pelicansandprose

Today I am grateful for friends, two of whom are my sisters.  I heard on the radio the other day that friends are as important to our health and well being as exercise, eating right, and not smoking.  An article in the Huffington Post discusses this briefly:

“Most of us accept that the secret to living to a very old age is either down to genetics or lifestyle. In reality, it’s a bit of both, with genetics actually only contributing 20-30 percent of the likelihood of living to 100.

Ultimately, lifestyle is the bit that we can control, so most longevity research (research into lifespan) has focused upon this. Most of us know that eating a diet rich in fruit and vegetables, not smoking, drinking in moderation, and reducing stress in our lives is the way to go.

But one additional vital ingredient is missing from this menu. That ingredient is friends!

It turns out that the positive effect of regular social contact to a persons’ health is about as strong as the effect of blood pressure, smoking, alcohol habits, obesity, and eating a healthy diet.

Take, for instance, the following two pieces of research:

In 2010, researchers at Brigham Young University published a summary analysis of 148 different studies that involved 308,849 people. They were of an average age of 63.9 years and hailed from four different continents, and the study dealt with the impact of social relationships on mortality risk.

The conclusion was startling: People who enjoyed strong social ties had a 50 percent increased likelihood of survival over a measured period of 7.5 years compared with people with weak or no social ties.”  (Read more here.)

There are times I have felt lonely in my life, longed for a close friend, for the unencumbered connections of childhood. I’m always brought back to the way out of loneliness – to reach out and do something for someone else. To pick up the phone, to send a note, to smile at a stranger. Sometimes that is a great challenge for me, but I’ve never regretted trying to be a friend.

If connections to others are so important to our health and longevity, it concerns me that so many young people (especially late 20s, early 30s) seem to have trouble forming relationships. A young woman recently told me that she had made more than 150 attempts to connect to young men through reputable dating sites.  She had some responses, but has yet to meet one of these people face-to-face. Is the fear of rejection, of not being “good looking” enough, or smart enough, or whatever so strong? Or is it selfishness that makes it more comfortable to keep others at a distance?

This is probably not the right audience for this writing, but my concern for young people is real.  Just as real is the fact that the SOL community is one that thrives on connection.  For that, I’m so grateful.

I have a tender spot in my heart and mind for students learning English. A few years ago, our front sidewalk was the bus stop for the neighborhood school. Usually, I left for work before the students gathered, but one spring morning, as I walked to the car to go to work, I saw a beautiful sight.

A girl, who looked to be in 5th or 6th grade, leaned against my fence. She was alone. Her long brown hair shone in the morning sunshine. Her clothes were plain and her shoes were well-worn. She held a book in her hands. That alone was beautiful. She turned her head to look at me, but we did not speak.  But then, as I pulled out of the driveway, I glanced over and watched as she read aloud from her book. I could tell from the way she moved her mouth that English was not her first language. She was carefully pronouncing each word, working facial muscles, trying on new sounds, intent on her practice. I thought about how proud her teacher would be. I wondered what hopes and dreams she had and knew that her relationship with that book could make the difference.

This has been a good day.

I didn’t think it was going to be a good day.

I was scared.

I thought I might throw up.

I couldn’t concentrate.

I watched the clock.

One o’clock came.

There I was, standing next to my husband.

They read a letter.

They presented a certificate and a pin.

They honored 41 1/2 years of government service.

He retired.

What will that mean for us?

Last night I was doing some paperwork and half-listening to “The Voice” on TV. I was suddenly alert when Blake started discussing the merits of gaining a team member who pushed at the boundaries of what would traditionally be called “country music.” He talked about the importance of fresh ideas and new sounds within a community of musicians that is considered, by some, to be a “club” of sorts. The talented young singer who stimulated this conversation among the judges was able to use her voice in such a variety of ways that none of them was sure where she belonged. I thought that perhaps she didn’t know quite where she wanted to fit yet. Blake said it gave him hope for the future of music to have such a talented, unique singer among them. That’s very high praise when you consider such a vast musical tradition preceding her performance.

What does it take for one’s ideas to be considered new or fresh? What nerves are struck to make us perk up and say “Whoa! That’s new!” Where does the feeling that we need to say something new come from? Or, can we relieve some of the pressure to create fresh ideas just by acknowledging that every human being is unique? Perhaps you sense my anxiety about this as a musician and a writer–I often find myself asking, “Do I have something worthwhile to say?”  Away from the keyboard, I worry that I don’t, but when I actually begin to play or write, another voice rises in me and all that matters is the act of expression.  Whether it is judged “worthy” is immaterial (well, mostly). Using my voice is enough, for now.

March came softly as a lamb with warm sunshine and gentle air. Surprised it could be March already, I am not quite mentally ready for this slice of life challenge. But I’m here. I’m doing it–because the last two years taught me that writing daily changes you, lengthens your view, deepens your perceptions, and gives you new friends. Just as the days begin to get longer and plants send their roots down and their shoots up, writing is an act that is a struggle to affirm a life. This month I hope to reach down and reach up to find a brighter day. That’s what I need to say today.

Unstructured time has always  been a challenge for me.  Even when I long for snow days and dream of all the things I could do, if I just had time, I’m at a loss when I actually do have time.

With the blizzard of 2016, I have been given a gift of time.  I have spent hours knitting a baby blanket for my daughter’s first baby; I’ve cooked from scratch; I’ve read in some books; I’ve played the piano each day; and I’ve worked on family pictures–an insurmountable mountain of memories of raising 5 children. I’ve walked in the snow, stared out the window, looked for the return of birds, and visited a neighbor.  These are all good things, but I wonder, is this the best use of my time?  Will I return to work wishing I had done more work?  Why does that question hang over me?  Where does it come from?

I wonder if part of it might come from age-old report cards, “Uses time wisely.”  Or perhaps from many Sunday School lessons about foolish and wise men, or from resistance to routines (which I have written about before.)

Here’s where I need to remember my OLW – NOURISH – and allow myself the permission to be nourished by the non-work activities that do give me pleasure and let go of the workaholic additives in my life’s diet.  Just as I need to learn how much is enough to eat for optimal nourishment;  I need to learn how much is enough of work and enough non-work for optimal mental/emotional health.  It seems like it should be simple, but sometimes the simplest things are the hardest to sustain.

I watched 2 TED talks recommended by a friend highlighting the power of classical music in everyone’s life (His teaching was brilliant – how do you know when you have your students?  By their shining eyes.) The second was about the power of conducting music and the many styles and variations there are among conductors.  I also found this instructive to my teaching–in every case, the conductor had power to bring the many elements together – orchestra, audience, music, interpretation, etc.  But the techniques were so different!  There was the dogmatic conductor, the playful conductor, the emotive conductor, and the conductor who knew to step aside and allow the musicians to make it happen.  So much like a masterful teacher knowing when to be each of those kinds of conductors.  In this writing, I think I re-discovered for myself that there is not work and non-work:  there is just life and all the experiences we have that inform and make our whole life’s work significant.

Here are the links for future reference:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=r9LCwI5iErE – Classical music

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=R9g3Q-qvtss –Conductors

Nourish is the One Little Word I have chosen for many reasons.  This year is my 20th year of teaching and will bring my 8th grandchild.  I teach 9 groups of students each day (38 students in Grades 1-5).  I confess to a bit of fatigue and stress.  I know that nourishment is what I need to continue the journey joyfully and effectively.

There are many things that provide nourishment for me:  family, stories, music, poetry, friends, children, nature, knitting, birds, movement, even just being alone. When I have this full plate of vital, life-enhancing experiences (blessings) available to me, why am I starved for something to satisfy a hunger I can’t explain? It’s like when you open the fridge and it is full but there’s nothing to eat.

Clearly, working hard and being busy are not enough.

And, of course, nourish does rhyme with flourish.  That’s got to mean something.

Teachers who use rubrics often have discussions about cut-lines, what differentiates a 2 from a 3, or a 1 from a 2, and the like.  It occurred to me recently, that perhaps a 4-point rubric is part of the problem of surface reading that teachers face with young readers.  It’s possible that they have progressed up through reading levels by riding just a point above the cut-line.  What would that mean for readers?  Yes, they pass, but do they ever really connect with a story, infer a feeling or motive, fall in love with a character, or stay riveted to a rising action?

I’m coming to believe that this is partly my fault, if I have been one to “pass students” up the levels without ever really requiring and even demanding that their twos become threes and their threes become fours.  I feel bad about this and have made a commitment to myself to really consider how to stop the practice at my school of accepting mediocre reading comprehension year after year.  Teachers are under pressure to have students make at least a year’s progress, but is it really progress just to move up?  What about what can be learned by moving out–by reading broadly, across genres, deeper into characters, and across curricular boundaries?  I have been lulled by linear progress when I know in my heart of hearts that progress is dynamic in all directions.  I don’t know the word for that (it’s probably a math word), but I’m loving the idea and challenge of taking kids “off-road,” of getting them off the “just left of the cut-line” reading that satisfies no one.

I want to remember

this spring

when the early things

came late,

and the late things

came early.

When bluebells

spring beauties

and forsythia

bumped up against

plum, pear, and

cherry blossoms.

Azaleas, dogwood, and

redbud bursting–

In a rush.

Familiar rhythms

in cut time.

I stopped in to visit TWT this evening and was so rewarded by the posts I read.  I am humbled and thankful.

This week I accepted 3 musical challenges.  The first is the hardest – to accompany a semi-professional opera singer at a large event in Washington, DC this Saturday.  The music is challenging for my out-of-practice fingers.  I also notice that my stamina and concentration need some work, too!  Kind of like readers who haven’t read in a while.  It takes a while to connect.

The second challenge is to play the organ for a large church gathering on April 24.  Piano is my first instrument; organ is my 2nd language.  Kind of like our ESOL students, I’m not as fluent on the organ.

The third is to play for our school’s 5th grade chorus program in June.  I always love playing for children to sing and want them to have the best experience ever.

I’m thinking, why did I label these three events as challenges, rather than opportunities, or engagements, or performances? I think it is because I still feel that I might not measure up, so it is a challenge to be met. Then I thought some more and decided that I want to make these three musical moments joyful, just joyful. If I make a mistake, or if my pages get messed up, or if I lose my place, so be it. I want to let go of the baggage of expectation. I know there are no perfect performances, but there can be joyful moments. It’s about time I let myself have some.