Nothing political, whew!

Getting to the last part of winter, budget season. This morning there was the usual frost covering the fields, and today there was the fog with the bare tree skeletons emerging, mysterious. Red shouldered hawks hunting rabbits, and the cardinals so proud of their breeding plumage. The newest calf thinks it is a car- chasing dog and runs along beside the car as I drive up to get the papers. Really, this little guy is purely ADHD, and I am glad I don't have him in my class.
I spent this wonderful chilly Monday being purposeful. First, Jane Fonda. Remember her? I am trying to be aggressively constant about exercise so I have these several videos I use every day. There's Jane, so perky, and still lively despite her hip, knee and shoulder replacements (who knows about the face lifts? But, hey, she's still good at seventy!) And on some days I put on my favorite yoga with Haris, and when I'm feeling plodding I just do the strength training with Consumer Reports Health and I get out the leg weights and barbells and listen to Diane Reem(sp?) And for a break I ride my bike up the road and look at the swamp. Each day I am aware of having to put in the 10,000 steps as measured on my pedometer. This isn't hard because I constantly move around the property with gardening, watching birds, taking on the outdoor chores.
Where is all this going? Well, I still weigh the same as I did at twenty. But! It's all distributed differently, mostly gone south. Maybe I'll torture everyone when I'm ninety!
Otherwise, I weeded out the asparagus garden. Soon those delicious spears will appear and I will eat them one by one, nothing left for dinner. I fertilized the roses and cleaned the pool deck. I finished cutting down the old stalks of perennials in the flower gardens. I inspected the vegetable garden and lamented that this was not the day to put in beans - too cold. The potatoes froze a bit but I think there is enough green in them for a come back. Not really enough salad greens for a meal tonight, but the collards are immense! I dread having to thin the carrots. A chore for tomorrow.
I still have 500 steps to go before I go to bed. On such a clear night with a bright gibbous moon I shall walk up the road and hope to see the bobcat.
See! I spent no money today and I am on board about frugal budgets. We must pay attention to the less fortunate among us and be large spirited. This is the American Way. Happy Valentine's Day to all of you.

To my grandchildren and others in this cohort

There was a time in America when young people such as you rose up on their feet and said, "Enough". Most lately is was over the Viet Nam War. There were demonstrations and conversations. You all know what the out come of that was.
You have not had to think about any wars because we have no draft anymore. Yeah, we put those stickers on the backs of our cars, support our troops, but for the most part none of you have to think about this business of war. You do not have to put your mind on what it means to be at war. And we are.
You have grown up in a culture of plenty. You have come of age in the world of easy technology.
The youth of Egypt and Tunisia have given you a model. You already have the easy access to the fruits of democracy, and now you must be responsible global citizens and make your stand. The world isn't just about the latest air brushed celebrity. It's about the hard realities of dealing about peace and war and the enormous chasm that separates the rich and poor. You have access to the technology to bring us together.
I hope that you, our future, will rise to the challenge in our own communities and states and country, think carefully, and give generously of yourselves.

Egypt

For the last couple of days I have this nugget of pure happiness that a country I love has managed to pull it off! I was, of course, glued to the media as the demonstrations unfolded in Egypt. This global world belongs to the young people. There in Egypt and Tunisia, maybe Algeria, Yemen and beyond we'll see the democratization of the Middle East. I was thrilled to see so many women participating, so many people connected via the internet. Those Egyptians, so strong for centuries, never trashed their treasures and infrastructure. There were so many wonderful moments and stories. This is a historical point in time. Egypt has been a model for the world.
Revolution can happen peacefully as we all saw. It makes the wars we have made in Iraq and Afghanistan look like a pile of garbage in our backyard. Of course, it remains to be seen how this will all play out. But for now, there is such optimism!
The Arabs who are making this revolutionary sweep in the Middle East are our future, our youth. They are Muslim, Christian, and whatever. I think that this amazing happening in the Arab world goes far beyond anything the diplomats could foresee. I think this push forward by the people can make much more difference than any diplomatic initiatives. The chips will fall where they may. Israel will have to react on a realistic basis, women will be able to connect on the internet, and Afghanistan may have to be left in the dust for now as a place that stones women to death, where corruption is rampant and they kill each other with some regularity. Let's put our treasure into helping those countries that are ready for democratic rule.
America does not know it all! We cannot be smug. Once we were in the same place and we were fortunate to have people who spent hours and weeks and months to construct a constitution that (with some amendments) lasts to this day and that all of us revere.
I devoutly hope that we Americans can all applaud the changes happening in the Middle East, and remember our own values. We are no longer needed to be the policemen of the globe, but we can be a model. We need to show these emerging democracies that we are not mean spirited but count on our government that has been charged in our constitution to promote the common good. We can show the world that government at the least is meant to take care of us. This is known as the civilized way of life. We all work for the common good, and we take care of the less fortunate among us.
And, also, the red bud trees are blooming.

All Potential

The empty table in my studio and the flats of emerging seeds are all potential, both awaiting development. The plant starts will eventually go into the prepared garden beds and, hopefully, bring an abundance of food for us and friends. The table will soon be spread with the many colored fabrics that will be another graduation quilt for a young person heading off to college, and who has given me his requests for the theme, the color palette and permission for me to add what I want. I love the beginnings of new projects.

Today I began the hardest project going on now. I inadvertently fell in love with teaching kids so many years ago when, as an art history intern at a museum, I was called upon to lead those school groups. I have never looked back. Over the years of teaching various ages in various places I have always had the energy to think about what it means to teach, read everything I can, try different approaches, seek opinions, and rejoice in the collegiality of the profession.

As a retiree, of course I do not want to get down to the gritty stuff each day. Been there and done that. (I have my quilts and my garden!) But I find it compellingly interesting to be a part of the current educational scene. As most of you know, this happens for me right now in one of the poorest schools in the nation; poor in income, but not in spirit.

Our new governor is cutting the per pupil funding, with more cuts for next year. He wants to grow jobs. I wonder how we in this state, in this nation, can grow jobs with the youth able to fill them, if we downsize our already lacking public education system? My vision is to have our president, our governors, our so-called statesmen put forth a HUGE program to get every citizen behind making U.S. education the best in the world. I think we could do it, but it doesn't include big cuts in education.

I am a frugal person by nature. I don't waste stuff, neither human nor material. Public schools waste so much! (One could save millions on this alone!) For example, today as I was volunteering to straighten up the classroom in which I work each week, I carefully sorted out huge clots of valuable math manipulatives, never used. Reams of copy paper are left splaying about. Many kits of this and that are shoved in back of stuff and others are lying fallow on the floor of the supply closet. There are no shelves of inviting art paper, and the only paints and clay are what I have personally provided. Books are everywhere, under tables, stuffed into nooks, crumpled up.

Is this the outfall of what the Big Publishing companies have wrought? They send all these FCAT materials and they keep coming and coming like The Sorcerers Apprentice. They aren't valuable because the teachers did not have the responsibility for them, did not order them, and I certainly see that they have no intention of using them. They are useless. (How I would have died for the chance to have some of these materials in the bare bones school I taught in for so many years!)

As I was starting in to make some sort of order in this room, several teachers gathered and all of them were dispirited by the marching orders they had been given to increase the numerical reading scores of their students. Interestingly, their task did not actually include real reading, fun reading, compelling reading. One teacher told me that he was not allowed to let kids (during reading time) to go to the school library to get books! None of these teachers 'have the time' to read aloud to their classes! These teachers could not tell me where I could look to see how each individual child was doing in reading. They knew, however, that the kids can't read well.

If those young folks in Egypt can make a revolution, why can't American teachers revolt? Let them teach, let them learn! All Americans, young and old, need to rise up and say NO to the grip of the publishing companies who for the last several years have dictated what happens in the classrooms across the country. This has effectively cut down our teachers at the knees.

I say, STOP! Kids are all about potential just as my plant starts and quilts are. And they are incredibly the most important.

No Sun

All day it has been overcast and spitting tiny raindrops that curl my hair into frizzy ringlets. This largesse also plumps up the resurrection ferns on the oak trees and paints the forest floor mosses in intense green. The pastures are greening up and new calves are on the scene. The pear tree is in full bloom with big thick white blossoms. Spring! Salad every night from the garden, and promises of more.
These days of thin sun are depressing. We need the full sunshine to feel alive.
At these times we revisit our thoughts about being here on the edge of the Green Swamp. How could we make a life being more often in our new carriage house in the city behind our daughter's house?
For twenty years or more, this has been a topic. I fell crazily in love with this place so long ago.. The ranch, 300 acres, the privacy, the visual plenitude, so many plants and creatures to know. And having my very own space, this studio.. just heaven.
Here, I can grow my vegetables and flowers, spend hours walking around in the woods and checking everything out. I can spend hours making quilts, painting, writing, and working on ceramics, and blasting out songs from my ipod, whatever I want. In my studio I connect to the outside world via computer and phone. My forays out are to connect with the local community where I volunteer and to see new friends. Feels like I have a purpose.
Since we left our work in the city, it's more difficult to think about what we could possibly do there. I always want to see my grandson and daughter, but they have busy lives. (Our grandson spends many weekends here.)
There is always volunteer work to be done there, but it seems right now to be so much less compelling than the work I do here. (I am not wanting to do more on boards of worthwhile non-profits.)
Lately, I have been trying to be present and affirming for my spouse who has health issues. I fall short, of course. We are wending our way. No sun, and retirement isn't easy.
Maybe tomorrow the day will dawn bright and clear. (Sally Sunshine speaking!)

Salad Bowl

This is really about a salad bowl, and here it is. It's not very large, just about the right size for two to four salad eaters.
This was given to me as a present from a graduating class of my students, and we have used it almost every day. It has the old and used patina of many wonderful oils and dressings. You can see the burned on names of these students around the rim. Each day when I bring in the salad greens to fill it I think of those wonderful kids who had been a part of my life for a number of years. I do know about some of these young people as they have wended their way to adulthood. Others faithfully connect. But I think of all of them and remember the good times had in the classroom and beyond.
And this is what it is to be a teacher- to love and care for generations of young people. And this is what I find so lacking in the schools I see now. Being a teacher doesn't mean that you must receive such a gift as this salad bowl that has decorated my life forever. It means that as a teacher you must have the energy and leadership and creativity to inspire kids who remember your message: Be Your Best! When your students do this, this is your salad bowl!
We are in a period when society doesn't respect teachers; government slowly and inexorably removes them from the rewards they should have as people who do the very hard work every single day with our children who are the future. For the teachers who are having a difficult time, we do not care enough to seriously mentor them. We just talk about ending teacher tenure. There are ways to tease out the teachers who are unable to perform.
This is a hard time in our country. We need to pare back expenditures. But I do think that it is a big mistake to reduce educational expenditures. We need to salute and empower our teachers, support them, pay them well and raise them to a new status.
There is no work as hard and rewarding as being a good teacher.

True Grit

I was uneasy today on my first day of volunteering at the Lacoochee Boys and Girls Club. I had been by to see it several times to donate stuff, and sometimes I do the drive by in this bleak neighborhood near the elementary school.
Noticing such deficits in how the kids are doing in math in the school, I have long wanted to do a hands-on algebra program there. But I could drum up no interest at the school (they are always consumed with FCAT procedures). So I took it on the road, just up the road, actually, to the boys and girls club.
Michael B. runs this place. To my mind, he's a saint, tall, handsome, black and with a beautiful voice I cannot imagine ever being raised in anger.
This club is located at the end of a neighborhood of small run down, hanging by a thread homes with yards full of the detritus of poverty. There are some large oak trees with chairs, benches and crates populating the beaten earth beneath. Everyone in the community knows what happens in these places, and it isn't a lovely community barbeque.
The clubhouse is a larger version of the typical houses, block construction, bare earth surroundings. But there is a nice playground structure and some picnic tables under a porch roof.
I enter and am immediately greeted by Michael and some of the kids. The after school snack of hot dogs is being served and I notice that the kids are of all ages from tiny to huge and they fairly represent the demographic of this community, African American, Hispanic, a few Whites.
My first impression of this place where so many kids (50-60) spend every afternoon is that it has no natural light, it's grim and grimy, and nothing is new and shiny. The tables wobble, the pool tables are patched with tape, the window blinds are splayed and disfunctional. Everything has the feel of being either half used up or resurrected from some sixties yard sale.
So, I am welcomed into the place where my visions of great math afternoons will happen. Michael has promised me a "helper", and she appears on cue. She's lovely and talkative and I know I'll like working with her.
Here, just an aside from Grandma. I have such a hard time with the modern names kids have! I simply cannot remember those names that are partially African, partly invented, have capital letters and apostrophes in strange places. Could someone really have the name 'Dimen'sha'? I probably heard wrong. So I hopefully toss my kushball at everyone, trying to elicit a name, any name, I can possibly remember. No use. Onto the meat of the lesson.
I arrange all the ten kids, ranging from about fourth grade through middle school, at the wobbly makeshift tables I have tried to balance with dice and I announce that there are only two rules: Bad behavior and you're out, no second chances. And you're out if you don't show up. The goal is to finish the course and then there will be a great field trip to see real professional math people somewhere. Their eyes brighten.
I pass out large envelopes with balance scales drawn on them. They write their names on them. I ask them to write the equal sign (hardly anyone knows what an equal sign is) in the center of the balance and then I pass out small blue 'risk' pieces I have pirated from our game at home. I hold up one of these and ask, "What is the name of this?" They look blank. "This is X", I say, "X is the mystery number!" And on and on I go telling them about how one side of the balance (equation) must equal the other side. I hand out dice to represent the numbers and I introduce the very first algebraic equation they have ever encountered in their lives: X+2=4. What is the value of our mysterious X?
"X equals 2", says David, a middle school student. He smiles, confident. Some of the other kids are scuttling around, diddling with their risk pieces, not sure what to do. Then we get into some more equations, and now everyone is paying attention, but I can see that plenty of them are not comfortable with addition facts and are working on their fingers. So be it!
One girl, whom I have known from other volunteering gigs and I wanted her to succeed, lost her chance by flinging dice at a boy across the table. "Time to go", I say. She leaves the room. They know the rules, and I have to be constant. Now everyone is really up for the next problem. We go on to several and with every success, the mood builds.
"This is fun!" say three of the kids. When they get the answer, they know! High fives all around. For this time the grim grittiness of this place is gone. I know that I'll be back next week.
When I am leaving the parking lot, several of the kids crowd around my car and I roll down the windows. "See you next time!" I say.
These kids, Michael, and all the folks who help out in the community are making a difference. Physical places don't look lovely, there is never enough money, but I know there really is enough love. I just hope that tea party politics will eschew mean spiritedness and policies that are just about "me" and realize that the safety net is full of children who are our future. We cannot pull that away.