Christmas for Realists

I sat down to write a blog tonight about teaching and how it has been a rough go lately. I was going to title it, "High School Sucks." I had one of those typical high school moments today in the girls bathroom- the type of moments that happens in movies about high school. Some girl is in the bathroom stall when a bunch of other girls walk in. The girls start saying something really mean about the girl in the stall, and she sits there in mortification. Today the girl in the stall was me, and the girls were my students. Instead of sitting there, I walked out and confronted them- but I think I would have rather hidden in the stall.

I suppose that the bigger question that has been on my mind is having faith in humanity. Christmas is a season of faith and hope. Finding the glimmer of light in the darkness and knowing that it will return. I see kids doing terrible things to each other. I see students in my classroom that can barely read and write at a second grade level. I see girls who I fear will become young mothers before they have the chance to mature. I see students who give to the toy drive only because a teacher has promised a party to the class that raises the most money. I see kids that are overweight and seemingly do nothing but play video games during all of their free time. I hear kids using racial slurs, homophobic insults, and profanity that would put a sailor to shame. How does one find faith in humanity in all of this? What will our society look like when these children grow up?

I am struggling with these questions, and they are questions that I can't ignore. I see a snapshot of society in my classroom each day and they are right there staring me in the eye. Sitting there, too, however are students who amaze me with their intelligence. Students who say "Hi Ms. Zahm!" with enthusiasm each and every day as they enter my door. Students who ask intelligent questions that let me know that they are actually thinking. They are there and I need only open my eyes to see their presence.

Each day we are faced with choices. Are we going to pay attention to the obnoxious customer in the checkout line who is giving the clerk a hard time, or are we going to see the mom who is doing a fantastic job of keeping her kids entertained as they wait? Will we get bogged down by all of the bad news in the paper, or remember the story about people making a difference? Will we remember that we slammed our finger in the drawer and spilled our coffee, or that we did a really good job in that meeting? It's all there... and we need only choose.

If you know me well, then you probably know that I'm not encouraging you to put on your blinders as you go through your day. We can't view the world in only rose-colored glasses. I have always been proud of the fact that I am a realist- not a pessimist or optimist, but as a realist. If I am to be a realist, then I should view the world as it is: A world that has room for hope (even maybe just a smallish glimmer).

 

"And the Grinch, with his grinch-feet ice-cold in the snow, stood puzzling and puzzling: 'How could it be so? It came without ribbons! It came without tags! It came without packages, boxes or bags!' And he puzzled three hours, till his puzzler was sore. Then the Grinch thought of something he hadn't before! 'Maybe Christmas,' he thought, 'doesn't come from a store. Maybe Christmas... perhaps... means a little bit more!'"   

'Tis the Season of Gluttony

I was thinking the other day about food. Yum. It's getting to be that time of year... the turkey, the mashed potatoes, the PIE. Oh my goodness. Are you as ready for Thanksgiving as I am? There's something about gathering around a table that brings people together like nothing else. Or, better yet, the munching that occurs before and after the actual meal. I contend that everyone who likes to cook has a favorite dish to make around the holidays. For a long time for me it was peanut brittle. Have you had my peanut brittle? As far as I'm concerned, my peanut brittle could be my one claim to fame. And, not to get completely full of myself, but I do make a sugar cookie that is to DIE for. My cheesecake? Sinful. But, as with all good things, all of this lovely indulging comes with a price. I remembered today that I had written about this subject while I lived in Reno. I was a "Worship Associate" for the UU church there for a time. As part of the job, the Worship Associate wrote and delivered their own mini-sermon that was given before the minister's. The minister at the time was doing a series on the 7 Deadly Sins (and yes, I did say that this was a UU church... and if you know anything about UUs then you will appreciate the irony here). In honor of November and the start of the eating... err... I mean holiday season, here is my mini-sermon on the topic of "Gluttony:"

Now is the time of year when visions of sugar-plums are dancing in our heads and we look forward to the visit from a chubby and plump right jolly old elf whose round belly shakes like a bowlful of jelly. One has to admit that the travesty of the season is surely when the Grinch steals the last can of Who-Hash! Forget the presents and all of that thanksgiving rubbish, give me a candy cane and piece of pumpkin pie and I’ll be satisfied. Well, maybe with just one more helping of Grandma’s famous fudge that she only makes once a year…

            And why this obsession with food? Is there a reason for the season of stuffing ourselves more than the turkey? To what can we attribute the yearly battle of the bulge that has us joining the gym the day after new years as a penance for our eating sins? Fortunately, there is something we can blame for our overindulgence. Thank goodness! It all goes back to a simpler time in evolutionary history. When the days began to shorten something inside of ourselves told us to pack on that winter fat layer, otherwise we surely wouldn’t make it to see the spring! Food was scarce, and if we didn’t eat as much as we could while it was available we would surely fall victim to natural selection! Survival of the fittest, or survival of the fattest?

            Well, unfortunately last I saw food wasn’t a rare commodity in the land of plenty, or at least is isn’t for those of us who are lucky enough to have this problem. We live in a country where Overeaters Anonymous is as much a 12 step program as is Alcoholics Anonymous. Although our addiction to food is more socially acceptable than an addiction to alcohol, essentially it all boils down to the same problem. I eat to fill myself with whatever I am missing from my life: friendship, love, satisfaction. We can no longer blame our genes for the void within us that yearns to be filled with stuffing, crescent rolls, and anything that calls for a stick of butter. The popular media certainly seems to have all the answers: low-carb, Atkins, South Beach, and all those supplements that claim to reduce appetite and turn you into a supermodel in just 6 weeks. But the real answer doesn’t come from a store, perhaps, I think, our problem means just a little bit more. If I can look inside and figure out exactly why I find it necessary to have that second piece of pie, maybe I can understand myself without resenting the scale the next day. But, for those of you who were worried, I will assure you that he brought everything back, all the food for the feast and he, he himself the Grinch, carved the roast beast.      

Gratitude, Goddamnit!

I am really trying to feel grateful for what I have today, and every day. But, let me tell you, it is a struggle. I know that I have so much compared to so many people. I own a home, I have a beautiful daughter who is incredible, a husband who isn't completely crazy (only a healthy amount), and enough food to eat. However, this year is tough. I've taken a pay cut and, as my income is the larger piece of the pie in the family, we are feeling a hit. Buying a home, too, has put on the squeeze... even before this year's cut. I'm working at the after school tutoring program at school twice a week unti 5 in order to attempt to break even, but often I'm checking the bank daily to make sure that we aren't in the red. I hate, hate, hate thinking about money all the time, and so wish that at more "flush" times in my life I had realized how lucky I was.

Why is it so hard to let go of these things that are completely unnecessary, and for most people have always been out of reach? Why is it so depressing not to be able to have the freedom to do whatever whenever? Partly it is because I have tasted "the good life" and am now having to adjust to a different reality. Partly it is because I talk to people every day who are going on trips, eating at gourmet restaurants, and buying new clothes. Every time someone talks about going away for the weekend, I have to admit that I just want to throw up. I want to say, "Gee, that's really nice that you can afford to do that. You should be grateful... and shut the hell up about it!" Additionally, we live in a culture that tells us to consume. Tells us that we need to buy, buy, buy and that we are entitled to have these things. We are owed. We deserve it. 

This is clearly a lesson in humility and gratitude. I am trying to be grateful for what I have. I am trying to feel happy for people who are going out of town this weekend. I am trying not to harbor jealousy. I am trying to make peace with the fact that we are working so incredibly hard and are exhausted every night just to stay on top of everything. It is overwhelming, and the holidays make it harder. 

You won't find sugar-coating in this post, but what's the point of having a blog if I'm not going to tell it like it is? This is what is going on with me right now. Everyone talks about the economy and how it sucks, but sometimes the "numbers" are impersonal. Well, it's personal for me. What have I learned? That all those years that I had money, there were probably people just like me now that wanted to throw up when I was talking about the next trip I was going on or the last movie I saw. Now I get it, or at least I've had a taste of what it is like to walk in those shoes. I also hope that I will be lucky enough to never know the depths of true poverty, because what I am having trouble accepting would be laughable for so many people.  

Here are a few things I am grateful for today: My house feels too small, but the roof isn't leaking. I can type this blog on a computer. I know how to read. Although I don't have a lot of clothes, I have enough and a washer and dryer with which to clean them. I have people in my life who care about me and my family. Julia knows how to do a puzzle, and that's pretty damn cool.   

If you count all your assets, you always show a profit.  ~Robert Quillen

He is a wise man who does not grieve for the things which he has not, but rejoices for those which he has.  ~Epictetus

Courtesies of a small and trivial character are the ones which strike deepest in the grateful and appreciating heart.  ~Henry Clay
Only a stomach that rarely feels hungry scorns common things.  ~Horace

Turn, Turn, Turn

Here we are again at the end of another summer. Leaves are already falling in my neighborhood- big ones from the oak trees. Julia seems to wonder at the crunch as she walks. This also means it is time for another school year to begin. It is interesting that for the last 24 years or so of my life, my years have been measured by the coming and going of the school calendar- by Thanksgiving and Christmas breaks, Martin Luther King day… I was just thinking about the fact that I haven’t gone one year without either being in school or teaching it since I was, say, 5 years old? I buy my planners in the July-June versions, never the January to December variety.

How is it that we measure the cycles of our lives? The passing of a year brings with it its own natural cycle- the coming of darkness and the festivals of lights, and then the slow reawakening of the Earth as life once again visibly emerges. Do we still notice these comings and goings, or are we caught by surprise when, once again, it is Christmas already? Wow, that summer really flew by… I can’t believe it’s September again. In one of my favorite movies, the maid remarks on Halloween, “Another Halloween! We’re all another year older!”

These events remind us of the passing of time and give structure to a year. It seems that humans, as part of even the earliest cultures, mark these passages with significance. However, today many of these ceremonies have been usurped by commercialism… Better stock up for summer… time for Halloween decorations, only 53 shopping days left ‘till Christmas. Granted, I’ve done my fair share of shopping to be sure. I’m starting to wonder, though, if it would be of more significance to simply Be with those around me.

Why is it that the holidays always seem to sneak up on us? Why is it such a surprise that it is December already? I know that, especially when teaching, I often am so go-go-go that I fail to notice that the trees are now bare or are beginning to bud. We all lead such busy lives that noticing such subtleties is often lost in the whirlwind of activity. We may go to a park, but we jog through it.  

As another school year begins, I realize that, inevitably, at some point I will buried in labs to grade, trying to keep up with the laundry, and generally running around like a crazy person. I am going to try, however, to take some time to sit (yes, this needs to be a goal for me) and just be. Or take Julia out to notice some of those subtleties before they pass us by. I want her to know the natural world and to become aware of its ever-presence. The leaves are falling.        

Dirty Laundry

As the summer is coming to a close, I am more and more feeling the need to somehow squeeze every last drop of fun that I can out of the precious few days remaining (14, but who's counting?). Staying at home with my daughter all summer has been challenging to say the least, but as going back to work fast approaches I have to admit that I am feeling.... well, a variety of emotions about leaving her again. On the one hand, most working moms never get a chance to have months of uninterrupted time with their children and many would jump at the chance. On the other hand, having the time makes it all the harder to go back and the ever-present guilt of being a working mom is felt all the more acutely. Summer is the proverbial double-edged sword.

In response to this guilt, I find myself looking for the mommy and kiddo things to do with Julia that we will either no longer be able to do, or will be more difficult to manage once I go back to work. Library story time for instance, or toddler swim at the pool. Spending the morning at the park with a friend, going to the zoo all day, or heading downtown. Granted, there are the weekends and some of these things are feasible, but the weekend can turn into, “Okay, how much stuff can we cram into two days- laundry, grocery shopping, cleaning… What needs to get done?”

Then again, maybe I need to change my perspective on how I spend my time. Although the grocery shopping must get done, perhaps I can do that on my way home from work and have more time on the weekend to chill. Does is matter if my house is a wreck? The chaos does start to get to me after a while, but a nightly sweep to clear the major disasters will probably suffice. We are human. We live here. Home magazines do not demonstrate reality.

I fully admit that I am not telling a new story here. I am not shedding light on some universal truth that has never been told before. However, I believe that this struggle of balance for working folk (with or without children) is a persistent theme. I recently had the pleasure of seeing “Eat, Pray, Love” with my best friend, with whom I have seen many a good movie. This is not the place for a movie review (I’ll leave that to her), but one thing that I did come away with was that we can really get caught up in doing things that we think are important but realistically are not. Building a so-called “perfect” life with granite countertops and remodeled bathrooms might look pretty on the outside, but inside the picture can be completely different. The seemingly perfect couple with the house in the ‘burbs can be completely unhappy and dissatisfied because they have been working only on the surface appearance. Have you heard this before? Yes. Is it worth hearing one more time, cliché though it may be? I think so.  

I come from a family that is deeply rooted in appearances and carrying on normalcy when the H-bomb could be heading straight for us. Duck and cover, la la la, but look good doing it. It’s time to admit that I have dirty laundry- literally all over my house, and sometimes figuratively as well. Most importantly, I need to admit this to myself and allow myself to accept that “it” isn’t all going to get done. I won’t be the perfect super mom who can do it all with finesse, but I can do my best. That means that the dirty laundry will pile up, toys will be strewn on the floor, and I may find Cheerios where they aren’t supposed to be. If you come to my house, you aren’t going to find granite countertops or perfectly arranged flowers on the mantle, but I think we’ll have a good time anyway. That’s just how I roll.