Just call me Calpurnia!

So I FINALLY got around to reading my graduation gift!  It's been less than a year since I received it, so compared to some of the books in my Mt. Everest of a to-read pile, it had a lot less dust on the cover!

The Evolution of Calpurnia Tate by Jacqueline Kelly was just a hoot to read.  It was given to me by my friend and colleague Mary, who is a history buff and reader extraordinaire.  It's a used edition in perfect condition, signed to a Mister John Sexton by the author herself.  Jacqueline Kelly is a local lady, residing both in Austin and in Fentress, Texas, the location of the leading young lady of her book.  Ms. Kelly is also a transplant, hailing from New Zealand, with several degrees to her name.  You don't become a lawyer AND a physician without some love of knowledge and learning, and she communicates those through the main character, Calpurnia Tate.

Calpurnia is an 11 year old girl living in rural Texas, fifty miles from the Austin capital, in 1899.  The middle child of seven, and the only girl, she is a nature-loving budding scientist before her time.  Luckily, she has a grandfather who is a member of the fairly new National Geographic Society, and he supports her efforts in forging a new path for herself.  There isn't a "pat" ending to the book, but you just know that Calpurnia is destined to be a scientist and explorer in her own right.

I connected with Calpurnia in two ways.  First, I am a lover of learning.  In school, I loved reading, biology, algebra, and art.  I couldn't decide what field I liked best, which is one of the reasons I became a teacher!  The other connection I made was with the snow scene in the final chapter.  I had a hard time coming to terms with adult responsibilities when I turned eighteen, until a freak snowfall in March 1984 in El Paso changed my mind.  I don't want to give too much away!

The Evolution of Calpurnia Tate is a lovely read, especially for teachers of girls and of science.  If I was in a general ed fifth to ninth grade classroom, it would certainly be on my read-aloud list.  If I were a science teacher, there are passages I would certainly share with my class to spur their curiosity and observation skills.  As a history teacher, it would be a good start to a discussion of gender role expectations of that period as compared to the present.

A big thumbs-up for this book, and an even bigger thank you to Mary for giving it to me; it's a keeper!

A little of this, a little of that

Ooops, I've been reading, but forgetting to blog about it!  I finished a book a couple of weeks ago, and read a picture book right after...and immediately began thinking of connections between the two.  (We ask students to do this all the time--try and make connections between books they've read.)




The "grownup" book I finished is called Reluctant Pilgrim: A Moody, Somewhat Self-Indulgent Introvert's Search for Spiritual Community, by Enuma Okoro.  It's about a well-educated, well-traveled, deeply spiritual woman looking for a church community to call home.  I'm fascinated with people's spiritual journeys, particularly those of women, and this book called to me with her story.  It wasn't a fast read for me, but it was enjoyable and thought-provoking.  Ms. Okoro and I share similar religious backgrounds, so I was able to connect with the book in many ways.  

After I finished Reluctant Pilgrim, I read one of my latest purchases, Lemony Snicket's   The Dark, illustrated by the award-winning Jon Klassen.  Laszlo is afraid of the dark, and tries to keep it at bay...until one night, it visits him in his room.  What happens next is an explanation of why we need the dark, and an unusual way it helps Laszlo.  With Klassen's trademark spare illustrations, the story opens the door for lots of discussion about the dark and other scary things that trouble children.

Both Reluctant Pilgrim and The Dark talk about the light and dark; the former, in the spiritual sense, and the latter, the stuff that hides behind doors and curtains.  In both books, knowledge comes from darkness, and we know what light is because of the dark.  Both Okoro and Laszlo come to terms with the dark, whether it's the dark night of the soul that Okoro finds herself in at times, or Laszlo's literal darkness; both don't seem so scary anymore, since the light is always a step, or night, away.  

I didn't plan to read these books together, but I'm glad I did.  It was like reading the Cliff Notes on a tough classic novel after poring over the unabridged edition; the picture book put the grownup book into perspective.  What a lovely coincidence!

SOLC 2013 Day 31: Lessons learned

Today marks the end of two challenges I assigned myself this month--the Slice of Life Challenge to blog each day during March, and the Oprah/Chopra 21-Day Meditation Challenge, listening to guiding thoughts and meditating each morning for the last three weeks.

How nice that these goals were met today, Easter Sunday, smack dab in the season of spring and rebirth and new beginnings.  Maybe that's why I'm hesitant to pronounce these challenges as done, met, checked off the list.  Instead, I feel like I've learned a few things to carry me forward.  

Not that I'm feeling all fired up, ready to take on the world.  In my mind, spring is a gentle season, filled with pleasant birdsong, soft rains, breezes and buds just pushing out into the world.  That's how I feel--tender nudges to make small but important changes.  No raging like a hot summer thunderstorm here, barreling out of the gates with missions to accomplish.  Lord knows, I've already got plenty of backlog on my to-do list at work and at home!

So what have I learned?  On writing:

• It is hard to write.  Hard to get thoughts down on paper in a way that makes sense and flows and says what I want them to say.  Hard to know what to put in and what to leave out.  Hard because  what I may be feeling strongly about in the moment may not be appropriate for the forum I'm writing in.  Hard because I'm ending sentences in prepositions, and that bothers my inner grammar police, but the proper way doesn't sound any better.
• I like getting feedback.  I can be a feedback junkie...and I'm not sure that's a good thing.  Sometimes it should just be enough to get it down and put it out there.  Which leads me to my next thought--
• I feel uncomfortable using a blog as a diary.  I really enjoy sharing stories of my past, little snippets of activity like birthdays and baking.  And while some of the best feedback I got was on posts in which I bared my feelings...it felt kinda weird putting them out there for such a broad audience.  Maybe it's because this is really my blog about reading, and this challenge brought out much more that that.  I'll consider having a separate blog if I attempt this challenge next year.
• Writing is hard.  Or have I said that already?

Lessons on meditating:

• Ten minutes is a long time to focus on being still and thought-less.  It helped to have a daily mantra to bring me back from intruding thoughts, but the thoughts kept coming.  
• I really look forward to my meditation time in the morning.  I've always felt kind of guilty for spending most of my pre-dawn alone time playing games on Facebook.  Meditating for some of that time feeds my spirit, instead of exercising my brain cells (my excuse for game playing).  Since I've heard that both can ward off signs of aging, I'm going to try and continue my meditation practice before squeezing in those rounds of Candy Crush.
• Having someone else--or something else--time the meditation is awesome.  I've had a folder full of timed meditations on my desktop for ages...I'm finally going to get around to using them!

So there are no earth-shattering conclusions, no major breakthroughs coming out of this month.  Just a nod to myself for stepping up to these challenges, and a plan to take what I've learned and move forward with it, one babystep at a time.

SOLC 2013 Day 30: The zen of baking

It's been about three months since I last made roll-and-cut sugar cookies.  Truth be told, they're kind of a pain to make, with all the steps it takes to get from mixer to decorated cookie.  For some reason, though, the baking bug bit me this weekend, and I decided to make a batch for our Easter dessert.

I love Penny's Roll and Cut Recipe from Cookie Stories by Penny McConnell and Kathy Sutton.  It consists of a no-chill dough that, as the authors claim, "cuts like a dream".  I added fresh lemon zest and juice to make them taste spring-y, and cut out egg and flower shapes.  

The recipe calls for six cups of flour, and makes dozens of cookies (a fact I seem to forget each time I make the recipe, when it's already too late to cut it in half).  Pretty soon I was in my "baking zone":  flouring and re-flouring the counter as I cut out the shapes, placing them on my silicone-mat-lined baking sheets, re-rolling the scraps to cut more.  Each batch takes nine minutes in my oven, which means I'm turning the sheets every four-and-a-half minutes.  One sheet is in the oven as I'm filling the emptied, cooled sheet with the next batch to go in.  

As the last of the cookies slide into the oven, I realize two hours have passed.  My kitchen meditation done, I wipe down the counters, dump the bowls, spatulas, and cutters into the sink, and wait for the final beep of the timer to sit down and rest...until it's time to make the royal icing and decorate them.

Not my best work...but I don't think my family will mind!

    

SOLC 2013 Day 29: The taste that takes you back

It's dangerous to go grocery shopping on a half-empty stomach.  But these days, it's considered a date for this old married couple we've become.  So off we went to buy food for the holiday weekend.

Halfway through the store, in the aisle with the salad dressings and ketchup, he reminds me that I wanted olives.  I get a jar, and my eyes wander over its neighboring products on the shelves.  There's another jar that catches my eye, full of cauliflower and carrots and red pepper pieces and celery.  Taking a glance at the label--some Italian surname--and reminding myself that I need to slip more veggies into my diet, I place it in the basket.

Fast forward through unloading groceries, making a flower arrangement, reading a bit, taking a nap, waking up to a phone call from my daughter, and then getting the munchies.  The veggies!  I spoon some out for a few bites...

...and realize that this is antipasti.  The antipasti from my childhood, and I'm sitting in a pizzeria off of the Via Domitiana, near the Lago d'Averno.  I'm listening to the grownups laugh and talk as I nibble at the vegetables and ignore the odd-looking meats and cheeses, waiting for my pizza margherita to arrive.  After dinner, if the grownups aren't too tired, I'll be allowed cappuccino served in a tiny white cup on a saucer.

Funny how a jar of pickled vegetables from an HEB in Austin, Texas can send me back to Naples, Italy--no airfare or time machine required.

My grandfather took this picture of my grandmother and our family in front of our house  in Naples, Italy, 1975.

SOLC 2013 Day 28: To widen the circle...or begin to circle the wagons

Compared to many people I know (and popular culture), I was the odd one out when it came to attitudes over two of my "big" birthdays.

I was not enthused about turning eighteen.  For weeks leading up to that milestone birthday, I would lie awake at night and unsuccessfully try to quell my fears over becoming an adult.  Being a grownup did not equate to freedom for me; instead, it meant huge responsibilities.  Deciding where to go to college and what to study, managing money and bills, becoming an informed citizen so I could make an educated vote in the ballot booth that fall...it all seemed daunting, not carefree and fun as many of my friends saw eighteen to be.  I literally cried over the loss of legal childhood status, and the only thing that snapped me out of it was getting snow for my birthday, an unusual event for March in El Paso, Texas.   For whatever reason, it lightened my mood enough to get me out of my funk and let me celebrate.

When I turned forty, I was over the moon.  I was in a good place; my family was strong, I was in good health, and I was happy in my job.  My life was fairly in balance.  I felt gratitude for many people in my life and the experiences they had shared with me, and so I wrote forty letters to both the living and the dead to thank them.  I bought flowers for myself every month that year.  Above all, I finally felt empowered.  I had lived through all that decision-making as an eighteen year old.  I had graduated from college, held a few jobs, married a wonderful man, borne children, buried a parent.  I had lived through losses and gains, and not just in my pants size.  I finally felt like I had enough life experience to completely own my opinions.  Don't get me wrong--my thirst for knowledge is still huge--but I knew that I had something to contribute, too.

What does this have to do with widening circles or gathering the wagons?  As I get older, I love the fact that my circles are widening, both in learning and influencing.  I have reconnected with old friends and made new ones, and their numbers span the globe.  The world wide web has opened up a treasure trove of information and connections with others that excites me to no end.

But when I find myself up against opinions that are so diametrically opposite, I am quick to entertain the thought of circling the wagons.  And I'm not talking politics; as long as you appreciate the freedoms we have in this country, I'll pleasantly (and passionately) debate opposing views without crying foul on our friendship. When it comes to matters of social justice and equality, when others' opinions weigh down my heart because they smack of discrimination, or blame and shame on victims--that's when I entertain thoughts of backing out of their circles.  But then I question myself; am I being too judgmental?  Should I seek to understand the others' opinions, and continue to try to maintain the connections?  Can I just agree to disagree on these matters and move on?  Or should I follow a popular line of advice to surround myself with those who lift my spirits and add joy to my life, forgetting the rest, because life is just too short for more drama?

So much for being the self-assured forty-something...guess it's back to being eighteen again.  

SOLC 2013 Day 27: Too smart for my own good

My family attended a counseling session today.  For privacy purposes, I won't go into which one of us is the main client,  but I do think it's okay to share that we utilize counseling services because I believe there should be no stigma in doing so.  I will say that we are dealing with an ongoing issue that does not involve anything violent or  abusive or potentially damaging to our family relationship.  In fact, I think it's a sign that we're a strong family when we work together on problems, and know when to seek outside help when we don't know what to do on our own.

Whew!  Now that the disclaimer is presented, I want to write about three things I walked away with from today's session.  I'll be interested to see if any of it resonates with my readers, especially those who have also received counseling services--and of those, if any were teachers who have experienced the second topic. Here goes:

1)  Counseling is exhausting, mentally and physically.  I find this interesting, because as I previously stated, we are not working on horribly traumatic, gut-wrenching issues.  We simply have a problem and are trying to get to the root of the cause and fix it.  Discussing family dynamics and the issue at hand for an entire hour, without distraction, had me so worn out that I took a two hour nap this afternoon!  Or maybe, on second thought, it's the exercise of truly listening during that time that involves so much effort and concentration.  As a teacher, I tend to do more talking than listening (I'm working on that!).  This brings me to the next topic--

2)  I was told today that I know too much.  And I totally got what the counselor said.  I'm a trained educator and a trained parent (you don't have kids with amazing birth stories without being a trained parent!).  I've provided special education services, and been on the receiving end as a parent.  I parented and worked in a neonatal unit.  I've sat in on at least a thousand special education meetings for students--most of which involved behavior and disciplinary issues, written functional behavior assessments and behavior management plans, been trained in and facilitated play therapy as a parent.  My current paying job is back in the elementary special education setting.  I get to talk with licensed school psychologists and counselors on a daily basis.  It's tough to separate what you know and practice at work, from what you do and say as a family member.  In some ways that's good; I feel like I may have a bigger "toolbox" to utilize when problems arise.  In some ways it's not so good, because I come across as a know-it-all, even though I feel like I'm constantly saying that I don't know everything.  

Basically, I need to learn that even if I think I know what will work in a given situation... sometimes I just need to shut up, listen, and let someone else step in, step up, figure it out, take over...I need to let go.

3)  I love my family.  I love that we trust each other to deal with problems head on, in open discussion, from a supportive stance.  As I looked around the counselor's office today, I had to smile.  We've created a wonderful family, and it just keeps getting better.  My heart is swelling with joy and pride as we take this journey together.