Were you FIRED?

For the last couple of weeks, there have been two invitations sitting on the island in my kitchen; one is for a wonderful wedding of a former student at the end of the month, and the other for a 90th birthday celebration for my first cousin, once removed.  I've spent the last two weeks in limbo.  Mental limbo, not knowing whether I'll be able to ride in a car with my eyes open, to attend either one of these events, both of which are very important to me.

If you've never been the recipient of a blow to the head that resulted in such uncertainty, and the diagnosis of a concussion, you probably don't understand the turmoil that has been occurring in my brain - wanting to deal with "the pile" on the counter, and feel normal again.  Today I was labelled 80% normal.  Great, a B-.  Not the usual standard I hold for my academic self, but definitely better than the failing grade of two weeks ago.

So I made a phone call to 2nd cousin, Emily, whose mother is turning 90 this month.

"It's the middle of the day.  Why aren't you at school?  Were you FIRED?"

Thanks, Em, for the incredible vote of confidence in my teaching abilities.  "No, not fired, just resting, blah blah blah, pudding, lunch duty, " etc.  We'll connect again in a few months, but I know that 10 days from now my brain will not be firing at the rates necessary to follow the fast-witted banter of my very humorous family as they celebrate 90 Years of Doris.

The Centers for Disease Control reports that 1.6 - 3.8 million concussions occur each year in the U.S.  My 3 lb (approximate size) brain hit two sides of my skull, in a traditional contrecoup concussion, and that females are twice as likely to be concussed as men.  Teachers are directed to Reduce Cognitive demands, Educate themselves about concussions, Accommodate the concussed, and Pace the demands for the concussed to allow for full reentry.  Yes, I'm REAPing the benefits of my first-hand experience.

In the last seventeen years, I have received more than a dozen notifications of students recovering from concussions, while assigned to learn in my classroom.  I've been sympathetic, in a maternal, concerned, way.  The Banana Pudding Incident of 2015 has offered an additional, first-hand perspective, that has changed my understanding in a most personal way.

So here's the plan:  Next week, I get to go back to school -- if the stars align, and I hit the B+ range of normality.  I'm starting to read books, five pages or so at a time, and spend a little bit of time online.  Scrolling on the computer and watching HDTV is brutal, and high-pitched instruments and clinking plates and glassware are still awful to listen to.  My brain has taught me to slow down, and not think for a bit.  I'm going back -- partial days at first.

And I've learned a whole lot about anti-metacognition in the process.  (That's the idea of intentionally not thinking about thinking.)   And no Emily, I'm not fired.  They're going to reactivate my badge and let me back in the classroom, probably with raised eyebrows as they watch my non-traditional teaching practices, green chairs, and dark glasses on my face.

And I'll hold a whole lot of sympathy for any concussed kid who stumbles into my classroom, with a hoodie half over his or her eyes after colliding with a ball, a helmet, or banana pudding.

One foot in the grave, and the other on a banana...

Want to know more about me than you could possibly imagine?  Ask my 2nd period students.  Today was the day where the Information Literacy kids explore the power of the internet, by searching for as many facts about me as possible.  Understand that I am fairly visible, and pretty much not stalked by the tweens and teens crowd, so I feel safe doing this activity.  If I were 30 years younger and lived alone, it might be a different story.

The white boards were completely erased, computers were at the ready, and the researched their teacher, finding random facts including my address, my maiden name, my family members, my previous addresses dating back to 1983, my anniversary date, the color of my house, how many trees are in my yard, previous employers, etc.  They were smart enough to check their facts.  They deduced that I was NOT the Susan Heydt with the thriving Makeup Studio.  (A simple look at my eyeliner disproved THAT connection...)  

And then it came.  A still unknown voice said, "SHE WAS BORN IN 1869!"

Stunned disbelief.  Yes, I was born in the 60s.  But not THOSE 60s.

The scribe at the board wrote it, and then immediately erased it, questioning the validity.  Thank God that at least one kid had my back on that one.
The period ended, and I headed to lunch duty 15 minutes later.  15 minutes after that, I was sitting in the nurse's office, with ice on an ever-increasing golfball, growing on the side of my head, with a headache and whiplash, not to mention various bruises in places that do not see the light of day, still sporting a bit of the banana pudding on the sole of my shoe.

My friends, I must tell you now of the danger of spills on terrazo floors -- especially spills with the viscosity of pudding.  One step in the wrong place, and I did a perfect 3 Stooges move, feet flying in the air, bouncing first my posterior, and then my head.  Gravity is not kind.

Life is funny.  Especially mine.  Explaining the unexplainable, the ridiculous, and well, the just plain crazy things that happen to me has become the norm, so having to fill out Worker's Comp. reports, and visiting their doctor, was peppered with brutal honesty.

Description of accident:  Slipped on banana.  (I opted to add the word pudding, to allow for the full picture, and share, in complete disclosure, the truth.)    

What was the last thing to go through my head at the end of A Lunch today?  Uh, the FLOOR.  And despite the fact that I was able to do all sorts of tests that seemed like I should be performing in the side of a road in a sobriety checkpoint  for a Worker's Comp doctor with amazing precision -- or so I thought -- I am concussed.  Stay off of computers, avoid bright lights, and don't attempt HIGHER LEVEL THINKING for a week.

Seriously?  My job is higher level thinking.  And humor also requires a basic understanding of your HOTS. (Higher Order Thinking Skills.)

Fortunately my husband, Bruce, has a sense of humor.  Even if I now call him Bryce.

Bear with me, folks.  It's a scrambled egg for brains kind of week.  On the plus side, I was not born in 1869.   I just may walk as if I were, come tomorrow.

Scrambled Eggs for Brains.

There used to be a commercial that went something like this:   "This is drugs."  (cue picture of the hot frying pan.  "This is your brain on drugs."  (cue picture of the egg being cracked into the frying pan.)  "Don't do drugs."

Never have I been more aware of the metaphorical connection of the almighty egg to a brain as I am today.  I'm scrambled.  I'm searching for words, and I'm typing with my eyes closed, to save my precious 2 hours of screen time.

I "taught" today, if you can call it that.  Pretty much, I sat in a dark room with very understanding students, wearing sunglasses, and occasionally humming "I wear my sunglasses at night..." to myself, wishing for the day to end quickly.  Two sections of self-motivated higher-level thinkers was more than I could handle, and I'm sidelined for tomorrow.

One student suggested that I write my blog, and change the font to Wingdings, because it would pretty much symbolize what my day, and attempts at communication, seemed to me.

I know it takes time.  I don't do well lying in a dark room and focusing on NOT thinking.  

Heck, it's my job.  But for the next three days, I'm officially on vacation from that career I love so much.

I have a whole new appreciation for those helmeted warriors hitting the gridiron tomorrow night, and those soccer players who leap into the air, intentionally hitting balls off the tops of their heads.  Be careful, my little babies, or you'll be as cracked as your teacher is tonight.

Eggs are a great source of protein.  One of the few suggestions given to me by the doctor, as I attempt to return to my previous state.  The irony of the need to scramble some eggs to assist in unscrambling my brain is not lost on me.

After all, I'm the one who slipped on banana pudding.

Zip-lining with Monkeys

In celebration of my dear mother's 80th birthday, I've chosen to allocate my three precious district-provided personal days, and escape January in America for St. Maarten.  It's a beautiful place that is nothing like the beautiful farmland that surrounds my home in Lancaster County -- yet "change is good," (that's what some people say.) **

Indeed, St. Maarten is an island paradise, with all of the things that my husband detests - sun, sand, water, and starfish and anchors on clothing - so this girls-only adventure provided an opportunity to visit somewhere not on our joint bucket list.  In addition to the three of us, we also have the females of the next generation with us; my daughter, Kristin, and nieces Abby and Juliette.

On our first full day of the trip, we made our way to Loterie Farm on the French side of the island in Pic Pardis, at the highest point. It seemed to make sense that we'd tour the single main road that loops the entire island, and venture to this high-point to take in the sights. The view is spectacular, and the documented history of the land goes back to 1721.  The fact that the land has been turned into a retreat sanctuary adds to its beauty, because those venturing there have a genuine interest in maintaining the past -- oh, and flying through the trees with monkeys.  

It's no secret that I am 55 years old, and have more metal in my body than some small hardware stores.  Those who know me don't consider me to be the most graceful person on the planet, and some of those who love me actually own a t shirt that says "Never Trust Banana Pudding"since it took me out of commission for half a semester after a concussion.  

Yet somehow, zip-lining with monkeys seemed like something I needed to do.

As an educator reflecting back on this experience, I can't help but point out the educational parallels between zip-lining through a high-ropes obstacle course, and teaching.  The guides for this experience were fabulous educators.  They strapped us into the harnesses, and clearly demonstrated how to transfer clips from the harnesses onto the cables mounted in the trees.  We learned that one glove was good enough for Michael Jackson's Thriller, and was certainly adequate for our adventure as well.  After this brief Activating Strategy, which included the euphoric tales of those who just completed the adventure returning in front of us and stripping themselves out of harnesses, we were off.

The ladder of no-turning-back....

 The vertical climb to the first platform seemed pretty daunting, but I had paid the money, and we had waited quite a while to be invited to start - and my daughter was already climbing, and clipping, and climbing, and clipping, in front of me.  It truly was a "now or never" experience.  

Tightwire

That ladder led to a platform to the first tightwire, which was probably ten feet off the ground.  My sainted mother was sitting on a bench below us, looking relatively terrified.  (After all, she's spent the last 55 years dragging me to emergency rooms for injuries sustained in far less dramatic fashion than this.) 

Without a complete blow-by-blow of each and every obstacle, be aware that each platform took us higher into the trees, with increasing intensity and difficulty, with less and less scaffolding provided.  (Just like the progression of new learning in the classroom.)

Rope bridge

The rope walk was among the most difficult challenges for my 5'2" daughter and me to do, as we struggled to reach the guide wire above, while still keeping our feet on the net. (This picture has two guide-wires, while we had one wire overhead.)  The educator in me was screaming for an additional wire to differentiate for the vertically challenged among us.

Nine times throughout the course, we attached our apparatus and glided on a zip line to the next stop.  These were welcome, and thrilling, rest opportunities -- not unlike the points in the semester when I get to sit back and watch students presentations, while someone else does the teaching. 

Balance beam

 There were rounded logs, and swinging balance beams.  There were rope bridges that looked like something from the Road Runner, with random spacing between the planks.  And suddenly I heard a voice from behind me - Anna, the Ecology major from Wisconsin who knew enough about me to identify my body for the medics if I fell, yelled "MONKEYS!"

The front of a monkey (I can identify the back)

My goal was to zip line with monkeys.  To face my fears, to finish the obstacle.  I saw a furry butt, and a long tail.  I was 30 feet in the air on a crazy-spaced plank bridge that required focus on the complicated footwork.  I couldn't back up and gaze at monkeys, and I had no camera to capture their images.  I called to Kristin, with a Go Pro mounted to her head, hoping she'd catch a glimpse.  (We later found out that the Go Pro was actually a Stop Pro during this entire adventure, and captured nothing!)

We conquered the last bridge, and encountered a tree -- with no platform.  We had been warned about this final exam:  Use the tree to get around to the other side, clip and slide down the line, climb another giant ladder, and head down the final line to where my  family was waiting.  The designers of this course had thought of everything, as they scaffolded this adventure for their learners.  There were guides on the platforms in the beginning, to reassure, demonstrate, and double-check for understanding.   When we got to the tree with no platform or net, there was a quiet observer on the ground, wearing the identifying blue polo indicating he was an employee, calling us "Beautiful," and encouraging us -- not telling us -- how to succeed.

Kristin

Feeling Confident

Landing on the last platform and being offered rum punch provided adequate time for our summarizing activity, as we swapped stories with the rest of Anna's group from Wisconsin, along with some others who had risen to the occasion and triumphed.

Tomorrow, I'm headed home, and back to my classroom next week.  The end of the semester is upon us, and there's a platform covered in padding waiting for each student to glide home.

And lined up on the deck above, is a whole new class list of students, waiting to search for monkeys in places they've never dreamed they could reach.

**(Editorial comment:  When my sister, mother, and I get together, there are certain phrases that become part of the vernacular for the trip, and the aforementioned parenthetical comment is one such example.)

21 Days to Happiness

Two years ago, this blog was started in response to a challenge from a college friend.  It was supposed to be a 30 day challenge, answering prompts about education, provided by the folks at Te@chthought.  After a month, I was hooked, and realized that reflecting upon the goodness of my day made every single day better.  I'd like to say it changed my perspective, but that's not true.  I love teaching, and implying that my perspective benefited from changing somehow implies an attitude adjustment with some sort of negative connotations.   The blogging continued for 390 straight days before I was sidelined by the concussion.

Suffice it to say, it is easier to fall out of a routine than it is to maintain, and only slightly less easy than slipping on banana pudding. 

Happiness Returns.... though it never really left.

 Happiness is back, officially, in my classroom this year.  I'm speaking about curricular content here, and not the love my students have for the green chairs or the occasional indulgence of the Keurig, or a trip to the mystery van;  I'm talking about the unit on
Happiness.  This semester's topic is a focus on Positive Psychology, with an intensive introspective focus.  Noted psychologist, Shawn Achor, motivated me to write this entire curriculum after viewing his TED Talk  entitled "The Happy Secret to Better Work."      

This is the second time I have taught this class, and buried deep in my closet are letters containing the secret to happiness (from the perspective of a high school student) that I will mail to the very first class of happy people in six more years.  Meanwhile, I'm cultivating a whole new group of happy people, one class at a time.   The reality is, in my opinion, that we need to go big on this quest for happiness, and the gauntlet has been thrown to my students with their most recent assignment:

21 Consecutive Days of Intentional Positivity

Shawn Achor, mentioned above, has research that proves that the intentional and practiced use of positive psychology will increase mood, demeanor, and reported happiness levels.  Establishing routines and practices for humans requires repetition to train the brain to accept the "new normal."  Want to exercise?  Establish a routine, and do it for 21 days straight.  Looking for a better diet?  Try cooking healthy for 3 straight weeks. Interested in reflecting on your life through blog entries?  Try it -- you'll be hooked before 30 days has passed.  

On Thursday and Friday of this week, each of the three classes were assigned to choose one mode to explore during the next three weeks:

Exercise for 20 minutes

Meditate for 20 minutes

Journal

Engage in intentional Random Acts of Kindness

Express Gratitude 

(send a positive email or handwritten note expressing gratitude to someone)

Join us.  Make a list of what you accomplish each day, every day for 21 days.  No fair in doing your normal 20 minutes of exercise and trying to count it for this project.  This is about research and changing your happiness level.   You have to intentionally practice something you are not currently doing on a regular basis to see a change in your life.

On Thursday night, I posted about this project on my Facebook page, and a bunch of adults and former students have shared the post, challenging others to catch the spirit of happiness:

Dear Friends: Tomorrow, my Themes in Lit students will be starting their 21 Days to Happiness Project. Spend 15 minutes each day, for 21 straight days, adding one of the following options to your schedule: Journaling, Meditating, Exercising, Random Acts of Kindness, Gratitude. (For the last one, intentionally send one positive email to someone in appreciation of their efforts.) Keep a list of things completed each day, and be prepared to report about your overall change in attitude on day 21. (Bonus Hint: If you DECLARE your mode tomorrow, and start on Saturday, you will hit day #21 on Veteran's Day, November 11th.)
No fair reporting on something you ALREADY do. Add something new. Make a change. Get happier. Survive election season.
Are you game? (Share away)

So if you're dreading the next 2 weeks of political advertising, (my vote, I wish, could go to Kid President), seem to want to kick the wall more than a few times a day, or generally just realize you could use an attitude adjustment, why not join us in the quest?  

To share you progress, join the support group on Facebook.  Together we can start a revolution.

This teacher is a teacher, inside and out.

In a post for my grad class today, I commented about how I am the same person in the classroom as I am outside of the classroom.  I don't have a "teacher voice" and I rarely pull the "teacher" card, choosing to foster mutual respect for the space and each other, instead of a dictatorship run by someone who once slipped on banana pudding and missed almost half of a semester as a result.  After all, how much confidence would you have in that role model?

The interesting thing about the classroom relationships and my social media relationships is that they are very similar.  It is rare for me to be unhappy in a classroom, and I am conscious of my level of negativity on social media as well.  

Given the negativity that has existed over the past several months, coupled with the fact that we've been studying Happiness in Themes in Literature, there have been opportunities where I've spoken on this blog about assignments for my students that I've also posted for social media friends.  The idea of the TDO - the Talent Development Opportunity project - was tossed out to adults to see what they could do if they had the equivalent amount of one period per cycle to work on something new to them.  Just 80 Minutes became the mantra in its own group on Facebook.

Today, in a blog of one of the participants was this:

In nine weeks, I have gone from inept to confident as a paper piecer! Granted, I spent more than 80 minutes each week; most weeks, it was probably double that. But it was the discipline, the setting aside of the minimum of 80 minutes and working on learning a new skill, that paid off.

Other people explored and cooked healthier recipes, organized specific spaces with an intentional time dedicated each week, tried geocaching, and posted results.

Just for the record - I have clearly seen the benefits of focused effort over the past few weeks and I am grateful to this group for helping rediscover the concept. However, I do not plan to continue creating an accountability blog and/or FB post every Monday. I want to use those minutes (and a few more) to actually read the many books I've gathered (part of my larger plan to limit the amount of time I spend at the computer). Best wishes to all!  

The 21 Day Happiness assignment resulted in the creation of another group - 21 Days to Happiness.  Again, my friends supported the project with their own reports, as they meditated, exercised, expressed kindness, journaled or showed gratitude:

What brings you lasting happiness? For me gratitude is the essential key to happiness. Not things, not people, but being honestly thankful for everything. Even in my worst times the shear act of gratitude will totally change my experience into a peaceful experience.
Just putting that out there

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So far I have shared my gratitude with 3 individuals. Not only has it reminded me of all that I am grateful for, especially during a hard time in my life, but it has brought joy to the folks I have shared with. Can't wait to spread some more happiness!

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Soon it became evident that we started noticing kindness and happiness all around us...

I am sitting at Masonic Homes catching my breath for a moment and just witnessed the sweetest thing. This woman obviously wanted to see the foliage and flowers in the garden. So this man helped her out of the car (and caught her going both ways when she nearly fell) and then stood and talked with her until she had her fill 

This week, I am challenging myself to be more authentic and caring in this crazy world.  It's getting busy -- the holidays are coming, the semester is ending with my grad class, there are gifts to be made, purchased, and wrapped.  There is a presentation to be had at the annual state Gifted Conference this week in Harrisburg, with late nights and many connections with colleagues from various parts of the tri-state area, and lesson plans to write for a substitute who will cover in my absence.    

The world will continue to turn, and next weekend will provide a celebrated relief and proof that I survived this very busy week.  What will you have to show for your efforts?  Join me in taking some time to be grateful, drop a note to someone who won't expect it, hold a door, share an umbrella.   

Make a difference.  Even if it is small.  We all have time, no matter how busy we are.