Last night Thing 1's school had their Fall Festival. Knowing there is a limited number of people who help out with PTA at the school, I decided it was something we should do as a family, even though it wasn't something Thing 1 was real thrilled about doing. So, I volunteered to do something behind the scenes....set up. However, that fell through as they had plenty who offered to do that, so they assigned me to the craft tables for the last shift. I shuddered as I responded with a "No problem. We'll be there."
Upon entering the school grounds, the first thing I'm greeted with was "Hi Miss Cummins! What are YOU doing here?" by a kid who was absent from my class because he was sick. I returned the greeting with "Hi Casey. The question is what are YOU doing here if you're sick?" His response was quick. "I'm all better. Bye." He literally jumped on his bike and rode away like he was on fire. I shook my head and continued walking only to hear another, "Hi Miss Cummins. AAARRRGGGGGHHHH!" from another student who was chasing Casey with a bag of garbage and literally caught him and hit him over the head with it. At this point, Thing 1 looked at me and said, "Do we have to do this?"
I feel it necessary to remind you that this was an elementary fall festival, NOT a middle school one. Yet, as we walked into the gym area where the food was being served (walking tacos---loved it, my kids, not so much--yet one more food to cross off my list of supper options) and found many of my students and former students helping out. It was nice to see them working since that's a rarity in my classroom, but nonetheless, they were everywhere. It makes sense since I live in the same neighborhood I teach in. Probably not the wisest choice, but hey, it is what it is.
The point of this post is to say that a couple of my wildest, naughtiest students were running like wild maniacs through that fair and of course, decided to join me at the craft table once I took over the shift. It was almost like magic when they were given these Oriental Trade magnets to color and foam book marks to make and little white pumpkins to color. I watched them transform into little kids, quietly concentrating and watching carefully as they filled in the white with something much brighter. No punching each other. No weird antics like tapping their markers continuously as they do in my room. No rude comments. It was so good that I literally got a little scared for a moment. It was at that moment that I realized there should be a coloring class offered at school for kids and adults alike who simply need that moment to unwind.....to focus on nothing but creating....to see something lifeless come to life and most importantly, to get approval from all those around on how cool your creation is no matter what it really looks like. Yep, I'm on to something here.
Saturday, October 29, 2011
Thursday, October 27, 2011
The New Morning Face
Oh yes, I sense your jealousy upon seeing this lovely morning face.....ugh. I'm not sure what has invaded the body of my three year old other than simply being three, but I seriously can't wait to drop the kid at daycare and get the heck to work! This particular face came this morning after she wanted me to help her with her coat, no she didn't, yes she did, no she DIDN'T. Man, I simply can't win in this situation and the problem is the situation isn't a single event, nor a star of Jersey Shore. The situation has become a morning routine and I'm going crazy....emphasis on CRAZY.
If I had only one drama queen in the house, this might be a tolerable time in life. However, God saw fit to bless me with two very dramatic children and if it's not Thing 2 throwing a fit, it seems Thing 1 has her share of moments lately, too. What the heck is going on? Is it the change in weather? Is it their ages? Is it me? Is it fatigue? Is it illness? Are they both perimenopausal with me?
Understanding a three year old is in and of itself, a feat simply because of her three year old accent. No, not a Chinese accent like some seem to think. She's never spoken Chinese. She's three and words don't always work. I did however understand when she said, "Help me with my coat, Mommy."
So, I, believing I'm the mommy and I'm being requested to help will walk toward said child and reach out to help with her coat. "NO! I do it!" And the screams start.
Since I'm still the mommy and I see we're running late because said child's coat is now stuck behind her back because she can't quite reach the sleeves, I reach out and grab it anyway and help her ease her arm into the sleeve. One would think this would easily bring a "Thank you, Mommy" from the mouth of child no longer being strangled by her coat, but instead this is what I get:
"I SAID NO. I DO IT." Then she runs down the hall completely opposite of the way we were heading to leave so I can by some form of miracle, maybe be on time for work.
I say, "Thing 2, you need to come back here and we need to go to daycare. Now. No argument."
"Mommy, I NEED HELP!"
I stand stunned, yet I walk forward hearing the ticking of the clock reminding me I'm going to be late to work. I reach my arm out to help her.
From the depths of the drama queen soul arises this sound, similar to one associated with demons: "I SSSAAAAIIIIDDDDD I DO IT!"
At this point, I've had it. I grab the kid, put the coat on her and carry her to the car screaming, "I SAID I DO IT! I DON'T LIKE YOU AT ALL."
Sigh. Welcome New Morning Face.
Wednesday, October 26, 2011
Passion
Oh yes....you're here because of the title, right? I'm pretty sure the traffic to my minimalist blog won't increase because of this title, but today, I'm thinking about passion. Unfortunately, those hoping to get a glimpse into my Passionate life, are probably going to say, "I told ya she has no life."
Teaching for 21 years has brought many trends to light in my life. I've seen whole language come and go. I've seen RAD, which was a binder training strategy for middle school to aid in organization. I've watched as we have gone from a profession demanding rigor and responsibility to a profession that allows many chances....and by many, I mean at the very least 10. Prepubescent kids are still pretty much hormones on rollerblades with the inability to put the brakes on when necessary. But what I see changing in our world, especially with younger generations, is passion.
This passion isn't the kind that is displayed by two groping teens in the corner under the stairway where they don't think the video cameras nor teachers will locate them. This passion I speak of is not as simplistic as hormones---it's the thing that grows in one's heart from when they are young and it drives him/her. It is a reason. It is a purpose. It is a skill sometimes or a desire. In my humble opinion, our youth lack it. Why is that?
I've gone through many scenarios of why young people and passion don't go hand in hand anymore except in the confines of the backseat of a car. Could it be they have too many things available to specialize in an area? Is that any different than those of us who grew up in a smaller town and were able to do various activities instead of marrying one like kids do today? (I would have died if basketball went year round like it does for kids nowadays instead of having merely a season and a couple camps in the summer.) Could it be they're too lazy to commit to anything? Well, judging by their desire to complete homework, this is a stronger possibility for me than the former reason. But I still don't think that is it.
I believe we as adults don't share with our younger generations our own passions. Yeah, I know---blame the parents again. That's not where I'm going. I'm basically thinking too many of us do our jobs and stop there. Or we give up our passions because life takes over and there isn't enough time. Or some of us, like me, get to call their passion their job, which can be both good and bad. Good for my kids to see I've chosen something I love to do, but on those bad days, it's not always encouraging for them to see Mama has chosen her passion and that's why she's about ready to strangle you.
Deep within I believe we all have a passion. We have a drive that is satisfied by something and sometimes it will take awhile to figure out what that passion is. Yet, I want to be the type of person who can help my own children, both in and outside of the classroom, find their passions. I can't imagine my life without teaching kids...without music....without writing....without photography.....without animals.....without God. Those were my passions when I was younger and guess what? They still are. Now if I can only instill in my shadows the fact that pursuing and living with passion is a good thing, I will feel much more complete. And I might worry less about who is going to make sure I get my meds on time when I'm in the nursing home and the workers there aren't passionate about their jobs.......
Teaching for 21 years has brought many trends to light in my life. I've seen whole language come and go. I've seen RAD, which was a binder training strategy for middle school to aid in organization. I've watched as we have gone from a profession demanding rigor and responsibility to a profession that allows many chances....and by many, I mean at the very least 10. Prepubescent kids are still pretty much hormones on rollerblades with the inability to put the brakes on when necessary. But what I see changing in our world, especially with younger generations, is passion.
This passion isn't the kind that is displayed by two groping teens in the corner under the stairway where they don't think the video cameras nor teachers will locate them. This passion I speak of is not as simplistic as hormones---it's the thing that grows in one's heart from when they are young and it drives him/her. It is a reason. It is a purpose. It is a skill sometimes or a desire. In my humble opinion, our youth lack it. Why is that?
I've gone through many scenarios of why young people and passion don't go hand in hand anymore except in the confines of the backseat of a car. Could it be they have too many things available to specialize in an area? Is that any different than those of us who grew up in a smaller town and were able to do various activities instead of marrying one like kids do today? (I would have died if basketball went year round like it does for kids nowadays instead of having merely a season and a couple camps in the summer.) Could it be they're too lazy to commit to anything? Well, judging by their desire to complete homework, this is a stronger possibility for me than the former reason. But I still don't think that is it.
I believe we as adults don't share with our younger generations our own passions. Yeah, I know---blame the parents again. That's not where I'm going. I'm basically thinking too many of us do our jobs and stop there. Or we give up our passions because life takes over and there isn't enough time. Or some of us, like me, get to call their passion their job, which can be both good and bad. Good for my kids to see I've chosen something I love to do, but on those bad days, it's not always encouraging for them to see Mama has chosen her passion and that's why she's about ready to strangle you.
Deep within I believe we all have a passion. We have a drive that is satisfied by something and sometimes it will take awhile to figure out what that passion is. Yet, I want to be the type of person who can help my own children, both in and outside of the classroom, find their passions. I can't imagine my life without teaching kids...without music....without writing....without photography.....without animals.....without God. Those were my passions when I was younger and guess what? They still are. Now if I can only instill in my shadows the fact that pursuing and living with passion is a good thing, I will feel much more complete. And I might worry less about who is going to make sure I get my meds on time when I'm in the nursing home and the workers there aren't passionate about their jobs.......
Thursday, October 6, 2011
The Weirdest Day Ever.....May 11th, 2001
It was a day I will not forget until senility hits. My father died at 3 AM on May 11, 2001. I was there. But that's not what makes it the weirdest day ever. What makes it weird is the part that takes place after the moment he took his last breath.
We left the hospital five hours later (complications with Mom caused an ER visit right after we lost Dad) and drove home to Woonsocket, which is about a half hour drive from where Dad died. I remember vividly driving my car through the streets of Mitchell and looking at people in cars and on the sidewalk. They were normal. They were going on with their day, talking on phones, jamming to the music on their car stereos and laughing with their friends or family. It was surreal because my world had just received a major blow to it and I knew that I would never hear my dad's voice again nor fish with him nor talk to him face to face and these people didn't understand. They were living like nothing tragic had happened that day. I literally wanted to scream, "My dad just died! Don't you people care? Don't you understand that you are supposed to be sad and you're supposed to stop what you're doing and notice? He is dead!" Tears streamed down my cheeks as I drove the 30 miles home through the country of central SD.
It was this day that I believe I suddenly understood what it means when people say everyone is fighting a war within themselves daily. There was no logic to my wanting to scream---it was simply grief in its purest and rarest form. Those people weren't the issue. Death was the issue. My ache inside that I knew would never fully heal was the problem. And I definitely will always remember that day as the weirdest day ever because of this experience.
The reason this surfaced now is because a friend's mom died this morning. Young, like my dad. From cancer, like my dad. Surrounded by family, like my dad. And the only thing I could tell her was that today may be the weirdest day of your life...
We left the hospital five hours later (complications with Mom caused an ER visit right after we lost Dad) and drove home to Woonsocket, which is about a half hour drive from where Dad died. I remember vividly driving my car through the streets of Mitchell and looking at people in cars and on the sidewalk. They were normal. They were going on with their day, talking on phones, jamming to the music on their car stereos and laughing with their friends or family. It was surreal because my world had just received a major blow to it and I knew that I would never hear my dad's voice again nor fish with him nor talk to him face to face and these people didn't understand. They were living like nothing tragic had happened that day. I literally wanted to scream, "My dad just died! Don't you people care? Don't you understand that you are supposed to be sad and you're supposed to stop what you're doing and notice? He is dead!" Tears streamed down my cheeks as I drove the 30 miles home through the country of central SD.
It was this day that I believe I suddenly understood what it means when people say everyone is fighting a war within themselves daily. There was no logic to my wanting to scream---it was simply grief in its purest and rarest form. Those people weren't the issue. Death was the issue. My ache inside that I knew would never fully heal was the problem. And I definitely will always remember that day as the weirdest day ever because of this experience.
The reason this surfaced now is because a friend's mom died this morning. Young, like my dad. From cancer, like my dad. Surrounded by family, like my dad. And the only thing I could tell her was that today may be the weirdest day of your life...
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