Well I had a Plan, But....

I had planned to build my first of several raised bed vegetable gardens today, but that's not how today went.

Today was the Last Day (capitalized on purpose) to get what we needed before truly holing up for good. I thought surely I'd have a few minutes today to run to Home Depot and grab some vegetables and soil to add to my compost and plant my garden because really who knows how long this thing is going to last?

It just didn't go that way.

Today was our first day of school following Spring Break, and I loved seeing all of my teachers interacting with our kids online in their virtual classrooms. Students were asking for more work, something to do, asking how their teachers were, and sharing what things were like and how they were feeling.

Broke my heart in the best way.

I sent kids links to online museums and public library websites, artists and chefs and authors sharing their thinking because what better way to understand author's craft than to hear it straight from the author?

I'm committed to showing the things I'm invested in doing to spark ideas, encourage anyone needing encouragement, and showing how we can use this experience to grow our skills and interests in positive ways. But I also feel like it's worth validating how overwhelmingly unreal this all feels to me.

Is it me or does anyone else feel like we are attending the wedding of The Grapes of Wrath and Twisted Sister presided over by none other than Isaac Asimov?

I made one last trip to Whole Foods yesterday because my daughter is vegan and, after surveying our pantry, I realized she wouldn't make it through two weeks of quarantine with out a few more options. I LOVE going to the grocery store, mostly because I am a food nut! I walked through the store kind of lost, wondering what I should get. The store posted limitation signs on items like nut butters, canned vegetables, grains, and other staples to avoid shortages like that of toilet paper. I have never cried over a can of tomatoes, but this was the last straw. Two cans of stewed tomatoes remained, exactly what I needed to make the double batch of stew I'd planned to make and freeze--just in case.

It was just too much. The tears just came. In the middle of the canned tomatoes. The reality of the unknown days ahead overwhelmed me in that moment. I just felt so sad that in such a short period of time, our entire way of life was completely foreign. I'd dealt with my kids who were irritable (understandably so), those closest to me who I could see from the safety of six feet away but not hug or comfort. The impending isolation became very real in that moment.

I'm not going to spend much time being all victim-y, but I do think it's worth taking a minute, giving ourselves the space and freedom, to feel the heaviness of our world right now. Some things we can't change, but some things we can.

We can stay home.

We can put sight words in our front windows so the kindergarteners can practice them on walks. We can ask our neighbors how they are from our side of the street. We can encourage everyone we influence and we can pray for mercy.

Tomorrow I am doing yoga and planting one of my gardens. That means it's happening. Sleep well, friends. 

Clean Team!

When the kids were little, I researched natural ways to make my own everything. I made their baby food from real vegetables and fruit. I grew flowers, herbs, vegetables, and fruit in our yard so they could see where some food comes from, to have the satisfaction of knowing that the blackberries they picked are in their PBJ for lunch the next day. Since the three of us had a tendency to be highly allergic to all kinds of things, I also made the cleaners I used in our house. Cleaning often comes with the toddlers-who-play-outside territory.

Oh the internet and its resources! Recipes for cleaning all kinds of surfaces with your own household chemistry set flow in abundant 1s and 0s online. The perfect concoction of custodial ingredients depends on the surface to be cleaned and what unwanted entity is to be removed from said surface.

A Google search, Instagram, Pinterest, or Martha Stewart's website produces recipes for just about every cleaning need imaginable! Before getting started, here are the things I collected prior to mad scientist mixology.

Fun Facts

Some recipes also incorporate vodka, but teachers can't post alcohol online... Also here are a few tips I've learned over the years of mixing up my own cleaning products that might be of interest.

• Tea Tree oil is a natural antibiotic.
• Lavender reduces stress and creates a sense of clam. Not a bad idea right now...
• Citrus juices are acidic (THIS is when you will use the pH scale from high school chemistry. You know you asked, "Why do I have to learn this?") and acids break down grimy stuff. Lemon and lime provide just enough to do the trick with the added bonus of smelling clean and happy.
• Castile soap is like the stem cell of cleaning. Just read the side and you wouldn't believe all the things pure castile will clean! Dilute castile whenever using it. Think preteens with Axe... Just a little bit goes a long way. Too much is, well too much. 
• Vinegar and baking soda breakdown stubborn things. Seriously, baking soda is the best toilet bowl cleaner and much cheaper than that thing that turns the water blue. 
• Borax works great to boost cleaners, especially in the bathroom. 
• Bleach, of course, but be careful! It will take the color out of most everything.

My multi-surface cleaner includes rubbing alcohol, vodka, castile, a few drops of dish soap, tea tree and orange oil, and distilled vinegar in a squirt bottle then diluted with water. I use it on all surfaces (including the fridge) except wood. Honestly, I even used it on some wood surfaces yesterday because I'm not willing to roll the dice.

Mixing up your own cleaners might be a fun distraction for younger kids. If you have slightly older ones, have them research the chemical properties of these household staples. They should be able to explain the chemical reactions taking place that cause grimy things to break down or change when other chemicals are added. While you're at it, make some elephant toothpaste just for a fun distraction.

When every Clorox wipe has wiped it's last and there are no more left on the pillaged Target cleaning aisle, we can always revert to the cleaning tricks of our great great grandmothers. Happy Cleaning!

Coronapocalypse!

My seventh grade history teacher, Miss Holland, used one explanation when teaching us about dark events in history--People behave differently in wartime than they would in peace time.

I think we can all agree that man vs. virus counts as a new kind of significant conflict.

And we can already see examples of people who are behaving differently under these seriously bizarre circumstances.

As in all things, I'm approaching this challenge as an opportunity to, well, look for more opportunities within the confines of viral avoidance and social distancing. I'm an extremely social person so the unknowns ahead of us as humans feels a tad like becoming an unwilling character in a Choose Your Own Adventure book called Virus Attack! Every page is full of information and choices that lead to something unknown but also will include more information and more choices. We don't know how long we are in this deal, so getting my head around the possibility that the current reality may be our new normal buzzes around my head like an inconvenient annoyance that won't go away so I can get on with things. My things. My plans.

My things and plans feel less imperative at the moment.

We study history to learn from those who lived before us so we take what worked and carry it forward and leave behind what didn't. I'm a World War II buff, so some of my favorite stories include common themes--kindness, sacrifice, tenacity, hope, bravery, love. Those characteristics saved people, cultures, resources, art, and humanity. So I'm doing my part to be a giver and not a taker, a vehicle for positivity instead of gloom and doom because when we look back on these very strange times, people will remember who we became in uncertain times. More importantly, I will look back on who I became in these uncertain times.

There. All done with philosophical positioning on a virus named after a beer that is only drinkable with the assistance of a lime.

I'm committing to a daily update from the Teacherwithtude on what I'm doing with my uncommon incarceration...

Making time for the arts.
Grow a bigger vegetable garden.
Maybe get some chickens?
Spend more time outside.
Read for fun.
Watch less TV.
Can some food just in case...
Reach out to people I haven't seen in a while.
Write more.
Spend more time with my kids since they are barely still kids!
Make my life less busy and more meaningful.

A Note to My Teacher Friends:

If any group of people were ever prepared for something like this, it's you. Teachers are the CEOs of the corporations that are their classrooms. Teachers plan for specific outcomes and design plans for kids to engage in the experiences to learn and grow. Teachers love kids like they are their own children. Take care of yourselves and remember that twenty years from now, your students will remember YOU, the teacher that taught them and kept something consistent in their little lives when they felt afraid and anxious and uncertain. You are the thread of our communities and you are a significant reason we will all get through this better people than BC (Before Corona).

Check out my first task tomorrow -- Cleaning House!

Busy Bee!

Maybe you didn't know this, but the name Melissa actually means honey bee. I know this because it's a rite of passage when little girls get to the age where they hit double digits, they tend to be completely obsessed with their names. I'm pretty sure that nearly all tourist trap souvenir shops have a display filled with bike-sized personalized license plates, sticker sets of puppies and kittens, and useless laminated cards that tell what common names mean. And Melissa means honey bee.

Ironic, right?

I get a whole lot accomplished, and people ask me quite often if I ever sit down. I actually sit still quite a bit. It's in the sitting still that I come up with all the things I think it might be fun to knock out or try to learn. At the very least, it's usually an excuse to take a road trip to someplace interesting or buy a tool. In a few days during Spring Break, I knocked out one serious garage clean out/reorganization, a small painting project, some woodworking projects, and a minor flower bed makeover. I planned my new fence, dreamed a little bit more about what I'd like to create in my back yard, and I thought a little bit about what I want to be when I eventually grow up. I did more than that, but you get the idea.

The not-so-great part of having lots of ideas lies in the execution. I've been called the Queen of Unfinished Projects. (Raising hand. Guilty as charged.) So I've made a concerted effort to change that over the last few years. I still have a ton of unfinished projects--half-knitted scarves, a pile of recipes I want to try, TWO half-stripped old doors in my garage, and an overflowing Pinterest board or two--but I'll get to them.

I had an advisor in college who used to say this:  "Melissa, the people with the most to do get the most done." He was so right.

Honey bees are creatures who are so busy they defy physics. Their tiny wings shouldn't be able to keep their bodies off the ground, much less fly them from one flower to another to another then back to the hive where they do what again? Kick their little bee heels up and watch TV? No, those suckers fly home, check on the Queen, build the hive, and make honey. They are productive because they live and work in a way that never loses sight of their purpose. I don't know if it's in their bee DNA or if that's just one heck of a motivational queen, but those little suckers get their To Do list knocked out!

I wonder if they sleep...

All this rambling on to say I'm taking a page from the swarm handbook. Choose goals that serve the long-term purpose and the species as a whole then just flap as hard as possible to get it done. The other interesting thing I notice about bees is that they always make time to smell the flowers. So here's to being busy, but not so busy that I don't take time to smell the flowers life hands me.

Gratitude

I love this time of year! My giant family gets together, holidays provide an excellent excuse for me to spend hours making ridiculous amounts of food no one will ever finish eating, and I find it much easier to see gratitude around me. I drill it in my kids' heads that they have plenty for which they may feel grateful, but this year it's much easier than any other holiday season I can remember. We had Christmas in July.

We found ourselves looking for a new house last fall. The process of getting into and out of that situation could provide enough content for an entire season of bad soap opera, so I won't go there. I just knew I had to find a place I could afford in an area with schools I wanted my kids attending absent of cookie-cutter floor plans and throw in some real trees and neighbor kids. Piece of cake!

I looked at four houses. Then I found the perfect one! And a week later I made an offer on the ugliest, most neglected house I have probably ever seen sitting across the street. My parents thought I'd completely lost my mind, and the kids wanted to move into the "hide out" in the garage immediately. Three people told me I could do it--my realtor, a dear old friend, and my architect.

This isn't a DIY house project blog, although I would love to write that one too. This is about possibility and determination and friendship and showing up when a situation looks hopeless.

I had a plan, a mental picture of the end result, and a sledge hammer. What else could I possibly need? I didn't know it at the time, but I was going to need a few thousand miracles to get it done. And I got every single one.

The kids and I spent evenings pulling up parquet, chipping out tile, and knocking holes in walls. I gave Nate a sledge hammer and told him to go make a hole in the paneling in the den so I could see if there was sheetrock behind it. He looked at me like I'd surely lost my mind because he was pretty sure holes in the walls were on the Things I'm Not Supposed To Do List. So when I told him to go for it, he grabbed a Sharpie and drew a target.

As I started to share my plans with my family and a few friends, the ominous looks became increasingly frequent. "Are you sure you know what you're doing?" Not exactly, but I knew it would work out.

And it did. I'm sitting in my new living room sans parquet, awful track lighting, a few walls, and nasty paneling this morning thinking about how the walls are full of love, selflessness, and a heaping cup-runneth-over kind of gratitude because I know there's no way I could've pulled this off without the people who pitched in when I needed help and made this place happen.

I will never forget the look on the guy's face at Home Depot when a co-worker and I picked up a bath tub during lunch one day wearing skirts and heels, we moved that sucker off the shelf, to the check out, into her SUV, and through my back door. I couldn't have pulled down all of the walls without a life-saver of a friend who crawled under and over this place to make sure the trusses would hold the roof. I couldn't have painted the 12 coats of paint on every wall and ceiling without my mom, my great aunt, and my brother who are still looking for their t-shirts that say "My sister renovated a house and all I got is this lousy t-shirt." And I still wouldn't know the front of the house had a stone facade if my dad hadn't have come over with two hedge trimmers as soon as I closed on this place. No exaggeration! It looked like color-blind Tarzan had been squatting in this place with a secret evil plan to unleash the mosquitoes he was breeding in the overgrown flower beds in an attempt to take over the world.

And that's not even close to the long list of people who showed up exactly when I needed something or someone to move forward.

Was I nuts? Maybe. Would I do it again? In a heartbeat.  See, I had no idea how many people here loved and cared about me enough to give up a weekend or significant amounts of blood to help me out. When I look around this place, I don't see just walls with new crown moulding or gorgeous new wood floors--I see the people in my life who showed up for me and my kids when we desperately needed their help and didn't even realize it.

I've always been one to point out to my kids how much they have to appreciate because the world they are growing up in tells them the opposite. In reality, the worst day of their lives they will still be living like kings compared to most children in the world, and it's important to me that they understand that. They don't, but someday they will. But I can promise you they take very good care of their house because they know how much hard work THEY put into building it.

So I'm beyond grateful this Thanksgiving week--not only for a fun house in an amazing neighborhood with kids we love running all over the place, but also for the knowledge that love, friendship, sacrifice, and a lot of great stories live in these walls. I'm so thankful that I live in a constant reminder that I'm not in this all by myself. And that is plenty!

This year, I'll look around the table and see people who aren't just family and friends, but those pivotal people in my life who hold me up when I can't do it.

Happy Thanksgiving!  

Remembering Kyle

I'm back!

Many blogs to come about just what's been keeping me away, but before I tell that story I'd like to tell a few other stories...

I've been playing with ideas for a few weeks, but none seemed quite right just yet. I woke up to the familiar overload of ideas in the circus that is my head at 4 (note time change-it's usually 3 am when this happens!). This idea demanded an audience, and I can't think of a topic more deserving of my attention.

One of my former students passed away last week, and, even though I have known for years that this was coming, it hit me like nothing I expected. No one should ever have to endure the death of a child, but life doesn't typically ask permission nor does it guarantee that every day is going to come gift wrapped regardless of my opinion. So in my always-looking-for-the-silver-lining-kind-of-way, of course I've been mining my heart and mind to figure out what I can take forward from my experience with this brave young man that would light up Heaven with his smile.

Kyle was born with a syndrome that greatly reduced his life expectancy and promised many medical challenges along the way. I'm sure I don't know more than a fraction of what his family endured caring for him, but what the people who raised that young man instilled in him will forever impress me.

I will never forget the first day I met Kyle. That kid knew how to make an entrance! He rolled in my classroom pushing his Mustang of a walker with enough gear attached to climb Everest, parked it in the middle of the room, made himself comfortable in the front-and-center seat at my table, looked at me, and said, "You are a beautiful lady."

And I'd say that's pretty typical of this little charmer. Now he also had a bit of a stubborn streak, so we had to compromise on a few things. For instance, the Mustang couldn't very well stay parked right there in the middle of God and everybody, so we made it a "Reserved" parking space with duct tape. Every Monday, I could not start class until Kyle told me about his weekend, which usually became somehow connected to our topic for the week. Needless to say, with Kyle as a student, maniacal laughter was guaranteed on a regular basis.

I could tell a million Kyle stories, but those are mine. The one I find looping in my thoughts when I remember him lingers as possibly the most touching thing a student has ever done for me. The second year I taught Kyle, our classes changed quite a bit with new juniors and the loss of a few seniors. The dynamic was of course a bit different, and the kids with whom I'd spent the previous year knew how things just sort of went in my class, and the new guys weren't quite on board yet. One day, we were off and running when one of my new students walked in about 20 minutes late, as was his habit. I asked for his pass to class, and this kid got right in my face yelling. And I won't lie--it was scary! Before I had a chance to say or do anything, Kyle put his little balled up fists on the table next to me, pushed himself to his full 4-foot-something height, stepped between this kid and me with his finger pointing in his face, and said something I will never, ever forget. "Hey! This is a lady, and you don't.....talk......to a LADY.....that way! Got it!"

And everyone froze.

The kid backed down and found his seat without another word. I sat down and went on with my reading group. The other kids followed suit. But Kyle turned around to the kid who in his mind had greatly insulted me and said, "Apologize." And he did too.

When the bell rang that day, I told the tardy kid I needed him to bring me his pass. I asked Kyle to stick around for a minute. His face told me he thought for sure he was in trouble. But I sat down and told him thank you, that I thought he was one of the bravest young men in the whole school, and in the future I could take care of the kids who didn't bring their passes to class. He said, "Yes, ma'am."
Before he drove his Mustang out of its reserved parking space, I also told him he was my hero, and that pretty much made his day.

I sat in the pew at his memorial service last Saturday laughing and crying at so many similar Kyle stories from other people whose lives were not just touched but truly changed by their experience of knowing Kyle. I didn't ask why this sweet young man had to suffer or why anyone has to be born with an illness they will never beat. I was just grateful for Monday Morning Maniacal Laughter Stories, pimped out walkers, and that I got to know and love such an untarnished example of completely selfless bravery.

When I heard that Kyle had passed away last week, the first thought that volunteered in my head was of him running and laughing with his dog that had died years ago across a big green field like a track star. I'm pretty sure that's right on.  

Christmas Came Early!

This is the best story! I just HAVE to share it!

About 6 weeks ago, I got wind of a situation where everyone involved was at the end of their rope, and that sucker was unraveling...fast! This is the story of a kiddo I'll call Frank.

Frank has been dealt a rough hand. He has a pair of 2's. The awesome thing about a pair of 2's is that it can become something else. Check it out!

Frank is absolutely slammed with learning disabilities. He is 15 and can't read. Not only is learning a real challenge for him, he doesn't really play well with others. So even if someone is trying to help him, he is a tough kid to help. Frank was failing almost every subject a year ago when his parents pulled him out of school, just shy of finishing up his first semester of 9th grade. They moved to Vegas, and instead of enrolling Frank in school, they made him work construction.

Fast forward to August...Frank's family moved back to town, reenrolling him in school where he is basically right back where he started more than a year ago. Frank is less than thrilled to be starting all over without any credits, still unable to read, and still not really feeling like his pair of 2's is worth staying in the game. As if that weren't enough, Frank's father was deported, and his mother chose to go with him. Frank was left with his 19 year-old sister. I don't know Frank's sister, but even the most responsible 19 year-old is not any kind of equipped to raise a 15 year old, particularly one with the massive amount of investment this kiddo desperately needs. And Frank knows that too. That's probably why he's turned to some gang-affiliated friends to make sure someone is going to stick with him.

Frank probably doesn't realize it, but life dealt him a wild card or two. Frank has two teachers who got together and asked for help. They ended up with an intensive intervention plan that Frank couldn't escape no matter how hard he tried. He landed himself with 50 minutes of daily reading instruction, and no one really thought it would work, including Frank.

Imagine Frank's surprise 6 weeks later when he found himself holding a full house! Frank's teachers were probably the most shocked! Now he's not reading on grade level, but he's improving at a drastic rate because two people showed up, followed the plan, and expected him do his part to follow it too.

I don't know about you, but this was just about the best Christmas present I can imagine! I'm feeling grateful that I got to be a tiny piece of the solution. This story is far from over, but at least there's some hope glimmering for everyone who was staring at a pair of 2's and a hopeless-looking situation.

So here's to hope! And a Merry Christmas.