Plays Well With Others

A checked “Plays well with others,” box was a staple on my elementary school report cards. In fact, I loved school because it was one of the few places where this attention seeking only child could always be sure there would be other kids to play with and where there was always something to stir my creative juices and challenge my brain.

However, there was a catch. Ms. Bossypants should have been stapled on  my forehead. I wanted to be second only to the teacher, whom I did concede, was smarter than I: it came with the height, I believed. Sometimes this independence was to my teachers' delight in that I volunteered my budding teaching prowess on those moving a little slowly in comparison to the class. On the other hand, a teacher informed my mom that my four year old self  was worrying more about other preschoolers needing help and helping them get their work done, that I was neglecting to take care of mine.

You know what they say about patterns...I find I’m still worrying about others getting their work done; students, other teachers, it doesn't matter. I’m stuck somewhere in between the, “If not me then who,” and “No one’s going to tell me what to do" zone of proximal development. Remnants of Ms. Bossypants are alive and kicking. She shows up in meetings and creeps into thoughts so much so, that I hope my eyes don’t betray the comments swirling behind them. “Why can’t you just…” and “What is it you don’t get,” pop into mind. Truly, I still need to worry about me, even just a little, instead of the world.

Though, I do believe my teachers would be proud. The world needs well practiced members of the Bossypants Battalion, too! Some things never change. I don't think I could stop if I tried and I'm OK with that.

Confession of a Workaholic - Nothing Like a 4-day Week to Shake Things Up or Slow Things Down

Why do four day weeks feel like you’ve been dragged over broken glass, strung up and flown like a kite through a hurricane and like you have run a marathon each of those days...twice? Seriously?! Or is it the need to control and complete the same insane amount of work we pile into a “normal” week into a four day span?

I always knew I spun a bit faster than the average bear, but these four day weeks remind me that not only do I have my personal schedule bursting at the seams, but that I don’t know how to slow down and enjoy the holiday.

That got me thinking about my choices. Work, race, plan, organize, lead, write and just go; or sit with myself and allow things I don’t want in the forefront of my mind to hold audience with me while I “relax.”

Slowing down shows me the ugly I try to hide with the busy digital planner and tote bag full of projects.

Slowing down forces me to face the loneliness I have worked devastatingly hard to flee from.

Slowing down means feeling down because things aren’t the way I’d planned for them to be so many years ago.

Slowing down is synonymous with being content with me, myself and I; in my own skin, with my own company.

Most of the time, I'd gladly race rather than deal with me. I give and go and work and wonder until I’m thrown off the saddle by something like a four day work week.

And left to ponder…Where do I fit into the lives of family? And ask again, will my doorbell ring? Until an answer presents itself I give and go and grow a bit in the process.

When is it going to be my turn when so much is not up to me?

When is it going to be my turn when so much is not up to me?

To be driven around,

And spoiled with surprises?

To be taken to dinner at sunset,

Be handed a glass of wine in a pretty glass,

And get phone calls just because?

When is it going to be my turn to go on a dreamy vacation,

With someone or someones that place me ahead of themselves,

Just every once in awhile?

When is it going to be my turn to not worry

About money,

Or being lonely

Or really living,

Instead of waiting or making a go of things...alone?

When will someone do my laundry,

And notice the dishes climbing out of the sink,

Or trash threatening to revolt from the can?

When will I not have to

Buy the groceries alone,

Cook alone,

Eat alone,

Then clean up, alone,

When alone does not a family make?

Ever?

Or never?

Or only on my dreams.

I used to wonder what was wrong with me.

Ask what I was doing wrong, as a wife, mother, daughter, friend.

Then, accepting that I can't change others, so to make the best of it.

Now...feeling like the proverbial hour glass is more empty than full.

What do I do?

Staying the same is not an option.

So...

Do fairy tales and dreams come true

For hardworking,

Sacrificing,

Do unto others,

Trying to make the best of the cards you've been dealt people like me?

Or do I get to keep watching it work for others?

And wait until death for it to be my turn...my heaven.

Because it looks like it won't be here on earth, for me.

He said it 50 Years ago, Never Too Late to Listen...A Gen-X-er on MLK

50 years ago, those of us in the 40ish and under crowd did not live to hear of the vision Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr shared first hand; through black and white television broadcasts, radio coverage and newspaper accounts. We were deep in the subconsciousness and dreams of our parents. But, our 40-something generation did have the benefit of living in a post Dr. King era and were taught the contributions of he and a few other African-Americans in school in at least most of the country. For some of us, that also meant hearing of first hand accounts of racism from both sides of the coin and freed us to have more options, opinions and dreams than our forefathers and mothers while allowing us to see someone like Barack Obama sworn in as our 44th President. We, however, also live in a time when hatred has the ability to spread anonymously through cyberspace and where young men like Trayvon Martin can be gunned down for being in the “wrong” place, for wearing the “wrong” thing and for not cowering to the “wrong” man who felt he was protecting society from yet another menace in black skin.

HOWEVER, it is never too late to listen and learn from Dr. King. After all, “Faith is taking the first step even when you don't see the whole staircase.” Have faith that the world can be a better place by allowing the faith within to guide others to be right and do right.

50 years ago, August 28, Dr. King addressed the masses by stating that he had, “A dream that [his] four little children will one day live in a nation where they will not be judged by the color of their skin, but by the content of their character.” It’s better for my two little children, but I know their brown faces bring expectations and still have to warn my son about the burden and misjudgments his skin will bring to some, while teaching my daughter she is beautiful in spite of the media.

If we truly believed, “Our lives begin to end the day we become silent about things that matter,” what would you say differently? Do differently? How would you be different right now? How could you stand for others not to follow suit? Don’t we know that, “Injustice anywhere is a threat to justice everywhere.” Stand up and shout, teach, pray that everyone lives to act, because, “The time is always right to do what is right.”

And finally, our society should value the notion that, “The function of education is to teach one to think intensively and to think critically. Intelligence plus character - that is the goal of true education.” We all need to ask ourselves, “Life's most persistent and urgent question... 'What are you doing for others?'”

A timeless series of sentiments, for all men and women, of any age, stage or phase of life. His dream stays alive in those of us who live his words. Thank you, Dr. King. Many of us are still listening and still trying to make you proud.

My Four Agreements (with a little help from Miguel Ruiz)

As an avid reader, inner peace seeker and budding global spiritualist, I am often drawn to literature that helps me work to live better and leave a better spiritual footprint wherever I go. I began this journey back in Brownies where I learned to, “Leave places better than I found them.” I expanded this to, “Leave people and places better than I found them,” sometime in middle school and by high school, I was was bent on making sure people, “Knew my name and remembered me after I’d moved on.” I am impressed by my gumption as I remember saying this even as 1 of 18,000 in college. And you know what, I think I did it. As a teacher, this is a daily quest and I am often looking for sources to fuel the immense amount of energy this type of mission statement requires. Miguel Ruiz’s The Four Agreements is now the center of much of this thought.

A friend handed the book to me during one of my infamous seasons of down moods and after recently discovering I’d never returned the book (though I swore I had) and seeing a television interview with the author, I was inspired all over again. The Four Agreements are promises you make to yourself, that in turn, help you be a better you for those who cross paths with you whether intentionally or accidentally. You don't need to read the book, but of course, I wanted to give credit to the soul who so eloquently and simply scribed these rules for living. They are:

1) Be impeccable with your word.

2) Don’t take anything personally.

3) Don’t make assumptions.

4) Always do your best.

Anyone else joining in my, “Well, duh,” chorus? So simple, yet so profound. And remember, you need to apply these to yourself. It’s easy to be kind to others, but many of us are our own archenemy. Be honest with yourself, keep promises to yourself, and for us moms, that means, eat, sleep, exercise, say “no”, and be truthful so you can be who you need to be for those who need you. Don’t take anything personally: usually someone else’s __________ is about them. How dare you think you are the center of their universe? Don’t assume anything. Unless the thought generates from your own center, you don’t know it’s intention and how dare you do so. And finally, Boy/Girl Scout motto, ALWAYS do whatever your best is at any given moment on any given day. How dare you think you can do more and how dare you do any less?

Be true, be you and do your best. What a way to be and be and be and thrive...

http://www.miguelruiz.com/

Hit the Reset Button

It’s been one of those days. Too humid to get a good night’s sleep, fans loud and blowing uncomforting waves of gusty unnatural breezes. Allergies (made worse by said fans) making itchy eyes and skin worse. Wake up to change outfits so many times you think you’re back in high school. Hair won’t cooperate, trip over the dogs, more itchy skin on the face you’re not feeling so good about wearing . Can’t decide what to pack for lunch. Kids and spouse getting on your nerves just because they exist in your space at that very moment and staying out of your way, sensing something is up. Then, just as you sit in the car, you feel your underwire snap and feel a sharp poke in your upper rib cage. Really? Seriously? And we haven’t left the driveway?

As I unlocked the door and startled my dogs that have already said goodbye in their doggy way, I marched upstairs to change the violating underwire before leaving for work and remembered one word...RESET. It was a decision I Could make and the only thing I Could change about the way my morning was going. I could choose to reset my mindset. Go from, “This day is jacked up and is only going to get worse,” to “Well, it’s been an ‘eventful’ morning and I now have the opportunity to come down these stairs again and start over, to reset.”

After all, I have a bed to sleep in and I am lucid  enough to feel the humidity. I have paid my electricity bill to keep the artificial breeze going and have eyes to feel itchy and skin to look blotchy. Could someone with a degenerative eye disease or a burn victim say the same? How dare I be upset about having a choice of outfits and hair that a chemo patient wished they had? Sweet doggy escorts making sure I don’t get lost on the way to the kitchen and a refrigerator and pantry FULL of food are on many wish lists. Spouse and children that know and love you well enough to just move out of the warpath, priceless. So, I chose to hit “reset.”

After getting rid of the pokey bra, starting the car a second time and taking a good and true deep breath, I reset my day. Watching the nightly news with reports of Syrian civil atrocities, I realize my morning is another’s heaven. A teacher friend of mine has coined the term “first-world-problems,” perfectly describing what this morning’s challenges held. How dare I do anything but push “reset.” Learning to be grateful in the midst of things that don’t always feel like it is the gift of the “reset.” It could truly, surely, most positively be much, much worse. We owe it to those that do.

Unexpected blessings...oxymoron?

After three first week of school days that felt like a week in themselves, or even a month, I thought it a good idea to retire my teacher hat and place the "momma of my own children" hat back on, at least for the weekend. My all-boy, boy-child was in need of more shoes to shred while skateboarding and biking, so, though I was beyond tired and in need of an adult beverage, I decided to rally and hit some stores in search of shoes.

First store, strike one. Second store, we score a double with shoes for both function and fashion with an extra base for no arguing. We soldier on to yet another retailer and move to third base with both function and price being in our favor. On a whim and while in good moods, we approach a store, just because, and find sporting equipment that fits, is of good quality and is on CLEARANCE for 60% off. Homerun!  But wait. The salesclerk reaches over the counter to high five us after seeing our purchase is really half what we thought. Final price about 80% off!

Boy child looked at me with a smile of disbelief as I looked to the ceiling in a not so silent prayer of thanks. This was the third and most grand blessing to occur on this admittedly dreaded excursion.

That got me thinking about blessings. You never know when or where they will occur. Unexpected? a gift? Well, duh. You never know when the stars will align in your favor. You never know when heaven will part the seas, stop the sorrow and stress, and allow serendipity to disperse among those doing the best they can with what they have for those they love.

No matter what anyone else says, or believes, I believe today was a reward for doing my best for those I love while serving my purpose on earth. Did I deserve it, NO! Was I greatful, beyond words. Unexpected blessings? Don't wait for one...be one.

Teachers, I'm calling you out. Ask yourself Why?

Teachers, I’m calling you out. I’m throwing down the gauntlet. I’m stomping my feet, raising my hands in the air and shouting with all of my soul, just one question. Why do you do what you do? Why do you get up too early, spend too much time with other people’s kids and spend your meager check to buy supplies for your room and all the while ask friends to save toilet paper tubes, aggressively recycle all sturdy plastic containers and glue yourself to Pinterest to complete that theme/project/activity for your classroom? Why are you spending summers in training that rarely increases your pay and why do you show up at school days or weeks before the mere two days you get to “set up?” WHY?

You say it’s for the kids. Let me enlighten you. If you teach them to be mini versions of you, expect them to learn your way, to match your teaching style and fit into your grooves, then it’s all about you, not them. What is a teacher if not a mentor, guide, source of inspiration and visionary? It is your job to reach each kid where they are and help them become a better student, and more importantly, a better person. Kids should walk away from your class inspired and tired, as should you. The word teacher needs to be synonymous with flexibility, creativity and mastermind.

So, if your desks are set up in perfect rows, bulletin boards pristine, labels on anything and everything, and you have lesson plans that could be bound into a textbook, good for you. But, if you don’t look deeply into the spirit of each little soul entrusted to you and ask yourself what you can do to ensure they are successful and filled with a love of learning when they leave you, you have failed. No matter the test scores, no matter the check marks on your checklist, no matter how quiet they are when in your room, be sure not to mistake compliance for success.

So, as you walk into the new school year, ask yourself WHY you do what you do. Did you put that kid first? The one with the squirly behavior or the one struggling who hides it with defiance. So yeah, I called you out. I was that kid who could have slipped compliantly through the cracks. But, I had teachers who wouldn’t let me settle for being anything less than my fabulous best and I challenge myself to be that teacher everyday. Are you with me? If not, get out of my way. Let’s...do...this!

Yearly Mammogram- From "The Girls'" Perspective

Why is our heart racing so much, gee-sh, just another visit to the Dr.’s office. Wait, why aren't we taking the stairs, why are we veering to the left and towards the smiling, badged lady with the sign above prominently displaying. R-a-d-i-o-l-o-g-y? Wow, that was a quick wait and to a secondary, pink-filled, ribbon clad room that seems to have a decor screaming “girly.” What’s that form you’re filling out? A family history of...breast cancer? No, we don’t have any of that, but we are 42, so, that means we’re back to the massive smooshy, hold your breath and don’t move while the life is being squeezed out of us place. It’s time for our MAMMOGRAM!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! OK, we can do this, we got this, girrrrrl. Deep breath. No, no family history here. No, we didn’t feel anything in a monthly exam. No, we haven’t had any problems. Just here because it’s been one year since we visited last. Oh, it’s our turn. OK. Breathe again. Sure, we’ll strip below the waist and put on the pink patterned, yet not so cute snap front cape in the softly lit x-ray room. Yes, we did wear deodorant today and will clean with the wipey thingy sitting on the counter marked “wipes,” next to the after “deodorant” wipe. All right, I’ll step forward, place my right twin on the flat, fabric covered plate, let you situate and handle me, and tighten the plates until I’m in just the right spot and hold my breath. Phew, release. Now repeat. What, I’m not done? You have to switch the plates to get another view. That means another squeeze? Oh! Yes, I’m frozen and we’re not breathing. Now repeat...What, we’re done? Yes, we will have a nice day. And, thank you for caring for us. Thank you for the photo shoot to see if we’re OK or if there are foreign bodies trying to invade and destroy us. We have so much left to do. So, no, we don’t like the way it feels, but we appreciate you. Thank you for loving us enough...

Losing all kinds of weight...

I've finally come through the other side of my "mid-life crisis." Although a few years past 40, this crisis really came to a head last year while traveling Europe for a school trip, without my family. With so much plane, train, bus and hotel time, I was forced to converse with myself and could no longer hide from those awkward conversations on the topics I'd shoved to the side of my mind.

I turned the critical voice, into the kinder, gentler type that I reserve for those around me who are struggling the most. "We" came to the conclusion that eating away the pain just doesn't work. Ignoring it doesn't work. Pretending it's not there, just doesn't work. Until I allowed myself to feel those unpleasant things, mindless consumption would take it's place. Being in Europe was kind of like detox. No access to familiar comfort food combined with "real" food and appropriate portion sizes, while being surrounded by beauty, nature and other people's crazy families helped me see that I could make it, even half way across the world when I didn't even speak the same language.

It changed me. And...the weight began to come off and has kept coming off for the past year. Yes, things fit differently, but since I'm in my same clothes, I didn't think the loss was as drastic as some who haven't seen me in a year or more do.

What I am amazed by is that even with the loss of my 25 pounds, my weight is still far above those height, weight, BMI charts that contributed to the feelings of hopelessness and lack of control that started the gain in the first place. My weight loss has been more than just fat. I've had a loss of burdens. The loss of the need to carry the world on my shoulders...Atlas can have his job back. I think the loss of this type of weight has me walking taller, smiling more and pressing on, even when things aren't so attractive. Staticity allows that weight to climb back on, so I must find it in me to press on.

Yes, the weight is going, but the weight of worry, shame, guilt, grief, disappointment and challenges is no longer welcome to linger. Bon Voyage to emotional baggage and bienvenue to a Wonder Woman mentality.