Slipping Away

Last October, I spoke at the CAPSO Convention in Long Beach. My friend, colleague, and fellow CLASS faculty member, Sharon Norris Elliott, honored me by attending three of my four seminars.

After my "Personality Puzzle in for Educators" session, Sharon praised my presentation but added a kindly caveat, "You kept doing this thing with your skirt!"

"Oh that," I replied nonchalantly. "My slip is twenty years old, and the elastic is history. So it falls down all the time, and I have to keep pulling it back up. It's perfectly normal."

But after we parted, started wondering about my "perfectly normal" slip. How many times had I done "this thing" with my skirt? I knew I'd hiked it back up two, maybe three times. But what if it had been more? What if yanking up my floor-diving slip has become such a habit that I did "this thing" dozens of times per hour, without even realizing it?

Then I had to ask the obvious question, "Why do I still have that dysfunctional slip, anyhow? It's been de-elasticized for at least a decade, and yet I insist on wearing it, refusing to replace it because . . ."

Because why? Because I like it? Because it's too expensive to buy a new slip? Because it has sentimental value? No, no, and no. The only reason I still have it is because I've never gotten rid of it. (As my students would say, "That's lame!")

"This thing" isn't a problem that's confined to my closet. No, if I'm honest, I have to admit that my mind is full of useless, out-of-date memories and ideas that do nothing but take up space. And I've got a heart full of worn-out emotions that I'm loathe to toss out, even though they're of absolutely no value. How many dozens of times per day do I reach down and pick up one of these old thoughts or feelings as it falls, hanging on to it as if it's my beloved security blanket?

I'm happy to report that my sagging slip didn't make it back home with me. It came to an over-due end in the trash can of Room 208. And not just one but three brand new half-slips now reside in my closet, courtesy of JCPenny.com. I'm not doing "this thing" any more.

And I've decided that each morning, as I spend quiet time with God, I'm going to add to my daily prayer a special request: "Lord, today point out useless old thoughts and feelings; help me to finally let them 'slip away' to make room for all the new You have for me."

Riding Lessons

It's happening again. My mind is generating dozens of reasons why I shouldn’t do what I'm scheduled to do this morning.

"You're tired... You deserve a break today..."

Exactly what am I resisting: Visiting the dentist? Balancing my checkbook? Cleaning the toilets?

No, it’s horseback riding. My excuse-making brain is working overtime to keep me from my 11:30 horseback riding lesson.

What is up with that? I’m a horse nut; I love horseback riding! Yet, here I am, avoiding one of my life's greatest joys.

Why?

Truth is, there's a major difference between loving the idea of horses and actually riding day after day. I've started riding regularly again, and the "fantasy" is gone.

It's work going to the paddock, convincing Newton he wants to be haltered, walking him to the grooming area, brushing, saddling and bridling him.

Then, there's the disillusionment that sets in mere seconds after I mount. My vision of what I want to do (glide effortlessly around the arena) clashes with the reality of what I actually do (bump, wobble, and weave.)

It would be so easy to just skip today's lesson.

"But," I tell myself as I begrudgingly pull on breeches and boots, "You know how you'll feel after the lesson. Probably sore. But also exhilarated. Stretched. More connected to the horse. A tiny bit closer to your goal of being a strong rider."

So, I go. And afterward, as always, I'm glad I did.

You know, the same thing happens frequently when I sit down with my Bible for some quiet time.

My mind starts churning out the same excuses: "You're tired... You deserve a break today..."

There's a huge difference between loving the idea of being a Christian and actually practicing the disciplines of following Christ. It takes effort to make the time, to focus on what I'm studying, to be open to the Holy Spirit’s leading.

And sometimes, I end up "sore" because something in scripture convicts me that that need to apologize to my husband or change my attitude toward my children. Ouch!

Oh, it would be so much easier to just skip today's lesson!

But when I open my Bible and pray God's guidance as I study, I come away exhilarated.

Stretched.

More connected to God.

And a tiny bit closer to my goal of becoming a strong Christlike woman.

Complaint Free: Who Me?

Over at To Love, Honor and Vacuum, author and speaker Sheila Gregoire is inviting everyone to join her in a Complaint Free Week.

When I browsed through A Complaint-Free World at Borders a couple of years ago, I was tempted to buy a dozen copies.

I figured I could give them (anonymously, of course!) to all the negative people in my life who drag me down with their never-ending complaints, criticism, and gossip.

Then I read a little further, and the author had the audacity to suggest that of all the negative people in my life, I might actually be the worst of the worst!



Disgruntled, I decided to take the challenge: 21 days with NO complaining. And to make sure I took it seriously, I told all my students what I was trying to do.

If you’re serious about becoming complaint-free, may I suggest that you ask a group of teenagers to hold you accountable?

Whooooo-weeeee! Did my students ever warm up to the “challenge” of letting me know when I complain. At one point during class, my bracelet changed arms five times in three short minutes!


Here’s the thing: each time was a total shocker to me! I was just talking away, not thinking any critical thoughts, and suddenly, “Mrs. G? Is that complaining I hear?”

We’ve discovered three “pet phrases” in my normal, everyday speech that act as warning signs: COMPLAINT AHEAD!

“I hate it when . . .

As a child, I was taught never to use the word “hate.” But here I am, tossing the word into conversation without a second thought! I think the phrase “I just hate it when that happens!” showed up in pop culture a while back (does anyone remember how?), and now I even use the phrase as a form of sympathy, “Don’t you just hate it when that happens?”



“It would sure be nice if . . .”

I started to argue that this is not a form of complaining, until a student pointed out that (a) I’m expressing dissatisfaction and (b) I tend to say this in a sarcastic tone, as in, "It would sure be nice if the dishes made it from the counter into the dishwasher!" Guilty as charged!

“Would you believe...?!?” or “You will not believe...!”

With such potentially positive lead-in words, you’d think that I regularly share great news. Sadly, I use these phrases to build suspense for an otherwise mundane “ain’t-it-awful” anecdote: "Would you believe the cashier at Wal*Mart didn't . . . "

How about you? Have you ever tried to go complaint-free? If so, what did you learn about yourself?

If not -- or if, like me, you're ready to try again -- join us this week!

Beating the High Cost of Higher Education

Check out this superb article written by my good friend and fellow CLASS* Faculty member, Sharon Norris Elliott!

Beating the High Cost of Higher Education


(*Christian Leaders Authors and Speakers Seminars)

The Way She Should Go

"I've got my class schedule for next year!" Annemarie yells, waving papers high above her head as she dashes into my classroom. "It's totally awesome!"

Momentarily slipping into Mom Mode, I stop taking attendance and scan her first semester college courses.

"You bum! Your first class won't start 'til 10:00 AM!" I protest, making my mock mad face at her (mostly for the benefit of my students, who get a kick out of our mother-daughter banter.)

"Design and Composition...3-D Graphics...Drawing...how are you going to endure three hours of drawing?" I feign concern.

"Heaven! Pure heaven!" Annemarie assures me, as she waltzes out of the room.

For the 10,000th time, I realize how much my daughter is not me.

Here she is, about to start college with a major in Fine Arts -- which she will love -- while I, her mother, can't draw a straight line to save my life. (Don't even ask me about teaching 7th grade math and drawing an object that one student proclaimed "an egg wearing a thong"!)

Well-meaning friends and relatives now delight in asking The Question: "So, what are you going to do with a Fine Arts major?"

At first, Annemarie worried, "How can God possibly use my doodling and photography? Maybe I should really consider something important, like medical school?"

Don't get me wrong: I'm not against the medical field. My father is an amazing physician. Many of my high school friends are doctors. Quite a few of my former students are in medical school.

But if there's one thing I've learned in two decades of teaching, it's that my daughter needs to follow her bliss. She doesn't need to know where it's going to lead her. Or what job openings will be available. Or what kind of salary she can expect to earn. Or what kind of social status she'll attain. Right now, she needs to dive into art and revel in it.

I've seen too many kids trade what they love doing for what they think they should be doing. And it makes me sad. I was blessed to be raised by parents who trusted God to show me His will for my life; they never pressured me to choose a particular profession.

I remember my dad telling me, "You should want to do your chosen job so badly that the thought of not doing it fills you with an incalculable sense of loss."

With that in mind, I have prayerfully done my best to "train up" Annemarie for the last eighteen years. Now I'm looking forward to cheering her on as she discovers God's plan for "the way she should go."

How do you read Proverbs 22:6?

How are you "training up" your child? How do you know which "way [s]he should go"?

What kinds of expectations did your parents have for you? What kinds of expectations do you have for your child?

Screen-2-Screen vs. Face-2-Face

Author Mary DeMuth has a great review of Flickering Pixels on her site, Relevant Blog (along with a fun YouTube video interview with the author, Shane Hipps!) I've ordered the book (via Amazon Prime, of course!) and am looking forward to reading it this week.

Mary closes her review with some great questions. Right now, I'm pondering how to answer these:

How do you feel technology (particularly information technology) has fractured our society? In what ways has it enhanced community? Destroyed?

When my kids were little, I participated in a Stay At Home Moms online community. I hosted chats that often ran for hours. I moderated numerous bulletin boards. I got to know one women via e-mail, to the point that we considered ourselves "best friends."

All my online hours kept me from getting out of the house to meet local moms face-to-face. In fact, when I did join a moms' club, I found it so boring -- everyone talked about trivial stuff -- I soon quit.

Then came the big disappointment: After months of planning, my "best friend" and I finally met in person. Within the first hour, we both realized that our virtual friendship wasn't translating well to real life. We hadn't been dishonest online, and we were trying our best in person. But the heart-to-heart intimacy we'd developed through our written relationship just didn't flow.

Once I started teaching full-time, online hours became grading hours. Soon, I wasn't participating in chats or even responding to e-mails. As real and vital as the relationships had felt when I poured hours into them, I found them surprisingly easy to abandon, as if I had come to the end of a novel full of beloved--but fictional--characters. My focus quickly shifted to my here-and-now, in-my-face students.

One thing I've learned is that virtual relationships can't replace face-to-face ones. If I could "do over," I'd spend less time at the computer screen and more time in the park with other local moms. I'd try harder to move those "trivial" conversations to a deeper level by listening better. I'd invite them over for coffee and spend real life time hanging out

Obviously, I still spend plenty of time online. I'm on Facebook and Twitter. I've got this personal blog and will soon launch a professional blog: "eBabies & iTeens & YouToo" focusing on questions adults need to be asking about kids and technology. (Questions like the ones Mary raises in her book review, in fact!)

So to actually answer Mary's question: I find that technology enhances community the most when I use it to support existing "real life" relationships. I also enjoy establishing new relationships via social networking, but I have very narrow expectations, both for myself and each new "friend."

Technology destroys community when I allow virtual reality to become an easy substitute for the sometimes hard, and often inconvenient, work of making new face-to-face friends and consciously nurturing my relationships.

What about you? How would you answer Mary's questions?

Wise Words About Learning & Teaching

1. "Whenever human beings perceive threat in any transaction -- including the real or imagined lessening of love, pride, affection, or approval, the chance of ridicule, dismissal, shame, guilt, or pain -- they stop learning and practice self-defense." (H. Stephen Glenn)

2. "Until we create an environment in which people can allow us to see their imperfections and errors without fear that we will think less of them, we can't teach them about themselves because they will never let us see them as they are." (H. Stephen Glenn)

3. "From the beginning, one must begin by creating a respectful atmosphere toward others. In the absence of civility, other educational goals prove infinitely harder to achieve. Instances of disrespect must be labeled as such; each must be actively discouraged and its practitioners ostracized." (Howard Gardner)

4. "In times of change, learners inherit the earth . . . while the learned find themselves beautifully equipped to deal with a world that no longer exists." (Eric Hoffer)

5. "Teaching consists of causing people to get into situations from which they can not escape except by thinking." (William Sparke)

I'd love to read some of your favorite wise words about learning and teaching -- leave a comment and build the list!

(I believe I've listed the correct authors for each quote; if you see an error, please let me know so I can correct it!)

Healthy Marriages Major in History (NOT Math) Part II

(If you missed Part One, I'd suggest you read it first!)

Back when Daniel and I were dating, I was an expert at “history habits” -- I focused on my beloved’s strengths and liberally exercised my bragging rights, telling everyone what he was famous for.

After marriage, however, I quickly slipped into “math mode.” Whenever things didn’t go the way I wanted, I switched to critical thinking, focusing on my husband’s weaknesses, trying harder and harder to “solve” the problem: him!

What might this switch sound like if a woman is married to a Popular Sanguine? While dating him, she might have written a letter like this:


Dear Mom & Dad,

I’m in love with the most WONDERFUL man!

He’s an incredible conversationalist. He is never at a loss for words; I sit and listen to him for hours.

Everyone invites us to parties, because he is so much fun -- always in the middle of any crowd! And such a storyteller . . . he’s so expressive, he holds everyone spellbound!

I love everything about this man, and I always will!


After a few years of marriage, however, she might end up lamenting to a friend, over coffee:

Oh Karen!

I have had it up to here with this man!

You know the country song, “A Little Less Talk, and a Lot More Action”? I could so do with a LOT LESS TALK! The man is a motor mouth with no “off” button!

It’s embarrassing at parties -- he always has to be the center of attention. He tells the same stories over and over again, never remembering that he’s told the SAME stories to the SAME people a dozen times already.

Will he ever grow up? What happened to the man I fell in love with?


Indeed, what has happened? What has changed? Nothing but her perspective. She’s stuck in “math mode,” focused on his weaknesses, trying desperately to “solve” someone she once vowed to accept.

One thing I've learned is how easily I can overlook my husband's myriad strengths and fixate my attention on a few particularly annoying (to me!) weaknesses. When I get stuck in "math mode," joy and intimacy are subtracted from our marriage.

Next week, I'll share some of the "healthy history habits" that move me out of "math mode". How about you? What do you do to purposefully focus on your spouse's strengths?

Healthy Marriages Major in History (NOT Math) Part I

Think about a high school math class: What does the teacher put on the board every day? Problems! What is the math textbook filled with? Problems! What do students have for homework each night? Problems!

And what is the goal with all these problems? Solve them!

In contrast, think about a high school history class. What does the teacher discuss in class? Facts! What is the history textbook filled with? Facts! What do students memorize for quizzes? Facts!

And how do we approach history facts? Do we try to somehow “solve” them? Do we try to change Independence Day from July 4 to, say, May 28? Of course not. We know that we can’t “solve” facts. When it comes to facts, our goal is to accept them, understand them, and learn from them.

So why do I say that a healthy marriage majors in history, not math?

Because one thing I've (finally!) learned is that no matter how I may be feeling at the moment, my husband is never “a problem”! He does not need me to “solve” him. “Math mode” simply does not work for marriage.

“History habits,” on the other hand, strengthen marriage. My husband is a living, breathing, walking, talking collection of facts. And he needs me to accept him, understand him, and learn from him.

What does this look like in day-to-day living? Tomorrow, I’ll demonstrate the contrast between living in “math mode” and practicing “history habits”!

(If you'd like to read Part 2, it's posted!)

The Enjoyment of Listening

A couple of years ago, I saw the book Listening is an Act of Love at Starbucks.

The subtitle summarized: "A celebration of American life from the StoryCorps project."

USA Today, quoted on the cover, proclaimed, "Each interview is a revelation."

How could I resist?

Every night, I read one or two stories, enchanted by the simplicity, the authenticity, and the nitty-gritty reality revealed in each interview.

This week, I'm sharing various stories from Listening is an Act of Love with my English II students. Today, we focused on the subtext of three interviews--on the inferences we could draw not just from reading the printed transcripts but especially while listening to the audio tracks.

How rich an experience it is to listen to the "live" voices of the actual people! Their stories, which I've enjoyed reading to myself, come alive with each individual's inflections, pacing, emphases, accent, and tone!

Do my students felt the difference between just reading the book and actually hearing the interviews? I need to ask! And if so, I need to hear what they noticed. (One thing I've learned is not to assume that my students' experiences mimic mine!)

Today, we compared these short interviews/audio clips that focus on marriage, each one thought-provoking and instructional:

William Jacobs exemplifies a man who "stepped up" to meet his wife's needs.

Hee-Sook Lee tells how she modeled her own marriage after a couple she admired.

Sulochana Konur shares her thoughts about her son's chosen (vs. arranged) marriage.

Listening to these stories -- and enjoying hearing them so much! -- makes me realize that I'm missing something when I text. e-mail. Twitter. (Even blog!)

What do you think? What do you enjoy most about listening to someone share his or her story with you?

Marriage Monday: Friendship in Marriage

Over on Chrysalis they're celebrating "Marriage Monday" with this question:

What do you two love to do together that fosters good feelings between you?

One thing I've learned is that we have to be intentional about "together time." Otherwise, life has a way of taking over.

1) One of our favorite fun (and free!) things to do together is visit the local Hallmark store and read funny cards to each other. We start out snickering and end up doubled over in laughter! We don't buy any, but we like to think we help sell plenty of cards! (We do give the store plenty of our business throughout the year -- just not on card-reading nights!)

2) When our daughter was first born, we'd to "go out on the town" to the local mall where we'd split a full-size Cinnabon, a milk, and then sit and listen to the Nordstrom pianist play movie themes for an hour.

3) Daniel loves taking road trips together. (I'm enjoy them once we're on the road!) We just got back from an overnight trip during which we spent about 10 hours on the road. We crank up good music . . . eat at our favorite food joints (yay Panda Express!) . . . stop at every Guitar Center and Dress Barn our GPS can find . . . read aloud to each other (I just read a fascinating chapter from Outliers to Daniel) . . . discuss what we're reading . . .

Road trips remind us of our college days, when life was so much simpler. Ah, the joys of plenty of time to just "hang out" and talk about whatever's on our mind!


So, what do you two love to do together that fosters good feelings between you?

Never Look a Gift Compliment in the . . .

Pride goes before destruction,
And a haughty spirit before stumbling.
Proverbs 16:18
When Daniel and I were young and poor -- student newlyweds! -- I sewed for both of us. I made simple dresses and flowing skirts for myself; I tailored baggy slacks and a particularly stunning wool overcoat for him.

But my pride and joy was the off-white raw silk suit I made to wear to church. The fabric was exquisite -- so lightweight I could hardly feel it, yet textured with natural slubs throughout. I searched for weeks to find just the right buttons for the cardigan jacket, finally settling on round light wood ones tinged with dark edge scorching.

As a Sanguine Personality, I'm not naturally fond of details. But when it came to sewing, you'd be hard-pressed to find anyone else as OCD (more like CDO -- gotta get those letters in alphabetical order!) about perfection. I labored over every seam: sewing and ripping out and re-sewing, pressing, steaming, shaping. And then the topstitching! Using twin needles, I meticulously topstitched every edge: cuffs, collar, pockets, bottom hems. (It was the 80's; topstitching and big shoulder pads were so in vogue!)

The first time I wore my creation to church, I was bursting for someone to notice. I had poured so many hours into it; it was time for my reward! As a Sanguine Personality, I sought two things: attention (someone to notice my suit . . .) and approval (. . . and to gush about it!)

I couldn't believe my good fortune when, during the "meet and greet" time, the lovely woman sitting in front of us turned around, said, "Hello!" and immediately asked me, "Did you make your suit?"

Wow! If she -- a particularly well-put-together woman -- had noticed my suit so quickly, how many other women were likely to notice me throughout the service? How many would surely rush me after church, all anxious to add their admiration to my growing collection?

"Why yes, I did!" I affirmed, beaming with almost maternal pride.

And then, anxious to know exactly what had caught her eye -- The obviously au currant styling? The perfect marriage of fabric with findings? The perfection of fit? -- I asked, "How could you tell?"

She leaned forward, lowered her voice, patted me sympathetically on the hand, and whispered, "My pockets always turn out that way, too."

One thing I learned -- from the new suit I wore only once! -- is that when someone gives me a compliment, I take it and run.

Two Simple Words

I heard some great news this week: one of my seniors was accepted into his/her #1 choice university. (S)he has worked so hard toward this goal and is thrilled to finally have the acceptance letter in hand!

But for me, the news is somewhat bittersweet.

Back in November, the day before Thanksgiving Break, numerous seniors anxiously sought me out. "Mrs. G! Would you read my college application essay?" Since this is my first year of teaching seniors, I was flattered.

When they told me that they needed my suggestions back the day after Thanksgiving, though, I almost said, "No can do." The weekend prior to TDay, I was traveling. Monday and Tuesday, I was not only attending the California Association of Private Schools Association Convention but presenting four separate seminars. Wednesday and Thursday were family days.

But, like I said, I was flattered. So, I promised to have their essays e-mailed back to them, with suggestions in Track Changes, by early Friday morning.

I survived (and enjoyed!) CAPSO. I survived (and survived!) Thanksgiving cooking and Day. And for the full 9-hour drive home, I did nothing (and I do mean nothing!) but read and respond to student college application essays.

And I really got into each one. As these essays are quite personal, I had a blast getting to know each student better. And since I teach English IV and AP English Literature and Composition, I already knew each student's writing strengths and weaknesses. So I was able to make lots of specific suggestions for improvement.

The deadline was so close, I'll readily admit that I focused almost entirely improving weaknesses. I didn't have time for flattery, although I tried to make genuinely supportive comments where warranted.

We arrived home exhausted at 11:45 PM. Before collapsing in bed, I e-mailed my students their essays so they'd have them first thing in the morning.

And then I waited.

And waited.

And waited.

And I'm still waiting.

One thing I've learned is how much I value -- dare I confess, need? -- two simple words.

From even one of them.

High Expectations

During the first decade of my career, I was your classic wimpy teacher. I wanted so desperately (so pathetically) for my students to like school. To like literature and writing. Truth be told, I really wanted them to like me.

So, I let them get away with "little things." Talking in class. Leaving trash on the floor. Copping attitudes. Turning in work late. Wasting time.

I became so disappointed (mostly with myself) that I was tempted quit. Fortunately, a colleague recommended Fred Jones' ultra-practical book and workshop, Tools for Teachers. As I applied new skills in my classroom, I learned that it really is "easier to have high expectations than low ones."

My wimpy teacher days are history. This school year, my principal wrote a stellar teacher evaluation after observing me in action: My students are attentive. The room is clean. Kids are respectful. Assignments are turned in on time. Class begins promptly, and students stay on task.

I should be thrilled, right? Yet I've had a nagging disappointment with this school year ever since, oh, September. I've not been able to put a finger on it. Has it been me? The students?

So, this year I've been a wistful teacher, longing for things to go back to being the way they should be (but without a clue about how or who!)

Last weekend, the light bulb finally went on. I was driving home from a women's retreat, totally energized from the synergy I'd experienced with the women. I'd learned so much from them. Although I'd been the speaker, the weekend's blessings were richly reciprocal.

This is what I'm missing at school this year, I realized. I'm missing the synergy, reciprocity, collaboration.

In my classroom, I expect to do more than disseminate data. I expect a lively give-and-take. I expect to be a different person each time the end-of-class bell rings. I expect to still be thinking about our class discussions as I'm shopping at Target later that evening. I expect to wrestle with a kid's tough October question in the middle of July.

Ten years ago, I learned how to have high expectations in my classroom. And here's one thing I just learned: my highest expectation is that I will learn right alongside my students. And when it doesn't happen, I'm disappointed (mostly with myself.)

I'm not tempted to quit (sorry kids!) or even give up 'til next year. We may only have eight weeks left, and they're gonna be eight weeks of learning. Learning together with my students. And learning how to always reach my highest expectation.