So…I was just sitting here at my computer thinking about the daily prompt for Monday, May 23. “DREAM”. I can’t seem to get my thoughts together on this one. Maybe it’s because I have so much to get done in the next couple of weeks. How do I have time to dream when I have work to do and so little time? Let me look at the calendar to be sure…worse than I thought…less than two weeks. I REALLY have problems now. And I am writing at my computer? This is the place where I relax. I must be crazy.

Just for the record…here are some of the things that I need to do in the very near future:

1. I need to finish making the graduation hats for my students. Graduation is this Friday. The children can’t help me on this one. Normally, I am the ultimate supporter of students creating their own artwork. There is no right or wrong way to explore and to create. With the graduation hats, there is a right way or they just won’t fit. I want the children to be able to walk onto the stage with their hats planted firmly on their heads and not swinging precariously from their hands. These are my last graduation hats and they need to be great or almost great. Don’t forget about my exciting retirement!

2. Organize the writing folders. Each child has a writing folder and they are already full. I need some more file folders. We write every, single morning. I save everything and should have been putting work in the folders each day for about the last six weeks. I may have been a bit slow recently.

3. From the already mentioned writing papers, I need to choose their best work for their permanent folders. Decisions, decisions. Plus, I need to fill out the names and additional information on the folders. I’ve had the permanent folders for several weeks. How much information have I filled out? Don’t ask.

4. Finish the report cards. Thank goodness, these are completed on the computer. This task should take just one evening. I hope.

5. Finish filling out the graduation awards. Finish filling out the diplomas.
No comment.

6. Get the take-home book boxes ready. The children will decorate them and put their alphabet books inside. I will just supervise. Really!

7. Pack up everything in my room. Divide out my personal items. I never took most of my very own school items back to school this year. Yea!! I guess that I will have a garage sale in the summer. $$$

8. I can’t remember what else. More, more, more.

I was thinking that dreaming would be useless when I started writing. Just being realistic. After all, I put off some things so that I could have more fun with the children and savor my last days at school. No time to dream. And then…while writing…I glanced over at the television and saw a Target ad. The only two lines that I saw were “DREAM BIG”.  OK Target…thank you…I will DREAM BIG!

Brick houses in the suburbs are like the lines of marching band members in the Rose Bowl Parade. They have different marching patterns and different uniforms, but basically they all do the same thing. Some can play Notre Dame’s “Victory March” or Oklahoma’s “Boomer Sooner” and get the crowd really moving…others can barely muster a weak “There’s No Place Like Nebraska”. Like football fight songs, brick houses are just about a dime a dozen.

I take that back about the dime a dozen comment. It just seems like there are rows and rows of similar brick houses. These home prices are outrageously expensive for an expansive brick monstrosity like we tend to see in large city suburbs. What’s the matter with a mortgage on $850,000? A whole lot is wrong with that price. In fact, I may be going a little too low with the price estimation. And the money is being spent on just another hum drum brick house with five bedrooms, a media room, and enough bathrooms for a school building. Give me a white frame house with shutters and wide windows.

The windows would look out on a porch with a ceiling fan and a swing moving gently in the breeze. A big yard filled with tall pine trees and patches of flowers would be wonderful. I can see it all…the sidewalk would wind up to the front door and the sounds of birds singing would permeate the air. Somewhat eclectic and decorated with whimsy, the house would be filled with laughter and friends. There would be a step or two up and a step or down all over the house. Who designed this house anyway? It certainly isn’t “open concept”! This house has character written all over it. Buyers today would be shocked! No spa bath! No double sinks (HELP)! No island in the kitchen! Turquoise counter tops and turquoise appliances! No vaulted ceilings! This house is really downright different! As they say on HGTV…”we just can’t see ourselves here”! A rescue call to the Property Brothers would be necessary.

Alas…the Property Brothers were not even born when this house was in it’s prime. This was the house that I grew up in…the best house ever and still one of my favorite childhood memories. There were no houses on my street that remotely looked alike. I knew all of the neighbors and they knew me. There was a very special miniature golf course a block or two away. There were kids galore running around. My house was the center of my world. I could sit in the porch swing for hours. I had my best friends over for an “after the prom” midnight breakfast in the formal dining room. My boyfriends came to the front door and sat in the entry hall. My mom and dad talked and played cards and ate chocolate pie in the breakfast room with their close friends…everyone having fun and being way too talkative!

I loved their friends and I loved my parents and I certainly loved our white house with the shutters…on the corner with all the tall pine trees. The house was just beautiful to me. I wouldn’t call it particularly fancy, but I did call it home. And I absolutely loved that it was not built with bricks!

The child walked quietly into my elementary school classroom.

His eyes were cast downward. His smile was absent. His walk was slow and hesitant. His smile was absent. Other children walked in laughing and talking and skipping. Most everyone had something to say…”Good Morning, Good Morning”, “Want to hear something funny?”, “Hey teacher…look at my new backpack! I found it at a garage sale! Do you love it?”, “Today is pizza day in the cafeteria. Is it lunchtime yet?” and on and on.

Yes…most everyone had something to say and all of the children greeted me with a smile. All smiled except for one small, fragile boy. He sat down at his table and put his head down on his folded arms. He was asleep in less than 30 seconds. I tried to wake him up for circle time, for the main lesson of the day, for the teacher read-aloud. Clearly exhausted.

He evidently came to school to get some peace and quiet. I never consider my classroom to be particularly quiet and sometimes I don’t consider it particularly peaceful. I do know that my classroom is filled with love and care…love from me to the children, from the children to me…love and care is always my goal.

I rarely know right away about a child’s life away from school. I listen, learn and discern information in bits and pieces for a few weeks. I would eventually know what type of home life they bring to school. With this sad little boy, I knew that things were not right. Something was missing. Please, please…help me find the missing part to the puzzle.

I asked the mother and step-father to come in for a meeting. I sent a note home in his daily folder. I called repeatedly. I left messages. The number was quickly disconnected. A relative picked him up in the afternoon. She would barely talk to me. She muttered a quick greeting with the same look of despair as the child.

Everyday, I spent extra time with the child while his classmates were busy with projects. Little by little, he started talking to me.

He was hungry. He usually did not eat at night. The breakfast and lunch provided at our school were mostly his only means of sustenance. He did not have a bed. He slept on a couple of blankets on the floor. Sometimes a sibling would take the blankets away from him.

His mother had two jobs. I was glad that she was working, but worried about the care he was receiving or obviously not receiving. I doubted that she had time to talk with me. I began trying to get the step-father to talk with me. No luck. Collaboration? Not from these parents.

A few days after the child began talking to me, he said his leg hurt, his tummy hurt. The story came out in a blur of words. I immediately talked with all of the appropriate people at my elementary school and beyond my school. The counselor talked with the child. The sad truth was indeed the really sad truth. Things were very wrong at his house.

Action was taken very quickly by the appropriate agency. He was sent to foster care in another school district that very day. I hope he found love and support. I hope he found a warm and comfortable bed. I hope he found a good dinner waiting for him every evening.

I do not know what happened to him after his placement. I hope that he learned to smile. I hope that his mother learned that she needs to collaborate with the teacher and the school and anyone else who would help her. Fear keeps so many parents from seeking assistance. If only she really knew how much effort we put into finding a bit of a future for her child.

I certainly did not find a chance at a better life for him all by myself. It took a group of people working together. And it all started because a group of educators listened to his quiet voice. That is why I believe that it takes a truly committed village to raise a child.

YEARS AND YEARS HAVE PASSED. I STILL REMEMBER THAT SMALL VOICE.

When I was about eight or nine years old, I met a toy that I would always keep safely in my memory. THE GYM DANDY SURREY. I wanted one. I needed one. I never, ever actually owned one. It is over 50 years since I first saw the beauty of the GYM DANDY in a friend’s driveway. It was truly amazing. My parents just could not really understand my insistent disclaimer about this toy. They were from a much different generation.

Now I understand the situation. They were young teenagers when the Great Depression began. Times were rough. Then WWII came along. My dad was in the Navy during the war. After he returned, my brother was four years old instead of the baby he had left. My mother lived with my grandparents while my dad was gone. When the war began and ended, they had barely started their life together. I imagine it was difficult to get back into the comings and goings of everyday life. They worked and saved and were able to buy a brand new house in a nice neighborhood. I was born as the fifties were coming upon us.

The baby boomers, the consumers, the future hippies were born. And the parents who grew up during the depression seemed forever worried about money, success, saving, and conservative viewpoints. Their children were often so very different. I became a member of the consumer generation when I saw that GYM DANDY SURREY. I forgot about it most of the time. I went through a phase of wanting a Ford Mustang. I loved that car when I finally got one. I went through a phase of wanting a Chevrolet Camaro. I had two of those and loved those cars. However, I still would think about the GYM DANDY SURREY off and on for years. My husband thought that I might be quite crazy for having an obsession for a pedal surrey made for children. He had never seen one…how could he possibly understand?

And then we saw one. I couldn’t believe it. We were visiting in Oklahoma City and stopped by a place that sold used and very old parts for Ford vehicles. Our son had a 1959 Ford truck…almost an antique. We walked in and there was the real antique sitting on top of a display…a GYM DANDY SURREY! I stared in complete awe. My husband and son were slightly impressed. Our daughter was about nine years old and thought it was just downright weird. That was my first encounter with a personal GENERATION GAP. I was thinking that maybe I could still find one intact somewhere, someplace. I even asked the owner of the Ford store if he would like to sell it. He said “Are you kidding? That is going to be worth a fortune someday!”…hey wait…I thought that I was the only person in the world with a GYM DANDY need and want. There were other weird people! Validation!

I am still on the hunt for a GYM DANDY. I find them on EBAY and CRAIGSLIST. Some are almost reasonably priced, but need lots of work. Sometimes, the pedals are missing or the fringe on the top canopy is torn off. Sometimes, the canopy is totally gone. Sometimes, there is an absolutely perfectly restored GYM DANDY. The price tends to be on the very high side. I would have bought one by now (maybe one that needs a little work), but they are usually located in New York or Pennsylvania or  Rhode Island or somewhere else in the northeast. No shipping on the GYM DANDY. They are too precious for shipping. Ha! See…I was right! I was the ultimate consumer even as a child.

Our daughter still thinks it is weird that I want one…even when I mention how our future grandchildren will like it so very much. It is just that GENERATION GAP…she is certain that I could spend my money on something far more important than a four seat child size surrey with the fringe on top. Are you kidding? What could be better than a GYM DANDY?

I’d rather stroll through life at a slower pace. Wait! I am moving with a slower pace. Way slower. Sometimes, I am bothered by being the last one down the hallway at school. Or the last person out of the car. Or the person on the escalator who doesn’t run up the steps as if they are actually just regular steps. I really don’t understand running up an escalator. I just happily stay planted on my one moving step. Sometimes, I am bothered by the fact that I am somewhat bothered by my lack of speed.

A slower pace has brought me some time to look at the world without the blur of movement. There was a time when I would walk quickly on my side of the sidewalk. I passed by people as if they were invisible. I never noticed who was heading in the other direction. Obviously, they were not going where I was going. Maybe I thought they were just not important to me. Maybe I was self-centered or maybe I was enamored by my destination. Whatever. Who cares?

I care. I care a lot. I must have spent my first 28 years in a whirling dervish. I missed the Texas bluebonnets every spring. Too busy. I missed so many orange and yellow sunsets. Too busy. I went to Hawaii, but didn’t see much more than the beach and shops near the beach…on both sides of the island. Too busy. Way too busy planning ways to be even more busy. And then we had our first child. And then we had our second child.

Funny how children can stop you in your tracks. And maybe they should stop you in your tracks. I am all for careers and education. I spent a total of eight years in college…four of those after I had children. However, I had figured out by that time that family comes first. Children need for their parents to slow down enough to lead them in the right direction, to laugh and play with them, to actually be a parent. As a teacher, I have seen too many children who seem to be raising themselves. A few years ago, I had a five year old at school tell me that he was always late because he had to wake up his mother each morning. Perhaps she was too busy the night before to remember why she needed to wake up the next morning. I wonder what happened to that child as he grew up.

After becoming a parent, I learned to stroll through life. We spent time walking and playing at the park. We spent so many hours at the duck pond. I still like to go to the duck pond. We rode the train through the park and went to the nearby zoo. Learning to stroll at a slower pace was calming. Learning to stroll at a slower pace gave me the chance to see the world in slow motion. What a difference! My destination was not the important part. When our children were born, I found my destination. And now that I absolutely have to stroll at a slower pace, I remember when I chose to stroll at a slower pace. It is just fine to be slow. After all, this is my second time to be strolling slower.

Music intertwines within every facet of my life. I remember melodies and lyrics and rhythms that I learned at Miss Ruby Stewart’s School in my hometown. I was in First Grade and very proud to be in the class with the first playground time. That meant we would sing and play “Ring Around the Rosie” and “High Ho the Derry-O”. We would then go back inside and get milk plus cookies. This has nothing to do with music, but we would pass by the Kindergarten classroom with our treats. My cousin was in the Kindergarten class. I possibly might have been a show-off about my snack since I always held it up high in the air for her to see. Every, single day.

Every, single day, I also got to play in our rhythm band. There were several types of drums, bells, cymbals, blocks to rub together (great sound) and the very popular triangle. The cymbals were the loudest and naturally were my personal favorite. I suppose some people never change. I still like loud music, even when it is not meant to be loud. Last year, I suddenly received a rhythm band set for my classroom! You would have thought that I received a treasure chest of gold coins. I ripped that box open and we had a concert immediately. I forgot that Fourth Grade was having a practice Benchmark test that day. I think that this was a pre-practice test for the practice test before the real test.

Oh dear…my mind wanders when I think of those state tests. So back to my band. We are far enough away from Fourth Grade. No complaints. We have had quite a few concerts this year. We march around the room multiple times. We dance. I taught them my one tap dance move. I sing “When the Saints Go Marching In” in honor of all of my New Orleans relatives. It is quite a musical show. If anyone from the district “higher-ups” were to accidently visit during my concerts, they would probably be shocked. They might ask: “What is your objective?” or “Is this on your schedule?”…I would just have to inform them that you can’t schedule being spontaneously moved by music.

I am continuously moved spontaneously by music. Now that I think about it…more often than I realized. Some of my most memorable musical moments:

1. Jon Bon Jovi and Bettye LaVette singing “A Change is Gonna Come” at the Inaugural Celebration Concert for Barack Obama. Very inspirational…whether you voted for Obama or not.

2. Hearing “The Music of the Night” sung during a performance of “Phantom of the Opera” on Broadway in NYC.

3. Bette Midler singing “Wind Beneath My Wings” at any time, at any place. I first heard her sing this song in the movie “Beaches”. I have perhaps watched that movies over fifty times. “Did I ever tell you that you’re my hero? You’re everything that I would like to be”.

4. You’ve Got A Friend” sung by Carole King. Such deep meaning for me. As the words say “Winter, Spring, Summer, or Fall…all you’ve got to do is call…and I’ll be there…You’ve Got A Friend”. I really think I learned how to truly be a friend through this song.

5. John Denver singing “Annie”…”You fill up my senses…like a night in the forest, like a mountain in Springtime, like a walk in the rain”. And I can’t forget “Rocky Mountain High”. I felt at home in Colorado on my first visit and every subsequent visit.

6. Bruno Mars bringing back the big band sound combined with way slick dance moves in “Uptown Funk”. And his rendition of “When I Was Your Man” is bittersweet, yet somehow hopeful.

7. Adele singing anything that she chooses to sing. That voice! The best! And I still do not have tickets to one of her concerts. Still planning on going. I need to calm down about it. Maybe I will go ahead and buy a new outfit for the concert. Positive thinking always helps.

8. Dolly Parton singing “I Will Always Love You” and “Coat of Many Colors”. We saw her in concert last year and she was amazing and funny and real. I felt like we were in her home just chatting at the table.

9. “Hallelujah” as sung by four Norwegian singers…Espen Lind, Askil Holm, Alejandro Fuentes, and Kurt Nilsen. The most beautiful rendition of this song that I have ever heard.

10. I could keep going, but I’ll stop with “Hole in the World” by the Eagles. Written by Don Henley and Glenn Frey as a tribute to 9-11. The words hold such profound sentiment.

Perhaps searching for profound sentiment through lyrics and melodies and rhythms is the common chord that binds us together with other cultures. That is how music works for me.

MusicMusic

Stairways are dangerous. Or maybe they are just dangerous to me. I can easily fall down on a flat surface without anyone being around to trip me. In my classroom, I am the epitome of caution. When I look out at those 22 pair of fast moving feet, I see myself falling down in a heap while I knock down the very expensive smart board. The smart board is large, yet delicate  and I would definitely demolish it. I am not very delicate, but I imagine that the smart board would attack me. The children would move quickly out of the way and my assistant would laugh hysterically. I do not need stairs to make a mess out of a day.

Unfortunately, I have taught at two schools with second stories and steep stairs. One school was over 100 years old and very cool looking. I really loved that school. I certainly did not love the stairs. I rode the elevator when I could get away with it. The elevator required 10 to 12 serious prayers to get from one floor to another. At least, that is how I felt. The 100 year old stairways were quite treacherous. The wood was beautiful, but who could dare look at the wood? I was always holding on for dear life. The stairs were very uneven on both stairways. One step would be eight inches deep and the next step might be eleven inches deep. Until I memorized where the odd steps were located, I was a disaster waiting to happen. Builders from 100 years ago were not thinking about my knees. My knees cannot handle weird steps…even on pretty staircases.

When I arrived at this particular school, I had completed my second knee replacement just weeks before the start of school. I guess those builders from 100 years ago had no idea that titanium knees would be in the future. I think my unreal knees are miraculous, but I still can’t handle the stair problem. Normal people would have taken more physical therapy. Something else to put on my list for post-retirement. I hope that we have time to travel with all of my planned projects…such as sleeping. Travel brings to mind more stairs. I envision myself as being the problem child on trips.

Possible trips where I will most likely spend time drawing attention to myself… because of beautiful stairs:

1. My college best friend’s wonderful Bed & Breakfast in Virginia. The Inn at Meander Plantation is my idea of an ideal place to visit. Historic. Panoramic views of the countryside. Many acres to explore. A second story balcony with rocking chairs. The best food imaginable. Delightful hostesses. When we visited several years ago, I practically fell down the mere two steps to the dining room. I had successfully made it down the regular staircase from our suite. Maybe I was just anticipating breakfast. I imagine that Thomas Jefferson never tripped during any of his stays at Meander.

2. The San Juan Islands in the state of Washington. I have been looking online for homes or condos that we could rent. Naturally, the one that I liked the best had steps to the private beach area. A very long set of steps. The best place to view the whales is at the bottom of the steps. I might miss this view of the whales.

3. Manchu Picchu. I really need to see this place. I am fascinated by the history. One of my fourth grade classes completed a long study after reading a story about Manchu Picchu. I should have known better and not started yearning for the trek to the top. Besides, the class was in the 100 year old school. I should not have allowed myself to become entranced by a place that requires a hike up steps and trails.

4. A cruise to Alaska. Those boats are rather large. I’ve seen pictures of the elegant and dramatic staircases. I realize that cruise ships have elevators. There is just something wrong about going up and down while moving forward in a boat. I can’t even think about the sensation. Besides, I want to take a picture on the dramatic staircase. You know…to put on Facebook like everyone else. A picture in an elevator would not be that interesting. Besides…remember that I might be rather ill on the elevator.

5. Anywhere in New York City. I absolutely love NYC. I like the noise and the crowds and the restaurants and the store windows and hearing lots of different languages. I even like riding in a taxi. Most of all, I like Broadway shows. Jersey Boys was the best. I knew every song. I also fell up the stairs in the theater. Truly. It was not my best moment, but I don’t think that anyone noticed. They were moving so fast. I also fell up the stairs on the double decker tour bus. I made it to the top, but I think the driver was checking his insurance policy…just in case.

Stairways are just not positive for me. I will work on the problem this summer. I really don’t want to be the problem child on a trip. I already eat very slowly (talking) and take up way too much time. However, the stairways are the main issue. My current school has absolutely no stairs that I have to manage. I do have to walk quite a bit. But…that is another situation!

 
Stairway

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Crossing a major road in a large city is not my idea of attempting something with good sense. Why did the chicken cross the road? Answer: to get to the other side. I doubt that there was any better chicken feed on the other side and the grass was most assuredly full of fire ants. Not to be negative or anything, but check out everything on your side before making the big trek. This goes for chickens and people. Although some people are naturally chicken and would never even consider going to the other side.

Make a note that I never said to ignore the other side. There are probably some interesting people over there. The best advice would be to know every detail about your side. Study your side. Observe your side. Disagree a bit. Agree a bit. Don’t let the non-issues become issues. We all know that non-issues take up too much time. They are boring. I don’t even know what the non-issues might be, but I imagine that they are not worth the effort. Make some real friends on your side. As in…make some friends you can trust. Join some groups that help people in the community. Every town has some children that are hungry…you might think, “NOT MY TOWN!” I beg to differ. You might start with the hungry children. Lean down and look in their eyes. Maybe you might see a reflection.

Reflect for a while on what you have learned. You’re doing some good now. Perhaps your side is looking better, sounding better, moving forward better. All because of you and others like you. What a concept. It looks like you might have something to offer the other side. I would not go over there without a gift. Such as…the gift of your time, the gift of your expertise, the gift of your compassion, the gift of listening, the gift of honesty, the gift of humility. Oh my…humility. So lacking on both sides.

Now that you know about humility and honesty and compassion…you might take that big step. Cross the road, but wait for the green light. After all, you need to follow the rules over there too. I hope you don’t barge across with the red light…being loud and brash. Just calm down. They need you and you need them. After all…you are at a crossroads. Are you prepared?