I Can’t Seem to Learn the Rules (3)

I Can’t Seem to Learn the Rules

Most of the time, I feel like the disruptive student, the one who ruffles feathers, spawns eye rolls. I was this student for most of my life. Not because I acted out, but because I struggled to learn. I grew up with Dyslexia. But I also grew up being bullied not just by other students but by teachers. It was a different time back then. When I became a teacher- I knew I could make a positive impact on my students. What I didn’t know is that like all cultures, communities- there are mean people. 

As a teacher we are not immune to this.

I been a teacher for 18 years. I have worked at three different schools, one Title IV, struggling, 90% free reduced lunch, the atmosphere was heavy. Teachers were exhausted, students felt the slow decaying culture and fed upon it. It was full of amazing students, some unhappy, some acting out, some fighting to fit in, some motivated, engaged, all in need of love and respect, yet often not getting it.

Bitter truth, it took me awhile to adjust to the heaviness, it was my first teaching position and I was trying to figure out myself and my students, my role and their role, all the while being isolated. But I did find my groove and I think I made a difference. Many of my students from these years have found me on Facebook and we still keep in touch. 

When I look back, I feel a deep respect of teachers who continue in struggling schools- they are heroes. Every child needs a caregiver, educator, mentor that can uplift them and lead them to find the self-respect and self-confidence we all deserve in life. But it takes time and their time is invested in doing this and I am in awe of them.

My second school was an affluent one, students were amazing, but the staff was toxic. Very clique based and the gossip mill was ramped. I stayed many years, again isolated. Bitter truth, I can’t seem to learn the rules. Not the professional ones. Those I have down pat. I am a rule follower, for the most part. But, the non-spoken rules.

The social norms of a school often not shared with newbies, until they have been ostracized. Thus, I bonded greatly with my students, most in fact on Facebook again and I love learning about their adult lives unfolding. But a slow burn started early, a small flame- burning me, leaving marks. I tried to ignore it, they got more persistent, added accelerant, it became a blaze. Yet, I remained another year, hoping to find my niche. But my niche singed and burnt, never spawned new life, no succession, only stagnation. Thus, a cross-country move.

My third school, again affluent has a positive school culture, for the most part. Every culture has a negative faction. But many, can forge ahead with the positivity of the masses. My school has this, a core of dedicated, mindful, engaged educators who every day enter the doors with a loud vocal yawp of optimism, a unified spirit, that today is the day, I make a difference.

Smiles and laughter swirl down the colorful halls, students are energetic, there is a contagious enthusiasm. This is not to say that every day, everyone is happy or excited. Quite the contrary. It is a place of highs and lows, advancements and setbacks- but ultimately it is a community of collaboration, so the highs and advancements outweigh the lows and setbacks. This is all we can hope for. An awareness, a sense of community, a continual mindset for growth.

The Words of a Few, The Impact of Actions

I have spoken to many of my former students and current ones and just asked them four questions. All within a school day, in your school, classroom, on the bus.

1-      What do you see?

2-      What do you hear?

3-      Where have you gone?

4-      How do you feel?

I took all of their responses, often overlapping and compiled a story based on their point of view, their mindset, their hidden feelings. Most of these words are theirs, just reorganized, with a little of me thrown in, so we can truly see what they: hear, see, feel and the lengths they go to be acknowledged.

“I Can’t Seem to Learn the Rules.” Sound familiar? As educators we often feel one step behind the pack. We can feel isolated, misunderstood and frustrated that we have to conform to what others think education is. This phrase was spoken by almost every one of the students I interviewed. Then, just as you think you have learned a few, “they go up and change them.” Right, very poignant and yet ironic. They feel the way most of us as educators do.

The following section is a combination of various phrases and descriptions they used to describe themselves in the realm of school and classroom life.

The Culmination of Behavior

I know I’m never going to change. The class is disrupted as soon as I arrive. I do not have shame. I have an aversion to discipline because it is arbitrary. I get blamed for everything. My friend is chewing gum, so is the popular kid, but only I have to spit it out. They are laughing, joking around and I am told to be quiet. It puts me in to a rage, it has to escape, and I act out. Every time. I know I am never going to change. But my teacher is never going to change either.

My brain, my thoughts, they’re on the edge of town, near the tracks, the ghetto, barrio, slums. No one ever wants to visit me. They are afraid of me. Give up on me. I am an outcast and for this, I have a confession- I want to bring my isolation to them, to the only venue I am allowed in, for any length of time. The quiet is dangerous, it let’s me think about what I don’t understand, what I don’t care about, what no one hears me trying to say. I can never leave the past behind, it drags behind me, scraping the ground- a constant reminder I don’t fit in.

You think I have had my lifetime to destroy this behavior, but its such a deep part of me I can’t stop now. I have no need to. Is anyone listening? You open your eyes and dream. I open mine and see chaos. I use it to destroy, to crumble and topple, so your day is like mine: a ghetto, barrio, slum. If you slow the train, look me in the eye with love not anger, welcome my opinion (as far off as it may be) not with a snicker but with a genuine admiration, maybe the devil in me would see it as a gesture and he would leave me for a bit. Let my curiosity lead me for a while. Can you do that?

Can you recognize my mind as not a scary place, but one just different than your own? Can you speak to me not with contention and resolute, but with understanding and respect? It’s not just words that leave scars, eyes say so much. Body language is louder, it is visual and often what we see hurts more than what we hear. It gets more permanent somehow in our psyche. So, stand tall, bury deep any animosity and hug me with your glance- this is the only way my shoulders can drop, my heartbeat will slow, and my mind will become focused. Isn’t that what you want?

Settle Down it Will all be Clear

Home by Phillip Phillips is a song that will resonate with you as an educator. I think this beautiful, poetic piece of music is the ultimate song, for every educator. Give it listen, like right now. It will make an impact. You should play it in the morning before you open your door. Play it during lunch, planning, after-school, all of the above. Let it be your empowerment, your battle cry.

So when your feathers are ruffled, you feel the need to sigh loudly, roll your eyes, send a student into the hall- these words remind you to- Settle down it will all be clear- momentarily you will find the mindfulness to continue and accept, forgive and smile.

We need to expect our students to misbehave, they are children after all. So, if we expect them to misbehave, we can be proactive- not with them- but with ourselves.

Home- Phillip Phillips

Hold on, to me as we go
As we roll down this unfamiliar road
And although this wave is stringing us along

Just know you're not alone
'Cause I'm going to make this place your home

Settle down, it'll all be clear
Don't pay no mind to the demons
They fill you with fear
The trouble it might drag you down
If you get lost, you can always be found

Just know you're not alone
'Cause I'm going to make this place your home

Settle down, it'll all be clear

Don't pay no mind to the demons
They fill you with fear
The trouble it might drag you down
If you get lost, you can always be found

Just know you're not alone
'Cause I'm going to make this place your home

A Walk on the Wild Side- A Year of Words, Stories, Reflection, Begins (1)

This is a reflection to myself. A tribute because we all need one of those every now and again. "Take these words and sing out loud, cause everyone is forgiving now, cause tonight's the night the world begins again" (Goo Goo Dolls)

You Cannot Step into the Same River Twice

Since the water is forever moving, ever carving out a natural route, it is only for an instant, stagnate. With each ripple comes weathering, erosion and ultimately deposition. A constant stirring of the forces of energy, gravity and yes, fate. For this beautiful stream can be dammed, redirected, polluted. But if left alone to gather rainfall and snow melt, it will replenish itself.

It will begin as a trickle, a pooling of clarity, translucence and reflection. It will create hydration, then slowly it will gather the energy to spout, spurt, and sequence, into a stream and then a river of such spirit and stamina, that it will provide the vibration to generate creativity. Sustain ingenuity and ignite curiosity. In 2020, I will dab my foot in many rivers and they will invigorate and galvanize me.

Step Up, Step Into, Step Away From

There is a lot of noise, no matter the shelter, it hums, vibrates, directs me. Some are horns of warning, others flashy advertisements. You can never silence them. If not auditory, they are indistinguishable instincts, noiseless triggers. I often step up and embrace them- let them direct me on how to think. I often step into the trend. It is essential that I do just that, step into the trend- so I know what ambiance surrounds me, so I can choose the milieu of my actions and adventures.

Climate is often dictated by the masses, yet weather by individual environs. So I must make sure to step away from the deluge and step into the effulgence. I may need an umbrella some days, sunscreen others but whether I venture outside my comfort zone is on me- step up, step into, step away from- that is based on my own personal cadence. I can hear the beat....starting to thump.

Baby Steps, Keep in Step With, Side Step

When the ritual begins, my routine ensures- baby steps protect me, they help me feel comfortable when I fear outcomes. In order to keep in step with the barrage of greatness, I often halt my steps- doubt, judge, retreat. Judgement is a silent killer. Most people do not shout out negativity or crash into me with their antagonism- however some do. It takes just one to crease my ever unfolding image of myself. Yet I alone control its distance. All paper gets a crease or two, ruffled edges. It is up to me to flatten out the crumpled corners and recognize the peaks in the middle, that were created because of them.

Some people need to side step the beaten path because they need to walk up the mountain, some need to stay in their own foot prints. This keeps us in ever conflict and struggle to keep in step with. Yet, I must recognize, I can never get in sync with the sprinters, the marathoners- when I am a walker. I have tried desperately to run and maintain a pace far out of my reach. I have kept my eyes on the numerous numbers flashing by. I became exhausted, had to lie down on the curb and simply watch the race.

Ultimately I discovered, I am alright with spectating as long as my course is always accessible to me. As long as there is an alternate route, I am not looking for a medal just a beautiful view. Baby steps to get here, I have side stepped the sprint, muted the relay and am only keeping up with my own event.

One Step Ahead, Out of Step

They, whomever they are, I only see them from the back, numbers embossed and shiny, are always one step ahead. It can make me feel out of step constantly, unless, I slow my gait, lockstep with my personal dash. I rarely run in place. I need to keep moving, it is a response to my Dyslexic brain on overdrive. A change of scenery is always good.

If I continue to focus on the bibs of the runners around me, I will miss the crowd along the route cheering me on. They cheer everyone on, yes, but I deserve the praise. I am staying in the competition. I am acknowledging my strength and my stamina head on. I might be behind the pack, but the finish line is still in my future.

But this finish line is temporary anyway. There are many races, many directions, many climbs ahead.

Let the sprinters be yards ahead, miles ahead, because that is where they choose to be. They will pause for water and I might surpass them temporarily. I might just take the lead on some curves and thoroughfares- but I must accept that maybe my endurance does not equal my determination. Don't confuse the ability to predict with the ability to control. Take it slow, no sudden moves, just walk- in that direction.

A Spring in your Step, Step Down, Step Right Up

Before your feet hit the floor, every morning, say your intentions, repeat them, own them. Close your eyes and envision a day full of possibility. Put a spring in your step, step down into the world. Drink it in. Like the river you dabble in, let it nourish and cleanse. Step right up...the world is your oyster. Just remember to keep looking for the pearl.

With You Every Step of the Way 

There is only one person who can be with you every step of the way. Yourself. Others may lift you up, others might darken your spirit. Seek the positive, supportive rafters, they will be floating by you momentarily. There are many, if you just remember to ask for help. Every night clear the clutter, remove the weight of envy and frustration. Every morning wake up with optimism and curiosity.

Watch your step, Two Steps Forward, One Step Back

Every goal has limits. Especially if you put to much pressure on yourself to complete it. Goals are Getting Optimistic and Living Spiritually. Just remembering to look up every once in awhile. Not to get bogged down with the bibs, the numbers rushing by, but to see the weathering, erosion, and deposition that your many tributaries are shaping around you. Those forces are driven by you. Your gravity, your electricity, your weather patterns.

Lean in and let the river carry you, your raft might need a bit of repair at times, there are lots of boulders to bounce off of and rapids to ride, but eventually there is calm, tranquil waters- where you thrive. Until you paddle out in search of more rapids. You know this about yourself. Just float, propel, freestyle your way through the ripples.

You need the turbulence to keep you engaged. So welcome it and then prepare for the scrapes, cause the obstacles can get sharp. If you are prepared they will be shift marks that will stir you alive in times of stagnation.

Step up to the Plate, Step on the Gas- Let the Stepping Begin

There is a plate- the game is afoot. Pitches are thrown, base hits and home runs are swung. I know I will swing and hit many this year. I am not self-deprecating- I am self-realistic. I may doubt myself but I am also alive with optimism and positivity. That is what mindfulness is- not joy but awareness and the ability to accept every part of yourself and alter course as needed.

I recognize my beauty as well as my scars. I know I have as many strengths as I do faults. I have a gift of words, they find me in the whimsy and ether of prose. For this I am blessed. I will focus on these words in 2020 and not the response to them. Every day a journey, a loud, vivacious drum beat, all my own. A gentle current leading to an expeditious tide. I am seeking both.

I know I am not alone. I have a home- on so many levels and in so many locales. The biggest transition from 2019 to 2020 is a shift from the bracing for defeat, to the fortification of my watershed. Having plenty of aquifers, filled and ready to be brought to the surface. Having enough permeation to strengthen my resolve and determination and yet enough room for a little change in course of the surface water: the rivers, streams, waterfalls and giant lakes of calm. I am fluid, a liquidity that will balance me.

The stepping begins when this my panegyric offering is posted. This post begins not my victory march, but my daily chase. Not a scurry to the lead, or the rear. But my spot, the one that ebbs and flows with my strides - and there will be many- you'll see.

Perfect Fidelity, Allegiance Unwavering... Mind over What Exactly?

This is a lot of things. It may be depression, anxiety, fear. It is a voice inside our heads. It is despair and denial. But to each of us it is an aching feeling, goose bumps and shakes. It is a part of us, a constant battle. But we must defeat it, look it in the eye and take it down. This is to everyone who at any point has felt alone. You are not alone.

It Has Eyes, A Mouth and Sharp Teeth

Can there ever be perfect fidelity? Allegiance unwavering? Inside today, do you have loyalty, dedication, admiration? Maybe. But does it have fortitude, endurance? One minute you are seeking acknowledgement and homage, the next affinity and union. I myself, am emotionless, simple, direct. Yet, I hold tight to my convictions. As blood runs through your veins, pride courses through mine. Doubt resonates only beside confidence. I have never known failure, so I continue to conquer, defile and embattle brain and psyche. I remind, I hint, I nudge. Some may target a resistance, others accept me willingly, no guilt, no remorse only emblazoned attitude.

To feel me creep, means I am present, I have won. The battlefield is quiet, I stand atop the victory, arms outstretched to make known, I have taken charge. They, who I defeat, do not sign a treaty or wave a white flag, because they know not of their defeat. They simply lock step into a cadence of my choosing. While others stand along the route, gazing upon a parade of military might, they shield themselves from the temptation, from following. The percussion is luring. The uniform may unite, the medals are shiny and in abundance. Yet, the colors bleed into one vision of fallacy and narrowmindedness.

Sudden moves cause a disturbance. Eyes turn to squelch the wave. Some cower, stay in line. Others flee, taking with them their voices of dissent. While others stand firm to their curb, watching the procession turn, from ceremony to spectacle. This is when they step off the ledge and enter the march, not to blend, but to disturb, to break the ranks into individuals. To soften the drum beat and embolden the quiet, to raise their voices above the deafening din. This is where I strike back. I win more than I lose. They often need reinforcements to form a blockage. I, the detour, of rebellious minds, leave them outnumbered.

It Has Hunger and Needs to Be Satiated

I devour bravery, courage, follow-through and I often leave stuffed. I am hungry only temporarily. Your mine now, aren’t you, or are you? Is there ever perfect fidelity? Allegiance unwavering? Is there a tempo that can overpower mine? One minute you are in shadow, facing the past. The next you are tectonic, rumbling, breaking down the hierarchy. Not to stand atop in celebration, but to lead as observer, rebel, voice of reason. I fear you, when you feel empowered, so I am determined to disallow, disillusion, disenfranchise you. Make you feel every bit inferior, so you choose to recoil. So, your only option is to tremble and truckle. Retreat in frustration.

Do you know who I am? I think we may not have been formerly introduced, yet I feel you know my name. I am pleased to meet you. Would you care to have a drink, a cuppa coffee, a bite to eat? I thought not. You might have a bit of strength in you yet. But I have my eye on you and the moment I notice you wavering, your nerves cringing, your confidence flinching, I will be there. Waiting with open arms. Drumsticks in hand, your uniform pressed, so your entry into the demonstration will be effortless. Remain vigilant and I may just lose interest. Remain devoted to your cause, your story, your cadence and you just may never see me again.

Plot Fatigue: How to Rewrite Your Weekly Episodes

We all have our favorite TV shows, the ones we have watched since the beginning. The ones with the characters we love, the story-lines we can relate to. Yet, somehow in the middle of the season there is that one episode, where our favorite character says or does something out of the ordinary. The plot seems weak, it doesn't fit the 'universe' or 'tone' that the show usually represents. The characters act differently. The plot seems to have gaps and the dialogue doesn't flow as easily as it does in other episodes. This is plot fatigue. The episode or episodes where the writers are just out of ideas. Sometimes they recycle plots, others they don't flesh them out entirely, but we notice as audience members, as fans.

Not every episode is action-packed and full of witty banter. Writers get tired and run out of creative juices every now and again. Everyone does. They rehash old story-lines, bring back long forgotten adversaries, to spice up a fatigued momentum. Sometimes though, reruns are right up my alley. I like to re-watch episodes from the past- they are comforting. They remind me of origins and life lessons. How my favorite antagonists and protagonists developed and evolved, season after season.

Binge watching television makes plot fatigue much more obvious, you can see the fatigue more clearly. You feel the characters struggle for something new and interesting to talk about. This fatigue, more obvious to the watcher, has to be felt by the actors as well. This slowing of the pace, lack of enthusiasm is not just prevalent in our entertainment, it is not just common in television shows, but in life itself. We generally, however are not binge watching our personal 'live' episodes, our docu-series, our reality TV. We tend to watch the reruns. Just as in the fictional world of our favorite television shows, our routines get stale. Our daily episodes get entangled with drama, when we want them to be sitcoms and vice-versa.

Lessons in the classroom, much like a script or teleplay, get lost in translation, predictable and musty. Often pulled from a file cabinet or off a flash drive. How often do we rewrite them, we may update but sometimes they need a massive overhaul. I pulled a few out of a file cabinet last week, to get prepared for the upcoming unit. They even smelled musty. I knew right then and there, that they were not the final script, they were the rough draft. In years past these lessons had been successful, at least I remember them that way. Once I started really analyzing them, reading between the lines, I knew they might have been fun for some classes, but not for all. They had purpose, but maybe not the meaning that is so important to keep students engaged. They were my comfortable reruns but they were outdated.

Personal episodes are not our day's events. There are many episodes in a day. For educators, each class has its own tone, its own characters, its own plot line. The setting may stay consistent, but every time the bell rings, the story changes. The soft open is my greeting students at the door, some enter exhausted from PE, others frustrated after a math test. Some enter excited and eager, ready for the action, while others want a slow, calm, quiet flow, an even keeled documentary. As an educator it is impossible to meet every students mood. It is much easier, however, to gear the class in a way that lures them all in. Start with a Super Bowl style advertisement to get them hooked. By stirring the plot, changing things up, starting with some sketch comedy, or a fun demo, even the most distracted students won't want to change the channel.

I know lately, not just with social media and writing, but in my classroom I have entered a stage of plot fatigue. Same programs, similar dialogue, frequent advertisements. I feel distracted and I am looking for a way to edit my episodes, make them more intriguing, add some red herrings, plot twists. As the saying goes, I am trying to encourage the sentiment 'the plot thickens'. I have moved some things around, redressed the set. Brought in some new writers. Added some new characters. I have set a new tone. Nothing goes on, nothing gets broadcast without an edit, without a rework, update, renovation. The soft open needs to be more than me standing at the door, it needs to include more action, more suspense, more commitment. When my story lags, the episode lags. 

When my audience, the characters in each class periods plot gets fatigued, the lesson gets fatigued and no amount of plot twists will prevent them from changing the channel. My plot fatigue has been lingering for a few months, lagging my reception. Scrambling my picture. But, instead of altering all my 'shows' I focused on just some. This resulted in a line-up still predicable and stale. So, I have been spending a few weeks, reshuffling the sequence, moving the order around, so that my weekly programming is more in sync with my outlook. My channels are getting aligned. I moved my chat, reworked my evening schedule for work, shuffled some Quiz Bowl times and practices so that there is a new cadence. The fog of reruns if lifting.

In my classroom I have tossed out the zestless and combined, tweaked, re-purposed parts of lessons and combined them in to something new. I was relying on tried and true when I should be looking for exciting and new. Not just the same old thing on the telly, but options, I can now channel surf. My lessons are more purposeful and less predictable. They are meaningful but not recognizable. My favorite television and classroom episodes are those that I do not figure out the plot in the beginning of the program. I do not know the former friend, we have not been introduced to yet, as being the bad guy. That the characters will argue throughout the climax  and then find solace in each other at the end of the hour. Sometimes an ending needs to be unpredictable. We need to see our favorite characters, break tradition and do something we don't agree with. We need to see ourselves in them, good or bad. But we need to know that next week they will return to us, a little better for their struggle. 

We need to see them evolve and change as we do. Lessons need the same attention. Every audience is different, every classroom is unique and every plot enters a stage of fatigue. But if we recognize our limitations and plan accordingly, revamp and re-imagine with a new lens- then our plot fatigue will be minimal and our episodes will be packed full of excitement and familiarity too. I accept my plot fatigue. I know that in my classroom we have been struggling, I have been short tempered and distracted. I have not been the best I can be, I fell into a rut. But recognizing and accepting my fatigue has opened me up to new possibilities. I do not have to toss out all of my stale lessons, they just need re-imagining. They just need me to see them through the audiences eyes not the writers room perspective.

Plot fatigue is contagious. Channel upon channel, networks, enters a cycle of reruns and familiar, boring plot lines. I refuse to get complacent and bored with my episodes. I look forward to dusting off old scripts and teleplays and yes, updating the set a little. The more things stay the same, the more comfortable we are. But, a little on-location shooting enables us to see learning from a new perspective. See our classroom not as a stationary set, but a flexible, safe, vibrant spot where the audience participates in the plot, they change the outcome with their action and interaction and this makes for great television and awesome learning.

The Doability Doctrine: The Truth is Out There- Do You Believe?

Doability Doctrine

We are all busy. We all have responsibilities: some offered, some sought out, some thrust upon us. We all struggle with time and process, completion and exhaustion- yet we all keep going. Some complain, tell everyone how stressful their lives are- how busy has gone to a new level. But, we are all busy. We all wake up in the morning, get dressed, and do our best to tackle the goals and tasks that lie before us. Some call us courageous and brave, heroes and role-models and in some cases we are. But, in the scheme of things, in the hustle and bustle of daily life, we are survivors because it is in our nature to be. Some put their heads down and push through the 'wall' quietly, while others, heads up, are proud to tell everyone about their journey.

Each of us is carrying around a doability doctrine. One we drafted ourselves. One we edit ourselves. One we refer to in times of persevering. We categorize some things as catch and release while others we complete with fervor. It is our choice to be busy, to be distracted, to delve into things and let others fall to the wayside. It is a beautiful game we play of fulfillment and pride, refuge and guilt. Feeling we need to do it all or we are letting someone down. But, if we stop and really take heed of our position on the board, where are pieces are, some cornered, some free to move with ease, we will see that all of it is a choice, this gallant, valiant course we choose is just that, a choice and we must own that.

As with all doability doctrines there are crossroads, unity nodes where we intersect and our responsibilities overlap. This junction might flash by in a flurry or at times we are forced to slow down for traffic. This is when we can look around and notice there is not just a high way but a middle way as well. We should not need a tectonic shift to level the playing field. Each of our pieces on the board are where we put them. The only way we can move them, with purpose, is if we veer right, detour and snap back. We have to refuse to be swept away in competition mode, it is not about outdoing, outliving- it is about those moments where we see a way to find a common defense, a unity node so we can beat the news cycle. Where our path is self-directed not paved by someone else's agenda.

Dissent Memo

We all got the dissent memo when we started in education. Some of us have ignored it. Some have gone on the record to object, oppose and resist. Either way, taking a stance, is important. It is personal. It can be positive and rebellious but often it is negative and fueled by exhaustion and misunderstanding. This negative discourse is powerful. We can't always stay off the record, there are things we get to say. Our opinions matter. We make change and progress with our opinions, especially if they are positive and purposeful. We do not need to go big, stand on the mountain top and try to convert the locals into our cause. We can take the night watch. Maintain balance. Look between the seats for something better. Share our discoveries. Understanding the 'new normal' is not permanent. Our choice is important, our balance is critical. 

We are fighting a proxy war -we are ambassadors of change, we are educators. But we are also human beings with lives and family, responsibilities beyond the scopes of our profession. We must remember to veer right, detour and then after some time for balance and mental health days, relaxation and refuge- then snap back into educator mode. This is what many of us struggle with. We get stuck in the mud, our wheels spinning until we turn off the engine and walk way. But our vehicle is still operational, all we need to do is ask for help. We may need to dig ourselves out every once in a while but sometimes the mud is just too thick. The shovel is nearby- it is just hidden behind our hyper-focus, our singular drive, our lack of objectivity. As educators we all get lost in this quagmire on occasion. We just need to stop spinning and go get the shovel, resting in the trunk.

The Illusion of Control is simple, it is not an illusion and we are in control. We just have to play the hand were dealt. The fundamental things apply for all educator. For all parents. For every individual.  Time, patience and self-awareness. Limitations, pushing through them and allowing ourselves perchance to dream, because in dreams begins responsibility. Educator heal thyself. Believe you are capable and knowledgeable. Believe in the confluence, the trifecta of balance, work and play. Go on radio silence, plan your course corrections from a quiet nook with a cup of hot tea. Play the music to your ears, loudly, and dance like you did when you were sixteen. Put that on your plate, right next to your grading papers and lesson planning.

Midway to Midtown

We are midway to midtown, riding high seas, and travelling low roads- swimming against the current, moving down the wrong way down a one-way street. Some of us just refuse to let the wave carry us to shore. Put our car in reverse and do a U-turn. We are all the artful dodger- we can pick and choose what we want to pursue. It is alright once in a while return to sender. To have an exit strategy. To choose to run with a skeleton crew rather than an ensemble of goals and tasks. 

We are not just a bowl of cherries, full of pits and stems. We are not simply sour times nestled in with the sweet ones. One man’s trash might just be another man’s trash. We do not have to explore every new and shiny idea. Attend every conference, read every book. How can we possibly? We can walk on past some of the flashing neon and giant billboards that line the educator avenue. The numerical limit is set. Out times of toil and trouble might be unavoidable during those bursts of incoming responsibilities, but our times of sheer exhaustion and mental fatigue need to minimize. 

We are the last link, we have our own shoes and do not need to walk in someone else's to see how great we are. We are educators and we are amazing. We each have our doability doctrine, our responsibility dossier, and our personal choice agenda and now we need to merge them and find balance. we are all busy, we all have many cups in the air, juggling them is difficult but once they land we will have quite the set of china- ready for that hot cup of tea, quiet nook and moment of calm and relaxation. All we have to do is believe.

The truth is out there, can you see the steam from some Earl Gray and a great book? Can you hear the upbeat music of adolescence- is your foot tapping yet? Close your eyes and find your place, your music and let the balance find you.

A Combination of Words- Thank you Educators

A Combination of Words

As educators we choose our words with caution
We temper our emotions
Keep moving forward, even on the toughest of days
We listen, share, anticipate greatness
rather than
Expect mediocrity or negativity
Yet we see it, hear it, we know it is there

Our world is in turmoil, it shakes with imbalance
misunderstanding and self-centeredness
But as educators, we understand
the fragility of thought, misconceptions and fear
We strive daily to overcome it and help our students see beyond
Failure, judgment and complacency

As educators we see the world for what it is
Challenging
Fluid
Scary
but we also see its potential
its camaraderie, respect and admiration
and thus we enter battle
we rebel
we soar to the skies with a vision
this is our journey...this is our calling

Tempered Radicals

I am a saint of imperfection
A torchbearer in the labyrinth
All around me are familiar places, insatiable appetites
"It's not my problem." some say with heads in the sand
"Miss the boat or catch the wave" a pace set by others, often unforgiving
Conversational wisdom, lacking but
Present, we as educators keep it circulating

Avoid Complication, some keep their voices silent
Filaments and Fibers, however link the masses
What stops you from speaking out?
What roots you in your passion, yet silences your voice?
What you can control is simple, yourself
We all have common tactics, as educators we share them
We begin with novelty then add familiarity
We seek a cacophony of learning

We have become tempered radicals, a counter-balancing force
Our ideas, some vintage, still in the package
Others hot off the assembly line
Our wave of ingenuity, synchronicity, is tidal
Cross-purposes
Bolts of creativity
Tupor or hibernation eventually leads to an awakening and formerly squelched
Inactivity has become our action


Context for Kings and Queens

Many eyes judge, misunderstand our calling
We do, we teach, we inspire
Light and shadow is present in every situation
It is context for kings, pauper and commoner
The noise is rambunctious, often deafening but
Despite yourself, the wolf inside peeks its head
Vaulting ambition, unsettling the guard
What's past is a prologue, the cold open, the title sequence
Just start the dialogue, just push play
The war without, creates the war within
The expanse may shift inward but
The momentum will collapse and the sheer force
of freedom will cause
momentary brilliance and an on-going rebellion
Can you feel it?
Can you hear the trumpets calling us to the charge?

Fun-House Mirrors

We live in a world of
Fun-house mirrors standing tall, discombobulating
distracting, dismembering our reality
Messing around with gender roles
Tearing down societal norms
Falling, twisting and bending light and personality
We have learned to talk around the problem
Fake it till we make it
The long, bright, dark no matter our vigilance, creeps in
Form and void lacking
Night finds you, even when the moon is full
But the aura of our community, guides our way
These mirrors are constructed with the sheer purpose of fear
But we can also use them to shatter the lines created by those who feel they are in control

Firebrand

Revolution brings change, topples regimes
Empires fall with mere words: dispersed, considered, agitating complacency
Educators each hold a megaphone and together they are a quake
The hour and the day is irrelevant
Some days its an easy watch, guarding the border is effortless
But we get busy and the focus wanes
The spoils of war are often generous in riches
They can be shiny and rewarding, however
War is also destructive, rendering mobs silent, we must stay vigilant
If we plan our defense with skill, we can see beyond the distractions
Unite against a common enemy

Peace is harder to maintain than war
Many are restless when things are calm
They seek turmoil, they yearn for a reason to be
angry, mistrustful, a firebrand in and of themselves
With a weapon of words
To battle them we need to listen
and use their words to strategize against them
Find a commonality not a bigger divide

The world around us is not inherently negative
We surround ourselves with positive people
We seek open-mindedness and kindness
As educators we see the good in people
We have hope- this is why this field
is our calling, our passion
We are firebrands

Firebrands are common on both sides of the river
The stream between us is one of common ground, similar values, universal needs
Firebrands stand on the both shores
As the flow of possibility, entices
Both trying to shape the curve
carve the meander into rapids
Many with a passion for kindness
Inciting positive change
Many are radicals for joy
Leaders of a mindful insurgence
Staying mutinous against cruelty, prejudice and discrimination
They continue to be rebellious, because they know the cost
A continued stranglehold on the well being of humanity

Firebrands are so hyper-focused on their passion
nothing else can sway them
Both sides have an army that will fight for their cause
Both fly their pennants proudly
It is time to lower the flags
Build bridges
Listen to the messages not of the extreme, but of the many
These voices have more in common than they have different
They just get muddled by the loud
Seek commonality and the river will slow, become shallow,
so
The positive firebrands can unite- We are educators and we are firebrands of kindness and
mindfulness

Stay open-minded, flexible, be a firebrand- wings expanded, soaring
See beyond the predators and rise with a vision
beyond the confines of what other people say,
what other people do
Glide, sail and ascend, with words of encouragement
enthusiasm and truth
and others will take flight to join you in the cause

Thank you educators, eduheroes, you are making the shift possible. You are inspiring others to be practical rebellions, purposeful agitators and meaningful renegades.

We Didn't Start the Fire: (Chapter 3 Sign O' the Times)

The Tincture of Unrest 
The gravel hurt the bottom of my bare feet as I walked to the edge of the roof. The smell was acrid, it stung my nose almost as much as the sharp gravel did the bottom of feet. This particular apartment building, located off Hollywood Boulevard was tall enough so that a panoramic view of Los Angeles could be seen from the rooftop and higher floored residences. My friend, lived several floors down so in order to witness the chaos, we had to run up several flights of stairs. We arrived at dusk, already short of breath. As the darkness took over, there was a stillness surrounded by an audible mayhem. Sirens wailed. Looking across the street, every roof top was covered with onlookers. Some in chairs, some standing but all gazing onto the surreal.

The usually smoggy skies of Hollywood were sheathed in a layer of black smoke. I stood at the edge dumbfounded, gazing in each direction only to see more ebony vapor tufting into the air. It was hard to breath, I felt dizzy, so I sat down, dangling my feet over the edge and began counting the building fires around me. Turning my head to see 360. My friends and I, generally a boisterous, upbeat group, were mulled into a silence. Los Angeles has a hum to it. An energy that vibrates even in the wee hours of the morning. But, this evening, just as the sun stealthily disappeared, the night sky didn't lose its hue. The golden chroma, around each fire seemed to combine into one large complexion of despair. I started to cough, but stayed put awhile longer because the mesmerizing glow was enticing. I had never heard so many sirens. I had never seen such a colorful Los Angeles sky.

April 29, 1992. I had worked all day, in San Juan Capistrano but at 5:00 decided to head up to Los Angeles to help my friend move. She was moving back to Orange County. I hadn't seen the news, so naively I ventured to Los Angeles on this tumultuous day. I got on the 5 freeway and as I passed through Orange County everything was normal, nothing triggered an alarm. I was listening to the radio, I remember the song, "Burning Down the House" by Talking Heads. I was singing along and as the song ended a news break began, "Fires have broken out across Los Angeles as unrest bubbles over after the Rodney King verdict was handed down today." The DJ was saying how the song was very appropriate for the day and next up was "We Didn't Start the Fire by Billy Joel." I knew of the Rodney King case, everyone in California did, but I didn't remember the verdict was coming on this day. I looked around, didn't see any smoke or fire, so I continued on my way. But, as soon as I crossed from Orange County to LA County, I started to see some smoke, one or two plumes here a few over there. But, I was almost there so I decided to keep going.

This was before cell phones and pulling over in that part of town to use a payphone would not be advisable, I could hear my mothers voice "NEVER get off the freeway in unfamiliar territory." So I traveled the distance and when I arrived at my friends apartment building, I was a bit nervous, but until I sat down before the TV, I didn't have a clue how dangerous things actually were. We watched the news for what seemed hours before the danger started to creep nearer to our location. Eventually helicopters were above us and they started to show fires a block away. Several in fact and they seemed to be moving inward closer to us. So we looked at each other and without saying a word, jumped up and made our way to the stairwell.

We ran to the roof. The gravel hurt the bottom of my bare feet as I walked to the edge of the roof. The smell was acrid, it stung my nose almost as much as the sharp gravel did the bottom of feet. This particular apartment building, located off Hollywood Boulevard was tall enough so that a panoramic view of Los Angeles could be seen from the rooftop and higher floored residences. I had parked on the street in front of her building, at the time I thought that's lucky, there was never any street parking near her apartment. But, looking down at that moment- it struck me- as I kicked my feet against the wall, I looked down to see my Jetta, safe and sound. I wondered if it would make it through the night. My car made it through the night, the apartment building we slept in made it- we however went on an adventure most of the night and almost didn't.

Curfew, What Curfew?
It was about 8:30 PM April 29, 1992 when a county wide curfew was implemented. But, we were curious. There were more fires than firefighters could handle and as such many just were left to burn. One of our group that night was a volunteer firefighter and he wanted to see if he could help in any way. We as, 20 somethings, basically feeling we were invincible, decided to tag along. So we piled in his car, a brand new BMW and drove around Hollywood to just observe the discord and dissension, or so we thought. We didn't get but a few blocks before we saw a house fire, not an apartment fire. A women was standing in the street yelling for help. We pulled over and our friend, the volunteer firefighter, jumped out to help. It was about 30 seconds later, before we even got out of the car, that we saw him run into the burning house. We got out of the car and approached the distrait woman, helping her sit on the curb near our car. We all stared at the house in disbelief.

A few moments later, out came our friend with a cat in his arms. He walked over and handed the woman her cat then said we should go and see who else we can help. The woman thanked us and several neighbors came out to help her. As we drove around the area, nothing was more palpable than the heavy weight of smoke and fear. We saw groups gathered on street corners, the looks on their faces as we drove past, told us they would be part of the anarchy soon. Looking back, not only was it ridiculously ignorant to drive around during this situation of civil unrest but in a brand new BMW, well that made us even a bigger target. But we again felt like we were invincible. We hit a road block and the police scolded us and told us to go home. We didn't listen though, until we began to see looting. Not of just mom and pop shops but grocery stores. Parking lots full of people pushing bulging carts of food and supplies quickly to their cars. At first it looked like shoppers but then employees were running out of the store too and this is when it hit us- large scale robbery was all around us, arson was all around us and we needed to go home and be safe. This adventure, was the least memorable of the next 24 hours, however.

Midtown Containment
We woke up a bit late on April 30, 1992, one of the longest days of my life. It was 11:00 AM and we had to be out of Los Angeles by 5:00 PM before the curfew was in full force. We had to load the truck and get on PCH. The freeways around Hollywood were shut down and the only route open to go south to Orange County was on Pacific Coast Highway. We were on the road by 4:00 and the streets were nearly empty until we reached the coast. Then traffic was at a stand still. It looked like a Loony Tunes cartoon- cars were driving on the sidewalks, cutting each other off, fender benders every where. We were a caravan of two cars and a moving truck in between them. On the back seat of my Jetta were two large television sets and a computer, stereo and other appliances. This made me nervous as we were two females, in a traffic jam, in the not so nice part of Los Angeles. The streets were crowded and all eyes were on the traffic jam of those who could escape the mayhem.

It was about three hours into our journey and we were inching our way south towards Orange County. It was getting dark and more people had gathered on the streets. You could feel the rage, it made my hair stand up on my arms and neck. We rolled up the windows and looked forward trying desperately not to make eye contact with the crowd. The heckling started slowly but quickly became loud and directed very much at the cars bumper to bumper, unable to escape the wrath. Several young men walked up to our car, "Hey, looks like some nice TV's you got here, they might look real nice in my house." We kept looking forward. Then they tapped on the window "Hey, ladies, how much for your TV's?" They laughed and then tried to open the door. "Knock, knock- let us in." one taunted. Then from behind them we heard a voice, "Leave them alone, now get outta here." An older man walked up to the car and said, "You two need to get out of here, things are getting bad." We smiled and said thank you through the window, but we couldn't get out of there as we were stuck in gridlock traffic, but we changed lanes to the inside so we could move away from the curb.

Florence and Normandie
Traffic didn't lessen for another two hours when we finally reached Florence and Normandie, where the day earlier a truck driver had been beaten and killed. This was when we finally saw police officers and military patrolling the streets. But when we stopped at a red light- a group of people ran across the street and threw molotov cocktails into a few store fronts. The stores erupted into flame and several police officers ran over to our car and said "drive, drive and don't stop at any lights." Just get out of Los Angeles county. This we did. We were rerouted around PCH a few times due to riots but eventually made it back to Orange County. We saw fire, looting, even a few carjackings. Gun fire was everywhere and every shot rang in our ears, reminding us we should have stayed put for a few more days. I have never been more afraid in my entire life. Our gas tank was on empty and we ran out of gas as we crossed over into Orange County. Our friends, in the other car in our caravan, returned with a gas can, about half an hour later and filled our tank. What should have taken 90 minutes to travel- took us 8 1/2 hours to traverse.

Ice Cream and Balloons
It was not until we had fuel and we made it to a local grocery store that we had a chance to eat, go to the bathroom, call home and make sense of what we had seen. That grocery store was full of people, shopping with a sense of calm. They had no idea what was happening ten minutes up the road. There was a community fair in the parking lot and children were walking around with balloons and ice cream cones. I just sat on the hood of my car watching them. This serene juxtaposition of riot versus residential. This family haven versus the chaos of civil and social unrest. I had spent over 8 hours watching as people's rage destroyed livelihood and security. Where they felt they had no other voice than to deface, ravish and sabotage the 'establishment.' To injure and kill anyone they felt was not on their side. It happened because of hatred and prejudice. It lingered because of a single verdict that made it clear that some people can get away with heinous actions. It ended only after the National Guard and local police made their presence known everywhere.

This was before Facebook and You Tube videos. Before Twitter and Instagram. It took awhile for news to disseminate and squelch the violence. However, even today the underlying inequality and prejudice persists. I look back on these two days that I spent within the LA Riots, they have come to be called, with an understanding that me and my friends were lucky, we had a guardian angel looking over us because so many times we were in the line of fire, gunshots rang out around my car many times. Fires were started as we sat at red lights. Anger was directed at us because we appeared to be part of the cause. I wish I could say everything is good now- we learned from our mistakes- but these moments of rebellion and strife are bubbling up in many places. If we do not stop to reflect on the cause of anxiety, discontent and tension more such events are going to take place. Past meets present in way like no other in this rebellion. We can't just talk about the causes and effects, we need to focus on the why, the societal inequalities, the isolation and disenfranchisement and be open to understand our relationship to them.