“You get what you get and you don’t throw a fit!”.  My littles at school recite this when we’re passing things out.  Stole it from some wonderful kindergarten teacher at some point in my career.  Anyway, it’s always so funny when I pass out different colored scarves to my Kindergartners.  While I’m not a proponent of colors being “girl” colors or “boy” colors, I generally try not to give those perceived as “girl” colors to boys, just because some of the other boys may not be as enlightened as I and might make fun of their friends.  So, today, I’m passing out scarves arbitrarily and the first little girl says “that’s my favorite color!”  And then the next one says “that’s MY favorite color”.  And so it goes, each kid miraculously given their favorite color scarf.  Yes, I’m that good.

Now we all know this isn’t true, but the excitement is contagious and when one kid does it, they all do it.  Even something as simple as rhythm sticks.  Only two colors there but somehow I mange to give each child their favorite color.  Now of course, getting excited about the color of materials being passed out isn’t the only thing they copy from each other.  I don’t think I even need to talk about the fact that when one child needs to blow their nose, all of a sudden, they all do.  Or get a drink of water.  Or go to the bathroom.

Copying behavior is what little kids do and one of the reasons I love writing about them is that it’s usually so innocently positive.  Like last week, we finished playing a rhythm game and one of my little girls looked at me and said “I love school!”.  To which every other kid responded “I love school too!”.  What a wonderfully positive way to think and feel about a place of learning!  So, what happens to these same kids by the time they reach 5th grade?  Just asking.

For the most part, the way they treat each other is so beautifully innocent as well.  All kids holding hands, skipping together, giving each other hugs.  There are a few of those students who struggle with how to treat others, but for the most part kids are pretty sensitive and caring.  Again, as time goes on, things change, and unfortunately not for the better.  If they are copying the positive from each other at the beginning of their school years, where are they copying the negative from?

I’ve heard it takes two positives to negate a negative, as in a negative person.  So if I have a roomful of positive kids, one or two negative kids are not going to be an issue really.  But as kids get older, it seems the negative starts to take over.  Lack of patience, jealousy, tattling, unkind words, disrespect for each other and after a while, they start to feed off of each other.  The result is often one teacher trying to be the one positive figure in room, but eventually, the negativity will beat them too.

I wish I had an answer as to why this happens.  Why is it that kids are so sweet to special needs classmates in elementary school and then they ignore them in middle school?  Why are little kids so quick to give a hug to a friend and after a few years, it’s not cool anymore?  Is it from parents?  Older siblings?  Things they watch?  Is it something we’re doing as teachers that turn them into negative little beings who dislike school and develop cliques as early as 2nd grade?  All I know is that the longer I teach, the earlier it seems I see the negativity and the meanness and the lack of caring and respect for one another begin.  The wonderful innocence of “I love school!” goes away earlier than ever.

My personal theory is that as adults, and I’m talking about all of us, we allow kids to witness too much hatred and negativity at a younger and younger age.  The sheltering we used to provide to children is gone, and as little ones will copy what they see and hear, they begin to copy things they overhear adults say, and do what they see adults do.  And then I wonder why I hear some angry child say things like “I’m going to kill you” or “I hate you” and not think twice about it.  And I think about that bright bubbly Kindergartner who looked up at me and said  ” I love school” and wonder where that child has gone.  How do we keep children more positive in such a negative world?  I don’t have all the answers, but I’m concerned that if we don’t find a way, our world will become more negative than it already is and that’s a scary thought.  Let’s work to keep our children innocent and positive for just a while longer and maybe they will be the ones to make the world a better place where everyone gets their favorite color.

 

 

The line of first graders filed into class this afternoon, walking to their appointed dot in the circle on the floor.  As the the end of the line approached, one little boy stopped and looked up at me.  “Mrs. Bush? Can I have a hug?”.  “Are you needing hugs?” I asked him?  “Yes”.  And he snuggled.  I don’t know if he had had a bad day or what, but he needed a hug today.

With the little research I’ve done, I’ve learned that hugging apparently increases levels of oxytocin which benefits stress levels, heart health among other things.  Even a ten second hug per day may be enough to fight infections, boost your immune system, ease depression and lessen fatigue.  According to articles I’ve read, 8 hugs are required for “maintenance” and 12 hugs per day required for emotional growth.  As teachers, we have students with us for 7 1/2 – 8 hours per day.  Some of these kids are at school and before/after school daycare from 7:30 a.m. to 5:30 p.m.  If the child is sleeping 8-9 hours per night, that doesn’t leave much time event to be with parents to have quality hugging/snuggling time.  I see about  125 kids per day and while I hug a lot of them, I certainly don’t hug them all.

Unfortunately, teachers are discouraged from giving hugs because there have been adults who have taken advantage of children in horrible ways.  But that doesn’t take away the fact that children and yes, everyone needs hugs during the day from people they trust.  Like teachers.  While I rarely hug kids without them initiating, I have given unsolicited hugs when I can see a child who is scared or hurt. Sue me.

The longer I teach, the more I see children who are stressed out.  While we know they are young children, in classrooms we expect them to behave and to learn in a way that is older than they really are.  I have kids who come to me and tell me they miss their moms and ask for a hug.  They’re five.  Of course I give them a hug.  But there are other kids who just don’t feel right and instinctively feel like they need an adult to give them a hug.  Maybe they’ve had a bad day.  Maybe they lost a friend or failed a test.  I’ve had kids stop me to tell me that they’re sad because a grandparent died and that they need a hug.  Those are the kids who feel comfortable enough to ask. How about all of those other kids who do not?

I notice the difference in myself when I don’t get my quota of hugs.  I begin to isolate and become depressed.  Little things set me off.  And I’ve begun asking my family if they’ve had enough hugs lately.  Especially my son with aspergers.  For him, and some of my kids at school, they may want hugs  but they don’t know how to ask for them or feel uncomfortable with them.  And yet, it’s just as important that they get their quota as anyone else.

Isn’t it sad that children need to even ask for hugs?  What has become of a culture when we’re all too busy doing our everyday business that we don’t make time to hug children and family members?  I’m just as guilty.  I can go for a couple of days and realize I have not offered a hug to anyone in my own family because I’ve just been too busy and didn’t think about it.  And I don’t want to lump everyone into this category of non-huggers.  I know of wonderful families who take quality time with their children.  But what I’m seeing seems to be a trend that concerns me.  More and more children stressed.  More and more children angry.  More and more children distant.  And maybe all it takes to fix some of this is an occasional hug.

I thought I had heard it all, but this article was, well, let’s say eye opening.  And not in a good sense.  Seems one theory out there as to why the election came out the way it did is because there are apparently a lot of women who vote the way their husbands tell them to.  It may not be an out and out “hey you have to vote like this” kind of thing, but more of a “you know, if so and so wins the race this will happen to our family”.  This assumes of course that the majority of married women have no brains of their own.  And then, the author states that smart women are less likely to get married.  I might just have a little to say about this.

While I don’t claim to be a genius by any means,  I will tell you that that I have my own mind when it comes to things like this.  And most of the highly intelligent married women I know are the same way.   While we marry someone for a variety of reasons, likes and dislikes, most of us don’t marry someone because they’re going to tell us what to do. The smart women I know marry someone because they challenge us or are great to bounce ideas off of.  I am ultimately responsible for the choices I make but like any good relationship, it’s great to have that person you can brainstorm and debate with.

Smart people in general do not make important decisions in a vacuum and anyone who tells you they do is not very smart to begin with.  It’s important to see as many sides to a situation as possible and that’s not possible unless you talk to people with differing points of view and opinions.  After hearing and thinking about as many sides as possible, then it’s up to me to decide for myself.  And once I’m in that voting booth, nobody has to know but me.

But why even link intelligence to marriage?  Sure I can see if a woman is very career oriented and chooses to focus all her energies in that direction and not get married, good for her.  That has nothing to do with intelligence.  That’s a lifestyle choice.  Like any man could make.  While I know we have a long way to go in terms of equality it’s a little disconcerting to hear a woman say smart women are less likely to get married.  What ever happened to feminism where we support women, no matter their choices?  Why can’t I be smart AND married?

Maybe I can say this because I’m married to a person who lets me know how proud he is of me, my intelligence, and my hard work.  A person who stands beside me when I need it.  A man who has stepped in when I’ve asked him to but who will back off when I want to handle something myself.  A person who challenges the the way I think and allows me to challenge him.  And in the process, I think we’ve both become better people.  You see, a smart woman, IF she chooses to marry, chooses a person who will make her better and who she can make better as well.  That’s what relationships should be, whether you’re married or not.

I’m not naive enough to think there aren’t men out there who dominate their wives, but there’s nothing there that says these women aren’t smart.  I’m concerned that those of us with advanced degrees or certain privileges consider ourselves too high up on the totem pole to really listen as to why these women voted the way they did.  Can we all take a moment to see things from another person’s point of view?  Or do we just assume that just because they didn’t vote like us that they’re stupid or dominated by the men in their lives?  How do they perceive the world and how can we begin dialogue to begin to see things from their perspective?  After all, perception is reality, right?  Has nothing to do with intelligence.  It has to do with life experiences and circumstances, upbringing and background.

You may notice that I don’t say anyone is right or wrong here, other than smart women are less likely to get married.  I do have a problem with that, but that’s not the point here. It’s because this smart woman is trying to listen, trying to learn something so that things can be improved.  Somewhere I read that we should be still and listen.  Maybe then we can learn something from someone smarter than we are.

 

 

I’m a singer.  I sing for pleasure, I sing in my head, I sing for work.  I’m one of those crazy people who majored in music education with an emphasis in vocal music.  I have played clarinet and saxophone, but I’ve sung for as long as I can remember.  I made up songs, I made up harmonies (some of them worked, some of them, not so much), I imitated singing styles, everything from Barbra Streisand to Karen Carpenter to instrumental sounds.  It’s something I do without thinking, as witnessed by my family when they tell me I’m humming something and don’t realize it.

Am I a great singer?  I’m okay. As a vocal major, I once read in my file that my audition was mediocre.  I am happy to say that I improved a lot after that, thanks to a great teacher. I never claimed to be a VOCALIST, much less one who specialized in art songs and opera.  But singing is a way that I can reach kids and get them excited about music and they think I’m the best music teacher/singer EVER.

All this to say that when I lose my voice or when I have some nose/throat issues, it feels like my arm has been cut off.  The last several days, I don’t know if it’s allergies or if I’ve already caught something else from the kids but I’ve gone from a soprano to a bass.  Not that there’s anything wrong with basses.  My husband is a bass/baritone.  It just sounds a little weird coming out of this face.  I can’t begin to sing in my usual range and any time I try it cracks or doesn’t sound at all.  Something I take for granted on a daily basis has been taken away.  You might say it’s only singing, but it’s something I rely on for my livelihood and sometimes my sanity.  It’s a way I identify as me.

Today was Constitution Day at school and how did we celebrate?  By singing the National Anthem and the Preamble from School House Rock of course.  I started them and left the rest up to the kids.  And they did fine.  Sometimes I think this happens so that I HAVE to stop singing and start listening more, more like a conversation than a lecture.  But I felt like I wasn’t doing my job.  Even though the kids did great, I couldn’t join them and it just felt wrong.

I suppose it’s the same with an athlete who gets injured, a professional speaker who loses their voice, a visual artist who has difficulty seeing, a band director who loses their hearing.  We lose a part of who we are.  The danger comes in when that’s ALL we identify ourselves as.  When it’s something that’s been a part of you physically, spiritually and emotionally for a long as you can remember, it’s easy to do that.

So, maybe it’s times like this that I can reflect on who I am besides just a singer.  Can I still be a good educator without it?  That would be a challenge as I tend to depend on it with my kids.  Do I have something else in my bag of tricks that I could pull out if I couldn’t sing anymore, something that also identifies me as me?  With the “R” word (retirement) looming in the maybe not so distant future, what else do I identify with that I could do?

In the meantime, it’s water with lemon, or a little blackberry brandy as one of my friends suggests and I’ll work to get the range back to the more familiar soprano.  Although I could maybe get used to this Lauren Bacall sound.  Maybe I could be a lounge singer.  My new life as a bass.

 

 

 

 

My husband and I have a lot of things in common, but the one area that we do not see the same way is the need for rearranging.  Right now, I’m contemplating taking everything off the walls in my living room and dining room, and moving all of the furniture around and rehanging everything.  I need things to change.  This would be an amazing amount of work, work I don’t have time for, but I’m frustrated with how things are now.  Not that they’re bad, it’s just that they’ve become – well – boring.

Doug, on the other hand, could keep things the same for decades.  He grew up in a household where the furniture arrangement is still basically the same as it was when he was a kid.  He says there’s something comforting in having things the same. You always know where things are. My argument would be that you forget where you put things if you don’t get them out and rearrange them once in a while.  My parents were the same though.  Once something was in its place, it stayed there.  In my room, however, I was frequently rearranging because when you do that, everything feels new again.  You see things through fresh eyes.  Art work looks different over different pieces of furniture. The balance between light and heavy furniture changes.  I’m think I’m pretty good at looking at a room and seeing the possibilities and there’s satisfaction for me when everything has been moved that I can’t quite explain.

The same thing can be said of my drive to work.  I hate going the same way and doing the same thing every day.  I have a couple of options and I switch them out, depending on my mood.  I think it gives me choices when lately my life feels as though I have very few choices.  Doug on the other hand finds the fastest, most direct way to get somewhere and does that every day.  But then, he’s always looking for the shortest line at the grocery store too.  It’s why I relinquish the cart to him when we get to the registers.  I somehow never find the perfect line to stand in!

This attitude extends to my lesson planning.  We all know those teachers who literally teach the same thing for 20 years.  Always in the same order, taught the same way with the same materials.  I’m pretty sure that would kill me.  I adjust and tweak things every year.  I may use a lot of the same material, but I may pair it up with something different, or change how or when I deliver the material.  I think it keeps my mind fresh to where I’m not going on automatic.  My room arrangement at school changes every year as well.  Sure, some things have to be in a certain place, but I’m always looking for another way to improve traffic or access to materials.  If I settle for the way things are, how will I know if there is something better out there?  If it doesn’t work, I can always go back, right?

If only I could just apply this attitude to my schedule or just my life in general.  I tend to get in ruts and then get really frustrated.  But, as I eluded to earlier, I don’t feel like I’m given much choice.  I would love to rearrange my career, but it doesn’t just affect me, it affects my family.  I feel as though I’m at the mercy of others, for instance, having to attend meetings a lot, some of which can be a complete waste of my time because it either doesn’t pertain to what I do or it’s something I already know.  Then again, some of these meetings and conversations are so stimulating that I would rather attend them than teach.  Chances are it’s because something in the meeting causes me to think of rearranging something or rearranging my way of thinking.

In the last few years, some great opportunities have happened my way that have begun rearranging my life some.  It sometimes feels like this great tease because I can almost imagine my everyday lifestyle to be this exciting, but for right now, I’ll have to settle for every once in a while.  These opportunities have allowed me to travel to new and exciting places to work with some of the most amazing people I’ve ever met.  I get the opportunity soon to begin giving presentations at different state conferences and my hope would be that I would begin to do that kind of thing more often.  I still feel very passionate about music education for kids, but I feel the need to rearrange things in such a way that instead of teaching kids, I would rather teach and inspire adults.  Knowing how I feel when things get in a rut, I would love to be able to help others think differently and rearrange things for themselves.

Again, I refer to my favorite bible verse.  ^“For I know the plans I have for you,” declares the Lord, “plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future”.  Maybe I need to be more patient as I wait for Him to do a little more rearranging in my life.  So in the meantime, look out living room, here I come.

 

 

 

Wednesday morning.  Over the hump day and wow, did it feel like I was having to climb over a large hump to get out of bed this morning.  And no, I don’t mean Doug : ) Not as bad as yesterday, but I was late enough that I HAD to stop and grab a couple of donuts on the way to school.  Again.  And not just any donuts, but donuts with sprinkles, one with white icing and one with chocolate.  Because one can never have enough sprinkles in their lives.  I go often enough that the manager and person waiting the counter know me.  I first met the woman behind the counter a little over a year ago.  I assumed by her name and accent that she was middle eastern and the manager told me that in her home country she had been a teacher, which of course gave us something in common.

Our conversations in the morning were short, but we usually had a few minutes to talk about some aspect of education.  She was very interested in finding a way to work within our school district but was having difficulty.  I gave her some names and information to help but nothing seemed to be happening.  Then the election happened.  And this woman, an immigrant to our country began to be harassed by customers who complained about not being able to understand her or making fun of her accent or telling her to “go home”.  I could tell it hurt her feelings, but her manager was very kind and made sure she felt safe.  I could tell when she felt stressed by the morning rush and did my best to make her feel at ease when I came in.

But this morning, there was something different.  Instead of the usual pleasantries, she had an excited smile on her face. This woman walked around the corner to stand and talk to me in front of the counter today. She explained to me that in her home country of Syria, she had taught for over 20 years, had been an administrator for three years and worked for the ministry of education for eight years.  She had taught English to hundreds of Syrian teachers and was certified as an official interpreter, and here she was, in America, working behind the counter of a fast food restaurant.  But now, she was going to have an interview, hopefully to work with ELL students and families as an interpreter and perhaps find out what she could do to teach in our school system.  You could tell that just the dream of being in education again was so important to her and I was so excited for her.  I offered to help in any way I could and would be looking forward to hearing what would happen next.

“For I know the plans I have for you declares the Lord, plans to proper you and not to harm you.  Plans to give you hope and a future”

This woman was living on that hope and has been dreaming of a new start in a new country.  What a way to start my morning, right?  And the idea that this highly educated, highly qualified woman had to work in a thankless job for this long, all the while dreaming of a new opportunity in America was both sad and inspiring.  Sometimes I forget how fortunate I am.

After a long day, I finally had my plan time at the very end.  As I was decompressing, our new strings teacher knocked on my door and walked in.  This young man just started as a full time, first year teacher early last week and is commuting from Omaha until he gets into his first apartment next weekend.  As the school year began and there was no job in sight, he had decided that he would just continue teaching privately and perhaps pick up a restaurant job to make ends meet.  Then the call came and all at once he was teaching beginning strings at four different schools.  And he’s excited.  And he’s new and full of questions.

I could tell he looked a bit nervous coming into my room, but he told me about a student he had some difficulty with today and asked for advice, seeing as I’m all full of sage and wisdom.  Well, maybe not, but I do have the advantage of longevity and with that comes a lot of trail and error and from that you can learn a lot of what not to do.  So I gave him some suggestions, after which he thanked me.  Then he said he would probably pick my brain some more this year if that was okay.  After so many people have helped me over the years, paying it forward is the least I can do to help make his dream of being a teacher a reality.

Which then leads me to my students today and imagination.  From creating original lyrics for a melody to learning new games, my kids were using their imaginations.  My favorite was a beautiful little Kindergarten student, sitting in the circle playing a listening game.  As I sat beside her, she looked at me and said “Mrs. Bush!  You’re the director and we’re your show! And we can pretend that there are moms and dads sitting on the risers watching our show!  And you could be my mom and clap for the show!”  And then she played the game a little longer before she turned to me and said “Mrs. Bush!  This is best show EVER!”.  All bright eyed and excited, my hope for her and all my kids is that all of that imagination will one day lead them to dream great dreams for themselves and others.  And it reminds me that with a little work, hope and imagination, I can still keep dreaming for myself as well.

It happens every once in a while and not nearly as often as it used to, but today I’m in a hole.  It started by literally not wanting to get out of bed.  I think I hit the snooze several times and ended up getting up 45 minutes after the original alarm.  I finally had to do the pep talk  – “you’re an adult, you have to go to work, move your butt”.  Good thing I have a routine and a wardrobe I can just throw on.  Then it was getting lunch in the lunchbag, running through drive-thru for breakfast and arriving to school 10 minutes early.  Gave me plenty of time to throw down breakfast at my desk.  I spent the rest of the day immersed in my schedule, doing my job, smiling and participating in the daily routines.  Then I came home and sat.

I wish I had a way to describe “the hole” better, but for me it’s a period of time, sometimes a day, sometimes much longerl, where I’m just beyond tired, overwhelmed, depressed, and unmotivated, and it’s really hard to crawl out of. I don’t usually have any one reason that pushes me into the hole, but I tend to believe it’s a series of events.  At some point, there’s something that tips me over the edge and into the hole.  If I could anticipate it I would, but it just seems to trip me up every time.  I push and push and push and then whoops – there I go.

So, why am I writing about this?  Because when you’re in the hole, the hole is all you can see, so, there it is.  The worst part of the hole is that I feel this way and when I try to analyze it, all I can do is chastise myself.  I have this wonderful life, with a wonderful family, a great secure job with great people to work with, I have all my daily needs taken care of.  So, obviously I’m just spoiled and feeling sorry for myself.  Then I eat more than I should, and at some point pull myself out of the hole again, because well, I’m just being silly here.  After all, there are people suffering from effects of the hurricanes and fires around the country, there are people without work, homes – you get the idea.  I feel guilty feeling this way, so I suck it up and we try again.  Until I fall into the next hole.

So, earlier this year I was diagnosed with clinical depression.  I had felt this way – melancholy – most of my life.  I know my mother did too, but she refused to see anyone about it.  I made the decision this year to see someone.  After taking medication for a few weeks, the doctor asked me an interesting question – “do you feel normal?”.  What does normal feel like?  I had always, for as long as I could remember felt like I was forever falling into holes, so for me, that was the norm.  With the medication, I felt “different” for sure and not so anxious and depressed and it has worked well for a while now.  Until today.

Maybe I’m bummed because I thought I had found the miracle drug, the one that would make me feel good all the time.  This leads to so many questions for me.  Do I need a larger dose?  Have I mentioned I hate taking meds?  Is it normal for people to fall in the hole once in a while?  How often is once in a while?  My doctor recommended a therapist to talk to, but then that’s really admitting I need help.  Why can’t I just deal with stuff?

I don’t normally like to write about stuff like this because it feels too vulnerable and being vulnerable is scary.  I know there are a lot of people out there who feel like me and maybe they’re hiding too because they don’t want people to think they’re weak or that there’s something “wrong” with them.  I was inspired by an old friend who seems to have gone through his share of adversity in his life and he is bravely trying to share with others.  Maybe it’s a form of therapy, a way of taking away whatever “shame” someone else attaches to these feelings.  Because sometimes conditions like depression are so intangible and not something you can readily see, it’s easy to believe they’re just not real.  And I’m here to tell you they are.

So, while I always hope that my friends find my blog interesting, today I’m writing for me.  I’m writing in the hopes that it will release some of whatever this is today and allow me to jump out of the hole.  Because life is too short for me to spend it sitting on the couch.

 

 

 

“Today is a special day” one of my 2nd grade boys shared today.  “And what day would that be?”, I asked.  “It’s the day the airplanes flew into the two tall buildings and people died”.  The other little faces in the room looked concerned and hands shot in the air.  I immediately felt put on the spot.  This is something parents should talk about with their kids, not me.  They’re the ones who know how much they can handle and they’re only 7 or 8 years old for goodness sake.  So, I started by saying this would be a great thing to talk to mom and dad about when they got home today.  But that was not enough and I could see by their faces that they were becoming scared, so I decided to answer questions to the best of my ability.  After all, I’m a teacher, right?  I was older when it happened and their parents, for the most part, were teenagers.  Like my sons were when it happened.

I remember my own kids on that horrendous day.  It changed how they looked at the world.  And now, those same aged kids are parents to the students in my class.  When I was young, I think parents would try to do everything they could to shield kids from things like this and reassure them that everything was going to be okay, that grownups were in charge and would take care of them. But these parents lived through it as kids, and maybe because of that they believe their kids shouldn’t be shielded from some of the awful truths out there.  I don’t know.  But from what I could tell, my students knew just enough to be scared.

Questions like, how did the bad guys get on the plane?  How many were there?  What were their names?  How did they take over the plane?  Can bad guys still do that?  Did children die on the planes?  I answered as honestly and briefly as I could, but there was still that part of me that wanted to reassure them that adults were taking care of this the best they could.  I explained that there were a lot of rules now on airplanes to make them safer, that they checked everyone’s bags to make sure there wasn’t anything dangerous in them.  That cockpit doors are now locked so bad guys can’t get in like they did before.  This seemed to reassure them a bit but then more questions.

Did people die in the buildings?  Was it a lot of people? And again, did children die?  What was I going to say?  Yes probably on the planes, some children died.  Why would someone do that?  How do you answer that one?  It’s still beyond my scope of thinking how human beings could do this to one another.  And yet everyday, I read about some atrocities inflicted on human beings by other human beings.  How do you shield kids from this?

I think as adults we need to be more aware of what kids are allowed to see but also be aware that when they do see or hear about something that might concern them that we address it directly but only in as much detail as they ask about.  In kid language.  In one of my other blogs I asked the question, has technology fooled us into thinking kids are more mature than they used to be?  I believe it has, with all my heart as well as my head.  The same things that have scared kids for generations still scare kids.  The fear of being hurt, being left alone, of losing their parents or families.  And they have no concept of time.  They were imagining this just happened.  And when I told them it happened 16 years ago, one of the remarked, “oh, that was a LONG time ago!”.

I remember as a kid, probably 4 or 5, seeing a story on the news about a huge fire somewhere that was burning up an entire town.  I couldn’t even begin to tell you where this was, but my fear was that it was MY town that was burning and it was going to get us.  It didn’t even occur to my parents that I had picked this up and I had nightmares for days.  Finally my parents figured it out and explained to me that it was a town really far away and it wasn’t going to get to us.  Kids have not changed.  As adults, we need to be vigilant for the sake of our kids.  The news is 24/7 now and with screens everywhere, kids are bound to pick up things they are not mature enough to handle.  And we need to be there to make sure they understand it’s our job to keep them safe from those ugly, sometimes scary things going on.

After about 10 minutes of this conversation, we finally got back to music class and I watched them become kids again for awhile, laughing and playing with each other.  This is the way children were meant to be, playful and carefree.  They have plenty of time to be adults to worry about the craziness in the world, but such a very short time to just be kids.  I pray that this generation of children learns to live with each other in such a way that this type of event will become a thing of the past and that their children will enjoy their childhood without being scared.

 

 

 

 

There’s something about being in a car that must make people think nobody can see what they’re doing.  Which leads to this story which is almost too weird, even for me.  I’m sitting in my car at a red light and a couple in a little white truck stops behind me.  The man behind the wheel, who I perceive to be in his mid to late twenties is driving with his wife or girlfriend sitting on the passenger side.  He is very diligently picking his nose.  While that in itself is not unusual – you see people do that all the time in their car – what he does next is.  Again, obviously thinking that nobody can see him,  I see him try to wipe it on the significant other.  Seriously.  He obviously thinks it is funny, she obviously does not.  The light changes and as we start to go forward, I glance in the rear view mirror and she is still letting him have it, which continues as we go around the corner, and yet still as they pass me.  In the right lane.  Which is a big deal to me if you read my last blog.

Anyway, what kind of behavior is that for a grown man?  You know, ever since scientists came out and said that men develop slower than women and don’t mature until about 25, it seems it’s given some men permission to continue behaving like middle schoolers until then.  Or later. Now, before some of you start calling me a man hater, I should let you know that I’m married to a wonderful gentleman (in every sense of the word) and raised three great boys and have many wonderful male friends.  But for whatever reason, when a group of men are together (which sometimes includes my boys), and they think they can get away with it, they will revel in doing something socially unacceptable just like all the other “good old boys”.  Like burping REALLY loudly at the table after having a beer or purposefully allowing flatulence to happen outside of the bathroom in public.  Or, like I saw last weekend, getting really drunk in public before a football game and seeing how loud and obnoxious they can get.  With their children sitting at the table with them. Or is this behavior now acceptable?

So where are the women in these scenarios?  Sometimes sitting with them.  Sometimes participating, sometimes tolerating the behavior as though they don’t have a choice.  And like the loud men I heard last weekend, what are they teaching their boys?  I’m not saying we can’t have fun anymore, but when did fun involve bad behavior, bad language and disregard for other people?  And why aren’t more women helping to put a stop to this?

Don’t get me wrong, I know it’s hard to fight the “good old boys club”.  Saying something can get a person ridiculed, embarrassed, or harassed.  But look what not saying anything has done.  Regardless of your political leanings, and I’m NOT going there, I’m just saying, look at the rude and crude behavior of men in charge right now.  People can see it, hear it and experience it and yet we continue to tolerate it.  And these men BRAG about it. Just like the woman in the truck, sure she was giving it to him then, but I can’t believe this was the first time he tried something like that.  Why was she still putting up with him?  As women, have we just accepted that “boys will be boys”?

For some reason, this behavior makes some women think this gives them permission to behave in the same way.  If you want to be a part of the good boys club, you must behave like one of the good old boys. And, a lot of us can if we feel the need, or if for nothing else, shock value. But behaving in an inappropriate way just to be included condones that behavior.  And if one behavior is okay, then maybe we can take it up a notch and THAT will be okay as well.

I have to admit that I too am guilty of tolerating certain behaviors because they’re men or boys.  I don’t like it, I think it’s obnoxious, but it can be intimidating to tell a man in a meeting that his behavior or words are unacceptable, especially if you’re only one of a few women in the room.  I used to hang out with friends in high school, sometimes a group of guys and they would be telling stories or saying things that made me uncomfortable and I would just fake laugh like I thought it was funny.  I find myself doing that on occasion even now, although at my age I can dish it back if need be.  But why give in when I can use my power for good?  Why not challenge myself to speak up when unacceptable behavior or language rears its ugly head?

At school I have no problem letting all of my kids, regardless of gender, know when something is inappropriate, whether it’s language or behavior and my hope is that they will take some of those words to heart.  But I’m also counting on those other women in their lives, moms, grandmas, aunts, etc., to speak up when this happens and not just accept that boys will be boys in the negative sense.  I’m counting on those great men who can be outspoken examples of appropriate behavior as well.  As the mom of all boys,  I have an appreciation for the positive meaning behind “boys will be boys” and love them because of it.  And when they slip up and burp out loud, even as men, I still remind them to say excuse me if need be : )

Had an interesting conversation with the middle son tonight as I was struggling to find something to write about.  I usually try to remember something that happened during the day, but there wasn’t really anything terribly exciting to share.  This morning was like every other morning where, all the way to work, I tried to tell other people what to do.  They can’t hear me of course, they’re all focused on getting where they need to go, and I’m sure they could care less about me, but I feel this need to try to tell everyone to do what I think they should do.  Out loud. Alone in my car. They should use their turn signals, they should stay within the speed limit, (the key word here being LIMIT), they shouldn’t drive too slowly in the fast lane, they shouldn’t tailgate me.  I think you get the idea.  And it really stresses me out because there’s nothing I can do about it, no way to control someone’s actions other than my own.

So as we were talking about this, he pointed out to me that in my own little realm of the classroom, I am the AUTHORITY.  I  have the final say.  I decide where my students go and where they don’t go, I decide how loud they can be, I decide how long they can do something.  And yes, while I don’t have a lot of control as to when I have time to use the facilities, I DO have about 7 hours of my day where kids do what I expect – give or take a few of them.  And perhaps I do have some problems relinquishing that feeling of control.

It doesn’t help that I believe I have a pretty solid idea of what should be right and what should be wrong.  I blame my dad.  There is a certain way you should ask to use the restroom as in “may I’ versus “can I”.  There are certain ways you sit at a table when you eat, and it’s not with your knees in your face.  There’s a certain side of the hallway you should walk on, “the right side is the polite side”.  These are just ways of behaving that make us more considerate of others,  have a little more decorum, or in terms of verbage, are just better grammatically and more polite.   I’m sure the driving thing is all dad’s fault as well as I can hear him say very clearly, “the turn signal should happen before the brakes to let people know what you’re doing” or ” you should never have to use your brakes on the freeway if you’re paying close attention to the flow”.  Yes, I seriously remember all that stuff.

And this attitude can completely get in the way in terms of leadership opportunities.  Combine this attitude with a passion for an issue and it can be overwhelming to others around me and I’m sure it comes across as really pushy.  But again, I have an idea of what I believe is right and wrong and it’s hard for me to compromise there.  I have to say I’ve had some good mentors over the years who have helped me temper the attitude a bit by teaching me to listen more, but I still have this urge to take over the world when there’s an issue I feel strongly about.

But the irony here, as we all know, is that we’re never really in control.  Oh, we may WANT to be, but at any moment, within seconds, chaos may ensue.  Sure, I have control in my classroom until one of my kids decides to run around, touching everything, laughing and giggling about it while I try to catch them.  I think I have control driving until someone runs a red light.  I think I have control until there’s a natural disaster.  And then you realize God, or mother nature or whatever you believe is in control of the universe has all the power and you’re really NOT all that.

For me, watching things like the hurricane coverage and the fires out west just remind me that we’re not always in control the way we would like to be. and so maybe my little power struggles aren’t really what life should be about.  And maybe helping those who really are lacking control over their situations would take my mind off of those silly things I complain about every morning.  In my car.  All alone.  Like the Lexus driver not using his turn signal.  I know he has one. Ah, if only I could be in control of the world!