Once upon a time, I said to someone "I am so, so ill, and I'm tired of sucking it up when you're around, of slapping a smile on my face and pretending to feel well when really, I'm very sick, and all I want is to curl up in a ball."
The response was, simply: "Thank you so much for doing that, I really appreciate it!"
I hate to admit it, but it's stuck in my head. I can't move beyond the selfishness that lies behind that statement. As if it was perfectly fine for me to be someone or something I'm not, as long as it kept someone else happy. This is a good reminder of why, these days, I enjoy spending time alone in my kingdom :).
Though most might describe me as complex, the truth is, I'm not. I simply expect people to behave in ways that build up those around them, not tear them down, and to encourage others to be their authentic selves. I'll never be willing to compromise on these standards. Are the expectations too high? Perhaps for some people, they are, but for me, they are not, and I've learned through the years that there are plenty of people who will disappoint... but the ones that don't are true gems and should be held as closely as possible.
Saturday, March 31, 2012
Sunday, March 4, 2012
Settle Down, Helicopter Mommies...
The queen was here for a visit and we had a conversation about math. Long story, but suffice it to say that I had a couple of really crappy math teachers and a mother who push push pushed for me to always be in advanced math, when she really should not have. Turns out I was very good at math, actually, but rather than feel successful, I hated every second of it and had to work many extra hours to play catch up because I was missing a lot of foundational skills that either were taught so poorly I didn't learn them or that I missed when I was being re-placed in higher levels. The result was feeling helpless and as though it was a constant struggle, even though I was making good grades. Had I been allowed to be on grade level, I likely would have been a straight A math student and seen it as a strength and might have felt more inspired to go into the career I thought I would go into from the time I was five... but feeling unsuccessful in high school math made me feel like I couldn't achieve that dream (thank you, school counselor, for your input to this effect).
When I became a teacher, my goal was to make children love math. I was pretty good at teaching math... and teaching in general, and I really did love it. I guess Plan B worked out OK, and I was obviously going to excel at Princessing with or without advanced math, but who knows what might have been had I had the encouragement, confidence and support I really should have had.
And so I give you:
Dear Squawky Parents of Rising Ninth Graders,
I assure you that you your children will not fail at life simply because they are not in accelerated or advanced math in high school. I also assure you that there are plenty of students in the United States who successfully attend college each year without having taken the (insert name of fancy university) Calculus class in their senior years of High School. In fact, these students have even been known to pursue careers in math and science related fields! Really, it will be OK.
Why on earth would you want your kids to be placed in classes for which they are already unprepared walking in the door... and that teachers who very likely know a thing or two about your little cherubs' math abilities have advised against? This isn't actually about your kids, is it? For if it were you wanting what's best for your children, you would want to set them up for success. I spent many years in education and I can tell you that I can count on zero hands the number of times an on-level kid whose parents insisted they skip over half a year or more of math in order to be in an accelerated class (in which a year and a half of math is taught in a year) was highly successful. Believe it or not, teachers actually do often know about that which they are talking. Put your egos aside, my friends. All children are gifted, but not all children are gifted in math.
You might also consider the idea that overloading a high school freshman with all advanced and honors courses isn't necessarily in his/her best interest. And I say this as an educator as well as a mother of a child who could, in fact, do just this. She won't. Because I know better.
I also know that once she "gets it" with regard to high school, she will be able to take whatever honors and AP classes she desires in her sophomore, junior and senior years, but that semester 1 of 9th grade is not the time or place to "just see how it goes". I believe that balance, time management and well-roundedness are far more critical life skills than will be taught in honors biology, AP human geography, and Fancy University Calculus combined, and I know that there will be plenty of time for her to take these courses and excel in them, if this is the path we choose together. And in case you were looking for my not so humble opinion on this matter: I don't think it's a fantastic idea to force your child to take AP exams if they have not taken the actual AP course. I'm just sayin'.
In related news, I have never heard a local news report stating that the high school has lost a freshman. This may have to do with the fact that these are 14 and 15 year old kids who are really OK moving from point A to point B without someone holding their hands. Sure, they may do so slowly and with multiple social interactions along the way, but I assure you that even if they have to go into a hallway where there is a *gasp* 10th grader, they will make it to their second period class. Eventually.
Put your egos aside and focus on your kids' success. Children learn what they live. Teach them to self-advocate and realize their full potential while tackling life's challenges, be they academic or personal, with a positive attitude and an understanding that life's neither fair nor equal and that how we respond to what's put before us is the one true freedom each of us has.
Your Pal,
The Cranky Princess
When I became a teacher, my goal was to make children love math. I was pretty good at teaching math... and teaching in general, and I really did love it. I guess Plan B worked out OK, and I was obviously going to excel at Princessing with or without advanced math, but who knows what might have been had I had the encouragement, confidence and support I really should have had.
And so I give you:
Dear Squawky Parents of Rising Ninth Graders,
I assure you that you your children will not fail at life simply because they are not in accelerated or advanced math in high school. I also assure you that there are plenty of students in the United States who successfully attend college each year without having taken the (insert name of fancy university) Calculus class in their senior years of High School. In fact, these students have even been known to pursue careers in math and science related fields! Really, it will be OK.
Why on earth would you want your kids to be placed in classes for which they are already unprepared walking in the door... and that teachers who very likely know a thing or two about your little cherubs' math abilities have advised against? This isn't actually about your kids, is it? For if it were you wanting what's best for your children, you would want to set them up for success. I spent many years in education and I can tell you that I can count on zero hands the number of times an on-level kid whose parents insisted they skip over half a year or more of math in order to be in an accelerated class (in which a year and a half of math is taught in a year) was highly successful. Believe it or not, teachers actually do often know about that which they are talking. Put your egos aside, my friends. All children are gifted, but not all children are gifted in math.
You might also consider the idea that overloading a high school freshman with all advanced and honors courses isn't necessarily in his/her best interest. And I say this as an educator as well as a mother of a child who could, in fact, do just this. She won't. Because I know better.
I also know that once she "gets it" with regard to high school, she will be able to take whatever honors and AP classes she desires in her sophomore, junior and senior years, but that semester 1 of 9th grade is not the time or place to "just see how it goes". I believe that balance, time management and well-roundedness are far more critical life skills than will be taught in honors biology, AP human geography, and Fancy University Calculus combined, and I know that there will be plenty of time for her to take these courses and excel in them, if this is the path we choose together. And in case you were looking for my not so humble opinion on this matter: I don't think it's a fantastic idea to force your child to take AP exams if they have not taken the actual AP course. I'm just sayin'.
In related news, I have never heard a local news report stating that the high school has lost a freshman. This may have to do with the fact that these are 14 and 15 year old kids who are really OK moving from point A to point B without someone holding their hands. Sure, they may do so slowly and with multiple social interactions along the way, but I assure you that even if they have to go into a hallway where there is a *gasp* 10th grader, they will make it to their second period class. Eventually.
Put your egos aside and focus on your kids' success. Children learn what they live. Teach them to self-advocate and realize their full potential while tackling life's challenges, be they academic or personal, with a positive attitude and an understanding that life's neither fair nor equal and that how we respond to what's put before us is the one true freedom each of us has.
Your Pal,
The Cranky Princess
Friday, December 16, 2011
If I Had 24 Hours to Live...
I would spend time with the people I love. We would laugh and play and I’d tell them stories of the past and explain to them exactly how much they mean to me and why. I’d ask them to share with me their hopes, dreams, aspirations... and make them promise me they would fulfill them.
I would listen to music of every genre and maybe recount the feelings and stories that some of the songs would surely conjure, because music is powerful like that.
I would be on the beach, I’d practice yoga there and go horseback riding and take some time to listen to the waves crash onto the shore.
I would hug my children as tightly as I could in the hopes that they would always remember how a mother’s love feels. I’d give each of them a carefully crafted letter with some words of love and encouragement and maybe even some wisdom that might help or inspire them in the future.
I would watch the sunset on the edge of my seat as if I were watching the best part of a movie.
And then I would sit back and reflect upon a life well lived, feeling humbled by the people who believed in me, and grateful for the opportunities and experiences that presented themselves throughout my days. I’d smile to myself knowing that I did, indeed, find peace, love and freedom in my lifetime.
I would listen to music of every genre and maybe recount the feelings and stories that some of the songs would surely conjure, because music is powerful like that.
I would be on the beach, I’d practice yoga there and go horseback riding and take some time to listen to the waves crash onto the shore.
I would hug my children as tightly as I could in the hopes that they would always remember how a mother’s love feels. I’d give each of them a carefully crafted letter with some words of love and encouragement and maybe even some wisdom that might help or inspire them in the future.
I would watch the sunset on the edge of my seat as if I were watching the best part of a movie.
And then I would sit back and reflect upon a life well lived, feeling humbled by the people who believed in me, and grateful for the opportunities and experiences that presented themselves throughout my days. I’d smile to myself knowing that I did, indeed, find peace, love and freedom in my lifetime.
Friday, October 14, 2011
Assigned Seating
On a recent flight, I switched seats with someone on the plane. It didn't really matter to me where I sat, and it was a kind gesture on the other person's part to offer... I hesitated, but ultimately accepted, and therefore ended up someplace where I wasn't really supposed to be.
I sat next to a man who, admittedly, I was mildly annoyed by for a variety of reasons. He was loud. He was eating a cheeseburger that smelled horrible. He didn't shut down his computer and phone for so long that the flight attendant had to come and get ugly with him about it. He was one of those people that had a snide comment about everything. I popped my headphones in and stuffed my nose in my book to avoid any chit chatting in which, prior to that point, he had tried to engage me.
As the plane started to descend and I put my iPod away, he asked me about the book I was reading. It was Viktor Frankl's Man's Search for Meaning. He had never heard of it, so I explained the central ideas and themes. I've read it before, it was part of the required reading for my yoga training, but I was reading it again. I'm not sure why, but I felt the need to explain this to him, too.
"I think my wife needs to read that," he said. Oh boy. So now you are going to complain to me about your wife?! Dude. You have no idea where my head is right now. You will regret that choice 'cause I will give you the what fors right here in first class.
"Actually, what I really wish is that my son had read it. He committed suicide on Father's Day." Oh. Oy. Ouch. I opted, at this point, instead, to give myself the what fors. I expressed my condolences and told him I can't imagine the depth of this sort of pain for him, his wife, everyone who held this young man close. I quickly made the connection regarding his comment about his wife and brought up mother's love and mother's guilt and how I could imagine that his wife was feeling as though part of her life's purpose was gone and that the search for new purpose at once with the search for relief from depression and despair must be overwhelming.
"It was our second," he replied. I looked at him for a moment, not clearly understanding what he meant. "Our other son had leukemia and died after a bone marrow transplant." I was stunned, but somehow found the phrase "survivor guilt" in my arsenal and asked him if the other son had suffered from it. And sure enough, the "it should have been me" was at the root of his other son's problems.
"It should not have been him," I said, "because it wasn't his curriculum. Just as it wasn't yours or your wife's. It wasn't your lesson to learn, but having lived through it, you learned what you were supposed to."
At that moment, the man in front of us, having heard just bits of our conversation, turned and asked me what kind of yoga I practice. The question, in the midst of the discussion of death and survivor guilt, seemed oddly yet perfectly timed. I shared. The man in front then informed me he was "a Bikram guy". We talked briefly about the peace that consistent practice brings and how a lack of practice is noticeable physically, mentally, emotionally.
"Tell me more about that," the man next to me said. And so I did. I encouraged him to try yoga and to seriously consider practicing yoga with his wife if she was open to it, even if it was to go to a studio and rest in child's pose for an hour. An escape. A focus. A place to just be... and just be together.
Who knows if he will or if he won't... but at least I know that as he walked off the plane and thanked me profusely for talking to him about life and yoga and the combination thereof, perhaps he had a new option that he might not have otherwise thought of; one more strategy at hand, one more chance to rebuild his body, refocus his mind, and reconnect with that which is most important for us all, and that which does, indeed, die last: hope.
And so, it seems, that even though I wasn't in my assigned seat that day, I was, in fact, exactly where I was supposed to be.
I sat next to a man who, admittedly, I was mildly annoyed by for a variety of reasons. He was loud. He was eating a cheeseburger that smelled horrible. He didn't shut down his computer and phone for so long that the flight attendant had to come and get ugly with him about it. He was one of those people that had a snide comment about everything. I popped my headphones in and stuffed my nose in my book to avoid any chit chatting in which, prior to that point, he had tried to engage me.
As the plane started to descend and I put my iPod away, he asked me about the book I was reading. It was Viktor Frankl's Man's Search for Meaning. He had never heard of it, so I explained the central ideas and themes. I've read it before, it was part of the required reading for my yoga training, but I was reading it again. I'm not sure why, but I felt the need to explain this to him, too.
"I think my wife needs to read that," he said. Oh boy. So now you are going to complain to me about your wife?! Dude. You have no idea where my head is right now. You will regret that choice 'cause I will give you the what fors right here in first class.
"Actually, what I really wish is that my son had read it. He committed suicide on Father's Day." Oh. Oy. Ouch. I opted, at this point, instead, to give myself the what fors. I expressed my condolences and told him I can't imagine the depth of this sort of pain for him, his wife, everyone who held this young man close. I quickly made the connection regarding his comment about his wife and brought up mother's love and mother's guilt and how I could imagine that his wife was feeling as though part of her life's purpose was gone and that the search for new purpose at once with the search for relief from depression and despair must be overwhelming.
"It was our second," he replied. I looked at him for a moment, not clearly understanding what he meant. "Our other son had leukemia and died after a bone marrow transplant." I was stunned, but somehow found the phrase "survivor guilt" in my arsenal and asked him if the other son had suffered from it. And sure enough, the "it should have been me" was at the root of his other son's problems.
"It should not have been him," I said, "because it wasn't his curriculum. Just as it wasn't yours or your wife's. It wasn't your lesson to learn, but having lived through it, you learned what you were supposed to."
At that moment, the man in front of us, having heard just bits of our conversation, turned and asked me what kind of yoga I practice. The question, in the midst of the discussion of death and survivor guilt, seemed oddly yet perfectly timed. I shared. The man in front then informed me he was "a Bikram guy". We talked briefly about the peace that consistent practice brings and how a lack of practice is noticeable physically, mentally, emotionally.
"Tell me more about that," the man next to me said. And so I did. I encouraged him to try yoga and to seriously consider practicing yoga with his wife if she was open to it, even if it was to go to a studio and rest in child's pose for an hour. An escape. A focus. A place to just be... and just be together.
Who knows if he will or if he won't... but at least I know that as he walked off the plane and thanked me profusely for talking to him about life and yoga and the combination thereof, perhaps he had a new option that he might not have otherwise thought of; one more strategy at hand, one more chance to rebuild his body, refocus his mind, and reconnect with that which is most important for us all, and that which does, indeed, die last: hope.
And so, it seems, that even though I wasn't in my assigned seat that day, I was, in fact, exactly where I was supposed to be.
Sunday, September 18, 2011
Rescue Me
I love unconditionally and without limits. It's both a blessing and curse, if you want to know the truth.
Over the past several months I've become more and more passionate about dog rescue; so many beautiful animals in need of foster and forever homes that it breaks my heart.
Sometimes I wonder how these throw away dogs came to be my focus in the midst of what has been a chaotic two and a half years, and it occurs to me that they, too, love unconditionally and without limits despite being given up on, and perhaps I somehow see reflected in them the qualities I'd like to see in myself: the ability to tackle whatever comes their way with strength, dignity and courage; an amazing desire to overcome any obstacle; and, most importantly, an understanding that hope dies last.
Upon further consideration, I am not so sure it's about me rescuing them. I think, instead, it's they who rescue me.
Over the past several months I've become more and more passionate about dog rescue; so many beautiful animals in need of foster and forever homes that it breaks my heart.
Sometimes I wonder how these throw away dogs came to be my focus in the midst of what has been a chaotic two and a half years, and it occurs to me that they, too, love unconditionally and without limits despite being given up on, and perhaps I somehow see reflected in them the qualities I'd like to see in myself: the ability to tackle whatever comes their way with strength, dignity and courage; an amazing desire to overcome any obstacle; and, most importantly, an understanding that hope dies last.
Upon further consideration, I am not so sure it's about me rescuing them. I think, instead, it's they who rescue me.
Sunday, August 28, 2011
I Am Just Me
My eldest offspring recently completed a beautiful project for her language arts class in which her teacher gave her sentence starters and she had to write a poem around them. The students had to create a photostory with pictures and music to match the poetry.
Having had a rough day today that has called into question every fiber of my strength, courage and pain tolerance, I thought, perhaps, a little reflection was in order, so figured I'd try my hand at the poetry piece of a middle school project.
I am just me.
I wonder why people don't realize that the greatest rewards come from building up other people rather than tearing them down.
I hear the deafening silence inside the castle walls and face the frustration of conversations not yet begun and those left unfinished.
I see far beyond right and wrong.
I want to walk off into the sunset and simply disappear.
I am just me.
I pretend that I'm unflappable today, yet the truth is that I've never been more afraid than I am at this exact moment.
I feel hopeful when I hear about random acts of kindness, for it makes me believe that people are, in fact, inherently good.
I touch my cheek and realize that a tiny tepid tear has escaped from my otherwise icy cold interior.
I worry that I could have, should have, done better, tried harder, been something or someone I simply didn't know how to be.
I cry when I grieve the deaths of the most intimate and intangible things.
I am just me.
I understand that my body doesn't always play nicely and therefore managing pain is part of who I am, and that all of the woulda shoulda coulda if onlys in the world will never change that.
I say that I want to live without regret.
I dream of being content.
I try to live a principled life and to encourage others to do the same.
I hope I can fly... in a thousand different ways.
I am just me.
Having had a rough day today that has called into question every fiber of my strength, courage and pain tolerance, I thought, perhaps, a little reflection was in order, so figured I'd try my hand at the poetry piece of a middle school project.
I am just me.
I wonder why people don't realize that the greatest rewards come from building up other people rather than tearing them down.
I hear the deafening silence inside the castle walls and face the frustration of conversations not yet begun and those left unfinished.
I see far beyond right and wrong.
I want to walk off into the sunset and simply disappear.
I am just me.
I pretend that I'm unflappable today, yet the truth is that I've never been more afraid than I am at this exact moment.
I feel hopeful when I hear about random acts of kindness, for it makes me believe that people are, in fact, inherently good.
I touch my cheek and realize that a tiny tepid tear has escaped from my otherwise icy cold interior.
I worry that I could have, should have, done better, tried harder, been something or someone I simply didn't know how to be.
I cry when I grieve the deaths of the most intimate and intangible things.
I am just me.
I understand that my body doesn't always play nicely and therefore managing pain is part of who I am, and that all of the woulda shoulda coulda if onlys in the world will never change that.
I say that I want to live without regret.
I dream of being content.
I try to live a principled life and to encourage others to do the same.
I hope I can fly... in a thousand different ways.
I am just me.
Sunday, July 24, 2011
Life is Too Short...
... to be anything but happy.
I recently ventured out of my kingdom with the little humans that occupy my world. The time we spent together was priceless, and I learned a thing or two about myself along the way. It was nothing earth shattering, nothing I didn't already know logically, but, rather, things I needed to know experientially, allowing me to answer some questions that had been swirling around in my pea sized brain.
At the end of our journey, I was reminded of the following quote that has been making its way around the intrawebz. I'm not much of a re-poster but this one hit home.
An old man once said, "There comes a time in your life, when you'll walk away from all the drama and people who created it. You'll surround yourself with people who make you laugh. Forget the bad, and focus on the good. Love the people who treat you right, pray for the ones who don't. Life is too short to be anything but happy. Falling down is a part of life, getting back up is living."
Indeed.
I recently ventured out of my kingdom with the little humans that occupy my world. The time we spent together was priceless, and I learned a thing or two about myself along the way. It was nothing earth shattering, nothing I didn't already know logically, but, rather, things I needed to know experientially, allowing me to answer some questions that had been swirling around in my pea sized brain.
At the end of our journey, I was reminded of the following quote that has been making its way around the intrawebz. I'm not much of a re-poster but this one hit home.
An old man once said, "There comes a time in your life, when you'll walk away from all the drama and people who created it. You'll surround yourself with people who make you laugh. Forget the bad, and focus on the good. Love the people who treat you right, pray for the ones who don't. Life is too short to be anything but happy. Falling down is a part of life, getting back up is living."
Indeed.
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