Guys and Folks

The instructor I had for the real estate pre-licensing class I finished last week had a different teaching style than other teachers I’ve had before.   She rarely drew anything on the white board and used very few presentation slides, instead she just talked to us for eight hours a day.    She was interesting, and always addressed our questions, which made the long days sitting at a desk move at a brisk pace.

She told us stories related to real estate, the champion labs she and her husband raised and how the McDonalds she frequented only got her orders right some of the time.   She also told us many things about the NC Real Estate Commission.   She’s been teaching real estate classes for eighteen years and is involved with the commission from an education side.

She talked about how and why the test was the way it was, the changes made from previous years and the commissions expectations from instructors.    Everything she said made sense, aside from one.    The commission preferred instructors refer to their students as, “folks” and not, “guys”.

The Big Boy Update:  I got two new swing attachments for our playground in the mail today.   I like to try and find different options from the standard swings to attach to the top swing hooks.   Today was music lessons and my son happily went upstairs to work with Chelsea, but on the way he saw my husband and me putting together something he found out was a new lounge swing.   He knew it was about to be put outside on the swing set.   So I wasn’t surprised when he came downstairs early, saying, “Chelsea said it was okay if I ended early so I could go swing.”   If I was his age, I wouldn’t have been able to wait either.

The Tiny Girl Chronicles:  My daughter was bringing in the mail yesterday.   She opened the door, called to me and I came and took the mail saying thank you.   She came back a minute later, opened the door and dropped another envelope on the doormat saying, “I missed one.”   I told her thank you again.   Then, again, she called out a minute later, “here’s another one”, but when I came to the door there was nothing.    She laughed and I told her she got me.   For the next ten minutes we had more mail that wasn’t there delivered every so often by my daughter, accompanied by giggles.