Hobbit-inspired Wisdom: What I Shall Try to Implement This New Year!

So, it's the New Year. And I've made a real resolution, as I said in my first post of the year, which happened to be my first post in 8 months, give or take.  I am resolved to blog more regularly.  I didn't ever really intend to stop; it just happened...you know, life and living it with three children and husband and community and ballet and soccer and church and classes and summer vacations, etc. etc.  But that's always (yes, I said "always" – see an early post from last year) going to be the case, right!  So, I am resolved.  And what better way to begin following the initial post honoring my father-in-law than to talk about the New Year.

2013.  While I don't usually make resolutions, I do find myself each year thinking about the 12 months that has passed, remembering moments that stick out more than others often because they were particularly joyous or sorrowful, as well as those that touched our collective conscious as a society, culture, people, and world, also often because they gave us some things to champion and celebrate or those at which to rage or weep.  There were many this year both personally and publicly.

We mourn the loss of Middy, our first parent to bid goodbye.  And this fall, my Uncle John, a prince among men, another individual who lived a purposeful, humble life, and one to whom countless other lives may be credited as better for having known him. We celebrated the addition of our dog (black lab, some 60-70 lb.s) to the family, rescued from the pound after surviving a house fire that took his family.  Our beloved Dobby is now as much part of the clan as the rest of us; named for Dobby, the elf, of Harry Potter magic, he's proved as impish at times and definitely a source of more joy in our everyday lives. Our children's birthdays all brought fun and laughter, of course, and multiple exclamations of, "How can they possibly be this old now?!"  We experienced a number of "firsts": piano recital for the oldest, Kindergarten for the youngest! (so they're all in school now!), "Nutcracker" ballet on the city's theater stage, cub scouts for our middle, team soccer, diving-board dives and flips, and many other great activities together that help us recognize all of our blessings.

And more publicly, the Olympics to watch in wonder and cheer...to see athletes and nations stand united for moments, making us believe if only for a bit we might just be able to solve big problems and make dreams come true...even for the most vulnerable, to right wrongs, to give peace a chance....but as much as that was part of 2012, so too was a political season that seemed to never end.  One of great rancor and division...one where I wonder often how our children could ever look to any political leaders as role models in the atmosphere in which they work and operate these days.  It's embarrassing.  And don't get me wrong; I'm responsible, too.  We all are.  As citizens, I think we all share in the reality we find ourselves in, a reality where the highest court in the land declares companies as people, and two parties spend $$$$$$$$$$$ just to get elected while children go hungry, are refused healthcare, and places generally thought safe become tragic reminders of how far afield we've taken the 2nd amendment and then some. 

And so we celebrated and mourned, championed and raged.  And ended the year focused on Christmas, its meaning, and how to carry that forward into this New Year.  Which brings me to now, the first weeks into January, and some truths already laid-bare:

·      The S.E.C. remains dominant, but they also seem to get the good end of the calls, too, don't they?!

·      The Redskins had an amazing season with RGIII, but now, they return home with a shaky future and waiting to see what comes next...the way lots of seasons have ended.

·      Congress is back for more...the "cliff" but delayed.  Observation: it's time for someone to show some leadership qualities!

And finally, this - and the title of the post...In thinking of this new year, perhaps because of the magnitude of the tragedy at Sandy Hook and the destruction of the earlier Sandy Storm, as well as my personal "middle-age" reality, I have been thinking lots about what matters in this life.  I mean, what really matters....and ya know, J.R.R. Tolkien is plain but eloquent, if you ask me.  And it's especially appropriate now, of course, with the release of the first installment of the 3-film epic, Peter Jackson style, of the story that I loved as a 7th grader so many years ago and just recently got to experience the joy of sharing with our oldest.  While watching, we were enthralled, and afterward, our word to each other was AWESOME.  Such fun...in his literary classic, The Hobbit, Tolkien writes:

"If more of us valued food and cheer and song above hoarded gold, it would be a merrier world.”

The dwarf character Thorin speaks of Bilbo, the hobbit, there, and generally all hobbits, for they are those who do value food and good cheer, song and drink, fellowship among friends, much more than gold and riches and success as others measured it (and others in our world, certainly, are guilty of such measuring, too, right!).  There’s some wisdom in such words.  And I’m inclined to recognize that and even be guided by it more now in the days of this year and beyond.  That paying attention to what really matters in this life is our relationships with others, moments with cheer and joy (and sometimes moments of support when things are difficult, too), all of them offering so much more than what we attain. 

Let’s put that above all else, for if we do, I suspect we will find ourselves and our lives that much, much more abundant and full.

That’s how I’m going forward.  And now, I’m really going forward, meaning signing-off, for there are four syllabi to complete, resources to pull together, and much to prepare for classes begin on Monday.  It’s going to be a busy semester of two new courses and two surveys…more on that in the next “Donna’schalktalks”…thanks for reading.

Til next time, may you enjoy much good food and good cheer!

A Purpose-Driven Life...

A Tribute to Henry Middleton "Middy" Raynal

It's been 8 months since I last wrote a post for this blog. Chalk it up (pardon the pun) to a busy summer with kids at home, an overload this fall semester teaching, generally too much juggling and not taking enough moments for simply breathing...but I've been wanting to get back to it. And doesn’t the turn of the New Year offer the best time to do so?  What’s my New Year Resolution?  I don’t usually make them because I can’t ever come up with anything I’m serious about nor that I think I have a chance in heaven of keeping, but this one I actually really want to be resolved toward...at least I’ll give it a go.  So, I am resolved to blog far more regularly.  We’ll see how it goes.

So, to start, the rest of the story for the hiatus is that I knew I wanted to write about my father-in-law.  Or more specifically in honor/tribute to him.  See, he died in May.  87 years wise, he left this earthly life the way most envy – going to bed for the night and not awaking in the morn.  I have wanted to speak of him and his life because while I did not know him long really, not in the scheme of the universe anyway, his impact has been deep and for that I am grateful.

It took me awhile to figure out how to say it...what words exactly would convey what I mean to impart, but then I realized I was goin’ have to borrow a phrase, specifically, the "purpose-driven life."  There's the nod to Rick Warren, which most of you who know me recognize is kind of funny, perhaps even ironic, because he and all that is usually connected, or associated, with him is not really my cup of tea, but the phrase works.  See, above all else, my father-in-law, Middy, lived a truly purpose-driven life!

He was one of four children, a preacher's kid, and he, too, went into the family business – carrying forth the next generation (6th in fact!) of Presbyterian ministering.  Yes, I said 6^th generation!  He pursued this vocation following his undergraduate education at Davidson College with seminary at Union in Richmond, Virginia.  He then went on to pastor in small to mid-size churches for the better part of 50 years. 

By the time I met Middy, he was enjoying well-deserved retirement, but I learned much from him, including these few things that I share now in his honor:

• Sometimes presence without words speaks volumes more than words ever could.

•  Being guided and led by one’s sense of vocation – what one truly believes she/he is called to be doing in this life and world – offers greater blessing than any amount of money or materials ever could.  That’s the “purpose-driven” part.  Middy got that.  And not in some ego-driven way.  I don’t mean that.  Middy wasn’t a man with a Messiah-complex, or some sense that ‘Oh, if I pastor this church, preach these great sermons, all will follow and my church will be the best church, etc. etc.’  NO!  Middy was far more humble and full of humility than that.  He never referred to the church as “his” because he fully understand it as God’s church.  Not only did he get being called, he was clear that he was called as God’s servant to further God’s purposes. 

• Recognizing the gift of family/friends/loved ones is the key to happiness and all the blessings that follow in one’s life.  Without them first, the rest does not follow.  I think he got this in a fierce way, ya know.  And if there’s something to be fierce about, it’s the bonds we have with our loved ones and holding tight to them.  I saw that in Middy. 

• Standing up for justice is not easy or comfortable or without sacrifice.  It is still the thing to do.  Middy did.  With Florence and their family, I have heard the stories from the days of the Civil Rights movement in rural North Carolina, as well as the period when Middy worked with alcoholics and in mental health advocacy.  Standing up for what was just is part of his legacy to all of us and all who knew him.  

• “Love you good” was his phrase of endearment when saying goodbye.  It’s a great phrase!

There are more things I could say, I know.  But without going on and on, I just wanted to express how much it means to me to have known Middy, to have had such an opportunity, for knowing someone who really knew his purpose in this world, believed it as God intended it to be, and then embraced it with joy, vitality, grace, intelligence, generosity of spirit, and steadfast faith has been and remains a priceless gift in my life.  So, thank you, Middy!  If that place and space of eternal Peace is your idea of perfection, I’m sure you have endless pipe tobacco, a nip of the best scotch, countless editions of the Washington Post, a glimpse of the season the Redskins have had (and are still having – go RGIII), and plenty of wonderful conversation with those who went before you.  Love you good.  Love you always.

 ~ Your Grateful Daughter-in-Law, Donna

Being "For" Students...

Okay, so it’s exam time this spring, and I am faced with a dilemma.  Now, my husband says that this is no dilemma at all.  If you say what you mean and mean what you say, Donna, then, there’s no issue.  This is what it is to be grown-up…let the chips fall where they may…they made their bed, now they have to sleep in it…

What am I talking about?  Well, here’s the situation – after experiencing a rather high level of absenteeism last semester in my classes, I decided to try a different strategy with regard to the attendance policy in each of my classes.  Rather than have attendance count as part of the overall grade (like 15%, or 10%), I would not count it.  Instead, only assignments/exams would count for assessing their grade.  And attendance would only be taken to ensure students attended more than 25% of the class meetings.  If they missed more than 25%, they’d earned a F…they could not pass the course if they missed that much.  Now, the reality is that a student who misses that much generally achieves quite little on assignments, usually fails, in fact, because we all know that showing up is half the equation.  Study after study shows that students who go to class do significantly better (go figure, right?!).  So, that was the deal, in courses that met MWF, you could miss 10 classes for whatever reason – appointments, slept in, concert out of town, whatever…but if you missed more than 10, you’d earned the F.  And in classes that met T/Th, you could miss 7.  Now, the only, ONLY exceptions were the extreme case of prolonged illness/chronic situation that a student made known to me and if a death occurred in their family that resulted in an absence or two for services/traveling.  This struck me as a pretty reasonable, if not lenient, policy. 

Well, here I am, exam time, it’s time to count the absences, and I’ve a pretty good feeling that I have a number of students who are not going to be happy.  And so I’m torn – do I stick with the policy, do what I said, what the policy in each one of my syllabus clearly makes plain, and they face the music, as it were?  Or do I make exceptions, recognize that this is college, and that somehow means something else…

I’ll be honest, I can’t decide if I’m torn because I want them to like me, and if I follow through on this policy, they might not.  Or is it because I was a student once too (longer ago than I like to admit some days), and I know it’s easy to get distracted, have conflicting priorities…Whatever the reasons, I have been thinking about what to do.  But here’s the thing…I can’t help thinking that I should be guided by being “for” them.  And then, here’s the real question – what does that look like?

Is being “for” my students taking responsibility for them, when they should’ve taken it themselves?  Is being “for” them having a policy and then not following it, sending a myriad of messages that I probably don’t want to send?  Is being “for” them setting aside principle because of personalities?  Is being “for” them making excuses when that’s all they are, over and over and over?  No.  In fact, trying to argue there’s a “yes” answer to any of these questions has a name; it’s called enabling.  And that is not a place I want to go in any way, shape, or form.  Enabling irresponsible behavior and choices among my students, or anyone for that matter, has no place in my work and life. 

So, it’s pretty obvious, the resounding answer to every one of those questions I posed is No.  It really is a no-brainer.  And there’s more…I shared with a girlfriend of mine from college my policy and the reality of this situation I’m facing now, and she pointed out that a policy like this translated into the real world of the workforce would be like a person having 3 months paid vacation a year.  Who has a job like that?  Please share and sign me up!  She’s right.  The “situation” I’ve just said I’m in is one I’m making for myself, when the reality is that there is no situation.  My girlfriend and my husband are right.  The policy was and is clear.  And if I really want to be a person of integrity and principle, the best thing I can do, is stick to it. Besides indeed wanting to be a person who says what she means and means what she says, I also recognize the matter of fairness that is at stake here. 

See, I have plenty of students who have not missed more than the 10 or 7 absences as stipulated in the policy.  These students have shown-up.  They’ve made the effort, perhaps not always when they wanted to either, but they did.  Because they understood the consequences and responsibility required to avoid them.  It’s a matter of equity for them.  And as just about anyone who knows me can attest, if I’m about anything, it is fairness and what is right for all equally. 

So, I think I have my answer.  On the grounds not only of being the person I believe myself to be, but also the teacher I strive to be, along with fairness for all, holding students accountable to the policy is “for” them.  And here’s what else…

Being “for” them means having them learn the lesson now.  Because here, now, while it may mean they fall short on credit hours this semester, or they have to re-take the class, have to add a course in a semester they hadn’t planned on, have to re-think a schedule in the future, maybe even have to take a summer class to graduate, or add a little time to get the degree, all of those are a far cry from it meaning losing one’s job, getting passed over for promotion, failing to get insurance for one’s kids, or losing one’s house, to name but a few real “grown-up” consequences.  Part of being grown-up means taking responsibility.  This policy in my classes is an example, an opportunity, for doing just that.  Most have succeeded swimmingly.  But a few…well, a few, are about to see how that bed they made really feels.  I do hope its sting doesn’t linger, but lingers enough for the lesson to take.  This is one surely they only need learn once for it to sink it.  One can hope.

While reading over this post before finishing-up here, it’s not so inspiring, in the sense of uplifting, right?  The sobering reality of responsibility in adulthood doesn’t exactly sing like beautiful prose or poetry!  Yet still, I’m taking solace in the truth that being “for” students means maintaining principle and equity.  I can confidently say that is a truth worth upholding every time!

That’s the news around the School Yard…here’s to hoping for some sunnier words next time!   

Terminally Unique

In the previous post, I spoke about how important it is for us to embrace life…live out loud, I said (in the spirit of Emile Zola).  Recognize you matter.  Love yourself, and make every moment count.  And I stand by that.  But there is something more to say, too.  Or something that goes along with it…and I eluded to it, as well…namely, that we shouldn’t take ourselves and our life so seriously that we decide being so concerned with oneself comes before everything else.  Why?  Because that is narcissism.  And that is never (yes, I said never!) good.  Never.

Here’s what I mean…self-centered living, deciding that “I” is more important than anything else, that oneself is, in fact, THE center of the universe, is to be confused.  I’m the first to say that there are many things I don’t understand or know about.  In fact, the older I get, the less I’m beginning to think I know.  But this one thing, I think I’ve come to understand and believe…I am not the center of the universe.  None of us is.  And I do not matter more than anyone else.  I do matter, yes.  I am valuable and important and significant and loved and love and esteemed and should and ought and deserve respect.  Yes. Yes.  And YES.  But more than others…No.  And should I expect to be more than others.  No.  Do I sometimes go through things that others don’t.  Sure.  Do sometimes things happen that others may not get or go through.  Sure.  But does that mean someone elsewhere in the universe hasn’t.  No.  Does that mean I’m the only person ever in the history of the world to go through this and so am the only one that can possibly understand it?  No.  In fact, hell no.  And to think so, is to be confused. 

A number of years ago I heard this phrase somewhere.  I’m pretty sure I didn’t make it up.  At least I don’t think I did.  It would be cool if I did.  In fact, it would be super duper cool. But alas, I don’t think so.  It’s this:

Terminally Unique.

This is what I call people who think that they have a problem or are going through something or have some experience that no one else in the world has ever or will ever or could ever go through. Ever.  Terminally Unique.  That’s what they think they are.  But here’s what I think of that…

Poppy cock.  Baloney.  Hogwash.  As they say across the pond, Rubbish!  Or more colorfully and vulgarly (is that possibly a word?!)…My A--.  Bull S*#@!  If you know what I’m sayin’!!

It’s just not true.  It may be that whatever you are going through is horrible, awful, terrible, difficult, really rare, surprising, different, not-very-oft-experienced, hard to describe, unlike most of what your friends and family members and co-workers are going through, but it is not unique.  It just isn’t.  Someone somewhere has experienced it or is experiencing it.  They are.  They have.  That is just the nature of life.

Maya Angelou beautifully and eloquently said this:

Someone was hurt before you;
wronged before you;
beaten before you;
humiliated before you;
raped before you;
yet, someone SURVIVED.

I don’t believe Ms. Angelou is trying to dismiss anyone and her or his experience.  Nor is she devaluing anyone, or suggesting whatever anyone is going through does not count or matter or anything like that.  Nor am I.  That’s not what I would ever seek to do.  And certainly no one as wise or experienced or noble and amazing as Ms. Angelou would either.  The point is that no one is that special.  No one.  No one is truly terminally unique.  Now, they may tell themselves they are; that happens A LOT.  But they aren’t.  They’ve just convinced themselves of it, run down that rabbit hole, if you will, bought the illusion, and well, it’s just not so.  See, someone else has the same story.  Someone else.  And here’s the really cool thing…that is good news.  What do I mean?  Well, the best example I know is this:

12 Step Programs.  When I first started going to those rooms because I was the loved one of an alcoholic, I heard this several times:  “Sit down.  Tell us your name.  Then, shut up and listen.  We already know who you are.”  Now, I should say, “shut up” was considered a “bad word” in my house growing up.  Worse than some of the others, the more vulgar ones, really, because of how rude it is.  It’s a terrible, ugly thing to tell someone to shut up.  Or so my mama and daddy taught us.  So, when the welcome I got in the rooms was “Sit down.  Tell us your name.  Then, shut up and listen.  We already know who you are.” it was a bit jolting to me.  But quickly I came to understand.  See, what those people in the rooms were saying was that they didn’t need to hear all the details of what had brought me in there.  I mean, they weren’t opposed to hearing them.  Really, they weren’t. In fact, they were patient and kind and loving.  They listened rather attentively once I and anyone else felt compelled and ready to share whatever they needed to share.  But the reason they said that to newcomers was to let us know that they were willing to share their story, their “experience, strength, and hope” (as they often say in the rooms), so that we could hear about some hope (that there is some, which when people first go in is a very nice thing to hear; newcomers really need to hear that, in fact!!).  More than that, it’s good to learn that there are people who have and are experiencing the very things we are.  Which is the point I’m trying to make. 

See. the amazing thing about what the founders of AA found out was that sharing their common struggle with alcohol helped them get better.  Crazy, right?  Their names were Dr. Bob and Bill W., and they found out that talking about having trouble with drinking helped them stop.  (No, I’m not making this up.)  Amazing in its simplicity really.  And that’s how AA and eventually all 12 Step Programs were born.  Telling the common stories helped.  That’s the power of story.  And that’s the point—everyone already knows each other because they are there for the same reason.  So people who are loved ones of those addicted to alcohol or drugs have that in common; though the details of our enabling and co-dependence may be different specifically, the disease, the day-to-day struggles are the same.  And that’s why they could say to me, “Hi Donna., Now, listen, and maybe we can find hope together.”  It worked.  Miraculous.  I wasn’t terminally unique - alone, frightened, and scared all by myself anymore.  I had all these amazing people to lean on and cry with and laugh with and carry me when needed and yell to and work things out and it was remarkable…I was surrounded by all the other people with the same story.  See, I learned that instead of staying in the comfort and security of my own home all by my lonesome with the disease (she writes dripping with sarcasm!!), I could get out of there, get out of being by myself in it, and go be with others who got it, who got me, and by doing so again and again and again, I was able to find solutions and answers that before doing that, I couldn’t see, couldn’t begin to see.  It was remarkable and beautiful and…wow…amazing.  Thanks be to God!

And someone might say, well, that’s just for Alcoholics.  Nope…that’s why there are so many versions of 12 Step Programs now…telling stories.  Sharing the stories…it’s what works for people in their vulnerabilities.  And it’s why small groups in churches that provide support for persons to share their lives and struggles work, too.  I imagine there are such groups in mosques and synagogues and YMCAs and therapists' room and playgrounds and "mommy and me" spaces and all kinds of places, too.  It’s about sharing stories together.  No one is alone.  No one is truly terminally unique…those who think they are, well, this may sound harsh, but they are confused about the world.  They have sold themselves the notion that they are the center of the universe, living in a serious state of self-centeredness, where what is happening with them is solely and only about them individually.  But here’s the truth, that’s not how we’re created or built in this world.  We’re social creatures, made in relation to others.  That’s why we have families…maybe not always the ones we want, but we’ve got them.  And we can make decisions to have ones by choice, too.  That’s why we have friends.  I’ve known folks with friends, brothers/sisters by choice who are loyal beyond any kind of ties…those who would and do do anything for another, have one another’s backs in situations some would never believe.  Because that’s truly how we’re made.  This idea that we are “islands unto ourselves”…again, baloney.  It’s an illusion of the worst kind.  Martin Buber, Dietrich Bonhoeffer, John Lennon and Paul McCartney, to name but a few, certainly got this! 

What’s interesting, of course, is that especially here in North America, as a society we promote self-centeredness.  Books fly off the shelves in bookstores and from Amazon, about how to raise your child to think of themselves first, promoting esteem and self-interest, and loving themselves above all else, giving all your attention to your child in every way, smothering them with love and tender care, picking them up at every cry (battles rage over this right – it’s no wonder some folks grow up thinking they are the center of the universe! – this is a topic for another post, I’d say.)  I say this just to point out sometimes we have to adjust our parenting from having made our children the center of our universe to show them the world is larger, and help them find their place in it as healthy citizens with a perspective beyond ourselves.  Interesting.  But I digress.

The point is…we are not terminally unique.  We are not the center of the universe.  Yes, we matter.  Yes, embrace life.  Live it out loud.  Embrace it and go forward.  Seek to live with joy and abandon.  Surround yourself with those who make you laugh.  But please, always (yes, I said always!) remember that you are not alone.  That your story is shared.  So share it.  And don’t take life so seriously.  Because when we do, when we do take it so seriously and think everything that’s going on with us is of dire consequence and importance, we miss the little pleasures and simple fun of it.  We fail to remember that others have been through it too.  Or worse, perhaps.  We lose perspective.  We forget that laughing at ourselves is good for the soul, too.  A friend of mine used to say, “a little levity goes a long way.”  Indeed.  So…remember that. 

You know, one of my most favorite songs is an old one by the Indigo Girls.  It's called Closer to Fine.  Now I’ll admit, I’m a sucker for those harmonious girl bands…ones with solid musicians who can sing and keep a pretty good beat.  Even better are those who have done some thinking about the world and their place in it.  Obviously, the Indigo Girls qualify.  And it certainly doesn’t hurt that Emily Sailers’ dad was a theology professor at Candler Theological Seminary at Emory University.  I mean she’s got some chops musically and theologically indeed.  Well, if you really listen to the lyrics of that song, it’s pretty good stuff, and it’s got a decent beat to sing along to, as well.  Our kids have loved it for years already, and they’re not even 10 years old, any of ‘em.  Anyhow, it starts out right up front…

I'm trying to tell you something about my life,
Maybe give me insight between black and white.
The best thing you've ever done for me
Is to help me take my life less seriously, it's only life after all.

You know, these two rockin’ women seem to be saying to someone in their lives “thank you” for being one who gave them perspective, one who helped them remember in the scheme of the universe all that happens is just that – part of the wider journey of life.  And while certainly stuff can be big and important and eventful and life changing, it doesn’t mean you are alone it, the only one to experience it and know how it feels.  Terminally unique…no way – not a chance that someone else, somewhere else hasn’t a shared story through which one can learn, heal, be buoyed and loved and supported now and into whatever future life brings…true for me, true for you, true for us all.  It may be that’s easy to lose sight of sometimes, but that’s all it is. These words from the Girls’ snappy tune and the eloquence of Ms. Angelou and all kinds of others, too, for that matter help remind me.  May that be so for you, too.

Blessings to you and yours today, tomorrow, and for always.

 

Life Is Fragile

Recently a few things have happened that lead me to write this piece.  The most recent was something that occurred while I was headed to a meeting in Lexington on Saturday.  But I’ll get to that in a sec.  The others…first, a family I know managed to dodge a tragic bullet, if you will, when their two small boys (under 6 years old) both survived a dangerous accident on an ATV.  Thankfully, short of some scrapes, bruises, and mild concussions, everyone was okay within 24 hours and life resumed as usual.

Second, our third grade son’s teacher had her last day teaching for the year last Friday because unfortunately, she’s been diagnosed with cancer and has to have surgery and immediate treatment.  We are hopeful that they’ve caught it early in her case, and we wish her all the best as she goes forward now, but it really brought home to me how one day life is just rollin’ along, you have a routine doctor’s appointment, and boom, your world is turned upside down.  One month later, many appointments and consultations and new information to process and think about and decisions later, you’re not teaching anymore.  Your life has a new rhythm and routine and plan.  At least for the immediate future.

And then this past Saturday…so, I was on my way to Lexington for a meeting of a task force that I’ve been serving on and to get there one drives the Mountain Parkway to the North and West.  Now, this Parkway is the road that goes straight through the little town of Salyersville.  This is the town that made national news…you know, CNN, I’m talking, when the tornadoes hit some 6 weeks ago…you know, the group that practically destroyed the town of West Liberty here in KY, ruined the town in Indiana further West, destroyed areas of NC, wiped out more than 100 homes less than 10 miles North of our little town (and interestingly that’s received nearly no press), and included more than 100 recorded tornadoes in that set of storms…well, this was my first time seeing the damage.  I hadn’t been up through here until this past Saturday.  So, I’m driving through, and to give you an idea, Salyersville is a small town.  Small, as in this road is the main and only thoroughfare, on the left and right of which are about 4 gas stations, a Dairy Queen, an Arbys (I think), a McDonalds, a Chinese and a Mexican place, a private small motel and market, a bank or two, a few other businesses, a number of homes, some trailers, some pre-fabs, some older and more established, a few garages, perhaps storage buildings, too, and then a bit further down, the local elementary and middle schools.  It’s a really small community.  And remember, this is the heart of Appalachia, the “Mountain Parkway,” where the road turns and twists according to the curvature of the mountains, as a little narrow strip running down the middle of the narrow flat land with the mountains rising up on both the right and left, covered with towering trees.  In light of such terrain, tornadoes are rather rare, in fact, because the mountains make it tough for the swirling cyclone of wind to have enough room to maintain its power and strength.  But not on the occasion of these storms unfortunately.  In fact, I think I heard that Magoffin County had never had a recorded tornado until this time.  Never.  Oy! 

So, here I am, weeks later, driving through the town.  And I have to say, ironically, as I made my way through, I felt like the wind was knocked out of me.  Even this many weeks later.  It was a little eerie really.  There are 2 gas stations left open.  Three of the restaurants, at least, all closed for repairs.  The motel and market destroyed. Other businesses closed, possibly never to open again.  The Dairy Queen hopping with business because it was seemingly untouched.  Multiple houses and living quarters in various stages of repair and rebuilding so far.  Others haven’t been touched yet.  And the schools…re-opened weeks later but in much needed stages of repair, as well.  And that’s just the buildings.  I think what struck me the most was the state of the mountains.  All those towering trees, literally blown to the ground.  Laying this way and that, like bowling pins knocked down by the best bowlers rolling strike after strike after strike in the tournament of their life.  As if the wind of the tornado uprooted those trees at its merry whim in its powerful sound and fury, paying no heed to the cost it was leveling upon this place and the people of Salyersville.  It was pretty awful.  Again, I felt like the wind was knocked out of me…a bit sick to my stomach.  And yes, I nearly cried.  (Not so surprising since I cry at commercials, but still…)  All of this is to say, this event, combined with the others earlier in the week, made me start thinking about life and how incredibly fragile it is.

Life is fragile.  One minute things are going along, we feel like we know what’s up, a routine seems established, we’re seemingly “in control” and boom – we’re not.  The reality that life is fragile and things can suddenly occur that upset our balance, that make us think about how uncertain and unpredictable and how we just simply cannot know and do not know how things are going to be or turn out is before us.  And that got me thinking  about how we ought to be living.  Because life is fragile, here are some things that we probably ought to do:

• Hug the ones you love.  Your children, your partner in this life, your parents, your friends…hug them. 
• Say “I love you.” 
• Say “I’m sorry.” 
• Talk about that thing that’s eating you up inside.  Because if you don’t, if you let it make you resentful and crazy and upset and eat at you and make you madder and madder and madder, and then something happens…you may never have the chance.
• Do something you’re afraid of, or that you’re uncertain about, or that you’ve always wanted to and have held back on.  Do it.  Because you may not have another chance.  You know, carpe something.  I say it that way following Glennon Melton….Do you know her?  She’s the author of that blog, “Momastery” that went viral in January when her piece, “Carpe 15 Minutes” (I think it was called) was featured on Huffington Post.  She wrote about how being a parent of small children she can barely carpe 15 minutes, let alone “diem” and that we shouldn’t be so hard on ourselves to seize the day…and I think she’s right, of course.  As a working Mom outside the house, and three young children, and a husband and dog, etc etc, I get it.  But I still think we have to seize hold of a few minutes, or try to each week…it doesn’t have to be big like flying to Hawaii, or Vegas, or solving the world’s hunger problem, or running ½ a marathon (good Lord, whose got the money, time, resources, ambition, or enough energy for any of those in a week?!!), but choose to do small things that make your soul soar.  I think if we do that, then we’re feeding ourselves, we’re remembering that life is fragile, and that will fuel us and serve us in the most positive of ways. 

I’m sure there are many other things, too.  Basically, it comes down to this.  Recognize that this life, this earthly existence we have, it’s the only one we get.  Whatever you believe or don’t about what comes next, what comes after we die and are no longer on the earth in this way that we are bodily, this is the only one we get this way.  Another way I’ve heard it put – life is not a dress rehearsal.  This is our opportunity.  It doesn’t mean we can’t re-invent ourselves, change, do things one way for a while, then shift and change, and transcend, and transform…of course we can and do.  If we don’t, then we aren’t really living, because life is not static and two-dimensional, certainly.  Change is indeed the one constant in life (somebody famous has surely said that, maybe many somebodies!).  But the thing is that whatever those changes and transformations, they all occur in this one single life on earth.  It’s our time.  So, live it.  Emile Zola said, “If you ask me what I came into this life to do, I will tell you: I came to live out loud.” I love that.  Many of you can attest that I literally embrace such a mantra – “I came to live out loud.”  Literally.  That’s what we need to do.  Live out loud.  Which means recognize your value.  You matter.  Love yourself.  Know that.  Know it and live accordingly.  If you, we all, do that, then I think we in fact remember that life is fragile and we take it seriously enough to enjoy and embrace it.  We are empowered to live accordingly. 

Now, I should say, that having just written we should take it seriously, we should be careful to maintain a balance about that…don’t want to be so serious, in particular about ourselves, that we devolve into self-absorption and self-centered living that is narcissism.  Why not?  Because narcissism in any form is bad!  This is a topic for the next post, I believe! 

So, for now, inspired by some recent events, I’m inclined to share the reflection that life is fragile. That we cannot know what might happen next, and because we can’t, embrace all that life is and might be and what is important about it – our most beloved relationships, the things that make us soar and sing and make us joyful beyond measure!  That is the word for this day.  For indeed, life is NOT a dress rehearsal.

I’m goin’ go hug my loves.  May you and yours be blessed today, tomorrow, and for always!

Chalk Talks...

So, I decided to change the title and url address of my blog.  Yes, I owe this one to my husband.  He said within minutes of uploading my first post that the title was too wordy.  Not unlike me, most of the time.  (Yes, that is the sound of your chuckles I hear through the distance of cyberspace!)  And after a few weeks, I came to believe him.  And besides being wordy, long, the title was uninteresting, too.  I mean I am for simple and ‘to the point’ which “reflections/confessions of this teaching life” sought to be…it was general enough hopefully to encompass whatever I wrote about (which I really didn’t have a clue would be – still don’t most of the time), and it was accurate in the sense that I figured it would be my thoughts as a teacher, one who feels called to such a vocation.  And so it was.  But again, there was the problem – wordy.

LOONNNNGGGG.

So, I was thinking about it.  And somehow, found myself writing,

“Donna’s Chalk Talks.”

Now, first, let me say, “Chalk Talks” is not an original idea.  In fact, Father Martin, of “Chalk Talk on Alcohol” fame – I believe has the corner on that one.  And he’s a legend in 12-step circles and Alcoholism recovery.  Those videos of his are ones thousands, perhaps hundreds of thousands, for all I know, kids in middle schools and high schools, in this country have seen.  He has dedicated his life and ministry to helping people seek and find recovery from alcoholism.  The phrase is catchy – that’s why I thought of it, I’m sure.  So, thank you Father Martin.  But its catchiness isn’t why I picked it.  

It’s appropriate, really, because see, I am a teacher (most of you, if not all, know that already), but I’m also, kind of, “old school”…see I use a real chalkboard.  A lot.  Yes, I do use a computer.  I do PowerPoint, and website resourcing.  I like bullet-points, and slick videos, as much as the next person.  And yes, I (try to) use our institution’s “education management system” – Joule.  The system is on-line, accessible always, and has the capacity and capability to do more things than I’ll do in my lifetime. Those of you outside education, such systems are supposed to substantially aid and enhance the teaching and learning experience for teachers and students alike. In theory. In my reality, on a particularly bad day it can make me question my vocation, and probably most often, it offers the best that a love-hate relationship one could ever hope to have. But I digress.  The point is that I do use all that fancy stuff. But what I really, really like and use is chalk and a chalkboard.  I find a plain ol’ piece of white chalk and a chalkboard, usually green in my classrooms, but any color will do, rather refreshing and functional. 

Simple and ‘to the point’ remember.  That’s chalk and a chalkboard.  And I make use of them pretty much all the time.  Sometimes I think I drive my students crazy because I can get carried away, writing all over, scratching out, writing over, circling some important word or phrase so much, they can’t read it anymore, or writing a sentence and abbreviating every other word to the point, they can’t remember what I said.  Chalk and a chalkboard.  Simple and ‘to the point’…it works.  And so it seems appropriate for this blog, my little posting site of thoughts, reflections, sometimes confessions, musings, maybe wonderings, ideas, and questions about this teacher’s life – Donna’s teaching life.  To call it “Donna’s Chalk Talks” made sense, for in a sense, that’s what it is…my chalk talking – sharing with friends and beyond, words that hopefully might have meaning or make meaning or make one think.  Maybe even upset one’s balance (though not too much, I hope), but whatever they do, know that I appreciate ever and always that you bothered to read for a minute or minutes and might have found in so reading, a chance to laugh, to grin, to nod, or perhaps to pause.  Whatever your response, thanks. And until I take up the chalk again, blessings to you and yours…today, tomorrow, and for always.

A Week In This Life...

"Gravy on my Mashed Potatoes Life"

So, finally a post that pertains to the title I gave this blog.  What I really do, in the routine, regular everyday life of serving as a teacher in higher-education.  You know, who coined that phrase?  (No, I don’t think I’ll take the time to google it.)  “Higher-education”…as if it’s loftier or more important…really, maybe the proverbial they decided on “higher” because saying thirteenth grade and fourteenth grade, etc. began to sound a bit silly.  And it covers it, too.  “Higher” can mean one year of college, four years, graduate school, post-graduate, etc.  “Higher” – covered.  The funny, not “ha ha” funny, but paradoxical funny, reality of it is that many of the things we absolutely need (ought!) to know we really learn all the way back in the very earliest years of our education.  Robert Fulghum indeed got that right, I think…I was just saying that to one of my classes the other day:  those rules, like
·        Put things back after you use them.  And only take as much as you need.
·        Share.
·        Rest some. Play some. Think some. Work some.  Repeat.

Or things similar, anyway, are pretty good rules. Kind of like the Ten Commandments.  Regardless of your belief system, worldview, or the like, you’re hard-pressed to argue with the wisdom of those.  And if you attend any Kindergarten worth its salt, or something like it, you learn those.  They’re needed for the classroom not to spin out of control into utter mayhem and chaos.  No teacher likes utter chaos.  Maybe a little chaos (I’ve done small groups with college students in a class of 50 people, in fact!), but not utter.

Anyhow, recognizing that much of what we need to learn should happen when we’re quite young, choosing to further that education in our “higher” years is important these days, and I’m blessed to participate in that process from the teaching side of the equation.  And so, this is much of what that life looks like for me on a regular basis.  Here is a sample of what happens in a given week (these things, in fact, happened within a 7-day period recently):

·        I gave 3 exams to 110+ students.
·        That resulted in 110+ exams to grade.  Still need to grade.
·        Due to a newly scheduled softball game on the day of my exam, I had to prepare the exam early to accommodate my students, who were seeking to be responsible and take the exam before they left campus for said game.  And they were.  They all took the exam in my office – one even sitting on the floor, diligently and respectfully fulfilling their academic responsibilities before meeting their athletic ones, which for some provide the means (scholarship!) to the academic ends.  Impressive!
·        I received exactly 4 emails from students with exactly 4 different reasons for why they could not take the exams as scheduled, after the fact.  Meaning no discussion with me prior that they had some problem preventing them from taking the exams.  Have to deal with them later!
·        Attended 2 committee meetings.
·        Held 10 classes – prepared for, led/facilitated, including hand-outs, lecture, powerpoint, and web-video material said classes.
·        Had the audio/video technology fail on two occasions in two different classrooms for said classes.

Those aren’t all the things that happened that week.  Just a sample of the kinds of things that go on. 

If you’re still reading (and I can see how some may not be), you can see it’s not particularly scintillating when you read a summary of such activity on paper (or in this case, virtual paper).  It’s not particularly eye-opening.  It’s not glamorous or sexy.  Certainly not revolutionary.  But here’s the thing…it’s what I feel called to do.

And that my friends, makes it priceless.  I get to spend my days doing something I absolutely feel I am meant to do, placed here in this moment of space and time to do with and for and in relation to others, here in the heart of Appalachia, no less.  I spent years and lots of money and energy and some sacrifice sure, to arrive here, but it was and has been all worth it, for I am a teacher.  Yes, it requires the tedium of paperwork and assessment and evaluation of others and putting up with politics and excuses (! Good golly, excuses, the likes of which…well, I must just be old!), and a complex, at times confounding, “new” generation, and digital everything and all that that means, but at the end of the day, it also means I get to share with my students about subjects that matter.  The institution sees value in them, society sees value in them, and if, by chance, at least a few students do, well, then, I have done my job.  And not just done it; I have done it well.  And that is joyful.  It is no small thing to feel blessed. And as a teacher, I am.

 
Here’s another way to put it:  You know my husband jokes that I’m a mashed potato girl.  And it’s true…given the choice I’d pick seconds and thirds of mashed potatoes over ice cream or any other dessert, pretty much. And see I have a family beyond words – one of love and light and laughter and beauty and wonder.  My family is the mashed potatoes of my life. How lucky am I! (And how ‘bout that sentence?!)  Well, here’s the thing, to find such things in work, too, well, that’s just gravy.  Can’t get any better than that!  I wish for those of you reading that your life might too know such blessings.