Aging Gracefully? 

Old age is something that happens to other people. Not me. Not you. Just other random people. Maybe this aging thing is the result of some gene mutation. 

When I see pictures of myself at gatherings I wonder... how is it that my face seems to be imploding? I swear the skin from my forehead and my chin will eventually meet in the middle of my face. My best feature, (so I have been told) my blue eyes, will be lost in skin folds and I will begin to resemble a Sharpei. Makes me want to get a facelift or at least duct tape my face to the back of my neck.

The mirror is a cruel necessity. Gotta put my contacts in and put on make-up, right? Or at least comb my hair. All my friends tell me, "OH JULIE! Your white hair is BEAUTIFUL!!!" Don't color it, REALLY!!!"  I miss my blond hair. I have been mistaken for my younger friend's mother.  Now isn't that a kick in the balls, or maybe I should say a kick in the desert wasteland that used to be my vagina. 

Who needs underwear anymore? Well, ok,  maybe adult diapers when I sneeze or cough unexpectedly and can't cross my legs and bend over in time. Sometimes pee shoots out of my urethra like a firehose. But, I refuse to wear adult diapers. Not me. I play Pickleball. I am an athlete.

Right, Left, Listen

Speaking at a fundraiser for her presidential campaign in 2016, Hillary Clinton stated that half of Donald Trump's supporters belong "in a basket of deplorables"....she went on to say that "they are irredeemable...and they are not America." 

Continuing, Clinton stated that the "other basket of (Trump supporters) are people who feel that the government has let them down, the economy has let them down, nobody cares about them, nobody worries about what happens to their lives and their futures, and they’re just desperate for change."

Clinton's audience was democrats and her purpose was to raise funds for her campaign. She was simply rallying her constituency. She was defining the terms of the battle.  A political move that became central to the media's definition of the H Clinton candidacy. She couldn't get past it. She could not recover from it. 

In hindsight, that makes perfect sense. You cannot identify an entire segment of the American population as "irredeemable" (racist, sexist, homophobic, xenophobic, Islamaphobic..) and expect that to sit well.  Half of a basket of people, right?! That feels like a lot of Americans. 
On the other hand, she wanted to raise up marginalized people: black, brown, LGBTQI, and non-christian religious groups. Her intention, (rightfully so) was to reject division and embrace equity. 

Unfortunately, her strategy created enormous divisions. You cannot reject one segment of the population and embrace another segment without creating division. She divided Americans. 
We cannot throw away any American. We cannot tolerate hate from any part of our populace. We must respect those with whom we disagree. 

We must listen to their thoughts and opinions. We must. 

Listening to the viewpoints of others is central to our democratic system.  It is a basic tenant. It is a requirement. Without listening, we devolve into a polarized society.  When that happens, emotions rise and our ability to process logical thought is compromised.  At our worst, we  become violent. We have become violent. 

We are better than this. Our country needs us to be better than this. 

Walking With Children

For a child, missing breakfast can feel like a tragedy.  Not because he cannot survive the loss of calories, but because the food represents something missing from her life that is far larger. Perhaps, an unmet need for love, care, and emotional sustenance.

As a teacher, I frequently encounter unfavorable circumstances in the lives of the children I serve. Some students are not equipped to mask their difficult emotions, as many children (and adults) do. These students often develop, instead, emotional weapons that distort our perspective and originate from deep within their amygdala; the most primal area of the human brain.

Students who 'open carry' emotional baggage are a challenge for traditional classrooms. When a student who is emotionally-armed loses control,  a uniquely trained response is required. A response that redirects the child, allows other students to learn, and maintains the integrity of the teacher.

Teachers, and students are not generally trained to respond in a manner that meets this criteria. Consequently, outcomes vary.  Usually there are negative after effects.  What could have been a learning experience, in the end, inflicts further injury on some or all involved.

A Few Important Facts and Observations

• A well-programmed Robot should not lose control.  Humans do.  

• When Humans lose emotional control of themselves, there can be a range of negative outcomes.

• Losing emotional control of oneself is a traumatizing event. It is messy and very uncomfortable. 

• Between 1980 and 1992, the CDC reported an increase in suicide for the age groups 10-14 and 15 to 19.

Suicide devastates families and entire communities. Young people who are at greatest risk for suicide are those who are challenged by circumstances and emotions that are beyond their current control. In some cases, the causes seem obvious.  In other instances, the student may seem to have the 'perfect life.'

As teachers, we have a unique opportunity to work with our students, colleagues, and our communities to become trained and savvy regarding the emotional responses and well-being of our students.  How we handle the difficult emotional outbursts of our students sends a powerful message to all involved.  It isn't always, but it can become a positive message.

There are extraordinary gifts that can emerge from the most difficult situations.  I believe that the emotional well-being of our students is paramount to their success in school and life.  Creating a classroom where difficult situations are managed, to result in positive outcomes, is essential to developing a secure environment. An environment in which all children can be both students and human as they learn.

The Eye of the Tornado

Teaching children with emotionally complex personalities has been the most rewarding work I have ever done.  It suits me. To be honest, it takes one to know one. As a child, making sense of the world, aka my family,  did not come naturally to me.  I felt like a different species all together.  There was no question, in my mind, that rules, boundaries, and norms were meant to be challenged.

 My family did not like it. My clothes, my loud mouth (sometimes a bit foul), my interest in all things boy and few things girl.  I was the only daughter and my mother was intent upon her job of shaping me. 

Looking back, I totally get it.  She was just doing her job.  She wanted to be a good parent and I was a stubborn tomboy. I didn't like being messed with. This made our relationship difficult.

Today, I am my mother's biggest fan. We love each other deeply. 

At some point, in my 30's, I realized that blame and rebellion only intensified negativity in my relationships with others.  I decided to change my direction and incrementally face my own demons and cultivate self-love and acceptance.

In the classroom, I see a lot of rage, fear, and pain.  My students are young,  and in their middle years.  Their bodies and brains are changing at an exponential rate.  They are emotionally complex.  

Mostly, they need someone to stand with them.  Someone to be steady when they are not. Someone to teach them when they are willing and capable.  Someone to accept them and refuse to personalize their feelings.  

I stand in the eye of their tornado.  I am unscathed by their emotions. When they grow weary I am there and ready to help them continue forward. I understand the tornado.  I had one too.  

The Road Ahead: Homeschool @ School

What can public schools learn from the homeschool movement? According to research, homeschoolers “typically score 15 to 30 percentile points above public school students on standardized academic achievement tests“(Ray, 2015). At first glance, class size is the obvious 

difference between these two groups. No doubt it is far easier to respond to student needs when the teacher student ratios are 1 to 3 versus 1 to 30.

Other advantages of a homeschool include, personalized curriculum, modified school start and finish times, and enrichment activities designed for the unique needs of student/children.

A homeschool is a personal rather than an institutional environment. Schools are challenged to create a setting that is responsive, caring, and differentiated to meet student educational, social, and emotional needs. Today, the challenge for policy makers, investors, and educators is to redesign the public school setting to better meet these essential skills.  Twenty- first century students need more flexibility and control over their learning path, the structure of their day, and the way in which they choose to learn.

The school itself will need to support these attributes, with an emphasis on comfort, curricular options, and opportunities to play.  Schools need to invite students to the table, like customers or employees at high-end, technology-infused hubs, like Google and Amazon.  Only then, will schools begin to match the dynamic nature of the 21^st century workplace, where information, technology, and collaboration are necessary tools to solve authentic problems and create innovative solutions in a changing economy.

  

Boy Scout Camp in Retrospect

Boy Scout camp was a great excuse to connect with my inner yang.  No one expects a lot of yin-ish behaviors from women in the woods.  It's the woods for God's sake!  The land of "sceeters, tents, and port o' pots".

I am grateful that my tent mate was attuned to the yin (if behaviors can be categorized as such). She brought a fan, installed a shelf,  hung a clothes line, and "tarped" the roof of our tent to prevent the occasional monsoon from obliterating our canvas domicile.

Each day, Turner arose at 6:30 am, helped cook, cleaned his dishes, and managed to navigate the 600 acre camp with little assistance.   In the evening, the Root Beer Cantina  entertained the scoutmasters and attending parents, as well as, hundreds of boy scouts as they danced on the stage of the camp amphitheatre, hopped up on sugar and adrenaline.

We walked everywhere. No cars, no sirens, no negative news stories.    Cool breezes, lake views, and the sounds of camp life brought new meaning (for me) to the catchphrase "think globally and act locally".  Our community of tents provided an intimacy, not often found in our suburban neighborhoods.  Walls of brick and mortar were nonexistent.  The flimsy canvas structures encouraged a closeness more like a family than mere members of a Boy Scout troop.

As expected, Turner and I both survived our brief trek "into the wild".  The "sceeters" didn't kill Turner and I managed to not only make peace with the simplicity of our experience, I embraced it.  I discovered that forests, as well as, beaches can center and renew my spirit.

Boy Scouts, Bugs, and Backs

My back is a mess.  Nothing deadly or permanently debilitating.  Yet, a very compelling argument for NOT sleeping on a cot at Boy Scout camp for the better part of this week.  Still, as I sit in my lazy girl chair in my comfy living room writing this post, I find myself wanting to go.

Boy Scout camp is not Turner's idea of a relaxing time.  He hates bugs.  Well, more specifically, he hates bug bites.  

After last month's weekend camp out his eye swelled shut, the result of a mosquito bite.  He wanted me to buy him a pirate eye patch so that he could walk amongst the living without drawing attention to himself. I suggested Benadryl.

When I was Turner's age, my parents toured Europe with my brother and me.  Camping was our habitat.  My parents drank wine and feasted on local foods.  They were ecstatic.

I was most definitely not. My brother and I rarely spoke.  He was a surly 13 year old boy with pubescent moods.  I was a whiny, irritating and often carsick 11 year old girl. 

Even today, pictures of the Swiss Alps cause my stomach to churn.

Lovely.

Boy Scout camp is a mere 3 hours northeast.  With my aching spine and Turner's buggish fears it feels like a much longer trek.

Our lives are made up of moments and memories. Some are pleasant and warming while others are best stuffed into Pandora's trunk and forgotten.  Where Boy Scout camp fits is, as yet, unknown.  My guess is, we will be better for having taken this step.  Paradoxically, it is during our small journey's into the unknown when we become better acquainted with who we truly are.  It is in those moments that we learn that we can not only survive... we can thrive.