I write mainly for myself, for my own amusement. Sometimes when I return to read something old, it sounds pretty good and then sometimes not so much. I don’t have any delusions of grandeur in my abilities. I just write words and thoughts that are mine.
I experimented with writing in the blog-o-sphere; at some point by transitioning to Squarespace. Trying to keep up with both Squarespace and WordPress proved to be a frustrating exercise in version control. That was way more busy-work than creativity. For a time, wrote only in Squarespace, where I also posted my watercolors and photography around my home.
However, as I downsize to just one (hopefully) consolidated webspace, I discovered some writing that I feel I’d like to preserve, not because they are earth-shattering thoughts, but because they were posts written during early COVID.
I’ve often thought that in order to figure out where I’m headed, once in a while it makes sense to think about where I’ve been. And that’s what’s below the line here. From 2020-2022, I occasionally wrote through my own lense of experience.
Nov 7, 2022: Thoughts on Election Eve
There is no denying that the stakes are high in the mid-term election. We’ve voted (thank you Massachusetts for Early and Mail-in options). Now we await the results of our country’s elections and anticipate with a great deal of anxiety and angst how the results will impact us all in the coming days and months.
Despite attempts by pundits and publications, I don’t believe there is a reliable predictability to the outcome of the midterm elections. Polling? I’m a Boomer and don’t answer phone calls from people I don’t have in my contact list. How are pollsters getting the samples on which they base their conclusions?
The bias in news reporting found on the web is well documented. I’ve stopped reading the click-bait style “reports” and have started to ignore even national news sources. It’s been increasingly difficult to locate reliable sources for topics for which I, a voter, need to find information.
The political atmosphere and deteriorating discourse currently rampant in the United States feels overwhelming. It used to be one could politely disagree with another. So we wonder: are things worse than ever in the United States? Is this country on such a divisive path that there can be no discussion, no compromise?
As a une femme d’un certaine âge, I wonder, is this just a perception that comes with, well, reaching a certain age. I wonder if I’ve turned into a grumpy old (wo)man incapable of change, or is this period of our history really among the most dispiriting? Having been a young adult during the 1960s and 1970s , I recognize what appear as seismic shifts in society. This feels different. And not in a good way.
So often in my life I’ve wished I could ask my parents and grandparents about some point in history that they experienced. We are fortunate that my Mother – born in 1923 and age 99 – is still with us. So this morning we asked her for a little historical perspective
Is life in the current times really deteriorated (politics, discourse, etc.) or is it we who have changed (senior citizens perspective)? You’ve lived through a lot of history – wondering about your take on these times?
Her reply came in two parts; this was the first
The short answer is yes. But certainly social media has become a way to express our thoughts and insult those with opposing beliefs with no consequences. Talk radio and talk TV also are culpable. Lying does not seem to matter any longer–It is probably true that politicians always lied, but it has become so blatant that there is no attempt to tell the truth. I am disheartened. I will vote and hope there are enough others like me who will put aside personal issues like inflation and save our democracy. Not optimistic though. And that makes me sad for Zoe and my grandchildren.
Later this morning she offered these
Remembering the McCarthy hearings in 1954 Many people especially in the arts were accused of being traitors to our country. It was a lawyer from Boston, Joseph Welch who called Joe Mccarthy out on his lies and misinformation. (Is it karma that we now have Kevin McCarthy who can lie without shame?) Remembering Watergate and when Sen. Howard Baker said about Nixon “What did he know and when did he know it?” He was a member of Nixon’s own party. That is what we need–people of integrity to face those with power. I think of only two today–Liz Cheney and Adam Kisinger–who are willing to do that. And willing to sacrifice their careers.
I will cast my vote tomorrow and hope things do not go too bad and integrity wins.
And that is what I hope will be the outcome of this midterm election. That by casting ballots, despite what could be some ugly challenges to voters, integrity will win.
Sep 15, 2022: Thoughts from an immigrant’s granddaughter
I’m thinking about and remembering my paternal grandfather today, not only because his birthday is coming soon, but also in light of the news last night.
The gentleman on the right is my Grandfather, Emanuel Puglisi, in 1907. When my Grandpa Manuel gave me this image he wrote the date, 1907 at the top and penciled in an X over the unknown gentleman on the left so I wouldn’t mistake who I was related to. That itself makes me smile; as if I would miss the family resemblance.
In 1903, my Grandfather arrived in the United States, having traveled from Sicily. He was, as one can imagine, part of the wave of immigrants from Europe and beyond arriving in the United States and processed at Ellis Island. He had $17 when he arrived. I’ve often wondered what prompted him to leave his family and home in Linguaglossa, Sicily; as younger generations oftentimes do, I didn’t get around to asking him to tell me about that. However, a quick reading of the history of Italy and Sicily during that timeframe show a country in economic and political upheaval. Like many who come to this country, he came for better opportunities, advantages that we, his progeny, have had plenty of.
I imagine that arriving in the United States was challenging. To my knowledge, my Grandpa Manuel was not yet literate in the English language. His outward appearance would be more ruddy, and he had different customs. He needed a job of course. I do know that around the time of this photograph, my Grandfather had relocated to Rosendale, NY to work on the New York City aquaducts, and that eventually, his adeptness with things mechanical, allowed him to become a chauffeur. He later turned his talent with automobiles into his own businesses in Buffalo, New York.
Students of history during the great waves of immigration know that not everyone was accepted or welcomed. Italians and Sicilians might be referred to derogatorially as WOPS (without papers) or garlic-eaters. Even my father, a first generation citizen of the US, was told his position at a mill in Buffalo could only be considered temporary as he was Italian. French Canadian, German, Irish; many other ethnicities were on the receiving end of similar treatment.
And this brings me to the news from Martha’s Vineyard. (The link is to a gifted article in the September 15, 2022 New York Times.)
My hometown of Lowell has been accepting of refugees and immigrants since its beginnings. Human nature being what it is, every influx renews the struggle to overcome prejudices, and those who have lived in this city much longer than I can speak to how that has gone historically. Studying history brings the realization that there are and have always been resentments and unfair treatment of those newly arrived. That doesn’t make it right, but does recognize the existence of resistance to changes and differences brought by new ethnicities. The year-round residents of Martha’s Vineyard are trying to make right a horrible joke and a publicity stunt embraced by the governor of another state. I cannot comprehend the kind of person who uses traumatized human beings as a prop in a “joke”?
Emma Lazarus’ inscription on the Statue of Liberty states
“Give me your tired, your poor,
Your huddled masses yearning to breathe free,
The wretched refuse of your teeming shore.
Send these, the homeless, tempest-tost to me,
I lift my lamp beside the golden door!”
— Emma Lazarus in The New Collossus
Had my Grandfather been attempting to escape political and economic turmoil in 2022 instead of 1903, would he have been able to do so? Or are these sentiments no longer part of our country’s moral fiber?
Sep. 12, 2022: Transitions
Transitions. I think for most of humanity those changes, whether they are subtle or unmistakeable, are difficult. We humans like predictability, we like the comfort of knowing.
As a parent, many of the transitional memories seared into my mind were times when our son was in school. There were others, of course, but those changes that came with sending my child to school – new beginnings, new grades, new schools, new independence – challenged me emotionally. They meant letting go. It meant trusting that whatever influences we had over our child’s development were enough to overcome life’s trials.
Enough what? Self-confidence. Self-assurance. Perseverance. Emotional control. Empathy. Humor. That list could be endless. As parents, and as teachers, we all want the best for our children and students. And we all worry that we haven’t done enough to ensure that the best is attainable; at least I did (and do). My memory of my son’s first drop off at his pre-K is of driving away in tears. That played out again and again throughout each year of letting go, even when we dropped him off at university.
I feel like this is the universality of parenthood. Nearly every parent I encountered in 30 years of teaching wanted their student to be and do better in school and to have a learning experience that was positive and inspiring. Those wishes crossed socio-economic boundaries, language and cultural divides, and were not exclusive to those who have the time and financial means. It is the undisputed emotion of parenthood: have I prepared my child enough.
Of course, the most prevalent transition in the Fall is about schooling. Whether a child is beginning in a new school setting, a new building, or a new experience as a college student, the Fall, and especially September is filled with the discomfort of transitions.
That uncomfortable dissonance can also apply to educators. I speak from experience and with some authority on that topic.
Parents (and grandparents) cannot help but remember some of the tougher challenges that can happen in school: falling out with a friend, teasing, feeling left out, difficulty learning. While we wish we could protect our child, the best we can hope for is that we’ve prepared them to respond positively. It’s that letting go and trusting transition that is the toughest, isn’t it?
Today, though, I’m thinking of the transitions our granddaughter – and her parents – are making. It is the first day of K1 (preschool) in Boston and our precious little one will be setting off on her own education journey. The educator in me recognizes that there will be challenges ahead, but her parents have prepared her well – she’s funny, she’s independent, and curious. My deepest wish for her is that those qualities always stay with her. And that she does not find too many twists and bends in the road to learning.
Transitions are hard and messy and unavoidable. It is the human condition of growing; especially in September.
Aug 03, 2022: Suddenly It’s August
Suddenly, or so it seems, the month of August has arrived. The crickets have become audible, bees are more pesky, and lawns are a crusty, crackling brown.
When I was active as a teacher, August was a bittersweet month. The end of summer break was coming fast, meaning every week there would be an attempt to squeeze in as much activity as possible before the responsibilities of the classroom began to overwhelm and overtake any thoughts of “free” time. August, for me was a month filled with anxiety and apprehension as well as anticipation. I know that I was not alone.
Planning for the needs of a new group of students, even when there are some known clues as to needs, is an art. Often it turns out that what was anticipated doesn’t pan out. This can be a good thing. Or a not-so-good thing. It continued to surprise me throughout my career, even though experience should have been more informative. Kids are, after all, humans, and their connections to a teacher’s personality and style can be unpredictable.
I am thinking of these August days as I wonder about our granddaughter’s upcoming month, a month when so much will change for her. She will be making her own connections to school – her teacher, her peers – and learning new things. As one who loved going to school (mostly), my deepest wish for our granddaughter is that school is a positive experience for her as well – that she flourishes in wonder and learns to love learning. She, and every child, deserves that.
So now, even though away from active teaching, I find August is once again that amalgam of anxiety and anticipation once again.
August has arrived!
Jul 20, 2022: Lessons in Baking
I am a baker. Bread making has been an activity I have done throughout most of my adult life; maybe it is in my blood as two of my great grandfathers were professional bakers.
I started making sweet doughs when I was still in high school. Back then, yeast came in small envelopes and the sweet dough that I would mix was one requiring overnight refrigeration. Now I buy yeast in bulk and, depending on the type of bread I’m working on, the finished product is out of the oven and on a cooling rack in about three hours, sometimes longer.
As a young married woman, my mother-in-law gifted me a bread mixing bucket, a tool she would use each week to bake her own bread for the family. Each Saturday, I would clamp the bucket onto a kitchen chair, add the flour, sugar, salt, yeast and water, and turn out 4 loves of bread. My go-to recipe came from Edward Espe Brown’s Tassajara Bread Book and consumed an entire day. But oh, when the loaves were finally out of the oven – usually around dinner time – the aroma was intoxicating. Usually we found some excuse to eat a significant portion of one of the warm loaves.
Our lives, however, got busy. Being an educator meant I had less time to spend pursuing baking; however, I did occasionally bake from scratch, and at one point used an electric bread maker. Once in a while I’d get myself together enough to start Jim Lahey’s No Knead Bread Recipe. Mainly our lives were hectic, and we bought bread.
Flash forward to 2020 when COVID made in-person food shopping difficult and supplies of items chaotic. Isolation forced me to rethink how and what we were buying for groceries. Sometimes we could buy store bread; sometimes, we could not. I thought that if I could find flour and other basic elements, I could bake bread. I wasn’t alone in that idea, however. So many people were perfecting sourdough bread recipes that even flour was in short supply.
But a return to bread-baking is what I was able to do, and I continue to bake bread several times each week even now. The bread style, the type of bread may change slightly, but the basic ingredients – yeast, sugar, salt, butter and flour – are always constant. As is the time and patience needed.
Feeling dough beneath my palms is gratifying, and I have realized, often through experience, that there are no shortcuts when it comes to bread-making. The dough must be kneaded until it tells you it is the right elasticity. The dough needs to rise, twice, allowing yeast to do its magic. Shortchanging the time required for a decent rise only makes for a less-than-stellar loaf. The dough has to bake fully, reaching a good internal temperature, something I gauge by thumping the bottom of the loaf.
All the steps take the time they need; they cannot be hurried.
The lessons of breadmaking are also reflected in our precautions in avoiding COVID. We’ve had to exercise patience and caution while we waited, first for our own vaccinations, and then for vaccine protection to be offered to our young granddaughter. To me, there is an undeniable connection between the patience I’ve been practicing with bread-making and the slow and deliberate release of COVID precautions.
Likely there are those around me who may find this slow, cautious, approach strange and even off-putting. But the lesson of bread making has, over time, taught me that nothing is gained by rushing.
Jun 20, 2022: In Remembrance of Fathers’ Day: Dad Lessons
Yesterday, being Fathers’ Day, there were lots of social media posts about Dads. Those of us who are and were fortunate in having great Dads in our lives show a little extra appreciation when Fathers’ Day comes around. I’m no different in this sentiment; just a day late.
My Dad has been gone from us for 18 years now, and there isn’t a day that goes by that I don’t remember some influence or impact that he had on my life. I remember how easily he could repair just about anything. I’m sure that oftentimes I exasperated him. I know that my propensity toward fender-benders was not always looked upon fondly.
Remembering my Dad is bittersweet, especially on a day like Fathers’ Day. I arrived in the world when he was already 33 years old which had to have disordered his orderly world. At the time, he owned a boat and had a shiny car. He also owned a television set which was unusual for those times. My arrival meant giving up on the boat and owning a practical family car. For years the rope ladder from his boat hung in our garage, a reminder of what his pre-kid days must have been like. As far as shiny new cars, my sisters and I were prone to motion sickness, so he quickly became disabused of any fanciful thoughts of a spiffy (or immaculate) automobile.
With four of us, the need for careful budgeting and money management was strong. I can still picture my Dad at the dining room table every Sunday night writing checks for household expenses. His checkbook, unlike mine, was precisely added to – and subtracted from – so that when the bank statement arrived it could be quickly balanced. Sadly, I never had the patience for checkbook precision and that lesson never was passed on to me.
Two of the most repeated lessons, or admonishments, my Dad issued were directed toward the four of us. Obviously. I imagine other kids may have had experience with the first lesson which was always addressed in question form:
“Do you think I own the electric company?”
Like lots of kids, the rhetorical nature of this question went unappreciated. Frankly I had no interest in how electricity got into the house as long as the television worked. As a corollary, some members of our family (i.e. me), somehow conflated flipping a light switch ON or OFF with a penny surcharge from said Electric Company. As a kid, this transaction never made sense to me. Did the electric company only charge a penny to turn the switch ON? Or was there a penny charged for ON and another penny for OFF? Because in that case, leaving the switch ON meant money was being saved. You see my logic here, right?
As kid consumers, we were regularly cautioned that
“money doesn’t grow on trees.”
Now I can say that throughout my adult life, I developed a strong work ethic. Perhaps the unavailability of money trees was the reason for that. However, one recent afternoon as I was browsing in our local garden center for some greenery, I discovered that money does indeed grown on trees, or at least on the achira aquatica or Money Tree plant. Price notwithstanding, I knew I needed to have that plant. Sorry Dad. Couldn’t resist that one.
It is funny what we remember of our Dads’ life lessons. I really admired and respected my Dad and wish he were still with us to share life’s little and big adventures. He would have enjoyed watching his grandchildren become adults and some of them become great dads too.
So Happy Fathers’ Day Dad. Thanks for putting up with me.
——-
May 15, 2022: Sunday
The news from Buffalo was a gut punch. I have a special connection to Buffalo. I was born there as were both of my parents.
The head aches from trying to comprehend such mass shootings. So much of our culture seems hell-bent on fomenting hatred that violence and hate is allowed to permeate every single aspect of daily life. It’s not just the outrageous and hateful spew. There just seems to be no limit, no bottom to hate-speech, intolerance, or making an excuse for violent and racially motivated hateful behavior.
But while the deep sadness and grief that follows an abhorrent shooting such as the one that has occurred in Buffalo, that is not the only thought on my mind on this Sunday evening. I was reminded by the beautiful Nelba Márquez-Greene today that educators in Buffalo New York need and deserve our prayers.
Sunday evenings, as every educator knows, are spent preparing for the week ahead. What can educators in Buffalo, New York, be preparing for after Saturday’s murderous act? How will they be able to put aside their own feelings and grief to help those students who need answers and comfort?
In education, there are times that challenge a teacher’s personal strength or ability to help children make sense of their world. I was fortunate that the times I needed to explain the inexplicable for my students were few: Newtown, Challenger, 911, the death of a schoolmate due to illness, two who tragically died accidentally. Those moments, however, are burned in my mind. Oftentimes I still replay in my head what I could have done or said differently, how I might have been more supportive.
I can only begin to image how teachers across Buffalo must feel tonight. Tomorrow, they will be called upon to respond to their students’ needs and questions about a senseless act that defies explanation. May they find the strength and courage they need to support their students.
May 04, 2022: SCOTUS
Even though not a giant surprise, yesterday’s leak from SCOTUS was depressing…. really depressing for this boomer. Now, nearly 50 years after the Roe v. Wade, a decision purported to be “settled law” by at least one Supreme Court justice-to-be during confirmation hearings, it seems that the right of an individual to make reproductive choices might not be so settled after all.
As an undergraduate in 1973 when Roe v. Wade was decided, I do remember what the “before times” were like. Even at my small state college in New Hampshire there were whispers of young women, who for very personal reasons, sought an abortion. Frequently, such a decision could have horrific ramifications. With the news of SCOTUS’s potential reversal of Roe v. Wade, women from my generation chillingly have been sharing their stories. As painful and difficult as those stories are, reliving them is unfortunately necessary so that those who did not live through those nightmarish times can get a sense of what may be lost here.
I believe every woman should have the right to make reproductive health, or any other personal health impacted decision, in private and in consultation with her health-care provider. I don’t believe that intolerant politicians’ or judges’ personal philosophies have any business in such personal decisions. While I may want to believe an abortion would not have been my personal choice, that is only conjecture on my part. I was never tested by becoming pregnant as a result of rape or incest. I’ve never had to make a choice about continuing a pregnancy when there was a life-or-death circumstance like an ectopic or fallopian tube pregnancy. How would I, or you, or anyone really, know how they would respond?
In my opinion, whether or not one agrees with the idea of abortion is really not the point. The substance of this discussion should be focused on a woman’s ability to make a very personal decision about her own reproductive health, about access to safe reproductive health services with a health care provider, and consultation without fear of stigmatization or any government interference.
Whatever SCOTUS ultimately determines, we, as a society, cannot allow the ability to choose to be taken from any woman. It should never matter whether a woman is wealthy or poor, and access to reproductive health should never be determined along racial lines.
The right to decide one’s reproductive health is both a moral and physical determination that belongs with the individual. That was decided upon nearly 50 years ago.
Mar 16, 2022: Fired for an “Inappropriate” Book?
I’m retired from teaching now, but that doesn’t mean I’ve checked out entirely. Yes, I know teaching has changed a lot since I left my day job, but there are some things going on in education that this old-timer sees as sheer nonsense.
Case in point is this article from the New York Times: An Educator Read ‘I Need A New Butt. Then He Was Fired’ (March 11, 2022). Read it and tell me you aren’t shaking your head in disbelief.
Apparently Dawn McMillan’s book I Need a New Butt was just too risque for a Zoom read-aloud in a second grade classroom by Assistant Principal Toby Price. Why? Because the story, written for 6- to 10-year-olds, referenced farting, butt sizes, and shapes. These things apparently violate the standards of conduct section of the Mississippi Educator Code of Ethics so the Superintendent of Hinds County Schools in Mississippi first put Mr. Price on administrative leave and then terminated him.
Having been a second grade teacher for half of my 30-year teaching career, I really am struggling to relate to a school superintendent who does not know butts and farting – most bodily functions really – are of prime interest to second graders. And, as a teacher, if reading a silly and nonsensical story that appeals to the humor of 7- or 8-year-old kids hooks them into reading, I would read I Need A New Butt to my students too. Sorry not sorry.
One of my students’ favorite read aloud stories was David Shannon’s No David, a Caldecott Honor Book and ALA Notable Children’s Book. In this relatable story, the main character runs down the street sans pants (Come back here David!) and at one point picks his nose (Stop that this instant!). What happened after we read that story together? After hearing about David’s antics, even my most reluctant readers would jockey for No David or others written by David Shannon. Enticing children to reading and becoming interested in literacy – isn’t that actually the point?
It certainly seems that there has been a disconnect between the District leaders in Hinds County, MS and the children in the school system. Hopefully this kind of insane second-guessing of books “appropriate” for read-alouds isn’t all that wide-spread.
Those silly, hilarious moments are, to me, what helps students connect to learning. Learning is often challenging, but there is no reason it cannot be fun. As Mr. Price, who is a parent as well as an educator says:
“We have a lot of reluctant readers,” he said. “I am a firm believer that reluctant readers need the silly, funny books to hook them in.”
Exactly.
——-
Dec. 10, 2021: Decking the Halls With Memories
This year, dubbed COVID Christmas II, we put up a Christmas tree as an act of hope that in the coming year we will be better able to pick up the pieces of our pre-pandemic life and begin again to find a renewed, but perhaps more cautious, sense of “normal”.
I enjoy the beauty of Christmas lights on greens, and as it does for many, decorating the tree brings on memories of past Christmases. I am among the fortunate for whom those memories are pleasant and plentiful.
I thought this year about my Dad, who seemed to be at the center of tree-decorating when I was a child. My family’s tree, always a real one, was a short-needled beauty, sometimes oddly shaped, but that was of no concern. We could always face the mis-shaped side to the wall where no one would notice.
Dad’s first task was always stringing lights on the tree. As with most state-of-the-art tree lights in the 50s and 60s, this could be a very long process. First, the lights had to be removed from their storage box which was usually the original box the lights came in when purchased. Next the string was unwound which was not a problem in our house as my Dad made an art form of winding and unwinding cords. Finally the string was laid out on the floor and plugged into an outlet. If the string lit successfully, my Dad could start winding it carefully over the tree branches using the metal clips that were part of each light’s socket. However, sometimes the whole string wouldn’t light. Oh series circuitry, I miss your challenge. Thus would begin the hunt for the bulb culprit as it only took one burned out or loose bulb to render the whole string dark.
In our house, the bulbs were always multi-colored. Providing that all the strings would light, after the lights had been installed on the tree, came the artistic portion of holiday tree trimming: moving the bulbs around the string so that no two adjacent bulbs were the same color. This of course required consultation between the two adults in the family, leaving the under-aged and highly excited children to impatiently await permission to finally start hanging ornaments (smaller sizes at the top progressing to larger ornaments at the bottom). Sometimes those same children/I would become bored with this artistic process and give up to seek out another activity.
Eventually the collection of ornaments, mostly glass and a few imperfect, but treasured child-created (did anyone else make a glittery metal (sharp/dangerous) “ornament” from the top of a frozen OJ can?), ornaments made it onto the tree. The finishing touch was to hang tinsel, those silvery non-environmentally friendly strips of metal-coated material. (Read the history of tinsel here).
There were rules for that. Each strand had to be hung just so. No throwing of clumps, mostly hanging down (a 1:3 ratio was best), placed on the edge of the branches. Much to Dad’s dismay, mostly what we did was throw a clump here and there which caused him to have to rehang each strand according to the rules for accepted application. With four of us, there was always at least one non-compliant tinsel applicator.
This year as I trimmed our tree with white, LED mini lights and no tinsel, those childhood memories were close to the surface. For me, this holiday season has always been about the precious memories formed by my past. With gratitude for all gifts of memories – and for parallel circuitry – I’ve been given throughout the years, I am humbled. Though we may celebrate different special days and in different ways, I wish you a most joyous holiday season.
Nov. 18, 2021: A Walking Meditation
At some point in the middle of Pandemic Year 1 with our Fitness Room closed and feeling a need to get out of our house, I started taking walks each day. At first, I hoped walking would lead to a physically healthier me and it did. But as I walked farther and farther each morning, something more was apparent. I became aware that walking had not only become a way to be more physically active, it was a necessity for my state of mind.
In walking, I’ve come to appreciate the natural world I live in. And yes, I live in a City. My expectations for discovering the beauty of the natural world in an urban environment were, I am embarrassed to say, low. I’ve discovered the ignorance of that assumption because within this City there is much to be observed and discovered. Every day, I’ve always found something surprising.
While I enjoy walking with friends, I also enjoy walking in solitude. I appreciate time to think about what is going on around me, to sort out what is or is not really important, and to press PAUSE on the continual pants-on-fire world we have inhabited over the last several years.
Walking in the quiet of trees rustling on a warm summer morning, listening for the crash of the river over the rapids after the rains stop, or the crunching of a snowpack in January – there is a peaceful quality to walking in any season.
It is in those quiet moments that I can find peace. Walking is my meditation.
——-
Sep 10, 2021: 20 Years Minus 1 Day
Today is September 10, 2021. It is 19 years and 364 days since nearly 3,000 people died in a series of coordinated attacks on the United States.
I reserve tomorrow, the actual 20-year marking of this anniversary, for reflection and remembrance. But today, September 10, 2021, is a sparkling September reminder of the day that overwhelms many of us with sadness.
The photograph above was taken this morning as I walked by the University of Massachusetts Lowell memorial to alumni whose lives were cut short by the events of September 11, 2001. It is a naturally somber and quiet place that overlooks the rapids on the Merrimack River near the Northern Canal. There, engraved in granite, are the names of some UML alumni, some of whom were studying on campus at the same time as I.
On September 10, 2001, those whose names are etched in granite may have been anticipating a trip for leisure or business early the next morning. Maybe they were at the office tying up loose ends, preparing for meetings, or even on their farmland. They would be anticipating the next day and beyond; looking toward the future.
Today I also remember September 11, 2001. It was a beautiful bright September day with a sky so blue it hurt my eyes to look at it. I was excited to be teaching in a second grade classroom again after having been a more itinerant specialist for the previous five years. As a new staff member at my school, I was just getting to know my grade level colleagues.
On this September morning, I was administering a reading assessment to individual students in the hallway while a colleague worked with the rest of my class on reading. Twenty years later, I am still able to bring up the sounds of the nearby classrooms working. The calm and quiet hum of routines were the last I remember before 8:45 am.
When my partner teacher stepped out into the hallway and whispered into my ear what had just occurred, I didn’t believe him. I didn’t believe him 17 minutes later when the second plane hurtled into the South Tower either. But by the end of the school day, it was clear: what seemed outrageous and impossible was indeed fact. We were instructed to keep our emotions under wraps and not share the events with our young students so that their parents could speak to them and comfort them. I don’t remember how we got through the rest of the school day, but I can recall the deep feeling of sadness.
When I retired in 2014, we traveled to New York City on another beautiful September day. We made certain to stop at the 9/11 Memorial which was, at that time, not fully completed. What was striking was the absolute, reverent and profound silence as people milled around the Memorial.
Today, September 10, 2021 marks 19 years and 364 days since those attacks. Tomorrow there will be many events and ceremonies marking this anniversary. I, too, will take a more than a moment to think of what happened on that day, but most of all to think of the 3,000 lives lost on that day, and the many impacted by those losses; the unfulfilled legacies and ordinary lives of extraordinary humans lost forever.
——-
Jun 20, 2021: Desktops
A person’s desk top can reveal a lot. Is it compulsively organized, hopelessly chaotic or something in between?
Recently Adrien and I helped my Mom move to one floor of her condo by moving nearly everything she uses to the main floor. And that included moving a desk set that was my Dad’s. Even though my Dad passed away in 2004, my Mom kept his desk upstairs in their condominium where he had worked since they moved from their Amherst home.
The desk itself was, and is, a testament to my Dad’s engineering. The top of the desk had been an unfinished door which Dad sanded, stained and refinished to a semi-gloss. He also added a strip of quarter round to the back of the door to keep things from falling behind. Before moving the desktop, I hadn’t noticed that before, but to me, it explained my Dad in a nutshell: practical AND ingenious. The desk was supported by a bookshelf – which I suspect was also finished by my Dad as the stain matched the desktop – and a 2-drawer file. Once we removed the desktop we noticed a two-inch wide strip of old tape on the top of the file cabinet and the bookcase. Thinking it was a defect we almost removed it until we realized the tape was purposely put there to stop the desktop from sliding. Practical and ingenius.
For the last 17 years (and a bit longer as toward the end of his time on Earth things were difficult for Dad) my Mom has sat at that desk doing bills and paperwork – the normal stuff of keeping a household going financially. Although it has been Mom’s job to keep track of the finances, some of my Dad’s desk items have stayed right there on that desktop.
The blotter on the desk was my Dad’s. So when we removed it from the desktop to carry it to its new home, I was surprised and delighted to find my Dad’s penmanship on a single page of a bank statement. Written in his familiar hand was “I give up”. That made me laugh out loud.
I immediately pictured my Dad sitting at the dining room table – his pre-desk desk space – every Sunday night writing checks to pay bills and balancing his checkpoint. He always chased down every single discrepancy – and I’m guessing there weren’t many as his math skills were stellar. That was a trait that he could not convince his eldest daughter to adopt. I (probably to his horror) just concede those pennies to the bank. Somehow the image of my Dad writing “I give up” on his bank statement after spending what I can imagine was an inordinate amount of time trying to get his balance to match the bank struck me as comical.
On Father’s Day 2021, I am missing my Dad as I always do. But I am treasuring who he was and how he influenced all of us. And I am grateful to have had his practical and ingenius nature in my life.
Apr 29, 2021: Math Matters
Has this happened to you? Someone you work with brings a cake to the break room for sharing with work colleagues. Little by little, piece by piece, the cake disappears until only one piece is left. Of course, no one wants to be that person, the one who takes the last piece of cake, so that one remaining piece is subdivided over and over until a pathetic small sliver is left. The cake never is fully consumed, there’s always just bit left.
This is an example of what I’ve come to understand is exponential decay.
If you’ve never heard of exponential decay or its counterpart, exponential growth, you are not alone. However, it is these two terms that describe two very important ideas that have been in play throughout our last year dealing with the Coronavirus, and it is the phenomenon that will continue to impact all of us as we move toward regaining our life BC – Before Covid-19.
This morning’s New York Times carried a guest-authored Opinion piece written by University of Maryland, Baltimore County associate profession Dr. Zoe McLaren. Dr. McLaren explains how the concept of exponential growth can be used to explain the steep rise in COVID cases that impacted us a year ago. And she uses the countering concept of exponential decay to explain why – as COVID caseloads decline, things never really quite get to zero. We can continue to expect improvements in infection rates, especially as safety measures relax and vaccinations increase as long as the movement toward “normal” does not lift too many safety precautions too quickly. However, the road to herd immunity and to resuming our life as it was in the before times will probably not be a straight and steady one, and that is to be expected.
Having an understanding of the statistical risks that may be important for a return to normalcy is one way for me, and maybe for you, to comprehend the enormity of our efforts as we return to “normal”. From time to time, it may feel as if progress is stalling when what really is in play is exponential decay.
To read Dr. McLaren’s article, link to The Math That Explains the End of the Pandemic here.
Jan 21, 2021: The Gates Have Opened and Change Is In The Air
Yesterday was a giant cathartic and emotional day for me as it must have been for many others. Watching the change of our country’s leadership, a transition that was fraught with previously unimagined chaos, filled my heart with many emotions.
One of the most surprising to me was the release I felt as a woman watching another woman, a woman of Black and South Asian descent, finally, FINALLY become Vice President of the United States.
For a woman who is approaching the eighth decade, it has been a long wait. One of my first adult work experiences was as an Administrative Assistant, a job title that, at the dawn of women attempting to break traditional career barriers in the late 1970s, was meant to be “more than” a secretary. Unfortunately, the title did not translate into much more than office help-mate. I still was required to get coffee, run errands and often referred to as my girl, as in “I’ll have my girl set up that meeting for next week.”
So when Kamala Harris was sworn in as Vice President yesterday, I expected it to mark a big, historic moment. What I did not expect was that after so many years of disappointment that in some very important quarters, women were not equal – and in many important ways still are not treated equally to men – I would be watching Kamala Harris’ swearing in through tears.
The importance the 2021 Presidential Inaugural ceremonies also brought to mind one of my fondest, most vivid and important memories of a nearly 30-year teaching career. After posting this on FaceBook yesterday, I’ve decided to include that memory here.
I’m thinking of the group of third grade students that were in my classroom back in 2008-2009. When President Obama was inaugurated my third graders and I turned on the classroom TV before the swearing in. As the new President took the Oath of Office, without any prompting, the whole class stood – every single one – raised their hands along with President Obama and repeated his part right along with him.
I will never forget how that spontaneity signalled what the first African American President meant to these multicultural and multi-lingusitic 8- and 9-year olds.
If ever there was a teachable moment, that moment when the children became the teacher was one.
There is a relation between the two: for my third grade students, seeing themselves reflected in Barack Obama when he became the 44th President of the United States is analogous to my witnessing Kamala Harris break that glass ceiling to become the 49th Vice President.
I know in my heart that there is much work to be done in order to make this country and our society a better one. The days ahead will be difficult. There will be resistance, but forging ahead is what we must do for our future generations. It is this work that must be undertaken. It is John Lewis’ “good trouble”; it is Lincoln’s listening to our better angels, it is the brilliant Amanda Gorman’s Hill We Climb.
Even if it takes 243 minutes, 243 hours, 243 weeks, or 243 years. The gates have opened and change is in the air.
Jan 28, 2021: A Day “After”
I found a Tweet this morning that is really burning in my mind. The Tweet posted originally by @JustinAion is this:
A first year teacher asked me a question today. It shook me deeply.
I will ask you.
In your teaching career, how many times have you had a “day after”?
I admit that even as a retired teacher it shook me too. And so I started to think on that and, if I’m honest, cry a little.
There are days after that are both personal and local: the death of a former student, the death of a family member. There are the days when I’ve had a professional day after. The days after I lost it with a student and needed to apologize and start regaining their trust. There are those days after a local tragedy, like a devastating and life-stealing fire.
And there are the days after a national crisis.
Oh, those day-afters are among the most difficult.
Unfortunately, in my teaching time, there were many of those: the Challenger explosion, Oklahoma City, Columbine, 9-11, Newtowne.
I don’t believe that handling myself and addressing a “day after” was ever something I was comfortable with. And that, thank goodness, is how it should be. “Days after” should be an abnormality. Days after are mind-numbing and faith-stealing.
As a classroom community, it was important to find a safe space, free from judgement, to express questions and fears. That of course, takes time: time to build student/teacher norms and trust. I will always have a deep appreciation for Morning Meetings and was always grateful to have had the support from Administrators who recognized the value of Responsive Classroom.
Answering big questions from young children can be difficult and challenging. It takes courage to answer children’s questions, to calmly counter rumors and misconceptions with objectivity and facts. It also takes courage to admit when you yourself don’t understand what is transpiring or has happened. I have heard and read postings from several parents who, in this period of tele-education, express wonder and gratitude at the calm and gentle way educators are opening discussions and allaying fears about an event that they, too, are questioning.
There will undoubtedly and unfortunately always be “days after” for all of us. There is no remedy for how to get through – just lead with mindfulness and a caring heart.
It is what educators have always done.
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Oct 4, 2020: Closing a Year-Long Project
Back on September 29, 2019, I had an idea for photographing my view from a window wherever I was physically located each morning when I woke.
At the time, I envisioned our excursions into the world as we knew it then. Short trips to New England towns, a stay a cabin in the woods, a trip overseas. A year of documenting seemed like a fun way to pass a year.
For most of the Fall and early Winter months of 2019, we were both busy with work-related responsibilities, so our trips became a trip to Boothbay at the end of leaf-peeping.
And then, 2020 happened.
Our last trip away from our condo in Lowell, MA turned out to be an overnight to a concert held at the Museum of Fine Arts at the beginning of March. We took the train into the City, had a wonderful time going to the Museum, stayed at the edge of the South End and returned the next day. It was the in-between time when the virus was just getting started in this country – or so we have been lead to believe.
We haven’t had a leisure trip since.
The visions of travel and waking up in different locations in the world – the way I envisioned this little project – is not the reality of 2020. Certainly we don’t feel as if a trip is in our immediate or long-range future. It is entirely possible that our return to a sense of normalcy will be altered in ways I cannot begin to imagine when we finally feel as if travel outside of our bubble is safe.
This all seems very strange.
I did keep on with my project though, even with the change in scope. As I cull through the 365 photos I did take every morning, mostly through the two giant banks of windows in our renovated mill building, the photographs will document changes over time throughout the seasons of 2019-2020. I believe the subtle changes and uniqueness of this year of years will be evident even though the vantage point does not change.
Jul 11, 2020: Back-to-School? You Go First
To me, reopening schools and deciding on the best course of action to do so is a matter of trust.
I’ve been out of my classrooms for 5 years now and my granddaughter is not old enough that her parents need to make a decision about this Fall over the next weeks. So I admittedly do not have any skin in this fight, but I do know limburger cheese when I smell it. And the insistence by some in leadership positions that school buildings reopen for the Fall academic year is pretty ripe.
The New York Times editorial staff posted a piece today (“Reopening Schools Will Be a Huge Undertaking”) outlining many reasons why children need to be back in schools: socialization, food insecurity, social emotional health, and academics. I don’t think there is an educator that I know who would disagree that the overnight switch from face-to-face learning to distance learning has been “less than”. The sudden shutdown of school buildings and the resulting switch to distance learning will have impact on students – and educators – for many years.
The plans for returning to school buildings in the Fall that I have been reading and the advisories coming from the Department of Elementary and Secondary Education (DESE) appear to me to be just trying to accommodate a face-to-face return to school buildings happen without any significant guarantees of funding. We’ve all experienced the impact that those advisories can have. Theoretical plans and mandates coming from state and federal Departments of Education often come without any consideration of the realities in terms of costs.
Here’s an example from our very own Massachusetts Department of Elementary and Secondary Education (DESE). In the past weeks, DESE published guidance on classroom configuration which has been thoroughly analyzed by Blogger and Worcester School Committee Member Tracy Novick. I have to ask this: Was this entire document some undergraduate education major’s project? There are so many things wrong with this DESE “guidance”: 3 feet distance chair to chair in place of CDC recommended 6 feet; teacher in the front, removing all other classroom furniture but the student and teacher desks and chairs.
Loading 24 to 30+ students into building spaces where air quality has been an issue will also make safely reopening school buildings difficult if not impossible. For many school districts, including Lowell, carving out the suggested additional space needed to accommodate social distancing and student/faculty safety will be a very big factor. Where will the space be found and how will it be paid for? Nearly every nook and cranny in Lowell’s school buildings (K-8) is being used as learning space already. There is no more space available to socially-distance the nearly 15,000 students in Lowell Public Schools, no new school buildings, and even if there were, there is no money to pay for more space.
While the Times editorial suggests decision-makers think “outside the box” and consider instructional spaces created under tents in outdoor settings, that idea will only go so far if the virus lingers through the colder, winter months, as one might expect it will. However, more importantly, funding necessary for all of these out-of-the-box ideas will still need to materialize and the very same Federal government insisting that schools reopen buildings in the Fall is seemingly unwilling to back that up. At this writing, the Heroes Act, an act that might just provide some desperately needed monetary help is languishing in the US Senate.
Schools in Massachusetts have long been underfunded, and that is particularly true in the Gateway cities like Lowell. At the time the Student Opportunity Act was signed and passed last November, Lowell Public Schools was operating with $50 Million less as the Commonwealth has not kept the promise of funding public schools for more than 25 years. Schools systems like Lowell have cut and cut and cut until there really is no more to cut. If the Commonwealth cannot adequately fund schools under “normal” circumstances, what makes anyone trust that the extraordinary measures needed to keep students and faculty safe for a building reopening in Fall 2020 will end well?
From where I observe, this really does all boil down to trust, which has historically been tested and unearned. Locally, educators and parents see plans being made that put student and staff lives in danger. State and federal leaders are insisting that school buildings reopen as usual and yet there appears to be an unwillingness to dedicate adequate and appropriate funding and resources to do so safely. And that feels a lot like business as usual in the field of education.
In other words:
Many teachers, and parents, are wary of reopening schools. They fear policymakers will cut corners and safety measures will prove inadequate. These fears have been reinforced by the president and by Vice President Mike Pence, both of whom have publicly encouraged corner-cutting. Such a strategy is willfully shortsighted. It might succeed in reopening schools for a time, but it is not likely to allow schools to remain open.
As my grandfather used to tell me, “you reap what you sow.” That certainly seems applicable now – because of the history of underfunding schools and the history of unfunded mandates, parents and educators do not trust that buildings can reopen safely. They are pushing back on this idea and rightly so. Corner cutting will yield deadly results.
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Jun 22, 2020: Let’s Get Real About Affordable Higher Education
Fifty years ago, in September 1970, I matriculated to Plymouth State College, now Plymouth State University, and began studying to become a teacher. I don’t recall the particulars now, but I do recall that some time later I added up all the tuition, fees, and room and board costs of my four years at Plymouth which was approximately a rip-roaring $10,000. Included in those fees were things like performance and music lessons (I was a piano “major” in a Music Education track) and course overload fees.
For the 2019-2020 academic year, an in-state undergraduate year of study at Plymouth State costs $25,790 – $11,870 in tuition, $2,570 in fees, and estimated $11,350, depending upon housing and dining choices, in room and board. The tutition portion of my first year at Plymouth was $600 each semester. I understand inflation has occurred over the 50 years, but I am truly gobsmacked by the 989 percent increase students and their families pay for an equivalent year of education. And, to be clear, Plymouth is not being singled out here except that it is a comparison I feel I can make because of my experience. Take a look at your own institute of higher education; I’m willing to bet there have been similar increases.
We hear a lot about diversifying the teaching force in our public schools, and rightly so. It is my strong belief that, on top of education being one of the most maligned career choices today, students experiencing the effect of an over-$100,000 investment in undergraduate school as an education major, see loans and repayment of same as a showstopper on a public educator’s salary. The financial pile-on continues when one considers costs of required licensure and testing (MTEL), as well as the requirement for a graduate degree in education by the fifth year of employment.
Here’s what I think. In order to increase the diversification of teaching and education force, there needs to be a real effort to make higher education affordable. In order to make a career in education a choice for BIPOC and language-diverse candidates, I believe the credentials – the degree, the license, the post-graduate requirements – have to be attainable financially without causing a lifetime of choking debt.
Once this country gets serious about creating an affordable pathway through higher education, a career in education will become a viable option, and the efforts to foster a teaching population reflective of the diversity in our society will begin in earnest.
Jun 01, 2020: Footing the Bill for Reopening Schools
Once, long ago, I had a student in my third grade classroom with severe allergies triggered by contact. The reaction to coming in contact with an allergen or with someone who had touched the allergen was severe and could result in anaphylaxis. All of the staff members who worked with this student were trained to spot triggers and how to administer an epi pen.
As is usual in such a circumstance, the student had a 504 plan. One of the protections for the student was that I, as teacher, would ensure all students cleaned their hands upon returning to our classroom – which was kept as a safe place – so as not to inadvertently bring the allergen into the classroom space. For this purpose, the 504 plan specified using hand sanitizers as students re-entered the classroom space.
These were the requirements for enabling this student to be educated, and I was responsible for implementing these safety accommodations. That is, of course, is a civil right and is outlined in the 504 guidelines which you can read here. What was not part of the plan was the provision of the hand sanitizer, which, as you might imagine with multiple cleanings and 25 students, was depleted every week.
The catch was that, as the District did not supply the hand sanitizer, I became personally responsible for purchasing it in order to ensure the 504’s provisions were being implemented properly. So what does this little anecdote from the past have to do with planning for re-opening schools in the Fall?
I’d say a lot.
School districts have not had adequate funds to operate for years. Unless something prevents them for doing so, the current Legislature will use this year’s predicted revenue shortfalls to delay increased funding of the Student Opportunity Act which was a step in correcting those shortfalls. And now we hear local predictions that state funding will be even less than the previous year.
And yet, in order to re-open schools, health experts are stipulating that schools reopen in the fall with requirements such as additional sanitizing procedures in place (more personnel, more equipment, more supplies), fewer students in already over-crowded spaces (more personnel? split schedules? more costs), hot water for hand washing (higher expenses), more soap, more bus transportation, and temperature monitoring, There will need to be modifications to just about every aspect of a school’s logistics including school facilities that have long needed attention when budgets became impossible.
And just who will supply the personnel, equipment, and supplies to keep students – and staff – safe in the classrooms? If you look at past practice as described previously, you can see the writing on the wall.
I don’t believe anyone who is advocating that schools re-open sooner rather than later has a clue about the impact of preparing for school reopenings. Just considering the funding aspect of implementing safe reopening protocols, if we cannot keep everyone safe in a building, if government entities are unwilling to pony-up the funds to ensure everyone’s safety, brick-and-mortar buildings should not reopen. That’s my opinion, plain and simple.
Not reopening our schools will have enormous impact on our students. I don’t know any educators who think remote or distant learning is the best environment for learning. My fear though is that, like my experience in providing for the intervention mandated by that 504, quite a lot of the needed supplies for new cleaning protocols will come from an educator’s personal funds.
Unless school funding matches the need to keep everyone – students and staff – safe, there should be no brick-and-mortar reopening of schools. There may be no other choice than to continue the less-than-optimal environment of remote/distance learning.
After An Educator's Journey 