Hello

Words are energy
Not bound by
Space or time


And every conversation
Begins with
Hello.


A thought
Transcribed,
A feeling
Unfolds

And somewhere
Someone is
Reading…


“Crazy world
Full of crazy
Contradictions”

The song reminds
Me of hope.

Things aren’t how
They seem…
They’re always
Better.


But we must
Look around the
Corners
To see.


That is where
Lies the
Unexpected.


3-26-2011



My Kids are Changing the World...

For those of you that don’t already know, I’m a special education teacher. I work in an elementary school in a self-contained class with a mix model of students who range from moderate to profound intellectual disabilities. My kids are the ones who will likely be dependent on adult care for the rest of their lives. Some of them may get a job if adequately prepared. But they will need a whole lot of preparation.

I teach in Georgia. When I first began teaching I was told that the kids were on a “functional curriculum.” This means we need to prepare them for daily life: cooking, hygiene, behavior and other life skills. We also taught academics such as letters and numbers, colors…whatever their little minds could understand. Mostly we taught them how to adapt, how to be a part of a community. We taught kids with autism how to communicate appropriately. We taught kids with Down’s Syndrome how to recognize boundaries. We taught those who could not communicate how they could. We taught them to be self sufficient. How to dress themselves, ask for what they needed, how to follow directions, eat appropriately at a table and how to “fit in.” That’s what we were hired to do and so that’s what we did. How wonderful that America recognized the right of these students and offered them an education where they could “be the best of themselves.”

But there was a shift in education, one that ultimately led to “No Child Left Behind.” As an educator I will not say that this policy is either good or bad, but I will say that it has affected the way we teach our special needs students in ways that have produced both positive and negative effects.

The Good:

The Good is that we are now being pushed to teach age appropriate material to our kids. No longer am I teaching my 12 year olds from baby books but I am using material that is relevant to them. They like Hannah Montana and Jonas Brothers. So I am using that to teach whatever skills I can. “Hannah Montana Recycles” was a big hit! With this shift, I have learned how to adapt my lessons to their interest and needs and not just their cognitive level. My kids have learned about the Earth and other Planets. They have learned about the sun and the moon. They can recognize the map of the United States and know that they live in Georgia. They have learned about the Revolutionary War and its key figures. My kids know about the important inventions of the 19th century including the telephone and the airplane. They understand the concept of physical change and they can identify parts from wholes. I am so proud that they can, if only in part, comprehend the same things their peers are learning.

The Bad:

The other side of that coin is that for every minute we spend teaching our kids about the Revolutionary War is a minute we cannot teach them how to zip their own jacket. For every minute we teach them about math concepts they will never use or even understand, is a minute we cannot teach them how to feed themselves. We are being pushed to teach them grade level standards when some of them cannot even use the bathroom. No Child Left Behind mandates that we teach every child equally, when they are not all equal.
When I first began teaching, I learned right away the purpose of education. Teaching is not about reading, writing, math and science. Teaching is about giving kids what they need to succeed as adults. We used to say that education was about creating good citizens who would grow up and serve their community. Now it seems that the focus is on college. This is where my students get lost…where they are unfortunately left behind. Although two of my students, with all their inspiring optimism tell me how they are going to go to college in Paris…something they learned off the TV…the reality is that they won’t. They will likely live in a group home as adults and if lucky, obtain employment at a local grocery store. What are we doing to prepare them for this? Not enough.

Budget cuts have crippled education. One of the first things to go was something called Community Based Instruction (CBI). This was an educational initiative aimed at exposing students with special needs to their community and giving them hands on life skills. We visited stores, restaurants and other public places to expose children to the community. We taught them how to interact appropriately, how to shop for things they needed, how to ask for help, how to find a public restroom…essentials that they would need to know to be a part of a community. The very things the rest of us take for granted. Money ran out though so this initiative was put on the cutting board and with it went the functional curriculum. The focus became GPS standards and teaching age and grade appropriate skills.

As teachers always rise up to the challenge, we came together to figure out how we could still offer CBI but within the school setting. I attended a meeting where a group of us came up with ideas on how our kids could gain practical community skills within the school setting. From this meeting, many ideas were born. I took one of these ideas back to my school and didn’t realize at the time how much it would affect the community.

This year, my class of 4th and 5th grade special needs students launched the biggest recycling effort that my school has ever seen. Calling ourselves the Green Team, we volunteered our service to help collect paper every other week and deliver it to the recycling receptacle. We have since widened our efforts to all recyclable materials. Our school had always supported recycling efforts, but never involved students. It was mostly an adult effort. At first, I thought it was a crazy idea…that the teachers would inevitably do all the work and the kids would be lost on the concept. How surprised I was.

After a year of taking on this responsibility I am proud to say that many of my students know the difference between trash and recyclable materials and can sort those materials. I am proud to say that my students will independently pick up garbage on the playground and put it in the trash, not because they were told to, but because they know it doesn’t belong there. My students have made posters to promote recycling around the school. And every time they walk through the halls with a bin full of paper or plastic, they are setting an example of social responsibility and a commitment to the betterment of their community. In this way, however small it may be, they are changing the world.

In Japan, they view public schools to be a viable resource for everyone and to serve as a means to renew and build up the life of a community. The mayor of Sanyo Onoda City believes that students with disabilities are more vulnerable and so deserve a secure place in the fabric of society. His vision is for instruction that can ultimately lead to successful outcomes for the community.

I have learned this year how much our disabled students can have an impact on their community. I have learned how they can serve and protect our country. I have learned the example they can set for other kids that will one day be in charge. I have learned how much they care about being a part of their community.

I know that we need to teach these kids reading, writing, math and science…we are mandated to do so and it is not a fruitless venture. But let us realize the strength of these kids, the possibility of their futures. Let us also teach them how to be productive citizens and helpers in their own community. Let’s give them the skills they need to make a difference in the world. They very much wish to do so.

The peeling away...

The following is an email from a survivor in Japan that is being forwarded through the internet. I do not know if this email was published or a private account so I left the author's name off. It is a deeply moving report and a most inspiring perspective.

Hello My Lovely Family and Friends,

First I want to thank you so very much for your concern for me. I am very touched. I also wish to apologize for a generic message to you all. But it seems the best way at the moment to get my message to you.

Things here in Sendai have been rather surreal. But I am very blessed to have wonderful friends who are helping me a lot. Since my shack is even more worthy of that name, I am now staying at a friend's home. We share supplies like water, food and a kerosene heater. We sleep lined up in one room, eat by candlelight, share stories. It is warm, friendly, and beautiful.

During the day we help each other clean up the mess in our homes. People sit in their cars, looking at news on their navigation screens, or line up to get drinking water when a source is open. If someone has water running in their home, they put out sign so people can come to fill up their jugs and buckets.

Utterly amazingly where I am there has been no looting, no pushing in lines. People leave their front door open, as it is safer when an earthquake strikes. People keep saying, "Oh, this is how it used to be in the old days when everyone helped one another."

Quakes keep coming. Last night they struck about every 15 minutes. Sirens are constant and helicopters pass overhead often.We got water for a few hours in our homes last night, and now it is for half a day. Electricity came on this afternoon. Gas has not yet come on.

But all of this is by area. Some people have these things, others do not. No one has washed for several days. We feel grubby, but there are so much more important concerns than that for us now. I love this peeling away of non-essentials. Living fully on the level of instinct, of intuition, of caring, of what is needed for survival, not just of me, but of the entire group.

There are strange parallel universes happening. Houses a mess in some places, yet then a house with futons or laundry out drying in the sun. People lining up for water and food, and yet a few people out walking their dogs. All happening at the same time.

Other unexpected touches of beauty are first, the silence at night. No cars. No one out on the streets. And the heavens at night are scattered with stars. I usually can see about two, but now the whole sky is filled.

The mountains are Sendai are solid and with the crisp air we can see them silhouetted against the sky magnificently.

And the Japanese themselves are so wonderful. I come back to my shack to check on it each day, now to send this e-mail since the electricity is on, and I find food and water left in my entranceway. I have no idea from whom, but it is there. Old men in green hats go from door to door checking to see if everyone is OK. People talk to complete strangers asking if the need help. I see no signs of fear. Resignation, yes, but fear or panic, no.

They tell us we can expect aftershocks, and even other major quakes, for another month or more. And we are getting constant tremors, rolls, shaking, rumbling. I am blessed in that I live in a part of Sendai that is a bit elevated, a bit more solid than other parts. So, so far this area is better off than others. Last night my friend's husband came in from the country, bringing food and water. Blessed again.

Somehow at this time I realize from direct experience that there is indeed an enormous Cosmic evolutionary step that is occurring all over the world right at this moment. And somehow as I experience the events happening now in Japan, I can feel my heart opening very wide. My brother asked me if I felt so small because of all that is happening. I don't. Rather, I feel as part of something happening that is much larger than myself. This wave of birthing (worldwide) is hard, and yet magnificent.

Thank you again for your care and Love of me,

With Love in return, to you all,

Pissed!

I had started writing a blog on Saturday about the devestation in Japan. I had a lot to say about the subject. My heart and mind has been in circles over how something like this could happen. The why of it escapes me. My mind was still processing so I did not complete that blog. I still don’t have the answers.

But today I read an article for which I am prepared to speak about. Apparantly, there are some very bad Americans making very ignorant statements about the events overseas. In case you haven’t heard, here is what has been said:

"What God does is God's business. But I'll tell you this -- there's a message being sent," Beck continued. "And that is, 'Hey you know that stuff we're doing? Not really working out real well. Maybe we should stop doing some of it.' I'm just saying." ~ Glenn Beck

"Look this is very serious people I had to evacuate all my hoess from LA, Hawaii and Japan. I had to do it. Lol"
~ 50 cents

"I just split up with my girlfriend, but like the Japanese say, 'There'll be another one floating by any minute now.'"
~ Gilbert Godfried

"What if God was tired of the way they treated their own people in there own country! Idk guys he makes no mistakes."
~ Cappie Pondexter

My first reaction was complete disbelief. How could someone say these things about a country and community hit by tragedy? How could an American imply that God meant for this to happen? My second reaction was anger. Americans were hit not so long ago by two devastating tragedies: the events of 9/11 and Hurricane Katrina. How soon we forget our own pain and suffering, our own place in time. We were outraged at the idea that people thought God had anything to do with these man- made and natural disasters. Both events made us take stock and realize our priorities, as a people, as a community, as Americans. And for a time, a lesson was learned. But time heals everything because eventually we forget. We are distracted by new stories. And I fear, the lesson was lost.

I know that most Americans don’t feel the way that Glenn Beck, 50 cents and Gilbert Godfried feel…if you do then you seriously need to question your own humanity…but the idea that there are people in the world that would utter such a negative and self-righteous thought scares the hell out of me.

When are we going to come together as a human race? When are we going to become champions for one another instead of haters and criticizers? When are we going to stop thinking that one country is so much better than another? In the trenches, soldiers say it doesn’t matter who you are…you protect your fellow man. There is no right and wrong in the trenches…there is only survival.

If you believe that God had anything to do with the earthquake and tsunami in Japan then you must also believe that God meant to kill Americans on 9/11 and during Hurricane Katrina. Do you want that on your conscious?

It’s time to think differently.

Bittersweet

Bittersweet is your kiss
That left words
Unspoken,
Under a moonlit
Sky of stars.

Bittersweet is your smile;
A misconceived
Flirtation--
An invitation to dance.

Bittersweet are your eyes
With many tales
Untold,

A past left hidden
And story
Unknown.

Bittersweet am I
At our last
Goodbye,
Hoping to see you
Again.

Why I Go in Search of Buried Treasures...

A few years ago I was reading about a subset of society that I had no idea existed. There are people who spend their free time digging for buried treasures. On the beach, in the woods, along river banks these people would find valuable coins, civil war relics, buried caches, gold and jewelry. A woman in England went out in search along the countryside and found a 500 year old gold pendent depicting the Holy Trinity. The gem was estimated to be worth $250.000. An unemployed man on welfare found the largest ever collection of Anglo-Saxon artifacts worth 1.6 million. How did these people find their treasures? Not with secret maps, I assure you. They found these treasures with what I once thought was merely a toy for a 12 year old boy…a metal detector.


When I first read these stories I was immediately intrigued and wanted in on the action. I live in Atlanta, a hot bed for history, so I had visions of finding civil war relics buried deep in the ground saved from Sherman’s fire. Or maybe artifacts from the slaves that once worked the fields which are now merely suburban backyards or apartment shrubbery.

I decided I must have one of these treasure finding gadgets. I researched my choices and decided upon the Bounty Tracker IV. It cost a little over $100 but that didn’t bother me…it didn’t compare to the millions I would soon discover.

I felt like the Dad in "A Christmas Story" when my detector arrived. There was a glow of light coming from the box. I couldn’t wait to get my hands on it! I put it together and immediately set out on my first ever treasure hunt. First stop, the backyard. Every time the detector beeped, my heart would do the same from the anticipation of what I had found. I dug. Hitting tree roots, finding rocks, slashing worms in half. I dug. And what did I find on my first hunt? A bottle cap. Not a bottle cap from the 1920’s but a bottle cap from a few weeks ago…it was probably mine. I didn’t give up…I kept digging. Next I found a matchbox car! How interesting. It was caked in dirt. I would need to clean it. I shoved it into my “metal detecting apron” and moved on. Next, after 15 minutes of digging, I found a penny! I rubbed the dirt off the face of the penny to find that it dated all the way back to….1997. The dream of finding a treasure was fading away. The reality of finding a yard full of metal junk was sinking in.

Never being one to give up on dreams, a few days later I went out again. My detector beeped and so I dug. My mind was sure that I would find a piece of aluminum foil or a rusty nail. I dug and I dug and I dug. Where the hell was this metal wonder? The detector kept beeping so I knew something was there. So I dug and I dug and I dug. This went on for what seemed forever as I diligently worked my way to the core of the earth when suddenly I hit something. Please tell me it’s not a rock. I saw something silver, bright silver so I knew at once it wasn’t a penny or a nail. After twenty minutes of burrowing into the land, I found my prize. I had found a baby rattle…a sterling silver antique baby rattle. It was dented but sill worked. It still made the sound that makes a baby smile. I took it inside, washed it off, polished it up and studied it under my magnifying glass. After hours of research on both google and ebay I discovered that my find was a Webster baby rattle from the 1940s. Similar baby rattles were selling on ebay from $50 to $100! Finally I had found something worth more than a penny!

A few days later…for reasons that are not relevant to this story, the landlord came to the house. In all my curiosity, I had to ask if she knew the history of this rattle. She revealed to me that it belonged to her daughter. Her eyes lit up when she saw my treasure. I was suddenly in a dilemma and wishing so much that I hadn’t asked. After a few minutes of silent reflection, I dared to pose the question, “Would you like to have the rattle?”

“No, you found it, you keep it,” she said. A long pause followed as my morals were being tested. “No, please keep it. I insist.” I was devastated. It was like winning an Olympic medal only to give it away.
I still mourn the loss of my first found treasure. Though it was not worth millions, it was worth something. It was definitely worth the time I spent digging. It was definitely worth the time I spent anticipating.

I still dig for buried treasures, but lost are the hopes of finding gold or silver or a bag full of valuable coins. I dig now for the stories. I’ve found matchbox cars and I think of the little boys playing in the backyard full of happiness, their lives still untold. I’ve found quarters and have wondered who was standing there and how exactly did that quarter fall out of their pocket. I’ve found bullet casings and have wondered what events led them there. And I’ve found junk…metal scraps, unidentified pieces of aluminum and countless tabs from soda cans. But even the junk has its story. Someone was standing there at a moment in time. The metal scraps part of something built or perhaps, something torn down. Everything I find is a remnant of another life, another future, of another story… and that is where the true value and treasure of things are found.