Few weeks ago, I declared that I was not going to skip Thanksgiving this year. I announced that I would be talking about thankfulness with my students and that we would be singing a song entitled, “We Are Thankful.” We did. And we discussed things that we were thankful to have, to be, to do, and to be hopeful for in the future.
As I gave examples of each of these categories to my classes, I said things like, “I am thankful to have my computer and my car. I am thankful to have my glasses and a house…I am thankful to be a daughter and an aunt. I am thankful to be a teacher and a friend…I am thankful that I get to play the piano and guitar. I am thankful that I get to go to my nephew’s ballgames and my niece’s recitals…And I am thankful that one day I will be a better teacher. But when I was younger, when I grew up, I wanted to be a zookeeper.” And after I gave examples of each category, my students talked. And I listened. I let a sense of Thanksgiving fill my heart.
I didn’t post last Thursday. I let our crazy Thanksgiving family portrait speak for itself and went to bed happy and exhausted after a good day with family. I spent the next two days doing homework for ten hours a day and then emerged yesterday to go to both church and to visit my best friend on her birthday. The latter was an unplanned visit, but it was a visit I wanted to make. After all, the zookeeper needed to visit her astronaut A on her big day.
My best friend’s birthday always falls over Thanksgiving break. Believe it or not, I have a vivid memory of Thanksgiving break around 20 years ago. I was home from my studies at Meredith and it was cold outside. A’s birthday was coming and I didn’t know what to get her, so I got out my guitar and wrote her a song. I typed up and printed out the lyrics and glued them onto an old blue clock. I decorated the clock with shiny stickers and colored decorations with pencil doodles. I have no idea why I decided that presenting the lyrics on an old clock was a good idea. But I did it. And I clearly remember it to this day.
I wrote:
Two little girls from two country towns and two different dreams
When she grows one wants to be a zookeeper and the other wants to walk in space
But each goes to church on Sunday to learn about the word of God
And each one prays one common prayer, that God will send her a friend from above
Two college girls from two country towns and two different dreams
The astronaut wants to be an elementary teacher and the zookeeper just wants to sing
But each one still goes to church to learn about the word of God
And each one still prays one common prayer, that God will send her a friend from above
On a rock in the woods up in the mountains sit two children of God
They look below them and see peaceful waters flowing over the rocks and down the hill
The astronaut cries, “Please don’t walk in front of me,” and the zookeeper cries, “Please not behind,”
Just walk beside me and be my friend so that together we’ll sink or swim
Two grown girls from two different towns and two different lives
The zookeeper teaches music class and the astronaut helps raise a small child
But each one still goes to church to learn about the meaning of love
And each one still prays one common prayer, “Thank you God for the friend from above.”
A few months ago, A and I sang the song to A’s older daughter. Her daughter grinned from ear to ear. That same daughter grinned yesterday as she played with the teddy bear that I put in A’s present bag because I knew that the bag would be invaded by said daughter.
What A’s daughter did not see was the fancy Hallmark card that I gave her mother. And on the inside, I wrote two haiku:
Some things just happen ~ No marked beginning or end ~ Such is our story
We are all grown up ~ Astronaut and zookeeper ~ Still thankful for friends
And I am thankful. For friends and family and time and good meals and children and laughter and cars and words and journeys and love.
You?
Monday, November 28, 2016
Monday, November 21, 2016
When Broken
When Broken…11.21.16
An internal auditor came to speak to us during class tonight. In typical nerd fashion, I found her information quite fascinating, and I not only took a lot of notes but I also asked a lot of questions. I will spare everyone the details, but I must share this: If ever you see any part of the Fraud Triangle, then consider it a red flag. “And just what is the Fraud Triangle?” you ask. Well, here is your answer:
Point One: Pressure. Pressure can cause a person of integrity to commit fraud even though he/she ordinarily would not. Most people live their lives with good intentions but intense pressure can tempt us in ways we didn’t think possible. Medical bills, addiction, living beyond means, unexpected death. Any or all of those things can put undue pressure on a person and cause him/her to think, “If I can just pay of this bill—if I can just control this situation—if I can just take care of this—then I can rid of this pressure and then start over.”
Point Two: Rationalization. A person will only willingly work so hard before he/she feels that he/she deserves some type of validation or encouragement. When that validation or encouragement doesn’t come through healthy avenues, then sometimes we start to think thoughts like, “I don’t get paid enough for everything that I do, and it doesn’t look like I’m ever going to, so I might as well take what I deserve.”
Point Three: Opportunity. When there is a crack in the system—a loophole—an occasion for secrecy—a thought of, “Well, no one is watching…”—and pressure and/or rationalization are whispering in a person’s ear, sometimes temptation is too strong and a person gives into the opportunity to break the rules—whatever the rules may be.
People will do crazy things when they are broken.
All people. Not just those that we think of as “different” or “other” or “immoral” or “them.”
Under any circumstance. Not just shady situations.
No one is above pressure, rationalization, or opportunity.
No one is above just flat out messing up when we are broken.
So maybe we should stop judging so readily and start extending grace more freely.
And maybe we should start asking for and receiving help when we find ourselves gliding along the lines of a triangle like fraud.
An internal auditor came to speak to us during class tonight. In typical nerd fashion, I found her information quite fascinating, and I not only took a lot of notes but I also asked a lot of questions. I will spare everyone the details, but I must share this: If ever you see any part of the Fraud Triangle, then consider it a red flag. “And just what is the Fraud Triangle?” you ask. Well, here is your answer:
Point One: Pressure. Pressure can cause a person of integrity to commit fraud even though he/she ordinarily would not. Most people live their lives with good intentions but intense pressure can tempt us in ways we didn’t think possible. Medical bills, addiction, living beyond means, unexpected death. Any or all of those things can put undue pressure on a person and cause him/her to think, “If I can just pay of this bill—if I can just control this situation—if I can just take care of this—then I can rid of this pressure and then start over.”
Point Two: Rationalization. A person will only willingly work so hard before he/she feels that he/she deserves some type of validation or encouragement. When that validation or encouragement doesn’t come through healthy avenues, then sometimes we start to think thoughts like, “I don’t get paid enough for everything that I do, and it doesn’t look like I’m ever going to, so I might as well take what I deserve.”
Point Three: Opportunity. When there is a crack in the system—a loophole—an occasion for secrecy—a thought of, “Well, no one is watching…”—and pressure and/or rationalization are whispering in a person’s ear, sometimes temptation is too strong and a person gives into the opportunity to break the rules—whatever the rules may be.
People will do crazy things when they are broken.
All people. Not just those that we think of as “different” or “other” or “immoral” or “them.”
Under any circumstance. Not just shady situations.
No one is above pressure, rationalization, or opportunity.
No one is above just flat out messing up when we are broken.
So maybe we should stop judging so readily and start extending grace more freely.
And maybe we should start asking for and receiving help when we find ourselves gliding along the lines of a triangle like fraud.
Saturday, November 12, 2016
From A Tired Brain
Traffic jam of thought
So much to say yet nothing
Words at a stand-still
And that’s all I’ve got. Except for this:
I’ve got good people
Strong, resilient, determined
Diverse, beautiful
So much to say yet nothing
Words at a stand-still
And that’s all I’ve got. Except for this:
I’ve got good people
Strong, resilient, determined
Diverse, beautiful
Monday, November 7, 2016
Never Any Less
“I always have one main goal for all of the classes I teach. I want my students to leave my class with more poker chips than they came with.” --Alice Hammel, Teaching Music to Students with Autism
Imagine that each of us is born with a certain amount of poker chips. As we go through our first years of life, people constantly add to our pile or take away from our pile. They add to it by paying attention to us, talking to us, spending time with us, saying kind things to us, making sure that we have everything we need. They take away from it by ignoring us, yelling us, saying mean things to us, not caring when we are lacking that which we need.
By the time we enter Kindergarten, we arrive with different numbers of chips. Some of us arrive with a bunch. Some of us arrive with only a few.
As with those who gamble, those of us who have a bunch of chips are more willing to take risks and try new things because we have more to fall back on if we mess up or lose. If, however, we only have a few chips, then we are less likely to take risks. Things become more calculated and we have to decide what we are willing to risk and what we are determined to hold onto.
The same holds true for the rest of our lives.
I have a new goal for all of the classes I teach—and all of the relationships I keep. I want my students to leave my class and my people to leave my presence with more poker chips in their love tank buckets than they came with—and never any less.
Never any less.
Imagine that each of us is born with a certain amount of poker chips. As we go through our first years of life, people constantly add to our pile or take away from our pile. They add to it by paying attention to us, talking to us, spending time with us, saying kind things to us, making sure that we have everything we need. They take away from it by ignoring us, yelling us, saying mean things to us, not caring when we are lacking that which we need.
By the time we enter Kindergarten, we arrive with different numbers of chips. Some of us arrive with a bunch. Some of us arrive with only a few.
As with those who gamble, those of us who have a bunch of chips are more willing to take risks and try new things because we have more to fall back on if we mess up or lose. If, however, we only have a few chips, then we are less likely to take risks. Things become more calculated and we have to decide what we are willing to risk and what we are determined to hold onto.
The same holds true for the rest of our lives.
I have a new goal for all of the classes I teach—and all of the relationships I keep. I want my students to leave my class and my people to leave my presence with more poker chips in their love tank buckets than they came with—and never any less.
Never any less.
Friday, November 4, 2016
One Of Those Days
Today was not my best day. Actually, Thursdays in general are tough. I begin and end my days with challenging classes and the ones in between aren’t always easy. Sometimes it’s okay. Sometimes it bothers me. Today it bothered me. I felt like students not following directions and students being disrespectful was not part of a larger system or pattern of behavior but single-handedly my fault.
Today, I kept hearing professors and workshop presenters say that if kids are consistently “acting up” then it’s up to the teacher to change something in what he/she is doing—because the lessons must not be good enough or the rules not clear enough or the discipline not consistent enough.
And I kept thinking, “This must be my fault. Ms. X can keep them quiet. They seem to respect her. They must not respect me. Class must be boring. I guess I really am a boring music teacher.”
On other days, I hear professors and workshop presenters say that perfectly still silence does not always equal learning. I hear them affirming that kids learn through movement, discussion, and singing and I know that my classes are full of students with special needs and that students with special needs need special considerations. I know that I’m a reflective teacher. I know that I care about my kids. I know that my kids—at least most of them—know that I care about them. I know that what happens in my 40 minutes per week with my students is directly affected by what happens in their classrooms—that their classroom teacher’s discipline structure (or lack thereof) influences their behavior everywhere else in the school. I have watched this reality play out for 13 years.
But today wasn’t one of those days.
I know that I’m weary. I know that no amount of work seems to get me caught up with the stuff I need to do for school, church, or graduate school—not to mention the things that I want to do with my friends and family. I know that I am beyond burdened by some of my students’ lives. Kids are being exposed to perverted, harmful, and dangerous situations younger and younger and I just want to scream at a society that is so broken that on one hand it encourages children to believe that adults are stupid and that they are entitled to anything they want but on the other hand ignores children or treats them as disposable toys. I know that these factors contributed to the negative self talk that planted itself in my head this morning as I watched a challenging child roll onto the floor, put his arms in his shirt, and attempt to do the worm with the rest of his body while the rest of the class watched the distraction. Nothing could make him get up. Nothing could keep the rest of the class focused. And nothing could keep me from thinking, “Is this my fault? This must be my fault. I must not be strict enough.”
Last night, as I was anticipating this day, I updated the serenity prayer. I posted it in my status on Facebook, but I want to include it at the bottom of this note. Because maybe you aren’t a teacher, but maybe you work a job or have a family situation in which you sometimes feel helpless. Maybe you have tried the things you know to try but maybe they just aren’t working. And maybe your self-talk gets pretty negative, too, and maybe on days like today it leaves you feeling so very defeated. So maybe you need to rewrite this prayer for yourself. And maybe together if we keep praying, a loving, steady, just God will put all things in order—even if it’s only within our own minds, hearts, and souls.
God grant me the serenity to accept the students I cannot change;
The courage to influence those whom I can;
And the wisdom to know the difference.
Teaching one lesson at a time;
Enjoying one moment at a time;
Accepting disrespectful and overly talkative classes as the pathway to peace;
Taking, as Jesus did, this sinful world full of broken people
as it is, not as I would have it;
Trusting that You can and will make all things right
if I surrender to Love--
That I may be reasonably happy with my life's work
and supremely happy with You forever in the next.
Amen.
Today, I kept hearing professors and workshop presenters say that if kids are consistently “acting up” then it’s up to the teacher to change something in what he/she is doing—because the lessons must not be good enough or the rules not clear enough or the discipline not consistent enough.
And I kept thinking, “This must be my fault. Ms. X can keep them quiet. They seem to respect her. They must not respect me. Class must be boring. I guess I really am a boring music teacher.”
On other days, I hear professors and workshop presenters say that perfectly still silence does not always equal learning. I hear them affirming that kids learn through movement, discussion, and singing and I know that my classes are full of students with special needs and that students with special needs need special considerations. I know that I’m a reflective teacher. I know that I care about my kids. I know that my kids—at least most of them—know that I care about them. I know that what happens in my 40 minutes per week with my students is directly affected by what happens in their classrooms—that their classroom teacher’s discipline structure (or lack thereof) influences their behavior everywhere else in the school. I have watched this reality play out for 13 years.
But today wasn’t one of those days.
I know that I’m weary. I know that no amount of work seems to get me caught up with the stuff I need to do for school, church, or graduate school—not to mention the things that I want to do with my friends and family. I know that I am beyond burdened by some of my students’ lives. Kids are being exposed to perverted, harmful, and dangerous situations younger and younger and I just want to scream at a society that is so broken that on one hand it encourages children to believe that adults are stupid and that they are entitled to anything they want but on the other hand ignores children or treats them as disposable toys. I know that these factors contributed to the negative self talk that planted itself in my head this morning as I watched a challenging child roll onto the floor, put his arms in his shirt, and attempt to do the worm with the rest of his body while the rest of the class watched the distraction. Nothing could make him get up. Nothing could keep the rest of the class focused. And nothing could keep me from thinking, “Is this my fault? This must be my fault. I must not be strict enough.”
Last night, as I was anticipating this day, I updated the serenity prayer. I posted it in my status on Facebook, but I want to include it at the bottom of this note. Because maybe you aren’t a teacher, but maybe you work a job or have a family situation in which you sometimes feel helpless. Maybe you have tried the things you know to try but maybe they just aren’t working. And maybe your self-talk gets pretty negative, too, and maybe on days like today it leaves you feeling so very defeated. So maybe you need to rewrite this prayer for yourself. And maybe together if we keep praying, a loving, steady, just God will put all things in order—even if it’s only within our own minds, hearts, and souls.
God grant me the serenity to accept the students I cannot change;
The courage to influence those whom I can;
And the wisdom to know the difference.
Teaching one lesson at a time;
Enjoying one moment at a time;
Accepting disrespectful and overly talkative classes as the pathway to peace;
Taking, as Jesus did, this sinful world full of broken people
as it is, not as I would have it;
Trusting that You can and will make all things right
if I surrender to Love--
That I may be reasonably happy with my life's work
and supremely happy with You forever in the next.
Amen.
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