Monday, December 31, 2012

Fingers crossed

2012. I'm so lucky. I had loads of time with my girls, loads of good food, loads of junk food, loads of cat snuggles, loads of good experiences with my students. 
I'm so lucky.
2013. I'm hopeful. I'm anxious. I'm grateful already for whatever comes
January holds a rather large mountain to climb, but I'll be positive enough, strong enough, and resilient enough for all of us. We'll climb together. We love each other. That's what will help us get to the other side, where we'll slide down, screaming, crying, and laughing all the way.
I'm so lucky. We've got each other.

photo credit

It's Okay

I'm trying so hard to breathe. Since the end of November, I've noticed that I have to concentrate specifically on taking in a full breath. 
It's tricky, this whole "tension" thing. You go about your daily routine, seemingly unscathed by circumstances out of your control. But then you notice that you're not fully breathing, not fully focusing, not fully participating.
I've got to do a better job of staying alert for the creeping signs of tension. I've got to let go of what I'm holding inside. If I crumble for a little while, the world will go on spinning. My issues won't go away, but they also won't eat me alive as long as I breathe. In. Out. Repeat.

Monday, December 10, 2012

The Waiting is the Hardest Part

'Tis the season. The season of waiting. The season of anticipation. Every day feels like an intake of breath. 
When does the release happen? Is it when the shopping is done? When the gifts are wrapped and tree decorated? When family gathers to celebrate? Or does it happen the day after, vacuuming the wrapping paper shreds, washing the dirtied dishes, putting the furniture back in place? 
I am a person who feels the post-holiday crash pretty deeply. In the evenings between Christmas day and New Year's Eve, I lean toward wallowing in sappy movies, sappy music, sitting in darkness lit only by tree lights. I take my year apart mentally, analyzing every misstep, listing the changes I will make to move forward. It's not so much a release as a letdown. It's as if there's nothing to look forward to, only things to regret. And that's bullshit. 
I'm learning (ssss--lll--ooo--www--lll--yyy) to keep myself in anticipation. Because there's ALWAYS something coming. I don't mean in the "Oh-I've-got-a-thousand-things-to-get-done!" way. I mean in the "What's-around-this-corner?" way. I'm learning to look forward with curiosity, with eagerness, with openness, instead of with dread, with anxiety, with a feeling of impending doom. 
I am not good with change. I worry. I fret. I dread. I know I won't completely be free of those weights, but I'm determined to look ahead with excitement. I am not patient, but I'm determined to find the joy in the waiting. 
I will inhale and open my eyes.

 


Clip art: http://www.stpaulschestnuthill.org/wp-content/uploads/Advent-Wreath-011.jpg

Wednesday, November 21, 2012

'Tis the Season

nostalgia       
scents
laughter
warmth
flavors
hugs
blankets
tears
contentment
love
always, love
 

Friday, October 19, 2012

GREAT

Great. I missed a second post in September. Great. I missed an early post in October. Great.
While I'm working hard to retrain myself, to foster and maintain better habits, I still mess things up regularly. I am definitely a work in progress.

In late September, I was assigned the task of listing things I am GREAT at. *Brief interjection: If you are bothered by dangling participles and poor grammar, read no further. This post is rife with both. You have been warned.* Have you ever tried to do this? It's humbling, and kinda depressing. Because it was very easy to list things I am GOOD at. I am self-aware enough and confident enough to say, "Yes, I'm a good cook," or "Yes, I'm a Trivial Pursuit player." 

So I took it to the next level. Things I am BETTER-THAN-AVERAGE at. Hmmm. Okay, I play piano better than the average person. I have better-than-average classroom management skills. I am blushing as I write this next one, but...I think I'm better-than-the-average mom. I can only say that because my girls are grown women who haven't become serial killers or Republicans (yet). 

Now on to the GREAT list. *pause* Ok.*crickets chirping* Yeah. This is tough. On the surface, it seems easy. I'm a great friend. I'm a great daughter. But, no, those statements aren't true. I think (ok, I KNOW) I'm a good friend. A really good friend. But GREAT? No. Because I still won't go see every show that my friends are in. Because I still won't call friends on a regular basis, just to chat.  A great daughter? Nnnnnnoooooooo. I call my dad frequently, but many times it's due to guilt, not due to an overwhelming desire to talk to him. I still complain almost daily about having to put up with his racist rants, but I don't have the guts to confront him about them. I still harbor loads of resentment and anger toward him for events that occurred DECADES ago. Do I love him? Yes, without question. Am I a GREAT daughter? Not a chance.

My list of GREATNESS comes from a negative place. I am a GREAT complainer. I am a GREAT passive/aggressive manipulator. I am a GREAT nag. See what I mean? The reason I was asked to create my list of greatness was to bolster my often-flagging self esteem. Oops. Sort of backfired on me. But, you know what? That's okay. I appreciate the fact that I made these discoveries. Or rather, that this task caused me to FACE these characteristics. Of course I've always known they were there. But looking this closely at my NON-greatness will help me grow, too. So, maybe that's my starting point. I'm GREAT at listing my flaws. And I'm GREAT-ful (see what I did there?) for the task of looking deeper.

http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-OGggPVOG2xw/T2-ElsNCeNI/AAAAAAAABXI/6EWT1urWUZc/s1600/totally-great.jpg

Saturday, September 8, 2012

I Know What I Did Last Summer

This breeze is so refreshing. It's the first fall-like day. That always gives me a boost. I'm a fall fan. I'm a cool-to-cold weather fan. I'm a windows open, put on a sweatshirt fan. Today's a good day.

The end of this summer was not filled with good days. I went through what I call a breakdown, but what my new therapist prefers to call a road bump. Tomato, tomahto--it was not fun. Now, I had no disasters, no terrible disease, no deaths of loved ones. Nothing that others would consider "a good reason" for my sudden inability to deal with daily life. Part of the learning curve of this experience is realizing that it's okay to feel as if my world is ending and to stop worrying that others think I'm just weak. My feelings have validity, and that makes them important.

Whew, that's a tough thing for me to say. I'm grateful that today I can say it. My feelings are valid, and they are important. It doesn't matter if they aren't important to others--they're important to me, at this moment in my life. I can work with that. I can look forward from that. Today is a good day.

 

Wednesday, August 8, 2012

Totally Geeky Music Educator Post

This might not interest you, but I need to share this publicly or I won't hold myself to it. 

I'm always so excited by/inspired by what I see and hear at our October Music Convention, but it frustrates me a little that it occurs after the school year has begun, when I am short on time and energy.  Today, I found inspiration in an article in this month's Teaching Music magazine (membership required), and I made a vow to start the year with a (probably) exhausting but definitely exciting plan. The article was the extra push I needed to go where I've wanted to go, but been too afraid of failing (and, honestly, too darn tired) to fully commit.

I've always done some sort of interest groupings with my kiddos--we all know that it's a tenet of best practice and I've seen terrific growth in the students' learning with these groups. This year, however, I'm going to break it down even further and move closer to the individualized learning plan(ILP). Now this is nothing new; districts have been talking about this for years. But, except for occasional special projects for students who specifically asked for more, I have leaned on small group work to save myself the extra planning, extra setup, extra, extra, extra everything this will most likely entail. To put it bluntly, I've been selfish, and it's just not giving my students the best I have to offer.

SO...I have resigned from almost all committees for the year, decided NOT to look at theatre auditions for this season (with one already-auditioned-for exception ;)  ), and am going to start our first days of school by basically talk, talk, talking with my kiddos. The subject of the article was about creating a culturally diverse classroom. Here are parts of  the article that got me started this morning: "If we're trying to provide equitable education, then we have to respond to the goal of music for all, and to redefine the paradigm...For starters, avoid limiting music literature studied...There's music production, music creation, African drumming ensembles, klezmer music ensembles...And we can try to make students better consumers of music." (Adria Hoffman)*. 

There are so many musical opportunities to explore, and I'm lucky to have another chance to join my student adventurers in their quests.

*"Around the World in Six Class Periods," K. Powers, Teaching Music, Aug., 2012
Image from http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-3FGD2UDEgXg/TZ4YVI9nJvI/AAAAAAAAAEg/Y0dywJf8DSw/s740/instrument%2Bkids%2Bclipart.bmp


Monday, July 16, 2012

Nerd Alert


Nerd (from http://www.urbandictionary.com/define.php?term=nerd)

 A person who gains pleasure from amassing large quantities of knowledge about subjects often too detailed or complicated for most other people to be bothered with.
Often mistaken for Geeks, who aspire to become nerds, yet lack the intelligence, and end up giving nerds a bad name due to their poor social skills.

How weird is it that one of my favorite things to do over a summer break is read books and articles about my profession? Total nerd. 
I spend most of my summer time reading--this summer I've already finished 12 books, mostly memoir, mostly light. During the school year, I don't have/take the time to read much, except before bed, so blasting through so many books by midsummer is gratifying. 

But now that it's mid-July, some of my interest has turned to professional journals, research, and philosophy. And it happens every summer at this time. What's up with that??? I've been doing this "job" for over 30 years; I kind of know what I'm doing. But still, I am fascinated by new approaches, new ideas, new methodology. 
It's not a job to me, it's not my livelihood; it's my life.

Based on the Urban Dictionary definition at the top of this post, I am a nerd. And I'm grateful for it. I think it makes me a better teacher, a better musician, a better person.


Source

Sunday, July 1, 2012

ABUNDANCE

Where did June go? It was just here a second ago...I'd like to say I enjoyed every moment of the first month of summer vacation, but I don't know where the time went! Technically, I guess I've only been on vacation for 2 weeks, as I spent the first two weeks post-school taking classes with my colleagues. So it feels like my summer has just begun.
I need to once again take time to appreciate the abundance in my life. Abundant freedom--I can wake up and decide what I want to do with my day. Abundant food--I can cook anything I want, because I'm blessed with the resources to do so. Abundant comfort--I have air-conditioning, I have a pool, I have a crazy cat. 
This weekend, however, I'm most thankful for abundant love. I got to spend the time cooking, laughing, talking, walking, shopping, swimming with my three favorite people--my girls. The analogy I've been making in my head to describe this abundance is that spending time with my girls is like filling a water balloon--every single moment adds another drop to the balloon, until it's(I'm) so full, it bursts. But the fun doesn't end with the burst---it just creates MORE fun, more laughter. I hope we get to burst balloons for the rest of the summer and beyond.


http://syllybillywaterballoons.com/index/wp-content/gallery/gallery1/waterballoons-1.jpg

Friday, May 25, 2012

Pie, Pie, Me-Oh-My!

Humble pie, that is.  I've been whining all week, and now I'm  putting an end to it.

  • I feel crumby, because I've had a migraine all week. But I don't have cancer, I'm not dying--I'm lucky.
  • Work didn't go the way I wanted this week. But my kiddos are learning, I know I'm good at what I do, and I love my job--I'm lucky.
  • The weather is WAY hotter and stickier than I like. But I have a pool, I have a home, and I'm alive--I'm lucky.
  • My pool is a dirty, mucky mess. But I'm strong enough to buckle down and clean it, and when it's clean, it's heavenly--I'm lucky.
  • My house is a dirty, mucky mess. But it's a home, and my girls will be here soon, and I'll get around to cleaning eventually--I'm lucky.
Serve me up another slice of pie. This time, make it cherry.


Sunday, May 6, 2012

Mile 57

I'm not a runner. But if I was, I think I'd like to be a long distance marathoner. I like the idea of being fast, so short sprints sound appealing, but overall, I think the satisfaction of sticking with something for the long haul sounds like my cup of tea. 

What I'm hoping is to be here for the long haul. I'm of the age where some of my friends are checking out. Not in large numbers, but enough to notice a trend. It's cliche, I know, but it makes you take a look at what's important. And, to me, for now, what's important is the road ahead. I want it to be long and varied. I want it to be picturesque. I want it to be filled with emotion, strong emotion. I want it to be surprising. I want to share it with my girls. I want to share it with my friends. 

I want it to be long. Of course, I'm also picky. I want to be in good health--strong, independent--so that I can enjoy every minute of the marathon. I don't ever want to be a burden. I don't want to make someone else sacrifice just so I can continue the race. 

I just want to be here for a long while. I'd like to maybe stick around for as many years as I've already been here. Maybe during those years, I'll figure out how to fix the things I've wrecked, and how to use the time I have to the fullest, to make the world better. 
While looking ahead to the road stretching out in front of me, I want to be mindful of every footfall. I want to feel every pebble under my running shoe, every jolt of my arthritic joints, every sharp pang of air moving in and out of my lungs. 

I hope it's not too much to ask. I'm at the starting line, ready to take that first step. 
http://pcmlifestyle.com/wp-content/uploads/2011/12/runningshoes.jpg

Sunday, April 15, 2012

It's the Most Wonderful Time of the Year

Can't believe I'm saying this, but, man, I am LOVIN' spring!!! This goes completely against my instincts--I am a die-hard fall/winter person. But this weird, early warm weather has forced the spring flowers into bloom, and I am surrounded with color and scent. 
I have a high sensitivity to smells. Not only do I have the immediate gut reactions of, "Oh, that smells great!," or, more often, "Yuck! Get that away from me!!," but I am also immediately transported to another place and time by certain aromas. This has been happening to me since my freshman year in college, and it's very smell-specific. 
The strongest response is linked to lilacs. One whiff of blooming lilacs, and I am once again sitting in my freshman dorm hallway, looking out the window, listening to Copland's "Appalachian Spring." This moment comes to me so clearly that I know what I'm wearing, what I'm writing on an open notebook page in my lap, and weirder still, I can actually FEEL the melancholy in my heart--the same melancholy that led me to sit in the hall at that very moment. I mean it---I FEEL it. PHYSICALLY. 

That's what's so weird about my reaction to smells. I have some sort of direct line from my nose to my memory bank, and I remember things so viscerally that I relive those emotions over and over, each time I smell that scent. The same thing happens when I smell a certain combination of damp mustiness, gasoline, and an ever-so-slight tinge of baking bread. This time, I'm standing in the "utility room" of our family's long-gone cottage. I'm a teenager; I'm about to hear the slamming of the screen door as I step out from the cool room into the warmth of the July sun. My uncle Sam is baking bread. My cousin/twin sister is waiting for me on the gravel road, so we can walk to the beach. I am THERE. 

I don't know if other people react this way. I know that I can go from laughing and happy to weeping and depressed with one whiff. Really. That's how strongly a smell can affect me. And what's really weird is that, I think I'm grateful for this. While I would prefer not to revisit some of the memory emotions I have stored away, most of these memories are sweet. They're connected to times of my life that I don't mind reliving. Even the painful times. I like to "see" the people who shared the original moments with me. I like the fleeting tingle of joy I get when I open an old dresser drawer and smell my mom's perfume, still embedded in the drawer lining. I'm once again wrapped in the embrace of my extended family when the combination of tomato sauce and cigarettes wafts into my head. It's weirdly comforting. And this spring is doing that for me. Thanks, spring.

Sunday, March 25, 2012

Helpless

I worry about my dad. There's nothing I can do to help him, and  he pretty much refuses to help himself, but I still worry. Due to a series of poor choices, some of which I know about, most of which I don't, he's in a deep financial crisis. And in his mind, the only way out is to get a job.
But he's nearly 80, is an expert in a field which is a younger man's game, and has no computer skills. His life experience counts for nothing, at least to the aforementioned younger men, so he is unemployable.
He will not take suggestions or assistance from anyone. He will not seek out the free computer classes geared toward seniors. He will not volunteer for anyone. He will not stop his wife from freely and frequently spending what little money they have. Pride is his m.o. He has always provided for his family, and he will not let his family provide for him.
He is convinced that whenever an employer receives his (impressive) resume, as soon as they discover his age, he is cast aside. In his opinion, that is the only thing keeping him unemployed. And while I'm willing to concede that age most definitely is a part of the problem, I can't believe it's the only thing. But maybe I'm wrong.
Where I live, I don't see a lot of seniors working full time. Or maybe I just don't notice. My little town has a large population of 65+ folks, but when I look around, I guess I see them more socially, and not professionally. Our Senior Center provides lots of activities, and there are many community-organized trips, classes, adventures. But my dad is not a social guy. He has no hobbies. Working construction was his life. Decades ago, he moved away from his construction buddies to start a new life in Florida, and he basically has no friends. He has no one to hang out with, no regular pals, and he would not be caught dead anywhere near a Senior Center. He doesn't see himself as a senior, in the same way I don't see myself as middle-aged. But we are. We are.
I am going to be the exact same kind of senior citizen.  I have friends around me, and if I don't manage to piss off my children, I might be lucky enough to have them still around. But I'm not into daily coffee with a group of lady friends. I like to be alone. I like my work. I don't know how to give helpful advice to my dad because I can only see that I'm going to turn out just like him, and I don't know how to stop that train.
So, what to do? How to help? What to say? Our weekly phone conversations are painful, maudlin. After a few minutes of enjoying the recent escapades of my children, his voice drops as he says, once again, "I can't get work. I have nothing to do." I can FEEL the life draining out of him. He's bored, he's scared, and he's alone. Yes, he's married, but I don't want to talk about that. It certainly doesn't fill his long days. And since he feels useless as a provider, I imagine he feels useless as a husband.I have no idea how to help him, or if it's even my place to help. I can't MAKE him take any of my suggestions. I know I wouldn't want to, if I were in his shoes, because I'm just as stubborn.
Worrying is what I can do. Cry is what I can do. Otherwise, I'm helpless.

Saturday, March 3, 2012

Techtastic

I like to think of myself as a tech master. 
Right now, liquid is shooting out of my daughters' noses. They think the combination of technology and me is hiLARious. And to most people younger than 45, it probably is. But the truth is, for my age, I'm pretty much a tech savant. Yup. 
And that's what I'm grateful for this week. It's hard for me to imagine my daily life without my computer. And my Nook. My phone, not so much, though I will concede that it's kind of a fun toy when I have absolutely nothing to do. But I was late to the cell phone game, and I still don't like the idea that people (other than my girls) can reach me anywhere, anytime. 
I use my computer in my classroom every day, all year long. It's a tool, a means to an end, the end being that this stuff ain't goin' away, so these kiddos need to use it and make friends with it. Of course, the technology they use today will be long outdated by the time they're adults (heck, by the time they're teenagers!), but it's not about the TOOL. It's about learning how to LEARN, experimenting, jumping in without fear. And I believe that seeing me--the fat old lady in front of the room--using tech tools without fear is a terrific example for them.
I think of my dad. He struggles to catch up, let alone keep afloat in the ever-changing world of technology. He cannot find employment because he cannot use a computer. Simply cannot. For years, his secretary did everything for him. Now, after a few years without her, he finds he can't even fill out a job application, because they're all online. He has 50 years of work experience, but he's useless in the eyes of would-be employers, because he can't use a computer. (Yes, I know; thank you to all of you who suggest that he take free classes for Seniors, etc.---let's just say, it hasn't worked out, and leave it at that ;)  ).
So, I'm grateful for the opportunities I've had, and I'm proud of myself for pushing out of my comfort zone and into the world of technology. I embrace it. I enjoy playing with it. It's satisfying to solve a tech issue for others. 

And it's so easy to use my phone to 
text my daughters for tech help.

Sunday, February 12, 2012

"Had a cat, and the cat pleased me..."

Do you know that song? "...I fed that cat by yonder tree. Cat goes fiddle-eye-fee." Today I just want to sing the praises of my kitty. He's huge, floppy, furry, dopey, crazy, noisy, silly, and he loves me. 
This week, by whatever sixth sense kitties possess, he has been doing two things my children used to do when they were young. About an hour before I have to wake up (cats tell time, did you know that?), he either climbs into "my nest"--the area created when I lie on my side with my knees bent--OR, he walks along the side of my body, stretches himself out to his full length, and then sleeps that way until it's time for us to get out of bed.

When I would reach the point of exhaustion as a young mother, I would stretch out on the couch next to where my girls were playing, and one of them would invariably climb into my nest, or stretch along my body. This comforted me in a deep-down-in-my-soul way. The fact that George has begun doing this during this particularly trying week has been a real gift. 

So thank you, Georgie-Porgie. "The cat pleased me."

Saturday, January 28, 2012

Mama Said



Everyone has bad days, bad weeks. Some even have bad years. How do you handle it? 
My mom has been gone a long time now, and yet I want to talk to her almost every day. Nothing in my life is terrible--not even remotely bad. As I've stated repeatedly, I am One Lucky Chick. But I'd still like to talk to my mom. And I'd like to hear about HER day. I'm pretty sure that, though I was an adult when she died, I was so immature that I rarely asked her how SHE was doing, or how HER day went. I was always concerned about me, me, me. I would whine to her about all my earth-shattering problems, and she'd listen and offer advice. 
Actually, now that I really think about, she DIDN'T so much offer advice as give me a kick in the pants! My mom was a take-no-prisoners sort of woman; a "stop whimpering and buck up" girl. Boy, do I admire that now! At the time, I remember thinking, "She's so mean; she's not pampering me and treating me like the princess that I am." Yeah, I was a self-centered brat. I regret never having said, "How are YOU doin', Mom?" I know that if she did share how her day was going, I probably just LOOKED like I was listening, when, in fact, I was most likely thinking about where my boyfriend was and what we'd be up to as soon as I got out of the house.
Nowadays, I tell her how my family is doing. I make jokes with her, I laugh with her. I carry her around in my heart and I can hear her voice saying, "Oh, you bird!" (her favorite catchphrase). And nowadays, I DO ask her, "How's it goin', Mom? What have you been up to?" I'd love to hear what she has to say. I hope she's comfortable, pain-free, and happy. And I hope she knows how fabulous her grandchildren are. And I thank her over and over and over for everything.