Grace at the Lake

I didn't want to go.

In fact, if I could have reverted to my small child self...I might have had a tantrum and just refused to move.

Another week-end.

Another soccer tournament.

I am over it.

I should know better.

I got into the car on a Friday night and began a three hour trek into the mountains.

My 12 year old grabbed the cell phone and made a comment about how I needed a better phone.

What?

She complained about the car we were in.

She didn't like my music.

I didn't like her vibe.

As I sat in traffic, I fumed.

I couldn't take one more millisecond of the ingratitude.

I lost it.

Like a surveyor, I reminded her of the topographical lines of her life...the deepest blessings coming first...

Did you notice that you're healthy?

That I'm healthy?

That we have a car to drive?

That we have gas in the car?

We have the amazing ability to spend a week-end playing soccer?

You have a mom who is willing to devote a week-end to soccer?

That we are together when so many moms and daughters don't get that chance?

As I assailed her with her blessings...

the boomerang effect took place.

Hey, Beth, are you listening to yourself?

Stop your complaining and start noticing.

As we meandered at dusk through the mountains, the reset button was pushed.

We stopped for dinner and we both took a deep breath...

we inhaled the scent of the pines...

it was going to be okay.

We had a soccer game at a high school where giant pines surround the field.

I tripped over a giant root and noticed extra large pine cones...

the sky was a shade of blue that made me consider paint colors:

Cobalt

Cerulean

Cornflower

True Blue

Azure

After some weeks of fires and smoke near me, the color of the sky was a long lost friend.

We had a break and some time until the next game.

Some moms had rented a cabin together so they invited the team to hang out there.

We walked into a welcome where the team cheered when Caroline came in.

She had been injured in the game - a serious bonk to the head - and her team, in that moment,  let her know that she mattered.

I could see her body relax...comfortably finding a spot at the big table to paint a few paper flowers.

Parents were tracing flowers, cutting flowers, making paint and paintbrushes available to anyone -

it was an anthill of effort.

The flowers were for our coach, who had lost his mother during the week.

The hand-painted flowers would be a perpetual bouquet for Coach Mike...

a way for 12 year old girls to say:

We see you going through this hard thing...we are so sorry...we are sending love and friendship.

I was so humbled watching these mothers (and fathers) showing their daughters how to love someone through something hard.

I picked up a tracer and a pencil and swallowed hard.

These parents were strangers to me...

but they were mothering my daughter...

right in front of my eyes.

Their love was better than any ice pack.

She was given the gift of thinking of someone else...

the gift of doing good with paper and paint.

Together, we were reminded that it is so often the simplest acts of kindness that last.

After another soccer game, we had the grim consideration of dinner for 40.

How would that work?

What restaurant would serve us?

Instead, another group of moms opened up their cabin...and told us all to bring a little something.

Something turned into quite the banquet.

Moms know how to feed their people.

The girls devoured bowls of pasta, while the adults ate tasty tidbits and watched with wonder more flowers being painted...the designs getting more intricate and beautiful with each effort.

The cabin was at the edge of Lake Tahoe and so the team wandered down to the lake...the girls swam and the sun did its downward dance...gilding the sky...reminding us that this ordinary holiness...this beauty of light...tattoos our world every day for the briefest of moments.

Against the backdrop of waves and feet buried in sand and a chill in the air and a purplish dusk, a group of moms talked about family and the challenges that go with helping our girls grow up...we talked writing and teaching blanketing over the real messages of care and love.

One mom echoed what we all were feeling:

how grateful she was that her daughter was surrounded by these moms (and dads)

...she called it a clan...

a tribe...

an echo from the times when grandmothers and aunties and cousins and others watched over the little ones and made sure it was all as it should be.

In that last little breath of light before the dark, my heart was full.

She was exactly right.

This team has traversed the territory of strangers on the sidelines and moved to a higher plane:

 a community that cares.

It was seemingly effortless...but it wasn't.

It took one mom to consider the coach and find a way for 12 year olds to deal with grief.

It took another mom to open her cabin.

It took moms and dads to buy food and take the time to make food and create 

a space that welcomed everyone.

It took coaches who had loosened their control on the team for something organic to grow.

It took problem solvers to figure out seating and clean up and all sorts of other glitches.

It took effort.

There, at Lake Tahoe in the middle of a soccer tournament, grace was in abundance.

I didn't have a cabin to offer...

I brought very little food...

I didn't bring art supplies or any ideas.

I pretty much was on the sidelines just watching the miracle unfold.

I guess I'll be the recorder.

When's the next tournament?

My Love Letter To Davis, California

It was 3:50 am, the streets empty and the school dark when I walked Patrick up.

He was carrying his black backpack - full of a lunch, sunscreen, baseball hat, change of clothes, headphones and freedom.

The guy was headed to Disneyland with his senior class.

Graduating in a few days, his senior classmates got the chance to spend two days down in southern California...time at Disneyland plus time at the beach...throw in a dinner at Spaghetti Factory and it was perfection. 

Teacher Scott Bell was there at dawn...along with the school superwoman, Adela, and the director of internships, Susan, and the paraeducator who said YES when asked to support a student who needed it - my son, Patrick - and was willing to attend a field trip that lasted more than 48 hours.

SHOUT OUT to Antwanette!!

There were parents I knew from other parts of my life - also willing to chaperone the adventure.

I walked back to my car in the dark, got into my isolated seat and burst into tears.

How is this possible??

In this moment of independence for Patrick there are so many supporters...

so many willing to find a way...

so many who think nothing of it...

of course, they say.

It's going to be great.

My town, Davis, California, goes like that.

It's a gem of a spot with a creek, double decker buses, a big university and lots of bikes...but like any home...

it isn't the place, it's the people that make it comfy.

I flash back to preschool.

A little co-op preschool that had a tractor in the playground for kids to climb.

We had only been in Davis for a year before Patrick was born and my older daughter, Mary Kate was in the four year old program at Davis Community Church Nursery School - the famous DCCNS.

A co-op means parent participation and when Patrick was born, well, he needed open heart surgery right away at nine weeks old.

I couldn't work at the preschool and felt deep shame about that - so crazy how we hold ourselves to impossible ideals in the middle of a crisis - I couldn't shirk my responsibility!

I wondered if I would have to give up the preschool and find another.

As I was carrying Patrick in his carseat sending Mary Kate off to school, the director of the school, Teacher Betsy,  came up to me.

Inwardly I cringed...could she know that I couldn't work...couldn't hold up my end of the bargain?

She smiled and said words that changed my life:

"When you are considering preschools for Patrick, I hope you will consider us."

Almost 19 years later and still that act of full throttle welcome brings me to tears.

In my world, Patrick was living with almost no choices.

He would be stuck attending whatever school would take him.

He would be unable to participate in regular activities.

He would be limited.

He had Down Syndrome.

Her words took a sledge hammer to the limitations I envisioned.

Her words held an idea that I didn't think existed for Patrick:

CONSIDERATIONS.

I would be considering different options for preschool??

He would have choices??

It was a game changer.

It was also quintessentially Davis.

Davis offers plenty of choices...in all arenas.

Food - Fun - Schools - Life

Why couldn't Patrick have choices?

Patrick DID attend DCCNS as well as the special ed preschool that the school district offered.

He had a blended program and that's pretty much been his entire life.

Our local Catholic school said YES.

Our local Boy Scout troop.

Our local swim team.

Our rec department.

Our art center.

Our city.

Patrick loved singing and dancing and holding the microphone as a little guy.

In third grade we tried a theater class at the art center with the amazing Miss Mindy.

She accepted Patrick, guided the other students and offered opportunities to sing and dance and be part of some of his favorites, including High School Musical and Camp Rock.

Just as he was aging out of Miss Mindy's classes I worried that he was older and possibly more difficult to place...

in that moment came the incredible Dottie.

She wrote her own plays with twists on the classics AND she had an adult son with Down Syndrome.

She understood equity and opportunity and welcomed Patrick into theater during the awkward time of junior high.

As Patrick was moving into high school he was unable to be fully included in high school theater...his one time when he was shut out...and so Acme Theater, a local theater troupe for high schoolers, said YES.

He was included in Camp Shakespeare.

He got a job at our local city pool in the snack bar.

He was fully included in his high school - Da Vinci High School - and able to earn a California high school diploma.

At Da Vinci, Patrick had an internship with Acme Theater.

He made friends, went to dances - where the city provided support (!), created clubs...made his way.

In four days, he graduates from high school.

In this moment of one door closing, another door opens:

Patrick is headed to college.

Patrick has been blessed with a gift beyond measure...a community that believes in him.

He's been taken seriously and given opportunities.

He has been supported without reservation.

He's been enveloped in kindness.

My heart is so full of gratitude and light that I feel like Ironman...with a blinking bright target in the center of my sternum.

How do you thank a town?

How can I possibly express what this town with its big open heart, its sense of let's-figure-it-out, with every person who was willing allowed to transpire for Patrick as he grew up here.

Davis, thank you.

Aquamonsters - Pete and Koren

Miss Mindy

Dottie

Mr. Bell

Mrs. Kirby

Adela

Ms.U

Sarah and Antwanette and Tammy

The entire faculty at Da Vinci High

Mike at Holmes

Father Dan and Mary Kay Bolz

All of the faculty at St. James School, especially Bev.

Teacher Betsy

Teacher Mary

Teacher Ellen

Teacher Lonna

Teacher Patty

And the families at DCCNS and St. James

Acme Theater

Emily Henderson

Hollay Shayegi

Sarah Barnes

Steve Rubin

Ashley Shuell

Robin from First Steps/Early Intervention

Karen Edmiston and Center for Speech Pathology

THANK YOU! 

It is because of your open hearted compassion that Patrick is the person he is.

It's been an incredible ride.

He's off to great places!

All thanks to you.

Seeing What Hasn't Been

He arrived into our school following on the heels of a woman 

who had taught music at our school for decades. 

She was beloved and gifted.

She taught the students hymns and songs that were inspirational.

She taught the students to play the bells at Christmas.

She loved music and she was a professional.

Teaching music with a pride and a respect that was mirrored with her singers.

He came bearing a guitar, strumming the kindergarteners toward the music room like a Pied Piper.

I liked him immediately.

She was traditional.

He liked Coldplay.

He played so many instruments I lost count.

He jammed.

He flowed into Classical music.

Mostly, he believed every single kid could become a musician.

And so he set out to do just that.

His first motley group of 3rd graders attempted the recorder.

They practiced and adjusted and considered learning notes.

Meanwhile, he jammed with the kids who wished for a garage band in the upper grades.

He guided beginning band kids.

He created a choir.

He listened to kids who had dreams.

And he dreamed.

B-I-G

Only two years into this job, he wished out loud:

Our students are going to sing at Disneyland. 

Huh?

Did he see different kids than we did?

Was he best friends with someone at the Magic Kingdom?

Pretty sure that you have to be on the A Team to get to do that.

But he prepared his students, sent in an audition tape and got accepted.

Dang.

Now, when that is happening at your school, you're happy for those kids.

But you're not really sure your kid can be one of those.

Our family...we have nice people and we are definitely good fans...but music?

Not our strong suit.

Zero musicians.

Anywhere.

Zero singers.

Not counting the shower or the car, of course.

[I rock that.]

So, my kid tells me after playing the recorder that she wants to do band...

and I support her...

rent the clarinet and smile.

Because I think I know the way this story goes.

Only I don't.

Once a week, she grabs her clarinet case and heads to school early and in a few weeks, 

she's reading music!

She's whistling.

She's singing in the shower...and around the house.

She starts looking up songs online.

This becomes normal.

And we just go with it...because, you know, you never know.

And the Disneyland gig is coming around again...

and well, maybe your kid can sing in it.

So she trots off to choir and brings back candy to sell, and songs to sing and finally a permission slip.

It seems that we will be going to Disneyland.

And poof!

Something I could never picture before now enters my line of sight.

Disneyland.

We make our way to California Adventures.

We find the Monsters, Inc. ride...

we see a stage...

and yes, there they stand.

This is real.

This 4th grader of mine is up there.

Singing and harmonizing and holding notes.

I've heard her group sing...but this is different.

"I felt the music like a physical thing; it didn't just sit in my ears, it flowed through me, around me, made my senses vibrate." -- JojoMoyes from Me Before You

Those words.right.there.

It was a waterfall...

droplets of sound landed on my body...

tears sprang to my eyes.

The words they sang kept circling around me like an embrace:

Let every heart be filled with music...

it's a never ending gift that circles back again.

Take my hand and sing with me.

Music builds a bridge -- it can tear down a wall.

This is why we sing.

Take my hand and sing with me.

Share the joy, find a friend.

Live your life out loud.

Let your voice be heard...if you dare.

The music teacher, Mr. S to the kids...paused and explained about dreams and America and how we live in a place where anybody can dream...

and then he handed the stage over to an 8th grader.

She wrote a song.

And Mr. S. -- with all that he has going on -- stopped what he was doing and listened to that song.

Valued those words.

Honored that dream.

Supported that student in the biggest way that he could...

his choir sang back up for her.

Singing behind her and through her wisps of hope and future,

these back up students shared the dream too.

What kind of teacher takes his shining moment and turns the spotlight onto his student?

Someone who is the business of teaching hope...

not just music.

Someone who can see what hasn't been...

who can visualize great accomplishments for any child.

Who believes in his students. 

                                                

Mr. S. had all sorts of students sing solos.

So many had a chance to shine.

But this moment...that's was the one where I just sunk into the words and the transformation that was happening right before my eyes...

"What would happen, if we tried?

Could we spread our wings...and learn to fly?

And together we could see that the world is ours...

we could shine like stars...

we can dream.

ooooohhhhoooo

We can dream.

ooohhhoo

We can dream.

ooohhhooo

We can dream."

We can dream.

In this world that is busy telling you to be sensible,

and to hurry things up,

and squish all those feelings underground,

we have Mr. S....

actively building bridges to opportunity

and chances

and dreams.

He offers the chance to dream

and then builds the staircase...

one step at a time...

bit by bit.

This is no joke.

No Easy Street.

Skill +Practice +Determination +Personal Investment = Dreams Coming True

But Mr. S. will be there.

Every step of the way.

Telling you what he sees...

and seeing what's never been.

Mr. S., there are no words.

Only great big sobs of joy...

tears of appreciation...

sighs of seeing something so beautiful that came to be because of your hard work.

In a little music room, day in and day out, 

during recess and before school,

you make it happen.

You're in the business of teaching

but you're also in the business of building.

Tonight, I'm grateful for the grace of a musician turned music teacher turned dream maker.

This sky full of stars...

what a heavenly view!

Thank you.

Washing Your Hands

Lately, the world seems to put me in very weird situations.

It seems to be asking me

no, demanding of me,

that I stop and take notice.

NOW.

Tonight I ended up in a care home for people who are needing a whole lot of medical care.

The person whose room I visited was a complete stranger.

I was visiting with the person who was going to visit her...

and somehow, I got included in on the visit.

This person has been struggling with a severe health crisis since June.

She is completely immobile.

She cannot move her fingers.

Cannot move her legs or arms hardly at all.

She is dependent on someone to feed her, offer her a drink, move her...

virtually everything.

Yet, here she was...bright eyes, kind smile, warm and welcome.

The good news is that she will very likely completely recover.

The bad news is that it will take a while.

A long while.

As we made small talk about favorite TV shows...or good singers...my mind wanted to curl up into the corner of that room and just sob at the arduous journey this single mother of three is on.

I wanted to scream and yell and demand the process to hurry...

Yet, there she was...grace in the flesh.

On the path, she'd made peace with it somehow, and showed us the way.

After the visit, I went to the restroom and I washed my hands.

I lingered in the warm water...moved my fingers, fiddled with my ring...

said a holy hello to these instruments of joy that I never properly thank 

as they toil day in and day out.

Hands...thank you.

Feet...thank you.

Eyes and ears and tongue and mouth and lungs...

THANK YOU.

Thank you for this gift.

Right now.

Offered freely every day.

Thank you for friends who visit others in hospitals and can't help 

but hug you right into the visit yourself.

Thank you for the gift of grace...

rescuing me...

encouraging me...

inspiring me.

If your body allows it, go hug someone.

Go sing.

Go dance.

Go laugh and cook and cherish and read and love.

Make a phone call.

Take a deep breath and wash your hands.

The ABC's of Graduation

Stay cool.

**Jack is graduating and I've been writing several different notes to him as part of a graduation gift. 
This is the third in that series.**
***

Just the other day I was talking to one of my resident teachers.  She's very pregnant, expecting her first baby, and the unmistakeable joy of this was sucking me in like that little whirlpool at the end of a bath.  I just wanted to soak up the anticipation. Wanted to bask in the newness and the miracle of her new baby-to-be.

We were talking board books and of course, 
I had my fair share of favorites to tell her about.  
I was right there. 
Could picture my baby bag stuffed with the board books that shared your baby days.

That moment of your babyhood was so vibrant and so tangible it made me swallow hard.
How can that be so real...and yet, so long ago?

Time is weird.

So, in honor of your board books and the many happy days of ABC books, Dr. Seuss, Captain Underpants, Harry Potter and the rest, I thought I would write you your very own set of ABC's.


Here, my friend, are the ABC's of Graduation...
life after formal school...
otherwise known as "the Real World".

I told you my approach when I was faced with that nervous situation...more school. :)
It worked for me.

But, we both know that more school, although probably in your future, isn't going to happen immediately after graduation so here's a little Real World advice,
using the alphabet.

*****

A-Attitude -- We know this to be a truth but sometimes we blow it off, or try to belittle it, but the truth is: you can get through the most hellish situation with a good attitude. How you frame the difficulty in your mind will be the path through which you surmount it.  If you believe you can't, you won't.  And, life is just so much more pleasant when you are around someone with a good attitude, a can-do-it approach and the ability to make the best of a true crap sandwich.

B-Believe -- You are the captain of your ship. Believe it. Set your course and see it through...but don't forget to stop at an island or two. Believe in yourself.  Believe in the beauty of your dreams. Believe in miracles and magic. Just believe.

C-Curiosity -- Stay curious...learn new things...contemplate the mysteries in our world...you'll never grow old if you stay curious.

D-Dream -- There are so so many paths to take, so many options wide open for you...life is expansive and full of possibilities and the only limits that you have are the ones you put on yourself...dream so big, Jack!

E-Excellence -- Autograph your work with excellence...take care to do the small job with care and the bigger ones will follow the same way.  Every job you complete has your signature...take the time and the care to do your best each time.

F-Family -- Family is everything...your support system, your 9-1-1 emergency crew, your middle of the night, call anytime people...they are always, ALWAYS, always here for you, cheering you on. 

G-Guts -- There is no easy button. So you have to go after things that matter to you and you have to have guts.  No guts, no glory, my friend.

H-Heart -- Live your life with your heart wide open...risk it all for love...hearts heal but the heart that plays it safe will never know just how big and open and full of love our world is...

I- Intuition-- Trust it. Follow it...no questions asked. Trust yourself to know your path...you know best.

J-Joy-- There are pockets of joy to be scooped up every single day -- look for their glitter and sprinkle it around...our world needs more joy.

K-Kindness--There's a famous quote that says: "If you have the choice to be kind or to be right, choose kind." I really wish I had heard that sooner on my path. Choose kind. Every.time. Life is just way too hard for any other choice. Everyone you know is struggling with something...most people play it very very close to the vest and only if you're lucky will they reveal their heart...but the struggles are real and kindness goes a long long way.

L-Laugh -- You know I'm a fan of laughing...in fact, I think it is a very necessary quality for a spouse and said so when I wrote this: marry the guy who makes you laugh  If you can laugh together, you have a very good chance of getting through the hard stuff...and the regular stuff will be a lot more fun too.

M-Magic and Miracles -- For some people, magic goes away around age 12. They've figured out David Copperfield's secrets. They know that the Muppets have someone hiding under there making them move. They are wise to the wily work of adults and they start to think that magic is just a fun story for little kids. I'm not in that crowd. For me, magic (and miracles) are everywhere...in the pink tipped color in an otherwise white rose; in a coffee cake muffin made at the Davis Food Co-op (otherwise known as crack with a crumb topping), in a spider's web, in a moment that holds a brush of skin or a held gaze for a fraction longer than needed that suddenly changes the course of a life.  It's in the crazy coincidence that suddenly makes everything else make sense. It's there. Please notice.

N-Never Take No For An Answer -- Honestly, if you know it's right, if you really know in your heart that this is what needs to happen, just keep pounding on the door, making some noise, keep asking the question and find another way...don't take no for an answer, ever...unless it doesn't matter that much...then, just let it go.

O-Outside the Box-- Actually my preference is no box at all...but often times the world presents you with a puzzle that seems confining and with no solution. Think differently. Try upside down or inside out or under ground.  There is a solution...you just have to get creative and blow the barriers off.

P-Prayer -- There is a tendency to think we know it all...or at the very least Google what we don't know...sometimes we just don't know.  It's confusing. Makes no sense and seems frightening. Finding time for prayer will help. Make time for it...no one needs to know. Just make a space in your day for it...it will help, I promise. 

Q-Quiet -- If you make time for prayer you'll be given the gift of quiet...soak it up.  Our world is a very noisy place and getting noisier.  Find a space to settle down...into the quiet so you can hear the whispers of your heart.

R-Ruh-roh-- That's how Scooby Doo says it...being able to say uh-oh is a very good skill.  We don't have all the answers...very very often, things turn to mush. Things don't make sense and that's okay. When things get confusing, when crap goes down, when life pours a whole crap ton of lemons on you a little ruh-roh might just help. Take a deep breath and just know that the confusion is part of the process and all you can do is acknowledge it.

S-Service to others -- This, right here, is the ground zero of a happy life. Honestly, if you are out of whack...messed up...upside down...get back to serving others.  It will make everything make sense.

T-Thankful heart-- You know how I feel about taking the time to be grateful...at least I hope you do...counting your blessings is real...no joke, no Hallmark card...real life help in seeing just how many blessings you have and trust me, you have a million even on your worst day. Picture your biggest nightmare come true: still, there would be people and moments that are worth thanking. BTW, do not forget the power of an in-real-life thank you note...let someone know, really, how much you appreciate their time or encouragement or their efforts on your behalf.  It will make a world of difference.

U-Unexamined life -- It's not worth living.  You know it. Stop. Pause. Examine. Revisit ideas that you are really invested in...are they still worth your time and energy? Only you will know...but only if you take the time to check in and make sure.

V- Voice -- Spoiler alert: you are the very own you that will ever exist. Ever. It's so crazy and amazing and still we just act so casual about it...100% irreplaceable. Please, please, please know your true, vast, miraculous essence and let your voice be heard. None of the rest of us know what you are thinking, dreaming, hoping, praying, creating unless you share it. It would be a tragedy to never know. Speak up. Share it. The world will be better with your voice being heard.

W-Wonder -- This is part of being curious...every day, literally every day, there are wonders to notice.  Today I saw the world's tiniest red spider. How can it survive? Where does it live? What does it eat? Flecks of dust? Honestly, there is so much to wonder about that it can take your breath away. If you stop wondering...take a mental health day and find your happy place because you've landed in the doldrums.

X- XOXO -- Never think you're too big, too sophisticated, too special for a little xoxo love. Grandma still signs every card with that hug and kiss assortment. We need it.

Y-Yoga Yield -- Sometimes the only answer is to yield...to be soft...to release the hold. If you're ever stuck and you find yourself gripping something tighter, try it. It just might blow your mind.

Z- Zzzzzzz -- When it all gets to be too much, just snuggle up and take a little nap or better yet, hibernate. Sleep really does make everything better. The new day, the fresh start, the second chance is the gift of sleep. I know it's not sexy.  I know it's not what you want to hear, but just head to bed. Your great grandma is right:"Nothing good ever happens after midnight." (I might lengthen that to 1am, but you get the point!)

Rainbow Ribbon

Let me be clear...I have an irrational love of ribbons in little girls' hair.

And JoAnn Fabrics feeds my addiction nicely.

We have basketball ribbon and valentine ribbon and Santa Claus ribbon...you get the idea.

Wrapping Caroline's ponytail with a ribbon and sending her off into the world makes me feel like she has a love letter attached...my special version of the kiss-in-the-palm mom love from that adorable book, The Kissing Hand.

And when you're in 3rd grade you're nearing the end of the ribbon-in-the-hair era...although I do have to say that sometimes if you're lucky there can be a bit of a resurgence in junior high or even high school for a brief moment.

Anyway, I fixed her hair into our usual tiny braid and then ponytail combo and placed my 

Rainbow Ribbon...my heart was happy.

I kissed her good-bye at school and whispered my 2015 words of wisdom to her, "Remember Caroline, "no matter how small", remember it, find a way to do it. Make it a great day. I love you."

No matter how small.

Based on this quote...and the truth of it.

So I sent her off.
To her little school...with her cousins and friends...saying The Pledge of Allegiance...
working on multiplication (we're struggling with our 4's)...
reading and thinking and learning and navigating our world.

Only to receive an email at noon that let me know her school was locked down.
Everyone was safe I assured.

Why?

Agonizing minutes later it was revealed via social media that a bomb threat had been made to another local elementary school that was very very close to Caroline's school.

A bomb threat?
To an elementary school?

Those 4 times tables are really bugging you??

What on earth?

Now I am a teacher and I did live through lockdowns at my old school...but we worked near a prison where prisoners escaped and where helicopters searched and well, it (kind of) made sense.
And that was WAY before social media and seeing things unfold in real time.

Our parents often didn't know a lockdown occurred at all.

In 2015, I was part of a group text almost immediately.
Scared parents were sharing information.
Reassuring each other.
It was beautiful.
And awful.

I just wanted my Rainbow Ribboned Girlie next to me.
So did everyone else.

I received this email from Caroline's teacher...the whole class did...in the middle of the lockdown...

"I just wanted to let you all know that we are doing very well and are safe in our classroom. The students are aware that something is wrong in the community and that they are in the safest place, besides their own homes, they can be. This morning, we conducted science experiments which included ice cream, marshmallows, fruit loops, chocolate, graham crackers and much more so, along with their lunches, we have plenty to eat! We will continue to reassure them and keep the afternoon fun."

***** 

I know I've said it before but
TEACHERS ARE HEROES

This teacher might have been feeling just a little bit of concern for her own two children...
but we didn't know it.

I got tears in my eyes.

To be so brave.
So kind.
So loving.
So focused.
In the middle of confusion and uncertainty...
honestly, there is no other word other than hero.

The other elementary school was evacuated in less than 30 minutes time.
Lunch was provided by local high school students
and teachers and anybody else who could pitch in.
Those teachers tried to keep a sense of calm and security and safety outside...
in a park...with a bomb squad checking out their school.
MORE HEROES. MORE AND MORE.

So if you haven't stopped and thanked a teacher lately...you might want to do just that...
or a principal, or a school secretary, or a janitor, or a lunch lady, or in our case, the lunch guy.

YOU, my friends, are the real deal.
Made of the right stuff.
Living examples of what we hope our kids might be when they grow up.

Thank you.
Thank you from the bottom of my heart for your cool heads, your big hearts and your courage.

"No matter how small" turned into "no matter how BIG" on Thursday.

I Have Some Data Too...

Ummm...hello, out there...anybody home??

Can we talk for a minute?

Can we discuss what on earth is going on for teachers right now?

Our world has had an information explosion and schools have been bringing up the rear.

We have old fashioned desks, limited wi-fi, email that barely works, projectors that still use VCR tapes (no joke) or CD's for music and an old computer or two hanging around the back of the room, posing as a computer center.

Of course there are fancy districts with the latest technology.  

Those lucky teachers might have smart boards, doc-cams, the ability to stream something from their computer onto a screen or even a class set of Ipads.

But that's a tiny portion of our school districts.

Many are sadly out of date.

Shame on you Google, Yahoo, PayPal, Apple and the rest.

Have a symposium or some sort of summit, pat yourself on the back for your initiative, your drive and your stunning intelligence and for God's sake get some leadership going.

I know, I know...not your focus.

But you sure love to provide the data, don't you?

I have this job where I get to go around to all sorts of schools in all sorts of districts and see what's going on.  

I work with the best teachers who mentor my student teachers.

It doesn't matter how fancy the technology, the size of the cafeteria or if the school has a garden, a PE instructor, or a science lab.

It's the teachers that matter.

In the poorest districts, in the richest districts and everywhere in between the divining rod of excellence is the teacher.

And, boy, am I privileged to see excellence in action.

I'd like to be the Lorax and speak not for the trees (they seem to have plenty of people wanting to talk for them) but for the teachers.

The-day-in-day-out-nitty-gritty-not-glamorous warriors that take our children and love them like their own. They plan, teach, re-teach, assess, reflect and just generally obsess on how to help their students succeed.  These people come in early, stay late, use their own money, attend conferences on their own dime and with their off time and they love it.

They sign up and stay in the trenches for decades.

Not for any reason other than that is their life's calling.

They care.

They take pride in their work.

It matters.

Guess what has happened?

We've turned students into a commodity.

We can collect data on them.

Like the early cave man, we are hypnotized by the fire we've just discovered.

We can't stop staring...and we are getting burned.

We are drowning in data.

Oh, it's so very sexy.

Bar graphs.

Line graphs.

Pie charts and percentages.

Can you really measure a six year old like that?

Maybe.

But it better be a damn good test.

And trust me, I haven't found a single one that slides into the "damn good" category.

Most are junk.

Testing on standards that aren't used anymore.

In ways that are pedagogically unsound.

Most of the numbers are meaningless...but they are numbers and that makes them powerful.

Very powerful.

So powerful that I sat in a lunch room today with two stellar first grade teachers, one with 26 years worth of expertise and one with 28 years, who were shaken to their core.

These two are no joke.

They embody every single accolade I can  possibly think up:

selfless

hard-working

tireless

a true advocate for every child

generous

kind

child centered

professional

miracle worker

Those two people got data from their principal that gave them a sleepless night.

Their scores in literacy were down.

Way down.

The lowest in the district.

Alarm bells went off at the district level.

The data had spoken.

One of the teachers actually said, "Yesterday was the worst day of my teaching career."

No one bothered to wonder out loud why that data was so off.

Like the proverbial 5th grade science experiment, nobody bothered to ask a question.

Or hypothesize.

Or just say...sorry, that doesn't make sense.

The data had spoken.

Ummmm...yoooo hoooo....can you all pause for a minute?

I have data too.

My data says that after 28 years of learning your profession you actually know something of value and it's damn hard to measure.

These two are experts in teaching reading, writing and math but they are living sensei in the bigger picture.

They know how to comfort a child.

They know how to inspire a child.

They make school magical and wonderful and creative and fun.

They know what to do for second language learners that do not know a single word of English but get tested in it.

They know how to help the child whose mom "just forgot to pay that bill that keeps the lights on".

The child who's hungry.

Or dirty.

Or hungry in their heart.

No test measures those things.

There's no data on that.

And guess what??

What those teachers do day in and day out on behalf of the most vulnerable, voiceless victims in this whole data game is nothing short of heroic.

Shame on administrators who believe the data first.

Shame on parents and cities that take pride in high test scores when in reality all it measures is privilege and access to opportunity.

Shame on testing companies who make gobs of money convincing districts that they don't need field trips but instead a whole lot more tests...that measure what exactly?

Literacy?

Numeracy?

Character?

Honesty?

Grit?

Courage?

Creativity?

Spoiler alert: There's quite a bit of teaching and learning that is hard to quantify.

And I would argue that the non-quantifiable things are truly what matter most.

How do you measure a teacher who won't give up on a child?

A teacher who believes that every child can learn?

A teacher that can transform the way the child sees himself?

Tonight I am grateful for two very special teachers and the tidal wave of other similarly fantastic teachers who never hear this:

YOU ARE DAMN GOOD AT YOUR JOB.

You rock.

You stay strong and drown out the nay-sayers.

Own it.

I am proud to know you and see your excellence in action.

No test can measure what I know to be true.

You are what every educator aspires to be.

And the test is what has failed, not you.