Each year room 202 has a defining moment.
It's the instant the kiddos change from a rag-tag group of individuals who happen to have the same teacher to a class. The Schmidties.
Some years they're united by a sense of accomplishment. Some years a tragedy forges a bond that can't be broken by graduation. Some groups are lucky; they ease into a sense of cohesiveness just because they have similar temperaments and motivations.
This year's moment happened today. And before it did, I'll admit – I was nervous. My kiddos this year are eclectic. They're quirky. They're individuals who are proud of that individual status. And all of these things are to be valued and respected… but they weren't engaging with each other. They were too busy noticing each other's differences and setting themselves apart. Too busy isolating within their niche or established friends.
They weren't rude to each other – they just didn't seem to have a use for or need to acknowledge their classmates.
This couldn't continue. I want a collective. I need a community. A grouping of isolates wasn't going to create the type of learning environment in which any of them would thrive.
I knew I'd have to get creative. And I did.
Today's class meeting centered on respecting others' differences. With little introduction other than, "Some of you may have seen this before. I want you to watch this video clip and notice how you react to the people's actions," I played the video of Kanye West interrupting Taylor Swift's acceptance speech at MTV's Video Music Awards.
And I watched their faces as they became outraged – or crumpled. We watched the video a second time. This time we paused to discuss how Taylor felt at each stage.
1) Thrilled. Proud of herself for having accomplished her dream.
2) Excited that someone she respected had joined her on stage.
3) Defeated.
They had such insight into Taylor's response: noting her change in posture from tall and animated to slumped and curled in.
One pipsqueak piped up, "No matter what, that award's never going to be as special to her anymore. It's ruined."
Another said, "It's like watching a balloon get popped."
And they got my point. They shared times they'd been proud of an achievement and been disrespected
"I read this book that was really hard and someone said they read it in third grade."
"I got an A on a hard test and someone called me a nerd."
"My team won a tournament and someone teased me for not playing much."
"I just don't get why Kanye would be so rude," was a common sentiment – and I didn't have an answer for them.
"Why do we sometimes make fun of or keep away from others who are different from us?" I asked.
*crickets*
"I wish… I wish that Kanye had gone on stage and sang with Taylor Swift instead," said one idealistic kidlet.
And my final point was set up perfectly. "I know. How awesome would that have been? Even though they have such different music styles, can you imagine what they could accomplish together?"
As the class nodded their agreement, I played the remix below:
(Thank you, Makaio )
And they danced. Together. And encouraged each other's zany moves.
In the last 30 seconds before dismissal, I paused the music and told the group – acting as a group for the first time – "We have 28 different individuals in this room. We all have different talents. Can you imagine what we can accomplish if we're willing to work together?"
Cheesy? Perhaps. Unifying? Definitely.
As they drifted off to safety jobs or waited for their buses to be called, they didn't sit in their seats – they clumped up. Talking. Listening. Engaging.
Schmidties, I'm excited for Monday. It's going to be a good year.
Saturday, September 19, 2009
Monday, September 14, 2009
Fearless but not ENDless
Technically the summer's been over for a few weeks now; I just haven't wanted to admit it. I ignored Labor Day. I overlooked the crisp apples at the local farmer's market. I pressed past the aisles full of Halloween candy.
But on Saturday it was only in the 60's. It's hard to pretend it's still summer while curled under a blanket wearing a fleece.
But how can it be over? (I say this despite having completed my 9th day of school).
LUCKY MIA's over too… at least this stage of it. And that's a hard truth to accept. I still wake up with words on my fingertips and itch to insert self-indulgent chapters to the MS. I hear songs and add them to Mia's soundtrack. I miss the story. I miss the characters. I spent more time with them than anyone else this summer.
And how can it be over? (I say this despite the kitchen dance party that commenced when I read The End for the final time).
I'll give up summer. I'll even accept that MIA doesn't need an epilogue. But I'm not giving up my FEARLESS. The challenges I created and accepted this summer changed me. The never-back-down, what's-the-worst-that-could-happen?, scared-is-not-an-acceptable-excuse attitude I adopted still doesn't sit comfortably over my inclination to flee and retreat. But I don't care. I owe myself more than that.
On Saturday night, as I shivered in my fleece and sipped spiced cider, I took a deep breath and erased MIA from the whiteboard walls of the NTB.
Staring at the blank walls was scary. How to fill them? What to fill them with? Would I love the new project as much as MIA? Where to even begin?
I studied them all night, finally falling asleep beneath walls that mocked me with their emptiness.
And I woke with new, nervous words on my fingertips. My first marker strokes were tentative, made of shaky letters and timid bullet points.
But it's a whiteboard, mistake and changes wipe away with the swipe of a dusting cloth.
By mid-afternoon the wall looked like this.
And that fear and doubt? Replaced by hope and inspiration.
Who's up for FEARLESS FALL?Saturday, September 12, 2009
Mac the Book...
There's someone I'd like you to meet. I can thank my good buddies at tech support, faux-James and faux-Jordan, for her appearance in my life. If they hadn't terrified me about another impending computer- pocalypse, I probably wouldn't have spent the next week waking up in a cold sweat and running down two flights of stairs to check on Huey.
It was time to get a Mac.
So I'd like to introduce you to my birthday MacBook.*
It was time to get a Mac.
So I'd like to introduce you to my birthday MacBook.*
I decided to use a name from my someday-daughters-list to name her, because St. Matt has issued a double-thumbs-down-veto on this one anyway.
So, meet Dulcinea.
St.Matt pronounces it: Dull-sin-neigh-ah
I say: Dull-sin-knee-ah
Both are correct.
We'll call her Lucie for short.
And Lucie is fabulous! Besides being adorably decked out in a pink&green skin that I designed myself (I am far too proud about this), she WORKS!
Unlike Huey, Lucie will communicate with our wireless printer. I've been printing things Just Because. So… if you want some puggle pictures, let me know. Lucie also has a "SuperDrive." On Huey it's just a CD/DVD drive, but on Lucie, it's SUPER.
Did I mention she comes with a remote control? I love remote controls! St.Matt's first Mp3 player had one and I was ridiculously jealous. Never mind that he repeatedly pointed out mine was waterproof a much more practical feature, and that he didn't need a remote because the Mp3 player was strapped to his arm. I still wanted one.
And Lucie has one! I don't know what I'll do with it, but still… I have one.
If I disappear into a cloud of Laptop-Love full of unicorns and rainbows, I know you'll understand. (Yes, I'm quite sure that Lucie will be a new Distraction Fairy).
… Or maybe because I'm so infatuated with Lucie, my blog explode with posts…. Er, and they won't all be about lame-o things like how I learned to print and my so-far-just-fun-to-look-at remote control.
Promise.
*Whenever I say MacBook, I want to sing Mack the Knife. Does this happen to everyone, or just me?
Wednesday, September 9, 2009
8) Camping requires lots of STUFF
8) Camping has lots of STUFF you can buy.
I kinda like this part of camping. Okay, I really like this part of camping. Along with all new pink and green river outfits, and my waterproof notepads, there was lots of new STUFF.
Like, my flashlight. It has FOUR settings. One of them is the Spinning Disco Lights setting. That is TOO COOL. Yes, everyone else had official looking headlamps. But my flashlight blinked Green, Red, and Yellow. Theirs did NOT.
And there are tents and sleeping bags and cup holders that float. And waterproof bags and sparkly helmets. And campfires that run off of propane tanks. And, did you know that you can buy ice in 18 inch cubes? This reminded me so much of Little House on the Prairie and the blocks of ices they cut from frozen ponds.
There are mattress pads that come in all sorts of colors and waterproof MP3 players (which I totally should have had b/c I stupidly brought Speedy the iPod on the river and he stopped working after day 1… he magically recovered once we were back in PA).
I just wanted to go in a sporting goods store and buy all of the gadgets and widgets and electronic things that look like they fell out of Westerfeld's UGLIES.
In fact, on our way home from the airport – before we'd eaten or showered or done anything prodcutive, I convinced St.Matt to detour to E.M.S. so I could just look at it all again.
He wouldn't let me buy any! Not even when I argued that there may come a time when we need a throw bag in our backyard…
Return to Lessons From the River
I kinda like this part of camping. Okay, I really like this part of camping. Along with all new pink and green river outfits, and my waterproof notepads, there was lots of new STUFF.
Like, my flashlight. It has FOUR settings. One of them is the Spinning Disco Lights setting. That is TOO COOL. Yes, everyone else had official looking headlamps. But my flashlight blinked Green, Red, and Yellow. Theirs did NOT.
And there are tents and sleeping bags and cup holders that float. And waterproof bags and sparkly helmets. And campfires that run off of propane tanks. And, did you know that you can buy ice in 18 inch cubes? This reminded me so much of Little House on the Prairie and the blocks of ices they cut from frozen ponds.
There are mattress pads that come in all sorts of colors and waterproof MP3 players (which I totally should have had b/c I stupidly brought Speedy the iPod on the river and he stopped working after day 1… he magically recovered once we were back in PA).
I just wanted to go in a sporting goods store and buy all of the gadgets and widgets and electronic things that look like they fell out of Westerfeld's UGLIES.
In fact, on our way home from the airport – before we'd eaten or showered or done anything prodcutive, I convinced St.Matt to detour to E.M.S. so I could just look at it all again.
He wouldn't let me buy any! Not even when I argued that there may come a time when we need a throw bag in our backyard…
Return to Lessons From the River
7) River trips have their own language.
7) The Language of the River.
I spent a good part of the trip having no idea what anyone was talking about. This glossary should be about 12 zillion words long but A) I procrastinated in writing it and forgot most of them B) I tend to tune out things I don't understand, so...
Anyway, here is river-language, according to me.
Groover – A box that is pooped in. So I hear. Not that I would know. Ewwww!
High Side – A command that means throw yourself at whatever part of the raft Capt. D points too. I was glad we never had to actually use this command b/c I am convinced I would have overzealously thrown myself OUT of the boat and onto whatever obstacle we were trying to skirt.
Kubb – My new favorite beach game. It involves throwing things at other things and knocking them down. It also has a castle. I'm good at falling down. I like castles. I don't throw very accurately, but no one seemed to mind.
PFD – Personal Flotation Device. You and I know this as a "life vest." I called it a PDF by accident at least twice a day.
Master Blaster – It has a flame and makes the coffee. That’s all I needed to know.
Throw Bag – This is a bag that is, um, thrown when someone goes overboard. But before you throw it, you have to make sure that you hold on to one end…
Return to Lessons from the River
I spent a good part of the trip having no idea what anyone was talking about. This glossary should be about 12 zillion words long but A) I procrastinated in writing it and forgot most of them B) I tend to tune out things I don't understand, so...
Anyway, here is river-language, according to me.
Groover – A box that is pooped in. So I hear. Not that I would know. Ewwww!
High Side – A command that means throw yourself at whatever part of the raft Capt. D points too. I was glad we never had to actually use this command b/c I am convinced I would have overzealously thrown myself OUT of the boat and onto whatever obstacle we were trying to skirt.
Kubb – My new favorite beach game. It involves throwing things at other things and knocking them down. It also has a castle. I'm good at falling down. I like castles. I don't throw very accurately, but no one seemed to mind.
PFD – Personal Flotation Device. You and I know this as a "life vest." I called it a PDF by accident at least twice a day.
Master Blaster – It has a flame and makes the coffee. That’s all I needed to know.
Throw Bag – This is a bag that is, um, thrown when someone goes overboard. But before you throw it, you have to make sure that you hold on to one end…
Return to Lessons from the River
5) If you haven’t used your underwater camera in a year – check it before going shutterbuggy
Doesn’t our underwater camera look cool?
I posed and hammed it up for all sorts of FEARLESS shots – I only learned to row the boat so that St. Matt could take photographic proof. I even took a picture of me completing one of Victoria’s dares. A photo of me cannonballing off of a moving raft into the river.
And I delayed writing this blog until I could go pick up the pictures and photo CD’s. You were all going to be so impressed…
But then the photo place had a machine malfunction and we couldn't pick up the pictures 'til last night. So we bounced in (okay, I bounced and St. Matt walked) and I proudly handed the woman our slip and her face fell. "Oh, yeah. About your order... We were going to call you..."
They're blank!
Two rolls of blank film.
72 frames!
How could that even happen? The camera flashed, blinked, advanced - shouldn't there be images? So I have my safe-on-dry-land Petunia pics, but any photographic evidence that I did more than pose on the banks of a river will have to come from my river compatriots. Guys? *
*And did they! Thanks Katie and Joshi for letting taking pictures that are GORGEOUS and letting me borrow them.
Return to Lessons from the River
Thursday, August 27, 2009
Tiara Day
I've been battling the End-of-the-Summer Plague (the doctor says it's a respiratory infection, I still think I'm allergic to the start of school).
It makes me sound less like this:
And more like this:
Did you notice what both of those images have in common? Stellar head-wear. Which is convenient because this Friday is Tiara Day on Twitter. A day full of positivity and sparkles that many literary tweople celebrate by displaying a bejeweled avatar. For more details or to enter a Tiara Day contest, see the Sparkle Queen, Susan Adrian's website.
'Cuz, who couldn't use a day of positivity, sparkles and tiaras? On the last Friday before school starts, I know I could.
If you're looking for me on Twitter that day, I'll look like this:
I hope Tiara Day brings you sparkles, good news and a surge of optimism and luck. I also hope it brings back my voice!
Start practicing your royal wave...
Tuesday, August 18, 2009
Why I Cried in my Classroom Today
“Don't cry because it's over. Smile because it happened.” - Dr. Seuss
I was talking to another teacher yesterday and he was telling me he's ready to come back to school. "I hate the end of things – whether it's the school year or the summer – I get impatient to start what's next ."
I hate the end of things too, but for an entirely different reason. I hate endings.
I was talking to another teacher yesterday and he was telling me he's ready to come back to school. "I hate the end of things – whether it's the school year or the summer – I get impatient to start what's next ."
I hate the end of things too, but for an entirely different reason. I hate endings.
- I always hesitate before turning the last page of a truly great book – because I'm reluctant to say good-bye to the characters.
- I've never seen the final episode for Full House, Wonder Years, Dawson's Creek, or Gilmore Girls because if the screenwriters choose to NOT give the characters a happily ever after, I didn't want to see it. I'd prefer the unknown to a resolution that would haunt me.
- The end of the school year makes me cry – those kiddos will go on to great adventures, but I won't be in their day-to-day lives to see their triumphs.
But there's something particularly awful about the end of summer, because not only does it mark a new beginning, but it requires classroom set-up as well. I am not a visual-spatial person. The idea of setting up a single room so that it's functional for 28 people is beyond my scope. So each year I stand in the chaos of desks and boxes, folders and textbooks and I cry. Every year.
But why? I'm not a crier and even though I never believe it in-that-moment, I know it will all get finished and organized – or at least shoved away somewhere.
So why tears?
It's because of the NEW. I'm not crying for loose-leaf paper or post-it notes. Not even for that last desk that won't fit anywhere or the spelling book that's gone missing over the summer.
I'm crying because I'm worried about the NEW. My tears say: Hey New Kiddos I Don't Know Yet, I want this classroom to be perfect for YOU and I hope you like it and I hope you like me.
But why? I'm not a crier and even though I never believe it in-that-moment, I know it will all get finished and organized – or at least shoved away somewhere.
So why tears?
It's because of the NEW. I'm not crying for loose-leaf paper or post-it notes. Not even for that last desk that won't fit anywhere or the spelling book that's gone missing over the summer.
I'm crying because I'm worried about the NEW. My tears say: Hey New Kiddos I Don't Know Yet, I want this classroom to be perfect for YOU and I hope you like it and I hope you like me.
I know by late September I'll be able to tell any of these kiddos to find a spot for the index cards or a better way to store the extra copies of Time For Kids. They'll be telling me where they want to sit and how to rearrange the desks.
… but that first day, when we don't know each other yet, I want to offer them perfection.
I feel the same way about writing. I've been dreading and procrastinating about my next writing project. LUCKY MIA'S still on the walls of the NTB – even though I haven't needed those notes in months. I just can't bring myself to erase them yet.
What if I don't love my next project as much as I love this book? What if the characters don't resonate as loudly or keep me up at night with fierce wonderings? My outdated MIA-notes are a literary security blanket, they're a reflection of my endings issues. I don't want to let go.
But it's FEARLESS Summer, so I will. I spent yesterday afternoon making notes on potential next projects. I've got five vying for my attention, clamoring to be noticed. I used my big teacher paper and markers – I'm not ready to commit one to the whiteboard walls yet – and gave each story the chance to say "Pick me!" And they ALL did.
So, baby steps. I've got them on paper… I've hung the paper on the wall in the NTB.
Someday soon I'll be reaching for erasers – both in the classroom and the NTB – and in both instances I'll learn, as I always do, that while new may be scary… it's also so exhilarating too.
Thursday, August 13, 2009
Virus Scan Wars
You know the moving walkways at airports? And how if you walk against the motor, you make no progress? Welcome to my day.
It started when I tried to open a file. I just wanted to peek at yesterday’s revision. The file wouldn’t open.
So I tried another file I’d work on last night: a friend’s MS that kept me up way-too-late. It wouldn’t open.
I tried everything I could think of, but neither file would cooperate. All my other Word files were fine. Not the end of the world, but it was a waste of a night’s work and a good *nudge* to update my virus software.
Updated. Easy-peasy. Started a scan.
While I was waiting, I figured I’d open the latest version of LUCKY MIA and re-do the chapter numbering since I had two chapter 31’s and no chapter 3.
Only, when I opened the file, it didn’t look like my story. It was a dense mess of text.
All the formatting was gone: Single spaced. No indents. No italics. Nothing centered. Hard returns deleted. Comments gone.
A chaotic block of words.
Finally! Success. And Word works too! Only, Huey tells me he has updates he needs to install and he wants me to restart…
40 more minutes of me pleading… really, it is authentic, I haven’t made unauthorized changes, I love you Huey, work with me… I’ll try not to abuse italics, I’ll use those special screen wipes you like… Sleep mode? You’ve got it!
Six and a half hours later, I’m back where I started: the same two files still don’t work. And my virus scan is now, not only out of date, but uninstalled.
I could reinstall it like James recommended… but then I’d have to restart.
*I do not want to identify the company for fear that they will send me ALL of their viruses, since surely they have plenty.
It started when I tried to open a file. I just wanted to peek at yesterday’s revision. The file wouldn’t open.
So I tried another file I’d work on last night: a friend’s MS that kept me up way-too-late. It wouldn’t open.
I tried everything I could think of, but neither file would cooperate. All my other Word files were fine. Not the end of the world, but it was a waste of a night’s work and a good *nudge* to update my virus software.
Updated. Easy-peasy. Started a scan.
While I was waiting, I figured I’d open the latest version of LUCKY MIA and re-do the chapter numbering since I had two chapter 31’s and no chapter 3.
Only, when I opened the file, it didn’t look like my story. It was a dense mess of text.
All the formatting was gone: Single spaced. No indents. No italics. Nothing centered. Hard returns deleted. Comments gone.
A chaotic block of words.
*PANIC*
But not horrible, I figured I’d just open the file from the day before – I resave my MS each day as a separate file.
Clicked on LUCKY MIA 8-11: A chaotic block of words.
Clicked on LUCKY MIA 8-11: A chaotic block of words.
*Super-sized PANIC*
And thus began my adventures with online virus scan support, because when I looked in the scan log, it showed the software issuing ‘violation reports’ and ‘denying’ parts of Word*. I don’t know about you, but I’ve never found double-spacing so offensive that it should be banned. And while I may overuse italics, that’s hardly a reason to revoke my emphatic privileges.
Off to ‘tech chat’ I went. First I had Jordan, who based on his syntax and creative use of the English language, is probably not really named Jordan Carter.
Jordan was confident he could fix my problems. Until I followed his instructions and they didn’t.
Jordan: Please proceeds by restarting the computer.
Me: Will this fix the problem & restore my formats?
Jordan: I recommend that you restart the computer.
Me: But won’t that end our chat.
Jordan: The chat session will be terminated.
Me: But what if it’s not fixed?
Jordan: (who I imagine is now doing a gleeful dance that he will be rid of me). Please contact online support if you require any more assistance. Refer to chat #844671
Jordan: It was my pleasure to work with you. Have a nice day.
I restarted. It was a mistake. Upon attempting to log-in, Huey-the-laptop informed me that “Unauthorized Changes had been made to Windows.” He then told the changes would “Limit Windows Functionality” which was particularly scary since it had been less than functional before.
Forty minutes and an entire stress-eaten jar of macadamia nuts later, I was logged in. The problem was NOT fixed (darn you, Jordan!). I scurried off to online support again and was paired up with “James.”
“James” has even less understanding of the rules of English, and he also might have been cooking lunch or mowing his lawn or something, because he took for-ev-er to respond to my pleading requestions.
After reading the transcript of chat#844671, James told me to do the same thing Jordan suggested.
Me: I’ve already done that.
James: Re-read my directions. This is for the VirusScan Program not to scan the Microsoft program.
Me: I followed your directions. It takes different steps, but both you and Jordan instructed me to add Word.exe to my exceptions list. It’s there. I checked.
James: Is the problem fixed?
*I visualize a kid in an elevator here – you know the one that repeatedly presses the same button like that will make it travel faster*
Me: No.
James: I will send you instructions. You open up Wordpad or Notepad and copy them incase we get disconnected.
Me: Ready.
…. Long wait while James stirs his soup or clips his toe nails.
Me: All set! James?
James: *directions* including: Press the Firewalls and Security Options button on the left side of the screen.
Me: I don’t have that button.
James: Then do not press it.
Me: Um, done?
James: Please follow the directions to exit the program.
Me: Okay, I’ve exited the program.
James: I will send you direction to exit the program.
Me: It’s okay, I right clicked and exited. I don’t need directions.
James: *sends directions*
James: Let me know when you are ready to proceeds
Me: (wondering if he read my last messages and why James and Jordan both struggle with ‘proceed’ Are they really the same person? If I start a new chat, will I get John or Jacob or Joe?) All set. What next?
James: Does the problems still occur?
Me: *checks… chaotic block of text* YES.
James: The problem is not with our software. Contact Microsoft for assistance.
This is where I went into oh-no-no mode.
James: I recommend you uninstall the virus scan, system restore, reinstall.
Me: Will that fix the problem?
James: I will send you directions.
I uninstall.
Me: It says that I need to restart the system for the changes to take affect. Should I do this?
No answer.
Me: James? Also, last time I restarted, I had real problems logging back in. Will those be fixed?
Loooong pause. Perhaps James is walking his dogs. Maybe he could come walk the puggles, b/c they’re getting a little impatient with my crazed computer staring.
James: Proceeds to uninstall the virus scan.
Me: I did. It’s uninstalled. It says I need to restart.
James: Yes, restart.
Me: But what about the systems restore and reinstall?
James: Restart first. I will send you directions.
Me: So will this fix it?
James: Follow the directions.
Me: After I do the systems restore, it should be fixed, right? So then, when I reinstall, is it going to recreate the problem? Should I ‘exclude’ Word right away.
James: I do not recommend that.
Me: But last time, when I started a virus scan it messed up Word.
James: I recommend you try it first.
Me: And if it recreates the problem, I’d have to uninstall, restore the system, reinstall.
James: I recommend this.
Me: Is it worth the risk?
James: Yes.
Clearly, James is willing to play fast and loose with my files.
I save his directions. And restart…. you may have noticed that James never answered my question about whether or not I’d have problems logging-in. That was an artful dodge my tech-help friend. Crafty.
Log-in screen: “Unauthorized Changes have been Made to Windows”
Thus commenced a 45 minutes of a loop where I put in my password, it give me this message & restarted. Since I was out of macadamia nuts, I ate blueberries by the handful and paced. The puggles trailed me in my stress-induced game of follow the leader.
To switch things up, Huey began warning me that my version of Office may be counterfeit. No. It’s not. It’s the same version I had last night. The same version I’ve had for 2 years. Unless sneaky software bandits crept into my house between the hours of 3AM and 6AM, it’s authentic.
Off to ‘tech chat’ I went. First I had Jordan, who based on his syntax and creative use of the English language, is probably not really named Jordan Carter.
Jordan was confident he could fix my problems. Until I followed his instructions and they didn’t.
Jordan: Please proceeds by restarting the computer.
Me: Will this fix the problem & restore my formats?
Jordan: I recommend that you restart the computer.
Me: But won’t that end our chat.
Jordan: The chat session will be terminated.
Me: But what if it’s not fixed?
Jordan: (who I imagine is now doing a gleeful dance that he will be rid of me). Please contact online support if you require any more assistance. Refer to chat #844671
Jordan: It was my pleasure to work with you. Have a nice day.
I restarted. It was a mistake. Upon attempting to log-in, Huey-the-laptop informed me that “Unauthorized Changes had been made to Windows.” He then told the changes would “Limit Windows Functionality” which was particularly scary since it had been less than functional before.
Forty minutes and an entire stress-eaten jar of macadamia nuts later, I was logged in. The problem was NOT fixed (darn you, Jordan!). I scurried off to online support again and was paired up with “James.”
“James” has even less understanding of the rules of English, and he also might have been cooking lunch or mowing his lawn or something, because he took for-ev-er to respond to my pleading requestions.
After reading the transcript of chat#844671, James told me to do the same thing Jordan suggested.
Me: I’ve already done that.
James: Re-read my directions. This is for the VirusScan Program not to scan the Microsoft program.
Me: I followed your directions. It takes different steps, but both you and Jordan instructed me to add Word.exe to my exceptions list. It’s there. I checked.
James: Is the problem fixed?
*I visualize a kid in an elevator here – you know the one that repeatedly presses the same button like that will make it travel faster*
Me: No.
James: I will send you instructions. You open up Wordpad or Notepad and copy them incase we get disconnected.
Me: Ready.
…. Long wait while James stirs his soup or clips his toe nails.
Me: All set! James?
James: *directions* including: Press the Firewalls and Security Options button on the left side of the screen.
Me: I don’t have that button.
James: Then do not press it.
Me: Um, done?
James: Please follow the directions to exit the program.
Me: Okay, I’ve exited the program.
James: I will send you direction to exit the program.
Me: It’s okay, I right clicked and exited. I don’t need directions.
James: *sends directions*
James: Let me know when you are ready to proceeds
Me: (wondering if he read my last messages and why James and Jordan both struggle with ‘proceed’ Are they really the same person? If I start a new chat, will I get John or Jacob or Joe?) All set. What next?
James: Does the problems still occur?
Me: *checks… chaotic block of text* YES.
James: The problem is not with our software. Contact Microsoft for assistance.
This is where I went into oh-no-no mode.
James: I recommend you uninstall the virus scan, system restore, reinstall.
Me: Will that fix the problem?
James: I will send you directions.
I uninstall.
Me: It says that I need to restart the system for the changes to take affect. Should I do this?
No answer.
Me: James? Also, last time I restarted, I had real problems logging back in. Will those be fixed?
Loooong pause. Perhaps James is walking his dogs. Maybe he could come walk the puggles, b/c they’re getting a little impatient with my crazed computer staring.
James: Proceeds to uninstall the virus scan.
Me: I did. It’s uninstalled. It says I need to restart.
James: Yes, restart.
Me: But what about the systems restore and reinstall?
James: Restart first. I will send you directions.
Me: So will this fix it?
James: Follow the directions.
Me: After I do the systems restore, it should be fixed, right? So then, when I reinstall, is it going to recreate the problem? Should I ‘exclude’ Word right away.
James: I do not recommend that.
Me: But last time, when I started a virus scan it messed up Word.
James: I recommend you try it first.
Me: And if it recreates the problem, I’d have to uninstall, restore the system, reinstall.
James: I recommend this.
Me: Is it worth the risk?
James: Yes.
Clearly, James is willing to play fast and loose with my files.
I save his directions. And restart…. you may have noticed that James never answered my question about whether or not I’d have problems logging-in. That was an artful dodge my tech-help friend. Crafty.
Log-in screen: “Unauthorized Changes have been Made to Windows”
Thus commenced a 45 minutes of a loop where I put in my password, it give me this message & restarted. Since I was out of macadamia nuts, I ate blueberries by the handful and paced. The puggles trailed me in my stress-induced game of follow the leader.
To switch things up, Huey began warning me that my version of Office may be counterfeit. No. It’s not. It’s the same version I had last night. The same version I’ve had for 2 years. Unless sneaky software bandits crept into my house between the hours of 3AM and 6AM, it’s authentic.
Finally! Success. And Word works too! Only, Huey tells me he has updates he needs to install and he wants me to restart…
40 more minutes of me pleading… really, it is authentic, I haven’t made unauthorized changes, I love you Huey, work with me… I’ll try not to abuse italics, I’ll use those special screen wipes you like… Sleep mode? You’ve got it!
Six and a half hours later, I’m back where I started: the same two files still don’t work. And my virus scan is now, not only out of date, but uninstalled.
I could reinstall it like James recommended… but then I’d have to restart.
*I do not want to identify the company for fear that they will send me ALL of their viruses, since surely they have plenty.
6) Braids are the ideal river hairstyle
6) Just because it’s camping and there aren’t bubble baths doesn’t mean I couldn’t bring the pampering. Not only did I do my own hair, but I coerced the other girls into letting me French braid theirs in all sorts of ways. I owe them all a big THANK YOU, for letting me treat them like Barbie dolls - I think that playing beauty parlor was my way of bringing a piece of Tiffany to an entirely non-Tiffany environment.
I don't have any pictures of my own hair (see #5) but here's a great one of J-bean and Capt. D. Awww, adorable! See, you'd totally never guess that she hadn't showered in four days!
The twists and loops are great at hiding the hasn’t-been-washedness. How do I know? I got complimented in the airport on Wednesday, when I hadn’t touched shampoo since the previous Friday. I might’ve given that woman a strange look along with a thank you.
Return to Lessons from the River...
I don't have any pictures of my own hair (see #5) but here's a great one of J-bean and Capt. D. Awww, adorable! See, you'd totally never guess that she hadn't showered in four days!
The twists and loops are great at hiding the hasn’t-been-washedness. How do I know? I got complimented in the airport on Wednesday, when I hadn’t touched shampoo since the previous Friday. I might’ve given that woman a strange look along with a thank you.
Return to Lessons from the River...
4) When things go wrong on the river, they go wrong fast and they go really wrong.
4) When things go wrong on the river, they go wrong fast and they go really wrong.
This is an unedited excerpt from a hasty entry in my waterproof notepads on day 2 - it's a 'lil bit melodramatic, but it a scary moment:
Fearless? Not so much. Shaking. Quite a bit. This isn’t Disney World. This ride isn’t automated or carefully controlled like Epcot’s Maelstrom. And unlike scary movies, you can’t shut my eyes when things get tough or frightening. You need to face the fears: eyes open, danger ready.
Because when things go wrong on the river, they go wrong fast and they go seriously wrong.
Today we did Hell’s Half Mile rapids – these were the ones discussed around the campfire last night and over breakfast this morning. We only had 90 minutes of rafting time today, but these would be intense. I’d been warned.
But before we got to ½ Mile, in the smaller rapids just before – Triplet – things went wrong. Fast and Serious.
A boat flipped.
The passengers were okay and Capt. D eddied out, then went back on foot to assist with the recovery.
It couldn’t have been long, but it was a blur of in and out our raft, catching the overturned rafted as it floated pasted, tying, untying, heaving people back in the boat and screamed commands. Fast and serious.
My out-of-the-moment commentary: At the time when I wrote this, I was trembling so hard my cursive was barely legible, but I think it was also the most FEARLESS moment of the trip. Because I scrawled this down after Hell’s Half Mile rapids.
But when Capt D said, “Let’s go.” I did. FEARLESS
*I was lucky. I ended up with teensy scrapes and some rather large bruises. It could’ve been so much worse and I’ve learned my lesson. We used “Red light” and “Green light” instead of No/Now for the rest of the trip.
This is an unedited excerpt from a hasty entry in my waterproof notepads on day 2 - it's a 'lil bit melodramatic, but it a scary moment:
Fearless? Not so much. Shaking. Quite a bit. This isn’t Disney World. This ride isn’t automated or carefully controlled like Epcot’s Maelstrom. And unlike scary movies, you can’t shut my eyes when things get tough or frightening. You need to face the fears: eyes open, danger ready.
Because when things go wrong on the river, they go wrong fast and they go seriously wrong.
Today we did Hell’s Half Mile rapids – these were the ones discussed around the campfire last night and over breakfast this morning. We only had 90 minutes of rafting time today, but these would be intense. I’d been warned.
But before we got to ½ Mile, in the smaller rapids just before – Triplet – things went wrong. Fast and Serious.
A boat flipped.
The passengers were okay and Capt. D eddied out, then went back on foot to assist with the recovery.
J-bean, Matt and I had a moment’s quiet panic, before we were sent back into the main channel in case a swimmer – or as happened, the upside down boat – needed to be caught.
It couldn’t have been long, but it was a blur of in and out our raft, catching the overturned rafted as it floated pasted, tying, untying, heaving people back in the boat and screamed commands. Fast and serious.
J-bean told me to tie us off – once we’d secured the overturned raft. I climbed to the side and asked, “Now?”
Her hollered response of “No!” sounded like an echo to me so I splashed overboard and proceeded to break the first rules I’d been taught: Never position yourself against a rock. Never try and stand up in the current. *
My out-of-the-moment commentary: At the time when I wrote this, I was trembling so hard my cursive was barely legible, but I think it was also the most FEARLESS moment of the trip. Because I scrawled this down after Hell’s Half Mile rapids.
And after Triplet and the flip, when we got out of the boats to scout the trickier rapids, I didn’t want to get back in. I wanted to sit and drip on a safe, dry, flat surface. I didn’t want to hear about a rock named Lucifer or passages that needed to be avoided. I wanted to stop trembling and re-learn how to work my lungs.
But when Capt D said, “Let’s go.” I did. FEARLESS
*I was lucky. I ended up with teensy scrapes and some rather large bruises. It could’ve been so much worse and I’ve learned my lesson. We used “Red light” and “Green light” instead of No/Now for the rest of the trip.
Tuesday, July 28, 2009
Lessons from the River - My FEARLESS Adventure
Fearless doesn’t mean without fear . Okay, technically it does, but for the purpose of Fearless Summer it means acknowledging that something is scary or difficult and then *gulp* doing it anyway.
What could be scarier or more challenging than ME on a 5-day Whitewater rafting trip through the Gates of Lodore in Colorado and Utah? (Admit it, you were a little scared when you saw the words Tiffany & Whitewater together).
What could be scarier or more challenging than ME on a 5-day Whitewater rafting trip through the Gates of Lodore in Colorado and Utah? (Admit it, you were a little scared when you saw the words Tiffany & Whitewater together).
But I DID IT!
Lessons Learned on the River:
2) What a groover is. If you don’t know, you probably don’t want to.
3) If you scream like horror-flick blonde, you will get made fun of around the campfire.
4) When things go wrong on the river, they go wrong fast and they go really wrong.
5) If you haven’t used your underwater camera in a year – check it before going shutterbuggy.
6) Braids are the ideal river hairstyle.
7) River trips have their own language.
8) Camping requires lots of STUFF
Don't we look rather FEARLESS? Okay, really we just look amused.... but there was plenty of fearlessness occurring too. And it was, most definitely, an ADVENTURE!
Monday, July 27, 2009
Apply sunblock BEFORE you put on your Chacos
Like my stripe-y sunburn?
The shoes that caused it... (though mine are lighter pink)
photo credit
...Also, pedicures are no match for camping.
2 ) I am not a camper.
I attempted it once when I was six and ended up in the hospital before it was time for s’mores – and that was the only reason I’d wanted to try it. That some people are just-not-meant-to-be-campers was brought home to me on this trip in some very real ways.*
For instance, while I had a great time practicing setting up the tent with J-bean in her front yard:
Yes, I am modeling my lifevest over a dress
I didn’t really think about the fact that when I had to sleep in it the next night, it would be out in the WILD and it would be dark. It’s a good thing St. Matt bought me a kid’s flashlight, complete with blinking lights (aka the ‘disco setting’) and a nightlight. I kept that on the whole first night.
I didn’t really think about the fact that when I had to sleep in it the next night, it would be out in the WILD and it would be dark. It’s a good thing St. Matt bought me a kid’s flashlight, complete with blinking lights (aka the ‘disco setting’) and a nightlight. I kept that on the whole first night.
Another thing that hadn’t occurred to me even once was where people went to the bathroom in the woods. I’m not a moron – I didn’t expect sparkling powder rooms with uniformed attendants – I just hadn’t thought about it at all. When J-bean told me about the groover, I thought she was joking. She wasn’t.
Um, no. Letting her show me was all the experience I needed. Thank God, this was a shortish trip. Maybe next time I’ll think about it…
... then again, maybe not!
*This was also brought home to be post-trip, when everyone who asked me how the trip was, did so by saying *giggle* "How was camping, Tiffany?" *giggle* "Did you like it? I'm shocked you survived!" hrumph!!!
3) If you scream like horror-flick blonde, you will get made fun of around the campfire
In my defense, someone had seen a SNAKE in that general area the day before. And I heard a scary noise in the bushes behind me. The fact that it turned out to be a bird and not actually a man-eating serpent isn’t relevant.
Back to list of River Lessons
Back to list of River Lessons
Wednesday, July 8, 2009
A True Test of FEARLESSNESS
By putting Fearless Summer out there in the universe, I knew I would be tested. I just didn’t know how MUCH I would be tested or what types of opportunities I’d be given to grow.
Tomorrow I leave for a Fearless Adventure – Five days of whitewater rafting in Utah and Colorado.
Less than 24 hours after I posted my original declaration of Fearless Summer my college roomie called. St. Matt and I already had plane tickets to go visit J-bean and her husband in New Mexico, but those plans were about to change.
I had never considered going whitewater rafting before – it sounds scary and potentially deadly for someone as spaztastic as me. I looked over at St. Matt who was nodding so enthusiastically his head might detach. Taking a fearless breath, I said: “Um, sure. Tell me the details.”
The details include five days on the river in class 3-4 rapids. J-bean’s husband is guide certified, so they have all the gear and it’ll just be us in the raft.
J-bean sent us a list of stuff we’d need and we set about purchasing it.
EMS is a culture unto itself. I felt like I’d been transported to the world of Westerfeld’s Uglies – there were water purifiers and grippy shoes. I found myself looking around for hoverboards and interface rings.
They didn’t have these… but I did find the supplies I needed and all are in pink or green! (For once St. Matt approves of my color scheme because he thinks it’ll make me easier to spot if I wander off in the wilderness.) I even found waterproof notepads for my whitewater *fierce wonderings* and inspirations. They’re green. I bought two. I like buying camping stuff.
I’ve never camped before. When I was six, I was supposed to go camping with my cousins, but before I even got to spend the night in a tent, I managed to break my arm. Badly. Hold your arm up and flop your wrist – see how it creates a 90* angle? Mine did that 3 inches below the wrist joint.
So when I announced that I was go rafting – people worried. “Um, does J-bean know about your… um, tendency to get hurt?”
She does -- my college experience wasn’t exactly mishap or ER-free -- but conveniently both she and her husband are doctors.
If I fall out of the boat, I figure they’ll fish me out and plop me back in. If I get cut – they’ll stitch me back up.
And St. Matt has already double and triple checked that there’s a helmet with my name on it.
So while others may fret and worry and hug me extra tight before I leave – I’m not anxious. I’m not concerned. I’m FEARLESS.
So wish me luck and leave me messages for when I come back from my FEARLESS adventure – because I will come back, braver, stronger, tanner, and perhaps soggier! THIS is what Fearless Summer is all about!
*disclaimer* I AM concerned about being *gulp* technology-less for FIVE whole days. You won’t see me on twitter or my blog because Gilbert, Petunia and Huey are all going to be left behind where it’s safe and dry!
Tomorrow I leave for a Fearless Adventure – Five days of whitewater rafting in Utah and Colorado.
Less than 24 hours after I posted my original declaration of Fearless Summer my college roomie called. St. Matt and I already had plane tickets to go visit J-bean and her husband in New Mexico, but those plans were about to change.
“How’d you like to go rafting?” J-bean asked.J-bean proceeded to tell me about how they’d been offered a last minute rafting pass to Gates of Lodore, a place that she and her husband had been wanting to go for years.
“Rafting?”
“You know, whitewater rafting.”
I had never considered going whitewater rafting before – it sounds scary and potentially deadly for someone as spaztastic as me. I looked over at St. Matt who was nodding so enthusiastically his head might detach. Taking a fearless breath, I said: “Um, sure. Tell me the details.”
The details include five days on the river in class 3-4 rapids. J-bean’s husband is guide certified, so they have all the gear and it’ll just be us in the raft.
J-bean sent us a list of stuff we’d need and we set about purchasing it.
EMS is a culture unto itself. I felt like I’d been transported to the world of Westerfeld’s Uglies – there were water purifiers and grippy shoes. I found myself looking around for hoverboards and interface rings.
They didn’t have these… but I did find the supplies I needed and all are in pink or green! (For once St. Matt approves of my color scheme because he thinks it’ll make me easier to spot if I wander off in the wilderness.) I even found waterproof notepads for my whitewater *fierce wonderings* and inspirations. They’re green. I bought two. I like buying camping stuff.
I’ve never camped before. When I was six, I was supposed to go camping with my cousins, but before I even got to spend the night in a tent, I managed to break my arm. Badly. Hold your arm up and flop your wrist – see how it creates a 90* angle? Mine did that 3 inches below the wrist joint.
So when I announced that I was go rafting – people worried. “Um, does J-bean know about your… um, tendency to get hurt?”
She does -- my college experience wasn’t exactly mishap or ER-free -- but conveniently both she and her husband are doctors.
If I fall out of the boat, I figure they’ll fish me out and plop me back in. If I get cut – they’ll stitch me back up.
And St. Matt has already double and triple checked that there’s a helmet with my name on it.
So while others may fret and worry and hug me extra tight before I leave – I’m not anxious. I’m not concerned. I’m FEARLESS.
So wish me luck and leave me messages for when I come back from my FEARLESS adventure – because I will come back, braver, stronger, tanner, and perhaps soggier! THIS is what Fearless Summer is all about!
*disclaimer* I AM concerned about being *gulp* technology-less for FIVE whole days. You won’t see me on twitter or my blog because Gilbert, Petunia and Huey are all going to be left behind where it’s safe and dry!
Monday, July 6, 2009
Mickey Mischief
Shhhh! Don’t tell anyone, but the last time I went to Disney World I was a toxic visitor.
I was 7. The trip was my First Holy Communion present – or just conveniently timed so the two events are linked in my mind. My memories of the religious ceremony are hazy – fever hazy – a white dress with a pink sash, a flower wreath settled on foam-curler ringlets, a honey ham, all my relatives.
I didn’t feel well. I didn’t want honey ham or jello mold or even dinner mints I’d have to sneak off the tray. I tried telling my mom – but she was busy changing a diaper or taking lemon squares out of the oven. Dad was talking and making drinks – he told me to run along and play.
I stumbled along and played, but without my usual impish vigor. After all the guests left I collapsed – pretty dress, curled hair, flower wreath and all – on the kitchen floor.
Chicken pox!
But we already had the trip planned – non-refundable flights, vacations forms completed and homework collected, park tickets. So I went to Disney and spread love and germs on Small World. My spots were natural camouflage on the Jungle Cruise
This trip I wasn’t contagious. It was quick; a last minute surprise getaway from St. Matt for our 5th Anniversary.* On the 4th of July St. Matt wanted to get to the park early and stay late to see the fireworks. Since we both know that I was not going to be able to handle 14 hours of straight ride-riding, it was a given I’d pack a book.
But which? I’d packed four different paper volumes and loaded a bunch onto Gilbert in preparation for the trip. Since I couldn’t make up my mind, I brought three: Tenth Grade Bleeds, Eyes Like Stars and Prophesy of the Sisters.
As we ferried over to the Magic Kingdom at 8:00 AM, I had a brainstorm. No, an inspiration. I had three great books by three fabulous authors, I was going to the most magical place in the world…. PHOTO OPPORTUNITY!**
It was like a reverse scavenger hunt. Instead of finding the books, I was finding fun places to photograph them. I scrambled all over the park feeling gleeful and mischievous. We got a few curious looks, but no one stopped or questioned us.
Of course, there was also ride-riding and confection eating and even some pausing to do some actual reading.
And there were fireworks too!
The only downside of the whole day was:
But this just means we’ll have to come back again soon.
*Have I mentioned lately that I have the BEST husband ever?
**St. Matt balked for all of 3 seconds, but I threatened him with the Tiki Room if he didn’t participate.
I was 7. The trip was my First Holy Communion present – or just conveniently timed so the two events are linked in my mind. My memories of the religious ceremony are hazy – fever hazy – a white dress with a pink sash, a flower wreath settled on foam-curler ringlets, a honey ham, all my relatives.
I didn’t feel well. I didn’t want honey ham or jello mold or even dinner mints I’d have to sneak off the tray. I tried telling my mom – but she was busy changing a diaper or taking lemon squares out of the oven. Dad was talking and making drinks – he told me to run along and play.
I stumbled along and played, but without my usual impish vigor. After all the guests left I collapsed – pretty dress, curled hair, flower wreath and all – on the kitchen floor.
Chicken pox!
But we already had the trip planned – non-refundable flights, vacations forms completed and homework collected, park tickets. So I went to Disney and spread love and germs on Small World. My spots were natural camouflage on the Jungle Cruise
This trip I wasn’t contagious. It was quick; a last minute surprise getaway from St. Matt for our 5th Anniversary.* On the 4th of July St. Matt wanted to get to the park early and stay late to see the fireworks. Since we both know that I was not going to be able to handle 14 hours of straight ride-riding, it was a given I’d pack a book.
But which? I’d packed four different paper volumes and loaded a bunch onto Gilbert in preparation for the trip. Since I couldn’t make up my mind, I brought three: Tenth Grade Bleeds, Eyes Like Stars and Prophesy of the Sisters.
As we ferried over to the Magic Kingdom at 8:00 AM, I had a brainstorm. No, an inspiration. I had three great books by three fabulous authors, I was going to the most magical place in the world…. PHOTO OPPORTUNITY!**
It was like a reverse scavenger hunt. Instead of finding the books, I was finding fun places to photograph them. I scrambled all over the park feeling gleeful and mischievous. We got a few curious looks, but no one stopped or questioned us.
Of course, there was also ride-riding and confection eating and even some pausing to do some actual reading.
And there were fireworks too!
The only downside of the whole day was:
But this just means we’ll have to come back again soon.
*Have I mentioned lately that I have the BEST husband ever?
**St. Matt balked for all of 3 seconds, but I threatened him with the Tiki Room if he didn’t participate.
Wednesday, July 1, 2009
Restless-Fearless Summer
Fearless Summer has also apparently become Restless Summer because I can’t seem to stop traveling.
Not that I’m complaining. Travel provides many opportunities to be Fearless.
Last week I drove to Newport, RI – BY MYSELF. I was meeting high school friends, but they were coming down from Boston while I was coming up from PA. Up through unfamiliar roads, blinding downpours and hours of stop and go traffic.
It was supposed to take 5 hours. It really took 7.5 and I fought with my GPS (Wendy) the whole way because she really wanted me to take the George Washington Bridge and I knew I needed to take the Tappen Zee. Every once in a while she’d say in this digitally huffy voice: “Recalculating.” A voice that suggests what she wanted to say was: “Moron, why do you keep messing up my perfectly clear directions?”
But it was my trip, not Wendy’s and I was Fearless. So I ignored her insults* pressed onward and arrived a little restless, but with courage intact.
I may have stopped along the way for a quick stress-reducing shopping trip…
But, I also accomplished two of Victoria’s DARES!
1) I have cartwheeled!
2) I have let a waitress order my meal: red-pepper fettuccini with warm tomatoes and cool cheese. It had a fancy name but I didn’t write it down. It was delicious. I WILL do this again.
I’m working on Courtney’s shirt and the rest of the dares… I believe that the shirt will be necessary for the *gulp* fearless adventure I will be having soon…
Any one else have a DARE? Bring it! I can handle anything this Fearless Summer.
*Wendy totally got me back on the way home by activating some crazy Avoid-Interstates option. I didn’t figure this out right away so the first hour of my trip was rather circuitous – but scenic.
Not that I’m complaining. Travel provides many opportunities to be Fearless.
Last week I drove to Newport, RI – BY MYSELF. I was meeting high school friends, but they were coming down from Boston while I was coming up from PA. Up through unfamiliar roads, blinding downpours and hours of stop and go traffic.
It was supposed to take 5 hours. It really took 7.5 and I fought with my GPS (Wendy) the whole way because she really wanted me to take the George Washington Bridge and I knew I needed to take the Tappen Zee. Every once in a while she’d say in this digitally huffy voice: “Recalculating.” A voice that suggests what she wanted to say was: “Moron, why do you keep messing up my perfectly clear directions?”
But it was my trip, not Wendy’s and I was Fearless. So I ignored her insults* pressed onward and arrived a little restless, but with courage intact.
I may have stopped along the way for a quick stress-reducing shopping trip…
But, I also accomplished two of Victoria’s DARES!
1) I have cartwheeled!
2) I have let a waitress order my meal: red-pepper fettuccini with warm tomatoes and cool cheese. It had a fancy name but I didn’t write it down. It was delicious. I WILL do this again.
I’m working on Courtney’s shirt and the rest of the dares… I believe that the shirt will be necessary for the *gulp* fearless adventure I will be having soon…
Any one else have a DARE? Bring it! I can handle anything this Fearless Summer.
*Wendy totally got me back on the way home by activating some crazy Avoid-Interstates option. I didn’t figure this out right away so the first hour of my trip was rather circuitous – but scenic.
Monday, June 22, 2009
FEARLESS Summer
As a child I was ~fearless~! Fearless and lacking self-preservation to a degree that terrified my mother and landed me in the ER many, many times.
I had no qualms about introducing myself to strangers, singing and dancing in grocery stores, putting bras on my head and popping out from the middle of clothing racks in the mall. I’d scramble up a climbing wall like a monkey and fling myself from the top. If this wasn’t the time I learned to fly, I was always confident it would happen as soon as the cast came off or the stitches came out.
Getting bit by two dogs didn’t stop me from patting the next one. People who didn’t appreciate my less-than-coordinated dancing or enthusiastic-but-off-key singing were dismissed with a shrug. And if you hurt my feelings or displeased me – you heard about it, along with the whole neighborhood.
Somewhere along the way I lost this. I grew a skin of fear, which all too quickly coated and subdued my impulsive courage. Risk factors begin to weigh more than potential benefits. Potential consequences dominated potential gain, and soon all I could see were the consequences. A big change since I’d always been an act-first, time-out-later type of kid.
By high school I was too scared to learn to drive and didn’t get my permit until after my 17th birthday. I missed countless opportunities because I was too terrified to return a phone call, attend a party, take a chance outside my safe group of friends.
I’m an adult now – but I still have phobias that trap me:
But NOT anymore. I’m declaring this my Summer of Fearless and I’m reclaiming some of the bravery I’ve been hemorrhaging for far too long.
So DARE me. CHALLENGE me. Ask me a WHAT-IF that requires me to do, not just think.
And when I go to wimp out, freeze me with a look and threaten to take away my night light and security blanket if I don’t comply.
I may not be that fearless little imp anymore, but maybe if I do a good enough impression of her for long enough, maybe it won’t feel so much like pretending.
I had no qualms about introducing myself to strangers, singing and dancing in grocery stores, putting bras on my head and popping out from the middle of clothing racks in the mall. I’d scramble up a climbing wall like a monkey and fling myself from the top. If this wasn’t the time I learned to fly, I was always confident it would happen as soon as the cast came off or the stitches came out.
Getting bit by two dogs didn’t stop me from patting the next one. People who didn’t appreciate my less-than-coordinated dancing or enthusiastic-but-off-key singing were dismissed with a shrug. And if you hurt my feelings or displeased me – you heard about it, along with the whole neighborhood.
Somewhere along the way I lost this. I grew a skin of fear, which all too quickly coated and subdued my impulsive courage. Risk factors begin to weigh more than potential benefits. Potential consequences dominated potential gain, and soon all I could see were the consequences. A big change since I’d always been an act-first, time-out-later type of kid.
By high school I was too scared to learn to drive and didn’t get my permit until after my 17th birthday. I missed countless opportunities because I was too terrified to return a phone call, attend a party, take a chance outside my safe group of friends.
I’m an adult now – but I still have phobias that trap me:
*I won’t sleep with the closet door open for fear of being sucked into the Poltergeist-dimension.
*I stopped swimming laps at nighttime after reading a Mary Higgins Clark book where the heroine was drown by a murderer wearing SCUBA gear and waiting at the bottom of her pool.
*Order pizza? No way. Not after that time when I was 14 and babysitting and the man at Sal’s screamed and accused me of being a pranker because I didn’t know the address and had to check a piece of mail.
*I wussed out of Jet-skiing because of what happened when I tried moped’ing in Italy.
*Zoomba? I’ve been invited by four different friends, but it sounds too much like dance class and we all know how that turned out…
*I’m terrified of offending people, so when my feelings are hurt, I swallow it with a smile.
But NOT anymore. I’m declaring this my Summer of Fearless and I’m reclaiming some of the bravery I’ve been hemorrhaging for far too long.
So DARE me. CHALLENGE me. Ask me a WHAT-IF that requires me to do, not just think.
And when I go to wimp out, freeze me with a look and threaten to take away my night light and security blanket if I don’t comply.
I may not be that fearless little imp anymore, but maybe if I do a good enough impression of her for long enough, maybe it won’t feel so much like pretending.
Sunday, June 21, 2009
St. Matt's School Visit
St. Matt came to school with me on Friday. It was the kiddos’ last day and emotions were running high as limits were being tested.
St. Matt’s come to school with me once before; he chaperoned a field trip to the Franklin Institute with last year’s Angel Class. I assigned him the most cooperative girls of the Angel Class and he spent the day supervising conversations like this:
At the end of the day he gave me a smug, skeptical look. “This is supposed to be hard? They compromised, group hugged and smiled the whole day. I didn’t have to do anything but hold a sweatshirt while they went in the bathroom.”
I rolled my eyes and bided my time. A year later he was back at school – and this year’s class is Team Tiara, just as wonderful but not a smidgen angelic. The kiddos quickly obtained St. Matt’s permission to call him by his first name and took full advantage of smirking and asking things like: “Mrs. Schmidt or Maa-att, would it be okay if I ran this card down to the art teacher?” “Matt, I still have a clipboard in my cubby, where should I put it?”
Each “Matt” was accompanied by a giggle or mischievous grin – infectious and irresistible.
The kiddos had a half-day – mostly consumed by their farewell breakfast and yearbook signing – during which St. Matt was a hot commodity. The whole sixth grade packed the cafeteria with their yearbooks and Sharpies and swapped signatures. Few outside of my homeroom knew who St. Matt was, but that didn’t stop the students from demanding his autograph – some bypassed me to get to him. One kiddo went up to her teacher and reported, “Mrs. Schmidt’s husband looks really young…. He’s cute.” That explains the number of giggling girls and glitter pens waiting for him – can’t say I blame them!
The last hour of the day was for the Schmidties. Our final class meeting. There were tears, laughs, and lots of “do you remember when….” There were reflections: “Can you believe we’re going to be the youngest in the school again?” And a smiling, “Matt, you’re much quieter than Mrs. Schmidt.”
“We balance each other out,” was St.Matt’s diplomatic reply.
Mine was more candid: “I bring the crazy; he brings the normal.”
The kiddos all nodded, sagely and immediately accepting this as true.
There was time for one last enthusiastic singing of “Don’t Stop Believing” and the dismissal announcements came on.
The kiddos’ faces vacillated between summer-excitement and farewell-panic. Hugs were given, received, given again and a few kiddos were gently pushed out of the classroom so they wouldn’t miss their busses.
The door shut behind the last kiddo and I turned to face St. Matt – sitting at my desk with his chin in his hand. “I’m exhausted.”
I nodded and looked around the classroom. It needed to be packed away and I’d barely started. I’d tried taking down posters earlier in a week but a kiddo had protested: “It’s so sad to see our classroom not look like our classroom anymore.” So I’d stopped.
Now I’d run out of excuses and there were only three hours until the faculty party. St. Matt’s engineering nature assessed the state of my cabinets and began to remove items and reorganize them in space-efficient manners.
My non-engineering nature sat down opened presents and re-read the cards my kiddos had given me. Then I responded to e-mails from parents –including a piece of fan mail about St. Matt: “My son so enjoyed meeting your husband. It just made his day.”
St. Matt called me over and asked me to look through a pile and identify what should be saved and what could be tossed. I told him the story of every item in the pile as he reorganized my supply cabinet and uh-huh’d.
The day proceeded in this manner:
Me: “Oh, look at this…” Flitting from project to project.
St. Matt: pragmatic, organized, efficient. “Tiffany, could you please…”
Finally, at five o’clock – now two hours late for the party, St. Matt decided, “You have 15 minutes. Anything that’s not in a cabinet in 15 minutes, we’re throwing away.”
“Okay, let me just pick a song.”
“15 minutes.”
“Well, we need the right song.”
I settled on Warren G’s "Regulators" and got to work. 13 minutes later I was shutting off the lights and shutting the door to room 202, precariously balancing bags of books, gifts from kiddos, the classroom plants and our one surviving fish, Yumberry.
We loaded the car, and St. Matt slumped behind the wheel with tired eyes. I reached over and poked him, “Hey! Guess what? It’s SUMMER! Ready for the party?”
"I'm ready for a nap."
Lesson's learned my last day of school:
St. Matt's cute (well, duh!)
St. Matt's quieter than me (I knew this already!)
St. Matt's patient (knew this too)
He's a better packer (so? I'm a better pack-rat)
And he's a big WIMP if one 1/2 day with the kiddos tired him out!
St. Matt’s come to school with me once before; he chaperoned a field trip to the Franklin Institute with last year’s Angel Class. I assigned him the most cooperative girls of the Angel Class and he spent the day supervising conversations like this:
Kiddo 1: “Mr. Schmidt, can we please go to the human body exhibit?”
St. Matt: “Is that what everyone wants to do?”
Kiddo 2: “I wanted to see sports exhibit – let’s see yours first and then mine if there’s time.”
Kiddo 3: “Sounds like a great plan!”
At the end of the day he gave me a smug, skeptical look. “This is supposed to be hard? They compromised, group hugged and smiled the whole day. I didn’t have to do anything but hold a sweatshirt while they went in the bathroom.”
I rolled my eyes and bided my time. A year later he was back at school – and this year’s class is Team Tiara, just as wonderful but not a smidgen angelic. The kiddos quickly obtained St. Matt’s permission to call him by his first name and took full advantage of smirking and asking things like: “Mrs. Schmidt or Maa-att, would it be okay if I ran this card down to the art teacher?” “Matt, I still have a clipboard in my cubby, where should I put it?”
Each “Matt” was accompanied by a giggle or mischievous grin – infectious and irresistible.
The kiddos had a half-day – mostly consumed by their farewell breakfast and yearbook signing – during which St. Matt was a hot commodity. The whole sixth grade packed the cafeteria with their yearbooks and Sharpies and swapped signatures. Few outside of my homeroom knew who St. Matt was, but that didn’t stop the students from demanding his autograph – some bypassed me to get to him. One kiddo went up to her teacher and reported, “Mrs. Schmidt’s husband looks really young…. He’s cute.” That explains the number of giggling girls and glitter pens waiting for him – can’t say I blame them!
The last hour of the day was for the Schmidties. Our final class meeting. There were tears, laughs, and lots of “do you remember when….” There were reflections: “Can you believe we’re going to be the youngest in the school again?” And a smiling, “Matt, you’re much quieter than Mrs. Schmidt.”
“We balance each other out,” was St.Matt’s diplomatic reply.
Mine was more candid: “I bring the crazy; he brings the normal.”
The kiddos all nodded, sagely and immediately accepting this as true.
There was time for one last enthusiastic singing of “Don’t Stop Believing” and the dismissal announcements came on.
The kiddos’ faces vacillated between summer-excitement and farewell-panic. Hugs were given, received, given again and a few kiddos were gently pushed out of the classroom so they wouldn’t miss their busses.
The door shut behind the last kiddo and I turned to face St. Matt – sitting at my desk with his chin in his hand. “I’m exhausted.”
I nodded and looked around the classroom. It needed to be packed away and I’d barely started. I’d tried taking down posters earlier in a week but a kiddo had protested: “It’s so sad to see our classroom not look like our classroom anymore.” So I’d stopped.
Now I’d run out of excuses and there were only three hours until the faculty party. St. Matt’s engineering nature assessed the state of my cabinets and began to remove items and reorganize them in space-efficient manners.
My non-engineering nature sat down opened presents and re-read the cards my kiddos had given me. Then I responded to e-mails from parents –including a piece of fan mail about St. Matt: “My son so enjoyed meeting your husband. It just made his day.”
St. Matt called me over and asked me to look through a pile and identify what should be saved and what could be tossed. I told him the story of every item in the pile as he reorganized my supply cabinet and uh-huh’d.
The day proceeded in this manner:
Me: “Oh, look at this…” Flitting from project to project.
St. Matt: pragmatic, organized, efficient. “Tiffany, could you please…”
Finally, at five o’clock – now two hours late for the party, St. Matt decided, “You have 15 minutes. Anything that’s not in a cabinet in 15 minutes, we’re throwing away.”
“Okay, let me just pick a song.”
“15 minutes.”
“Well, we need the right song.”
I settled on Warren G’s "Regulators" and got to work. 13 minutes later I was shutting off the lights and shutting the door to room 202, precariously balancing bags of books, gifts from kiddos, the classroom plants and our one surviving fish, Yumberry.
We loaded the car, and St. Matt slumped behind the wheel with tired eyes. I reached over and poked him, “Hey! Guess what? It’s SUMMER! Ready for the party?”
"I'm ready for a nap."
Lesson's learned my last day of school:
St. Matt's cute (well, duh!)
St. Matt's quieter than me (I knew this already!)
St. Matt's patient (knew this too)
He's a better packer (so? I'm a better pack-rat)
And he's a big WIMP if one 1/2 day with the kiddos tired him out!
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