Hope for a New School Year: 9.2.2015

Hope: Clearly immersed in a rainbow by Wayne Stratz. Purchase on ETSY

Hope was being put on a test run. How would it go to make a panel using our newly favored font? How would clear class work? I like it and learned about the process. I can go deeper into my understanding of making a word design because I examined this one.

Today marks my continuing life as a teacher that began on a winter morning in January 1987. Like everything else, my improvements over the years have depended upon someone examining my classroom (students, supervisors, myself). I have to examine the good and the bad and see my role in both.

Two years ago I sat through one of the better inservice moments of my life. It taught me about the Collins writing program, which I have utilized in my classroom. But I want to use it in a deeper way this year. That is my hope for improvement. I see conversations in writing with my students, which begin with a simple prompt to begin a class but leads  to all of us developing our writing skills and into a deeper understanding of science. We will see.

As always I hope to create a joyful classroom where both I and the students want to hangout. I hope to lead students into great discussions on science and to guide them into the creation of our gardens.


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Mystical Mondays: Rumi learns by watching and listening to a squirrel

Translations by Daniel Ladinsky

What appealed to me in this poem is many a thing:  it made us laugh and reminded me of my favorite prayer, the Examen.  At night when I sit down to pray, I do it as if I was starting a conversation with a good friend, because really, what other kind of relationship with God do I want to have.  Also I am thinking it would be a grand thing that a benefit to saying grace is that my dinner will taste better.

Hey

The grass beneath the tree is content
and silent.

A squirrel holds an acorn in its praying hands,
offering thanks, it looks like.

The nut tastes sweet; I bet the prayer spiced
it up somehow.

The broken shells fall on the grass,
and the grass looks up
and says,
"Hey."

And the squirrel looks down
and says,

"Hey."

I Have been saying "Hey" lately too,
to God.

Formalities just weren't
working. 

Rumi

H is for Hopes of 2011 Revisited

I started the year with many a hope. Here is how they are going:

1. Bicycling: trying to imagine the time to fit this in but also trying to imagine not getting onto a bike this summer. I tried to exercise a bit more this winter, we will see.

2. The Examen: to say I have done it every night would be a lie, but getting off the computer earlier has led to more drumming and more praying.

3. Thanksgiving--- No Craft Shows, No Craft Shows, No Craft Shows.

4. Gardening: I did get out to clean up the front yard and have much gumption to do more. March was cold and wet unlike last year when Spring emerged much faster than expected.

5. Hospitality: We have had some friends over. Failed to get some others over. Made future plans with a friend and hope to invite more.

6. Year of the Mandalas: I sold the only peace mandala I have made (yes, I need to make another) and have sold one Dr Ed Mandala. Our mosaic mandalas have been drawing folk into the booth at our 2011 shows and some have been drawn into new homes in the process.

7. Jazz: Snows, which closed some local districts 5 or more times, only closed us once, so our school year has not been extended which means we may yet make it to the Rochester Jazz Festival this year. Tonight, Bobby Zankel plays at MCCC.

8. We have left outer space and I have been enjoying teaching about this amazing planet to my students. Latest topic was Fridays lesson on upwelling, or when cold rises and fish bloom.

9. Eating in: We have been doing more of it as required by our budget. Can't wait to have veggies from our back yard and from Lansdale's farmers market. As I sit here Mosaic Woman is making me waffles and was that the coffee grinder that is calling my name. I am as bad as a cat with a can opener.

10. Declutter. With the help of the FlyLady, we are doing much better at this. Though I need to help more with this life changing challenge.


and as for this hope that emerged, maybe I should grab my binoculars and ....


How is your 2011 emerging?

Jazz on Tuesdays--- D is for drums

If one read through my jazz posts one would feel I don't dig drummers. But I do. I do. But apparently not enough to give them shout outs.

When Chico Hamilton walked out onto the stage a couple years ago, I was wondering if he would be able to make it to his drum set. The man was well into his 80's and moving slow. But when he sat down behind the drums, the man was youthful. Not that he could drum as hard and fast as he could back in the day, but he sure could play. And he was enjoying himself, which is a requirement for playing:




Several years ago, Mosaic Woman (who did a great C about Canadian Content) bought me a drum for Christmas. One day I picked it up and said, "We need a lucky drum solo for..." It didn't happen often, but I continued the practice. Lately I have added it to my prayer practice. The drum sits next to the Chair of Contemplation and so at some point in my examen, I pick it up and said out some hope. And why not think of someone in need of hope and play a solo for them. Some of those vibes travel through my gut and keep going into the universe. I drum. I pray. I hope. It is one thing I can do for a friend, a town, a church, a country, a flock of migrating birds. If it was all that I did, it may not be enough, but it sure is a good start in getting God's attention.

an examen of my dream life, from the man who rarely remembers a dream

In my last post, I spoke of a fortune cookie telling me I was headed toward a career change. After some dreams this weekend, I am trying to sense what God desires.

dream one... I am directed to a location away from the school. I am with a group of folk who I do not recognize. Then a friend who was laid-off last August tells all of us we have worked our last day. As I am leaving the room, I stop. I am curious as to why I am being told this, since I don't work there. He says, "The school wanted me to tell you." I wake up.

A few minutes later I am back into the dream... I enter my classroom and it has been stripped clean. All my clutter gone. So are the plants. I wake up.

Later that day, I joke that I need to seek counsel from a fortune teller to make sense of these dreams. Mosaic Woman responds, "Do you remember what happened to King Saul?" I do.

Last night I dream again... I am at work and a friend of many years approaches and hands me a card. I say, "Wow." I am staring at page after page of birthday wishes from all the folk I have worked with at the school. I wake up.

Then it dawns on me to take these prayers in an examen. what were the primary emotions were stirred by...

the fortune cookie... curiosity
being laid off... sadness
my empty classroom... despair
a card filled with kindness... joy

and that is all I will say.

...

emerging from the heat wave

It was 20 degrees above normal for 4 days starting on Saturday.

Mosaic Woman grew up in Edmonton where the average high in July is 72 degrees and humidity is no big deal. I grew up north of here on a tree covered hilltop, not quite Edmonton, but cooler.

So we melted. and I did not blog.

Monday and Tuesday we were told to keep the students inside... I may have grumbled about the weather, but then a mighty wind blew, our power went out, neighbors and candles filled porches, winds shifted to being from the north, and temps fell 10 degrees. I was gifted with two days to garden.

As I climbed the hill away from the garden with a student who helped weed and mulch a bed of leeks this afternoon, I stopped and turned around. "We did well." A wet cool May put us behind but beds of zucchini, sweet peppers, golden beets, purple carrots, leeks, red onions sweet onions, garlic, new zealand spinach, patty pan squash, basil, dill, cucumbers, potatoes, tomatillos, green beans (2 types in two beds).... await our return in July as do the flowers we planted. Tomorrow is graduation.

Tuesday night I awoke wondering what time it was... then the power came back on a bit after midnight. Thoughts consumed my head so I came down to the computer and wrote my speech which I would read to honor a horticulture student at an awards assembly. My practice of examen came to mind.

My speech started joking about how the student points out my gray hair, and ended something like this...

"As I sat writing this speech my mind drifted to the last thing I do each night. I sit and do an examen of my day. Part of that is remembering things to be grateful for in my life. I can truly say that I am grateful that ........ is in my horticulture class."

Sadly the speech was directed to one student as the rest sat in the audience. That night as I did my examen, I regretted disappointing some in the midst of honoring one.

A job title does not make a saint

At his site Brainwaves, Jim draws a fine picture of the time consuming aspects of being a special education teacher. As someone who hates paper work I sure made a mistake, but it was more stumbling into a job than a thought out life plan.

I could easily have an ego problem from the list of positive attributes that folk assume I have when I tell them I am a teacher of those with special needs. On more than one occasion I have been called saintly. My wife has a thing or two to say if she is in the room, as do I.

Thursday night was a rough examen of the day. Not acknowledging the anger of finding out that parents night is on the "wrong" date this fall, anxious to get away for a luncheon, overwhelmed by the largest class I have all week, and embarrassed by a phone call telling me one of my students had been using a photocopier in a building where special needs students shall not stray; all led to a less than perfect conversation. Fifteen minutes later I was sitting in the room the student had fled to and now I was listening. This time I was more mindful. I asked some right questions and then I heard the word trust in my head. I did not stop to rationalize that this student had no reason to trust me at that moment, but I went for it anyway. I asked him to trust that I did not want to see him so upset. I asked him to trust that my anger had subsided and that I would not bring the incident up again in the future. I told him that I trusted him to use the photocopier across the hall in the future. I asked him to trust me.

On Friday I saw him and called him over because this story was not over and I wanted him to make lavender fudge. Yes, one of the beginnings of this story was me handing out samples of lavender fudge made by my cooking club and his request to photocopy the recipe.

I said, "Stop by later because if you want to use that recipe you will need some dried lavender."

When he got back from his field trip, he did. Thursday night I was full of self-condemnation for being less than perfect, but still recognizing something had happened that was positive. Friday, I was just happy that the young man trusted me enough to get some lavender.

If being a saint means being perfect, then I have failed yet again and all those Catholic parents hoping for a Saint Wayne to name their children after, will have to look elsewhere. For me this is a reminder of the trust we can have in a loving God, even when things are not perfect in our world.