Trail vs. Treadmill

  The prize of walking is in the pushing on...

   I've walked a treadmill many times throughout my life.  Not saying I always disembarked when I was tired, but the possibility was there...within reach.  Temptation disguised as a big red button taunting me to "STOP," loitering within fingertips reach.  I'd think if a manufacturer is going to include a plastic, corded key to be yanked in case of EMERGENCY- they might want to issue some guidelines to the less motivated runner as to what a true emergency is.  After all, increased pulse and shortness of breath are natural results of an elevated heart rate.  Beyond actual medical concerns...I'm more thinking of mornings that inspired a brisk walk, so time was taken to don appropriate wicking gear only to have inspiration pass before Manual Mode was chosen.  Staring at the wall only goes so far when the mind begins to roll faster than the belt being tread on.  A hundred other "tasks" needing to be done speed into consciousness while the sweat that is barely beading becomes an annoyance.  Halfway through the intended 30 minute walk, the war that's been waged between determination and interest has been won and STOP comes to the rescue.  "I'll do better tomorrow" pacifies the ambitious psyche which advocated to exercise in the first place.

  Walking a trail or path offers no such safety net.  You've completed half your distance goal and motivation begins to wane...there is no STOP button.  Sure, you could sit your rear end off to the side of the path and hope some kind fitness buff, looking for a little extra resistance training, agrees to hoist your hundred and mumblemumble additional pounds over their shoulder and deposit you back from whence you came.  I'd venture a bet, which is less humbling than speaking from experience, that telling your own little "pansy" legs to carry you back to the starting point, because you didn't bring taxi fare, will get you there faster.  The prize  of walking a path or trail is in the pushing on- you got yourself there now get yourself back.  Bam!  Your walk time just doubled.

  Interesting transitions take place once you've committed to pressing forward.  The mind, which initially celebrated increased endorphins, digresses to calling you bad names while asking what you were thinking, before inevitably releasing it's death-grip focus on discomfort and finally eases into it's surroundings.   Finally submitting to the path you're on, it notices the view is decidedly more stimulating than drywall or cinder block. Mind over matter has just introduced you to a host of new sensory input.  No more same ol' same ol'.  Expanding horizons is a good thing. Take this morning's walk for example...  I never would have thought to mingle the scent of factory pollution, Fall leaves and cigar.  Nor would I have wanted to, yet that is the brilliance in allowing yourself new experiences.  I can still see the army green mittens of the fellow, out for a jaunt, surprising me as they lifted a cigar to his weathered lips before I passed that pedestrian and PUSHED ON.  A little further I looked back only to realize I could no longer see the gentleman's peaceful puffs.  However, there was a newcomer in a crisp, red jacket making gains.  My competitive streak kicked in as I thought, "the red-coats are coming, the red-coats are coming," and quickened my pace.

  Admittedly, I would have been disappointed in today's walk due to the uncharacteristic polluted scent yet I rounded the corner and the wind and vista shifted.  I was witnessing cool waters lit up with diamond like sparkles in a marsh I had forgotten was there.  Yet another prize from pushing on.  By the walks end my ambitious psyche had prevailed over my pansy legs to reward me with a sense of accomplishment, a trip away from my daily grind, and a darn good work-out--no taxi needed ;) 

Dear Teacher...

This is a letter I recently sent.  It is edited to protect the identity of all involved except myself as the author.  My purpose in sharing this letter is to: 1) Let you know these discussions are taking place in school- if not your school, then in neighboring schools and your children are witnessing and hearing things you'd never realize if they don't tell you.  So, make sure you are talking (but listening more) to your child, then when the big stuff comes they already know you care.   Knowing you care makes it easier to share.
     2) Encourage you to get involved.  Our children are learning EVERY day.  It is your right, and dare I say duty, to help them process this changing world they live in.  You hold the biggest role of influence in their lives.  Regardless of your belief system and value structure- please don't hand that role over to others who are not as invested in your child as you are.  Doing nothing is still making a choice...it is simply choosing to allow someone else to make the choice for you.
                                                         3) Oh, and you don't have to be mean to get your point across. 

                                          
                                              ****************************************

 
Dear Teacher,

 

  I am writing to you in regards to the discussions that were held on the topic of transgenders in the classroom.  My child came home from school yesterday and needed to talk to me.  My child shared that it had been explained in the classroom a fellow student will be legally changing their name and identifying themselves as the opposite sex from today on.  A discussion had been held the day before, (date given), during which the general topic of transgenders was brought up.  My guess is this topic was broached to prepare students for the announcement which was made the following day, (date given).  I can appreciate you trying to assist this student in making the transition less awkward for all, yet I felt little concern was given to the parents, families, and caretakers of the fellow students hearing about this change.

 

  I understand we live in a changing society and I am not addressing this student's choices, but rather the lack of involving us, as parents, in this discussion.  This is not necessarily a school topic but rather a conversation involving values, morals and ethics which we would have appreciated being made aware of from you, as the primary educator within this classroom.  We would have welcomed the opportunity to have open dialogue with our child before it was announced in the school setting.  I don't know how much notice you were given, but feel at the very least a letter could have been sent home letting us know these discussions had taken place.  

 

  I have heard many times from our child and others that this class is a "family."  I can respect the bond you are forging with this unifying mindset but ask that you would please respect our primary role as parents.  Given that this is our child before they are your student we'd ask that you honor these boundaries and in moving forward, communicate with us before addressing the students as issues involving values, morals, and ethics are raised.  I would greatly appreciate your response back ensuring you received this email and providing an action plan to establish greater parental involvement.

 

Sincerely,
Susan "Mama Bear" Yurkewicz

Tattoo Trials

What does one say to a teary-eyed kindergartner regretting her tattoo?  "It's ok honey, metallic silver goes with everything."  Maybe I could have told her it brings her eyes out.  I didn't chime in with either of those responses.  I looked at her shiny, patterned neckband and listened to her woes about how the kids in class all want to stare at it.  I watched her body language as her little hands pulled the neck of her shirt up to her watering eyeballs.  I listened to her muffled cries about how she never should have let her older sister do this to her.  I heard about the Halloween candy bribing to allow the tattoo placement on the day I was at Parent-Teacher Conferences (I should have known! Yet ANOTHER reason I should have trembled before this event *See post titled Parent-Teacher Conferences).  I didn't say much because there were moments that she was completely oblivious to it's existence and others where she was gleefully showing it off to Daddy.

  All of today's mournful moaning was happening five minutes before we were to leave for the bus stop.  I had witnessed my young daughter's distress yesterday afternoon as well.  She wasn't off the bus more than three minutes before the day's drama over this prominent emblem came spilling out.  This is why I encouraged a good tub soaking last night...well, besides the dirty feet and knees from chasing her brothers and their friends while playing football.  There may have been a few hundred tiny bits of crushed leaves in her hair from her leaf pile escapades as well...this is one energetic, hardy girl.  Either way, I was surprised to see the tinny-looking, lace design encircling her neck was still very much intact this morning despite a good washing.  I admit I wasn't that concerned about the placement on Monday because I thought it would be rubbed off by Tuesday afternoon at the latest.  I had no idea these metallic tattoos that line every Super-Center store's shelves weren't as lame as the Valentine tats that are peeled half off before it's pressed flat on a forearm. 

 I sympathized with my little one this morning as she wept and told me about how the kids all gathered around yesterday to look.  I got out the baby soap and washcloth as she cried and began to rub.  When that didn't bring any change I went for the big guns: baking soda.  I hid my horror at the redness that was only making the silvery swirls appear to glow.  Great...one minute left.  "Don't worry Hon, we'll for sure get it off tonight. Time to go.  I'll grab your book bag, you get a sweatshirt."  My son and I headed out onto the porch and down the steps as she came running out.  Air sucked in through my teeth didn't really hide my surprise at her choice of her purple with pink fur trimmed, heavy winter coat zipped up to her chin. It's uncharacteristically warm out...like 72  degrees, but I knew what she was trying to camouflage.  Bus was coming and I knew I'd have a melt-down on my hands so I sent her off with a kiss and encouraging smile.

It's hours later and I've pondered one question all morning.  "Why didn't I ask her if SHE LIKED the tattoo?!?"  

  So what if the kids were looking?  They probably went home and asked to run to the store to get one and a gold version too.  It's not against the school policy to sport a fake tattoo and I could have encouraged her to rock this look (until we use the baby oil my neighbor, and veteran mother of three girls assured me would take this off...I kid you not, it's like tinfoil applied with superglue).  My young daughter IS an energetic, hardy, strong and spirited spit-fire!  If she can play football with boys six years her senior she can pull off a shiny tattoo- without fear of what others think. 

  Life is full of lessons.  Learning to listen to your own instinct about what you personally like and dislike is a hard lesson to learn.  I'm on my own journey with this very topic.  Why not give my daughter a head start now?  Clearly, I'm not a perfect Mom- but I can admit when I'm wrong.  We can learn together.  I can't wait to go greet her and hear about her day- and hopefully I'll see that winter coat shoved way down in the bottom of her bag. 

 

Don't Miss It!

6 A.M. came early this morning.  My sweet husband woke me with a whispered, "Hey Sus, time to get up.  You gonna shower?"  My groggy mind picked around this question debating whether to beat my teenage daughter to the bathroom or dismiss the cleansing waters until I get my exercise walk in.

  I waffled interiorly even as I uttered, "Nah," to the shower, knowing I should walk.  I rolled out of bed onto my knees and gave my day to God.  I promptly got up, grabbed the towel hubby had left for me on the bed, and locked the door to signify I'm first in the bathroom line-up.  I'm not sure when I changed my mind to forgo the walk and prep for the day but it happened.

  Fast-forward one hour to walking the last two children to the bus stop.  Somewhere in the midst of a hundred yards the whispering winds and warm sunshine changed my mind for me again.  I MUST walk today.  This is an indication of just HOW BEAUTIFUL it is outside today- since I had actually curled my hair.

  I tricked myself with the thought this wouldn't be an exercise jaunt.  No, I would go to the Peninsula with the sole purpose being to soak in nature's glory.  Normally that trick succeeds in wooing me to the workout destination.  Once there I'm ready to break a sweat.  Today, I truly was mesmerized by Autumn's Last Hurrah.  Maybe I had been wooed for a soul purpose...

  I walked my familiar paths while warmed rays grazed my face.  I was surprised by the wind's insistence.  I had visualized serenity but discovered an urgency in the choppy waters that in no way lessened today's splendor.  In fact,  I became caught up in recognizing today's walk was not meant to merely delight my eyes.  This discovery came with the realization I had forgotten my sunglasses and needed to squint my eyelids shut.  Oddly enough, the wind had risen several octaves as I walked, gusting the leaves into a frenzy.   Undaunted, I walked on, blind and deafened by the gales that now rose and fell like a symphony reaching it's crescendo.  This is when I FELT why I was to be here this morning...

  My world slowed as the wind ran it's breathy fingers through my hair, caressing my face, holding my attention long enough to deliver the sun's quiet message of goodbye.

  Perhaps it was in handing over my day that I was afforded this GIFT that I had tried to pass up due to the desire to get more done.  I am so grateful I didn't miss it!  Not only was I walking in the wonder of warm weather and beautiful skies in November here in Erie, PA,  I was mindful of the seasonal passing on of the baton.  That moment woke me from my "meh" attitude of entitlement and spurred me to implore each of you to not let this day go by without lifting your face to receive the golden glow's kiss of parting.  It's not a final embrace, as we hardy Lake Erie-ites have learned.  Yet, in our town's remarkable setting, it's a thing of such concentrated beauty we are willing to hunker down through the extreme weather until it emerges once again in all it's glory.  Seasonal affective disorder (SAD) is no laughing matter in these parts- let us drink in this elixir while we can!

Carpe Diem!
        

 

Parent Teacher Conferences

 Today and tomorrow bring about the two-day festive holiday known as "Parent Teacher Conferences," in our house.  Now, to some parents, this holiday might strike fear in the deep recesses of their hearts.  I have had enough experience over the years to know that the best way to prepare for this party is to take a deep breath, crack my knuckles, partake in a few neck rolls, and shake out the tension.  It is important to stand before a mirror and practice which grin looks the least forced under a sheen of sweat that dots the upper lip.  Perhaps the most important tip I can offer in preparation of this particular feast is the chant used to lull myself to sleep on Conference eve.  It is fairly simple, yet acutely imperative and bears repeating a thousand times.  It goes like this, "Bring It On, Bring It On, Hit me with your best shot and Bring It On."  I believe the counting sheep show compassion as they as they blend beautiful harmonies and perhaps empathy earned from a few lackadaisical lambs.

  I am jesting, sort of...not really, but mostly.

  Within our beautiful crew of seven children we have plenty of personality, an assortment of learning aptitudes, a diverse approach to diligence, and everything in between.  This is in regards to the book work.  Let us direct our attention to the portion that covers...behaviors.  Or perhaps...NOT.  I'd rather let your imagination cover this ground.  Conduct varies by disposition and of course, age certainly plays a factor.  Yet, it is never a given as to which age brings about the most interesting teacher encounters.

  I will let your imagination join our school soiree as I offer a morsel for you to digest.  Let's just say we thought we had seen it all by the time our youngest entered her scholastic career.  Such was not the case.  I didn't even know a pre-school Parent-Teacher Conference could last an hour... and contain such a conundrum of concern and comic relief.  I truly appreciate the teachers who are down to earth and are willing to tell tales of what my children have done while honing the art of presenting with a flourish of humor and positive word choices.  Apparently my youngest is spirited, not sassy.  She has strong leadership skills and has escaped being bossy.  She is exceptionally bright...I may have added the exceptionally- because she is, of course.  She is hilarious, even when she doesn't intend to be so.  However, this could be construed as honesty without filter.  Again, gratitude comes to mind when offered humor in uncomfortable situations.  My daughter once informed me it is possible to have a "Food Baby."  What do you mean, Honey?  "Well, Ms. So-and-so told me it wasn't a real baby in her belly it was a food baby."  My hands flew to my mouth and covered the intake of GASP when I realized what my sweet angel must have asked that morning.  Clearly we didn't cross that line of discussion when we met...yet that shindig still held 60 full minutes of...conferencing.  Siiiiigh.

  This year's Season witnessed my mature head nods and understanding "Mmm-hmmm's," while my spirit screamed, "You can't break me!"  I used to attempt explanations for what I felt judged upon.  I've learned that served no purpose in helping my child's progress.  With age comes wisdom of the sort that can't be learned in the text-books.  The school of hard-knocks, while difficult to live through and even more torturous to witness our children in does serve a purpose.  Every year I fill in the blanks of what I want the teacher to learn about my child with prose subtly suggesting their spirit not be crushed.   I must also respect the fact my child needs to learn to work within a group.  This skill can enhance their individuality so that others will want to follow them when the time is right.  Our greatest strengths may originally emerge as our greatest weakness.  It takes a wise mentor to recognize character and raw talent and know that a student must understand the end goal and be willing to work together for goal attainment.  These are not easy tasks...I know because I am a mother  invested in helping achieve this very goal.  I treasure these opportunities to work together with teachers I see as partners in this mission.

  I can tease about the tough times and roll with the reality of imperfections.  Yet, I will agree to check the on-line student accounts to ensure proper quiz preps, visit our library to borrow FUN reading material, ground my son...I mean move his clothespin to stop, if he doesn't read to his sister, banish friends until geography skills are improved, implement a structured, yet whimsical learning environment where all will thrive as they broaden their brain activity.  I will also broaden my shopping list with the addition of an aluminum cookie sheet, plastic lower-case magnetic letters, shaving cream for spelling activities, cleaner to remove shaving cream from my bathtub walls and perhaps a bit of wine to celebrate another year's Conferencing conquest.