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Not Today Satan and an Invite to Birch Bear!

/ Still Chasing Fireflies / 3 Comments

Blessed Mama

Every once in a while when I’m out and about, I run into someone who says, “Hey, I follow your blog!  I really liked that one post you wrote about that one thing!”  Those compliments always bring a smile to my face; it’s nice to know that somebody appreciates what you do, right?  But sometimes someone stops me and says, “I loved that post so much that I shared it with my sister,” or, “I follow your blog and I told my friend she should follow it, too,” or, “We printed this out and we’re giving it to our coach.”  Those comments definitely warm my heart – because I know that when you SHARE something, you REALLY LOVE IT!  So today, I’m paying it forward.  I found something that I LOVE, and I want to share it with YOU.

A few weeks ago I ordered a couple of new t-shirts to spruce up my summer wardrobe.  I’m getting old, which is evident in so many ways, one of which is that I prefer easy, comfy, and does-not-need-ironed clothes over the high fashion, high maintenance, gentle-cycle-lay-flat-to-dry clothes that I wore before I was tired all of the time.  Still, I was hoping to find something at least a little bit classy or clever, something that would say, “See, I’m cute without even trying hard,” rather than, “Just shut up because parenting is hard and you’ll be a slob someday, too.”

This is when I stumbled upon Birch Bear Co and the cutest stinkin’ t-shirts EVER.

Birch Bear

I have found online shopping to be unpredictable, and I have been burnt on Etsy before, so I ordered one t-shirt from Birch Bear Co with high hopes but lower expectations.  But it turns out that this small business is just awesome.  I loved my new shirt, and when I posted a picture of myself wearing the Birch Bear tee below on Easter, SO many of you wanted to know where I got it that I contacted Kayla Ernsberger, who owns and operates Birch Bear Co with her husband in Michigan, to tell her that I love her work and to ask her to team up with me to help my friends get some fun shirts, too!

Capture

Before you start shopping, let me give you six reasons why I love Kayla’s shop:

  1. The quality of the t-shirts is MUCH nicer than others I have ordered online.  I ordered two more shirts with a discount Kayla gave me so that I could recommend the company with full confidence.  They are all comfy, light, and soft, and the t-shirts are high blend premium tri-blend, which gives them a heather color and a richer look.  (Just FYI – they are not fitted t-shirts, but the V-necks seem more fitted than the crew neck shirt I bought.)
  2. Birch Bear Co has a really large selection (over 700 products), and Kayla researches trending sayings (like the one I bought) and designs so that you can find what you want and more . . . and even more if you keep looking.  It’s dangerous.
  3. Birch Bear Co is committed to the details, which makes your purchase feel special, like it came from a boutique.  My t-shirts came neatly packaged in a small box that felt like a gift in the mail.  (This reminded me of the feeling of opening a Stitch Fix box, if you have had that experience!)
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  4. The branding at Birch Bear Co is smart and adorable.  The logo itself could be a t-shirt, and Birch Bear Co shirts can be identified by the company tag added to the lower corner of each one.  Again, the details.
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  5. If you compare t-shirt prices on Etsy, Birch Bear Co is reasonable, with prices lower than some other shops with lower quality products.  Also, you are supporting a small business.
  6. Working with Kayla has been dreamy.  She loves this business, and she values her customers, and it shows.  She is very responsive to customer needs.

Let me just remind you that I don’t know Kayla personally, that I found Birch Bear Co by accident, and that Birch Bear Co did not contact me.  I contacted Kayla because I was excited and wanted to share her shop with YOU.  Kayla shared with me that she and her husband started this business a year ago when she was looking for a creative hobby.  They made their first sale in June 2016, and Birch Bear Co has been so successful that they have both quit their former professional jobs already to keep up with their shop and their two-year-old son.  Birch Bear Co is ALREADY ranked 299 out of 1.7 million Etsy shops – so I am not the only one who was impressed.  Wow.

Here are two shirts I purchased.  I generally wear a small, but the crew neck shirt has a loose fit, so I could probably wear an XS.  I like the fit of the small V-necks.  (Selfies.  Ugh.)

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If my co-teachers, Katie and Ann, buy this one, they are in big trouble:

coffee

And there are days when I probably could wear this one:

Cuss a Little

Here are a few more of my trending favorites:

One more thing . . . Kayla is SO SWEET that she created a promo code just for my Still Chasing Fireflies friends.  This code expires on May 5!  Click here to go to Birch Bear Co where you can use this code to get 10% off:

Code

Today’s a great day to have a great day – and maybe to treat yourself to something fun for summer.  Please feel free to share this post and code with your friends.  Thanks, again, Birch Bear Co!  It’s been a pleasure!

 

 

A Letter to My Son on His 13th Birthday

/ Still Chasing Fireflies / 12 Comments

baby G

Dear Gavin,

Thirteen years ago today, you entered the world just a little sooner and a little more quickly than expected.  It seems like yesterday, and it seems like so many years ago, and the details are vivid and blurry at the same time.  I remember how you snuggled into a warm ball of folded limbs in my arms, how I studied every inch of you, from your fuzzy blonde hair to your teeny fingers and tiny toes.  I remember how you turned toward your daddy’s voice in those first moments, how we knew that you had been listening from the cozy cocoon where you had grown.  I remember how my anxieties melted away when I first held you, how I realized that mothering is both innate and mysterious, a bit frightening but surprisingly comfortable at the same time.   When you were born, my life, my purpose, my legacy – everything – it all changed.  I became a mother.

Before you were born, no one had ever depended on your dad and me for survival, so parenting was both exciting and intense.  The early days were messy and stinky and busy, exhausting and sometimes very long, yet the years have passed so quickly, like sparkling comets shooting through the sky.  I am in awe today as I look at you, a boy who is closer to being a man I have not met than to being the baby with corn silk hair who wrinkled his nose and squinted his eyes to make us laugh.  It is impossible to record all of those memories, all of the milestones and parties and vacations, the field trips and sporting events and spontaneous funny things that you have said.  But you should know that those memories are like jewels to me.  They are gems stored away in the treasure chest of my mind, riches that will not be broken or taken, buried or lost.

Gavin, things are changing between us, just as they are supposed to change, because you are growing up.  It is the sweetest and most difficult transition for a mom.  But you should know that your dad and I are incredibly proud of the young man you have become.  You are smart.  You are ambitious.  You are confident but humble, a leader but a team player, too.  You are a good friend, a caring grandson, a hard worker, and a young man of faith.  You aren’t afraid to stand up for what you believe.  You are funny and compassionate, sincere and loving and kind.  I don’t know exactly what you will do or who you will be five years from now, but I know that the path you are charting is GOOD.  I know that you will be a blessing to the world around you, and I know that you will reap many rewards in return.

I believe in you, Gavin.

But I am afraid for you, too.

It’s not that I don’t trust you or that I expect you to stumble at a fork in the road.  It’s just that I want to protect you, but I can’t always save you in the ways that I once could.  When you were younger, I could stop you before you ran into the street or grab your hand before you touched something hot.  I could redirect you before you risked just a little too much.  I could steer you toward the people whom I trusted to keep you safe.

But now you are in middle school, and you are meeting new people, people I don’t know, and your world is expanding beyond the fences I created.  You are facing problems that aren’t always visible to me, decisions that can change the trajectory of your life.  You are maturing, managing your own self, becoming your own amazing person, and it is heart-wrenching and incredible and agonizing and glorious all at the same time.

There are so many lessons that I want to share with you as you become a teenager, Gavin, lessons to tuck deep inside your soul so that they are not just things you know but things that are as much a part of who you are as your lungs and your freckles and your bones.  I want to talk to you about how “greatness” is so much more than what this world suggests.  About how failure is a part of living a full and meaningful life.  About how the people you spend time with will influence you, just as one cinnamon candy will flavor all the other candies in the dish.  About how you will always find what you are looking for, so look for the good, and about how happiness is a choice that you can make each and every day, whatever your circumstances.  About how the problems on the surface are rarely the problems that need fixed, so invest in scalpels rather than band-aids if you want to find your peace.

Maybe these are lessons for fourteen or fifteen or sixteen.  I’m not sure, Gavin, but let me teach you this.

I once believed that the moths that flutter around our porch lights were attracted by the glow, but scientists say this is not true.  They believe that moths navigate their course in the darkness of night by calibrating their flight against the position of the moon.  The moonlight is the moth’s touchstone, the constant that allows it to orient itself and fly in a straight line.  This is effective as long as the moth is not distracted from the moonlight, but the moth’s best instincts have been sabotaged by the glitter and gleam of artificial lights.  A moth that flies too close to a lightbulb or a flame becomes disoriented and loses track of the moon.  Its straight path deteriorates into a never-ending circle as it expends all of its energy, unable to get back on track.  Eventually, the lost moth becomes exhausted, often landing on and dying with its artificial moon.

When a moth loses sight of what will safely and steadily guide it, when it is distracted by something that is closer and brighter at that moment, it inadvertently creates its own demise.

Whatever you do, Gavin, do not lose sight of your touchstones.  They will guide you safely through the darkness until the sun rises once again.  Don’t exhaust yourself or lose your way by following something that shines just a little bit brighter than what you know to be true.

I try not to worry, Gavin, but it’s just a part of my job as a mom.  I fret about the test you have today and the track meet you have tomorrow, the college and career you will choose six years from now and the wife you will marry in a decade or more.  But I am confident that you will be ready for all of those things when they come.

I worry more that you will become distracted, that you will forget that this home, that our love for you, will always be a place where you can be safe and real in a world that will test you with its artificial glow.  This will always be the place where your truth can be rediscovered, where your bucket can be refilled, and where your spirit can find rest, even when you are all grown up.  This will always, always, always be your moon.

You are someone special, Gavin, and your dad and I are so lucky to have the privilege to walk the journey of your life with you.  I cannot wait to see the man, the husband, and the father that you will become.

But if you can slow down just a little, I will be fine with that, too.

Happy 13th.

Love Always,

Mom

mom and G crop

Pretty Please?

/ Still Chasing Fireflies / 2 Comments

Hey, Fireflies!

I have a brand new post that I can’t wait to share with you next Tuesday.  It’s a letter to my son on his 13th birthday . . . Let’s just say that you may want to throw a box of tissues in the cart when you are at Kroger this weekend.  Don’t say I didn’t warn you . . .

Until then, I’m asking for a HUGE favor!  Please click here to visit the Today Show Parenting Blog where my recent post “How to Influence Your Kids When They Keep Getting Smarter and You Keep Getting Dumber” has been published.  I feel like this post has the potential to get some attention, but the more that it is “Voted Up,” the more likely it is to get noticed by the editors.

You can visit the post on the Today Show Parenting Blog and click “Vote Up” to help me.  The “Vote Up” button is right ABOVE the post.  Please feel free to share the post on your Facebook page if you feel compelled to do that, too!  I will let you know if anything exciting happens!

Thanks, as always, for sharing in this journey with me!  You have no idea how grateful I am.

~Mary Ann

P.S. A few weeks ago, a producer from New York City contacted me to discuss my writing.  His company creates some pretty amazing shows for channels like TLC and National Geographic.  How cool is that?!?  Unfortunately, it wasn’t a perfect match, but I believe that all of this writing is going to lead to SOMETHING fantastic someday – I just don’t know what!

 

How to Influence Your Kids When They Keep Getting Smarter and You Keep Getting Dumber

/ Still Chasing Fireflies / 10 Comments

Quote Intro

My kids think I’m stupid.

I knew this day would come.  I mean, I used to be that smartass kid myself.

I thought that I knew everything about everything because my age (almost) ended with -teen.  I thought I had the answers to life’s hard questions despite hardly having lived at all.  I thought my parents, who paid for everything and provided everything and fixed everything, were the least smart people on the entire planet.  And I had evidence.  I mean, I got straight A’s in middle school.  What could they possibly know that I didn’t?

(And then when I moved out, they studied really hard and became GENIUSES almost overnight!  I’m not sure why they waited so long . . . )

So now my kids are the ones rolling their eyes when I offer advice, sighing with distrust at everything I say.  How could my knowledge of unclogging a toilet or writing a check compare to their knowledge of sports stats and texting slang?  Seriously.

Yes, my kids think I’m stupid.

But here is something I have noticed.

They think Abraham Lincoln was smart.
They think Michael Jordan is smart.
They think the Beastie Boys are smart.
They think Dr. Seuss was smart.
They think Benjamin Franklin was smart.
They think John Cena is smart.
They think Yoda is smart.
They think Steven Spielberg is smart.
They think Albert Einstein was REALLY smart.
And they think Lebron James is a genius.

Basically, they think everyone is smart except me.

But here’s what they don’t understand: I AM smart.  I’m so smart that I can make them think I’m dumb while I’m outsmarting them.  I’m smart enough to realize that I can trick them into learning the values I want to teach them by teaching those values through someone else they trust.  Like Doc Brown from Back to the Future or Beverly from The Goldbergs.

Dumb parents everywhere, listen up.  Let me share with you my little secret – the Quote of the Day.

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Every morning, before my kids head off to school, I scour the Internet for a quotation that feels right for the day.  Sometimes it shares deep wisdom about life, friendship, hard work, perseverance, love, joy, faith, or success.  Sometimes it’s funny.  Sometimes it is a line from a movie we just watched or from a favorite television show.  Every once in a while it is a Bible verse, and sometimes it specifically applies to something that is happening that day, like if my kids need encouragement for a test or a track meet.  The quotation for the day is quickly recorded on two post-it notes, three if I want to be reminded of it later myself, and stuffed into lunch boxes before the kids dash out the door.  If one of my kiddos is buying lunch, then I stick the post-it somewhere in a folder or book for them to find later in the day.

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I know what you’re thinking.  Her kids don’t read those things.  They probably toss them in the cafeteria trash can or hide them under an apple or granola bar so that no one else will see.  How embarrassing.

WRONG.

How do I know this?  Because whenever I forget to pack one, they ALWAYS tell me.

Sometimes we talk about them over dinner.  Sometimes we don’t.  Sometimes their friends ask to see them at lunch.  Sometimes my kids reflect on them on their own.  Sometimes I stick them on the refrigerator as a reminder, and sometimes we discuss them when we unpack their lunchboxes after school.  Sometimes I see one from several weeks ago tucked into a folder or marking a page in a book. Cha ching.  If they read it more than once before tossing it, that’s even better.

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I hope that sometimes those words of wisdom, not from their stupid mom but from someone brilliant, like Charles Barkley or Will Ferrell, change their day.  I hope that enough of those carefully chosen words over all the days and all the weeks and all the months of school will help to shape their lives.

Remember the days when you could stuff a sweet note into your child’s lunchbox, and he would treasure that little scrap of paper love all afternoon?  Once you hit the tweens, those days are over.  But don’t be fooled, moms and dads.  Your kids still appreciate your influence.  They still want to know that they are loved, even as their growing independence pulls them farther and farther away.

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They want your attention; they just don’t want a lipstick kiss from their mother on a heart-shaped napkin anymore.

Because, well, moms are dumb.

But it’s okay, mom.  You’ve got backup.  Because Homer Simpson is really, really smart.

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**Maybe you want to pilot a Quote of the Day routine with your kids in the last quarter of the school year.  Let me help!  I included a few quotations above to get you started!  Watch the Still Chasing Fireflies Facebook page for more each week!  If doing this in the morning seems overwhelming to you, make them all on the weekend instead.  Five minutes and you are finished!**

 

 

Bleed

/ Still Chasing Fireflies / 8 Comments

“There is nothing to writing,” Ernest Hemingway once said.  “All you do is sit down at a typewriter and bleed.”

Ernest was right.  Sometimes when you pull up a chair and your fingers stroke the keys, you spring a leak, and the things hidden inside of you seep out.  They bleed onto the page or into the air, and the blood is words, and sometimes when a soul starts bleeding it is hard to plug the hole.  Sometimes the words are a confession and sometimes they are laughter and sometimes they are heartache and sometimes they are love.

typewriter-and-bleed

Like blood, words give life to the thoughts and emotions swirling within us.  And the blood that leaks out when we write or we speak, those words, they have incredible power.

My words.  Your words.  ALL words.

Just think.  A writer can sit down with a blank sheet of paper that costs no more than a penny.

blank-paper

And that writer can add some ink, also nearly worthless on its own.  And then that little bit of ink sprouts into lines that stretch into letters that bloom into words.  And those words, when nurtured, flourish and grow and burst across the page.

Now those words – recorded in that ink on that worthless piece of paper – hold the potential to change a person’s day.  Or a person’s goals.  Or a person’s life.  Those words, although it may seem crazy, have the potential to change the entire freaking world.

This week my students will read “Letter from Birmingham Jail,” arguably one of the best examples of effective argumentation, written from a jail cell after Martin Luther King Jr. was arrested for peacefully protesting for civil rights in 1963.  His passion, in the form of words, bled onto napkins and toilet paper and anything else he could find in that jail, and those words continue to move us half a century later.  Just think about that.  A little bit of ink that seeped onto cheap toilet paper in a cold jail cell resonated with people around the world and awakened the social conscience of a nation.

Wow.  Our words have power.

Words can be persuasive, transformative, inspiring.  They can heal broken places or break what was whole.  They can become contagious and quickly race around the globe.  They can penetrate social and cultural divides with ease.  They can provoke reflection and conversations that change the way we think about ourselves and our purpose and our world.  They can excavate feelings that were deeply buried, brushing the dust off our frustrations and dreams, exposing hidden sadness and unseen joys to the brilliant light of day.

Words, when precise and controlled, can evoke feelings with an intensity that makes the page feel like reality and reality feel like the dream.  Ink can be tamed just as a wild horse can be broken.  A person can say things that change people and write things that make a difference.

You might think that only professional writers can harness the power of words.

But you are wrong.

Think of the power of these very simple words at your command:

I love you.  I like you.  I enjoy you.  I trust you.  I miss you.

I messed up.   I hurt you.   I’m sorry.  I regret my decision.  I am sad when you are sad.  I want to fix this.

I did not know. 

I believe in grace.  I believe in you.  I believe in us.  I forgive you.

I am alone.  I can’t do this. I  am empty.  I need help.  I need you.

I am on my way.  I am here.  I am with you.  I am for you.  I have your back.

words-are-your-power

I will fight for you. 

I will help you.  I will stay with you.  I am always on your team.  I will protect you.

I pray for you.  I hurt with you.  I have felt this, too.  I understand. 

I don’t understand, but I care about you.

I admire you.  I respect you.  I am proud of you.  I appreciate you.  I am thankful for you.

I see you.  I hear you.  I know your heart.  I am listening. 

I promise.

I can and I will.  I will tell you the truth.  I will give you my share.  I am thinking about you.  I see your beauty.

I am better because of you.  I want to be like you.  I treasure your advice.  I value your ideas. 

I don’t agree with you, but I still love you.

I am not perfect.  I am no better.  I am glad you are my friend.  I can do hard things with you.  I see your courage.

I am happy when you are happy.  I love to see you smile.  I cherish my time with you.  I do not deserve what I have been given. 

I can’t imagine a better friend.

I choose you.

When you feel powerless, remember that you have words.

When you want your relationships to grow, remember that you have words.

When you want to make a difference in your life, your home, your family, your neighborhood, your world, remember that you have words.

So find blank pages and some ink.  Breathe life into them.  Harness the emotions and ideas that are swirling within.  Let the words that are hidden inside you begin to leak out.

Your words are your power.  Never forget this.

Ready.  Set.

BLEED.

regret

Hey, fireflies!  Thanks for reading this post about the power of words.  I hope you enjoyed it, but my greater hope is that it inspires you to take fifteen minutes out of your week and write meaningful notes to a few of the people in your life.  Maybe there is someone who deserves your thanks or someone who needs you to make something right.  Maybe there is someone who does not know how much impact he or she has had on your decisions.  Maybe there is an adult who needs your encouragement or a child who needs your love.  There are so many possibilities!  You may be surprised by the doors that open when you let what is on the inside leak out!  I challenge you to write three notes this week, and then come back and let us know what you did and how you felt!  Thanks for reading, friends!   ~Mary Ann

 

 

I’m Not Sure How to Mom Anymore

/ Still Chasing Fireflies / 26 Comments

sports

I.

I have two sons.  In just a month, they will be 11 and 13.  And our home, well, it’s not the same as it used to be.  There are basketballs and gym shoes, shin guards and dirty socks at every turn.  There is a constant search for missing earbuds and phone chargers, and “pump up” music, the kind that plays before sporting events, has become the soundtrack of our lives.  There is a funky smell here, a mingling of stinky shoe, sweaty uniform, and Axe body wash, that wafts through the air.  And it is next to impossible to keep snacks stocked in the cabinets.  Almost-teen boys are a lot less snips and snails and puppy dog tails and a lot more bottomless stomach.

I don’t mind wrangling the socks and washing the uniforms, and I’m learning to hide my favorite snacks from the scavengers who live here.  I know to watch for loose balls at the bottom of the stairs, and I’m an expert at hunting for “lost” equipment as we are running late to practice, again.  I don’t even mind the stinky smell.  I mean, I don’t like the stinky smell, but I’m becoming desensitized.  And my mother-in-law buys me candles, so that helps.

What I do mind is that these simple, insignificant changes signal something bigger, a shift in my responsibilities as a parent, a change in what motherhood means.  The canary that represents childhood at our house is barely hanging onto its perch.  I’ve been trying to resuscitate it, but it isn’t working, and the thought of a dead canary here nearly stops my heart from beating, too.

My little boys aren’t so little now, and I don’t really know what I’m doing.  I’m not sure I know how to mom anymore.

I was skilled at rocking my sleeping babies.
I was quick at chasing my busy toddlers.
I was smart at exploring the woods with my curious preschoolers.
I was impressive at creating crafts and experiments for my kindergarteners.
I was even good at teaching my inquisitive elementary students to read.

But I don’t know how to parent 10 and 12.

 

 

II.

A few weeks before Christmas, my younger son begged me to chaperone his concert rehearsal for fifth- and sixth-graders who play strings.  He pleaded with me several times, and I changed the subject several times, mostly because missing work usually creates more work for me in one way or another.  But he persisted, and the teacher sent out a code red that said something like “We are in need of chaperones” but that sounded to me like “These kids will never amount to anything if none of their mothers even care, for goodness sakes.”  And also I realized that my little boy is 10, and he was begging me to go, and in just a few short months he may be begging me NOT to.

So I signed up.

On the morning of the rehearsal, I was excited to spend a little extra time with my son.  I waited in the office until the secretary released the students for the trip and boys and girls rushed into the hallway with music books and backpacks and violins.  I hurried to the bus to welcome them and watched through the window as my son and his friends approached.  Soon he boarded, giggling and chatting with his classmates, who quickly shuffled past my row to claim the seats in the back.

He may have said hi as he passed by.

I’m not exactly sure.

But I am sure that there was no hug, no I’m-so-glad-you’re-here-Mom, not even a pause for a chat or a fist bump.  There was nothing, really, to indicate that the two of us were any more related than any other pair of people on that bus.

The rehearsal went off without a hitch, and soon we were boarding again to head back to the elementary school.  On the return trip, I glanced behind me every once in a while to see what was happening in the seats in the rear.  The kids talked and joked and laughed and enjoyed escaping the classroom for an hour or two.  When the bus doors opened once again, the students hastily exited to return to class.  And the kid who had begged me to chaperone this trip scurried down the hallway without ever looking back.

And that was that.

My dog wagged her tail and jumped excitedly when I got home, which soothed my fear that I had turned invisible after leaving the house in the morning.  I checked the mirror and pinched myself just to be sure.

Yep.  I’m still here.

Later that evening, to my surprise, my ten-year-old thanked me for going on the field trip “with” him.  He was so happy that I had taken a few hours off work to ride that bus, even though it had seemed like my presence didn’t matter at all.  The truth was that he never intended to spend time with me on the way to his rehearsal.  He just wanted to know that, when given two choices, I would choose him.

Thank goodness I did.  Because I came very close to failing that test. 

I may have felt a bit neglected that morning, but I knew exactly where to sit at the concert that night for a perfect view of my son and his cello.

So there’s that, too.

This is what parenting 10 looks like.

 

 

III.

Last Friday, my older son’s middle school basketball team was recognized during half-time of the varsity game at the high school.  It was a big deal to us.  But as we finalized our plans for the evening, he seemed unexpectedly stressed.

“Mom,” he said, looking conflicted, “you can just drop me off at the high school.  I mean, if you want to, that’s fine.”

Drop him off?  Was this kid serious?

This was going to be a sweet moment.  I mean, he was wearing a freaking bow tie, and they were announcing his name, you know, over the loud speaker.  In front of a big crowd.  At a varsity basketball game.

No, drop off is not an option.   

“Okay, yeah, well, I really want you to be there, Mom.”

Yes . . . I know that. . . So what am I missing?

“But it’s okay if I hang out with my team, right?  You won’t care, will you?”

Oooooooooooohhhhhhhhhhh.

Of course.  Your team.  Right.  Your friends.  For sure.  Absolutely.  I mean, that will be perfect because I really just wanted to concentrate on the game anyway. 

Yeah.

So my son played it cool with his teammates while I sat alone in a gym packed with people since the rest of the family had other things to do.  It was different.  But I enjoyed observing my son from a distance, seeing the whole picture of who he is without the distraction of the details.  I enjoyed watching how he interacted with his friends and  admiring the young man he has become.  I know I’m his mom, but, really, that kid is pretty amazing.

I didn’t mind cheering for the home team while he socialized since I love watching basketball, too.   But I was shocked that night, because something about high school has definitely changed, and very recently, I think, because I have been teaching high school for thirteen years and I have never noticed.

Get ready for this.  Grab a chair because it’s crazy.  Ready?

High school boys LOOK JUST LIKE GROWNUP MEN now!

Seriously, when did this start happening?  And why aren’t we researching how to make this stop?

I looked at the players in disbelief, imagining what my grown sons will look like and wondering how ALL of those changes can possibly happen in the next few years.  It seems impossible.  Glimpses of the future flashed through my mind, tempered by glimpses of the past, when I was cheering from the student section and my husband was the high school basketball player and everyone loitered at Burger King or ran through the Taco Bell drive thru after the game.

Time is not a distance runner.  He is a sprinter.  He races past at an incredible speed.  Kids grow up, and adults get old, and moments pass quickly and are lost forever.  Our only hope of bottling yesterday is to preserve its memories.  And that only works if we take time to make them.

While we were at the high school that night, my son touched base with me only once.

Yes, when he needed money.

But on our way home, he talked and talked and talked about the events of the evening and the conversation he had with a former coach and the funny things that happened with his friends.  And the two of us decided to run through Taco Bell, just like my friends and I did in high school, even though we had already eaten dinner, even though it was after ten o’clock at night.

I wonder if, ten years from now, he will remember eating those tacos with his mom after a varsity basketball game in 2017.

I hope that he will.

This is what parenting 12 looks like.

 

 

IV.

When I started teaching, I worked at a rural high school in southeastern Ohio with a man named Jim Williams.  Jim Williams was tall and serious and a respected veteran teacher.  He had a dry sense of humor and a quick wit, and it seemed to me that he had read every piece of literature that had ever been written.  He was also the chair of the English department, so he was, at least in my mind, my boss.

I was a novice, still learning the ropes and finding my confidence, and Jim Williams was never anything but kind to me when I worked with him.  But, because of my own insecurities as a young teacher, I felt about fifteen years old whenever we spoke.  My mind defaulted from being the high school teacher to being just another student, although he always treated me as a respected colleague.

So Jim Williams and I didn’t chat very often, mostly because I was more comfortable feeling my real age of twenty-something than defaulting to an anxious fifteen.  When I needed professional advice, he was helpful, but I didn’t hang around long enough to discuss the news or the weather or my life outside of school.  The English wing had no extra room for me, so I could easily escape to my classroom by the gym with any seeds of wisdom he had shared.

In hindsight, I should have devoted more time to learning from Jim Williams than to hiding from him because he shared some of the best advice that I have ever been given.

And it had nothing to do with teaching.

It was a gloomy winter day at the high school when I received a message that my baby boy was sick and I would need to be home for the next couple of days.  Not only was I striving to excel as a teacher at that time, but I was also just learning to juggle the demands of teaching and motherhood.  Before having a baby, I rarely used a sick day, and I often continued working after school until late into the evening.  I took pride in my commitment and my creativity and all of the extra hours that I logged.  I don’t remember exactly what I said to Jim Williams that day, but I imagine that it was some version of an apology for needing to be home.

What I do remember clearly is that he stopped me – so that he could say something profound instead of listening to my nonsense.

Jim Williams said, “There will always be another teacher, Mary Ann.”

Oooooooh.  That burns.  I mean, I’ve been trying really hard to be the best and to do the most and to keep all the plates spinning.  You haven’t even noticed?

He wasn’t finished.

“There will always be another teacher, Mary Ann, but your son will never have another mother.”

See.  I told you he was smart.

Yes, it stung, but I understood what Jim Williams was saying.  He wasn’t telling me that I was easily replaceable or that my teaching wasn’t up to his expectations.  He wasn’t saying that hiring a substitute for a day or two would be equal to my presence in the classroom.  But he was telling me to take a deep breath and prioritize.  And I needed that.  Because sometimes I was so worried about being the best teacher for my students that I wasn’t being the best mother for my baby, even when I was at home with him at night.

Jim Williams was saying that my presence as a mother matters.

And I have never forgotten that.

 

 

V.

Maybe raising 10 and 12 isn’t as complicated as I think it is.  Maybe it’s mostly about presence, about “choosing” the people we love and connecting with them whenever and however we can.  Maybe it’s as simple as being in the same place, even when we are all in separate rooms doing separate things.  Maybe it’s just about being.  Maybe just being is exactly what my sons need.

Don’t get me wrong.  We eat dinner as a family and play games together.  We plan fun events and talk and spend time with grandparents and friends.  Those things are important.

But there are many more hours now when I am not chasing anyone or disciplining anyone or teaching anyone about fractions or saving anyone from harm.

There are many more hours now when I am just here.

And that’s okay.

Maybe parenting 10 and 12 is being close enough to come to the rescue but far enough away to let my children take a chance.  Maybe it’s watching them climb the tall, scary ladder, and then holding the safety net under the tightrope they are walking to become men.

The minutes, they pass quickly, and there is no buying them back when the canary’s song fades.  So maybe I just need to relax, enjoy the journey, and remember that just being matters.

And maybe it matters the most when it seems like it doesn’t matter at all.

 

 

Image Source: Steven Depolo under Creative Commons Attribution 2.0 Generic

 

Hidden Figures: Lessons on Hope and Courage

/ Still Chasing Fireflies / 3 Comments

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Hidden Figures tells the true story of three African American women working at NASA during the height of the space race between the United States and Russia.  The year is 1961, and while the country is united in a common goal to send a man to the moon, there is racial tension within NASA’s gates and civil unrest outside them.  The three women who propel the movie, Katherine Goble Johnson, Mary Jackson, and Dorothy Vaughan, have both brilliant minds and firecracker spirits.  Given the time period, they are considered “lucky” to work as computers (mathematicians) at such a respected government agency, but their experiences at NASA reveal that while technology is advancing at lightning speed in 1961, social progress is often excruciatingly slow.

I believe that every person has a valuable story, a unique life experience that unlocks the door to lessons that we may not have learned on our own, so I expected to appreciate this movie.  What I did not expect was that Katherine, Mary, and Dorothy would become my friends, that they would kick up their feet and make themselves at home in my head.  I didn’t expect that their voices would continue speaking to me long after the movie had ended, that they would unpack their suitcases and stay.

I did not expect this, but I don’t mind that they did.

Here are a few of my favorite takeaways from this movie, but PLEASE go and see it for yourself!  You can thank me for the recommendation later!

*CAUTION: Spoilers ahead!*

 

  1. Do not allow ANYONE to diminish your value.

Over and over and over again, the main characters in the movie are treated as second-class citizens because they are female and black at a time when both are considered inferior.  Even though Katherine’s ability to calculate complex mathematical equations is exceptional, she is repeatedly underestimated, and when her colleagues begin to recognize her extraordinary talent, she is still resented by men and women alike.  Likewise, Dorothy is not appreciated for her leadership, and Mary is discouraged from pursuing graduate classes in engineering despite both women being highly qualified.

But these ladies know that their value is not determined by what other people say or do or think.  They have a strong faith.  They have an impenetrable self-respect.  They have the love of their families.  And they have each other.

This is what gives Katherine the spunk to challenge the sexist attitude of the man she eventually marries and the courage to invite herself into highly classified meetings at NASA without proper clearance.

Katherine, Mary, and Dorothy know their value.  They do not allow anyone to dim their light, and neither should you.  Keep shining.

 

  1. You can be the first.

In one of the most compelling scenes in the movie, Mary Jackson petitions the court to allow her to attend graduate classes at night at a segregated high school.  This is her only option if she wants to become a NASA engineer.  In her plea, Mary reminds the judge of the “importance of being first,” in this case being the first to challenge social norms.  She asks him, “Out of all the cases you gonna hear today, which one is gonna matter a hundred years from now?  Which one is gonna make you the first?”

Being first matters.

But the movie also reveals that being first isn’t easy.  In Mary’s case, being first means going to court.  It means researching and pleading her case.  It means risking rejection and abuse.  Even when Mary is victorious and is granted permission to attend, being first means being unwelcome.  It means proving herself every single step along the way.

Even so, Mary shows us that there is something rewarding about winning an honorable and hard-fought battle.  And if you are the first to do something worth doing, you can rest assured that others won’t be far behind.

But they will never be first.

Because you were.

 

  1. If you aren’t part of the solution, you are part of the problem.

Even though I was absorbed in the struggles of Katherine, Mary, and Dorothy, I couldn’t take my eyes off the white people on the screen.  I know that the actual events took place in 1961.  I know that social norms were very different at that time.  I know, on an academic level, about segregation and discrimination.    But I couldn’t stop watching the behavior of so many white characters and thinking, “How could you do that?”

How could you make Katherine use a separate coffee pot in the office?

How could you intentionally prevent her from having the information she needs to do her job?

How could you deny her recognition and shut the door in her face when she is a critical part of your team?

How could you?

On the way home from the movie, my sons asked some difficult questions.  What would we have been like, as people, if we had been raised at that time, in that place, and indoctrinated with those ideas of right and wrong?  The truth is that I don’t know.

But there are white people in the movie who stand out as exceptionally bright lights.  The brightest of those is John Glenn, who does not hesitate to greet all of the NASA employees, including the black women who have been sent to the side, with a handshake and a warm smile.  He is portrayed as exuberant, kind, respectful – and eager to acknowledge Katherine’s exceptional talent.  Another bright light is Karl Zielinski, a mission specialist who encourages Mary to pursue a career in engineering when she sees that as an impossible goal.

Our actions influence people.  When we turn our heads and ignore the mistreatment of others, we are supporting that mistreatment, and we are encouraging other people to support it, too.  And when we choose to be a brighter light and chart a different course, like Glenn and Zielinski, our behavior is influential, as well.

It’s not a matter of whether we do or don’t want to influence others – because that is not our choice.  The choice is what kind of influence we will have.

 

  1. ASK FOR IT.

You are never, ever, ever going to get something that you don’t ask for, even if you deserve it.  It’s not going to happen if you don’t ask.  It just isn’t.

This idea is a recurring message throughout the film.  As Hidden Figures progresses, we see all three ladies ask (and work very hard) for what they want.  Katherine asks for more data, more access, and more respect.  Dorothy asks for a promotion.  Mary asks for the right to her education.  And even though they do not get what they ask for right away, they do eventually get all of those things in one way or another.

Asking does not guarantee that you will get exactly what you want when you want it.

But not asking does guarantee that you won’t.

 

  1. Protocol is important. Until it isn’t.

“Protocol” is a key word in the vernacular of NASA in 1961.  There is a strictly defined way to do almost everything, and, when there isn’t, the uncertainty sends the people who work there into a bit of a panic.  There is a sense that the same organization that is on the forefront of scientific advancement is so entrenched in tradition and bureaucracy that it can’t see the forest for the trees in terms of social progress.

In one tense conversation, Katherine’s colleague Paul Stafford, who is offended that Katherine has been asked to double check his work, prevents her from attending a meeting by saying, “There is no protocol for women attending.”

Katherine quickly replies, “There’s no protocol for a man circling the earth either, Sir.”

There is an interesting paradox in the movie between the very precise calculations that are necessary to ensure the astronauts’ safety and the flexibility that is also required to allow for scientific – and social – growth.

Rules are important, but rigidity is dangerous, and this applies to so many aspects of life.

 

  1. “You are the boss. You just have to act like one.”

When Katherine seeks permission to attend top-secret meetings so that she will have immediate access to the data that is critical to her job, she looks to her boss, Al Harrison, to override Paul Stafford, the head engineer, who wants to keep her out.

“Within these walls, who makes the rules?” Harrison asks.

“You, Sir,” Katherine answers.  “You are the boss.  You just have to act like one.  Sir.”

With that, Harrison decides to break protocol, and Katherine joins the men at the table.

Katherine’s quick wit reminds us that we often underestimate our own power to change things that aren’t working.  We may not be the Space Task Group director at NASA, like Harrison, but we are the bosses of a lot of things in our lives.

We just have to act like it.

 

  1. Open your eyes to the challenges of others.

Throughout the movie, Katherine maintains her composure despite difficult situations that would send most of us into a fit of rage today.  But when she is scolded by Harrison for taking too many breaks after running a half mile in high heels in the middle of a rainstorm to get to the colored restroom, she finally loses her cool.  Frustrated and soaking wet, she confronts Harrison in front of the entire office, asserting that she is tired of being treated like a second-class citizen.

This leads Harrison to bust up the signs assigning NASA bathrooms to one race or the other, and in a defining moment as the team works on their space mission he declares, “We all get there together, or we don’t get there at all.”

Harrison is portrayed as more open minded and empathetic than many other NASA supervisors, but the reality is that he did not “see” Katherine’s struggle until that struggle threatened to impact the success of the Friendship 7 mission, thus jeopardizing his own success and reputation.  Only then did Katherine’s plight become real to him, and then he became her ally and maybe even her friend.

But that does not negate the fact that she had been taking long breaks for a long time, and anyone with just a bit of common sense could have figured out that running across the campus to the colored bathroom was a ridiculous haul and a waste of her time, besides the fact that it was completely unfair and demoralizing.  But no one expressed concern.  Because it wasn’t their problem.

There are people all around us facing challenges that we choose not to see.

What would happen if we all started seeing them?

 

  1. Do what you love.

Katherine, Mary, and Dorothy tolerate a significant amount of disrespect just to do their jobs.  In the film, they choose to work in a field where women, particularly black women, are not really welcome.  They could probably pursue work in a less hostile environment, but they don’t.

The reason these women pursue these careers is because they have a passion that I will never understand – a passion for MATH.

And it’s okay.  I don’t need to understand it.

Because Katherine, Mary, and Dorothy inspire us to find our own passions, to find our own hidden gifts, and to pursue those with a vigor that is intensified, not diminished, by obstacles.

 

  1. Don’t lose your courage. Don’t lose your kindness.  Don’t lose your hope.

At the end of the movie, the audience in our theater burst into applause.  Typically, we applaud for people who are standing in front of us, people who can see and hear that recognition.  But in the movie theater, we clapped for people who would never know, the real Katherine, Mary, and Dorothy, and all of the other people whose astounding resilience has changed life for us all.  We applauded for the people who are more courageous and more daring than the rest of us.

And we clapped for the people who are still striving to reach what seem like impossible goals.

Hidden Figures shows us that people can and will continue to achieve the impossible.

Now we are watching to see who will be first.

 

*Hidden Figures was released by 20th Century Fox and is based on true events.  The book Hidden Figures by Margot Lee Shetterly was the inspiration for the film.

 

 

 

 

Happy 2017 From Still Chasing Fireflies!

/ Still Chasing Fireflies / 13 Comments

happy-new-year-picture-google-images-advanced

Hey, there!  Greetings from Still Chasing Fireflies!

Friend, if you are reading this, I am so grateful that you are still here, waiting patiently for me.  It’s been a while!  I have thought about visiting you here on many occasions, but I’ve been waiting, too.  Waiting for a certain feeling.  The feeling that it’s time.

And I feel it.

It’s time.

I am SO very happy to “see” you here again!

The blog has been quiet for a few months, I know, but don’t let the silence deceive you.  I’ve been writing – and writing and writing and writing!  In fact, some very exciting things are starting to take shape.  I *might* be experimenting with a novel, and a few screeners *might* be very excited about what they have read so far.  (I wish I could tell you more . . . But I can’t!)  My kids and I have been working on a children’s book; I am IN LOVE with our idea, and it would be a dream come true to see our story in print on a bookshelf someday (if paper still exists by then)!  The publishing world is brutal, but we are up for the challenge, and we don’t expect anything to happen in a hurry.  There are also some essays that may become blog posts, some poems, and some previously published pieces that I hope to share with a larger audience soon.  So if you have missed Still Chasing Fireflies, don’t worry.  I have so much more to share with you!  And it’s really, REALLY good stuff from an emotional well that runs much deeper than I ever knew.

So 2016 has ended, and as one year ends and another begins, it seems like an appropriate time for reflection.  Sometimes this reflection reminds us what a wonderful year we enjoyed.  We are overcome with happy memories of family milestones, new adventures, fun celebrations, and special moments.  We hope that the coming year is filled with just as much joy and satisfaction.

I certainly hope that describes the 2016 you experienced!

But other years, we say, “THANK-GOD-THAT-IS-OVER-BECAUSE-THAT-YEAR-WAS-TRYING-TO-MURDER-ME.”

That was my 2016.

Yes, 2016 will go down in the history books as the most challenging year of my life to this point.  That is partly because I have not had a very challenging life.  It is also partly because 2016 totally sucked.  But the good news is that challenges can lead to deep reflection and incredible growth.  They can make us more confident, productive, and resilient.  They can give us insight into aspects of life that we never understood before.  And there is something very fulfilling about those lessons, even if the journey to those revelations felt a bit like a scene from Saving Private Ryan.

I could write a long, long list of the things I have learned throughout 2016, and I’m sure many of those lessons will inspire future posts, but let’s start with a few that really stuck with me.  Maybe one of them will stick with you, too.

1. You have much less control over your life than you think you do.

Okay, I will admit that I am a bit of a control freak.  It drives me cray cray to watch my kids fold laundry.  Honestly, I have to look away while they are doing it because it is just too painful for me to watch.  (On my behalf, I get this from my mother, who refolded everything I folded for the first 20 years of my life.  Love you, Mom!)  When my kids push the cart at the grocery store to “help” me, well, I can’t stand that either.  I am on a mission, and we have a pace to maintain, Kids.  And when adult people use words like cray cray, yes, that drives me crazy, too.  Grow up already.

I know.  It’s ridiculous.  And it’s all part of my illusion that I have the power to control things, and that if I control things, then I can prevent bad things from happening to me and my friends and my family and all of the other innocent people around the world.

Except I can’t.

I can’t control what other people do and what kinds of decisions they make.  I can’t control how much it snows or how other people drive or when something might go haywire inside my body.  I can’t make someone change or decide who my children will marry or prevent a loved one from having a heart attack or force someone to look at another perspective.  I can’t do those things.  All of them are out of my control.

And I really, really hate that.  Even if it’s true.

2. You have much more control over your life than you think you do.

Wait a minute . . . That sounds like a contradiction to #1, right?  Not really.  We humans tend to vacillate between feeling completely in control of our lives and feeling completely out of control of our lives, and neither one is really true.  Even when things are happening outside of our personal jurisdiction, we ALWAYS get to decide how to react to them.  We can join the people on the high road or join the people on the low road.  We can sulk and pout too long because life isn’t fair.  Or we can choose to marinate in our own anger forever.  Or we can pull on our grownup boots and start hiking down the path that has been charted for us, even if we don’t like that path at all.

Or we can write a novel.

Really, it’s up to us.  But the happiest people take a few minutes (or days, or weeks) to lick their wounds and then find a way to climb the mountain in front of them.

3. There are a lot of people on the low road, but no one is stuck there.

I had NO IDEA how much traffic there is down there.  It is a VERY, VERY CROWDED place. And I get it.  It is very tempting to take that exit when life isn’t cooperating or emotions are running high.  I’ve been there.  I’ve tried it.  I’ll probably be back.  I know.

Some people are on the low road because they took a wrong turn and they don’t even realize they are there yet.  Others popped on for a hot second and are desperately seeking the next exit to get off.  And then there are people who have been there so long that they don’t even need the GPS to stay on course.  They smile and wave and pretend to be friendly as they carefully orchestrate head-on collisions.

Fortunately, the high road is wide, with plenty of lanes to accommodate everyone.  You can merge onto it easily and at any time, and the drivers there are imperfect but also encouraging, forgiving, and kind.  The high road still has potholes, but it is more likely to lead to the destinations you seek, sweet spots like Happiness, Satisfaction, and Inner Peace.

I promise.

4. Belonging to the sisterhood of women is an extraordinary privilege. 

All women have the opportunity to join an ancient sisterhood that is very, very special.  When one woman in the sisterhood suffers, her sisters do, too, even if they have not experienced the same hardships related to marriage, fertility, career advancement, motherhood, aging, or any other challenges that are unique to women across the generations.

Women in the sisterhood protect, support, and uplift other women.  They do not bulldoze them to serve their own selfish interests.

You see, being a female is not a choice, but being an honorable, compassionate woman is.

Surrounding yourself with women from the sisterhood is a choice, too.  DO THIS.

When life is hard, they will be your fiercest allies.

5. Even the best relationships are really, really, really, really, really, really hard sometimes.

All relationships.  Your relationship with your spouse.  Your relationships with your kids.  Your relationships with your parents.  Your relationships with your friends and your siblings and your neighbors.

Anyone who tells you otherwise is a LIAR.

Love people with your words and with your actions to keep those relationships healthy and strong.  Be patient.  Offer grace.  Talk often.  Share feelings.  Put one another first.  Make consistent, small investments.

It’s worth it.

6. Any relationship has the potential to be broken if people are not careful.

7. Any relationship has the potential to be healed if people are willing.

8. If you tell yourself anything enough times, you will start to believe it.

So make sure that what you tell yourself is the truth.

And make sure that what you tell yourself about yourself is building you up rather than tearing you down.

This is so important.

9. The human experience is the human experience.

Your race, your geographic location, your income – none of it matters when it comes to being human.

We humans are all looking for the exact same things.  We all search for validation and love.  We all seek to understand our purpose and our unique place in God’s universe.  We all experience the same emotions, even while living in vastly different circumstances.

This is true for everyone.  Everywhere.  Ever since the beginning of time.

You are no more important and no more human than anyone else, even if you think you are. 

You are no less important and no less human than anyone else, even if others say you are.

Certain experiences humanize us, like watching the birth of a baby or holding the hand of someone who is face-to-face with death.  They pull our wandering spirits and our inflated egos right back to ground zero.

There is something about the pain of a deep, dark struggle that is also incredibly humanizing.  It makes you feel more connected to humanity than you ever felt before.  It makes you feel more whole in a strange kind of way.

10. It is easy to lose sight of who you are, but reconnecting with your true self will open the door to amazing possibilities.

This world is harsh.  It will test you.  It will tempt you.  It will grab you from behind and try to take you hostage.

It is easy to give up.

But you don’t have to.  When you see your face on the milk carton, you can bite and claw your way back to yourself.  You can rediscover who you are and reevaluate what you truly value and believe.  Then you will be much, much closer to attaining greatness in your life.  And you will have a much clearer picture of what “greatness” actually looks like to you.

When you reconnect with what matters and begin to accomplish new goals, there will be people who can’t wait to celebrate with you.  There will also be people who criticize you.  And there will always be people who want to compete with you.

Choose the first people.  They are more fun.  They also have your best interests at heart, and they will propel you forward in positive ways.

Then you can help them fight the good fight and reach for greatness, too. 

11. When you are at the end of your rope, serve others.

It sounds counterintuitive that the most effective way to help yourself is to help someone else, but it’s true.  Acts of kindness are incredibly therapeutic.  They turn your focus outward, renew your perspective, and remind you that every single person has a complicated story.  You get to SEE the good and BE the good at the exact same time.

Volunteer somewhere.  Help a neighbor.  Buy a cup of coffee for a stranger who seems stressed.

Acts of service give you a greater purpose and create meaningful human connections.  And purpose and connections are things that all humans need.  (See #9.)

12. You have some truly amazing people in your life. Make sure you know who they are.

 

Again, I am so very, very glad to be back with you, my friends!  Life will always be full of uncertainty, but here’s to an incredibly fulfilling adventure in 2017!  May all of the wishes you work for come true!

GOODBYE, 2016!

smash-2016

Thank you, Nicole Wheeler Kunko, for sharing this image!

Imagine This . . .

/ Still Chasing Fireflies / 4 Comments

Dentist Canva

Imagine for a moment that you are a dentist.  You have several years of experience under your belt, and you know that you are very skilled at what you do.  You could make a lot of money in a private practice, but you decide to open a clinic to serve those who are considered at risk of serious dental problems and those who are disadvantaged and have not been receiving the services they need.  Although your clinic will be open to everyone, you know that people who are satisfied with the dentist that they have will stay where they are.  You want to have a diverse client base, but you have a desire in your heart to attract and serve clients who are somehow in need.

You enjoy working at your new clinic, but there are challenges that you did not face in your previous practice.  You are now struggling financially, which was never an issue before.  You spend a lot of time teaching people, kids and adults, why dental care is even important.  In your suburban practice in an affluent neighborhood, families could not get enough dental care.  They would ASK you for tooth whitening procedures and referrals to the orthodontist.  Now you are passing out free toothbrushes and toothpaste because many of your patients need them.  You replenish the supply with your own money each time you get paid.

You find yourself trying to think of new and creative ways to reinforce basic dental health to your patients.  You look for ways to entice your patients to adopt good habits because you know that if you can get them started, then they will eventually see the value of what you are asking them to do.  With better dental care, they will have better overall health, increased confidence, and more job opportunities in the future.  Many of them just don’t see this yet.  But they will.  You refuse to give up on them.

You know that many of your patients have very difficult and unusual life circumstances, so you have flexible hours to try to accommodate them.  Sometimes they have to bring their children to the clinic with them because they do not have anyone to help them with childcare.  Sometimes they cancel on you at the last minute because they work two jobs and cannot pass up an unexpected opportunity to earn some extra pay.  Sometimes, you come in early or stay for late appointments, and the clients just don’t show up.  Sometimes, you work really hard to help a family, and you can see at the next appointment that they did not follow any of your instructions at all.  It can be disheartening.

But some patients cry when you help them.  They cry because they never thought that they would get the help that they needed.  They cry because your clinic offers the understanding, patience, and flexibility that allows them to do what is best for their families.  They cry because you recognize their individual needs and respect their humanity.  Sometimes, you cry, too.

You feel really good about the work you are doing in this clinic.

Then one day an inspector from the state visits the clinic.  He looks very serious.  He seems unhappy.

He says, “You are a terrible dentist.”

You are horrified.  You ask him how he came to this conclusion.  He pulls out two charts covered with graphs and tables. One chart shows data from a wealthier suburban dental practice.  The other chart shows data from your clinic.

You are a smart person.  You are a dentist, after all.  You know this isn’t good.

“Our data indicates that the patients at your clinic have many more cavities than the patients at other clinics.”

“Yes, they do.  I serve many patients who have not had good dental care in the past, and some of them are not convinced that dental care is even important.  That is why I came to this clinic in the first place.  To serve these people.”

“You say that you are serving these clients, but the data shows that many of your patients are not brushing their teeth twice a day, even after they visit.  If this clinic were good, your patients would be brushing twice a day.  You are just taking their money.”

“Please remember that many of my clients were not brushing their teeth at all when they came here, and now they are brushing more than they ever did before, even if it is not twice a day.  I work very hard to find new ways to educate and inspire them to improve their dental health.  Plus, we do have patients who now have excellent teeth thanks to our clinic.”

“At this other practice, almost all of the patients brush twice daily.  Their patients also do not skip appointments.”

“I think our client base is not the same.  My patients are wonderful people, but a large number of them have serious medical or mental health conditions, multiple jobs, or other unusual circumstances.  Some of them are caring for sick family members or raising children with little help.  Some of them have been in and out of the criminal justice system.  Some of them have had very bad experiences with the medical profession in the past, and we are working hard to rebuild their trust.  We do experience more cancellations than other dental practices, but we believe that what we do is very important, and we do not stop trying to help people.”

“The other practice has a record of fewer cavities.  Therefore, it is an excellent dental office with excellent dentists.  That office and those dentists are much better than you.”

“But I used to work at that office.”

“You are not a good dentist.”

“When I worked there, you said that I was an excellent dentist.”

“You have really let yourself go since you came here.”

“Actually, I have learned a lot by working at this clinic.”

“I am going to recommend that your clinic is closed.”

“But what about my patients?  They will have nowhere to go.”

“They can go to the more successful practice.”

“No, no, no.  They do not feel understood at that practice.  They are tired of being treated like nuisances or outcasts when they ask for help or try to do the right things for their families.  They will fall far behind in their dental care because there is no flexibility.  Many of my patients really need this clinic.  I feel like there is a misunderstanding here.”

“I am sorry.  You are no good.”

 

This is what it feels like to be an ECOT teacher right now.

 

I will be the first to say that we need major education reform in this country.
BUT . . .
Please do not believe everything that you read.
Please think about what data actually represents before you jump to conclusions.
Please understand that newspapers are clearly showing bias and journalists are not doing their homework.
Please do not drag students, teachers, and families through the mud when your actual concerns are about politics and school funding.

You can disagree about politics and school funding without distorting information and minimizing the good that is being done for many kids, both in traditional classrooms and in the online environment, by excellent teachers!

 

What It Feels Like to be the White Mother of Black Sons

/ Still Chasing Fireflies / 5 Comments

Rikki

My heart has been hurting, friends.  The world has been spinning out of control recently, and I keep thinking, “Why won’t all of us just listen to one another?  Why don’t we seek understanding instead of taking sides when we all want the same things – to be respected, to be safe, and to be treated fairly?  Why can’t we acknowledge the pain in another person’s heart and help to heal it?”

Then I read a Facebook post written by my friend and coworker, Rikki Johnson, and I was so moved that I asked her if she would adapt her post for our “What It Feels Like Series” here on Still Chasing Fireflies.  I am incredibly thankful that she agreed to open her heart to us in this way.  I know Rikki as an enthusiastic English teacher, but she and I have another thing in common: We are both moms of boys.  Our boys don’t have the same racial heritage, but her essay reminds us that ALL mothers share the same heart, and this is a way that we can connect and understand one another, even when our life experiences may not be the same.  As a mother of black children, Rikki worries about some things that I hadn’t even thought about before.  Her essay challenged me.

PLEASE read Rikki’s story.  Please read it with an open heart and mind and share it with your friends and family if you are moved, too.  That is one small way that you can be a bright light in the darkness, just like a firefly, as we all seek to be understood.

I’ve remained pretty silent lately regarding the recent incidences of the two unarmed black men murdered at the hands of police officers, as well as the murders and shootings of the Dallas police officers. I’ll start with this: it is a difficult time in our country to be a police officer. The murders of those men protecting the crowd in Dallas is despicable and it only overshadows the message so many are trying to peacefully spread. Think of this though: the distrust, disrespect, and criticism of the police these days is very similar to the reality that black men have faced as a whole throughout our country’s history.

My recent silence on this issue mostly stems from fear. I’m afraid of being disappointed in the reactions to my feelings about this by those closest to me and my boys: my family and friends. I hold so many people to such high expectations that I usually set myself up to get my feelings hurt when they don’t live up to them. I’m begging you to see my perspective and try to understand where I’m coming from. I am a white woman married to a black man, and I’m raising black sons.

So many people hold my children and husband as a separate entity than my neighbors’ black husband and children because I am white. My family is an example that I know many of my friends and family members use to justify their perception that racism is no longer an issue. My husband is used as an example that “good” black men do exist. But if my husband were caught making the same mistakes as many of my white family and friends have done, would he still be one of the “good” ones? What if one of my boys were caught shoplifting a candy bar or some other youthful antic like toilet papering someone’s house or breaking curfew? Would you label him a thug behind our backs?

Why don’t you listen when my husband openly speaks about his personal experience being black in this country?  Why don’t you listen to me when I try to explain that my husband and boys, yes, even the “good ones,” are statistically 2.5 times more likely to be murdered at the hands of police. And if they are, someone, somewhere, will try to find some past record, social media post, or picture to justify why they somehow deserved it. Heaven forbid, if my son were to ever make a mistake and be subjected to the legal system, he would be more likely to receive a stiffer penalty than a white man who made the same mistake. How many times do you get pulled over in a year? My husband was pulled over 6 times in the last 12 months while driving home through the predominantly white city where he works. Some of his driving infractions: failure to signal, failure to come to a complete stop at an empty intersection, and going 40 in a 35. Most of those times, he was sent on his way after they ran his license, insurance, and plates. Maybe it was his nursing scrubs that eased the officers’ minds that he was a “good one?” In cities across the country, black people are disproportionately pulled over for minor driving infractions compared to white people. They are also 2 times more likely to be subjected to being searched.  These are facts, and my husband and boys are not any more immune to them than the next black man down the street.

If you love us, then listen please. Please stop trying to explain away our experience as a family or my fears for my husband or my boys because it makes you uncomfortable. This is our reality, and just because you don’t understand it doesn’t mean it doesn’t exist. These problems remain because people keep trying to explain them away or debate them or say that others are only trying to stir the pot. We all know that not talking about a problem doesn’t make it go away. Listen to what people are saying instead of just waiting for your turn to speak. Try to put yourself in the other person’s shoes and remember that just because something isn’t a part of your experience, it doesn’t mean it doesn’t exist.

I’m not sorry for being born white. I’m not ashamed of who I am at all. I’m comfortable being me around any person, and I always have been. But, as a white person, I recognize the privilege that comes with it. Growing up, I didn’t know fear in interacting with police. I never wondered if I were overlooked for a job because of my skin. I was never followed through stores by associates when I was out shopping with my friends. I’m mouthy and sarcastic, and I see how differently my demeanor could be perceived if I were a black woman exhibiting the same behavior. Recognizing this privilege doesn’t mean you are ashamed to be white. Acknowledging an issue is the first step in making changes.

It is scientifically proven that young black boys are perceived to be older than they actually are upon first glance than white boys. This means that higher expectations for their behavior are placed upon them at a younger age. When black boys play rough, their behavior is more likely to be deemed violent and malicious, whereas white boys are considered tough and masculine. Boys will be boys, you see. In a study testing even the subconscious perceptions of participants, adult black males were perceived as more of a threat than their white counterparts. My eldest is about to turn 12; day by day he is turning into a man and statistically is perceived as more threatening. Maybe his predicted short stature will protect him? These are the things that I think about that mothers of white children don’t.

As any good parent should, I’ve raised my children to address authority figures, such as police, with respect. But, as a mother of black boys, I have to go deeper than that. We have to practice what to say, how to say it, where to put your hands, never to move without explaining your actions, how to appear small and unthreatening. I have to remind my boys as they grow into men outside of my umbrella of protection that they shouldn’t run down the street, even if they’re in a hurry or running late. They shouldn’t wear a hoodie over their heads, or travel in large groups of other black boys. All of these actions could invoke suspicion or draw unwanted attention. Maybe I’m wrong, but I don’t think any of my friends and family members with white boys ever had to go through training as extensive as this just to leave the house! And, yet, it could not even matter because last week a man did everything right when stopped and was still murdered right in front of his 4 year old and wife.

I know many of you will not have even read this far. Or, if you have, you may have been coming up with rebuttals to each of my points along the way. I’m not asking to debate. I’m trying to let you in on my reality as a wife and mother. My hopes and dreams for my babies and their futures are no different than any mother of any color. I dream that my children will lead successful, productive lives. I want them to become great fathers, husbands, friends, employees just the same as any mother wishes for her sons. However, these ongoing incidences of violence and injustice serve as constant reminders that nothing, not even my children’s lives, are promised.

To my family and friends, I beg you not to claim you love my boys and my husband, and yet still try to justify all these other men being killed for being black. My perspective–my husband’s perspective–my beautiful children’s perspectives are very similar to those of the people who are marching in the streets to end this violence on ALL sides. We’re not against police and we’re not calling anyone racist. We’re asking that you at least acknowledge the problem and find some understanding and support to help make this country better and safer for my family and yours.

Thanks again to my friend Rikki Johnson for sharing her “What It Feels Like” story with us.  Speaking out in the midst of controversy is not easy.  It is courageous, and it is important.  Starting conversations and then listening with love, respect, and patience is important, too.  Thanks, Rikki, for being loving and patient with me as we discussed some really hard things.

Do you have a life experience that you can help other people understand?  It could be ANYTHING that is stirring your heart!  You can write it yourself, or I can help!  Please reach out to me to add to our “What It Feels Like” series!