Please post your essay here and be prepared to read them to the class tomorrow. We will read first and do our Godot performances after. As I mentioned in class it is worth the time to check out some of the I Believe links under the Literary Links on this blog.
Lots of great scenerios in the making!!
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The Power of Caring
ReplyDeleteI believe in the power of caring. I believe in taking yourself out of the picture and assuming another's role. I believe in viewing situations from all kinds of perspectives. I believe to care is to give all of yourself- flaws and all- to somone or something with the possibility of never getting anything back. It is easy to tell someone you care, but what you do matter most.
On the first day of my internship, I met a boy named Cameron. From that first day, I was drawn to this child- I could just see that there was something special about him. Cam was funny, witty, a smart-ass, high energy, intelligent, and so very thoughtful. He pushed the boundaries around him in order to figure out where he truly belonged. A thirteen year old boy trying to figure out his place in the world is not always the easiest thing to do. Cam kept me on my toes as a teacher and person, which I loved. I was always guessing as to what his next move would be or what he might try and get away with next time. For many teachers, Cam would not be a favorite type of student, but for me, I wish I had a whole classroom of Cams.
It was on a cold and harsh winter day that Cam opened up my eyes to what I truly believed in life- something that was hidden deep down inside of me that I never knew wanted to get out. On this day, I finally got it- I figured what it was all about. Two boys from my team had just returned from spending their days serving their suspensions. Shockingly, Cam had been at the wrong place at the wrong time and did something that personally, I don't believe he understood the ramifications of. After the suspension, Cam came back with more energy and enthusiasm to see his friends than to sit down and talk about the connections he was mkaing to the excerpt we were reading. Cam was nuts that day, and as a new teacher, I had to regroup the class, which he had gotten off-track, and get us back to the discussion. TO no surprise, Cam didn't want to talk about connections and he made that very clear! In turn, I had to ask him to join me for lunch because of his behavior, and I simply wanted to know what was going on through his head. Now don't get me wrong, this was not the first time Cam and I were enjoying our school lunches together- it definitely had occured a few times before, but this time it was unlike any other.
After sitting in silence for a few minutes, I turned to Cam and asked him, "Cam, you certainly know the difference between right and wrong- what's up with the way you have been acting?" His first response, "You should see me in other classes!" I laughed because I had seen him in other classes, and it was NOT good. Of course, I went on and asked him why there was such a difference in his behavior depending on the class. Cam's response literally moved me to tears. His words in more ways than one, made me feel like all that I had "taught" him was not important compared to how I had made him feel. He said, "Ms Sakkas, you see past my act. You know and you truly believe in how smart I am and that I can do anything. No other teacher has taken that time to listen to me or ask me about my day. All of the teachers think I am just bad, but you actually care." It was at that moment where I realized that teaching is not about what you teach or how- it is more about the relationships you create and the feelings and experiences the students are offered. Also, it is more about what you, as a teacher learn about your students, the world and yourself.
Cam may not remember all of the parts of speech when he is 30, but I truly hope he will remember me as the teacher who took a special interest in him- who cared about him - who believed in his ability and his strength- and who continuously pushed him towards something better. I do not know if I will have another Cam in my class, but I know I will never forget the child who opened my eyes to the most beautiful lesson of life. I thought I hcared, I learned what it meant to care, and I will always continue to care for the rest of my life.
For many years our daughter fell deeply into the trap of eating disorders. Slowly my husband and I and her sisters watched her slip away. I always figured that we'd be tried in life through helping someone through cancer - a popular ailment in both families, but eating disorders - a psychological disorder? We loved our daughter and her sisters, how could this happen? What do we do?
ReplyDeleteFor several years, we loved and thought we supported her through this, but she slipped more and more away from us. Finally, the day before she was to leave to start her junior year of college, we faced her and spoke not to her, but to her disorder. We cut her plane ticket up and said, "We love you." We cut her charge card us and said, "We love you." We cut her tuition check up and said, "We love you." She stayed home that semester and hated us outwardly, but said later that a tiny voice said we loved her dearly. She went back in January and we knew we'd receiver our daughter back in a box, but we didn't. Hard prayer and family support kept her and all of us going. It took eight more years and many hospitalizations to get our daughter back --she'll struggle forever.
So what do I believe? You're never alone - in the quiet there's God. He sat next to me in the many evening drives to Waltham to visit her in the hospital and the late night drive home. People from everywhere were there to help if I let them in. Besides our families, my principal was a prince.
When times get tough, I look around and stretch my arms out to not be alone and, hopefully, I stretch my arms out to embrace those in need!
I believe in the healing power of driving with friends.
ReplyDeleteI believe that most of life’s pain and sadness can be healed through conversation and laughter with good friends within the confines of a car. Since high school the car has been a place where my friends and I can talk about life, make each other laugh, and help one another through trying events. The lack of distractions within a car, I believe, creates a sanctuary to listen, love, grow and heal with others.
We were three bohemians attending and rebelling in a school rooted in the teachings of the Catholic Church. Every day we had the opportunity to enjoy each other’s company during the hour drive to and from high school every day. Each with our own set of issues and beliefs we bonded and helped each other grow and heal in the embrace of my Oldsmobile. My best friend wanted to be an actress. Her father died from a drug over-dose when she was nine, and I truly believe this has had more of an affect on her life than she even knows. Within that car she could explore and face her feelings about her early life, and it’s affect on her current actions. My other best friend wanted to be a fashion designer. He was questioning his sexuality in a less than accepting environment. In the car he could vent his feelings about how others treated him, but most importantly he could be himself. And me, I wanted to be a writer. I also felt a lot of guilt over things I could not change. This guilt manifested itself in the form of depression and Bulimia. I hate that I am ashamed to say it, but I still am today. The three of us loved each other unconditionally like you do for your brother or sister, and it was during this time I came to understand the power of friendship, family, and the importance of opening up to others and letting them in. Much of this I learned within the confines of the car, and it was in that car that I first sought help.
Driving back from school after a particularly bad day, my friends and I talked. Only your best friends can tell you how it really is, and though it hurts to hear you know they are right. Pressing me out of love as only friends can, they asked about my weight loss, my hair, and my skin. All of these things I always found an excuse for, but within the confines of that car and with the concern of my friends I found the courage to admit to myself and to them something was wrong. Everything poured out in the sanctuary travelling on Interstate 495. We drove, and cried, and then eventually we laughed. We lifted each other’s spirits as we always did, allowed each other to vent, scream, be frustrated, cry, and eventually heal. We never judged one another, never hurt one another.
During my recovery process, and after two weeks at Children’s Hospital, I used those moments in the car as my safe-zone. Here I could be myself, and not feel guilt or anxiety. In the car all of us were happy. Every conversation and funny moment within the confines of that car was a growing, learning, or healing experiences. It is where my friends and I could truly be alone and explore each other’s beliefs, emotions, pain, and humanity.
Now we are better, all of us. From my experiences with my friends in my Grandmother’s hand-me-down car I have come to believe a few things. I believe that friendship is a precious and powerful bond. I believe this bond can only be formed if you truly open up to someone and be honest with yourself. I believe that healing is a process, made easier by laughter and understanding. I believe that true friends will help your through your worst moments, and congratulate you in your best. I believe my family loves and cares for me, and would drop anything to help or defend me. This makes me an incredibly lucky person. Despite my anger towards some aspects of Catholic school, I retained a belief in God, and that he is always helping when he can; he brought me and my friends together. I believe in the healing power of driving around with your friends.
Way back in 1978, I wrote in my journal: "Want to write down what I believe-don't know why." I listed 36 things. I found them last week and was excited to find that I had not lost that early idealism. In fact, I had added some important ones through the years. Here are the top ones:
ReplyDeleteI believe that good mental health is the most important value of all. If you don't have that, you can't help yourself or anybody else.
I believe in the power of an individual to change the world, at least a little at a time. John McCain (page 157) talked about the guard who made his life a little better in prison camp. Miles Goodwin (page 82) mentioned a little girl who gave him a magazine on an airplane. George Mardikian(page 154) told about the smile of a stranger. These are not major events. A smile. a newspaper. A difference was made. We do not know what our students are going through in their lives. an honest remark like "You're a good writer!" can change a person's life forever.
May Sarton said, " Words are more powerful than perhaps anyone suspects, and once engraved in a child's mind, they are not easily eradicated."
That's a pretty scary responsibility for all of us. To know that one thing we say (that we might not even remember the next day) can hold such power!
But if we are mindful of our words and can show our students the importance of this power for positive change, how much better our world will be.
Kahil Gibran said, " The light of the stars that were extinguished ages ago. So it is with great men who died centuries ago, but still reach us with the radiations of their personality."
The children and grandchildren of our students will feel the effects of our teaching, but they will never know our names.
I believe that each person is unique and miraculous. We may be aware of our differences, but we sometimes see them as flaws instead of valuing them. You are a holiday!
Geratys said, "Help me see the truth about myself- no matter how beautiful it may be."
I believe that the only thing you can control in this world is your own attitude. As Pat Delzell said, "If I don't like something, I try to change it. If I can't change it, I try to like it."
This philosophy comes from my father. We could have been out in the middle of nowhere with four flat tires, and he would have said, "Well, at least it's not raining!"
I believe in joy. In "tap-dancing to work"
Bill Gates (page 72). Robert Louis Stevenson said, " To miss the joy is to miss all."
This philosophy comes from my mother. She tried to make my pre-school years fun and educational, taking me to the library and out to the lake to watch the ducks. I finally figured where I got my macabre sense of humor during my father's funeral, laughing with glee with my mother because we got to drive through the red lights on the way to the cemetery. Strange. But helpful in stressful situations.
People ask me when I am going to retire. I say, "When it stops being fun or when they don't want me anymore." Each day is pretty-much filled with lots of weird times and much laughter. I have the rare experience of having a bunch of students, but mostly one at a time. I interview them and find out what they like. Then reading class is partially designed around those interests. You never know what the secret key will be.
I believe your job should be your hobby. My father fixed radar equipment durung the day and went down to the basement and worked with electronics at night. That meant he was happy and not bored with his job.
I believe, like Auntie Mame, that "Life is a banquet, and most poor sons of bitches are starving to death."
Helen Keller said, "Life is either a daring adventure...or nothing."
Also, I believe that "You should never eat more than you can lift." (Miss Piggy)
What I’ve learned about the Meaning of Life from Phish and Moby Dick
ReplyDeleteI was reminded of my 11th grade English class a couple of months ago while at a Phish concert. I know what you’re probably thinking, and no, I wasn’t doing any hallucinogenic drugs at the time. In all seriousness, I had an epiphany. I recall standing in the center of a sweaty, pulsating crowd, about twenty rows back from the stage when the aforementioned epiphany evolved. The faint aroma of patchouli filled the air, and a haze of smoke fell over us like mist. As the stage lights broke through the mist, their beams stretched like purple cartoon sun rays across the crowd. The boys on stage, united with their instruments, hit their stride, and the crowd fell into it. I glanced around the mass of concertgoers and noticed we were all moving differently, but as one. For a moment I though about how we had all gathered here to celebrate different things, either an evening of freedom from our kids, or an escape from a boring job, or a momentary departure from reality, but to celebrate, nonetheless. In that moment as the warmth of thousands of bodies beat against the atmosphere, molding to the music, each one of us with eyes closed, hair flailing, dancing differently, but somehow unified, became one in this crazy choreography. I realized that this was the universal hum Ms. Edgar had told me about.
When I was in 11th grade my English teacher assigned Melville’s classic, Moby Dick. Somehow she got us to buy into the leviathan before the notorious teenage skepticism set in. With a twinkle in her eye, she began, “this book is an adventure.” Ms. Edgar took a dramatic pause, then looked around the room, as if about to tell us a secret she had never uttered before, “and within its pages, you can find, if you work hard enough, the meaning of life.”
Maybe I’m naïve, or idealistic, or just plain gullible, but I took the bait(no pun intended). So did my seventeen classmates, seated in those prim rows of desks along the glossy, tiled floor in Honors 11 English. Ms. Edgar told us that the only way to find the elusive secret was to dig for the buried treasure within Melville’s subtext. “What you must do is always read with a pencil in hand,” she told us. “Underline what you like, don’t understand, or passages that remind you of something else.” Little by little, she added terminology to this treasure hunt. We came up with a key, like secret decoder ring, which we all inscribed inside the book’s cover. “Mark passages that show duality with a big D, to compare to another text, write CT,” she told us. I know it sounds nerdy, but it was honestly thrilling.
To me and my classmates, this book became our Bible; we carried it to every class, not just English, as a badge of pride. Amanda and I ate our bagged lunch in the crowded “cafetorium” while sifting through its pages. Scott and I discussed the book on weekends at parties our parents would have never allowed us to attend. I even nicknamed my copy of the book “Moby Doby,” and I tattooed this moniker in big, black letters on the book’s spine. At one point, I daresay, I even called the book my favorite.
Over time I came to discover that my love for the book had absolutely nothing to do with story itself. As I recall, it was pretty boring to read. In fact, once I even seated myself in
Part 2
ReplyDeletea hard pine chair at my kitchen table to ward off the sleepiness that reading the book inevitable brought. Even while my little sisters rode their Bigwheels through the house I drifted off to sleep. Later I awoke to find a huge highlighter stain, expanding like a puddle of nuclear dog-pee across the thin parchment page. No, it wasn’t the story, but the shared experience of reading this book that left such an impression on me.
What happened in the classroom was magical. Over time this barely discernible rhythm emerged among us, where voices would rise and fall in turn, then rise again. People would shift at their desks, make notes in the margins, look to the stained ceiling tiles for an answer, then dive back into the discussion. Our class began moving like a machine, unpacking the beast word by word, line by line, and finally page by page. With this discourse, the ticking from the clock on the wall above the door faded into oblivion. And I even recall that no one even asked to go to the bathroom. Ever.
At the end of one particularly strong discussion our teacher looked at us with great pride, and told us something that, I’ll admit I didn’t fully understand at the time, but that I obviously never forgot. “Each one of you has become part of something amazing,” she said. “Did you hear it? As you all worked together just then? You became part of the universal hum. You just created the music of the spheres.”
Do I feel compelled to pick up the book again in hopes of reliving the magic? No. Was that Phish concert really that amazing? I’ve listened to the MP3s and I’ll admit that I’ve seen dozens of better Phish shows. What I’ve come to discover is that I believe in the music of the spheres, that in a shared celebration of any sort, a distinct community emerges where people with different backgrounds, purposes, and experiences work together in harmony. This music can be found in any shared moment where one’s uniqueness becomes the greatest asset to the group. It happens when we tear down our inhibitions and insecurities and move or think or write like our life depends on it. And I believe that the kind of joy that comes from these types of experiences is the reason for living.
So Ms. Edgar, if you read this someday, I want you to know that I did indeed find the meaning of life within the pages of Moby Dick. I just didn’t realize it until 15 years later-at a Phish concert.
I believe that everyone has the power to flip the switch that shuts off the negative voices in their head that tell them “you’re not good enough,” “you can’t do this,” “no one wants to know you or cares what you have to say,” and turn on your special light of self. I learned this power through my experiences on stage.
ReplyDeleteOften right before the curtain went up for a show, everyone backstage was buzzing with nervous energy. The strange thing was that I wasn’t nervous – I was excited! I wasn’t nervous, because I wouldn’t let myself be. If the negative voices tried to creep in and say horrifying things like, “what if you freeze and forget all of your lines? Everyone will see you!” I would turn the voices off by saying to myself, “Flip the switch. You’re on!” I would go from being just me, a regular teenager feeling the typical angst and emotions of growing into a woman, and I would turn into someone else – someone who wasn’t afraid to share my life and my self with the world.
I did not consciously realize that I had taught myself a valuable life lesson until the first day of my freshman orientation at Boston University. There I was, an eighteen year old girl who had lived in the same small town her entire life, unsure of how I would find my way alone in the big city. I vividly remember walking up to the classroom doorway and peering across the threshold at the room filled with other freshmen – all sitting silently, all sitting alone, all pretending not to care that they didn’t know another soul in the room. I started to feel unease creep up my spine and fear begin to tingle in my gut. Then, like a flash of enlightenment, I saw the orientation room as a kind of stage. It was time to shut off those negative voices that were trying to stifle me with fear, insecurity, and doubt. At that moment, I made the conscious choice to flip the switch in my mind that gave me the power to shut off the negative voice and turn my inner light on. I smiled as I entered the room, looked these unknown souls in the eyes, and chose a seat towards the middle of the room. As I sat, I said to my closest neighbor, “Hi! I’m Amy.”
With that simple statement, the energy of the room began to change. I realized that no one else had been talking because they too were uncomfortable with the newness and strangeness of not knowing anyone in the room. Someone had to break that uncomfortable silence by jumping in and starting the process of getting to know each other. I knew it had to be me, because through acting I had already learned how to turn off the insecurities and turn on my energy. In that moment, I let my inner light brighten a room by just turning it on. It was as simple as flipping that switch and turning my self loose on the world.
The Power Of Love
ReplyDeleteIt was a hazy June day when I first met him. At first, our communications were tentative. We were not connecting. I felt unsure and inadequate. How could I turn this around?
With hesitation, I greeted Bobby on that first day of school in September. Bobby said little as his ability to communicate was not developed. “We know he will need an assistant, but we have not hired one yet for him.”
I’m not sure when it happened; all I know is that it did. When I gazed into those big brown eyes and witnessed that tooth bearing grin, I felt love. No hesitation, no feelings of insecurity or inadequacy, just love and pride.
Eventually an assistant arrived to work with Bobby. She worked in the preschool program and had not worked directly with him but knew him. It quickly became apparent to Joanne that Bobby was “the teacher’s pet”. “You spoil him!” “I can’t help myself. You are going to have to be the bad cop.” Together that year Joanne and I worked to give Bobby our best. He began to thrive. He not only developed his ability to communicate verbally, he started to read! He told jokes! A wonderful sense of humor emerged. He began interacting with his classmates.
By the spring, Bobby’s accomplishments were extraordinary. I couldn’t help but think, “Is it possible that this is the same child I met the previous spring who was unable to speak in complete sentences? Or even respond appropriately to a question?” When complementing Joanne on her work with him, she replied, “It’s because you love him.” “Joanne, you have worked so hard with him this year.” “I know, but I have witnessed his growth this year and I believe it is because you love him so much. He has made so much progress with you, so much more than in the preschool. He was the icky boy. They didn’t love him like you do.”
Joanne’s words have stayed with me always. I am determined to love each child that walks through my door. For through that love comes strength, compassion for others and a feeling of self-worth. If I can give that to my students, the possibilities for success are endless.
I believe in telling life to bring it on. I also believe in staring life in the eyes, curling the sides of your cheeks to a determined smile and bringing it on yourself. Life has its ups and downs, its twists and turns. Life is definitely a journey and we should face it head on and not back down or go in reverse. Whatever life gives us, we need to give right back.
ReplyDeleteLife has handed me some rough detours and I’ve learned what I believe the hard way. I’ve dealt with my mother having breast cancer and my dad’s addiction within a year. I’ve lost both my grandparents and an aunt; two of these deaths occurred within two weeks. All of these have had a major impact on me and still continues to affect me. There is not a day that goes by that I don’t think about my mom’s cancer coming back or if my dad will relapse. I think about all the memories I have with my grandparents and my aunt: having cookies before bed with Grandpa Joe, learning how to fish with Grandpa George, and playing board games with my Aunt Cindy.
Depression has hit members of my immediate family. I learned that it can be heredity. This scares me. My doctor once told me that I should keep this in mind. I need to be careful were his exact words. I am afraid that I might wake up one morning and it might hit me. Part of me is scared that I will not know how to cope with another major catastrophe or loss in my life.
I do know that life continues. Life has no potty breaks, no stop signs, and no red lights. Life is a cross-country road trip without a map, gps, or destination. We see landmarks, drive through mountains, swim in its waters but we keep on truckin’. The road may lead us to new cities or our own hometowns. We need to accept this. I believe we need to embrace the journey with a full tank of gas and the music blasting. I need to make sure my oil is changed and my tires have air. I need to make sure my doors are unlocked and my top is down.
I need to be ready for this trip. There is nothing worse than a screaming child in a car. I do not want to be that child. I want to be the driver. I want to adjust the mirror, grip the wheel, and go. Where life may take me, I do not know. But wherever it is, I’m ready to bring it on.
I believe I am not alone. It’s a lesson I continue to learn. Someone once told me, “Ask for want you want.” Such a simple statement but how many times do I sit back and hope or wish things were different. Now I don’t wait. I think, what is it that I want? How can I make it so? As a teacher and a student experiencing the changes continuous learning brings, I sometimes feel alone. Is my struggle with these changes unique? Aren’t I, as The Teacher, suppose to know what to do and how to it? Isn’t this suppose to be easy? It seems so for others. Learning together with likeminded teachers, ones who continuously look towards self improvement, has made me realize I am not alone. These teachers want to think, grow, evolve, take chances and make the time to transform themselves. They want to inspire. I believe they have inspired me. But doubts creep in. We shut our doors until we perfect our lessons afraid we are not good enough becoming lonely islands of self-deprecation. Let’s open our doors, let others in to watch or to talk about our failures and insecurities. End teacher competition. Bring on the compassion. I’m talking about a support group; of the teachers, for the teachers, by the teachers. Let’s be the change we want and need for each other. I believe teachers are intelligent but like most of our students, we tend to sit and wait to be told what to do. We are our students in fact, taking on some of their behaviors as they mimic our crossed legs or heavy sighs of displeasure. I’m quite sure my raised eyebrows are mimicked on more than a few after school highlight reels at the dinner table. So let’s be the kids again and not take ourselves too seriously. Remember, we are in the support business. And I believe it’s time to support ourselves. Step off your island. Swim, float, splash, hold hands and stay afloat. Look around, we are not alone. I believe I, am not alone.
ReplyDeleteTradition, Tradition!
ReplyDeleteDon’t “get stuck for good.”
I am a child of tradition. I stand at the bottom of the line of my siblings and smile on the stairs for a photo every Christmas morning, even after my oldest brother has broken into his forties. When I was in college, we still gathered around a homemade cake on the dining room table, both decorated with a theme, to celebrate my birthday with my parents, siblings, aunt, and cousins. From pancakes on snow days to camping each summer with the same friends, I find myself reaching for the familiar and crafting a place for routine in my own life. I should not find this surprising given my parents’ history. Mom and Dad have been a part of the same community their entire lives, living in the same house for more than forty years. In light of their experiences and choices, I was raised in a culture of not questioning habit or ritual.
I do find love, comfort, and home in these memories, and I would never want to lose them; however, I do not want to get stuck in them. While these rituals are seemingly small, happy examples of tradition in my own life, they are also the outward manifestation of significant patterns on an emotional level that I would like to change. No matter what the type of ritual or habit, I believe it is important to question why we do the things we do, especially when they have been happening for years or even decades. Times change, and we do not always see clearly when we start a tradition. The legacy from the ‘70s of a segregated prom in a small Mississippi town that carries over into the twenty-first century is a perfect example of that reality.
While we all want to belong and traditions strengthen those bonds for us, there is danger in feeling too comfortable. Without some level of risk and unease, we stop moving forward as individuals and as a society. Tradition is too often accepted as “just what we do,” and often times, as a result, ineffective or unjust practices continue for no good reason. In fact, many may not agree with their foundational principles and/or outcome, but without having a basis of comparison, they have no cause to question or think critically about it. From Dewey’s research about the role of experience in education to women who stepped outside of their traditional roles to serve in WWII, so many periods of our country’s history have been marked by the strong voices of those who have delved into another way of being in the world. Only once they stepped outside of their own sphere of experience did they raise concerns with the status quo. The same holds true today; we must step outside our own lives and then question the practices of which we are a part.
For this reason, I am grateful for my husband and his family. His parents’ departure for South Korea this summer at retirement age after periods of life spent in Long Island, India, Switzerland, Minnesota, and other various parts of the world gets me thinking about what I want for my life. Whether I stay in NH for a good portion of my life or not is not the most important piece of all of this; rather, I want to stay committed to exploring and experiencing other places and cultures to keep my vision fresh. I believe that travel is one of the best ways to bring a critical eye to what fills your own life.
ReplyDeleteSometimes my students head down this road by considering gap years and then opting for nontraditional paths, and I support them in that every step of the way. I yearn for them to reach beyond what society tells them is the “right” path and find what meets their needs and challenges them in rich ways. When I went to college right after high school, I was just not ready to take my education into my own hands and live more or less independently from my parents. If I had thought to move outside the “norm,” I am willing to be that I would have found a great deal more happiness and fulfillment in my education and relationships when I eventually got to college.
I believe in challenging tradition. If a tradition is a healthy and productive one, it will stand up to the test and continue to bring people joy. If the tradition limits our experience, leaves someone feeling badly, or promotes injustice, it is time to dispose of it or find a new way to do things. As adults, we have the power to shape traditions for the generations that come after us. Let us make them ones whose practice will bring only comfort, peace, and a sense of belonging to all who are affected by them.
Finding Your Voice
ReplyDeleteStrength
Sorrow
Wonder
Freedom
All blending together
Mingling within my mind
Never slowing down
Confusion
What do I believe in?
What do you believe in?
A handshake?
A whisper?
Love?
Silence
The chance to think…
What do you believe in?
Do you even know where to begin?
If you had to choose just one thing to believe in, what would that ONE thing be?
For me, that one thing would be
the power of finding your voice.
I BELIEVE IN THE POWER OF FINDING YOUR VOICE
Even when it is faint and you can barely hear it
It is powerful
…Waiting for just the right moment to SHOUT OUT LOUD
for all the world to hear
what YOU
have to say
For some of us it will take a lifetime to find our voices
Others may find theirs much sooner
Yet it is not when you find your voice that matters
What matters is FINDING your VOICE
I believe that when you do find your voice you need to remember the power of it
How it can impact the lives of others, not just your own
Your voice can reach out
To those in need
And provide understanding, warmth, love, knowledge
Your voice can help others know that they are not alone in the struggle
At first, I wasn’t sure what he was doing, that little boy of mine not quite four years old. He stayed out there in that dimly lit gym all carpeted in blue like a vast ocean. Brightly colored station mats and cylinders were scattered on the rug like anchored boats. Secure in their place.
ReplyDeleteWatching through the thick glass window from high above on the second floor I saw my son walk deliberately over to the mat with the large red cylinder on it. At the beginning of the birthday party, the children had each done forward rolls at that spot. But, by now the children were in the far corner of the huge gym. No one seemed to even notice that my son was no longer part of that group. That was OK. I saw him. I wondered why he had returned to that mat.
Silently, I watched as he kept repeating forward roll after forward roll. So many I lost count. Taking quick steps he approached the cylinder for the last time. Confidently tucking his head and rolling forward, he seemed to glide as he rolled over that cylinder landing securely on his feet. He stood there, smiled broadly and raised his small right arm in the air and gave himself the thumbs up. Now, I knew why he had returned to that spot.
No one was down there to see his triumph. No one was there to say anything to him. No one needed to be. He knew he had accomplished this roll perfectly. He was satisfied. Happy. Proud. He congratulated himself. He stuck with it. At four years old he persevered at something that was hard for him to do. Very hard.
Tears came to my eyes. I smiled too. I smiled not only at my son’s triumph, but also at his joy. I smiled because my words spoken to him months earlier had come to life.
Just a few months earlier the grandfather he adored, my father, had died. At that point, I became very aware of my mortality. I knew that someday I wouldn’t be there to cheer my son on, protect him, guide him and most of all love him. All I can do when I am on Earth is to love, guide and teach him to fill himself up when no one else is there to do that for him. The gift of inner confidence and self-reliance is what I wanted for him.
Months before this day, I had said to this sweet little boy of mine, “When I’m not with you and you do something that you want me to see or you feel good about something, give yourself the thumbs up. It will be as if I am right there.” That day in the gym I knew my son would always be OK…. whether I was near or far.
Now, he is 17. I don’t see the thumb in the air. But, I do see that self-confidence and self-reliance that is within my son. It is now internal. He still perseveres at those things that don’t come easily that he wants to accomplish.
I believe in the power of thumbs up as the affirmation that feeling good about yourself comes from within. You need to be able to give it to yourself.
I don’t know what I believe, yet.
ReplyDeleteThis year I feel like my comfy world has been turned upside down, and because of that, I have become unsure about my beliefs.
I was told that once I started writing this I would find my belief. But what actually happened is that I found myself questioning all of my beliefs. So here it goes. . . the list of things I used to believe.
I used to believe in true love, until I noticed my dad sleeping in the spare bedroom every night thinking about why my mom doesn’t kiss him anymore. Now I am scared that the person I love will eventually leave me too.
I used to believe in friendship, until my college girlfriends moved away and we barely speak any more. Now I question if any friends will ever stay in touch.
I used to believe that people didn’t have to suffer, until I watched my uncle fight for a breath while his lung cancer slowly and painfully killed him. Now I am afraid of the pain dying will bring.
I used to believe that teachers loved kids, until I started sitting in the teachers’ lounge during the lunch break. Now I wonder if I will eventually feel the same way.
I used to believe that there would always be enough money for my family to live comfortably, until both my parents had to file for bankruptcy. Now I worry about how I am going to pay for five years of college and still keep the electricity on.
I used to believe that boyfriends were supposed to protect you, until he took advantage of me. Now I find that am anxious about dating.
I used to believe that I would never feel lonely, until my sister moved away. Now I feel almost lost without her.
What I realize after writing this is that life tests beliefs. And although my beliefs seem to be broken at this moment in time, my experiences will only help to build me into a stronger person, one who can rebuild her beliefs.
So for now, I don’t know what I believe, but I do know that I will eventually figure it out. It might take me a year, it might take me a day, heck, I might even figure it out in an hour.
I believe every child deserves a caring, passionate, effective teacher. A teacher may also be “highly qualified” according to the mandate of No Child Left Behind. He may have an undergraduate degree in the subject matter taught or she may have pursued a Master’s degree in Education. However, qualifications, degrees, and yearly sworn affirmations of HQT status do nothing to ensure that the person standing in front of the classroom can connect with students in ways that create trust, engagement and a meaningful education. To put that belief into governmentspeak, the mandate would require teachers to be ex‘CEPTional instead of “highly qualified.” C for caring, E for effective, P for passionate, T for teacher.
ReplyDeleteI am not against education reform. Indeed I have explored the charter movement from the inside in search of ways of improving schools for all students. I went over to the dark side. I worked in a for-profit charter using Direct Instruction to teach reading and math. If you are not familiar with Direct Instruction the role of the teacher was to flash a word, letter or equation in front of the class or individual, then snap fingers for an instantaneous choral response. To my surprise, kids in grades 1-3 really learned a lot by rote. They were excellent takers of state tests. But all that snapping made me salivate on cue and left me turning the pages in a guidebook for inspiration rather than using my own brain, passion and sensibilities. The role of teacher could have been played by an automaton and many days, I left that school feeling like one. I can’t imagine how the kids felt after three or four years of having to respond at the snap of a finger. But superficially, the school looked both effective and “teacher proof.” It was the ideal place for parents and politicians who believe the slight that “those who can, DO and those who can’t , teach.” But it was a school devoid of passion, and a building empty of joy.
There are times in my classroom when I long for a guidebook with the answer that would exonerate me from having to learn along with my students, to discover, to reach, and to struggle for knowledge along side them. I don’t always know the answers to their questions. But when those questions are real, personal and meaningful, I do love to find out answers. In doing so, I model a passion for inquiry, a caring about what individual students want and need to know, and the result is effective teaching.
My post is at nealism.blogspot.com (or just click Nealist above).
ReplyDeletePart 1-
ReplyDeleteI believe that world peace is possible. I know it sounds like I am a naive dreamer, but I am not. I just happen to be a person who believes that war lacks logic, heart, and efficiency. I believe wars begin and are sustained by fear, and if that fear were to be eliminated, so too, would be the motivation for and the inclination towards war. I think the main fear that motivates war, and actually all of the violence and pain in this world, is the fear of not having enough. Whether this fear of not having enough is in the sense of not having the basic essentials, or whether it is in a capitalistic sense where feeling that if one does not accumulate as much wealth as possible then happiness will never be reached—either way, these fears are very real, and often overwhelming.
The solution then, well of course it is complicated and multi-faceted or else peace would have already been established. To eradicate the fear of not having the basic essentials, one must feel as if security, potable water, enough food, and adequate shelter will be provided consistently. To ensure this for the entire world, well, that would take countries acting like families, watching out for one another without a sense of superiority, but with an ethic of caring. I am in no way suggesting this would be easy, either in mindset or logistics. I am merely stating it is possible.
To address the fear that if one does not have enough stuff to be happy requires a different tactic. This requires showing others, not telling them, that they are loved for who they are, not for what they have, and helping them to recognize that happiness and contentment cannot be achieved through material wealth. This fear needs to be addressed with compassion, because these people feel in danger just as those lacking basic essentials do; their fear may not be physical, but that does not make it any less real.
I know it sounds like I am proselytizing, but this is not my aim. I am just saddened by the pain around me, pain I feel can be alleviated by compassion and love. I know it sounds like I am asking a lot from people, and maybe I am, but I have always believed that although love asks much from me, it always, and I do mean always, gives me much more in return. I know it seems like in my idealistic aims I am ignoring or sidestepping very real hurt and overlooking very complicated logistics. I must admit that I know little about the logistics involved, but I have faith that the world has enough ingenuity to figure it out. As for sidestepping or even ignoring the pain in the world, the pain that keeps people afraid of neighbors, I do know a thing or two about that.
My father molested me as a child. A family friend attempted to rape me at thirteen, and only failed because of my struggle against him. My first boyfriend brutally raped me at fifteen. I never reported it, and two years later I found out from the news that he had raped another girl five times at knifepoint, his cousin raped her twice, and they ran off with her phone and car to prevent her from getting help. After hearing this I started partying with friends to numb the pain, until I was violently raped again—this time by a stranger at a party.
ReplyDeleteI know both pain and fear intimately. The advantage of knowing the people who attacked me, however, is knowing their pain and fear too. These men are not monsters, and as personal as the attacks felt—they were not about me, but about them and their pain from being mistreated in their lives and their fears of being unloved. The violence I experienced taught me more about the fragility of humanity than my response to it did. And in many ways, the scars on my heart are as much for them as they are for me. I was bitter and angry for a long time, but as they faded, compassion and love took their place—not easily and not overnight, but once they did they made my life more beautiful and rich than I could have ever imagined.
So I may seem like a dreamer, but my observations are rooted deeply in the darkest of realities. I know what humanity is capable of, but for me, I believe the darkness does not overshadow the light. Just as humanity is capable of war, I know it is capable of peace on a global level. So what am I personally doing about it? I am consciously aware of what I do and why I do it. I know when my motivation is fear and when my motivation is love. I try to allow myself to be authentic and vulnerable in each moment, so that I know I am acting out of love, and in good faith that others will meet my love with love of their own. I am giving the world my own personal best, and I am just focusing on my efforts, and not judging or even evaluating the efforts of others. I have faith that others are doing the same. Basically, I believe in love, faith, and hope (Corinthians 13:13), and that with these world peace can be achieved.
More Than One
ReplyDeleteI am not a preacher, a minister, or a priest for God. I am not even a faithful church go, however, I do believe in the power of prayer. Now I do believe that praying for others can be felt and prayer should not always be selfish, but just for a moment I am going to be selfish. I am going to tell you that from these prayers I’ve only been the beneficiary and that may seem sin-like to some, but to me I’ll deal with the ramifications later.
My mother once gave me a pink sapphire necklace. I wore it with pride for a while until I moved onto the new fashions. As a typical youth when I took it off I placed it down and walked away. Days past, maybe even months and not once did I think about that necklace. One day I was asked by my mother to get the necklace, so it could be cleaned. When I went to find it I am sure you can only imagine my dismay. It was nowhere, absolutely positively nowhere. I confessed to my mother my dilemma and instead of getting mad she simply said to me to “pray”. I looked at her with puzzlement, but never said a word. That night I clasped my hands and opened my heart to God. I asked him to help me find my lost necklace. At this point I felt I had nothing to lose.
I prayed for three nights. On the fourth night my mother asked if my prayers had been answered. I responded “no” and told her “he was probably too busy.” She smirked and told me that I needed to be praying to St. Jude, because he was God’s helper who lead the way to lost things. By the fifth night I had found my necklace in an obvious spot I thought I had already looked. Thank you St. Jude for answering my prayer. I think people forget about God’s helpers, he isn’t the only one with the powers.
Love, Laughter and Leukemia
ReplyDeleteI believe in the power of change. I believe in going with the flow and embracing flexibility, fear, not knowing and inspiration through the process of change. I believe we cannot wait to do what is best because all we may have is today. I believe in passion and inspiration and impulsivity. I believe in intuition and improvisation as we work each moment to make it matter. I believe we have one life and one life only. This is not a dress rehearsal and so we must strive for every moment to count. I believe in joy, laughter and fun. I believe we can have all of these things as we embrace the process of life that is forever changing whether we like it or not. I believe there is so much in life that we cannot control that we should strive to make the very best of the things that we can! I believe that life is hard, but stories and laughter and connections with others make it worthwhile. And even though I believe all of these things and more, I still have to make an effort to do all of these things myself whether it is in each day, each hour or each moment. I believe we are here not to forget, but to work to always remember how lucky we really are. And that, my dear friends, is not always easy.
January 20, 1997, Emma was diagnosed with leukemia at the tender age of three and a half. This was the day I was redefined in ways I would never be able to comprehend. That day I left my class of 5th graders and never returned to the classroom as a full-time teacher. That day I was no longer a “normal” mom attending story hour. Playgrounds and swings were replaced with hospital hallways and medical procedures. Play dates and monkey bars were replaced with visiting hours and IV poles. That day leukemia moved into our lives and refused to leave. It set its big ass right down on the couch, cracked open a beer and settled in for the long haul. You could feel his presence when you walked in the door. He was there and whatever I tried to do I could not get him to leave fast enough. It was out of my control. There were days I never showered, days I thought I could not bear the suffering of my curly red-haired, pudgy handed baby and the absence of my 8 month old Zachary. But I did. I just did.
And after four and half years of living in fear, the unthinkable happened Yes, the unthinkable does happen. Emma was 6 months to being declared “cured” when she relapsed. Yes six lousy months away from freedom and we found ourselves again put in the shackles of a diseased life. It was unbearable. Any ground we had made was gone, forgotten, as new protocols, names of chemotherapies, and the new idea of radiation to her head and spine were thrown at me I could not dodge them as I lodged myself into a corner in of a dark room at Mass General hospital and I just cried, rocking myself back and forth, back and forth knowing that I could not, would not be able to do this again. This and more. I could not do it. I knew it. But I did. I had no choice.
And for every platitude that was thrown at me in the name of comfort I can only reply. God DOES give people more than they can handle…trust me…this was too much. I am NOT a better person for having experienced this. I liked myself just fine thank you before this all happened. I am just a different person. We all have shit. It just comes in different forms. What we don’t have is control. It is not in our power. And as much as we want and yearn to think we have control the truth is that we just don’t. What we do have is the power to embrace each moment for what it is. In the same way we must treasure each individual for who they are and not who we want them to be. We must have our eyes open at all times so that we don’t miss the beauty that resides within the shit.
ReplyDeleteI can still see my beautiful bald baby sitting in the oversized hospital bed wearing her blue and white silk panda bear pajamas smiling over at me and telling me our new favorite show was on. I would laugh and settle in next to her as we watched those chosen ones run through the aisles of a mock grocery store and try to find items faster than their opponents. The show was as ridiculous as our lives had become, but being with her in that moment was a reality I was comfortable with. I had to accept that I myself could not control the cancer, but I could try to have some control of making it a better journey, to roll with her emotions, to laugh together, cry together, play cards for hours on end, do crafts, read and anything else you can imagine doing. And eventually…very eventually we settled onto the couch and pushed leukemia over and made room for ourselves on that couch too. It was not easy. But we did it.
And so this story that has been written. This story that defined me for so long, for so many years, it not my story any longer… It is a part of my history. It has been written. It is done. And so we move forward to the next story that is unwritten and the one after that knowing that we are all going to die. It is just a fact and looking death square in the blue eyes of my Emma I know this to be true. So we might as well laugh, create new stories, cry, go with the flow, take risks, be free, love, live and try to accept what life has to offer…if even for just a moment.