Intrigued?  Well of course you are!  This is the result of some creativity from my 5th graders this morning.  It was actually unintentional as the original idea was Fluffy Unicorns.  You read that right – Fluffy Unicorns. I told the kids last week that we needed a topic for lyrics to go with the chords we were learning to play.  The majority of the class latched onto “Fluffy Unicorns” for some reason, with a few kids listing topics like Star Wars and Cats.  So, my intention was to have them vote on these top three and to get going on the project.

To save time, I just wrote the words down in this order on the board:

Fluffy

Star

Cats

Not thinking at all about how the kids would look at it of course.  Until I started hearing the giggling and the whispering – “Fluffy Star Cats!”.  Well, we voted and you guessed it, the topic became Fluffy Star Cats.  Our next job was to create sentences about these creatures to each fit within eight beats – think blues progression here in terms of chords. The conversations were lively and animated with lots of laughter.  I only gave them a couple of minutes and they came up with some doozies.  “A bunch of fluffy star cats, outside my bedroom door”,  and “I’m a super fluffy star cat, meow, meow, yeah”, just to name a couple.  Then we put them in some kind of order and began singing them in sequence.

Now, before you think this is all about my great, flexible teaching ability, I want you to know it is not.  You see, the point of the story is this.  The fact that we could be flexible and have some fun affected one of my new students in class.  He just moved in from out of state and I had yet to see this kid smile.  I couldn’t decide if he thought he was too cool to smile, or if he was really unhappy or angry, or really quiet and shy.  After doing a little digging, I found out he’s just a quiet kid, but moving in as a 5th grader is tough and I don’t think he was very happy.  The other kids in that class are a pretty rowdy bunch and I could see where someone who’s quiet would feel overwhelmed by them.  But for the last several weeks, my goal had been to do SOMETHING to make this kid smile.

You see, I was that kid.  I think I’ve mentioned that I went to 6 different elementary schools, one for kindergarten, one for 1st and 2nd grade, two different schools for 3rd, thankfully staying at the second one for 4th and 5th and then two for 6th grade.  Man, is it rough to be the shy kid always being the new kid.  Or maybe I was shy because I was always the new kid.  So, I try to make it a point to help our new kids feel as welcome as I possibly can and build some kind of relationship with them.  But this kid had been a tough nut to crack.  Until this morning.

Somewhere in the middle of the organized chaos, a smile popped up on his face.  Then I saw him start to laugh.  He actually participated a little at the end of the class.  As fun as the class was today, the one thing that made my day was seeing this kid maybe finally break through that barrier of being the “new kid”.

I have another new kid in first grade who is a tough nut to crack because she’s had such a tough life.  Her behavior makes it difficult to like her, quite frankly, even knowing what she’s been through.  Firm but kind is my motto, but sometimes I’m feeling more firm than kind I’m afraid.  So today, she’s playing with her shoelaces and doing nothing else.  Her very, very, long pink shoelaces that she plays with, tying and untying, over and over.  I’ve tied them for her again and again, double tying them and the next time I look over, there she goes again.  So today as the kids were singing and I was walking around listening, I walked behind her.  And something happened.  This child looked up at me and her eyes were almost begging me.  “Please like me!”.  I don’t know if I’ve every experienced something that intense before.  And I just reached down and gave her a big squeezy hug and smiled at her.  Still playing with those shoestrings, but now smiling back.

It’s easy to feel for those kids who suffer in silence and behave well, but it’s hard to feel bad for those kids who are also suffering but who demonstrate it in a more inappropriate way.  Maybe we, or should I say “I” need to spend less time listening to the noise and focusing on the eyes.  They say the eyes are the windows to the soul.  Maybe if I did a little more soul searching I might find a new kind of empathy for those more difficult kids.  Again, finding something to learn from today and working on making my little corner of the world a little better.

After 26 years of teaching I’ve been introduced to a new word this year – bathrooming.  Until now, I thought teachers just took kids to the bathroom, but no, they are BATHROOMING the kids.  How do I know this?  Because this year I am bathrooming kids before they go to lunch. So, you might be asking, how does one bathroom an elementary student?  Well, let me tell you.

My first attempt at bathrooming was a disaster.  I just assumed, like adults at a football game during halftime, that children would know to watch and wait for their turn to go.  Au contraire mes amis!  There was loud, mass chaos as kids crowded into the bathroom, looking under stalls to see if they could go in. There was a party in the hallway.  To properly bathroom a classroom of kids, one must first divide the group by gender, have them sit against the walls in those gender specific groups and then send kids in when someone leaves the bathroom.  It’s a little like the guy who yells at paratroopers on a plane; “go, go, go!” One at a time.  Because you see, there is a time element here because they must get to lunch.  And of course, there is the monitoring of hand washing.  From those who would try to just run their hands under the water and run to those who just want to see how much lather they can create, to those who just stand there and let the water run over their hands while they play in the sink.  All the while saying, go, go, go! to the next kid in line.  And for those kids who have finished, there is a third line where they wait so we can all march to lunch at the same time.

The bathroom seemed to be the theme of the day today.  It started right as the bell rang and I thought I would take the opportunity to use the restroom myself before class started.  I would use the restroom right across the hall from my room, but obviously that would make too much sense.  There was a group of kids who dashed in at the last minute so I thought I would walk to the office to use the “grown-up” bathrooms.  However, as I walked around the corner, I saw a dad trying to convince his Kindergartner daughter to go down the hall to class.  When she saw me, she grinned and yelled “Mrs. Bush!”  Dad mouthed “thank you” and I took her hand to go down the hall.  The bathroom would have to wait.  Again.

People joke about teachers having to wait all day to use the bathroom and there have actually been articles written about how unhealthy this is.  But I’m here to tell you, there is no time and in my case, there is almost always a class using the closest restrooms between classes, so I either wait or dash at the last minute as I hear my next class coming down the hall.

Another new experience today.  It’s not like I’ve never had a kid have an accident in my room, but it’s been a few years.  I usually catch them when I see them dancing and send them across the hall.  Today however, I had a child who started crying who said she missed her mom.  This happens once in a while, so I had her stay by me and tried to distract her with a game we were playing.  But somehow she seemed to cry even harder.  At one point, I almost did the mom thing and plop her on my lap because I was trying to teach AND comfort her at the same time, but in hindsight, I’m really glad I didn’t. Because right after that, she got this horrified look on her face and I realized she had waited too long.  I tried to get her to run with me towards the bathroom, but she completely froze and as we all watched, there it went.  She was finally willing to go if a friend went with her and when she came back, I sent her to get some dry clothes.  Hopefully it will be a few more years before that happens again.  Maybe I’ll be retired by then….

Then after school, I saw a group of the custodians talking in the hall, so I thought this would be a good time to ask one of them to go over my carpet in my room from the earlier accident.  Their focus however, seemed to be a problem with someone or a group of someones who have decided it’s a game to see if they can get all of the soap out of the dispenser and get it all over the floor.  At $12 a pop, refills in the dispensers can get really expensive really quickly.  Welcome to creativity from kids with no idea of how their actions affect others.  They’ll always find a way to make a game out of something.  Especially when you’ve given them specific rules – one squirt of soap and two paper towels.  After all, what’s a few more squirts and a a few more paper towels, which of course you have to shoot into the trash can like a basketball?

I know it sounds like my day is obsessed with the bathroom, but truth is, it plays a big role in my day.  Good bathrooming by a teacher at a good time helps keep kids from leaving my class and missing content during that 50 minutes.  And when you only see students every 3, 4 or for some of my kids, every 5 days, every minute counts.  And of course, if one has to go, they all have to go.  It’s Murphy’s Law.  So here’s to perfecting the art of good bathrooming and may the accidents be infrequent.

The little group of second graders stood up at the front of the room, ready to play their original piece for rhythm instruments.  Two of the girls walked over to me and whispered that their other little friend was afraid to play and asked if she could hide behind them.  The third little girl was shaking like a leaf and looked like she wanted to run away.  I asked her if it was okay for me to stay with her and help her and promised I would not leave her by herself.  She said okay and away we went.  She did a beautiful job and when she finished, the class applauded.  A big grin spread across her face so I asked if they wanted to play again.  With an enthusiastic yes, they played again, this time without my help.  She gave me a big hug and a smile and I told her how proud I was of her for trying something new, even if it was scary.  I knew she could do it!

I don’t ever remember not being afraid.  Afraid to get hurt, afraid of being embarrassed, afraid of looking stupid or being made fun of.  Standing up for myself was not something I was taught.  I remember being teased by someone in 6th grade and my little 1st grade brother came to my rescue.  I grew up thinking that men would take care of me if I needed it, so I didn’t need to speak up for myself, nor did I want to. I don’t think I can ever say I was bullied, (which I define as harassment by one person or group which occurs over a long period of time), except by a certain family member, but there were many times I was harassed in different ways growing up that I wish I had been able to nip in the bud.  I remember with embarrassment an incident at lunch one day as a freshmen in college.  I had gone to a local fast food place by myself, sat down and a couple of guys I didn’t know sat at my table and began eating my food.  Rather than tell them to go away or move somewhere else, I left them my food and ran from the restaurant.  I was so mad at myself for not saying something, anything, but I was afraid.

In my leadership positions, there have been times when I have been spoken to in patronizing tones by men, most of whom hold positions of leadership themselves.  I have been told I don’t understand, that something I believe is really not that important, that what I believe should happen in a certain circumstance is silly.  “Now Judy”.  It was almost like a pat on the head as if I were a child.  But I have learned that if I truly believe in what I’m doing and who I am, I can work to find the right words to get my point across, in the nicest but firmest way possible.  And those men have either decided to respect me or they have decided that I’m a pain.  And I’m okay with that.

I share these personal things, because as I teach, I see this same neediness, the same lack of belief in themselves and the lack of training in how to stand up for themselves in my girls.  So, it has become a mission of sorts for me.  It seems we’re always trying to help the bullies or harassers stop their behavior, but what if they don’t?  Why aren’t we teaching kids, especially girls, how to deal with them?  So many times, I have girls who will come to me in tears saying “he called me this” or “he said I’m stupid”, or “he won’t leave me alone”.   But dealing with this “kid stuff” is how they will learn to deal with bigger things in the future.  Instead of going over and taking care of the problem for them, I ask them a couple of questions.  For instance, “are you stupid”?  The answer is usually a “no”.  Then I’ll ask “what do you believe about yourself?”  “That I’m smart”.  Then I give them directions as to how to handle it.  March right over to that person, let them know that what they said was not okay, that you’re not stupid and they should never say that again.  And walk away.  I always reassure them that I will be watching so if anything happens I can step in, but I want them to have the power.  I want to watch that bully’s face when some little girl walks over and stands up for herself.

Girls and women both tend to stand back, wait for others to take the lead, and worry about not being liked.  Women are expected to be “nice” and while I believe you can be nice AND stand up for yourself, your ideas and your ideals, the problem is that others can get the perception that you’re too pushy, or, dare I say it, bitchy.  This doesn’t happen to men.  They are aggressive go-getters.  So, it’s important to teach girls skills that will help them sit at the table with the boys, deal with the bullies and not be afraid to try things that scare them.

One of my heroes is Sheryl Sandburg, the author of “Lean In” and COO of Facebook.  After reading her book, I really felt the need to help girls learn to “lean in” earlier.  Not that I’m making a political statement of any kind here, but it seems we have a lot of bullies in leadership positions around this country.  We could probably stand to have a larger group of women prepared to “lean in” who can stand up for themselves, their ideas and their ideals to take this country to a different, much better level.  And helping my girls is just doing my part to save the world. : )

I think I’ve had an epiphany.   I’ve had some friends ask lately how I get enough ideas to write a daily blog.  That’s a great question, one that I struggle with actually.  There are some days like today where the ideas just pop in my head and I can’t type fast enough.  There are other days when I just sit for a while until something, anything pops in  my head.  After all, this is supposed to be an exercise in discipline, not some grand dissertation.  But last night, as I was relating the experiences I had had that day to Doug, is when this hit me. What if the experiences I have each day are leading to a lesson I’m supposed to be learning?

As I’ve gotten older, during hard times, I’m learned to ask, “Lord, what am I supposed to be learning here?”  Don’t get me wrong – I’m pretty stubborn and I still tend to try to fix things myself and cry “woe is me”, but in my heart of hearts, I know God is trying to teach me something.  It’s actually when times are going well that I have the most trouble.  I think I know better than that, but it’s easy to ignore things God wants you to hear when things are going well.  That’s why this epiphany may be life changing for me.  I’m sure there will be some of you who read this and think, wow, she’s just now getting this?  I never said I was a rocket scientist.  Anyway, here’s what happened yesterday.

I went to the band’s game day rehearsal.  This is not unusual as I’ve been going to Doug’s rehearsals for the past 36 years or so.  I was sitting with a good friend, when we saw another friend coming up the steps of the stadium towards us so we invited him to sit with us.  This is a friend I know by name, I know what he does for a living and I know his dear wife recently passed away, but I’m not sure I’ve ever just sat and talked to him, and I don’t think I had spoken to him one on one since she passed.  The subject of his wife naturally came up in conversation and I was honored that he shared some precious memories and experiences of her with me.  While every marriage has its ups and downs, theirs was obviously a match made in heaven.  I can’t even imagine what he is feeling. I can sympathize but certainly not empathize.  I was moved by the fact that he was continuing to do life the best he could because he knew she would “kick his butt” if he didn’t.  A hard thing to listen to, but now I know this friend so much better and I’m a better person for it.

The rehearsal included the alumni band.  There were 250+ alums there to march with the current Cornhusker band.  I saw young and old alike, reliving the days when they had the opportunity to be a part of something greater than themselves.  They got together for the experience and the opportunity to relive memories with former classmates,  friends, some now spouses (you know how band kids tend to marry each other), some parents and adult children, all sharing their common love for this organization.  Despite the heat, the uncomfortable chairs, the marching and rehearsing, carrying heavy instruments, these people were willing to do it to relive those memories.

In the stands later that evening, they ran a tribute to some former Husker football greats on the jumbo screen.  Now, I’ll be honest with you, I could care less personally.  Not sure if it’s because I’m a woman and football is fun and all, but not a priority in my life, or if I didn’t relate because I didn’t experience the great plays in person.  Anyway, since I wasn’t riveted to the screen, I watched the people around me.  Everyone grew just a little bit quieter and I focused on the faces of the mostly men and boys surrounding me.  The two young boys, much too young to have experienced these football greats personally,  stared wide-eyed with their mouths open as they watched.  But it was the older men who caught my attention.  I saw the slight upward curve of their mouths, the knowing look and the twinkle (or perhaps a little tear) in their eyes.  Maybe remembering the play while watching with their dad, maybe remembering being in college with their buddies or on a date with their future wife.  Reliving what it was to feel young and excited by excellence in an activity they love.

So yes, the epiphany.  As I was relating these stories to Doug, it suddenly occurred to me that they all had a common thread.  In each experience, these people were sharing memories.  Memories of people they loved, who made a difference in their lives, who made life fun.  Memories of shared or personal experiences which made a difference. But in order to have these memories we have to experience life with people.  All kinds of people.  People who will enrich our lives in ways we never imagined.  Even for those of us introverted types who tend to be loners.

As I look through my past blogs, I think most of them have a “theme” of sorts.  What if this theme is what I’m supposed to be learning that day?  What if I’m supposed to be applying what I’ve learned from that theme into my own life?  How many “themes” have we ignored or not noticed on a daily basis that could have changed our lives and the lives of others for the better?  Just like a great lesson plan teaches a concept in a number of ways, I wonder if God uses that same method to get his point across to us?  A personal lesson plan just for me? The question is, are we engaged in the lesson?

 

It’s football Saturday in Lincoln Nebraska and Big Red Nation is going to once again come to life.  Before moving to Lincoln, I was (and still am!) a huge fan of the Big Blue Nation – the University of Kentucky.  In that case, the sport is basketball, and just like football in Nebraska, it’s a religion.  And because it’s a religion, no self respecting Wildcat fan would be caught dead in red.  After all, red is the color of the Louisville Cardinals and the Indiana Hoosiers.  Not cool.  So, when we moved here, and especially after Doug became assistant director of the Nebraska Cornhusker Band, red became a staple of his wardrobe.  I on the other hand, fought the red for a while.  I could get away with wearing black or gray or white with a little red “N” and still not have to wear red.  But just as I became a fan of Kentucky basketball because of the excitement the sport generated, I soon became a fan of Nebraska football for the same reason.

For those of you who may not have experienced Big Red Game Day from the band experience, let me share.  Rehearsal for the band on Saturday is 5 1/2 hours before kick.  On a day like today where kick is at 7:00 p.m., that makes for a great “late” start of 1:30 for rehearsal.  It’s the 11:00 a.m. kicks I dread, as you can imagine. Doug will want to be there early to make sure he gets his stuff together and is able to walk to the stadium.  Yes, we are provided two tickets to the game, which is interesting, because I never get to sit with him obviously.  The seats are in the northeast part of the stadium and the band is closer to the southeast part of the stadium.  So I have a good friend who usually goes with me and after half time we go down and hang out with the band.

Rehearsal lasts two hours where the members practice fundamentals, pregame and half time and today will be special because we’ll have a bunch of band alumni rehearsing with them.  Rehearsal is open, so anyone can come in for free and watch in the stadium.  It still amazes me the number of parents, former band members, music teachers and just fans show up for these rehearsals to cheer on the band.  They stand and clap with the fight song and pregame music, stand for the national anthem and cheer for the half time show.  It’s a time for the band students to shine and share the hard work of that particular week.

After rehearsal, time to grab a quick meal, which in this case will be something between lunch and dinner.  Mealtimes are always screwed up on game days.  By 5:00 Doug has to be back with the kids, 6:00 is the outdoor concert and kick is at 7:00.  Some three hours plus later, the kids will march back to the music building, put everything away and finally finish their day.  For most people, game day is a 3 hour event.  For Doug and the band, it’s usually closer to a 12 hour work day.

From my perspective, I’m one of those fans who shows up to watch rehearsal, even though I’ve been a part of or have watched band rehearsals for over 40 years now.  I grab a bite with Doug afterwards because it’s the last time I’ll see him that day before he works the game.  My friend and I hang out until the game, sometimes marching in with the band, working hard to get through the crowds in the hopes of being in our seats in time to see pre-game from them.  I have to admit, as much as I love my Kentucky blue, there is something amazing about walking through those tunnels into the stadium and seeing 90,000 people all wearing red.  It is truly a “sea of red”.  On a clear day with bright blue skies, a beautiful green turf field and all that red, it is really a sight to behold.  It’s Americana at its finest and always makes me smile.  Pregame begins and everyone stands and claps out of rhythm (oh well) and then gets silent before singing the national anthem as the band plays.  I think that’s something I really appreciate about the heartland of this country.  The respect shown towards our country, our flag and our national anthem is something that can bring a tear each game.  Then it’s “Go Big Red” and on to the game.

So, just as it is in Kentucky, there is an activity, a sport, a “religion” that brings people together and for a little while, we all see things the same way.  It doesn’t matter your color, your gender, your religion – we all gather to support the same thing.  It’s a shame we can’t garner the same enthusiasm for something that’s maybe a little more important, but I suppose it can serve as a hope that maybe one day we will all support something more important with the same zeal.  And I suppose this Big Blue fan can break down and wear some red once in a while to be a part of that.  Here’s to another football season and GBR!!

 

I’m not a huge Monty Python fan, but thanks to a husband and three sons who are ENORMOUS fans, I’ve seen my fair share of their skits.  And tonight as I was relaxing for the first time in about 14 hours, I felt a little like the man in the skit who just stands there, taking the fish slapping.  Until he obviously snaps and smacks the other man with a much larger fish.  The beginning of school is always new and exciting, but we’re finishing up on week three here, and the fish slapping has officially begun.  Life is happening to me again rather than me making life happen.

I know you’re feeling it, teachers.  All the plans you had for this year about classroom management, all the wonderful activities you were going to do for your students and they were just going to follow every direction right away and exactly, right?  Oh, you poor, naive little person.  It really is like childbirth isn’t it?  You forget what it’s like once some time passes.  You forget about little Johnny who looks at you as though you’re speaking a foreign language and speaks to you in grunts and groans while he refuses to move from the place he’s been standing since he walked in your room.  You forget about little Suzie who loudly tells everyone else what to do, (she only has one volume level and that’s ‘make your ears bleed’ loud), tattles on everyone and then stomps and yells if anyone says anything remotely negative to her.  But there they are again, at least one or two in each and every class, and if you’re really lucky, the entire class personality is one that makes you question your sanity for coming back.

Being a specialist in an elementary school is really the fine art of assembly line teaching and flexibility.  Every day I teach 5th, 3rd, 2nd, Kindergarten, 1st and 4th, in that order.  I teach different concepts with different activities and assessments, most that which I create, to about 125 little bodies who come walking across the threshold of my classroom door every day whether I want them to or not.  They come in with eager smiles and I think, aren’t they cute?  Great kids!  And 15 minutes later, you’re giving the same direction for the 5th time, only slower and softer each time, hoping for some kind of impact.  Quiet actually scares them more than loud.  One class walks out and a very few minutes later, another walks in.  Instruments and resources must be set and ready to go for each class that walks in, so there goes your time to run to the bathroom.  But that’s okay.  I haven’t had any time to drink anything, so, usually no big deal : )  I can make one can of diet coke last a whole day and sometimes have some left over.  I’m not kidding.

I literally begin the minute I walk in the building with preparation, meetings, checking mail, etc. and once the classes begin I do not stop for the next 7 1/2 hours.  Lunch duty has been a source of both entertainment and frustration and the decibel level seems to rise daily.  Kids can’t seem to just talk in “table voices” at the table anymore.  And their behavior at the table is ridiculous; my usual routine as I walk through the lunchroom goes something like this:  “How’s your day going?  Put your knees down please.  Sit on your pockets please.  You need to wipe your mouth please.  Please take human bites.  Don’t touch his food.  Stop the milk chugging game.  Yes, you have to sit there.  Stop mixing all your food together.  Yes, you have to eat that now. You haven’t eaten anything – you’ll be hungry this afternoon.  Use your fork/spoon please, not your fingers, don’t put your face in your tray like a dog.”  I haven’t made any of this up, by the way.  And after witnessing all of this lunchtime debauchery, I then get to go sit in my room and inhale my lunch so I can be ready for my next class.

My to-do list has exploded, with every thing I cross off being replaced by five more.  When I finally leave school, today almost two hours after I could have left, I dashed home, changed clothes and went to a PTO fundraiser at a local restaurant to be with – yes you guessed it – those same kids I had to watch during lunch.  Only this time, I was not the parent, I was not the teacher and as I observed, I could see why some of these kids behaved the way they do at school.  Hmmmm. Off to the grocery store and then finally home @8:30 so I could sit for a few minutes to write this and relax.  Although I’m not sure it has worked because I’m now bummed reading about how life is slapping me in the face.  Is it a matter of attitude on my part?  Do I just not believe that I’m in charge of my destiny?  Is this what I’ve chosen and is this what I’m stuck with?  All I know is that it’s 9:30, I need to end this writing so I can throw some dishes in the dishwasher, get some clothes out of the dryer and put them away and get out clothes to wear tomorrow.  All in the hopes of hopping into bed relatively soon so I can get up and endure the fish slapping scenario all over again.  With the same wonderful people who will also get up in the morning to do the same thing.  All in the hopes that through this insanity, we will all find a way to make a difference in the lives of these kids.  And maybe, just maybe, one day one of them will tell their kids, “get your knees down at the table”.  There’s always hope.

What is it about the color red that invokes so many feelings and emotions?  It can represent romance, power, evil, fear.  Years ago, I remember the red “power tie” for men and the “power color” for women being red.  Maybe it still is. Red is the color of our life’s blood, the color of a beautiful rose, the color that represents the devil.  In my part of the world, it represents Big Red Nation, the Cornhuskers, and the city of Lincoln is literally a sea of red on fall Saturdays.

Red makes something special or helps get something noticed.  It’s the color of the Batphone.  It’s the color of a clown’s nose or the rouged cheeks of an elderly woman. It’s the color of the power button on my TV remote and the color of the word COKE on my diet coke can.

Red can be a scary color.  It’s the color of fire, firetrucks, and other emergency vehicles.  It’s warns us to stop with signs and lights.  Red seems like a loud color to me, if red had a volume.  It demands attention, wants us to know of its importance.

And perhaps that’s why we refer to the scariest of all drills at school, the Code Red Drill.  Today I did something I’ve tried not to ever do before one of these drills.  I tried to scare some kids.  I hate scaring kids.  Sure, I’ve got the teacher look down and can sometimes reprimand a student with a single, well placed eyebrow raise, but I’ve always thought it was my job to help shelter kids somewhat or to temper the scary with a little humor and let the kids know that I was in charge and I would take care of them.  But today I needed to scare some kids.

I have a certain class of students right now that behave as if they are “all that”.  Everything is a joke, everything is funny.  I had them first thing this morning, and they arrived as the morning announcements were going on.  As they talked through the principal’s announcement about the Code Red Drill this morning, some were laughing and talking about how they got to hide today in the dark and how much fun that was going to be.  All I could think of were those poor kids at Sandy Hook Elementary.  How terrified they must have been, hiding in the dark, in closets and under things.  How these senseless deaths devastated families, a community and a nation.  At first I was a little angry at my students, but then I realized, why wouldn’t they behave like this?  They see violence all the time in the media, on TV, in the movies, some in their own homes.  They’re completely desensitized.  And unlike my little ones who worry so much about “what ifs”, this bunch looked at it as a game.  One of them actually left his classroom right before the drill to use the restroom so that he would get some attention because he was gone.  He did.  So, I decided to make things a little more real for them.

I asked them to define the drill for me, what it was and why we were doing it.  Yes, it’s in case someone dangerous gets in the building.  We talked about how sometimes the person is very angry or suffers from mental illness.  How that person might not care who they killed.  How sad their families would be if they died.  Died.  It means you’re never coming back.  It means your parents will be sad forever because you’re never coming back.  How your friends would be sad.  What if your teacher was killed trying to protect you?  How would his or her family react?  How would you react?  Talked about hiding in my room, in the dark, on the floor behind the risers, listening to gunshots and hoping the person was going somewhere besides where they were.  What if they had little brothers or sisters in the other parts of the building?  Were they safe?

After I surmised that they were sufficiently somber, I went back and reassured them that the reason we practice scary things like this is so that we can be as prepared as possible IF something like this were to ever happen.  I told them how I had already thought about my own routines; how I made sure one door was always locked and how I could quickly lock the other.  How I had checked to make sure nobody could see them from the windows by the doors.  How I knew where my cell phone was to call for help.  How I had already checked around the room for possible weapons in case I needed to fight.  For them.  That they were my first priority.  You see, I don’t want them to worry, but they do need to take things seriously so that when I ask them to do something, they do it quickly, silently and without question so that I can do everything I know to keep them safe.

When I first began teaching, all we did were fire drills.  Then tornado drills.  Now we’re trained in CPR, how to use defibrillators, how to deal with bodily fluids and still more trauma training.  We’re trained how to deal with suicidal students, students who are abused, students who are poor, students who are homeless, students with mental illness.  And we’re being trained on what to do to keep our students alive in case of a shooter.  Not exactly what I went to school for, but a reality in our culture today.  So, while I will wear my red for my Huskers this Saturday, at school I will remember red means I will do everything I can to protect my kids.

Today is my cousin Jessika’s 35th birthday.  I only met Jessika a couple of years ago when I finally saw her mother, my first cousin, for the first time in 45 years.  We had only met once before that I remember, when we were about ten.  I thought she was the coolest girl I had ever met and she was my cousin.  My only GIRL cousin on dad’s side of the family and we were only four months apart in age.  I remember her having this long blond hair and cool clothes and she was from CALIFORNIA – and she was so nice. It was sad that I only got to meet her that one time.  Because after that, my parents made the decision to disown that side of the family.  It’s a long sad, stupid story and maybe one for another day.

So back to my cousin.  After their visit with us, I asked my parents about her once in a while, but they told me stories about how they didn’t know where they were or they didn’t want to be contacted.  It was just better that we forget them.  I never did, but you know how life just tends to get in the way.  I just assumed that I would never see her again.  I had no idea where she was and I assumed her last name had changed.  And the way my parents had made it sound, they wanted no part of us.

I come from a small family, just my brother and my parents and now my parents are gone.  My brother lives 800 miles away.  We have a tight bond I think, but we tend to speak in texts and Facebook posts these days.  I had a few cousins on both sides, but because we were always moving and they all seemed to live on both coasts, I seldom saw them and no relationships were really developed.  I never felt close to either side.  Grandparents included.  I saw my paternal grandparents once every 5-7 years or so, my maternal grandparents a little more often, but not much as a child and by the time I was a teenager, I never found myself comfortable around them.  So family has always been somebody “out there” somewhere.  Sounds like a song, doesn’t it?  But then everything sounds like a song to me.  But I digress…..

Marrying into Doug’s family made me really aware of my lack of.  Good golly, everybody he knew was related somehow by blood or marriage and they all lived in a relatively small geographic area, so they got together often, or just ran into each other at the grocery store or church.  I was welcomed with open arms and have always felt a part of his family, but when I wasn’t overwhelmed by them, I really envied them and the relationships they had with one another.  Then, a miracle happened.  Out of the blue, I was contacted by my cousin Cheryl, the pretty one, the one who is so cool : )  She had found my brother on Facebook who sent her in my direction.  A couple of years later my daughter-in-law and I went to visit and met her, her three daughters and her grandchildren.  I got to meet my aunt again and her husband Ron.  And suddenly, I wasn’t alone anymore – I had family!

This past summer, I took Doug to California to meet these wonderful people.  A bunch of us got together for dinner and there was a point towards the end where I felt completely overwhelmed by emotion, a joy that filled my being.  What is this need we have for belonging to a “family”.  Is it something born within us or something created in stories and commercials?  How is it you can not see someone for over 40 years and still feel like you’ve known them forever?  How is it that a hug from these people can make you feel whole again?  Was it scary for this introvert to travel to meet these people?  You bet!  But I kinda think Cheryl is a bit of an introvert herself.  I wonder if it was hard for her too?  There’s still so much I want to know about all of them!

Maybe it’s the fact that I’ve gotten older and a little schmaltzy in my old age, but I find myself wanting to find out more about my background and my family.  I love to watch the TV show “Who Do You Think You Are?”.  When the celebrity finds out who they are, who their people are, it creates this sense of pride, awe, and belonging.  They become more than just themselves – they are made up of the past lives of all those family members who have come before them. I always wanted to feel that myself.  And now, thanks to the efforts of my dear cousin, I have.  Although there are a lot of things we’ve discovered about ourselves and our families, one of the most fun for me is the connection to art.  My middle son always felt like the “weird” kid in our family because everyone else was so involved in music.  Well, come to find out that Cheryl’s dad, my uncle, was into art and so is one of her daughters!  Art and Music run in both our families and my son no longer feels like the weird kid.

The two of us now want to find and contact some other family members.  This might be difficult and emotional because of our family’s back story.  But what if they’re feeling the same way, that same need to connect with family as they get older?  How could we deny them this experience by not trying?  So, maybe in the future, Cheryl and I will embark on a new adventure together.  Wish us luck!

Just finished yet another virtual meeting.  Unlike a lot of virtual meetings I’ve attended, this one was relatively small and had no annoying issues, like dogs barking in the background or feedback or echoing…. you get get the point.  It was organized and ran on time. I could see everyone’s faces as they spoke, so as the newbie in this meeting, putting names to faces was pretty easy.  I could also see my own face which to me is always distracting.  Did I get something on my face during dinner?  Does my hair really look like that?  It can be scary.

The very term “virtual” meeting leaves a lot of unanswered questions for me.  One definition of “virtual” from the Merriam Webster Dictionary is “very close to being something without actually being it”.  Don’t you love that?  So, was it very close to being a meeting, without actually being it, and if so, were we really there?  I just need to know.

You know, we tend to allow ourselves to live in virtual worlds all the time.  I mean, seriously, let’s talk Game of Thrones.  I for one have never seen any of it, but you would think that those of my friends who have seen it are actually a part of this make-believe to the point where it affects them emotionally.  Some would say this is a sign of a good program. This is a virtual kingdom where apparently really weird things happen, because that’s what you can do with something that is “virtual”.  We can create whole virtual worlds with virtual people and people can get caught up in them completely.  I once attended a funeral where a bunch of gamers attended who had never actually met physically until the funeral, but had known each other through their games only.  Sitting by themselves, in their homes, getting to know other people only through a computer. Including the person who had passed away.  So sad.

Social media is like that too.  I can’t tell you how many people I feel like I “know” because I have read all about their lives (or at least the parts they want to share with everyone) on Facebook.  It’s ridiculous.  People who are friends in real life who I haven’t seen physically in 30+ years, seem closer than they are through the virtual world of social media.  And what’s great about social media is that I can create any persona I want.  I suppose it’s a lot like gaming that way.  I can be happy, adventurous, philosophical, whatever and that’s how others will perceive me.  It’s a lot safer than meeting with people face to face, isn’t it, or easier than taking the time to go see someone you haven’t seen for awhile.  So a lot of us share this relatively shallow existence with each other virtually and it seems to work for us.

But we don’t have to sit by ourselves in a dark room with a computer to ditch reality for virtual.  One of the saddest things I ever saw was watching a little girl at a beautiful fireworks show NEVER look at the fireworks themselves, but only see them through the lens of a camera on a phone.  I see websites that promise educators videos or virtual tours of places for kids to “experience new worlds”, but are they really experiencing them, or, since it’s virtual, “very close to being something without actually being it”, are they really experiencing anything at all?  Some say it’s better than nothing, but I’m concerned that virtual sometimes allows us to settle.  We justify virtual by saying it’s easier or less expensive.  Depends on your idea of expensive.  Some experiences are priceless.  In that case, virtual is more expensive, isn’t it?

Virtual robs us of being able to use all of our senses to experience something, no matter what it is, whether it’s the beauty and excitement of fireworks or feeling the hug given by a friend you haven’t seen in a long time.  Virtual takes the humanness and connection out of life.  Something like having a virtual choir is really cool to get a lot of kids involved in a project, but are they really getting the essence of what participating in a choir is all about?  It’s not just about “singing together”.  Shoot, I can do that watching a YouTube video.  It’s also getting to know those people around you, to feel what it’s like to stand on a stage with them, to feel the joy as the sound you are creating together touches others.  It’s a little more than just being “cool”.

I say this all as I too get swept up into the wave of all things virtual.  I had to make myself not look at everything through my phone on vacation, but instead try to experience it myself and hold on to those memories in my brain and in my heart, rather than just in my phone.  It’s hard.  But it’s not real.  Real is only what we experience.  Just like meeting in person is more real than meeting on line, where I can shake someone’s hand in initial greeting, give someone a hug or even have a side conversation about an idea that is sparked by the larger conversation.

Yep, virtual is okay for the occasional meeting, but I think I would rather keep working on becoming more real.