the mud

When I first started teaching 25 years ago, (yes, this is something of an anniversary) I sat in my parents living room during August making sailboats out of construction paper.  Each sailboat had a different color sail and each child's name was lovingly printed on the sail.  I think I had to make 26 sailboats that year for my sixth grade class.  I then cut out the letters "Sail into September."  I taped them all up in the windows of my classroom.  I had pictures of blue skies and pink sunsets in mind when I wrote that, and although I know none of my students at Saint Luke's sailed, I thought that I was setting the stage for a peaceful entry into school.  It was cute and that was part of what I was going for. Nowadays, not so much.  I have dinosaurs on my bulletin board (they are pretty cute) and we are "Digging New Discoveries."  The work implied is intentional.  Gone are my visions of pink sunsets and peaceful harbors and smooth seas. ...

The other day I ran away to the beach.  It felt good to just get in the car with three of my kids and escape for a few hours.  My mother met us there.  My brother left work early and met us too.  It was just one of those days where you feel you have to hold onto the fleeting days  July days.  (I'm tired of thinking already that summer is going too fast.  It's only July!)  As we sat there we passed around sunscreen and reapplied and found the right ones for face and knees and wet slick bodies.  We debated the merits of 15 vs. 85.  That's when my mother chimed in.  "You know, over 15 is no more effective.  It makes no difference."  This has been her mantra for as long as I can remember.  Let me explain. My mother is beautiful.  She has an inner beauty that radiates through her dark molasses eyes that can open up to you and welcome you in.  She played basketball for most of her life and is still fit - her l...

Last week, after the last books had been packed, the last papers returned, the last old markers set aside for recycling, and the last of the last had been done, we said good bye to our fifth graders.  In morning graduation ceremonies, the first graders, all in their white shirts and khaki pants, stood tall, sat quietly, and sang loudly, and then it was on to the fun stuff.  We held a picnic on the playground.  The boys ate lunch on blankets and ran and yelled and sucked on popsicles and played with balloons.  Every once in a while one came in for water and asked when we were having math.  "There is no more math today.  Today is just play!"  They weren't sure whether to be happy or sad.  Finally, when the picnic was over and when they were utterly exhausted from all the festivities, I brought them in to the rug one last time.  They sat there with sweat and dirt trickling down their faces, looking now officially like second graders.  But t...

Last week I attended the very sad funeral of my cousin.  He was a firefighter.  He was an exemplary firefighter, as I learned listening to the beautiful eulogies of his friends and fellow firefighters.  Outside the funeral home, the fire engines lined up and displayed his equipment.  His jacket, his helmet, his boots.  Among all the life-saving equipment there, the oxygen masks, the ladders, the axes, the ropes, nothing could save his life.  I was caught, though, by the rope.  I had recently listened to a book on tape, Home Safe, and in it the author uses an analogy of "the hold knots on the rope of life."  Hold Knots - the things we can hold onto when life gets slippery, when life seems to be slipping out of our grip.  The thing is I can't remember what she said.  What are the hold knots of life?  Was it friends, was it laughter?  There are so many things I could plug in there.  The funny thing about a book on CD is that ...

Waiting.  It is something we learn from a very early age.  Wait.  Wait for me.  Wait for your turn.  Wait just a minute.  Wait up.  Then it evolves into waiting for news.  Waiting for a report.  Waiting rooms.  Waiting for graduation.  Waiting until they are grown up.  Waiting until this happens or that doesn't happen. Last week I was waiting for something.  I can't even remember what exactly it was.  I was in the car I think.  And suddenly this peace, excitement, this buzz came over me.  What if...?  What if I get what I want?  What if the news is good?  What if he notices me?  What if she asks me?  What if?  That is the best part of waiting.  We can have the fantasy!  We are all waiting for something.  Let the buzz set in and enjoy the wait. My students were waiting for Christmas.  Starting in late October.  I had one student tell me he was sad. ...

We are SO busy.  We can't breathe.  We can't talk.  We can't think.  We've got so much on our list.  We've got so much to DO.  It's not good.  It's the never-ending tasks that seem to put us into auto-mode, as in automaton, that we can't be creative, we can't be funny, we can't be be generous, we are just pushing through to get through.  But I'm trying.  I'm trying to keep a smile on my face and pretend that we are all under control.  And I see your smiles too.  Just stop.  Please. I was driving through north Philly this week and got stuck.  Behind a trolley.  In rush hour. The traffic light changes.  The trolley doesn't move.  The light changes again.  No one moves.  The light changes AGAIN.  Cars are honking.  Cars are trying to switch lanes and go back.  And then I see the wheelchair being lowered from the trolley car and the woman in it is clutching her bag. The trolley conduc...

Asking for what we need is important.  Asking for what we want is a Christmas tradition.  From the very best Christmas specials, It's a Wonderful Life,  and Miracle on 34th Street,  we are encouraged to ask and ask big - I mean, a House!  Really?  Yes, Virginia, really.   Go for it!  Live Big!  Dream Big! It's Christmas! It's the season of Miracles!  The new Lexus in the driveway - it happens!  All those dreams being dreamed right now, being fulfilled by little elves, from the jewelers at Tiffany's to the Toys-R-Us stock room people.  Dream and keep the dream alive!  Write the list and make it a long one!  What would your fantasy list look like, if money and time were no object?  Go ahead, write it! Even so, we temper our wants and our desires.  My children are not asking for much.  My husband and I are not exchanging gifts this year, so no lists.  Our lists to Santa have evolved into those grown...