Summertime Peace . . . year ‘round?

I’ve taken a wee break from just about . . . everything! The school year finally came to its official close, (I survived!) and now I’ve just been filling the “happiness bucket” that got emptied out over the past nine months. I’ve done some gardening, read a bunch of books that have nothing to do with work, and just puttered around doing little things that have needed doing for a while. I’ve been running every day and generally getting my health and wellness back on track. Clearly, not running around like a crazy person opens up a lot of positive things in my life! So how do I find the balance between the summertime peace and the school year whirlwind? Hmm. Great question.

There’s currently quite an emphasis on the need for wellness, mindfulness, calm, and balance in our lives – both in the education world and in society in general – and just about every arena – both professional and personal – has something to throw into the mix for us to consider. There are literally hundreds of books, articles, and gurus out there sharing their thoughts on how to achieve all of this in our busy, modern lives. The thing is . . . it all seems like so much work to make it happen that it completely stresses me out thinking about it! Don’t get me wrong – I completely agree that these things are essential for good health and a good life. I’m just not sure how to merge all of these things into something that is doable, sustainable, and accomplishes the goal – more peace and balance, less stress and cattywompus.

So how to start? (I SHOULD be able to figure this out, right??)

I gathered facts, made a schedule on a daily and monthly basis, filled in my set things, and then looked at what time and days I had left. Damn little, actually. No wonder I’ve been feeling stressed – I really DON’T have enough time in a day / week to fit it all in! Ironically, seeing that in black and white actually made me feel better. LOL!

But after a moment of validation and a little chuckle, the sobering reality was I had more stuff to do than time to do it. Still at square one – not helpful. So now what? Well, solve the obvious problem first: eliminate some “stuff” so maybe I can fit it all in. Easier said than done. What if I really can’t /shouldn’t / don’t wanna eliminate it? (See – this is why I love Math! No matter how much of a tantrum I pitch, 2 + 2 = 4. Period. If something doesn’t add up, you screwed up. Nothing to discuss.) Likewise, my solution is pretty stark: eliminate some stuff or change when / how I do it. Wait – WHAT?!

NOOOOOOO!!!!!!! Not CHANGE!!! Where will it end???

Ok, maybe not that dramatic, but you all can relate to the feeling, right? As old as I am, I can still get that two-year-old mentality of “I want what want when I want it!!” Unfortunately, that’s just not the way the puzzle is going to get solved.

And there’s the point – is doing it MY way more important to me than doing it the way it needs to be done to GET IT DONE?

Wow. That realization was like a lightning strike to my brain. Huge flash, thundering shock wave of truth, and then complete silence as it sunk in.

Maybe my “inner peace” and “balance” problem was less about all the stuff and time constraints and more about me being in control vs. going with the flow. Damn. I hate it when I’M the problem in my problem.

But it got me thinking about how this relates to so many of the issues I see at school. It really is the crux of the matter more often than we may like to admit. And by “going with the flow” I don’t mean just going along with things, but rather that there is a natural way or “flow” for how things fit together to make it all work. The problem is, it’s usually never the way we really want it to go.  There’s that control issue again.

We get so locked into one way of thinking or doing that we find it almost psychologically painful to go with the flow of the situation and go against our own self-chosen flow. But if we truly want to solve the problem and bring ourselves more peace, balance, and getting things accomplished, we HAVE to be willing to disrupt that arbitrary, self-induced illusion of peace and move on to the real thing. And that might mean getting out of our own way. (Oh boy – I feel personal growth coming on!)

So with that in mind, my new goal (as I get ready to head back to work again) is to try to bring that real “Summertime Peace” to work this year. And I’m going to try to do that by getting less stressed about HOW I want it done and focus more on going with the flow to GET IT DONE.

And ok – maybe still eliminate some stuff. 😉

Where’s the Next Exit?

A while back I was waxing philosophical about the “Scenic Vistas” of life and the idea of pausing, not parking. I proverbially and literally got myself back out on the road again (running and work), looking forward to the next pull off point or exit ramp that took me somewhere new.

Sounds great doesn’t it? One small problem . . .

Where the @#&*! is the next exit?! OMG!

I started my new adventure thinking this was going to be a moderate scenic drive with regular resting points between paved stretches of road, and I soon found out I was “Jeeping” it in rugged terrain without a map. When did I sign up for this?! Was there small print I forgot to read somewhere? What the heck?! How did I get here? I can’t go back, so there’s only forward but . . . what in the world do I do now?

That was September. I soon started seeing work and running merging into the same issue – where I thought I was going and where I found myself were two very different places. I’d planned for one kind of experience and found myself faced with another. Why can’t anything be easy? I asked myself. But no matter, I thought. I’ll just use my experience and lessons learned to adjust and keep going. I’ll find the road I’m looking for soon enough and all will be well, I told myself. That scenic resting point is just around the corner. You just hit a rough patch – you’ll find that path soon. Just find a way to get there – keep going!

By October I was worried and by November I was exhausted. I kept thinking that if I just worked the problems in front of me, kept moving and looking for signs that things were improving, I would get clear of this morass I had fallen into and find the “pavement” again. With no data whatsoever to base my opinion on, I kept assuming the “exit” from this mess just had to be close – I’d come so far already. I was getting tired and more than a little desperate. That exit has got to be coming into view soon, . . . right? Maybe? I’m on it, I told myself. Just gotta hang tough.

With this dubious logic, I recommitted myself in December and hoped, rather than knew, that January would be better. But I wasn’t “on it” at all. And of course that’s when the wheels came off. It started with the pinched nerve in my hip during the Ground Hog run, quickly followed by my upper back going out and seizing up (an old injury that flares when I’m stressed – should’ve been a sign right? Apparently not.) As my back stopped flaring, my right foot started aching to the point I could barely walk, let alone run. Plantar Fasciitis and loss of heel fat due to overuse led me to more KT tape, Advil, and orthopedic inserts. Really?   Oy vay. There’s a fine line between positive thinking, determination and hubris. I think I just learned that one the hard way.

I’d literally been running myself into the ground trying to find this illusive path I thought I was supposed to be on, both at work and in my running plan, and unknowingly did things that just made it worse because I couldn’t admit that maybe – maybe – I couldn’t muscle my way through this one. It was like Cinderella’s stepsisters trying to fit their feet into her shoe: they can’t. And there was my problem: I liked my plan. Unfortunately, it has nothing to do with the reality I’m in. I was operating off of old data. Current reality took me somewhere new all right, but it didn’t sink in on a conscious level with me. When things started going wrong, I just applied old remedies to the new ailment instead of stopping and realizing “Hey! I’m not in Kansas anymore,” so to speak. It’s ironic that the one thing that should have been my go-to for guidance – data – (and probably would have saved my poor body some pain and injury) was the one thing that never crossed my mind to consult until I had no choice. The harder I tried to make the old plan fit the new reality, the worse it got. When the data is not what I want to hear, it’s amazing how deaf I can become.

So that left me with a choice to make. To borrow a phrase from my oldest son – I could give up or give more. I’ve never been one to give up – even when it’s PAINFULLY OBVIOUS when I should – so giving more it is. But when all this finally came to a head three weeks ago, I knew I had to go forward with a helluva lot more sense than I had been up to now. So what does that really mean? And is it going to stink as much as I think it will?

The truth is I’m a lot more like Captain Kirk than Spock in this area (yes – I’m a huge Trekkie nerd). I just don’t believe in no-win scenarios. I’ve always been able to find a way through – until now. This little escapade has forced me to reconsider what “through” and “successful outcome” really means. And that’s where a little data – and a good dose of humility – comes in to give me some balance against my determination and confidence.  And then there’s another truth to accept – sometimes the data just bites. Sometimes there isn’t another option; this is it. I’m stuck on a bad bit of road for now, and I just have to make the best of it until I hit a better patch. Period. Not the answer I want at all! But there it is.  Guess I better focus on being grateful for being on any road at all, and look for sunny patches where I find them moment to moment.  The only no-win scenario is not being in the game at all, so I’ll take whatever scenario I’m given and work with it.

So where to go from here? Well . . . I’m not sure. I still don’t have that new map, and I’ve thrown my old one out the window so I guess that makes me . . . an explorer? I’m seeking out new options, new ways of thinking, and boldly going where I’ve never been before – working on enjoying the unknown – LOL!

What’s Your “It”?

I was reading an article earlier this week – one of those rare moments when nothing is on fire and nobody desperately needs you for anything – and I had one of those experiences where the words just jump off the page and smack you upside the head. The thought that jumped out at me was that everyone has an “it”; a moment in time where things were one way before “it” and things were never quite the same way after “it”. The article went on to discuss different responses to “it” and how that can be a deciding factor in how our life is going right now. Wow. I’d never quite looked at things from that perspective before. I wonder what my “it” is?

I thought of plenty of “it” moments in my life – my grandmother passing away (we were very close); getting married (28 years strong!); the birth of both sons; my husband’s one year deployment to Korea. Those were all personal and family milestones that forever changed the structure and path of more than just one life. But what was MY “it”? What was the one thing that fundamentally shifted the way I go about seeing and living my life because of “it”? Well, there’s really only one so far.   That would be my year from hell.

It was the year I was finishing up my doctorate, and I was teaching sixth grade. By fate or by design – I’ll never know – I had 9 students who couldn’t get along or keep it together for 5 minutes at a time and 9 students who were ordinary kids just trying to do a good job in school. I’d never had a class like that before. Nothing in my years of teaching or teacher prep had prepared me professionally or personally for the daily onslaught of over the top disrespect, out of control behavior, bullying, physical intimidation and fighting, and complete chaos that those nine challenging students dialed up everyday in my room. That was challenging enough, but the complete lack of support from those whose job it was to ensure a safe learning environment for all was the final disillusionment. When it was suggested that their behavior was somehow my fault, I felt frustrated and broken. I read every book I could find, sought out every person that might shed some light on what to do and where I was going wrong, and tried anything anyone suggested. The other parents spoke on my behalf and their own student’s to try to get support, but all to no avail. The year rolled on and eventually one of the parents went to the school board regarding the intensive bullying going on towards her student by another, and the school’s lack of ability to respond effectively. I finished the last three weeks of school with the equivalent of an SRO (school resource officer) in my room everyday. Although the year passed, the die was cast. Nothing was ever the same. I had spoken up and spoken out about those situations. I had advocated for my students – all of them – and in the end I was cast as the villain of the piece.  How had it all gone so wrong?  I was completely off my original course, casting about desperately for some meaning in this swift-moving, raging torrent of events that had swept me far from everything I thought I once knew.  I felt like I was drowning in self-doubt, self-pity, and a complete lack of self-worth.  Dark days indeed.

The person I had to become to endure that year was not someone I would have chosen to become. I learned skills I never thought I’d need to learn, and I learned more about behaviorism than I ever wanted to know. I learned on a personal level what it meant about it doesn’t matter how many times you fall, but how many times you stand back up.  I’d always been a strong person, but now I was labeled a “tough cookie”, “Snape with pearls”, and “Darth Vadar” to name a few, simply because I refused to stay down on the mat. Ironic, really.  I never saw myself that way (seriously? I felt like I was one moment away from being a puddle on the floor every day) – even now – but that’s what others labeled me.  I moved to the middle school level as an Instructional Coach, and I got the reputation for being someone who could “handle the hard kids”. What does that even mean?  Being able to deal with some tough kids was categorized as something undesirable; the “dirty job” no one wanted. And I got them all. It was done to punish me, but somewhere in there I discovered I was already on a bridge (remember that bridge from a few posts ago? This would be that same one) and I decided to just stay on it and see if I could look at all of this in a different way. Maybe I could pull a Briar Rabbit out of my hat and actually come to embrace this.  My grandmother used to say that “It’s a poor situation indeed when you can’t learn something from it.” So true, Nanny.

I’ve always been one to champion the underdog, mainly because my dad always told me that when you don’t understand something try seeing it from a different perspective; sort of the “walk a mile in my shoes before you judge” idea. So I intentionally started trying to build relationships with the kids who were the hardest to like. These were the kids no one seemed to care about. They were rude, disrespectful, sometimes scary, used physical intimidation to push people away, and generally just annoyed the hell out of most everyone at school. I had to understand why they acted this way. I had to make sense of it for myself. My quest for knowledge was deeply personal.

I learned that a lot of these kids had some heart-breaking stories. They needed someone to try to understand them, but they had no idea how to go about making that happen. They needed someone to see them as kids, not just monsters. They needed someone to believe in them, even when they did things that made that nearly impossible. They needed someone to help them unravel the mess they frequently got themselves into. Sometimes, they even needed me! LOL! Who’d have guessed that?! Not me.  Not in a million years.

Although that year was one of the hardest on me both professionally and personally (it’s been hard writing this, even after all these years), I have to say it set me on a course and taught me things in a manner I never would have chosen for myself. From a coaching standpoint, it took me all the way down to the studs and then completely rebuilt me as an educator. For me, it’s my personal example of what “grit” means. It’s my bar for how bad things are in my life. If it’s not “that year” level of bad, then it’s all good; I can do this. And if it looks like it’s even thinking about getting close to “that year”, I now turn into the threat and meet it head on, problem solving and fixing as I go. I don’t wait; I act. I learned the hard way. I also learned I have more in me then I once thought – more perseverance, more patience, more compassion, more strength, more resiliency, more vulnerability, and more capacity to accept help and support from others. All good stuff, and none of it looks the same in my mind as it did before “it”. On a personal level, whenever I think something is too hard, too intimidating, too scary, I use “it” as the bar for measuring my hesitation. If I can live through all that, I can do damn near anything I set my mind to. My mantra – If you can live through that, then don’t crouch in fear – get going!

The irony is that once I got across the bridge and made peace with a lot of things, I ended up in a school that is filled with kids who need high expectations, firm boundaries, and lots of understanding. Kids that need me to help them learn behavior skills and limits, teachers who need support with strategies and understanding these kids and their challenges, and parents who struggle to know what to do and look to us for help. My “it” wasn’t anything I would have chosen to go through, but the things I learned from my “it” might just be the something that I can use to help someone else.

And if that was the point of going through all that, . . . then I’m ok with “it”.

And I NEVER thought I’d say that.  Guess my “it” is still teaching me new things, even now.

What’s your “it” and how’s it driving your life these days? Please share! I’d love to hear from you.

The Other Side of the Bridge – Did we all make it?

A personal story of self-care 

We got an unexpected day off from school Thursday, thanks to winter storm #Hunter as it moved through Kansas. I decided it was time to spend some serious quality time on the t-shirt quilt I’m making for my oldest son, my marathoning Airman. I admit – I’ve been avoiding that quilt. You see it started a long time ago, in a place that now feels far, far away . . .

My sons were young and as they began to participate in activities, they collected t-shirts along the way. As a history buff, I sensed these were artifacts that I might want to do something with to mark the memories being made, and I started saving them. I didn’t have a plan in mind when I started. I just knew I should save them now and figure it out later.

Of course I had no idea “later” would be so far down the road. I collected and planned and then I returned to the classroom when my youngest entered Kindergarten. That slowed the crafting / creative side of me down a bit because teaching and the boys’ activities kept ramping up. But the shirts kept coming and I kept saving them.

Then the Army sent my husband on a one year unaccompanied tour to South Korea and that slowed things down even more. But the shirts kept coming and I kept saving them. My husband returned and then I had the opportunity to pursue a life dream of earning my Doctorate.   And that’s where the creative side of me got off the train. I didn’t realize it at the time because I was so focused on the professional-academic-data-research side of me – all things I have an equal passion for – but the creative part of me quietly exited stage left and faded to black. Professional challenges, boys in high school, then college and I never noticed it wasn’t there anymore. But the shirts kept coming and I kept saving them.

So two years ago, when I realized I’d reached the other side of the “bridge”, I began to take stock of myself and figure out what had survived and what was missing in my life. I made the New Year’s resolution to go back – go back and search for the things I loved and had abandoned or left behind along the way. Go back and find running. Go back and find my music. Go back and find gardening. Go back and find my creative self.

I decided the best place to start was to take stock of my craft room and get it organized again. As I started going through all my things, it began to remind me of Sleeping Beauty’s castle. Everything was frozen in time exactly as it had been nearly eight years ago when I stopped. Projects in different states of completion, plans for new ones waiting to get started, materials sitting there ready for me to make something with them. It was stark, abrupt, and startling. I’d completely turned my back on this, and yet I hadn’t even realized what a large part of me was missing until I stopped and looked around. I knew my resolve to go back had to start here.

As I began organizing, I realized that although I had stopped pursuing that part of my life, life had not stopped. The t-shirts had just kept coming. I started sorting all those shirts into categories that turned into themes, and the themes turned into years of memories. At first I was curious, then I was alarmed, and finally I was overwhelmed and on the verge of a panic attack. I had saved enough shirts for twelve full size quilts – TWELVE!! That’s insane! TWELVE?! OMG! I’m never going finish. Maybe I shouldn’t even start this. Why did I start this? Oh yeah – balanced life, inner joy, and self-fulfillment. Seriously? Maybe I need to do some more breathing first. This is feeling a little like the jungle again. Maybe it’s just too late to go back?

As usual, this situation (and breathing) brought me to some reflection. As much as I’d wanted to reach this new professional destination (and now I wanted to bring myself back into balance) I never realized that everything would change – including me – along the way. I also didn’t realize going back would probably involve some effort on my part – not all of it sunshine and roses – to bring it up to the present. I had a decision to make, both literal and figurative: Do I truly go back and bring those lost things out of the darkness into the sunlight on the other side, or do I just leave them where they are and move on?

Everybody has to weigh the pros and cons and decide for themselves; each choice has its own sacrifice and reward. Neither is right or wrong – just unique to you. For me, I decided that all the work that went into reaching one dream wouldn’t really have been worth it if the price were to sacrifice all the other creative ones in the end. When I took stock, I realized “we” didn’t all make it; some members of “team me” were still back there on the bridge. If this new destination were going to mean anything, I’d have to try to find as many of those lost team members as possible and bring them with me here in 2018.   So like Forrest Gump continually going back into the jungle and bringing out buddies, so I’ve decided to go back and bring all those things forward to join me where I am now. And that means tackling those quilts, one shirt at a time.

We tend to think of self-care as pampering, cozy, and comforting. But sometimes, self-care is caring enough about yourself to do the work it takes to be well and whole.   Sometimes that involves hard conversations with yourself. Sometimes it means sweat, sore muscles, a little frustration, and a bad word or two. Sometimes it’s the small voice that says, “I refuse to give up. I will start again tomorrow.” For me, it’s time to lace up and, as we say in running, go fish for the stragglers and bring them home.