Stars In My Eyes-Part I
It’s so cold in this classroom today that you could hang meat in here but still I’m thrilled to be in this room. It’s quiet, the sun is shining in my window, and best of all there are no deadlines this week. I’m hoping that, for a couple of weeks at least, I will not have stress that approaches code orange levels. You know that your anxiety level is a bit high when you have trouble remembering your name, you forget where your keys, glasses, shoes, and children are, and you have to keep reminding yourself to breathe. But I’ve successfully given my first STAR trainings, so I can calm down for a few weeks.
I’ve already described the STAR reading program and how great it’s been for my students, and I’ve written about learning to be a trainer this year, beginning with my trip to San Antonio. It was at San Antonio that I realized just how much work would be involved in becoming a certified STAR trainer or certifiably crazy whichever came first. Certification includes things like writing essays, completing multiple forms, submitting invoices and video footage of our trainings (by return- receipt-insured-overnight-express-carrier pidgeon) along with DNA samples and our first born. Steve keeps hoping that they’ll ask for the family dog as well.
The one wonderful aspect about the trainings is my assigned partner, Merilee. Merilee has done educational trainings for the Department of Education for years but was still as nervous as I was about the STAR classes. The reason? The incredible amount of information that we had to learn and the length of the sessions. Each training class is from nine to five, two days in a row--no time off for good behavior. But aside from our nerves we’re a great pair. Both of us believe that humor is a good thing, both of us enjoy teaching and both of us are organized beyond belief and into lunacy. If one of us forgets something the other remembers it. We were each other’s safety net---I knew she would be there to catch me if I fell flat on my backside and visa versa.
We also recognized each other as kindred spirits which came in handy during our training days. Remember that old movie, They Shoot Horses Don’t They? about the inhuman dance marathons during the Great Depression? There were times when it felt exactly like that. After six straight hours I would be stumbling over my tongue but one look at Merilee would calm me down.
After San Antonio we had divided our training days and began studying the OED sized STAR manual. I also spent what seemed like days in Staples trying to organize myself and my presentation. I knew that I didn’t have to memorize anything, but I didn’t want to be constantly reading either. That’s the surest way to put anyone to sleep. So I roamed the aisles, trying out various things in my head: Would index cards work? And if so, what size? Small? Big? Humongous? White ones? Colored ones? Neon? Should I put them in an adorable baby blue loose leaf folder, or just use clips? Would magenta highlighters stand out more than chartreuse? And what about file folders? There were just too many choices and none of them ensured that I wouldn’t drop everything on the floor or stutter like a fool.
I reined in my manic imagination and settled on large, colored index cards and some file folders. And stickie pads. And stickie tabs. And stickie stickies. And of course, highlighters in every color imaginable. I took my loot home and prepared to become a veritable fount of organization. However in the end I took my trainer’s advice and used the original pages, putting each set of notes and handouts in its own file folder, sadly relinquishing up my blue loose leaf binder.
I was so proud of my finished product that I spent an hour admiring the way it all went together--until I realized that I had to actually learn all of the stuff that was resting so serenely in those folders. After a nice glass of wine, I divided it all into segments and sat myself down on my couch, with my blankie, Snoopy and a cup of coffee and began muttering to myself. That scene was repeated for many hours over the next few weeks.
One afternoon I got screwed my courage to the sticking post and attempted the Powerpoint segment of our presentation. Steve gave me a quick lesson and soon I was happily clicking and drawing on slides with my pretend computer marker. Thank God one of us would be presenting while the other worked the Powerpoint so I wouldn’t have to walk and chew gum at the same time.
It was time for the final stage—talking to myself in the mirror with Snoopy listening and giving me feedback. There I stood, talking and gesturing and discovering how much more I had to practice to sound even slightly competent. Funny how it all sounds so good in your head but then emerges as babbling once it leaves your mouth.
A few weeks later when I thought I wouldn’t completely embarrass myself, I made a date with Merilee to put it all together. When we were finished we felt a bit more confident—until we hit the polling debacle…….
Thursday, January 27, 2011
Wednesday, January 5, 2011
Vacation Idyll
Vacation Idyll
There’s an old cliché that claims, “A change is as good as a rest.” Last week I discovered that a better adage for me would be, “My kids are as good as a rest.” I had the week between Christmas and New Year’s off and I needed it. The fading winter light tends to affect my general disposition (there are certain people who might even call me permanently winter-cranky!) but this year I felt the worst I had in years. The last day of school I was on the verge of tears unable to even zip my own coat--a co-worker had to help me. I felt like a toddler in pre-school who just wanted to get home to mommy.
Just knowing that you have a vacation coming up shortens your fuse. Any other day you might be able to deal with life’s distractions, but seeing the finish line up ahead, the vacation-light at the end of the work-tunnel, rips through your usual defenses. It was with great relief that I got on that train home.
Mariel had already been back from Arizona for a week, but I hadn’t been able to enjoy her while working everyday. But now I had a whole week to relax with my youngest and Lisa was coming home for a few days too so life was good. Problem was, Lisa was feeling as stressed as I was since she was finishing final papers at the end of her semester, so scheduling and exhaustion nearly sabotaged all our plans.
We were trying desperately to cram everything in--us, friends, some work and errands and it wasn’t working very well. To top it off, December 27th was Lisa’s birthday so that engendered some finagling as well. She had originally told us that she wouldn’t be with us on her birthday so Mariel and I had planned crammed days accordingly. But then Lisa e-mailed us to change dates and I’m afraid Mariel and I over-reacted just a bit. I so self righteously called Lisa to tell her a thing or two about responsibility (Don’t we moms do that so well?!) and that camel’s straw caused her to burst into tears. Isn’t that every mother’s dream to make their kid cry? I felt like something you would find under a rock.
After much sniffling and abject apologies we assured each other that we would work it all out and spent a few hours rearranging and rescheduling our ridiculously busy lives. And then Sunday it began to snow. And snow. And snow. We hunkered down and figured we would see what Monday would bring. And it brought more snow. I confess I don’t think that I was ever so happy to see the white stuff. I got up in the morning, looked out my window and smiled a great big smile. My dream of locking my family up so that we would all have to stay home together had actually come true.
I came into the kitchen whistling and Steve and Lisa burst out laughing.
“Gee I guess you’re kind of happy about this blizzard,” Steve said.
I couldn’t deny it. “Yes I guess I am!”
I had to laugh. As usual we had all made and remade our so very important plans while nature did whatever she desired. She must have been laughing her sides off at our mortal angst.
The next two days were declared pajama days. We were lucky that we had power, plenty of food, no giant waves were lapping at our house, and we had us. We napped, ate, played games (Bananagrams became a favorite and we invented our own manic version of Taboo) read, and relaxed our crazy lives. Snoopy was in ecstasy. For the first time in months we were all together, ready to scratch his ears and rub his belly at any time. He was snuggled, hugged and generally made much of. And me? I was in heaven. No trip to a Caribbean island could compare to this.
Steve and the girls ventured out to shovel the walk and had their first snowball fight in years. Getting snow outfits together for Lisa and Mariel was an adventure. I actually still had their old boots sitting in the garage and we unearthed hats and gloves. After an hour getting dressed they spent about fifteen minutes clocking each other with snowballs, then they trooped back in to throw their wet clothes in the dryer and make cocoa. The song, “Seems Like Old Times” kept drifting through my head as I happily mopped the wet floor.
Eventually the roads were plowed and our driveway cleaned forcing us to stick our noses out of the door. To be honest we were all getting a bit restless. After two indoor days cabin fever set in. But I still had a week off and my girls were still in town. Lisa and I visited the Fuller Craft Museum in Brockton and ate sinfully delicious omelets at Amber Road in Canton Center. Mariel and I ended up at IKEA searching for a milk-frother and at the mall cashing in Godiva gift certificates. We visited with mom and ate and slept and most of all we laughed.
And now it’s Monday morning and I’m back at work. Lisa’s gone home and Mariel leaves for Arizona tomorrow. My idyll has ended. But for a while it sure seemed like old times.
There’s an old cliché that claims, “A change is as good as a rest.” Last week I discovered that a better adage for me would be, “My kids are as good as a rest.” I had the week between Christmas and New Year’s off and I needed it. The fading winter light tends to affect my general disposition (there are certain people who might even call me permanently winter-cranky!) but this year I felt the worst I had in years. The last day of school I was on the verge of tears unable to even zip my own coat--a co-worker had to help me. I felt like a toddler in pre-school who just wanted to get home to mommy.
Just knowing that you have a vacation coming up shortens your fuse. Any other day you might be able to deal with life’s distractions, but seeing the finish line up ahead, the vacation-light at the end of the work-tunnel, rips through your usual defenses. It was with great relief that I got on that train home.
Mariel had already been back from Arizona for a week, but I hadn’t been able to enjoy her while working everyday. But now I had a whole week to relax with my youngest and Lisa was coming home for a few days too so life was good. Problem was, Lisa was feeling as stressed as I was since she was finishing final papers at the end of her semester, so scheduling and exhaustion nearly sabotaged all our plans.
We were trying desperately to cram everything in--us, friends, some work and errands and it wasn’t working very well. To top it off, December 27th was Lisa’s birthday so that engendered some finagling as well. She had originally told us that she wouldn’t be with us on her birthday so Mariel and I had planned crammed days accordingly. But then Lisa e-mailed us to change dates and I’m afraid Mariel and I over-reacted just a bit. I so self righteously called Lisa to tell her a thing or two about responsibility (Don’t we moms do that so well?!) and that camel’s straw caused her to burst into tears. Isn’t that every mother’s dream to make their kid cry? I felt like something you would find under a rock.
After much sniffling and abject apologies we assured each other that we would work it all out and spent a few hours rearranging and rescheduling our ridiculously busy lives. And then Sunday it began to snow. And snow. And snow. We hunkered down and figured we would see what Monday would bring. And it brought more snow. I confess I don’t think that I was ever so happy to see the white stuff. I got up in the morning, looked out my window and smiled a great big smile. My dream of locking my family up so that we would all have to stay home together had actually come true.
I came into the kitchen whistling and Steve and Lisa burst out laughing.
“Gee I guess you’re kind of happy about this blizzard,” Steve said.
I couldn’t deny it. “Yes I guess I am!”
I had to laugh. As usual we had all made and remade our so very important plans while nature did whatever she desired. She must have been laughing her sides off at our mortal angst.
The next two days were declared pajama days. We were lucky that we had power, plenty of food, no giant waves were lapping at our house, and we had us. We napped, ate, played games (Bananagrams became a favorite and we invented our own manic version of Taboo) read, and relaxed our crazy lives. Snoopy was in ecstasy. For the first time in months we were all together, ready to scratch his ears and rub his belly at any time. He was snuggled, hugged and generally made much of. And me? I was in heaven. No trip to a Caribbean island could compare to this.
Steve and the girls ventured out to shovel the walk and had their first snowball fight in years. Getting snow outfits together for Lisa and Mariel was an adventure. I actually still had their old boots sitting in the garage and we unearthed hats and gloves. After an hour getting dressed they spent about fifteen minutes clocking each other with snowballs, then they trooped back in to throw their wet clothes in the dryer and make cocoa. The song, “Seems Like Old Times” kept drifting through my head as I happily mopped the wet floor.
Eventually the roads were plowed and our driveway cleaned forcing us to stick our noses out of the door. To be honest we were all getting a bit restless. After two indoor days cabin fever set in. But I still had a week off and my girls were still in town. Lisa and I visited the Fuller Craft Museum in Brockton and ate sinfully delicious omelets at Amber Road in Canton Center. Mariel and I ended up at IKEA searching for a milk-frother and at the mall cashing in Godiva gift certificates. We visited with mom and ate and slept and most of all we laughed.
And now it’s Monday morning and I’m back at work. Lisa’s gone home and Mariel leaves for Arizona tomorrow. My idyll has ended. But for a while it sure seemed like old times.
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