614 ON STRIKE! 1980 CHAPTER 3

As I'm feeling better, today ... :)
Let's move directly to where we left off, yesterday ...
I was on a mission to improve communications, concerning, cooperation ...
And having been a Girl Scout, who takes what I've learned to heart, I prepare myself to talk to my family, thoughtfully, with positive focus intact.  First off, I set a time for a family meeting when everyone is available.  Next, I prepare a good natured strategy in hopes of opening ears that classically tune me out whenever these words leave my mouth:  How many times do I have to ask you to ... blah, blah blah—again ...  Then, I remind myself to behave with my family in such a respectful manner as to show each one that which I hope to receive in return ... you know how that goes—do un to others ...

Make no mistake.  My family is made up of exceptional individuals (if I say so myself), each of whom I love deeply and enjoy thoroughly, for good reason.  However, if the truth be told, experience suggests that most everyone I know will let the other guy shoulder the crux of the load if given half a chance to do less.  By keeping that thought in mind, my frustration lines up with reality in that I don't wallow in thoughts of poor me.  I just know that something has to change, and nothing changes till the person most in need of change takes the lead, and in this case that person is me.  So, in the interest of creating change in record time, I cast aside all thoughts of throwing myself a pity party and challenge the problem solving side of my brain to brainstorm toward a solution that will lead my people into the promised land.

As this meeting will take place around the kitchen table, I arrange for simple snacks, nothing fancy.  Gosh, I think, if my family liked milk and honey, that's what I'd serve in hopes that they'd get my drift in a flash ... as it is, I decide on fresh veggies and dip.  Though as a group, they tend to pass on veggies at dinner, too often, I've watched the ravenous nature of growing boys munch on a carrot if a flavorful dip is placed, near by—and nothing else is offered up.  I'd thought that moms were meant to be loving; then, having become a loving mom, I learned how often loving and woman's wiles go hand in hand.

On the day of our meeting and in hopes of gaining everyone's attention, I start out by saying something that no one has heard me say, before.  As soon as Papa Bear and all the cubs are seated round the kitchen table, here is pretty much what I remember floating through the air:

"I've asked for this meeting, because it's come to my attention that there's something I'd forgotten about myself.  I am more than a wife and mother.  Just like you, I'm a person with feelings, who deserves respect.  And lately, I think my feelings and self respect have experienced neglect.  Though all of you love me, I feel taken advantage of and that has to stop.  I ask for smiles attached to helpful attitudes but am answered by frowns and dragging feet.  I think that happens, because everyone in our family leads a busy, productive life.  I think that happens, because there's so much on your minds that my words get lost in the mix.  I think none of you knows how much of my time is spent making family life in our home zip along like a well balanced top.  I think I'm tuned out, because while doing, organizing and solving, I keep smiling instead of yelling, which is why none of you realizes how tired I've become.  So, here's what I decided to do.  I placed a pencil and spiral pad of paper in my pocket and spent the last week writing down every single thing that I do for each of you that keeps me running from dawn to—dawn, and this Timex has run down."

Now, while the kids are scratching their heads (Timex?), I lay the list on the kitchen table and read it aloud.  This proves to be a really long list, so by the time I come to the end, everyone looks chagrin.  Wow, Mom, you really do a lot!  Though I take that comment to mean ... Thank you ... and though I appreciate the heartfelt sentiment in the murmurings now circling the table, instinct suggests that feeling heard is not what I'm after, so, I hear myself reply:  "Most times I let you know what kind of consequence to expect before it is applied.  This time, I feel you need to find out what it might feel like if I was not here to do everything that makes our family hum harmonically.  So, I'm going on strike."  As jaws drop, I continue ... Here's what going on strike means to me ..."

Though ordinarily it had been my habit to inform my family about a consequence before implementing it, exhaustion called for immediate measures.  And since everyone was accustomed to my following through with consistency whenever consequences proved necessary, no one called my bluff, meaning that power struggles did not raise their ornery little heads, and no one played tug of war.  Instead, this is what took place:  On my end, I pulled five homemade tools out of my tool box (my brain) and put each one to good use in hopes of retuning our household's routine :)  On their end ... well ... as posts continue to pop up on your screen, you'll see how both ends of the rope, mine and theirs, eventually meet in the middle, creating a circle of cooperation, where consideration for everyone's needs, mine included, shapes into a good natured loop rather than a noose :)

Stay tuned if you'd like to hear why I got to say:  Don'tcha just love it when a plan comes together and meets with success, all around! :)

613 ON STRIKE! 1980 ... CHAPTER 2

When last we met,  I'd promised to show you how actions, speaking louder than words, are likely to change who-is-responsible-for-what once a lucky, plucky, contemplative woman goes on strike.  Then, I suggested that what you're about to see is sure to tickle your funny bone for this reason:  Consequences, laced with a good natured sense of fun, prove more effective than punitive measures when cooperation is the name of the game.

I've heard it said that nothing proves as power packed as the mind of a woman on a mission.  And each time my energy wears thin, woman-on-mission is what I become—for example, I've been on a mission since writing post number one of my blog.

If asked what my mission targets while writing a post, I'd reply:  My mission targets any mind, looking to achieve a goal, which, for some mysterious reason, seems beyond one's reach.  I'm on a quest to knock on doors in minds where negative mind sets limit horizons.  Each time I sit down to write, I'm aiming to open your mind to consider where your thought processes may be limited, negatively focused or unaware of having closed up shop.

Now, before you get defensive and your mind starts nailing every nook and cranny, door and shutter shut, please pause on neutral just long enough to consider this fact:  Right from the start, I've opened my vulnerabilities to you while hoping that you may feel free to do the same with me.  And though I've offered to address consequences, flowing with good natured creativity, the serious nature of my mission grabs hold of my mind upon sitting down to write.  Having learned to let instinct guide my path, I've decided to follow the natural bent of my mind in hopes that you'll place your faith in the fact that with patience, laughs will come.  How do I know laughs will come in good time?  Laughing while learning is my forte.  You see, I learned how funny these consequences prove to be by listening to the laughter of thousands of participants, who've enrolled in my classes over the past 35 years.

For a long while, my mind was so bent on sharing vital information and tricks of the trade that I missed hearing how much laughter ensued in the aftermath of whatever I'd said.  So, how, you might ask, did laughter finally penetrate my awareness?  Well, one day while driving home from the college, I had a flat and called AAA.  While waiting for roadside assistance to rescue this damsel in distress, my mind got bored.  As I was in the habit of taping my classes, workshops and seminars for posterity and in hopes of taming boredom, I popped that day's tape into the tape deck and got a huge surprise.  I'd talk; they'd listen and laugh.  I'd talk; they'd listen and laugh.  I'd talk; they'd listen and laugh.  And so it went from beginning to end—two hours of talking, listening, laughing, no bathroom breaks, yawning or zzzz's.  WOW!  I thought, as awareness packed its punch ... I'M FUNNY!  While doing my best to disseminate serious information, I'm conveying the humor with which I imprint high principled values into the minds of my kids.  Fancy that!

So here I am, sitting in my car, listening to myself as never before and while this new sense of self awareness soaks into my mind, my spirit is stoked, so my wait for AAA flies by.  By the time I got home, my energy source is soaring, and from that time on, having learned something about myself, known to others but unseen by me, I'd walk into every class and auditorium, knowing full well that within a couple of minutes my audience will be eating information out of my hand in the same way that my kids respond favorably whenever I employ the creative, positively focused, funny side of my brain, which figures out how to motivate closed minds to WANT to do what is NEEDED in order that sanity prevails over lethargy or craziness, all around.  Gosh!  I thought!  Millions of people need to learn how to inject humor into situations fraught with frustration, and I'm the Pied Piper who can lead them into the promised land!  Please do not mistake that for ego boasting.  That was the spirit of sages, like Socrates and Shakespeare, whispering self confidence into my ear.  And when the goal is to grab hold of and pry open and pour new ideas into millions of minds, tons of self confidence is what this woman on a mission had need of most.  :)

In short,  please don't mistake that which I've written above as my having become manipulative in a negative or selfish way.  When facing down a dilemma in need of astute resolution, I make good use of humor in hopes of ensuring that every brain involved readies itself to focus upon brainstorming toward solutions that ease life for everyone concerned.  Simply put, this philosophical methodology is called Win-Win.

With discretion as my guide, I allow my vulnerability to hang out for certain people to see.  Here's an example of how that combination of discretion and vulnerability works for me:  Once, when at a total loss as to how to keep a two year old in bed, I threw up my hands and openly declared my inability to control the mind of this independent, little guy.  At that, my two year old tyke offered up an effective consequence that I'd never have agreed to without his permission.  Since he'd 'thunk' up this consequence on his own, defensiveness did not arise, which is why this consequence of his own making worked like a charm!

Hopefully, I've wet your appetite to know how that scenario played out.  And as that example is merely one sample of so of many yet to be described in detail within the posts of my blog, perhaps the point I'm trying to set up, today, is coming clear.  When one wants to solve a problem that continues to raise it's ornery little head and just won't quit, it's vital to remember the parts played by tone of voice, word choice, patience and timing.  In three words:  attitude is everything.  And thus, when a problem pops up, again and again, my first consideration is to question which aspect of my attitude may need to be altered in ways that I've yet to comprehend.  As of today, I take solace in the fact that by way of combining knowledge, humor and self confidence, I've become an instrumental link in opening the minds of thousands, who've enrolled in my classes or read articles, written and published.  And as long as I keep those facts in the forefront of my mind, this woman on a mission awakens each morning, geared up to influence the minds of ... millions ... 76 nations, so far, and counting— :)

WOW!  Guess what I just realized?
When I sat down to write, today, my head was hurting, and now it hurts less!
What was hurting my head?
A pounding head ache from Shingles.
In fact, when I sat down, I didn't know if I could write anything, at all.

In addition to the itch and burning associated with this viral infection that lays dormant for years, I'm sensitive to medication, meaning something that's good for me makes me feel awful before better—you know, like prying your mind open to hearing something you'd rather not know about yourself that you need to know before some aspect of your life that's stuck inside a narrow place may begin to move forward and expand :) ...

While searching for an open door into another person's mind, I'm not looking for weakness;  I'm not looking to pounce on some area of vulnerability.  All I aim to do is to encourage you to question ways in which emotion bends the path of your thoughts.  You see, as soon as strong emotion enters the arena, logic thins out, and when logic thins out it's easy to lose sight of one's path ...

Yesterday, I'd decided to employ mind over matter in hopes that my condition (itching, burning, headache) would improve.  I'd determined that this Shingles thing would not pull rank on the strength of my spirit and get me down.  Having forgotten my sensitivity to medication, I'd dismissed my body's historical inability to tolerate the invasion of drugs, needed to fight illness that compromises my good health.  Boy!  Was I disappointed in myself when itching, burning, head ache, nausea, dizziness, and upset stomach pinned my spirit to the mat.

When yesterday felt awful, guess what I chose to do, today.  Open my mind.  Re-evaluate my stance.  Change my mind set by accepting the fact that upon redirecting my attitude, I can free my spirit while my body's reactions to meds remains unchanged.  And guess what happened upon redirecting my mind to acknowledge my resistance not only to illness but to the cure?  I stopped hurtling negative judgment upon myself, and as soon as I stopped judging myself, my head ache lessened, thus freeing my spirit to lighten, automatically.  Upon rethinking my original stance, I turned a negative chain reaction toward the positive, and in that instance, mind over matter worked, at least to some degree.  On the other hand, here's an example of mind over matter not working at all ...

Thirty-seven years ago my phone rings.  It's early in the morning.  My sister, Lauren's on the line.  She's newly pregnant, feeling nauseous.  She's decided to will nausea away.  I've had two pregnancies, by now.  I'm listening to a rookie, thinking ... good luck.  A half hour later my phone rings.  Mind over matter had lost.  Lauren, determined to stay put and beat this thing, just threw up—in bed.  Being Lauren's older, more experienced sister, I muster compassion and commiserate until she decides to clean up and strip the bed.  Upon hanging up, I can't help the fact that my delayed reaction bursts forth, because—we laugh at the truth.

I always want to believe I'm so strong, when truthfully, at times I'm as vulnerable to life as anyone else.  Each time I accept the vulnerable side of human nature, I ease up on myself.  The easier I am on myself, the easier I am on others.  Upon easing up on judgment, in general, life gets easier, all around.  Once this story, concerning a woman on a mission who goes on strike, picks up steam, you'll see examples of how that easing-up-line-of-reasoning, creates open pathways of communication, amongst people of both genders, at all ages, at home and beyond.  Time and again, it's been my experience that as soon as judgment lessens, emotional environments, pulsing with high wired tension, become safe havens where words, flowing with compassion, sooth fears and frustrations, which tend to ooze out of yesteryear's unhealed wounds.

By the way, upon opening my present vulnerability to friends, guess what just happened?  The phone rang, and chicken soup is on its way.  Though I'll enjoy the soup, more important is the open flow of love I feel for the generous soul, whose thoughtfulness has lifted my spirit.

Funny how we'll open up about physical vulnerabilities while narrow mindsets block us from exposing emotional vulnerabilities—even to ourselves.  Why is that true?  In order not to scare ourselves half to death, Mother Nature preprogrammed our defense systems to block our conscious minds from seeing too deeply into subconscious fears.  To some degree or another, we fear being judged lacking in sensitivity, passion, humor, logic or whatever, and that makes me ask:  What's logical about blocking one's mind to any vulnerability in need of strengthening ... I mean, seriously people, what's up with that!

If you ask why today's thoughts precede my showering you with funny consequences, as promised, I'd reply:  I think you're receiving the serious side of my nature because I feel unwell.  Interestingly, my horoscope says:  You'll be driven to express yourself, assert your rights and validate your curiosity, today.  :)

By the way, can you guess what happened when I stopped trying to control a reaction that's beyond my control—specifically—my body's physical sensitivity to medication?  Upon easing up on seeing myself as weak, which disappointed me, my frustration lessened, and though nothing has improved, except my attitude, one thing has changed, dramatically:  Upon accepting what proves to be classic for me, my spirit feels a bit lighter, today than yesterday—thus imprinting, once again, that along with patience, openness,  and thoughtfulness, the attitude with which we accept or reject human vulnerably is everything :)

At this point, I'd like to quote Dr. Brene Brown of the University of Houston:  "Vulnerability ... is a willingness to show up, be seen, and take chances ..."  Dr. Brown goes on to say that " ... the hidden secret to success is vulnerability ...".

Let's consider my vulnerability:  Each time I offer you another glimpse into me, I hope you'll see my mind, heart and spirit welcoming your mind, heart and spirit to feel so safe as to allow me to see clearly into whatever you feel or fear.  I hope you'll recognize how thoughtfully I wait to accept and soothe your vulnerabilities as well as admiring your cultivated strengths.  As you shall see, embracing vulnerability allows each of us to experiment with risking failure.  Once we learn the reasons why something seems to fail repeatedly, we tend to achieve a heartfelt goal.  And thus in the long run, as Dr. Brown suggests, "... with risk comes great reward".  Take Babe for example.  Though known far and wide for hitting homers, Babe Ruth struck out more often than not.  Even so, he never stopped swinging for the fences.  And in the long run, success was his :)

Dr. Brown has authored a book titled:  DARING GREATLY:  HOW THE COURAGE TO BE VULNERABLE TRANSFORMS THE WAY WE LIVE, LOVE, PARENT AND LEAD

I read another horoscope in today's paper that states:  Much depends on how you speak.  State exactly what you'd like to see happen.  (Risk showing what you really feel ...)

Though taking action is important, words and tones used to express our innermost feelings and thoughts may determine that which we'll receive in return from loved ones and colleagues.  When words prove not enough to achieve heartfelt goals, action must follow.

Lots of people, who think to know me well, suggest that I alter thought patterns, resembling Pollyana's.  My response?  A Mona Lisa smile.  Once I, like Babe, embrace a heartfelt goal, it's highly unlikely that I'll give up on working toward achieving success. :)

At this point, let's hope that I'll start to feel so much better that you'll find a funny chapter when next we meet.  Though that's my plan, I'll admit to the unpredictable nature of my mind and not repeat yesterday's mistake.  Though I can't promise what my mind will write, next, I can safely promise you this:  Once my heart cares, it cares forever.  How do I know this to be true?  One look at my history suggests that this woman's most trustworthy trait proves to be the steadfast nature of my heart—and that's the truth  :)

612 ON STRIKE! 1980 ... CHAPTER 1

One Sunday, in 1980, while catching up after a week of:  teaching, meeting a writing deadline, stuffing hundreds of neighborhood children in car pools, driving to thousands of schools, sports practices and games on fields all over town ... after helping with homework ... after preparing, serving and cleaning up homemade meals for an army of young men, whose athletic appetites grew as fast as their heights shot up toward vaulted ceilings ... after accomplishing everything on my daily things-to-do lists, like making appointments and driving and waiting in doctors' dentists' orthodontists' not to forget their father's orthopaedic office, because due to our active attack upon life, one of us always seemed injured ... I spent this day of rest playing tennis ... NOT ... because, along with every other tightly scheduled activity, competitive leagues convened during the week, same with riding my favorite horse, Granny, Tuesdays and Thursdays from the canal to the top of the mountain behind my house, which of course made it 'my' mountain, where upon reaching the peak, my smile delighted in the expansive view of my little corner of the world, sprawling out so far below this height, which I'd somehow miraculously managed to claim as my own.

As to Sunday, the day of rest, well, my time was spent whistling while working at food shopping, separating piles of whites from colors in need of spraying, washing, drying, folding, preparing meals to freeze for next week, baking toll house recipes with extra chocolate chips ... after flipping pancakes for my trio and all of their endlessly hungry friends, warmly welcomed to consider our home their weekend retreat, and in these ways did I choose to exhaust what little was left of my gargantuan storehouse of energy, every Sunday,  the day biblically reserved for ... family and rest ... which I think is an oxymoron.  (love that word ... oxy/moron, because life is crazy!).

After working hard, playing hard, and winding down by reading voraciously, I slept soundly.  Where I found time to sit on school boards and volunteer on the youth group board, as well, I have no clue.  Somehow, 500 puzzle pieces came together, every week, creating a kaleidoscopic picture of family life that fit me as smoothly as slipping my busy hands into a pair of cashmere lined, soft kid gloves, stitched specifically for me.  I didn't work at any task from the standpoint of necessity.  As I loved my work, both professionally and personally, common sense sought ways to keep all aspects of my life humming, harmonically.  And as heartfelt laughter spilled out of my spirit, naturally, our family loaded up on tons of fun.  No wonder why all the kids, who stayed over every weekend, considered themselves family ... when positivity plays follow-the-leader, every day feels like party day.  Don't even get me started, describing holiday and birthday surprises ... as for Halloween ... well let's put it this way, now that my sons run that show, there's never less than 200 at their annual bash ... all costumed to the max, of course!  When people love people, it shows.

You see, it's a well known fact that a complex machine, such as family life proves to be, is in need of a well tuned engine, so unknowingly, I turned myself into the little engine that could by acting very much like the eighth in a line of seven dwarfs, whistling while I worked from dawn to dusk and ... after personally tucking each of my three sons into their beds ... and after bedtime stories had been read and after each had enjoyed an uninterrupted, one-to-one, Three Minute Miracle time, alone in their rooms, with Yours Truly ... deep into the dark of night, I'd highlight a new parenting text before dropping off to sleep at midnight only to awaken at 6am to more of the same.

Once, after a ten day stay, my mother-in-law exclaimed, I don't know how you do it, Annie.  Watching how fast you move exhausts me.  Is your washing machine broken?  No, I replied, why do you ask?  It's not running.  It's always running!  And so was I.

Sooo ... by the time late afternoon on Sunday rolled around, you can see as to how appreciative I'd felt when Life offered up a moment of peaceful respite where I'd curl up with the entertainment section of the newspaper on two, colorfully over-stuffed floor pillows, plumped up against the white tiles of our living room fireplace, as was my habit—until something changed—and here it comes ... the short end of the straw ...

Upon the winds of change, Pop Warner blew into our lives.  And with this additional activity, let's call it—the last straw—Super Mom's last few moments of relaxation blew out of my life—but not for long :)

At this point, late in the day on Sunday saw me doing more laundry.  And as resting less and less became the norm a rest/less change took place in me.  Though my good humored demeanor wrestled with this undefined sense of restless dismay for quite some time, over time, this change developed a name.  A first name and a last.   If the first name of my change was ... Frustration, my second change was named ... Resentment ... both of which were new to the little engine that could until she experienced too little down time for herself.  How cliche of me!

Once my ever increasing mountain of tasks-taken-on loomed too high to climb over on my own, an over-taxed frame of mind caused my heartfelt smile to shrink.  And rather than watching my spirit greet each day by leaping out of bed, delighting in life, the little engine that could awakened tired.  As it takes quite a lot for Happy to simulate Grumpy, this petite powerhouse, who'd always called herself Lucky, shrugged off frustration and resentment and whistled for as long as she could ...

If at this point your curiosity would like to ask what changes might a sinking attitude and a shrinking smile bring to the idyllic family life, created by the contemplative brain of this super-duper mothering machine (who having gone unheard, knew better than to shriek her resentment out loud), well, I'd reply ... if one change leads to the next, then two changes lead to many more, and as this story is just beginning to unfold ... and as my mind is presently in need of a rest, I'll ask you to rustle up a bit of patience, because you'll soon see how actions that speak louder than words are about to change who-is-responsible-for-what in this happy home after a plucky, lucky, contemplative woman, who speaks up but goes unheard, goes on strike.  As for now, I have no doubt that what you are about to see is sure to tickle your funny bone, when chapter two of this story pops up on your screen, because it seems to me that peeps of all ages enjoy coming home when consequences, concerning cooperation, are laced with a sense of fun .  And with that, Lucky, who is nursing a mild case of shingles (so much for vaccinations) is about to grab a nutritious snack and a much needed, well deserved rest from... writing :)

Sent from my iPad

611 DIGNITY UNDER FIRE WHILE LEADING MY FIRST PARENT'S NIGHT IN 1966

By jove!  I've finally got it!  I've figured out why I can tell you stories about my life before high school and after high school, but not during high school, which proves curious for this reason:  Lots of funny high school stories line up inside my mind.  This suggests that my mental block against telling high school stories must rooted in some dark experience locked inside my subconscious, and here comes the reason why I can't write around it:  That experience, so fearsome as to have been banished from my conscious mind, might sneak out and attack my state of well being as subconscious fear has been wont to do while I'm sitting here writing innocently about other things.  And thus in fear of unresolved trauma grabbing hold of my mind, my defense system blocks my thought processor from opening that entire block of time until I muster the courage to steady my conscious mind to unlock the door to a haunted room in my memory bank and withdraw the ghoulish ghost that's played hide and seek with my self trust for most of my life.

As instinct suggests we leave that dead weight inside my mind to rest in peace at least for now, let's high tail it back to September of 1966, where we can imagine a twenty-two year old woman, standing before a black board, facing a group of adults, seated in child sized desks, who, being older than me by at least a decade, need not do much of anything to intimidate the self confident stance of their children's fifth grade teacher, on this, my very first parents' night ...

Having worked to achieve my share of Girl Scout badges, I am every bit as prepared to lead this group of parents as I prepare lesson plans in a well organized fashion, day after day.  On the other hand, this is my very first time leading a room filled with accomplished adults, who hang on my every word, so I am praying that all goes well.  And as all does go well, I am close to being off the hook until it's time to ask for questions, and one father raises his hand...

Upon seeing a hand in the air, I direct a friendly, authoritative nod toward this thirty-something year old guy, and when my smile signals him to ask away ... ask away he does:

So ... some of us are wondering if your maiden name is Howard? 

As this question swerves off the beaten track, the rookie is taken aback, kind of thrown off her game.  I mean, why in the world does so-and-so's father care to know my maiden name?

Uh ... no, responds the rookie, as curiosity, spilling out of my mind, takes a swing and a miss at the ball.

At this point, instinct suggests that the rookie shorten up on the bat to steady her aim in case her mind has to keep swinging at curves, because Mr. Frick has just asked, Then what is your maiden name?

Though curiosity muddies my mind with confusion and I can't for the life of me fathom why I feel as though we are duking something out ... in retrospect, I felt baited, because tension has hot wired every brain in the room ...

Ummm ... I'm a bit confused ... can you tell me why we're discussing my maiden name?

Thank goodness, Mr. Frick's wife, who occupies the desk next to her husband's, shoots him a dark look, and as father number one clams up, father number two, who proves bolder by far, picks up the baton ...

Well, with your dark hair and blue eyes, some of us have been wondering whether you might be Ann Howard.

So here it comes, the moment when I chomp down on the bait and fall into the trap ... Who is Ann Howard?

With tongue in cheek Mr. Frack replies:  Ann Howard is a Playboy Centerfold ...

At this, the power of suggestion grabs hold of every mind in the room, including mine, and I go from teacher to stripper in a flash.  Though steeling myself to look Frack straight in the eye, every atom inside me is dying to look down to reassure myself that my clothes have not dropped to the floor along with my jaw.  I mean really—what in the world can this room full of people be thinking of me???  That I teach by day and pole dance by night???

When it comes to jaw dropping contests it's safe to say that no jaw has ever hit the floor as fast as mine did on that evening when this rookie was pitched a fast curve as hot as that one proved to be.  Even so, while blood surges through me so hotly that my mind is blown senseless, my composure is seemingly maintained.  Within seconds, I hear light-hearted laughter, breaking through the pregnant pause electrifying the air, and as that sprinkle of laughter is my own, I create a comfort zone, which invites everyone's sense of humor to join in.

 In truth, I am so light headed as to be unable to catch my breath, and as shock knocks memory out of the ball park, I can't fathom how I'd managed to segue toward the rest of my presentation ... though segue toward regaining control is exactly what ensued.  With no clue that good natured, leadership skills had instinctively saved this rookie from striking out, my self confident stance was secretly shaking, right down to my core when I respond ...

If you think a Playboy Playmate is teaching your kids, please think again  ...

Well ... counters Mr Frack, still looking like the cat that ate the canary, just asking ... and thank goodness—that's the end of that!

On the up side, I had no need to entertain this room filled with my students' parents, because two clowns had managed to turn our evening into a three ring circus, early on.  And looking back, it's great to know that this rookie, wearing a ring master's hat, did not bomb.

Upon deeper reflection, Frick and Frack did a twenty-two year old, dark haired, blue eyed, fledgling woman a huge favor:  You see, in the aftermath of that stunning encounter, which challenged an inexperienced rookie to hold her own under fire, no one—throughout the years of my teaching and speaking career—has ever tossed out a question that I couldn't handle with aplomb :)

PS  Once again, all names have been changed to protect the not so innocent :)

610 A STORY ABOUT LEARNING ... NATURALLY

When it came to choosing a profession, I was born to inspire 'love of learning' in people of all ages.  Though I had no clue of that at the beginning of my career, upon reflecting back, there's no doubt about it.

Let's take children for example.  When it came to encouraging the young to enjoy each morsel of knowledge that would, in some way, enrich their lives, I was a natural.  Once settled into my classroom, the mind of each child got caught up in the sense that this year would prove unlike any other for this reason ... Instinct suggested that their teacher's state of wonderment matched their own.  As boredom was never an option, young minds opened to learning as eagerly as mine.  To illustrate the validity of this point, here is one thing I learned that delighted me to no end ...

The year was 1968.  It was the day after Labor Day, which proved to be the first day of my second year teaching fifth grade in an affluent, midwestern suburb.  At a quarter before nine, the first school bell rang, clearly announcing to teachers and children, alike, the brand new start of another academic year.  And just as the energy of the sun warmed the bright blue sky above, my heart surged with the warmth that energized my smile, which would welcome twenty-five young minds to connect with my own.  Upon hearing the first bell, I cast one last glance around the classroom and surmised that every bulletin board had been as colorfully readied to kick off the new year as I'd felt prepared to energize 25 youngsters to absorb the three R's with a flare for fun that never failed to surprise ... not just the kids but their pied piper, as well.  :)

Interestingly, my energetic approach to imparting knowledge had not consciously occurred to me.  In retrospect, I simply injected this element of enthusiastic delight into teaching as openly as I'd shared my delight in every new aspect of life.  Simply put, curbing enthusiasm did not work for me.  Never did.  Never will.

So anyway while the early bell is ringing, my classroom is looking ready to party; my daily lesson plan is set; the blackboard, being freshly washed, is so black as to show my name written in cursive, every bit as bright as I expect to extract brightness from every head that's sure to snap to attention while I am reciting twenty-five names, aloud.  You see, I've got something up my sleeve that these children do not suspect.  I know more than their names.  Before laying eyes on them. I can match each name with a face. :)

I have spent my last week of summer matching and memorizing a class list of alphabetized names with photos of faces, found in their files.  And though we'll mix up the seating arrangement before the end of this first week, these 25 minds, which I'm charged with controlling, will be seated in alphabetized order for this reason.  Right from the start, I want them to learn who is in charge and who is not.  :)

Immediately after these children file into my classroom and while they remain in a tidy line against the wall, each boy and girl will be instructed to sit down as their natural leader calls out the roll.  And thus in this orderly fashion, my small but significant physical presence will captain a shipshape, academic arena in which an environment, humming with mutual enrichment, rules the day.  Simply stated, that is my plan.  And my plan works like a charm for this reason. There is nothing more inspiring to a group of unruly children than a leader's self confident approach toward ... Leadership, combined with mutual respect.  As it is rare for a teacher to match names and faces before twenty five children file in, I'll attract the attention of every brain in my class as soon as the first child takes a seat.

So let's imagine twenty-five wiggling ten year olds, lined up against the wall in single file.  Next, let's imagine my smiling presence, glancing down at a list of names, starting with the letter A.  Imagine me walking right up to a specific child, my smile, beaming with recognition while reciting that child's first and last name, aloud.  Imagine me 'commanding' the attention of the class as a whole.  Imagine me welcoming each child by softly placing a gentle hand on each surprised shoulder, while the friendly twinkle in my eye sends this message ...

I am The Child Whisperer.  I be The Child Whisperer, because a child whisperer is what i'd needed when life scared me senseless at the age of three.  You are safe with me ...

In retrospect, I've yet to encounter a problem with any child that could not be soothed, over time, with the nurturing hand of love.  Somehow, my love is conveyed so naturally that children instinctively place their trust in the fact that our heartfelt connection will remain intact, no matter what comes to pass ...

I guess you might say there's an innocence about me that adults might see as naive while children sense a permeable vulnerability that delights in experimenting with personal growth.  Teaching creatively came so naturally to me that I didn't think of myself as the adult in charge.  I just dived in, took charge and smiled, laughed, listened and taught the way I'd wished others would have spoken to me.  Though well prepared, I did not teach as carefully as I taught 'caringly', remembering, first and foremost, that people have ears, and ears are passageways toward deeper feelings, which may go unseen.  The fact that I chose my words with care and proved a sensitive listener does not suggest my being a perfect teacher.  (Stories of human imperfection to come.)

Anyway right from the start on that first day of school, my class learned to respect the fact that a creature as small as me proved a powerful presence in each of their lives.  As to what this small creature learned in return?  I learned that a classroom of children could trust and love me before I'd ever given them reason to respect me.  And here's how that went ...

Our school had a first-day tradition, which continued throughout the year and worked like this:   When the early bell rang, every child on the playground assembled into his or her designated class line.  As letters had been sent to each child's home, every child knew where to line up.  While hundreds of children were falling into formation, teachers left their classrooms and walked outside, each to stand at the head of his or her class.  On the first day of school, each child knew which line to stand in, but no child knew which teacher would walk up to the head of that line and lead that specific class into the school.  Though reputations are known to precede introductions, I had no clue that four lines of fifth graders were holding their breath as a quartet of fifth grade teachers walked out of the school, onto the playground.  So okay, here's where I'm about to learn something new that's going to delight me to the max ... Here's an example of action speaking louder than words ...

Upon stopping at the head of the line that proved to be my class, decorum became pandemonium as that line broke into ten year olds, jumping with joy, cheering aloud, while three other lines, slumping slightly, filed quietly into the school.  While quieting the delight of my heart and my class, I thought OMG, they love me without even knowing what's actually in store for them once I get them inside my room and begin to entertain their brains with learning as never before!  This year is going to be the best!  We're going to have even more fun than I'd ever imagined!  And as attitude is everything, I was right on the mark!

As our attitudes were positively focused, one and all, our heartfelt eagerness to learn couldn't be beat!  At the end of that year while extending a tearful hug to each my beloved children,  their very pregnant teacher/friend said ... I took home so many funny stories about all of you, this year, that my family laughed and laughed.  At that, one ten year old, named Amy, piped up with, Well ... we took home lots of funny stories about you, too!

I hope never to lose the sense of childlike wonder that admits openly to fear, one minute, and then in the next, recoups my sense of logic so quickly as to laugh in a self effacing way at myself.  As certain fears persist for good reason, showing them to you, from time to time, does not embarrass me.  On the other hand, when given the opportunity to laugh a fear out of my mind, even temporarily, I'll grab on to any positively focused line that you may choose to send to me via the comment box ... And as post by post, you watch me discover, confront and resolve deep seated fears, perhaps my openness will inspire you to look into your own ...

When next we meet, I'll tell you a funny story that took place on parents' night when I was a first year teacher ...  I mean, it's one thing to gain the respect of children, it's quite another to maintain the respect of one's peers ...

609 I CHANGED MY MIND ... Aaachooo!

I changed my mind
I don't know why my mind changed
I just know that it did, because ...
I don't feel like going back to review posts already written
I feel like leaping forward into a new story, instead ... and just as
I don't know what to make of this change ...
I don't know why I still don't feel up to snuff, however ...
I do believe in making the best of whatever is taking place, so
I will end for today by telling you this ...
I am planning to write a new story when next we meet ...
Aaachooo!

608. WISHING YOU A HAPPY HEALTHY ... AAACHOOO!

After sending email wishing everyone happiness and  healthiness
I sent it to myself in hopes of relieving flu-ish-ness with ...
A high spirited ...
Hi ho Silver, away!
As that did not do the trick ...
Hopefully, I'll feel less flu-ish, more refreshed after a nap ...
Happy New Year, one and all!