Five Kids, a Baby and a Puppy Walked into a.....

life... my life over the many years of it... and now I find myself typing on my laptop upside down.

What???

Anyone who knows me well, knows that my mind works in metaphors. I have spent about a week attempting to find the metaphor for the life we are presently experiencing, and I just can't seem to find one that works well to bring the present situation into focus. But this morning as I sat down to write, I was struck with the  beauty of my reality so much that the need for a metaphor just flew out the window. I realized, there is no metaphor because there is nothing, N-O-T-H-I-N-G, to compare to what is in my heart and mind these days. Instead of a metaphor, I need to just take a look at the journey and all the blessings that have been here teaching me how to live this moment right now.  And so, I invite you to come on this path with me today. See where your life fits in with mine, and maybe we can find a joke or a metaphor or a punchline for living life that will take hold and sustain us.

First, the Five Kids:

When I sat down at my laptop to write this morning, it became clear that my daughter was playing a trick on me...much like her older sister did as they left for their dad's on Friday...here's that one.

But this trick is a little different and perfect for today's thoughts. You see, my computer screen is totally flipped upside down.

OK, so first, typing upside down isn't so hard. It was challenging to initially set myself up since the tabs are all at the bottom and my arrow doesn't follow my typical hand motions, but all-in-all, typing is the same. Also, after so many years in the classroom and as a mom, I am adept at reading upside down, so that is not bothering me at all. But the corrections, the backspace vs. delete, and the arrows to get from one spot to another are all very challenging.

Why?

Well, I can only think that perhaps the parts of typing that have been most engrained, you know, the habits and the natural parts of the process, are clearly something I can do regardless of the changed circumstances. The same holds true for life today. I can easily do my normal 'me': find people who need my help and reach out to them, make dinners or help with schoolwork, because that's what I do every day regardless. I can even go for my run, read and write. But there are other things that are extremely challenging. Talking with folks on-line instead of in person, presenting my information to my communication impaired students through limited means and going through the stores with my smile covered by a facemask, are all causing me pause and stress. Those are the backspace and delete buttons, the ones that seem impossible for my brain to accept in this new upside down world. And that's OK. I don't need to accept and perfect these parts of this new world's imperfection. I just need to learn to best cope and accept that I will stumble. When up is down and down is up; when left is right and right is left; we are sure to stumble...but we should not be afraid to keep at it and keep figuring out how to work within the life we have.

Next, a Baby

If you don't know the story of Matthew, I will attach it here. Matthew's Story. Matthew was a foster baby that joined our family for almost two years, then went to live with his adoptive family in Washington State, where he passed away about a year and a half later. Our present circumstances have brought memories of life with this beautiful boy to my mind quite often for various reasons. But the one I wish to mention here is when someone once suggested that I had wasted time with this broken boy when could I have spent my time fostering a healthy child who would someday make a difference. Some saw Matthew for his imminent early death. I saw him for all he had to offer in his beautiful life. They saw the despair. I saw the hope. The recollection of that moment, and the grace with which I was able to answer that comment, comes to me whenever I am put into circumstances that to others seem impossible. The difference today is that my circumstances and those of most around me are the same. We are all in the same boat. However, I believe our abilities to accept and appreciate our circumstances are different. Some of us are only able to see the storm for its ensuing destruction. Some only saw Matthew as a broken boy with nothing more to offer. I look at our present situation, as I looked at Matthew, and I see the potential. I see the peace and the quiet. I see the future changed by the present. And, as such, I see the hope.

Finally, a Puppy

And that brings us to the puppy...not the one you met here back in July, but the one you are about to meet now. Yes, in the midst of all this, the Maccaronis have invited another puppy to join the mix. Why? For all the reasons I just described. Because my laptop is upside down and I need to adjust. Because Matthew was a sign of hope, not despair. And because in the midst of life right now, in a house full of teens experiencing grief and loss, we needed a little chaos. Not just the chaos of a day or a week, but the chaos of life and hope.

And so, maybe no metaphor today 😁 (haha!) and the jokes are all on me, but here is my version of a punchline. Five Kids, a baby and a puppy walked into my life...and with them came so much more than anyone could ever ask to have. And, so, I was filled with hope.

Optimism Brings Us Out of Darkness...another short one.

Lately as I converse with people online, through text or on the phone, as soon as I say something to the effect of "When we are back..." or "This can't last forever." I am met with, "Well, don't plan on that happening any time soon." or "Looks like we are going to be like this for a long time." And I go silent, stifling my positive self-talk. I wonder if perhaps these comments come from a  place that doesn't want to be met with, "I told you so." when we are stuck inside for another month, or two, or more. Or perhaps folks are afraid to have hope shattered.

Whatever the reason, there is a choice being made in our minds. I maintain, as I always have, that there is absolutely no danger in being positive. Instead, the danger is in losing hope, living in drear and not seeing the light at the end of the tunnel. Does positive thinking and subsequent optimism mean that I don't see how incredibly terrible and tumultuous things are right now? Not at all! Optimism means that I look at my travel mug, the one that only a month ago sat on my desk untouched from 7:45 to my 12:24 lunchtime, and think...."soon, my friend, my lips shall be on you...drinking in your cold remains." haha!

Optimism finds the path to a smile...anyway, 

the uphill climb... not so bad when considering the reward, and 

the journey... worth every bit of the pain.  

Optimism brings us out of the darkness...even when the darkness threatens its presence for an undisclosed amount of time.

Look, I am incredibly sad with the state of the world right now...on many levels...the largest of which are the health crisis and subsequent death toll. But I am also realistically positive and incredibly excited by so much of what I see...the most of which is how closely we are all connected. I mean, if a virus can connect us, why can't viral optimism? Or infectious kindness?  Or contageious happines and laughter? It can happen! At least I choose to believe it can. Want to know the statistics, the tragedy and the turmoil, check the news. Want some hope, check in with me. Am I a fool? Absolutely!!! Of that you can be sure...and life is optimistically beautiful from this fool's perspective.

An Equity Demonstration: in 350 Words or less

Sometimes I like to challenge myself to be sparse in my words. Here goes:

Equity, especially in teaching, is an issue that took hold of my heart and mind years ago and never let go. The current state of affairs has brought this word to the forefront of education discourse. As we struggle to make lessons meaningful to children who cannot physically enter the school building, we have turned to technology and computerized methods of teaching and communication. I am incredulous that many, as evidenced by comments floating around the internet, still do not understand the inequity of this type of educational forum outside the school building. And so, to aid understanding and compassion, I offer this:

When we move forward over the next few weeks and live this new form of reaching our students and streamlining education, let's take on the demographics of the children in our nation. These numbers are all over the place but seem to hover around the following: Of all the teachers involved, 11% of you will not have internet access, 14% of you will not have a computer. Many of you with a computer, will have no access to technical support. However, you are still expected to do what your peers, who have all of this and more, are doing.

For the purpose of this post, let's each assume we are in the percentage that is without access. Really.  Imagine it. First, how does it feel? Second, how will you cope? Finally, is there any chance that you will be able to keep up, produce and enjoy the experience with the same fervor as your adequately equipped peers?

I leave it at that. Please keep thinking outside of your little box...our most vulnerable children are depending on you to notice them, acknowledge them and advocate for them. Your voice is their only hope.

"... online learning presents new obstacles, particularly with uneven levels of technology and adult supervision." … "The dramatic split promises to further deepen the typical academic achievement gaps between poor, middle-class and wealthy students." Read more here: NYT: April 2, 2020

Finding "Me" on the Screen

The reflection that follows was written over the course of the past three days. However, after spending a day on the computer, I need to point out that I have had new revelations, so much so that the reflection below might prove irrelevant. But I wanted to post it in case anyone else is going through the same journey. More on that after you read what I had to say prior to today regarding this altered world of communication.

Time at home away from life's many distractions provides various alternatives to so many aspects we once took for granted. While I still enjoy the luxury of my children's company, and so distraction still prevails the majority of the time, this new lifestyle has afforded me more time with my thoughts than I previously had, and consequently, more time contemplating my "me". This is a blessing. I like to contemplate my "me". This ever changing person who grows and learns with each path on her journey and with each new person put into her life, is fascinating to study. And these current times do not disappoint in providing new material to mull and dissect in terms of who I really am at my core.

How much time do we really spend considering who we are, what is important to us or where we stand on various topics? For me, the answer is simply, not much. I tend to just go along in my day-to-day, living my "me" and watching my proximity to others take hold. I like to watch the changes elicited in both parties when I am blessed to spend personal time with someone. My "me" comes out and rubs all over the situation, causing laughter, calmness, peace and general feelings of acceptance. Just by being "me" in the presence of others, I can affect the situation, feelings and futures of those around me. And the reverse is true as well. I never leave a situation in which I was granted intimate time with someone as the same person I was before the meeting. This is the gift of being in relationship, being aware and being present.

Enter distancing...and the subsequent use of technology for communication.

And I must ask...what about now? What about these days when the only interaction is through a phone or a computer screen. The venue itself puts me on edge. I rarely, if ever, watch T.V. aside from the occasional family movie night. My ability to function in front of a screen is stressed at best, and my authentic self is compromised beyond recognition. Because my comfort zone is so challenged by these methods of communication, I wonder if people are really feeling my "me" as I try to utilize these means to communicate. How, then, am I really going to be able to have an effect on others and relax enough that they might have an effect on me in these days of distancing?  I am not so sure. You see, I never really had to explain myself. But now I feel I do. Up until now, I just would put notes on desks, gifts in doorways, hand out hugs like jelly beans: truly, until someone asked me to describe why I do certain things or what I believed about other things, I never had to give it much thought. I just did "me".  And it worked. Because I could be in the presence of others and exude my "me" on anyone who wanted to be around me. Now...somehow...I need to exude through a screen. And it doesn't seem possible.

When the kids were little, I would go to church with them...all five, sometimes six if we had a foster child.  I would always arrive early and choose a spot that was...ha!...distanced from anyone who was already there. In my mind, this allowed for anyone who did not wish to feel our family vibe to sit elsewhere. But what it really helped was my mind to know that anyone who sat near us, after clearly seeing what they were getting into, was doing so because they wanted to feel our vibe...our "us".  Much like my "me", I never wanted to impose on anyone. I just wanted to be able to be "us" and let those wishing to enjoy us and share themselves with us, to come near us. And there, I believe, is the difference. Now, when I get on that computer screen, I can't help but feel I am imposing. There is no escape except to make it through the time allotted. What if what I have to say is not enough to convey my love, my desire to serve, my capacity for taking in the other's pain and concern...what if my "me" can't show up?  Then what?

So, here I am after a day that included an almost 2 hour full-faculty meeting and a half hour Google Hangout with two students and a teaching partner.  After these two experiences, I think I have a little more insight that will help me moving forward. During the faculty meeting, I felt just what has been described above. I was out of my element, uncomfortable with the situation. That is, until at the very end, when my principal had all of us close our eyes to take a moment of peace, reflection and prayer. I sat there, eyes closed, tears streaming down my face...I finally FELT everyone in that meeting. I finally felt that I could be "me" and touch others. And for the joy of that moment, I am grateful to my principal and to the wonderful colleagues with whom I am blessed to share even these most challenging of times. Fast forward, two hours later when I sat in front of my screen that held the faces of two of my students and a dear colleague and friend. I felt more alive in that half hour than I have in the past 17 days...why? Shouldn't I hate this new medium of communication? Shouldn't I have felt out of my element?  What I think I realize is that it is not the screen or the new ways of everything in my life lately...it is that my "me" is stuck...stuck in the phase of learning that is not allowing me to feel at ease.  And so, I know that I must take my time, be patient, allow myself to feel my way forward in this darkness to find my "me" and then give myself freely and openly to those with whom I am sharing this journey, in whatever capacity I am allowed. That half hour with my students allowed me to teach. It helped me to realize once again that I am here...I am willing...I am ready to take their pain and comfort them...and just as is always truer than true, I am me.

Just Pour the Juice First...

When they were little I always would mix juice with water in the little sippy cups my children used. My daughter went through a phase that felt like forever, but like so many of their little idiosyncrasies and short term habits, somehow faded away into our memories without my knowing it was even over. During this juncture in her little life, she would watch me prepare her drink and insist that I pour the juice into the cup before the water. Try as I might to convince her that the end product would taste the same regardless of the order in which the liquids entered, she was adamant that I should follow her directive.  If I didn't because it seemed easier to grab the water first, and you know this only happened once since I am a quick learner, there was hell to pay in the form of tears and tantrum beyond any reasonable response to such perceived malice. Why???  I will never know. But what I do know now as clearly as I knew it then, is that in her mind, in her heart, and in her reality, this order of operations was imperative for her world to feel organized and manageable at that particular moment in time, and she was willing to do everything in her power to make sure it was executed properly.

Did it make a difference in the end? That depends on how the 'end' is defined. Is the end defined as the final drink's solution that was ultimately in her cup? If so, then no, it didn't matter. You and I both know, and even she would now agree, that the order would not have changed the cup's solution. If given a taste test, whether the water or juice was the first substance to enter the cup, she would not have been able to delineate the difference. But if the 'end' is to be defined as the outcome of her perceptions with regard to her mom's acceptance of her as an important human being, then yes it matters immensely that her desires and needs were honored. This little person's sense of safety and control were wrapped up in this moment and the outcome was her feeling as though she had a voice. How I treated her in this moment let her know that she mattered and that she was more important to me than the ease with which I was able to prepare her drink. Her self-worth and significance were determined by my actions and ability to allow her to have control over me at that moment.

I have had an incredible amount of verbal and written interaction with folks over the past week. People have been reaching out looking for connection, encouragement and validation of feelings that to them seem unfounded at times and understated at others. We have found ourselves in the midst of a new experience, and we don't only not know how to make it right, we don't know how we should feel about it, whom we should believe, and how we can manage the unknown. The certitude is that we have feelings...whatever they are, and those feelings change by the moment, by the input of information and by the severity with which we are faced with the reality at hand. Having a common experience will do that to people. We are, after all, social beings; swept up in the crowd and often looking to others in order to feel we are doing it right, whatever 'it' is.

People want to know how my children are managing, how I am handling the switch to digital teaching, and how I am helping my children to deal with the anxiety of the moment. Much of the time I am able to muster a response that does not betray my fear and personal struggle. I figure this is what people are seeking. They want to know that it is possible to stay positive. When they witness my optimism, it gives them hope that it is possible that they too can remain optimistic. And truly, I believe it is. But someone recently asked me to share the rest of my story. The story that I share only with those I know will understand that what I am saying is just a little blip in my screen. The story that includes my fears for my asthmatic daughter, the sadness for my physically and emotionally hungry students and the anger with those who are unwilling to understand that it's a small price to pay; staying inside as much as possible and sharing resources in a culture that is accustomed to overabundance of time, material items and entertainment. These past few days have highlighted for me just how selfish so much of our culture has become. So many, many more than I realized, are unable to look past their noses to see that others might need resources, others might need us to self-regulate and sacrifice, others might need us to just pour the damn juice first.

If pouring the juice first was enough to settle my little one's mind, make her feel safe and secure in my devotion to her and help her to right her little world, then that was what I was willing to do. And I will state this here...I am willing to do the same for you. All of you. Whether or not I know you. Whether or not you are a person who is in my life physically or here on-line. I will pour the juice first. I will keep my brood inside and isolated. I will purchase only what my family absolutely needs to get by for the moment. And if you need any of that, we will figure out how to share it with you and make do without it. Because that is what it means to be a friend, to be loving, to be generous and to be human.

For you, I will pour the juice first.  Will you do the same for others?

Here is the Permission We All Deserve

How's this? You just got strapped into the car of a roller coaster that you've never laid eyes upon until this very moment. The realization that there is no getting out has set in as the train makes its way to a peak you are unable to see. You are surrounded by everyone who is simultaneously experiencing the same inexplicable panic and dread, yet you are drastically, tragically and unequivocally alone.

Or try this one on...You are expected to learn a new language that you will use during the next two weeks, maybe four, maybe more...you don't know. At the same time, you are learning to snowboard, scuba dive and fly a plane; the equipment unfamiliar and weighing you down, the instructions for each activity a jumble in your brain. Add to that the need to grieve the loss of a friendship you've known throughout your existence, the one who made life seem normal and bearable no matter what.

These and other metaphorical scenarios have been entering and exiting my mind at lightening speed. Perhaps metaphors are just my way of dealing with the overwhelming feeling of not being able to control my surroundings, for me and for my children. Perhaps these ideas are the product of sharing this experience with my five, unique children and their varying coping methods. Regardless, within a week's timeframe, all of us, no one is exempt, have been thrust into this new unknown while being asked to find ways to use information and equipment that is unfamiliar and foreign. As parents and educators, certitude is difficult to muster. We struggle with wanting to assure our children even as we are feeling overwhelmed, overdrawn and uncertain.

So what is the solution? Well, I am sure I don't know the answer to that. But I do know the following... and it's more about accepting permission than seeking solution...

We are all best to take a step back and assess for ourselves what we need at this moment right now. I wish that we could all take a moment to grieve the loss of our norm before we try to gather information in order to jump into switching gears. By this I mean, we need to stop...feel...experience that which is being asked of us. Even those self-proclaimed introverts are feeling the isolationist tempo and perhaps needing to gasp for a little air. It's hard for all of us. It's OK!

In all of this, please keep in mind that we are not supposed to be readily amenable when someone or something suddenly changes the rules of the game. Anger, frustration, fear, sadness, you name it...these are all acceptable responses to our current situation. Each time the rules change, which seems to be every time we turn around, we need to take a moment to process, ascertain the best path, and figure out how those new rules are best applied to our personal story. Only then can we take the time needed in order to heed the new way we are called to serve others and allow our humanity to shine through.

Here's what I do know...we can do this...we will do this...and we will be able to endure this...if only we take the time to look at it, absorb it and accept it each step of the way. Slow down..stay safe...be gentle on your soul.

Embracing Our Temporary Normal

I wasn't going to write today. Another post about this unfathomable reality we have been thrust into seems redundant. But as hard as it is for me to wrap my head around so much of what the past few days have offered, I've had people asking me to share my thoughts, and so here I am. Seems some find my ideas, perspectives and optimism comforting. Someone actually said to me, "I was trying to channel my inner Donna Macc". Haha! Love it! But with that in mind, I think I should start with a few confessions:

1. I left my classroom in tears yesterday, turning out the light on my weekly vocabulary, student folders and 'notes for tomorrow', knowing my tomorrows are going to be drastically different for at least four weeks.

2. I am completely frustrated by the fact that the very kids who need me to reassure them, will not be in my space for way too long.

3. I hate that we have to stay away from school.

4. I am sad.

With all that being stated, I will also say that I completely understand why things have to be the way they are. I keep bringing myself back to the reality which tells me that separating us from those situations that will allow this pest to fester is imperative and unavoidable. I get it. I agree with it. But that doesn't mean I have to like it.

So I'm sitting here trying to understand all the feelings inside of me this morning. I gave myself last night off from thinking about it, knowing that today I would attempt to tackle the emotions that are all confused in my heart in order to move forward in this new and temporary normal. The realist that knows what I stated in the paragraph above, is pragmatic and can accept we need to do what we need to do. But the part of me that is absurdly enamored with my students and my work is finding that embracing all this time away from them, even though it means more time with my own beautiful children, is extremely troubled. As I look outside on this beautiful morning, I think of all the time I will miss, time that I feel I am entitled to spend with the students on my roster this year. Entitled...yes, that's the right word. They are mine and I am theirs and this is not how we are meant to share our journey. Or is it???

OK, so maybe I am getting to something here. What is the lesson in all of this for all of us? Because as someone who is not prone to believing in coincidences, I must find a way to understand that this is the very journey these students and I were intended to share. Hmmm...so what of it, then? Perhaps the ability I have, is that of teaching them that even something like this can't get in the way of my dedication to them. Over the past two weeks, there were four Professional Development opportunities I was supposed to deliver that were canceled. Anyone who knows me and the ridiculous planner that I am, knows I have all the materials for each of them stocked up in my PD bags. Perhaps I can use these to keep my students feeling my love for them even in our necessary absence from each other. "Letters for a Year of Gratitude" and "You're Awesome" pop-open cards are where I will start. Love notes to my students will be in the mail before the day's end. Thank you! I feel a bit better already!

Look, I'm not going to lie. I look out the window at this beautiful day and I start to tear up because I think of how much my students love to go outside to throw the football, something I know they don't do on their own time. I look at the textbooks and novels we share and the heaviness in my heart overwhelms me as I consider that, without the gift of our physical presence to each other, my students will struggle to find meaning in the virtual lessons planned for them. I look at my own children who will get to (be forced to) go hiking, to the beach, to the park, anything outside, while my students might not get to do much more than stare blankly at a screen. My heart hurts. But it is my journey with them. And after this reflection, I know that I intend to infiltrate their isolation and let them know that Ms. Macc. is still here for them, still learning with them, and still looking forward to what our journey has to offer.