Still cleaning out. I'm onto files and binders, now, really weeding through the things I would use if I ever taught middle school again, and getting rid of absolutely anything that I wouldn't. I found this poem in a folder, and it spoke to me this morning.
"Blessings"
by Ronald Wallace
Blessings
occur.
Some days I find myself
putting my foot in
the same stream twice;
leading a horse to water
and making him drink.
I have a clue.
I can see the forest
for the trees.
All around me people
are making silk purses
out of sows' ears,
getting blood from stones,
building Rome in a day.
There's a business
like show business.
There's something new
under the sun.
Some days misery
no longer loves company;
it puts itself out of its.
There's rest for the weary.
There's turning back.
There are guarentees.
I can be serious.
I can mean that.
You can quite
put your finger on it.
I am reminded every single day to be grateful for all of my blessings and for the seemingly impossible dreams that come true every day, not just for me, but for lots of people. I love this beautiful weather, the buds on the trees, and my backyard swing. I am excited to have made plans to take road-trips with my girls to see two of my best far-away girlfriends in the next month. North then south the Browne girls travel, singing showtunes and listening to adventurous books on CD together. We do love a road trip.
My coffee is excellent today in my shiny pink travel mug, and for the next two mornings, my students will be taking MCAS, and because we have to be so still and quiet, there is really very little else for me to do besides plunge into the Game of Thrones series. I'm pretty pumped for that. My plan is to spend many quality hours this spring reading those books on my backyard swing, coaxing the peonies to come up and join the party.
Wednesday, March 21, 2012
Tuesday, March 20, 2012
Ponderings from the Rye
A lesson I’ve had to re-learn many many times in my life is “I can’t fix them.” I have had to keep reminding myself of that year after year in 6th grade, made more difficult by the fact that, well, I’m kind of supposed to. Or, at least, I am supposed to try. And help. That’s kind of the definition of public middle school teacher. Nurse, mother, counselor, sun-maker, tone-setter, model and mentor, all while making sure they hit proficient or above in their MCAS scores.
Increasingly, I have struggled with the futility of it, and yesterday was one of those days when I kind of hit the wall. I am tired of chasing kids down for their 6-sentence homework sheet on writing topic and closing sentences, and Egypt packets, and parent signatures on quiz scores below an 80%. I hate that part. I want to stay true to my mission. I want to give reasons to make school important for them, to help them see that their investment in their education is a matter of character, and not just grades on a piece of paper. No matter what their world is like outside, they can choose who they are in school. That’s the message, anyhow.
I have two boys this year who just hurt my heart every day. Total apathy and disconnection and rudeness, actively trying to not only spoil their own experiences, but to bring down the rest of the whole class. It’s exhausting, and really, when I think about it…it always seems to be the case. Every year there are a couple of kids who basically kick my ass, and require their own candles in the end-of-the-year burning ceremony, and they usually get the same message when I release them: “May they find joy and peace in their hearts, and understand that investing in learning is the ticket out of the sad place they dwell.” I berate myself for not having “fixed,” them, but really, what can I do? I can only give them the best of myself while they are here…
Here’s the thing, though…I know I don’t always do that. I know I hit the wall, every year, and sort of toss my hands up and say, “You’re your mother’s problem.” (I mean, not out loud or anything. Just in my head.) I think I have hit that point a bit earlier this year, simply out of fatigue. They’ve worn me down.
(Sidebar update…you might remember Sam, my “little fox,” who we kept for another year. He’s thriving in every way. He’s a success story, a wonderful soul, and I think we caught him in time. It took a village, and will continue to require that, but we got him. I think his changes will stick.)
I am 99% overjoyed about the choice to change my life and career. The only place where I feel conflict is the 1% Guilt Factor. And the guilt comes from this simple fact: I know that I can’t totally fix these poor little lost souls…but I can make a dent. I have made a difference in the lives of some of these kids, and now I won’t be here to catch them in the rye. Who will? If I can do it, shouldn’t I? Why should I get to have a much easier life now, full of things that just make me happy, when I am equipped to do much harder work in the world?
I don’t have an answer, and believe me, I am not going to change my mind. And after days like yesterday, that question doesn’t hurt me so much. Some days, though, it lingers.
Increasingly, I have struggled with the futility of it, and yesterday was one of those days when I kind of hit the wall. I am tired of chasing kids down for their 6-sentence homework sheet on writing topic and closing sentences, and Egypt packets, and parent signatures on quiz scores below an 80%. I hate that part. I want to stay true to my mission. I want to give reasons to make school important for them, to help them see that their investment in their education is a matter of character, and not just grades on a piece of paper. No matter what their world is like outside, they can choose who they are in school. That’s the message, anyhow.
I have two boys this year who just hurt my heart every day. Total apathy and disconnection and rudeness, actively trying to not only spoil their own experiences, but to bring down the rest of the whole class. It’s exhausting, and really, when I think about it…it always seems to be the case. Every year there are a couple of kids who basically kick my ass, and require their own candles in the end-of-the-year burning ceremony, and they usually get the same message when I release them: “May they find joy and peace in their hearts, and understand that investing in learning is the ticket out of the sad place they dwell.” I berate myself for not having “fixed,” them, but really, what can I do? I can only give them the best of myself while they are here…
Here’s the thing, though…I know I don’t always do that. I know I hit the wall, every year, and sort of toss my hands up and say, “You’re your mother’s problem.” (I mean, not out loud or anything. Just in my head.) I think I have hit that point a bit earlier this year, simply out of fatigue. They’ve worn me down.
(Sidebar update…you might remember Sam, my “little fox,” who we kept for another year. He’s thriving in every way. He’s a success story, a wonderful soul, and I think we caught him in time. It took a village, and will continue to require that, but we got him. I think his changes will stick.)
I am 99% overjoyed about the choice to change my life and career. The only place where I feel conflict is the 1% Guilt Factor. And the guilt comes from this simple fact: I know that I can’t totally fix these poor little lost souls…but I can make a dent. I have made a difference in the lives of some of these kids, and now I won’t be here to catch them in the rye. Who will? If I can do it, shouldn’t I? Why should I get to have a much easier life now, full of things that just make me happy, when I am equipped to do much harder work in the world?
I don’t have an answer, and believe me, I am not going to change my mind. And after days like yesterday, that question doesn’t hurt me so much. Some days, though, it lingers.
Thursday, March 15, 2012
Sixth Grade Field Trip
Otherwise known as "Please Kill Me Now."
Tomorrow is the 6th grade field trip to the Museum of Science. On a bus. For an hour and a half each way. With 6th graders. They are twelve, in case you've forgotten. Want to spend a 3-hour round-trip bus ride with 48 twelve year olds and 17 adult chaperones? I didn't think so.
Now, this has been done before more-or-less pleasantly, the time Andrea and I wore matching cherry flip-flops and, in the interest of full disclosure, were just a leeetle bit hung over from drinking Trailer Park Punch the night before, so things were just a little funnier than they might have otherwise been. Plus, I had a really great class that year, and one really Hot Dad as a chaperone.
This year...well, my class is...yeah. I don't know. I have two that I'm afraid will literally hurl themselves out the bus window just to get their peers' attention. I mean, I am SERIOUSLY afraid of that happening. I have another one who persists on wearing a sweatshirt that smells like cat pee despite my saying, "Hey, your sweatshirt smells like cat pee. Please wash it." He hasn't. I have another student who thinks it's really funny to bark and say "Shhhhh!!!!" REALLY loudly as often as possible. Not Tourette's or anything...just for fun. I have one with Autism who already doesn't like loud noises...so the bus ride should be FUN for him, obviously, plus two "advanced" kids (read: closer to 13) that I already have to tell every day NOT to do that one-armed middle school hug thing during locker time.
I AM NOT EXCITED ABOUT THIS FIELD TRIP. At least I don't have a group assigned to me, so I will try to spend the museum time just floating around, trying to sneak up on kids and watch them from afar, being available in case one of them loses it and needs to be taken out.
Ah...who am I kidding? In a perfect world, I will hide in that little room where the tiny-faced monkeys play, or in the corner of the cafeteria looking out on the Charles River, sparkling in the sunlight, and eating the gummy bears and Swedish fish I will have hidden in my pockets. For fortification.
Wish me luck.
Tomorrow is the 6th grade field trip to the Museum of Science. On a bus. For an hour and a half each way. With 6th graders. They are twelve, in case you've forgotten. Want to spend a 3-hour round-trip bus ride with 48 twelve year olds and 17 adult chaperones? I didn't think so.
Now, this has been done before more-or-less pleasantly, the time Andrea and I wore matching cherry flip-flops and, in the interest of full disclosure, were just a leeetle bit hung over from drinking Trailer Park Punch the night before, so things were just a little funnier than they might have otherwise been. Plus, I had a really great class that year, and one really Hot Dad as a chaperone.
This year...well, my class is...yeah. I don't know. I have two that I'm afraid will literally hurl themselves out the bus window just to get their peers' attention. I mean, I am SERIOUSLY afraid of that happening. I have another one who persists on wearing a sweatshirt that smells like cat pee despite my saying, "Hey, your sweatshirt smells like cat pee. Please wash it." He hasn't. I have another student who thinks it's really funny to bark and say "Shhhhh!!!!" REALLY loudly as often as possible. Not Tourette's or anything...just for fun. I have one with Autism who already doesn't like loud noises...so the bus ride should be FUN for him, obviously, plus two "advanced" kids (read: closer to 13) that I already have to tell every day NOT to do that one-armed middle school hug thing during locker time.
I AM NOT EXCITED ABOUT THIS FIELD TRIP. At least I don't have a group assigned to me, so I will try to spend the museum time just floating around, trying to sneak up on kids and watch them from afar, being available in case one of them loses it and needs to be taken out.
Ah...who am I kidding? In a perfect world, I will hide in that little room where the tiny-faced monkeys play, or in the corner of the cafeteria looking out on the Charles River, sparkling in the sunlight, and eating the gummy bears and Swedish fish I will have hidden in my pockets. For fortification.
Wish me luck.
My Yellow Brick Road
I preface this entry by saying it’s very freaking long, and you don’t have to read the whole thing, obviously. I am going to tell you exactly how I manifested this new job in my life using the principles of the Law of Attraction. (And I know that there are those of you that will roll your eyes when I start using words like "manifest," but that's okay. You can read something else instead.)
First, there was the obvious stuff…I worked really hard for seven years, built a reputation, made connections to staff people, and really, really loved my work. I loved it, and it grew in my heart.
Secondly, I fully understood what the Law of Attraction really means, and doesn't me an. It does not mean that you can get yourself a sports car by sitting on the couch and just "believing." That’s just absurd. I understood that the Law of Attraction means that what you think about, and thank about, you bring about. Your goal has to make sense for who you are, and it has to be something that you also work toward diligently and carefully.
So, when I found out that my predecessor had already made public his intentions to leave at the end of the year, (and only after I knew that – let the record show) I set out to earn the job. I made the decision in a hard and fast rush of “Eff this. I’M GOING FOR IT.” And I saw it in capital letters, and set myself a methodical agenda to bring it into being. I heard my shadow self, sitting sulkily in the corner, saying, “This is new-age bullshit. It’s not going to make a difference. They either will want you or they won’t. None of this matters.” Then I threw a coconut cream pie in that self's face and plodded forward.
How Kelly Harnessed the Law of Attraction in Ten Deliberate Steps…
1. Vision Board – I did this the weekend I decided to GO FOR IT. The need to do it woke me up at 3:30 one morning, and I did it alone in the Athenaeum. I took the school calendar (a beautiful, glossy full-of-photos affair) and collaged parts of it in. Then I took magazine pictures I had been sort of saving away in a box for the past couple of years – just stuff that vaguely spoke to me at the time – and sorted through until I found pictures and words that said the things I was feeling…things about a leap of faith, about working smarter and more efficiently instead of just more, about believing in your dreams. I wrote a little one-paragraph manifesto, imagining what a friend who loved me would tell me in answer to the question, “Why should I get this job?” Smack in the middle I put Kermit the Frog, who is basically my theater idol, as well as my inspiration for how to run the show with a sense of humor, and how to keep myself surrounded by good friends and love while I do it.
Here it is:
2. Amazon.com Shopping Cart – I filled an Amazon.com shopping cart with all of the textbooks I would need or want to do the job well. They included books on teaching acting, running a choir, vocal technique, directing, and theater games for the classroom. (I didn't buy them...just put them in my shopping cart.) One of which was called At Play: Teaching Teenagers Theater by Elizabeth Swados, which I found, oddly, I already owned. I put that book, along with my Complete Works of William Shakespeare and Ask and It is Given by Jerry & Esther Hicks on the shelf with my vision board. On top of them I put a Beauty and the Beast rose, ‘cause I was kind of praying to Matt during this whole thing, too.
3. Post-its on the computer – They were reminders of things I had read that clicked hard with me. They said:
“Be there. Go there now and never leave. Imagine that your dream has already come true. Filter every thought, question and answer from there. Dwelling from, not upon, the space you want to inherit is the fastest way to change absolutely everything.”
“The Universe is creative, kind, loving, beautiful, expanding, abundant, receptive.”
“You get what you think about, whether you want it or not.”
And my two favorites, from Eat Pray Love. One is a quote from Elizabeth Gilbert about Diligent Joy: “Happiness is the consequence of personal effort. You fight for it, strive for it, insist upon it..you have to participate relentlessly in the manifestations of your own blessings.” And the other: “Darling, it’s time.” That’s from the movie, where Javier Bardem dances Julia Roberts off into the bedroom. To me, that meant…you’ve waited long enough. You’ve worked very hard to be the best you can be, now come to this new place of joy and freedom and a brand new beginning. Plus, anything said in Javier Bardem’s voice had to be true and inspirational. Obviously. Sometimes I pretend his voice is reading through the DVR list, too.
4. Snap-Shots game – I have played this game in a variety of lovely forms, but in this case, it meant writing down on post-its moments from my “new life.” For example, “My students are laying on the floor of the stage. The lights are turned low, and I am walking them through a guided meditation where they meet their character on a walk in the woods." Or, "We are studying Hamlet's soliloquy. We have read it, discussed it, and are watching You Tube clips of great actors performing it, and talking about their choices and understandings." I wrote scores of them, and stuck them in the back of my journal.
5. Mentor Texts – I read
Steering by Starlight & How to Find Your Way in a New Wild World (Martha Beck.)
The Power of Intention (Wayne Dyer)
Ask and It Is Given (Jerry & Esther Hicks)
Creative Visualization (Shakti Gawain)
A Return to Love (Marianne Williamson)
The Secret (Rhonda Byrne)
6. Journaling – Obviously, I journaled my ass off about it. Mostly so that no one else had to listen to me go on and on and on and on and on about how much I was thinking about it. Though I did talk a lot about it too. But, believe me, not one tiny iota as much as I thought about it. Or wrote about it.
7. Sleep-Teaching – Every night before I fell asleep, I pictured my dream as true. I went there, dwelled there, felt the feelings, looked around the rooms I would have to inhabit, decorated my office, and set up the furniture. Every single night, even if it was just a whisp of a second when my head hit the pillow. I planned my dreams before dreaming.
8. Conversation Rehearsals – The conversation where I was offered the job. The conversation where I told my current principal I was leaving. The conversation where I told my partner. I practiced them. Scripted them. And it’s worth noting that they all came true almost exactly as I thought they would. Not totally, but enough to give me shivers. I also wrote the email to my friends announcing that I got the job…one full week before I go the job. I only changed one sentence of it after I got my contract in my hand.
9. Focused on the End Feeling – I tried to not just imagine, but feel what it will feel like to have one job to go to, one place to devote my energy, instead of two. I tried to feel what it will feel like to be there for Monday Morning Meeting with the whole school. How it will feel to have two weeks off in March with my kids still in school, and to be done at Memorial Day weekend. What it will feel like to actually be there on the day the cast list is announced, or to be able to spend my days talking about Shakespeare and human relationships and motivations. How it will feel to have my life filled with music, all the time. It felt, and still feels, joyous. It feels what Martha Beck calls “Shackles Off,” which means utterly free and uplifting.
10. Believing – I believed with all of my passionate, striving, hopeful heart. I knew I could do it. I knew I could make it happen. I didn’t entertain the thoughts of “What if it doesn’t?” beyond knowing that if that unthinkable if were to occur, I would take to my bed for three days and cry, then choose out some new dreams. But I threw coconut cream pies at all of those ifs, every time they came up. Those were shadows. I kept my face to the light, and believed.
Speaking of believing, I realize that there people who won’t believe in this, and think the whole idea of the Law of Attraction is crap. And that’s okay. Part of how I know it’s true – at least for me – is that I don’t actually care if other people don’t believe in it. I don’t care. I know I am right, and that it can work, and I wish and hope that everyone in the whole world could learn these principles and ways of thinking, because they have made me so happy and successful, and brought me my Big Wish.
Of course I have been asked the question I most wonder myself, which is, “But in light of this, why do bad things happen to good people?” I still don’t know. I don’t know. My only guess is that part of life is carving out your purpose and path and destiny from the lump of marble you were born into, and that every soul has a different destiny, one that the soul chooses out for itself before it gets here on earth. I think about my brother in this. He was a good soul, a good person, and had people who loved him so much and tried to help him. But he still died the way he did. How could that happen in a benevolent Universe? How could my gentle mother have deserved to have that sort of pain inflicted on her? I don’t know, but here’s what I think, what I believe…my brother was meant to be a healer. He was meant to help others through their traumas in the afterlife, wherever that might be, and the only way for him to do it well, as I think he’s doing it now, is to have suffered in real life. To know the pain of the worst of human living in order to gently mentor others who have suffered, leading them into the light. I know that’s what he’s doing now. And somehow, it was part of my path of learning to lose him, and my parents’ and my cousins’, and somehow, his son’s. I don’t know why. I think, someday, when I’m in the Next Place with him, singing songs from Joseph and the Amazing Technicolor Dreamcoat and eating Heavenly Hash ice cream, I’ll know. That has to be enough for me for now.
This is a digression, and, I guess, a post of its own for another time.
Getting back to the point...there you have it. My steps, and my philosophies behind them. I know, of course, that it won’t work just this way for everyone, but everyone has the capacity to create their own path. This was mine. And it won’t surprise you one bit to know that it looks exactly in my mind like a Yellow Brick Road.
First, there was the obvious stuff…I worked really hard for seven years, built a reputation, made connections to staff people, and really, really loved my work. I loved it, and it grew in my heart.
Secondly, I fully understood what the Law of Attraction really means, and doesn't me an. It does not mean that you can get yourself a sports car by sitting on the couch and just "believing." That’s just absurd. I understood that the Law of Attraction means that what you think about, and thank about, you bring about. Your goal has to make sense for who you are, and it has to be something that you also work toward diligently and carefully.
So, when I found out that my predecessor had already made public his intentions to leave at the end of the year, (and only after I knew that – let the record show) I set out to earn the job. I made the decision in a hard and fast rush of “Eff this. I’M GOING FOR IT.” And I saw it in capital letters, and set myself a methodical agenda to bring it into being. I heard my shadow self, sitting sulkily in the corner, saying, “This is new-age bullshit. It’s not going to make a difference. They either will want you or they won’t. None of this matters.” Then I threw a coconut cream pie in that self's face and plodded forward.
How Kelly Harnessed the Law of Attraction in Ten Deliberate Steps…
1. Vision Board – I did this the weekend I decided to GO FOR IT. The need to do it woke me up at 3:30 one morning, and I did it alone in the Athenaeum. I took the school calendar (a beautiful, glossy full-of-photos affair) and collaged parts of it in. Then I took magazine pictures I had been sort of saving away in a box for the past couple of years – just stuff that vaguely spoke to me at the time – and sorted through until I found pictures and words that said the things I was feeling…things about a leap of faith, about working smarter and more efficiently instead of just more, about believing in your dreams. I wrote a little one-paragraph manifesto, imagining what a friend who loved me would tell me in answer to the question, “Why should I get this job?” Smack in the middle I put Kermit the Frog, who is basically my theater idol, as well as my inspiration for how to run the show with a sense of humor, and how to keep myself surrounded by good friends and love while I do it.
Here it is:
2. Amazon.com Shopping Cart – I filled an Amazon.com shopping cart with all of the textbooks I would need or want to do the job well. They included books on teaching acting, running a choir, vocal technique, directing, and theater games for the classroom. (I didn't buy them...just put them in my shopping cart.) One of which was called At Play: Teaching Teenagers Theater by Elizabeth Swados, which I found, oddly, I already owned. I put that book, along with my Complete Works of William Shakespeare and Ask and It is Given by Jerry & Esther Hicks on the shelf with my vision board. On top of them I put a Beauty and the Beast rose, ‘cause I was kind of praying to Matt during this whole thing, too.
3. Post-its on the computer – They were reminders of things I had read that clicked hard with me. They said:
“Be there. Go there now and never leave. Imagine that your dream has already come true. Filter every thought, question and answer from there. Dwelling from, not upon, the space you want to inherit is the fastest way to change absolutely everything.”
“The Universe is creative, kind, loving, beautiful, expanding, abundant, receptive.”
“You get what you think about, whether you want it or not.”
And my two favorites, from Eat Pray Love. One is a quote from Elizabeth Gilbert about Diligent Joy: “Happiness is the consequence of personal effort. You fight for it, strive for it, insist upon it..you have to participate relentlessly in the manifestations of your own blessings.” And the other: “Darling, it’s time.” That’s from the movie, where Javier Bardem dances Julia Roberts off into the bedroom. To me, that meant…you’ve waited long enough. You’ve worked very hard to be the best you can be, now come to this new place of joy and freedom and a brand new beginning. Plus, anything said in Javier Bardem’s voice had to be true and inspirational. Obviously. Sometimes I pretend his voice is reading through the DVR list, too.
4. Snap-Shots game – I have played this game in a variety of lovely forms, but in this case, it meant writing down on post-its moments from my “new life.” For example, “My students are laying on the floor of the stage. The lights are turned low, and I am walking them through a guided meditation where they meet their character on a walk in the woods." Or, "We are studying Hamlet's soliloquy. We have read it, discussed it, and are watching You Tube clips of great actors performing it, and talking about their choices and understandings." I wrote scores of them, and stuck them in the back of my journal.
5. Mentor Texts – I read
Steering by Starlight & How to Find Your Way in a New Wild World (Martha Beck.)
The Power of Intention (Wayne Dyer)
Ask and It Is Given (Jerry & Esther Hicks)
Creative Visualization (Shakti Gawain)
A Return to Love (Marianne Williamson)
The Secret (Rhonda Byrne)
6. Journaling – Obviously, I journaled my ass off about it. Mostly so that no one else had to listen to me go on and on and on and on and on about how much I was thinking about it. Though I did talk a lot about it too. But, believe me, not one tiny iota as much as I thought about it. Or wrote about it.
7. Sleep-Teaching – Every night before I fell asleep, I pictured my dream as true. I went there, dwelled there, felt the feelings, looked around the rooms I would have to inhabit, decorated my office, and set up the furniture. Every single night, even if it was just a whisp of a second when my head hit the pillow. I planned my dreams before dreaming.
8. Conversation Rehearsals – The conversation where I was offered the job. The conversation where I told my current principal I was leaving. The conversation where I told my partner. I practiced them. Scripted them. And it’s worth noting that they all came true almost exactly as I thought they would. Not totally, but enough to give me shivers. I also wrote the email to my friends announcing that I got the job…one full week before I go the job. I only changed one sentence of it after I got my contract in my hand.
9. Focused on the End Feeling – I tried to not just imagine, but feel what it will feel like to have one job to go to, one place to devote my energy, instead of two. I tried to feel what it will feel like to be there for Monday Morning Meeting with the whole school. How it will feel to have two weeks off in March with my kids still in school, and to be done at Memorial Day weekend. What it will feel like to actually be there on the day the cast list is announced, or to be able to spend my days talking about Shakespeare and human relationships and motivations. How it will feel to have my life filled with music, all the time. It felt, and still feels, joyous. It feels what Martha Beck calls “Shackles Off,” which means utterly free and uplifting.
10. Believing – I believed with all of my passionate, striving, hopeful heart. I knew I could do it. I knew I could make it happen. I didn’t entertain the thoughts of “What if it doesn’t?” beyond knowing that if that unthinkable if were to occur, I would take to my bed for three days and cry, then choose out some new dreams. But I threw coconut cream pies at all of those ifs, every time they came up. Those were shadows. I kept my face to the light, and believed.
Speaking of believing, I realize that there people who won’t believe in this, and think the whole idea of the Law of Attraction is crap. And that’s okay. Part of how I know it’s true – at least for me – is that I don’t actually care if other people don’t believe in it. I don’t care. I know I am right, and that it can work, and I wish and hope that everyone in the whole world could learn these principles and ways of thinking, because they have made me so happy and successful, and brought me my Big Wish.
Of course I have been asked the question I most wonder myself, which is, “But in light of this, why do bad things happen to good people?” I still don’t know. I don’t know. My only guess is that part of life is carving out your purpose and path and destiny from the lump of marble you were born into, and that every soul has a different destiny, one that the soul chooses out for itself before it gets here on earth. I think about my brother in this. He was a good soul, a good person, and had people who loved him so much and tried to help him. But he still died the way he did. How could that happen in a benevolent Universe? How could my gentle mother have deserved to have that sort of pain inflicted on her? I don’t know, but here’s what I think, what I believe…my brother was meant to be a healer. He was meant to help others through their traumas in the afterlife, wherever that might be, and the only way for him to do it well, as I think he’s doing it now, is to have suffered in real life. To know the pain of the worst of human living in order to gently mentor others who have suffered, leading them into the light. I know that’s what he’s doing now. And somehow, it was part of my path of learning to lose him, and my parents’ and my cousins’, and somehow, his son’s. I don’t know why. I think, someday, when I’m in the Next Place with him, singing songs from Joseph and the Amazing Technicolor Dreamcoat and eating Heavenly Hash ice cream, I’ll know. That has to be enough for me for now.
This is a digression, and, I guess, a post of its own for another time.
Getting back to the point...there you have it. My steps, and my philosophies behind them. I know, of course, that it won’t work just this way for everyone, but everyone has the capacity to create their own path. This was mine. And it won’t surprise you one bit to know that it looks exactly in my mind like a Yellow Brick Road.
Wednesday, March 14, 2012
Cleaning Out
For reasons I will soon be eagerly discussing, I am cleaning out my classroom. And not just my classroom, but the various places in which I have stashed 17 years worth of teaching and theater *stuff.* Among the items I came across today:
- 2 huge gallons of apple juice that expired in 2008.
- Sesame Street and autumn motif fabric from my "Let's iron appliques on sweatshirts and tote bags and then outline them in puff-paint" episodes of the mid-1990's.
- A copy of the Ladies Home Journal from 1915.
- Inexplicably, 19 vests in various brocade fabrics and corduroy.
- My high school sweetheart's Soccer letterman's jacket which I wore for the entire winter of 1988-1989.
- Joseph and the Amazing Technicolor Dreamcoat with Donny Osmond...on VHS.
I also found these:
My semi-formal and prom dresses from the late 80's. What to do with these? I have kept them in my costume collection under the guise of someone-might-use-them-someday, but really, the fact that I still have them made me feel one step away from the adult-diaper hiding, maggoty freezer Hoarders that both terrify and entrance me. Why have I held onto this stuff, really? I certainly never expect to wear it again myself. I have the pictures safely scrapbooked and captioned, memories intact. I don't have the answer. Just the question.
My flower girl dress from when I was in my mother's wedding, with the chicken-dinner stain that, luckily, I dropped on my lap AFTER the pictures.
.
I also found these, from when I taught 5th grade and had a yearly commemorative stamp contest for the Revolutionary War.
How seriously my students took this! Hallway displays, leveraging for votes, all for bragging rights and the privilege of being in this laminated book...which went into the trash today, having spent six years in closet purgatory. I remembered what I told my mom when she was moving out of her house. "Take a picture. You don't need the item, just to remember the item and what it meant to you. Take a picture, and pitch it." I filled two dumpsters in Hull on that logic, and I employed it today...mostly.
I found this:
My poetry apron, made back when I had time to copy and laminate poems, add appliqued pockets to an apron and puff-paint it with whimsy. I was that, heart and soul. I was Fifth Grade Teacher, and reflecting now, I truly did the very best I could. I wasn't perfect, but I was cheerful and enthusiastic and committed and loving, and I made my classroom into the safe haven I had envisioned it to be when I used to talk to Elise in my sleep about multiculturalism and cooperative learning in our dorm room at UMass. I did it. I was "Ms. Hines," spunky and theatrical and creating the weather every day in my classroom.
I still am, to an extent, but in recent years, my spirit has evolved, and my ambitions have evolved, and I have dreamed beyond these walls. Not to devalue them in any way; I have loved this work, and it was my absolute dream job...until a new dream came along. I will always be grateful for everything I learned in teaching 5th and 6th grade, and the ways it gave me purpose and stability and a job at which I could eventually be solid and competent enough to make second in my life to raising small daughters.
The idealistic teacher I encountered as I cleaned out drawers and files today was familiar and someone for whom I have great affection and appreciation. But she is gone, now. I, myself, at 40, cannot ever teach Number the Stars again. Can't do it. And the truth is, I love 6th graders, LOVE them, but I don't give a shit about ancient Egypt...or ancient China, or even ancient Greece. Never have, thought I talked a good game. I dug Buddhism. I kind of liked the idea of Rome - the roads, and the aquaducts, and the funny things that happened on the way to all of those forums...but I won't miss it one tiny bit. I have taught Homecoming and Tuck Everlasting as well as I possibly could, honored them and drove home their themes and messages with all of the emotion I could muster. We journaled our asses off, and did some great projects and adapted Shakespeare plays and made mobiles and dioramas and portfolios. We did it up.
I took my poetry apron to one of the teachers on my floor, a person who is the Nicest Person I Know, and I guarantee you, nicer than the Nicest Person You Know. And you know what she said when I gave it to her? She said, "You know, I feel like I made this happen with my mind. I was just going through all of my other aprons - my word-root apron and my long-vowels apron, and I thought...I wish I had a poetry apron. And here you are, with a poetry apron. And now I will have a little part of you with me when you go."
You'll think this is quaint, maybe, or else that I am surrounded by other insane people who also make things happen with their minds - poetry aprons and grant proposals and dream jobs and the like - but for me, this was yet another example of a perfect tiny bit of synchronicity, of things appearing for people when they most need them. I believe in that reality more now than I ever have before...and if you know me at all, that's freaking saying something.
Not that the world is perfect, and I still struggle every single day with the idea of why-do-bad-things-happen-to-good-people, but in the realm of small things that I can control...like poetry aprons and just the right note from the Universe when I need it, or the perfect song on the radio, or seeing a "101" at the exact moment when I'm trying to make a decision...I have to say, I am just a big old pile of gratitude and awareness these days.
- 2 huge gallons of apple juice that expired in 2008.
- Sesame Street and autumn motif fabric from my "Let's iron appliques on sweatshirts and tote bags and then outline them in puff-paint" episodes of the mid-1990's.
- A copy of the Ladies Home Journal from 1915.
- Inexplicably, 19 vests in various brocade fabrics and corduroy.
- My high school sweetheart's Soccer letterman's jacket which I wore for the entire winter of 1988-1989.
- Joseph and the Amazing Technicolor Dreamcoat with Donny Osmond...on VHS.
I also found these:
My semi-formal and prom dresses from the late 80's. What to do with these? I have kept them in my costume collection under the guise of someone-might-use-them-someday, but really, the fact that I still have them made me feel one step away from the adult-diaper hiding, maggoty freezer Hoarders that both terrify and entrance me. Why have I held onto this stuff, really? I certainly never expect to wear it again myself. I have the pictures safely scrapbooked and captioned, memories intact. I don't have the answer. Just the question.
My flower girl dress from when I was in my mother's wedding, with the chicken-dinner stain that, luckily, I dropped on my lap AFTER the pictures.
.I also found these, from when I taught 5th grade and had a yearly commemorative stamp contest for the Revolutionary War.
How seriously my students took this! Hallway displays, leveraging for votes, all for bragging rights and the privilege of being in this laminated book...which went into the trash today, having spent six years in closet purgatory. I remembered what I told my mom when she was moving out of her house. "Take a picture. You don't need the item, just to remember the item and what it meant to you. Take a picture, and pitch it." I filled two dumpsters in Hull on that logic, and I employed it today...mostly.
I found this:
My poetry apron, made back when I had time to copy and laminate poems, add appliqued pockets to an apron and puff-paint it with whimsy. I was that, heart and soul. I was Fifth Grade Teacher, and reflecting now, I truly did the very best I could. I wasn't perfect, but I was cheerful and enthusiastic and committed and loving, and I made my classroom into the safe haven I had envisioned it to be when I used to talk to Elise in my sleep about multiculturalism and cooperative learning in our dorm room at UMass. I did it. I was "Ms. Hines," spunky and theatrical and creating the weather every day in my classroom.
I still am, to an extent, but in recent years, my spirit has evolved, and my ambitions have evolved, and I have dreamed beyond these walls. Not to devalue them in any way; I have loved this work, and it was my absolute dream job...until a new dream came along. I will always be grateful for everything I learned in teaching 5th and 6th grade, and the ways it gave me purpose and stability and a job at which I could eventually be solid and competent enough to make second in my life to raising small daughters.
The idealistic teacher I encountered as I cleaned out drawers and files today was familiar and someone for whom I have great affection and appreciation. But she is gone, now. I, myself, at 40, cannot ever teach Number the Stars again. Can't do it. And the truth is, I love 6th graders, LOVE them, but I don't give a shit about ancient Egypt...or ancient China, or even ancient Greece. Never have, thought I talked a good game. I dug Buddhism. I kind of liked the idea of Rome - the roads, and the aquaducts, and the funny things that happened on the way to all of those forums...but I won't miss it one tiny bit. I have taught Homecoming and Tuck Everlasting as well as I possibly could, honored them and drove home their themes and messages with all of the emotion I could muster. We journaled our asses off, and did some great projects and adapted Shakespeare plays and made mobiles and dioramas and portfolios. We did it up.
I took my poetry apron to one of the teachers on my floor, a person who is the Nicest Person I Know, and I guarantee you, nicer than the Nicest Person You Know. And you know what she said when I gave it to her? She said, "You know, I feel like I made this happen with my mind. I was just going through all of my other aprons - my word-root apron and my long-vowels apron, and I thought...I wish I had a poetry apron. And here you are, with a poetry apron. And now I will have a little part of you with me when you go."
You'll think this is quaint, maybe, or else that I am surrounded by other insane people who also make things happen with their minds - poetry aprons and grant proposals and dream jobs and the like - but for me, this was yet another example of a perfect tiny bit of synchronicity, of things appearing for people when they most need them. I believe in that reality more now than I ever have before...and if you know me at all, that's freaking saying something.
Not that the world is perfect, and I still struggle every single day with the idea of why-do-bad-things-happen-to-good-people, but in the realm of small things that I can control...like poetry aprons and just the right note from the Universe when I need it, or the perfect song on the radio, or seeing a "101" at the exact moment when I'm trying to make a decision...I have to say, I am just a big old pile of gratitude and awareness these days.
Thursday, March 8, 2012
Over the Rainbow
I mentioned a while back about reading Finding Your Way in a New Wild World: Reclaim Your True Nature to Create the Life You Want by Martha Beck. I bought it because I already love this author, and had just finished Steering by Starlight, which I also loved. I thought it would be a tool to help me live more deeply and mindfully, and to use my skills, such as they are, and such as they could be, to contribute to the world.
Turns out, the whole second half of the book is about how to create the job of your dreams – literally your nighttime dreams – and bring it about into reality. And before I even read that, I had already done it. Not suddenly, but certainly magically, and in precisely the way that she describes in her method.
Happenstances like this are rocking my world these days.
So, here it is…I have just been appointed Theater Teacher and choral director for this very special high school where I have worked for seven years. I am leaving 6th grade, and beginning a bold new venture in a place both new and familiar.
This is the Dream Job of my sleep-dreams and awake-dreams. In recent years, I have fully written out the description of the Perfect Job, and it has now happened. A salary that can support my family, benefits, retirement, an office, and a classroom that is…a theater. My classroom is the stage of a brand new, state of the art, multi-million dollar theater. I am part of a team of devoted, hard working, creative and industrious people who are 100% For Kids all the time. I feel like Dorothy Over the Rainbow, I really do. And my team exactly fits the profile of the Land of Oz. My boss, Jeff, is like the lion, because he’s very protective and knows when to roar, and vaguely looks lion-like. My music director, Dan, is every inch the Tin-Man, sensitive and operating fully from his heart. My tech director, Brooks, is the Scarecrow, my right-hand, kind of a mess sometimes in certain ways, but creative and devoted and dear. Pam, my choreographer, is literally a 50/50 combination of Glinda the Good Witch and the Wicked Witch, in a way that she would both understand and agree with. She knows when to blow bubbles, and she knows when to throw fire balls. I admire that tremendously. And here I am, all wide-eyed and hands clasped and finding that home is right here in a place I have been for a long time, but somehow also now Technicolor and Wild and New.
This has been manifested with patience and hard work and a kick-ass vision board, and a mindful application of Law of Attraction principles of focusing on the end game, the big picture, and letting the “hows” take care of themselves. I didn’t decide to really go for it in a focused way until I knew for sure that the person who holds the job currently was leaving of his own volition, so it feels pure in that way. (Not pure in every way, though, since my relationship with him was so frought with negativity and conflict. But that is a topic for…elsewhere. I have accepted responsibility for my part in that, and forgiven him his. That’s really all I could do.)
So, this blog will have a new focus now. It will become, now, the story of a woman recreating herself in mid-life, launching a new career at 40, leaving behind that which is safe and familiar and well-oiled, and starting down the Yellow Brick Road. I will strive, as always, to foster connections and help kids to find things they don’t yet know about themselves. Changing the world one high-school kid at a time…where showtunes are not only expected, but a required part of the job.
Dreams that you dare to dream really do come true.
Turns out, the whole second half of the book is about how to create the job of your dreams – literally your nighttime dreams – and bring it about into reality. And before I even read that, I had already done it. Not suddenly, but certainly magically, and in precisely the way that she describes in her method.
Happenstances like this are rocking my world these days.
So, here it is…I have just been appointed Theater Teacher and choral director for this very special high school where I have worked for seven years. I am leaving 6th grade, and beginning a bold new venture in a place both new and familiar.
This is the Dream Job of my sleep-dreams and awake-dreams. In recent years, I have fully written out the description of the Perfect Job, and it has now happened. A salary that can support my family, benefits, retirement, an office, and a classroom that is…a theater. My classroom is the stage of a brand new, state of the art, multi-million dollar theater. I am part of a team of devoted, hard working, creative and industrious people who are 100% For Kids all the time. I feel like Dorothy Over the Rainbow, I really do. And my team exactly fits the profile of the Land of Oz. My boss, Jeff, is like the lion, because he’s very protective and knows when to roar, and vaguely looks lion-like. My music director, Dan, is every inch the Tin-Man, sensitive and operating fully from his heart. My tech director, Brooks, is the Scarecrow, my right-hand, kind of a mess sometimes in certain ways, but creative and devoted and dear. Pam, my choreographer, is literally a 50/50 combination of Glinda the Good Witch and the Wicked Witch, in a way that she would both understand and agree with. She knows when to blow bubbles, and she knows when to throw fire balls. I admire that tremendously. And here I am, all wide-eyed and hands clasped and finding that home is right here in a place I have been for a long time, but somehow also now Technicolor and Wild and New.
This has been manifested with patience and hard work and a kick-ass vision board, and a mindful application of Law of Attraction principles of focusing on the end game, the big picture, and letting the “hows” take care of themselves. I didn’t decide to really go for it in a focused way until I knew for sure that the person who holds the job currently was leaving of his own volition, so it feels pure in that way. (Not pure in every way, though, since my relationship with him was so frought with negativity and conflict. But that is a topic for…elsewhere. I have accepted responsibility for my part in that, and forgiven him his. That’s really all I could do.)
So, this blog will have a new focus now. It will become, now, the story of a woman recreating herself in mid-life, launching a new career at 40, leaving behind that which is safe and familiar and well-oiled, and starting down the Yellow Brick Road. I will strive, as always, to foster connections and help kids to find things they don’t yet know about themselves. Changing the world one high-school kid at a time…where showtunes are not only expected, but a required part of the job.
Dreams that you dare to dream really do come true.
Wednesday, March 7, 2012
Cockeyed Optimist
Shockingly, I have a big crush on our President. I just watched a program I had saved on my DVR that was called something like, "Broadway at the White House." (Some great numbers, but yet another reminder that I just don't get it about Elaine Stritch. She does nothing for me. Brian D'Arcy James, on the other hand...I'm a fan.)
Anyway, the President started off with an introduction, in which he said,
There’s nothing quite like the power and the passion of a Broadway musical. At its heart, it’s the power of a story, of love, and of heartbreak, joy and sorrow, singing witches and dancing ogres. Musicals carry us to a different time and place, but in the end they also teach us a little something about ourselves. It’s one of the few genres of music that can inspire the same passion in an 8 year old as an 80 year old, making them both want to get up and dance. It transcends musical tastes, from opera and classical to rock, hip hop, and whether we want to admit it or not, we all have the lyrics to a few Broadway songs stuck in our heads. In many ways, the story of Broadway is also intertwined with the story of America. Some of the greatest singers and songwriters Broadway and this country has ever known came to this country on a boat with an idea in their head and a song in their heart. They succeeded in the same way so many immirgrants have succeeded, through talent, hard work, and sheer determination. Over the years, musicals have also been at the forefront of our social consciousness, challenging stereotypes, and shaping our opinions about race and religion, death and disease, power and politics. Perhaps the most American part of this truly American art form is its optimism. Broadway music calls us to see the best in ourselves, and in the world around us, to believe that no matter how hopeless things might seem, the nice guy can still get the girl, the hero can still triumph over evil, and a brighter day can be waiting just around the bend. As the great Mel Brooks once said, “Musicals blow the dust off your soul.”
I love that I get this. And I get to live this, and teach it.
That's kind of all I have to say about that. Nice work if you can get it.
Nathan Lane is the emcee. He just said, "We are here to sing showtunes for the most powerful man in the free world. And God help anyone who gets in our way." Haaaa.
Anyway, the President started off with an introduction, in which he said,
There’s nothing quite like the power and the passion of a Broadway musical. At its heart, it’s the power of a story, of love, and of heartbreak, joy and sorrow, singing witches and dancing ogres. Musicals carry us to a different time and place, but in the end they also teach us a little something about ourselves. It’s one of the few genres of music that can inspire the same passion in an 8 year old as an 80 year old, making them both want to get up and dance. It transcends musical tastes, from opera and classical to rock, hip hop, and whether we want to admit it or not, we all have the lyrics to a few Broadway songs stuck in our heads. In many ways, the story of Broadway is also intertwined with the story of America. Some of the greatest singers and songwriters Broadway and this country has ever known came to this country on a boat with an idea in their head and a song in their heart. They succeeded in the same way so many immirgrants have succeeded, through talent, hard work, and sheer determination. Over the years, musicals have also been at the forefront of our social consciousness, challenging stereotypes, and shaping our opinions about race and religion, death and disease, power and politics. Perhaps the most American part of this truly American art form is its optimism. Broadway music calls us to see the best in ourselves, and in the world around us, to believe that no matter how hopeless things might seem, the nice guy can still get the girl, the hero can still triumph over evil, and a brighter day can be waiting just around the bend. As the great Mel Brooks once said, “Musicals blow the dust off your soul.”
I love that I get this. And I get to live this, and teach it.
That's kind of all I have to say about that. Nice work if you can get it.
Nathan Lane is the emcee. He just said, "We are here to sing showtunes for the most powerful man in the free world. And God help anyone who gets in our way." Haaaa.
Saturday, March 3, 2012
The Quiet on the Other Side
Rainy Saturday morning, snuggled up with coffee on the couch watching Hello, Dolly, which started on some random cable channel exactly when I sat down this morning. Yet another gift from a Universe who, this week, worked some phenomenal magic on my behalf. My gratitude meter has busted its confines, and I have been thinking of a quote I put in my journal a few months ago: "All of my life, I have been a bride married to amazement." You'd think I'd be over it by now, but I am constantly awed by how wishes come true (not free), and how much better life gets all the time. I'm not allowed to say anything more about this for one more month, but then...oh, you just wait. I've got loads to say.
"Put on your Sunday Clothes when you feel down and out..." This song always ends up on my inevitable Happy Spring Mix CD, because it just feels so joyful and clean and optimistic. "Out there...there's a world outside of Yonkers..." I remember Chris singing that in our high school production, all awkward and earnest and gawky at 15, and how in the big choral part of that number, every single girl had a beautiful frou-frou pastel dress and a fabulous hat, and we all felt kind of embarrassed to be wearing it, but also secretly delighted with outselves. I think I'm one of only like eleven people on earth that love the film version with Barbra Streisand, and if I ever direct this show again, I would want to try to capture this quirky, sassy, pink-Valentine feel of this movie. For now, though, I love that I have nothing more important to do this morning than sit on the couch with Abby in our pajamas, with her casting the show in her mind with all of the kids who were just in Into the Woods. Fun game.
A rare weekend with nothing whatsoever that I have to do. I will putter in my scrapbooking stuff, maybe, do some housework, watch Hugo with my family, and just enjoy the brain-space and the quiet.
"Put on your Sunday Clothes when you feel down and out..." This song always ends up on my inevitable Happy Spring Mix CD, because it just feels so joyful and clean and optimistic. "Out there...there's a world outside of Yonkers..." I remember Chris singing that in our high school production, all awkward and earnest and gawky at 15, and how in the big choral part of that number, every single girl had a beautiful frou-frou pastel dress and a fabulous hat, and we all felt kind of embarrassed to be wearing it, but also secretly delighted with outselves. I think I'm one of only like eleven people on earth that love the film version with Barbra Streisand, and if I ever direct this show again, I would want to try to capture this quirky, sassy, pink-Valentine feel of this movie. For now, though, I love that I have nothing more important to do this morning than sit on the couch with Abby in our pajamas, with her casting the show in her mind with all of the kids who were just in Into the Woods. Fun game.
A rare weekend with nothing whatsoever that I have to do. I will putter in my scrapbooking stuff, maybe, do some housework, watch Hugo with my family, and just enjoy the brain-space and the quiet.
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