>I’ll take that advice!

>I always read the Employee Wellness Newsletter. Sometimes I skim it and roll my eyes, but once in a while there’s an article that makes sense. There was dietary advice this time. Here are a few carefully selected quotes along with my reactions.

“Research shows that what you eat can significantly affect your mood.”
Um, yeah, why do you think my coffee addiction is such a big deal, y’all?

“For breakfast, try oatmeal or eggs. Both contain an amino acid that helps boost the levels
of serotonin, a neurotransmitter that makes you feel good.”
Yay! I’m doing something right: I often make oatmeal from breakfast. My favorite is steelcut oats with raisins and brown sugar with a hint of cinnamon sugar on top.

“As for the blueberries, save those for lunch. The antioxidants in them will ward off workday stress.” Stress? What stress?! And how about my daily orange? It smells good, tastes good, and adds vitamin C to give my immune system a fighting chance against the kids sneezing and coughing and breathing at me.

“Finish with a small piece of chocolate.”
Oh, yes! I can deal with that advice. My colleague down the hall has a stash of dark chocolate and sometimes even shares it.

But wait…they didn’t mention coffee. Uh-oh. Where does my daily cuppa (or two or three) fit into this picture?

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>Word of the year

>Resolutions. Goals. Good intentions. Words.
Words?
In another trend sweeping the blogosphere, the philosophy is this: choose a word. The word will be your focus, guiding changes and progress in 2009.

G’s Cottage, the first place I saw this, chose Cultivate as her word. This is a great multi-meaning word. It encompasses nurturing, planting, growing, assisting, caretaking, and many more action words. Cultivate would fit my teaching profession and my gardening hobby and, face it, motherhood.
But cultivate is G’s word. No matter how well it might fit me, it’s not quite right.
Christine, the leader of this movement, provided a long list of words from which to choose. This list, while comprehensive, doesn’t cover everyone’s personality and/or needs. It’s meant to guide and suggest, not limit.

So far, my personal list is narrowed down to these.

Clarify: Think, act, speak clearly. Keep goals in mind: eyes on the prize, while simultaneously focused on the process. Maybe Clarity is even better.
Mastery: Aim high, don’t settle. Improvement is good; mastery is better.
Acceptance: Change is good, but accepting limits is also good. As in the famous serenity prayer, the key is knowing what I can and cannot change, and accepting this.
Willingness: Not digging in my heels, but moving ahead willingly. The opposite might be “grudgingly.” No one sets a goal of being unwilling; it seems to happen on its own. Willing or willingness would be reminders to push forward with a “glass half full” philosophy, working to make the glass overflow.
Balance: need I say more?
Health: this one is almost too broad. Physical, emotional, mental health; my own, my family’s, my pets’ health?
Action: Similar to willingness or willing, this word would remind me that thoughts and ideas are cheap. Action is where the change originates, begins, ends, and succeeds.

Later this month I’ll choose a word, a term that will guide me toward goals that make sense. One word. It will most likely come from this list, but maybe a better one will turn up. Until then, it’s back to school, back to work, and back to (hopefully) a consistent sleep schedule.

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>Life is NFL football; the rest is just details.

>The Detroit Lions’ coach talked about three ways to face adversity. At 0-15, soon to be a record-setting 0-16 if my Packers have anything to say about it, he ought to know.
The coach suggested that most people react in one of these ways:
1. Remain oblivious
2. Crumble
3. Embrace it

This philosophy applies to public school teaching as well.

1. I worked with a principal who remained oblivious to adversity. When faced with challenges, she would spout her buzzwords of “differentiate” and “test scores” without ever answering the questions we raised. She thought she understood, but she was clueless. Simply clueless.
2. It’s easy to crumble as my workload grows and the pay doesn’t, while public support continues to fade. I may react initially with a feeling of failure and hopelessness, but eventually…
3. I work with a group of teachers and paraprofessionals who embrace challenges. The pressure wears on us daily, but we hold each other up and look for ways to meet the challenges.

With a week off between Christmas and the New Year (my equivalent of a Bye week), I can rest and get myself psyched for going back to school. I brought home a little work, but not a lot. I decided to be realistic and not overload my schoolbag. I’ll feel more productive if I complete the small stacks of paper in the bag rather than just make a dent in a larger pile.

Minor injuries? In teaching, that’s more likely to be illness. I had my flu shot, and so did Amigo. It’s the season for keeping hand sanitizer on my desk and encouraging kiddos to wash their hands frequently. And if this preventive maintenance doesn’t work, there’s always the red substitute folder beside my desk.

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>A mini-tour by the fireplace

>Eggbert will whisk visitors off to the candy dish that looks like a fireplace. Sorry, the candy’s gone. You’ll have to wait for cookies.

The snowman on the left is so tacky it’s adorable. It has a light inside that changes colors from pale blue, to lilac, to white. It’s ridiculous, but really sweet. Yes, it was a student gift. How can you tell?


The other snowpeople are a candy jar and salt and pepper shakers. They’re really cute, too. I might just have to use the shakers at Christmas dinner. And as for the rabbit hiding on the right — did you really think we’d decorate without bunnies? Not a chance.

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>Creating an emergency….or not.

>In the book Don’t Sweat the Small Stuff, one piece of advice that resonates personally is this: Don’t create your own emergency.

We had a staff breakfast this morning, the culmination of our Secret Santa week and a fun get-together for staff just before winter break. The invitation always comes with a hint to make our favorite recipes. There are usually at least three different egg dishes, several coffeecakes and homemade breads, coffees, juices, and the works. Last year I baked muffins. Out of a dozen, I brought home eight.
This year I was smarter. I signed up to bring fruit. I gathered a variety of apples, pears, and oranges from the recent music department fundraiser, dropped them in a reusable but presentable paper bag, and called it done.
The fruit bag was a hit. I only brought home a few oranges and one pear. My contribution also turned out to be something my coworkers could bring up to their rooms and enjoy later in the day. I knew that any fruit I brought home would still be good; no stale muffins to be wasted. I didn’t have to bring utensils or special toppings. It worked for the healthy food folk and the dieters, too.

I took the advice to heart and managed to contribute something of value without creating my own pressure, my own stressful emergency.

At this time of year, that’s a gift.

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>In response to irregular plurals

>”Reactions while correcting the weekly spelling test” just didn’t sound as good for a post title.

What were these kids thinking?
Sheelves: female elves? Are there He-elves, too? Or was that just a drawn out vowel, a southern style accent, Shayelves? One student spelled it shaelves. “Put the books on the shaelves, ma’am.” Shelves also became Sleves, Sevles, and shelvs.
Theeth: well, the kid knew the plural needed a double e and a -th. Maybe he wasn’t sure if the th came at the beginning or the end and just put it in both places to increase his odds. Or not.
Chidren: three kids left out the L. That’s not a regional dialect, folks; we really do say “children.”

Wimen? Gese? Gesse? Spacecrafts?

I really did teach the spelling structures for the irregular plurals. The kids created a list comparing the singular to the plural form of each word, sorted by pattern. The list stood on a chart in a prominent place for a week. They had review/ practice sheets for extra credit.

The dysgraphic child in the class handled this test with 100% accuracy. That’s not easy; dysgraphia made the P in sheep difficult, among other letters. This kiddo worked harder than any other to make these letters fall in the right places and face the correct directions.
To the rest I’m tempted to say, “What’s your excuse?!”

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>Dear Santa; a little assistance, please?

>Dear Santa;

I know you are coping with a wildly increasing workload. Your working conditions are probably a lot like mine: more demands, fewer resources, fewer people (or elves) with which to handle more difficult tasks. We jolly old elves and not so jolly teachers keep facing the challenge of doing more and more with less and less.

Santa, I don’t ask for things for Christmas. I don’t ask you to fill my stocking. I put something out for my students so they can enjoy a little seasonal specialness at school. You don’t have to help with that part of the celebration.

But Santa, I’ve been feeling a little down lately. I could chalk it up to “Kids these days” or the worsening economy, and both are parts of the problem. My job is stable and employment secure, even though my salary is more likely to shrink than grow in today’s reality. No, Santa, I’m not asking for money.

You’re in your furs from your head to your foot, and your beard may be covered with ashes and soot. I’m clad in a holiday sweater that makes fashionistas cringe, but makes my students smile. The problem is this.

If an ice cream maker gets in a bad batch of blueberries, they can send them back to the plant.
If a television producer gets a poor script, it gets revised or rewritten.

When I add a student to my class, I teach that student. I can’t send him back home to re-learn how to behave, send him to his former school to learn to read, or simply say to the principal, “No, I’m sorry, this one just doesn’t measure up. I can’t take him.”

But the Joe Q. Public thinks it’s my fault if the kid doesn’t make it. Mine and mine alone.

Santa, here’s the point. All I desire for Christmas isn’t a new teacher mug or a package of caramels, although I’ll love those, too. Instead, I’d really appreciate respect. A little respect from the families of the children in my classes, a little respect from those who might not understand the challenges I face every day. A little respect from the energy-saving czar who keeps complaining that my computer uses too much electricity; a little respect from the parents who think their child is an angel, even though he’s probably getting a lump of coal from you, if you’re honest.

So Santa, you can bypass the World’s Best Teacher coffee mug for my stocking this year. I don’t even need a Congressional bail-out. I’ll take a new Public Relations director, one who can tell the world what I face each day, one who can let the lawmakers and community members know how much knowledge and passion I inject into my fascinating and exhausting work.

Thanks, Santa.

Respectfully yours,
Daisy

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>Big Words for the season

>Dear Santa;

Every year you get letter upon letter saying, “I want this. I want that.” Some are more polite, saying Please and asking how you are. This year may be no different… or will it?

There are some Big Words out there in the world that strike fear into a lot of adults. Economy. Recession. Layoffs. Unemployment. Debt. Kids don’t always understand meanings of these words, but they feel the stress that comes from the situations. The younger the children, the more likely they’ll feel the emotional turmoil and the less likely they’ll understand it.

Santa, I know it doesn’t feel right to stuff a stocking with soap and shampoo. Those are supposed to be necessities, not gifts. But this year, the little gifts might be even more important. Crayons. Pencils. Markers. Paper.
I’m giving my students a little cup of goodies. They’ll each get a pack of tissues, a new pencil, a candy cane. If I can swing it, they’ll each get a white-board marker, too. The candy cane is the only frivolous item, but I know they’ll enjoy the others, too.
You see, Santa, the little ones in my class get colds whether they’re rich or poor. Germs don’t discriminate. And the tissues in my classroom are running out, with the generic scratchy products left to take us through the winter. If a kiddo has his or her own little package of something soft, maybe that will be a small pleasure for those noses that rival Rudoph’s in redness.
There’s a big gap between the haves and the have-nots in my school. Some families bought their kids big packages of white board markers. Some couldn’t afford to even buy one. When I’m working with white boards as a check for understanding, you can guess which kids need to beg or borrow markers. Santa, if you and I can help these kids out, they won’t have to feel depressed every time we get out the white boards. The students from less-well off families can reach into their own desks to get supplies of their own.
The other day I heard a teacher complain, “Flash cards? Who gets flash cards in their stocking at Christmas?!” I understand. It’s kind of like getting underwear for a holiday gift; what fun is that? So along with the marker and the tissues, I’ll give a holiday pencil. Plain yellow #2 just wouldn’t have the same impact as something in red or green or another festive design. It’ll let the kids get their schoolwork done and still make the season bright.

Money, Santa, is not a children’s problem. It’s a grown-up problem. But the problems inherent in today’s economic crisis trickle down to children’s everyday lives. When parents have to choose between buying shoes for their kids or paying the rent, kids feel the pain. When parents can’t afford healthy snacks for mid-morning, kids get hungry. When the car doesn’t start and the parents don’t have the discretionary bucks to fix it, the young ones have to walk to school in the bitter cold. It takes time for those little ones to physically warm up enough to focus on learning.

Santa, I’d love to ask you to deliver safety and warmth and some basics to each and every child in need. But I know that you and your elves can’t solve these economic problems any more than I can. All of us will just have to tighten our belts, give where we can, and most of all, understand. Let’s understand that when parents lose their jobs, kids suffer. And let’s take care of the small things, like markers and pencils and candy canes, so that their suffering is limited even a little bit.

Thanks Santa. Have a Happy Holiday. Hug the elves and reindeer for me.

Lots of love,
Daisy

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>ridiculous/ hilarious/ terrible/ cool

>Ridiculous/ Hilarious/ Terrible/ Cool; A Year in an American High School

Elisha Cooper spent a year tagging along with students at Walter Payton High School in Chicago, experiencing their senior year along with them. Grades, classes, sports, arts, and college applications are high on the list of most seniors, and these teens were no exception. Theirs was a typical high school in some ways, atypical in others. But these teenagers experienced the same academic challenges, emotional dilemmas and relationship woes as teens in other American secondary schools.

Cooper didn’t go for the standard cliques — the jocks, the cheerleaders, the geeks, the gangsters. Instead, he followed eight individual students through their everyday lives. Cooper’s book paints a picture of personalities against a backdrop of classes, sports, proms, sports, college applications, and more. The diversity in the eight students profiled reflects the diversity of Payton High School as a whole.

Daniel, the class president. Emily, the star athlete. Maya, the actress. Anais, the dancer. Diana, with family obligations that put enormous stress on her. Aisha, caught between two cultures. Anthony, who holds court in the cafeteria to the detriment of his classes. Zef, whose sleep disorder puts him at risk of failing. Each of these teens has his/her own strengths, weaknesses, plans, and outlook on life.

I enjoyed getting insight into each teen not just as a student, but as a unique individual. Emily, the star athlete, had a fear of failure that prevented her from scoring even though she was the best ball handler on the team. In her role as team captain, however, she guided her teammates to improve their game and led them to many victories. In a very different family, Diana found herself in tricky situations where she had to translate in court for her parents and her older brother while her other sisters sit back and refuse to help. She used this motivation to set personal goals, apply for colleges, and look for financial assistance to make her dream of attending college a reality.

Following these eight teens on their way to young adulthood was a fascinating journey. I enjoyed getting to know them and seeing high school life through their eyes. I questioned, however, why Cooper chose to write in such a choppy style, with short sentences that bordered on fragments. This style made the reading rough going at first. Even as I adjusted, I found myself wanting to revise some of the paragraphs to flow more smoothly. High school students, at least the ones that have spent time living and hanging out at my home, don’t speak in short sentences like this. Text or IM maybe, but that’s another genre altogether.

Dreams are a big part of high school. Those students with dreams and goals are more likely to succeed. I see that in the elementary school in which I teach, a diverse neighborhood not unlike that of Payton High. I wish for my students some of the same hopes and dreams and successes of these Chicago students. Fortunately, Cooper added an epilogue to let readers know what these kids were doing six months after graduation so we could follow their progress toward their dreams, too.

Mothertalk sent me a free copy of the book in order to review it. My teen, Amigo, loved the title; he hopes it will become available in audio book or in Braille so he can read it. I hope so, too; I think he’ll enjoy and identify with the stories. He might prefer a high school named Ray Nitschke or Don Hutson, though. Think about it.

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>Green, green, green…the sequel

>Here’s the latest in my quest for eco-friendly wrapping this holiday season. These are picture frames for my grad school friends. Don’t worry; they’re all with me today on a major shopping and social outing. They won’t read this until they get home, if they read Compost Happens at all.

I didn’t want to give the frames empty or with the usual tacky fake filler fotograf. I mean, photograph. To fill the frames, I went to Wordle. At the wordle site, I copied and pasted a blog post about the five of us and our friendship, turned it into a word cloud, and then printed. I had a hard time getting the size right, making sure it had all the names, and looking for key words, so there were a few extra copies printed. Those extras became the wrapping.

The result: a unique and personalized gift and recyclable wrapping to (almost) match.

I hope they like them. Aw, heck, they’ll love ’em.

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