Sunday, December 31, 2023

Math

 Math

 

 

I woke up this New Year’s Eve morning and realized

I hadn’t seen my father’s’ face in 30 years.

 

I hadn’t heard my brother’s laugh in 28 years.

 

I hadn’t felt my mother’s arms around me in 6 years.

 

It seems I am now measuring time with a new mathematical formula.

 

Each day, week, month, year now demands to be calculated in

Losses

Misses

Silent voices

Phantom hugs and kisses.

 

This new math uses ephemeral numbers made up of

Memories

Regrets

And irreversible changes. 

 

I could get lost in these calculations, 

Subtracting and dividing out the rest of my life. 

 

But I won’t.

 

I have, after all, always been more of words than numbers-

more imagination than calculation.

 

Instead of counting my losses,

I will weave the stories of and within my life,

Letting my words breathe warmth

Into the cold, cold tallies of time.

 

12/31/2023

Friday, December 30, 2022

Down to the Wire for 2022

 2022 was a year of

barely. Writing. Anything. At. All.


Odd for me.


The lack of pen to paper

(or more often, fingers to keyboard) 

wasn't due to a lack of imagination.

My tales never stopped flowing.

Blips of news, half-petaled flowers,

odd human glances from squirrels outside my window

continued to inspire me to open up a Word doc

and type in sentences,

a paragraph,

a page.


But this was all.


Fragments.


Maybe I was too busy

with jobs

that fed me a steady stream of

beautiful words to read,

beautiful books to share.

Maybe I was devouring more stories than I could create.


Maybe it was simmering pandemic mania

that continued, continues, to pit us against each other.


Maybe it was bone-crushing shudders

that stopped me cold

every time an angry person with a gun

exercised their misinterpreted rights

to siphon unhappiness

into random killing.


Maybe it was the  smashing down,

hammering down,

of anyone

everyone

who wasn't 

a straight rich white guy

a straight political white guy

a straight powerful white guy

an straight old white guy

a straight young white guy

a straight stupid white guy

an straight ignorant white guy

any straight  white guy.


Like possession of

estrogen 

glowed from  foreheads

in red skull and crossbones

warnings.


Like possession of

melanin

was a poisonous elixir

demanding to be poured out

onto bloody ground.


Like loving who

we were meant to love

was its own plague.


Like being who

we were meant to be

was a raw, seething, curse.


Maybe I simply didn't have

enough words

the right words

to make sense of it all.


But a new year is peeking at me over the horizon,

tempting me once again to

throw my words into the void.


Maybe I will.







Thursday, September 9, 2021

Box

 

On the floor

of the reddish room

sits a smallish box

where forgets are kept.

Where regrets are swept.

Where the last crumbs

of "what ifs" are shoved.


Rumors fly

that the box must stay hid,

the insides under a tight lid

to hide our shame.


We embrace the lie that 

a perfect life means 

the box stays emptyish.


Which is incorrectish.


This life

cannot be lived

unless we fill the box,

fill the box,

fill the box,

unless we sometimes spill the box

to run trembling fingers

through the painful treasures inside.


Leave the room open wide.







Friday, January 8, 2021

Among Us

There is no surprise here.

Hate has always walked among us.

It cosplays as 

that business owner, this teacher,

that shopper deciding between wheat bread and white

(they buy the white). 


Hate wears the mask of respectability,

often adding a veil of 

"I attend church every Sunday and sing in the choir".

And like the good actor it is,

Hate whispers itself into children's ears

so it can dance among our generations.


Hate is the neighbor who makes no noise

the one who never has barking dogs or loud parties.


"They seemed so nice." 


Yeah, most Trump supporters say

"Well, I'd never do what THEY did.  

I'm not a TERRORIST. 

I never wanted a COUP."


And perhaps THEY wouldn't break out windows

in the literal and philosophical heart of our democracy.

Perhaps THEY wouldn't illegally crawl through those broken windows,

break into offices,

steal podiums,

smear THEIR own feces on the walls holding up our democratic ideals,

live streaming and

taking selfies all the while.


Perhaps in the dark of the night

THEY wouldn't be crawling on their bellies

through the sewers of the internet,

through the Fox-news sludge,

sipping on  conspiracy-laced 

cocktails

believing

every

vile

lie.


But for almost 4 years they believed everything else

their President told them.


Everything else.


How many of them are now unmoored from their foundations,

unsure what to believe

their social media feeds oddly empty

of their defensive posts?


But even more dangerous,

how many of them were energized,

invigorated

by the power and chaos hate can muster,

 emboldened by the 74 million

fellow Trump supporters

who voted themselves into giving

passive permission?


It does no good to change sides now.

The damage has been done,

the wounds gaping open.


All any of us can do

is hold tight to 

hope

love

truth

and wonder

how many of them are 

among us

eagerly awaiting

their next chance?




Sunday, May 3, 2020

Pandemic Ponderings 1

The longer this pandemic lasts the more my brain gathers the wool of disbelief and anger at those who pooh-pooh science and history and caution, determined to bulldoze their clumsy way past a virus that --and I say this with  a lot of empathy and in some cases no small part of disbelief--couldn't care less about their jobs, their age, their politics, their wants vs their needs, or, in the case of  the protesters, about their camouflage costumes and angrily brandished guns. 

So for awhile I shall be begging your patience as I resist the  urge to rant on social media, and instead drop my rantings here. 

I am, after all, human.

 Just a Viral Springtime Dance

Humans always have been and always will be threatened most by their own tendency to succumb to their impulses. To buckle when temptation comes calling. Here in Chicagoland the weather is bright and beautiful, everything is growing green, blooming, and waving in warm breezes--spring temptation at its best.

I walked our dog Miso around the neighborhood late yesterday afternoon and in more than one backyard I saw large groups of people--far more than the house could hold-- having cookouts, playing games, sipping beers. Having the kind of springtime fun that in almost any other scenario would've made me smile. But all I could think about was the risk they were taking with their lives. The risk they were taking with the lives of those who may be waiting for them at their own houses. Or the lives of strangers in stores they may visit.

The temptation to walk out into that sunshine and resume our celebrations, jobs, studies, shopping--lives--as we yearn and need to live them is mighty compelling. It is the same temptation that wafted in the air during the Spanish Flu pandemic in 1918 when everyone thought the worst must be over...and it wasn't. There is so much we can learn from that painful history, but not enough of us willing to embrace the lessons that are there for the taking.

I can only hope that we can all resist fleeing into that spring sunshine, and come together politically, economically, and personally to support those who are facing the choice now between going to work and risking their lives, vs staying home and having no way to pay bills, buy food, etc...

Remember--the virus takes no sides, has no political agenda, no sense of time or need or privilege or entitlement. It's a mindless opportunist and it WILL take advantage of every avenue we leave open for it to grow and spread.

Wednesday, April 15, 2020

Ambivalence

Viruses don't care about us AT ALL.

They. Don't. Care.

Their one existential objective is to THRIVE.

In their trillions they take the paths of least resistance

into our moist, vulnerable,  living bodies,

reproduce,

and then try to leave

in order to do it all again.

They don't pick and choose which body to enter.

They. Don't. Care.

And luckily for the viruses, many of us

Don't. Care. Either.

But we still have a choice.

We can battle against this together,

survive together,

care, and support, and rebuild together...

or we can hide in our factions,

cooing over our illusions of money and power,

shaking our tiny, useless fists of independence into the ambivalent sky

and succumb.

Doesn't matter to the viruses.

They.  Don't.  Care. 














Wednesday, April 8, 2020

Christina Has a Plan

I have been a teacher for nearly 30 years.  In those 30 years I have taught A LOT of different curricula:

Montessori
Reggio Emilia
Early Childhood
Primary Elementary
Public school
Private School
International school (Japan)
Accelerated curricula
Thematic curricula
Hands-on Science programs
ESL/EFL


In addition, in my role of bing MOM, I was the home "Learning Coach" for over 4 years for my two children who attended  an online California Public School junior high and senior high programs.

So I know the teacher side of what teachers are going through right now as they try to navigate the murky waters of matching their suddenly online curricula to everything that students and parents are going through in adapting to social isolation in a pandemic. 

I also understand  the parent side, trying to work jobs that are now in various states of disarray, confusion and online adjustments, trying to support their child's learning while they  maintain some semblance of a healthy life amid a sea of stress and fear, or simply just TRYING.

For what it is worth, I have a plan.
It would require schools to step back with empathy, patience and most of all flexibility.
And it would still require parents to step in to support their children's learning.

So.

Here is my plan.

Grade Level         Teacher implemented Online Time       Teacher Guided Parent Time 

Kindergarten                     2 thirty minute "meetings"                       As needed/possible at home
                                          2-3x per week

Kindergarteners need ample time to move--and they need to do so frequently.  Online time would be limited to 2 thirty minute meetings  2 or 3 times per week.  These online meetings--which could be transformed into smart phone friendly emailed letters/videos to the student or even snail mail letters for those communities that may not have easy technological resources--  would  enable the teacher to still be a part of the kindergartener's lives, to let them know they are still being guided by their teacher, still a part of their class.  The meetings could be a class chat and then later that day or week a class meeting.  Or a class sing along and a class game.

The teachers would also provide parents of Kindergarteners with weekly activities that include a kind of "unschooling" approach--at home activities that reinforce math concepts, reading, art, science, etc.   Parents would be able to chose what  works for them in the way that works for them.

First Grade                  2-3 1 hour meetings per week                   As needed/possible at home

First graders also need ample activity time. But they also have slightly larger attention spans and would be able to attend to slightly longer online meetings.

Same accessibility caveats as Kindergarten

Second Grade            3 1 hour meetings per week                      Reading journals/writing journals
                                                                                                     
Third Grade                2 1.5 hour meetings per week                 Reading journals/writing journals
                                                                                                   
As the ages, attention spans, and self motivation of the students increases, the duration of the online meetings can go up slightly--but they must never go longer than a 1.5 hour session.   With older students teachers can start to incorporate staggered lessons targeting specific skills  in subjects that may be harder for some parents to cover at home--math, social sciences, physical sciences, etc...
The online meetings must always incorporate a check in component so the teacher can assess if anyone may need time offline due to stress, worries, or challenges they are working through themselves, or indirectly via their family.

Also, as the grades go up, students can engage in more self-directed, project or thematic based learning that would put the power of contact in their hands--perhaps delving into learning to cook a special dish and then sharing the process with their teacher/classmates.  Or reading a book and then contacting the author to discuss how that book affected them.  Or perhaps planting a butterfly garden in some plant pots and tracking how many flowers bloom vs how many butterflies visit. 

Once the students reach junior high age, online learning programs are better suited to their attention spans, but teachers need to not take advantage of this fact to load on a regular term's worth of work.  The same  caution that is taken with younger students needs to be taken for older students as well, who are  likely have more family stresses placed upon them.

And for all students, no matter how many times they can attend online class meetings or do home activities, all students must be given a pass for this school year, and have the start of fall classes incorporate ample time for emotional adjustment and academic review.

Is this perfect?  Of course not.  I'm not a school or district administrator.  I can only imagine what would go into making a sweeping change like this. But I'm keeping my eye on the Facebook posts and tweets coming from incredibly stressed out parents, I've read the articles about the low numbers of students logging onto what are turning into HOURS and HOURS of online time that for many children is ending with tears and frustration.

And  as for the teachers?  They will be doing what they joined this profession to do:  opening young eyes to the magic of learning.  Guiding students to see that reading is a source of comfort and guidance, that numbers are a source of knowledge and reassurance.  Teaching is so much more than curriculum and is FAR more than tests and assessments.  Requiring teachers to manhandle in-person curricula into an online environment is a recipe for failure and burnout.  Freeing the teachers to be a source of guidance and strength at this time for parents and students is a recipe for success all around.

The bottom line is that no matter how hard educational theorists and hopeful administrators try to  create an automatic, online, fully digitized educational system (and they do keep trying), they will never succeed.  Why?  I'm surprised you have to ask.  The answer is all around us--now more than ever.    A fully online educational system lacks the very thing we are all missing right now-- human touch and interaction.   Hopefully we will be smart enough to remember this whenever we are out of pandemic danger.