And no, I don't mean the dance....I'm referring to being caught between two different places--or in this case, two different seasons. It's late February/early March in Illinois--which means anything can happen weather-wise. And it's now that I find myself most affected by the weather. I don't want to face another cold, rainy day. I desperately want to see the crocuses bravely poking their heads above the ground. Okay, some might call this foolhardy--but I admire anything brightly colored that dares to defy the drab skies and drowned, icy ground. If only we humans were so daring.
I recall that Flannery O'Connor once called a character "stuck in neutral." How many of us are just sleepwalking through life--not noticing those crocuses, pushing down our emotions into frozen, barren ground.... It's easy just to be in stasis--like those Shakespeare characters in his comedies who only truly live when they are pushed into potentially risky relationships. By the end, they are dancing with the one they love--and with the entire community.
I need to learn to dance thus--and rediscover the spring of my spirit that has mainly been frozen during the grey skies of winter. Let the thaw begin!
Sunday, February 27, 2011
Wednesday, July 14, 2010
Different Worlds
They found out who had beaten one of our students to death in June. Christian would have been a senior this year. I don't remember him that well, but he seemed quiet enough. Evidently, he became entangled in Latino gangs. Fellow students--15 and 17 years old--were arrested, so the news reported this morning.
Of course, the news can't report the pain left for this young man's family members and friends. Nor can it completely explain why teenagers (sometimes pre-teens) join gangs in the first place. I tend to agree with the theory that gangs usually act as a surrogate family, helping young people feel wanted. I think the same sad impulse is behind many teen pregnancies.
Auburn High School, where Christian attended, is made up of diverse groups not often found in inner city schools. Because we have both the gifted and fine arts academies here, we have not only highly motivated and talented students, but also ones that come from in-tact, financially secure families. Almost 1 in 5 of our students receive special education services of some type, however, and almost 70% of our students are on free/reduced lunch.
I grew up poor and took honors/AP classes; some of our financially disadvantaged students perform brilliantly in their classes. However, there are some of our students who have difficulty overcoming barriers--some imposed externally, some internally.
I am pleased that we have this kind of intermingling at our school of students who often come from such different socioeconomic/cultural worlds. It's important to learn about and from each other--and sometimes, all it takes is an encounter in a hallway, lunchroom or class to change a life. On a more practical level, we Americans need to learn to deal with all types of people--and going to school together in a non-cloistered atmosphere certainly prepares us better for the "real world" beyond high school.
Of course, the news can't report the pain left for this young man's family members and friends. Nor can it completely explain why teenagers (sometimes pre-teens) join gangs in the first place. I tend to agree with the theory that gangs usually act as a surrogate family, helping young people feel wanted. I think the same sad impulse is behind many teen pregnancies.
Auburn High School, where Christian attended, is made up of diverse groups not often found in inner city schools. Because we have both the gifted and fine arts academies here, we have not only highly motivated and talented students, but also ones that come from in-tact, financially secure families. Almost 1 in 5 of our students receive special education services of some type, however, and almost 70% of our students are on free/reduced lunch.
I grew up poor and took honors/AP classes; some of our financially disadvantaged students perform brilliantly in their classes. However, there are some of our students who have difficulty overcoming barriers--some imposed externally, some internally.
I am pleased that we have this kind of intermingling at our school of students who often come from such different socioeconomic/cultural worlds. It's important to learn about and from each other--and sometimes, all it takes is an encounter in a hallway, lunchroom or class to change a life. On a more practical level, we Americans need to learn to deal with all types of people--and going to school together in a non-cloistered atmosphere certainly prepares us better for the "real world" beyond high school.
Tuesday, June 29, 2010
Risks and Addictions
I once had a friend who allowed smoking to rule almost every aspect of her life. When she was pregnant, I saw her smoking. She was hired at a job, but on the condition that she couldn't take smoking breaks. The very first day she was fired when she left her desk to smoke out in front of the building. My husband and I struggled through a bad snow storm so that we could deliver Christmas packages to her house. She promised she'd be home all afternoon--but when we called several times (during the era of mainly land lines), we got no answer. Later, she told us she'd run out of cigarettes and had gone out to get more.
She's an extreme example of someone addicted to something that greatly affected her very being. Some ONE can also do this to a person--think of the astronaut who left her children behind to drive hours away to confront her perceived romantic rival.
But some of us are on the other end of the spectrum....we are so low risk, so lacking in the "addiction" gene that sometimes we go through life, as Flannery O'Connor put it, on "neutral." We don't get into a lot of trouble--but then we don't do much of anything at all. We're afraid to try or of making mistakes. We often eat the same foods over and over again. If we travel, it's often to places we've visited before. Even if we pick up the pen to write, we often don't have enough commitment to see a piece to the end.
Somehow it would almost seem ideal if high risk could combine with low risk to create an individual who took calculated, logical risks. Who finished what she/she started, even if it meant making some mistakes. Who walked into a party where she/he didn't know anyone.
Once in a while I've been able to be a risk-taker--when I went to Japan for two years, for example. This experience paid off richly. However, I did try out some perilous roller coasters and I fear them just as much now as I ever did--only I refuse to board them any more. I find I take fewer risks as the years pass--middle age, complacency, fear? Or perhaps I enjoy some stability in a life that didn't always offer a steady path.
She's an extreme example of someone addicted to something that greatly affected her very being. Some ONE can also do this to a person--think of the astronaut who left her children behind to drive hours away to confront her perceived romantic rival.
But some of us are on the other end of the spectrum....we are so low risk, so lacking in the "addiction" gene that sometimes we go through life, as Flannery O'Connor put it, on "neutral." We don't get into a lot of trouble--but then we don't do much of anything at all. We're afraid to try or of making mistakes. We often eat the same foods over and over again. If we travel, it's often to places we've visited before. Even if we pick up the pen to write, we often don't have enough commitment to see a piece to the end.
Somehow it would almost seem ideal if high risk could combine with low risk to create an individual who took calculated, logical risks. Who finished what she/she started, even if it meant making some mistakes. Who walked into a party where she/he didn't know anyone.
Once in a while I've been able to be a risk-taker--when I went to Japan for two years, for example. This experience paid off richly. However, I did try out some perilous roller coasters and I fear them just as much now as I ever did--only I refuse to board them any more. I find I take fewer risks as the years pass--middle age, complacency, fear? Or perhaps I enjoy some stability in a life that didn't always offer a steady path.
Friday, April 9, 2010
Springing into Change
Spring brings changes....the days (thankfully) grow longer and eventually warmer. Of course, in Illinois it can be swimsuit weather one day and snow boots weather the next. My husband put up the birdhouse on a sturdier pole and a sparrow family moved right in. I've joked that since the birdhouse is made of barn wood, the sparrows have the aviary equivalent of the Taj Mahal. And of course, it's a joy seeing the earth reawaken again, with tulips, daffodils and crocuses breaking out into the world, if for only a brief time. Even the prairie smoke plant has survived the winter and will soon be blowing in the wind, reminiscent of its name.
But some changes are more difficult. At work, many colleagues received "RIF" (reduction in force) notices. I hope I see them next year, but there's no guarantee they'll be back at my school or the district at all. The superintendent cited "change" as the major reason for this upheaval. The inner city children of our school don't really need this kind of change--many have had enough adults walk out of their lives already.
Staying home during spring break was a good change, although at times I felt less than ambitious and at other times even rather lonely. But I've had my feathered and furry friends to keep me company. Cats are especially notorious for disliking change, although they enjoy having me back home. What they won't like is my return to school. I can't say I'm fond of returning this year, either. I love our students, but I've had personnel issues all year.... And there's the RIF situation....and there's the receptionist desk where Carol used to sit and never will again.
But some changes are more difficult. At work, many colleagues received "RIF" (reduction in force) notices. I hope I see them next year, but there's no guarantee they'll be back at my school or the district at all. The superintendent cited "change" as the major reason for this upheaval. The inner city children of our school don't really need this kind of change--many have had enough adults walk out of their lives already.
Staying home during spring break was a good change, although at times I felt less than ambitious and at other times even rather lonely. But I've had my feathered and furry friends to keep me company. Cats are especially notorious for disliking change, although they enjoy having me back home. What they won't like is my return to school. I can't say I'm fond of returning this year, either. I love our students, but I've had personnel issues all year.... And there's the RIF situation....and there's the receptionist desk where Carol used to sit and never will again.
Sunday, October 4, 2009
Baseball and Life
It’s autumn, with the days growing cooler and the leaves beginning to expire spectacularly. That means the baseball season begins to draw to a close. Some say sports isn’t very important….but they never had a mentally ill parent who truly thought the seasons involved which shape the ball was….
My father and I sometimes had few things to talk about….or there was the elephant in the room that made it hard to discuss anything personal. But we could agree on baseball and discuss the greats, both past and present. Being a Chicago sports fan probably didn’t help my father’s mental state very much. However, there was Super Bowl XX, where the Bears finally triumphed, and Michael Jordan’s Bulls who dominated basketball for several years.
And then there was the magical year of 2005. My father used to talk about going to White Sox games as a teenager, even walking through the west side to get to the train station. People were friendly, he noted, and waved—even though he was the only Caucasian to be seen for blocks. After decades of waiting and hoping, the White Sox finally came through for my Dad, thankfully just a couple of years before he passed away. I played “Go Go White Sox” for him over the phone as we gloated over the Sox victory.
This year, the White Sox finished a disappointing third, although they did force the Tigers into a playoff with the Twins to determine the division title. I don’t think of Dad every time the Sox play, but this time of year, I do. His birthday would have been September 25, near the end of the baseball season. I usually sent sports-themed gifts for his birthday. If there is a heaven, I’m sure he’s made a point of finding every old-time White Sox player he ever watched at Comiskey back when the west side was safe for walking and before the time when he watched sports on TV because there was little else he was able to manage.
My father and I sometimes had few things to talk about….or there was the elephant in the room that made it hard to discuss anything personal. But we could agree on baseball and discuss the greats, both past and present. Being a Chicago sports fan probably didn’t help my father’s mental state very much. However, there was Super Bowl XX, where the Bears finally triumphed, and Michael Jordan’s Bulls who dominated basketball for several years.
And then there was the magical year of 2005. My father used to talk about going to White Sox games as a teenager, even walking through the west side to get to the train station. People were friendly, he noted, and waved—even though he was the only Caucasian to be seen for blocks. After decades of waiting and hoping, the White Sox finally came through for my Dad, thankfully just a couple of years before he passed away. I played “Go Go White Sox” for him over the phone as we gloated over the Sox victory.
This year, the White Sox finished a disappointing third, although they did force the Tigers into a playoff with the Twins to determine the division title. I don’t think of Dad every time the Sox play, but this time of year, I do. His birthday would have been September 25, near the end of the baseball season. I usually sent sports-themed gifts for his birthday. If there is a heaven, I’m sure he’s made a point of finding every old-time White Sox player he ever watched at Comiskey back when the west side was safe for walking and before the time when he watched sports on TV because there was little else he was able to manage.
Sunday, September 13, 2009
Finding Time & Focus
I realize that Jane Austen was single and her family had servants, but I’m still amazed how she was able to work around her social engagements, child-tending (of nieces/nephews), yet still produce several novels—all before the age of fifty. It’s said she wrote down snippets when she had a few spare moments.
As I approach fifty, I only wish I had Miss Austen's dedication to the writing craft. Admittedly, I work a full-time job, but I have no children. I’ve never had persistence in writing; lately, I’ve had little focus for any extended intellectual activity—movies or books. I’ve been able to exercise regularly, up to an hour at a time. But the only reading I’ve accomplished recently involve magazines and newspapers—and not The New Yorker, either…..mostly women’s, animal and self-improvement periodicals.
Right now, I’m listening to music videos as I pen this blog entry. Rarely do I even listen to an entire CD any more. Perhaps I feel the burnout of my last Master’s degree, even though I finished this a couple of years ago. Maybe it’s the “change before the change.”
After decades of dedication to thought, perhaps I’m just ready to pay more attention to the physical. Moving certainly chases away dark or anxious thoughts better than thinking….at least in my experience.
As I approach fifty, I only wish I had Miss Austen's dedication to the writing craft. Admittedly, I work a full-time job, but I have no children. I’ve never had persistence in writing; lately, I’ve had little focus for any extended intellectual activity—movies or books. I’ve been able to exercise regularly, up to an hour at a time. But the only reading I’ve accomplished recently involve magazines and newspapers—and not The New Yorker, either…..mostly women’s, animal and self-improvement periodicals.
Right now, I’m listening to music videos as I pen this blog entry. Rarely do I even listen to an entire CD any more. Perhaps I feel the burnout of my last Master’s degree, even though I finished this a couple of years ago. Maybe it’s the “change before the change.”
After decades of dedication to thought, perhaps I’m just ready to pay more attention to the physical. Moving certainly chases away dark or anxious thoughts better than thinking….at least in my experience.
Friday, August 21, 2009
Music as Lifesaver
It’s true that music can be a distraction—playing heavy metal while trying to finish one’s homework….blasting hard rock in the car and barely spotting the ambulance coming up on the left. However, more often, I’ve found music was my salvation.
Growing up in a family with mental illness, we were often isolated. Almost never did we have guests, except for Grandmother’s occasional visits from Illinois. Now and then we played with neighborhood children, but usually we limited our activities to the outdoors (in this pre-video games era). Music provided another and somehow broader world for me.
My father would take me to a pawnshop a few miles up the road, and the kindly owner approved my choices—usually classical music. My prized record was Vaughn Williams’ Fantasia on a Theme by Thomas Tallis. I’d originally bought the record because of the lush landscape cover photo. However, the hauntingly beautiful melody brought me to tears many times—and I was a person needed a good cry, whether I always realized it or not.
I also loved top 40 and listed to Casey Kasem’s countdown every week. The first summer we moved to Florida, I remember hearing “The Air that I Breathe,” and “Seasons in the Sun” constantly. My sister and I used to buy records for each other’s birthdays that we really liked and of course, they usually ended up with the buyer, not the recipient. I’d read to all types of music—dance—exercise--day dream—and of course, try to cope with life as well as I could.
I still pull out my LPs, CDs, and tapes (almost ready for the MP3 player one of these days) when I need to relieve myself of stress. Music is the best remedy for life’s aches that I know.
Growing up in a family with mental illness, we were often isolated. Almost never did we have guests, except for Grandmother’s occasional visits from Illinois. Now and then we played with neighborhood children, but usually we limited our activities to the outdoors (in this pre-video games era). Music provided another and somehow broader world for me.
My father would take me to a pawnshop a few miles up the road, and the kindly owner approved my choices—usually classical music. My prized record was Vaughn Williams’ Fantasia on a Theme by Thomas Tallis. I’d originally bought the record because of the lush landscape cover photo. However, the hauntingly beautiful melody brought me to tears many times—and I was a person needed a good cry, whether I always realized it or not.
I also loved top 40 and listed to Casey Kasem’s countdown every week. The first summer we moved to Florida, I remember hearing “The Air that I Breathe,” and “Seasons in the Sun” constantly. My sister and I used to buy records for each other’s birthdays that we really liked and of course, they usually ended up with the buyer, not the recipient. I’d read to all types of music—dance—exercise--day dream—and of course, try to cope with life as well as I could.
I still pull out my LPs, CDs, and tapes (almost ready for the MP3 player one of these days) when I need to relieve myself of stress. Music is the best remedy for life’s aches that I know.
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