Numb Bum A Thon

So I said I was going to write every day, and even though it’s been a looong day I am determined NOT to break this resolution…at least not on Day One ;-)

Today, in spite of my struggle to stay awake past midnight last night, I got up very early (all things considered) and drove up to Haverhill for our second Numb Bum A Thon. This event is modeled after Harry Knowles’ (of Ain’t It Cool News) annual movie marathon, which, I believe, is held annually in Austin. Chris Golden and John McIlveen put together a collection of movies that even our/their crowd of cinephiles hasn’t seen, for the most part, and at Mac’s very posh screening room of his apartment complex folks wander in and out throughout the morning, afternoon and evening, eating too much junk food and enjoying the fact that we’re all, for the most part, horror/sci-fi/fantasy geeks to one degree or another.

I will be honest- this year’s movies did not resonate with me the way last year’s did. We watched “Twins of Evil” (an unintentionally hilarious 70s horror film whose male star looked distractingly like Jimmy Fallon), “The Raid- Redemption” (a Korean action film that Max loved but I got bored with the initially impressive fighting sequences), “Juan of the Dead” (this was the winner for me- a Cuban zombie movie that was both funny and, at times, rather poignant – and in spite of its title, NOT a Shaun of the Dead rip-off) and finally, Spider Baby (a late 60s black and white movie that had some surprisingly good performances from two young actresses but was otherwise just…weird. And not in the good way).  Bottom line – what the hell ELSE was I going to be doing today, right? I got to see people I like, I got to hang out with Max and we had a good drive there and back (all the driving to and from Amherst has made the Haverhill haul seem like a cakewalk now). So though I am tired now, and tomorrow is going to be a bear, I’m glad I went.

New Year's Resolutions

So as I mentioned in the comments on a friend’s Facebook query about New Year’s resolutions- I am not a big believer. Generally, I think you can resolve to do things and make changes any day of the year- and you can break those personal agreements just as easily any day of the year as well! So why start off a brand spanking new year with a likely check in the “FAIL!” category?!

But all that said, this year I am making New Year’s resolutions. 2013 is going to be a year of huge changes for me, and I decided that I want to start contributing to the positive nature of those changes right from Day One. You know that old warning NOT to put it in writing? Well the opposite can also be true, so that is why I am putting my 2013 New Year’s resolutions right here where everyone can see them and encourage me both to hang tough in sticking to them and to give myself a break when I don’t.

Without further ado, here is my list:

1.     Change the cat litter every day – My cats are my most constant companions, and they provide me with a remarkable amount of unconditional love and happiness. The least I can do is make their environment more pleasant and sanitary.

2.     Put away the laundry right when it comes out of the dryer, even if another load is still drying – Man, I can sleep for a week or more with a pile of clean laundry on the other side of the bed. And the aforementioned cats really like to sleep in said pile of laundry on the other side of the bed. But that sort of defeats the purpose of, you know, washing said laundry. And it makes my space more chaotic and serves as a constant, visual reminder that I am not getting’ shit done. If I even wait for load #2 to come out, ostensibly so I can fold everything and put like items away at the same time, I am more likely to let it lie. So laundry will be put away as soon as it is done in the dryer. And you, laundry on the drying rack, you’re NEXT, so don’t get too comfy hanging there.

3.     Do dishes before bed every night – I was going to say “do dishes as soon as you’re done with them,” but I think this is where I can cut myself some slack yet still serve the greater purpose of cutting down on chaos in my life.  Plus, this compromise will make the next item on the list easier and more likely to succeed.

4.     Cut up and cook veggies within 24 hours of getting them at the grocery store – I hate hate HATE when I buy some veggies and they go bad (I hate when anything goes bad from my not getting to use it in time, but rotted veggies in particular really irk me). It’s like a squishy, tangible reminder that I am not eating the way I should. So if I cook the veggies within a day of getting them, they won’t go bad and they will be ready to go when I want to use them.

5.     Eat “whole” until Valentine’s Day (except when I am dining out or ordering in or if there’s a special occasion- like tonight) – This is going to be one of the ‘toughies,’ which is why I am only setting a six-week timeline for doing it. To me, eating whole means as few processed foods, and as little sugar, bread, pasta, rice, and dairy products as possible. No, I have not lost my mind and gone whole-hog Paleo (see what I did there? Whole hog…er, never mind) or suddenly been taken over by the anti-gluten Pod People. I just have found that when I eat fresh fruits and vegetables, lean meats and poultry, and use olive oil for my fat – I feel better. And I enjoy the opportunities I get to not eat this way even more (you have no idea how good cake or cookies taste when you haven’t had them in a while. Seriously. Ironically, I have never been a big dessert person, but when you don’t have it for an extended period of time, holy sweet treat does it taste good!)

6.     Drink more water- This one isn’t really that hard. I actually have come to like water, and I almost never drink soda and I don’t really like any juice but pineapple. The only other thing I drink regularly is iced coffee, and the way I make it – it’s mostly water. But I know that I can drink more water, so I am going to resolve to do that- but not set any specific amounts, because I know that I will just kick myself when I don’t meet that specific number.

7.     Write every day- This is THE HARDEST one. I am going to break my own rule and make this a yearlong goal. Write every single solitary day, regardless of what is going on. I may not post everything I write, or I may not be able to post it every day (hey, there will be times when I won’t have internet access when I am driving cross country for the big move), but I will type out something all 365 days of 2013. I have a computer, a tablet and a smart phone  (not to mention the option of going old school and using, you know, a paper and pen) – there simply is no excuse. And I would like to think that by writing every day, I will become a better writer. Oh, and writing for my job(s) totally counts – but posting on Facebook or Tweeting does not. Sorry, Charlie.

8.     Read every day- Another toughie. I love to read; I always have. But for some reason, over the last few years, I have gotten out of the habit of reading and it bothers the crap out of me. I don’t mean reading news stories or following links on FB; I mean reading for pleasure. And I am guilty of being a HUGE hypocrite in that I nag Max all the time about his lack of reading – and then set a totally shitty example for him. So, money where my mouth is- I am going to read for pleasure every day. Not going to set a time limit (what?! I’m not in elementary school!), though- like with the water, I know myself well enough to know that not meeting some arbitrarily-set number goal will just undermine my overall success.

9.     No more baby birds with broken wings – Fixer-uppers. Done. That goes for dates and mates (I use this in the Australian way, not in the ‘stuck with you for life’ way). We are all works in progress, we are all flawed and we all have our own burdens and issues with which we deal. I will support you while you deal with yours, lover or friend, but I am going to stop feeling like I have to somehow fix you or make it better. If, by some bizarre act of G’d or bite by a radioactive spider, I acquire my desired super power of being able to make others feel better simply with my touch, I may drop this one. But barring that, it is time for me to stop looking at others’ potential and start seeing them for who they really are.

10.  This Space Reserved- I may want to come up with another resolution or two, so I am holding this spot for that possibility.

So, today – December 31^st, I have already accomplished #s 1, 3, 4, 5, 6 & 7 and I’m about to go do #2 (snicker  -yes, I am twelve) and #8 will be accomplished while the dessert I am going to enjoy tonight is baking. Happy, happy New Year to all of you, and may your 2013 be everything you want it to be and everything you can make it.

I've Got a New Attitude

So I was teasing on Facebook yesterday that big changes were coming, and I know it had some of you worried. That in and of itself tells me that I’m on the right track with this post. If you see me say “big changes” and automatically think “uh oh,” clearly I’m doing something wrong.

And I’ve been doing something wrong for a while now. To myself. I realized this weekend that I have been very unhappy for quite long time, and I was more or less unaware of it. Not depressed- that’s easy to see. And not even sad- just not happy. Some of the root causes of this I can’t do anything about, but I can change how I act and feel about them and it’s high time I did.

So starting now, today, this instant, I am retaking control of my life. I am going to be a more active and more positive participant in my own life. I am no longer going to just take the path of least resistance, no longer do what’s easy because it’s easier. I’m going to make a concerted and applied effort to find more joy and happiness in my life, and appreciate it more fully when it is present.

Practically, what does that mean? Well, for one, I am going to start making healthier choices for myself. On the physical side, starting today, I’m getting back into a workout routine. The new gym in my building is finally open, with brand-spanking new equipment and a 24-hour clock. I am definitely a “workout in the morning” person, so starting today I am going to be at that lovely new gym every weekday AM. I won’t be able to do a full workout every day (nor should I; apparently muscles need a chance to rest and repair for full effect), but I am going to do some cardio at least every single day and do weights, etc. every other day. I’ll have to start slow, but I think that getting into a routine like this with a very easy, clear-cut goal will help me get back on track. I was so happy when I was working out more regularly, I felt so much better about myself physically, and I am going to remember that feeling and reclaim it. I’m planning to start with 20 minutes a day, every day, on the treadmill, and a full circuit of strength training and stretching every other day. I’d like to work up to 40 minutes a day on the treadmill eventually, and in that 40 minutes do three-ish miles. But that will be determined by how I do to start off with.

In addition to this, I’m also going to get back to eating more healthily. I have never subscribed to the school of deprivation, but for too long now I’ve been indulging myself with food in the subconscious hope that it would make me happier and make me feel better. And for a few minutes, it does- let’s be honest. But in the long run, I am doing myself no favors, and I’m actually devaluing those times when I do indulge because I don’t enjoy it as much; it’s a habit, rather than a treat. I’m not going to do anything radical- no paleo diets or unhealthy cleanses or any of that other trendy nonsense I see people clinging to. I am going to start back on Weight Watchers, to begin with. I need to reset my profile with my current weight, etc. but then it’s full steam ahead. I may even consult a nutritionist, something I have been somewhat skeptical about since I know a lot more about nutrition than most laypeople (and yet I ignore it most of the time, go figure). But it would be good to get some baseline numbers, some tips even I don’t know about and put in the full effort towards a healthier me. My goal here is to lose 50 pounds by Thanksgiving, to finally be at the weight I’ve been only dreaming about for about the past 30 years.

Speaking of dreaming about things, not all of the changes I’m making are in the physical arena. I’ve been unhappy with much of the emotional and social stuff too. Like I said earlier, the causes of some of that I simply can’t control, but it’s time I really and truly dug deep and moved on. So the future I had envisioned and planned for isn’t going to happen the way I’d dreamed it would; there’s no denying that. But I need to really embrace the idea that there is an alternate future for me that is at least as joyful and fulfilling, and I am the only one who can make it happen. I have always had little patience for those who just sat and waited for things to happen to them, yet at some point I turned into one of those people. Well that ends today too. Sure, there are things I can’t control, can’t will into being, but I can make positive changes and actively work towards making good things happen for me and I’ll bet dollars to donuts that more positive things start coming into my life.

Again with the specifics. So, I have a bad habit of knowing what needs doing, in a practical sense, and not doing it or putting it off or half-assing it. Things around the house, working on my column or my other writing, keeping in touch with people… it’s very easy for me to know what I need or want to do and just ignore it with no real consequence in the moment (the downside of a more-than-healthy ego, if you ask me). Starting today, when I think about something that needs doing I am either going to do it right then and there or, if for some legitimate reason I can’t, I’m going to write it down or put a note on my phone and not let it get away from me. Because the truth is, while I may feel like it isn’t really a big deal if I don’t get right to changing the cat litter or washing the dishes or cleaning off my desk or calling merchants about listings or responding to an email, I think that it accumulates like refuse in my psyche and now I have arrived at a place where I am a bit of a human dump, emotionally. And once I have cleaned house of this clutter, metaphorically speaking, I have more room for positivity to find its way in.

This is going to go for the people in my life too. I have some of the most wonderful friends on the planet; there is no question. But there are and have been in my life some people who have not been such positive influences. And out of loneliness or fear or desperation, I have let those people treat me in less than optimal ways. I have allowed myself to be lied to, to be dealt with as if I were an inconvenience or a burden instead of the good friend and joyful presence I should be. That’s not to say I think I’m perfect (far from it), but in some of these cases I have known that I was getting the short end of the stick and for some reason, I took it. Hell, I invited it. And that’s not okay. It’s not okay because of how it makes me feel and how it erodes my self-esteem, and it’s not okay because it diminishes the better aspects of these people.

One aspect of this involves money. I have loaned out a lot of money over the past couple of years, using the money I got in my divorce and that I really should have been setting aside for my future. I’d like to say that my generosity was solely motivated by my desire to help out the people I care about, and I can honestly say that that was the lion’s share of my motivation. But if I am being totally truthful, the other part of that generosity was a feeling that if I gave people money, helped them out when they needed it, they’d like me more. It’s hard to admit that, especially to myself, but it’s the truth. And again, I think this belittles the recipients of the money as much as it diminishes me. So, starting today, I am not lending out any more money. At all. First of all, I don’t really have it to give any more, but more importantly I am going to focus my supportive attention on being emotionally there for the people I care about (as opposed to financially).  And if for some reason that means that people start dropping out of my life, so be it. I didn’t need them any way.

And for those of you who owe me money and are reading this, please know that I do care about you and that your debt doesn’t lessen that any, but I am myself in a less than optimal place right now and could use your help. Please consider making me a priority right now. Skip going out to dinner or buying new shoes or whatever, and pay that money back to me. Every little bit will help, and I truly feel that our friendships will be on more even footing once there isn’t a monetary component to them. Most of you have made inroads at repayment, but if you could make an extra push right now, as my taxes (far greater than I anticipated paying) are due and my college trip with Max looms large and I’m stomaching a 15% rent increase, I would be very grateful. Please set a goal of repaying me in full by the end of summer at the latest, and let’s go into the fall with a clean slate.

And that’s it for now. I’m going to be blogging more regularly again, trying to keep my narrative writing skills sharp and sharing this journey with you. Feel free to comment here on my blog or on Facebook, and if you want to support me or call me out or offer suggestions or ideas, bring it on. I can’t say I’ll do or listen to everything you say (hey, I am still me, hahaha), but I promise you I will appreciate the interest and the intent. Good things are coming, great things are just down the road and I want you all along for the ride.

To err is human; to forgive, divine

Today is Yom Kippur, the Jewish Day of Atonement. In addition to fasting (not as a punishment but as a way to focus one’s thoughts), Jews are supposed to ask for forgiveness from G’d and from those whom we’ve wronged in the past year.  During the Yom Kippur service (which I am choosing not to attend for reasons not worth going into here), there are two alphabetically-organized prayers which focus specifically on this latter aspect – the Ashamnu and the Al Chet. These are traditionally written in the first-person plural (the “we”), thereby acknowledging the collective nature of our sins, but I am going to create my own using the first-person singular as I want to personally accept responsibility for what I have done wrong and on what I want to improve, in the year to come. Even if you don’t see in here something I’ve done or said to you which begs forgiveness, please accept my apology and know that I will be working on doing better in the year to come.

Please forgive me, for I am/was…

Apathetic.  I could have done more to act on what I know needed doing, and I chose not to.

Belligerent. There were many times when I picked a fight or went looking for a disagreement when merely holding my tongue or trying to find common ground would have been a better course.

Cavalier. I took for granted the good things in my life and didn’t work harder to be mindful of them.

Dismissive. You told me something was important to you, or you asked for my help, and I didn’t give it the time, thought, or effort it deserved.

Emotional. I overreacted to something you said or did, and made the situation worse.

Flippant. I responded with humor or sarcasm when a serious issue was raised.

Grumpy. I was in a bad mood and took it out on you even though you were not to blame.

Hot-headed. I lost my temper and lashed out at you when you were really not what I was angry or upset with at all.

Insensitive. I didn’t think about how my words or actions might affect you.

Jealous. I envied what you had and wished that I had it.

Kill-joy. I took things too seriously and forgot that sometimes just enjoying the moment or another person’s existence is enough.

Lazy. I didn’t do what I said I’d do or I did a mediocre job because I couldn’t be bothered to put forth the necessary effort.

Manipulative. I used words or actions specifically to get a certain reaction out of you rather than being genuine and direct.

Needy. I know you are busy and I know you can't spend all day talking to me or answering my emails or addressing my issues. I should have thought about you more and me less. 

Obstinate. I chose not to see your side of our disagreement and refused to back down from my own position in any way.

Passive-aggressive. I didn’t say what I really thought or felt; rather than dealing with you directly, I tried to emotionally manipulate the situation.

Querulous. I complained about minor inconveniences or issues rather than looking at the overall good in my life.

Reactive. I acted or spoke before I thought.

Sarcastic. I didn’t think about how my words might affect you, only about how cleverly I was using them.

Temperamental. I was moody and mercurial when I could have worked harder to keep an even keel.

Unmindful. I overlooked or ignored all of the blessings in my life and took them for granted.

Venomous. I was malicious or vicious in my choice of words or actions and acted specifically to cause you harm.

Waffling. I made decisions I knew were difficult but good for me but then backed off of them in favor or doing what was easier in the short run.

eX. I was not patient or kind to you and chose to let issues which should have been let go of long ago color my treatment of and behavior towards you.

Yammering. I talked on and on or pestered you in some form of communication and didn’t even think about whether or not you wanted to communicate right then.

Zoned out. You were talking to me or reading me something that was important to you and I didn’t listen or focused on something else.

Why I Teach

Yesterday, I blocked a guy on chat on one of the online dating sites to which I belong. He didn’t make any of the usual inappropriate sexual requests I sometimes get or even use chat speak (a huge turnoff, fyi). He asked me why I was a teacher. After hearing about my educational pedigree he couldn’t believe I wanted to be “just a teacher.” Never mind that I get that occasionally even from the parents of my students, whom you’d think would want their kids taught by the best and the brightest. Never mind that I am often faced with fellow teachers who complain endlessly about the amount of work with which they’re “saddled,” or the parents who make unreasonable demands, or even the occasional student whom I’m unable to reach. Absolutely nothing makes me more furious than people wondering why on earth I would teach when I clearly have so many more options available to me. From the day I decided to become a teacher, almost 28 years ago to the day, I have never, ever questioned that this is my path, this is my calling, this is my passion.

I was fasting on Yom Kippur, a sophomore at Brandeis who had realized a bit too late into her “career” as a Theater Arts major that she had very little talent and a too-thin skin to go into the performing arts. I knew I couldn’t continue with what I was doing, but having been committed to being an actress since the age of 12 I really hadn’t given much thought to doing anything else. So given an opportunity for introspection that was rare for a busy 19 year old college student, I sat and thought about what it was I really wanted to do. What made me happy; what was I good at? I thought about how much I loved kids, how much I’d enjoyed being a camp counselor and how fulfilled I’d felt in tutoring and doing some peer counseling in high school. And that was when it hit me: I could be a teacher. I often refer to this moment as “the Jewish equivalent of an epiphany,” because at that exact moment it was like the Heavens opened up, divine light poured through my dorm room window, and then angels sang songs of revelation. It really felt just like that. I knew at that very instant that teaching was what I was born to do. 

And since that second, I have never questioned that I was meant to be a teacher. Sure, there have been low spots in my career (one of which I blogged about on September 11^th; another couple of which I still cannot bring myself to speak about as they reflect so poorly on either my colleagues and/or my students), but for the most part this was one of those moments we all pray for, a moment of such clarity of purpose and singularity of “right” that you know that you cannot even begin to think about questioning it.So, this is why I teach:

·        I teach because there is no feeling in the world like that moment when you see a student who has been struggling with a concept or an idea realize that s/he understands.

·        I teach because I know beyond a shadow of a doubt that my enthusiasm and encouragement carry my students far beyond the confines of our classroom.

·        I teach because the energy I feel when walking around the room or sitting and discussing something with a student one-on-one cannot be duplicated or fabricated anywhere else.

·        I teach because by showing my own children that the most important work they can do is following their passion – not money or fame or prestige- I am ensuring their happiness.

·        I teach because in ways I can’t even begin to understand I was born a teacher, and even if I don’t believe in a G’d who has a hand in my everyday life, I know that this is what I was put on this earth to do.

And sometimes, I get a sign that even when my spirits are down, when I’m not teaching and I wistfully contemplate all the lessons I could be creating and the lives I could be touching… I’m still a teacher. I got the following response to a Facebook posting from a former student who is in Egypt celebrating her 30^th birthday. I was her 5^th grade teacher nearly 20 years ago, and I remarked (on her excited response to visiting the Middle East) that she should try to remember what I’d taught her long ago. Here is what she said:

            You do not understand…ever since your class I have been obsessed with Egypt and have always wanted to go so basically this is AMAZING!!!!! Went to the Egyptian Museum and it was awesome seeing what you taught and I actually remembered a lot! Thanks for turning me on to this – I love it!!

And that is why I teach.

My Thoughts on 9/11

I don’t often talk about September 11^th.  I feel like there are so many more people who suffered so much more than I did that by even telling my tale from that dark day, I’m somehow equating my pain with theirs…which would be ridiculous. But, I do have a story from that day and it does bear sharing, if for no other reason than to remind me of how very lucky I am to be a teacher.

In September of 2001, I was teaching at a small, independent school outside of Boston (no, not the one at which I was teaching most recently). It was, I believe, my second full year in the 5^th grade, and we had what our fellow teachers euphemistically referred to as “a challenging group” that year. To translate for those of you who are not teachers, this usually means “pain in the ass;” in this case, it meant in particular “huge social issues; precocious, teen-like behavior, particularly among the girls.” But to be honest, I loved that group of kids and had been looking forward to being their teacher (and I believe my co-teachers felt the same way). Yes, they had some social dynamics issues and yes, they could be a handful at times, but for the most part they were a lively, friendly, invested bunch of kids who were every bit as affectionate and humorous as they were, on occasion, mean-spirited and careless.

I am not sure who first told me about the plane hitting the first tower; it was definitely one of my co-teachers, but I can’t recall which one (one of them is probably reading this, so feel free to fill in my blanks, Kristen).  I do remember that I was sitting at my desk, and that our students were engaged in some sort of noisy, independent activity that really needed only my occasional admonishment to keep it down for the classes on either side of us. I was probably grading papers or checking email, to be honest.  When Sue or Kristen came up from behind me (my back was to the classroom door), and whispered in my ear that a plane had flown into the World Trade Center,  I had a moment of absolute certainty that this was not the worse news I’d be getting around this event…not by a long shot. And as the day progressed and we heard about the second plane and the plane hitting the Pentagon and the heroes who brought down the plane in the field in Pennsylvania, that feeling didn’t diminish even a little; with each and every more upsetting piece of news came a gut-wrenching sense of, “There’s more.”

Reaching out via phone and internet to check on all of the many people I knew in and around NYC and DC was a painstaking process but ultimately provided nothing but relief and joy.  Anthony, who worked down near the WTC, was fine; Bryan, who worked near the Pentagon, was safe. Even Amy, who should have been on the subway right at the WTC stop when the Towers fell was- as she so often is/was, thank goodness! – late for work and safe.  Everyone I knew closely and personally was fine.  I breathed a sigh of relief as the day came to a close, pushing aside that feeling that the other shoe simply hadn’t dropped.

As I went to exit the school building, I walked past my friend Marge, the librarian sitting at her usual perch behind the checkout desk. Her eyes were red from crying, not an unfamiliar look for the day. I stopped to offer comfort, assuming she had known someone who had died; I felt so lucky that I hadn’t, the least I could do was be a strong, less-effected shoulder on which to lean. We talked in general terms about the tragedy, and then I said, “I just feel so lucky that everyone I know was okay.” And what followed was perhaps one of the longest silences in my life. “They…weren’t?”  I asked. Marge’s eyes filled with tears again, and I racked my brain to come up with whom we both knew and about whom I might have forgotten to inquire.  “Cassie’s mother,” replied Marge simply (I am recreating this exchange from a memory clouded with time and pain, so if it seems somewhat stilted, I apologize).  I laughed in relief. Cassie was a delightful, somewhat iconoclastic young lady in our class whose parents were on a trip to California; they had left that day, taking separate planes as parents – particularly late-in-life parents of only children- sometimes do. “No, no!” I exclaimed in relief. “They’re both fine- I asked!” Marge just looked at me. “They’re…not?” I said, echoing my previous, tremulous tone of voice. “We’re not supposed to know, or talk about it, but her mother was on the second plane. She’s gone.” And that is really the last thing I remember from that day.

In subsequent hours, I would have lengthy phone conversations with our head of school, both of my co-teachers, my parents and, probably, a dozen other people. I remember none of them. I do remember that I was informed that Marge’s information was, in fact, correct: Cassie’s mother had been killed when the second plane hit the Towers. Cassie’s father’s plane had, like all planes, been grounded and he was trying desperately to find a way home to be with her. The next morning, we met as a faculty before the students got to school and the following edict was issued: we were not to tell Cassie that her mother was dead.    The consulting psychologist who’d been brought in to help the students and us deal with the tragedy admonished all to take care of ourselves if we really wanted to be there for our students, and I remember very distinctly his encouragement that we drink water as stress is dehydrating (to this day, when I go to have a glass of water in response to stress, I think of that day).

It took Cassie’s father nearly a week to make it back to Massachusetts from the Midwest, what was easily the longest and worst week of my teaching career.  Every time I’d see Cassie happily playing on the playground or with her nose buried in a book or even doing something as mundane as avoiding eating the tuna from the salad bar, I’d think about how dramatically her life was about to change.  Nothing would ever be the same for her; there was no way to even cushion her from the pain she was soon going to receive. One of the reasons I so love being a teacher is that I feel nearly every minute of every day that I am doing something to help make better and more interesting the lives of people whom, I hope, will someday go on and make the world a better, more fun, and more positive place. But here I was completely unable to do anything; I knew full well that even after Cassie was aware of what had happened, there wasn’t a goddamned thing I could do to make it better. Only time could do that, and even in my usual hubris I recognized I had no ability to speed up that…or Cassie’s healing.

Eventually Michael came home, Cassie was informed, and their family took a few days to circle the wagons and grieve somewhat privately (one of the awful parts of keeping this secret for that week was not being able to react as strongly as I would have otherwise during the nonstop news coverage). When Cassie came back to school, her classmates- viewed before as self-serving troublemakers – rallied around her in a way that belied even our highest expectations. The “mean girls,” who on occasion in the past had mocked Cassie’s more tomboyish ways, wouldn’t leave her alone to the point where I think they rarely even let her go to the girls’ room by herself. Cookies were baked, playdates were arranged, clothing and hair doodlies were loaned back and forth… one of their own had been hurt, and our students in their infinite wisdom and depth of heart recognized that they needed to protect her as best they could after the fact. It was a long rest of the year, and it wasn’t until very near its end that Cassie had the inevitable catharsis necessary for moving on with her life.

 

But she has.  She and her father moved to Florida after that year; his family was there, and it gave her the opportunity to be away from the memories here and be closer to them. She took up golf, and we heard fairly regular updates about her success in both academics and athletics. She’s now a student at Wellesley College, back in Massachusetts… and an occasional visitor to my Facebook (as she and many of her classmates from back then are my FB friends). She retains that goofy sense of humor and irony that would show itself so frequently even in the awful weeks after her mother was killed, and it is nothing short of a blessing that we get to see how well she turned out. It makes that endless week, that long, long year all worthwhile… and then some.

So today, I am going to think of good things. Not of misguided pastors who erroneously think they are acting on the will of G’d in burning the holy books of others; not of those who would fight the erection of a religious structure and in essence betray the memories of all who died because our country continues to defend that right. I am going to think about the fact that I was blessed not to lose anyone close to me that day , that the person I know who did honors her mother’s memory every day, and that even in the face of horrible adversity… even children can show grace and kindness.