This afternoon I posted a photo of some trees agains the twilight sky. It was a rather lovely picture in my opinion, and several of my friends agreed according to their comments and likes on Facebook. It got me thinking about how much I enjoy snapping a good photo, a nature photo in particular. I decided to take a scroll through the various photos on my phone, as this is the best and really the only camera I have, and I discovered something. Many of my photos are of trees. I really like taking photos of trees, especially against the sky. It must be something about the blues and greens, two of my favorite colors. And it doesn't seem to matter what time of day it is. I like the shadows and shades created later in the day, and the brightness and vibrance when the sun is high in the sky. Here are some of my favorites. I'm going to post a part 2 to this post tomorrow. I've honored the trees in the photos with accompanying verses. Enjoy!
I.
I cannot elude death
but I will not go so easily,
my service on earth not yet complete.
Here I stand no longer verdant
Life still perched upon me.
II.
Let us be a guide.
Use us not as a lens to watch
but as a gateway to all that is possible,
coastal breezes, blue skies, and the salty sea.
Kick off your sandals, sling them over your shoulder
If you read my blog yesterday, then you know I've been at the All About Girls Summit in Orlando. It's almost midnight, and I just got home from two days of inspiring presentations, talks, and speakers about issues and advocacy for our young girls. I am overwhelmed. We heard from famous people like Chelsea Clinton, Dominique Dawes, and Gabrielle Union. We heard from our own PACE alumni who are now lawyers, web designers, and business owners. We heard from our PACE girls currently in the program. There was a panel of men to talk about the male role in girls' issues, and a panel on the considerations for girls of color. Stakeholders came together to talk about the importance of funding programs and services for girls. And of course there were hundreds of PACE employees who are doing the daily work in our centers. It was invigorating and enlightening. It was a reminder of how important it is to do the work we're doing. And it was exhausting. What's the most important takeaway? We need to love each other more. We need to bring love to the lives of our girls. The single most important factor to reducing poverty in the world, is educating our girls. It's time to rest up, go back on Monday, and spread the love!
I am settling down from a really inspiring day at the All About Girls Summit (AAGS) in Orlando. AAGS is a celebration of people and organizations that support work in the girls movement. People who understand the unique needs of girls and are committed to providing programs and opportunities to inspire girls to find their voices, dream big, and achieve success are all here together. PACE Center for Girls organized and sponsored the event, and I am fortunate to work at one of the 19 centers in the state of Florida.
One of the unique things about being here is the entire center shut down, our students have two days off from school, and the entire staff at every center is here. Doesn't matter whether you are a teacher, a counselor, a manager or an administrative employee, all of us are here. Even some of our volunteer executive board members came. To top all that off, we are surrounded by attendees from outside our organization who also work on and care about girls' issues (relationship violence, abuse, sex trafficking, and others). Our executive officers at the state level have partnered with state legislators and departments and people in the community to start a movement, and it's really pretty spectacular. There was a video message from the White House, messages from two Florida senators who were honored but could not attend because they are in session, and the secretary from the Department of Juvenile Justice read a proclamation from the Governor, declaring March Believing In Girls Month. It truly is an exciting time for our organization and for partnerships between people who believe in girls.
One of my colleagues turned to me at the awards dinner tonight, as we listened to gymnastics olympian Dominique Dawes accept a Believing in Girls Award, and said, "Don't you just feel like you're working for an organization at just the right time?" I smiled and agreed. She's right. It is an amazing time to be working for such a groundbreaking organization. There's no one else around the country doing what PACE is doing, and our model is in high demand. Our goal is to lift girls up and break the cycles of poverty, abuse, and trauma in their lives. Everyone here shares the same goal. Everyone here believes in what we do. Everyone is here because we believe in girls.
I am looking forward to getting down to business tomorrow. We have speakers and sessions to talk about the tough stuff, to address the factors putting your girls at risk. Then we're told we'll hear about some of the solutions, and how PACE will be part of the movement to make a difference. It exciting work.
There were several speakers tonight. Some were representatives from PACE and others were award recipients. They talked a lot about the importance of the work we do, and the guiding principles of PACE. But Dominique Dawes talked about love. She said love isn't just a feeling, it's a doing. She believes it's the answer and I think I do too.
Are there any songs that actually bring you to tears? I wonder if it's the emotion of the lyrics or the way the music played. Of course, at times it's a memory associated with the music. I can think of countless songs that stir emotion in me or bring me to a certain place and time. Take the song Never Gonna Let You Go by Sergio Mendes. This song does nothing for me except conjure up the sadness I felt during the time period in which my parents were going through their divorce. How about the song That's What Friends Are For by Dionne Warwick with Gladys Knight, Stevie Wonder, and Elton John? A power house combination, and an all around feel good song, makes me feel like crap because I associate it with a group of "best friends" I had in middle school who eventually turned on me for some reason I never could understand. What bothers me most is how much I want to like the song now, but can't. I've tried leaving it on when it comes up in the rotation on the 80's station and by the time it gets to the first chorus I want to cry or vomit and I turn it off. Of course, there are also songs we associate with horrible events in history, and those can easily bring us to tears.
Another category of tear-jerking songs are the ones with emotionally charge lyrics, telling gut wrenching stories of heartache and hardship. I submit into evidence, the song The Good Stuff by Kenny Chesney. It's a beautiful tribute to the importance of recognizing what the "good stuff" is. Quick summary: Young guy walks into a bar after fighting with his wife, and asks the bartender for "the good stuff." Bartender tells him he can't find that here, and goes on to recall the wonderful things that make up "the good stuff." Young guys asks about the photo on the wall, bartender says it's his wife who died of cancer and recalls some more good stuff. They share a glass of milk and he sends the guy home to his wife to apologize. If you haven't cried by that point, you're bound to when Being right there when our time got small And holding her hand when the good lord called her up Yeah man that's the good stuff...
The song gets me every. single. time. There others like this too. Eric Clapton's Tears in Heaven, which was about the loss of his 4-year-old son. It quickly became overplayed resulting in a numbness to the emotion of the song. But on a random day years later if it comes on the radio and you listen, you're reminded it's about the death of a child. Another is Streets of Philadelphia by Bruce Springsteen. It's so haunting and if you've seen the movie, you easily attach images of an emaciated and sickly looking Tom Hanks as man dying of AIDS. There are tons of these emotionally charged songs with a straight forward obvious reason to cry.
But what about those songs that just hit you. Are there songs that just make you cry because of the way they sound? Certain singers? I often feel driven to tears when I hear Alison Krauss sing. Her voice is angelic to me, and her singing sounds so effortless. I find it to be incredibly moving. One of my favorites is When You Say Nothing At All. Not only is her voice just beautiful, but I feel like that song could be written for my husband and me. It's not her song originally, but it'll always be her song in my mind. When Eddie Vedder sings in his low mellow voice, I get an emotional feeling too. My City of Ruins, a Bruce Springsteen song he sang for Artists for Peace to benefit relief efforts in Haiti hits me in the heart.
I guess what I'm discovering as I write this is a sort of duh moment. News flash: music is a package deal. A great singer, strong musicianship, and heartfelt lyrics are going to make a listener emotional. Whether it's to celebrate, lift your spirits or to soothe your sadness, or even acknowledge your anger, a song with all these components will do what it set out to do, connect with the listener and make the song his/her own. When we feel like singers are singing for us or about us, the song is a success. There's a reason why we fill our iTunes and go to concerts. The songs we love make up the soundtrack to our lives.
Did you ever notice some of life's events seemed to be misplaced on the timelines of our lives so they don't occur when we are able to maximum enjoyment or benefit from them? Think secret crushes in high school who never get together and then go looking for each other later in life, a high school student who passes up on a great job opportunity because she wants to spend more time with her friends, or a college student who doesn't take learning seriously.
I spent last weekend beginning college tours with my 17-year-old son. He's been a little like a deer in the headlights when it comes to the college discussion. Unlike many young people, he has known his field of interest for quite some time now, but channeling it into college, and a major, and a career has been quite overwhelming for him. He's a junior so we still have time to figure it all out. But I couldn't help but feel, while my son is still feeling unsettled about college, I was in heaven! I don't remember if I was this excited about college when I was his age. Truth be told, my parents were pretty fresh off a divorce, and I did much of my college inquiry on my own. I don't even recall visiting any of them, though I had been to a couple with my older sister back when she was looking. And in high school I attended cheerleading camp at the University of Miami, which incidentally is where I ended up going for undergrad. But being on a college campus again, walking into lecture halls and labs, and visiting dorm rooms, made me wish I could do it all over again.
I just love the feel of a college campus. I get a similar feeling when I'm on campus at our local university where I teach as an adjunct. It doesn't matter that sometimes I feel old as I watch the young co-eds skateboarding through campus or hustling to class while texting on their phones. There's a youthful feeling of freedom and exploration of knowledge seeking and perspective changing. But it all goes by in the blink of an eye, and I wonder if I was really ready for it at 18. It's as though it came too quickly, at the wrong stage in my timeline, and it was over so fast. I'm not sure how much I really enjoyed learning at that age, whereas now... man, I wish someone would pay me to stay in school the rest of my life. If I could earn a living by being a college student, I wouldn't have to think twice. Call me a nerd (I prefer scholar) but I love learning. Whether it's reading books and articles, listening to someone speak knowledgeably about a topic that interests me, or doing research, I think I could be happy in college indefinitely. I'm at the stage in my life when I learn one thing that makes me want to learn more about another thing, which makes me want to learn more about three more things, and you get my point. It's like a disease.
Anyway, I promised my husband when I finished my doctorate, I was done for now. I guess I should have better defined "now," because May will be 3 years since I finished and I already want to go back. I think the next best thing would be a full time job on a college campus. Hey, you never know.
What the hell was I thinking? Jen was beating herself up as she laid in his bed staring at the glow-in-the-dark stars stuck all over the ceiling. The apartment was a quintessential stoner pad, complete with Dead posters and a black lamp. Josh had rolled over and fallen asleep, and she was stuck with her thoughts of remorse, and of Tom. The mixed tape played in the background, Boys II Men really laid it on thick. Tom never liked that kind of music, whiny wusses he'd probably say. She was laying in another guy's bed and all she could think of was Tom. Her mom insisted a long distance relationship at her their age was a bad idea. If things were meant to be for you, you'll find your way back to each other. Ugh. Jen actually bought it. At least she talked herself into believing her mom was right. She thought she wanted to be with Tom forever, but they were so young. How could she possibly know if she was right? It broke Tom's heart, but he reluctantly agreed to let her see other people. It was the only way he could be sure to hold on at all. His willingness to have a sort of relationship instead of none at all should have been the telltale sign he was the one. Now she was here. Pizza, a couple of bong hits, and a romp in the sack led her right back to where she started. Staring at the stars hopelessly in love with her high school sweetheart. Shit. Now what?
There has never been a shortage of music appreciation in my family, so it's no surprise my dad and stepmom would gift my husband and me concert tickets for our anniversary. The surprising part was who we were going to see perform. It was a very chilly night (for Florida), down in the 40's by the time we left dinner and parked at the theater. The performance was at an interesting place called Plaza LIVE Orlando. It was built in the 60's and at the time was Orlando's first two screen movie theater. It has since been defunct for its original purpose, and was recently purchased by the local philharmonic as a practice theater. They have been gradually renovating and remodeling, and they host live shows several times a week. On Saturday night we had tickets, and Arlo Guthrie took the stage for a 50th anniversary concert tour commemorating Alice's Restaurant. We found out during the show, that's it been more like a 2-3 year anniversary celebration that kept going. The 50th anniversary was back in 2014. Having never thought of purchasing tickets to a show like this on our own, we are grateful for my family's propensity toward gifting us experiences more than things. This show was just great, and here's why:
Family
There's no denying the rich musical history in the Guthrie family. Hard to get out from under it when you're Woodie Guthrie's son, though Arlo even said that night, I'm his son and that's who I am. So it never bothered him to be thought of that way. But opening up for Arlo was his daughter Sarah Lee. She has this sweet southern voice and she plays the folk guitar. She shared with us how unique of an experience it was to grow up in a house with all of her dad's musician friends. Lot's of "weird" people coming in and out, she explained with graciousness and appreciation. She sang a couple of songs, accompanied by funny stories in the life of the Guthrie home during her childhood. Each cover she played was introduced by an anecdote about her dad's friend Donovan or Ramblin' Jack Elliot, who was around so much she knew him as Uncle Ramblin' Jack Elliott. She played a couple of original tunes, and then she told us a story about an album she recorded. The Smithsonian asked her to take some of her grandfather's unrecorded lyrics, put them to music, and create a family or children's album. Sarah Lee's eyes sparkled as she described living with Woodie Guthrie's lyrics and trying to bring them to life the way he would have wanted them to be. She said she relied heavily on old hymns because many of her grandfather's songs were written to the traditional tunes. With her family and some additional guest singers (including her dad and Pete Seeger) she recorded the album with several of the Woodie Guthrie originals. She and the band sang one of the songs from the album, and it was beautiful. If you have young children or grandchildren, I highly recommend it over the commercialized music out there for kids today. It reminds me of the kinds of songs we used to listen to before every song was a Disney soundtrack selection. It's called Go Waggaloo, and it won the 2010 Parents Choice Gold Award. How can you go wrong with anything on the Smithsonian Folkways label? Though he did not perform at all on his own, we learned later in the show the keyboard player was Arlo's son. It truly was a family affair.
Sarah Lee and Arlo singing and playing together during the encore.
Storytelling
Sarah Lee opened up the show with stories from her childhood, and when she welcomed her dad on the stage, just like she did, Arlo had lots of stories. He opened with The Motorcycle Song, a track from Alice's Restaurant. The lights went down and a silly claymation film was playing above the stage. As the film came to an end, the band picked up where the music left off and they continued to play the song live. When they finished playing the song, he told us a story about the film. In brief, it was made back in the 60's and never shown. It only surfaced recently and they decided to incorporate it into the show. We heard stories about his wife, who died only a few years ago, and for who he played a beautiful original song he wrote while remembering the first time he met her. He told us about the excitement at Woodstock, riding in a helicopter with Richie Havens, and getting lit before the show. He talked about Pete Seeger, and Ramblin' Jack Elliot. He told us a story about when Steve Goodman wrote the song City of New Orleans and asked him to give it to [Johnny] Cash. He laughed, telling us he played it for Cash and he was grateful JC passed on it because he recorded it instead. It became one of his more well known songs, and it sounded terrific live! Arlo also talked sentimentally about his dad, including the last words Woodie ever sang to him before he died. It was a lesser known verse to This Land is Your Land, the song and verse with which he wrapped up the show. Mid-show, when he and the band paused for intermission, I realized he hadn't really played many songs but it didn't seem like a bad thing. Besides the music, what made the show so entertaining was the storytelling. Realtime, genuine reminiscing about his musical family and music history, straight from someone who lived it was indescribable. Folk singers and songwriters are musical storytellers, and it felt like we were sitting around a campfire with an old friend.
Arlo singing his heartfelt tribute to his wife.
Kumbaya
A 1920's spiritual hymn, Kumbaya became popular during the 1950's -1960's folk era. Pete Seeger, a good friend of Arlo Guthrie's, recorded one of the first LP's of Kumbaya in 1958. Once Joan Baez recorded it in the early sixties, it became associated with peace and hippie movement as well as the Civil Rights Movement. The themes of old spiritual music and mid 20th century folk music were woven throughout the performance that night. Sarah Lee ended her set with a beautiful and incredibly moving a cappella version of Woodie Guthrie's I've Got to Know. She made mention of how relevant it seems even today, and her voice got a bit raspy at points when she seemed to beholding back tears. To me it seems like this type of artist is not content to make music just to have hits, but genuinely feels the message in the music is as important as its popularity. The people in the crowd that night, my husband and me included, seemed to agree. In the middle of singing This Land is Your Land, Arlo stopped, apologizing because he said he hadn't planned to, and told us a story about his mom going over to China in the 80's. She was taken aback when she heard Chinese children singing the song her husband wrote about America. Arlo said, "Maybe when it says from California to the New York Island, they were going around the long way, all across the other side of the globe. Then This Land would mean the whole world." Everyone laughed, and he chuckled with a heavy sigh and talked about the power of music. He said everyone should sing songs and share music, especially with children. Because every time that music touches you a little bit inside, it stays with you and you bring that with you wherever you go, and spread it throughout the world. Then the world becomes a better place. "Maybe that's a little too Kumbaya for people these days," he said. He closed the show with an encore of this original song he recently wrote, consisting of only two verses. He sang it once, taught us the words, and insisted we sing it with him. It was one of those beautiful musical moments when the crowd and the artist become one. It was a Kumbaya moment, and the crowd inside the Plaza loved it.
I've Got To Know
Words and Music by Woody Guthrie
I've got to know, yes, I've got to know, friend;
Hungry lips ask me wherever I go!
Comrades and friends all falling around me
I've got to know, yes, I've got to know.
Why do your war boats ride on my waters?
Why do your death bombs fall from my skies?
Why do you burn my farm and my town down?
I've got to know, friend, I've got to know!
What makes your boats haul death to my people?
Nitro blockbusters, big cannons and guns?
Why doesn't your ship bring food and some clothing?
I've sure got to know, folks, I've sure got to know!
Why can't my two hands get a good pay job?
I can still plow, plant, I can still sow!
Why did your lawbook chase me off my good land?
I'd sure like to know, friend, I've just got to know!
What good work did you do, sir, I'd like to ask you,
To give you my money right out of my hands?
I built your big house here to hide from my people,
Why you crave to hide so, I'd love to know!
You keep me in jail and you lock me in prison,
Your hospital's jammed and your crazyhouse full,
What made your cop kill my trade union worker?
You'll hafta talk plain 'cause I sure have to know!
Why can't I get work and cash my big paycheck?
Why can't I buy things in your place and your store?
Why do you close my plant down and starve all my buddies?
I'm asking you, sir, 'cause I've sure got to know!
Alice's Restaurant, by Arlo Guthrie. Original Recording:
The Motorcycle Song (in stop motion clay), by Arlo Guthrie:
For our anniversary, my dad and stepmom surprised my husband and me with tickets for a live performance at a local venue. The show was Arlo Guthrie- the Alice's Restaurant 50th Anniversary Tour- and it was terrific! I have so much to say about it, the family, the history, the storytelling. It was uplifting and inspiring. I'll be writing about it in more depth for tomorrow's post.
Right now, I'm exhausted from a long day of college visits with my son, a delicious dinner out with family, and this beautiful live music experience.
When was the last time you did something for the first time?
We road tripped to Orlando this afternoon and my husband usually does the driving, which means he gets the iPod plug-in. Often he has a mix of a lot of stuff I like and a few songs here and there I don't much care for. But he is always good for some songs I like that I've never heard before. This was the case today. A couple of years ago Van Halen (the REAL Van Halen with David Lee Roth) released their highly anticipated album, the first with original members since 1984, their last studio album before DLR left and was replaced by Sammy Hagar. I knew my husband purchased it and I heard bits and pieces of songs here and there when in his truck for short rides. But today I caught a lyric in one of the songs, and I had to repeat it. Sometimes a lyric just hits you that way. It gets you thinking. This one is from the song Trouble With Never.
When was the last time you did something for the first time?
I started to think. When was the last time I tried something new? When did I last do something for the very first time? As I write this post, I'm still trying to recall what it was. And I know, my struggle to bring whatever it was to the surface is enough to make the point that it was too long ago. So, I guess it's time to try something new, do something for the very first time. When lyrics speak to me so insistently, I know it's time for pause and consideration. With that, I am on a mission to experience something for the first time. I'll be on the lookout for my first time experience. And I'll be sure to write about it when I have it. In the meantime, here's Trouble With Never by Van Halen:
When I started this blog, I decided writing was important in my life and I wanted to make a commitment to write daily. I coupled that drive with the notion I needed to look for love in my life and in the world, because it's all around us. Even when we have bad days, even when we feel like the world is going to shit, somewhere out there or somewhere inside, we can find love. It's all around us. Hence the blog title. So far I've tried mostly to point to the beauty, the wonder, and the splendor of love. But truth be told, because of how powerful and important love is to the human spirit, sometimes it can bring us pain and heartache as well. And if I am to be an honest writer, there will be occasions when I have to work through the pain and hurt too (see Brokenheartsville).
Today was bittersweet. It was in timely contrast to the post I made last night about the beginning of my teaching career. Now, about seventeen years later, I am an academic administrator in a nonprofit private school for girls. It is a wonderful program, staffed by caring and dedicated people who provide school and counseling to at-risk girls. Did you catch that? ALL GIRLS. My two year anniversary with the organization is quickly approaching, and I have accomplished a whole lot professionally, too much to get into the nitty gritty here. I have partnered with a counseling administrator with whom I work seamlessly, and have come to think of as a dear friend. And then there are the girls...
I know by building a stellar program- by working with my faculty to ensure the best possible academic program, and by working with the counseling team to provide an integrated and holistic approach to school- I am indirectly making a difference in the lives of our students. I even counsel them on occasion (about school-the way a guidance counselor would), meet with them to discuss plans and goals for the future, and help them process and reflect on negative behaviors in the classroom when they surface. But I don't connect with them in the way I have with my students in the past. Much of this is because my role in their lives is different. I can't help but think a little bit of it is because they're girls. Though I'm not sure about the latter.
Today we had a transition ceremony. This is when we celebrate students who have completed their time with us and are preparing to return to another school. We have these ceremonies every semester, as the public school semester comes to a close. We talk about all the accomplishments of the girls, how much they've grown, the transformation we often see in them from the beginning through the current time. It's a reflective and celebratory time. The transition counselor usually shows some sort of video montage and everyone reflects on their thoughts and feelings about sharing time with these students. Today, the video consisted of interviews with each of the girls who was leaving, as well as their friends, and their teachers and counselors. There were kind and reassuring words all around, and while I was touched and proud of all the girls and the relationships they built with staff, I realized I was nowhere in the mix. I had been locked away in meetings and conference calls, and never got to record a message. Not one girl had anything to say about the influence, inspiration, or impact I had on them during their time with us. I was not even on the radar, and it made me a little bit sad.
It might sound like I'm whining a poor me sob story. Please don't misinterpret my feelings about the event as self-pity. What it was for me was a reminder. When I went to school to earn my doctorate, I had no intention whatsoever of becoming a school administrator. I never even filled out an application to enter the administrative pool. I even stayed in my 4th grade classroom teaching position for an additional year after earning my doctorate. The job I have now is a great one, but it wasn't in my plans, it just kind of happened. And now I remember why. I never wanted to feel this far removed from the students. I don't want to be thought of as that lady in the office, or the one who does all the testing, or the one who handles discipline. And now, I am that lady. I'm all of them and then some. And while someone has to do all those things, I wish it didn't have to be me. I want to be the favorite teacher mentioned in the video, or the one who helped make something hard easier to learn for the first time. I want to be the one the girls always knew cared about them. I want to connect with students more.
I'm not necessarily saying I should go back into a K-12 classroom. But I'm not saying I shouldn't. I just need to find a way to really connect with students (of whatever age) the way I have in the past. It's what has made me so passionate about my work and my career.
I had two degrees from two different universities, and a lot of knowledge. Theoretical knowledge, that is. Ask any teacher and they'll tell you. No matter how good your teacher preparation program was, no matter how much you feel like you learned, nothing compares to on-the-job training. Internships are great, and they're getting better. But a one semester takeover of "someone else's" kids is hardly enough to be considered on-the-job training. I'm talking your first year as a full time teacher. For me it was really my second year. My first year was spent as a resource teacher split between two different schools. My second year, now that was my initiation year.
In addition to my two resource teacher positions the previous year, I had worked as a part-time tutor for a specialized private school for students with learning disabilities (LD's) and attention deficit disorder (ADD). One of the part-time positions didn't work out so well, so we mutually parted and I needed some more work. A teacher in the private school announced she would be going over to Europe for a year when the semester was over, so I assisted her for a couple of months before she left and then I took over.
Meet the boys who taught me how to teach.
For their privacy, I'm not including their names. But you can tell how close we were by the body language in the photo.
It probably won't surprise you to learn that 80-90% of the students at this school were boys. Boys were more commonly diagnosed with LD's and ADD, and they certainly had more trouble in traditional schools because of their learning difficulties. Each of their stories and how they ended up at our school is worth its own piece of writing. But having mostly boys in class wasn't what made the experience so unique. At this school, with a population rarely reaching 100 students, all of high school was in one self-contained classroom. That's right, I had all grades 9-12, and all subjects, in one room. English, Reading, Writing? Yup, I taught them. Biology, Chemistry, Anatomy, sure thing. History, Government, Economics, no big whoop. Yes, I even taught Algebra, Geometry, and Algebra 2. I think back and I still don't know how I did it! I was studying almost nightly and I worked many hours after school and on the weekends. Because it was a small school, we all had keys. I would spend all day Saturday in my classroom sometimes, just preparing myself for a big unit or lesson.
I had a lot of flexibility but little guidance. We used a highly specialized language-based curriculum to address reading, spelling, and written language, but the rest was up to me and a book room with a random selection of retired and donated books, and piecemeal purchases by previous and current teachers. I also searched teacher resource stores and the library. The internet was just starting to flourish and was nowhere near the plethora of resources it is now. But let me tell you, when a teacher is allowed to focus on the students and what they need, and teach from standards rather than a set of course materials, the sky is the limit! I learned to build units and lessons, to teach cross-curricular, to use broad-based themes to tie together history and literature, even science and math- though that wasn't as easy. I took them on several field trips each year and helped facilitate service projects in and outside of school. All of it was worth it, a labor of love, because let me tell you about how much I loved these boys.
Most of them landed on our doorstep sometime mid-stream ninth or tenth grade. This is just before the height of standardized testing craziness. Some of them had taken the FCAT, but the year I started at this school was the first year Jeb Bush attached the scores to school grades and student advancement. So these students weren't fleeing their public schools to avoid the testing, their parents were seeking alternatives because their kids weren't learning. One of them came to us because of a conflict with a principal who put him in a chokehold, another was left to sit in the back of the room all year because he didn't "act out" and no one communicated with his parents about the problems in school. Don't get me wrong, it wasn't about how much the public schools sucked, because many of them just struggled because of the sheer size of the schools and the classes. They all had one thing in common. They weren't learning in their previous schools because they had learning needs no one understood. This is not the time or place to talk about the needs of students with learning disabilities, but it is a topic that needs much attention, even more so today. Anyway, the school was designed to give them what they needed in a year or two, boost their reading and/or language skills so they could return to their schools to be more successful. The content areas were secondary to the reading skills- not less important, but helping them to read and write with proficiency was the main objective.
"Problem" was, the culture in our classroom, the safety, the sense of family became so strong kids didn't want to leave. Many of them didn't. Two of the boys in this photo were with me all four years and I had the pleasure of issuing them their diplomas. I had two others who were with me for all four years, and several who were with us for one to three years. But they changed my life. We had so much fun, I developed relationships with them and their families, and I got a sense of what school should really be like for kids- not because their parents paid for it (and some of them went through great lengths to afford it) but because all kids deserve to feel safe and cared about at school. That door, all the way on the left side of the photo, entered into a magical place. It was a classroom in which I felt as at-home as I did in my own house, and I think the boys did too.
We learned geometry together and struggled through Shakespeare together. We ventured into the land of human reproduction and development and I saw the boy all the way to left turn green while watching NOVAs Miracle of Life. He almost vomited and exclaimed. "I'm going to go home and hug my mom and thank her!" He's the same grown man with a full beard who called out to me at a campsite in a state park a couple of years ago while my family and I were driving out. My husband had his window cracked and stopped, asking me if I heard that. I stepped out of the car, and there he was running toward me as he called his mom on his cell phone. It was like I was a celebrity. He was 27- ouch! The boy next to him jokingly asked me embarrassing questions about sex (not personal questions), just to see if I would lose my cool. For the record, I didn't. I just gave them honest answers. He just turned thirty and has a daughter. We've been talking on FB about some challenges he's been facing in his life. Unfortunately, our collective world was rocked when the boy all the way to the right, suicided the summer before their senior year. I remember crying at the funeral with the boys and consoling his single dad who was raising him. We were a family.
These boys taught me so much about myself as a human being, as a teacher, as a new mother. I learned that I didn't have to know everything as long as I didn't pretend to. I learned that a teacher can learn content if they first learn what their students need. I learned that trust and caring go a long way to creating a path for learning. I learned that I could love someone else's children the way I loved my own. I am indebted to them in a way they will never know.
She didn't want to go to another frat party. She was "totally over it," as she explained to her best friend who dragged her anyway. Lisa was trying desperately to get over her high school boyfriend who dumped her for a girl he met at Michigan freshman year. The only thing Stefanie could say to coax her was that Todd was going to be there. Todd who Lisa had been eyeing for weeks in Sociology class. Todd who hadn't said a word to her all semester except "Hey," a few times on their way into class. She didn't know much about him beyond his sexy smile and his athletic physique. She heard him talking to his buddy in class once about wrestling in high school, so she assumed he was a wrestler. And that was about all she knew. But he was just the kind of distraction she needed to get over Steve. Every time she saw him out at one of the college bars or frat parties, she tried to build up the courage to dance with him or at least send a vibe over his way so he knew she was interested. It all played out so well in her head, and then she would chicken out. Maybe after another drink, she would tell herself. Maybe tonight would be different.
The party scene was much the same as it always was. Dark rooms illuminated with college co-eds dressed in white and neon glowing from black lights, a couple of kegs, and lots of Solo cups strewn about. The DJ was playing an eclectic mix of music so loud people were yelling to speak to people standing right next to them. Between the fog machine and the cigarette smoke, it was difficult to find anyone or anything not right in front of you. This made Lisa's search for Todd less than promising. But she knew he was there. She could feel it, and she was convinced it was time to put high school behind her and put herself out there. She got herself a beer and started to make her way around the room, using her friends as lily pads as she hopped from spot to spot. One of her friends from Biology asked her about a lab, and she caught up with a friend she knew from back home. She was starting to remember why she was sick of these parties- the smoke, the alcohol, the bullshit small talk.
As she started to make her way to the door, she thought she saw Todd over by the DJ booth so she paused to make sure it was him. The DJ slowed things down and announced it was a ladies' choice dance. It seemed like this move by the DJ was the only time during a party when the girls felt comfortable approaching the guys without other girls making snide comments about them. This was it. This was her chance. It took everything in her to muster up the courage. The song started and she was staring at Todd through the smoky air. She wondered if he could feel her watching him. Gulping down her beer as if it was courage potion, she walked up to Todd and threw her head to the side casually, motioning toward the dance floor. She was unsure of herself and she could feel her facial expression betraying her confidence. He smiled at her and walked toward her. She could have turned around and hoped he followed, but their eyes were locked and she didn't want to let go of her catch so she walked backward and he walked into her.
They swayed to the music, standing close enough to feel each other's body heat but not touching. She hoped she could will him to take her hand or pull her in close to him. He felt so close but may as well have been miles away. The more they danced the more she longed for him, and she wondered if he was feeling the same. Finally she felt bold and stepped in, and that was all the permission he needed. He pressed his chest into hers and gently pulled her waist into his until their bodies became one. They danced intimately until the song came to an end and then he kissed her. She didn't even flinch, she gave in and kissed him right back.
This mini story was inspired by the Madonna song Crazy for You.
When we hear the term lasting love, we are most likely to think of a couple, together forever in lasting love. But today as I contemplate lasting love, it is really so much more than the love between two people. I was browsing the poetry section at a local bookstore today, shopping for just the right book of poems for a book exchange with my writing group. Though I didn't purchase it for the exchange, I found myself looking through a Wendell Berry book. I really loved this short little poem about love, and I snapped a photo so I wouldn't forget about it. I read it over and over on my way home (my husband was driving), trying to figure out why I liked it so much. Sometimes poetry just speaks to you and other times you can find some deeper connection as you spend more time with it. But I think this one struck me today of all days for a reason.
My interpretation of the poem is that when people learn to love one another, they leave their mark on the world by spreading love. In a sense, if you learn to love beyond yourself, you leave love wherever you go. Your love has lasting effect on the world because it spreads- like bacteria but good!
Today is Martin Luther King, Jr. Day and all over social media and TV you can see or hear Dr. King's words about education, equal rights, you name it. But an underlying theme in so much of what he said and believed is love. Love for one another, for everyone. It seems so simple. So many of the world's problems, then and now, could be solved by love. It seems so easy. Just open your heart and love. As MLK said:
MLK is the epitome of lasting love. Long after his life, the love he spread is still catching on. Sometimes it feels hopeless, like there's more hate in the world now than there was then. But I'm not sure that's true. I know we have a lot of work to do as a human species, as cohabitants of the planet. The world is getting bigger and our eyes are opening to so much more. We just have to remember, the more hatred that surfaces the more important it is for us to respond with love. The love is forcing people out of hiding, bringing the bubbly hatred to the surface. Hating the hate is giving in and we must not. Dr. King knew this...
James Taylor wrote and performed a beautiful song back in the 90's. It's often played on Martin Luther King Jr. Day because the lyrics invite us to turn our thoughts to MLK "and recognize that there are ties between us, all men and women, living on the earth- ties of hope and love, sister and brotherhood." If you know me, you know little can outdo a great song by JT. But there's something really special about this collaboration between two a capella groups, The Maccabeats and Naturally 7. James Taylor has lovingly and publicly promoted it. I think Dr. King would be proud as well.
I had a great day today. The writing ideas weren't flowing, and to be honest they still aren't. It's okay though. This is the first day since I started this blog, that I struggled to find a post inside me. That being said, the weather was magnificent and we opened all the windows and the sliders. Gusty breezes rushed through the house bringing a freshness you just don't get from air conditioning. I read a couple of chapters in my book for next month's book club too. I did some laundry, went out to the Fresh Market for two beautiful pieces of fresh sashimi tuna for the dinner I wanted to make tonight, and then I went to yoga. This wasn't just any yoga class. It was a two hour Restorative Yoga session, and it was wonderful! Invited by my friend Helen, I knew almost instantly I wanted to go, and I'm glad I did. I can't remember a time I felt such stillness and calm in my body. It was a reminder to me that one of the things I affirmed for myself at the start of this blog, was to love thyself.
I'm tempted to write about the experience, but frankly I'm afraid it will take something away from it. All I can say is being unplugged, even without music, for a full two hours was peaceful. No talking, very little movement, and the release of negative energy while welcoming the light I needed into my day, made it truly restorative. I'm not going to write anymore about it. I'm going to let it be what it was. I am optamistic there is room now for creative inspiration where the negative energy is no more.
At least not for us. That's what my husband and I talked about over our sort of belated anniversary dinner out tonight. I expressed to him I felt a little disappointed, deflated the past few days because we didn't plan anything special for our anniversary. We celebrated 20 years of marriage this week and I felt like it should have been a bigger deal. How many people do you know anymore who have been married for 20 years? For the first time, no less. We talked about going away for the weekend, explored different ideas, and never made plans. We brought in take-out Chinese food after work, relaxed on the couch with some iPad games and a little TV, and went to bed. Like any other night. Okay, it was during the week, no big deal. We'd go out and do something special over the weekend. Maybe try a new restaurant, splurge on a fancier night out than usual. But no, we ended up eating sushi after trying and leaving one restaurant because there was an hour and a half wait- can you imagine? Seriously, no restaurant in Fort Myers (or anywhere?) is worth waiting that long.
So there we were, sitting quietly and waiting for our ginger salads. I told him how I was feeling. I wasn't blaming either one of us or anyone else, but I just felt a bit bummed we didn't do something, didn't celebrate in a bigger way. He told me I get more upset over stuff like that than he does. Believe it or not, it didn't upset me to hear him say that. It is probably true. Then I said maybe it wasn't such a big deal. "After all, it's not like it was hard." He smiled. "Right?" He agreed and we realized maybe we didn't make it such a big deal because there was never any doubt for us we would be sitting there, celebrating 20, 30, 50 anniversaries. It just isn't that hard for us to be married. I feel badly for those who may have once thought that and were disappointed. But I just know it is this way for us. If there is such a thing as soulmates, we are it. We do marriage well. It's not that hard. At least not for us.
This is one of my favorite pictures of us in recent years. St. Augustine, Florida. 2013
Yesterday I got to reminisce about my wedding day and marrying the love of my life. It was one of my most perfect days. Today, I'm feeling sad about a not so perfect day. My son had his heart broken today, for the first time (hopefully the last). He's had other girlfriends, but this one was different. It was his first high school sweetheart. He even went to homecoming with her. If you knew him well, you'd know that was a big deal. He's not into the school dance thing, not even a little. But this year he agreed to go. We went shopping, they coordinated, and the photos were just adorable.
This morning I got to work, settled in my office, and heard a text alert on my phone. [She] broke up with me. A simple one sentence text. I knew this was going to get painful. He really liked her. My heart sunk- not because she was perfect or because I though they'd get married (he's only 17), but because he's my son. When his heart hurts, so does mine. I closed my eyes and opened them again. I sent him a text back. I am so sorry. Did she say why? Are you okay?
His response made me want to cry. My heart started to race, it was like someone was breaking up with me. Everyone asks if you're okay when you get broken up with. Everyone always says they're okay. They're all lying. My poor baby. I wanted to pull him close and tell him it was okay, tell him there would be other girls. But I knew that was not what he needed to hear. Instead I validated his feelings as best I could...
I know. What you're saying is 100% true. Is there anything I can do for you? He's so sensitive and I wanted him to know it was okay to feel what he was feeling. I knew if he was home he'd be crying. He's never been afraid to cry, his dad taught him by example that men have feelings too and it's okay to feel. But he was at school. No way he was going to let out the tears. I wanted to tell him to go home, but I knew it wouldn't solve anything. Besides, he had a final to take (I'm sure that went well- eek). Did she give you a reason? Any kind of explanation? I wanted to make sure she didn't rip his guts out. To tell you the truth, I was impressed she waited to talk to him at school rather than just sending it in a text message like so many cowards do these days.
All she said was she she felt like her feelings weren't as strong as mine. There's nothing you can do. There's nothing I can do. She is two years younger than him. He is (was) her first boyfriend. I tried to explain to him she might not be ready for a serious relationship. I was thinking maybe her parents thought it was getting too serious. Either way, my son is a sensitive and pretty intense person. Whether it's a girl or friends, he's loyal and all in. He's caring and thoughtful and maybe it was too much for her. I have nothing bad to say about her. She's a sweet girl, but maybe not quite mature enough to handle the kind of relationship my son had to offer. I'm just glad she handled it maturely.
I talked it over with a friend, a colleague who is a counselor. She immediately responded with a sad and caring expression. She has a daughter the same age, and we often exchange stories and share parenting advice. She asked me if I had ever had my heart broken. I was taken back, because I had never given it any thought. But I realized I never had. I had a couple of teenage crushes that were never reciprocated. But that's not the same. I met my husband when we were teenagers and I've been with him since. My friend reminded me, the primary example my son has of a relationship is his parents who met young, fell in love, got married, and happily spent their lives together. Of course he's going to be intense about relationships, he has a beautiful example of what one should be. Surely I could sympathize with my son, and hurt for him in a way only a mom can, but I really don't know how he feels. The last text I sent was I am sorry. I know there is nothing I can say to make you feel better. But I can promise you this, the hurt will go away. I love you.
He came home after school and went to sleep. He was sleeping when I got home from work, and we have't talked since our text exchange this morning. He's still sleeping. I guess I feel the need to give him a hug from mom more than he needs it right now. This girl doesn't know what she just gave up. Really. Another girl will come up right behind her, and boy will she be grateful the last one wasn't ready for him. My boy is just like his dad, and whoever she is, she'll be one lucky girl.
Twenty years ago I rode home from the hair salon in jeans and a flannel shirt. I was twenty-two going on the rest of my life. My hair was styled in an up-do with tendrils, just the way my mom suggested. Looking back now, I wish I would have worn it down with my natural curls, so the photos would still look like me. But I was young, impressionable, and my mom knew which looks suited me so I took her advice. We walked into the townhouse, the home of my adolescence. The home I had moved from a few months prior when I graduated college. The entryway was walled with mirrors from ceiling to floor, and I stopped to look at myself. My make-up was not yet done, but I donned my veil pulled back over the white satin headband my mom had adorned with beads for my special day. It appeared no part of me was ready, except for my hair. But I was happy and calm, nothing like the magazine articles and well meaning stories from others. No jitters, no butterflies, just excitement. We were getting ready to drive over to the venue, and Mom stepped up to me and took both my hands. We looked in the mirror together and then turned to look each other in the eyes. We stood intimately close, face to face, and she gave my hands a gentle squeeze. She got serious for a moment, not emotional but businesslike and she said, This is it. If you've changed your mind, if you have any doubts, we'll call it off. No questions asked. I remember the moment more clearly than almost any other in my life. I looked her dead in the eyes and responded, Mom, I've never been more sure of anything else in my life. She pulled her lips in, choked back some tears, and hugged me tight. Then we were off and I got married.
Every time I get on my bike, I feel like kicking myself for not getting on it more often. I simply love biking. Today on my way home from work I decided to ditch my plan to go workout at the gym, and instead come home and ride my bike. And that's exactly what I did. Despite the overcast whiteness of a hazy and cool (not cold) winter evening, I thoroughly enjoyed my ride. Besides the fact I always feel better after I have exercised, biking comes with an added benefit. Rather than tune out everything at the gym by blasting music in my earbuds, when I bike, I unplug and become in tuned to everything. For safety, I have never worn earbuds while I ride my bike. This allows me to leave everything (including by phone) at home and ride free of noise. Instead, I am mindful of my thoughts and everything going on around me. I actually find myself writing in my head while I'm riding around. Can you imagine? Other than the shower, or carved out sacred writing time, there is no place or activity that allows me such solitude and oneness with my thoughts. It's funny, one of my friends posted something on FB today about the difference between aloneness and solitude, the first having negative sad connotation, the latter a "gift" we give to ourselves. My bike ride today was a gift of solitude and mindfulness.
Biking on Through
The wind is in my face
I am riding alone
Cheeks flushed
Eyes watering
I can feel my smile
I'm at my own pace
I am riding alone
Senses heightened
Legs pumping
I can feel my heart
The birds are chirping
and the trees are swaying
School is out and it is not yet dark
So the streets are sprinkled with people
On a cul de sac a mom sits in a chair
at the end of the driveway
watching her little ones play in the street
"Hi!" the little boy shouts like we are friends
"Hi!" I shout back as I ride away
watching the leaves skipping along
tiptoeing in the wind
barely touching the street
On the next block a man is walking his dog
They are moving briskly and he smiles
As I ride by I hear him say to the dog
"Good boy, you're a good boy."
In one garage I see two classic cars
One is a VW Beetle convertible
candy apple red with a black ragtop.
My husband would love it
In another garage I see a neighbor
I smile and wave like all friendly people
As I ride by I notice it wasn't my neighbor
It was a mannequin. Oh my!
Just as I round the corner,
A boy is walking his little sister home
He seems to be a good big brother
He is holding her hand
Down the street a ways
Three generations playing together
a giant bouncy ball and four dogs
It is a family circus!
Near my house a woman is jogging,
sort of- she's talking on the phone,
barely getting her feet off the ground
I am glad I left my phone behind.
The wind is in my face
I am riding alone
Cheeks flushed
Eyes watering
I can feel my smile
I'm at my own pace
I am riding alone
Senses heightened
Legs pumping
I can feel my heart
*Just because it goes so well and it's an all-time favorite:
The weather we've had the past few days in SW Florida has been gorgeous. Last night while we were walking the dog, my husband commented on how perfect the weather is, and said it reminded him of camping. Tonight as I walked the dog, I could smell someone burning a fire- another warm reminder of camping. While the rest of the country is huddled warm inside avoiding the cold this time of year, down here in Florida it's perfect camping weather! Cool sunny days and crisp cooler nights make perfect sleeping bag weather. I love camping this time of year. Then when everyone else is gearing up for summertime camping, in Florida we're heading to the beach or shutting ourselves in for plenty of air conditioning. It's just too hot for camping in the summer Florida heat.
We went camping as a family last month, for the first time in a couple of years. Admittedly, it was unseasonably warm, and I would have liked the weather to be a little more like it is right now. I love camping when it's a little bit cold outside. Nonetheless, we had a great time. Returning to our favorite spot, Fisheating Creek, I was comforted by the familiarity of the way the trees grow and the sun sets. As always, I took quite a few nature photos. Here are some of my favorites with haikus.
