Pie, Paychecks & Possibilities

My friend and colleague, Darcy, never fails to get me thinking.  When she stops by my classroom at lunch, she always has something to share -- an engaging story from NPR or a personal tale of some oddity or an anecdote about her daughter and on the best days her gift of inspiring ideas is accompanied by a delicious treat -- a baby pie, ribs, her amazing potato salad.

Yesterday, we talked about the balance between urging our children toward success and allowing them freedom to explore, think, and discover on their own.  She had been in a conversation with another friend about the concept of allowance and she questioned the practice of paying a child for doing chores or specific task.  While this teaches children that they will be rewarded for what they do well, the reward is monetary.  Her fear is that we then teach our children to be employees, and even worse, employees who will only do something if there is personal benefit to them.  What do we want to do? she asked.  Do we want to raise our kids to be employees or do we want to raise them to be independent thinkers, fueled by intrinsic motivation, empathy and self-respect?

Darcy doesn't bring me pie to get pie in return (she knows what a challenged cook I am!) She doesn't bring me pies so that I will pay her for them. She brings me pie because she likes me and she talks about interesting things with me so that both of us can grow, consider and think.

So the question has been rattling around: What am I raising my sons to be?

Only their best, I hope.

I Need a Pause Button

My Spring Break is coming to a close and I am not sure how I feel.  One part of me wishes I had done more, accomplished something substantial, completed a project -- anything I could point to and say, "That's what I did with my time." Another part of me longs for even more time to do very little, to sit and watch silly sitcoms with my boys, hear their wild stories, watch them dance their goofy dances.  And there is even another part (albeit, a very small part) that wants to be back at school because it uses parts of my brain that get mushy even after only a few days off.


When Spring Break started I thought that as a teacher I am lucky because I get to feel that excitement of Spring Break nearing, that anticipation of a week of frivolity.  Most people leave the joys of Spring Break behind as they enter the world of adulthood.  But tonight I don't feel so much lucky as I do conflicted.  It is always near the ends of these breaks when I have these fantasies of taking my family off to some remote small town in the middle America, spending our days working a farm, taking long bike rides and preparing impromptu picnics while our nights are filled with reading aloud to one another from great books and maybe singing together while one of us plays an acoustic guitar.

And then I remind myself that true happiness comes from finding satisfaction not only in the pursuit of dreams, but also in the delights of the present moment -- my four year old's head on my knee, an extra hour of sleep in the morning, nowhere to be tomorrow.

My Boy and his Best Friend

My son Michael has a best friend.  He came over today after church to spend a few hours with us. Sometimes people think I am crazy when I invite another boy into my house (I already have three!) and sometimes I count myself among them.  But more often, I enjoy it when B comes over.  Sure, it is a little bit louder and a little bit wilder.  What really gets me, though, is that when I see Michael with B, I get a glimpse at who he really is. And when Michael is with B, he is happy.

B and Michael at Michael's 2nd birthday

B and Michael at B's 9th birthday

Michael and B have been friends their entire lives.  They have been in the same church nursery, Sunday School classes, and summer camps from the very beginning, before either one could even utter a word.  Now, I hear them out on living room calling each other "dude."  My hope is that someday, B is the friend who drives over to our house and just walks through the front door, no knock or doorbell required. The one we expect could pop in for dinner at any time. The one who has his own toothbrush in the bathroom because he ends up staying the night so often.  I hope that he and Michael stay close and that as they navigate through awkward adolescence and young adulthood, they have each other to lean on and wrestle with all the way through it.  Michael has his two brothers, of course, but there is something special about someone who chooses to care about you, about a friend who loves you like a brother because he wants to, not because he has to.

I don't have a friend I have known in the way Michael and B do, in the way I hope they always will -- a lifetime friend.  And Michael doesn't make friends easily; he can be a challenging personality.  But with B, it is just natural.

So, it is a bit noisier in our little apartment tonight, but it's okay.  I'll take the noise that comes from two boys being the best of friends any day if it means my son has one more person in his life who likes him almost as much as I do. 

Battle or Bliss?

All day the question haunts me: what will I write about?  Ideas flit about me and I swat at them like they are tiny gnats before I realize they might be the ticket to today's piece.

What will I write about?  Will I write about my distracted students -- so eager for the weekend, but still mired down in the difficulties of their calculus test and their econ homework?  My boys - the way they want to be close to me, but already know they are supposed to be pulling away?  My husband -- how he "dances" with me by standing still and smiling as I twirl around him? Will I write about bedtime -- the bathroom trips, whines for water, one-more-kiss requests and stifled giggles from under the blankets?

I'm not sure today what I should write about.  I just know that my heart gets pushed and pulled in seventeen directions each day and by the end I can hardly describe what has happened or how I have felt.  I am not sure what to write about, but I know that I am blessed and burdened in such a wonderful way.  So many people to love, so many needs to be met. Study guides hidden under notebooks, half-hugs and wrestling holds replacing super squeezes and tenderness,  a stiff sway instead of a round-the-room waltz.  A mini-battle instead of unblemished bliss. 

I am not sure what to write about, but I write anyway. Because sometimes what is is better than what might be.