Christmas Joy

Joy is the only word I can use to describe our family Christmas this year Yes, it had its ups and downs like all holidays do but when I look back, that is the word that comes to mind. The image that comes to mind is M. In my weird little head, she saved Christmas for me this year. I know I would have eventually gotten my act together and come up with a plan but it felt so good to let her take over. It allowed me to be the mother I have always wanted; the one that passes on the tradition to the next generation. On one hand I know that I am way too young to be passing things on but it was such a pleasure to be the guest/observer and admire the literal fruits of my labor.

I worked hard this year to be more authentic in my gift giving and I ended up feeling pretty good about it all. I was able to stop competing with my ex-husband in that department as I know that I can never give in the amount that he can. I have other gifts to give besides the ability to save money and pass it along. So the reduction in the amount given somehow made me feel better about things. Sometimes less really is more.

My favorite gift this year ended up being from my sister. They are just a pair of earrings but lately I have been looking for a pair of dangly earrings. Everything i had found had just looked too heavy. These are not only just the right length and weight but they also have just a touch of purple to them. How great is that? I think that means that she has been paying attention to the me that I am, not the one that she remembers.

Seeing "It's a Wonderful Life" on Christmas Eve was once again a fabulous experience. Last year I had somehow missed it on its various TV airings so it was my annual rite embellished. But this year I had watched it one Saturday night before Christmas so I wasn't sure how I would feel about another viewing. But there is just something about that movie. I wonder how many times I have actually seen it in my life. I continue to get something new out of it almost every time I see it. Part of my pleasure in seeing it with M is that R and the kids would kind of tease me about it years ago. "There's Mom watching "It's a Wonderful Life" again. So it is nice to see that another generation can find such meaning in something that I love.

The final piece to Christmas is always the B family celebration. I'm not sure how many years I have been going to their Christmas dinner but it has definitely become a part of my annual tradition. This year it felt easy. I guess people are finally remembering who I am and that I will be there with B and M. I like the bigness of it in contrast to our little family of 6. It is just so wild and raucous with so many different personalities in the mix. The multi generations help remind us all of where we are in time. People have gone on, some are close to leaving us, and the young ones are the reminder that we live on whether we are physically present or not.

So, the word for this Christmas is joy. I am thankful to my friends and family for leading me to the point where I could truly appreciate the season. I am especially indebted to M. Merry Christmas.

Vacation

The first day of a break from school never fails to surprise me. I wake up and immediately think of getting to work. I tell myself there is no school today but at various times during the day I feel like I am skipping school. It takes my brain so long to let go of the regular routine. And then it is like my spirit breathes a huge sigh of relief and I can finally change gears. The days that follow are the reason I believe that I can someday retire and not wonder what to do with myself. I continue to wake up at 6 but force myself to lie in bed until 7. During that time I ponder all the mysteries that surround my life. As 7:00 nears, I begin to create a tentative agenda for my day - what I will eat, what I will do or not do that day. It is one of the most empowering things a person can do. Many of those things may or may not happen but it feels good to be the one making decisions in a bell-less existence. It is at this point when I am able to put my school life in perspective. I am able to step back and look from the outside to really see what is important and what isn't. It gives me the opportunity to pat myself on the back instead of pushing myself from behind. It's OK if an A student is asking for extra credit because he has a B. I can just say no and let it be. I can admire the work I have done thus far in the year. I can reset goals with the gift of hindsight. My first, and possibly only year of teaching social studies doesn't have meet the teacher of the year model. Just let it be what it is - my first year of teaching social studies.

Asking for Help

A new page to my story was written last night. This is the page that begins a lesson on helplessness vs asking for help. This has been a challenge for me my entire life. It all started in a white anglo saxon community that lives out the theory of self made men who pull themselves up by their boot straps (which are something I still have yet to see). I grew up in a household where everyone pulled their own weight. There was no whining or crying. You just did it. Then I married a man who defined himself by what he could do to take care of other people. Not a good match I guess. During the bad years I would constantly balance my decision to stay or go based on whether I was willing to do whatever it was on my own. Was I willing to spend Saturday nights alone? Was I willing to travel alone? Could I make it financially alone? I never thought about who I might ask for help. I was either going to be married or alone. Asking for help was in my mind a sign that I wasn't able to do it on my own. Enter D and P into my life. There has never been a better couple to teach me the lessons of life. They continually show me how to negotiate a partnership where both parties win. They have taught me the importance of opening up my life and letting someone else in, really in. So at the end of a very long day I found myself a few miles away from my car. I could easily have walked the distance and would have if I had been alone and it hadn't been dark. But I gave them a call and boldly asked for help. This I did despite the fact that they were in the middle of a family Christmas celebration. The lesson went from just having the ability to ask for help to realizing what wonderful things can happen when you do. Not only did they take me to my car but they invited us to come have dinner and join in the family celebration. And once again, for some reason I was able to say yes. These are the moments when I know the universe is in charge because the me that I am would never accept that invitation. That would be an imposition, an interference. It ended up being a wonderful end to my day and such a blessing to witness family love at its finest. The lesson learned is not just about the importance of asking for help and that people really do want to be a part of my life. It is also that invitations are just that. It is not for me to judge or evaluate them. I am being invited to join with other people; to be in relationship with others. I become better, fuller, more complete by sharing my life with others.

Why the courts like teachers on juries

The question has finally been answered. For decades I have been baffled by the number of teachers that are put on juries. There have been times where it seemed like the judicial system was going through teaching staffs school by school. I've always thought that it was because society sees us as being objective or perhaps we are nurturers and will always see the good in people. I talked to a teacher who was put on a jury of a child abuse case. This seemed very strange to me. We are obligated reporters to Child Protective Services so one would think that we would tend to favor the child in such cases. But evidently, the determining question for this particular jury was, "Do you think a child can lie?" This is somewhat humorous to teachers because we all know that kids can lie and what they look like when they do. But in the context of a step father sexually abusing 2 daughters over a span of 11 year. No. There is nothing funny there. So the reasons the courts love teachers on juries is that they know people lie. Interesting!

This says it all

Cute!

Here is my laugh of the day. I introduced the writing genre of editorials today. The first one was about the importance of the need for Obama to quit smoking, followed by a piece on East Side Union High School District's potential elimination of athletics. I definitely had their attention. Now they were ready for what real people have to say. I started off with the letter I wrote to the governor regarding proposition 98, then M's letter on vegetarianism, and ended with the letter I wrote to the superintendent last year. I absolutely couldn't look at them while I was reading these letters because I could hear their response in their breathing. They were very complimentary of my writing and I was eventually able to direct their thinking to "what the writer did." But the funniest thing was when a couple boys looked at each other and said simultaneously. Man! Don't make Ms. Allen mad, she'll write a letter. Ah yes. The power of the spoken word.

Christmas Songs/Movies

During P and J’s Thanksgiving visit we got into a little discussion about favorite Christmas songs. It was beyond me to name a song that was truly my favorite. This question has haunted me the past couple weeks. Now that I am hearing Christmas songs anywhere and everywhere, it has occurred to me how my “favorite” has changed throughout my life. Each one seems to symbolize who I was at the time – child, daughter, sister, student, mother. These are my recollections.

Up on the Housetop – definitely my first favorite. I loved that song, knew all the motions and could recite every verse.

Rudolf – this must be Kindergarten/1st grade era. I just loved the idea of this poor little animal proving to all the others that it is OK to be different

It’s Beginning to Look A Lot Like Christmas – just a fun one for a kid to sing

Silver Bells - I have a distinct memory of helping my mom preparing Christmas cards and this song echoing in my ears and heart. I was probably around 10 years old.

White Christmas – My classic movie stage in my adolescence. That was still when I thought snow was beautiful and that Christmas Eve was not complete without the beauty of silently falling snowflakes blanketing the earth.

Some Children See Him – I can’t quite decide if this was one of my favorites or if we just heard it so much because it was P's favorite and M would play it on the piano during the Christmas Eve sing-along. But it makes the list because it was the only memory I have that symbolizes any sort of global view of my Iowa upbringing.

Rocking Around the Christmas Tree – this is the high school era song – such a nice match to the Beatles and Elvis that we listened to when we were could

Jingle Bell Rock – My college days- this is a D memory. To this day it is still his favorite Christmas song. Its one of those we could shout together to irritate mom just as well as sing together for our own enjoyment.

Handel’s Messiah – this one kept me connected to family memories when I had married and was 3,000 miles away. It was always the first one I played the day after Thanksgiving and had to be played back in the day when I baked Christmas cookies

Oh Holy Night – this one is connected to Maria’s birth. She was born early on a Monday morning in the first week of advent. From that night I understood the true meaning of a holy night. She was it!

Chipmunks –Actually I detested this song but I couldn’t help but laugh when it was played because Dave loved it and had the innate ability to sing like a squeaky chipmunk.

Do They Know It’s Christmas – This one was a favorite for years and years. It symbolized everything I believed about the world

A Very Special Christmas series. – I just loved the old classics with a new twist.

And that brings us up to today. I am still at a loss to name that one song that can symbolize where I am in my life. I will keep listening and thinking.


The topic of music lead quickly into Christmas Movies.

Babes in Toyland was hands down my childhood followed although those trees gave me horrible nightmares.

This was followed by Miracle on 34th Street..

Then I hit my movie classis era of White Christmas, Holiday Inn, and The Bishop’s Wife.

During my high school and college years it was A Christmas Carol – the darker the version the better

Of course the animated ones have to be on my list. I have great memories of watching them with the kids back in the day when they were only televised once a year – Charlie Brown, Rudolf, Frosty the Snowman and The Grinch

It’s a Wonderful Life – I didn’t really discover this movie until I had kids and then insisted that we watch it every year. They both teased me about it mercilessly until one day in their late teens they came to appreciate the message. One of my greatest memories will always be from last Christmas Eve watching it in the big theater in downtown San Jose.

Then my sister-in-law introduced me to A Christmas Movie. I think you have to have been raised in a certain era in a specific part of the country to appreciate the humor in this one but the tongue on the frozen pole still makes me want to cry out in pain.

After that it was the making of Polar Express. Although I usually hate kids’ book made into movies, I thought it was well done.

This was followed by The Grinch movie, which I thought was also well done.

So I guess if I were to choose one it would still be It’s a Wonderful Life. I just love that whole idea of imagining how the world would be different without out an individual person in it. We all are important and have an impact on everyone and everything.

The Lights of Christmas

I have finally found my Christmas spirit. I am happy with the gifts I have purchased and how they have gotten to their recipients without the exhausting work of wrapping and shipping. Last night as I was driving to P's I became extremely aware of the outdoor Christmas lights and the impact they had on my spirit. It was visual but felt like a shot of heat that was warming my heart. It became abundantly clear that I NEED Christmas lights in my life. There is just nothing like coming home in the dark of winter and flipping the switch that lights up my heart. I promised myself that I would remedy the situation and vowed to buy and decorate a tree the next day. The tree is up, lit and decorated. What a difference!

The Language of Silence

Oddly enough, communication sometimes seems to include long periods of silence. It often speaks volumes. The unsaid is something I grew up with in my family. As a result, it is hard for me to initiate difficult conversations. The most recent event has been with D about Christmas dinner. I walk around with my own view of our family traditions that I assume everyone else holds but then learn that is not true. So when asked about scheduling Christmas dinner, it automatically becomes an emotional charged conversation. Suggestions are made and they are followed by days of silence. The silence is deafening. During that time my imagination runs away with itself. I convince myself that I have alienated him and that he has walked out of my life. I become obsessed with what he is thinking, doing or feeling every spare minute of my day. I am certain that he hates me. The silence eats away at me day after day until I can eventually find a way to let it go. So I put pen to paper and try to say everything in my heart. And then, out of the blue, a message comes from him saying that it's no big deal, he'll find a way to be there. I am left exhausted by everything that wasn't said. I am certain that the silence and my overactive imagination is so much worse than anything he could possibly be thinking or feeling but I have no idea of how to stop it. I am hopeful that because I have shared my feelings, he will begin to understand who we can be as a family. And more than that, he will begin to know who I am both as a person and his mother.

Middle School Eye Contact

I am deeply amused by the way middle schoolers function in the world. They have a highly developed peripheral vision. I know this because they have the ability to walk and even run from place to place without ever looking at who or what might be coming at them or crossing their path. It is an amazing thing to witness. It occurred to me today how funny it would be to be the nurse responsible for vision screening in middle school. How in the world could you figure out what they can see when their eyes rarely go above your shoulders. What I really love are the kids who somehow know it's you coming toward them, they'll make some comment indicating that recognition yet continue to walk right past you. Amazing!

A Day In The Life

6:00 Up and at 'em
7:30 Correcting papers and posting grades that didn't get done over the weekend
9:15 - 11:30 Taught Social Studies
11:30-12:00 Worked through lunch to finish posting grades
12:00 - 2:00 Taught Writing
2:00 - 2:50 Taught PE
3:00 -3:15 Yard duty on Jackson Street
3:15 - 4:00 Finished lesson plans for a substitute tomorrow so I can go to Support Provider Training
4:00 - 5:30 Assisted with BTSA mid year evaluation
5:30 Home for dinner
6:30 A quick trip to Lakeshore to pick up more sticks for PE and some jewels for mummy making on Wednesday
7:00 Safeway to by salt, flour, baking soda and apples for mummy activities
8:00 Back home to correct today's commercials
10:00 Goodnight

Christmas is coming

Whether I want to admit it or not, Christmas is coming. I am really struggling with the whole notion of Christmas this year. D's little e-mail about Christmas dinner had a much bigger impact on me than I expected it to. I am constantly questioning myself about the meaning of family holiday dinners. Why does it matter so much to me? Why do i keep holding on to this last remnant of what used to be a family? It's not like it's the first time we've been down this road with him. I guess I just keep expecting things to change. I would like so desperately to be a part of the change. But I guess that is just not to be. So it's time to move on and figure out this whole Christmas thing. I am deeply grateful to M for taking on Christmas Eve dinner and stepping up to keep our little tradition alive no matter who happens to be sitting at the table. I see and hear Christmas all around me but I feel like an outside observer. I have no desire to put out the decorations. The thought of buying and dragging a tree into the house is totally beyond me. Why? I just feel tired. Maybe it's my job. Maybe it's my age Maybe it's being single and not caring to celebrate by myself anymore. All I know is that I better get my act together. J is coming on the 21st which means everything, whatever that ends up being, will need to be done by the time she walks in the door. I made myself shop today and I should feel good about that. But all I can think about is what a tiny little miniscule thing that is and how much more is to do be done. OK. I am going to turn on the Christmas music and fix myself a cup of hot chocolate. Then I will head down to the cellar to get the decorations and I will splash some red and green around and make this house a home again.

Addendum
Several hours have passed. The hot chocolate and Christmas music were just what I needed to get in the mood. I scattered a few decorations around the living room and did some shopping on line. I was extremely productive and have only one gift left to buy and that is D and C's . Not an easy thing to do because that little voice in the back of my head is always popping off about this and that. Ah well. I'm in much better spirits and am now ready to welcome the season sans the tree.

A Family of Four

Once upon a time there was a man who met a woman and they got married. A year later a beautiful baby girl was born and they became a family. They loved and supported each other and then a little more than a year later a baby boy was born. This family of four did all the things that families did. The dad worked hard and saved lots of money so the kids could go to college. The mom loved her children and did everything she could to bring them the beauty of the world and lay it at their feet. Years went by and silence built a wedge between the man and woman. The children grew up and went to college fulfilling the family's dream but the man's happily ever after was destroyed. The woman couldn't live in the world of silence and she broke the family apart. She spent the next 10 years trying her hardest to put it back together. Every holiday she tried to pretend that they could just for a meal be a family of four once again. Sometimes it worked. Sometimes the fleeting moments of happiness were hard to justify. Sandwiched in the 10 years was, a Thanksgiving on the floor of a duplex after the woman returned from Texas. a few holidays where they all attempted to be part of the boy's in-laws and a few meals where they all pretended to be happy in each other's company. The years have passed and the mother continues her quest to keep the family of four together.

Families

Families are so tricky. I know that my last e-mail included a comment about how excited I was to finally get some sleep but that was not to be. Thanksgiving was barely over before I received an e-mail about Christmas. I just assumed that our family dinner would be Christmas Eve like it has always been but that might not be happening this year. I didn't know that it was bothering me but I was wide awake at 3 this morning surrounded in a blanket of sadness.

The Weekend

The weekend is over and I am totally exhausted. It is extremely sad to be a California orphan. I happen to think that California is paradise on Earth but have never been able to convince anyone from my birth family of that fact. So when any of them are in town it is like California in turbo drive. This visit was my sister with her friend J who has now been technically adopted as a younger sister by this solitary California Allen. Thursday was all about the food. The whole day was dedicated to eating. I was disappointed in the turkey which was too dry for my taste and the gravy which I single handedly destroyed. But everything else was just fine. Friday we walked the neighborhood - we hit Santa Clara University, my work place and Safeway to pick up some microbiotics for P and then back home again. Then we were off to downtown Palo Alto and Los Altos and then home to make some turkey pot pie. Saturday we journeyed to Half Moon Bay to walk another downtown and have a late lunch at Moss Beach Distillery. We had dinner with D and P and shared some great memories of Italy. It was the first time that I thought about the reality of going back to that fabulous country. Sunday was the final day and it was a full one. We started off with coffee at Barefoot with M and B and then to Campbell to their farmer's market. Then I was in for one of the most humorous experiences of my life. J had never been wine tasting before and so we were off. We did Los Gatos, Saratoga, and a couple in the Santa Cruz mountains. It was such an interesting thing for a teacher of language to be a witness to the attempt to describe something as complex as wine. What an afternoon we had! It was after 5 before we were done so there wasn't much time for the Santa Cruz experience. We had dinner on the wharf and then headed for our final stop of the weekend - to show M and B's house to J. I didn't sleep well last night and woke up totally wasted. Too many late nights. Too much food. Life is such a series of highs and lows. I spend days in what seems like total isolation and then a weekend like this comes out of nowhere. It was quite an event in my simple life. My favorite moment of the weekend was at Moss Beach Distillery in the middle of a "family" discussion with my sister. J stopped it completely with a comment about her confusion with the difference between what she has always heard from P about my personality and what she had up to this point witnessed for herself. That's why I love this woman. She says what is on her mind. She asked P to stop talking so I could explain my view. I don't think anyone has ever done that before or maybe that's just the perspective of the baby of the family. The result was that my sister listened to my side of the story. So as I reflect, I have to say that it was a good weekend. I can't wait for my head to hit my pillow tonight and for that awareness just before I drift off, that I am sleeping.

Let us give thanks

Thanksgiving has always been my favorite holiday. Of course as a child I always liked the idea of getting Christmas presents or free candy on Halloween but there was just something extra special about Thanksgiving. It was the only holiday that the entire Allen family as I knew it, came together in one spot. It was, for me the absolute embodiment of family. Growing up I never missed a Thanksgiving in Grandma’s kitchen. One of the saddest days I can remember was the fourth Thursday of November 1972, my first year in college. Not being with my family on Thanksgiving was a killer. I learned a valuable lesson that day about the importance of tradition. It is the only holiday that I claimed for our family after I was married. Somehow Ralph was able to grasp how important it was to me and played along. You can count on one hand the Thanksgivings that have not been cooked in my kitchen. Even the year I found my way back home from Texas, Thanksgiving was spent with my family on the floor of a furnitureless duplex. A few minutes of every Thanksgiving are spent in tears. Sometimes I’m not sure where they come from but I have learned to accept them as Grandma looking over my shoulder and nodding her head in approval that I have remembered the seeds she sowed in my heart.

I love everything about Thanksgiving Day. I love its premise of giving thanks and the history behind it. I love all the preparations that go into it; creating the menu, setting the table, cooking all those little extras the day before. But most of all I love the smell. There is nothing like the mixture of scents of a browning turkey with the cinnamon and allspice of pumpkin pie and the sassiness of cranberry sauce. As much as I recognize this holiday is about tradition, the Allen-Giannini menu usually has a little twist. It hasn’t always been that way. During the early years it seemed important that I keep everything the same from my childhood. Slowly but surely the old recipes began to share the table with the new ones. Sometimes that meant 2 versions of cranberries, potatoes or vegetables until I could reconcile leaving Grandma’s behind. Now the recipe search has become a part of my Thanksgiving anticipation. What shall I cook? How does that meld with what else is on the table in terms of sight, smell and taste? Yes, I love Thanksgiving. There is just nothing else like it; a day that is dedicated to food and family. What could be better than that?

Middle schoolers can even be cute

For months now I have been telling people how FUNNY middle school kids are. Very few of those people have understood that comment because they don't think the words middle school and funny could possibly go together. But it's the kind of funny that when you say something and the minute it's out of your mouth you know you shouldn't have said it because it's just dumb. Today was different. Today's funny was cute like first graders are cute. Here is just a snippet of my day.
After I handed back their first attempt at a 5 paragraph essay, it was a literal field day.
*One student called his revising work today "remodeling." But the greatest part was that I could laugh with him and go off on the metaphor of remodeling a house and say, "Like that?" and he said "Yeah, like that!"
*Another student said Ms. Allen I agree with your comments but how do I make this paragraph better? It was just funny that a kid would have the guts to say to a teacher "I agree with you."
*Then there was the student who had attempted to defend his position on playing video games by saying they improve finger work. He was very disappointed to realize that finger work is not a term that is understood by the over 12 crowd.
*But the clincher for me was when the kid ran into 6th period class yelling, Ms.Allen, we watched Oprah today in reading class. Yes it's true the reading teacher was playing the video of Oprah's school in Africa. He just couldn't wait to spill the beans.

My analogy for the day is kindergarten is to cute as 6th grade is to hysterical. This is one of those days that I would have worked for free.

The Mystery of Death

For the past few months the people around me have been confronting the loss of those they love. Death has always been a mystery to me. My first memory of death was my younger brother's drowning so it has always been extremely difficult for me to come to terms with the finality of it. People who were just here laughing and playing with me can be swept away in the blink of an eye never to be seen again. My response is almost always a feeling that begins with denial and quickly morphs into frustration, finally ending in confusion and leaving me hollow. I do not understand it. Sometimes death is as simple as never waking up from a night's sleep and sometimes it drags on for years in senility. It makes no sense. We come into the world so predictably and live the day to our day of our lives without incident. Most of us grow up, fall in love, get married, have kids and live the happily ever after. But for some it is different. Along the journey something changes. An accident. An illness. Then suddenly that life is on a totally different path and his/her loved ones try desperately to follow behind. But as our arms flail out to held them here on earth there is nothing that can be done to slow time. We don't get the last hug or kiss, the last shared smile or a parting word. They are simply gone. It is over. We hold on to our memories and carry the spirit of our loved ones with us through the rest of our lives. We speak their names to keep the memory of who they once were alive not only for ourselves but so they will never be forgotten. They were here. They changed who we became. They made a difference.

Weekend Procrastination

Ah. It is Friday night. It should feel like a weight lifted off my chest but what rolls through my brain is the 3 sets of papers I have to correct sometime over the next 48 hours. This is a funny little game I have been playing for the past 3 months. I am constantly searching for the balance between weekend work and play since I started teaching middle school. There are papers that must be graded in order to meet the deadline for progress reports that tell student's families their kids need to shape up before report cards go out in another 4-5 weeks. The picture in my mind is a series of hurdles on a circular track, one leading to another so it is never ending. Every weekend the work gets done and I somehow get my moments of play intertwined between the papers, the yard and the house. I tell myself I'll do them on Friday night and have the rest of weekend to call my own but I have yet to follow through on that internal promise. I usually end up doing a little work followed by a little play. One thing I have learned is that it is absolutely forbidden to correct and post grades on Sunday night. I did that once and will never repeat it. This is the time when I repeat over and over again the mantra of how much I love middle school. The reality is that there is a lot more paper work and it has to be handled in a timely manner. But I will definitely take that over crying children who would like you to tie your shoes while you're considering how best to correlate a unit on tide pools with research reports, putting away leveled books and wondering how to differentiate instruction in two digit multiplication. Five paragraph essays, here I come.

The Tao of Walking

Pooh and Piglet both have their Tao and on my way home today it occurred to me that it is time for walking to get its just due. I have always known that walking is a spiritual activity for me. When I do it alone it is the closest to God that I ever get. My brain dumps and becomes clear and the important things in life float to the surface. When I walk with friends we talk about the deepest things in our lives - our hopes and dreams, joys and sorrows. It has been more than a month since I really walked and during that time I have been in an unexplainable funk. The battle between being alone and lonely seemed to have been won by lonely. I blamed my new job for my inability to move off the couch, my sleeplessness, and my lack of concern for even the basics of housekeeping. I need to walk. This morning I went back and forth as to whether to bite the bullet and take a chance on walking. My morning routine went off without a hitch and there was no pain in my foot so I took a chance. I stepped out of the door, embraced the cool fog and couldn't help but smile. As I made my way up the sidewalk I could feel the weight of my world slipping off my shoulders with every step I took. I was able to focus on the day ahead, pray for my friends and family and take in the beauty of the changing season. What a difference between plopping in my car to drive to work, stopping every block for stop signs and watching for adolescents as I park my car. The walk home is even better. For some reason my pace in the afternoon is much slower and I see and feel everything. By the time I reach my door I am totally in balance. Yes, walking is my tao.

Addendum to Things I Love About Middle School

Sixth graders are not only obsessed with their looks but evidently everyone else's looks on the planet as well. I died my hair back to its somewhat original color over the weekend and I could not believe the comments from my students Monday morning. My favorite one was,"What did you do to your hair?" I guess that beats trying to figure out for yourself what is different. This was followed by:
Your hair looks darker.
Your hair looks fuller.
Your hair looks longer.
Did you dye your hair?
Now what I find extremely entertaining about this is that they didn't seem to realized that the blonde and red highlights that I covered up was also dyed hair.

Things I Love About Middle School

Beginning with the first day of school I started a list of things that struck me as being different from elementary school. With each one of them, there was always the observation followed with a sight smile and an "I like that." I initially began the list to give me something to say when asked. Why do you like middle school? Here it is as of this date.
Kids are only there for 50 minutes at a time.
There is a larger pool of teachers from which to gain knowledge and ideas.
I am a part of the outside world. I can actually see Jackson Street from my window.
I am a better teacher because I can focus on 2 subjects instead of 6.
The students are MUCH more independent.
There are fewer parent issues. Some days I don't even see, talk to or e-mail a single one.
The passing time gives me time to think and get focused on the next class.
The teaching of curriculum starts on the second day of school.
Entering grades is simple.
E-mail is my primary source of communication. I love that.
Preparing for class is mostly paperwork. There are no little books, or math manipulatives or things to put together.
There is no class picture on picture day where you have to identify the kids for the yearbook.
I don't have slow down to fit their pace when walking with them across the quad.
Sub plans are a breeze.
Doing report cards consists of clicking a number for comments and a button that says "Finalize Grades."
I can walk to work.
6th graders just say funny things. Every single day I laugh at something that is said in my classroom.
You can have a class discussion about important things.
They notice things that have changed - arrangement of furniture, things on the wall, the scent of an air freashner.
There is a greater distribution of the workload among the staff.
The sound of an orchestra, jazz band and choir
The joy of communicating with an adolescent and making a difference

You Just Have to Laugh

Twenty-four hours have passed since my most recent 2 hour stint at Kaiser. This time I was scheduled to see a rheumatologist. Imagine my surprise when a nurse practitioner walked into the room. She reassured me that I would be examined by her as well as the real doctor. So she asked me a bunch of questions, bashed my shoe selection and suggested getting arch supports for my shoes. She examined my foot and agreed that it was indeed swollen and bumpy and looked very goutish. She shared the x-rays with me and said that it did not appear to be bone related and thought that perhaps it was a tendon issue. That means we have now addressed ligaments, joints, bones and tendons. I think that covers everything. She left and returned a few minutes later with the rheumatologist in tow. He started off with an exam of my left foot. The thinking part of me quickly deduced that he wanted to see what the healthy foot felt like before examining the swollen one. He then examined the right one side by side with the left. He looked up and said, "Which one is it?" Something inside kept me from putting my shoes back on and walking out of the room. He talked for a while, pressed and prodded every inch of my foot, asked me a few questions, reviewed previous diagnoses and then admitted that he was just stalling because he had no idea what was wrong with my foot. He proceeded to give me some excellent information about rheumatoid diseases and then happened upon the idea of requesting my calcium and iron levels in yet another blood test. Don't ask me why but he seemed extremely pleased that he had thought of another test that I could take. We looked at my x-rays again and he pointed out some arthritis in my big toe, showed me my bunion and my very healthy joints. Then he suggested that perhaps there was a stress fracture and requested a second set of x-rays. He sent me off to get a new prescription for the drugs that were time released in order to reduce the side effects, a blood test and a weight bearing x-ray. I got the blood test and drugs with no problem. Then I headed down the hall to Radiology. I signed in and found a seat to wait my turn. Several minutes when by and I heard my name being called. But it wasn't a radiologist, it was the lady at the sign in desk. She apologized that I could not get a weight bearing x-ray there; those were only done in orthopedics. So I headed down to orthopedics and lo and behold it was now after 5 so they were closed. Fast forward to this morning. I called orthopedics to make an appointment for the x-ray and was told that I was mistaken and it was surely possible to get what I needed in radiology. She put me on hold and then admitted that, yes indeed I was correct. But unfortunately I was unable to get the x-ray without a request from the doctor. Next step was to call the rheumatologist to request the weight bearing x-ray. He called me back and apologized and said it wasn't necessary to get the weight bearing x-ray to check for the stress fracture so I could just go to radiology. OK. Now we're getting somewhere. Then a few hours later I get a call from the rheumatologist's nurse who has scheduled a weight bearing x-ray for me on Monday morning at 9:00. Huh? Does any of this make sense. You just have to laugh. So now I have seen three doctors all of which freely admitted they had no idea what was wrong with my foot, had 2 blood tests and will hopefully have 2 sets of x-rays. I have to admit that the anti inflammatory drugs are working to reduce the pain but the end result is that I still have a swollen bumpy foot.

Taking the Bull by the Horns

I am totally done with feeling wounded and a victim of pain. My foot hurts. It's a simple fact. Sometimes it hurts a little, sometimes a lot. There doesn't seem to be any sort of rhythm to it. It is almost always stiff in the morning but there is nothing else regular or predictable about the timing or degree of discomfort. I came to the conclusion tonight that I can no longer let it control my life. It will continue controlling my diet because of the crazy drugs but I can no longer sit and wait for my body to heal. Obviously it's not going to happen. I took great joy in going to the gym and walking on the treadmill. That is a safe place because no matter how far I walk I can easily get home. Walking clears my head. I discovered that on the treadmill I can focus more attention to my foot. I don't have to look at where I'm going and I can judge ever step I make. I can keep my body in better alignment and hopefully keep from messing something else up. I just feel too young for any of this to be happening. I have lots to do and most of them involve my feet. So I just have to get over it.

Getting My Sea Legs

Every now and then the bell rings ending first period and I feel ready to teach. This is usually after a 6:45 A.M. arrival and working non-stop through my first period prep. I'll finish up correcting papers, entering grades, browsing through my unit and figuring out the next few days of lessons in ancient history or writing and I'll actually feel like I'm at a good stopping place and can welcome the students. It always takes me by surprise because it is so rare. But today it happened twice - before AND after school. But as I walked out the door this afternoon I realized it's all a hoax. The feeling is real but in actuality it is my brain saying that I'm done for now. As I shut down the computer and made my piles on the desk, I realized that indeed I had much more to do. I could have started with lesson plans for Tuesday when we meet with the ELL consultant or made copies for tomorrow or read the introductory paragraphs my kids wrote today. There was any number of things I could have done. The brain is indeed a wonderful thing. It just seems to know when enough is enough. When you'll just be spinning your wheels. When you don't have the focus to complete any more tasks. The weeks are going by quickly and I know that with each one I become a bit more comfortable in this new world into which I have flung myself. There is so much to learn, so much to do.

Learning Patience

Following a bike ride on October 5th I noticed a little bump inside the top of my foot. Two days later, the area had swollen and was causing pain in my daily walks. I gave it a few more days and went to the doctor. Now a month later, an x-ray, a blood test and two mistaken diagnosis I am no closer to knowing what it it is than I was when it all began. It is the first time in my life that my body has not had the ability to heal itself. This has come as an immense shock and has become harder and harder for me to understand. I miss my walks terribly. They were a spiritual need as well as a physical one for me. It was the time I took to look back or forward on my life - literally and figuratively where I had been and where I was going. This pain is slowly but surely teaching me patience. It forces me to sit instead or walk or ride my bike. I now know by feet intimately and can compare them by touch rather than sight. I am beginning to understand how pain can effect your relationships. But this pain is also the bearer of many gifts as it has forced me to change almost everything I do. I focus on my diet, have given up alcohol and caffeine, eat 3 meals a day so I can take my anti inflammatory drugs with as few side effects as possible. I am aware of every step I take with an emphasis on distributing my weight evenly on my feet. That in itself has become a spiritual awakening. I am forced to stay in the moment and develop a consciousness of each and every footprint I leave behind. I step and feel and evaluate what the next step will be and how I will take it. Then I repeat the process all day long every day. Yes. I am learning patience with myself. I have no idea if there will ever be a solution for whatever this is but for now I am more aware of this moment than I have ever been before.

Coming Back

I have had a recurring thought the past few months about the need to come back to my blog. It has been a long long time and much has changed in my life since I last wrote to the world. I have a new job and have completely remodeled my house so all aspects of my daily life have been turned upside down. I try to remind myself that I like change but it could be that I have crossed some imaginary line. I am having great difficulty finding my bearings but perhaps that is just what I needed. I am learning the value of silence and just sitting. Sometimes I just sit and feel absolutely no pressure to DO anything. I can just feel who I am and where I am in the moment. Then suddenly it's another moment and I can feel that one too. And pretty soon a lot of moments have gone by and I have had the pleasure of feeling each and every one of them. That is a place I have never been before. I fight the guilt that often follow these moments and reassure myself that it much be what my spirit is in need of. I miss my old existence but don't seem to have the energy to reclaim it. So for now this is where I am. Sitting. Feeling. Breathing. Knowing that I am exactly where I am supposed to be.