Wednesday, December 15, 2010

Lady Liberty

"Give me your tired, your poor,
Your huddled masses yearning to breathe free,
The wretched refuse of your teeming shore.
Send these, the homeless, tempest-tost to me,
I lift my lamp beside the golden door!"

I've been thinking about this poem - well, this part of the larger poem, as I just learned. Sadly, I only knew the "Give me your tired, your poor ... " part. Until a very good friend of mine, a New Yorker, filled me in on "The wretched refuse of your teeming shore" section. Not until I looked it up before posting this blog did I know that there was even more. But I digress.

The reason I've been thinking about this poem is related to what I do ... teach. More specifically, a Special Education teacher. I find that in my profession, I'm often serving the 20%. For those of you not in education the 20% is the compliment to the 80% you should reach for "mastery". Ideally, once you've hit 80% you can safely more on to other material.

"But what about the other 20%," you ask? Well, that's where I come in. And this is where the poem began to ring true for me. The 20% is often the "tired, poor, huddled masses ... the wretched refuse". Now, no teacher would willingly admit to viewing any student like this ... but. These are the kids that often cause trouble, the ones who can't seem to follow the rules, those who threaten to pull the scores down.

But for me, these are just kids. Beautiful, amazing, talented kids who, for one reason or another, may struggle in the more traditional sense of education. I see them for all the potential they possess and not as "the wretched refuse". If they aren't succeeding, it's not their fault. It's because I've failed them as their teacher. For it is my job to reach them, to find a way to help them succeed, to make the material relevant to their lives.

So, in this small way, I connect with Lady Liberty. Thank you for giving me the torch to light my way.

Thursday, November 25, 2010

Truly Thankful

It's Thanksgiving. And I just finished watching "Eat, Pray, Love" with my mom and one of my sisters. Believe me, this is not a blog about the movie nor is it a plug. (Not that I didn't enjoy it.) But, without watching it and the comments that were made, I might not have this blog.

During the movie, I commented on how it might be nice to live in Bali - the scenery during this portion of the movie was simply breathtaking. And the home where Julia Robert's character lived was ... well ... I can only describe it as a dream. I love to travel and haven't done it nearly enough. So, as I watched, I was thinking of all the places I'd like to add to my list. And how wonderful it must be to actually take time off - maybe a year as in the movie - to do it.

My sister was kind enough to remind me, at that very moment, that this was not real. "You do know this is a movie," she prompted. Way to burst my bubble, sis.

Of course I knew it was a movie. But there are spectacular places in the world that do exists and I would like to see them someday. Wonderful, breathtaking, life changing places that have to be seen to be experienced. And I want to experience them all.

So, as I started thinking more and more about this, I realized some of the things that I'm thankful for. Most things I think about, and mention out loud, have to do with things outside myself. Well, this Thanksgiving, and on my blog, I'm thankful for things that are inside me.

I'm thankful for my passionate spirit.
I'm thankful that I still wonder at all there is in life.
I'm thankful for my ability to imagine.
I'm thankful that I'm still curious.
I'm thankful that my heart and soul are big enough to love unconditionally.
I'm thankful that I can see a movie and consider the possibilities that it inspires.

There's so much inside me ... and so much more to come. What better reason to be thankful.

Tuesday, August 17, 2010

I've Been Away A While

So, as you can see, I've been away for a while. I didn't mean to abandon my blog, or turn my back on my followers. By the way, thank you for following me. I now see that I have three followers - I don't know when I went from 2 to 3 but, seriously, Wow! - I am very excited and grateful.

My "hiatus" was due to the concerns of a very important person in my life. This person ... who, yes, will remain nameless ... deals with another side of society than most of us do. She sees all that is ugly, sick, demented, hateful, maybe even evil in the human spirit. Because of this, her perspective on the Internet and social media is one of apprehension and caution. Because if this, I pulled back on my interaction. I no longer have a Twitter account and, therefore, do not tweet. (Sorry for any of you out there who use to follow me.) And I stopped blogging ... but I just didn't have the heart to take it down completely.

I think the Internet and social media is like anything else in our society. It is not, in and of itself, evil - or good for that matter. It's an inanimate object. It is what people do with it that makes it something else. I hear so many negative things about texting, blogging, tweeting, Facebooking, etc'ing. These things are not the ills of society. They aren't making our kids social idiots. They're just "things". It's how our kids use them, or the extent to which they use them, that may impact their socialization.

Think back to the telephone. No, I was not around when it was first invented. But I was fortunate enough to hear stories from my great-grandmother about when her family first go one. Imagine what it might have been like - this thing that would destroy the human ability to write letters, communicate effectively, drain people's brains through continuous use. I do remember my grandmother warning me about the "boob-tube". Yes, television ... another rotter of human minds. Trust me, I agree that too much TV viewing is unhealthy and I closely monitor my son's intake. But think of all that we are able to experience and learn through television. Where would I be without Sesame Street, School House Rock, the Discovery Channel? And don't get me started on email. I remember when a person would never, EVER send a resume via email. It was considered the epitome of unprofessionalism! And just think of where we are now. Email is a standard form of business communication and most employers actually prefer a resume in electronic form.

I guess what I am saying is that it really isn't technology or new inventions that ruin society. It's what we choose to do with them that makes or breaks it. So, I will take the advice I've been so lovingly given about the ills of the Internet and social media and I will be cautious and as careful as a person can. But, I will also continue to do what I love to do. Write. And I'll try my best to do it fairly regularly ... right here on my very own blog.

Tuesday, March 2, 2010

Memories of Merrik

My son asked me to list about 10 memories of his life. Something he needed for a school project. I had such a good time reliving precious moments that I couldn't resist posting them. I hope you will endulge me a bit.



When I was pregnant with Merrik, he loved to kick! His favorite place was up underneath my ribs ... especially at night when I was sleeping.

The first time I saw Merrik after his delivery was in the NICU. I was so worried about him and if we would be OK. The doctor told me this was just a precaution - he would be fine - but I wanted to see for myself. Boy ... did I ever see for myself! There he was, a whopping 8 pounds 12 ounces, laying flat on his back, sprawled out. Serving as bookends were two premature babies. I prayed those mothers didn’t come while I was there. I would have been so embarrassed!

In the hospital, we had Merrik circumcised. A decision I didn’t take lightly. Again, I worried about my baby. Again, the doctor assured me that he would be OK. “This is a routine procedure,” she said. When they finally brought him back to my room, I was anxious to hold him in my arms. I reached out, took Merrik from the doctor, and saw the look on his face. He didn’t cry ... he didn’t make a sound. He just sat there, staring at me, with this angry look on his face like “you did this to me.” I spent the rest of the night saying I was sorry.

As some people know (mother’s mostly, I assume) babies actually loose weight right after they are born. It’s perfectly normal and they quickly regain it soon after arriving home. Not my son. Merrik actually gained weight. It was only two ounces but when you’re expected to loose weight, it’ a pretty big deal. So big, in fact, that the nurses weighed him twice ... then told all the other nurses.

One of my favorite sayings when Merrik was a toddler, “Up me, Mommy. Up me.” He would look up at me with his hands in the air, opening and closing his little fists. So cute.

A terrifying memory: It was right after Merrik started sleeping in a toddler bed. He had outgrown his crib and was doing quite well in his “big boy bed”. One night, I was awoken to the most blood-curdling scream I have ever heard. I sat straight up trying to determine what that sound could have been. Then I heard it again. It was my child ... Merrik. Someone must be attacking him. Oh, no! Someone must of gotten into the house and is hurting my baby! I jumped out of bed and ran down the hall to his room. Merrik was on his back, eyes wide open, body stiff as a board, screaming. I grabbed him in my arms ... he must be in terrible pain. I called his name, tried to hold him close to me, rocked him. But nothing worked. His body remained rigid. His screams never subsided. My words of comfort did nothing. After what seemed like an eternity, as quickly and mysteriously as it had started, it stopped. And Merrik was fast asleep. I was later told that what Merrik experienced was called “night terrors”. The good news: Merrik would be fine. He would eventually grow out of it and remember nothing. The bad news: I would never EVER be the same again.

When Merrik learned to ride a tricycle, I would take him around the block. He would peddle, pumping his little legs, laughing, having the time of his life. Along our journey, there was a garage that looked like a barn door. Each time we passed, Merrik would exclaim, “Look Mommy! A barn, a barn!” Each and every time. And I would act surprised, as if I hadn’t seen it before.

A ritual. When Merrik went to daycare, he developed his own unique way of greeting me when I came to pick him up at the end of the day. When he saw me come through the door, he would jump up and charge at me full speed, jumping into an enormous hug. I loved it. Of course, until he kept getting bigger and heavier and still wanted to run at me full speed and jump into a hug.

Merrik’s first year in school. The local paper decided to do an article on the “little school that could”. Amazingly, or not so amazingly for anyone who has actually met Merrik, among the entire student body, the reporter found a charming young lad and chose to interview him.

Merrik was in an after school program at St. Barnabas. When I picked him up, he could be found playing games, running around, talking with other students or the adults (who, by the way, were totally enthralled with him and his conversations). One day during third grade, he was sitting with one of the teachers playing Connect Four. I started to say something but was met with a harsh “shhhhhhhh!” from onlookers. So I waited. And waited. And waited. Apparently, Merrik had been playing for almost an hour, continually beating the adult ... legitimately beating the adult. It was like he was in a trance; staring only at the game board. Placing in his pieces one-by-one. When he achieved victory, he uttered not a word. He simply pointed out his “four”, slid the lever to clear the board, and began again.

A mother’s worse nightmare. We were out at a mall. Merrik was about 10 or 11. Old enough to linger behind, giving his all to appear like he wasn’t a with me. I hadn’t realized that the gap between us had grown so great until I was outside and heard a man calling ... screaming actually ... “Miss! Miss! Is this your son?” Oh, dear God. What did he do? (Sadly, although Merrik was not one to actually “do” anything in public to warrant this response, it was the one that came to mind.) “Yes, he is.” “Well, I just had to come out and tell you what a fine, young gentleman he is. He has such good manners - something you don’t see too often anymore. I’m telling you, he’ll get far in life. You should be proud.” And, indeed, I was.

Sunday, February 28, 2010

To all the educators out there

My principal emailed this to the staff. One of the best things she's ever sent.


WHAT DO TEACHERS MAKE?

The dinner guests were sitting around the table discussing life.

One man, a CEO, decided to explain the problem with education. He argued,
"What's a kid going to learn from someone who decided his best option in
life was to become a teacher?"

To stress his point he said to another guest; "You're a teacher, Barbara .
Be honest. What do you make?"

Barbara, who had a reputation for honesty and frankness replied, "You want
to know what I make? (She paused for a second, then began...)

"Well, I make kids work harder than they ever thought they could.
I make a C+ feel like the Congressional Medal of Honor winner.

"I make kids sit through 40 minutes of class time when their parents can't
make them sit for 5 without an iPod, Game Cube or movie rental.

"You want to know what I make? (She paused again and looked at each and
every person at the table) I make kids wonder. I make them question.

"I make them apologize and mean it. I make them have respect and take
responsibility for their actions.

"I teach them to write and then I make them write.
Keyboarding isn't everything.I make them read, read, read.
I make them show all their work in math. They use their God given brain,
not the man-made calculator.

"I make my students from other countries learn everything they need to
know about English while preserving their unique cultural identity.

"I make my classroom a place where all my students feel safe.
I make my students stand, placing their hand over their heart to say the
Pledge of Allegiance to the Flag, One Nation Under God, because we live in
the United States of America.

"Finally, I make them understand that if they use the gifts they were given,
work hard, and follow their hearts, they can succeed in life."

Barbara paused one last time and then continued.

"Then, when people try to judge me by what I make, with me knowing money
isn't everything, I can hold my head up high and pay no attention because
they are ignorant.

"You want to know what I make? I MAKE A DIFFERENCE. What do you make Mr. CEO?"

His jaw dropped; he went silent.

Friday, February 12, 2010

High Praise

As I've blogged before, I'm truly grateful for social media. It has helped me reconnect with old friends, stay in touch with current friends and family, and meet new people and organizations.

Recently, I was "chatting" with my nephew on Facebook. (He's away for his first year of college - Facebook is a godsend.) Some how, the chat turned to the seasons. I told him how Fall was my favorite and a few reasons why: the spectacular, brilliant colors; the crisp air - cool enough for sweaters yet warm enough to leave the coat at home; the crunch of leaves under your feet; the light smell of burning wood as fireplaces are brought to life.

In response, my wonderful, beautiful, artistic nephew replied, "Auntie, you should write a book; maybe a book of poetry."

By far, this was some of the highest praise my writing has ever received. To think that a young, gifted, talent such as my nephew would be interested at all in me or my writing was pretty special. Yes ... he's my nephew. Yes ... he loves me. Yes ... he may be a bit biased. But ... still ... he didn't have to comment at all.

Thank you, Junior, for caring enough to comment. This post if for you. My little way of saying "Thank You" and "Happy Birthday".

Much love.

Wednesday, February 3, 2010

Oprah vs. Opera

Well, I read my last post - after it was up, of course, and realized that I had spelled Oprah. Oprah, if you're out there and you just happened to stumble across my blog and just happened to be bored enough to read it, please accept my sincere apologies. " : )

As you may have noticed, I am a bad speller. No ... really ... a horrible speller. I have been all of my life. I can remember being in 3rd grade and purposely mis-spelling a word I knew so that I could be out of the spelling bee before I was really embarrassed. Then, there was 5th grade when the only solace after a Friday spelling test was getting to hear my teacher read "The Lion, The Witch, and The Wardrobe". I let the world of Narnia take be away from the reality that I had failed a spelling test ... again. I think it was around middle school - maybe even high school - when I realized that I had spelled "tomorrow" wrong my whole life and no one seemed to tell me until then.

My wonderful, loving grandmother, who raised me and was a special education teacher, would tell me to "look it up" when I asked her to help me spell a word. What! Look it up? Like in a dictionary? If any of you out there are non-spellers, you can appreciate the irony of this form of "help". For those of you who have the natural affinity for spelling and may not understand, let me help you. When you cannot spell a word, the absolute worse thing you can do is tell the person to go "look it up"! If I don't know how to SPELL the word, what makes you think I can LOOK UP the word! Again, I say "seriously". I was such a bad speller that I could be looking through the entire section of "T's" before finding "tomorrow". And don't get me started if the word started with a vowel!

Thankfully, sometime during my college years, I discovered this wonderful thing called "spell check". It saved my spelling life. finally, there was something that could help me with my poor spelling. You see, I can read the word; I just can't spell it. During school, my reading level was always several grades ahead while my spelling was several grades below. Something my special educator grandmother recognized as probably a mild learning disability but never bothered to tell me until I was in my 20s.

The good news is that my poor spelling never held me back. I finished high school, went onto college, and am now a teacher. Before teaching, I was even a secretary, believe it or not. I was able to overcome my "learning disability" or whatever it is. Thankfully, I had a supportive family who never, for one moment, made me think that I would be anything less but successful.

Think about this the next time you encounter one of your students who just doesn't seem to get a concept, Yet again. After explaining it for the 5th time. Yes, this child could be the most annoying person who, if he would just pay attention, would be able to learn what you are teaching. Then again, she may be just like me. Intelligent, capable, curious, talented. Just a really lousy speller.

Sunday, January 24, 2010

Passions of Life

I don't watch Opera regularly but I do like her "Things I Know That I Know". For me, one of the "Things That I Know That I Know" is that life is really not worth living if you don't have a passion.

As you've probably figured out from reading my blog - if anyone besides my one follower is actually reading my blog! - is that I am a teacher. This is one of my passions in life. And I consider myself blessed to be able to have my passion as my career. However, I'm also blessed that teaching is only one of my many passions. Others include reading, writing, children, natural hair. The list goes on.

The important thing for everyone is that you find the passion in your life. And we all have them and for those of you who think that you don't - think again. Remember being a little kids and becoming lost in something. Maybe it was playing trucks or dolls or riding your bike. But I'm sure it was SOMETHING. Think of what you would do, or want to do, even if you weren't being paid.

That's the point. There is something in our lives that makes our hearts sing. Find that. Connect with that. Hold on to that. And if someone tries to tell you to grow up or that your passion is childish, pointless, ridiculous - ignore them. Pity them. Pray that they find their passion.

Let it fill you. Let it hold you. Let it support you in the darkest times. Let it surround you in the best of times. Most of all, let it be you.


This post is dedicated to my one follower - Dan. One of the most caring and compassionate humans beings I've be privileged to know. I thank social networking for reintroducing me to this gentle soul.