"Now, THIS is the life..."

I absolutely love days like today. Not quite summer, not quite fall, the breeze just cool enough to give you goosebumps every once in a while if you're standing in the shade. And I was fortunate enough to be able to spend the afternoon in one of my favorite ways: at the park. Even better, I got to spend it with a pretty inspiring 13-year-old young man.

I sat on the swings, my favorite park installment of all time, and my friend sat beside me pushing the empty swing beside me back and forth a bit haphazardly. (Yes, there was an incident in which I got hit and while it's funny, it's not exactly pertinent to the story... but you can totally ask me about it later.) Though we had been talking as we were swinging, we both grew quiet and my mind wandered back to where it had been all morning. Writing my thesis, fixing my instrument, paying my bills, juggling my responsibilities as a graduate assistant, teaching myself fertilizer calculations, trying to NOT kill my plants in my greenhouse management class. Trust me, the list goes on.

As I sat swinging, staring off into space and probably looking very silly as my list played pinball in my brain, I was suddenly jarred back to the real world when my friend said something that has echoed through me all evening. He said,

Liz, THIS is the life!

It's one of his favorite lines. He says it when he's at the beach, the pool, the park,walking on the green way, and anywhere that he's spending time with his friends or family. I've heard him say it a million times. Yet today, for the first time, maybe because I needed to hear it, it finally sank in. I finally understood. Though he has his plate full, even for a 13 year old it's REALLY full, with his own tasks and concerns and responsibilities, he is wise enough to realize that that plate full of stuff is just that... stuff. My thesis, my classes, my job, all the things that have been stressing me out the past few weeks: while it's all really important, it's just my plate full of stuff that at the end of the day won't matter at all if there's not a life to carry the plate.

But the life... the life is the time spent enjoying the September sunshine. The life is swinging as high as you can because even at 23 years old you still get a rush from the flip your stomach turns. The life is talking with a friend. The life is everything outside of the stuff that you'll miss if you're not careful.

I know as well as anyone that it's easier said than done. But as your plate piles up with all the stuff that life serves you, you have to remember that when it's all that's said and done, it's the life that matters. Nothing else. And when you become overwhelmed getting ready for your fall plant sale, planning your class field trip to the state fair, collecting fruit orders, teaching classes, supervising FFA members at their annual tailgate social, AND running the ticket booth at the high school homecoming football game, remember what truly matters and make time for the life. And chances are, you'll be better all around once you do.

Giggle of the day

From a friend of mine who teaches middle school science:

"Once you become as famous as Cher, then you can just put your first name on assignments. Until then, it is First and Last names. Please and thank you!"

Sadly, I can take no credit for this...

I wish I could because the moment I read it, I fell in love with it and tried my hardest to ingrain every wise and insightful and botanical word into my brain and my heart. But alas, below you'll find the genius of another writer. I hope her words speak to you as much as they spoke to me. I never realized how smart trees are....

"Lessons I have Learnt from Trees"

1. Dig Deep. There's no environment that's totally without sustenance if you could take root there at all. Don't be afraid to stretch for what you need to survive.

2. Quick growth is showy and exciting, yes, but it's also brittle. It can't stand up to bugs, frost, or a good hard storm, and if you've let yourself explode into a spread that's really too big for you to sustain, you'll lose more than the spares when the storm rolls over your head -- it just might crack you in half. And nobody will even be able to use the wood afterward.

3. When the time comes to shed the extra stuff, just let it go. Clinging to dead leaves all through the winter doesn't make them alive again in the spring. Trust that you'll have the resources and strength to make new ones; you always have done before.

4. Make your space inviting, and all kinds of people will come to be in it. They might not be so reliable as friends are, but they'll bring their stories and their energy, and share a bit before they go. Hospitality is never really wasted, and the shelter you offer could save lives, faith, and souls, if you're willing to reach out a bit.

5. Never give up on where you came from, even if you didn't like it; the soil might have been rocky, sour and full of garbage, but the anchorage of what you have survived will keep you stable and strong in the face of the hardest blow. And the truth is, nobody but you can even percieve the knots your roots have had to come up into anyway. All that work has gone on under the surface and so if some of it was desperate, and other is sloppy, and other is overwrought and excessive, nobody but you really has to know about it. Value the experience for the strength and wisdom it's given you, and just leave the inelegant rest of it buried.

6. With patience and persistence, you can crack mountains. Don't underestimate yourself, either your productive potential, or your destructive potential.

7. Those who will not stand tall wind up breaking at the spots where they bent. Flexing with the wind is important, sure, but you've got to have a solid core at the heart of things -- a tree with no trunk is just grass, after all. If you let other folks get you all twisted around on yourself where it matters, you'll always have a spot where you never quite dare to trust yourself. It's better to stand straight if you can manage it, even if you have to back up and start again.

8. Don't waste energy envying other people's talents; you're good at what you're good at, everything else you really need, you can learn. If there's an oak that's stronger, or a willow that's more flexible, or a monkey puzzle that's more indie, or an apple that's more fruitful, well it's a better investment of your energy to put your effort into maximizing the places where YOUR virtue lies, rather than castigating yourself for not being all things better than everyone.

9. It's easier to weather the unexpected annoyances of life if you learn to grow a thick skin. Some bugs will always tunnel through, but generally it's best if you can let the world just roll off your bark and sink into the soil.

10. Leave your place better than it was when you came there. You can, through your attitude, your determination, and the sheer fact of your being there, turn barren soil into fertile treasure over time. You can inhale poisons, and exhale life, drink toxins and still bear wholesome fruit, and all it takes is the sort of stuff you do any day, wherever you are. A little effort, and a little faith can make your corner of the world into the very definition of Heaven by the time you leave it behind.

11. Don't fear tragedy; either the fire will be fierce and fast and clear out the underbrush, leaving you space to breathe afterward, or it will be slow and deadly, and you will go down in it. Fear doesn't change it either way; it doesn't give you any edge, or make the fire's character change. Acknowledge the risk of that which you cannot master, and then just go on with the business of growing as many rings inside your trunk as you can manage.

12. When the wind gives you music, dance.

From the Maple, I have learnt generousity -- It is no hardship to share my sweetness with others when I am overflowing with it. I still have all I need to grow my leaves, and set a million keys spinning into the wind before autumn turns my leaves to fire. I can afford to give, even when years are lean.

From the Oak, Hazel, Pecan, and other suchlike I have learnt merriment -- much as folks may poke fun and tease, the truth of the matter is, they never can resist the Nuts. They may praise you for your majesty and grandeur, but they're really there for the nuts.

And also from the Oak, I have learnt forbearance -- if I make a decision whilst I'm steamed, it's all too easy to settle into that new shape and forget that I ever thought anything else. It's important to check, after temper, and be sure the grain still lies true, or if it's changed, that the arc can hold.

From the Apple, I have learnt productivity -- it isn't for me to dictate where my fruit falls, or who enjoys it. It's my job to grow it, and to make it as sweet and as fine as I can manage to do, and if someone will come along with bushells and trucks and take the lot to market, or the cider press, then well and fine, and go me. But it's also all right if nobody but the squirrels and deer and ants find it and sustain themselves. It's not like I can go on a creativity strike now, is it?

From the Cherry, I have learnt pacing -- I must see to the needs of root, trunk, branch, and leaf before the needs of the fruit can be taken into measure. I am more important than that which I might create.

From the Saguaro, I have learnt oportunism -- guard your critical resources as fiercely as you may, but when you find you've enough to do so, splash out with all you've got, and do your best to make something fine from it. Flower as soon after the rain as you can manage. Waste no time designing the blooms -- just get it up, and open.

From the Palm, I have learnt pride -- those too lazy to make the climb, or too fearful to navigate my barbs, may pick at the fruit which I drop. Only the worthy will come up to where my very best fruit hides, and they deserve all the sweetest I have to offer.

And from the Fir, I have learnt patience -- folks are just going to tie weird, tacky stuff into your branches from time to time. They're going to tart you up and make you look ridiculous, and it has nothing to do with you, and everything to do with them. Be patient. They'll probably take it off again sometime after Easter. Then it's the palm's turn in the barrel.

http://cluegirl.livejournal.com/

**With a special thanks to @anandangel for sharing this with me. You have always been been my wind.

Lessons Learned from the Battle of the Bulletin Board

I knew early on in my life that I wanted to be a teacher. Though there were lots of red "future teacher" flags that went up (reading to my stuffed animals, creating pretend grade books and lesson plans, even making my stuffed animal students change classes at predetermined times... yeah I've always been a nerd,) the one that was always most evident to me was the excitement I felt the closer we came to the start of the school year. Shopping for school supplies, the smell of the freshly buffed hallways, the feel of the pages of a brand new spiral notebook... mmmmmm.

Gearing up for this school year as both teacher and student was no different. I shopped for school supplies, labeled my notebooks and dividers, and purchased my ceremonial new package of writing utensils for the semester (yes, there's a new package each semester. See? Nerd.) And since I'm also TA-ing this semester, I also had some teachery preparation. I fine tuned the syllabus, created the course webpage, helped proof the course materials, planned activities, assignments and guest speakers, but of course, as fate would have it that before all was said and done, I would have to have it out with a bulletin board. Now, while there are a lot of teachery genes I have, there is as least one that I just don't have: the bulletin board creator gene. There's a reason I didn't go into elementary education: you have to have the bulletin board creator trait before they'll even think of admitting you to teacher candidacy. 

I started by taking down all the old pictures and articles that were push pinned to the cork board. As I did, I piled them neatly on the floor so as not to lose them as I intended to reuse them to hold up the new displays. Five hours of struggle later, I finally finished. I had stabbed myself with push pins, stapled my fingers, and suffered the world's most painful paper cut ever, but I was finished. While I'd like to say I learned loads about bulletin board design and construction throughout this whole fiasco, I didn't. But I think what I did learn might be even more helpful.

1. You can not pick up a handful of push pins at a time. If you try, you will be stabbed in the palm of your hand, it will hurt, and you will most likely bleed. Such is life. One of the hardest lessons I've learned of late is that you can't force things to happen all at once. You can't always be in control and expect everything to happen on your time and your schedule. Life and learning happens one step at a time, each step building on the last. If you try to take too many steps at a time, you get tired, confused, and overwhelmed. Instead, you have to pick up one push pin at a time. It will take longer than you want it to, but eventually you'll have them all in the palm of your hand without an ounce of bloodshed. Which is always much nicer.
2.  It takes more than two push pins to securely fasten almost anything. You can try only using two, but whatever it is you're trying to secure will almost always fall off, if not immediately, then later on when you're not there to fix it. Just like picking up the push pins, fastening down anything takes time and patience and if it's not done right, eventually what you were trying to secure will fall down. Likewise in teaching, it's important to ensure that your subject matter is securely attached to your students. Just sticking enough pins in to make sure they can pass the test isn't good enough because, eventually, they'll forget whatever it was you were trying to attach. They need a firm, secure foundation to really make sure it sticks and to make sure that they carry what you taught them with them when they leave you.
3. No one may notice, and that's okay. You made a difference anyway. You may never get a "Thanks!" or a "Oh, you did a nice job" but somehow for someone you made a difference. Even if you never see the fruits of your labor, they're out there.
4. Stapling yourself in the finger hurts. And what hurts more is that you have no one but yourself to blame. There are all kinds of other ways to say this which makes me think that humans as a species are prone to doing this. You know, shooting yourself in the foot, sticking your foot in your mouth, stapling yourself in the finger. It's hard to hold up the paper with one hand while loading the stapler with the other and then pulling out the jammed staple and then stapling yourself with the first staple as it shoots out after being jammed while still holding up the thing you were trying to staple to begin with. Personally, I tend to think that I can handle way more than I actually can. I agree to participate in activities, take on extra responsibilities, commit more of my time than there are hours in the day. And what almost always ends up happening is that I overwork myself and burn out or some aspect of my life falls to ruins as I try to "do it all." But I have to constantly remind myself that it's okay to say "no" sometimes. Sometimes, you already have a full plate and to add anything more would throw everything you're working for off balance. Decide what's MOST important and do that. Let someone else take on the rest. Otherwise, you'll just end up stapling yourself in the finger and the only person you can be mad at... is you.
5. When someone offers to help, it's okay to let them. Should you run into a situation in which you find yourself trying to hold up the paper with one hand while loading the stapler with the other and then pulling out the jammed staple and then stapling yourself with the first staple as it shoots out after being jammed all the while still holding up the thing you were trying to staple *deep breath*  and some kind soul notices that you need help and asks if you would, indeed, like some help... SAY YES! It's okay to need and accept help. That's why we network. That's why we have mentors. And for the most part, I'd be willing to say, that's the reason we're all here... to help. (By the way, thanks @countrywandering.)
6. Finally, it's never going to be perfect. Give up on that immediately. Before you go insane. Nothing is ever, ever perfect. Not bulletin boards, not a day class, not a paper, not a thing. And while it's always good to strive to improve, striving for perfection is just silly and impossible. All you can hope for is that this time will be better than the last and that next time will be better than this.

So, while I still hate bulletin boards, it's done. It's proudly displayed on the first floor of Patterson Hall. Feel free to stop by and admire my handy work. It's the one with my blood, sweat, and tears all over it. It was a vicious battle, I'll admit, but I learned more about teaching from that board than I have all summer. Now, if only it had taught me something about creating bulletin boards....

1/4 of July

The Fourth of July has always been one of my favorite holidays. Parades line the streets, the air smells of charcoal and freshly cut grass. It's a million degrees outside but you don't really notice it. Moreso than any other day of the year you stand a little taller when you see the flag wave. And as sunset approaches, you wait in anticipation of what has always been my favorite part: the fireworks.

This year on the night of The Fourth, I sat in the grass, the West Virginia breeze just cool enough to give me goosebumps, looking skyward as usual. Brilliant flashes of light soared into the dark sky, lulling everyone into a split second of complete silence followed the thunderous explosion of colors and cheers and giggles of those around. As I sat twirling a poor blade of grass I abusively yanked from the ground, I heard the youngest of our group say something that caught me a bit off guard: "That one made it look like daylight!" At first I thought, "How silly! Why are they looking at the ground?"

At that moment, the next firework sparked and flew into the air but this time instead of looking up at the explosion, I turned my eyes to the ground. For the briefest and most isolated moment everything looked so very clear. The grass seemed greener, the water sparkled brighter, the faces of the children seemed to light up all on their own. Smiles spread wider, eyes twinkled, the trees seemed to be dancing too, and for that moment I realized that all of these things were so visible in the midst of the explosions above, I had just never taken the opportunity to pay attention to them.

My life has changed so much these last few weeks. In fact, they've been a sort of explosion all on their own. Events I had never imagined or expected to happen have set my world spinning and all I've been able to do so far is watch helplessly as the explosion alters the things in life that I used to think were most steadfast and certain. That night I realized that I was focusing on the wrong part of the explosion. There's not a thing in the world I can do about the explosion, but everything on the ground, that's a different story.

The light from my explosion has unveiled so much: things I thought I'd lost, things I thought I had but never truly did, things I had but never knew were there, and things I never knew I wanted. And they all look so beautiful in the wake of something so... not.

I've decided that these explosions of life, these fireworks, come in all different forms. Maybe your fireworks are moments of success. Maybe they're moments of complete and utter disaster. But whatever those moments are, steal your eyes away from those brief, all-consuming moments to see what you've been missing. It may be exactly what you thought or it could be something you'd never have expected. But no matter what it is, rest assured that it matters far more than the explosion and you'll be thankful you looked. The explosion lasts only a moment, but even in the dark, those things you find on the ground will always be right there. You just notice how beautiful they are when you need them most.

I know this one isn't very teachery and for that I'm sorry. I'm sure there's a way to tie it in if I think about it long enough. But for now, I'm not so worried. For now, in this moment, I am taking in what's on the ground: my friendships, my self, my strength, and the love that ties it all together.

A Mother's Day Message to Teachers

One day last week I got a text message from my teacher friend, Deana* :

Hope your day turned out better than mine.

My teacher senses tingling, I concluded that something had gone horribly wrong for her and wrote back:

Awe! What happened?

As it turns out, she wrote a student up for telling her to lick his... well, you can imagine. He received 3 days of detention until his parents came tromping down to the school insisting that he had done nothing wrong and that all 17 year old boys talk like that to their teachers. They also asserted that if they kept having "so much trouble with these Ag teachers" there just wouldn't be an Ag program anymore. They stomped their little feet away with the famous last words: You haven't heard the last of us! Mwahahahaha! (Ok, I added the evil laugh, but the rest was true!)

Deana ended her story with these words that shook me to the core:

Not sure I want to do this anymore...

Shocked and a little angry myself, I tried to encourage her as best as I could but it was hard. There are always going to be kids like that and parents like that. There will always be times when you feel like quitting. So what keeps us steadfast when it seems that everything is pushing us away?

My answer came a few days later when Deana sent an email:

Today I got a Mother's Day Card.

The Front of the Card says: Mother's day is for every woman who's ever made a difference in the life of a child.


The inside says: Mother's day is for incredible women like you.

Then one of the students wrote...

Although you're not our mother, you're still an amazing person and teacher and we all look up to you! It's nice to know we have someone so close everday that we can count on for simple advice or just someone to listen. You've made a difference in all our lives and we couldn't have asked for a better person to spend our mornings with. We love you!

Some friends and I went to see "The Backup Plan" last week. In the movie, one of the characters describes parenthood. "Awful, awful, awful, awful, AWFUL... and then something amazing happens."

Thinking about it now, teaching is probably a lot like that, too. There's a lot of awful out there. But what keeps us there is that moment of amazing that reassures us that we're in the right place. It's those moments of amazing that really make a difference in the lives of the children we teach. It's those amazing somethings we have to remember when we just want to quit. It's the heartfelt gratitude, the moment when they understand, the moment when they make discoveries all on there own that keep teachers teaching in spite of the occasional awful. And lucky for us, awful can always be overshadowed by amazing.

Thinking Beyond the Bubble Sheet

Perhaps unfortunately for students, schools today often heavily rely on standardized tests. You know... bubble sheets, #2 pencils only, all that jazz. On most of these tests, students are asked basic comprehension questions requiring them to utilize only lower level thinking skills to answer. So how can we spice it up and encourage our students to use a few more brain cells? I say we give them the answers.

Give your students the test with the answers already marked on the test. They may be the correct answers, they may not be; that's up to you. Then to test your students skills simply ask them to grade the test. Tell if the answer is correct or not and JUSTIFY the decision. If the answer circled is correct, explain WHY it's correct. And if it's not, tell WHY it's not and explain what might be a better answer. It may be a little harder to grade but it will definitely get your students thinking beyond the bubble sheet. After all, though it's hard to believe sometimes, that is what we teachers are here for.