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Read Aloud Series, Book 3: Clementine

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Book 3, Clementine

This petite book by Marla Frazee shows that girls can be Bad Kids, too. Clementine is wildly distracted and wildly creative and caring and silly and so youthful and innocent. She is a little bit manic pixie dream girl, but in a mostly harmless and very childlike way. Because Clementine is a child. She makes so many mistakes and is so much herself that through the opening chapters the kids at first are confused by her:  cutting off all her friend’s hair, then her own, then trying to fix it with red permanent marker, eating peas with a toothbrush, naming her pets after cosmetics products. Clementine also deals with loss and longing in a way that gently opens that conversation for the kids. It’s very silly and also disarming and real. 

Clementine creates a way into building curiosity and patience for a character, into experiencing the truth of the narrative before the protagonist does, and then waiting to see when and how she finally catches on. It sheds some light on how to love our friends and family members, even the most maddening ones, with generosity and curiosity. It shows how we can treat a Bad Kid with gentleness and acceptance and humor. Because we all make mistakes, and we have all wished to be embraced for who we are, and not just tolerated.  

The Read Aloud Series is a review of the series of books I used to read aloud to my third grade students every year after lunch. The exact order and titles changed somewhat over the years, but these are the ones that were most beloved, both for the kids as listeners and for me as the read aloud reader. Many afternoons our 15-minute read aloud time would stretch into 20, 30, sometimes as long as 45 minutes, as the kids begged to hear more of a story, or we discussed what a character did, or I reread difficult passages, or diagrammed family trees and plot lines for them. I can say that my gift as a teacher was, and still is, my enthusiasm for a good story, and these are the books that have brought me a great deal of joy in sharing with young readers over the years. 

on the process, week of Jan 15-21

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I have not written about Annabelle, but I’ve thought about her. she is stuck, like a bug on pins or flattened between panes of glass. but I see her moving, despite the pressure of pins and glass, and she’s coming back to me. I don’t usually like to use first person in a fictional story, and that’s what’s making me shy to start again, so I will have to allow it and become comfortable with it, because I think that’s what the story calls for. 

I surprised myself by starting a new piece on Sunday — it’s about skin — and I drafted a couple of poems last weekend. it seems disingenuous to report that all these ideas are coming at me so effortlessly and that I’ve just got to open my laptop or grab a pen to catch them all on paper. but it felt a little bit like that with what I started today. maybe having a prompt helps. that’s what I had for the piece on skin. also, I decided to stay away from social media all day. unsurprisingly, it’s the calmest and most content I’ve been in days and days.

the lack of mental static is delicious. I must plan to repeat it, a day away from the online noise.

so we are approaching each other little by little, Annabelle and I. maybe I will force a final push this coming week, one with a prompt and a day without social media. why not? these stories won’t write them selves. 

on the process, week of Jan 8-14

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back to work, and there is less time to be, or it feels that way. 

at work:  so much creation – of space and tasks and ideas and solutions to problems I never even anticipated arising. 

at work:  so many people, so much energy spent externally, the volume turned up much higher. and that is fine. I do not like to be only alone, only quiet. but it makes hearing the quieter voices, the softer nudges, the gentler pulls, harder to notice and follow. 

everyday presents the choice to choose habit or intention. habit is temptingly easy, intention much harder. 

I am intending to choose intention, even in small things:  quiet until after breakfast; noticing the light changing during the day, how it falls across the floor, then the wall, then away; sweeping the floor and chopping vegetables as meditation and not chores; looking for new beauty in a face I already know; this weekly reflection. 

and I must confess:  this weekly reflection was intended to be about a longer work, a book that started forming four years ago, but it has wandered so far away I’ve had to do dishes in silence and shovel snow in the cold to find a way to invite it back. 

and I must confess again:  I am through the foothills and at the base of the mountain, I think. I know where it will go, the book — if things go well — but I have to start over, nearly. what I thought would be a story told in limited third is asking to be told in first person. so. I have to sift through those pages, bravely, and let them go and move them into something new. again. re-creation. 

so. I intend to make time to sit at a window or at my desk and watch the light change, and also reread pages and smile and say hello and goodbye and hello, to start again. 

the looming Chicago teacher strike, part 1

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what does it have to do with you?

think back to a time when you were at school and things weren’t going your way. were you struggling with pulling up a grade? were you feeling disengaged because you weren’t really learning anything new? were you feeling lonely or left out by friends — who were pretty obviously being mean to you? were you dreading school because of that one kid, or those several kids, who — sure — were funny and joked around a lot in class, but were actually pretty out of control and managed to keep the teacher flustered and everyone else from learning?

as a one-time kid, i’ve experienced all those situations to one extent or another, and i bet you, dear reader, have as well. you may have even felt them more extremely that i did, maybe even failing a class or an entire year and having to repeat a class in summer school — or even repeat a grade. you may have started faking stomach aches or straight up started cutting classes or skipping school altogether to avoid the mean kids or the boredom or the general chaos of school. and who could have helped you pull through all that, if they weren’t already trying? your family and friends, sure, but also the teachers in your life. not all teachers are perfect, and i’m not saying that a teacher would have or could have saved you the discomfort and pain that comes with growing up, but i feel pretty confident that your teachers went into teaching to help their students learn and to support their growth. many times, as with all humans, things just get in the way.

and i’m here to explain that the contract the Chicago Teachers Union is fighting for this fall is one that can help with those things that get in the way, that keep teachers from reaching their students and creating that safe and meaningful school environment.

the contract that teachers are fighting for is one that advocates — no, demands — that the school setting is one that everyone deserves and that as many learning roadblocks are pushed out of the way as possible.

teachers are fighting for what every kid and every teacher in Chicago deserves. let’s take a look.

Issue #1:  Pay & Benefits

at first glance, this may cause some questions. how does a teacher’s salary make a student’s life better? how does that make a student’s experience safer, more comfortable? well, if teachers are worried about how they’re going to pay their rent or mortgage, their student loans, how they’re going to cover the rising cost of living, then how can they come into the classroom ready to lead a group of students through the vibrant process of learning? i don’t know about you, but whenever i’ve been worried about money i’m not my most creative, positive, patient, risk-taking self. and aren’t those the characteristics you want most in a teacher?

also, the school system is running into a staffing shortage, particularly in specialized areas like bilingual education, special education, social workers, and school nurses. one of the best ways to attract high-quality candidates is to offer a competitive — and stable — pay and benefits package.

Issue #2:  Class Size

from the outside looking in it may appear that these first two demands, more pay and less students, is obvious evidence that teachers aren’t demanding this for the betterment of the school system, it’s that they’re trying to make their jobs easier. but to a seasoned teacher, or even a beginner, teachers know that teaching isn’t about pouring facts into a child’s head. teaching is about relationships. the masters among us can, and often do, cultivate relationships with 32, 35, 38 kids per class, but it takes a toll. to listen to all those stories, to think about what books each child might like to read, their language development, ways to build their confidence and push them to grow — that takes a lot out of a person. it’s not impossible, but think about the possibilities if a teacher had only 22, 24, 27 kids in a room. think how much more your favorite teacher could have gotten to know you (happy sigh!), and how many more chances your least favorite could have gotten to see the real you, had there been fewer kids and more time to see you, to listen to you, and to be with you.

that’s where the magic of teaching lies, in the relationships. and teachers need to have less kids in front of them so they have the chance to get to know each child more, build trusting relationships with each child, and at the heart of it, support that child as they learn and grow.

Issue #3:  Staffing

pretty simple. hey if there’s a school library, why not staff it with a full-time librarian? since kids have social-emotional needs — growing up is hard! — then why not staff a school with the recommended number of social workers? how about school counselors? how about school nurses? this demand for full school staffing goes back to creating a safe and comfortable environment where children are able to learn and where they can get the supportive services they need. it’s a no-brainer.

teachers are preparing to use their ultimate weapon — withholding their labor — in order to demand what schools across Chicago need in order to be safe and comfortable learning environments. if a strike is what it will take, then the members of the Chicago Teachers Union are ready.

Self Care in 2019: Balance, Balance, Balance!

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Yes, yes, of course. Self care is quite the catch phrase lately, so much so that at this point I feel like its actual meaning has been replaced with a pop culture meaning, which is spend lots of money on things like spa days or brand name items and give yourself permission to ignore other people’s needs in the name of putting yourself first.

I’m not against spa days or buying brand name items, and I’m not against putting ourselves first sometimes, but this pop version of self care is a disguise and a ruse that makes us believe that by spending money or neglecting other people we’ll feel better. And many of us will — but fleetingly — and at what price? The pop version of self care is a hollow way of taking care of yourself.

But in 2019, I’m going to focus a lot more on self care — or simply taking care of myself — and to do that, I am seeking the magic ingredient:  balance. Balance in everything:  my work life, my social life, my home life, my inner life, my health, all of it as much as I can. And it’s going to be hard. Because to be balanced, truly balanced, is nearly impossible.

     Balance is ephemeral, a moment of suspended grace.                                                      It’s not a permanent position, but it’s one worth striving for.

Balance — or an attempt at balance — requires self-awareness, self-forgiveness, optimism, and even a sense of humor. Because I know with my achiever tendencies I’ll want to “Be Balanced” right away and I’ll want to feel like I’m doing it right and making the right decisions all the time. But that’s the beauty — and the difficulty — of balance. There’s no one way to do it, and the path to balance transforms day to day.

One day balance may mean listening to a friend, really listening, with that still attentiveness and no agenda other than to be there. Another day it may mean taking on the center of attention while retelling a hilarious story. One day it may mean pushing myself really hard at a work out and one day it may mean staying home to rest. It may mean working till 9pm on Tuesday and leaving right on time to go out with a friend on Wednesday. It’s tricky. It’s unpredictable. Whatever it is it’s an approach at walking through life, not as a person frozen in perfect balance — whatever that would look like! — but as a living being responding to the world and her own inner voice and doing her best to make adjustments in loving, good humor.

The Achiever on Vacation

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As an Achiever (see previous blog post for details) vacations can be hard on me. Sometimes space opens up and the clouds lift and I’m able to just be, to just relax. More often that doesn’t happen, or happen for very long, and I’m back to thinking, “What have I even done on this break?” Because, you  know, how can you lord over someone how relaxed you are — there’s no winning in that, you’re too relaxed!

That said, one good way for an Achiever to find a little balance is by reframing their achievements and focusing on the achievements in a non-work task or activity. So for this winter break I wanted to accomplish the following:  1. Read everyday, 2. Exercise six times (yes that’s very specific — but trust me — complex calculations took place before deciding on six), and 3. Be in the moment at least once a day.

I’m happy to say that I’m well on my way to achieving the crap out of this vacation. And to celebrate, I’m going to list a few of my smaller accomplishments.

  • Watched the entire Twilight series over the course of two days — eventually my eyes started to hurt but it felt good to just sit and revel in a guilty pleasure
  • Sat in a cafe and read The Sun cover to cover — so good!
  • Played Let’s Go Fishin’ with family members on Christmas Eve — things got intense with the grown ups
  • Tried a new recipe for Christmas Day — delish!
  • Yoga with one of my favorite teachers and spent 99% of the class just enjoying it — normally my mind is in 110 places at once
  • Glow in the dark mini-golf with some hilarious kids, oh, and some PacMan and Skee-Ball and that silly drop the claw and try to get the prize game
  • Snuggling with the cat on the couch

None of that seems very impressive — a fancy vacation to the Bahamas it is not — but as someone who wants to win everything, everyday, all day long seeing these small acts as a achievements is hard for me — so I count these activities and my perspective on them both as wins.

And honestly, even if I weren’t an Achiever driven to accomplish Big Things everyday, who cares if this simple list was my dream vacation, best of all worlds? Why let myself get sucked into trying to compete with other people’s lives — ones that are very likely highly curated and filtered? Most of life is the everyday, and cherishing these everyday moments — and recognizing them as moments to cherish — is an achievement in itself.

The Achiever at Christmastime

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At the beginning of the school year I took the Clifton Strengths assessment, a kind of long survey that asks you to rate what you prefer between two choices or what you think about two options. I wasn’t shocked when my top strength came up as “Achiever.”

Achievers like to write lists and check things off, get things done, and not only work long hours but work hard. Based on how I see other people spend their time during a work day and a work week I just thought I was a crazy person when it came to work, but it made sense after I read the description. It sounds like me. And in some ways I now understand why, in the past, I drove many of my co-workers crazy.

I’m learning to manage my achiever tendencies at work, and I’m trying to see other areas of my life as arenas where I can achieve — like Christmas!

Oh, and I’ve done it this weekend. From Friday night after work when nothing in our house seemed Christmas-like or Christmas-ready to Sunday night at 9pm when I write this, things are a near 180. Christmas presents for everyone on the list? Check! Tree up and decorations out? Check! The numerous holiday cards and matching postage are ready to go — just waiting for some friends and family to get back to me with their addresses. Oh, and have you heard? We talked it over and we’ll be hosting Christmas Day, maybe up to 25 people! I guess I just have to send out those invites…

You see what I did there? I crushed it! But wait — is that the way the holiday season is meant to be done? Are we supposed to crush Christmas? Yeah, probably not. But as an Achiever, the to do list is both anxiety-producing and addictive to get done, and except for a few loose ends and waiting for Christmas Day to come, most of it is done. And the loose ends that are hanging? It’s taking all my might not to stay up till midnight tonight and do them — the lesson planning and grading that’s due tomorrow be damned!

That said — I’m going to take a deep breath and try to let the list and all the doing it entails go. Because what’s the point of a holiday season if I’m going to try and crush it all into one weekend? There’s fun and enjoyment in letting a few things stay undone, saving them for next weekend, or even a spontaneous weeknight between now and December 25th.

It’s hard for me to not want to turn Christmas and the holiday season into another whirlwind, 12-hour day, accomplishment. But I’m going to try my best to let things linger and last. And maybe that will be my achievement this holiday season, pushing myself to allow a few things be undone — or spontaneously done — rather than listed, scheduled, and checked off at breakneck speed. After all, I’m not Santa:  I don’t have to get it all done in one night.

On failure

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I experience so many failures in a day. And it begins as early as not getting up when the alarm clock rings. Failure. Leaving late for work. Failure. Losing my temper at slow drivers on the get-on ramp to the highway. Failure. On and on throughout the day till my head hits the pillow at night. Failure. Failure. Failure.

But you know what? I’m tired of feeling like I’m failing, of being mad at myself and disappointed that I’m failing and falling short all that time. Because you know what, I’m not. I’m not failing, I’m alive and I’m living. And sometimes my desires to be perfect (or even just seem perfect) get in the way, measuring myself up against an imaginary standard for just about everything — but who cares? WHO ACTUALLY CARES?

When I’m an old lady — hell even now — I will not and do not look back at my past self and think, “I should’ve really been much harder on myself.” It’s actually the opposite. I’m sad when I remember how mean I was to myself, picking on every little thing that fell short — and in turn critical of people around me who weren’t living up to my imaginary standards. What misspent time!

Because really, what was I so concerned about, so disappointed in? Do I even remember those work tasks I didn’t do perfectly, whether my apartment was clean or dirty, or how many months of the year I was the “wrong weight?”

What I do remember is the times I uplifted someone or hurt them, times I really came through for someone in need, the missed opportunities to be a better friend or better family member — and most importantly — the beautiful feelings of freedom and happiness that have come through things like travel and one-on-one time with people I care about.

So, yes. If I’m going to continue living I’m going to continue failing — probably at some of everything until I breathe my last breath. But I’m trying to remember that it’s not the falling short that I deserves the attention — it’s the living and doing and being that does.

singing or asleep?

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A few weeks ago, at the start of the summer, really, I went with my wife and a friend to a special event where we got to lay in a dark room and listen to a musician make crystal bowls and glass objects sing. I know, I know — depending on how interested or open you are to “woo woo” types of activities, this event may seem like either the best or the worst way to spend a Friday evening. Believe me, I get it. But, even if you’re not into the energy of life, letting go of things that don’t serve you, and opening up space in your energy field for magic, it’s still nice. After all, you get to lay down and rest — and the music’s not bad.

That said, I was there laying on a couple of stacked yoga mats with a bolster and some blankets, making myself comfortable to enjoy this …experience. It was my first time at this type of event, so I wasn’t sure what to expect. Would it be weird? Would it be cool? Would my dead grandparents or future children come to me and tell me something deep? Would I just be uncomfortable laying on the floor for 90 minutes without a mattress?

The musician found that nice balance of alert and playful as she greeted us and helped us settle in, the lighting soft and dim, and I felt more comfortable on the floor than I thought I would. When the musician’s set began I immediately started to relax and breathe more deeply. The bowls and glass contraptions made a soft, resonating tone that filled the room floor to ceiling. I felt my body vibrate softly, too — not uncomfortable, but a distinct, non-me vibration. It was was weird and it was cool and I settled into a deep stillness to absorb the changing tones and volumes and — kind of like night tennis — to use my other senses to tune into the music’s movements as the musician walked the room with her instruments. I didn’t see any ghosts or visions, but my whole body and even my mind began to relax and take in sensation rather than words. Ah…

At some point, I did have to shift around on my mat and that’s when I noticed it:  snoring. There were about a dozen of us in the L-shaped room laid out in a variety of angles and postures and I couldn’t quite tell where the sound was coming from but it was most definitely a snore. At first I was annoyed but then I re-relaxed and reflected. Maybe someone needed the rest and this was their only chance during the week to have that time to just be still, with no outside demands on them. The snoring flagged then faded away. Back to the singing, sounds resonating, the vibrations and energy. Then it happened again. More snoring. But from somewhere else in the room. And while that person sawed away, another person joined in. Now snoring was in stereo!

It continued on and off for the rest of the session, ending with at least one snort when the music itself ended. As soon as stereo snoring began, I decided to have a sense of humor and imagine that the snores were part of the sound experience, an extra flourish to the spiritually healing soundscape. But truly, it made me wonder — what was it about this setting or this experience that put multiple people to sleep? Were they so rundown or overworked that this was their only place to find rest? That in itself seems problematic, even sad. Imagine — having to go somewhere outside your home and pay just to guarantee yourself 90 minutes of uninterrupted rest. Or maybe it was something else. Maybe they were unable to be present in a relaxed body — they were so unaccustomed to being simultaneously awake and relaxed that once they reached a certain point of relaxation their minds just checked out and they slipped away. Maybe the healing they were looking for was there and accessible for them, but they just couldn’t be awake for it, they couldn’t be present and clear for it — whatever the reason or barrier.

And that led me to think about myself — where am I asleep in my life? What are the experiences that I’ve had or often have where I’m not present or clear for it? And why is that? Am I physically exhausted? Am I stressed or anxious about things that are beyond my control? Am I holding on to old pain, limiting ideas or ideals that keep me from taking in and absorbing what’s around me, keep me from growing or changing, keep me fuzzy and unfocused? And if so what can I do to get clear, be alert and playful?

Each of those questions deserves a lot of reflection and action, so I can’t answer all of those here and now, but I can say that time and space, quiet and stillness are key tools that help me clear out. And I guess the unexpected, like snoring, can’t hurt with keeping me alert and playful.

night tennis

/ Elizabeth / 1 Comment

this summer is the summer of tennis for my wife and me. we don’t play too much, maybe once every 10 days, but that’s about 300% more frequently than we’ve ever played in a summer. that said, a couple of weeks ago, we walked over to our neighborhood tennis courts to play. we had waited a little longer than we should have, since it was already after seven o’clock when we left the house and that pre-twilight phase was quickly approaching. but that didn’t stop us from playing.

past the playground, the sprinklers, the field house, the basketball court, we walked to the farthest court, the one bordered by the busier street right next to the men’s softball league game, put our racquet covers and ball canisters and bags next to the net, and strode out to the baselines to hit back and forth. as we chased the balls and swung our racquets the sun set fully and dusk fell. the softball game continued behind me, with the sharp thud of bat hitting ball, infield sand crunching under feet, and yelps and claps when a runner made a go for a stolen base. the field lights and street lamps threw enough light for us to keep playing, although the ball would disappear from view for a couple of seconds on its way over the net, lost in the glare. regardless, we played on. and I began to notice that I was playing tennis differently, not just with my sight and my body following along, but with my whole body — or at least more parts of my body — attentive and alive to the ball. I was looking intently for the ball when it disappeared into the glare, but I was also listening for it, almost trying to feel the wind of it, feel it bounce on the court. sometimes I would just run in the direction of where I imagined the ball would bounce and trusted that when I swung it would be there.

people and their shadows walked by along the busy street beside us, on the sidewalk behind my wife, their shapes getting darker and denser as the night drew in more deeply. the ball began to glow in the little light that it caught, and disappeared just as quickly. my wife and I took a break for water and considered stopping, but we thought why not just a few more?

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and there was strange magic in our night tennis. we played as shadows, in the shadows, running after the shadow of a ball, using our senses and imaginations, not caring about the outcome, the night inviting us into another way of playing.