2014 - Stretching the "Comfort Zone"

"Come, gentlemen, I hope we shall drink down all unkindness." -William Shakespeare

I don't know about you but I'm happy to see 2013 go.  "Buh bye."   "Don't let the door hit you in the behind on the way out..."  I'm always hopeful and I'm always impatient for the new year to come.  Every year I think to myself, "I can't wait!  It's going to be the best year ever!  Woo hoo...Someone get me a horn!"   This year, it's not the year, it's the day I care about...it's the day.  I care about a day at a time...no more, no less.  That is very difficult to do and requires stepping out of one's comfort zone.  Old habits die hard.

2013 was a year of living with great fulfillment and challenges.  So much was left unfinished. So many questions left unanswered globally, locally and everything else in between.  Friends were laid off from the jobs they've had for over 30 years.  Some came down with serious illnesses and had the tenacity and the character to handle their plight with grace, strength and intelligence. They didn't do it alone either.  As the waning days of 2013 linger, we are reminded that so many have had to overcome so much and yet, here we all are...We are here in spite of ourselves.  What a warm comfortable feeling that is.  We made it into another year and none of us knows what lies in store. 

I always marvel when a new year comes and when an old one is gone like a whirlwind.  I try to figure out how I've changed or if I've changed.  My weight hasn't changed in 15 years.  I change my hair color with the change of seasons.  No matter how hard we try to fight the process of aging, there it is, staring at us in the mirror, our faces are the ultimate truth serum.  

I care about today.  I don't much care about tomorrow.  I care about how I've made others feel.  I care about whether I spent my "one day a time", feeling sorry for myself or gloriously engaging in the present; enjoying what I have and with whom I share it all.  On certain days I'm more successful than others. In 2013, I started finding my voice and continue to be heard in my way, a way that works for me and only me. Those are the days I hope to repeat in 2014.  

2014.   Let this be year, we become smarter, and bolder.  Let us laugh a lot harder and become larger than our previous life.  Let us not be fearful or hesitate to speak our minds and open our hearts.  Live one day at a time and remember to rest, relax and slow down long enough to listen to our own heart beat.  Our eyes and our heart show us and tell us all we need to know about what's important.  In 2014, reach out of your comfort zone and listen to what your inner voice is saying, then follow it.  This is how we create change.  This is how we rise above old routines and create a new set of healthier values.  Once the ball drops in Times Square tonight, pick it up metaphorically and run with it.  That's why we watch it each year. 

In 2014, we will most likely not get everything we desire. We will be faced with challenges. Like it or not, our landscapes will change and the sun and moon will cast their shadows and light our way. Let this year be a year of more kindness, more compassion and common sense. Let us have a conscience. This is my wish for 2014.  Happy new year everyone!

The "Scrooge" in us all.

Business!' cried the Ghost, wringing its hands again. "Mankind was my business; charity, mercy, forbearance, and benevolence, were, all, my business. The deals of my trade were but a drop of water in the comprehensive ocean of my business!” ― Charles Dickens- A Christmas Carol.

I am about to admit something shameful.  I left my house the other day and drove the long way to work...on purpose. It started when the alarm went off and I took my sheets and blankets and covered my head. I got up, tripped over my cat Mojo and a pair of slippers my husband left on the floor in a most inconvenient place. The coffee pot hadn't started. I had the worst "hair day ever."  I left the warmth of my house frustrated with my entire life. I didn't want to defrost my car.  I didn't want to go to work.  I didn't want to face my students. I didn't want to grade another essay or exam.  As I was chipping the ice off my windows, I hated even thinking about Christmas or the holidays.  And then it hit me...How had I become "Scrooge?"

Scrooge is one of my all time favorite characters of literature.  He resonates with me.  Scrooge is more like us than we would like to admit.  He put a great deal of importance on work and money.  Financial goals were very important to him.  He loved money. Does any of this sound familiar?  The financial industry had a lot of "Scrooges" over the past decade.  His time with family was truly limited.  How many of us sit down together at the dinner table any more?  He was afraid to love and afraid to be be vulnerable.  How many of us have found ourselves in that position at one time or another.  Scrooge was afraid of his innate humanity.  It's not until he is forced to look at his past and every decision he made in his youth that he understands that everything in his life was a matter of his choice.  He had been afraid to love.  He had been afraid to find happiness.  Now with the ghost of "Christmas Past, Christmas Present and Christmas Future" at his side, he realizes that when we love, we are indeed rich.

I am Scrooge.  We are all Scrooge.  We all learn the hard lessons.  We have all been afraid of the very things that are good for us. We all have ghosts.  We are often asked to give more of ourselves than we may be comfortable doing.  Yet when we do, we feel better about ourselves and our fellow man. And, our fellow man in turn feels much more comfortable around us.  Scrooge learned to care about others but not before he realized that others had in fact, cared about him.  He had just made the conscious choice of not seeing how much they cared.  I know a lot of people like this.  I look at those people and with all sincere faith hope they realize how much they are cared for before it's too late.

I am Scrooge.  As I drove into the school parking lot, I realized that I was in fact not in a mindful place of gratitude.  Then it occurred to me that I had been indeed grateful in the past and could be again if I just remembered how good gratitude felt.  If Scrooge could be moved by his own life and loves to change, I could certainly do the same.  The ghosts, my ghosts would be on my side.  Yours can be too if you have the courage to see them.  Christmas this year, will not be about things.  I have things.  Plenty of things. Christmas will be about measuring my gratitude for all of the good and all of the bad. Challenges are the best gifts.  The painful or bad experiences make us better people. Sometimes they make us bitter but if Scrooge could overcome his bitterness, so can we.   If you watch the news, we see every day how good often conquers a tragedy.  People rise and come forth to do the right and honorable thing.  We are all Scrooge. 

Scrooge.  I grabbed my book bag of essays, and exams and pens and pencils and trudged through the heavy school doors, up the stairs and into my classroom.  On the bulletin board behind my chair, was a Christmas card from a student of mine from last year.  I had hung it there and forgot about it.  But there it was, in full view now.  I was again, living in the present, with a huge smile on my face.  "Christmas Past" was staring at me.  "Christmas Present" was helping me to face the hectic day ahead.  Marley, Scrooge's partner appears to him and warns him of the following: “I wear the chain I forged in life....I made it link by link, and yard by yard; I girded it on of my own free will, and of my own free will I wore it.”  Life is about free will and I was about to use mine.  Let the holidays be about Scrooge and his reversal of bitterness.  Let Christmas not be about things but about kindness and love and respect.  As Scrooge is transformed,let us be as well.  

Merry Christmas all!!!  Love to you and yours!  Find peace and happiness in the little things...Embrace your inner Scrooge.

"Gratitude Means Attitude"

"Gratitude unlocks the fullness of life. It turns what we have into enough, and more. It turns denial into acceptance, chaos to order, confusion to clarity. It can turn a meal into a feast, a house into a home, a stranger into a friend." Melodie Beattie

Last summer, I lost partial vision in my right eye.  It can only be described as looking through the bottom of a water glass.  You can see objects but they are skewed, as though you were viewing the art work of Picasso.  I got the wake up call of a life-time and I am grateful.  But here's the rub, what does gratitude really mean? Was the glass half empty or half full? What direction had I been taking...or faking?  

I've been close to people who very rarely feel grateful. I don't see them much anymore.  It is so easy to ride the "pity train."  I was a regular passenger actually.  Here's a cold reality.  Life is often difficult.  We often expect it to be easy and frankly it's not.  What do we do then, when we are hurting and discouraged by what we originally thought was promising or even "fabulous" at first?  What happens when our expectations aren't met?  What happens when the disappointment and pain are so overwhelming, we doubt we will ever grateful for anything...not even pizza.

I can only suggest that the answer lies in art, in any form.  My personal quest this summer has led me to Picasso, Stephen King, my family, my marriage.  Music has also certainly played a monumental part in not only forgetting about expectations but simply enjoying the moment.  Is it possible to live in the present and put the past behind you?  Yes.  But you need humor to do it.  I found my sense of humor.  Teach eighth graders and you will find your sense of humor very quickly.

At my last visit to the retina specialist, it seemed as he was looking into my eye, my soul, it seemed he  was afraid to tell me he saw an improvement.  Really???  He had been very ready to tell me the worst case scenario but he couldn't tell me good news?  Really?  I looked at him and decided to be grateful.  I was grateful because here was this man, a man who had my fate and faith in his hands, be overly cautious with someone he barely knew.  Needless to say, he and the wonderful oncologist at Sloan Kettering, are my new definition of heroes.  

Gratitude has a very new definition for me these days.  My sister Jen tells me to "enjoy the journey."  How right she is.  Since the summer, every important relationship in my life has new meaning.  It was as if my physical vision although compromised, gave me a deeper vision into the ultimate importance of the following:

• Honesty can in fact be the propeller to richer relationships. Your relationships will never be perfect.  But the relationships that matter depend on honesty. End of the story...
• Fear can force us to see just how brave we're going to be given a crisis.  We're all afraid of something.  And yes, there are things that we all agree are scary.  Here's what I've learned...The braver you can be, the more you verbalize your fears and bring them to the surface, the stronger you will become.
• What can I say about laughter?  I have been so blessed with people who make me laugh so hard, I needed a change of panties.  How did this happen?  I invited it all into my world. I allowed humor into my world. What a miracle and how grateful I am for the laughter.  I didn't realize how skillfully I had avoided joy.  Perhaps I was afraid that people wouldn't take me seriously.  I've realized I was taking myself too seriously and that was causing more heartache.  Now, all I want is more laughter, more joy, more belly laughs.
• It's important to make others laugh too!  I don't know how this happened but I have been the cause of more humor over the last few months, even in the midst of my own concerns about health.  It's been nothing short of a miracle to cause others to laugh...and laugh hard.  I can only hope I never forget how to do just that.  I have been saved because of laughter.  How about the rest of you?  I say be bold.

In short, gratitude means attitude.  Life is truly difficult.   It's challenging...and sometimes, you want to leave it all, run to Paris and live among the "ex-patriots."  But then we wake up, invite all of the good things into our lives and forget about the passport.  There is no passport, no free ride.  We just invite the good things into our lives and magically, we become more grateful.  I don't know what my future holds and frankly, I've learned, "I don't care."  I only care about "now."  I only care about taking every good thing that's been handed to me and loving it.  How about you?

"The summer of my discontent"

Like a welcome summer rain, humor may suddenly cleanse and cool the earth, the air and you." -  Langston Hughes 

On June 21, summer officially began.  The longest day of the year, began with an early rise on my part and a walk...a long walk.  By the end of June, I was wrapped tighter than saran wrap over a fruit bowl.  Teaching can do that to a person.  Particularly an English teacher who still labored over whether her students would ever be able to differentiate between a noun and a verb.  For ten months, I paid attention to 130 students and their needs, their accomplishments and their deficits.  I wasn't paying attention to me, my body.  I didn't pay attention to my personal life. All of which needed a great deal of attention as I found out walking up the steep hill by my home.  

For some reason, I never really liked summer as a young person.  I do now.  I think it was because I was then left to my own devices.  I was allowed to make my own choices and the routine was changed. That was never easy for me. I didn't have to bother with decision-making when I was in school. All the decisions were made for me 180 plus days a year. When we reach adulthood, we are often no prepared for the difficult decisions we will have to make on our own, by ourselves with no one's intervention.

Summer brings heat.  Summer brings sweat.  When I was a kid, I hated both.  I hated feeling uncomfortable.  Central air was not in the 60's lexicon.  I did love swimming, the beach and those Rocket Popsicles  you bought at the beach's food stand at Sylvan Lake.  You had to eat them really fast but they still managed to melt all over...I didn't care.  I doubt any kid cared.  Swimming at the lake meant a full-fledged swimming lesson by my mother.  Mom insisted we all knew how to swim and thus came the benchmarks.  She'd hold me underneath my stomach and I'd kick my legs and move my arms.  She taught me how to float if I got tired. There were numerous trips down the lake's slide which was great preparation for handling the deep end of the lake.Then came the summer of firsts.

There was a floating dock at Sylvan Lake.  Anyone who could swim to the dock could certainly swim and didn't need any supervision. I wanted to swim on my own and insisted that I was ready. Ma let me go.  I could hear the doubt in her voice.  I think she felt I wasn't ready but that wasn't up to her on that day.  I wanted to be ready. I was going to swim to that dock, climb up the dock's ladder and jump off that dock and swim back.  How difficult it must of been for her to let me go.

I ran down the beach and jumped into the water.  I dunked my head in and out  and pretended that I was a mermaid.  I thrashed my arms and I thrashed my legs to the dock.  I kept reaching and stretching.  I breathed in and out and dunked my head because it felt so good.  I dunked my head to see was underneath the surface of the lake. All of sudden, I had hit the aluminum platform of the dock.  I gasped and there it was.  The dock!  The ladder!  I had made it.  I had done what it took seven or eight summers to do. I climbed up the ladder and I saw my mother looking at me.  I waved to her and jumped back into the lake.

I swam back and ran up the beach.  I embraced my mother and yelled joyfully, "I did it!  I did it Ma! I swam to the dock!!!"  "So you did," Mom said quietly.  "So you did."  She hugged me and then I got to buy ice cream but not before a sandwich.  Mothers...

I think about all of the challenges I've had.  Then I think about Sylvan Lake.  Every time I have been posed with an obstacle or a problem, I thrash around. I often dunk my head.  Then I surface from the water and I breathe and I climb the ladder of that dock.  Summer may not be my favorite season, but as seasons go, I'm learning to embrace the heat, the sweat and the relief of knowing that I can swim.

"Curve balls-Thank you body" Part Two

"We all have big changes in our lives that are more or less a second chance." - Harrison Ford

There is an old familiar saying from the musical "MAME"  that goes, "Life is a banquet and most poor suckers are starving to death."  I love that line because, this is the trap we fall into at times.  We forget we are at a banquet.  Everything we need to sustain ourselves and keep ourselves nurtured and content is either next to us or near us.  Since this is true, why are we often afraid to eat?

I was given a second chance recently and I'm still trying to figure out what to do with all of this new information I've been handed. I am still in recovery, processing what it means to have been living all this time, but NOT really appreciating it.  This has been a bitter pill to swallow.   You see,  On July 9th, I lost my sight in my right eye.  It happened that quick. There were fireworks, literally, and then partial vision.  My ophthalmologist sent me to a retina specialist.  Next thing I knew, I was sent to Sloan Kettering Cancer Center in New York City to a oncologist who specializes in eye cancers. They needed to rule our cancer and/or a tumor. "A WHAT????  REALLY????"  It all happened that quickly...in the blink of an eye...my vision of my world changed.

Society doesn't appreciate nor acknowledge our weaknesses.  But this is what I have recently found out...strengths and weaknesses are shared by the entire human race. Our weaknesses make us better people.   As I acknowledge mine, I am reassured that the rest of the human race is dealing with theirs.  I realized that focusing on my health, my happiness, my well-being is the single most important thing any of us can give ourselves and it's difficult to do when your heart and your soul leave you open and available to any one who needs you.  

Ma, at age 88, has expressed to me that one thing we can be assured of is that we will not live forever.  It's a crap shoot.  It's destiny.  At Sloan Kettering, I got a clean bill of health.  It was not cancer.  It was not a tumor.  I clutched my husband outside of Dr. Marr's office at Sloan Kettering and cried... and I breathed.  I really breathed.  I realized that although Ma is right, it's what we do with our time here that is important.  Are we going to vegetate or are we going to put ourselves first and not be afraid to make the changes we need to make not because we want to please anyone, but because we want to live a more authentic life.  

This past week, I chose.  I chose authentic.  We live in a society where we broadcast our imperfections, our problems and yes, our weaknesses.  Just watch television and you will see story after story of our human imperfections.  The fact remains however, that we still have to live with ourselves.  What we do, how we do it, is our decision and our personal business, no one else's.  I dodged a huge bullet this past week.  But I still have to figure out what happens to the gun.  I learned that although, age will bring challenges, it can bring truth.  I will chose truth over anything else.  I choose my life, my world, because that is good enough.  My code of conduct works for me.  It's brought me love, happiness, pain and sorrow.  This is an authentic life and it is good enough for me.

"Curve balls-Thank you body"

"Never be bullied into silence. Never allow yourself to be made a victim. Accept no one's definition of your life; define yourself."  -  Harvey Fierstein

No one likes hearing the truth.  No one likes sitting face to face with a physician who tells you that you "may" have something that is "potentially" life threatening.  You decide right then and there whether you're going to act like a victim or own up to every single ridiculously stupid thing you've ever done, wondering if those things are the reasons you're hearing the word "tumor or cancer."  But in medicine, you never take one physician's word for it. The better physicians will tell you that.  And so the journey so many have taken begins for me...

At 52, I guess I was due to have something happen that will pose a health challenge.  I've watched many, older than myself, younger than myself, face horrific health challenges and I feel very fortunate that my body waited this long. I never truly liked or appreciated my body.  Women are often like that..but I like my body now.  Why?  Because it had the sense to give me a "heads up" that you need to take care of yourself...now.  I love you body.  I love you now more than ever because you have given such wonderful opportunities. Shame on me for not seeing them sooner.  I see them now.  My body loves my husband, my family and my good, good friends.

Thank you body. I am so sorry I never appreciated your beauty until now.  You gave me poor vision and a definitive lack of growth hormone. Thank genetics as well. You gave me an abundance of insecurities growing up.  Even with those issues, I saw and still see the world so much more clearly than some and didn't understand how to use that gift until now.  No one needs height or perfect vision to understand love, compassion, anger and sometimes even hate. " Human is as human does."  I've accepted that.  Body, because of you, I've made people laugh.  I was given a voice and I use it. My body allows me to think, to write and to teach. It dances too...a LOT.  Because of you, I developed a love of any type of pizza there is, any time, any where.  My body loves food.  My body loves good chardonnay.

Body,  I know you hope the best for me.  I know you forgive me for whatever stupid things I've done to put you in jeopardy.  I'm not the only one though, am I?  Of course I'm not but it's all luck of the draw...a matter of time.  Age has taught me that.  Age makes us wiser. Those who care about you body, can't make decisions for you.  They can't control you. But body, you and I both know the truth.  We either work together or accept the consequences.  As my journey begins body...Keep me rational, keep my sense of humor, keep me as I am and let me grow a new spirit.  Keep going...let's just keep going.
 

"What is love...really?"

"It is not in the stars to hold our destiny but in ourselves."
William Shakespeare 

I took a drive around the old neighborhood today.  Curiosity got the best of me I suppose and as I was driving around I started thinking about all of the times I'd have fallen in love.  I fell in love with the boy who lived across the road.  We went to elementary school together.  He loved playing outside and we loved riding the bus together.  I was in love.  His family moved. I got a few letters and then they stopped.  I was five. Decades later, love means something entirely different.  What is love really...?

Love is:

• giving up control of the TV remote or even more important, giving up control of old routines.
• picking up dirty underwear and smelly socks off of the bathroom floor.
• brushing your teeth before you kiss.
• putting on makeup during the weekend.
• having someone hold your head when you have the stomach flu.  
• having your feet rubbed when you've worn the wrong shoes all day just to look fashionable or...taller.
•  sharing the last of the ice cream, whatever flavor.
• flossing.
• doing something about your snoring...yes, I said snoring.
• taking turns doing the laundry.  Folding is always appreciated.
• eating burgers on the deck...with extra cheese and toasted bun because well, you like it that way...and watching the sun set.  Actually, any sun set, at any time...
• putting the heat up...past 65 degrees.
• kissing the one you love as you leave for work in the morning.
• kissing the one you love when you walk through the door at the end of day.
• feeling safe enough to disagree...and disagree...and disagree some more.
• biting your lip even when you'd like to chew off someone's...
• belly laughing at Saturday Night Live, Bill Maher or John Stewart.
• admitting when you're wrong and sticking to your guns when you're right.
• realizing that there are boundaries.
• moving in with the love of your life with 100 pairs of shows and your soon to be fiance crying because he has NO idea where to put them.
• being comfortable enough to cry in front of each other.
• Eloping to Jamaica and getting married on the beach.  Hey, when you're over 40, you realize life is short...too short...love is love.
• letting someone else eat the last of the left over pizza.  
• picking up dirty socks and underwear...still.
• finding fresh flowers in your office just because.
• being able to watch the Oscars, the Tonys and "Behind the Candelabra" without interruption.  My husband will never look at Matt Damon the same.  I thought his little g-string was awesome.
• coming home to the most delicious home cooked meal after the most horrendous of days.
• helping those who can't help themselves and asking nothing in return.
• being passionate about something so much even when you know it's hard or the risk of failure is possible.  Anything worth passion is difficult. 
• patience.  LOTS, and LOTS of patience and the ability to lose yours if need be.

I remember that last time I said "I love you."  I was sitting on the counter of my future husband's home.  We were seriously dating for about a year.  King was cooking a lovely dinner and I was sitting on the counter drinking a glass of wine.  All of sudden, I just started to well up in tears, and I could hardly breathe...He said, "What? What's the matter?"  That was my cue.  "I...I...love you John."  As I started to cry, he came over to me, and said, "I love you too."  BINGO! Finally, the risks I had taken worked because, all along I knew I had been right.  I felt safe, vulnerable and petrified all at the same time and it felt wonderful.  All of the past melted into my future because of honesty and because of courage.

Gratitude is the one thing that has saved me.  As I licked my wounds and suffered through the hurt of all the loves come and gone, I realized that all roads led to me.   I had always been in control of my actions. I just didn't know it.  It never matters who says, "I love you." What matters is that someone does. We simply can't say it or show it enough. The other day one of my students came up to me and said, "I love you Mrs. King."  I replied, "Yeah, yeah, now catch the bus so you can go home and do your English project...HA!"  As I drove home from school, my heart grew three times its size.  That folks, is what we call maturity.  That folks, is what we call "love."

The Educational "White Elephant" in the Room

"Let parents bequeath to their children not riches, but the spirit of reverence." - Plato

Most Sundays, I make my pilgrimage back to my childhood home to visit the matriarch of that home, my mother, 88 years old, child of the Great Depression, and two world wars. She is the toughest of the tough.  Ma has lived in her house for close to sixty years and mixed in with all of the challenges, laughter along with heartache.  What did we discuss today over the best chocolate chip cookies, EVER?  My job as a teacher, her experiences in school, and of course, parenting. I've never been a parent.  But I know what good parenting is and I'm fairly sure it's a combination of the following elements.

• Money doesn't mean happiness. We didn't get everything we  wanted but never felt neglected. Pop got up every day at 6 o'clock in the morning, battled for the bathroom with my sisters and I and was home by 6 o'clock in the evening.  By the time he washed his hands and grabbed a Pabst Blue Ribbon, Mom had a genuine home cooked meal on the table.  That would be the third home cooked or home made meal we'd have in a day.  There was no such thing as skipping a meal.  We sat down; we talked; we laughed; we argued and drove each other crazy.  Tradition.  We never felt like we were missing anything.  Our parents made it clear what the priorities were. They were middle-class, thrifty, and with very clearly defined roles.  Mom postponed many of her dreams and aspirations to run a well organized home and to be a parent. In turn, we understood that that sacrifice meant our job was school.

• Reading matters. I had a library card at the age of four.  Library cards cost nothing.  The weekly trips to the library were so special.  I'd argue with the librarian about what I could read or couldn't read and Mom would back me up and I'd leave with a book that either challenged me or that I just loved reading over and over again.  Those books became my peace and even my medicine when I was sick.  Mom or one of my sisters would read to me all of the time when I was little.  I grew to love reading because, reading meant I grew closer to those I loved. I made my interpersonal connections because of reading. I became comfortable at communicating because of reading.
• Respect for others. When we left the house, either to school, to play with a friend or out to a store or restaurant, everyone deserved our respect and our best behavior.  There were no arguments about this until today.  I found out that Mom, who loved to write, was accused by a teacher that "she couldn't have possibly written what she had...she must have copied it." How many years later, at the table sharing cookies, I told her I had had a similar experience in tenth grade. My teacher called me a "border-line illiterate  because I didn't know the difference between a clause and a phrase.  We had both been somewhat destroyed by the treatment of these teachers.  Mom asked me, "Why didn't you didn't say anything."  My response, "Because you taught us, the teacher was always right." "You taught us to respect adults."   Silence.
  
  If a teacher called a student a "border-line illiterate" today, there would be parent meetings, and a letter in your professional file.  However, as the educational pendulum shifts to the extreme, respect and self-control still mean something.  My parents taught me that.  

• Failure was not an option. I did not graduate with honors in high school.  I was an average kid with an acceptable school average. I struggled but failure was never an option like it is today.  It was never "OK" to fail anything, from art to English or mathematics. I watched my sisters get their bachelor's degrees and I was going to get one too.  Nothing was going to stop me from going to college and building a future even though it took me years to figure out what that future would look like. I went to school with the appropriate notebooks and pens and pencils.  I had to maintain my homework and study.  The teacher may not always have been right, but I learned that I wasn't going to like everyone who came into my life but I had to show them respect and work with them until I earned my right to move forward.
• Patience is indeed a virtue.  Whether we were learning how to knit, crochet or play cards or sew, patience was required to succeed in completing any project.  I had no patience for these things but I did have patience when writing and my mother would re-read my words and give me input.  When I was younger, and I wrote some quirky story, my sisters would take them to school and show their friends. When I struggled with algebra, my sister Jen would sit with me at the kitchen table and try to help me...indeed a lesson in patience for her as well. She, later on, would be the one to successfully teach me to drive. Brave and patient.I wasn't good at everything my mother taught me but I learned to have patience with people and respect those who actually finished something or won something, particularly when I was beat in canasta or Monopoly. Family dynamics are far from perfect but putting aside the typical dysfunctions that do occur, family support matters. We are not born to be "Robin Crusoe."  We need the love and the support of those we love and trust the most.
• No one has all the answers. Mom and I talked for hours today but as I drove away, I realized that seven years of teaching made me see the "white elephant" in the room so clearly. We talk politics, test scores, the evaluation of teachers and all of this is a reflection of the times. No one wants to address the role of parents and their correlation to the success of their kids because it's bad politics and bad capitalism.  We choose Nike over Payless.  We choose iphones over NO phones.  We put money ahead of the progress of our children who need us. The social networking of today needs to be replaced with appropriate social skills.  The skills I learned talking to Mom after school with a chocolate chip cookie and a glass of milk have carried me this far and after today I realized how important they are.
  I don't have all of the answers but what I do know is that the sacrifices and caring for our children will raise their excitement for learning and succeeding.  If we are to use the word "entitlement," let's use it in correct context. I was not entitled to anything until I could be trusted and have the respect that went congruently with a work ethic. That's an education. I think I'll have another cookie...

"Tests are everywhere"

"But the person who scored well on an SAT will not necessarily be the best doctor or the best lawyer or the best businessman. These tests do not measure character, leadership, creativity, perseverance." - William Julius Wilson

Next week, my students will be taking yet another test, no, "assessment," to prove to one and all that they are in fact competent in their language.  Interesting how their competency is being made public and a direct correlation to my competency as and English language arts educator. 

But...tests are everywhere and they have been throughout our lives and they aren't the multiple choice kind. What we have forgotten, no, what politics has forgotten, is that assessment numbers do not measure our success.  Perseverance and hard work does.  Excuses for not studying or being responsible for your own educational success don't hold water and I tell my kids that all the time. So where is the common sense?   If the best thing this country's leaders can come up with is numbers across a spreadsheet then we are not the creative, innovative and enriched country that I believed us to be. 

I can sense the huge frustration on the faces of my students because we are asking them to shift their priorities.  Priorities that they already have ingrained from their lifestyles and their home life.  When I was in eighth grade my priorities mirrored the priorities of my parents. They were wonderful, heartfelt priorities.  My parents asked me to be honest, do my homework and try as hard as I could to succeed.  Failure was not an option.  This all came from my parents, not a teacher, or a principal or anyone else.  It came from my home.

My SAT scores were dreadful.  My communication skills and my work ethic were excellent.  Those early SAT scores determined what kind of confidence I would have and what opportunities I would have and I'm glad I ignored them.  But when I got the results, I was immediately told I would be limited. If I had let my SAT scores determine my success then I would never have become a writer, graduated with a Bachelor's, or graduated with honors when I received my masters.  I would never have worked for one of the largest computer companies in the world  or become a teacher. 

On Monday, the day before my students take their "assessment," I'm going to tell them that the real tests aren't on paper or issued from some company that hasn't walked into a classroom.  The real tests come from how ready we are to take risks, dream, fail, and handle the challenges that will never appear on a "canned" test that doesn't take into account whether you've had breakfast, clean clothes or whether you've taken your medication so you can sit still and perhaps write down a note or two.

Tests are everywhere. This is the challenge of being human.  I've failed more than I've passed but the ones I passed were ones I took seriously and that meant something to me. We will win and we will lose and what matters most is that we keep going.  

Until we shift our priorities to nurturing and disciplining our children with common sense and establish our presence as "the adults in the family", test scores will be the easy way out to blame the incompetency of politics as usual. Taking away the video games, the cellphones and the desktop or laptop that are in their bedrooms, is probably not a bad idea either.

The real tests of human beings are measured in the care we take to overcome and succeed despite our difficulties.  "I don't get it," becomes, " I'll work hard to try to get it."  "I can fail," becomes "Failure is not an option."  This is the message we need to teach the young.  Put that in an assessment and then you have something viable.

Professor Wilson from Harvard was correct.  It is all about "character," "creativity," "leadership," and "perseverance." If politics can create a test to measure those attributes then perhaps we can create the kind of educated society that produces innovation, creativity, character and intelligent leaders. Until then, my profession hangs in the abyss of "what next?" And...my students feel the same way.

"Washington D.C. - A very public education"

"Government is not reason; it is not eloquent; it is force. Like fire, it is a dangerous servant and a fearful master." -  George Washington

Those closest to me thought I was absolutely out of my mind for signing up to take 80 eighth grade students to Washington, D.C. this week.  Perhaps they had a point but the outcome, nay, the sleep deprivation, was well worth the message that a trip to Washington sends, not only to young people but to adults like myself, who shockingly have never been to Washington.  This trip would be a lesson in accountability, history, and the importance of public service.

The six hour bus ride which began at 6 a.m. took us to the United States Holocaust Museum.  At approximately 12:30 p.m., we unloaded from the buses to stand witness to the horrors of the Holocaust. Washington was unseasonably cold and bitter, very fitting for a visit to a collection of historical horror. The museum which is also a place for families of the Holocaust to grieve and pay respects, requires absolute silence.  It was interesting to watch each one of the students comply.  The smells of the cargo train carrying so many innocent Jews to their death, and the smell of hundreds of leather shoes piled high were all that was needed to send a message and ask the ultimate questions, "Why? How?"  So much loss of life.  Our students got on the bus and were quiet. So was I.  Did they get the message? Did they?

After lunch, it was off to the Smithsonian's three museums and let me tell you, I bee-lined it directly to the red ruby slippers worn by Judy Garland in "The Wizard of Oz." Call me crazy, but those slippers meant something to me as a child. They meant hope, and well, they were pretty.  Not far from the slippers were the presidential exhibits.  I learned about each and every presidential assassination and it sickened me but then I walked to the exhibit of the first ladies. Behind every man is their steadfast, stable and loving if not honest partner.  Our first ladies had taste, strength, and withstood so much of their husband's accomplishments and sorrows.  I saw the airplanes of Amelia Earhart and Charles Lindbergh.  I saw the most beautiful orchid exhibit. It reminded me how badly I wished the spring weather would arrive.  Back on the bus.

After dinner, it was the World War II Memorial, the Korean War Memorial, the Vietnam Memorial and then if history had not presented enough heartbreak, the majestic Lincoln Memorial.  I stood on the exact spot that Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. gave his "I have a dream" speech and looked at Lincoln and wondered whether their incredible strength and personal sacrifice could ever be duplicated.  Where did these men, including all those who died in the face of war, get their personal conviction? Were we, as the public, truly grateful or have we become complacent?

Nothing would prepare me for the following day.  The morning sun and the chilled air and the comfort of the bus and our driver, took us to the Capital. At the security checkpoint, the alarm sounded as I walked through and I immediately put my hands in the air.  It was my bracelet!!!!!  Let me just say for the record, they are VERY serious about security at the Capital.  As we walked through the rotunda, among the statues and the art work, Speaker of the House, John Boehner walked through with his head down and headed to his office. I noticed him but none of the kids did. The tour guide brought him to our attention with nothing more than another indication like she did with the other statues and paintings.  I thought to myself, . "Mr. Boehner, you couldn't have thrown us a bone here and perhaps waved or said "Hello," and nodded your head.  Really?" I learned today that a budget was passed on the "Hill" so perhaps I'll forgive him...this time.

The changing of the guard at the Tomb of the Unknown Solider, the thousands of white marble gravestones and crosses strategically placed on acres and acres of  farmland were next. Not a word was spoken. The understated graves of brothers, the Kennedys, the youngest having probably suffered the most, burying the other two along with one of the most intriguing first ladies in history.  I cried, silently.  No one should have to go through the violence or pain while living a life of service.Or perhaps, this is what a life of service means for those strong enough to withstand it.  We have thousands, literally thousands that fit that bill.  

Then, 1600 Pennsylvania Avenue was before us and there was The White House.  It was grand, simple and very, very white.  I would go as far as to say pure white which of course is the point.  The White House is the ultimate symbol of the greatest decisions ever made by one man in any given term as the leader of this country.  Across the street was an older, weathered woman manning the longest protest in history. That's what Washington is...our voice, our ideas, our way of life intermingled with politics.

 The end of our trip brought us to the Battle of Iwo Jima Memorial, the Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. Memorial and the Franklin Delano Roosevelt Memorial. Did you know that if you rub the ears of the statue of Roosevelt's beloved dog Fallah, that it will bring good luck? Luck was something I was slowly doubting ever existed in history. History was teaching me that personal sacrifice, candor, intelligence created our nation and the Washington that we were seeing today. As we and the very, very exhausted eighth grade class of 2013 got on the bus to journey home, I couldn't help but feel that I was the one who had changed.  

Washington made me feel rebellious, passionate and ready to invent a future generation that would not settle, that would study and educate themselves with some direction from teachers like ourselves.These eighth graders would hopefully develop the respect and the love of their own history.  For myself, as I got off the bus,  and watched anxious parents hug and kiss their children and grab their suitcases , I grabbed my suitcase and returned home to my husband, who by the way, served his country in the United States Coast Guard. I felt like we could all change the direction of our lives, our country with one simple act...the act of service to those in need. The act of service to protect the future of those eighth graders who by the way, did object to the curfew but wished me good night in spite of their objections.  I wish them a bright, successful future but more than that, I wish them a full history, one that will be epic and life-changing.

"With a Conscience" - "I'm fun size!"

“It’s not the size of the dog in the fight, It’s the size of the fight in the dog.”- Mark Twain

The day I was born was a worrisome situation.  Being my own overly anxious self,  I  decided to come into this world a week early, five pounds was my birth weight.  Literally, I was no more than a bag of sugar. I was put into an incubator for a spell.(I guess that was probably everyone's first sign that I needed to have some boundaries.) HA! When my mom and dad brought me home, my mother jokingly said to my grandmother, "Maria, she's so tiny.  What are we going to do?"  My grandmother, 4', 9"  tall said, "Micky, we'll keep her."

When I reached two or three years of age. I would not stay in my crib.  I would use my legs to push the crib away from the wall and hoist myself over the side.  Clearly, I would not be contained nor would I be protected. That was only the beginning.  When I was four, I left the yard and walked about a quarter mile to the neighbor's house to play with my friend Mitchell.  When I was four, I also decided I could ride the very tame, sweet, horse owned by the farmer who borders our property by coaxing him with carrots and then use the rope I found to lasso him and go for my ride.  Clearly, I had no awareness of my height or petite stature.  I just wanted to "do stuff."  My parents' hair turned gray in those years.

I've learned through the decades that height plays an incredible role in people's perception of you.  There are experts who say that those of the petite stature, are less likely be taken seriously.  They are less likely to be promoted on the job. They vie for the attention and the voice that others readily get because, well, it's easier to speak someone eye to eye and ignore the voices that may be brewing below you.  Those who are "vertically challenged" are very rarely listened to because, if we are mature, if we are respectful, listening does NOT become an issue.

I learned through the years that I would compensate for my height, by being funny.  I would be larger than life or at least larger than the average life.  Those who are petite stay younger by nature because everyone treats them as though they're younger and for years, I loved that because that meant I didn't have to think for myself.  I only had to worry about what others thought.  And I did.  I worried.

I carried the "Peter Pan Syndrome" for years.  I refused to grow because I just had it too good.  I was protected.  I was loved.  But it took decades for me to accept adulthood as the natural order of life.  As I entered the "real world," I realized that nobody would take me seriously, if I didn't. By the time I reached 25, "nuggies" were getting tiresome.  I lost my sense of humor but not my sense of adventure. It would take years before I realized that humor was a true, true salvation and that humor above anything else is vitally important no matter what you're experiencing.

When there is something physically different about a person, we forget often that they are human beings.  Now I say this with an understanding of human nature that I didn't have while I was growing up.  Being different, means that not only are you a great conversation piece but you never have to look far for a chance to change a perception or an opinion. I knew I was different.  Sometimes I asked for more attention than was welcome.  That's what happens when you're different.  People gravitate towards pointing out the obvious even if the obvious was not necessarily obvious to me.  That took maturity.

As I teach each year, I witness first hand how difficult it is for any of the young people I teach to enjoy their obvious differences.  Then they spend their time with me and hopefully realize that being different is a blessing.  Being different is their door to their future interests and passions.  At least that's what I discovered.  By the time I was 18 years of age the school had voted me "most individualistic" for the year book. I was also voted the most humorous.  How I wish my students, my kids saw that there's always a way to hold to individuality instead of giving it away for the sake of acceptance.

I married a man who appreciates individuality. It took a while for that to evolve mainly because I had to let go of my hurt that I would never be like anyone else. At least that's what I thought as I matured. Thankfully, my family always appreciated my individuality. How I wish with all of my heart that we could embrace differences instead of stating the obvious. 

I turned 52 this past weekend and the only thing I could think about is that I made it this far in spite of all that fight to be like everyone else. With every birthday, I find less and less regret and more and more acceptance of what is.  You don't height to reach heights.  You simply need to believe.

So, to conclude, "I'm fun size."  I believe in fun and being different.  "Fun size" means that I am just enough for this world.  We are all "enough" as long as our hearts are in the right place.

"With a Conscience" - "Achoo, the flu!"

“The art of medicine consists in amusing the patient while Nature affects the cure.”  -Voltaire

I have the flu.  I do.  As I've  been lying in bed recuperating, I can't help but feel angry at myself. It started in my throat and sinuses and my ears. I realized this weekend as I'm restoring my pride, that the reason it started in my throat and my ears is because I spend my days, talking, listening, and giving my energies every day to those who need it more than they know, children.  I'm very good at denial.  I would talk myself out of feeling sick much like my students do when they haven't written the essay we've been working for the past two weeks. Denial works but it does catch up with you.  It always does.

 People get sick because they don't pay attention to themselves.  I believe that the current flu epidemic is the result of our refusal to stop, relax and feed our souls. We push and push and push ourselves because we believe we have to and the result quite honestly are these epidemics. For so many people, work becomes priority or we experience a lighter paycheck.  Something none of us can afford but it's happening regardless of our votes. Or we must show proof we were sick because well, our word has not been shown to be enough. We are not to be trusted.

Epidemics show we are weakened.  The priorities have shifted to such a degree that it eventually had to show up in our health.
Physicians can do very little to help us with the flu.  They can do very little about viruses indeed.    I refuse to get the flu shot basically because well, the shot has "THE FLU"  virus in it. Why would I inject myself with something that I absolutely do not want in the first place?  The answer is this.  We can't avoid the flu if we refuse pay attention to ourselves.  Common sense dictates that we respect illness as the sign that our bodies need to slow down for a spell and heal.   The flu I have was direct result of all of these things.  As I've sipped my soup and eaten my husband's special grilled cheese sandwich, I've realized that although change doesn't come easy, it has to happen.  The average middle-class American has the responsibility of everyone else on their shoulders.  They have demonstrated this willingness too.  With every world war, depression, weather disaster or crisis overseas, we support the decisions being made.  But we need to slow down.  We need to allow ourselves to slow down and demand the support to do so. 

Some may say this is claiming a position to be lazy, to be entitled.  Trust me, I know what "entitled" looks like. I see it  continually.  I'm talking about common sense.  I'm referring to holistic, basic, simple things that we can do to keep ourselves as healthy as possible.  I'm talking about paying attention. This week, I was at the food store and I watched this family get out of the car.  The child was dressed in shorts and a t-shirt. No coat, no hat, shorts-t-shirt, socks and sneakers.  All I kept thinking to myself was how ridiculous the parents of this little girl looked.  They did not look disadvantaged but my only thoughts were, "Could this flu epidemic also be due to stupidity?  Are we that clueless?"

If we don't take of ourselves we become slaves to illness of all kinds.  I have been in borderline health situations and it's scary and it isn't fun and the only way out is to change.  Change is hard.  We have lowered our resistance and we need to re-build it. That's the fundamental message here.  The flu is our saving grace.  It is our internal message to look inward and take care of ourselves even when we think it is inconvenient.  

Now excuse me, my head hurts and I might need to go to the, the, well....Forgive me...I'll be back momentarily...

"With a Conscience" - "The Story of Killer Gulch"

"Now is the winter of our discontent, made glorious summer by this sun of York ..." - William Shakespeare

"The winter of our discontent..." Shakespeare wasn't talking about the weather.  He was talking about the end of the public's discontent because Richard III was going to come into power.  This was pretty far from the truth.    As for the weather, well, we handle the winter differently.  

There are people like my sisters, who like to cross-country ski.  There are those who go tubing, down-hill skiing, There are those who love watching the winter Olympics.  When I was younger, Mom made sure we learned how to ice skate.  We had a toboggan and every year we would wax it up and get it ready for the hill we jokingly called "Killer Gulch." "Killer Gulch" was the great divide on the farm behind us. Given the appropriate speed and trajectory, one could ride the toboggan from the top all the way to the ice-skating pond clearly a half mile away.  When my nephews and niece were little, we decided that they were ready to be introduced to the excitement of the winter, tobogganing and "Killer Gulch."  We bundled everyone up.  They could hardly move their legs with their snow suits and boots. They are their homemade hats and gloves on too.  "Killer Gulch" awaited.

My sister Jojo and I trekked up to the top of the hill with the toboggan.  My other sister Jen and the kids waited at the bottom.  Jojo and I were going to show them how it was done. Jojo and I  were more excited than they were I think.  The snow was icier and slick. It was not the powdered snow that would have been preferable had we thought about it.  We didn't.  We got to the top of the hill and positioned ourselves on the toboggan. I took the back.  Jojo rode the front.  She was better at steering.  We pushed ourselves off.

We were going at the speed of light, laughing hysterically, waving to the kids.  "Killer Gulch" had one smaller hill to it and if you hit just right, you flew into the air.  Apparently, we were having so much fun that we didn't see the smaller hill and hit it just right and up, up, up we flew.  I looked down, we were off the snow!  I hung onto sister and just as we touched down for a landing, my legs loosened and I flew off the toboggan, but not before smacking my jaw into sister's back.  I tumbled off and laid in the snow.  I couldn't move.  When I finally looked up, sister was lying face down in the snow.  She looked up and she had a beard of snow.  I couldn't move my jaw but I know funny when I see it and sister was  well, FUNNY!  The toboggan continued, as we knew it would to the pond.

As sister and I tried to put our bodies back together, we hadn't noticed that the kids had been watching the entire scene.  They looked at us, looked at Jen and promptly asked, "Can we go home and have some hot chocolate?"  We licked our wounds and sister wiped the snow from her chin and we ambled home.

Winter isn't exactly a season I embrace but on that day nearly 20 years ago or so, winter meant something to all of us.  We laughed so hard that day, we couldn't breathe, sister and I.  We drank our hot chocolate and we got reprimanded by Mom for our "risk taking" but we didn't care.  Till this day, we remembered a winter day where we ceased our discontent and had experienced the thrill of "Killer Gulch."  We didn't care about the cold or the ice.  We were simply in the present, experiencing the possibilities of winter.  We may have our misgivings about the winter season but no matter what season we are in, we need thrills, laughter and perhaps, take a risk or two, or three, or four, or.....