I'm back... time to get some thoughts down...

It's summertime officially in the land of Kelly... time for sleeping in, home projects, good meals, and so much more. This summer, however, I'm realizing how long it has been since I've blogged, and what an interesting concept it is to publish one's thoughts for the world to read. Honestly, as I get older and more introspective, I feel I have fewer answers but greater compassion and serenity in my world. With each grey hair, I find I need fewer "absolutes" and answers but instead could use longer arms to welcome the unexpected and unanswerable into my life. (If you are still reading at this point, it is likely you know me well enough to wonder what the crap I'm going to say next...you also probably realize it could be anything from funny to insightful, to a complete waste of time!)

So... for now, this is nothing more than the "announcement" that I plan to put some time into the Dragonfly Chronicles again... it has been a few years... but the thoughts, stories and adventures of this mama-teacher-wife-klutz are about to be spilled again! Stay tuned...

"Obama Stole My Homework!"- Ebola, Robin Williams, ISIS and the canyons between us...

I have been having too much fun with my family to blog for the last week (plus)... but the time has come. I'm never quite sure what I'm going to write about, then it seems as if something hits me in the face, and I have to get it out. So what, you might ask, has viciously attacked my face and forced me to write today? Ebola? Ferguson? Robin Williams? Syria? ISIS? Obama? Well, all of them, I guess... but more importantly what I'm seeing as our reactions to all of them.

This isn't going to be a blog about how you SHOULD react to crisis and whatnot... instead, it is simply an observation of how people do seem to react. On Facebook right now, my news feed is filled with reactions to Robin Williams' death. Personally, I'm sad about his loss: I show The Dead Poets' Society to my seniors almost every year, and have grown a strange attachment to his character. He has inspired me, and I am saddened to think of his personal pain and struggle. Although my family has experienced suicide very directly, I cannot claim to understand the depression behind the act- I've been extremely blessed in this life with never really having to deal with depression... therefore, I can't begin to understand or judge it. Still, I was strangely, but, joyfully overwhelmed when on the day of his death, hundreds of my friends and students posted about this single man, who's loss they felt directly. How amazing that we can collectively mourn the loss of someone 99% of us have not met personally. How beautiful that we allow our humanity to shine as we allow ourselves that grief.

But... the end of Tuesday arrived, and with it, my news feed began showing signs of the world's "second thoughts". Many posts on how "suicide is selfish" appeared, and alongside those, articles about how depression is a disease, and how ridiculous it is to blame those who commit suicide.

And it began. The division. It's always there. It breaks my heart...

An over-simplification is to say that some people appear to react to things from a fear base... others, from a place of optimism. I don't know how to get these folks to understand each other... I don't know that we can... but I see them judge and hurt each other. Those who are angry at much in the world see the optimists as the problem, as they believe the optimists are blind to the truth... the optimists get frustrated with the angry folks and often feel it is the negativity they push causing the problems.

I don't know who is right... and frankly, I don't care. I want to feel my sadness about Robin Williams' death. I want to be angry at my family members who chose to leave me. I want to forgive them. I want to understand.

I was very amused the end of the year when my youngest daughter started joking about all the hate and blame leveled at President Obama. We don't talk much about politics or religion in our house: we wish our children to develop their own beliefs... we "preach" kindness and education... they can take it from there. Still, when Kobie couldn't find a homework assignment she'd worked diligently on for hours, she said, "Ahhh! Obama must have taken it!" Then she laughed at herself for having misplaced it. She hears the division... at 14 she's aware of society's greatest struggle.

So as I continue to filter through the "we must save the children from ISIS" versus "these are not our people and this is not our war" posts... filter through the fear over Ebola in our country versus the people praising the medical personnel who have risked, and given their lives to help... as I filter through all this, I am continually trying to remind myself that we are all doing the best we can. We are all trying to do what we believe it right- even if we disagree on what is right... we are all working with our individual cards, making the best choices and creating opinions based on the information in front of us... but the best days... the best days are the ones when we unite. The ones when in the collective shock over a superstar's suicide, we all take a moment to acknowledge he MEANT something to us... together.

Why doesn't my brain understand I'm now OLD? (Or: "Pass the Fruit Loops please?")

When I was young, I distinctly remember being sure that "old" was when you reached 30. I remember being absolutely terrified of dying because I had so much I wanted to do in life. I'm now 46 years old, so I guess to my young self, I'm practically ancient... however, like most people I speak with about this, that 17 year old brain doesn't seem to understand it is older now. I still feel like ME. I don't feel like "old ME" (except for maybe the first 30 seconds after I get out of bed in the morning and have to stretch a bit...gah...)

The last three days have insisted I think about age: my age, other peoples' ages and how all of this aging stuff works. I have had Facebook discussions with a few friends (and even an ex-boyfriend) from my teen years in the last 3 days... all people I haven't verbally spoken with in about 25 years or more. Yet, when chatting online with them, I feel as if almost no time has passed. Yes, I am married and have kids now... big, grown kids. Yes, I have been a teacher for the last 16 years, and even though that is a huge part of my life, these folks don't know that part of me. Still, there is this direct cord that seems to connect me to the 18 year old I was- she is still in here. She has been very vocal lately as circumstances have made her notice her own existence in my 46-year-old-world.

Three days ago my mom and I started off on an adventure to see Rod Stewart (still not a fan as I think my mother bombarded my childhood with his music) and Santana play in Eugene, Oregon... those guys are old. I thought of them as old guys 25 years ago... and guess what? They are still old. However, the process of walking into the stadium made me feel REALLY young. I was surrounded by Baby Boomers- grey hair EVERYWHERE... I wasn't sure I met a minimum age requirement to even enter the building. But as I sat and watched, I noticed something: they don't think they are old anymore than my inner-self will let me think it. I really began noticing a few songs in when Carlos Santana told the audience to get up and dance... the Baby Boomers with their early arthritis, new knees and deepening wrinkles immediately followed orders. They ignored their old shells and danced... and I felt even younger. A bit later, this same crowd, as if to drive home some universal message, began scream-singing "Forever Young" with Stewart. When he launched into singing "If you want my body, and you think I'm sexy"... I could do little other than laugh. He was up there in tight pants dancing with a projection behind him of a quote he said years ago: "I don't want to be 50 and still singing about people wanting my body"... well the guy is 69 years old and still singing it- he acknowledged it was silly, but everyone of those Boomers loved it and sang it too... in fact, he dumped balloons all over the floor seating area and those 60 and 70 somethings played with the balloons until the show was over, then grabbed them to take home as a souvenir... do we ever really get old?

Our concert adventure continued last night when we attended a classical concert at the Britt Festival. I was definitely too young to be allowed in this concert- grey hair was gone and white hair was the norm. Still, the same rule of age applied... the music was old, but the 80 year old youngsters were out to party! One lady was in tie-dyed clothes from head to toe. The group swayed to the music and gave the 25 year old conductor and his orchestra a standing ovation that lasted for 4 curtain calls. These folks weren't home watching TV from their recliners- they had climbed a hill to listen to music they loved- they didn't know they are old... and I mean some of these folks were REALLY REALLY old... they just felt alive. My mom looked like a youngster in the group...

So... about aging: our bodies do it, but it seems for many of us, other than experience, our minds don't get it... and I've noticed I feel less-old in understanding this. I feel less-old in seeing the life of the folks I've encountered in the last few days... there is still so much living to do no matter how old we are...

(on a side note: next week I'm going to see Bruno Mars with my girls... I may be writing about how old I feel after that experience!)

To Weed or Not to Weed... That is the question.

So... needless to say, as a high school teacher, I have some strong feelings about the whole "legalizing marijuana" trend. Currently, I do not know how I would vote on a general legalization of weed the likes of the Colorado legislation... I do not know because the issue is not only complicated, but like many hot topic issues, each side throws the extreme or ridiculous examples out to prove their points. So... for those of you who are seeing this trend in our world and considering "all sides"... I guess this is for you? Or for me to sort out how I feel? Guess we'll see...

First of all, I've always been confused by our country's devout allegiance to alcohol (especially given its well-known downfalls) in the face of its "anti-weed" policies. Have you ever been around an alcoholic? They can be extremely scary... when they drive drunk they seem to think they are in a race to win and everyone else on the road is an enemy... In fact, over 10,000 people died in drunk driving accidents last year (about 31% of car related deaths)... yikes. I've always joked that I'd prefer to be on the road with a bunch of stoners... they aren't out to race- they aren't pissed off- they are just enjoying the scenery... but last year about 12% of car accident related deaths were due to weed (and it is only now legal in 2 states- not counting medical usage). Huh. That doesn't seem promising. But- some of the medical uses of the drug are priceless, amazing, and simply important. The apparent hypocrisy of a legal system that allows for prescription narcotics, alcohol and cigarettes while outlawing marijuana needs to be addressed...

Still, my biggest problem is what I see in the teen population usage. I should qualify this by saying these are simply my observations, discussed and agreed upon with other teachers, but still, my non-scientific observations: Kids who avoid "altering" their brains through alcohol or weed tend to do much better getting through school and either going on to college or a secure job. Teens who indulge in alcohol don't do as well, but generally make it through school, graduate and move onto college or jobs... very few of them come to school drunk (yes, of course it does happen, but it is rare)... so while they are in the learning environment they might be fighting hangovers, but most of them are pretty lucid.

HOWEVER... the stoners can be a sad crowd. As teachers we tend to like these kids- they are mellow, sweet, and get along with most kids (doesn't sound sad does it?) But smoking in school diminishes a kid's chance of successfully completing high school drastically. DRASTICALLY. Marijuana is often in the systems of students while they are in school... and those poor, sweet kids aren't learning much of anything, and certainly aren't doing homework. The drug doesn't just mellow them- it tends to take away all their motivation. Most of our dropouts are "pot-heads"... I recognize this has many possible reasons- maybe that students didn't achieve much in school, and THEN began using... who knows... but there is a relation between the two... and I find it painful when a kid stops caring about his or her own future. Certainly, this is a generalization, and there are users who manage the system well, but so many of the kids don't seem able to make choices when high that will move them toward actually graduating.

The beginning of the year, I point out the dragonfly kite-thing I have hanging in my room. I warn students that when I pull the string attached to it, and it appears to "fly" it is very difficult for the stoners to look away. I then show them how it flies. The funny part of this is that as teens (big kids) none of them can look away from it... it is mesmerizing. The stoners however, heeding my warning, immediately look away. Busted.

I still don't know how I feel about legalizing it for recreational use. There are so many arguments- but whatever we, as a society choose to do on this issue, we have to be careful with our kids. The teenagers look like adults, but their brains are still developing... and they learn from our examples.

Coca-Cola, Maleficent, cleverness, the morning news and a tablespoon of hope!

Some people are simply ridiculously clever. Seriously. They actually make me feel bad about myself, and frankly, I'm somewhat clever myself (necessity for my job!). In the last few days, it feels as if the world has been insisting I take note of the brilliance of humans... not just their intelligence, but our capacity for creativity.

Have you seen the new Coke campaign? Someone at the Coca-Cola headquarters said, "Hey... what if we put names on the bottles... 'Share this Coke with John' or 'Share this Coke with Sara'"... the timing on this couldn't be better... in the midst of the "selfie" craze (does anyone actually know the correct spelling of that word by the way?) what the Coke folks have done is create an ad campaign that actually generates more ad campaigns... I go to the store and see a bottle that has a name on it of someone I know. I buy it. I take a selfie with the bottle and upload the picture to my social media websites... boom. They put a name on the bottle, and I just gave them an audience of over 1000 people looking at me drinking their product. But it gets better! I tag that friend (who's name is on the bottle) and it appears on her page, and all of her friends see it... then maybe she thinks it is cool, and does the same when she sees a bottle. Simple. Brilliant. The Coke people are using the greatest fad of the moment to sell their stuff... yes, it is terrible for you, but really? How much fun is this?

In other "clever news"... I went to see the film Maleficent a couple of days ago. As a kid raised on Disney, I was initially shocked to see a cute-wide-eyed-sweet child with the name of one of the worst Disney villains (because come on... who curses a BABY???). Still, I watched, and was enchanted by a story that explained why the horn-sporting-black-cloak-donning-blood-red-lipstick-wearing super villain was so mean. Some clever writer got to the heart of what I keep trying to teach my kids... people are not "bad"... they behave badly out of fear or ignorance or pain... and the movie showed that- demonstrated her pain and fear and allowed a flat character of my childhood to become a multifaceted human. Humans are cool. Humans have depth and goodness and make mistakes and yet are AMAZINGLY clever.

This is a picture of little Maleficent making a friend...

So... in the news this morning there is horror, chaos, hatred, war and a downed airplane with hundreds of passengers who died... and here I am... saddened, but hopeful. Hopeful because we are so clever... hopeful because we all have a story and when we understand that, we can help each other feel less pain and fear... and our collective cleverness might just be strong enough to make this world a better place. (Imagine a heart shaped emoticon here.. I'm just not clever enough to know how to get one into the blog)...

Old stuff, new stuff, sushi and Bob Dylan...

I've been thinking about old things, new things and my attachment to each. I like old wooden furniture; I like antique dishes and teacups; I like old photos where people are smiling, but not the creepy ones where they all look like they are attending their own funerals... eek.I like old books (wayyyyy too much), old table-clothes without stains, old suitcases, old friends who knew me before I was a grown-up, old-fashioned candy (but not old candy- uhh...yuck), old theaters, antique clothing, old doo-wop music and I LOVE my old vinyl albums.

Still, I'm not one to just sit in the past... I like new music: Mumford and Sons, Imagine Dragons, Florence and the Machine... and so many more. I like our new "smart" TV... a lot. I like my "new" town far more than the town in which I was raised (sorry Irvine...). I like technology. I LOVE my kids... and they are definitely "new" relatively speaking. I like the new trends in our world toward acceptance and equality. I like my new friends who make me try new things- like sushi! (Please understand, I've had 46 years of REALLY disliking fish in general. Tuna sandwiches are acceptable on rare occasions, but fish, generally tastes FISHY. Never understood why you people like that stuff...) Yes, my new friends, because they are new have the power to make me try new things... because sometimes when you are with newer friends, you don't want to sound like a 5 year old who refuses to try stuff. Sushi? Really? It had to be sushi... fine. I'll be darned if I didn't love the stuff on the first try. New is good too.

But what I have recently realized is that the coolest stuff (with the exception of my kids of course, who are the coolest stuff in my world) seems to be old things that are somehow made new, or new things that have roots in the "old". For instance: I bought an old album today- a Bob Dylan classic. I hate to admit I hadn't ever heard it before. I listened to it, loved it, and it was NEW music in my world. Yet this "new" thing to our world called "blogging" is really just a form of a diary entry, or an open letter to the world. In a day and age where we mostly wish to communicate information on YouTube (which I liked until it got to the point where NOTHING loads)I like the idea that I can write my thoughts- old school style... in full sentences... just words- and the newness of online blogs reminds me of a world when we wrote each other letters... sent them in the mail and waited a month for a response.

I think it might be time to "rediscover" the lost art of letter writing... let's make new the old art of that communication... who's in?

Taco Tuesdays and a bit of philosophical rambling... (or "Would you like some cilantro with that tradition?")

You know those events, days, things, meals...whatever we look forward to because we've done it many times before? I am a bit of a tradition junkie... and I struggle when the people around me decide they are sort of "done" with one of our traditions. Some people thrive on new experiences, and granted, I love those too, but there is something so wonderfully comforting in revisiting a "tradition"... I honestly believe they are incredibly good for us as well: anchors in our chaotic lives- strongholds in our weakened psyches- moments we can count on as "good", "happy" or even "fun"... otherwise why would we choose to visit them time and again?

Today I went shopping for "Taco Tuesday"... this is certainly not a tradition we made up, but about 5 years ago, before my eldest daughter could drive, we created our own version of it. It is simple: kids, tacos, soda, dessert, parental supervision, and whatever else comes up... sometimes it is a movie, sometimes a game of Apples to Apples... and sometimes a rousing competition at "Just Dance" on the wii. My kids invite whomever they wish... and we eat until the food is gone... talk until we are tired... and start looking forward to doing it again the next week. For us, this happens only in the summer, as during the school year, my teaching schedule tends to limit my desire to spend MORE time with a house full of teenagers... but we sneak a few in.

The silly tradition has taught me much... first of all: teenagers LIKE to be invited over to homes and fed (not exactly the light bulb of the century, but hold on...)- and they LIKE to be given options of hanging out with friends in a healthy environment. I have learned to listen better to them: Brian S. came to one of the Tuesdays years ago and said, "hey... where's the cilantro?" I could have ignored him and thought him rude for asking for what was not on the table, but instead, in a moment of lucidity, I asked him about it. His family always uses fresh cilantro on tacos... so the next week, I bought some, tried it, loved it, and it became part of our tradition. In fact, we, as a family now always have fresh cilantro on the table for tacos (and we eat a lot of tacos... maybe my Southern California upbringing, but I LOVE them!)

And so what? So... I think this is a metaphor for our lives... we try things we like again and again... we modify them based on bad experiences, feedback, others' ideas and our own experience. We make our traditions better... but don't we do the same with our lives and ourselves? We come back to what we like about ourselves again and again... we listen to the feedback/criticism of others, try it, digest it, and decide whether or not we will allow it to become part of us. In this way, we must make ourselves listen... listen to the world around us... listen to others... but most of all listen to our inner voice- we know what makes us better.

My family were unwanted immigrants to America...

So... please attempt to not be offended by this post, as I'm just trying to explore ideas here rather than preach a message...

Yesterday's CNN headline for most of the day was, "I just want America to be the old America"... this appeared to infer the person speaking wanted America not to be "invaded" by folks from South America as the accompanying article was about illegal immigrants on a bus being stopped by the citizens of a small town and told to go back where they came from. It's all over the news... border problems... immigration policy... citizenship... etc. It is a financial nightmare and a political hot topic.

I doubt the person in that quote meant it literally... the "old America" was one prior to the European invasion. It was a place where a group of Takelma Indians inhabited the local Table Rock mountain for more than 15,000 years. It was a place of teepees, buffalo, bows, arrows, and people who had lived here for thousands of years. My European English and Irish ancestors, with the help of many of your ancestors, changed that America. It was a dreamland to my very hungry Irish ancestors who fled the potato famine in Ireland... still, who could blame them for wanting a better life? Especially as they seemed more than willing to work for it in jobs few citizens of the time wanted... the first Irish immigrants were thought of as the scum of society. They were hated and paid terrible wages...

Many years later, the grand-children, great-grand-children, and so on of these immigrants have helped shape our society and history: Gene Kelly, Georgia O'Keeffe, Harrison Ford, and Kurt Cobain have given much to the arts; Henry Ford has given us innovation; film directors like Walt Disney and Alfred Hitchcock have taught us to laugh and scream; Kate Chopin, Tom Clancy, F. Scott Fitzgerald and Anne Rice are just a few of the Irish blooded writers who have shaped our vision; Roger Ebert,Chris Matthews and Bill O'Reilly have given social and political voice to opinion and news; in fact,since Jimmy Carter was President, he and every President since have had Irish ancestry (yes,Reagan,Bush,Clinton AND Obama)... the dirty, worthless, drunken Irish immigrants have certainly made our world a richer place.

So what is it we are afraid of? Are we afraid we'll end up as bad off as the people we took this land from? That is beyond doubtful, although there are serious considerations to be made regarding job availability, government assistance, and schooling. Have we run out of room? The people of Boston sure felt that way when the Irish "invasion" occurred... there were people living in shacks on the streets... I feel so lucky that my ancestors fought the way they did... fought to make this their home... fought so that I could live the life I do...

It seems as if all of this is strangely relevant to the current immigration problem... so many threads connecting us... I don't have answers here, and I see the problems are many, but I remember being taught as a child words like: "This land is my land, this land is your land"... who was the "your" in that song? I was told America is the "land of the free and home of the brave"... so, do we exclude people in debt and cowards at our boarders?

Again... not sure where I'm going with this... the ramblings of a summer-drunk teacher with time on her hands... but I wonder what it must be like to live in a country that is so terrible you feel you must leave your family to try to make a better life... for yourself, or for your children... so terrible you are willing to send your child alone over the boarder with little other than a kiss on the forehead... these sound like brave people to me? At least as brave as the folks who boarded those large ships leaving Ireland and heading to a new world...

Dragonflies are NOT extinct... contrary to popular belief....

No... this isn't a hoax. I'm not dead. The "dragonfly" is simply re-emerging from her cocoon of grad-school and finding her voice is still present. Yep... it HAS been a while. Sorry? To the few of you who were actually following this, I really am sorry I let it go- I enjoy blogging, much to my own surprise. So for this first foray back into the land of cyberspace diaries, I think I might just "fill in the blanks"... yeah?

Grad school: Yep. I'm done. Officially a "Master" and I must admit, I loved every minute of it... well, okay, maybe not "every minute" but at least most of them. I don't know that it has made me a more highly qualified teacher as the state of Oregon thought it would, but it certainly has made me a better, happier human. I dropped off blogging when it became clear I was in over my head- but I'm done, and now am back to torture the Internet universe.

Family: So much has changed in the last couple of years... Halli has just finished her sophomore year of college, and is going strong. She made it into the highly competitive strain of the SOU theater department and is a BFA candidate in Acting. Darby just graduated high school as a class Valedictorian and will be on her way to UofO in the fall to study Human Physiology as a pre-med student. Kobie finished middle school and is the star softballer of the family. My mom is doing amazing well after the very sudden loss of my step-father last year- she continues to teach us how to live with grace...

Work: Yep. Still love it. I know... ridiculous, but true. Really tough year for teachers in the state of Oregon: new Common Core standards and proficiency grading essentially meant, for me, 16 years of teaching and lessons had to be thrown out the window for the "new way"... oi. Some good in the new ideas, but even the state is backing off of their mandates so that districts can pick and choose from policies to create systems that *hopefully* work better... it's always a crapshoot... seems to just come down to A. ability of teacher to connect and inspire B. desire of student to connect and be inspired... yep. That's it. Wish there was a magic formula, but I honestly don't believe there is.

Life: Good. Dirty, messy, broken, uplifting, funny, inspiring and so much more. Three years of grad school have meant three years of no real progress on home upkeep, or even touching the yards (and mind you, we live on 3 acres in the forest... and the forest has something to say about that and is WINNING). Marriage and children, friends and community... can't imagine life differently right now- messy but beautiful.

Oh... and we got a couple new additions to the family... after the loss of our canine babies Abu and Charlie, we decided we needed a few more... welcome Calvin and Hobbes to the family!

Swearing... frustration, resolution and celebration...

Okay, David, Kim and Rob... I know I haven't done this in a while... I know... but I'm coming back with an "in your face" kind of post! Not sure why after all these months I'm starting here, with this thought, but what the heck... here it goes...

As a high school teacher, I have to deal with swearing all the time. I categorize swear words into 2 groups: 1. hateful/hurtful and 2. emotive adjectives that ARE NOT meant to be hateful or hurtful. I tell my students they are not allowed to use hateful words in my class- thus, their homework is not "gay" because that would mean homework=gay=stupid=gay people are stupid. No. Even if they don't mean it this way, it is hate talk at the core... and it will never be okay in my class. However, I also explain to them that our language is amazing, beautiful, fun and one of our greatest gifts... so they better not abuse it. I tell them that if they overuse the "F" word on any given day, "F-ing weather- F-ing teacher- F-ing homework" that when they get home and slam their finger in the car door, the most essential word- the only one that really allows for any relief of the pain, much less can fully encompass the gravity of the moment, has lost its power... words are like that... if you overuse them, they lose their potency. I NEED the "F" word for certain moments in my life... but I save it for when I REALLY need it. Then, when it is the ONLY word that my brain can wrap itself around, everyone around me knows the serious nature of the moment. I like that. I like the "F" word... it, like so many things has its place and time...

Last night we went to an AMAZING one-man-band-concert by Matt Barnhart of Green is for Go at The Station restaurant here in town. During the evening, he had driven from Eugene (2 1/2 hour drive) to Rogue River, locked his keys and all his instruments in the car... then realized he'd also locked his belt (desperately needed to keep up his pants) in the car as well. He began with a small, quiet crowd, on borrowed instruments and with no mic or amplifier... and he was amazing. Funny, talented, and full of musical brilliance, he amazed us all... then the guys got his car unlocked, and brought out his stuff... he introduced us to his violin- the one he just bought in Spain because he wanted to learn to play violin... he had carted it down because he'd learned a song on it... his first song: "Mary Had a Little Lamb"... and as we listened to the beginning violinist, we all felt he was brave for doing this in front of an audience; still, (you might be wondering where the swearing part of this story comes in...) the best moment sounded something like this: acoustical version of Mary Had a Little Lamb- sing it in your head, "Mary had a little lamb, little lamb, little lamb, Mary had a little lamb whose fleece was white as snow..." then he slammed his kick drum and yelled "M*ther F*cker!"... and somehow... it was glorious... we all laughed with him and revelled in the frustration, resolution and celebration that is everyday of our lives.

Eat-yes. Pray-okay. Love-definitely.

So... I've finally gotten around to reading the "YOU HAVE TO READ THIS!" book of the year... Eat, Pray, Love. I'm still in the first section: "Eat"... also could be subtitled "Italy"... I'm going to Italy this coming March, so initially, I was entranced by the food, the locations, the history... but as I end the section, I'm finding myself discontent with the main character... or narrator... or nihilistic woman who made money by travelling for a year, writing a book and selling it to us. I can tell where this is all going: you have to be good to you- know you- cleanse yourself- eat, pray and love with your whole heart... so if I'm right, can I stop reading now? There is no way in the world I am going to travel for a year- and honestly, with the amazing people in my life, I wouldn't want to be away from them for that long. I find myself asking, "why am I spending my time on this? Her life and problems are not mine..." but then, I find moments of clarity- ideas that speak to me on a personal level. First of all, I like the idea of slowing down. I don't want to give up anything I do... but I don't want to do it all at high speed. Possible? I'm not sure- but I'm going to try. My family, my husband, my home, my friends, my job... all need attention, but I don't have to run. So... here is my list:

1. Eat. Yes. I like eating (too much)... but I'm interested in finding a way to eat what I love and to appreciate each bite... I rush through eating at almost every meal... time to slow the frickety-frack down.

2. Pray. Yes. In my own way, I do this all the time. I believe. I believe we all matter- I believe in education- I believe in honesty- I believe we have power within us that hasn't been accessed- I believe we are all so very lucky to be here in the first place... I believe I better slow down.

3. Love. Yes. Yes. Yes. Who and what do you love? I love my husband. I love my kids. I love chai tea. I love Charles Dickens and William Shakespeare. I love the amazing light bulbs that flash on over students' heads when they "get it"... I love life. I love my family... I love the radio station Pandora on the Internet- it introduces me to new music. I love travelling- but only with my people... my family, my students... yeah. Along those lines, I LOVE... and I mean LOVE long car drives with Rob and the girls- the ones where you have to stop at rest areas to pee... where you have to stop at a gas station and you go into the mini-mart to get "road snacks"... we are all trapped together- away from the rest of the world... Yeah, I love that.

Eat. Pray. Love. - Maybe I should have just read the title and called it a day.

Have I ever mentioned that I don't do well not finishing books I've started? It's like a commitment I feel I have made... that I can't get out of.

Missing in action and a New Year's resolution that does not include counting calories...

Okay... okay... I know. And I'm really really sorry. For those of you who don't know, I had to take a master's degree class this last semester in addition to all of my other "stuff"... and the Dragonfly Chronicles made the chopping block so as to make room for the educational splendiforus fun. Ick. New Year's resolution? Yep... here it is: I will write once a week, if not more... I will not dwell on the RIDICULOUS fact that even though I've been teaching for 13 years, the state of Oregon has decided all teachers without master's degrees need to get them... okay... I said it. I now will let it go... at least for the purposes of the blog. (I'm really ticked off about this because I will have to pay $25,000 out that I don't have)Oops... I've done it. I dwelled... I said I wouldn't but I did. So it is out. I guess the good news is that I'm going to get the MA in Theater Production- I know my literature and my teaching... I have much to learn about theater. Additionally, I think my co-teacher, Todd Rose, will be doing the program with me... should be cool.

On a lighter-slightly-less-angry note... life is remarkably good. My girls are amazing- growing and learning. Rob and I are thankful in this horrid economy to have viable jobs. I still love teaching after all these years. Still find my heart flutter a bit every time I see a light bulb come on over a student's head- still find myself excited to start new novels and let the kids get to know the wonders within. Yes... life is expensive and messy... but quite good.

I'll be back soon... resolution. Done. I'll be back... tehehehe- Schwarzenegger was here!

You Know The Rest...

It's David's birthday today. He was one of my best friends in high school. He was the one who wrote 6 pages in my yearbook senior year. He was the one who fought with me about God, school, music, swimming... and yet always with a kindness and respect I've rarely experienced in this life. David and I worked together and even went on vacations together. He was a very important part of my development as a human. He was one of those friends who made me better and happier than I would have been had I not known him.

Today is David's 42nd birthday. We don't talk much these days as we live a thousand miles away from each other, and are both busy with our lives- spouses we adore, children we laugh with and jobs we want to make a difference in. Still, Dave will always be part of who I am. He was one of those friends- one my soul needed at an essential time, and one who was simply there.

Birthdays are strange... it is the one day we focus on to celebrate a person. It is the day we remember to tell them we miss them, or that they are special to us... I should tell Sir Dave this more often- but he knows. I don't know him well as the man he has become, but from the little I've seen, I continue to be impressed. Hey... after all, he started following this lame blog a few months ago, so I guess he can't be too bad!?

The Horrifying and Life-Affirming Sunday Evening...

It is the last evening of my summer. Such a weird time... most adults are done with the summer/school thing after college, but not teachers. The whole change is horrifying, and yet, life-affirming.

The weather is kindly cooperating... it has been cool and overcast for the last few days- thank you world for that.

I have no idea how I will get up tomorrow morning at 6am. I slept until 10am this morning. I had every intention in the world of going to bed early last night, but it was my last Saturday night of summer, and Halli really wanted to hang out... 1:30am was probably not a good bed time choice. Oops. Horrifying.

Still, like with the changing of the seasons, the annual ritual of "back to school" gives me a sense of movement in life- a sense of new opportunities and clean slates. Kids return and are alive with the change- excited to see friends and excited for the change, even if they aren't happy about being back in class.

One of the strangest things about my job is the fact that most of the people I work with NEVER age. They are always 14-18 years old. I think this gives me a false sense of being ageless myself. I know I act immature at times- I'm pretty sure I can blame the kids for immersing me in the teen hormonal pool that is high school... but it is a good thing. They help me remember what is really important- and that being silly is good- no matter how many gray hairs are peeking out.

So... I'll drag my old sorry *butt* out of bed tomorrow and jump back in... there is so much hope at school- so many moments of light bulbs turning on... so many opportunities to learn, to teach and to appreciate the horrifying yet life-affirming cycle that is "back to school"...

"It's the most wonderful time of the year..." (recall Staples commercial)

Aren't moms supposed to "know what's best"???

Yes, I know I've been gone for sometime...and I am sorry... I apologize to the 2-3 people who started bugging me about getting back to writing- I still struggle with the whole "if I plan to keep this thing going" question.

So motherhood has predominantly been on my mind lately. Not really the concept of it, or the how to's or the power of the position. Instead, I've just been cherishing my role as mom of the Gibson girls... and I've been learning. I'm continually impressed by the connection I feel to them. I see them as their own people... not little "Kelly robots" but I feel so fundamentally and emotionally connected to each. Yes, this might be obvious to many, but I've been feeling it all... noticing how much I miss them when I'm not with them; wondering what they think about ideas or people when I'm not there to ask; curious as to how they handle specific situations we haven't discussed... so much is left to that "general teaching" concept... we can't get them ready for every situation, but I have to admit it is weird when they actually use ideas we've given them.

One of these that keeps showing up is a lesson Rob and I learned years ago, specifically regarding each other. When the girls are having bad days- for whatever reason- we've talked about how much positive energy is created by simply taking time away from yourself and the bad day, and going out of your way to do something nice for someone else. Usually there is little to do to "fix" the bad day you are having- especially when you are a teenage girl... instead, we've suggested they use the day to help someone else. It is difficult to do, because we tend to be in a highly self-focused place when dark days descend... yet, it fundamentally changes the energy and focus of the day. The girls are continually amazed how well this works.

And still, this is just one lesson... there are so many questions I don't have answers to... so many problems they will encounter that we haven't figured out ourselves- I plan to have a front row seat to watch them and cheer them- help them when they ask, and love every minute of this bizzare job.

Winning? "Well that's just sad..."

It has been an interesting week. Kobie, in her first year of softball, was recruited to the all stars team. Cool. The coaches explained, "This is the NOT FUN part of league play"... they weren't kidding. The 10 year olds have had practice EVERYDAY for 2 weeks except weekends. The final practice WAS fun... parents against the team (I hear you laughing, but I held my own... played 1st base with no errors and at my only "at bat" I hit a single!). At the beginning of the game I hear the coach telling the girls, "Okay team... you need to play HARD... all stars is about winning- not just having fun, but winning!" There was a pause, then a confused voice echoed over the field stating, "well that's just SAD." Yep... that's my girl: Kobie. The coach said, "IT ISN'T SAD- IT IS LIFE! WE ARE GOING IN ORDER TO WIN!"

I've been struggling with this ever since. For those curious, the series is over and Kobie's team placed second. They were clobbered in the final game- literally left in pieces on the field. She cried, and my stomach hurt. Is life really about winning? Must we really think of these situations as a "them or us"? As parents in the stands, most of us were just excited when our kids hit a ball, or fielded a grounder... did it really matter if they won? It mattered to Kobie. She's been taught that winning isn't important as long as you try your best, are kind to others and try to have fun... and still, this loss mattered to her. She was the one to question the coach at the beginning of the madness... she knew we didn't expect a win "or else"... and yet she was embarrassed and disappointed in the loss.

I'm left wondering about our choices as parents and humans to focus on the win. Maybe it is more a part of our instinct than I choose to believe... maybe it is such an inherent part of our culture it is inescapable... maybe it is time to rethink a world where in order for someone to win, someone else must lose.

The art of presence... jellybeans?

My summers are so different from most the other adults in my world. I go from constant lesson planning, grading, directing, editing, etc. into a world where I am simply living in the moment. My kids can say, "hey mom, let's go to a movie" and I can! During the school year, even on weekends, I am almost always preoccupied by what I "should be" doing rather than what I am doing. I make sure to spend time with my family, but I am often concerned about the pile of grading sitting on the kitchen table.

I wonder how often we spend time doing important things like playing with our kids, or talking with our spouses or enjoying time with friends and yet not really be mentally present... it is a problem I know I have... and I'm guessing I'm not the only one. Buddhism seems to speak to this- the idea of being present- seems like an obvious and simple idea, but how often are we completely present? Even now... as I type this, my attention is being pulled left and right by a partial conversation with a daughter, jellybeans, the errands I have to run this afternoon, the company coming in tomorrow, the yard that desperately needs work... for goodness sake, I'm writing about the importance of having presence of mind, and I can't stay focused! Ironic. No. Maybe just sad.

Okay... next goal for this summer: presence of mind. Just do it.

Fathers' Threads

Father's day is tomorrow. I don't know about the rest of you, but I've had many "father" figures in my life, and as much of a Hallmark holiday as this event can be, it has me reflecting on the need for fathers.

My dad meant well, but wasn't around much for my childhood. I learned about hard work from him however. Still, we learn from people the things we are ready to learn when someone who can teach us is ready to teach. I learned how to accept people and all their quirks from my brother Michael. I always think of him on Father's day, and somehow feel he should be honored that day too. I learned from my Grandfather how to be silly- how to never let the inner child be put to rest by the serious adult- I can picture him at the age of 80, standing up in the back of my Suzuki Samuri, holding the roll bar and screaming at me to drive faster... I miss him. My Papa taught me what unconditional love looked like. So many men have given me parts of understanding, knowledge of the world and of myself. I guess this is my shout out to all of them... for better or worse, they've contributed to my journey.

We all do though, don't we? Whether the influence is positive or negative... whether we come away wishing to emulate a mentor or choose an opposite path, we've been effected. I don't think I remember that often enough. Each of us is part of the threads that make up the lives of others... kind of powerful.

So... thank you to: Dad, Grandpa, Papa, Michael, Uncle Greg, Mark, Robert, Chuck, Jim, Scott, David, Richie, Dan, Howard, Bill, Curley, John, Jeff, Gordon, Gary, Mike, Tom, Ken, Steven, Shaun, Derk, Joe, Josh... but most of all, thank you Rob... Happy Father's day... to everyone who is a father, or has taught what a father should teach...You've helped dragonflies learn to ride the breeze.

The Graduation Speech... 2010

I was simply unsure how to begin this speech. In the 3 years I’ve known this group of students, I’ve never quite found the words to describe them… or explain them… I figured I could talk about the inspiration I feel each time I hear Chrystian Johnson speak of the future, or the sheer impressive nature of Emily Kocsis’s art work and how it makes me believe in creative power. I could speak of James Fimbres’s unique academic excellence or the courageous friendship of Alex Updegraff and Simone Brech. I thought I might be able to get up here and tell you something incredibly practical like, “WEAR SUNSCREEN!” Or more poignant, like “treat others as you’d like to be treated.” Or “You must create your own happiness- don’t wait for someone else to give it to you.” Then I recalled all the good advice teachers have given you such as: use graphic organizers! Shut up and do the work! And of course, “abstinence is the best policy!” I threw these ideas out as somewhat cliché. I moved onto the idea I’d highlight your accomplishments- athletic record holders, AP literature testers, equestrian and carpentry medalists… but those folks have been honored in one way or another… I wanted this speech to be what you, the graduates, wanted it to be. When I asked you, I was told to tell the truth up here…you said this knowing I wouldn’t take you up on it… knowing that what happens in Sophomore English, stays in Sophomore English… so I decided to let the graduates help me write this… their last group assignment… and they did. Each of them was allowed to give me a word to add to the speech… each the opportunity to hear his or her word as part of the momentous day. And to let our audience in on our fun, I’d like the graduates to raise their hands when they hear their words. So listen carefully… we will get this speech done together.
So, I ain’t going to tell you a true story; it also won’t begin with a rough struggle, magical love, slothful debauchery or a Studebaker disaster. I won’t use onomatopoeia in the writing of it, or country music wafting through the background as I tell it. It won’t focus on just a few like Cole Watson, Tom Cermak, Marvin or even Dog the Bounty Hunter “ya kna wat I mean?” My story is about a rabble of Rogue River students- ridonculous in many ways… who moved beyond their cadywhompus, and bazinga behaviors into a supercalifragilisticexpialidocious level of existence. Their individual worlds had always been exceptional, but as a group of partying swamp buddies, they tended to be regarded as thugs.
They preferred a nine-year-old childhood where pretending to be a fox was a bodacious activity; Captain Crunch, Philly cheese and jellybeans were a more-than-reasonable breakfast to be masticated with delight, and wherein the lollipop flavors of Mike and Ike were a veritable cornucopia. They knew their habits were somewhat self-indulgent, and generally unhealthy, but the call of kumquats, sweet grapes and dictionaries went unheard.
Eventually they graduated, yelled “chyeah!” left their cuddlerainbowbluebrainbuddies behind, finally matured, became working citizens, educated students, hubbys, wifeys and eventually parents. They forgot games of Mermaids, Dragons and Unicorns and instead shopped for hammers, diapers and antiseptic while sipping on their chai teas. They laughed as they powdered babylegs and deciphered the babble of a 2 year old proclaiming, “nada near nada nada”… and one day they watched as their beautiful children became the teenagers they once were… they were proud of the hard won B- the son had earned in Spanish with his 81%, and they went to Ray’s Food Place to buy Frankenberries to celebrate. They remembered their own teen years and the solidarity that existed among their graduating class. They wondered when they’d stopped laughing at words like flibbertigibbet, mobbin’, charving and hillbilly. They grinned as they remembered torturing their sophomore English teacher during 7th period with a nice round of “hide the backpack from the guy in front of you.” And suddenly they realized they’d come full circle. As a group, they were difficult for their teachers to write speeches about, but as individuals they were amazingly terrific, and they’d found their place in the world.
No matter what, RRHS graduates of 2010, you all must know that your community, teachers, parents and friends believe in you because we are still here supporting you. Still here believing in you, and absolutely sure that you will each make lives we will all be proud of. So this speech will officially be the last assignment you do together. In writing it, I have found myself quite sentimental about your leaving… yes, believe it or not, you will be missed. Yes, you’ve made your mark on RRHS. Oh, and before I leave, there is one more word submitted I couldn’t figure how to fit in the speech… especially since it comes with movement… so…here goes…
Kamahameha!

Just because I am listening, doesn't mean I hear...

Life is busy. And messy. And emotional. But life is fundamentally good... I've been off of this blog the last 3 weeks for two main reasons: I am a high school English teacher, and it is the end of the year, and our computer died... not a normal computer death, but something that resembled computer plague... it was a quick, ugly and complete death. I'm typing this on our new laptop, and I'm trying to get used to the feel of it. I like the compact nature of it, but somehow I miss the substance of the machine that was.

Graduation was yesterday, and I always find it interesting that I am suddenly sad to lose the kids the moment their caps are thrown in the air. I never feel the sense of loss until it is in my face... too busy I guess. This group was entering the building as freshmen only about 5 minutes ago. Halli will be graduating day after tomorrow at this rate. This group asked me to be the speaker at their ceremony. Can I tell you how much I do not enjoy speaking to massive crowds? I struggled for weeks with what to say, and eventually forced each senior to give me a word to include in the speech. I wove 70+ words into the final product. What was interesting was how much I learned in the process. As a teacher, I'm used to hearing and seeing my words in their work. I know I am listened to because they want to pass their class. I was fundamentally amazed to see their reactions to my speech. They were really surprised to hear their words. They were almost tickled at the idea I'd not only listened to them, but that they were included. And suddenly I remembered how strange it was as a teen to have a conversation with any adult who seemed to value what I had to say. My mom was great at it- but almost all the other adults in my memory would smile at me and nod their heads at whatever I espoused with a blank look in their eyes. I wonder how important it is for us, as humans to be heard... to be valued in a way that our ideas and thoughts are valid enough to be really listened to? I started to ask myself how often I truly listen... to everyone... the 10 year old under my roof... the 90 year old at Thanksgiving dinner... how often do I free myself from my own ideas long enough to fully wrap my brain around someone else's ideas?

New goal... learn to listen... I thought I did, but I think I might just "look" like I listen- just because you are listening doesn't mean you hear. I guess it is time to make sure I am hearing.

Summer is almost here... I'm sure there will be many more posts to torture you all with...