lifeboat

Goals

2012-01-08T10:45:00.006-06:00

I'm just thinking. Seems like it is time to set some goals. Funny thing is, I don't know what I want. I mean, there's the obvious "going to get healthy" goal. I feel obligated to write that down at the top of the list. But I want something more. Something exciting.

At school, when children are not making progress towards their academic and behavior goals, I rewrite them, breaking each into smaller steps. Maybe I am not excited about my health goals because I have guilt associations every time I think about them. I feel guilty because I am not making much progress. When I break students' goals into smaller pieces and they start experiencing success, the momentum builds and often they are able to finally move on productively. So now I'm thinking, "how do I break this thing down?"

I absolutely love my wii. I have had great success with the wii fit in the past. I was able to get a streak going where I checked in and did at least 1 minute of exercise each day. It had amazing benefits to my cholesterol and blood sugar levels. It was psychologically comforting too. I knew I could count on mysef to do at least one good thing every day. One day last summer I broke the streak and have not been able to get it back.

I have a yoga DVD called Heavyweight Yoga II. It is specifically designed for people who are overweight. Doing the workout is calming and comforting. It gives me relief from the pain in my back. Finishing the hour long session gives me a sense of accomplishment and pride. Often when I think to do the DVD, I also think of some work I should be doing and feel guilty for wanting to spend an hour on something I enjoy.

I live in a neighborhood with beautiful walking paths. All I have to do is walk out my back gate. When I walk regularly on the paths, I get a sense of connection to my community. I feel more like I belong for some reason. I don't feel so isolated from the neighbors. I see people who encourage me. Interestingly, the reason I don't walk anymore is because my dogs get upset when I take turns walking them. I can't manage all three together. My guess is that if I could handle their crying and barking for a week or so, they would figure out the routine and calm down. I just need the guts to do it.

As far as food goes, I have had success with feeling more clear headed with The 30 Day Vegan Challenge. I felt good about what I was eating and drastically cut down on fast food. I didn't have as much choice in my diet and was not as obsessed with what to eat next. I've also had success with the SparkPeople website. I felt more in control as I tracked my food and exercise. It was also interesting to me to see what kind of nutrients I lacked at the end of the day. I also tried Weight Watchers and enjoyed the meetings and social support. I didn't lose much weight, but was at least more conscious of my food choices.

So what went wrong with dieting in the past? I stopped the vegan diet after the 30 days, thinking I would have to spend less time preparing food if I could eat out more. I stopped "sparking" because I felt like I was spending too much time on the website tracking, reading articles, and trying to earn more sparkpoints. I quit Weight Watchers because I started feeling guilty every week when I went to the meetings and didn't show a weight loss.

So . . . looking back over everything I've said here, it looks to me like the one thing I need the most is permission. I need permission to spend the time. I need permission to stop worrying what others think (even my dogs!) I think I need to cut work off at 6:00 and give myself the rest of the evening to do what makes me feel healthy and strong.

I don't have to do everything at once. I need to give myself a break. Stop being so judgmental. Some little steps might be to quit work by 6:00 every night and not bring any home. Or resume my one minute nightly minimum for my wii. Maybe walk my dogs to the mailbox and back so they get used to walking one at a time. Maybe allow myself some time to play around on the SparkPeople website without requiring myself to track every single thing. I have got to lighten up on myself and relax some. My mile long to do list needs to be simplified.

My hope is that when I get healthier, I can get more work done and be able to set more personal goals. I think I will get started today by taking the cart full of work I brought home for the weekend out to the car to get it out of the way. Then I'll run to the grocery store around the corner to get some healthy food and snacks to take to work with me tomorrow. It is time to start taking care of myself!

Sweetie

2011-04-22T06:39:00.010-05:00

When I visit friends in Fort Worth I always make sure to stop by the McDonalds at the Meadowbrook exit to get a diet coke. Diet cokes are great, but the words I hear there are even better. Though they have absolutely no idea who I am, they ask how I am doing, and more importantly, they call me "sweetie." I love that.

Lately I have been thinking about kind and encouraging words and how I can hear more of them. My wii fit made me think about the power of repeated praise and encouragement. I am fairly addicted to the wii fit, and I don't think it is entirely about the exercise. The instant feedback and praise fuels me. The wii fit gives the option of creating a routine that can be done more quickly by omitting the feedback. Instead, I do every exercise or yoga pose individually. In one routine I hear wonderful words like "great job," "you're a fantastic runner," "you have great posture," "keep it up," and "you have amazing balance." If I make a mistake the virtual trainers tell me to keep practicing. Sometimes they give me a tip on how to improve. I appreciate the honest feedback tempered with encouragement.

I had my summative conference for my teaching evaluation yesterday. I have to explain that the problem solving lesson I taught for my observation flopped. It just didn't work out. So I expected to go into that conference and hear about how I could have done the lesson differently. Instead, I was absolutely overwhelmed by what I heard. I heard nothing but praise as she told me how impressed she was with how I handled a lesson that didn't go as planned. She commented on how well I dealt with a student who was less than cooperative, and she told me it was great how I never raised my voice. It seems like she told me a hundred more wonderful things, though I realize we only talked a few minutes. The thing is, she spent all of our time together telling me what I was doing right! I needed that so much. I already know what went wrong. I have already addressed that in the follow up lessons. I have already fussed at myself for the mistakes.

I will try my best to remember how that summative conference felt as I deal with my students. They love the positive feedback too. An interesting thing happened last week with student feedback and praise. I have been using my new iPad with my students. There is an app where a word is read aloud and students have to touch the matching word in one of several frames on the screen. Every time they touch the correct word, there is a comment like, "awesome," "great job," or "excellent." The voice is kind of corny but they don't seem to mind. However, one day at lunch I was playing around with the app and realized I could record custom praise for correct answers. So I had a great time recording "whooo hooo," "get out," "that's what I'm talking about," and other silly encouraging phrases. I didn't tell the students it was my voice. I simply added my phrases to the library of sounds. The students really responded to my voice and seemed to work quickly to get more correct answers. They actually wanted to hear that voice saying nice things to them again.

I have been shopping the app store to find one that will say nice things to me. I haven't found it yet, but I bet it is out there. In the meantime I have decided that I need to spend more time with the real people in my life who build me up. I am fortunate enough to have quite a few, and I am going to make a commitment to spend as much time around them as possible, and also to seek out even more positive relationships.

I will try to remember what I have learned from that woman at McDonalds, my wii, my supervisor, and the iPad, and apply it to all the "sweeties" I come across today.

I'm a Runner

2010-11-06T08:18:00.004-05:00

I wanted to run. Little time has passed since I made my wish, but last night I was told that I am a good runner.

I have been running every day for the past two weeks. It is incredible that someone of my weight is able to say that. I am sore, but my knees haven't shattered under my weight like I imagined they would.

I have run in parks, fields and on jogging paths. My longest time has been 20 minutes, and my longest distance has been 2.5 miles.

I started out running with a trainer. Then one day I decided to run alone and found that I like that better. I like setting my own pace and charting my own course. During the day when I feel stressed, I imagine what my run will be like that evening and that gives me some relief. When I run I am not anxious or embarrassed about my size or ability. I am totally free.

I am a wii fit runner!

Running or Donuts?

2010-09-19T06:32:00.006-05:00

They hadn't seen me at the donut store in quite a while, but this Sunday morning at dark thirty I showed up and ordered the old usual, three chocolate iced and one chocolate filled. I was so embarrassed, but I wanted the chocolate and sugar. As I listened to the employees talk in Spanish to themselves about where I'd been, I thought they probably figured I was dead of a heart attack from all the donuts I'd eaten in the past.

Now, strangely enough, I have been rereading this wonderful book written by someone who did die an early death from a heart attack. Jim Fixx wrote one of the most inspirational books ever written about running. He wrote it in 1977, and I read it as a teenager. It was my dad's book. I don't know why he bought it actually because he was also more highly likely to eat donuts than run. Anyway, I've been reading it, hoping to gain enough comfort and inspiration from it to carry me through what would be a major undertaking. I want to run.

I don't want to run races or try to impress anyone with my discipline. Silly as it is, all I really want to be able to do is run across a soccer field at a nearby school. I want to feel myself move fast. I want to breathe deeply and experience the rhythm of my stride as I run for just a few minutes and then let myself fall down into the grass to rest.

I think for most people this would be an easy enough goal, but for me I'm wondering if it wouldn't be a miracle. I weigh twice as much as I should, literally. I don't exercise. And then there's this matter of comforting my anxieties with things such as donuts. It all comes down to delayed gratification. Will I ever get to a point where I can trade a few minutes of anxiety relief to gain a few more steps towards the goal of being able to feel the joy of moving fast and being in control?

I have been surprising myself these last few years with achieving some fairly impressive personal goals. I think choosing to take care of myself so I can run outranks all of them as far as difficulty is concerned. It would be tempting to try and motivate myself to choose to start taking care of myself in order to hopefully extend my lifespan. But as Jim Fixx's experience shows, there are no guarantees. I think if I want to do this, I have to do it now. There is no "getting ready." In fact, maybe I have been looking at it backwards. Maybe I have to run in order to take care of myself. I have to do it because of what I want to experience today. I will be no more likely to start achieving my goal after I finish rereading my book or going another 3 months without donuts. The field is 5 minutes away. I'm about to take a few literal steps towards my goal.

My Coach and the Softball Revival

2010-08-03T09:09:00.004-05:00

This is Cordova Baptist Church in Cordova, TN. It looks pretty much like it did years ago when I was in 8th grade. I first went there because it was a requirement. At the time I didn't understand why, but they told me I had to go to the "revival" there before I could be on the church softball team. It was funny. I knew nothing about church and nothing about softball! What was I thinking? This mandatory revival was life changing and it became the glue that held my moody adolescent life together. The idea that God and the people at that church cared about me for no apparent reason was amazing.

Throughout my high school years I played on softball and basketball teams coached by the same person who coached that first softball team I joined. I attended Bible studies, Sunday school, Wednesday dinners, and something called Acteens (which I never figured out what meant.) Many many times it was my coach who picked me up in his old black truck, along with several other girls, and hauled us out to the church. I think I could hear that truck coming as soon as it turned into the neighborhood it was so loud. I fondly remember throwing bats, balls, water jugs and a Bible into the truck and then climbing in myself for the breezy ride out to the country church. Hours later he would drive my sweaty and bruised, jammed finger self back home. I was an athletic wreck!

I laugh now when I remember that as athletically challenged as I was, many years I served as team captain. It didn't occur to me that I might not be qualified for such a duty. Must not have occured to anyone else either! I think it may have been more due to the fact that I wasn't afraid to pray out loud in front of other people.

We lost almost every game, but it didn't occur to me to give up. I can truly say that our satisfaction came from just getting to play. I don't remember ever feeling any less of a person for losing a game. I think it's because I felt so important to the coach, my team, and God.

I don't know what drove my coach's dedication to a bunch of girls who couldn't seem to win a game, but I sure am thankful. We need more people like him in this world. I think of all the students I come in contact with who have such low self esteem and lack of purpose, and I wish they could have an experience like I did. I could have easily grown up feeling like a failure, but thanks mostly to him, it was just the opposite. I felt comfortable in many different types of leadership as I went through school. What a gift!

I have recently made contact with my old coach after so many years have passed. His wife tells me he is still coaching and is still tough and stubborn. I believe it. But it also makes me happy to think that other kids are getting the benefits of his coaching. Maybe as I get to know him as an adult I will be able to understand his caring dedication to us as kids.

So Coach, if you are reading this, I hope you can see how much you mean to me. I'd like to see you in person again some day as long as you don't have a bat and a practice ball in your hand . . . I still bruise easily!

144 Umbrellas

2010-06-19T08:05:00.004-05:00

I love umbrellas! I like all kinds. Last summer during my annual 4th of July party it occurred to me to use a large umbrella for sunscreen as I floated around the pool all day. Simply looking so ridiculous made me happy. I got a huge colorful beach umbrella for my birthday this year, and my mind has been hard at work trying to figure out how to plant it in the middle of the pool for this year's party.

I have even been known to use an umbrella in my school lesson plans. The umbrella represented the main idea of the piece of writing and the details hung from little ribbons "under" the umbrella. The rain represented any idea that didn't belong in the writing, and it simply rolled right off the umbrella and onto the ground.

I bet if you think about it, you can remember being a little kid out in the rain with an umbrella. For me it was the coolest thing. The umbrella represented such freedom! I could go outside even if the weather was bad. It made rainy days special. Kind of made me kid-powerful when I graduated to holding my own umbrella.

Yesterday I had an umbrella experience that made me just about as giddy. I bought 144 drink umbrellas for this year's party! Now honestly I do not plan to serve 144 alcoholic drinks. That is not the point. But drink umbrellas make whatever the drink is extra special. They represent fun and relaxation. They are so totally unnecessary and that's what I love about them. The package of 144 of them cost just over three dollars, and somehow I got a charge out of getting the potential for that many luxuries at such a low price. Silly as it sounds, it made me feel rich.

As I write this I wish you many "umbrella blessings" for this summer. Have fun and let me know if you come across a new one!

Cleaning and Morality

2010-06-15T11:50:00.004-05:00

Take a look at my office closet. But don't tell my mom you saw it! I'm off for the summer and can no longer find any excuse to put off getting my house in order. In January my water pipes froze and burst in five places, so there was construction until April. My excuse for the last two months is that it was an overwhelming task to tackle at the end of a school year. That excuse has expired.

So this morning I worked on putting my office back together. There were baskets and boxes of things that came out of kitchen cabinets, various stacks of paper, a shoebox full of mints and gum, and a multitude of "home accents." I started by taking down the do-dads. I made my bookshelves look neat. I cleaned up my desk and put any type of paper I came across into a big clear storage box. The do-dads, minus a select few, went in a smaller storage box. I did some creative furniture arranging and it doesn't look too bad in there now. I put the plastic storage boxes in the closet and shut the door. I'll engage with them another day.

After I finished I sat down to have a coke zero, quite pleased with myself for such a big accomplishment. The housekeepers are coming this afternoon and now they will be able to clean in there. But as I was enjoying my success, I kept thinking about that closed closet door. The more I thought about it, the more anxious I got. I'm having company in a couple of weeks, and even though I don't anticipate that they will have any desire to look in the office closet, it prevents me from having that "ready for company" feeling.

This is where the morality question comes into play. I think I and the other members of my family have experienced more guilt in our lives over having a messy house than all other things combined. Not that our house ever really got messy (except for mine when I became an adult, but that's another story.) But I'm telling you, there was serious fear about what our company would think if the house wasn't as clean as it could be. And I guess in a way the fear was understandable because most of our company was family, and they had the same rules about cleanliness.

The company that's coming in a couple of weeks is a little different. They are a chosen set of "sistas." From what I can tell, some of them grew up with the same kind of rules about keeping house, but I'm not sure the guilt is as overwhelming for them. I think they'd still invite me over, even if they didn't have time to straighten up first. And I'm not exactly sure they mind what my house is like.

Best I can tell, the guilt is about appearing lazy, so I guess it does have a connection to most people's sense of morality. But I wonder what it really says about me that my closet looks the way it does. I wonder if I would be a better person if I went ahead and dropped the do-dads off at the goodwill, and got right on that filing project today. But on the other hand, I wonder how much sense it makes to worry so much about what other people think, that I would feel like I had to clean everything up before the housekeepers came so they wouldn't think I am awful for letting it get this bad.

I don't really know the answers to my questions, but there is one cool thing that has come out of this post. My confession about my closet has eliminated some of the guilt. Anybody can look at the picture. There's nothing to hide. Regardless of a person's views about the morality of cleanliness, my closet is my closet. Like it or not. Choose to judge it or not.

I am not my closet.

The Buddha

2010-03-28T18:06:00.005-05:00

If you know anything at all about the Buddha you will laugh as you read this! I will admit right up front that I know precious little. I read and forgot most of Siddhartha in graduate school. I've never read any of the actual scriptures. I know what he looks like because I have a really cool giant Buddha picture hanging on my wall. It is the traveling Buddha because it journeyed to my house tied to the top of a RAV4, all the way from Fort Worth. He hung over the edges! He was a very giant present from someone who I think actually understands who he is.

I came to love the Buddha many years ago, but not because I knew what in the world he was all about. I became fascinated because I didn't know what he was about. And I really didn't want to know either. I loved the statues and pretty images because they were different. They represented a rebellious, but lighthearted and fun part of me. I liked having them around because it seemed like I "shouldn't." Why would a Christian have Buddhas sitting and hanging around?

Today I watched a program on Buddhism. I have been reading about mindfulness lately and thought it would be interesting to know a little more about the tradition it comes from. The history was interesting, but almost completely confusing, especially about the difference between the happy fat ones and the serious skinny ones. I became increasingly confused, but just as I was tempted to get frustrated because I couldn't "get" it, I was able to lighten up and realize that ulimately it doesn't matter very much in my situation. But as Kyle, the Jewish kid on South Park, would say, "I learned something today." I learned it is not necessary to understand a philosophy or a religion to enjoy and benefit from it. I can try and practice mindfulness, and I can smile at my decorative Buddhas. And at the same time, I can unashamedly admit to anyone who thinks it's cool that I must be a Buddhist (or is, on the other hand, appalled,) that to me the Buddha is just a symbol for happiness and contentment. No attachment to understanding. Smile.

If I wrote a book . . .

2010-01-31T16:39:00.003-06:00

I don't ever actually plan to write a novel, but if I were going to, I know exactly what I would write about. I would write about a colorful man who planned all of his life to cease to exist after his death. But he was wrong. He ends up being busier than ever trying to communicate with a group of women, former friends, who are still living. He passionately wants to wake them up to the solutions to their various problems. He ends up trying all kinds of crazy things to get attention.

As he does things like going into one friend's house and mysteriously leaving the toilet seat up, or appearing as a gluttonous blue jay who actually minds her when she talks to him, he begins to reflect on the long talks he had with her about relationships. We find out all about the interesting relationship between her mom and dad who never exactly liked each other, as well as the story of her own quest for love. He even throws in how perfect it would have been if she had only responded to his own advances when he was alive.

Meanwhile, he shows up as various crazy people in the life of another former friend who is studying to be a therapist. He especially enjoys playing the roles of her sisters who, in the tradition of Flannery O'Connor, recount the family horror stories concerning dead animals, and carry on incessantly about their own eventual deaths. We also get to watch as he inspires her father to spend his last few minutes alive playing a practical joke on the family gathered around him.

He also shows up in another friend's life every time she loses self confidence, which is quite frequently. He wears himself out sparking memories of him telling her, "You're right, you do suck," and laughing as she began to argue. He gets frustrated with her as she tries to follow her passion for teaching writing. She is fairly unsuccessful, since she has recurring fears that she is crazy. He finally decides to lighten up and begins speaking to her through silly comments made by her therapist.

The book ends as the group of friends who end up referring to each other as "sistas," come together for a summer party and discuss whether their dear departed friend who loved to wear lipstick was actually gay or not. And though they can never quite figure that out, they do come up with some answers to some of their own problems as they laugh about him. They each learn, in their own way, that life is less about the meaning of the events that occur during it, and more about acceptance. He even learns a little about acceptance himself, and comes to terms with his responsibility of continuing to have an afterlife.

I am going to read fiction.

2010-01-17T18:26:00.005-06:00

I am about to say the same thing I have said so many times before! I have got to cut down on the non-fiction. Too much reality can be such a struggle. Lately I have found myself drawn back into the promise of everlasting fulfillment if I will just put into practice all I am learning from my teaching books and health books.

I think for at least a little while I will shield myself from the glaring reality of my shortcomings and try to enjoy life a little more. In almost all fiction books it seems that the problem, no matter how bad, gets solved and makes me feel good about life without having taken a single bit of action on my part.

Instead of writing as much as I usually do, I think I will get back to this book I started today. The first chapter made me laugh out loud. This woman drowns and is disappointed that she's only 35 and is still stuck in her corpse as the fish eat her and the water washes her flesh away. Suddenly she feels her soul being sucked out of the rotting thing and feels herself joyfully leaping into the air at last. Seconds later, she figures out she is a flying carp.

I think that's enough to make anybody thankful for life in the moment. No self improvement necessary.

I love Stixy!

2009-12-20T07:51:00.008-06:00

Stixy, an online bulletin board, works the way I think. That is a miracle in itself. I have always loved bulletin boards, at least the cork kinds for personal use. Schoolroom bulletin boards are another story. The cork boards are like life collages for me. I don't currently have one hanging in my house because I was trying to go for the less cluttered look. So yesterday, when I rediscovered Stixy, I was happy all over again. I have a nice neat place for a virtual bulletin board.

I first used Stixy two Christmases ago as I was trying to organize for the season and share my thoughts with my sister. The board allows uploads of pictures, documents (Christmas lists) and links. One of the fun parts is the sticky notes. They are available in many colors and have customizable fonts. They can be resized, layered, and moved all over the place. I love to put lists on the sticky notes. The board also has dated to do list widgets. Time and date are customizable. For some reason I like these much better than a calendar on a grid. These notes can be moved, layered, and even deleted. Important dates can be emphasized by making the to do list larger. For when a more linear calendar is necessary, there is a beta version that will actually synch with the to do lists. Hovering over a date will show the list!

Now I know there are many fancy productivity things available online these days. But the reason I like this one is that it is unpretentious and it allows for creativity. It doesn't claim to be fancy or do everything. The only annoying thing that I've found so far is that now and then I have a sticky note "fly" away from the others, and I have to drag it back. I haven't figured out what I'm doing to make that happen yet. The board itself has no boundaries. It can be as wide or long as desired.

Today I read a blog post about a way to make Stixy a desktop application. I don't think it will work in Vista, so that's bad for me, but it would be neat.

Just as a side note, on the 3M website there is a whole section devoted to classroom uses and lesson plans for using real post its. I can only imagine what combining these ideas with Stixy could spark. Have fun!

Inspired Teaching

2009-11-27T16:21:00.003-06:00

Sometimes I just have to stop myself when I get caught up in a moment of inspiration about something work related, that is in my case, school related. I love to daydream about school, brainstorming solutions to problems ranging from lost jackets littering the stage like the floor in a Ross store, to getting all of my special education students to pass the state TAKS test. I go through phases of thinking that these things are actually possible.

Lately though, I've been trying to step back and gain some perspective about what it is that I actually want to accomplish as a teacher. Yesterday I came up with a plan to revive two struggling third grade classrooms full of students that we teachers keep saying "just don't care." As I daydreamed I had visions of 100% passing rates, teacher of the year awards, an "Exemplary" rating for my school, and plenty of incentive pay to fund next year's vacation. In my dreaming I also saw hours of noble sacrifice meeting with students, filling in some massive gaps in their learning, and doing large amounts of research into what would motivate the students to "get with it and do their best." I was sure I could do it if I could get the other two teachers to buy in and make some sacrifices of their own to do whatever it takes to meet these kids where they are and find a way to get them where we need them to be. Sounds great? Or does it?

One thing that I love about myself is my ability to dream. When I was still in elementary school myself, I remember thinking that if I died right then I would still be happy because I would have so much to think about in heaven. Even as a child, I felt I'd learned and experienced enough to create an infinite number of daydreams.

Fortunately, as wonderful as this teaching daydream seemed, I came to a point where I woke up and realized that it was not what I wanted at all. Not at all. I had somehow forgotten who I am. Like any teacher, I want ALL of my students to be truly successful, but I had forgotten my definition of success. If I could do anything, I would set a goal to inspire ALL of my students to love learning. I honestly don't care what it is that they want to learn. It doesn't matter. If they love learning they will be receptive to my teaching because there will be a point to it. They will learn to read because they have something they want to learn about. They will learn to write because they have something to say. If they learn to read and write for these reasons I will truly feel like I have reached far past mastery of the TAKS test. It would be nice if the students fill in the correct bubbles on the way, but it wouldn't be the measure of their success, or mine. Believe me, people wouldn't have to look at anything but the child to see results. No bubble sheet in the state can give testimony of learning like an enthusiastic and inquisitive child can.

I'm on vacation right now and still have two days left. I'm looking forward to having time to daydream a bit differently. I'm glad I had the victorious state testing dream. It jarred me into a clearer understanding of my role as a teacher. I will go back after vacation and work hard to inspire curiosity, enthusiasm and purpose in my students. There probably won't be any awards or merit pay for achieving those things, but it's what I want. It's what matters to me. It's my contribution to my students' true success in life.

I'm diabetic today.

2009-11-07T19:36:00.003-06:00

I have been trying to write this post for 3 weeks. It just wouldn't happen. The first time I tried I got so depressed doing an image search for diabetes that I had myself a little mini-crisis that took up the rest of the weekend. The next weekend I was so busy enjoying life that I didn't want to begin to think about diabetes. And last weekend I got so busy trying to create a skinny avatar and trying to find a diet to go on, I never got around to writing.

So tonight I'm finally writing about it. And honestly, it's still difficult. Some days I feel like I participate in being diabetic and some days I don't. A couple of people who know me well sometimes ask me if I "am diabetic today." Strangely enough, some days I feel like it's not true.

Maybe it's because I got confused with how "being diabetic" unfolded. At first I was so incredibly sick, taking two kinds of insulin and being afraid to eat anything with carbohydrates. Then when I was experiencing what felt like too many lows, I would eat something sweet to raise my sugar level quickly. The food made me feel better. The bad thing is, when my A1C went down to 5.1 and I got off of insulin, I continued eating carbohydrates every time I needed "to feel better." For the longest time I had myself convinced that low blood sugar for me was anything below 100. I did everything I could to make sure it didn't go below that number.

Now that I understand that a reading below 100 does not constitute low blood sugar, even for me, I have a lot more freedom. I don't feel like I constantly have to monitor and have food with me for emergencies. Unfortunately though, I don't understand exactly where I am in the world of diabetes. Since it's "not so bad" anymore, sometimes I feel like I don't have it. It was a mistake . . . an 867 blood sugar number mistake. It seems like a serious illness that passed.

I have figured out that while I am taking metformin I can eat sweets and still get away with a 6.1 A1C. Even that number is confusing though. As I understand it, that number is high for a normal person. But for diabetics, I have seen many references to setting goals to be somewhere under 7.0. My doctor is satisfied with the 6.1. It seems like I must be doing ok.

I have an extensive library of books related to diabetes. In everything I have read, I can't find myself. I don't know if it is because my symptoms and circumstances aren't there, or if they are there and I don't see them because I don't want to see them.

Everyone should take care of their health. Right? So my feeling that I need to understand the diabetes must be my own form of creative procrastination. Some people have a close call with a health crisis and change their behavior. I did too until I stopped remembering I am diabetic, whether I am on insulin or not.

Last weekend when I was searching for a way to create a healthy avatar for me, I read an article that said overweight people with skinny avatars would lose more weight than those with avatars truer to their actual body size. Maybe there is something to paying attention to how I see myself.

Wouldn't it be cool if I could visualize a healthy version of me? A healthy version that is not solely motivated by fear of diabetes? I do think I need to put some serious effort into understanding more about the diabetes and how it affects me, but more than that, I think I want to start asking myself, "Am I trying to be healthy today?" instead of, "am I acting diabetic today?"

I can't.

2009-10-18T20:19:00.008-05:00

When I first started teaching I had this cool way of responding to a frustrating day. I waited until it got dark, put a leash on my dog Max, and headed outside. We would cut through some bushes and across a small ditch, to find ourselves in a big empty field on the schoolgrounds next door to my apartments. We started at one end of the field and ran as hard as we could to the other end. Then again. And maybe again. And then fell, out of breath, in the big middle of the damp grass, and stared at the stars. We went home caring much less about anything stressful.

It would be nice if I could still do that. These days, if I run my knees feel like they will shatter under all the weight of my body. And if my knees held, my lungs would probably collapse. I'm way overweight and spend no time exercising. I can't run.

I noticed myself saying it out loud the other day, "I can't run." Then I thought about that for a minute. And for that brief moment I thought, "Yes I can; maybe not this second, but I could if I wanted to." Hard as it would be, I could do the things that would enable me to run that field again.

Encouraged by that little spark of possibility, I started thinking about other things I "can't" do. I can't dance. I can't go to this church or that. I can't learn another language. Couldn't dare travel to another country. Date? Are you kidding? I mentally ran my finger down this list of things I cannot do, and down past a lot more things I can't do. When I got to the bottom I thought, "Why not?"

Now many of the things on that list are things I don't desire to do. Those don't count. I'm not up for doing things just to prove I can. But when I was able to ask myself, "Why not?" this big free space opened up in my life and I realized I am much less limited than I thought. I could challenge some of my beliefs about myself. I can allow myself the freedom to dream. And then the ultimate freedom to try.

I'm not into pretending, so I'm not going to say I've actually tried anything on my "I can't" list. But I bet in time I will. Right now I will settle for having fun adding to my list. It is fun because I am able to see possibilities I never allowed myself to see before. The world looks much bigger to me. I can't wait to decide what to try!

Spaghettios and other Important Stuff

2009-09-27T16:11:00.003-05:00

Ever try mindfully eating spaghettios? It's one of the most important things I've done all weekend. When I drove home on Friday afternoon I had big plans for enjoying the 2 days off. I was going places, buying things, creating things and learning a bunch of new stuff. It's Sunday afternoon now, and I can tell you, the weekend didn't go like that.

My car didn't move after I parked it Friday night. I haven't learned anything or talked to anyone except my family. I blew off grocery shopping and decided to live dangerously with only one bag of kitty litter. I don't know why, but it seems like backup kitty litter is important.

I didn't make a thing, though I moved around some art supplies. I didn't make any lists other than the grocery list that didn't make it out of the house. I didn't go to the bookstore or the park.

Though nothing went as planned, I'm more at peace than I thought possible. When I finished my spaghettios I realized the importance of all I already have. Realized I don't have to have new things, new experiences or new knowledge to make the weekend worthwhile.

While I have been fascinated by the whole "getting things done" movement, it doesn't really seem to work for me. "Adding value" to myself and my life doesn't make much sense to me right now either. The things that are important to me this Sunday night as I look back over the weekend are the number of times I petted my dogs, the smell of laundry detergent on my clean clothes, the time I spent sitting in mom's back yard, the naps I took, and the realization that spaghettios are good in this moment, not simply because they remind me of comfort food from the past or because they have iron and vitamins in them that might benefit me in the future.

Life is good. Right now. Just as it is.

Connections

2009-09-20T16:10:00.005-05:00

I earned three stars out of five for my first Spanish composition. Three stars is not so good, but I am excited anyway.

I was reading through the pile of three hundred and forty some articles that had accumulated in my reader, when I came across Livemocha. I have had it in the back of my mind that I need to learn Spanish for a long time. And I have also been too scared to study it for a long time. I tried twice. And failed. Miserably. It was not because the language is too difficult, but because I was too scared to make mistakes. I was afraid of sounding stupid. So I said nothing.

I signed up with Livemocha and began my lessons. I couldn't believe it when, in lesson one, they told me to write about six people. They didn't even give me any cheat notes. I had to rely on memory of the vocabulary I had just learned. Now I know what my students feel like when they don't know how to spell the words they are writing. I held my breath and wrote as fast as I could, trying not to judge myself too much. When I finished, I submitted the lesson and went about other business since I didn't have a microphone for the spoken part.

I was checking my email when I saw one with very unfamiliar characters in the title. It was from a woman who is learning Hindi. She had graded my writing and highlighted my many mistakes. She is a native Spanish speaker.

I am excited. This time I am not afraid to try. Tonight I will go buy a microphone and see what people say about my oral Spanish. I can't believe that while I sat around waiting for the grocery store traffic to die down on a Sunday afternoon, I have communicated with two new people from two different countries.

This is way more fun than safely saying nothing! It is still a stretch for me, but I can't wait to try again. I bet this time will be different.

Doing Virtually Nothing

2009-09-07T11:34:00.007-05:00

I made a dent in the chair! I got up a few minutes ago to get more diet dr. pepper and when I came back to sit down at the computer I could see where I have been sitting for 2 days, doing virtually nothing. Well, depending on how you look at it.

I've played with facebook, twitter, NCTE Ning. I joined a walking site & created a profile. I used a map to save walking routes with distances. I ordered new clothes, browsed books, spent hours reading blogs. I took surveys on educational materials, updated my profile for the State Board of Education, completed 6 required online trainings for my school district, and googled ideas for working as an inclusion teacher. I searched professional development offerings and registered for the NCTE national convention. I looked at maps and hotels for Philadelphia. Bought a plane ticket and saw where I would be sitting on it. I registered my mom for jury duty. Checked out the dating profile of the guy my friend was meeting for a first date. I cleared some of my work emails. I went to the Real Simple website to see if there was anything that needed simplifying in my life. I checked my bank statement and my financial profile. I looked up heart attack symptoms on the American Heart Association website when my mom got indigestion. I filled out a survey to estimate my own risk for having a heart attack in the next ten years. And last of all, I checked to make sure there are no hurricanes brewing anywhere in the world.

All that, and I made a dent in my chair! Now, it is a holiday weekend. At least I can say that. And I enjoyed all of it. But really, a dent?

Homesick

2009-08-30T21:33:00.003-05:00

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I can't believe how this picture makes me feel. I'm surprised.

I have been so happy to live in Houston. No mountains, no small town culture for me. But for some reason I can't readily identify, this street view picture of my first childhood house makes me homesick. I had forgotten about it. I felt that it didn't exist any longer since it wasn't a part of my life. I figured it would be raggedy and falling down if it were even still standing. I was shocked the other night when I obviously had too much time on my hands and looked it up on Google maps.

It sounds silly but I experienced some resentment that it was looking so good without my family there to take care of it. How could anyone else be living there? It just didn't seem right. For the first time I can remember, I felt like claiming my history there.

To tell the truth, I never missed the house after we moved to Texas to a split floorplan house with "my own private room." Actually, the Virginia house had been kind of spooky for me. It presented so many challenges for a child as anxious as I was. The back yard literally dropped off a few feet past my swingset. Far "down the bank" was the city of Salem or Roanoke, I don't know which. Regardless, no place that a child would want to slip and fall into. The cold damp basement had one lightbulb in the front and one in the back, both requiring a blind sprint through darkness to the center of the room to feel for the worn twine to pull to turn it on. There were too many granddaddy long legs. And there was the man I swear I saw in the basement going through our things (probably a nosy landlord) and the devil that stood in his red cape out by the clothesline many nights when I looked out my window just before dark. I hated that window by the foot of my bed. And I thought the world must be full of trouble since we were located down the road from the fire station with all its sirens.

So for all these years, since I left at the age of seven, I haven't exactly had fond memories of the place. And I'm not saying that I suddenly have a whole host of them. But when I saw the dogwood tree in the front yard the homesick feeling slammed through me. It's still there. The shade is still there. I remembered BELONGING there. Me and all my dolls and my barbies and my baby sister. We ran through the thick grass with bare feet, often getting stung by a bee. I sat for hours in the clover patches looking for the "four leaf's." I looked up at the telephone poles and hoped there would be a problem so I could watch the men climb it again. I imagined what it would feel like to climb them myself. I watched with wonder that the birds sat still on their wires when the fire trucks flew by. We ate popsicles on the porch so the neighbor kids wouldn't see and wish that they had one if they weren't as lucky as us. All these little memories made me willing to reconnect, willing to say it was my home.

I don't think I will likely choose to go back there, but seeing how it looks now has been a sort of a gift. Instead of working to maintain a safe distance between now and the past, I have a reason to feel good about claiming it. It is so easy to remember the negative things about the past. I don't know why it is so difficult to remember the "dogwood trees." I am thankful that I could virtually go back and reframe my memories of 910 Red Lane.

I hope they take good care of that tree.

Academy Street: Things are different these days.

2009-08-24T21:46:00.006-05:00

Today was Fall 2009's first day of school! I had kindergarden duty in the morning. There was NO WAY I was going to argue with those teary eyed parents who were just sure their babies would not make it through the morning without them. I tried to smile and tell them it was best to go ahead and let me take the children to story time in the library, but ended up letting the parents take them to the classrooms for a longer goodbye if they looked scared. Tonight I wonder what it must have been like for my own mother when she dropped me off at Miss Hanley's kindergarden class at Academy Street School 38 years ago.

It was Miss Hanley's first year of teaching. Bless her heart, I was scared to death of her. She was black. I had never been around anyone of another race. Between my fear, her first day anxieties, and my mom's own worries, it must have been a pretty terrible day!

Academy street was a school full of character. It was built in the 1800's and it was evident, even to a kindergardener in the early 70's. The doors creaked, there were windows in the bathroom, and the cafeteria was in the basement! Worst of all, the bathroom door which opened into the classroom did not have a lock. Let's just say I learned a lot about boys when I opened up the door and saw David doing his business. He had on a powder blue Mickey Mouse shirt. Funny the things we remember.

Soon after I left Academy Street School, the building was condemned. I always thought they tore it down, but was surprised a few days ago when I found a picture of the restored building which has been converted into apartment homes. Things change.

Anyway, this morning as I directed parents and students around the school where I teach, I remembered to be kind to them. I remembered the peeling paint and the stern teachers from "back in the day." I was thankful for our bright new classroom and library additions that were built over the summer. At lunch duty when the boys were pouring powdered drink mix into their hands to be licked instead of mixed and sipped, I accidentally smiled. I told them about my old teachers who would make us eat any food we mixed up on our trays, no matter how disgusting the combination. These kids were different. Powdered drink mix really did taste good to them, even on top of pizza. I was different, reacting with humor instead of the glaring reprimand my old teachers would have given in the same circumstances.

People can argue all they want about how great the children's behavior was back then, and how the kids of today are spoiled. Things are different, for sure. I think it's a good difference.

I didn't know.

2009-08-16T12:50:00.009-05:00

When this tree fell last year I have to say I was more than distressed, for several reasons. First, I have to say that surprisingly and fortunately, it didn't happen during the hurricane. I was surprised because it was during one of those unannounced storms . . . not much advanced warning or hype associated with it. The sun was shining that morning. But I consider myself fortunate because it went ahead and fell before the big storm, during which it could have done more damage to the house.

My distress began with the rain. I am not normally scared of storms and I like the rain, but this was different. It got dark and within minutes the wind was blowing and it was raining sideways. Horizontal rain. So I hid in the hall bathroom and peeked out the office window every few minutes.

This part might not have actually happened, but in my mind I think I remember a noise I've never heard before or since. It wasn't the thunder, and it wasn't the tree crashing against anything. It was sort of like that little sound that I've heard before when I'm on an airplane and the pressure makes my ears pop. Except this sound was somehow bigger, affecting more than just my ears, and I was even more scared because it represented the unknown.

When the rain turned vertical I got up from the bathroom floor and went to my back door to look out. I saw sky like I'd never seen it before . . . because it had never been there before. That space had always belonged to the big tree I loved.

I went immediately back towards the front of the house and sat propped up within the door frame of my office, watching more of the heavy rain as it splashed and steamed off of the street. I couldn't tell the difference between crying and breathing. It was like the crying was actually being pulled in and out of me by something. I was distressed because of the sudden change in landscape, because the change had been so violent, because I was alone, and because I am terribly in love with trees. Those were the immediate problems.

But it was after the storm, after the tree service had been called, after all was safe and settled that I found myself more upset. As I stood looking at my now horizontal tree I saw the effects of disease. All along, the tree had been doomed, and I didn't know it. The tree must have been hollowed for a long time. Sure I knew there was a cute little hollow at the bottom of it that the dogs would stick their noses in from time to time. But I had no idea that the tree was weak. No idea that what was left of the substance of that tree looked like a dirty sponge underneath that bark.

I was reminded of that tree a few days ago when I was made aware of some weaknesses of my own that for some reason I hadn't recognized. I cried in a similar way to my crying during the storm. But it is only today that I'm realizing that once again I was fortunate. Unlike the tree, I don't think I've become totally hollowed. I am now aware of some problems and have the ability to try and work on some of them. I have the opportunity to intervene before they weaken me more and increase the chances of a fall if my rain unexpectedly gets horizontal one day.

Personal development is boring.

2009-08-10T19:58:00.005-05:00

Today I decided I would relax and read a book. I walked over to my kitchen bookshelf where I keep my "to read next" selections and wondered what I was thinking when I stocked that shelf. For my reading pleasure I could . . . . learn to be creative, get organized, train my dogs to mind me, be a better teacher, lose weight, eat like a diabetic . . . . the shelf is too long to go on. What stressful reading I've lined up for myself! I must have really thought I suck at a lot of things. I'm wondering just how many more things I need to learn before I can lighten up and read a story or something for pure entertainment. I'm starting to question how worthwhile it is to keep trying to be better at everything.

I know why I bought those books. There was a slight high that came from choosing this lineup of books that could potentially be LIFE CHANGING. They represented hope and purpose. But when I looked at all those books together today I had a moment of clarity where I recognized the stages of my "personal development cycle." Read. Learn. Plan. Try. Fail. Buy a different book. Read. Learn a little more. Plan a lot more carefully. Give up. Why try again, it didn't work last time. Choose something else to learn.

I have to admit that my development cycle is funny. It is actually a happy thing to discover that my mind works this way. I was getting bored. I was running out of things I thought I had hope of improving.

Just for fun I think I am going to spend a little time purposely not trying to better myself. I'm honestly too scared to make a time commitment for this experiment. I know full well that I am addicted to trying to live smarter and be a better person. And I'm not saying there's anything at all wrong with that for most people, most of the time. But for me, recognizing my cycle today made me say to myself, "This has got to stop!" I want to see what will happen if I spend a little while operating with only the knowledge I already have. I want to see if I can enjoy life a little bit more, and spend less time worrying about whether it could possibly be better.

Before I sat down to write I picked up a book of short stories edited by an author I like. I had to get it out of the middle of a stack of books I'd put to the side in an out of the way place. Tonight I will experiment with reading "just for the fun of it." For tonight, I will be satisfied with the person I already am.

Teachers have it made.

2009-08-05T14:56:00.005-05:00

bench and buddha
Originally uploaded by *Susie*

For too many years to count, I have listened to people tell me how "teachers have it made . . . summers off and all." I love being a teacher, but summer is definitely not the reason. All of my past summers as a teacher have been spent attending workshops, planning, shopping decor for the theme of the year (I don't want to look at another fish or frog cutout) and setting up my classroom. Summers seemed the time to play catch-up and vow to "do even better this year." I have enjoyed all of the summer preparations, but for some reason I have always disliked hearing people tell me how lucky I am to have so much time off.

This summer has been different. The day before school was out Mom had a heart attack. Major heart attack. I breezed by school briefly the next day to find that my coworkers had graciously pitched in and packed all my stuff up for me. The day after that I cancelled all of my staff development workshops for the summer except for the last two. For this summer at least, there were more important things. Later on, when Mom was hospitalized again after having chest pains, I cancelled the last two.

It is now only a week and a half until teachers report to school for the new year. I have learned something very valuable this summer. I have figured out how to have a vacation. How to relax. How to make a to do list and not do it. I have learned how to skip the guilt that usually comes from not being "productive." I have spent time with my family and friends, being more present with them than I have ever been before. I have bored my dogs with my all day presence . . . they haven't gotten enough rest, they say. I have rested.

When my students show up at the end of this month, I think I will be a better teacher. This will be an even better year than the last. But this time it will not be due to new knowledge and ideas about teaching. Instead it will be because, even if just a little bit, I have learned to relax and breathe. I have come to realize that new ideas are not everything. I have gained confidence in myself, knowing that I already have enough. I will have enough time to learn new things. Just not now.

Now I can say, "I agree. Teachers have it made."

Next blog

2009-08-04T08:49:00.004-05:00

Last night my world got bigger. I never understood why so many of the blogs I read had a "next blog" link at the top. When I clicked I was amazed. Suddenly I was looking into the minds of many many kinds of people. I was fascinated by teenagers, fashion designers, scientists . . . even people who blogged about a million different things at once. My understanding of life expanded. I felt more connected than ever.

But it gets even better. Fortunately, the "next blogs" come from all over the world. Some of them looked so interesting I found myself trying to read the texts, grabbing on to any word I knew . . . or even just the sentence structures and punctuation. Suddenly I had a 2:00 in the morning idea. Google translate. It takes some time figuring it out (I have only scratched the surface,) but I was fairly immediately reading blogs from many different countries and cultures. Blogs about the most ordinary things were interesting to me. The imperfect translations made me feel like I was talking directly with the authors, hearing their accents and gaining a whole new perception of what a language's sentence structure means.

I found out that with a simple cut and paste I could make my blog available to people who spoke any language on Google translate's long list of available translation combinations. Now, I don't imagine that anyone in Israel or anywhere else in the world is particularly interested enough to read about my cat or my bookshelf or my photoshopped dogs. However, it is true that at times last night I found myself wishing that the woman who wrote about lipstick (which I never wear) had opted to make her blog available for translation.

In my wildest dreams I never imagined the possibility of being so connected to the rest of the world. I hope someday lifeboat will end up as somebody's "next blog," expanding their world as they read and shake their head about everyday, ordinary thoughts of "some American woman."

Elizabeth looks like me.

2009-08-03T21:46:00.005-05:00

I was playing with William for quite a while tonight. I overestimated his energy. After a while he couldn't quite keep up with the birdie I was waving around. He just gave up, plopped down on his side, and panted there on the cool floor. Elizabeth said "Good." It was time for her to get all the attention.

So I petted Elizabeth for a long time. I petted her, not like someone who pets a cat while watching a tv show, but giving her my undivided attention. Probably nobody would really call Elizabeth a pretty cat. She's not ugly, but she is very ordinary. Her fur is that wild mix of browns and greys.

At one point she put her head up under my arm, hiding her face. I remembered the first time she did that. It was a few days after I got her from the animal shelter. She was going into labor. I remember lying there beside her on the floor and thinking it was amazing she trusted me enough to comfort her. I guess maybe animals have an instinctual awareness. Or maybe she was desperate and just hoping. Whatever the case, I was happy to be there for her. Happy to share the experience with her.

As it turns out I did spend many hours with her while she was in labor, but wasn't present for the actual birth of either of the three kittens. But while I was looking at her tonight I felt like I had been there in a way. I missed the "moments," but was there beforehand and for many nights afterwards taking care of her and the kittens as they struggled with the respiratory virus.

So tonight I'm wondering why it is that right before Elizabeth decided she was exhausted from being petted, I looked at her in the face and saw myself. I would have been startled, but I recognize that feeling. I have the same feeling when I look at my old dog Gabbi. And Elizabeth and Gabbi sure don't look anything alike! I love all of my pets, present and past, dearly. But there is a different feeling that comes from watching these two. It is comforting and peaceful. Maybe a way of learning to be peaceful and content with myself.

So as Elizabeth was nibbling my hand, letting me know she'd had enough petting for the night, I was thinking about how I probably need to spend more time with her. Not so much for her benefit . . . because I think she is perfectly content lounging in her royal suite, waiting for room service. But I think it is probably the most calming part of my day. It occurred to me that I've always had this idea that I should set aside specific time for meditation or relaxation. It never has happened. Seems like I could never settle . . . was always worried about what I was missing while thinking about my breath or whatever I was supposed to be focusing on. Always thinking I should spend any extra time problem solving and planning. Tonight I thought about how absolutely cool it would be if I set aside a certain hour for Elizabeth every night. I am willing to bet that it would be every bit as effective as any formal meditation practice.

I'm glad Elizabeth looks like me.

Bookshelves

2009-07-31T13:57:00.017-05:00

I am not sure there is any better place to be than a bookstore. I love being totally surrounded by shelves of books. Maybe the books are a physical representation of possibilites. I could open one and know something totally new, immediately. Or, many times, I could purchase the book to put on one of my own bookshelves. I wouldn't even have to read it to enjoy it. I could put it up for later. A glance up at the shelf would be comforting, knowing that something new was waiting for me there, whenever I wanted.

Of course, these days almost any kind of knowledge or any type of story that one could desire could be most quickly accessed electronically. I'm practically in love with Google. I continue to be amazed at all the things I can do with Google . . . for absolutely FREE! (unless you want to argue about ads, which I couldn't care less about unless they flash obnoxiously.) And I could read almost any book I wanted on a Kindle. I have wanted one since the first day it was advertised on the Amazon website . . . a long time ago. I would love it. But I have held out for one reason. I'm afraid of no longer having the excuse to wander among bookshelves, not actually knowing if the book I want is there until I see the spine . . . or until I notice the author's last name is just not there. Believe it or not, I am rarely disappointed when the book I want is not available on the shelf. It gives me a reason to go to another bookstore . . . and possibly stumble upon some other great find. Sometimes finding what I am NOT looking for is the better outcome.

That was the beauty of Acres of Books, an incredible bookstore in Long Beach, California. I say "was" because it closed in October of 2008, I think because of somebody else's idea of progress. I'm sure something pretty is there now, but probably nothing that could have the impact on me that the bookstore did. On a visit to California, my parents dropped me off to wander through the maze of dusty, leaning bookshelves that seemed to go on forever. Something like a million books there. Or it seemed. Hours later they returned and my dad found me standing in the middle of one of the narrow aisles with tears in my eyes. I was overwhelmed with the joy of it all. It wasn't like any bookstore I'd ever been in. "Random" is the best word I can think of to describe it. It might have had a certain classic that I was looking for, but it was equally likely that I would look in the somewhat alphabetically arranged space where it should be and find an amazing book self published by a woman a hundred years ago when she wasn't even "supposed" to be thinking, much less recording her thoughts!

So . . . yeah, one day I will have a Kindle or some kind of reader. But for now I'm happy with my own randomly stocked bookshelves at home. If electronic makes you happy, then you can virtually shelve books at Goodreads: http://goodreads.com/ It is very satisfying to click on a book, mark it read, and say my peace about it if I want. But if you are in love with the physical nature of books, then you have to look at this bookshelf blog: http://theblogonthebookshelf.blogspot.com/ The featured shelves are far beyond the ordinary imagination.

Enjoy your bookshelves . . . whatever kind they are!

What is there to say?

2009-07-30T23:45:00.006-05:00

I started to say that the problem with creating a new blog is deciding what to say. I'm rethinking that. I think the bigger issue would be what NOT to say. There are so many things I do want to write about, and it is tough to narrow my thoughts. I want to tell all about the important things in life . . . life as I see it anyway. I'd like to at least get into words and images the things in my world that make life worth living, even in the difficult times . . . the things that would give me strength to fight my way into the lifeboat instead of giving up and drowning in a dark stormy sea of troubles.

Some of the important things are funny . . . like the picture of my dogs Gabbi and Murphy . . . a picture I had to photoshop in order to get them close to each other. It wasn't love at first sight.

For most things in my life, love comes much more easily . . . family, friends, the children I teach. And there are so many things that interest me. I always wanted to know "a little bit about a lot of things."

I think I will have to write about books . . . reading many of them . . . and just filling up my house with others, simply because it feels right.

And I definitely need to write about school. Work, that is. I have many, many more teaching ideas than I could ever actually put into practice. I have a bizillion links for teachers: lists of educational websites for kids, ideas for using technology in the classroom, sites for parents, good shopping places for teachers. I have a lot to say about writing itself, especially about journaling and teaching students to love it. Maybe when I learn it, I will even write about formatting blog posts when your favorite punctuation is the ellipses!

I imagine I might end up writing some "what does it mean?" posts too. I try not to go there too often, but invariably it happens . . . especially after a long conversation with one of the "sistas." But I really do hope to get to spend a lot of time just writing to show my favorite people all of the cool things that exist, just in case they didn't already know it. Maybe one of them will actually find another reason or two to "head for the lifeboat!"