144 Umbrellas

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

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

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 . . .

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.

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!

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

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.