It comes naturally to most teachers; that take-charge voice that can command a crowd. If you're a very good teacher, it will simply sound authoritative and never sound like yelling. There is an art to it! As with any art form, some are more talented than others. I want to make clear from the start of this post that I do not equate an authoritative voice with actual intelligence, necessarily. (Except in my case, of course!) Just because someone can speak as if they know what they are doing and know what is best for you, it "ain't necessarily so".
I speak loudly when necessary. My sisters and I yelled a lot at growing up. Not in a bad way, just.....LOUD! We weren't obnoxiously loud in public (usually), but the house.....that was another story. With three girls, there was a good bit of yelling that happened in the house. It wasn't a large house, either. We just got in a habit of yelling to each other across the house and it stuck. Mama, the drama teacher, never had to tell us to project! So, I have to ability to speak very strongly. It's truly different from yelling, mind you, but still quite strong. (and a bit loud ;) Using a strong speaking voice is an effective tool in the classroom, especially since I moved to Texas and teach anywhere from twenty to fifty children at a time! Here's a clarification for the rest of the story, however: speaking with authority does not have to involve a loud volume. You can speak softly and project a quiet confidence that draws others to listen. So don't think "loud", think "authority"!
The voice of authority has other uses besides the classroom. Have you ever tried to return anything at a store? I knew someone once that had to make up a complete story about why the item didn't work. How ridiculous! If you are within the return policy, I told that friend, you simply say "I'd like to return this, please.". If you sound like you know what you're doing, 95% of the battle is already won.
I feel a little sorry for people that don't have the authority-voice. I have a former boss that has a real fear of microphones. I also have several friends that think they can't speak in front of a crowd. One, recently, just HAD to make the crowd laugh with her. I think she made a joke about picturing all of them in their underwear, or naked....OK, maybe that works. If the crowd laughs, they are with you - they are listening. That's the point, right? I believe everyone should have an authority-voice that they can use when necessary.
The voice of authority can make people behave - if used properly. Once, at a gathering, one attendee had imbibed (!) a couple of glasses of wine, and was not listening to anyone. I used my quiet voice of authority and said: "Put your glass down, now." Immediate compliance. I won't lie - we gave several more commands to watch to whom the person would listen....turned out to be only me! You can use the voice creatively and as entertainment.
Sometimes the voice of authority can save lives. I heard a story from my children a few nights ago. They went to a concert at which they had general admission "lawn seats". The lawn at this venue is quite large, but was sold out for this particular event, therefore quite crowded. A group of younger students was in front of my children and their friends. One of the younger girls passed out. Her friends phoned her mom, but just left her lying there until such time that the mom would arrive. My children, and all their friends, spoke up with the voice of authority and said "You need to get her to the paramedics, she is in danger!" The younger group did not agree. But my children and their friends stepped up to the occasion, carried the girl to the paramedics, by which time she obviously needed help and was taken in an ambulance. My children and their friends did not know this girl, but they prevailed against her extremely immature friends and helped the young lady to medical attention. In my mind's eye, I can hear my daughter using her authority-voice to tell those kids off. (This has another moral, too - parents, please tell your children that their safety and well-being will always come before any "punishment". Safety first, discussions about behavior later, because you love them!)
The most important use of an authoritative voice, however, is to advance you in school or career. This is one of the main lessons I teach when students perform "programs" and receive a "speaking part". If I can encourage a second-grader to speak clearly into a microphone, and then have that same child add emotion or comic timing by the time they are in fourth grade, I am giving them a valuable skill that will last a lifetime. I'm lucky enough to have seen many of them succeed as adults. Only occasionally do they realize that Mrs. McCarty helped start them on their path to success, but that's all right, I still know where it all began!
I encourage you, when you know what you're talking about, speak out! Don't over-use the skill, find the balance. Make sure you speak for fairness and good. Speak with authority! Only do so, though, if you are sure that you are correct. Be confident! When it comes the time to speak up for what is right against those that would do the wrong thing, be glad that you can use your authority for right to prevail.
"There is no index of character so sure as the voice." Benjamin Disraeli
Tuesday, July 30, 2013
Sunday, July 28, 2013
Posts I Reconsidered.....
Blog Posts I Reconsidered
1.
An Ode to
Diet Ginger Ale
2.
Why I Like the Music on Candy Crush
3.
Reasons why Peter Frampton isn’t right for me ( :()
4.
That Time I Scrubbed Shadows on the Pool Wall
5.
Prancing Unicorns and Slegs
6.
How My Mom Went From Pac-Man to Farmville
7.
In Defense of Reality TV
8.
A List of all the Places I Keep My Reading
Glasses
9.
Pandora Charms You Should Buy For Me
10.
A Compilation of My Tripadvisor Reviews
11.
A Full Description of My Cat’s Bladder Issues
12.
My
Crusade against Mexican Lavender
13.
If You Can Maintain a Pool, You Should CLEP
Chemistry
14.
Blogging Is Another Form Of Begging For
Attention
15.
Quit Mapping Your Ride, I Feel Guilty!!
16.
Why Is Sag Harbor a Brand Name For Clothes Worn
By Older Ladies?
17.
Revealed:
The Name of the Person That Teased Me So Badly I Never Wore Pointy-Toed
Shoes Again
18.
The Real Story Behind Those Vacation Pics
19.
Why Phrases Like “A Pile of Men” and “He’s So
Slippery!” Should Land Me a Football Announcer Gig
20.
An Elementary Teacher’s Guide to Fake Curse
Words (Oh, Boogers!)
Coming Up Next!
I watch a little too much reality TV. I have all kinds of excuses, too. "But it's about cooking!" "I just can't wait to see what they do next!" "They remind me of my family!" I have also justified watching certain shows by saying that I would never watch another type. I personally have never watched any type of "Survivor" (that's why hotels were invented), "Bachelor" (I went through everyone's drama when I was that age) or "Big Brother". Well, not exactly true on Big Brother. It's just that that the only one I ever watched was a British celebrity version in 2001. Comedian Jack Dee brought his packed suitcase to the elimination meeting every week. He ended up winning. No other version could ever beat that, in my mind.
One staple of the reality show is the send-off to commercial. "Coming up next on _____ ______!" Then they show you thirty seconds to one minute of what you'll see in the next half hour. After doing that, when the show returns from commercial (fast-forward time, in today's TIVO/DVR world), they show you the last minute that you saw before "Coming up next". You hear and see the exact same thirty seconds that you saw right before "Coming Up" and commercials. Finally, it steps into new footage. Some night when I'm really bored, I think I'll get the stopwatch and time exactly how much new material I get to watch during an hour show of that type. My theory: Since everyone records their shows and forwards through the commercials, we get less show. It's a trade-off for luxury. Or, somebody really important in TV-land thought that the old education adage "I'm going to tell you what I'm going to teach you, I'm going to teach it to you, then I'm going to tell you what I taught you" needed to be plucked from teaching (where they still encourage that mind-set, another subject) and made into editing policy for television shows.
I wondered, while watching Hell's Kitchen, one of the most notorious for repeat-editing, (but it's about cooking!) what would it be like if we had "Coming up next" in life? What if we could know what's just around the corner? Not many years down the line, but the next week, or month at the most? If that did happen, would the "editors" have any rules? We won't show you death, but we will a flat tire. You can't know when your baby will arrive, but you can see that you're sneezing and have a cold. Those are just silly thoughts, of course. I do believe that my mind thinks in that way right now because my reality in losing my husband is this: there was absolutely no way to predict it, and there is absolutely nothing I can do to change it. "Coming Up Next" for me, life without him. How to handle that?
I don't lie to any of you when you ask how I am. I only say "ok", or explain that it's one day at a time, or good days and bad days. But I've discovered that I hold my true feelings in a fortress. I can cry a bit with family or very good friends. I can exhibit being 'down' or listless to anyone. But I prefer to cry, weep, sob, whatever you call it, by myself. Sometimes my girls will catch me. But I don't want anyone to catch me. I also spend time alone looking at pictures and remembering. I guess I'm just reviewing life so far before I take a breath and start living it again. I really don't know why, so this is not an explanation. It's just a statement of fact. Learning that life is short, unpredictable, and un-changeable just makes you break down, over and over. Also, there is no time limitation on when you break down. I'm hurting more at almost three months gone than I did the first week.
None of us have "Coming Up Next" in life. We have to live in two mind-sets: one to take care of the moment at hand, and the other to take care of eternity. So, maybe the TV shows have it right. You live, love, work, play, - all the things that make you "you" - and you also prepare for the future, as well as reviewing the past. You can glean your own practical explanations from those very general words, because everyone is beautifully different in this world. Life is not reality TV - but we play out our own unconscious version of "Coming Up Next". Excuse me if I take a few minutes to review what has happened before I breathe deeply and jump into the new footage.
One staple of the reality show is the send-off to commercial. "Coming up next on _____ ______!" Then they show you thirty seconds to one minute of what you'll see in the next half hour. After doing that, when the show returns from commercial (fast-forward time, in today's TIVO/DVR world), they show you the last minute that you saw before "Coming up next". You hear and see the exact same thirty seconds that you saw right before "Coming Up" and commercials. Finally, it steps into new footage. Some night when I'm really bored, I think I'll get the stopwatch and time exactly how much new material I get to watch during an hour show of that type. My theory: Since everyone records their shows and forwards through the commercials, we get less show. It's a trade-off for luxury. Or, somebody really important in TV-land thought that the old education adage "I'm going to tell you what I'm going to teach you, I'm going to teach it to you, then I'm going to tell you what I taught you" needed to be plucked from teaching (where they still encourage that mind-set, another subject) and made into editing policy for television shows.
I wondered, while watching Hell's Kitchen, one of the most notorious for repeat-editing, (but it's about cooking!) what would it be like if we had "Coming up next" in life? What if we could know what's just around the corner? Not many years down the line, but the next week, or month at the most? If that did happen, would the "editors" have any rules? We won't show you death, but we will a flat tire. You can't know when your baby will arrive, but you can see that you're sneezing and have a cold. Those are just silly thoughts, of course. I do believe that my mind thinks in that way right now because my reality in losing my husband is this: there was absolutely no way to predict it, and there is absolutely nothing I can do to change it. "Coming Up Next" for me, life without him. How to handle that?
I don't lie to any of you when you ask how I am. I only say "ok", or explain that it's one day at a time, or good days and bad days. But I've discovered that I hold my true feelings in a fortress. I can cry a bit with family or very good friends. I can exhibit being 'down' or listless to anyone. But I prefer to cry, weep, sob, whatever you call it, by myself. Sometimes my girls will catch me. But I don't want anyone to catch me. I also spend time alone looking at pictures and remembering. I guess I'm just reviewing life so far before I take a breath and start living it again. I really don't know why, so this is not an explanation. It's just a statement of fact. Learning that life is short, unpredictable, and un-changeable just makes you break down, over and over. Also, there is no time limitation on when you break down. I'm hurting more at almost three months gone than I did the first week.
None of us have "Coming Up Next" in life. We have to live in two mind-sets: one to take care of the moment at hand, and the other to take care of eternity. So, maybe the TV shows have it right. You live, love, work, play, - all the things that make you "you" - and you also prepare for the future, as well as reviewing the past. You can glean your own practical explanations from those very general words, because everyone is beautifully different in this world. Life is not reality TV - but we play out our own unconscious version of "Coming Up Next". Excuse me if I take a few minutes to review what has happened before I breathe deeply and jump into the new footage.
Saturday, July 27, 2013
The thing about Keswick...
Dedicated to the friends and teachers from my time at Keswick Christian School, and especially to the class of 1980, all 31 of us!
I went to a private school.
That always elicits responses – “I went to Catholic school, too!” No, I went to a private school. “Oh, you mean like a rich boarding school or
something?” Time to expound. No, I went to a private, Christian,
non-denominational school. Silence. Not a church-based school, no one
denomination, I explain. Just a private,
Christian school. And the thing is…..it
was a special place.
This school was not large.
There were thirty-one in my graduating class. But we acted large. We stepped out with faith and had soccer,
volleyball, basketball, swimming, track, baseball, softball, band, chorus, drama,
clubs, student council, banquets, class trips, you name it. (Conspicuously absent from that list:
football. They have it now,
though.)
At a school that small, you get to know each other. I mean KNOW each other. I’m not saying that level of comfort lasted
through to adult life – it dissipates after graduation. Jobs and college cause new circles of friends
to finally happen. Also – having
acquaintances finally happens. Nobody
was just an acquaintance at Keswick. If
they weren’t a good friend, they were “in your class”. “In your class” at Keswick was just another
way of saying you spent every day together, listening, learning, praying,
laughing, creating, practicing, traveling, eating and trying to be big kids,
just like public school.
It goes without saying, then, that Keswick students don’t
forget each other. They move on, marry
other type people (most of the time), move away, claim their college or
university over their high school (a normal progression), have families, most
of their children go to different (even public!) schools; but bring up a
Keswick name, and they immediately know who it is and how they used to
act. Bring up a Keswick teacher’s name,
and the stories and memories come flooding back. And most of all: let some sort of difficulty,
even tragedy, befall a Keswick person, and support is automatically there from
the other Keswick people.
It’s funny – I asked Facebook friends to share a favorite
Keswick memory, and most of what was shared involved small details or
equipment/activities that set us apart from other schools. I thought I would get a response about the
friendships formed; the kind of friendships where you can just pick up talking
again after thirty years. That was what
my “thing” about Keswick is: the people. I recently saw three Keswick friends – from
my class of thirty-one – at my husband’s memorial service. They drove almost three hours to be there for
me. Many others contacted me in various ways. That, to me, is what has lasted –
the friendships. True, some of my Facebook
people mentioned “good friends”.
Evidently, though, there are many other strong memories and lasting
effects of having attended Keswick.
Some of the contributions: Four-square in the morning before school! (Unsupervised, mind you – unheard of
today.) Never wanting to wear plaid
again! Getting paddled! Sitting out on the log! Unique P.E. subjects – swimming, trampoline, and
archery! Unique playground equipment –
the witches hat! Teachers with trademark sayings – “semi, semi, semi,
space” “There’s allllllllways the two
percent!” Then there was the very fact
that we had to wear a uniform skirt and HAD to wear socks and closed- toe
shoes. This led to many interesting fashion choices, albeit on feet only.
(Mine? Yellow penny loafers and gold
suede Adidas.) The campus was so spread
out that they used a school bus to take us to the cafeteria on rainy days. Great memories! Honestly? Not all memories were perfect. There were times when I was treated very unfairly. (And I'm not talking about never making the cheerleading squad!) I think every former "Keswickian" can recall a time when the need to follow all the rules left innocent individuals in undeserved trouble. The way I see it now, it just makes a great story to tell every now and then. To me, the privileges available, the fun, our senses of humor and the close-knit setting outweighed those "other" moments.
But last, and probably greatest of the memories that were shared (said by another, but also said by myself so many times over the past thirty years) “John 10:10 burned into my head permanently”. What? John 10:10? The Bible verse? Yes, but only three words of it. The condensed version. It looked like this: Life………..more abundantly. Underneath, in smaller letters, it said John 10:10, in case you forgot, week after week. This verse-portion was on the front wall of our chapel, where we attended service once a week. I’m sure that back in the 1970s, I knew exactly how many dots were between ‘Life’ and ‘more’.
But last, and probably greatest of the memories that were shared (said by another, but also said by myself so many times over the past thirty years) “John 10:10 burned into my head permanently”. What? John 10:10? The Bible verse? Yes, but only three words of it. The condensed version. It looked like this: Life………..more abundantly. Underneath, in smaller letters, it said John 10:10, in case you forgot, week after week. This verse-portion was on the front wall of our chapel, where we attended service once a week. I’m sure that back in the 1970s, I knew exactly how many dots were between ‘Life’ and ‘more’.
I did say Keswick was a Christian school, right? We prayed before every class, every ball
game, every concert and play. Many
families gave unselfishly to causes or the school itself. We could find ourselves discussing spiritual
truths in Algebra, Science, English, you-name-it. Our teachers were not only teachers of their
subject, but they were charged with caring for our growth into fine young Christian
adults. (I don’t think they got paid
enough!!) One that I know personally has always lived what she preached. I think almost all the faculty at that school felt and acted the same. This might all sound a little
over the top to today’s people. But in
our case, it worked. The atmosphere, the
unique-ness, the guidance received, and the rules (sorry, everyone) but mostly
the care of a group of teachers that were actually our teen-life shepherds,
turned us, for the most part, into the people we are today.
It’s very sad that a death in my immediate family made me
realize what I’ve known inside all along: Keswick friends are forever
friends. Denomination still doesn't matter. If you are truly hurting or in
need, those people will reach out to you.
At Keswick, we were prepared to be servants and to live “New Life” to
the fullest. These habits are ingrained
and minister to the world today many years later, through many
individuals. The thing about Keswick is...it
really did teach us, in spite of any present heartache, to live
“Life………more
abundantly.”
John
10:10
*Ok, maybe I'm a little bitter about not being a cheerleader.....:) I welcome comments and memories from all!
Friday, July 26, 2013
Crayons - from 2002 7/26/13
Written in 2002, and dedicated to anyone, parent or teacher, that gives of themselves to children.
Crayons
Can a
crayon stay sharp?
Can a
child keep them nice?
No.
Children
eat crayons.
Children
break crayons.
Some
children are crayon-peelers.
Children
color so hard that the crayon-tip becomes rounded and the crayon makes that
sticky noise against the paper.
When the
crayons start life, they live and fit in their box. When crayons meet children,
they lose their balance, flopping around the box, stumbling and hurting
themselves.
The
longer crayons know the children, the more frayed and smooth they become.
The
happiest crayons in the world are half the size they used to be, naked, and
living in a commune in a Cool Whip tub.
We could
learn a lot from these happy crayons. The reason they’re happy is because they
have left a part of themselves behind with every child they’ve touched.
Sunday, July 21, 2013
The Turning Point, or Rebounding from "Burnout" 7/21/13
When the last day of the school year arrives, I do not cry. Yes, I'll miss the ones that are moving on. No doubt. One in particular this past year - more than any one in a LOT of years. (Godspeed, Chelsea!) But by the time the beginning of June rolls around, there are no tears left. There is just tiredness, backed up by being fed up with excuses, whining, arguing, meanness crying, roughhousing gone too far....in other words, burned out.
"Burned out" is one of the awful insider insults in the teaching field. We see another teacher lose their patience, not turn things in, arrive late, depart early......and we whisper "burned out" among ourselves. I personally am always showing signs of "burnout" by the time summer is here. When I am finally home day after day, it takes a while to re-charge. For the remainder of June, I don't want to be around children, hear child's voice, talk cute to a child.....thank goodness, mine are grown and there are only college-age semi-adults around. But sometime in July, it always happens; I miss the kids.
I start looking at kids again. I start smiling at the things I hear them say. (Let's face it, children are, quite often, hilarious!) I watch them goof off in the grocery store, or at a restaurant. I'm ready to interact with small humans again. It takes about six weeks, but the turning point always arrives. After that, I'm anxious to prepare the classroom and get ready for that first day of school. Welcoming my little darlings is so much fun. I know that if they are greeting me with a smile, a big hug, and "I missed you so much!" that I'm doing something right in their little lives. I must not be completely "burned out".
I think the turning point has come for me is the past couple of days. I wondered if events at home would delay the turning point and extend the summer "burnout". That remains to be seen, because imagination and the actual classroom with the actual little darlings are two different things. I have been lonely for a few days now, and I think (hope, wish, pray!) that my job is the perfect counterbalance to loneliness. Children are always needy, or excited, or wondering, or hurt....you get it. I see one hundred fifty different little ones each day! There's no way I can be lonely if I truly connect and teach them. I may be sad underneath, but I won't be lonely!
I do worry some about the coming school year. I worry that my underneath sadness may surface and cause me to cry, or speak sharply to a child that just needs a gentle correction. I worry that older little ones, now that they have probably heard why I missed a week last year, will ask me about it, and crack my happy shell and the sadness will pour out. Hopefully, the very fact that I am worried about them - and how my actions will affect them - will keep me in check. I like to think I have a protective instinct around the little ones.
Let's say for now that the turning point seems to be happening, right on schedule. So many other things have been happening right on schedule since Scott died: the garbage is collected, the bills have to be paid, haircuts are needed, fingernails keep growing, meals have to be cooked and dishes washed, dogs need grooming. It shouldn't be amazing to me that I would start feeling ready to see my little ones at school again. But then again, any good feeling right now amazes me.
In a few weeks, the imagination will become reality. I really do hope that I can keep the happy face on for the kids and that my twenty-fourth year of teaching music will be as fun for them as it has been for all the little ones through the years. I'm thankful for the family of friends that will be there with me, and may we all stay away from the "burn-out"!
"Burned out" is one of the awful insider insults in the teaching field. We see another teacher lose their patience, not turn things in, arrive late, depart early......and we whisper "burned out" among ourselves. I personally am always showing signs of "burnout" by the time summer is here. When I am finally home day after day, it takes a while to re-charge. For the remainder of June, I don't want to be around children, hear child's voice, talk cute to a child.....thank goodness, mine are grown and there are only college-age semi-adults around. But sometime in July, it always happens; I miss the kids.
I start looking at kids again. I start smiling at the things I hear them say. (Let's face it, children are, quite often, hilarious!) I watch them goof off in the grocery store, or at a restaurant. I'm ready to interact with small humans again. It takes about six weeks, but the turning point always arrives. After that, I'm anxious to prepare the classroom and get ready for that first day of school. Welcoming my little darlings is so much fun. I know that if they are greeting me with a smile, a big hug, and "I missed you so much!" that I'm doing something right in their little lives. I must not be completely "burned out".
I think the turning point has come for me is the past couple of days. I wondered if events at home would delay the turning point and extend the summer "burnout". That remains to be seen, because imagination and the actual classroom with the actual little darlings are two different things. I have been lonely for a few days now, and I think (hope, wish, pray!) that my job is the perfect counterbalance to loneliness. Children are always needy, or excited, or wondering, or hurt....you get it. I see one hundred fifty different little ones each day! There's no way I can be lonely if I truly connect and teach them. I may be sad underneath, but I won't be lonely!
I do worry some about the coming school year. I worry that my underneath sadness may surface and cause me to cry, or speak sharply to a child that just needs a gentle correction. I worry that older little ones, now that they have probably heard why I missed a week last year, will ask me about it, and crack my happy shell and the sadness will pour out. Hopefully, the very fact that I am worried about them - and how my actions will affect them - will keep me in check. I like to think I have a protective instinct around the little ones.
Let's say for now that the turning point seems to be happening, right on schedule. So many other things have been happening right on schedule since Scott died: the garbage is collected, the bills have to be paid, haircuts are needed, fingernails keep growing, meals have to be cooked and dishes washed, dogs need grooming. It shouldn't be amazing to me that I would start feeling ready to see my little ones at school again. But then again, any good feeling right now amazes me.
In a few weeks, the imagination will become reality. I really do hope that I can keep the happy face on for the kids and that my twenty-fourth year of teaching music will be as fun for them as it has been for all the little ones through the years. I'm thankful for the family of friends that will be there with me, and may we all stay away from the "burn-out"!
Tuesday, July 16, 2013
Words are my friends, most of the time. 7/16/13
I like words. I can use words to get a point across. One friend says that I can use fancy words to cuss people out, and they never know what's happened. I've always enjoyed using my vocabulary well as well as humorously. But now, I've had to use too many words to say "My husband died".
Scott had a small business. Very small. He was the only employee. The business allowed all those companies in Norway and Scotland and New Zealand, etc to hire him as a contractor. Most hiring was done through the UK and Norway. I went through his e-mail contacts and notified everyone in there with a beautifully written note about two weeks after he died. They wanted him to work, I had to! I got quite a few comforting and heart-warming responses, so I'm glad I did it, instead of letting those e-mails pile up in his inbox.
The agents that weren't in his address book have still tried to contact him, on the average about one a week since he's been gone. I respond with my correct, solemn, well-worded information: "I regret to inform you...." "I apologize for sending such sensitive information in an e-mail......" "Thank you for all you've done through the years". Oh, the proper-ness!!! I sometimes wish I could get away from it!
However, I'll wish that one day and get a response like this the next:
"So sorry to hear the bad news. In our brief interaction with Scott we found him to be polite and up front about his likes and dislikes and were well aware of his ability to cause a stir on hydrographic web forums. I hope this finds you as well as can be expected and I thank you for letting us know during what must be such a sad time. Please accept our deepest condolences from all of us here."
How can that not make your day? When I think about that response, I smile, rather than cry, because that summed up a big portion of his personality. The author of that e-mail, Ben Jones, from the Swathe Services Group in Cornwall, United Kingdom, has lifted my heart with his words.
There have been phone calls, too. Most will also talk to me, so no info needed to share. Some, though, ask for him, and when I say he's not available, may I help.......they hang up. One, in particular, has done this a few times now. Today......today I let loose. A little. She called again, and asked for Mr. McCarty. I replied "He's not available right now, may I help you?" She said "Thank you, good-bye." At that point, recognizing the same once-a-week voice, I yelled "WAIT A MINUTE!" "MR. MCCARTY WON'T EVER BE AVAILABLE BECAUSE HE PASSED AWAY TWO MONTHS AGO, CAN I HELP YOU???" ............nothing. Silence. She was gone.
So I decided to use my words. In a different way. Spoken, not written. Caller ID has its uses, you know. I called the woman back, words swirling angrily through my head while the phone rang. And then - very briefly- "Leave a message". Deep breath. "This is Diane McCarty. My husband is Scott McCarty. You have called here several times to speak to him. He passed away two months ago, so you either need to deal with me or stop calling here." No big drama, just facts. No cursing, just tell it like it is. No fun phrases that I concocted to humorously make a point. Once upon a time, I concocted a favorite: "testicular fortitude". Yeah, you can say that one in front of children! I don't know if I adopted it from someone along the line or just came up with it on my own, but it's a good one. No, I didn't use any of my fancy words on the phone caller today. But it took a lot of testicular fortitude for me to call her back and leave that message. One day, one thing, one take-a-deep-breath brave act at a time. That's all I can do.
Scott had a small business. Very small. He was the only employee. The business allowed all those companies in Norway and Scotland and New Zealand, etc to hire him as a contractor. Most hiring was done through the UK and Norway. I went through his e-mail contacts and notified everyone in there with a beautifully written note about two weeks after he died. They wanted him to work, I had to! I got quite a few comforting and heart-warming responses, so I'm glad I did it, instead of letting those e-mails pile up in his inbox.
The agents that weren't in his address book have still tried to contact him, on the average about one a week since he's been gone. I respond with my correct, solemn, well-worded information: "I regret to inform you...." "I apologize for sending such sensitive information in an e-mail......" "Thank you for all you've done through the years". Oh, the proper-ness!!! I sometimes wish I could get away from it!
However, I'll wish that one day and get a response like this the next:
"So sorry to hear the bad news. In our brief interaction with Scott we found him to be polite and up front about his likes and dislikes and were well aware of his ability to cause a stir on hydrographic web forums. I hope this finds you as well as can be expected and I thank you for letting us know during what must be such a sad time. Please accept our deepest condolences from all of us here."
How can that not make your day? When I think about that response, I smile, rather than cry, because that summed up a big portion of his personality. The author of that e-mail, Ben Jones, from the Swathe Services Group in Cornwall, United Kingdom, has lifted my heart with his words.
There have been phone calls, too. Most will also talk to me, so no info needed to share. Some, though, ask for him, and when I say he's not available, may I help.......they hang up. One, in particular, has done this a few times now. Today......today I let loose. A little. She called again, and asked for Mr. McCarty. I replied "He's not available right now, may I help you?" She said "Thank you, good-bye." At that point, recognizing the same once-a-week voice, I yelled "WAIT A MINUTE!" "MR. MCCARTY WON'T EVER BE AVAILABLE BECAUSE HE PASSED AWAY TWO MONTHS AGO, CAN I HELP YOU???" ............nothing. Silence. She was gone.
So I decided to use my words. In a different way. Spoken, not written. Caller ID has its uses, you know. I called the woman back, words swirling angrily through my head while the phone rang. And then - very briefly- "Leave a message". Deep breath. "This is Diane McCarty. My husband is Scott McCarty. You have called here several times to speak to him. He passed away two months ago, so you either need to deal with me or stop calling here." No big drama, just facts. No cursing, just tell it like it is. No fun phrases that I concocted to humorously make a point. Once upon a time, I concocted a favorite: "testicular fortitude". Yeah, you can say that one in front of children! I don't know if I adopted it from someone along the line or just came up with it on my own, but it's a good one. No, I didn't use any of my fancy words on the phone caller today. But it took a lot of testicular fortitude for me to call her back and leave that message. One day, one thing, one take-a-deep-breath brave act at a time. That's all I can do.
Summer - or broken engagement? 7/16/13
Teacher like to enjoy summer. Jealous? Then try teaching.....that's all I have to say about that. What do teachers do in the summer? Plan one nice vacation, if they're lucky. Relax? Maybe. Enjoy their families? Of course. Search pinterest for classroom ideas? Some do. Plan how to decorate next year's room? Yes, some do....you see, a teacher is always looking for the best ways to engage students. "Engage" is one of the latest buzzwords in education. It was preceded by "on-task", and "focused" and many others. It simply means that the teacher has worked enough magic to get the students all doing what they are supposed to be doing.
Summer!! It's a running joke that the teachers count down for summer more than the students. In some cases, it's true. A lot of students don't look forward to staying home or going to day care while Mom and Dad go to work. Being at school all day with their friends is much more fun. Other students are privileged to know that sleeping in, Disney vacations, visits from Grandma, trips to the beach are all on the calendar. Between those that are not anticipating summer, and those that can't wait, the last few weeks of school are extra-tiring for the teachers. We are expected to use whatever is in our bag of tricks to keep the students on-task and "engaged". We all preach the same sermons; "The rules are in effect until the very last day". "It is not summer YET!" We all find extra-special ways to reward good behavior, in order to stave off the mean talk, hitting, etc. On the last day that teachers are in the building, that "clean-up and get out!" day, teachers are exhausted.
But the other side of that coin is - summer does arrive! No more morning alarm, unless you choose to schedule yourself for something. No more waiting 90 minutes or more to use the restroom, because you just can't walk out on a room of seven-year-olds! (Not my favorite part of teaching, truth be told.) No "show" to put on all day long to cause "engagement" by those around us. Have you ever seen a teacher take their own kids to a museum during summer vacation and constantly read and show everything as if they were a guide? Turning off the engagement mentality is not always easy. Even worse, the teachers in an adult group - Vegas vacation, concert outing, grown-ups at the beach - that insist on everyone playing the game, or going to the restaurant, or seeing the show, etc. etc. A teacher's instinct is to include all, engage all! Not always relaxing.
All careers have their pressures, their busy seasons, their horrible bosses, their deadlines....that's a fact of life. And many careers have a small portion of their day or week where they have to present an idea, pitch a product, and keep the attention of others for a period of time. I do dare to say, though, that teaching is fairly unique in the realm of having to keep others engaged during all working hours.
Teaching is just one of those careers that have the human element woven in to all the pressures, deadlines, and busy seasons. I truly believe that nurses and first responders fall squarely in that category as well. I also know that there are many similar "human dependent" careers that I am not mentioning, because I am focusing on teachers. Not only are teachers expected to mold, hypnotize, enthrall and engage between 20 and 150 different humans for 7 hours a day, the humans are of the immature variety. One indicator of our performance assessment is the observer ranking us on whether the students are engaged! Thank goodness, so far in my career I've had observers that understand how random this can be. If there's a class of thirty 6-year-olds, and two are engaged in an argument left over from the playground, one is engaged with a blister on her foot and another is engaged in asking for the restroom, chances are that the other twenty-six are not engaged in the skill the teacher is trying to convey!
Teachers juggle these situations daily. Not just once daily, but consistently, all-day-long, daily. It's the by-product of our educational system and calendar. Too much togetherness can breed over-familiarity; good and bad routines can spring from such situations. I will stop and say right here that most (95%) of the teachers that I have ever worked with are amazing, patient, creative and overly giving. Teachers are indeed a special group. However, I know, being a part of the crowd, that those amazing individuals go home many a night with nothing left for their families. Or they go home, take a deep breath, do just as much for their families in the evening, get a little sleep, and wake up exhausted only to do it all again.
So, teacher friends, say hello to summer with a smile. You deserve a break. A break in the consistency of pressure, deadlines, meetings, parent phone calls, evaluations.......although you're still going to run into those little darlings at the local store! You (in my current place) have 11 weeks off to recharge, stop worrying and rest up. So be quiet, read a book, soak up the sun, see a movie - and quit trying to engage everyone around you. Because as soon as that date to return rolls around, you have to start engaging everybody all day long once again!
Summer!! It's a running joke that the teachers count down for summer more than the students. In some cases, it's true. A lot of students don't look forward to staying home or going to day care while Mom and Dad go to work. Being at school all day with their friends is much more fun. Other students are privileged to know that sleeping in, Disney vacations, visits from Grandma, trips to the beach are all on the calendar. Between those that are not anticipating summer, and those that can't wait, the last few weeks of school are extra-tiring for the teachers. We are expected to use whatever is in our bag of tricks to keep the students on-task and "engaged". We all preach the same sermons; "The rules are in effect until the very last day". "It is not summer YET!" We all find extra-special ways to reward good behavior, in order to stave off the mean talk, hitting, etc. On the last day that teachers are in the building, that "clean-up and get out!" day, teachers are exhausted.
But the other side of that coin is - summer does arrive! No more morning alarm, unless you choose to schedule yourself for something. No more waiting 90 minutes or more to use the restroom, because you just can't walk out on a room of seven-year-olds! (Not my favorite part of teaching, truth be told.) No "show" to put on all day long to cause "engagement" by those around us. Have you ever seen a teacher take their own kids to a museum during summer vacation and constantly read and show everything as if they were a guide? Turning off the engagement mentality is not always easy. Even worse, the teachers in an adult group - Vegas vacation, concert outing, grown-ups at the beach - that insist on everyone playing the game, or going to the restaurant, or seeing the show, etc. etc. A teacher's instinct is to include all, engage all! Not always relaxing.
All careers have their pressures, their busy seasons, their horrible bosses, their deadlines....that's a fact of life. And many careers have a small portion of their day or week where they have to present an idea, pitch a product, and keep the attention of others for a period of time. I do dare to say, though, that teaching is fairly unique in the realm of having to keep others engaged during all working hours.
Teaching is just one of those careers that have the human element woven in to all the pressures, deadlines, and busy seasons. I truly believe that nurses and first responders fall squarely in that category as well. I also know that there are many similar "human dependent" careers that I am not mentioning, because I am focusing on teachers. Not only are teachers expected to mold, hypnotize, enthrall and engage between 20 and 150 different humans for 7 hours a day, the humans are of the immature variety. One indicator of our performance assessment is the observer ranking us on whether the students are engaged! Thank goodness, so far in my career I've had observers that understand how random this can be. If there's a class of thirty 6-year-olds, and two are engaged in an argument left over from the playground, one is engaged with a blister on her foot and another is engaged in asking for the restroom, chances are that the other twenty-six are not engaged in the skill the teacher is trying to convey!
Teachers juggle these situations daily. Not just once daily, but consistently, all-day-long, daily. It's the by-product of our educational system and calendar. Too much togetherness can breed over-familiarity; good and bad routines can spring from such situations. I will stop and say right here that most (95%) of the teachers that I have ever worked with are amazing, patient, creative and overly giving. Teachers are indeed a special group. However, I know, being a part of the crowd, that those amazing individuals go home many a night with nothing left for their families. Or they go home, take a deep breath, do just as much for their families in the evening, get a little sleep, and wake up exhausted only to do it all again.
So, teacher friends, say hello to summer with a smile. You deserve a break. A break in the consistency of pressure, deadlines, meetings, parent phone calls, evaluations.......although you're still going to run into those little darlings at the local store! You (in my current place) have 11 weeks off to recharge, stop worrying and rest up. So be quiet, read a book, soak up the sun, see a movie - and quit trying to engage everyone around you. Because as soon as that date to return rolls around, you have to start engaging everybody all day long once again!
Friday, July 12, 2013
I Know Why 7/12/13
Three times now, I've tried to write a bit. Three times now, the page crashed and the bits were lost. They weren't enough to make me famous or anything, they just had real sentiments that I'm not sure I can ever express the same way. Paper and pen, you just scored a point.
This title....I Know Why. Maybe I should explain a little more. I don't know WHY. Who does, really? I'm closer to knowing stuff, because of my experience, but nobody really ever knows WHY. I should have stretched the title to say "I know why widows wear black". (wore? Right now I have on a blue t-shirt and white capris, so those days are kind of over.) I went out with some friends a few nights ago and it helped me to realize that an outward symbol of grief might not be creepy, and might actually be very helpful!
My main historical knowledge of "mourning" clothes comes from "Gone With the Wind" - when Scarlett most assuredly did NOT want to wear widow-black......and more recently, "Downton Abbey" - when Mary Crawley most assuredly did NOT want to wear black for mourning. I guess it wasn't the most popular thing to be seen in, at any point in history, therefore the demise of the custom.
You see, I think it helped everyone. I feel as if I'm walking around with a mark on my forehead. I feel this, but other people don't see it. If you know me, sure...you know what happened, and you understand if I hang my head for a minute. If you are a stranger, you can't tell that I've been through a great tragedy, an immense loss, and am right now suffering from deep, dark, sadness. You can't tell, because it doesn't often show. The outward appearance, the routine of life, the talking with people and friends that even involves laughter - who could tell? Matter of fact, I sometimes look around at strangers and wonder what deep, dark feeling they are carrying.
It's not deep and dark because anyone purposely hides it. My sadness is deep and dark because of the immensity of what happened. Losing my husband, my partner in all aspects of life, the person that loved me more than himself, has left such a deep hurt that I will never be the same. I don't try to hide that, but I also don't tell every stranger I see. It's a part of me, and if you know me now, or get to know me in the future, it just is, it just exists, it can't be changed.
Back when widows wore black, I think it demanded that others, even strangers, treat them a little more gently. This is all conjecture on my part, but I just imagine an old-fashioned grocery store; a widow dressed in black checking out, and everyone just speaking a little more softly, kindly......yeah, my imagination. I imagine that a teacher wearing black for mourning was respected, and all the children behaved beautifully, because they understood that sadness was somewhere in there. Crazy thoughts, huh?
So, if I don't know the WHY of life, I'm sorry. But trust me, I ask about it probably more than you do. But as far as the why of openly signifying mourning? I truly believe that must have been (most of the time) a gentle, soothing way of easing back into life while doing so with your new deep dark sadness; and it gave those around you the opportunity to show extra kindness and understanding, especially when you stumbled along the way.
The moral here is that we could be nicer. It's blithely said every day, especially now on social media, but it's true: "You never know what someone is going through". Be nice, everyone. Nice and kind beats all. That's all.
This title....I Know Why. Maybe I should explain a little more. I don't know WHY. Who does, really? I'm closer to knowing stuff, because of my experience, but nobody really ever knows WHY. I should have stretched the title to say "I know why widows wear black". (wore? Right now I have on a blue t-shirt and white capris, so those days are kind of over.) I went out with some friends a few nights ago and it helped me to realize that an outward symbol of grief might not be creepy, and might actually be very helpful!
My main historical knowledge of "mourning" clothes comes from "Gone With the Wind" - when Scarlett most assuredly did NOT want to wear widow-black......and more recently, "Downton Abbey" - when Mary Crawley most assuredly did NOT want to wear black for mourning. I guess it wasn't the most popular thing to be seen in, at any point in history, therefore the demise of the custom.
You see, I think it helped everyone. I feel as if I'm walking around with a mark on my forehead. I feel this, but other people don't see it. If you know me, sure...you know what happened, and you understand if I hang my head for a minute. If you are a stranger, you can't tell that I've been through a great tragedy, an immense loss, and am right now suffering from deep, dark, sadness. You can't tell, because it doesn't often show. The outward appearance, the routine of life, the talking with people and friends that even involves laughter - who could tell? Matter of fact, I sometimes look around at strangers and wonder what deep, dark feeling they are carrying.
It's not deep and dark because anyone purposely hides it. My sadness is deep and dark because of the immensity of what happened. Losing my husband, my partner in all aspects of life, the person that loved me more than himself, has left such a deep hurt that I will never be the same. I don't try to hide that, but I also don't tell every stranger I see. It's a part of me, and if you know me now, or get to know me in the future, it just is, it just exists, it can't be changed.
Back when widows wore black, I think it demanded that others, even strangers, treat them a little more gently. This is all conjecture on my part, but I just imagine an old-fashioned grocery store; a widow dressed in black checking out, and everyone just speaking a little more softly, kindly......yeah, my imagination. I imagine that a teacher wearing black for mourning was respected, and all the children behaved beautifully, because they understood that sadness was somewhere in there. Crazy thoughts, huh?
So, if I don't know the WHY of life, I'm sorry. But trust me, I ask about it probably more than you do. But as far as the why of openly signifying mourning? I truly believe that must have been (most of the time) a gentle, soothing way of easing back into life while doing so with your new deep dark sadness; and it gave those around you the opportunity to show extra kindness and understanding, especially when you stumbled along the way.
The moral here is that we could be nicer. It's blithely said every day, especially now on social media, but it's true: "You never know what someone is going through". Be nice, everyone. Nice and kind beats all. That's all.
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