Sometimes you just have to let go. You have to remind yourself more often that you can't be in control of everything, and it's okay. Let's face it, worrying about things doesn't help much. Sure, a healthy awareness of your surroundings and life situations is important for daily functioning and responsibility, but how does it help us, or anyone we care about, if we're staying awake at night with stress, or wandering about our day in a state of worry? It doesn't.
So why is it so hard to let go of what concerns us. To a certain degree, I suppose it's just human nature. Some would argue if our faith in G-d is strong enough, we can let go and know G-d will take care of us and provide. I don't buy it. I believe in G-d, my faith is not the issue here. Belief in G-d, in my opinion, does not mean believing all good things will happen. I suppose it means, no matter what happens, G-d will look out for us. But my intention here was not to talk about religion or G-d. It's about letting go.
Today, I am going to make an extra effort to release some worry about things not in my control.
I've never lived on my own. As a young child I lived with my mom, dad, and my sister. My parents split up when I was in 8th grade, so I lived with my mom and sister when I got into high school. I had roommates in college, and then I got engaged, graduated, and moved into an apartment with my husband. We've lived together ever since.
I know some people think you get stronger and learn more about survival when you have some time to live on your own. I imagine that is true for many people. But I think I've gained similar benefits from living with my husband. I've learned so many things from him and being with him, that I can now do on my own, that I might never have learned otherwise. Not to say there's no chance I would have learned these things from other people in other situations, but I think being with my husband is what has made me stronger, turned me into a survivor.
One of the first things he taught me was how to change a tire. We were teenagers still, and he couldn't believe I was on the road driving without knowing how to change my own tire. I shrugged my shoulders and flashed my Triple A card! I know changing a tire is not anything unique, but it represents the first in many lessons I've gotten from him. He keeps a garage full of things, for which I often give him a ration of crap, but he can MacGyver out of so many situations. He really amazes me sometimes.
Probably most notable, is how rarely he panics. Few situations seem catastrophic to him, and I think it's because he has the real-world problem solving and survival skills we're always wishing kids would develop in school. A great deal of his repetoire is likely from watching his dad who is also from the MacGyver breed. My husband would also tell you that much of it comes form being a Boy Scout back in his younger days. It just seems like he knows just enough about a lot of things.
My husband inspires me to try and solve my own problems, and when I do, I feel pretty darn proud of myself. I wrote about the Jeep fiasco in my first Jeep Chronicles post. What I failed to mention is that my husband was out of town overnight. I know there was a time in my life I would have been frozen in my tracks and cried. Poor me, what will I do now? I honestly can't say what I would have done if I knew he was home. But I have been working out this problem all weekend. From sopping up the water, to taking measures over the past couple of days to fan it and completely dry it out (right now it's sitting in my driveway with door propped open so it can get some sun), so I don't get mold or mildew.
He's home now, and I haven't even told him yet. I'm pretty proud of the fact that if I decided not to tell him, he probably wouldn't ever know. I did that good of a job. Sounds silly and nonsensical I suppose. But I truly think being with him is what empowers me to try and solve some of the problems in my life that might stereotypically be relegated to the guy in a relationship. I realize some people are forced to solve problems out of being alone. My mom took a plumbing class at the community high school, so she could learn the basics to avoid having to call a plumber for every little thing. She didn't have anyone to help her. And when she was younger, you can bet no one was encouraging girls or women to learn plumbing.
Other than my parents, no one empowers me more than my husband. He treats me like I'm super girl. He knows I can do anything I set my mind to. And he doesn't feel the need to swoop down and rescue me from everything (though he would if I asked). With his example and encouragement, and his garage filled with anything and everything, I can survive just about any fiasco my everyday life throws at me.
My friend Kathleen posted this article today, from Edutopia. It's about the need for recess in elementary school. Not a 20 minute, hurry up and get outside, run round and come back recess. The author, advocates for at least 45 but preferable a full 60 minutes of recess. I'll get to the reasons why in a minute, because I agree with her 100%. But I'd like to expound on a point she touched on in the beginning before she even outlined her three reasons.
The 15 or 20 minute recess is a logistical nightmare for the elementary school teacher. I know, because I did it. Let me say, I totally support the need for recess and subscribe to the notion that some is better than none. But the 15-20 minute recess, is not 15-20 minutes, and it is almost more hassle than it's worth. The trek to the playground, the trek back, takes at least 7-10 minutes combined. If you can do elementary math and you're following along, you realize we're back down to 5-10 minutes total of actual recess. Now add to that the need to drink water (we live in the oppressive and sometimes dangerous heat of Florida), the need to cool down when you come in, and that time outside takes more prep and recovery than the recess time itself. The author's three reasons, for providing an hour of recess time, with my added commentary are:
1. Creative Play:
The author explains that 15-20 minutes barely gives the kids enough time to figure out what they're going to play and what everyone's roles are, let alone time to actually play. Yes, yes, yes. But I would add to this, that we over structure and over supervise too. Teachers are being forced to because administrators and school districts are so scared of parent backlash... over regular everyday kids stuff (at least by my childhood standards). Adults are always standing by to break up kids' disagreements, protect against "bullies,"* help maintain a made-up standard of fairness. I'm not advocating for ignoring a situation which warrants adult intervention. However, when we jump in to their games to establish rules, we are not allowing them the learning opportunity to recognize and establish these norms on their own. It's called creative and imaginative play for a reason. As the author suggests, kids need time and space to make up their own games. They also need time and space to solve their own problems without an adult jumping to rescue them out of every difficult situation.
2. Social-Emotional Development:
The author shares that more and more children are having trouble with social interaction and reading cues. She notes that structured social skills lesson with adults facilitating role plays is limited, and kids need real-life practice during real experiences. As someone who has taught required social skills lessons at several schools, I could not agree more. The learning in those lessons pretty much stops when the lesson is over. It could be considered good practice for a student who really struggles with any kind of social interaction. It helps having an adult to help coax her into framed interactions. But the real learning happens when kids have impromptu interactions in authentic settings, where and when they can practice with genuine feedback. Sometimes the unfiltered feedback of kids around their age is most effective. No sugar coating, no over dramatizing negative comments, just kids being real kids. Adults don't need to yell out every time a kid is mean. The kids are pretty good at pointing it out on their own. Besides, everyone who interacts with kids in anyway, knows they are more receptive to feedback from each other than they are from adults. That's not to say turn your back and don't pay attention. But let them try to figure stuff out on their own. If you're paying attention you'll know when you need to jump in. None of this can happen inside 15 minutes. An adult is more likely to yank a kid out so the others can play before the time is up. Then, rather than learning to interact better with her peers, the student is stuck on the sidelines pouting and getting mad.
3. Physical Regulation
This one is so important. I'm not sure where the author is from, but she didn't address the weather. As I mentioned earlier, the weather here in Florida is a huge factor. Body temperature regulation and proper hydration all play into the recess schedule. Playground temperatures regularly sit in the 80s and 90s and before and after recess the kids are in the air conditioned buildings. The drastic temperature changes can really impact physical and cognitive functioning. But the author cites some research about short recess making kids more hyper. Imagine going to the gym for a 15 minute workout. Just as you're getting active and feeling pumped, it's time to go. Your adrenaline is up and your workout is over. A 15 minute recess can have the same impact on school children. Just as their bodies are active and they are physically ready to play, we bring them back in and ask them to sit down and concentrate. That's not easy. The author explains that an extended recess time would give the kids time to be active, regulate their bodies, and allow them to bring their activity level back down again. That cycle can't happen when there isn't enough time to experience each stage. This is why some teachers may find the mini recess worse than no recess at all.
Anyway you slice it, kids need more activity. They need to spend more time outside. I am not anti-technology. I don't believe that TV and video games cause ADHD. But I do believe that kids need a heavy dose of nature and the outdoors. I believe in life there is a balance. It is up to adults to teach children the benefits of moderation and to help them understand the balance. Our schools right now are not teaching balance. I don't blame the schools or any of the people in them. I blame bad policy and bureaucracy. There would be arguments there aren't enough hours in the day.
I would say add more time. The Teachers Union would say you can't add more hours to the work day unless you increase teachers' salaries. I would say so increase teachers' salaries; they're too low anyway. I would also say, if teachers saw the kind of schedule and school day they know is right for kids- the kind they've been advocating for- most of them would be onboard.
Or I would say kids will function better with more recess. Kids who move and interact and solve problems during recess, are probably more likely to increase concentration and motivation to do well in class. But what do I know? A mom and teacher of 18 years, what could I possibly know about kids?
In an upcoming post, I'm going to address how people need to be outside for completely unstructured undirected time as well.
*I put bullies in quotation marks to denote the overuse of the word- not because they don't exist, but because we have bastardized the meaning of the word to the point that kids and parents, and even teachers, don't use it correctly anymore. It undermines the attention needed to address true bullies, and their targets, in an appropriate manner.
It's no secret I love my new Jeep. I wrote about how and when and why I acquired it, and I figured why not share my escapades. No worries, it's not going to be a daily thing- just every now and then when something is noteworthy. Tonight was noteworthy.
As I clamor to have the rainy season end and the fall to kick in, I've been in the get-to-know-you phase with my Jeep. For instance, I have to get used to sitting closer than I used to in the Liberty. It is stick shift, and the seat is higher. Combine that with my short legs, and it makes for cozying up to the steering wheel a bit. I'm not thrilled about this, but it's a worthy sacrifice. My shortness also means it takes a little extra effort to heave myself up into the seat. The Jeep didn't come with side bars, but this is easily fixed because my husband ordered a set to be arriving any day now. He'll put them on and problem solved. I'm also getting to know the various panels of the soft top. There are three pieces that zip off and then the top is similar to a car convertible. It's easy to get off, but takes a little practice to get back on. Seems like no big deal, but when you live in Florida and it can rain at the drop of a hat, you need to be prepared to reassemble anywhere you are, not just in your garage or driveway. I'm working on that too.
Tonight I had a rare night out with my friend. A leisurely dinner at Carrabas with a glass of sangria and I was feeling relaxed. We laughed a lot, as we always do, and because I don't drink very often, I decided to hop in her truck to go over to the movies and we left the Jeep parked by the restaurant. Seems harmless, right? Well, August in Florida means the sky cracked open during the movie and it appeared to have rained quite a down pouring during the movie. We hopped back in my friend's truck and she dropped me at the Jeep. It was dark, and drizzling, so I hopped up in a rush and started the engine. There was already someone waiting for my parking spot, so knowing something wasn't quite right, I pulled out anyway. And by the time I got to the end of the parking aisle, I knew exactly what the something was.
My entire rear-end and the backs of my legs were totally soaked wet through my jeans. At the stop sign I dropped my clutch foot to the floor, only to splash down in a big puddle of water. I panicked. I pulled over and started feeling the inside of the roof panel, and the side panels on the door near the zippers. I was relieved but confused. There was no water at all on the ceiling or in the panels. Relief was for the assurance there was no leak, the confusion was over how the hell the floor of my Jeep was filled with water. I felt all around me and the passenger seat and nothing else was wet. The water was isolated. And then I took a closer look in the door frame. Mystery solved. The window was cracked open, barely enough to see, but just enough to provide flow from the rain outside, in. There was no way I could do anything until I got home, so I remained wet, uncomfortable, and annoyed. Did I leave the window open? Did the window slip down into the door? Or maybe on my way out at the restaurant, I knocked into the window- it's a crank window, not an automatic one.
Actually, none of that mattered. I was wearing sandals and my soles were sitting in water. I spent the rest of the drive home planning how I would dry it up. Jeeps are pretty rugged and resilient. The fabrics inside are pretty durable, but I don't want my new Jeep to stink in the morning. I pulled into the garage and ran and got some towels. I soaked up the puddle and blotted as much water as I could out of the carpet, and the seat, which I had largely sopped up with my clothes during the drive. Thankfully, my husband has a garage full of everything. I set up his shop fan inside the Jeep, ran the cord through the passenger side door to an outlet, left the window half open, and I'm running the fan all night. Hopefully, it will all be dried out and odor free tomorrow.
Jeep fiasco #1 is in the books. Let's hope it's the only one, or at least the last one for a long while. Lesson learned, always make sure the windows are all the way up, especially until rainy season is over!
Here's an idea... But I didn't even have the top off mine at the time!
This is kind of a strange post. This morning on FB, one of the writing pages I follow posted this:
I'm not really going to respond directly to the prompt, but it did bring to my mind a character on a show I've been watching lately. Have you ever seen the show Shameless? It's a Showtime original series that started back in 2011. My husband and I only recently discovered it on Netflix.On billing, it stars William H. Macy, who just like in most of his parts, is brilliant in this. But the real stars are the actors who play the family and supporting cast of Frank Gallagher, Macy's character. It's a complex group. Frank is a drunk whose wife left him years prior, with six children. Fiona, who is 21 and the oldest, has pretty much taken on the mom role for the rest of her siblings who range from toddler to junior in high school when the series begins. Other than to say how wonderful it is to watch these kids pull together at any cost to support each other in their chaotic and dysfunctional life, I won't get into all the specifics. I recommend you check the show out. Just keep in mind, the show originated on Showtime and there is some very "adult content."
Back to the prompt posted this morning. I've found while watching the show, I'm quite intrigued by the second oldest child of the Gallagher family. Lip, short for Phillip, is a brilliant, not particularly attractive (not ugly either) junior in high school, played by Jeremy Allen White. He's much younger than I am, but even if he wasn't, I don't think I'd be attracted to him. I do however, think I'd enjoy hanging out with him. I think what I love most about him is he's incredibly smart and he's got chutzpah. He's tough enough, likely due to his shit parenting (or lack thereof), but he has a soft side too. And he really doesn't give a shit about impressing anyone, or meeting some societal expectation. He's got a bit of a chip on his shoulder, likely caused from abandonment by his mom and the deadbeat drunkeness of his dad.
He's obviously a South Side Chicago street kid, but in one episode we learn he takes the SATs for cash to help support the family, but he tells a college big wig, "no thanks" when he offers him a chance to work with him for AP credit. He smokes cigarettes and pot, drinks beer, and sleeps around, and in one episode he refers to himself as a slut. One thing is for sure though, Lip knows he's smart and so do his brothers and sisters. He steals to help feed his family and he gives up his few pocket bucks to send his little brother on a field trip. And watch the show to see what happens when his brother tells him a secret, or when his mother shows up for one episode. Watch what happens when Frank starts acting like a real dad in order to earn some money in a research study, but Lip knows it won't last. Watch when his little brother needs a parent to show up at school, or when Frank owes someone money and their toddler brother is taken as collateral. See how Lip tells Fiona she's done enough, and it's ok to run off with her boyfriend, or what happens when he thinks he's falling in love with his "friend" with benefits. You just can't help but love this guy, dysfunction and all.
We just started season 2 and I'm thrilled there are 6 and it's still running. It's picked up some Emmys too. The Gallaghers are a crazy, downright Shameless bunch, but they are endearing because of how hard they work as a family to keep themselves together. I can't wait to see what they're up to next.
I'm not sure how perfect food pairings come about. How do chefs and other culinary geniuses just know when things go together? I guess that's what makes them chefs and me a teacher. Tonight I ate an absolutely delicious bite-sized version of one of the best pairings, chocolate and peanut butter. This one was a dark chocolate and organic peanut butter cup from Justin's. It was so good, it just melted in my mouth. I'm reminded of the old Reese's commercial. You know the one. The accidental sticking of a piece of chocolate in the peanut butter, or is it the peanut butter bumping into the chocolate. Here, you decide...
Did you catch those faces? Pop culture fans will recognize Robby Benson (Beauty and the Beast) and Donny Most (Happy Days), but clearly the two recognized the delicious marriage of chocolate and peanut butter. Did you know Harry Burnett Reese not only invented the delicious confection, but he is credited as the first to combine chocolate and peanut butter? You can read his story here.
So chocolate and peanut butter, peas and carrots (less than thrilling taste combination if you ask me, but love the color combination), what other pairings are your favorites? Tomatoes and mozzarella cheese has got to be up there. How about onions and garlic? Apples and cinnamon, bacon and eggs, the combinations are endless. But hands down, my two favorites are dark chocolate and peanut butter, and tomatoes and mozzarella cheese. Share your favorites.
My previous post is about the power a song can have to bring you through a difficult time, to bring you hope and strength, to just bring you back to a certain moment in time. Sometimes the love we have for a song is because we love the sound, or we can relate to the lyrics. Sometimes it brings us to a certain place and time. It can be any combination of or all of these things.
Last night, my friends and I went to the Dixie Chicks concert in West Palm Beach. It was phenomenal. Great voices, outstanding musicianship, and great songs. I love everything about the Dixie Chicks, their talent and their moxie. One song in particular has the power to bring me back to a specific place and time...
It's my car, on the road, in the year 2005. I had only recently become a fan of country music. Dixie Chicks, Allan Jackson, and a few others. I had decided earlier that year I was going to leave my job as a principal. I wasn't happy at my job, at least in certain ways. Our son was finishing up first grade, and we wanted to buy a family home. We just didn't feel settled. It was time for a change. That spring, I gave up my position and set out to find something new. It was the only time in my life I quit a job before I had a new one lined up. But it just felt right.
I started looking for something different. I wanted to get back to working with at-risk youth, and I wanted to find a program or a place where there was an understanding and appreciation for experiential education and the outdoors. I didn't realize it at the time, but there was something brewing inside me. Ultimately, it would lead me to start my doctoral studies in curriculum. I found the perfect place, and boom! I took a job at an Eckerd Youth Alternatives program. Camp E-Tu-Makee, was a residential wilderness camp for adjudicated boys, with a full-time education component. I was hired to be their Education Coordinator. Imagine a school principal within a residential program, and that's pretty much what I did.
Everyone, or at least a lot of people, thought I was nuts. You're going to work with criminals? Aren't you scared? They must be paying you a lot of money for you to take that job. These were some of the comments and questions presented to me as people learned of my plans. In my head, all I could think is, this is exactly what I want to be doing. Sure I was nervous, but I was excited.
When I started the position, we hadn't yet moved to SW Florida. The camp was wedged between the city of Clewiston and the Seminole Indian Reservation. At the time, our home in Hollywood was about two hours away. I would have to endure the commute for about two months before we moved. It was a long scenic drive, down Alligator Alley to Snake Road that wound through the reservation. I had to be at work at 8:00, so I would do the drive during sunrise. It was absolutely magnificent. When I rolled down the windows in my car, I could smell and hear the plant and wildlife. It's impossible to describe, but it was a reminder to me I was right where I wanted to be. It was a pivotal time in my life. I moved away (though not far) from both my parents, all of my friends, and my entire professional circle. It was the first time I felt myself taking a risk and going with my gut. My husband and I were excited for the move.
I remember slipping the Dixie Chicks CD in almost every morning. Wide Open Spaces was not a new album, but somehow I had newly discovered it. I belted out the lyrics to the title track, with tears in my eyes and joy in my heart. I felt like a grown-up in control of my own destiny, and the world felt wide open for the first time. It marked the first time I made a decision that no one was expecting. I broke free of what everyone thought I would do, and did something my inner spirit was telling me was right. My husband and I talked it over for months, we hashed it all out and as always he supported me. Other people wondered what the heck we were doing, but I feel like that decision opened the gateway to the rest of our lives. I only worked at E-Tu-Makee for a little over a year, but it changed my life in so many ways. I learned so much about myself as a human being and an educator. I met students who would forever impact my pedagogy, and I worked with some incredible and compassionate people. "Wide Open Spaces" will always bring me back to that time. It was the anthem to the rest of my life.
My life has changed a lot over the years. I suppose everyone's does. I think though, if you peered back to the years of my young childhood and look where I am now, the results might be unexpected. I was a second generation Long Islander. My dad was raised in the same town I was. He and my mom, who was from Massachusetts, married and settled down not too far from where my dad grew up. In many ways, my childhood might be considered stereotypical Long Island. My parents did ok, we lived in a really nice house in a pretty wealthy town. Schools were excellent and students were highly competitive, not just in academics but in fashion and social status. Without sounding melodramatic, it was not uncommon for kids to experience many of the things you've seen in movies like Sixteen Candles, Clueless, or Mean Girls.
Living in small town Long Island wasn't all bad. It was a great town with a main street, several really nice parks, restaurants and shops, and as I said before, very good schools. But it was definitely life in a bubble, a bubble you really didn't know you were in until you were no longer there. When I was about 13-years-old, my parents got divorced and my mom, my sister, and I moved to Florida. I remember the road trip like it was yesterday. My mom had an 80-something red, Nissan Sentra. Most of our world possessions and all our furniture had been packed up and taken by a moving company. We had several days' luggage and each other. There was a sadness about leaving a life we once lived, but also an exciting sense of adventure as we hit the road to start our new life.
My sister and I have reminisced about this trip a few times, and what always stands out to us was the music. It was 1987 and Whitney Houston, U2, and George Michael were dominating the pop charts. Think "I Wanna Dance with Somebody," "I Still Haven't Found What I'm Looking For," and "I Want Your Sex."The three of us sang our hearts out from New York to Florida. Our parents were always cool into music, and they listened to all the same stuff we did. Looking back, I think it was singing that kept us from crying on that trip. It was a very difficult time. One song stands out in particular though. It was a bit like a theme song for the long drive to our new life. Steve Winwood's, "Back in the High Life" would come on and Mom would look to the two of us and sing with tears in her eyes. It was her promise to us. A promise that life would feel normal again one day soon. She was right, and this song will forever remind me of that time with my mom and my sister, and how much that trip and the experience brought us together. It's amazing how a song can bring you hope and courage at a time when you need it. Later it comes to define that time in your life, and you're reminded every time you hear it.
It's funny how much we struggle to cut down on foods that are fattening or that are categorized as "bad for you." Admittedly, it's hard to eliminate or even cut down on foods we really enjoy just because they'll result in packing on a few extra pounds. It's as if being overweight isn't a health risk, though we know for many people it certainly can be. But go to the doctor for a specific health concern, and she or he restricts your diet as part of the treatment, you're more likely to heed the warning. At least, I know I am.
Such has been the case with my recent journey into allergy treatment. I've suffered from pretty bad allergies for most of my life. They've changed over the years, and the severity of my symptoms has had peaks and valleys. But this summer the suffering hit new heights in new ways. Previously I had horrible bouts with hives and rashes (mostly as a kid), and incessant sneezing attacks and sinus infections (mostly in adolescence and young adulthood). I have never been completely free of any of the symptoms, but this summer my eyes became the target of these allergic reactions. Dark brownish and purple circles around and under my eyes, red and irritated lids inside and out, and burning, painful itching. I'm talking the kind of itch that made me want to scratch my own eyes out. I probably almost did a couple of times. No eye make up, looking like death, I felt awful and everyone knew it. They told me. They looked at me with pity.
I decided it was time to bite the bullet and consult with an allergist for the third time in my life. I was hopeful but skeptical. I needed help, and no treatments had freed me of symptoms before. There was a whole slew of things he asked me to do and not do. The hardest one on the list: Cut out dairy. All of it. Completely. At first it didn't seem like a big deal. I'm not a milk drinker and I quit eating yogurt about a year ago when I recognized it exacerbated my allergies (figured that one out on my own). Ice cream? Frozen yogurt? A little bit of a bummer, but not that difficult to avoid. Cream cheese? Don't really like it. Sour cream? I like it, a lot. But it didn't seem like a big deal. The one food, the hardest to avoid, was cheese. I love cheese. Think about it. No cheese and crackers, no mac and cheese, no pizza, and Mexican food without cheese? It's been rough. I also can't eat milk chocolate (I prefer dark anyway) and food baked from batters made with milk. But two months in, and I'm doing ok. I figure maybe I'll drop a few pounds from cutting out my favorite food group- the cheese group. Now that the testing is done, the doctor said to avoid liquid and cream dairy at all costs, and the rest as much as possible. But he assured me an occasional piece of pizza or two would be ok. Then he dropped the next bomb. Among about 40-50 (that's not an exaggeration) other things, I am highly allergic to mold. Not a surprise at all. I was pretty sure I knew this it already. But what followed was an explanation of how to avoid it while I was treated for it with the shots. Clean the bathrooms and kitchens really well, use Lysol, keep the bedroom doors shut. None of this was surprising, in fact much of it was downright obvious. But then... "Here is a list of foods associated with mold allergies." Wait, what? More foods I can't eat? This time I was surprised. Cheese was still off limits. Besides the dairy, molds are used to make cheeses. And I probably could have seen mushrooms coming. But wait until you hear this list...
beer and wine
vinegars and foods containing vinegar
pickles and pickled foods (including sauerkraut)
soy sauce
dried fruits
smoked meats
soured breads (think sour dough)
sour cream
One of my favorite, seemingly healthy salads? Sliced cucumbers with rice wine vinegar and soy sauce. Can you believe it? My favorite healthy, low calorie lunch is poisoning me! Okay, that's an exaggeration, but it could be contributing to my allergies. Same with the mushrooms which are my favorite pizza topping. I look at this list, and I can't believe how this list represents so many foods I like. Sour dough toasted with cheese? Yum. My favorite sub from Publix? Boars Head mesquite turkey. Trail mix with dried cranberries and apricots, another favorite TV snack.
It's been a difficult couple of months, and I'm sure the challenge will continue. But it's amazing when it's not about losing weight or dieting, and it's more about feeling better and staying healthy, changing what you eat really isn't that hard.
Today it's all about teachers. Forget the conversation a bunch of us had a few weeks ago, when we challenged each other to name all our teachers, and I could do it (with the exception of some of my middle school teachers- traumatic time in my life). I know it's easy to say I am biased, because I am one, but teachers really do rock. Some of the most amazing people I have ever met in my life are teachers. And not to detract from untraditional forms of teaching, but I'm talking about real teachers. Teachers who have given their lives and careers, and their everyday to teaching.
It started at my own school today. I walked around (okay, maybe ran around) my building as I often do, and I was struck by the sound. It was the sound of learning. Sound of learning? You're thinking. Let me assure you, there is a sound. And I work in a school for at-promise girls. Admittedly, this means we often deal with struggling learners, apathetic students, less than ideal classroom circumstances. But despite what you might think, it is not the absence of sound that tickled me today. It is not silence. It's the sound students and teachers make when they are engaging in an interactive learning exchange. There's chatter and giggles, and inquisitiveness and discussion. The sounds are accompanied by a quiet undertone in the hallways because students are in their rooms engaged, and not trying to escape the classrooms. It was truly wonderful, and the sign of dedicated, caring, and skilled teachers. And these teachers stick around through the hard days and the difficult classes, because they know at anytime there could be a day like this right around the corner!
A little later I got a text message from my son. It was a Facebook link, so I was a bit skeptical of how he was spending his time this afternoon. Then, I opened it. He, his teacher, and his class were featured in a school district video about the Journeyman Networking course he's in. As proud as was to hear him represent the group, I realize dhow articulate he is about his field of interest. Granted, some of that is self-directed out-of-school research and learning he does on his own, but a lot of it is from the fantastic teachers he has at his school. Sometimes looked down upon by people in the area because of the location (it's not far from the Fort Myers night club shooting that made national news this summer), the school is widely under-recognized and under appreciated for the outstanding programming and dedicated and professional teachers who work there.
There is no shortage of great teachers at Dunbar High School, but the technology teachers my son has had in his four years are over the top fantastic. One of them has the skills, knowledge, and credentials to work directly for Microsoft, but he chooses instead to teach high school kids about the world of technology. I don't know for sure, but I'd bet almost anything he'd make a lot more money working for Bill Gates. And the other is not only a phenomenal and relatable teacher, he is an active duty reservist for the U.S. Air Force. The principal, who is also fantastic, supports this teacher's military career and provides a sub when he is called away on military duty. The teachers are phenomenal at what they do. They truly are all about the kids, and they are solid role models for the kids they serve.
As a teacher, you always know a lot of great teachers- people you've worked with, people who become your friends. But when you recognize your own kid's teachers are wonderful, that just warms your mom-teacher heart. Today, I am celebrating teachers- not because it's a day on the calendar someone says I should- just because there are so many great ones out there. This morning I saw a post on a former teammate's Facebook page. A parent of two of her former students posted a thank you to her. She attributed the success her daughters are having in high school, at least in part, to the time they spent with her in 4th and 5th grade. I wish more parents would do this. I know a lot of them think it and tell their friends, but it can have high impact on a teacher, especially on a day or at a time they might need to hear it most.
Invitation, from the word invite. When we extend an invitation, we are asking someone to do something or to go somewhere. But invitations aren't what they used to be.
I remember the first birthday party we had for my son after moving to SW Florida. He was in 2nd grade, and we had been in our new home for less than 3 months. We had a gigantic backyard in a wooded area with a canal, and we decided to have the party at our home so the kids could run around and play. We themed it and all, with decorations and snacks. In good form, I am a teacher and he was new to the school, we gave invitations to his entire class and we invited some of his good friends from the east coast as well. We were blown away at the result. Very few people responded to the invitation. It was like RSVP, what's that? We were a little concerned we wouldn't have enough kids to even call it a party. A couple of kids from school actually told Jacob they'd be there and only one of those few showed up. Then half a dozen kids who didn't respond did come. What's up with that? Maybe it's the RSVP that has changed, not the invitation.
But invitations with adults are a problem too. Ever heard of the "open invitation?" This is when people tell you their house is your house, or tell you "anytime you're out this way, please come stay with us." I'm not saying the intention is bad, but if you want me to come visit, if you truly want to spend time with me, invite me. Call me up or shoot me an email and say, "Hey, what are you doing next weekend? Why don't you guys come and visit?" Like, put stuff on the calendar and make a commitment. It's awkward calling you and saying, "Hey, what are you doing next weekend? Can we come invade your space and stay with you?" It's just not good etiquette, even if an "open invitation" has been extended. Open invitations sound more like, "I guess, if you're in the area, you could stay with me."
The open invitation feels to me a little lazy and disingenuous. I don't want to make plans to get together, but if you call me when you think you might come, I'll see if I can squeeze you in. I know some people really intend for you to feel welcome anytime, but how many people really take others up on their open invitations? I've been given open invitations to visit people all over- to go on their boats, stay in their houses, borrow stuff. I think it's a little awkward. But that's me.
If I want to eat dinner with you, take a vacation with you, go to the park or just for a ride, expect an invitation. I'm. It saying it will come in the mail, lettered in calligraphy. It might be a text, or a phone call, even a FB message. But I will ask you. Here's one now...
I invite you to submit comments, I'm curious what others think.
Feeling like kids again! My husband and I were giddy with delight driving away in our new (used) Jeep! We had tons of things to do- grocery shopping, finalizing my syllabus for fall semester, laundry- but it seemed appropriate to let it all wait and take the jeep for a spin. So instead we went out to lunch. We were celebrating!
We've been talking about getting a Wrangler for months. A weekend car if you will. Our son is graduating this year, and we have no small children. The Wrangler was just the vehicle to compliment our love for the outdoors and sense of adventure. However, we weren't in the market for a new car, at least not until a recent set of circumstances occurred.
Off we went Saturday, shopping from the Internet to Naples. We got poured on, bitten up by bugs, and sweat down to our underwear. But we did our duty. Started in one spot, and checked out everything from major dealers to used car lots. We knew we wouldn't buy new. We started the day at Galeana where we bought and have always serviced our Jeep Liberty, and by the time we called it quits that evening, we knew we'd be back there in the morning. That's happened to us a few times. Shop cars all day, only to end up at the first dealer we visited at the start.
When all was said and done, we drove away at around lunch time in our Jeep. My husband and I were smiling from ear to ear. I never felt this way about any new car I'd gotten, not even my first one (it was a beater!). Our life together has been quite an adventure. We've done a lot of things together we may never had done individually- like our recent zip lining adventure for one! It sounds silly, but this Jeep felt like the symbol of even more to come. Through our giggles, we chatted, recognizing we are getting to a new phase in our life together. Our son is graduating this year, and we are going to be empty nesters. We'll miss him terribly, but we know he'll never stray too far.
In the meantime, it'll be back to just the two of us, the way it was 18 years ago. Only now we're a lot older, and quite a bit wiser. We can go where we want, eat what we want, and drive there with the fresh air blowing through our hair!
It's an important part of growing up, learning to deal with disappointment. Friends will let you down, you'll make some bad decisions, and things you can't control may lead to outcomes that are disappointing. It's just part of life. My son is painfully learning this lesson right now. Part of me, the warm nurturing momma in me, feels badly for him. The conscientious, assertive momma in me, wants to tell him to suck it up. It's all a part of life, and if you don't experience disappointment, a) you don't learn and b) the great stuff wouldn't feel as great.
Last week he got in a car accident. I wrote about it in a previous post, but his pick-up truck was totaled. While we were celebrating how lucky he was to walk away with no harm, we waited around to see what the insurance company would say about his truck. We expected them to total it, and crossed our fingers that the payout would be decent and our rates wouldn't skyrocket. Though we don't know about the latter, we did get a check for a bit more than we were expecting. That left two options. We could buy him (really us, because it was our truck) a used car outright for the cash, or give him our used vehicle and use the cash for a down payment on a new vehicle for us.
He got excited and started searching for cars. The pick-up became his by default because we had already had it, but he made it clear he would some day like a car instead. He was banking on that being now. We went back and forth, my husband and I, trying to decide the right thing to do. We didn't want to "reward" our son for having an accident, but we weren't chomping at the bit to have a car payment either. It was going to be a difficult decision.
We spent some time shopping on line and then our whole day Saturday searching. There just wasn't anything we felt good about buying our son for the amount we had. We had a used car, with a single owner (us) with a solid history of no accidents and regular maintenance. Why would we buy someone else's? We came home explaining this to our son, that we decided we'd probably give him ours and buy another, probably used but newer used. Boy was he bummed. My husband and I were a little ticked because we felt like he was being a brat. We were not in the market for a new car, but he created the situation with his accident. We are not harping on the accident or spreading any guilt about what happened, but we sure as heck weren't going to let him puppy dog us and mope around. He's lucky he has a car at all. We both had to buy our first cars.
A series of unfortunate events led me to a few class periods of delight. This week, some photos from a few years ago popped up in my FB feed. The photos were from the first week of school during the last year I taught 4th grade. My students were standing all around their desks, and there were papers and stickers, and other craft supplies all around the room. They were decorating their first ever writer's notebooks. It was a warm reminder of my most favorite activity with students during the first week of school each year.
**
About three weeks before the end of summer, the English teacher at my school (I say the, because we only have one teacher per core content area.), told me she was taking a job at another school. It wasn't a complete surprise. She had good reason and we had been dialoguing about her future goals, so I knew it was coming eventually. Fortunately, I found a teacher who I think will be a great replacement. But when you work with DOE and DJJ, background screenings take what seems like forever. I was not able to get her approved for hire in time for the first day of the new semester.
**
I was able to secure one of our substitutes to cover the English classes until the new teacher came on board. She's worked at our center all summer, is great with the girls, and perfectly capable of teaching content in any subject area. The only problem is she's not a certified teacher, nor did she study education. Her degree is in psychology. That means I had to do the lesson plans.
**
We weren't sure if the new teacher would be approved, hired, and trained in time for the second week of school or not, and the first week was only three days, so I decided to use the three days strategically. I was hoping by the first full week, my new English teacher would be ready to go. (It's a moot point now, but she will be training the first full week, and will take her classes on the week following.) How would I use the three days productively, but not trying to inauthentically start the new year in a way that the new teacher would have to undo or redo any processes or procedures?
I decided the first two days, the students would all be given a baseline writing assessment. Sounds kind of like a buzz kill for the "first day," but understand we are a year-round school. Our girls had the previous Friday, and Monday and Tuesday of this week as their break. Coming to school is pretty routine for them. It's not like a traditional school where they didn't know who their teachers would be. They got a new schedule and a mix-up of some of their classmates from the summer semester. But that's about all the change they need. I figured, why ruin the fun, get-to-know-you and let's get to the academic plan for the new teacher? We'd handle the informal writing assessment and then she'd have some fresh and current writing from her students, to get to know where they are and to guide her instruction.
That left Friday for something fun. I knew they'd need something more creative on Friday, just by virtue of it being a Friday, and because they had worked on an assessment for two days. That's when the FB memory came to mind. I had just seen it a day or two prior and it was just the thing I needed- two purposes in one. First, it would provide that fun activity. Second, it would allow me to touch each class with my goal for them all to become a community of writers!
I put together a simple lesson plan, secured enough composition books- one for each girl in our school, and purchased a whole bunch of fun papers and stickers from the craft store. I knew the previous teacher had left behind a whole drawer full of magazines for cut-outs as well. Here was the plan:
Each girl got a book. The teacher (either me or the sub, depending on which period it was) read aloud an excerpt from the Ralph Fletcher book A Writer's Notebook: Unlocking the Writer Within You. I love the chapter I chose, and it happens to be the first chapter: What Is a Writer's Notebook Anyway The chapter ends with an important note about making the writer's notebook your own. Fletcher also tells them it's not a diary and it's not a book for assignments from your teachers. It's yours to write whatever you want. "Huh?" they seemed to say with their inquisitive faces.
After the read aloud, I explained they would have about two thirds of the class period to decorate the front covers however they wanted, using the craft supplies provided. I told them I would give them one assignment for the first page, and then after that we would never tell them again what to write in them. Again, "Huh?" but this time they asked out loud. "What are we supposed to write in it?" one girl asked. I told them they could write anything they wanted whenever they wanted. They could jot down favorite quotes or song lyrics, write stories either of things that happened or made up. I told them they could even glue photos and other items in the book if they wanted. They seemed utterly amazed. Clearly they hadn't had an experience like this before. I told them they would be encouraged to take them home and carry them around, and write whenever the mood hit them.
The final task in the lesson was to create a heart map on the first page. You can look up lessons for a heart map. But to summarize briefly, you draw a giant heart and put the most important people and things in your life in the middle, and continue to add other things you love all around it. I told the girls it can be used as inspiration when they want to write or need ideas. It helps to remember the important people and things in your life, and when you open your notebook and have it all in front of you, the ideas and the stories start to flow.
The girls had fun decorating their notebooks. I look forward to seeing them around school. I hope they use and enjoy them and write! Fletcher says a writer's notebook is a good way to live "a writing kind of life."
I've been teaching and working in K-12 schools for about 18 years now. About seven years ago, I started teaching as an adjunct at the local state university. Over the past couple of years, I have realized the teaching assignments are not all that different. Yes, college students are a bit older (sometimes a lot older), and yes, they are paying for their school, but it's not as different as you might think. Much of what I teach in K-12 is useful for teaching college, and I think that's what makes me a good college instructor.
Anyone who has gone to college, from a local community or state college to a high profile university, has had the experience of a less than stellar professor. You know the ones I'm talking about. Often referred to as brilliant or so knowledgeable in their field, these people are not necessarily great at teaching their expertise to others. Stated simply, they are not teachers. It's just another way society at large, and disappointingly, the academic community, undermines the knowledge, training, and skill of educators.
That's not to say there aren't great college level instructors who haven't been teachers by trade. But let's face it, many of them in various fields spend the later half of their careers teaching college with little to no experience teaching. Unless it's specific to their fields, I would venture to say they also have little knowledge or experience with human development, learning theory, or curriculum. But, no biggie. They're researched and published in their own fields so they must be able to teach it to others. Fortunately, sometimes, maybe even a lot of times, it's true.
However, last year I was asked to teach in the college of undergraduate studies. Previously, I had only taught in the college of education. That was natural, as I was an educator teaching future educators. In the college of undergraduate studies I was teaching a course in the area of interdisciplinary studies. It's an area the university designed specifically to have instructors from all different colleges on campus teach using a core syllabus and reading list. The instructor selects two of the three texts and is free to put their own spin on the course, within the set guidelines. I prepared myself, and I was off and running.
I'm a teacher. That's what I do. So perhaps I know no other way than to just teach. I used a lot of the same methods and strategies I always use to teach, and just tailored them to a different audience. I used collaborative in class activities. I found outside media of interest that was related to the course content. I spoke of my interest and devotion to the content. And of course, I brought writing into the course- though much of it was required by the course anyway.
What I found from student feedback at the end of the course, was they identified the "teachery" aspects to the course as the things they liked and that helped them learn. They loved the way I didn't lecture. They enjoyed developing relationships with their classmates through partner and group work in class. Most of them felt I helped make the course content relevant to their various fields of study (one of the course objectives). They loved the interaction we all had with each other. They felt I was invested in their success and that I was available to them. I sat on all the feedback for awhile, and it seemed so matter of fact. I'm a teacher and that's what I do. And I'll do it again. Semester starts next week, and I can't wait.
I know this is going to sound strange, but there's something extremely satisfying about high pressure situations. I'm not talking about life threatening scary stuff. I'll leave that to the emergency first responders. I'm referring more to high pressure projects and time sensitive tasks. You think I'm nuts right? Maybe so, but hear me out.
People intentionally engage in challenging tasks all the time. Olympic athletes train all their lives for what comes down to a few minutes of high pressure. Lawyers prepare for weeks for a few life-changing hours (not their own, but still). The examples are endless. Why do we choose to put ourselves through it? There are probably as many answers as there are people.
But experiencing it- racing against the clock, trying to make things happen- it can be quite satisfying. I even find the chaos and stress a bit enjoyable on some level, knowing how terrific I'm going to feel when I come through the other side. I guess that's the key to all of this. You have to feel confident you will accomplish what you're working on in order to feel this way. And for me, well I believe I can do just about anything if I really want to!
It's kind of like working on a puzzle (which I love by the way), or finding your way through a maze. You know it's going to rock your world when you solve it or make it to the end. And if life is really about enjoying the journey, there's something about feeling the challenge along the way to something complicated. It's like a really big build up of tension just to release it.
I've got to admit it. There's something satisfying about feeling under the gun.
I've been inspired by the Olympics this year more than I have in years, since I was a young gymnast watching Mary Lou Retton. I've watched bits and pieces of gymnastics and diving over the years, but this year has been different. I've been watching into the evening every day since it started. I have to peel myself away to get to bed at night. Tonight, a brief poem in honor of these amazing athletes.
Olympian
Flawless physique
exceptional skill
unmatched athleticism
dedication
commitment
strength
drive
confidence
the heart of an Olympian
is a heart of gold
I wish, I hope my students are watching the Olympics. There is so much girl power going on in Rio right now it's setting the world on fire! I have been watching for the past two days and I am so proud of all the athletes, but I can't help but think of the role models these young women athletes are for girls all over the world.
Did you know the first medal of the Olympics was won by a 19-year-old American girl? Ginny Thrasher (how cool is that name for an Olympian?) is a shooter who pulled what was considered to be an upset over the shooter from China. She won gold in the 10 meter air rifle and set a new record.
Dana Vollmer, who won the bronze medal in the 100 meter butterfly, is the first American woman to medal in the Olympics after having a baby. She has a baby not even a year old.
Ibtihaj Muhammad is the first Muslim to compete on Team USA wearing a hijab. She wanted to play sports as a kid and she chose fencing because it was one of the few she could play without compromising her cultural beliefs. I hope she wins!
Katie Ledecky, one of the youngest Olympians on Team USA won her 400 freestyle swim today, taking first place and breaking the olympic record, and her own world record- twice! First she took the record in the qualifying round and then broke it in the finals where she took gold by a landslide!
And let's not forget the Team USA women's gymnastics team. They are so above and beyond the rest of the world in talent, that they're a shoe in for the team medal. Ally Reisman is the reigning all around champion and Simone Biles, a 4'8" dynamo is in first place for the individual all around. She was born to a drug addict mom and she and her sister were adopted by and raised by her grandparents. She is arguably the best ever in the sport of gymnastics, not even taking into account the increase in difficulty over the years.
Image retrieved from Angelo.edu
And it's not just the American women...
The gold medalist in 100 butterfly was a woman from Sweden who is the first female swimmer in her country to medal in swimming. Not only did she win gold but she broke the world record during the race. Imagine that? All in one race, she broke the world record, won an Olympic gold, and brought home the first medal in swimming for her country. WOW!
The Chinese synchronized springboard diving team included a woman who has dominated the event with gold medals in the last five Olympics!
The Romanian women's gymnastics team consists of a single gymnast who is 28 years old. She came out of retirement to represent her country in the Rio Olympics because there were no healthy and/or talented enough gymnasts to form a team. She has the potential to medal in balance beam.
And get this... one of the women on the Uzbekistan gymnastics team is 41 years old! She has competed in 7 Olympics! Most of the other members of her team are around her son's age, 16!
I know there are many more. All the Olympic athletes are so impressive in their drive and commitment to be the best in their sports. Each of them has an individual story and I am so impressed with the power of these women, American and otherwise.
It's the call every parent hopes they never get. It's the one we got last night. "I was in an accident."
There's a reason why they call it an accident. Although often times there are direct causes, careless causes for an accident, we still call it an accident. Truth is, every single possible scenario went through my head last night as we were trying to carefully rush to the scene where are 17-year-old son was in an accident. He assured my husband on the call that he was ok. But a mother's heart sinks anyway. My son has been a remarkably responsible driver, he doesn't drink or hang out at parties with people who do, and he takes the idea of texting and driving, or even talking and driving pretty seriously. But we're conditioned to start running through the worst cases when we don't know the facts. We can probably thank the media for that, but I'm not getting on a soap box today. I'm just trying to write in order to sort out the traumatic experience of last night.
We arrived to the scene to an ambulance leaving. One of the kids in the car presumably had a concussion and was brought in just as precaution. That kid happened to be my son's best friend. We got out of the car and started to approach. We were the furthest away from where the accident occurred, and we walked up to two families, EMS, and our son who came running toward us in tears. Thankfully all the boys were ok, but our son who was driving, was shaken up. He was tearful and chattery and apologetic. He was devastated that his friend left in an ambulance.
Without getting into the details of the accident, it was legitimately an accident. He was not texting or talking on the phone, and he was not drinking. None of the kids were. And accidents happen. His truck was flipped over on its side, a jaw dropping sight for any parent. His friend was released last night and my son and the other two boys seem fine today. It was just a pretty traumatic experience for them all.
Today we're just trying to come down from the experience. We're waiting for the insurance company adjuster to tell us what's what. We're expecting the truck to be totaled, so it'll be a couple of weeks before we can replace the truck. I think my son is a little afraid when he thinks about driving again, anyway and might be happy to have the break.
I feel really grateful today. Grateful for the guardian angel watching over them. Grateful that they're all going to be okay. Grateful that the guys who they collided with were genuinely concerned about the welfare of the kids and don't seem to be concerned with fault. I'm grateful that we have the kind of relationship with Jacob's friends and their families that last night we were a collective community worried about our kids, and not just angry parents pointing fingers.
Having been in a serious accident before, I know it takes time to get over this. I know my son will go back to feeling like a new driver again, and that's not so bad. I know that for a couple of weeks it's going to be the first thing on everyone's mind. But I also know time heals, and by the grace of G-d all four boys will be here to heal together.
Our vacation was bittersweet this year. We had a wonderful time and experienced lots of really cool adventures, but I also got to thinking. This might be our last traditional family vacation. If all goes well, our son will be off to college next year, and perhaps we'll sneak one more trip in next summer before he goes.
But it's hard to believe my son is going to be 18 and graduating high school this year. Gone are the days of snuggling up in bed and reading a story. Gone are the days when snorkeling on the beach or login to Disney World with his mom and dad were enough to make a vacation exciting. I guess it might come a little earlier for an only child. After all, there are no built in companions. No siblings means no childhood friends on these trips. This is why we've allowed him to bring a friend on each of the last two vacations. Don't get me wrong, his friends are great and both boys were a pleasure to have along on each of the trips. It's just that we may not be enough to make it fun anymore. It makes me a little sad, but it's ok.
We are going to try to weasel one more out next summer. We're leaning more toward a family trip than a graduation party. A cruise or a trip overseas are both considerations. Time and money will both be factors in that decision. For now I'll relish all the excursions we've had and all the time we have left together before he leaves our home for college. I'm truly grateful.
Family vacation to Anna Maria Island when Jacob was 5.
This year's trip to NC. Zip lining in the Smokies.
The stepping off the platform. That was the hardest part. At least once I got the first zip done. I had been anticipating this part of our trip with excitement and healthy trepidation, and we were finally there. Loaded up with gear and several hours of self-talk, I was ready. Of course, I knew there was a chance I would get up the first tower and decide not to do it. I've never been afraid of heights, but I never stepped out onto a platform several hundred feet in the air, waiting to sail by cables through the treetops of the Smoky Mountains. This was a definite first.
Our guides, both female and both young enough to be my daughters, gave a brief explanation of some do's and don'ts. We did a low-to-the-ground practice zip to ensure we understood how to brake. It's a high-tech brake system, consisting of a thick glove with a thicker leather overlay to protect your hand as you run it across the cable on your way into the receiving platform. That's right, your hand is your brake! We climbed to the first tower, one they fittingly call the birdhouse. There were ten of us altogether, the two guides, two couples, and our family of four (Jacob's best friend came with us). I was sandwiched between my son and his friend in front of me, and my husband behind me. I watched all of them except my husband zip before me. I wondered whether I could go through with it. It wasn't the height that bothered me, and I couldn't really put my finger on the source of the fear. The guides, one on the departing platform and the other on the receiving platform, exchanged their signals for readiness on the walkie talkies.
"Zip clear."
"Zipping."
"Zip away."
Kaylin moved my carabiners from the safety line attached to the tree in the center of the tower, to the cable that shot out into the trees and across the mountain top. She reminded me to sit down in my harness and look for Jen's brake signal as I approached the next platform. Then she said it. "You're ready."
"Ha!" I laughed out loud. "No I'm not." And I pushed off and left the tower. I felt the vibration of the cable and heard the hum. I could barely take in the scenic view because I was concentrating on arriving alive to the other side. And I did! I had to work on my braking, but made it. The first of eight zips was under my belt. This one and the remaining three of the first four were all build up for the second half of the tour. Jen explained,
"Four out of eight sounds like 50%, but it's not. The first four aren't even half the distance or the speed." Oy, I thought. "Sometimes people decide the zipping isn't for them, or they don't want to do the mega zip [zip 6]. We encourage you to at least try to make it through the first five. Otherwise we have to belay you down, and that can be even more scary." Great! Okay, I can do this. I told myself I could get through the five and if I didn't want to do the big one, it would be fine.
By the second and third, I was feeling a little bit better. With each successful zip, my confidence built a little. But every time, the anticipation made me want to puke. I found myself with Kaylin clipping my gear each time and telling me I was ready. By the fourth one I said, "You keep saying that, but I never am!" We shared a laugh and she encouraged me telling me I was doing great, that I didn't even seem scared.
"Just take a leap of faith," she said. And off I went. Again. And again I made it to the other side just fine. I started to enjoy it a little more, actually feeling exhilarated and looking around while I zipped from one end to the other. We climbed down to the base again. We had done the first five zips, but Jen reminded us we had only done about a third of the total distance. We were gearing up for the mega zip, which was a climb to a whole different set of towers for the final three zips. Number six, was over 350 feet in the air and almost a half mile long. Speed on this zip would get up to somewhere between 45 and 55 miles per hour. Holy shit! The wait in between each of the zippers on this line was longer because of the distance traveled. Kaylin took some photos and we all started talking about the experience. I came to understand it wasn't the height or the zip, or flying sensation that had me nervous. I thought about Kaylin's words. "Just take a leap of faith," and I realized for me, the fear was in stepping off the platform. Once I was in the air and zipping, I was just fine. But taking that leap of faith was easier said than done.
There I was, at the top of the tower more than 350 feet in the air, getting ready to zip half a mile across the treetops of the Smoky Mountains. It was really hard to step off, to let go. I almost asked my husband, who stood behind me before each zip, to give me a bit of a shove. I couldn't see the receiving tower, this was blind faith indeed. I took a deep breath, sat in my harness, and stepped off the platform. I'm not sure I can describe what I felt after that. Other than skydiving, it is probably the closest a human being can come to flying. Whereas the shorter zips, you take a quick glance around, and then keep an eye out for the tower, this one felt long. I had time to process the fact that I was above the trees, high in the mountains, flying like a freakin' bird! It was absolutely outrageous and the most invigorating feeling I can ever remember having. The wind blowing by me, the distance down below me (holy shit!) made the leap of faith all worthwhile.
And I got to thinking. Maybe, just maybe, this experience is a metaphor for my life. I have big dreams and big ideas. I say I want to take risks, but I'm not sure how much I really do. Sometimes, just taking the first step, that leap of faith, will bring the most glorious returns. It's okay to have fear as long as I don't let it stop me from doing big things. A healthy fear keeps things interesting. It adds adrenalin to the mix, and that's always good for a thrill. I am incredibly proud of myself for braving through this experience, for not quitting. As my son's friend said at dinner last night on the way home, "That was up there with the top experiences I've had in my life." It was for me too, and the fact we were able to make it happen for someone else too, well that's just a big fat juicy cherry on top.
Total height- 600+ feet above the ground
Total number of zips- 8
Total distance- about a mile
Top speed- 50-55 mph
*These photos are photos snapped from my computer screen. We haven't purchased them yet because we don't know which package we want. So please excuse the not-so-great-quality. I just could not publish this post without some evidence of what I actually did! I don't think there is a photo of the highest longest zip though. But you get the idea.
Here's a link to the NOC's website if you want to see professional video of the Mountaintop Zip Line.
More than anything or anyone, I trust my husband. Although I knew this, as we've been married for over 20 years and been together almost 30, I know it now on a deeper physical level. We were rafting down the Nantahala River, and I was in the front of the ducky boat, my husband at the back. The stronger more experienced paddler is usually stationed at the rear to control the steering. I hadn't been whitewater rafting since a trip in upstate New York, when I was a young child. I didn't do much. In fact in the photo, my family members are all around me paddling and I've got my tiny hands tucked inside my life vest, trying to stay warm. They all have determined looks of concentration, and I just looked and smiled. But I digress.
We were rushing down the river, navigating considerably mild class II rapids towards the class III Nantahala Falls at the end of our trip. Class II is considered mild because there are intervals of upbeat-paced flow with no whitewater. I can't say I ever felt like I was in major danger, but of course there's a certain level of risk with any of these activities. The river flows fast and it can be unpredictable. The force can be strong and there is a lot of rock. The water is also incredibly cold and crisp, bearable for us that day because the air temperature was in the upper eighties or lower nineties.
We hit an area of rock, and my husband lost his balance trying to steer us clear of it. He went over and I had to grab his vest while he hung onto the side of the raft. Knowing I wouldn't have the strength to drag him back on, I just held on so he could catch his breath. Then he had to pull his entire body back on, I was there as a tether. I had enough strength to keep him close. He finally got himself aboard, and then we had to chase down his paddle that had gotten loose and was taking its own journey down the Nantahala! I gave up my paddle so he could steer us and I kept my eyes fixed on the runaway paddle. Within a few minutes, we were able to catch up to it, and Paul used my paddle to link onto his. We got it and we were back to business as usual.
I asked Paul if he was okay, and other than losing one of his favorite hats to the river, he caught his breath and assured me he was alright. As we settled back in, he told me he could have held on, but eventually realized any effort to contort himself to stay on, was likely to flip the boat and send me over as well. He didn't want that, so he "took a dive" for me. I smiled warmly and we continued down the river. We soon hit one of the quieter and calmer spots, when you have time time take in your surroundings. We admired some beautiful luxury cabins along the river's edge and fantasized about having one as a summer home. We watched other rafters struggle and some kayakers hotdogging.
And in that moment, I felt an assurance. It was a strange time and place but I said to my husband, "This may sound weird and corny coming from me at this moment, but I want you to know something... I would do anything with you. I trust you so completely. As long as you're with me I would do just about anything." I couldn't see his face, but he responded.
"That's good. That makes me feel really good." And I thought, me too.
