Mom Always Get to Decide

There is a volcano erupting in Iceland. Iceland, you might say; who cares about Iceland? Well it turns out that a lot of people do. It seems that jets don't do well flying through clouds of ash and rocks. So, people all over the world are literally stranded. They are either stuck where they are or are finding slower forms of transportation. I love that Mother Nature always wins. She is ultimately in charge and there's nothing that can be done about it. Humans believe that they can truly dominate the planet and then something like this happens that makes everyone aware that we are like little ants in the scheme of things. We may think that we are in charge until the wake up call comes and says, "Sit down and rest a bit. You don't need to go anywhere for a while. Take a few days and enjoy where you are in this moment." OK Mom, you win.

The Spiritual Side of Bread

Part of my journey into "real food" is also a journey into personal involvement with my food. As a result, I have made a commitment to bake my own bread. I toyed around with bread baking when the kids were little and again many years later with bread machines. Now that I am increasing whole grains in my diet, I am looking at how to make whole grain breads that taste good. Enter the new cookbook: Peter Reinhart's Whole Grain Breads. Peter is a baker who shares his personal journey into whole grain bread baking, the good, the bad and the ugly. His writing includes his anecdotes, the science of whole grains as well as the theory of the delayed fermentation process. His love of bread comes through loud and clear. This is my favorite quote from the book.

Bread is the ultimate transformational food. Its ingredients are not only radically changed from one thing into something completely different, but more significantly, and unlike any other food, bread actually goes through two transformations in its journery from the earth to the table. Let me explain.

To make bread, we harvest the caryopsis (the seed) from living grass, taking the life of that grass. Usually, but not exclusively, that grass is wheat. Then we grind the seed into flour, taking even its potential for future life. During the mixing stage, we combine this flour with salt and water and turn it into a claylike mixture. When infused with leaven, it gradually comes to life as it rises and becomes bread dough. (It may help to know that the dictionary definition of leaven is "to enliven, to vivify; to bring to life.") This is the first transformation.

After several succeeding stages of the bread maing process - fermentation, shaping, resting, and so on - the baking stage arrives and a second transformation occurs. Living dough enters a hot oven, as the internal temperature of the dough passes 139 degrees (the dough's thermal death point), all life ceases. In order to complete its mission of raising the dough and transforming it into bread, the leaven gives up its own life too.

These two transformations help to explain our fascination and love for bread. Whether literally or symbolically, the ingredients are radically transformed and so, at times, is the baker. The road from wheat to eat takes many twists and turns, verging at times on seemingly mysterious, alchemical changes. And the ultimate loaf experienced, finally at stage twelve (eating!) is a creature totally unlike the grass seeds ground into flour from which it originated.

It's All About Time

Spring Break. Ahhhh... What is that sigh about? It is an emptiness, a sudden silence. It is the temporary end to the stress of interesting kids, curious parents, schedules, lesson plans, and thoughts about plans for next year. It is being "home." It is time. Time to think. Time to do whatever comes into your mind. The rhythm of middle school has a very quick beat. 52 minute periods with 5 minutes in between. It is controlled by bells. There is no end to them. Day after day, week after week. Hurry and teach. Hurry and correct these papers and input the grades. Hurry and take care of these special ed forms, and student awards and attendance reports. There is no time to reflect and just sit back and enjoy your love of the kids and the job. It is always on to the next thing. The next unit, the next quarter, state testing, scheduling for next year. There is no end until it ends. But spring break is that tiny little moment to breathe again. The rhythm of "home" is slow and methodical. It is what do I need to do today, followed by what do I want to do today. It is time for lunch with friends and spur of the moment cups of coffee. It is the awareness of time passing but knowing that the exact time it is doesn't matter. There are no bells and if it doesn't get done today then maybe it will tomorrow or may it just isn't that important. I am loving this time and all the possibility it holds.

Michael Pollan Has Changed My Life

A look into my "pantry" is a bit shocking these days. You won't find anything that wasn't in my great-grandmother's. No instant anything, only real food. A month ago I read Michael Pollan's book, The Omnivore's Dilemma and I haven't been the same since. I finally understand all that went on with our food supply while I was a child and how it continues with Monsanto's ownership/patent of corn and soy seeds. I get why we are able to make almost anything from corn and soy beans. I understand what agribusiness has done to the word organic and that free range means only that there is a door that leads to the outside. I also understand that humans have attempted to change cows' digestive system from ruminants into grain eaters. It doesn't work. It's why they get sick and must be slaughtered at such young ages.

I am finally aware. There are some things that come into my life at the exact moment I am ready to act upon them. It turns out that Michael Pollan is one of those things. I have read 2 of his books, seen him on a couple talk shows, watched Food Inc and The No Impact Man all in the span of a couple months. It has all gelled together into a whole new way of looking at my food. There is a part of me that is ashamed that it has taken so long for me to become more knowledgeable about what goes in my body but as always, I embrace the change.

What does this mean for me? My kitchen has only real food and I am working hard on an attempt to eat locally (although I fudge on my coffee beans and will buy them from Mexico and Guatemala). This means most of my food shopping is done at the Farmer's Market. I am back to drinking real milk. I am off high fructose corn syrup and any sort of hydrogenated fat. I would say that I have become a label reader but most real food doesn't come with labels. My label reading is more about what is left in the pantry. I have torn out my lawn and planted food in its place. And I have never been more content with living authentically.

I am part of the Slow Food movement. The result is that I am completely present to the moment. The food I eat is a choice and I choose not to eat fast food of any sort. I am voting with my fork. I am much closer to my food sources than I have ever been before and I have a personal connection to everything I eat. I am committed to my weekly trip to the Farmer's Market.

I love watching how things are changing around me, how more people are buying locally and seasonally, the CSAs that have become a new way of shopping, more talk about grass fed animals, and more awareness of terms like organic, free range and vegetarian. Yes, Michael Pollan has changed my life and I couldn't be happier.

Crossroads on the Journey

I had another of those moments where I knew I had gone through the bad times so that I could lead someone else through them. One of my before-school students fail to show up on Thursday. So I of course let her have it about commitment, responsibility, blah, blah, blah to which she responded with 2 single tears rolling down each cheek and the garbled response "I think my parents are getting a divorce." All I could do was hold her close and open the door for her to come running in. So on Friday, I did no teaching of reading but I did give her absolutely everything she needed to make it through the day. The hard times were indeed hard but I have had several occasions now where I have realilzed why it had to be the way it was. I am stronger and wiser and have the honor of holding the hand of others while I sometimes pull them along and other times stand behind so they can keep trudging forward. This student is definitely on my mind and I pray that she has what she needs to get through the week until we see each other again. Stay strong, baby and know that grown-up fighting is never ever about the children left in its wake.

Getting to Know 6th Grade

I was thinking late this afternoon after school, after the faculty meeting, after the department meeting called to finish scoring the writing assessments that I am just beginning to get to know these creatures called middle schoolers. Then it occurred to me that after only 2 years in middle school I have taught 120 different kids. That would have taken me 6 years in primary! So I guess it makes sense that I am starting to get a handle on this job. Hooray for me. Give me a couple more years and I'll be something to behold.

Letting Them Go

One of my greatest struggles in my move to middle school has been allowing kids to fail. That was simply never an issue in elementary school. You sat beside those challenging kids and supported, cajoled and put your hand around theirs to guide that pencil until the deed was done. There was no failing as long as the scaffold was there to catch them before they fell. I prided myself on the ability of every child to achieve success. It was exhausting work but at the end of the year, I sent them on knowing that I had given it everything I had. Last year was my first experience with the notion that if a kid wants to fail, you can't stop them. There is really nothing you can do as a teacher to make them care if the desire isn't there. It was a difficult thing for me to understand and I had many teary nights over one and only one student. I knew that he was put in my life for many valuable lessons so I tried to absorb them as best I could. Well, it's that time of year again where it becomes clear that there are just some kids who I am not going to be able to "save." I have to walk away and let them go to see if they will follow. They seem determined to stumble and fall. I could pick them up again and again but it quickly becomes a game of watching me swoop from behind and stand them up only to look at me, laugh and fall over again. I have set the bar but its up to them to actually lift their feet off the ground and clear it. Last week I had one of those moments where I knew I had hit the wall. It was time to wave the white flag and just see what they could do. Last year I did that over and over again because I just couldn't get it. But the lesson seems to have sunk in a little deeper. This time around I can leave it up to the kids and wait for them to realize that it's now their turn. This is their moment to either make it or break it. Mom can't do it, Dad can't do it and neither can I. It's one of the things I love about middle school. It is the crossroads to growing up; the moment when they first begin to realize who they are and what they are made of. I can't get in the way of that realization, of their becoming who they happen to be at the moment. I can only offer my assistance; it is up to them to accept it and take the first step down that road.