Plus ca change update

VICTORY!!

After 6 months' wait, the Social Security Administration Payment Department has paid me what it owes me! There was no letter of explanation to inform me of this. In fact, I found out only when I logged in to my checking account online to find its current balance, and it was thousands of dollars higher than I expected. I clicked the account number and scrolled down the page, and there it was: the most avidly awaited deposit in memory. Oh, happy day!

I think this deserves a nice glass of wine!

Plus ca change, plus la meme chose

(The more things change, the more they stay the same.)

About three weeks ago I had medical concerns, Social Security concerns, and general complaints. I'd love to say that they've all been resolved, but that's not the case. There have been some changes in the details, but the three categories still exist.

"Nothing sinister," pronounced the ENT doctor, so three suspicious lesions on my face are no longer of concern although one will be treated to make sure it stays harmless. That leaves the usual concerns about cholesterol, high blood pressure, and all the typical issues of those who are firmly entrenched in Middle Age. Unfortunately, my PCP blithely orders blood draws "just to see what's going on," refusing to acknowledge that I'm what they refer to as "a hard stick" which means good luck finding a blood vessel in my arms or hands that will suffice for the task. I'm thankful that the nurses are careful, optimistic, and patient so we can usually get through the ordeal successfully. On another positive note, visits to the chiropractor are helping my back and allowing me more restful sleep. Unfortunately, some meds I'm taking are giving me vivid dreams that stay with me even after I'm awake. As someone used to say, "It's always something."

Social Security is still FUBAR. At this point they owe me over $8k and counting, and no one can figure out why the mystical place called Payment isn't paying me. I've filed enough paperwork for three people, even submitting 8 typed pages of chronology to substantiate my claim. My Congressperson's office has become involved, and a formal Request for Reconsideration has been submitted to the SSA, and still I wait. It's clear that my county case manager is not my advocate but a go-between or messenger, and the wheels of any government agency grind slowly, so in another four weeks, I may have an update.

And now for the general complaints: Why is David Letterman's Friday night show a rerun from two weeks ago? This is the night of the week when the tv volume doesn't have to be barely audible and I can stay up to watch late night shows in bed without compromising the quality of the next day's activities. You'd think they'd play the repeat shows on Mondays or Tuesdays when there's less of an audience for them, at least in this house. Give Dave Mondays off if he wants his three-day weekend.

What's with winter cucumbers? Yes, it's silly of me to use them in salads this time of year but they look so edible in the grocery store, and a tossed salad needs a few slices of cucumber to be complete. Either they're punky, they're sour or, even worse, flavorless, or, if I shell out the extra for the long seedless wonders carefully sheathed in plastic (after I quash the giggles about the similarity with condoms and carefully place one in my basket), they last long enough to be half used in one salad before the remaining half turns slimy and gooey. Perhaps my next quest should be for a small indoor greenhouse that can house ever-bearing cherry tomato and pint size cucumber plants so my winter salads somewhat resemble their summer counterparts.

Why are we coddling and enabling teenagers now more than ever? Many aren't being held accountable enough for their own actions or expected to be responsible as part of becoming a trustworthy adult, so when they continue the irresponsible behaviors and actions for which they pretend they're not accountable, they're shocked that the world outside their protective cocoons (I'll let you fill in where or what institutions those might be) doesn't agree with them. There ARE rules and there ARE laws, and son of a gun those rules and laws actually DO apply to them! Police! Court! Fines! Jail! At the age of 19 they still have the naivety of a pubescent child of 12 or 13, expecting to shift the blame or pull the wool over someone's eyes, and assuming that they'll be able to walk away clean to play more games. Why not gently but firmly and consistently hold them responsible from the onset of puberty for their actions? No long series of additional chances or exceptions will help that process. The best way to prepare for life in the world outside the cocoon is to practice living the way you need to in order to be accepted as a successful adult. (That's the goal, anyway, because even adults make mistakes, and then there are fines and jail time which take away that "successful" descriptor.) Not calling them on the lies you know they're telling about tasks done or undone or obligations neglected only encourages them to do it again, and that's not my idea of being responsible, for either the teenager or the adult trying to help the kid on the path toward adulthood. It's a real shame when an almost-adult ends up on the pages of social media or print media or on television as a result of one of those immature decisions. What a terribly public way to learn the hard stuff.

I'll save my comments about Congress and all this February snow for another time.

Grumblings...

About halfway through my first year of retirement from teaching, I'm unexpectedly feeling discouraged by my life. People in the past have quipped, "Sucks, getting old!" and I chuckled as I nodded in agreement, but suddenly that message has taken on a more genuineness for me.

For years I've expressed the belief in balance, that things balance out in the long run, and I still believe that concept to be true. Lately, as soon as something uplifting or happy presents itself to my life, another something appears almost immediately to take away the sweet taste I'd been granted. And I'm not happy that this is happening.

Take retirement income: Social Security and NH Teacher Retirement, both of which I've contributed to for the duration of my 40 year career. Other than the $97 glitch made by the Feds providing the wrong chart to NH Retirement to determine January's pay, that benefit has been a flawless and easy process, and I've been paid on time each month. Social Security? Not so much. Since August 2012 I've received two paychecks from them, even though I officially retired on June 30, 2012 and requested that my SS benefits begin for the month of July. I have a folder more than an inch thick with bank statements, letters of verification, notes, and letters from SSA that continue to mistake my actual situation and that continue to deny me 4 7/8 months of benefits that are legally due to me.

Another issue is this aging body. Teeth, skin, blood pressure, spine.... the list is long of parts that are becoming difficult and needing special (aka time consuming and expen$ive) attention. I have to admit that I probably should have been taking better care of myself, even though I'm no boozer, druggie, or real abuser of food. Sure, I've eaten what I wanted, when I wanted, for most of my life, but now my aging metabolism giggles every time I stuff a chocolate covered cherry or an extra piece of pepperoni pizza into my mouth, and I'm finding that I'm wearing the consequences and carrying them around with me 24/7. Some of the current problems are linked together, so if I were to get up off my lardbutt regularly and be more physically active, I could cross an item or two off the long list, so I accept some of the responsibility. The rest.... well, I feel as though I don't really deserve it.

Being away from the workplace has opened my eyes a little wider than I thought would happen with retirement. I have a different perspective. I can see what I did and didn't do more clearly. Decisions and plans made by others for specious reasons seem even more like folly. People who expressed and lived friendship while I was there now apparently need my physical presence to remind them that I am.... or was... part of their lives. The fallacy of open and constant communication between schools and community is painfully noticeable.

Which leads me to the reason why all of the above has become so much more prominent: without the need of my brain to focus on the many and constant aspects of my job, it now has time to be aware of, register, ponder, and worry about each and every one of those aforementioned topics. Now I have time to make appointments unhindered by the 8 hour blocks of time spent at work five days a week. Now I have alone time to think about me, to look in the mirror, to notice the aches and the flaws that have probably been there for a while or even all along, but they'd been low on the priority list during my working years. There's no one here to bounce ideas off of, to interrupt a train of thought or offer mitigating or encouraging comments. I notice the people who do make an effort to stay in touch with me, face to face, through email or Facebook, versus those who expressed friendship in the past but who are surprised to see me out in public. (Once in a while, at seeing their reactions, I wonder if they thought I'd died when I disappeared from their daily view, even though logic, and their presence at my retirement events prove otherwise.) This virtual step back from the previous part of my life has given me the space to see and understand it and my current life with a greater degree of impartiality than I'd had when I was employed and among my peers on a daily basis.

The temptation is to withdraw further, not just to see who seeks me but to back away from the disappointments and the situations in which I was formerly essential but now am not. The other option is to throw myself with more vigor into what I love, what makes me happy, what's important to me. To do that, I need to acknowledge what those things are, and then embrace them with more vigor and determination. My excuse for not taking the second option has been the season. Winter, for me, is not a welcoming time of year: it takes more energy to dress for the weather, the daylight is shorter and paler than in warmer seasons, and I don't like being cold. They're all silly obstacles, but they're there. Or they have been. With the length of daylight increasing, and having vented about some of the irritants here, I think I'm more ready to cope with the days ahead in a more positive frame of mind. Yes, the government, my physical self, and other issues are giving me problems, but if I keep pecking away at them persistently, I can claim more control over them, experience some successes, and feel a bit more in charge. That's my goal.

Pre-Monday Blues

from 2011...

Two different stacks of paperwork wait for me. I have a list of things to do for myself today that's typical for a Sunday. And yet here I sit, staring at the computer screen, listening to the clocks in the house ticking and the wind whistling through tree branches and around the corner of the house. I'm a lump of inactivity today because I have the pre-Monday blues. I'm not talking about music. I'm talking about being down in the dumps.

I've suffered from this affliction most of my adult life, but I didn't give it a name until about a dozen years ago when I finally realized what made me cranky 40 Sundays out of 52 in the year. (40 weeks = one school year) It's almost like my personality rather than my body feels sluggish, like being hung over, and I just do NOT want to do what I know needs to be done.

"Blah blah blah.... okay so get over yourself. Suck it up and get going, you silly goose."

Yeah....well, no. I'm going to wallow in it for a while before I grumpily do what needs to be done. Bah humbug!

Why reward mediocrity?

One reason I know it's time for a change is that my philosophy of acknowledgement and reward no longer fits the tone where I work. From the perspective of most adults, they realize that if you put in some effort to do a good job at whatever your task, you'll only have to do it once and then you can move on to the next challenge. Time and energy aren't wasted, and you can savor the accomplishment as you move forward. That's no longer the view at my workplace.

The current plan is to provide instruction, to present a means (or a variety of means) by which to discover whether each participant understands and can use the skills and content introduced and practiced, and if a participant isn't successful for any reason at all, that participant can request private tutoring and another, personally designed means of assessing his/her understanding and ability to use those skills and content. The participant who makes the request and completes the second assessment earns the higher of the two grades. If the participant simply does nothing, the participant is given a grade of 50%.

Given.

A participant can earn a grade of 0% if he or she does no work whatsoever during a quarter or fails to appear to take one of the two cumulative exams. Otherwise, if a participant puts forth minimal effort - like attempting an answer or two on an assessment, even if the responses are clearly wrong - the grade of 50% is required to be awarded.

What has this policy taught? That there is no need to pay attention the first time or to put in effort at the time requested because there will always be another chance with no penalty. That, as with sports teams for very young children, if there's even a hint of effort to show skill, everyone will be rewarded. That the burden is on the instructor to personalize the teaching rather than on the student to learn. Until very recently, a student was encouraged to develop the skills of advocating for him/herself by asking for extra help before an assessment, and of becoming aware of his/her own learning style and tailoring the effort toward learning to be done on his/her part. Do flashcards work? Does conversation with a peer or the instructor individually help? Will recopying notes or extra practice be beneficial? That policy has changed.

There are learners who do enjoy learning, who do strive, who recognize that their efforts toward achieving goals DO matter, and I've been fortunate to have many of them around me in these past few years. However, many more learners have developed what I would call a dangerous laziness from our current mandated practices. Mediocrity is good enough for them, in fact a low enough bar, an easy enough goal to be widely achieved and one that's not only truly possible in our current environment, but also the only one for a large portion of our populace.

Years ago we had a day-long training with a man named Todd Johnson who verified for us that in the balance of teaching and learning, the teachers shouldn't be working harder than the students. He offered a few very simple classroom guidelines, clear expectations, and firmness (and fairness) in adhering to them. Excuses were acknowledged but they didn't eliminate the responsibility of the students to do the work. We have finally moved 180 degrees away from that philosophy. Since this platform reflects my belief about training adolescents to become resourceful, intelligent, and reliable adults, I no longer fit in where I've spent my whole career.

I don't understand the rewarding of mediocrity. "Well, you tried...or you made it look like you tried. That's good enough," just doesn't fly with me, and I'd be willing to bet that the vast majority of employers and heads of organizations feel the way I do. I will be watching - in fascination or in horror - from afar to see how this current school of thought plays out and for how long. My hope is that the pendulum swings far, and soon.

Freshmen?

A former colleague of mine and her husband will be blessed with twins, probably in late August, to join their three other children, making a large and happy family. She will be on child-bearing leave for all of the first term of the upcoming school year. This much is true. Unfortunately, the educator who was signed up to be her substitute for term 1 has backed out due to the success of a business that she and her mother started earlier in the year. I know you can see what's coming.

The phone rang while I was out on my back deck, and the answering machine picked up before I could get to it. Floating through the air came the voice of my esteemed department chair, explaining that he had some very sad news. Thinking that it might be about one of the others in the department or another former colleague, I picked up and listened to his news (above) and his plea for me to consider taking the position.

My heart didn't sink to my toes, but I didn't jump for joy either. It's been more than a decade - in fact it's been two decades - since I last taught freshmen, and then only one class of them. At the time, I told anyone who would listen, "Never again," and was promised that would be the case. And now I'm being asked to consider a full schedule of them? Hmm.

Pros: As jobs go, I'm someone who wouldn't need training in classroom management, chain of command, daily routines, or anything that a newbie would need, so I wouldn't need to attend those pre-pre-student days in August being brought up to speed. Normal sub pay applies during the first week, but after that a larger stipend as long-term sub would add to my little stash of funds for travel and, I'm pretty sure, not exceed what I could earn as a retired educator drawing teacher retirement. It would probably remind me viscerally, on a daily basis, why I retired, so it would make me overjoyed at the start of November when the term ends and the liberation resumes. I'd get to schmooze with my former colleagues for a while longer. The freshmen would certainly begin their high school careers with a steady educator with some clear, strong, and fair expectations. I could participate in STAPLES' Teacher Appreciation Day in early August. Wooo hoo!

Cons: Freshmen? Really?? This is the group that was described to me two days ago as "half dream, half nightmare," in which there are several "high profile" students who will be part of the new discipline protocol from day 1. There are no honors students among the five classes to be taught, those students going to another more fortunate teacher. Classes will meet in the smallest of the English classrooms, right beside the noisy, dynamic science teacher. I haven't read any of the material in the freshman literature book. As much as I appreciate my former department chair's confidence in me, I'm not so happy about giving up September and October of my first year of retirement.

I'm going to have to ponder this and bounce it off my husband, even though he'll probably respond with, "You do what you think best."

Freshmen?

--------------------------

Follow-up: Back in 1992, eight years after I'd quit coaching basketball cheerleading, the newly hired coach quit and I agreed to coach for one more year. A week into the season I knew I'd made a mistake. The next three months were long and unhappy for me. Today's proposal feels way too much like that, so in the name of learning from past experience, I've declined, and I feel fine about that. : )

Not a happy gal

Step 1: Purchase an iPad 2 with Wifi + 3G to be able to use it where no wifi is available.

Step 2: Add apps and download iBooks; learn to use and depend on the iPad 2.

Step 3: Use the iPad 2 at my second job, especially to be able to use Square, a credit card reader.

Step 4: Lose free access to wifi at second job; plan to start Verizon Wireless service for iPad 2.

Step 5: Hold online chat with someone (seemed like an ESL helpdesk) to determine how to make my iPhone a hotspot and/or start my 3G service on my iPad 2; after 48 minutes, there was no useful information and no answer to either question so I was advised to call Verizon Wireless.

Step 6: Call Verizon Wireless to start service only to find that the manufacturer of the iPad 2 assigned duplicate MEID numbers to my device and at least one other (someone who lives in NY and had already registered with VW to use the 3G) so they can't establish an account for me to use it, and I was advised to send my iPad 2 back and ask for a replacement with a new MEID number. I'm upset.

Step 7: Call Apple and talk with tech support who puts me on hold, with lame Muzak for company, for 15 minutes waiting for a senior account advisor; the senior account advisor makes no apology and phrases the explanation in such a way that it sounds like a) Apple isn't responsible, and b) this almost never happens, although he can see from their records that it has. (note: at least one of my students also had this identical thing happen with his iPhone) He says that Apple will replace my iPad 2 after I backup files and apps, wipe the device clean, and send it back via FedEx. He's told that I will not be driving 45 minutes to a FedEx store, so he agrees to send a prepaid box to my home address. I am not happy.

Step 8: I realize a dilemma - this error on Apple's quality control part not to check the MEID numbers to make sure each is unique (were they thinking that no one would notice? or that people wouldn't actually use the features they paid for?) is creating a major inconvenience for me, but I've been a very loyal Apple user since the late 1980's. If I threaten to publicize the error that's clearly theirs, I can't claim to be an Apple supporter, and the time and effort to press the issue in the legal system might prolong my inability to have and use my iPad 2. On the other hand, if I just let them walk all over me, that's certainly not right either.

Step 9: Write email to the senior account manager detailing the great inconvenience that Apple has caused me due to its negligence; receive pacifying email in return requesting phone conversation.

Step 10: After playing phone tag, the senior account manager calls and asks what kind of compensation I had in mind. I suggest upgrading the memory and he says no, he can't do that, but let's talk with a consumer support rep to see what might be available. I'm put on hold and 10 minutes later he offers me an accessory like a new smart cover or one of the cables that connect iPads to other devices. At first I'm somewhat satisfied, but then I realize how little that represents. The senior account manager says for me to think about it and we'll talk again when I've received my replacement iPad 2 (with duplicate engraving from the first one) to see if it's satisfactory to be used with Verizon Wireless.

Step 11: Two days later the shipping box arrives; I back up files and apps carefully, reset (wipe clean) the iPad, and pack it securely in its box, sending it back to California via a local store that's a FedEx pickup spot. The replacement will take 4 to 6 work days to reach me.

Step 12: Wait. Miss reading the iBook I was halfway through (yes, I can read it 10 lines at a time on my iPhone, but... no). Miss making a sale at my second job because I don't have access to my Square account. I am NOT a happy gal.

Step 13: Trying not to let this eat at me but refusing to let it drop until a satisfactory resolution is reached.

I wonder how many Apple product users have been affected by this shortcoming on the part of Apple, and if a class action suit has been or might be made. I suspect that Apple's attempt to minimalize the problem and to assuage the discontent of their customers with replacement (which is part of their warrantee anyway) or fairly insignificant trinkets is keeping quiet the extent to which this problem has occurred.

Look forward to Step 14....

-----------------------------------------

Step 14: The new iPad came, the trinket arrived, and all is well. In fact, I've purchased a bluetooth keyboard/hard case for it, used its 3G capabilities to sell items at craft fairs, using Square to allow customers to charge items, and I've finished reading the iBook. In fact, I've downloaded a few more, too, and I've enjoyed helping others who have bought or who might buy iPads to see the sense in doing it and using it. The annoyance dissipated not long after the new iPad arrived and did exactly what it was supposed to do with minimal fuss. So much for my hissy fit!

Snow at last

Here it is, March 1, and our first real winter snow finally arrived. It's hard to tell how much fell here, but at least 8" sits on our picnic table, a depth typical of a January snowstorm. This white stuff would have been welcome six weeks ago for the snowmobilers or even two weeks ago for Winter Carnival events. As it is, the snow is unlikely to stick around when temps of 40+ degrees arrive over the weekend, and all the silly hubbub will seem pointless. The good thing is that there must not be bigger, badder regional events so that almost all of the news coverage today has focused on an event usually much more common than it's been this year.

Unfortunately the midwest truly is suffering from highly unusual winter tornadoes that brought terrible destruction of property and the loss of six lives, and forecasts indicate that more unsettled weather is on its way. I'm not thinking "global warming" at all, but I will be glad when such violent weather events can be manipulated and minimalized to save lives. On the other hand, I don't like the idea of snowfall being artificially manipulated simply for the benefit of winter sports enthusiasts, even though I live in a state where the majority of income is the result of tourism and outdoor sports.

At least the snow sports folks and the plow guys will be happy for a few days before all of this turns to mush!

No applause from me

I just viewed a video of a young man skateboarding in a variety of places, at least one of which he was asked to leave because skateboarding was banned there. He didn't leave at that point, choosing to continue his antics while making a vocal response equivalent to flipping off the woman who'd told him he shouldn't be skating there and that she was going to call the police if he didn't stop. After a little while the view switched to him skateboarding in locations in a city that included staircases, and at least one other illegal location back in the same town as the first incident.

I'm not clear which aspect of this video I'm supposed to be applauding.

If I'm supposed to praise highly the skateboarding expertise of this person, I have to admit that I've seen much better even among young locals. They make their boards spiral with them as they sail through the air, they sail over areas filled with earth and various plantings, they soar from top step over a short flight to solid landing, too, and they do other gravity-defying tricks on curved and flat structures designed for them to show off their mad skills. Sometimes it makes my stomach knot to see how fearlessly they attack the challenging surfaces in front of them as I imagine them landing and skidding in a bloody, broken-boned heap, but I have to admit that I admire their physical daring. That kind of skill deserves acknowledgement. Yet that's not, I think, the point of the video I viewed.

Instead, I think the point of the video, what the performer was seeking, was to demonstrate his defiance and lack of respect for the places he chose as his stage. One is a business with sidewalks for the safety of its customers and plantings to make the parking lot attractive. One is a public school building. In each case a clearly posted sign indicates that skateboarding is banned, and in one case, a legally designated area sits on the opposite side of the driveway.

The video began with the young man skating down the lengthy sidewalk of the open business and a pony-tailed woman scolding the skater for doing so. His vocal response was also audible as he continued to skate on the business's property. This set the tone for the film, and it was difficult for me to set that aside as I watched the rest, trying to identify the different locations and looking for postings prohibiting skating. In the city scenes, they weren't visible, but the antics took place on staircases of buildings which typically are off limits to skaters. (Whose insurance covers people injured on that property? Who is responsible when damage to property occurs?) Defense attorneys may call them "attractive nuisances," but that's hogwash. How else are walking people supposed to enter buildings? At least the skater in this video has the decency to wait until evening when the stairs aren't actively in use. The video ends with the scenes at the public school, one that he and his family members attended years ago, his antics taking place just below the posted sign banning skateboarding, so this piece begins and ends with the same message: it's not the skills that are noteworthy but the rebellion and defiance of displaying them where they're illegal.

That's what I cannot applaud.

Something is missing but until I know what it is, I can't search for it.

Waiting for inspiration...

...and the word of the day is "hypocrite."

I chuckle and shake my head each time someone posts some philosophy of life which clearly does not match the actual lifestyle of that person. I suspect that I'm guilty of hypocrisy now and then, as most of us are, but I must say that I try to avoid publishing quite publicly the positions to which I myself clearly do not adhere.

Ah well, amusing stuff.

Didn't Robbie Burns, in his poem "To a Louse," say, "O would some Power the giftie give us / To see ourselves as others see us!" Smart man. ;-)

The beginning of the end

Tomorrow begins my last year as a full-time classroom teacher of high school English. Yes, we met our classes last week for two days, but those don't really count. One day was spent moving from place to place, shuffling new schedules, new handbooks, new rules, new students and personnel and then dashing through shortened classes to meet and greet. The other entailed setting the tone for the year, distributing books, handing out course competencies, and other mundane activities, except for Creative Writing. I took them to several places inside the building to just listen and then record what they heard; I might as well get them accustomed to using their senses early and to knowing that this class isn't like English classes they've taken before. After this Labor Day, the real work commences, the end begins.

I've wondered if this final year will look and feel different than the previous 39. With more than 100 sick/professional/personal days accumulated comes the temptation to use as many as I can since they are a "benefit" and there's no compensation for not using them. Since this is the final time that I'll be teaching these classes, simply repeating lessons and projects assigned last year, only using Wite-Out to change the due dates, seems to be the best way to save time and energy. Because I won't be using them in the future, there's the temptation to leave the pages of my new planner blank. But I don't think I can fully indulge in these alluring behaviors. I'm not wired that way. I'm not saying that I'll refuse to take an extra day if there's some strong motivation, that every task and assessment will be brand new, or that every square in every lesson plan for every day will be crammed with information, but my intention is to live this year as I've lived the rest of my teaching career: aimed at helping kids understand their connection to others in the world and their ability to express themselves through a sound understanding of literature and good writing skills.

A year from now I'll be doing something different, not planning these next four days of classes to be taught by me. What I will be doing remains undecided but not really a mystery. I'll still be reading (mostly novels), still trying out interesting looking recipes, still watching Days of Our Lives and wondering if Sami's life will ever be smooth sailing, still blogging occasionally, emailing, Facebooking and chatting often, still making jewelry, feeding my dog tiny MilkBones, yelling at the Red Sox, doing the laundry, staying in touch with family, shooting photos, and the hundreds of other things that I typically do now. Between now and then I'll remain open to opportunity and decide what may expand, increase, or be added to my life. Until then, I'm going to enjoy the ride.

Renewal

I can come up with all kinds of justification for my lack of blogging, some suspiciously similar to the ones used by my own students, so I won't bother. I'll just renew my efforts to write more regularly and hope that I can sustain them longer than I've been doing lately.

Rain, cool and damp, has fallen at least five days out of every seven for a month or more, not an entirely unheard of occurrence, but certainly the reverse of what I think of for the end of spring and the start of summer. Advantages include cleansing the air of pollen that affects so many of us, low danger of fires starting or spreading rapidly, raising the water table to ensure that wells shouldn't dry up in the dead heat of summer, keeping air temperature cooler and delaying the need for the power sucking air conditioner, less desire to loll around outdoors on a lawn chair with a book instead of doing indoor chores or school work, and a lovely lushly green environment. All are very worthy reasons to welcome the rain if not with open arms at least with approval. However, rain makes me restless.

I'm not talking just about showers or storms with lightning and thunder, occurrences that naturally cause agitation with the visual and auditory stimulation and energizing ozone in the air. What I have in mind are the long slow days of drizzle to downpours when mental lethargy sets in, and the cold precipitation seems to limit my options. I'm not a fan of feeling chilly drops trickling down my neck or gathering on appendages to drip off or uncomfortably soaking my socks. I don't like sitting on dampness and then carrying the sogginess with me. Yep, I'll say it: I'm a wimp. That means I'm limited to indoor activities if I want to stay warm and dry. Limits make me restless, and this one is no exception.

It's not that I can't sit and read one of the several books I have going, or add to my jewelry inventory when I'm indoors. Winter time proves the fallacy of that idea. Perhaps the problem lies partly in the fact that, indoors, on vacation, I'm faced with the other stuff that I should be doing. That cluttered table, that stack of magazines to be clipped, the pile of clothing that needs to be mended or the others to be sorted and donated quietly but persistently call to me. The bench covered with odd items that need to find homes preys on my conscience and makes me feel guilty for not taking care of them before I indulge in more pleasurable activities. Of course the adult thing to do would be to dig in to one or more of the tasks needing to be done and then reward myself with an equal dose of tasks that I want to do. The key word there is "adult," and those who know me smile rather than attribute that quality to me. I'm still a kid at heart, and kids balk at limits. There's the rub.

I have to admit, though, that rain makes me restless in general, too, so my immaturity isn't the sole cause. The other sources include conditioning to expect that summer equals sunshine, the desire for deep warmth after a long winter, and the need for some vitamin D delivered by the sun. I've waited through 9 seemingly endless months of short days and bone chilling temperatures to enjoy long sunny days wandering in and out of the house, doing what I please, when I please. I deserve it! That delayed gratification stuff is for the birds! This gloomy rain had better back off soon before I become even more of a grouch. June, it's time for a string of nice warm, dry, sunny days to ease this restless soul.

The more things change...

...the more they stay the same.

Yep.

Really. The same.

It's like springsummerfallwinterspringsummerfallwinterspring.....

Etched in.

Superglued.

Eternal.

Once again I feel the need for a primal scream.

I'll be back when I catch my breath.

2011, year of change

In January I turned 61 with little fanfare, and that's fine. After a certain point it's more a celebration of being on the right side of the grass than a recognition of years past. In February we didn't even think of going away to some tropical isle for a midwinter getaway, and that's fine. Rest and a shapeless schedule are a delight for me in a life when, for 180 days a year, I hit the ground running .. once I can get myself going .. until I find myself in a stupor during the early evenings. Somewhere between those two markers of time, my birthday and February vacation, I knew without doubt that my decision to make next year my final year of classroom teaching was the right one for me.

There's no one thing, like a mammoth boulder, that squashed me into mush and made me decide to call this career quits. If there had been, most likely I would have done it this year instead of waiting a year because I firmly believe that quality of life is as significant as the other concerns that can determine such a decision. Instead, it's been the proverbial piling on of straws, one after the other, over time, that makes me realize I can no longer bear all of them on this camel's back of mine.

Partly due to No Child Left Behind legislation, partly due to more local rules and laws that relieve students of responsibility for themselves and their learning, and partly from the requirement to adhere to an assessment system that does not reflect the way the rest of our world functions, I feel that my profession has shifted under me, and I no longer fit into it as well as I have in the past. Instead of being a leader, I struggle with these aspects that don't make sense to me in so many ways. The intellectual explanations seem to reflect good practice, but the reality just doesn't work out that way for lots of reasons, and I find it very uncomfortable to be part of the group swallowing the doctrine hook, line, and sinker. In fact, it makes me feel, at times, like the dumb cow about which I warn my students every year: "Don't be a dumb cow, following the leader but not knowing why. Know where you're going and why you're going there, or you may be led to slaughter." I'm finding it less than genuine and honest to lead the young folks on this path that's not clear to me will take us to the best end. Heck, I'm not even really sure where it's leading us at all, and unsure is definitely not a good way for a leader to be.

So I'm transitioning away from the current and toward a new version of me. For so long, as far as work is concerned, I've been "English teacher" (and other assorted and related titles) that it's become my permanent designation. People in their fifth decade still refer to me in that way. Some people do know me as photographer, and some know me as jewelry maker, but they're considered my hobbies. I suspect that the shift from my one career to a variety of different jobs will be almost harder for others to adjust to than for me. Ah well, that's not for me to worry about, not really my concern. I'll be moving toward work that makes more sense to me, that still fulfills me but differently, and I won't have to carry the same type of worry with me day and night for most of the year.

The other realization that's been growing over almost the same time frame is that my mother is declining noticeably. She's been in a retirement community for four years, following the plan that she and my dad made for their later years, but Dad passed away just before she moved in. Alone for the first two years, she didn't do well in a large apartment by herself, so she moved to assisted living quarters which was a great improvement. She's had a man friend, another resident, for most of this past two years, and even with the ups and downs that sometimes reminded me of junior high times, their relationship has been a good thing for both of them. Now, though, their memory appears to be diminishing bit by bit. In addition to not remembering that he's told us kids the same stories several times per visit, he now asks odd questions, like are we going to eat the wrapped package that we hold in our hands. Her difficulty is starting a sentence or a question and not being able to remember a crucial word by the time she tries to reach the end of it. She feels a little frustration at the time, closing her eyes to search for the word she needs, and she expresses the realization that she feels "stupid" when she can't find it, but often we know what she's talking about and can insert the needed word in a response. We're glad that she doesn't seem to feel lingering anger or even exasperation, probably because she's still understood. Her world is small and easily manageable to her, aside from the shrinking vocabulary, so she's content.

Being her eldest daughter, the one who most resembles her facially, I watch myself to see how much I follow in her footsteps in other ways. This language issue is one I've tasted during recuperation from surgery some years ago when the painkiller I was prescribed scrambled my brains enough to take away the ability to draw some simple words -- mainly names of things -- from my memory, reducing me to tears of fear and helplessness. The prescription was changed, and my mind returned to its normal state, but the recollection of that time remains vivid. I don't know that I'll be as graceful when I begin losing my vocabulary when I reach my waning years as my mother seems to be. This is a change I hope not to see for many decades.

Finally, the winter of 2010-2011 seems to be a time when we're losing friends and relatives. One of Earl's brothers passed away about a week after surgery for something other than the heart attack that took him, and then this past week the daughter in law of that same brother died in a similar circumstance at the age of 57. We've also just heard of the passing of the brother in law of a dear friend of ours, a man with a generous heart and a true love of life. He was not many years older than we are. The good that comes out of the pain and loss is that we promise to take better care of ourselves, and we keep in closer touch with our loved ones at least for a while until the next reminder comes.

Life is short. Do what you can to be responsible and happy, and to live while you're alive. I've added this thought to my 2011 New Year's Resolution not to sweat as much small stuff. Now let's see if I can live it and roll with the changes.

Snow news here

(Bad pun, I know, but that's what happens when the weather is the top of the news nearly every day and the "white gold" falls in plowable amounts twice a week and more.)

We live in New Hampshire. It snows in the winter. It's winter. Ergo....

That doesn't seem like too difficult a syllogism to complete or accept, but from the grousing I hear, I judge that I'm in the minority who agree with that position. I'm not saying that I don't appreciate warm sunshine and mild breezes or having my toes buried in the hot sand while I sip a cool drink, but that's not natural to us in the days of short sunlight up here in New England. Those descriptions suit winter vacation destinations, the getaways, the respites from our mundane lives. In fact, I doubt that we'd appreciate them as much if we didn't have this expanse of snow, the collection of icicles, the dwindling stacks of firewood, and the array of thermal undies and sweaters for contrast.

Today is the fourth full snow day of our school year which, brings the last day for students to Friday, June 17, and the last day for staff to the following Monday, June 20. A friend of mine suggests that, since snow days called now shorten our summer break, we should treat them like gifts or vacation days, and I concur. These are, for me, days to rise at my leisure, pick and choose what tasks I do and when I do them, dress for the day on my own schedule, snack or eat slowly rather than wolfing down lunch at a prescribed time, and take care of those odds and ends that I've wanted to do but haven't found time in my all too short weekends.

Our school district hasn't gone the way of another one nearby that has teachers posting snow day lessons and being available online for advice or guidance to students completing the assigned tasks so the day counts as a school day. I think the jury is still out on the effectiveness of these lessons and other repercussions, and since our district either moves at lightning speed to adopt initiatives or thinks about/discusses/ investigates the life out of a new possibility until it sinks into oblivion, I doubt that I'll see it happen while I'm actively teaching. That's fine with me because part of the impact of actual classes is the spontaneity and interaction between classmates and instructor that can't be recreated online. I know this because I've taken several courses that were hybrids: first and last class on location in a physical classroom face to face with instructor and colleagues, and the rest of the time on my own, through emails, and in a closed, weekly online chat space for classmates and instructor. The courses weren't bad because I could accomplish the week's assignments when it was convenient for me to do so, and I could multi task during the chat session, but I'm an adult, one who's interested in the one course I'm taking, and motivated to do well because I truly want to learn information and techniques offered in the course. The wish is that all high school students would fit that description, or each high school course and instruction be interesting enough to motivate every student to the utmost, but I think that's terribly idealistic. Therefore, the human interaction - the eye to eye contact, the face to face discussions, the tone of voice that means so much, the teachable moments that only arise when teacher and students are together - continues to enhance education in classrooms of a wide variety of descriptions, making them still the best places, in my humble opinion, for many kinds of teaching and learning to occur.

Okay, I'm off my soap box for now. I think I'll do the last two days' newspaper crossword puzzles (yes, we still read actual newspapers) if they haven't yet been used to encourage the fire in the wood stove, and I may just make a loaf or two of banana bread or a pan of brownies... or not. This is one of those rather aimless days that I'm thoroughly enjoying: the gift of a summer vacation day, five months early.

Friday the 13th

(Yes, I know... two days in a row...wow! Maybe she's actually going to write here more regularly! Uh huh... maybe)

I have a friend who pays attention to 13's because he was born on the 13th, so as an extension, the number 13 resonates with me (as do a few other numbers, like 17, 24, etc.). There's a 13 upcoming that looks like it'll be a lot of fun. This August I'll be spending Friday the 13th at the League of NH Craftsmen's annual fair at Mt. Sunapee, not as a paying fairgoer, but as a photographer's assistant, something I've never done before. One of my favorite things to do is watch people who know what they're doing, do what they know how to do, so this will be heaven for me. Not only will I be working close up with someone whose expertise with the camera and sweep are already familiar to me and admired by me, but I'll be surrounded by artists and craftspeople whose excellence has been acknowledged by jury and it shows in every piece they've created. These people do the kind of work that I aspire to do, and rubbing elbows with them makes me want to improve and expand my craft plentifully and immediately. To a limited degree I can do that, which I will, but with other obligations upcoming near the end of August and for 180-some days after that, I feel like I can't jump in with my whole heart and soul just yet. Still, that proverbial itch can be scratched just a bit as I prepare for the upcoming fairs and shows. I'm greatly looking forward to this next Friday the 13th!

Midsummer

I don't know that today is official Midsummer, but it certainly feels like it. The weather has been blessedly drier than the past two weeks, and it's a day of accomplishment: a lovely new screen door on the porch, paperwork for a craft fair that I help to run updated, a check mailed to pay for dinner at the reunion of a high school class for whom we were advisors all those years ago, and reservations made for a couple of luxurious nights away for our anniversary next month. One small item made me pause in all this enjoyable activity: a single red leaf on my lawn.

The mister marks the turning of the days when he starts to feel the increasing earliness of sunset, probably because he's looking forward to cross-country season, and the runs are often in the later, cooler part of the day. He also gauges it by a particular maple tree in a cemetery nearby: as soon as there's a tinge of color other than green among its leaves, he calls that the beginning of the end of summer. To that I say, "Bah! Humbug!"

We've already had Walkers' corn at three meals, a delightful experience usually slated for the last week in July but early this year due to the earlier onset of spring and heat of summer. Tonight we'll be enjoying the first stir-fry with vegetables from our garden, an event that pleases me greatly. Our garden isn't large or even medium sized by most standards of the very casual gardener, but we do manage to have a few good feeds from its limited bounty. Grilled ham steak will be the featured meat but the stir-fry will occupy a place of honor on the table, a dish made with our hands from start to finish. That feels mighty good.

I have yet to fall asleep on the lounge chair in the yard, a book splayed open across my lap, which would be another sign of deep summer, but I'm sure I can fix that soon. I'm not ready to rush back to the 186 days of delight called the school year quite yet. Let me savor July for another week and a half!

It didn't start with Lady Macbeth...

"Look like the innocent flower, but be the serpent under it"
Lady Macbeth to Macbeth

Some well-known folks and some less so have bought in to this duplicity of maintaining a lovely, shiny, pristine surface that hides dastardly innards. Lady Mac urged hubby to do it and ended up being one of the victims. HAMLET is filled with characters whose exterior belies their interior. Even people in my own immediate world are attempting the cover-up of their true intent. It turns my stomach to be among the targets of their attempts that are so obvious to everyone but themselves, but in some cases, I'm driven, to a lesser degree, to some of the same behavior: covering up my true reactions to their smarminess. "It's all a big game." "It's just politics." What a great way to reinforce the concept that people should always be cynical for their own well-being. I grow weary of constantly being on guard against the two-faced folks.

Issues at work make me welcome the end of this school year with more genuine enthusiasm than in many other years. I plan no summer college courses at this point, and I have zero plans to do summer curriculum work after several years of it. I hope the changes instituted this past year are allowed a second year, one of stasis, to settle in and be judged as truly working or not. I've felt much frustration at the stated philosophy of Expect Excellence and its split from the reality of the current grading system. I think a lot of "brown stuff" will hit the proverbial fan in the next few weeks and again in the fall as a result of mass testing. It'll be interesting to watch the reactions.

On a lighter note, the turkeys are back in sizable numbers, and I see them several times a week on my way to school or back home again. They're a sign that, at some level, things are all right.

Waldo dog had a bath this evening and he's looking handsome....shaggy but handsome. It's almost time for him to visit the groomer.

Thunder and heat lightning preceded this rain storm, so sleep should be easier tonight. Between the cooler air and the a/c unit in the bedroom window, I shall sleep like the dead.

May (it not snow today) 9, 2010

Mother's Day was celebrated with Sis2 and Mom (and her bf Bob who is rarely more than a few feet away from her at any given moment) yesterday with a gift of cut flowers from me, a small Chinese red velvet purse complete with tassels and embroidered dragon-bird from Sis2, and a trip to Friendly's for ice cream. Mom shuffles along, her gait being stiffer with elastic stockings to her knees, and shoes that, to her, don't feel as if they're laced up quite tight enough, but she can still get from here to there. Her mental focus slides from one place to another and sometimes the past is the present, but then she'll remember something I'm sure she's forgotten, like the fact that my shop is usually open on Sunday afternoons. It's an interesting trip, and the nice part is that she's more mellow in this part of the journey than she was for most of my life.

The rest of this entry is an assortment of random thoughts:

I wonder sometimes if I weren't so helpful, would I be less memorable?

My brother is even worse than I am about getting to the post office.

What's the deal with people who get the rules, read the rules, agree to the rules, and then in the first 30 seconds expect to be the exception to the rules?

Today I'd have a tough time choosing between caramel and chocolate.

47.0 mpg That's my Prius.

We're using the wood stove on Sunday, May 9. That's a little later than I'm used to needing wood heat. Usually by the time the asparagus is sprouting up, the ashes have been cleaned out and the stove has become dormant for the season. Not this year.

Do I really need a cellphone?

NBA basketball: it's just a game.

Beads are calling my name. I think I'll allow myself to be lured by them. : )