Mayflower, Pinta, and Santa Maria?

So, Thanksgiving is Thursday, and Christmas is just around the corner. I am beyond excited, let's just get that out in the open right now. Thanksgiving I only like because I am a traditionalist. I rarely think of the Mayflower on Thanksgiving, in fact, if I am going to be honest I can never remember if the Mayflower goes with Thanksgiving, or if it was the Nina, Pinta, and Santa Maria. And quite frankly, it doesn't matter that much to me. They were all boats. I know that. I also know that a holiday where the main objective is to give thanks is all good. Turkey, eh, I could take it or leave it. The sentiment though, I think we need to pause and give thanks more often, so I am all about it.

It is easy for me to be thankful. I have a wonderful family, job, friends, and good health. I know what it is to love and be loved. I have woken to the pitter patter of little feet running down the hall, and have fallen asleep with the warmth of sweet baby breath on my cheek. I have danced in the kitchen with my husband, to a soundtrack in my own mind, while waiting for the bacon and eggs to cook. I have had loss, but I have not had the kind of earth shattering, life altering loss that crushes me under the weight of it.

So many people don't find it quite so easy to give thanks. They struggle with health issues, with brokenness, and they live with a hole in their heart etched from unspeakable loss. Just thinking about it breaks my heart. The thing is, that they inspire me because even those people in my life living in utter despair find things to be grateful for. It's like they know that a choice has been set before them, and they choose gratitude. Grateful people aren't necessarily happy. Some of the most grateful people I know cry all the time, but I haven't seen a more beautiful thing than when someone with every reason to be bitter chooses to give thanks. It is humbling for me to see, and I hope a reminder for those of us who don't have to dig quite as deep to find things to show gratitude for, to show it all the more. And may those of us who "have" this holiday season, be looking to help others have a little too.

How do you force gratitude if you don't really "feel it"? I don't know. I think maybe gratitude is just seeing what you are instead of what you aren't. It's seeing what you have instead of what you don't have, and it's seeing how far you have come, and not how far you have left to go. It's focusing on whatever beautiful thing you had, rather than on the pain of losing it. I think, at its most basic level, being grateful means you don't feel entitled to anything. When no one owes you anything, or you don't see yourself as a "good person" who "deserves better", then everything is more than you could have asked for. Maybe gratitude is just the fruit of humility. Live humbly, and gratitude will abound.

Happy Thanksgiving, everyone. May you be surprised by how many blessings you find yourselves surrounded by. Most importantly, may you spend a few minutes looking around to see them.

:)

Oh, and the boats are important, so here you go. Thanks Google...
The Mayflower was the ship that brought the Puritans (pilgrims) to the new world where they could escape the tyranny of the King of England (James 1) and the Anglican Church. (The church established by Henry the Eighth as the official Church of England (Angle-land) when he broke ties with the pope and started his own church). The Plymouth colony was begun in 1621 by these Pilgrims.

Columbus, 129 years earlier, had sailed in search of a better trade route to the orient. He proposed, properly, that one might sail around the world. He failed, however, when he discovered that the Americas got in the way of that route. His ships were the Pinta, Nina, and Santa Maria.

Super Me...It Was a Nice Thought

Yesterday morning, I woke up on top of the world. Mind you, it was at 6:30 in the morning, when my 8 year old walked up to my bed side to ask me if she could play on the computer, but even so, it was a good day. The first official day of my Thanksgiving break was upon me. I had 8 whole days ahead of me to be home, and be "Super Me" -the best mom,wife,and friend that I can ever be. No excuses. No work to do, or rush of to, or come home late from. Just all of the good parts of me to dedicate to all of the people that I love, with no excuses. To top it all off, I woke up to rain! Bonus! It wasn't the typical Florida rain, that you can see move in like a wall of black clouds against an otherwise bright sky, drops buckets on us for a moment, and leaves at quickly as it came. Rather, it was a drizzly, enduring, rain that fell from an entirely grey sky, and that I could tell with just a glance was going to be happy to stay with us all day. I love this kind of rain. It is a call to comfy clothes, coffee, and quiet moments. And, since it was the first day of Thanksgiving break, I decided making hand stamped Thanksgiving cards with the kids would be fun for everyone!

I opened my cabinets that contain my stamps and card making supplies, and called Taryn to my bedroom to help me carry the armloads of colorful ink pads, cute scissors, patterned papers, and raffia (one can never have too much raffia) to the kitchen. She came after I called three times. Super Me didn't let that ruin my mood. After all, we were about to have mommy-kid perfection. We had about three trips to make, but after the first trip, Taryn never came back. Trevor had been getting dressed, and then joined me to help carry some more stuff. Then Taryn ran back to me in the bedroom, my arms full again with supplies and announced, "I'm done. Come see my card." Thoughts were flying through my mind. She's done? We haven't even brought all the stuff out there yet. I haven't even cut the card stock into card-sized pieces, how is she done? Super Me said, "OK honey, let me put all of this stuff down THAT I DIDN'T EVEN SET UP FOR US YET, and then you can show me." She showed me her card. It was cute, but had been finished in a rush. Oh well, we could make more. Then she said, "Oh, and you need to fix these stamp pads."

It was a simple statement of fact, and said so airily that she may as well have said, "Oh, and I want marshmallows for dessert". It caught me off guard though, and I felt an anxiousness in my chest that is all too familiar. Super Me slowly gave way to Plain Old Me, and I could feel it coming on. It started off slowly, "Taryn? Why didn't you wait for me to help you open the stamp pads? These are tricky ones, and I expected to help you." The words were calm, but there was a tension in my voice. She just shrugged in reply. As I had been talking, I had been trying to fix the ink pads. I held the red color in my hands. It was in two separate pieces. These particular ones are meant only to slide open and closed and never to actually be separated at all, and I tried to force them back together. I was getting ink all over my hands, and all over the parts of the ink pads that are not supposed to be inky. I was also getting revved up. "I just don't understand why you couldn't wait." I said again, louder. Then, in an instant, my mouth had taken over my brain and was running the show. "You always do this. You always have to be the first one to do everything, and make sure you get the first choice of the colors, and you never wait. It's all about rushing and being first AND IT'S SELFISH. Now instead of you and Trevor having a fun morning of Mommy-Kid time you are getting to watch me GET ANGRY AT INK PADS! HOW"S THAT WORKING FOR US ALL?"

The kids were quiet. Trevor announced that he felt bad for Mommy, and Taryn quietly said she was sorry. I just walked out of the room, too late, for a mommy time out. I knew I was making a big deal about nothing. I knew I said things that would hurt my little girl's heart, and that those stupid ink pads had been sitting there in the cabinet in my room for a year, and that even if they were broken it wasn't important. I was disappointed in myself, and in Taryn. She really does tend to rush, and put herself first, and break things. Mostly, I was disappointed in Super Me. I had big plans for a perfect day because every other day I have so much going on that I have reasons to justify impatience, and imperfection in my parenting. On this perfect, lazy, rainy, peaceful day that I had set aside just for me and my angels, there was no excuse. And even with no excuses, I couldn't be perfect. Not even for, like, 5 minutes. Super Me, exit stage left.

I came back out to the kitchen where Trev was waiting quietly at the table. Taryn had moved to the couch and was reading a book. I called to Taryn to come join us, but she said she was afraid she would break something else. My heart sank, and so I went to my little girl, and picked her up, and told her that no one is perfect. That even when she is trying her best, she will make mistakes and she will break things, and that sometimes when that happens I will get mad because I'm not perfect either. I told her that even when I'm upset, and even though things might get broken, that I still want her to try again, and I still want her around. Every time. For forever. And she told me I hurt her feelings, and I told her that I was wrong, and so sorry. She told me I made her feel bad, and I told her that was the point. We both laughed at that. It was the point. I got too upset, and too loud about it. I should have been able to help her to feel badly about her behavior without being ugly to her, but I did want her to feel badly about what she did. I was wrong to yell, but she was wrong to be impatient and rush. She understood, and kissed my cheek. Then I kissed her little nose where it wrinkles when she laughs, and we made a big mess of that kitchen. We made pretty cards, and ugly ones, and plain old me with all of my imperfections made perfect memories with my family...covered in ink, and giggling, and being together.

And we were on top of the world.

Teaching is Easy

Teaching is easy. I wanted to say it just to see what it sounds like, since I have never actually said those words ever before in my life. Well, probably I said them when I was a snotty, know-it-all, 17 year old talking to my friends about our teachers. Never, though, since I have been a teacher,have I uttered those words. Here's the ironic thing. In it's most basic form, teaching IS easy. It is passing on something I know to smaller people who don't know it. I have been "teaching" all of my life. Whether it was as captain of a sports team, or partnered with someone in study group. I always found myself naturally comfortable in a role where I was breaking down information for other people to try to learn. So, why then is the occupation of teaching so hard?

I know what you are thinking. "Oh no. Here we go. More about how hard teachers work." You don't want to hear it. After all, we already have a whole week dedicated to appreciating our occupation. You have countless friends who are teachers, and you read TIME magazine. You know why teaching is hard. Long hours, not enough pay, parents with unreasonable expectations, limited support at home, too many state assessments, Common Core...and on and on. Here's the interesting thing though; you've got it all wrong. It's true, those things (and a whole bunch more) make teaching very difficult. However, those state tests, and parents who want me to parent for them are really not the hardest part of teaching. The hardest part of teaching, for me, is making the tough decisions.

When I talk about the tough decisions, I do not mean whether to take off 1 or 2 points for sentence structure. That's simple stuff. The decisions I'm talking about are much, much harder. Like, do I write a note in a student's agenda for bad behavior when I suspect that punishment at home for a bad note is extreme? What do I do for the student who practically can't see because he needs glasses, and no matter how many times I try to let his mom know, I can't get through to her? The hardest part is trying to decide whether or not to call The Department of Children and Families. As mandated reporters, teachers have a legal obligation to call DCF if we suspect abuse or neglect of any kind. That's a tough call to make. We don't want to put families through an investigation unnecessarily, and we don't know for sure that what we suspect is actually abuse. Plus, if a child is being neglected, is it better for them to live at home with their siblings and neglectful parents than it is for them to be taken away and put into a state system? Will the parents pull their kid from my class, angry that DCF contacted them? If so, is it because that child really IS in danger and they have something to hide? Tough decisions. When the student looks at me, with hungry eyes, and tells me he didn't eat since his free lunch at school yesterday because the only food his mom could buy at the store was formula for the baby, what do I do?

My students think I have all the answers. After all, what I can't answer off the top of my head I can find in a Teacher's Edition or answer key of some sort. What they don't know is that the answer keys only give answers to the easy questions. The agonizing decisions that make me lose sleep, and soak my pillow with tears don't come with a solution manual. I'll tell you what though...if someone could come up with one of those, teaching really might turn out to be not so hard after all.

:)

You cannot teach a man anything, you can only help him find it within himself.”
― Galileo Galilei