Miracle on 16th Street

Like many people, I listen to my iPod ... well, technically the iPod app on my iPhone, but you get the picture ... on my walk from the train to my school. It's about a 15 minute walk through Center City. I really enjoy it, despite the early hour in the morning (before 7am) and the lateness of the evening. I secure my headphones, pump up the volume, and begin the soundtrack.

This morning, I wasn't quite myself. I couldn't put my finger on it, but I just wasn't "feeling it." As I began my journey down 16th street, a song came on that resonated with me. At first, there was something about the music that just felt right ... it somehow captured my mood. I really connected with it - so much so, that I replayed it. Then I listened to the words. And my "mood" suddenly had a voice. I was so connected, so completely in tune with this song, that I pressed the "loop" and listened to it continuously.

Each time it played, I heard something different. In the beginning, I felt kind of sad ... the words describing my mood and giving it the words I couldn't. But, after hearing more and more each time, I began to feel validated, uplifted, inspired. It was beautiful.

Just this alone is a small miracle to me. That music can fill you and connect with you on a level that goes beyond reason and understanding. Dare I call it "spiritual". Something, I'm happy to say happens with me quite often. But the even bigger miracle ... the true Miracle on 16th Street ... was that I had never heard that song before. I've been doing this walk - to and from work - since September. I've gone through my 600 plus songs a couple of times. But never this one. To add to the mystery, this song was named "Track 11". No name, no artist, no picture.

Now, some may say that I just overlooked it other times - was walking on auto-pilot and just missed it. Or that I synced my iPhone with my computer and didn't realize I uploaded more songs. (I assure you neither of these things is the case.) I'm sure there are other, more rational explanations to be rendered.

But for me, no matter the reason: whether I truly did hear it before and just didn't realize it or stopped my shuffle before I ever heard it (my son's counter) or whatever. To me, it's a miracle: the perfect song materialized at the perfect moment and touched my soul.

Miracles really do happen everyday ... we just have to open our eyes - or, sometimes, our ears.

Beyond the Limits

Just when you want to remember something, your not-so-great-anymore memory fails you. At least, that's what happens to me :)

I was searching J.R. Martinez on the Internet and stumbled onto his website. You might know him, he was this season's winner of Dancing with the Starts (yes, I'm a fan of the show). I wanted to know more about this inspirational, beautiful person.

While I was on his site, I saw a quote ... he had "Inspired Quotes" listed throughout his site. This would be where my memory failed me. There was one that talked about trying to do more that you thought possible ... if you didn't try, how would you know what you could truly do?

Now, that's not the exact quote. And, Mr. Martinez, if you happened to stumble upon this little blog, please accept my sincere apologies. I really did try to find the quote on his site. But you know how that goes: the quotes rotate and I still haven't gotten back to that one.

At any rate ... I started thinking about that one. About pushing yourself to do more ... taking on more than you can handle ... going the extra mile ... giving 110% ... etc., etc. I've been feeling a bit of that lately with the move to my new teaching position. It's been great. But a little overwhelming at times. And I just didn't know of "pushing" yourself to do more was really the way to go.

Then I read the quote. And I started thinking about it in another way. It's not that you have to give up everything in the pursue of one thing isolated thing. But, if you don't try to push past your comfort level, grow as a person and individual, challenge yourself, reach for the stars ... then, will you ever know the extend of your greatness?

I have to thank Mr. Martinez. (I'd love to call him J.R. but the reality is that I don't know him well enough. And, I guess I'm just a little old-fashioned when it comes to things like this.) Thank you for being an inspiration. Thank you for challenging yourself and doing a little show called Dancing With the Stars. Thank you for your website. Thank you for living the type of life that made me want to know more about you. And, thank you for posting inspirational quotes that make people like me think.

Commit to Holding the Door

I was on my way home. A bit discouraged to be honest. Not overwhelming sad or ready to throw in the towel. But not really "feeling it" if you know what I mean. I guess you could say I was in a funk.

Anyway, I was walking to the train. Had my headphones on as usual. Listening to music. Trying to put the day behind me. Perhaps some of you have been there. My music was up loud. I wasn't really looking at anything ... I think my head was down most of the time. Try as I may to forget, I was reliving my day: not any of the successes - and yes, there were quite a few. Just replaying over and over all the mistakes and mishaps. Where I went wrong. Things I could have done better. How I wasn't the teacher I wanted to be ... or, maybe even the teacher the kids needed me to be.

At any rate, there I was, moving along, heading for the train, down the stairs to the familiar doors.

But something rather unfamiliar happened. As I looked up, someone was holding the door for me. And I mean HOLDING THE DOOR. I wasn't really close. You know the gesture: you're practically on someone's heels and they push the door enough so it won't hit you in the face. No. This person was actually HOLDING the door. She had committed to making my life just a little easier by holding open the door for me. Even though she didn't have to.

I kid you not when I say it changed my life in that moment. Suddenly, I had an epiphany. Things really weren't so bad. I could see the successes, the achievements, the things I had done right. In that moment, I realized that it was the little things that truly mattered. You know: Rome wasn't build in a day, the journey of a thousand miles begins with the first step, etc., etc. Only this time, I really believed it.

In this one, small yet significant move, this total stranger ... who I'll probably never see again (and even if I did wouldn't know it) ... helped me see the light. Little things do make a BIG difference.

So, I challenge you: commit to holding the door. You never know who you might inspire.

I Wanna Be Like Mike ... Well, sort of

No. I'm not athletic. Not in the least little bit. But I can relate ... in a very small way ... with Michael Jordan.

I wouldn't call myself a superstar - the elite of the elite like Michael was in his career. But I will say that in my teaching career, I was on top of my game. I was good at what I did and was cruising along at a nice altitude. Don't get me wrong, I still tried to find ways to improve. Was never totally satisfied with how I was doing. My motto: I was only as good a teacher as my lowest performing student. In other words, no matter how well I was doing, I knew there was so much more I still needed to do.

Enter Mike. Three consecutive championships. World recognition. Iconic celebrity status. He had it all. So what did he do? He walked away from that game he so identified with and took up something completely different: baseball. He followed his heart and pursued his dream of becoming a baseball player.

I too had a dream. And, due to circumstances beyond my control - beyond the control of many to be totally honest - I wasn't living it. I'm passionate about learning and creativity and education and children. I had a choice. I could stay where I was comfortable ... continuing cruising and being "on my game". Or I could take a risk. Step away from the familiar and pursue my passion.

This is where Mike and I connect. My journey took me to unfamiliar territory. I'm still teaching - similar to Mike still being an athlete. But out of my comfort zone. There are moments when I feel confident and others where I feel lost. One minute I'm soaring high - the next I'm plummeting into the abyss. I've got it all together and I'm falling apart at the seams. And I'm so HAPPY.

It took guts for Michael Jordan to put himself out there like he did. I'm not going to debate his motives; I'm simply admiring what he dared to do. And, now, I can say I followed in his footsteps just a bit.

Things are going better now. And I'm growing in ways I would have never imagined. But, had I not stepped out on that leap of faith, if I hadn't been willing to fail, if I hadn't tried to "be like Mike", I may have never gotten to this point. I urge you to do push yourself, to dare to dream, to dare to grow. In essence: to be like Mike.

Enjoy Life's Journey

I've just come back from traveling to New Zealand. An amazing, mystical, beautiful, awe-inspiring place. But that's for another post.

One of the incredible things that came out of visiting New Zealand was the people I met. One of which gave me the title to this post: Enjoy Life's Journey.

How many of us do just that? Enjoy Life's Journey? How many of us even consider life as a "Journey"?

I'm so happy I went on this trip. I'm so happy that I didn't let things get in the way. I'm happy I didn't worry about the time, or money, or if I should go. I'm happy I just accepted this wonderful opportunity to Enjoy Life's Journey.

And, so, in honor of all those who I met during this trip who took this to heart, I'd like to mention just a few.

-My friend's uncle ... the one who gave me the saying. He has what is called a "life style" property where he has a deer farm. He does this not for profit. Or to feed his family. He does it just because he enjoys it.

-The man I met while trying to hike a glacier. Well ... he was successfully hiking. I was failing. Trying ... but failing nonetheless. He waited for me and kept me company for a while. In striking up a conversation, I found out that he had just gotten married. He and his wife decided to take a year off and travel ... while they could still enjoy it.

-Our bus driver whose family decided to keep the Maori culture alive by creating a pre-European Maori village and sharing their culture with people like me. He kept us entertained by translating Kia Ora in about 60 different languages using a fairly good, if not stereo typical, accent for each. (You should have heard his "sufer-dude" American accent!) He also sang "The Wheels of the Bus" while driving round and round ... and round and round ... the roundabout.

-My friend's father. Although his home had a totally spectacular view, he built an amazing, self-enclosed, mini rainforest. Just because.

And there were more. So many, many more. I consider them all teachers. And I'm so thankful for the lessons they taught me.

Now, I'm passing the lesson onto you. As said so simply and beautifully: Enjoy Life's Journey.

Attending Your Own Funeral

OK, so the title's a little morbid. But hang in there ... I promise there's a point.

This week, I officially say good-bye to the only school where I've ever taught. It's bittersweet. I'm excited about my new position in an incredible school. But, I'm sad to leave the students whom I've grown so attached, the Drama Club that I've created (and, quite frankly, am scared silly that it will not continue), and the friends I've made.

Now getting to the title. Last week, I was blessed to attend my own funeral. By that I mean that I felt all the love, support, affection, and gratitude that's usually reserved for ... well ... one's funeral. Over the course of three days, I cried, laughed, reminisced, and celebrated with students, parents, and colleagues both privately and publicly. The amazing thing was that I didn't have to wait to receive it. Yes, technically I had to wait until I was leaving before I got it. But at least I wasn't dead.

But seriously. It was incredible. Words cannot properly describe it. I would imagine it's what winning the Superbowl is like in your last season having never won a Superbowl before. It's a gift I couldn't have imagined getting. One I will never, ever forget. I don't think they will every truly understand how much it meant to me.

So, I encourage you all to attend your own funeral. And for others to give someone you really care about a fitting funeral ... now ... while they can enjoy it. I mean it. Don't wait. Don't wait until it's too late to show or tell someone how much they meant to you. Don't wait to say "I love you" or "I appreciate you" or "You've meant the world to me." Don't wait until their about to leave ... don't let it get to that point.

Say it now. Say it boldly. Say it often. Say it from the heart. Most importantly ... say it.

It's only words ... or is it?

"Sticks and stones may break my bones, but names can never hurt me."

I remember chanting that when I was young. I don't remember when I learned it or who taught it to me. But I suspect it was one of those life lessons what my Grandmother lovingly taught me to help cope with the uglier side of life.

Recently, I heard a comment from someone that made me question this little mantra. I won't go into too many details. I truly don't think this person meant any harm. I'm not even sure she realized what she said. I don't for a minute think she reads my blog ... but you never know. And I'd rather air on the side of caution.

The comment was made about a child, thrown out casually during a normal exchange with other children. And I thought it was the kind of comment that could be hurtful. Sadly, I didn't say anything. I just let it happen, only shaking my head after I left the scene.

But as I was walking, shaking my head, it dawned on me. I heard the "sticks and stones" chant. And I realized that it really isn't the sticks and stones that do the most damage in life. How many of us can say we've been hurt by sticks and stones? How many of us can say that it has been objects coming at us that have hurt us?

Now, I don't mean to say there isn't violence in the word and that people aren't physically harmed. I know this is true. It happens too often and it's horrifying. But even in these cases, aren't there often words involved too?

My point is that words DO hurt. And they leave a bruise that no one can see. Sadly, they can sometimes hurt more and last longer than the outward bruises that come with the "sticks and stones".

I guess what I'm saying is that we need to remember that what we say can, and often does, affect people. They're not just words. They carry power and meaning with them.

Yes, only we have the power to let others affect us with their words. But we also have the power to choose what we say. To uplift and inspire rather than tear down and destroy.

I think part of why I'm writing this post is because I had a choice. I knew something was said that probably hurt a child. Unintentional though it may have been, still it was said. I stood there with the choice to try and counteract those words. Perhaps, even the power to combat them. Yet, I remained silent.

If you take something from this post, take this: sticks and stones and words can hurt. And we have control over all of them.

The Mustard Seed

Some of you may be familiar with the "mustard seed" story. You know, the one from the bible. Don't worry - this isn't going to be a sermon - you don't have to stop reading the blog.

I've grown up hearing that story. Perhaps you have too. But I have to admit that I never really "got it". Faith the size of a mustard seed ... what is that?

I always thought you needed to be so "together". And if you weren't ... well, then, I guess you didn't have enough faith. If you had doubts or were unsure. If you weren't doing your best or couldn't figure out what to do next. If you shook your head in defeat or sat sobbing not even sure why. You did these things because you didn't have what it took ... you didn't have enough faith. (I've done all these things and more, by the way.)

I've admired so many people who have seemed to have this capacity to always see the bright side and hold on when everything around them is telling them to let go. Famous people and everyday folks alike. How did they do it? How did they manage to hang in there when I so often couldn't? What was I doing wrong? Why wasn't I as strong as they?

It wasn't until recently ... very recently - like two weeks ago ... that I finally understood.

I was having a bad day a work. We've all been there, right? A fellow teacher asked me what was wrong. She said she could see it all over my face. I told her I just didn't have it that day. I didn't have it in me to fix my face, to give a stiff upper lip, to pull it all together. I was just holding on. It was all I could do. And I felt like a failure. Here I was at work and I was letting what was bothering me show though like glass. What kind of person was I?

But that's the secret ... that's the "mustard seed". No, I wasn't able to give it my all ... the full strength I usually have. But I was holding on. I was standing up. I was at work, after all. And functioning at some capacity. I hadn't given up. It may not have been much. But it was a "mustard seed's" worth. And that was enough for that moment.

Later that day, I got some news that pepped me up. My face got brighter ... I wasn't looking so down in the mouth. I was able to stand a bit straighter and be more of myself. That "mustard seed" had gotten me though.

So, I now know. I finally understand. It's not that you have to have it all always. Sometimes, you just need a "mustard seed's" worth.

Doorways to New Beginnings

I have a thing about doors. I know ... strange ... doors. Why doors? I'm not sure when it began but I started noticing them. I mean really noticing them. How beautiful they were. Some simple in design and material used. Some intricate and ornate, complex in both design and scope. Believe it or not, I wanted to create a museum of doors. Really ... honest.

My "door thing" revved into full gear on a trip to Russia. I went with a bunch of Special Education teachers with People to People. In addition to talking with our Russian counterparts in education, we, of course, saw the sites. Russia is an amazing place, rich in history and culture. Otherworldly, in a way that places we never imagined we would ever see can often be. Oh ... but their doors.

I was fascinated, intrigued, captivated. I had to reach out and touch every door I saw. That became the running joke: There's Erika touching another door! I actually got reprimanded by a guard in one of the museums. Oops. Guess I wasn't supposed to touch that one.

Somehow, reaching out and touching the doors helped me to connect to the history, the grandeur of it all. Someone took the time to consider the door - how it should look. They had a vision for this structure. And they knew that the door was the opening to it all. It would set the tone for how people would be received, how people would be embraced. Would they be intimidated, feel threatened? Would they understand that the occupants were formidable opponents? Or would they instantly sense an air of welcoming and friendship? Did they, as I did upon entering one of the oldest cathedrals, feel an instant divine reverence ... a hush as if they knew they were entering sacred ground?

I guess at the heart of my obsession is the idea of what doors represent: they are the beginning, the gateway to possibilities, the openings to new worlds. All we have to do is reach out and open up.

Opening Up to Possibilities

I pride myself in never asking my students to do something I wouldn't do myself. It's something I tell them all the time. And, I truly believed that I was practicing what I preached.

Recently, I realize that I was doing my students a great injustice. Every day, I was asking them ... insisting really ... to do something that I was not demanding of myself.

I stress how important it is for them to always, and I do mean ALWAYS, do their very best, never let anyone tell them what they can or cannot do, live up to their fullest potential, and never give their choices away. Sound advice. I would tolerate no less.

Sadly, what I realize is that I have not been demanding the same of myself. Not really.

I wasn't trying not too ... on the contrary - I thought I was. But what I've come to accept is that I'm simply not. I know I have more potential in me than I allow out, although I strive to do my best, I don't seek out the optimal situations to do it in, I let others define me and accept those definitions as my own. In short - I'm not practicing what i'm preaching.

So as I begin this new year, I've brought a new focus into my life. It's not a "resolution" - I've never been big on those. They're just too easy to break. It's more of a focus on life. It's pretty simple but, if I can do it everyday, it will be extremely powerful.

Open myself up to all possibilities ... each and every day ... one day at a time.

That's it. But I know by doing this, really focusing on doing this every minute of every day, I will be more true to my students. And, more importantly, to myself.

The cool thing is that not only do I have a new focus for the year, I have a new focus for my blog. Welcome to my journey. I hope you'll hang on for the ride. And, by the way, thank you for reading, following ... whatever it is you do. I so completely appreciate it and I never take it for granted.