My Little No Social Media Experiment (LNSME): Week 4

Part of my writing process in December is supposed to be reflective on the process of not using any social media. I haven’t done a very good job of that in the past week or so, but that's mostly due to holiday celebrations. That doesn’t mean I haven’t been noticing the continual changes since this little experiment began, however.

And there have been changes. Good things that have made my life happier, easier, and even a little more whole. Here's my attempt at capturing the best of the best:

1. Purposeful living — one of my main goals in the past couple of months has been to be much more intentional about the way I spend my time. I think the phrase, “I just don’t have the time to…” may be the biggest cop-out in our fast-paced society. I know I am guilty of filling up far too many minutes in a day with mindless FaceBook scrolling, pointless Google searches, and ye grande old Time Suck otherwise known as Pinterest. And let's not even mention craptastic TV shows. Yikes. 

But with less than a week to go before my self-imposed social media hiatus ends, I’m finding so much enjoyment out of the things I do have time for, and am possibly just a little amazed at all the things I’ve accomplished this month. I’m choosing how I spend my time, not simply letting time slip by in a haze of digital noise.

2. One of the major benefits I’ve noticed from chucking my social media habit is how my relationships with people have changed. To me, this is far more significant than all the writing I’ve made time for this month. Because I’m not tweeting quick thoughts about what’s happening in my classroom or updating FaceBook to let the world know what I’m having for dinner, I have to actually reach out and talk to individual humans if I want any interaction. Instead of sharing a video or article via FaceBook, I’ll text or tell the person I know would be interested about it when we're face to face. I’ve talked more on the phone and even managed to see more people in person this month. 

This slant toward a more personal style of communication has been even more evident in my own home. I’m more apt to work on a project with my husband or sit down and help one of the Littles with a craft now that I don’t feel so tied to my phone, iPad, or laptop. It’s embarrassing to admit how stuck to these devices I had been, but I’m thankful that I chose to put them aside for awhile. I’m a better wife, mom, and friend because of it. And interestingly, my typical angsty-anxious restless feeling I get when I'm at home has mostly gone away.

3. The writing. Oh, the writing! Ideas come easier, words flow onto the page faster, and I’ve spent nearly every day writing. In fact, I think I’ve only missed three days so far. Not bad, considering my writing life before December was incredibly hit and miss, other than things I had to write for grad school. I still find it difficult to sink into one project and work through the hard parts; I’m more likely to flit between two or three projects depending on how much time I have to write and what mood I’m in.

I’m also noticing a new writing style popping up, and although it’s completely surprised me, I’m enjoying what it’s doing for my revision skills. Revision has always been my biggest struggle as a writer. I actually have two complete novel drafts that I have never reopened to revise. Sad, sad, sad. But I’m hoping this new process will help with that. I’m no longer forcing myself to write from beginning to end — instead, I write whatever scene is in my head, skipping around in the story to write the parts that help me keep writing daily. This has done wonders for my ability to stick with a manuscript longer. I also write first by hand and then on the same day type what I’ve written into my Day One app, revising as I go. Eventually I’ll transfer what I have in the app to Pages, revising a third time. Because I’m revising such small pieces at a time, it doesn’t feel so overwhelming, and I feel like I’m getting a lot more accomplished as a draft and in revisions. All good things!

4. I notice more. I’m more mindful of how I’m feeling — whether I’m bored, tired, frustrated, content — I seem to pick up on my downward spirals before I find myself wholly in a funk, and make changes before I’m sitting around angry at nothing in particular. And I notice the things around me more. My house is cleaner than it has been in a long time because I’m noticing little things that need to be tended to and actually doing something about it. Not only is the house more spic and span, I’m finally getting around to some of the projects that should have been done months ago … little by little, our house is becoming more like a home. I feel plugged into my life now that I’ve unplugged from the Internet.

5. My reading life is alive and well again. I’ve had a rough time getting interested in a book for a while now. I read a ton of books for grad school, and thankfully they aren’t textbooks. And of course, I’m always reading something professionally to keep growing as a teacher. But in the past few weeks I’ve read several books just for fun. I try to keep at least one book on my Kindle app for when I’m out and about, and have several books at home that I’ve torn through this month. I know I need to be reading every day just as much as I’m writing, and finally I feel like I’m actually headed in the right direction in my reading life.

There are far more benefits to letting go of the constant online feed of information and prattle than I’ve listed here, but these are the most rewarding for me. Perhaps as the days continue to tick by, more benefits will rise to the top, but for now I’m happy just to notice these few changes that are bringing so much more joy and creativity to my life. Only four days left in December, and I'm strongly considering continuing my social media hiatus. Turns out, it's not so lonely after all.

#SOL14 - Write Through the Pain

I often tell young writers (and old, I suppose) to write what's difficult -- those hard stories are worth writing because it helps us process the truth in those moments. They aren't easy to write because we don't like to think of them. We don't want to face the ugliness in something we said or did, or something terrible that happened to us. We don't want to face our weaknesses, our regrets, our secrets. But writing down those words can be just the salve we've been searching for.

Easier said than done, I know.

(If you're tired of hearing me whine incessantly about Pilates, this would be a good time to stop reading. Just take the above tidbit of writing knowledge and move on, friends, because honestly, I'm writing the rest just for me.)

I was half way through my Pilates routine tonight. Alone in the house, just my cheerful Blogilates video, me, and a yoga mat lying on the wooden living room floor. The movements shouldn't have been difficult. Standing shoulder and back work. No weights. Just my own muscles against gravity and motion. Less than a year ago, I would have torn through this workout without difficulty. Six years ago, I could have done it with superb flexibility and ease.

Tonight I took several quick breaks, rolling my shoulders back and stretching my neck by letting my head roll slowly back and forth. After each break I picked right back up where I left off, determined to make it through each motion. Finally, the series ended and it was time for lying glute work.

I sank to my knees, feeling the floor push back up against me. This shouldn't hurt, I thought, my knees should not feet like they are being smacked with a hammer. I was angry. Tired of the aches and pains that seem to be the rule that governs my every move. I laid down on my back, pressed my arms and palms of my hands flat to the floor, bent my knees and pressed my feet into the mat. Cassie Ho, the video's motivating instructor, began a series of pelvic lifts, raising her butt into the air as if it were the easiest thing in the world. I followed along, enjoying the music and focused on keeping my ab muscles engaged. When I workout, I pay close attention to my muscles, wanting to fully engage through each movement. Each push and pull, tension and release letting me know that yes, I am getting stronger.

With the video coming to an end, I struggled to keep up. My shoulders ached against the hard floor, my hips burned each time I lifted myself up. I did not give up. But instead of feeling stronger, I felt weary when it ended. My muscles were tense, so I decided to do some deep stretches to work some of the kinks out. Still on my back, I lengthened one leg and crossed the other one across my body until my knee hit the floor. I stretched my arms out to either side, breathing through the stretch.

Everything hurt. Tears welled up. Angry tears, filled with disappointment and hurt. I lay there, staring up at the ceiling, letting the tears stream down my face. I thought about how in 14 years, this house we just bought will be paid for. Thought about the talks The Husband I have had about traveling and hiking and adventuring together as we get older. Thought about the way my body felt in each spot it made contact with the floor, buzzing with a pain and weakness I am still not accustomed to. I switched positions, letting my other leg stretch, feeling the tightness in my hips loosen slightly. But not enough.

I rolled up to sitting, pulled my feet together in front of me and leaned forward, placing my elbows and forearms onto the floor, my palms down, fingers splayed out flat. I leaned in and my back bellowed loudly. A new wave of tears rushed forward.

Working out has never been painful for me. Difficult, sure. Sweaty, always. Invigorating, definitely. But never painful. It hurts my pride even more than my joints and muscles. It hurts my ego. It hurts my belief in how strong I am. It hurts, but I continue. And I write it all down because even though it hurts and it makes me rage on the inside, I believe it will get better. I believe that each time I push through the anger and the pain, I win just a little. Even if I cry. Because crying isn't a sign of weakness. And pain isn't a sign of defeat. And anger doesn't mean I don't appreciate each day I am blessed with. I'm still thankful for what I can do, because I know there are many out there who struggle more. I'm still hopeful for the future, because I know it exists. I'm still determined not to give up, because giving up isn't in my nature. And I'm still writing, even though it is embarrassing. Because that's how we heal.

#SOL14 - The Difference

Another walk. Another round of Pilates. The tight pinch that pulls all my muscles together somewhere between my shoulder and my neck is beginning to loosen. The ache in my lower back, though still there, has become more of a murmur than a yell.

Resting meditation. Nighttime visualization. Daylong focus on what matters.

More water. More real food. Even though this puppy is interfering with any hope of a full night's rest (okay, it's my fault too -- puppy is snoozing by nine and I'm lucky to be asleep by midnight), I have more energy right now than I did a week ago.

I haven't stepped on the scale. I won't. I know I'm not fit, and I'll know when I am. The scale is a liar that creeps in and whispers disappointment. No "before" pictures. No measurements.

What matters is I'm moving. I feel better already. The focus is on health, not appearance. That's what matters.

Each day a littler healthier, a little happier, than the day before.

#Slice2013 - Day 31 of 31

A month in reverse...

Easter celebrated with family,
A beautiful finished harlequin floor,
Lunch with friends and a reminder to make time for the happy moments,
A phone call that may just lead to a dream job,
Wrote side by side with eager learners,
Shared the power of "believe" with Dos,
Remembered the strength in helping people be their best,
Time with The Husband turning our house into a home,
Stepped out on faith and still trusting the process,
Asked questions of my learners instead of giving them the answers,
Said yes to a possibility that holds infinite rewards,
Found the strength to be honest about where my shame hides,
Enjoyed quiet moments at home with Dos and The Husband,
Thankful for Dos' quick recovery from the surgery that rattled my nerves,
Learned patience and dedication through our work in the house,
Beat my head against the wall over floors that didn't want to be transformed,
Laughed with friends over ridiculous Shakespearean insults,
Stretched my ability to grow comfortable with my soon-to-be 20 year old son,
Grabbed up my old writing self and refuse to let her go,
Connected with the reasons to hold fast to dreams,
Became an experienced floor grinding, concrete sanding, staining expert,
Searched my heart for the path I want to be on,
Reflected on my life as a writer,
Lived through an in-home dust storm,
Cherished my mom on her special day,
Lamented the pains of a boy that I miss every moment,
Sent out a passionate call to action for educators everywhere,
Battled it out with The Husband on the first round of floor tear down,
Finally (finally) chose the right shade of grey for the living room and took action,
Told the truth of my hermit crab mental life,
Made a promise to write without ceasing for thirty-one days.

All in all, I'd call March a success.

My heart is full, my life is energized, my family and friends are healthy.

And it only gets better from here. April is already promising to offer more everyday blessings.

I'm ready to get started. How about you?

#Slice2013 - Day 27 of 31

in·ev·i·ta·ble  

/inˈevitəbəl/

Adjective Certain to happen; unavoidable

"What are you doing today to make your dreams inevitable?"

I watched an inspirational video last night by Don Bodenbach, and this was my take away.

What a fantastic word. I think all the time about goals, and what it takes to "reach my goals." But there is something very different between reaching for something and making it inevitable.

So today, I focused on what I needed to do to make my goals unavoidable. Today I acted on that simple mantra.

Success is won moment by moment, and today? I was winning it.

And even better, when I am in the zone and focused on the positive, I'm creating a more successful environment for everyone around me: my family, my students, my amazing new fitness team.

So. What are you doing today to make your dreams inevitable? I want to know what works for you!

#Slice2013 - Day 26 of 31

Yes.

What an incredibly powerful word.

Recently, I was presented with an opportunity that my typical anti-risk sensors would have screamed no at. Please recall: me = panicked hermit crab skittering away from all things new!

Maybe it was the timing, maybe it was the presentation, maybe it is simply that I'm doing my best lately to ask myself what are the possibilities instead of what if I'm wrong.

All I know is that I'm excited. I'm hopeful. I'm believing that good things will happen.

I look around at success stories and I wonder, what is the real difference between their success and mediocrity?

It could be said that it's resilience. Perseverance. Dedication.

But honestly? I think it all boils down to belief.

Believing in oneself. Believing in opportunity. Believing that trying and failing is better than not trying at all.

The other day, Dos sent me a text message that made me realize the importance of walking the walk -- not just talking about believing, but making purposeful decisions that turn belief into action. I'm sharing it here.

And I'm hoping for you, no matter what your goals are, that you find the strength to take your belief in them, turn it toward yourself, and believe that you have everything you need to transform your belief into the actions that make your dreams come true.

#Slice2013 - Day 25 of 31

Up late.
Worked hard.
Cried - joy, not sorrow.
Learned much.
Laughed more.
Helped friends.
Sleep now.

#Slice2013 - Day 20 of 31

I've found (often) that when I struggle to find something to write about, the truth is the problem doesn't really lie in finding a writing idea.

Most often, it's a problem of not wanting to write about the thing most pressing on my mind.

Take this month, for example. Nearly every day I've found myself at 10 or 11 at night, shouting, "Oh no, I haven't Sliced!" before dashing off to grab my laptop. (Procrastination, much?)

Even then, I sit poised at my screen (which, no kidding, glares angrily at me, as if even the laptop itself is saying, Girl, you ain't kiddin' no one!) with fingers hovering over the keys, trying to come up with something worthwhile to say.

It goes a little like this:

Write about how you're struggling to keep it together.
No, that's lame. Stop whining.
Write about how upset you are with yourself for not eating the healthy foods you know you should be eating.
Geez, you are such a broken record. Just start eating healthy and then you won't have to write about not eating healthy! Duh. Besides, how many times can you possibly write about struggling with food?
Okay, fine. Write about how you used to workout --and love working out-- all the time.
OMG WHY ARE WE STILL THINKING ABOUT THIS STUFF?? 
Um, okay, I guess I'll write a poem or about work or maybe a book I read, then...

I'm not making this stuff up, guys.

Almost. Every. Day. This. Month

And the truth is, I don't write about the food stuff and the workout stuff and the health stuff because I am ashamed.

I'm ashamed that five years ago I was in the best shape of my life, never let a morsel of fast food or soda or candy enter my mouth, worked out like a beast three to five days a week, and was HAPPY. I'm ashamed that I let the difficult times in my life become a food-fest and I stopped working out. I'm ashamed of how much weight I regained. I'm ashamed that last year I paid a trainer for six months to help me get back on track and I DID get back on track, but then I immediately fell back off again when I switched jobs last year and fell under the stress bus again. I'm ashamed of this cycle I keep going through because WOW how am I not smarter than this??

So for 21 days I've ignored what is most on my mind because I don't want to whine about it. After all, I caused the problem myself. But I feel sort of hopeless in this area right now, and each morning I wake up and tell myself I'm going to be better ... but then I don't.

So for 21 days I've wanted to say all these words that basically amount to: I'm ashamed.

And writing about it helps, because once I see the words I realize that it's the shame that is keeping me down. Shame likes to hide in the quiet space in our heads. The space we don't let people see. Shame is very comfortable moving into those spaces and taking up residence. And shame will stay a long time -- our whole lives, if we let it.

There is no room in a healthy life for shame. Shame is the thief of joy. And although I can think about the things I want and the things I believe, it isn't until I write them down and see those words that I can fully process what it all means.

Writing the truth is important, especially the big truths that we don't want to see. The ones we want to hide from. But that's where shame likes to hang out...

And shame is the thief of joy.

So for tonight, I'm celebrating truth and joy.

And for tomorrow, I'm practicing putting more joy in each of my moments, because that's where success lies. In the joy of every moment, practicing following the path I want to be on.

(I finally had the courage to write this because a friend on FaceBook shared this post on forgiveness at jonacuff.com)

It's Monday, What Are You Reading? (And a challenge!)

It's Monday! Huzzah! It's Monday and I'm sitting at home on my big comfy couch, surrounded by books.

You just gotta love a three day weekend, right?

I've been reading oodles of books lately, partially in hopes of finding the just right way to reach my new students in my new school where I feel a little like Alice and a little like Goldilocks, and a lot like Mr. Magoo.

So between the bumps and bruises of adjusting to my new school home, I read.

Recently, I've read quite a few fabulous middle grade novels, with a stack of promising reads to keep me busy for at least another month. Here's a sample of what I've read so far:

Somehow, between having students with really good taste, and some excellent timing, I've managed to read (or reread) a few delightful books by Sharon Creech throughout the month of September. Love That Dog will always remain a favorite for me -- combining poetry with dog love and a boy learning to love words? Yeah -- you got me. I hadn't planned to read it to my classes so early in the year, but they prodded me and it ended up being a perfect beginning for us. Afterwards, a student handed me Granny Torrelli Makes Soup, which I hadn't read before. I love how Creech weaves together past and present in this short but touching tale of friendship. I'll definitely be passing it along to more students!

Love That Dog * Granny Torrelli * The Great Unexpected

And finally, I picked up a copy of the recently published The Great Unexpected. Interestingly, I heard a little bit of Rosie's voice from Granny Torrelli piping through in Naomi's best friend, Lizzie. I'm curious if anyone else heard that, as well! In The Great Unexpected, Creech tosses together folk tales with a little magic realism and a lot of love to create a story that any Creech follower is sure to appreciate. I know exactly which student I'll be handing this book to first thing tomorrow morning!

Almost Home

I also just finished Joan Bauer's Almost Home, which is as heartbreaking as it is endearing. I quickly fell in love with Sugar Mae Cole, the 12-year-old main character, and her tag along puppy, Shush. Exploring themes that perfectly spark #chooseKind conversations, Bauer also employs a variety of text genres. Readers will quickly understand how important words are in Sugar's world, while seeing models of letter writing, poetry, memoirs, and more. Within minutes of book talking this new title to my students, I had kids scrambling to be the first to read it. And now it's being passed from hand to hand. Almost Home is a beautiful story that any child with family struggles can relate to, and learn from.

Starry River of the Sky

Currently, I'm splitting my time between Grace Lin's Starry River of the Sky (I'm just on page 43) and an unwieldy stack of profession development books. My husband also keeps nudging Patrick Rothfuss' Wise Man's Fear at me, and on a good day, I read maybe a page of it at a time. I loved the first book in this trilogy, The Name of the Wind, but making time for this type of epic fantasy is hard for me these days! And even with as much as I am reading these days, my to-read stack just keeps growing... I need a vacation to catch up on my reading! Does this sound familiar?



The thing I love about reading this much is how it seems to effect my students. Each Monday we sit together and set a reading goal -- they hold me to mine, and I hold them to their goals, too. And when the following Monday arrives, if anyone hasn't met their goal they are expected to know why and have a solution. If they don't have a solution, our class community of readers offers suggestions. It's powerful to watch them transform each week from this simple conversation. So for as long as my nightly reading seems to inspire them to keep chugging along, I will keep reading. I don't know how many reader role models they have in their lives, but at least they can't count on me as one.

So What Do They Really Know?

While I have all these books spinning wildly about, I feel like I need to do something to ground myself in what I'm learning through my PD books. From October 14 through November 11, I'll be reading Cris Tovani's So What Do They Really Know? and posting each week to reflect on my reading. I'd like to invite you to join me. Comment if you're interested -- I'll post details tomorrow! (Be thinking weekly posts, twitter chat opportunities, and maybe even a google hangout to chat n' learn!) What say you, readers? Do you have time to spend a minute filling out this form so we can read and share together?

it's time for a math revolution

I've had enough.

I've watched too many kids count on their fingers, draw out circles and dots, skip count on paper, and just flat out guess when nothing else works.

In 4th grade, we learn long division and double digit multiplication.

At least, we try.

But it's pretty difficult to remember all the steps to something like long division when you spend more than one minute just trying to figure out what 6x8 is. And another minute for the next fact... and another... how can you even keep track of the actual problem when you don't remember that 7x10 is 70?

Really, it's not just difficult. It's maddening. It's hopeless. No wonder so many kids think they hate math.

And it's not just their multiplication and division facts. These kids are incredibly hit and miss when asked a basic addition or subtraction fact.

In 4th grade.

Somewhere, somehow, we are failing these kids. I don't know where it happens or when it starts, and quite frankly, I don't care. What I do care about is their future.

I know seniors in high school that are still counting on their fingers.

So, I've had enough.  No more pushing forward through multi-step problems and watching kids attempt to enjoy math while counting on their fingers and banging their heads on desks. No more saying, "Well, they can do the problem if they write out all the factors each time, so that'll have to work." No more crutches.

We're going back to basics. I've got the beginning of a plan, a wealth of parents willing to help, and 21 kids that I just won't allow to cling to their "strategies" instead of memorizing these facts. These kids are going to succeed. We're going to learn the why of numbers, not just the how of math.

And we're going to have fun, damn it.

slice of life tuesday: and we're off!

This morning I rushed up the stairs to my classroom, eager to begin the day. It didn't matter that I was a few minutes later than I planned or that I was dangerously close to losing the juggling match with my latte, cellphone, and room key. It didn't matter that the lumpy, oversized bag slung over my shoulder was banging against my hip with each bound towards my room.

I had to get to class.

Rounding the corner I found one of my favorite early birds waiting by my door. She practically bubbled over with giggles when she saw me.

"You're here! We can write! Are you ready?!"

With a quick hug, I stumbled into the room, tossed my cache of goods into a corner of the room, and fell onto the floor with my journal and a pencil.

"Ready," I grinned.

As we opened our notebooks and started comparing ideas, three of my students from last year walked in, waving their journals at me. Without waiting, they grabbed a chair or a spot on the rug and opened their notebooks.

And a few more friends trickled in... and a few more, until there were 10 of us gathered around the room, talking about characters and plots and plans as we wrote and shared and laughed.

I glanced up at the clock to find we'd already spent 25 minutes together. Our time was almost up. Students began filing into my room, preparing for our day. I had to smile as they came in. We had talked about today; I had warned them to be respectful of the writers when they arrived.

They took a few steps into the room, stopped short, nodded as if they had just remembered something important, and silently put their things into their lockers and got to work.

My crew of NaNoWriMo warriors said goodbye and promised to be back tomorrow. We exchanged a few hugs and of course I was obliged to read some of their work before they left. They left, it seems, walking a littler taller than when they came in. All through the rest of the day I heard chatter of novels and listened to the sound of passion taking root.

And tomorrow, I get to do it all over again. Who knows, this may just begin a year long writing club. I can't think of any better way to start each day.

nanowrimo: ready to write

NaNoWriMo is right around the corner, and I find my creative wheels spinning as I rev up for this year's challenge. Last year, I brought my class into the mix by spending November teaching about story development as we worked together to finish our own novels. The energy in the room was contagious -- kids from all over the campus wanted to know more about what we were doing.

So this year I've decided to open my doors to more students. Instead of writing our novels during class time, I'm hosting a before school club just for NaNoWriMo's Young Writer's Program. Every day in November, students are invited to come write from the time school doors open until 5 minutes before the bell rings. This will give us roughly 30 minutes of writing time every day.

I've passed out flyers, given information to be posted on our school FaceBook page, and created a short video teaser that our librarian is showing to all her 4th and 5th grade classes this week. I've visited as many of my students from last year as I could track down and pumped them full of info and excitement as I can. Several of them say they will be there.

I don't know who will show up at my door on November 1st. If I'm lucky, I'll have a classroom crowded with little bodies lying all over the room creating their own stories. My dream version has so many kids show up that we have to overtake the library for our 30 day journey. Of course, I may see just a sprinkling of kids from one day to the next. Either way, the amount of kids that come to write doesn't really matter. Whoever is there is meant to be there, and we will spend our mornings writing, sharing, laughing, and sometimes banging our heads on stories that move more slowly than we like.

I have ideas to try a write-in for the area and a special event for all our writer's to have a reading when we're done. And we can't forget an after-party on December 1!

Regardless of the number of participants or events we celebrate throughout the month, I'll be there writing along side them.

November can't get here soon enough.

slice of life tuesday: 37 and counting...

A few minutes before lunch today, I noticed someone standing just outside our classroom door.
It was my husband. With a bright bouquet of flowers.

He came in, and after we settled the kids back down, joined in on all our classroom craziness for the rest of the day.

I love surprises, and although today is my birthday, I definitely hadn't expected to see him standing there!

An excellent way to spend the day. And honestly, right now I have an abundance of blessings in my life. So for today's slice, I thought I'd name one for each of the (manymany) years I've been alive:

1. My extremely compassionate husband
2. All my children are healthy
3. I have a great relationship with a sister I love dearly
4. I get to spend my days doing something I love
5. I have more than a few friends that will always have my back

Two Writing Teachers

6. My kids and I have strong relationships -- this make me crazy-happy!
7. I get to raise a little girl now! Well, help raise -- but still! A girl! Pink and purple and ribbons and lace!
8. I have a fabulous fairy classmother (my amazing mother-in-law!) that gifts our class all sorts of great things!
9. I laugh daily
10. I get to see my family all the time.
11. I have a little time to myself now and then to devote to my hobbies
12. I am healthy enough to enjoy pretty much everything life has to offer
13. I am smart enough to make wise decisions for myself (most of the time!)
14. The Husband and I have goals and plans in motion to meet them!
15. My work life is open enough to let my creative side show
16. I have people in my life that encourage the sides of me I love but am shy to share
17. I live in a place where safety is rarely, if ever, a concern
18. I'm figuring out, day by day, what it takes for me to be physically and mentally healthy and happy
19. I have a nice roof over my head, and don't have to worry from month to month how we'll pay the bills
20. I have one child ready to graduate from high school -- and each day I can tell more and more just how ready he is to take on the responsibilities of being an adult
21.  I have the means to be able to do kind things for others
22. I am more aware of what I need at work to be successful
23. I am developing a strong professional network of educators to lean on and learn from
24. I have watched my two oldest boys grow into mature, courageous individuals
25. I have more than a couple amazing mentors in my life
26. I know what it means to be loved unconditionally
27. I've learned the magical effect of letting go of the past
28. I can make a damn fine paleo-brownie!
29. I watch minds grow from unsure to confident -- every day
30. I have some really great shoes. No, really -- I do! And this has to be counted a blessing, right?
31. We have no credit card debt! We don't even carry credit cards.
32. I live in a country where blessings are easier to list than tragedies
33. I have a great ability to focus on the positive!
34. We have a steadily growing savings account
35. I am much stronger right now, this second, than I was at the same time last year
36. Each night I get to lie down next to my best friend to go to sleep
37. I can look forward to many years of future happiness!

new year, new plan

Each new school year is a mystery waiting to be unraveled. It doesn't matter that the children come in at the same age, or that they learned the same skills last year as they do every year. Their unifying features may make them look the same: boys and girls in uniforms with big smiles and bigger voices.

Sure, there are typically some things that remain the same from year to year. A puzzling lack of math fact retention, a need for security in a routine, a great desire for recess to arrive. But for the most part, when that door opens on the first day of school and the children pour into your room, you really have no idea what to expect.

This year, I have some interesting challenges. Although my new batch of students are soaring above my expectations academically, they are struggling by the minute to control their actions. I don't expect perfection. Hardly. It's never been my desire to create a room filled with compliant drones. Still, some order is necessary.

Typically, I fill my room with music and fun and chanting and cheers and general awesomeness. General awesomeness is a little difficult to achieve right now. I feel more like a drill sergeant than a master of funtime-learning. It makes my heart a little sad.

So, time to make some plans. Thankfully I'm rockin' some new knowledge on patterns and changes within systems with my new pals at Human Systems Dynamics, so I can lean heavily on what I've learned there so far in order to work through my classroom conundrum.

I'm working through the process now, and will post more soon. I plan to spend this weekend focusing on putting together my first plan of action. It's good to have a goal and an idea of how to get there!

a wild and wonderful list

Since August has wrapped it's hot fingers around my hand and is pulling me regrettably forward, I've found myself daydreaming about the many irrational, fun things I would like to do before summer's end.

And thus, a list:

A Wild and Wonderful (and wholly selfish) List of Silly & Irrational Things To Do Before Summer's End!

A bold, new hairdo

A lovely tattoo: Not all who wander are lost

Write. Finish as many chapters as possible in my current work in progress.

Make many beautiful things

Spend a weekend somewhere beautiful.

Surely I'm not the only one that drags my heels kicking and screaming as I realize I'm running out of "me" time... so what would be on your list?

Going Primal

I just finished reading The Primal Blueprint by Mark Sisson.  I read the first few chapters out loud to The Husband, since we were driving down the road and I wanted someone to share the information and discuss it with me.

I love reading this way, plunging through a few paragraphs, stopping to throw out a comment, reflect, ask questions, discuss connections.  Reading PB was transformative for me, but I think perhaps not for the same reason as most people.  Maybe I’m wrong.  You tell me.

Here’s what I learned, as a brief incredibly long and rambling timeline:

January 2007

Thrown into nutritional reform due to my mother’s midnight Emergency Room visit (which resulted in a diagnosis of diverticulitis).  I swore off everything fried, fatty, and fast, dropping my nightly Ben & Jerry’s pint for more veggies and fruit.  Although I was overweight at the time, my main concern was changing my horrible habits so that I would still be around when I had grandchildren and actually be healthy enough to enjoy them.

I searched the aisles at Barnes & Noble until I came up with a heart-healthy cookbook that would help me reach my goal of less processed food prepared quickly for a hungry family.

I joined the local Y, and dropped in every day on my way home from student teaching, spending 30-45 minutes either walking or slowly jogging.  The weight machines were curious, elusive aliens that I watched but never approached.

June 2007

In only six months, I had dropped 70 pounds.  I walked for graduation at a happy 150, smaller than I had been in high school.  I had moved from daily walks to running 2-3 times a week.  Even when we went out with friends, I opted for lean meats and veggies.  I loved the way I ate; I no longer felt tied to calories or the scale.

August 2007

My first teaching job begins.  I learn quickly how difficult it is to maintain a healthy lifestyle when surrounded by doughnuts at staff meetings, chocolates during training, and baked goods from parents.

January 2008

At 165, I seek out a personal trainer to help me learn my way around a weight room.  I’m petrified about lapsing back into a life of unhealthy eating and a scale that reads 220 or higher.  For the next six months I meet with my trainer 2-3 times a week to lift hard, do minimal cardio bursts, and sprint through the parking lot dragging her along behind me.  I give up running; cardio is boring once I discover the fun of my new circuits.

June 2008
I am a lean, mean, muscled machine.  I feel strong, healthy, more vibrant than I can ever remember.

Summer 2008 in a Nutshell

Although I made huge physical strides in 2008, and felt better about myself than I had throughout my life, I suffered a huge hit on a personal/family level, which I allowed to tear me down.  This was my fault -- not the problem, but my intense reaction to it.

I spent the summer in a daze, hurt and depressed.  I abandoned workout out, rarely ate any of the fortifying meals I had become so accustomed to; in fact I rarely ate anything. (At first.  Then came the tsunami of food.)

December 2008

By the end of the year, I managed to pull myself back together, but the damage was done.  I was out of my routine and lacked the willpower to get myself back in the gym.  I was still fairly close to the same body shape and weight from earlier in the year, and I think I let that safety net become a guise for my new lackluster desire for optimum health.

Summer 2009

Back to my old habits.  Fast food, soda, lying to myself.  “Everything in moderation is okay,” I told myself.  At 170 pounds and  too financially strapped to head back to my personal trainer, I decided to make changes on my own.  My thoughts were completely different from my original 2007 desire for health, however.  I missed the image in the mirror.  I missed how 
I felt when I was lean.  Let’s face it, I missed feeling sexy.  With a roll of fat popping out of my skinny jeans, I was angry with myself.

The pictures I had taken along my journey haunted me.  Flat belly, strong biceps, lean legs.  I wanted it back, and I wanted it FAST.

The focus was not on heart-healthy nutritious foods anymore.  I needed minimal calories, high protein for muscle building, low fat, low carbs.  I needed immediate results.

I was back in the gym, walking or running or climbing for one or two hours at a time.

I was back in the gym, lifting weights, when I wasn’t online researching methods to build muscle and drop fat as quickly as possible.

Oddly, with all my sprints and long runs and heavy lifting and minimal food -- nothing changed.

Well, nothing changed quickly enough for me.  I dropped about 10 pounds (mostly water I’m sure) and toned out a little, but mostly all I ended up with was an insane hunger for more food, and frustration over my slow results.

In the months that followed, this became my pattern.

Work my butt off, starve myself with packaged “foods”, get discouraged and binge.

Honestly, you’d think I just plain became an idiot during that time period.  I already knew what worked -- I’d done it before!  


But I was so hellbent on quick answers that I kept chasing my tail.  Never getting any closer to my goal, always getting further away from a healthy self image.

February 2010

I discover Lyle McDonald’s Rapid Fat Loss plan.  Less than 20 grams of fat and carbs a day, lots of protein, and forums full of people (mostly men) proclaiming oodles of weight loss.  The problem?  They complain of dizziness, nausea, low energy levels, and random digestive issues.

No matter, I can totally do this, I think.  And I do.  Egg whites, tuna, veggies -- no fruit, no nuts (which I miss terribly) -- but for 4 weeks I manage to feast on mostly protein.  I drop 12 pounds, look leaner, and actually feel pretty amazing.  Lots of energy and mental clarity.  I wish I could eat little to no carbs all the time, but Lyle’s book talks about glucose and your brain and metabolism issues -- and honestly, after a while I just get sick of tuna.  And eggs.  And turkey.

Off for another round of yo-yo’ing.  

June 2010

I read Born to Run by Christopher McDougall.  I remember my original love for running, learn a lot about tribal nutrition, barefoot running, and survival.  Something in the back of my mind begins to click into place.


July 2010
I’ve been following the blog Diary of a Modern Matriarch  for a while, but she started a new blog, Primal Matriarch.  It’s all about “eating primal”.  I’m digging the recipes she shares, and the abundance of fruits and veggies she talks about.

I email her, and she tells me about PB by Mark Sisson.  Lots of veggies, fruits, nuts, meat, eggs ... and the list goes on.  All the foods I love. (It reminds me of the Rapid Fat Loss Plan, but doesn’t swear off all the delicious fruits and nuts and dairy that I crave)

As I read the book I’m talking with The Husband about this horrible merry-go-round I’ve placed myself on.

All in the name of the perfect body.  Beauty.  An image.

Yeah, it makes me sick too.  

We talk about how when I originally lost 100 pounds it had nothing to do with how I looked, and everything to do with how I felt, and how I wanted to feel in 30, 40, 50 years.

PB reminded me that what matters most to me is not how cute I look in a bikini, but how much time I’ll be able to spend running down the beach with my grandkids when I’m all wrinkled with time.

It reminded me that when I was able to lose weight and get healthy I was NOT eating processed junk.  I was enjoying real foods: foods rich in color and taste, that grew out of the ground, could be eaten raw, and didn’t require an expiration date for me to know if they were okay to eat or not.

It reminded me that when I enjoyed working out I was lifting heavy, playing around with cardio, and sprinting once in a while.  I was doing these things in short sessions, a few times a week.  Not every day; not for hours at a time.

It reminded me that the way it all started for me -- nothing fatty, fast, or fried was exactly what I needed; what I should have returned to instead of banging my head against the pantry door looking for answers that don’t exist.

I have come full circle.  The way I originally became healthy was by having a true desire for health, no matter how long it took.  I looked for foods that would strengthen my heart, deter cancer, lessen the risk for various diseases.

When I lost my way, I tried to find every shortcut home possible.

I learned there are no shortcuts.

I’ve been eating primal for three days now.  I feel stronger, less bloated, and proud of my choices.  Sure, I’m giving up grain, but I feel I’m getting a lot in return.  No more calorie obsession.  No more starving myself.  No more praying for a quick fix.

This is the only body I have to work with.  I’m worth more than a constant, frustrating hunt for a shortcut that doesn’t exist.  

I’m worth more than always wanting a body that is only seen in airbrushed magazine ads of 14 year old girls.

I’m worth a lifetime of healthy eating, playing in the sun, enjoying myself and my family.

Shut Up & Write

I had a great conversation today with my sister about writing.  I told her that, if I were to be completely honest with anyone (booorrrring!), the truth is -- I have more unfinished pieces than finished.  Coming up with ideas is never a problem.  My insanely vivid and bizarre nightly dreams provide ample resources.  I could probably become rich and famous just blogging the weird & wacky places my mind travels each night.  Ideas are easy.  There is a very small list of things I know I do well as a writer.

In case you're wondering, dialog is not on this list.

Neither is finishing the damn thing.

I get angry.  I get mopey.  I get depressed.  I get more snacks out.  I get on Facebook.  I get the insane notion to research bits and pieces about my story that don't really need to be researched quite yet, and spend hours looking for obscure information.  I get tired.  I get a headache.  I get many, many things.

What I do not get, my friend, is further along in the storyline.

Last night, I was listening to a podcast at Writing Excuses and realized that I have GOT to stop staring at the same paragraphs, revising, rearranging, and rendering myself useless.  It doesn't matter if it's slop, at this point.  I have an entire storyline in my head.  I know where it ends.  I know the major conflict.  I play it out in my head over and over.

But when I see it on paper (word processor? stone tablet? whatever.) I get skittish.  Suddenly the words seem silly, the ideas aren't always what I thought they would be, there are parts that lag and need tweaking.

When I let my OCD Evil Twin take over, I will tweak that one part until my fingerprints disappear from manic typing.

So.  So what?  After the podcast ended, I just wrote.  I winced at some of the words, but kept going, knowing I will definitely go back later, because if I never push the story along, there will never be a story.

And that would be a miserable regret to look back on.

I started this post with the idea that I would give you a list of reasons (it was going to be ironic! sarcastic! witty!) why I can't write today.  But I guess even I have to admit, the only thing that ever truly keeps me from writing, is me.

**Interestingly enough, as I was sitting down to write this, I decided to check out a few of my new favorite blogs, and over at Shannon Messenger's blog, she's talking about writer's block, or the lack thereof.  Check it out!**

Writing, in three voices

Tonight I am busily-happily-sleepily-weepily working on my pieces for the multigenre project I'm putting together for my NWP research on boys and literacy.  Tonight's major goal was to finish the two-voice poem I had planned to write between a boy and his teacher.

Instead, I ended up with three voices: boy, writing expert, and teacher.  Here's the first draft.

What do you think?

Boy:	Writing Expert:	Teacher:
I am a	I am a	I am a
boy
		teacher
	writer
I write because	I write because	I write because
	I love words.
I’m forced to.
		I’m teaching you.
I’m searching for	I’m searching for	I’m searching for
		a way to reach you.
	creative expression
a way to be myself.
But you don’t listen to me!		But you don’t listen to me!
	Listen to me.
Words are	Words are	Words are
a prison
	an open road
		the path to your future
Listen to me!	Listen to me!	Listen to me!
	Boys need
freedom to choose
		I’m listening.
Boys need	Boys need
action!
	adventure!
technology!
	praise!
the chance to succeed
	a teacher to hear them
Boys need acceptance	Boys need acceptance
		acceptance.
Do you see me?
	Do you see?
		I see you now.
		Boys need a teacher who sees with the heart of an adventurer.
	An explorer.
A boy.
	A writer.
		A teacher.

Inspiration for three voices, and this particular style came from Kevin's Meandering Mind