St. Malo's

I just love this photo.

I took it when my husband and I vacationed in Estes Park, Colorado this past fall.

While in a little shop in the heart of town, my husband and I came across a postcard depicting the cutest little stone church perched atop a large rock. Appropriately called "Chapel on the Rock" (or St. Malo's as the title of this post points out), it was every bit as beautiful and peaceful in person as it was on that postcard ... Maybe even more so.

Once inside, I really wanted to capture the simplicity and beauty of the woodwork, rock walls, and colorful stained-glass windows so that I could take it home with me. The violets, greens, and golds cast across the pews were so calming and relaxing.

I could have sat there all day long.

I could just look at this picture all day long, too ... Especially after a hard week of teaching (or is it, babysitting?). I hope that we'll be able to make the trip back to Estes Park someday.

Sticks and Stones

Maybe I have been desensitized after working for a year in an urban school, but I don't think the teacher in this story was that out of line for what she said.

Was it mean? Yes.

Was it embarrassing to the child? Yes.

Could the situation have been handled in a better way? Yes.

Of course, many things about this story are troubling ... But ask anyone who has been in a room full of children (let alone a group of 5-year-olds) for an entire day how "easy" it is.

Advanced training in education and psychology or not, teachers are people too and are subject to having a "moment" every now and again. I may be showing my own ignorance here, but would a 5-year-old even understand what the word ignorant means? I have personally told a sixth grader that he was being ignorant just this past year. I have personally spoken candidly to my seventh grade class about how irresponsible they act on a daily basis and about how they really need to prioritize what is important, for fear of ruining their futures.

Harsh? Maybe.

Honest and realistic? Definitely!

Worthy of suspending me indefinitely from a profession that (believe it or not) I enjoy? I hope not!

Now, I'm not condoning what Ms. Woodward in Indiana said, but, having been in her shoes for just under a school year, I can see how such statements might come out.

The really sad thing (for me) about this story, is that many parents are quick to blame the teacher. This is now the second or third situation like this, in which the parents (after their child complains) send a tape recorder to school to see what the teacher is up to, and, when they find something "shocking" on the tape, go right to the media with it. Why not call the teacher directly and settle the problem? Why not ask him/her if there are any problems in the classroom or arrange for a conference to discuss their concerns? Chances are, the child that is complaining is part of the problem. There are two sides to every story. So, it truly bothers me that the parents in these situations do not seem to acknowledge that.

Again, coming from an urban school, I know that kids hear worse things than "ignorant" or "self-absorbed" or "pathetic." It may not be pleasant on the child's psyche, but, for some, these words may actually come from their own parents or step-parents. The sad fact of life is that we often hear things that we do not want to. We often don't regard our own actions until someone, perhaps rudely or embarrassingly, points out what our flaws are. (Think: high school)

I am interested to hear how this story develops and just what the teacher's side truly is. I don't agree with her methods, but I can certainly empathize and see exactly where she's coming from. It's unfortunate that something like this can't be handled inside the school instead of across the public arena.

Lemonade

This weekend, I found out that my sister-in-law is pregnant with her first child.

At first, this news made me incredibly frustrated, angry, and annoyed because I wanted to be the one to bring the first grandchild to our side of the family. It would only be fair ... I was married before her, after all.

Then, after thinking about it (or rather, stewing over it for a couple of days), I've decided that I'm okay and that I can totally deal with it.

(I just realized how silly that sounds ... How big of me! Ha!)

Not only will my sister-in-law make many mistakes for me (from which I may learn and look all the smarter), but she will also act as a buffer in what I like to call "The New Grand-Mother Factor," or just "NGMF" for short. Science nerd that I am, I have actually documented and researched this factor with other new mothers in my family.

During the height of the NGMF, the new grandmother takes her role to the extreme:

• She fusses over the baby way more than is physically necessary
• She questions everything. (For example: "He looks hot! Why is he wearing a T-shirt and a Onesie??)
• She makes unexpected "pop-in" appearances during all hours of the day
• She purchases the baby ridiculously ugly or unnecessary gifts (For example: A velveteen Santa suit for Christmas or a Christian CD that inserts new grandchild's name into the songs)

No, NGMF is not pretty and is much more detrimental and scarring (to both mother and child) than plain old GMF. So, by being second to procreate (whether planned or unplanned as the case may be), I could essentially be decreasing my chances of having NGMF influence my day-to-day postpartum life.

But all that aside, I think I finally (deep down) realize that any baby is a blessing. It doesn't matter if it is the first, second, third, or thirteenth grandchild. It is a grandchild, plain and simple, and that is all that matters. It will be loved and spoiled and enjoyed regardless of its birth order.

Maybe I can "one up" her with a set of twins or something. ;)

For a Friend ...

My husband and I watched "Evan Almighty" a couple weeks ago.

Although it is a light-hearted and funny film throughout, I was struck by a particular line of dialogue given by Morgan Freeman (or, God, in this case) ... So much so that I was moved to tears and promptly ridiculed.

The line was thus:

Let me ask you something. If someone prays for patience, you think God gives them patience? Or does he give them the opportunity to be patient? If he prayed for courage, does God give him courage? Or does he give him opportunities to be courageous? If someone prayed for their family to be closer, do you think God zaps them with warm fuzzy feelings, or does he give them opportunities to love each other?

It amazes me how a Hollywood movie can actually hold such wisdom. In my opinion, whoever was responsible for this script (at least this section of it) hit it right on the head. Our prayers aren't answered outwordly by just giving us the thing that we need or want most ... They are answered when we actively go out and work toward whatever it is we asked for, when we find something inside of ourselves that we didn't realize was there before.

So goes the saying:

You need to be the change you wish to see in the world.

I think the same thing applies. The world can be an awfully dismal and depressing place if we look at it full on. There is war, poverty, death, disaster ... But if we take a moment to pull ourselves away, to see things from our singular perspective, and do small acts of kindness, we can turn the tide. It's all about the opportunities to do great things.

And, for the friend I'm thinking of as I write this entry, you have (and will continue to have) so many opportunities to do right for the world. Just take it one small step at a time and I know that you will not waste any of them. :)

Sparrows

I was driving home with my husband on Sunday and, along the way, we came across two little sparrows in the road. As we passed, I realized that one of them was dead, its little body smushed into the blacktop. The second sparrow, however, was very much alive, flapping wildly but staying put by its fallen friend. At the last possible moment, right before our car drove past, the living sparrow flew away to a tree at the side of the road.

Turning completely around to check out the scene (luckily, my husband was driving) I watched the sparrow swoop back again, resuming it's position with the other bird once our car had cleared the spot.

Seeing this sight, this sad, little bird futilely flying back and forth from tree to road, tugged at my heart a little bit.

"Oh no," my husband muttered, noticing me notice the birds. "This is going to bother you all day now ... Just don't think about it."

But how could I do anything but?

That tiny little bird was going to be busy all day long, flying and swooping, flying and swooping, thinking in its tiny, little brain that its friend would eventually fly away too. Now, some might wave this situation off as just a dumb animal, doing what animals do ...

I saw something else:

How often in life do we do exactly the same thing, and hold on to something that obviously needs to be released?

I know, in my life, there are many things that I just need to forget and move away from, yet somehow, I can't bring myself to do it. Rather than "letting go," I cling on for dear life, avoiding good sense at all costs, and hoping that somehow, someway, the thing I need to forget will prove useful. Whether this "thing" is a past relationship that fizzled, an object, a distant memory, or a feeling does not matter. It really makes no difference.

If I do not let go, I will be like that sad, little sparrow, wasting its time swooping back and forth for nothing.

Maybe it's time to let go.

Mother's Day

Yesterday was Mother’s Day, and although I’m not a mother in the traditional sense, I feel a little bit like the day was for me too …

I may not have any biological children, but I routinely “mother” sixty kids every single week day from 8:20 to 2:45 (and sometimes later if they are waiting for rides). Divided up between the four grades that I teach, that’s thirteen sixth graders, fifteen fifth graders, seventeen seventh graders (many of which, if they were truly mine, I’d want to disown or, at the very least, send away to military school), and fifteen eighth graders.

They are black, white, Hispanic, Asian, and many other mixtures of one or more.

They are Muslim, Hindu, Catholic and many other Christian denominations.

They have been residents of the Cleveland area for their whole lives, or they have moved here from worlds away for a better future.

They come from homes with single-parents, homes with happily married parents, homes run by their grandparents, and homes containing blended families (which could mean that they are living with a parent’s girlfriend or boyfriend, step-parents, step-siblings, or half siblings). Sometimes they know who their father is, and sometimes they do not. Sometimes they don’t care to know him anyway.

They are smart, funny, artistic, kindhearted, helpful, idealistic, irresponsible, disrespectful, annoying, aggressive, and angry.

They are obsessed with appearances and just screaming for attention … Sometimes this is because they like the drama, other times it is because they just need someone to show them love and acceptance.

They think they know everything about the world around them and how to manipulate the system of authority figures that they encounter each day. They think that they are old enough to watch R-rated movies and have MySpace pages set to "public."

They yearn for more than what they have been given, but yet they often lack the drive and the perseverance to go out and actually get it.

These are my kids.

They are everything that I want, and everything that I (definitely) do not want for my future children.

They have earned a special place in my heart and show me, all too often, that I am human and have so much more to learn.

Middle School Lessons (#3)

Lesson #3: Parents are creative

We've been talking about abstinence in sixth grade Health, recently. While I was circulating around the room during a lab period (and the students were actually working quite diligently), I overheard a conversation between one of my 6th graders, Nate, and his best friend Danny.

“My mom told me and my brother that she’ll pay each of us one hundred dollars each if we don’t get a girl pregnant by the time we finish high school.”

I hope he gets the money …

Crocodile Tears

I'm quite scared for the future of our world.

As a middle school/junior high teacher, I am seeing (first hand) the quality of young people that will, one day, take over for the rest of us. While my eighth graders are wonderful and give me hope that all is not lost, I'm still having a difficult time seeing something similar in the younger kids.

The fifth graders, in particular, have this very strange sense of entitlement. They act like they they should be handed all of the good things in life, but not have to deal with any of the bad. They don't want to behave or work in class (I have a difficult time just keeping them in their seats), yet they believe that we should be going on multiple field trips and outings together. They whine and complain about taking notes, fighting me every step of the way, yet they feel that they should get to use those notes (and the book too!) on any test that they will have to take. They do not seem to understand the simple concept of "what goes around, comes around" and they have not made any connection between their actions and the outcomes that they are seeing firsthand.

It truly baffles the mind.

Today, in particular, I had to deal with four weepy girls, upset at the detentions that I had given to them. See, we had gone on a field trip (despite my not wanting to) and these little lovelies had taken every available opportunity to break the rules. They chewed gum, hid from the bus driver, walked around with the proverbial "chips" on their shoulders, and basically acted like little brats during the entire four hour period. However, when it came time for them to accept the consequences of their (many) unwanted actions, they turned on the waterworks and begged for forgiveness, a lenient hand just this one time. They pointed to the student handbook, stating that my punishment was too much, that they should only receive a demerit at best.

Now, I'm not stupid. I know that "just this once" becomes twice, thrice and on down the line. And I also know that, despite what the handbook may say, there are loopholes everywhere. A teacher ultimately has the final say, and, in my mind, disobedience on a field trip where we are outside of school grounds (and I am subject to embarrassment in front of other teachers) is worse than being bad in the classroom.

So, I stood my ground and dealt with their crocodile tears. I told them that they could bother me every single day up until the end of the year and I still wouldn't change my mind on the detentions. I ignored their tearful statements that they'd be "beaten" and shrugged off their cries of:

"No! I'm not going out for recess. I'm just going to stand here in the hallway and think about how you ruined my life!"

(No lie. One of them seriously shouted that at me.)

Maybe, in the beginning of the year, I would have felt bad ... But not anymore. Instead, I find myself reminded of a Lewis Carol poem:

How doth the little crocodile
Improve his shining tail,
And pour the waters of the Nile
On every golden scale!

How cheefully he seems to grin,
How neatly spreads his claws,
And welcomes little fishes in,
With gently smiling jaws!

Food for thought, I suppose.