Definitions (SOLSC--Day 2)

A student asked me today how we know when we love someone.  Her question was not in connection with a romantic relationship she was trying to navigate, but instead stemmed from her feelings for her parents.  "I care about them," she said, "And I would never wish anything bad to happen to them, but I am just not sure that's what love is."

And in that moment, I am reminded again about why I am a teacher.  It isn't really to teach English or to share a love of books or even to inspire excellent writing.  She wanted to ask questions and have it be okay that the answers weren't complete because we are always moving closer to the truth but never quite reaching it.  I am a teacher because that young lady needed a space to speak those words and she needed me to care about them and really consider my response.  She wanted to open her heart a bit wider than she usually does and know I could be trusted with what was inside.

And that's what I told her I think love is.

Discover, Drive and Living the Dream

In January I chose "discover" as my OLW (One Little Word) for the year and over the last six months I have constantly had the word on my mind.  I anticipated a year filled with physical discoveries -- new places to visit or new activities to engage in -- but the reality has been discovery of a different sort.  I have found myself discovering an emotional strength I didn't know I had.  I have discovered that some of the qualities I thought were my weaknesses are actually the ones that make me most effective, and in turn, the qualities I thought were my best, might actually be the ones that lead me to my struggles. I think the most important discovery I have made is that I am not the only one. ever.  In any way.  No matter what challenges I face, there are others in the world facing the same ones.  And there are others who have survived these challenges and emerged better because of them.  No matter what success I may have, there are others who have had it, too.  So, I'm not so special.  Or at least, no more or less special than anyone else.  That has been a humbling, comforting discovery for me.

As I have sought to understand myself and my place in the world better, I have been doing some reading. One book I am currently about halfway through is Daniel Pink's Drive: The Surprising Truth About What Motivates Us.  I have always claimed that teaching is my calling and I have often wondered why it brings me such a deep sense of satisfaction.  I know part of this comes from the relationships with students and seeing them grow and learn, but now I believe part of the joy I get from teaching comes from the autonomy and opportunity to pursue mastery that teaching affords.  Pink says, "Greatness and nearsightedness are incompatible. Meaningful achievement depends on lifting one's sights and pushing toward the horizon." Teaching gives me the chance every day to do that, to push toward the horizon. 


A number of my former students are making this discovery for themselves and beginning to pursue careers which will allow them the autonomy, mastery and purpose that Pink describes as essential for our motivation. I think what they are doing is so wonderful that I had to share.  I have two young ladies I would like to highlight today.



MoDa Specialty Cakes 

The first is Vickie Ramirez who has co-founded MoDa Specialty Cakes with her mother, Lorna.  Vickie recently graduated with her Masters of Business degree from Azusa Pacific University and she and her mother run the bakery out of their home. This  is a very special family and I know the kind of love these women have in their hearts and you can see it in the work that they do. You can check out the MoDa Specialty Cakes Facebook page to see even more pictures of their delicious work.


Marissa K. Fine Art Photography 

 

 Another talented young woman I would like to tell you about is Marissa Andronicos who runs her own photography business, Marissa K. Fine Art Photography.  Marissa is a student at Point Loma Nazarene University, but her business has really grown out of a passion only recently discovered.  The work Marissa does is absolutely stunning.  She has experience with weddings, engagement shoots, senior pictures and family portraits.  I love seeing how she experiments with a variety of locations, props, and poses.  No two shoots look the same because Marissa challenges herself to grow as a photographer with each shoot she completes. One of my favorites was her Huck Finn-inspired shoot.  Marissa is a very smart, gifted young lady.  You can check out her portfolio and follow her blog to see more of her fantastic work.

I hope I can feature more of my former students in the future as they begin discovering what drives them and as the dreams they have for themselves are revealed and then realized.  Thanks to Vickie and Marissa for being willing to share their work!

As the year goes on, I cannot imagine that "discover" will not be a part of my experiences.  I am eager to see how that one little word guides me, impacts me and colors my vision of myself, and the life I live in this wonderful world.

Anybody else seeing their OLW make a difference in their lives?

PS: Is that little jellybean in the pics above not the sweetest??  She is such a doll!

Give Melanie a Voice

As a teacher, one of the most wonderful experiences in seeing your students discover their passions and thrive in them.  My student Melanie is a tremendous person -- she is a thinker, a reader, a writer, and what she loves most, a debater!  We have been maintaining class blogs this year and I was so happy to see Melanie going beyond chapter summaries or vague reflection when she posted this.  If you can help, please do. 

A Prize Pony?!

As for me, prizes are nothing. My prize is my work.
Katharine Hepburn


In an effort to keep my students at least a tad focused next week, I launched a contest today: "It's Almost Spring Break Sestina Sweepstakes!"  We had spent the week in the rain and tears of Elizabeth Bishop's "Sestina" and I wanted them to start turning their thoughts to sunshine (easy enough in our 80 degree weather today!) and to try writing a sestina on their own.  It is not the type of assignment I would grade, but I still wanted sincere effort, so the contest was born.  They will upload their sestinas to GoogleDocs, send me the link, and I will post them on the class website. Then, they will submit their vote for favorites and the highest vote-getter wins a prize.  It took until my last class  of the day to get the question, "What's the prize?"  Upon receiving the sharp look from my quizzical eye, she followed up with, "I mean, are we talking candy or are we talking pony?" 

"Somewhere in between," I said.

Really, it was a fair question.  Don't we often want to know what our reward will be for a job well done?  We use this information to determine whether or not something is worthy of our time, attention, skills and energy.  But maybe we need to be willing to give our effort even when we don't know what the reward might be, or if there will be one at all.   And maybe the best rewards are the ones we don't even know are coming.  Unsolicited compliments from my husband.  An "out-of-the-blue" thank you note from a student who graduated years ago.  The trust of a colleague who needs to talk.  A sincere hug of appreciation from a friend.  An extra half-hour in the sunshine with my boys. 

These rewards sustain us.  They keep us moving forward, keep us willing to help and hope. 

When I was eight, a pony would have been the best prize in the world.  But as I near 38, nothing can beat the rewards my students, my co-workers, my friends and my family surprise me with each day.

Stories to Tell

As I prepare to begin a new school year (I am still amazed that summer vacation is over!), my mind begins to consider the truths I hope to impart to my students. I want them to see that what we share in the classroom as we study literature is not manufactured there; it is not a hoop to be jumped through to satisfy a graduation requirement.  What we do when we read and study literature is so much more than that.  And what I share with them is real to me.

This summer when my son visited my grandpa for his 80th birthday, his gift was a small book of photographs and a narrative about the importance of stories. If you knew my grandpa, you would know that storytelling is one of his favorite hobbies.  I think it is a favorite pastime of most grandpas for all of the reasons we share in the book.

This gift for Great-Pa was a way for my son to show his great-grandfather that his life may be in its closing chapters, but that the story is one which never ends. We are all a part of that story and , if nothing else, I hope my students leave class in May believing that as truth.
 

Breaking Away

A colleague brought a yearbook to school the other day from the year I graduated high school.  It wasn't from my school, but the other high school in my city at that time.  We were looking through the book to find a picture of the mother of one of my current students.  (As a side note, I am a bit horrified that I have now been teaching long enough to have a student whose mother graduated from high school in the same year as me!) 

On the same page as the student's mother's senior picture were pictures of several other people I knew at that time.  My best friend early in high school, M-, was on that page and when I saw her senior picture it immediately took me back to some of the times we had shared together.  I was definitely a rule-follower in high school (much as I am now), but I did have a few tiffs with my parents.  These episodes were very rare though, and because of that, I remember exactly what they were concerning.  One was about M-'s boyfriend -- a Robert Smith-styled guy with wild black hair, unusual clothing and the occasional red lipstick.  I just couldn't understand why my parents were wary of this young man and reluctant to let me trot around Southern California as the third wheel with him and M-.

A natural part of a teenager's life is separating himself from his parents, becoming his own person, independent from and sometimes in direct opposition to the authority figures in his life. I did not want to hear my parents' opinions or cautionary tales because I wanted to prove them wrong as a means of becoming myself.  Yet, even though I remember this feeling completely, I find myself doing the same thing with the students in my classes, particularly the seniors.  The poor dears -- they leave their own parents each morning hoping for some respite, only to find themselves in my class baraged with even more advice and unsolicited words of wisdom.  But I cannot stop myself.  And sometimes, it helps.

For National Poetry Month, I have been sharing poems in a variety of ways with my students.  On a few ocasions I have read poems I have written.  Last week, one of those poems came with a Public Service Announcement.  One of my cousins passed away at the age of 19 due to meningococcal disease.  What she thought was a bad cold or flu ended up taking her life. I shared her story with my students and suggested they read what they can about the disease and decide if vaccination would be appropriate.

The Centers for Disease Control and Prevention states: "The Advisory Committee on Immunization Practices (ACIP) recommends routine vaccination of all persons 11-18 years of age with 1 dose of meningococcal conjugate vaccine at the earliest opportunity. Pre-teens who are 11-12 years old should be routinely vaccinated at the 11-12 year old check-up as recommended by ACIP. This visit is the best time for adolescents to receive meningococcal conjugate vaccine. Also, since the occurrence of meningococcal disease increases during adolescence, health-care providers should vaccinate previously unvaccinated pre-teens and teens 11-18 years of age with meningococcal conjugate vaccine at the earliest possible health-care visit.


College freshmen living in dormitories are at increased risk for meningococcal disease and should be vaccinated with meningococcal conjugate vaccine before college entry if they have not previously been vaccinated. The risk for meningococcal disease among nonfreshmen college students is similar to that for the general population of similar age (age 18-24 years). However, since the vaccines are safe and produce immunity, they can be provided to nonfreshmen college students who want to reduce their risk for meningococcal disease."

I followed this information with a poem I wrote one year after my cousin Amanda passed away.  The poem is written from a mother's point of view, though I did not discuss the poem with my aunt.  It was written before I became a mother myself; and when I read it now, it has an even stronger impact on me.  I'd like to share the poem with you:

Birthday

I bought you twenty balloons
colored like licorice
          like sunshine
          like the Mediterranean Sea,
things you love, things you have never seen.

I bought you all twenty,
had them blown up big
and tied to curly ribbon.

They tug at my fist,
wanting me to
set them free, let them loose,
see them soar,
until they are only tiny dots
disappearing into distance, but
I
bought these twenty balloons
and I do not want to let go,
will not let go,
cannot let go.

I close my fist up tight
'til my nails are leaving half-moons
in my palm
and tears itch the corners
of my eyes,

but while I
blink,
the one in the middle
wiggles right out
and dances off to tomorrow.

I watch
                and I watch
                                               and I watch
squinting
until all I see is the space
it left behind.

                                                      While I blinked,
                                                      my baby danced out of my sight.

                                                      The tug is on my heart,
                                                      the half-moons on my soul.

                                                      You were only nineteen;
                                                      you will never be twenty.

                                                      And all I feel is the space you left behind.

I experience tremendous joy as a teacher.  I care so much for my students and hope the lessons they learn in my class, both academic and personal, will inspire in them a balance of curiosity, peace and confidence that will allow them to find joy in their lives as well.  And if that means sounding a bit like their moms at times, I think I am okay with that.   As parents always say, someday they will thank me for it.

Seinfeld, Facebook and a Self Divided

George Costanza could never be on Facebook.  One of my favorite moments with George on Seinfeld is when he talks about how he cannot have the George he is with his fiance -- Relationship George -- come into contact with the George he is with Jerry and friends -- Independent George. "A George divided against himself," he proclaims, "cannot stand!" To have his worlds collide would cause a catastrophic explosion in George's estimation, killing Independent George.

One of my relatives is feeling the same way about Facebook.  She has decided to remove herself from it because of her discomfort with the access she has to people's lives.  Being only a few clicks away from knowing specific details about the lives of perfect strangers is disconcerting to her.  Plus, she is not thrilled about her work "friends" mingling with her church "friends" -- these are spheres of her life she'd rather keep separate. This is one of many reasons why I probably will never see my mom on Facebook.  The thought of acquaintances from thirty years ago traipsing through her page and seeing pictures of her and her family turns her stomach. Although the benefits are certainly there, she would not want to sacrifice her privacy for them. I respect these attitudes and understand how this change in how people interact with one another can be disturbing for those who have been able to experience privacy through most of their days.

Even though some people might turn away from social networking, with Facebook boasting millions of members, it is quite likely that each of us will eventually face these issues and have to find some kind of harmony among the spheres of our lives.  Easy access and the addictive fascination with social networking make separating these various spheres of our lives very difficult. Is this going to result in more authenticity?  We are losing the divide between public and private; will we be left with truth?

Somehow, I doubt it.  In fact, the ease with which we can create an online persona and the lure of being something online that we are not in real life may prove to be too strong.  Having lived in a world without status updates and profile pics, I am able to see how the way we present ourselves to the world has changed with technology.  My students, however, have never existed in a world without a digital thread.  Because of this, I believe my students will have an even more difficult time discovering their unique voices and sense of self. By trying to capture who they are in an "About Me" page and not having space to privately explore their identities, their vision of who they are must experience levels of distortion more profound than what adolescents have experienced in the past. For me, this is even more support for why I need to think carefully about how I interact with my students both in the real world and in the online universe. 

As a teacher, I have always felt the tug-of-war between home life and school life. How much of my personal self do I share with those whom I teach?  On an educator's list-serve I subscribe to, a recent hot topic has been teachers who are reprimanded, suspended or even fired for controversial postings to social networks.These are situations where the teacher is engaged in legal, but what some feel is questionable activity, such as drinking with friends or hugging a stripper. Some feel consequences are necessary, while others believe that what a teacher does on her private time is her own business as long as it is legal.  Should teachers be held to a standard that is different than what those in other professions may have?  Does being a teacher have to play a role in how I behave and define myself in my private life?  Does a private life actually exist anymore?

Ultimately for me, the question becomes, what message am I sending to my students with my behavior? What choices am I making and what values do those choices represent? I am careful about what I write on Facebook, what pictures are posted and what cyber-trail I am leaving. I do not live my life in fear of what others may find, but instead try to be conscious of the online image I am crafting of myself and ensuring that it is in harmony with the person I strive to be in the real world.  When 120 teenagers look to the front of a classroom each day and see me, I want them to find more than someone who knows how to write a compound sentence; I want them to see someone who models for them a way to live.

I am not Teacher Stephanie and Independent Stephanie, selves divided who cannot co-exit.  I am just Stephanie, trying to live without fear of colliding with myself, trying to live a life of truth.

I Am the Tree

I have accepted that I am the tree. 

When I was young, I thought I was the bird.  Don't we all?  I imagined myself on the opposite coast, a fashion designer in New York.  Or in another country, a novelist in London.  Even once I was certain my life was called to teaching, I daydreamed myself in Portland classrooms, Austin classrooms, Atlanta classrooms. I thought to be educated and to be grown up was to fly to another place and begin anew, an identity untethered by my past.

But that was not to be.  So here I am, a girl who loved school who is now in school every day.  A girl raising her family in the same city that raised her.  At times, that has made me discontent.  I have wondered -- why didn't I go?  Who would I be if I had?  Is it too late?  I tend to envy wings the most as graduation nears each June.  My students, whom I love and of whom I am incredibly proud, tend to be birds.  And graduation signals that they are just about to take flight. Often, a piece of me wants to go with them.  Their lives are full of such potential, such possibility, so much left to be written. 

As a teacher, I sometimes feel like I am standing still while the world zooms past me.Yes, in the 54 minutes I have each group of students in my class, we do some inspired work -- sophisticated writing, provocative reading, thoughtful discussion -- but once the bell rings, they are up and out the door, on to the next subject, the next teacher, the next assignment.  And once those caps are tossed into the air, they are up and on their way again.  But not me.  I remain. Out of comfort or compulsion?  I am not always sure.

This week, my students and I have been reading Thomas Hardy's Tess of the d'Urbervilles, focusing particularly on the role that time and place play in Tess's life.  Also, we read a blog post by Jim Burke in which he discusses the sequoia redwoods and their ability to shift themselves into odd shapes in order to find the light they need to survive and thrive.  We talked about Tess and whether the concept of thriving is even one she would be able to understand given the setting of the novel.  And then I had to ask myself the question, what light am I seeking in order to thrive?

When I began teaching, I had an article published in California English titled, "It's a Pirate's Life for Me" which discussed why I loved teaching and how the search for treasure and the unpredictable, wild seas kept me engaged.  I believe if I were to rewrite that article now, I would have to use a different extended metaphor. I am not on a journey in the classroom.  I am not seeking a buried chest of jewels; I am reaching for what is illuminating and holy.  I am grounded here -- in a discipline, in a school, in a community.  My roots run deeply into a soil which has nourished and supported me. 

 It was then that I realized, I am the tree.  I am where all those little birds break free from the confines of their shells and chirp from their  nests.  I thrive by being a place for others to tuck themselves away for a few months, but also a place providing them with a perch and a view.  As they grow, they become able to stand on my branches, wings at the ready, and I can feel their tiny toes gripping me anxiously.  Tentatively, they let go, some more capable than others.  After a few seconds, they drop back into my branches to rest and then try again.  Once they have mastered the art of flying, I know I will likely not see them until the seasons have turned, but I hope for them to return, if only to light upon a branch and tell me about the wonders of the world they have seen.  Each time they come to me, I will be here. Another ring of circumference may be marking my insides, but my arms will be another foot closer to the sun.

We learn not only by going, but also by staying and stretching ourselves toward new understanding.  By doing this, we are strengthened and able to provide shelter to those who need it while they ready themselves for flight.

While I may have known this intellectually, I am finally learning with my heart that we each have our own purpose.  The birds need the trees.  Plus, aren't the redwoods one of the seven wonders of North America?  I'll take that.

The Queen of Silver Linings

A couple of weekends ago, I was with my Academic Decathlon team at our first Saturday of competition.  We arrived at the hosting school at 7:30 am and the temperature had not yet reached 50 degrees.  Two of the girls from the team and I were walking around the campus trying to locate the rooms in which they would deliver their speeches.  We were all three shivering and making comments about how it would be nice to feel our toes again someday.  "At least it isn't raining," I said. (At the following week's competition we would not be so lucky!) One of the young ladies responded, "Oh, Mrs. Elliott, you are always the optimist."

Lately, I have begun to refer to myself as the Queen of Silver Linings.  In some respects it is a title I claim with pride.  I like being the Pollyanna of the group.  I like believing that no matter how difficult a situation is that God's plan is to prosper me.  I like turning someone else's sour perspective around so that she can enjoy the sweetness life offers. Not surprisingly, when I look for the good, I often see the good.

However, being the Queen of Silver Linings comes with its own share of challenges.  I can be irritating.  People need to wallow sometimes, and when I chirp some sweet tune, they don't want to hear it.  I can also be ineffective.  When I am the person who always looks on the bright side, who always thinks things can work, who always is willing to give new ideas a try, then my opinion becomes less valuable.  And even worse than being ineffective, I can also be wrong.  As much as I attempt to convince a student that he can do well in a particular class or encourage a colleague to take her concerns to someone with whom she's had a conflict, those situations do not always end in the way I'd hope.

But I think the most difficult part of being the Queen of Silver Linings is wearing the crown.  It is awfully heavy and makes one quite noticeable.  Though finding the good comes naturally to me,  it causes me an undo amount of fear.  I think I try so hard to focus on the positive because I don't want to face the negative; I don't have the confidence in myself to be assured that I can actually survive the negative.  I also feel substantial pressure to be the one who keeps her spirits up and helps others to focus on the positive.  My family, my friends and my students often look to me for the reassurance that everything will be okay.  And as much as I smile and find ways to make them believe it will be, inside I am crying out for the same reassurance myself.  I wonder if being the Queen of Silver Linings is worth it and consider handing the title over to someone else.

Last night, the Academic Decathlon Team attended the Awards Banquet.  We didn't win as many medals as I was hoping for and we didn't place as highly as I had imagined we would.  Each time I think about those kids and how hard they worked and what incredible people they are and how much they deserve to be recognized for their efforts, heaviness clouds up my heart.  Part of me, a bigger part than I would like to admit, wants to immerse myself in the "we should haves" and "why didn't Is," wants to be upset and defeated.  But each time one of those thoughts tries to color my heart, I imagine that little crown on my head.  And I know that the right thing to do is to push away the weighty shadows, and allow the sunlight to appear.  We had a number of students earn individual medals and we won first place in math.  I want those students to enjoy their accomplishments and inspire us to do even better next year.  I want them to have spirits of joy and hope, not pessimism or fear.

So, I smiled and I hugged and I patted them on the back and told them time and again how proud I was of them, because I really am.  They smiled in return, patted each other on the back and contemplated what ice cream shop they should go to for a celebratory treat.  I realized, heavy crown or not, it's good to be Queen.

Blue Plate Moments

N. gave me the blue plate right after college.  We each had our little apartments and not nearly enough of what we needed to make a home.  Tight budgets and even tighter spaces meant we got by on very little.  When I opened my birthday gift that year and inside was the blue plate, I did think for just a moment that it was an odd present.  A plate?  Not a set of plates, but one single blue plate with a large yellow sunflower right in the center. "I saw it and it reminded me of you," she said, which is my very favorite thing to hear when I open a gift. It made me smile and it still does.

Fifteen years later, I have moved four times, married my best friend, had three children, taught more than a thousand teenagers at two different schools, and I still have my blue sunflower plate.  I am the only one in my family who eats from it.  I never decreed this or announced it as a household rule -- in fact, I don't think I have ever mentioned it at all -- but if the blue plate is clean, I am the one who uses it. My food always looks more delicious and mealtimes have a bit more joy on the nights I use my plate, much needed when I share the dinner table with boys who sometimes behave more like monkeys than children.  It may seem silly or inconsequential, but my blue plate makes me happy. It is my little reward at the end of the day, a dollop of evening sunshine.

Sunshine is certainly something we need!  It seems each day becomes crowded with bad news, gloomy forecasts and  plans gone awry.  At school, budget woes cause worries and we wonder what else can be cut.  In class, students may be unprepared, disengaged or defiant.  At home, tempers flare, toilets break, tantrums erupt.  If we let ourselves, we can be completely filled up with what is wrong.

Instead,  I try to seek out what is right.  A freshman smiling after reading his Cisneros-inspired vignette to the class.  A senior sharing news of her college acceptance, her voice giddy with pride and anticipation.  My almost three-year old asking me to marry him and my husband taking my hand in his while we sigh from exhaustion on the couch. Right now, the quiet that allows me to hear these words in my head and the Haagen-Dazs Chocolate Sorbet waiting for me in the freezer.

I  look for the blue-plate moments.  More often than not, they are sitting right there, just waiting for me to notice them.