To My Dad

That's my sweet cocoon of a husband taking a nap on a makeshift bed, complete with a nappy, spare pillow. You see, he's filthy and exhausted after working so very hard for our family. And I love him for it.


No one person could ever possibly teach another person ALL there is to know about a certain subject. Especially in the area of GIANT LIFE LESSONS. There's too much to learn and they're called life-lessons because you keep deepening your knowledge and understanding of them your whole life. That's what I think.

However, in this particular life lesson, my dad's teaching stands out. It has for a long time, and probably always will.

My dad taught me to work.

He taught me to enjoy it.
He taught me that to shirk it is cowardly.
That to perform it creates stability that allows happiness---peace even.
He taught me that to embrace it creates beauty.
That to avoid it creates problems (that some how always cost money, no matter what the nature of the problem.)
That to balance it is essential.
That to overdo it is much harder than many are willing to admit.
That there are few good excuses when it's sloppy.
That to rest from it is essential.
That it is the great leveler.
That some of the better compensations for it rarely involve money.

And because my dad was one of my most influential teachers of this subject matter, I would like to thank him.

Because I get it.

And I'm happy, in large part, because of it.

Thank you, Dad.

One of My Favorite Games

Paul: I love you.
Me: You do?
Paul: Yep
Me: Even though I am nuts?
Paul: Nuts is a relative term.

We literally have this EXACT conversation every day.
Why?
Three reasons.

1- Sometimes I still get a little fluttery on the insides at the thought that he does. (Don't be grossed out. You know we're the gushy type.)
2- Frankly, there's a lot going on these days and in the deepest recesses of my heart, and sometimes much closer to the surface, I feel a bit batty.
3- Paul learned long ago that I get the biggest kick out of repeated conversations. They're an inside joke, and I love an inside joke---makes me feel all connected and whatnot. Another one goes like this:

On the phone:
Me: How are you?
Paul: Good. (Pause) How are you?
Me: Good. (Pause) How are you?
Paul: Good. (Pause) How are you?
Me: Good. (Pause) How are you?

But the trick to this one is making each "Good. (Pause) How are you?" have a completely different but superbly realistic intonation i.e. enthusiastic, friendly, awkward, grumpy, jovial, seductive, quizzical, skeptical, etc.

Try it. I dare you. How creative can you be?

And now I wonder.
How are you?

Why I Think I'm Good At This...

Teaching of course.

Now, I worry (though only ever so slightly) how this post will come across because I fully intend to tell you why I am good at my job. But not in an arrogant way, in a "holy-cow-this-fits-me-like-a-perfect-pair-of-shoes-that-I-really-like-to-wear" way.

I will start by saying this. There is only ONE aspect of my job that I loathe.

Recess duty right before or right after school.

I JUST HATE IT.

If I could pawn it off on someone else EVERY TIME, I would.

But I digress.

Six reasons why me and teaching work.
I'm not sure if they are in a particular order.

1. I LOVE to be in charge.
It's true. Ask my immediate family (although they have some nasty word for it like "bossy" or something. I prefer the phrase "management oriented.") A classroom is a microcosm, a mini-corporation. I am responsible for a certain product and it must be produced amongst and amidst MULTIPLE and complex variables, and it's an exhilarating thrill to produce it every day.

2. I NEED to be loved.
Everyone does. Everyday, I must stand in front of multiple people (yes kids are in fact PEOPLE---though I get the impression that sometimes others view them more like pets) and I must win their affections over and over. I must earn their loyalty, their respect, their admiration, their trust. There is nothing in my position that entitles me to these sentiments. I must live and interact with these people in such a way that they willing give them to me --- against all odds sometimes. And when they do, my soul soars.

3. I NEED to LOVE people.
My favorite pastime is not reading, exercising, or even singing. It is TALKING. I will sacrifice hours and hours of precious sleep if it means I have the chance to get a glimpse of someone else's soul and then share with them part of mine. I spend a majority of each day learning about these people and what makes them tick. What frustrates them. What inspires them. And then have the opportunity to try to provide for some of their needs. And I am happier because of it.

4. My other favorite pastime is organizing stuff.
I have a collection of Barbies from my childhood. I don't remember ever making up more than handful of scenarios for them. Dramatics were to be played out by ME (see below) not some doll. The purpose for dolls as far as I was concerned, was to look pretty in their immaculately organized house. So I spent hours organizing their house OVER and OVER and OVER again. And as a teacher, there is the obvious organization of classroom supplies and furniture that must occur, but it's so much more. One must figure out how to organize time, and teams, and lessons, and units, and people in such a way that not a minute is lost. So that when a kid leaves my room everyday and then at the end of the year he RECOGNIZES "Hey, I learned a bunch of stuff. And it was cool."

5. I always have an audience.
I'm not sure of any other profession in the world where my amateur Spanish, Texan, or British accents would be so VASTLY popular. Where my somewhat classically-trained voice would be so praised (or imitated---because sometimes a teacher MUST declare it opera day where all communication must be SUNG until you're laughing so hard that breathing becomes an issue), where my storytelling would be so admired. Where a disheveled lab coat, pipe-cleaner glasses, and wacky hair would make me something of a legend.

6. It makes a difference.
In the back of my room, in giant cutout letters is the phrase, "I can do hard things." We talk about it all year long. We point it out to ourselves all year long, when we have and when we haven't. We push and we push and we push all year long, until I have taught them and they have learned how to multiply 3-digit times 2-digit numbers. This is a hard thing (for both of us) and when they can do it, our eyes are a little more bright and our backs are a little more straight and our grin is a little more wide and we soar. Together. Cuz' it was hard. And we did it. And now we have faith that we can do even more.

And so.
I teach.