Les Mis and Mozzarella Sticks

 Yesterday morning, one of my friends went to Sheetz for biscuits.

“I didn’t know they had biscuits at Sheetz,” I said.

“Have you been to a Sheetz?” she replied.

“Yes. One time after going to see Les Mis with some friends.

We got mozzarella sticks and something else.

Why I remember that event with such details is beyond me,” I answered.

“Well. It’s basically like a fast food restaurant,” she stated.

And that was the end of the conversation.

 

But as I drove to get to lunch and thought about a litany of friends

As I passed various places along the way,

I realized that I am constantly thinking of and remembering

People who have impacted my life in some way.

Sometimes I pick up my phone and write.

Most of the time, I do not.

But I can pretty much guarantee that if we made memories together,

Then at least one of those memories is stored away in my brain

And will come back into consciousness

Whenever I see or experience something that reminds me of you.

For instance, every time I drive by a particular intersection,

I think of a friend with whom I had a conversation at that intersection while waiting for traffic to dissipate one day.

I drive by almost every day.

Or when I pass a local neighborhood sign, I think of a friend who lived there in high school.

Or when I pass CrossFit, I think of a friend who trains there.

Or when I hear “We Built This City on Rock ‘N Roll,” I think of a friend who loves the song.

Or when I go to Dollar Gentrald, I think of a friend whose grandmother named the store such, and I laugh.

Or when…

And the list could go on.

 

Sometimes, I imagine my prayer list as a post-movie credit reel.
I start from childhood and list everyone I can think of.

I continue this until I fall asleep or my brain wanders elsewhere.

 

It’s all the time,

Everywhere,

A constant reality,

I think of people,

I think of you,

And I offer the thoughts as prayers when I do.

 

May we be a connected people,

In thought and in action,

And may we hold one another in light and love,

Each time we remember going to see Les Mis and eating mozzarella sticks.

Amen.  

Observations of No Voice

 Teaching with no voice is not much fun. It’s made for a frustratingly exhausting week, and it will end tomorrow night with a program that’s looking and sounding about as rough as me.

 

That being said, I haven’t been firing on all cylinders this week, but I’ve had enough brain space to observe the following things:

 

1)    1.  Students with a lisp say, “Five little pumpkins sitting on a gate” as “Five little pumpkins shitting on a gate.” It’s funny.

 

2)    2.  Some students are understanding and kind when you have no voice. Other students are not. Some students make fun of you and call you grandpa when you have no voice while other students stick up for you and defend your honor. Some students ask if you’re okay and give you hugs to feel better when you’re sick. Others do not. Most students fall somewhere in the middle of concern and excitement and then wander around the room and talk/sing really loudly because they know that you will have trouble stopping them.

 

3)     3. Young fast-food workers are often not properly trained and are paid so little that many have little to no motivation to go above and beyond and figure things out on their own. Twice now, I’ve waited for over 30 minutes at one particular restaurant in the past few weeks. Most recently, when I went inside, an older worker was standing there with her arms crossed. When I said I’d been waiting outside for thirty minutes, she simply rolled her eyes and said, “That’s what you get when you put a bunch of young people in here.” I thought to myself, “Maybe. Or maybe they’ve learned from you.” Children must be carefully taught. We can’t assume that they know or know how to do anything. Contrary to popular belief, teenagers are just big kids. Rules, procedures, routines, customer service, content area—all of it—children must be carefully taught.

 

Oh God: Help us to teach our children well. Help us to teach them a strong work ethic, to be considerate of persons who are sick, and to speak well. And God? Help me to get my voice back so that I can use it for good. In fact, help all of us to use our voices for good. Amen. 

October Whirlwind

 It’s been a whirlwind of a month.

Not only have I taught my regular lessons and attended my four monthly meetings for work,

But I’ve also prepared my 4^th and 5^th graders for a program, taken a workshop, edited papers for a writing competition, and helped with the Fall Festival at school.

I’ve entered art into and attended two art shows,

One of which I volunteered at for ten hours.

I’ve gone to see two musical shows: “Beautiful” and “MJ The Musical.”

Both were good, but “MJ The Musical” was surprisingly so.

I’ve gone to Universal Studios, Magic Kingdom, and Epcot in Orlando,

And I’m going to a Powwow in Baden next weekend.

I’ve hung out friends and helped my mom a little in our newly remodeled kitchen,

And I’ve gone to the car dealership to get a new key for my car.

The one thing I’ve not done a lot of, though, is rest…

And when a germ meets you with lack of rest, you often get sick...

And so I hit a brick wall yesterday and had to cancel my whole day because I was sick.

Just a cold with a cough. Exhausted. No voice.  

But still…sick.

It caused me to miss church in the morning, lunch with my brother’s family and a concert with my sister’s family in the afternoon…

And that made me sad.

But overall, I’ve had an awesome whirlwind of a month.

I feel very fortunate to have had the opportunity to do all the fun things I’ve done.

And I’ve even learned a few things along the way:

 

1)     1. It’s nice to be able to mentally check out and let someone else take the lead ever so often. I knew that I could 100% trust Amy The Disney Lover to take care of the details and get me to where I needed to be on our Orlando trip, so I just blindly followed and felt no stress whatsoever. I was fully present with a smile on my face. And I was happy.

2)    2.  When at an amusement park, it’s nice not to have a schedule. Prioritizing what you really want to do and then just going and seeing what happens for the rest of the day makes for an exciting day.   

3)     3. When planning to walk around 10 miles a day, take blister bandages just in case.

4)     4. Getting a new car key is stupidly expensive.

5)      5, When entering a competition, it’s important to enter the right category. If someone suggests a category and you don’t feel right about it, then go with your gut. Your gut is usually right.

6)     6. Much of western European music was influenced by the music of Africa…yet African melodies, rhythms, and instruments often get left out of the discussion in music education. For instance, the major and minor scales came from Africa. They came to Spain via the slave trade, and the Spanish guitar then spread them throughout Europe. Neat, huh?

7)     7. North America was not some vast, untamed land that needed to be tamed by Europeans. It was a land lived upon and held sacred by Native American cultures. There were people here, living, surviving, thriving and we must not forget those people. Epcot: Do a better job with your American history!

 

The week to come is another busy week.

I’m hoping a day of rest yesterday will propel me through it all,

And that I will keep growing,

Keep learning,

Keep experiencing life…

For I know that it is a gift and

I am grateful.

 

Amen. 

Crisis Averted!

 Last Monday, on a much-needed workday,

Shauna the Art Teacher was working on spooky decorations for this year’s Fall Festival.

As I was leaving to get lunch,

I popped my head into the art room to see how things were going.

Bent over working, Shauna said, “Come and see.”

Expecting to see a dark monstrosity,

I rounded the corner and saw nothing of the sort!

Instead, I saw a huge puddle of thick, orange paint on the floor, and

Shauna feverishly trying to get it up before it dried.

“Oh no!” I said.

“Yeh. I was looking for black paint and accidentally knocked over the orange.

It’s a small disaster.”

Without thinking twice,

I picked up some paper towels and began to help.

Thankful for a plethora of paper towels and mindful of our age as our knees hurt,

Shauna and I worked together to get up as much paint as we could.

Afterward, Shauna prepared the mop water and hoped it would finish the job.

It did.

The custodial team’s kind wrath was avoided!

A crisis was averted!

And Shauna went about her day making spooky decorations.

 

I had outlined my day in my head.

I had prepared myself for things to do and places to go.

I hadn’t allotted any time to help avert crises,

But as soon as I knew that a friend needed help,

I dropped everything and went to work.

 

Sometimes something more important than the original plan pops up.

Sometimes we must drop everything to help those in need.

Sometimes giving our time and energy to others is the most important thing we can do.

And sometimes the work will be messy.

But let’s do the work.

The messy work.

Of helping others amid disaster.

Both great and small.

Amen.

Trauma Response

 Last week during one of my classes,

I witnessed a kid have a trauma response.

Another kid either touched or pushed him—

I didn’t see which—

And it really upset him.

He ran over to the kid,

Said, “Don’t touch me again,”

And then ran to the back of the room

Where he stayed for the rest of class,

Trying to pull himself together.

He wasn’t trying to get attention.

He wasn’t being stubborn and not going to his seat.

He was shut down,

Clearly triggered by the other kids’ touch.

 

Last Sunday, as I was scrolling through FB,

This video caught my attention.

As I watched,

Somewhat horrified,

Somewhat sad,

I kept thinking,
“Trauma response.

This guy is so enraged that he’s not thinking.

Something has triggered him and he’s gone.”

 

According to Bing’s AI generated search,

A trauma trigger is a psychological stimulus that prompts involuntary recall of a previous traumatic experience. It can be anything that reminds you of a past trauma, such as a certain smell, a particular song or sound, or a piece of clothing.  Triggers are unique to the individual and can vary widely between people.  When you encounter a trigger after trauma, a strong emotional and behavioral reaction comes over you. It’s as if you are reliving that trauma all over again.  The word “triggered” has become a popular term to describe anything that causes emotional discomfort. But for people who have experienced trauma, triggers can be terrifying, all-consuming, and can seemingly come out of nowhere. 

 

So. The next time you see someone strongly overreact,

Stop and understand that they may be acting out of a trauma response.

And even if they’re not,

The stress of their lives may just be too much for them to handle in that moment.

Does it excuse hurtful, damaging behavior?

No.

But it sheds life on its roots…

And it reminds us that there is far more going on in a person’s life than we see on the surface.

 

Oh God: Give us eyes to see and ears to hear those who are hurting around us. When it’s us who is hurting, help us to get the help that we need. And when it’s those whom we love who are hurting, help us to love them in the exact ways they need to be loved—even if it means kicking them into your arms and allowing you do what we cannot. Be with victims of systemic trauma and grant them the resources that they need to heal. Help us to not perpetuate a broken system but to learn, to educate, and to rise above the brokenness, into wholeness in you. Amen. 

Reframing

 Last week as we were sitting in class,

My friend Mrs. Howell said,
“I thought about you this morning, Ms. Deaton.”

I said, “Uh oh. I hope it wasn’t bad.”

She said, “It was something.”

She continued, “You know I drive a bus in the morning.

Well, I’ve got some characters on my bus.

I was driving along this morning when I heard,

‘Your mama’s so fat…’

And I thought, ‘Uh oh.’

I just listened for a moment and heard them coming at each other with,

‘Your mama’s so fat…’

I was thinking about saying something when all of a sudden I heard,

‘My mama’s fat because she had me!’

And then all of the voices starting saying the same thing.

‘My mama’s fat because…’

‘Well my mama’s fat because…’

‘Well my mama’s fat because…’

And I looked down at myself and thought,

‘I’ve had two kids. Maybe that’s why I’m fat!’”

We laughed.

 

I said, “Wow. What a way to reframe a conversation!”

She said, “I know. And it just made me think of you because I know you pay attention to what the kids say.”

And I do.

And I think this story is so funny…

Especially knowing the kids involved.

 

Friends: Sometimes it simply takes reframing a situation, story, or memory to turn it from

Harmful to helpful,

Negative to positive,

Serious to funny,

Anger to acceptance.

 

I remember Jenny The Counselor saying something about rewriting a story from the past.

I argued with her.

I told her that the past was the past and that it couldn’t be changed.

Then slowly, over time, as I began to see things through a different lense,

I suddenly began to understand.

No. We can’t change the facts of a situation, story, or memory,

But we can change how we respond…

And we can show both ourselves and the others involved

Forgiveness and grace.

 

I wish Your Mama jokes didn’t exist.

I wish hurling insults in any form, for whatever reason,

Wasn’t a thing.

But it’s been a thing since the beginning of time and it’s likely not going to go away.

So…let’s work on reframing.

Let’s work on changing the plotline when we can and

The focus-point when we can’t.

When appropriate, let’s turn tense situations into laughter

And difficult situations into compromise and peace.

 

It’s possible.

The boys on the bus did it that day.

We can, too.

 

Motorized Wheelchair

 I was driving the backroads of Sanford last week when I saw a motorized wheelchair on the road ahead of me.

I immediately thought, “That’s ridiculously unsafe. Taking your motorized wheelchair on the road. Geez.”

As I approached the wheelchair, I noticed that there was not just one person on the wheelchair, but two!

A kid was sitting on the driver’s lap!

I continued thinking, “That’s super unsafe! A kid shouldn’t be riding as a passenger on a motorized wheelchair on a well-traveled road!”

Then I passed the wheelchair and took a closer look.

It was one of my students.

Riding on his dad’s lap.

His dad had an accident a few years ago and was left paralyzed.

“Still,” I thought. “That’s not safe.”

I pulled over in a parking lot for a few moments to wait on a friend who was following me.

As I sat waiting, I tried to find my student and his dad in the rearview mirror, but I couldn’t.

I was wondering where they had gone when suddenly I saw a wheelchair zooming toward my passenger door.

At the exact moment I saw the wheelchair, my student looked into my car and we made eye contact.

He immediately grinned his wide, white-toothed grin.

He looked so happy.

He and his dad got a little way up the road before my friend caught up with me,

So I passed them once I got going again.

As I did, my student turned his head and grinned.

I could tell he had been waiting for me.

We may have waved.

I don’t remember.

I was so taken aback by how proud he looked that I didn’t notice anything else.

Then I started crying.

Here was this 3^rd grade student whose dad is paralyzed, whose mom had cancer (and may have it again—I haven’t seen her in the car rider line this year), who has a major stuttering problem,

As happy as he could be.

 

Evidently, he and his dad go lots of places together.

I asked him about it the next day.

That day, they had gone to the barber shop.

For whatever reason, his family doesn’t have a vehicle that his dad can drive,

So they go on the motorized wheelchair.

Is this unsafe? Yes.

Does it lack a sense of traditional able-bodied dignity? Yes.

But does my student realize either of these things? No.

He is just proud to be with his father.

And I find the whole thing so beautifully heartbreaking.

 

Like me, you may be quick to pass judgment.

But friends: we rarely know the depth of a situation until we take the time to truly see it.

 

That day, and again today,

I am reminded that I only see the surface of most of my students’ lives.

I have no idea what they experience at home—

The trauma and heartache that so many live through—

The unbearable situations that so many bear—

The abnormal conditions that so many call normal—

The poverty that so many endure.

 

That day, and again today,

I am reminded that I have no room or right to pass judgment on the things I see and don’t understand.

Most people are doing the best they can to survive,

And unless they are using their power and position to try to hurt other people,

I have no right to judge or to force my personal beliefs and values into their lives.

 

Oh God: Keep my student safe as he and his dad adventure together on a motorized wheelchair. Grant them many wonderful, life-giving moments together, and help me to be a teacher who grants him, and all my students, life-giving moments at school. Help me to stop passing judgment and to instead pass love, joy, peace to all, and figurative fists to the oppressors who try to hold to power and put others down. Help me to stand for policies and values that fight for equity and equality for all—even those in motorized wheelchairs. Especially those in motorized wheelchairs. Amen.   

Spirit Ball

 I’m not supposed to have favorites—

Really, I’m not.

So…

Let’s just say that there are certain students for whom I have a special place in my heart.

Two of those students happen to be in the same Monday class this year,

So Mondays usually see some heart-warming moments,

And a week ago Monday was no exception.

 

One of the students who has wormed his way into my heart

Is a repeating first grader with ADHD.

He is so very sweet, and so very full of energy,

And so very creative,

Which, according to him on that particular day,

Is because his stomach often hurts and

That makes his brain and hands create things.

 

As he sat at my desk creating that day—

Which is what he does when he comes to class,

Regularly interrupting me to tell me things—

He suddenly said,

“I think I know what God’s spirit looks like, Ms. Deaton.”

Curious to know more, I asked him to continue.

 

He said, “When your dad dies, his spirit goes into a spirit ball.

And he’s with your granddad in the spirit ball.

And you know how you think everything is dark when you die?

You open your eyes in the spirit ball and you see this bright light and it’s God!”

 

He explained this to numerous students as he created his spirit ball.

I didn’t stop him.

Instead, I just listened and looked at him with such deep compassion.

His dad died suddenly and unexpectedly over the summer.

I don’t know if someone explained the spirit ball to him,

If his creativity made it up,

Or if he’s seen the spirit ball himself.

I wouldn’t be surprised if he’s seen the spirit ball.

God has a way of speaking to children who have a way

Of seeing and hearing God in a way

That adults don’t.

 

So, yeh.

I’m not supposed to have favorites.

But ever so often, a student lodges him or herself in my heart.

This student is firmly lodged.

I think you can see why.

 

Oh God: Grant us the faith of a child. And help us to hold to the hope of an eternity in light, with you, instead of in darkness, alone. Amen.