#SOL16 Day 29

(I changed the name of this post -formerly Balancing Dans and Debbies because I in no way meant to disparage all of those amazing Debbies out there!)

There is so much negative energy that can permeate our lives each day…headlines about terrorism and local tragedy, a political landscape that continues to sink to new lows, teacher bashing, and just daily stresses. It’s critical that we find ways to bring some balance to our universe.

This morning my sister sent me a Facebook post from one of her friends.  She said every morning he sends out some positive message and that she looks forward to reading his posts to start her day.  It was incredible.  His message was so inspiring and uplifting.

I scrolled through my Facebook feed and noticed so many more positive messages. I realized, I have control over some of the energy around me.  I can’t control events, but I can regulate some the incoming messages and responses with the push of a button. I can choose the type of energy that I surround myself with. Certainly life isn’t all rainbows and ponies, but it sure as heck doesn’t have to be crowded with Debbie Downers!  I encourage you to take a look at who you invite into your world. Do they stretch your thinking, inspire your soul, lift up your heart?  Is that important to you?  It certainly is to me. I just friended Dan. We all need more Dans than Debbies in our life.

It’s YOUR choice!

#SOL16 Day 28

Today I was talking with a colleague who shared with me that her young mother had recently been diagnosed with a very rare cancer.  She was trying to wrap her head and heart around it and has been understandably shaken.  She said it was so funny that an email I sent her last week caught her attention when she was feeling down.  The subject line simply said “HEALING THOUGHTS”.  In it I wrote, “Thinking of you tonight. Hope you are feeling better (and are actually sleeping right now)!”  I sent it out before I went to bed that night. I had missed seeing her at school and heard she was out sick. She said she showed it to her fiance and it was just what she need right then. Healing thoughts were definitely on her mind.

We can’t be certain when a comment, a message, or an email might have an impact on another person, but you can be guaranteed that every kind comment, message, or email will be received with a grateful heart. I was thinking about this colleague that night and could have left it at that. I chose to take one minute and send an email letting her know she was cared about.

How many times have we thought about someone and considered reaching out, but didn’t? We are busy, we don’t want to bother them, we don’t think what we say can make much of a difference.  When in doubt…choose kind!

I was inspired by a fellow slicer this weekend (I’ve read so many posts now, I am sorry I can’t recall who) to leave some notes this week for the teachers I work with.  I had already written out several to deliver when this teacher approached me about the email I’d sent.  I wished right then I’d had written about a dozen more! These teachers just had a week of report cards and  parent conferences, and more weeks of standardized testing.  They needed to hear how appreciated they are  (and not just during the first week of May!) Think about how uplifting it is to find comments each day on our SOLC blogs! I want my colleagues to experience that lift more often, too!

I hope that I never pass up an opportunity to offer a kind word, or a quick and simple hug to another person who could use it. With the odds we are given in this life, there will be days when we all could use it!

May you all have a blessed and benevolent week.

#SOL16 Day 27

I miss hanging eggs in the lilac bushes out front.

I don’t miss hunting down the “uncracked” and “unfaded” eggs in the attic.

I miss filling baskets for my babes with goodies they’ll love.

I don’t miss waiting until half-past exhaustion to fill them at night.

I miss seeing their faces as they rush to find their baskets.

I don’t miss waking up at quarter-past too-early to grab my camera before they race down.

I miss hearing them thank the Easter Bunny for their treats.

I don’t miss some lagomorph taking credit for my planning and hard work.

I miss watching them don Easter outfits to celebrate the day.

I don’t miss underdressing in some spring fashion when it still feels like February.

I miss my babies.

I love my teens.

I miss some of our old traditions.

I embrace the ones we are making today.

#SOL16 Day 25

Our schools just began a month long engrossment with our state’s high stakes, standardized testing (MEAs). Staff are stressed out with the disruption of schedules,  technology demands, and  strict rules (no looking at student screens or student test books, two teachers in the room at all times, no other electronic devices in the room, etc).

So to add to the mayhem,  fifteen minutes into the testing yesterday afternoon we are assaulted with the “ERRR…ERRRR…ERRRR…” of the fire alarm.  We teachers know this one wasn’t planned. The kids calmly evacuate with practiced perfection. Unfortunately, part of that protocol is an admonition to take nothing with you-including coats.

It’s 24 degrees outside. I’m walking out with a group of bare armed kindergarteners.

Teachers line up their classes, take a head count, check for stragglers. And we wait.

“Is this a real fire?”

“This is just practice.”

The emergency vehicles are first heard, and then seen.  One.  Two. Three.  Four.  Four different fire and ladder trucks pull up.

“Why are the fire trucks here?”

“They need to practice too.”

A paramedic vehicle arrives. I don’t think we are going in anytime soon.

“I’m cold”.  “My ears hurt.”  “I want my coat.”

This is not good.  “Ok guys…huddle up!  Come here and snuggle up together!” 

The kids flock to my legs and waist!  I try to move the sleeveless kiddos to the center.  When I look down at these cuties I am reminded of a beehive in winter. There the bees cluster into a ball and take turns switching from the outer to inner parts of the core. They generate a heat of about 93 degrees in the dead of winter! These honeybees begin to giggle and smile. This is good.

“Hey, let’s take a picture of our huddle!”  I snap a bird’s eye view of these busy bees.

We enlist some older students with coats (they were already out at recess) to form an outer wall around our littlest. What a cool hive!

Before we know it, the all-clear bell sounds and we untangle and disband our snuggle ball. We trek back into the school. Toward the end of the day I walk to the kindergarten to share the pictures I took with their teacher.

“Hey, you’re the one who snuggled us!” Several students run over and throw their arms around me.

Now I know how the queen bee feels. I love this colony.

…You can call me queen Bee
And baby I’ll rule, I’ll rule, I’ll rule, I’ll rule.
Let me live that fantasy.

from Royals by Lorde

(Just to be clear, their teacher is the true queen bee! She is amazing.   I just got a chance to visit that hive and feel the love they give her everyday!)

#SOL16 Day 24

One day a week I work in a functional skills (special education) classroom with 3rd through 6th graders during their writing block.  It’s one of my very favorite classes.  Today three of the students were working on an essay for a scholarship from a local credit union.  Every year all 5th and 6th graders enter this scholarship contest and write essays that share their aspirations, these students wanted to join in.

Tasya* was sharing her essay with me as Corey* listened in.  “When I grow up I want to be a midwife and go to college to be a midwife and I will get hired.  My boss will pay me money so I can take care of my family.”

Kevin asked, “What’s a midwife?”

Tasya answered, “I don’t really know what all they do.  I know they give baby check ups and they wrap up the babies.”

Corey looked a little confused so I added. “They help a mother when it is time to have a baby. They help the baby to be born.”

“So Tasya can help my girlfriend’s baby be born?”  Now Corey is 12, so I replied, “Not for a long, long time.”

Corey responds,”Yeah, my dad said he wants me to have a girlfriend when I’m 18.  Can you have a baby when you’re 18?”

Tasya answers, “No.  You have to be in your 20’s, like maybe 25 or something. My mom says you can’t get married til you are in your 20’s.”

I could see this conversation was not moving in a direction we had time to explore, and wasn’t helping them to their focus on the essays, so I try to circle back.  “Corey, what is your essay about?”

“I’m gonna be a pilot. I’m gonna get a lesson to fly a plane and get my license.”

“That’s gonna be a good one. I like that one.” Tasya encourages him.

I see Ariana* sitting at the end of the table. “How about you, Ariana? What do you want to do when you grow up?”

She taps on her paper.  “I’m gonna be a crime investigator and solves all those crimes. My mom lets me watch that show where they solve those crimes. I can do that.”

Corey has a look on his face that screams, “Whoa!”

“That’s gonna be a good one. I like that one, too.” Tasya offers again.

As I listen to them sharing their hopes and dreams for their futures, I am struck with the realization that those dreams won’t come easy (if at all) to these beautiful children. The opportunities in life that  we frequently take for granted are sometimes out of reach for others.  For now, I help them celebrate  and work toward their dreams, and hope that throughout their life they will find encouragement if their aspirations become altered.

My own daughter will be off to college next year, and I’ve never had a doubt that whatever she dreamed, she could become.  It hits me hard knowing that not all parents have that same experience.  All children have dreams, but not all will be realized the way we might hope for them.

It is my wish that they keep dreaming, and recognize there is never just one dream. I will keep working, encouraging, and guiding these students to be the best whatever they want to be.

To dream … the impossible dream …
To fight … the unbeatable foe …
To bear … with unbearable sorrow …
To run … where the brave dare not go …

To right … the unrightable wrong …
To love … pure and chaste from afar …
To try … when your arms are too weary …
To reach … the unreachable star …

This is my quest, to follow that star …
No matter how hopeless, no matter how far …

From Man of LaMancha
Lyrics by Joe Darion

*pseudonyms

#SOL16 Day 23

I saw a post on Facebook this week.  I don’t even care if it is true.  It made me stop and think.   A young man was cut off and flipped off by another driver as they were both entering a Starbucks.  He sees the man in line and offers to pay for his coffee. The man is grateful for this generous act and shocked when the young man informs him that he is the same person he’d just flipped off.  The man apologized and shared how we was under so much stress.

The writer concludes, “Because we tend to celebrate people getting revenge, or “getting what they deserve, my question is, when does it end? When does the fighting and anger stop? It’s only when PEACE makes its way in and overcomes.”  In other words, the young man not only wished things were different, he MADE them different.

Many of us are feeling frustrated and helpless when we watch the suffering from terrorist attacks like we are seeing in Brussels and elsewhere, and we wish someone would do something.  That something is the every day acts of kindness to our fellow man that eases the angers, embraces the outcast, models new ways to resolve conflicts. That someone is found walking in our very shoes.

It takes a conscious effort to respond to anger with a kind gesture, to reply to impatience with forebearance, to listen when you feel like shouting back.

I recall a few years ago driving home from a Taylor Swift concert with a friend and our teenage daughters. We were aghast at the aggressive drivers we constantly encountering. We started playing a game, “Benefit of the Doubt” in which we tried to rationalize why each driver was being so rude and dangerous.

“Oh man, they have to get home to their sick two year old with the medicine from the pharmacy!”

“That guy just lost his job and he’s not sure how to tell his wife. They just bought that house!”

“She just got a call from school to come and pick up her sick daughter who is throwing up in the office!”

The more incredible or fantastical, the better.  We’d laugh hysterically adding more ‘justifiable’ details to excuse their self-centered aggression, totally diffusing the situation and disarming our incredulity.  Our daughters thought we were nuts, but still remember how we handled our frustrations that day.  A few months ago when we encountered another “idiot driver” my daughter asked, “Oh no, you’re not going to play Benefit of the Doubt again, are you?”

Lesson learned.

#SOL16 Day 21

It is the first school day of spring here in Maine and we are home with a snow day. The glee and the disgust are being posted all over social media as I write this. I knew I should never have allowed myself a taste of spring fever, I mean we’ve had snow days in April! But this was such a mild, almost non-existent winter here, many of us felt we had rounded that corner…Oh well, c’est la vie!

As both of my teens lie in bed, I am reminiscing about past snow days as they were littler.  How many families have snow day traditions?  We sure did.  First, if there was any hint, chance, or hope for a snow day my kids would rob the silverware drawer of one spoon each and place it under their pillow. As I recall this had a very high success rate!  There was also the occasional inside-out pajama trick.  This one seemed to fade away and I cannot report accurately on it’s prognosticating precision.

Once they awoke to find their dreams come true, my husband started a nutritional ritual of eating ice cream for breakfast. Needless to say, our freezer needed to be stocked when there was any hint of precipitation. I can’t imagine why we weren’t nominated for Parent of the Year awards!

So I’ll post this SOL now, and go back to indulging myself in recollections of past snow days. They are truly some of the most memorable slices I carry with me.

#SOL16 Day 20

Today my daughter is competing in her last dance competition. As a senior in high school, I recognize this as the first of many lasts. I also know they have a different significance for me than they do for her.  She is excited for the ‘next steps’ and I am mourning the loss of my ‘baby’.  I had planned to post this after her competition, but considering it will conclude late this evening and be followed by a 2 1/2 hour drive home, I didn’t want to miss my SLICE for today.

When she takes the stage I am hoping I can keep the tears from obscuring my view. I want to see every move choreographed by her wonderful teacher.  I can’t fully appreciate her technique the way the judges will, but I want to embrace every emotion her moves evoke. I think back to her first entrance to the stage when she was four.  Decked out in blue tulle frock with black patent leather capezios, she tapped her tiny toes  like a pony pawing the earth-frisky and fancy free. I couldn’t imagine being prouder.  Silly me.

Now poised and practiced, she’ll again step onto that stage as my little babe.  Yet somehow she’s morphed into this beautiful young woman who is more graceful than I could ever hope to be.  She’ll face her fears and doubts to embody her dance.  I won’t care how the judges score her.  It will be as meaningless as a grade is to a composed story.  It has nothing to do with her experience, or my experience, as she moves across the floor and takes her final bow.  All I hope is that I don’t let the gravity of these “lasts” impinge on my enjoyment of the “now”.  Perhaps I’ll silently chant her name as a centering prayer and hold that in my heart as her performance number nears. That is surely a mantra that holds meaning for me…Bailey…Bailey…Bailey..

Bravo, dear Bailey.  Break a leg. I love you!