On June 19 school ended on a high note. Twice in the last two weeks of school the principal told me how well my students had done on assessments. She tracks data for all students in the school, and while I knew my students had made progress academically I didn't realize how much improvement they had shown. I was their teacher for two-thirds of the year and it mattered that I did a good job. I was pleased they had matured socially and felt they were all ready for second grade. Students were happy. Parents thanked me for being there. It was a good experience, and I'm glad I had the opportunity to teach in that particular school.
I hit the ground running the minute school vacation started. Day one I cleared out the family room to clean and declutter. Two days later I tackled my sewing room, cleaning and organizing and pulling out fabric for my next quilt. I've tried to make time to sew at least a square each day and almost have enough to lay out to see how it looks.
The rest of the house was put in order just in time for our Boston grandchildren to come for a visit. It had been exactly a year since my son and daughter-in-law moved east. They have been incredibly busy so it was nice to relax and visit for a couple days. Piper turns three on Saturday so we will be there to celebrate with family and friends. We went down in early June to see our grandson graduate from preschool. It is pure joy to have family living close enough that we can see them regularly. Since our younger son and his wife bought a house in February, we have our choice of places to stay, which is a luxury we never imagined.
We also relish the time we spend with our daughter and granddaughter who live locally. Whether at our house or theirs, we enjoy the chance to visit and play and share meals.
Back on the home front, I decided this was the summer to attend to the flower beds. They have been neglected since I went back to teaching because I haven't wanted to spent precious summer days weeding and fertilizing the clay soil that is everywhere. As luck would have it I had a long conversation with a local gardener in early July. We have talked before but I hadn't shared the full story of what I was up against. I was startled when she said it is impossible to amend clay soil enough to make it able to support plants and flowers. She advised me to use that soil as a base and build up twelve inches with loam and compost. That's a lot of dirt! And our house is on a slope which presents another whole set of problems. Ken and I have been hard at work, and I'm almost ready to share photos of the first flower bed we have completely rebuilt.
Summer is here and anything seems possible. I love that feeling~
Tuesday, July 16, 2019
Tuesday, April 9, 2019
Breathing Into It
I went back to work the last week in January, and the first three days I did okay. I was tired but had a lot to catch up on so needed to keep going. I had emailed lesson plans every day I was out and needed to get a handle on all of it. I'd never had bronchitis take that much out of me.
By Thursday that week I was coughing again and exhausted. I dragged myself in Friday and must have looked sick because the school secretary offered to get coverage for my class that afternoon. I made it through and called the doctor for a Saturday appointment. Pneumonia. I had pneumonia for the first time in my life. The good news was a prescription for antibiotics. The bad news was that I was down for the count again. I couldn't be on my feet for any length of time. I lost another whole weekend and missed two more days of work.
I had to get back to work on Wednesday. I did not have another day of remote lesson plans in me.
I had learned my lesson the first round and knew I needed enough rest to fully recover. I rested after work and got seven hours of sleep every night. In the past, when I'd been sick and then got back on my feet, I would zip around like a crazy woman catching up and making everything right again.
Not this time. I did what had to be done at work and took it easy at home. Ken was recovering from weeks of not feeling 100% so we kept life simple. Once we were sure we were on the mend we saw all the kids and grandkids; we took long drives and made comfort food for dinner; I was able to sit at the sewing machine. I knew we were okay when we took a long walk through a local downtown on a sunny afternoon.
A residual problem is a pain on my right side. With all the coughing I put a rib out of place or pulled a muscle or some combination of both. My massage therapist and DO are working my body through the problem. They tell me to "breathe into it." So I am ~ breathing into it.
That's really good advice for getting through all kinds of things.
By Thursday that week I was coughing again and exhausted. I dragged myself in Friday and must have looked sick because the school secretary offered to get coverage for my class that afternoon. I made it through and called the doctor for a Saturday appointment. Pneumonia. I had pneumonia for the first time in my life. The good news was a prescription for antibiotics. The bad news was that I was down for the count again. I couldn't be on my feet for any length of time. I lost another whole weekend and missed two more days of work.
I had to get back to work on Wednesday. I did not have another day of remote lesson plans in me.
I had learned my lesson the first round and knew I needed enough rest to fully recover. I rested after work and got seven hours of sleep every night. In the past, when I'd been sick and then got back on my feet, I would zip around like a crazy woman catching up and making everything right again.
Not this time. I did what had to be done at work and took it easy at home. Ken was recovering from weeks of not feeling 100% so we kept life simple. Once we were sure we were on the mend we saw all the kids and grandkids; we took long drives and made comfort food for dinner; I was able to sit at the sewing machine. I knew we were okay when we took a long walk through a local downtown on a sunny afternoon.
A residual problem is a pain on my right side. With all the coughing I put a rib out of place or pulled a muscle or some combination of both. My massage therapist and DO are working my body through the problem. They tell me to "breathe into it." So I am ~ breathing into it.
That's really good advice for getting through all kinds of things.
Sunday, January 27, 2019
Word 2019
My word for 2018 was acceptance. It was the perfect word for more reasons than I could have known. Many nights I went to sleep saying the serenity prayer: Please grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change, the courage to change the things I can, and the wisdom to know the difference.
Ken has been retired almost a full year. People ask him if he has plans, and he responds no. People ask him if he's busy, and he says no. In good weather he goes for rides on his motorcycle. He putters in the garage. He's content.
Acceptance.
At the end of the summer, Ken got hearing aids for the first time. The volume on the television came down. He heard what I said the first time I said it, and we had regular conversations in a normal tone. Then Ken decided he didn't like hearing everything and stopped wearing the hearing aids.
Acceptance.
When I returned to work in September I suspected things were not going to change. I couldn't have known that expectations would be amped up and micro-managing by administration would increase. I accepted the reality, but I realized that I didn't have to live with it. There is a difference between acceptance and surrender. I didn't surrender; I made a change.
After a year with acceptance I have made it a permanent part of my way of thinking. This has already been tested and I passed. I have been sick with viral bronchitis for ten days, the sickest I have ever been with a bronchial illness. I was in bed for three days, then saw a doctor who told me to take over the counter drugs that really did very little. That was a week ago and slowly I have gotten better. I wasn't able to be up for more than a few minutes at a time until Thursday. I guess my body was enforcing the "rest" part of recovery. I missed five days of work without pay because I'm not under contract. I feel up to returning to the classroom tomorrow and will take it slow.
Acceptance.
My word for this year came clear early on this year. I have tested it out over the last two weeks to see if it holds when life isn't cooperating with what I want to do. I had plans for January! I have projects to finish! I have family to see and places to go! The word for this year held. Through being sick and miserable I was able to find joy.
The word came to me after spending November and December with my children and grandchildren on a regular basis. My children are a joy to spend with ~ they are active, involved with family and friends, and have interesting jobs. My grandchildren find joy in dancing, playing, eating pizza and hot dogs, snow, snuggly blankets, bedtime stories, and skyping with Mimi (that's me).
While I was out of commission, I found joy in my children's regular phone calls and texts. Once I felt better, my granddaughter in Boston wanted to video chat with Mimi. Pure joy on my part.
Joy is my word for this year, and I'm planning to make it permanent, too.
Ken has been retired almost a full year. People ask him if he has plans, and he responds no. People ask him if he's busy, and he says no. In good weather he goes for rides on his motorcycle. He putters in the garage. He's content.
Acceptance.
At the end of the summer, Ken got hearing aids for the first time. The volume on the television came down. He heard what I said the first time I said it, and we had regular conversations in a normal tone. Then Ken decided he didn't like hearing everything and stopped wearing the hearing aids.
Acceptance.
When I returned to work in September I suspected things were not going to change. I couldn't have known that expectations would be amped up and micro-managing by administration would increase. I accepted the reality, but I realized that I didn't have to live with it. There is a difference between acceptance and surrender. I didn't surrender; I made a change.
After a year with acceptance I have made it a permanent part of my way of thinking. This has already been tested and I passed. I have been sick with viral bronchitis for ten days, the sickest I have ever been with a bronchial illness. I was in bed for three days, then saw a doctor who told me to take over the counter drugs that really did very little. That was a week ago and slowly I have gotten better. I wasn't able to be up for more than a few minutes at a time until Thursday. I guess my body was enforcing the "rest" part of recovery. I missed five days of work without pay because I'm not under contract. I feel up to returning to the classroom tomorrow and will take it slow.
Acceptance.
My word for this year came clear early on this year. I have tested it out over the last two weeks to see if it holds when life isn't cooperating with what I want to do. I had plans for January! I have projects to finish! I have family to see and places to go! The word for this year held. Through being sick and miserable I was able to find joy.
The word came to me after spending November and December with my children and grandchildren on a regular basis. My children are a joy to spend with ~ they are active, involved with family and friends, and have interesting jobs. My grandchildren find joy in dancing, playing, eating pizza and hot dogs, snow, snuggly blankets, bedtime stories, and skyping with Mimi (that's me).
While I was out of commission, I found joy in my children's regular phone calls and texts. Once I felt better, my granddaughter in Boston wanted to video chat with Mimi. Pure joy on my part.
Joy is my word for this year, and I'm planning to make it permanent, too.
Tuesday, January 1, 2019
Beginning Again
I have just had a ten-day winter break. It was wonderful to have time with family and time to catch up with all the things I hadn't had time to do for months.
The week before break I started a new job. I'm teaching first grade in a small school close to the coast. I first learned about the school four years ago and there are not often openings. It was just by chance that I saw the ad for this job when I did in early October. I'd had a frustrating day and checked a statewide website to see what openings there were in the area, not expecting to apply anywhere. This first grade opening was listed: a teacher needed from mid-December to the end of the year. I figured they already had someone lined up so I didn't give it a serious thought.
Things at school were not improving and there was no sign that anything was going to change. Mid-October I checked the website again and noted the ad was still active. I didn't think I had the time or energy to update my resume and get an application packet together. By the end of the month I figured I didn't have anything to lose. The closing date was October 31 so I spent the weekend before putting everything together; Ken put it in the mail for me two days before the deadline.
By the end of that week I had an interview lined up for November 6, when I faced a serious interview committee for 45 minutes of thorough questioning. I was glad to have the chance to learn more about the school but couldn't get a read on how well I did. I must have done okay because a week later I got a job offer. I accepted and two days later tendered my letter of resignation effective December 14.
In the past I have never considered leaving a class during the school year. This year was different for two reasons: the students work well together, and there is a talented educational technician in the room every day. I know the students will be fine because they will support each other, and they will have a consistent adult in the room.
It was up to me to make a change because the situation wasn't going to. I miss the people I worked with. To a person they were kind and generous as they wished me well. They all understand, which made leaving easier. People commented that I looked happier. The woman in the mirror agrees.
So here I go, truly beginning again. Let the journey continue....
The week before break I started a new job. I'm teaching first grade in a small school close to the coast. I first learned about the school four years ago and there are not often openings. It was just by chance that I saw the ad for this job when I did in early October. I'd had a frustrating day and checked a statewide website to see what openings there were in the area, not expecting to apply anywhere. This first grade opening was listed: a teacher needed from mid-December to the end of the year. I figured they already had someone lined up so I didn't give it a serious thought.
Things at school were not improving and there was no sign that anything was going to change. Mid-October I checked the website again and noted the ad was still active. I didn't think I had the time or energy to update my resume and get an application packet together. By the end of the month I figured I didn't have anything to lose. The closing date was October 31 so I spent the weekend before putting everything together; Ken put it in the mail for me two days before the deadline.
By the end of that week I had an interview lined up for November 6, when I faced a serious interview committee for 45 minutes of thorough questioning. I was glad to have the chance to learn more about the school but couldn't get a read on how well I did. I must have done okay because a week later I got a job offer. I accepted and two days later tendered my letter of resignation effective December 14.
In the past I have never considered leaving a class during the school year. This year was different for two reasons: the students work well together, and there is a talented educational technician in the room every day. I know the students will be fine because they will support each other, and they will have a consistent adult in the room.
It was up to me to make a change because the situation wasn't going to. I miss the people I worked with. To a person they were kind and generous as they wished me well. They all understand, which made leaving easier. People commented that I looked happier. The woman in the mirror agrees.
So here I go, truly beginning again. Let the journey continue....
Monday, September 10, 2018
Now September
I am into my third week of school. Teachers hit the ground running, and we haven't had time to stop. The needs are many. It's all hands on deck all the time. I have had three IEP meetings already and another one is scheduled for later this week. Assessments are already underway and will continue through this month. It's like we never left.
I had hoped I wouldn't be back this year. I gave myself permission to think about that possibility after April break. It was the only way I could see myself able to finish the year. Mid-May I took a hard look at my room and started organizing it so I could slowly, discreetly take everything that is personally mine home with me. It worked. On the last day of school I was the first one out of the building. I had all the paperwork done, the room ready for cleaning, and no need to return for anything should that be possible.
Every single day of summer was wonderful. There was literally not a bad day. As I wrote in my last post, the summer started strong and it continued that way right up until the last day, when my son and his family were wrapping up a five-day visit. We even had a chance to get the three cousins together that Sunday.
I had until the last day of July to say I wouldn't return for this school year. A teacher "can't" resign in August, and after that they are required by contract to give 30 days notice.
I met with my financial advisor in late July. I had done the numbers before the meeting and was sure what the score was: it would be better for me to keep working. We would be okay if I got done, but there would be no wiggle room. By working another year I can add more to my retirement and put more money in savings. It also gives us time to better invest Ken's 401K in a diversified portfolio with a better average return, and we won't need to dip into that for at least another year. We will by no means ever being living high. The goal is to feel secure enough with what we have on the books, even if there is an unexpected expense, which we know there will be somewhere along the way.
So I'm back in the classroom. I know I will do what is best for the kids. My struggle is to take care of myself, too. Some mornings the vertigo is back. I start with intention and work to stay present. I am staying later at school to work and hope to get to the point where I don't bring work home in the evenings.
I have claimed weekends as mine and don't plan to do schoolwork. There's still time to go the beach with my daughter and granddaughter. There are planned visits this coming weekend with all the grown children and three grandchildren. These are the people I love and the moments that matter the most. The rest is day-to-day and what needs to get done will get done. We'll see how it goes.
Two grandchildren at the beach ~
The three cousins ~
I had hoped I wouldn't be back this year. I gave myself permission to think about that possibility after April break. It was the only way I could see myself able to finish the year. Mid-May I took a hard look at my room and started organizing it so I could slowly, discreetly take everything that is personally mine home with me. It worked. On the last day of school I was the first one out of the building. I had all the paperwork done, the room ready for cleaning, and no need to return for anything should that be possible.
Every single day of summer was wonderful. There was literally not a bad day. As I wrote in my last post, the summer started strong and it continued that way right up until the last day, when my son and his family were wrapping up a five-day visit. We even had a chance to get the three cousins together that Sunday.
I had until the last day of July to say I wouldn't return for this school year. A teacher "can't" resign in August, and after that they are required by contract to give 30 days notice.
I met with my financial advisor in late July. I had done the numbers before the meeting and was sure what the score was: it would be better for me to keep working. We would be okay if I got done, but there would be no wiggle room. By working another year I can add more to my retirement and put more money in savings. It also gives us time to better invest Ken's 401K in a diversified portfolio with a better average return, and we won't need to dip into that for at least another year. We will by no means ever being living high. The goal is to feel secure enough with what we have on the books, even if there is an unexpected expense, which we know there will be somewhere along the way.
So I'm back in the classroom. I know I will do what is best for the kids. My struggle is to take care of myself, too. Some mornings the vertigo is back. I start with intention and work to stay present. I am staying later at school to work and hope to get to the point where I don't bring work home in the evenings.
I have claimed weekends as mine and don't plan to do schoolwork. There's still time to go the beach with my daughter and granddaughter. There are planned visits this coming weekend with all the grown children and three grandchildren. These are the people I love and the moments that matter the most. The rest is day-to-day and what needs to get done will get done. We'll see how it goes.
Two grandchildren at the beach ~
The three cousins ~
Monday, July 16, 2018
Saving Time
School ended three weeks ago Friday, and I have been soaking up the days like a sponge. Every day I wake up grateful to have the day to spend as I want.
The first week of my summer vacation I drove to Pittsburgh to see my sister, visiting from Scotland, and a good friend who drove over from eastern Pennsylvania for a visit.
The next week my husband and I met our son and his family at the airport in Boston. They had a lot of luggage as they are moving back to the east coast. Ken and I watched our grandchildren while our son and daughter-in-law started house hunting. We enjoyed two days together, including a July 4 cook-out with friends.
All the while I was aware that my friend Barbara was fighting for her life. In April 2017 she was diagnosed with acute lymphoblastic leukemia. Over the next 14 months she did everything a person can do to overcome cancer, and she did it with grace and humor and dignity. April this year she underwent a stem cell transplant, which often works when other treatments have failed. It appeared to be successful at first, and then at the end of June the cancer returned. There were complications from the stem cell transplant, and Barbara passed from this world a week ago. She touched so many lives and will be missed by so many that it's impossible to put into words the sadness that we feel.
That time is precious has been the theme this summer. It's not that I expect to live forever. It is that I want to appreciate the time I have. Today I found myself thinking about saving time. I stopped to ask what that means ~ to save time. Is that possible? I don't think it is. I think the answer is to appreciate the moments as they happen, to say yes, to stay present, and to be grateful.
I've turned to sewing to work through my questions and grief. Fabric therapy always helps. The first two projects use pink and yellow and orange ~
"Sunrise"
"Sunset"
There is a pink and green quilt top in the works. I want to get back to making clothes. There's time... as the journey continues.
The first week of my summer vacation I drove to Pittsburgh to see my sister, visiting from Scotland, and a good friend who drove over from eastern Pennsylvania for a visit.
The next week my husband and I met our son and his family at the airport in Boston. They had a lot of luggage as they are moving back to the east coast. Ken and I watched our grandchildren while our son and daughter-in-law started house hunting. We enjoyed two days together, including a July 4 cook-out with friends.
All the while I was aware that my friend Barbara was fighting for her life. In April 2017 she was diagnosed with acute lymphoblastic leukemia. Over the next 14 months she did everything a person can do to overcome cancer, and she did it with grace and humor and dignity. April this year she underwent a stem cell transplant, which often works when other treatments have failed. It appeared to be successful at first, and then at the end of June the cancer returned. There were complications from the stem cell transplant, and Barbara passed from this world a week ago. She touched so many lives and will be missed by so many that it's impossible to put into words the sadness that we feel.
That time is precious has been the theme this summer. It's not that I expect to live forever. It is that I want to appreciate the time I have. Today I found myself thinking about saving time. I stopped to ask what that means ~ to save time. Is that possible? I don't think it is. I think the answer is to appreciate the moments as they happen, to say yes, to stay present, and to be grateful.
I've turned to sewing to work through my questions and grief. Fabric therapy always helps. The first two projects use pink and yellow and orange ~
There is a pink and green quilt top in the works. I want to get back to making clothes. There's time... as the journey continues.
Wednesday, March 28, 2018
How Do You Say Good-bye?
I sit here devastated at the news of the passing of a friend I never met in person. I got word from a friend via Facebook messenger this evening that a mutual blogging friend has died while neither of us knew she was ill. Apparently she kept the news private. Her name was Karin Bugge aka Altadena Hiker. Her writing was witty and smart and funny. She wrote about her dog Albert and the stray cat she started feeding and accidentally adopted. She painted her house and hiked in the hills and cared about community causes.
A year and a half ago I felt compelled to make Karin a set of cloth napkins. I had inherited several prints in a series called "Silent Cinema." Karin loved movies as much as I do and we traded posts about recommended favorites. I was working on another project with some of the prints and decided I wanted Karin to have some napkins because of the cinema connection. I made them up, emailed her for her address, and sent them off. She was delightfully surprised and sent the nicest note to thank me. I will always be glad I followed through with that impulse....
Last year Karin and I messaged back and forth about traveling across the country. She had mentioned she would like to visit Maine, and I wanted to make sure I was here if she planned a trip. I was headed to San Jose, which is several hours away from Altadena, and I couldn't see a way to connect with her on that trip. Then I considered traveling to that area in February but that didn't materialize. I looked forward to having a reason to travel to that part of California and getting a chance to meet her in person. I regret that we didn't get to talk face to face.
I never got a chance to say hello and I'm not sure how to say good-bye.
I turned to one of my favorite poets and found a poem that feels right for this moment. Karin cared about the world and loved animals and marveled at so many things around her. She artfully shared what she thought was important. She will be missed.
Long Afternoon at the Edge of Little Sister Pond
by Mary Oliver
As for life,
I'm humbled,
I'm without words
sufficient to say
how it has been hard as flint,
and soft as a spring pond,
both of these
and over and over,
and long pale afternoons besides,
and so many mysteries
beautiful as eggs in a nest,
still unhatched
though warm and watched over
by something I have never seen -
a tree angel, perhaps,
or a ghost of holiness.
Every day I walk out into the world
to be dazzled, then to be reflective.
It suffices, it is all comfort -
along with human love,
dog love, water love, little-serpent love,
sunburst love, or love for that smallest of birds
flying among the scarlet flowers.
There is hardly time to think about
stopping, and lying down at last
to the long afterlife, to the tenderness
yet to come, when
time will brim over the singular pond, and become forever,
and we will pretend to melt away into the leaves.
As for death,
I can't wait to be the hummingbird,
can you?
A year and a half ago I felt compelled to make Karin a set of cloth napkins. I had inherited several prints in a series called "Silent Cinema." Karin loved movies as much as I do and we traded posts about recommended favorites. I was working on another project with some of the prints and decided I wanted Karin to have some napkins because of the cinema connection. I made them up, emailed her for her address, and sent them off. She was delightfully surprised and sent the nicest note to thank me. I will always be glad I followed through with that impulse....
Last year Karin and I messaged back and forth about traveling across the country. She had mentioned she would like to visit Maine, and I wanted to make sure I was here if she planned a trip. I was headed to San Jose, which is several hours away from Altadena, and I couldn't see a way to connect with her on that trip. Then I considered traveling to that area in February but that didn't materialize. I looked forward to having a reason to travel to that part of California and getting a chance to meet her in person. I regret that we didn't get to talk face to face.
I never got a chance to say hello and I'm not sure how to say good-bye.
I turned to one of my favorite poets and found a poem that feels right for this moment. Karin cared about the world and loved animals and marveled at so many things around her. She artfully shared what she thought was important. She will be missed.
Long Afternoon at the Edge of Little Sister Pond
by Mary Oliver
As for life,
I'm humbled,
I'm without words
sufficient to say
how it has been hard as flint,
and soft as a spring pond,
both of these
and over and over,
and long pale afternoons besides,
and so many mysteries
beautiful as eggs in a nest,
still unhatched
though warm and watched over
by something I have never seen -
a tree angel, perhaps,
or a ghost of holiness.
Every day I walk out into the world
to be dazzled, then to be reflective.
It suffices, it is all comfort -
along with human love,
dog love, water love, little-serpent love,
sunburst love, or love for that smallest of birds
flying among the scarlet flowers.
There is hardly time to think about
stopping, and lying down at last
to the long afterlife, to the tenderness
yet to come, when
time will brim over the singular pond, and become forever,
and we will pretend to melt away into the leaves.
As for death,
I can't wait to be the hummingbird,
can you?
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