and cleverly taught a wonderful lesson no doubt!). Well, the boys sat there. And she said, “Please get your pencils.”  They sat, all attentive and smiling. “NOW, get your pencils!”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And then she realized they were STARING at their pencils… placed by her into her hair.&lt;br /&gt; And she learned – NEVER SCOLD A CHILD ABOUT A PENCIL THAT IS IN YOUR POSSESSION!&lt;br /&gt;_ _ _ _ _&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then there was the year we were into rockets.  Johanely made a rocket that looked like a pencil.  We loved shooting them up into the air again and again.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well, just the other day (this is like 3 years later), Daniel said, "Remember Johanely's pencil in the air?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;No.  What? Huh?!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And of course eventually, he was able to show how the pencil shot into the air and his teacher DID remember.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And then Daniel asked, "What was the name of that pencil?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And his teacher told him "R O C K E T"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Which was the word that was being taught at the original rocket launching activity...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/17639433065923428-1111814895376303275?l=esdstories.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17639433065923428/posts/default/1111814895376303275'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17639433065923428/posts/default/1111814895376303275'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://esdstories.blogspot.com/2007/05/pencil-stories.html' title='Pencil stories'/><author><name>Betsy</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-8BJnH7YVrYA/TigX_7rpPeI/AAAAAAAAACs/TC3SDRR2jIc/s220/betsy%2Borange.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17639433065923428.post-5238902180373308932</id><published>2007-04-28T14:59:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2008-12-08T18:07:09.597-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='jj'/><title type='text'>Clouds</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_faXJRLnzIZM/RjOaw5Y9zaI/AAAAAAAAAAc/Wc-5ljnXCV0/s1600-h/clouds+012.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5058556971297131938" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_faXJRLnzIZM/RjOaw5Y9zaI/AAAAAAAAAAc/Wc-5ljnXCV0/s320/clouds+012.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Clouds really are real!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;A wise person once said that deaf children are often unaware of objects in their environment until they are taught that these objects have names and purposes. Keeping this in mind for my preschool class, I planned monthly themes with great anticipation.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;During the month of September, we learned about weather. We danced in the rain, basked in the sun, and tried to experience everything in between. One week, we studied clouds. We read books about clouds and drew pictures of them. We tried to create our own clouds, using shaving cream and cotton balls.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;On the playground one morning, Edgar (age three) suddenly stopped playing and stared up at the sky. Clouds! They were really there! He began to sign, "cloud," over and over again, looking over his shoulder to see if his classmates had noticed them yet. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;As the day went on, Edgar would peek out the classroom windows to make sure the clouds were still there. It was a wonderful thing to share in his joy and witness the connection he made. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;I can't wait until we get to "Insect month!"&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/17639433065923428-5238902180373308932?l=esdstories.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17639433065923428/posts/default/5238902180373308932'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17639433065923428/posts/default/5238902180373308932'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://esdstories.blogspot.com/2007/04/clouds.html' title='Clouds'/><author><name>Betsy</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-8BJnH7YVrYA/TigX_7rpPeI/AAAAAAAAACs/TC3SDRR2jIc/s220/betsy%2Borange.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_faXJRLnzIZM/RjOaw5Y9zaI/AAAAAAAAAAc/Wc-5ljnXCV0/s72-c/clouds+012.jpg' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17639433065923428.post-6766227456087017423</id><published>2007-04-28T14:43:00.001-04:00</published><updated>2008-12-08T18:07:09.716-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='jj'/><title type='text'>That Barking Rabbit!</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_faXJRLnzIZM/RjOYypY9zZI/AAAAAAAAAAU/AfqFWkysK1Y/s1600-h/DSC02717.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5058554802338647442" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_faXJRLnzIZM/RjOYypY9zZI/AAAAAAAAAAU/AfqFWkysK1Y/s320/DSC02717.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;I’m not a morning person. Early one day, I walked into the kitchen with a grumpy face. One of the girls asked how I was.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Tired,” was my reply.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Maybe you should move the rabbit,” she suggested.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I glanced back at our pet, sitting silently in her cage.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“The rabbit’s barking has been keeping you awake, right?” she asked.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;How do you respond to that one?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/17639433065923428-6766227456087017423?l=esdstories.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17639433065923428/posts/default/6766227456087017423'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17639433065923428/posts/default/6766227456087017423'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://esdstories.blogspot.com/2007/04/blog-post.html' title='That Barking Rabbit!'/><author><name>Betsy</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-8BJnH7YVrYA/TigX_7rpPeI/AAAAAAAAACs/TC3SDRR2jIc/s220/betsy%2Borange.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_faXJRLnzIZM/RjOYypY9zZI/AAAAAAAAAAU/AfqFWkysK1Y/s72-c/DSC02717.JPG' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17639433065923428.post-3280546594477585401</id><published>2007-04-28T14:42:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2007-04-28T14:43:18.682-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='jj'/><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>For the wages of fish is death…”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;            Did you catch that? I almost didn’t when it was told to me. The above misinterpretation of Romans 6:23 came one night in the dorm after devotions. A confused dorm student came into the room and began signing what she had read. She began, “For the wages of fish is death, but…” and stopped after seeing the facial expressions of the people in the room. Thinking we had misunderstood her, she began again, “For the wages of fish is death but the gift of God is eternal life in Christ Jesus our Lord.” Fish??? After looking at her Bible, we realized that she had been reading in Spanish and had confused the words “pescado,” and “pecado,” (fish and sin). Oops! What a difference it made for her to understand the verse correctly, at last.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/17639433065923428-3280546594477585401?l=esdstories.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17639433065923428/posts/default/3280546594477585401'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17639433065923428/posts/default/3280546594477585401'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://esdstories.blogspot.com/2007/04/for-wages-of-fish-is-death-did-you.html' title=''/><author><name>Betsy</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-8BJnH7YVrYA/TigX_7rpPeI/AAAAAAAAACs/TC3SDRR2jIc/s220/betsy%2Borange.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17639433065923428.post-8355340297603130956</id><published>2007-04-28T14:39:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2007-04-28T14:42:28.797-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='al'/><title type='text'>nine months until he signed SWING</title><content type='html'>SWING!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Through the efforts of some visitors, the little children’s swing set was restored (after being mauled in a bull fight last fall). My youngest preschooler, Edgar, saw it the next day. He put his hand to his mouth and looked extremely delighted. It still makes me smile to remember it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Perhaps it was the next week, Edgar was swinging on the new swing set. Don’t ask me how many times since he started school last August I have pushed him on a swing and signed to him SWING. I could make him smile that way, exaggerating my sign and fitting it to his swinging pattern. “Edgar’s SWINGING. Yeah, you’re SWINGING.” And finally, in April, Edgar signed to me “SWING.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So I pushed my luck. I not only wanted him to sign SWING; I wanted him to sign SWING and PLEASE, and then I would push his swing. What was I doing, trying to confuse him? But he succeeded in adding PLEASE.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Soon the newest Preschool boy Jan (pronounced like John) joined Edgar on the swing. Happy with Edgar’s success, I tried to get Jan to sign SWING, also. I compromised, using one of his hands and one of mine to form the sign. Then Jan surprised me. When he wanted pushed again, he signed SWING. I was excited. Jan was beginning to use sign language to communicate! He was understanding that sign language could communicate.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/17639433065923428-8355340297603130956?l=esdstories.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17639433065923428/posts/default/8355340297603130956'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17639433065923428/posts/default/8355340297603130956'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://esdstories.blogspot.com/2007/04/nine-months-until-he-signed-swing.html' title='nine months until he signed SWING'/><author><name>Betsy</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-8BJnH7YVrYA/TigX_7rpPeI/AAAAAAAAACs/TC3SDRR2jIc/s220/betsy%2Borange.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17639433065923428.post-7004746190443360057</id><published>2007-04-22T08:48:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2008-12-08T18:07:09.915-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Norm Benson's testimony</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_faXJRLnzIZM/Ritcig-Wf_I/AAAAAAAAAAM/95lxHY7AUeg/s1600-h/DSC05605.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5056236754690277362" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_faXJRLnzIZM/Ritcig-Wf_I/AAAAAAAAAAM/95lxHY7AUeg/s320/DSC05605.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Genesis 8:22 "As long as the earth endures, seedtime and harvest, cold and heat, summer and winter, day and night will never cease."&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;The part of that saying I know is true is "seedtime and harvest." I am a farmer and every year farmers know that sometime or other there will be a seedtime and there will be a harvest.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Around 1945 I went to a Baptist Convention in Fond du Lac, Wisconsin. While I was there, I told the Lord that I wanted to be a missionary. I came back to the famr and continued doing my job. I got up at 5 a.m., milked the cows and fed the cows. In the summer I baled hay for the cows, planted corn for the cows. At night, I milked the cows and fed the cows. The next day, I got up at 5 a.m., milked the cows, fed the cows, fixed the fence for the cows, baled more hay for the cows and at night milked the cows and fed the cows.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;In the Fall, I got up at 5 a.m. and milked the cows, fed the cows, harvested the corn for the cows, and at night milked the cows and fed the cows. In the winter, I milked the cows, fed the cows, thawed water buckets for the cows, repaired machinery, and at night milked the cows and fed the cows. On Sundays we went to church after milking the cows and feeding the cows. We didn't do anything but chores on Sundays.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;All this time I was learning to weld, to build farm buildings, to pour cement and to repair things using what other people had thrown away. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;After almost 50 years, the Lord said, "Now, you are ready."&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Earlene, my wife, retired from teaching and the Lord sent us to Puerto Rico. In Puerto Rico, I have been able to use all the lessons the Lord taught me. I have welded, built buildings, poured cement and have repaired many things using what other people have thrown away. Most of all, I have learned to stick with it until the job is done.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Those 50 years were my "seedtime." The last years have been the "harvest time." We don't know how long the harvest time is going to be, but the Lord has been faithful to us and we want to be faithful to Him.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;- Norman Benson&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;(Norm and Earlene have worked at ESD every winter since 1997.  Previous to that, they spent several years at the Safe Harbor Christian Servicemen's Center in Ceiba PR.)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/17639433065923428-7004746190443360057?l=esdstories.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17639433065923428/posts/default/7004746190443360057'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17639433065923428/posts/default/7004746190443360057'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://esdstories.blogspot.com/2007/04/norm-bensons-testimony.html' title='Norm Benson&apos;s testimony'/><author><name>Betsy</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-8BJnH7YVrYA/TigX_7rpPeI/AAAAAAAAACs/TC3SDRR2jIc/s220/betsy%2Borange.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_faXJRLnzIZM/Ritcig-Wf_I/AAAAAAAAAAM/95lxHY7AUeg/s72-c/DSC05605.JPG' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17639433065923428.post-427081138766261976</id><published>2007-04-12T23:06:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2007-04-12T23:09:26.578-04:00</updated><title type='text'>One Year Missionary remembers ESD</title><content type='html'>I initially heard about ESD through Heather Crichton. Heather had spent a year at ESD and returned home toPa, where we met at an interpreting class.  Heatherwent back shortly after we met to serve at the deafchurch in San Juan. I thought Heather was a greatperson, but honestly, we didn't know each other well. We were more acquaintances than friends.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When we arrived at ESD in August of 1994, Heather washome for three months on furlough.  You can imagineour surprise when we first arrived at ESD and learnedthat Heather had left her car for us to use for theremaining two months of her furlough!  Wow! &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The generosity we experienced didn't stop there. Three single missionaries and housemates, Betsy Hoke,Ruby Martin, and Cheryl Kaltwasser, regularly watchedthe missionary kids so we couples could have datenights.  My husband, David, and I had more dates thatyear than ever before or after!  They would alwaysplan fun activities for the kids - swimming in a pool,a trip to the beach, baking cookies, etc.  And theyalways brought them back to us later than they hadexpected!  What a treat!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;For our anniversary, principal Pam Eadie stayedovernight with our kids and let us stay in herbeachfront condo.Anytime David or I needed a car, Betsy was always morethan willing to loan us hers.  She even let us use itfor a few overnights when we went on a mini vacationjust before we returned home.Betsy, Cheryl, and Ruby always gladly included us intheir weekend fun events such as snorkeling trips toislands, checking out the local beaches, and tryingout unique flavors of delicious Puerto Rican icecream, i.e. corn.  We always felt included and wanted. This was very helpful as we dealt with homesicknessand adjusted to a new environment.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When our eleven year old son, Ben, was hospitalizedfor a month for a ruptured appendix, staff membersgladly took over our responsibilities so that we couldstay in the hospital with him.  Teacher Shirley Dubber spent a full day in the hospital with Ben and read the entire book Island of the Blue Dolphins to him. Heather picked up a family member at the San Juan  airport and drove her to ESD for us.  ESD was a onehour drive from the airport.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; I have never in my life experienced such generosity.&lt;br /&gt;And I will never forget it.&lt;br /&gt;Kathy Zimmerman&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/17639433065923428-427081138766261976?l=esdstories.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17639433065923428/posts/default/427081138766261976'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17639433065923428/posts/default/427081138766261976'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://esdstories.blogspot.com/2007/04/one-year-missionary-remembers-esd.html' title='One Year Missionary remembers ESD'/><author><name>Betsy</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-8BJnH7YVrYA/TigX_7rpPeI/AAAAAAAAACs/TC3SDRR2jIc/s220/betsy%2Borange.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17639433065923428.post-5860228330180725371</id><published>2007-04-05T09:10:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2007-04-05T09:16:39.022-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='jm'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='bh'/><title type='text'>I made that garden pond!</title><content type='html'>September 2006 - We never know exactly what a child remembers or what is important to them.  One week, we had planned a work day with the kids.  The older boys were going to install a little pond to the front garden area and the other kids were doing weeding and trimming and banana tree removal.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Kevin, the youngest of the 'older' boys, was working on moving a bush from one spot to the flower bed.  When he has successfully moved it, he joined the big boys for the digging of the pond hole. The photo at the side shows his ever so happy face (he is wearing the red shirt) at the completion of the hardest work.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Jump ahead a year and a half.  Kevin's family was planning to leave Puerto Rico.  Kevin, on one of his last days, told his new teacher, "I dug that hole.  I made that garden pond!" He seemed to be sad to leave but also glad that he had left an impression that would remind everyone he had been here.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(Kevin returned 3 days after 'leaving' Puerto Rico - an insect bit caused the family to miss their flight and as things worked out, they stayed.  Kevin continues to help around the school!)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/17639433065923428-5860228330180725371?l=esdstories.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17639433065923428/posts/default/5860228330180725371'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17639433065923428/posts/default/5860228330180725371'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://esdstories.blogspot.com/2007/04/i-made-that-garden-pond.html' title='I made that garden pond!'/><author><name>Betsy</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-8BJnH7YVrYA/TigX_7rpPeI/AAAAAAAAACs/TC3SDRR2jIc/s220/betsy%2Borange.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17639433065923428.post-8644285216366135021</id><published>2007-04-05T08:46:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2007-04-05T08:52:55.605-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='bh'/><title type='text'>Daniel is in the Bible!</title><content type='html'>It is always a joy to see kids learn to read.  We spend so much time doing fingerspelling of names and trying to help our young children (and older ones too) connect the manual language with print. Developing literacy skills starts from the moment a child comes to ESD.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was teaching a group of 5 boys, Kristian, Kevin, Marcos, Daniel and B.J.  We had spent so much time on names and they were beginning to recognize each others name - pick it out of a sentence, circle it, spell it on their own hands, write it on paper.  So one morning before school, one of the boys was paging through a Bible (I love to see kids WANT to read God's Word) and came upon the book of Daniel.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh you could not imagine the excitement that erupted.  MISS HOKE!  DANIEL in IN the BIBLE! The finder had to run to show Daniel of course and then the other boys were so excited to see his name in print, in the Bible no less!  They went in search of their names and I helped them to locate Marcos in a Spanish Bible.  That was a sweet morning as they continued through their Bibles picking out words they knew.  I pray that they will always desire to read God's Word.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/17639433065923428-8644285216366135021?l=esdstories.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17639433065923428/posts/default/8644285216366135021'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17639433065923428/posts/default/8644285216366135021'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://esdstories.blogspot.com/2007/04/daniel-is-in-bible.html' title='Daniel is in the Bible!'/><author><name>Betsy</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-8BJnH7YVrYA/TigX_7rpPeI/AAAAAAAAACs/TC3SDRR2jIc/s220/betsy%2Borange.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17639433065923428.post-3716288127324051706</id><published>2007-04-05T08:29:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2007-04-05T08:31:32.546-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='jj'/><title type='text'>Clouds really are real!</title><content type='html'>Clouds really are real!&lt;br /&gt;A wise person once told me that deaf children are often unaware of objects in their environment until they are taught that these objects have names and purposes. Keeping this in mind for my preschool class, I planned monthly themes with great anticipation.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;During the month of September, we learned about weather. We danced in the rain, basked in the sun, and tried to experience everything in between. One week, we studied clouds. We read books about clouds and drew pictures of them. We tried to create our own clouds, using shaving cream and cotton balls.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On the playground one morning, Edgar (age three) suddenly stopped playing and stared up at the sky. Clouds! They were really there! He began to sign, “cloud,” over and over again, looking over his shoulder to see if his classmates had noticed them yet. As the day went on, Edgar would peek out the classroom windows to make sure the clouds were still there. It was a wonderful thing to share in his joy and witness the connection he made. I can’t wait until we get to “Insect month!”&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/17639433065923428-3716288127324051706?l=esdstories.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17639433065923428/posts/default/3716288127324051706'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17639433065923428/posts/default/3716288127324051706'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://esdstories.blogspot.com/2007/04/clouds-really-are-real.html' title='Clouds really are real!'/><author><name>Betsy</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-8BJnH7YVrYA/TigX_7rpPeI/AAAAAAAAACs/TC3SDRR2jIc/s220/betsy%2Borange.jpg'/></author></entry></feed>
