Freedom is an interesting concept.  I think most people are in favor of freedom, as long as someone else’s freedom doesn’t get in the way their freedom.  Or, freedom is great as long as it’s the right KIND of freedom.  For instance, exercising ones freedom of religion is just fine as long as I can agree with it, or you can say what you want as long as it follows the party line.  But you see, that’s not how it works my friends.  In this country, every citizen is allowed freedom of expression, whether you and I agree or disagree with it.  No matter how ugly it might seem, or irresponsible or just plain stupid, every citizen has that right, because to them, their expression may not seem ugly, irresponsible or stupid.

I’m pretty sure what got me started on this today was a picture that someone shared on Facebook.  It was a picture of a toddler dressed up in a KKK robe, checking out an African American policeman’s riot gear with the caption “what is taught can be unlearned”.  Ok, yes, in a Pollyanna-esque kind of world, absolutely.  But someone took advantage of their freedom of expression and dressed their kid this way.  My HOPE is that this can be unlearned, but in what kind of environment will this child grow up?  Will he or she have the fortitude to go against their upbringing or will they also choose to express themselves this way as an adult?  And if they do, could the rest of us accept it as their personal freedom of expression?

You see, fortunately or unfortunately, freedom doesn’t come with caveats; you can express yourself as long as….  It just doesn’t work that way.  Otherwise, we would have a culture where everyone is having to be careful of what they say or do for fear of retaliation.  Or maybe we already live in that culture.  You see, we also have the freedom to peacefully assemble so that we can express ourselves, but the peaceful part seems to have disappeared as well.  So much for responsibility.

The problem, or the great thing about freedom, depending on how you look at it, is that is allows for individualism.  Each person perceives life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness in his or her own way.  It’s the rest of us that put a value judgement as to how others express that perception.  It all goes back to having to walk in another person’s shoes.  I can’t possibly imagine all that has happened in someone’s life that has caused them to perceive life the way they do.  And while I believe fear has a lot to do with some of those especially violent reactions to those perceptions, that’s a hard thing to fight. It’s very easy for me to say we should live peacefully with everyone if nobody has ever harmed me or my family.  It would be another thing entirely if someone DID harm me or my family, perceived or otherwise.  Forgiveness is hard.  Fear and anger are easier.

The Oxford Dictionary defines freedom as “the power or right to act, speak or think as one wants without hindrance or restraint”.  So should we, or can we draw the line when someone goes too far with their freedom?  And who decides what is too far?  It’s easy to decide when someone gets hurt because our freedom is tempered by legal restraints.  I can express myself peacefully as long as someone else doesn’t get hurt.  But does that just mean hurt physically or does that include mentally and emotionally?  What if something you say during your freedom of expression insults me and affects me emotionally?  Do I just need to walk away and get over it or have you crossed a line somehow?  For instance, if I say “All Lives Matter” because through my life experiences I truly, passionately believe that, and someone else assumes that I must not believe that “Black Lives Matter” because I didn’t single them out, is that cause for outrage?  Or is it just two people taking advantage of their freedom of expression based on their life experiences? And can we agree to disagree and live out our freedom peacefully or could this open up room for some great dialogue to get to know each other better and why we believe the way we do?

Freedom of expression pretty much guarantees that we’re not going to agree with something or someone.  As individuals, it’s going to be nearly impossible to find someone who agrees with everything you believe.  It’s how we express it and how we receive it responsibly and with civility that’s most important.  The old saying, “I may not agree with you but I support your right to say it” has to be how we handle everything peacefully.   Expressing ourselves passionately without hate or finger pointing is possible if we’re willing to work on it.

In a short blog, it may seem that I’m oversimplifying things here and I certainly don’t mean to.  I understand that things are complicated and that right now, everyone seems to be very passionate and outspoken about their most cherished beliefs, but HOW they express them has turned so very ugly and violent.  MY hope is that as adults we can unlearn some of the habits we’ve picked up and work harder to be the land of the free and the home of the responsible instead.  If not for ourselves, for our children and grandchildren.

 

Do you ever wonder where certain expressions come from?  Well, according to the Urban Dictionary, the phrase “herding cats” comes from the common saying that something involving coordination of many different groups or people is as difficult as herding cats.  It refers to the idea that individualism is hard to manage, hence the comparison to cats.  Urban legend says it originated from someone describing computer programmers – hmmmm.  Well, that phrase aptly described Kindergarten again today.

I get the exciting opportunity of working with them not only in class but during lunch.  Today we had all 106 of them sitting on the gym floor going through common area expectations.  (I hear you laughing already).  But before that, we played a little game with them where they had to look at a picture and match it with a specialist teacher to get to know us a little better.  For instance, my pictures consisted of my car, a reference to my blog and a can of diet coke.  The older students played along and just pointed at the specialist with a little bit of talking or laughter.  However with Kindergarten, every time the correct teacher was revealed, they broke out into squeals of excited laughter, accompanied by much wiggling, touching of friends, etc.  As you can imagine, it took a while to get them back together after each picture and there were 15 of them.  Pretty sure we’ll have to rethink this one for next year.

Can you remember a time though when everything was NEW?  These little guys are having to learn routines with many details in a short amount of time.  Imagine one day you’re allowed to take as long as you want to eat, and mom, dad or caregiver clean up the mess.  All of a sudden you’re in a large building, having to walk down a long hallway to lunch, where you either have to find your lunchbox in the big tub or go through a lunch line to get your lunch.  You don’t know what color carton the chocolate milk comes in as compared to the white and you can choose between skim and 2%.  Then you have to choose your fruits, entrees, etc. and zip out of the lunch line, carrying a tray full of stuff, to find a seat in a big room where you’re too totally distracted by your friends to even EAT your lunch. When you’re finished, you have to know how and what to recycle and there are separate containers to take care of plastics, paper, etc.  You’re then sent through the next line where you go to the bathroom, to another line where you put your hopefully empty lunch box back in the big tub with your teacher’s name on it (which you can’t read because you’re in Kindergarten) and wait patiently for your teacher, whose name you still can’t remember, to go out to recess.  This has got to be the most traumatic 30 minutes of their lives.  And in the meantime, there are adults scurrying about, opening fruit and pudding cups, milk cartons and chip bags, peeling stuck paper off of taffy candy (I’m not kidding), answering questions, listening to stories, steering kids to the correct line at the correct time and reassuring them that their teacher knows just where to find them to take them out to recess.  All this while keeping some of the boys from playing like it’s recess in the hallway before they go out.  I’m exhausted just writing about it!

These little “cats” have fun doing the silliest things.  Turning the bathroom sign over to go use the bathroom is SO COOL that once someone starts, everyone needs to try it.  One little guy went to the bathroom right at the very end of class and was left behind (we knew where he was – he just took a while : ).  When he came out he tried to turn on the water to wash his hands, but it was one of those automatic faucets where it just starts when you place your hands in the right place.  After the PE teacher showed him how it worked, he did it, but he jumped each time the water popped on.  Imagine whole days of surprises and new experiences.  Imagine you’ve only been walking and talking for the last 3 1/2 or 4 years max and these crazy grown-ups are expecting you to walk in and behave like something other than a cat.

We forget how tactile they are and that it’s just automatic for them to want to get up and look at something closer and touch it.  We forget how excited they are to share something really important to them, so excited that they don’t know how to wait their turn. We forget how little they are until they ask to sit on your lap or give you a hug and a kiss on the cheek.  We forget that they have parents who send them to us and that they trust us to remember that they are children first and students second.  We need to treat them as wondrous and precious because we have a hand in taking all that they’ve learned in their short little lives and helping them towards their journey to adulthood.  Perhaps to become a computer programmer where maybe someone else will have to herd the cats.

The first day of school.  Last year it was recess duty every day and this year is lunchroom duty.  A part of me is sad to lose that outdoor time in the middle of the day, but the other part of me is celebrating that I won’t have to freeze my tooshy off in January any more.  So, lunch time it is.  As I was walking around talking to various kids, asking how their day had gone, commenting on their lunches, one 1st grade boy in front of me said loudly, “Look!  My fork has wings!”.  And sure enough, he had skewered two of his chicken fingers (think Burger King chicken fries – long and skinny and ever so slightly rubbery) on the two outside tongs of his fork.  As he moved his fork up and down it looked like the chicken fingers were flapping like wings.  If this is any indication, this is going to be a fun year.  Ya gotta love creativity!

Kindergarten is always fun.  Two little girls with teary eyes told me they were missing their moms, so in my mom kinda way, I told them the day would be over soon and I promised they would get to see mom.  Then I offered to hold their hands, which they did not let go of until it was time to leave.  I walked by another child who was telling a new friend that he was exhausted, and when one of them asked if they got a nap today, I told them they were big kids now, so no, and he looked at me in disbelief and stated, “but I’m only five!”.  On the other hand, when another little boy asked how much time was left in the day and I told him, he said “but we just got started!  I love school!”  Then he started jumping up and down when his brand new teacher came to pick them up, waving a shouting, “hi Ms. Walling!!”  I think I’m going to like this boy : )

You could tell some of the older kids had stayed up too late last night as they struggled to stay alert at the beginning of the day.  And along with all of our brand new Kindergartners, we had a bunch of kids move in, new to the school.  The quiet shy ones, checking things out carefully, the kids who don’t know a stranger and want to tell you EVERYTHING the first time they meet you, and the angry ones who are not happy to be starting somewhere new and are already pushing buttons to see how far we’ll let them go.

Several of my 2nd graders said they didn’t FEEL like 2nd graders yet.  They knew they were in 2nd grade with a new room and teacher and all, but decided that right now they still felt like 1st graders.

I received my guaranteed hugs from those I refer to as my “naughty” kids.  You know, the ones who are always doing things to get some attention (usually the wrong kind of things), but they really are just looking for ANY kind of attention.  Hugs just seem to be a great way to get positive attention for sure, and just for the record, I LOVE these kids, even when they’re naughty.

And it’s fun to be back this year because we’ve got a little history now as we begin our second year as a community.  Kids are asking about joining choir, band and strings.  I love having them involved in more music!  The “dead guy” poster on the wall has been getting some attention and I’m excited to surprise them with “dead girls” this year for those girls who have been asking.  Still looking for someone who actually makes posters of female composers.  No luck so far.  What does that tell you? Probably a topic for another blog.

So, that just covers a little over five hours today (the first two days are early release days), and like that kindergartner, I’m exhausted.  Probably won’t tell him I took a nap after school today.  And it’s only Monday!  Looking forward to more interesting conversations with my kids tomorrow!

 

 

I got my first pedicure about 12 years ago.  It was a Mother’s Day excursion with the ladies in my small group from church.  I had no idea what to expect and quite frankly was a little embarrassed about my feet.  Even as a girl, I had never painted my toes or fingernails.  My mom was not a girly girl and neither was my grandmother and it seemed like a waste of money to them, even to do it themselves.  So, with this philosophy in my head, I had convinced myself that I didn’t really need it.  But because it was a group thing and I really liked the women in my group, I went along.  And I was hooked.  Just about every month since then, I go in, pick my color and get pampered for about an hour.

After the first few months of doing this (and excitedly sharing each new color with my husband, poor guy), my middle son very seriously asked, “mom, why do you feel the need to do this?”.  My quick answer was, “well, because I’m a girl and I like pretty things”.  In a household of males, they would tend to forget the fact that mom was actually female and not just “mom” and so they sometimes scratched their heads when it came to the things I liked to do.  But in the years that I’ve been doing this, I’ve started to watch other women’s reactions to having this done and I’m figuring out there’s more to it than just painting our toes.

Yesterday, I took a friend to get her first pedicure.  This woman is the most self-less person I’ve ever met.  Everyone in her life comes before her, and there’s not a martyr-like bone in her body; taking care of others is just what you do.  So, we picked out colors (she picked a great dark purple) and we sat down to let these wonderful ladies do their magic.  After soaking, trimming and cleaning, foot massages and then the color, we left feeling like new women.  Every so often she would look down and marvel at how the color sparkled and a smile would break out on her face.  Never mind that we were both sporting casual clothes, old sandals and wind-blown hair – we felt beautiful because of our feet.  Every woman I’ve ever seen leaves the salon with a smile on her face and a thank you on her lips.

And think about it.  Our feet are amazing. Mine have had to carry this body around for almost 58 years.  They have survived walking barefoot on and through a variety of environments (I did live in Kentucky after all), blisters, weight gains, swelling through pregnancies, standing all day teaching and marching band.  And so they more than deserve the monthly pampering and the investment that goes with it.

But it’s even more than the physical. Despite the aging and the weight gain in my life, and on those days when I am not feeling or looking my best, there’s something magical about how a pedicure can make you feel.  I feel prettier, more feminine, somehow more put together or “polished” if you’ll forgive the pun.  People will notice and say nice things about my toes, of all things, like “what a pretty color” or “what a beautiful design”.  The ladies I go to actually free hand designs on my big toes.  It’s like having original artwork on your feet : )  And the colors!!  I for one LOVE color and it’s an opportunity to change things up, choose colors that reflect the seasons, my mood or just my personality.  Purple of course tends to be my favorite, but this last one was blue as it is our school color and school starts tomorrow.  It injects just a bit of whimsy into what can be a crazy life and schedule.

So many women I know give and give and give of themselves to their careers, their children and families, and to their communities and yet they hesitate to do something nice for themselves as though it’s selfish.  I’m not at all saying that it should be all about me, but once in a while I need that “me” time to replenish myself so that I have the energy to continue taking care of all of the other important people in my life.  So ladies, why not call a friend you know has been giving their all for others and take them for a pedicure?  Choose your color, watch it sparkle and smile together.

It began right as we started dating.  We had met at a party and per my past experience, I assumed that we would begin to date, call each other frequently and walk together to classes, yada, yada, yada.  Instead what happened was Band Day.  He was helping with Band Day and it was as if I didn’t exist.  What was this all about?  Maybe I had misinterpreted?  Maybe he decided he didn’t like me after all?  I was so confused!  But he explained (afterwards), that he was committed to working that day for the bands and so he focused his full attention on it.  Ok, I thought, I like a guy with a great work ethic.  I can deal with this.

The next summer we taught band camps to make money, some we did separately, some we did together.  This is where I really found out how important band was to him.  There was no fun time during rehearsals and I certainly couldn’t make suggestions while he was running said rehearsals.  I began to see where this might be a bit of an obsession for him and potential disagreements for us.  Still we continued to date, then we became engaged and finally married.  Four days after our wedding, we dashed home from our honeymoon so he could teach a week of – you guessed it – band camp for someone he had committed to.  I spent that week with my maid of honor in our campus apartment.  Surely he would get over this soon, right?

Our first son was born during – wait for it…. band camp.  Ironic, right?  I called Doug on the Wednesday of camp and said “guess what”?  He did take time off to take in the birth.  However, right before the baby and I came home, you guessed it – he left to teach another camp.  As you can imagine, the hormonal issues were crazy and this did not sit well with me.  And yes, he’s still hearing about it on occasion some 34 years later.

As the years went by, sons two and three arrived, one during marching season and I went into labor with number three while I was working with one of Doug’s kids during drum major tryouts.  I taught camp for twenty years with him, not because I loved the heat on the asphalt field, the sun burns or the exhaustion, but because it kept me close to him and the “mistress”.  I went to every contest, chaperoned every trip, took the boys to every concert because his passion was too hard to beat and quite frankly, I hadn’t found a passion of my own to follow.

And then something happened.  He decided to go to graduate school full time and I started teaching at the high school.  I was soon coming home late from rehearsals and music booster meetings while he was feeding the boys and taking care of the house.  One night when I came home late, he looked at me and asked “how did you do this for 20 years?”.  His perspective changed and it was certainly appreciated.

And so this man, whom I have known for almost 40 years now, as of today, has begun another band camp.  I’ve lost track of how many he has taught now.  My obsession with the mistress has subsided; after all, it was his passion for music and band that attracted me to him in the first place.  Not many people are fortunate enough to find that one thing that drives them like teaching band does for him and as I get older, I appreciate that more and more.  And now I’ve let go to follow my own passions which allows him to hang out with the “mistress” all he wants.

So, in the end, accepting the “mistress” has actually made us both happier.  That old saying, if you love someone you’ll set them free has been true for us.  We are both free to pursue our passions, grow as separate human beings and come together to celebrate each other and our accomplishments.  Here’s to another year as a band widow and may it be a great year for the “mistress”!

 

Ah, yes, the open house.  The first glimpse for students and parents to see the promise of what’s to come in the new year.  A chance to see old teachers and meet new ones, to have a fresh start to a new year of learning.  Tonight was my 40th open house, if you count my 13 years as a student in the public schools and beginning my 27th year of teaching.  For those of use who are teachers and who have seen it from both sides, we understand the excitement and nervousness felt by the students as they check out the new surroundings  with new people.  There’s a feeling of accomplishment that you’ve done well enough to advance to the next level on your way to graduation. 1st graders are no longer the “newbies” and 5th graders are ready to rule the roost.  Kindergarteners run the gamut  from overly excited to quiet and shy, all checking things out in their own way.

Parents too are experiencing this with their child and there are definitely levels here as well.  The anxious parent with the first child attending Kindergarten to the old pros who have been through this ritual many times.  The ones who call you by your first name and ask how your summer was and the parents young enough to be your own children respectfully referring to you as “Mrs. Bush”.

Can you imagine this type of thing going on in any other profession?  As teachers, we spend at the very least, four years in higher education, learning this art form we call teaching.  We graduate with a degree and a certificate to teach.  We’re expected to continue educating ourselves for the rest of our careers, and, for the rest of our careers, on a yearly basis, we will invite the public to walk in, see our spaces, and meet us one by one, face to face.

What would that look like say, in a medical/hospital environment?  Doctors are professionals just like teachers, right? Once a year, the public gets to walk all around the facility with their families, checking things out, asking questions, introducing themselves and assuming you’ll remember all of their names later.  You’ll have to make sure you have each room presentable as these people are guests in your facility, so you’ll have to purposefully decorate each space to show that you’re doing what you should be doing professionally for your clients/customers.  And you will have to do this after hours, not during the work day to accommodate those families, focusing on each new face that walks in and making them feel welcome.

You could keep naming dozens of professions which require college degrees and there’s not a one where people can just walk in off the streets and check stuff out once a year.  Wouldn’t that be interesting though?  Like Louis Tully, the accountant in the movie Ghostbusters entertaining his clients at his home, why not open up the office instead?  Clients could check out the record books, meet the colleagues, ask questions about their summer, right?

But here’s the big difference.  While in other professions the bottom line might be serving the client or making a profit, in education we are enhancing and even changing  children’s lives.  We are sharing knowledge, engaging their brains, helping them to think for themselves.  While some people look at our work as a way to create an educated workforce for all of those other professions, we see our final goal as educating and guiding people to become happy, responsible, well-rounded members of society.  One of the benefits of that is hopefully steering them towards a path where they can perform work that fulfills their passion.  Our bottom line is not make a profit or to make ourselves look good.  It’s a profession of service for the good of others.

And that is what I believe the ritual of open house is really for.  It’s a way to begin building those relationships so that we can help students find and develop their passion and become well-rounded human beings.  It’s a way for us to let parents know they can trust us with their most precious possession – their child.  All the diplomas on the wall cannot replace seeing your child’s teacher focus all of his or her attention on your child to make them feel welcome in their new learning environment and watching that child respond with a smile.

 

 

We pulled up to the security gate of the gated community where my aunt and uncle live.  The older gentleman said hello and asked what we needed, so Doug told him who we were going to visit.  The man looked at him, slightly perturbed and said, “Swingers?  We don’t have any swingers here!”.  To which Doug replied, “not swingers, Swinyard.”.  Once the gentleman understood what we said and realized what he thought he had heard, he laughed so hard he forgot to answer our other question and sent us on our way.  Pretty sure we laughed all the way to my aunt’s house.

There’s a part of me that shares that story and thinks, that’s me in about 15 years.  Doug and I are already doing the “what?” or “huh?” thing to each other now.  At this rate I can’t even imagine the types of conversations we’ll be having in the future! Like the couple eating next to us in a restaurant in Colorado, who had an entire conversation about their big salads.  They shared a bite of each others salad and discussed how much they loved the crispness of the lettuce.  Exciting stuff, huh?

Watching older people using technology is also an interesting past time.  Like the lady I saw in the restaurant typing on her cellphone and punching it with her index finger like she was actually pushing a button.  Sure, I use my index finger too instead of my thumbs, but I don’t punch the thing.  I learned how to type in a typing CLASS and it’s really hard for me to transfer this finger knowledge to my thumbs.  Just saying.  And the truth is, older people are just as addicted to devices as any young person, as witnessed in another restaurant where a gentleman actually brought his i-Pad to dinner and watched videos or something while he wife scrolled through her phone.  They just don’t look as cool doing it as a young person I suppose.  Have you noticed I love to people watch in restaurants?

Now, I need to be careful when I say “older person”, because AARP has been sending me stuff for years – I just refuse to acknowledge them.  I really believe that getting older is inevitable but getting old is a choice, and I refuse to get old.  This is not to be confused with maturing.  I am responsible, relatively punctual (for those of you who know me)  and I work hard, but I don’t have to be “old” while I do it. But I’m beginning to understand that getting older needs to include some sense of humor, because there will be those times when we won’t be able to hear or see as well, and we’ll misinterpret what someone has said.  Maybe we’ll have an intense conversation about something we’re eating because we’ve talked about everything else in the years we’ve been together and we’ve learned to appreciate even the smallest thing in our lives.  And I’ve given up on ever being adept at using technology, but it doesn’t mean I won’t keep trying in my own way to use it.  In the meantime, I’m going to relax, enjoy life and hopefully grow older gracefully.

 

 

 

 

 

 

She took it.  She took my purple pen.  It had been in the bottom of my purple purse for months and before that, in my desk at school.  It was part of a set of multicolor Bic Quick Dry Gel Pens I had bought and it was my favorite color.  It was laying on the table during a meeting I attended today and when I returned from a break, there it was, in her hand, doodling on some informational paper we had received.  Using up MY beautiful purple ink all over that paper in senseless, swirling doodles.  But how do you ask someone to give back your favorite pen?  It suppose it could make a person look terribly obsessive and I didn’t know this woman from Adam.  All I knew was that I was stuck with the no-name Horace Mann pen that didn’t write nearly as smoothly and she was playing with mine.  At the end of the meeting, I watched as she picked up my pen (as well as a pad of sticky notes in the center of the table) and stuffed it in her purse before she walked out the door.

It’s amazing the silly things we get attached to.  In my case, one of those things happens to be the color purple (not the movie or musical) and I have a lot of it.  In my house, within my wardrobe, in my accessories.  ( I have a very understanding husband)  As human beings, I believe we like to surround ourselves with things that have meaning, that speak to us, that help define who we are.  And for some reason, of all the colors in the world, purple speaks to me.

I tried not to like it.  Someone once told me it was a “gaudy” color and not something you would want to have in your wardrobe and certainly not in your home.  So, I tried to like blue – I really did.  While it is a nice color (and the color for my beloved Kentucky Wildcats), it doesn’t speak to me.

As an elementary teacher, purple has been a great gateway to talk to little girls, especially shy kindergarten girls meeting me for the first time.  I’ll notice what color they’re wearing when they meet me and I’ll ask them, “do you like purple?  Purple is my favorite color too!”.  Their eyes light up immediately as they recognize a kindred spirit in the old lady who is going to be their music teacher for maybe the next six years.  I have a large stuffed purple crayola crayon in my classroom that has sparked many a conversation with both girls and boys and a purple drink cozy with my signature diet coke in it.  I think it brings a sense of comfort to my kids in knowing that I, like them, have a favorite color.

It has also brought about discussion concerning boy colors and girl colors.  It’s amazing in this day and age that we still attach gender to colors of all things!  But in my room, it’s safe to be a boy and say you like pink or purple because it’s whatever brings you joy that’s important.  It’s a great way to teach kids to be themselves and that they can like whatever they want to and not be ashamed of it.  Which then in turn is a great way to tie into something as personal as music preference or selection of an instrument to play.  The simple discussion of color can lead to the eye opening realization that boys can like Taylor Swift or girls can play tuba and it’s ok.  Sounds silly, but it’s true.

So I suppose that when I go school shopping tomorrow, I’m going to have to pick up another package of Bic Quick Dry gel pens so that I can have another purple pen. Not to be obsessive, but I’m not sure I can start the new school year without it!

 

 

Doug and I had just parked our car in a beautiful little state park full of redwood trees in Northern California.  As we started walking to the path to begin our exploration, we noticed an older lady instructing her husband as to how to park the car.  She got out of the car and started insisting that he pull up another foot or two, stating emphatically that the car needed to stop in a certain place.  After she successfully finished her instructions, she spotted us and asked if we had been there before and introduced herself, explaining she was a docent in the park and was there for a meeting.  This meeting did not stop her from giving us the tour highlights from where we were standing nor did it stop her from yelling at three kids who were obviously riding their bikes in an area they weren’t supposed to.  It also didn’t stop her from loudly passing gas several times during our conversation.  Straight faces and all we left this sweet lady and took the path.  It wasn’t until we got back to our car that I turned to Doug and asked, did that lady pass gas while we were talking to her?  During the hysterical laughter that followed, we were trying to decide if she couldn’t hear it, feel it, or if she just didn’t care.  Now just imagine, if we had read up on this place beforehand and told her no thanks when she offered to help, we wouldn’t have that story to tell!

I’m one of those people who likes to go to concerts and just listen before I read about it because I don’t want someone else to tell me what I should be listening for.  I can read about it after I have formed an opinion on my own or if I have questions and I’m completely satisfied that way.  That’s kind of the way our vacation went, and while not all of our experiences turned out to be as odd as the previous story, it was refreshing to experience things from an ignorant perspective.  So here are some things we learned while taking the ignorant approach.

• Every small town in Nevada, Utah and Wyoming seems to put the first letter of their name up on a mountain somewhere.  We decided to look up Battle Mountain Nevada because of the BM on the mountain and found out that in 2001, the New York Times named it the “armpit of America”, which lead to the annual Armpit Festival. Seriously.
• The mascot of Beaver Utah is… the Beavers!
• Wanting to see what kind of wildlife is around might actually bring you face to face with some.  Like coming up on a mama deer and her two babies on a forest path or nearly colliding with a coyote going 80 mph on a freeway.
• Holding your breath the entire length of the Eisenhower Tunnel is not possible.
• Birds and sea lions can show you the way to humpback whales if you’re patient.
• There are a lot of great white sharks close to the California shore. (Cue Jaws music).
• Peters Bakery in San Jose has been around for 81 years and there’s definitely a reason for it.
• People with an extreme gene are fascinating. Rock climbing up sheer rock faces alongside the highway and surfers catching waves in small coves at sunset are amazing to watch.
• Garlic is grown around Gilroy, California and you can smell it EVERYWHERE.
• Google can answer questions about strange red lights or little red brick buildings dotted along the highway.
• The scenery is magnificent and getting off the beaten path (or lost) allows you to discover sights you never imagined.

You know, it’s not like I’ve never traveled before, but recently it involves going through security at an airport and not talking to the person next to you for several hours.  This trip opened my eyes to just how nice and kind people can be.  Like the fun group of kids shooting a silly video of a squirrel along the trail in Zion or the two young French girls who offered up their seats for us on the shuttle.  The young man at the hotel who took the time to walk with us out the door to point out the way to a late night local pizza joint to walk to or the guy in the restaurant who gave Doug free milk every night to go with his snack.  The people in line who took the time to take pictures for each other in front of the General Sherman Sequoia.  People who stopped what they were doing to converse or share or help, from fancy shops on Santana Row, to rangers at the national parks, to clerks at small convenience stores in the middle of nowhere.  We discovered that not only is this an amazing country to see, but it’s an amazing country of people who get up every morning, work hard and do their best to be kind to each other.  It’s a country that brings in people from all over the world so that we can share the wonders together.  We couldn’t speak any of the other languages we heard but through their eyes, their smiles and their laughter, we didn’t need to.

I’m not saying you have to get in the car and just see where it takes you (although I have some acquaintances who have done that), but maybe try to unstructure yourself a little bit, explore some new things, try out the local fare and see America through the eyes of its people.  So, despite the things I see and hear in the news, I have a renewed faith in the people of this country and new hope for its future because I believe I’ve experienced it from a more ignorant perspective.

It’s the day before vacation and I’ve done nothing to prepare.  It’s wigging Doug out a little bit I think. Well, I probably shouldn’t say nothing.  The usual straightening of the apartment and washing of clothes has occurred, but there are no lists, no timelines per se.  It looks for all the world as though I have done nothing to get ready for this.  Au contraire, mon ami! Like most major events in my life, I have been planning it in my head for weeks or even months and when it comes time to actually do the physical work, I will just do it from the list in my head.

My idea of thoughtful procrastination is one where I have worked out all the kinks and scenarios in my head first and then I act when I need to.  I do this in my writing as well.  When I was required to write an article for our state music magazine, I would start getting ideas in my head way in advance and then would start writing in my head.  The actual writing then was usually the evening before or the day it was due, but then I would just sit down for an hour and write it as it was already in my head.  I had taken time during the months leading up to it to pay attention to things around me that would inspire the topic and collect ideas that tied to it.  It could be a sermon I heard or a sign I saw, but it never went on paper until I had played with it in my head first.

This is also a great way to lead and participate in discussions.  Instead of just leaping into the discussion with my very first thought or opinion, I listen to everything going on first and my first thoughts may be completely turned around by the time I actually participate.  Allowing time for thoughts and ideas to swim around for a little bit tests my original thought and the final product is usually much better than my initial idea.

This is why I believe it is so important to allow kids to just sit and think about things in class and not jump at answering questions.  As teachers, we’re taught to give so many seconds for kids to think before they raise their hand to answer.  What this is supposed to do is help those kids who need extra time to remember something so you’re not calling on that one jackrabbit kid all the time.  But I want to restructure that a little bit.  How about asking that jackrabbit kid to also take more time to think?  Are they sure their first idea is enough?  Is there a better way they can phrase it? Can they add more to the conversation if they allow the idea to cook a little longer?

Decisions I’m going to be stuck with for awhile I usually think about longer.  It may look like I made a quick decision about buying my little yellow bug, but the truth is I had thought through it for years.  I had looked at different makes, colors, years, etc. and had read up on them.  I actually had things narrowed down in my head to two different cars, one I had driven as a rental car so the only thing I needed to do was test drive the other car and compare how they felt.  Decision made in a day – and a couple of years.

In our fast paced, I want it right now world, we don’t leave much time for thoughtful procrastination.  Instant gratification doesn’t allow for that.  One of the things that makes me craziest are meetings where we cram a million things into an agenda and fly through everything.  Invariably there are a few times where the leader will say, “take one minute and write down what you think about thus and such – go!”.  I’m sorry, but it takes me (and I’m betting some of you) more than a minute to digest what they have said and have clear thoughts as to what I’m going to do with it, or how it will affect my students.  I watch my colleagues as they scribble down some catch phrase which will sit on their desk for the year and never be thoughtfully considered again, just to go through the exercise.  I hate doing that.  If I’m going to participate in an exercise that is supposed to make my teaching better, I want and NEED time to think about it.  Give me a deadline and I’ll work it out in my head and have it ready the day it’s due.

This also means not telling people what to think.  Original thought comes from an amalgamation of thoughts and ideas that have been mulled over and over again from many different angles.  Another reason I think our kids are lacking creativity in the classroom is that we’re telling them what to think, not giving them an issue or a problem and allowing them to THINK about it, LISTEN intently to what others have to say, THINKING again and then CONTRIBUTING to the conversation.  I can think of some in leadership right now who might actually get things done if they would listen and think rather than just shoot off whatever pops in their head.  But enough soapbox….

I think it’s time for more thoughtful procrastination (not JUST procrastination : ) in our classrooms and in our lives.  I’m working out in my head what that’s going to look like in a couple of weeks with my kids!