Lessons Learned From Painting a Room

Posted on July 7, 2016 by Bob Martin

20160703_200551During this past week, I spent four days trapped in our daughter’s room. I accepted the challenge to repaint the room – changing it from a little girl’s room to that of an older, more mature, young lady. It happened. She looked at me a month ago and asked for me to change her room. She was ready to grow. I was not. Yet, I accepted the challenge and completed it.

The funny thing about being trapped in a room for four days is that you get a lot of time to think. So many things came through my head. I figured out how to kill a character or two in the current murder mystery I am writing. Then I had to figure out the clues left behind for the detectives. This guy is tricky so I am still working that. Once I stopped writing in my head, I let my thoughts wander. That’s when I realized that painting really lends itself to lessons about life. Here is just some of the ramblings that went through my head.

The first lesson I learned is that nothing in life is quite as easy as it seems. When our daughter first asked me to take on the task, I thought about the painting I did last summer of the living room and dining room. It has large open walls with a few corners and open ceiling. I also was using the same colors. I thought that was easy; how hard can this be? HA! I did not think about the fact that I had sky blue on the ceiling and hand-painted cartoon characters on the wall. The fact that she wanted stripes didn’t seem so bad. I forgot that the closet was open so that walls turned a number of times. I forgot about the taping, scraping, spackling, and cleaning. I didn’t think about moving furniture back in forth in a little room. As I started tackling the jobs, I thought about how this really matched life. So often we agree to do things without really looking at how much of a commitment it will really take. This job reminded me of many times in my past when things were presented to me much like I looked at the painting. It will be an easy, not much time needed job. I learned, or was reminded, that when I look at taking on new jobs, I really need to make sure that I really know the commitment I am promising.

The next lesson that kept coming up time and time again is that you cannot quit once you have started. You need to see things through to the end. There were so many times in those four days that I wanted to stop and yell defeat. I know a number of people who do painting on the side, and I could have offered any one of them a job. Yet, our daughter was depending on me to finish the job. At the end of each day, my body was sore (I am sure anyone who has painted a house would agree). I went through a shirt a day which can now only be used for work around the house. I finished the second coat on the ceiling only to see half blue and half yellow and felt as if this job would never be done. Throughout it all, I had a little one watching the progression of the job. She saw me complete each task. I need her to see me complete the job as a lesson that you never quit (Okay – you can quit some things). This job actually reminded me as I get ready to head back to work from a few weeks off of the tasks waiting for me. It gave me the strength to go back and have the same attitude. I hope our daughter takes away the same.

Painting this room by myself taught me how much better life is with a partner. Normally when I start at a job of this size, my wife jumps right into the mix with me. She is normally there by my side helping – not so this time. My wife was only a couple of days into her recovery from her second knee replacement surgery. While she wanted to be able to help, it would have been a little scary to see her using a walker while on a ladder. However, it is not just in painting that I truly appreciate my wife being my partner. I often thought about how much easier things could be with the right partner by my side. I made sure to say right partner because our daughter did try to come in and help. I allowed her to try. I helped her learn how to paint, and we worked together. I went back over those areas after she left. You don’t want just anybody to be your partner, it has to be the right person. Doing this by myself made me realize just how much my wife means to me. She is that right partner. I missed her on this project and am so thankful she is by my side in all other endeavors.

The last lesson, that I will share, is that it is hard being the parent of an only child. Back in20160701_120154 January, I wrote about the Single Child Syndrome. Now I am looking at it from the viewpoint of the parent. Single children deal with a different world since they do not grow up having to deal with siblings. They must learn all of the social skills through interacting with friends. I believe parents of these children also must deal with situations unlike those of multi-children parents. I am the youngest of four – not only are their four boys in my family, but the time span between births is only 4 years 8 months. I think by the time I was ready to grow and move through different mile stones, my parents were happy just to be done with another one. I think there was little sentimentality in my walking, my talking, my being ready to move to the next phase. I also think that as my brothers moved through the phases, my parents were too busy running herd over us to be sentimental. Since we only have one child, these moves through stages hit hard.

When our daughter came to me to ask for the painting, it came out as…”Daddy. I want to change my room. I am too old to have Ariel on my wall. Can you paint over them?” I asked her to think about it. “I have. I need a room for a grown-up girl.” There would be no talking her out of this. She was ready whether I was or not. I was not. I started thinking about it, and this seems to be a June/July thing. Each summer she announces another big change and how she is ready to be more grown-up. I believe that it has something to do with preparing for the next grade in school.

So I accepted her wishes. I walked into her room and looked at the cartoon characters that have been on her wall since before she was born. Ariel and Flounder over her bed. Pooh greeting her as she entered. Tigger reading a book behind her dresser. I stood looking at each. Remembering. I remembered walking a baby into this room and showing her each character. I remember walking the room at two in the morning with a crying child showing her each one hoping to get her to calm down. I remember rocking her as she was fed and making silly voices so that she could hear her friends talk. Then there were the stars and planets to come off the ceilings. Stars which held her wishes. Now they fall so that I can paint over the sky and sun. This job made me accept that our daughter was growing no matter how much we wanted her to stay young. Time moves forward and our daughter is skipping down the road of the future.

20160701_091906So with paint brush in hand, the sky and sun disappeared. The radio actually played Here Comes the Sun with the first brush of paint. The roller moved over Tigger and I heard Cat’s in the Cradle. It was more than just the music tugging at my heart-strings. But paint over them I did. The characters kept showing up. More paint to remove her childhood, but nothing can remove my memories.

So now the job is done. She has a room set-up for a pre-pre-teen. It has taught me about myself and about her. I will take my lessons with me as I move on to the next project either at home or work. I will look at our daughter differently. She is still young – just not as young as she was yesterday. She wants to grow-up. While we will make sure that that doesn’t happen too fast, we will need to let it happen. She will always be my little girl. However, now that Tigger, Pooh, Ariel, and Flounder do not greet me when I step into her room, I find that I am ready to walk with her into the next phase of her life. I am excited to see where it takes us. I fear that this part of her life will be over all too soon. I will enjoy it while I can.

So that is what I learned from painting a room. Thank you for meandering with me tonight.

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Father’s Day Thoughts

Posted on June 19, 2016 by Bob Martin

Collage 2016-03-23 21_54_07This morning I was sitting quietly taking advantage of the quiet time when our daughter came running down the steps, across the room, jumped in the chair with me, and squeezed me tight. She lovingly wished me a Happy Father’s Day. Yes, today is the day when many children reach out to their dads with thanks, or take a moment to remember the dads who are no longer with us. The nice thing is that while the words don’t happen every morning, the hugs, at least for now, still occur every day. I am not sure how long these will last, hint hint teen years, but I will take them as long as she gives them.

Prior to the nice hug, I had time to sit in silence and think about Father’s Day and what makes a dad. FB is full of comments stating that anyone can be a father, but it takes a special man to be a dad. This saddens me because judgements are being made about people without knowing them. Yes. There are a number of men who father a child and then walk away. They want nothing to do with the child. The words I have for them, I will not post here. There are also men who want to be part of their children’s lives but cannot. I feel for those men today.

So what makes a good dad? I don’t know. No manual comes with a baby that tells you what to do. We are all doing this by the seat of our pants. Yes, if you go to any book store, there are a number of books on parenting and how to raise a child. I found two problems with these books. The first is that they disagree with each other. The second is time. Who, once a child enters the home, has time to sit down and read all of these books? I really feel that parenting comes from using the examples and mentors in your life to show what to do and what not to do. I also think that common sense is a big player when it comes to parenting. Finally, time. I notice that when people tell me that I am a good dad, it has nothing to do with what I am providing for my child, but the fact that I give my time.

I also think that I am lucky in the fact that I am an older parent. I had the chance to watch my friends raise children. I watched as their children grew into some great adults. I made mental notes as to what they did and how they did it. I also had the chance to mentor young people before having my own. This helped me a lot since you are not allowed to spank another person’s child. I had to learn to get my point across without hitting and yelling. This took time and patience. I now know how to do that with our daughter. I am able to take all of those experiences and roll them together into being a parent. Even with all of that information, I still screw it up and screw it up often. I am fortunate that our daughter doesn’t seem to care. She still trusts and loves me.

Mostly I pull from those who raised me. I, along with a number of my friends, were fortunate. We all belonged to a Drum and Bugle Corp as we went through our pre-teen and teen years. This group had a large number of adults who really cared about each and every child in the group. These parents all had the titles of mom and dad. They all acted as parents to us. I did not have one dad; I had ten. I remember spending time at my friends’ homes and never feeling like a guest. I was one of the family in each house, and my friends were siblings in our house. I had many different examples of parenting to pull from and quite often pull from different dads based on what is happening. Each and every one of those dads are rolled up inside of me today.

But in the end, I am the person I am today because of my parents. All of the other parents helped to shape and mold me, but my parents were the first to start the sculpting process. So most of my fathering style comes from my dad. I believe that he did not follow the style of parenting back in the 60s and 70s. My dad was a man who believed in family above all other things. He spent time with his boys. He believed in teaching us what a man was and how a man treated a woman. He showed by example of what it means to take care of a family. He brought joy into our lives. Unfortunately, our time together was very short. However, he taught me so much in those 14 years.

My dad taught me that you have to let children follow their own path. We often talked about 12734134_10153415752330509_3170381203124848043_n (2)what I wanted to do with my life. He never once said to me that I should be this or I should think about that. He wanted to know my dreams and encouraged me to go after them. I still remember him bringing home an old IBM electric typewriter from work. I would sit and type stories on it, and he would read them. What I think I liked most is that he didn’t pull the parent response. He didn’t gush over a story. Instead, we talked about my writing. He told me what he liked. He asked me about what I could change. He found ways for me to try to be better without destroying my want and love for writing.

My dad defended us when he had to, but he also expected us to do right. If a parent or teacher approached my dad about something one of us had done, he would get the facts from both parties. If we were in the wrong, we knew that we would have to sort it out. However, if we had done nothing wrong, we could see the grizzly bear come out. I can still remember my dad taking on the school when he found out how my brother’s third grade teacher was treating him. There was no way a teacher could justify pulling the hair of a third grade student. My dad knew it and defended my brother to the end.

We learned to love from this man by his actions. His love for us was always there and visible for the world. He showed us that my mom was his equal in the relationship. They worked together to make a family. I cannot remember him ever saying a derogatory remark about her or any other woman. He worked midnights so that he could be with us during the days. He also taught us to love our community as he volunteered with the fire department and then started a youth group. My dad taught us that love is not limited to family. I truly believe that he loved each and every kid that came through that group. He wanted them all to succeed just as much as he wanted it for us.

He gave us experiences instead of bunch of toys to be tossed away (though our toy box was full). We went camping. We went fishing. We made memories that have lasted over 50 years. To this day, some of my favorite memories are when he would take me to work midnights with him. He was a yardmaster for the railroad. He worked high in a tower overlooking the railyard. My toy trains were big 200 ton (according to a website) diesel locomotives. I would spend the nights up in the tower helping to put trains together or down in the engines running around the yard. My dad found a way to give time and memories.

I will also admit that my dad was not perfect. He was not a superhero. I knew this, and I knew it early on. I watched along with my brothers as he had his first heart attack. I went through the fear of being a young kid and seeing my dad fall. Fortunately, we were at a firemen’s event and help was there on the spot. Just the same, dads weren’t supposed to fall; he did. I think too often we expect dads to be invincible and then do not know how to deal with the fact that they are human. I learned that early on. I watched as he dealt with open-heart surgeries. I saw him struggle with what would happen with us if he didn’t make it. Perhaps the fact that I saw the impurities made him that much more of a dad to me. I am sure he hid a lot from us, but he made sure that we knew that he had struggles. In the end, the struggles became too much for him.

The day after my last final of ninth grade, a week after he went into the hospital after another heart attack, two days before my oldest brother’s graduation, the call came to inform us that we no longer had a dad. He fought it as long as he could, but in the end it was too much for his heart – June 19, 1980. Since this day falls around Father’s Day each year, I often wonder what I would say to him today if I had one more chance to see him.

 

Dad.

Thank you. Thank you for everything you did in those short years we were together. You were my rock, my mentor, my dad. You and mom worked together to make me the man I am today. Each and every day I think of you. I miss you. I love you.

While the pain of losing you has subsided, there has always been a void in my heart. I know that you have been with me through every up and down my life has taken. I know that you were with me when I left for the military. I felt you next to me at the alter when my beautiful wife walked down the aisle. I could see you standing next to the crib in the hospital on the day our daughter was born. You are there and will always be there.

I wish your grand-daughter had a chance to meet you. I so wish she could have known the man you were. We talk about you often. She knows a lot about you, but never has had the chance to hold you, hug you. This is the loss I know hurts the most.

Most of all, know that mom has never stopped loving you. She worked hard to become both mother and father to us. I believe she did you proud.

I work to live up to the example that you set for me and my brothers. I hope that we are half the men that you were.

I will carry you in my heart until the day that we get to meet again.  

Love,

Your son

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Lessons from a Hokey Show

Posted on June 18, 2016 by Bob Martin

AdobeStock_50888666I must say that I never thought I would be writing about a Disney show as the subject of one my posts – especially one that many would consider to be hokey. Like many of the Disney shows when I was a child, today’s shows would make an outside believe that there are little to no problems in this world. Yes – the characters all have some conflict of which they must struggle, but the good news is that no problem takes longer than the allotted time of the show – unless it is a two-parter. I will say that there is slightly more diversity going on where the characters are concerned, but just the same – according to Disney the world is sweet and Mom and Dad can help you solve all problems (even when they are the problem). As a matter of fact, the only thing really missing in these shows, when compared to those in the 50s, is Mom wearing a pearl necklace while cleaning. This is all to be expected since the shows are made by Disney and shown on their own channel. And where our daughter is concerned at a young age, I am okay with these being her favorite shows. The world will show its cruelty soon enough.

The show to which I will be writing about is Girl Meets World. This show is not every one’s cup of tea. My own niece told me that she doesn’t like it. Like many it is a little too sappy for their taste. It also doesn’t help that this show is supposedly a sequel to Boy Meets World. While it does use many of the same characters, it really doesn’t fit as a sequel. It has a totally different feel than the original. The first was, I believe, more of a young person’s comedy with nice messages mixed in. The new version is a sappy show filled with feel good messages with some comedy mixed in. It is a “nice” show to watch as a family with young people. It can open up conversations. So why does it take today’s writing? The episodes that are being shown this summer.

Up to this summer, we watched the main young people move through middle school. The shows provided a message to viewers that middle school problems, even bullying, could be fixed by good friends sticking together and working towards a resolution. Even bullying was a 20-minute problem. At the end of last season, the students promoted to high school. Just like the original series, their favorite teacher, in this case the main girl’s father and star of the show, gets transferred with them since the parents signed a petition. Now that the show focuses on high school, the messages are a little different. They still solve every problem, but the conflicts have a slightly different message.

The first couple of episodes, oh my the conflict took longer than 20 minutes, dealt with the kids having to deal with the change of schools and expectations. The students were no longer the kings of the school. They were being picked on by the upper classman, but even the bullies did it for a ‘good’ reason. Even the teacher struggled being in a new place. This episode had two nice things going for it.

The first message that we could talk with our daughter about was that change is not always easy, but that is no excuse to stop trying. In my 30+ years of working with young people, I remember so many of them talking with me about having to deal with change. All too often, parents and adults go over the top trying to make things easier for kids. We try to remove the hurt, pain, and struggle. Even this show had the parents try a couple of things, but failed. Finally, the parents realize that the students must be allowed to struggle. They do.  The students do not instantly become kings, they stay at the bottom of the totem pole, but at least they understand that life changes. I think the other thing that resonated with me was the teacher. He, unlike most teachers, had the chance to see his students after he had taught them, but in a different setting. He voiced what so many teachers, mentors, and parents think about so often – did I prepare them to be able to do their best. Notice I did not say succeed. That is truly up to them, but did I prepare them to be able to do their best.

Last night’s episode would be a good one to show at back to school night. (spoiler alert) The main character gets her first D. She does not shine; she struggles with a class. It gave a slight insight into what happens when a kid ‘fails’ for the first time – I know that a D is not a failure. The episode, while still keeping that feel good message, looked at the student’s attempt to come to terms with not being the best and the parents’ actions. Some of it rang true.

The student did not know how to accept and move from a low grade. It didn’t help that her friends informed her that the grade would be on her permanent record- something they never had to worry about. That may sound silly to think a single test would damage a transcript, but that is a true reaction of some students.  One failure will ruin their chance to be anything, get into a good college, and destroy all of their dreams. So much pressure is placed upon these students that they have to succeed at everything, that one dip can seem like a life ending event. It also showed that instead of buckling down and working, the student wants Mommy and Daddy to fix it. She also goes to the teacher and asks for a retest or extra credit. This is spot on to what teachers deal with each and every day. It is up to the teacher to give the student an A instead of them earning it. I am not saying that this is every student, but I am sure teachers will agree that they hear this all too often.

The father also decided to try to fix it. He went to do a teacher-to-teacher talk. The dad went in talking about how the kids have always been good students. He went in saying that the test was too hard. He said that high school was tough and giving a D would make his daughter not have the self-confidence to work hard. He was shocked when, after stating that she made his daughter look like a D student, the teacher responded with, “She is.” The father was told that currently his daughter’s work had EARNED her a D. She could change that.

Mom followed with her own meeting after seeing her daughter tired from studying. Mom is the tough one with whom nobody messes. However, she is does not follow this path. When I first saw this, I thought that they had left reality at this point. However, after thinking of some of the parents with who I worked, I can say that I did have some parents like this. The mom actually met with the teacher (by the shows timeline at 6 am) just to say thank you. This mother understood that the grade was up to her daughter, and that they would do what they could to help the student raise the grade.

This was a great show for parents. The teacher was not giving a bad grade. The student earned the low grade. She was not being mean. She was not picking on this one student. She did not wake every day with thoughts on how to destroy this child. She had a set of expectations of her students, and she stuck to those expectations. She did not give grades – her students earned them. She did not give one student extra credit because she was a good student. She stuck to her guns. Funny enough – the principal never was brought into the situation. I really liked when the teacher explained that one test does not change a permanent record. It is just an example of what the student has learned. It is up to them to do better the next one. They can ask for help, but you can’t ask for a grade.

The only sad part of the show, for me, is the ending. The student decided to start studying. Low and behold, her next test was an A. I would have preferred to see a C and everyone be proud of an earned C. They resolved the problem too quickly. I would love to have seen this carried over as a subplot. Students do not get As after one night of studying. The Disney message was strong at this point – all will be wonderful.

I know that we have just entered summer. I know that brains have turned off for the next 11 weeks. However, this would be something for families to watch before the start of the new year. Yes, you may be covered with Disney sap by the end, but it still would be something for families to understand. Students need to work for their grades, and they won’t always be an A.

That’s all. Thank you for meandering with me.

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Finding Some Silence

Posted on June 15, 2016 by Bob Martin

20160611_182215It has been a full 10 days since I have had the chance to sit and put words to ‘paper’. So much has happened in the world, our country, and my own life. It feels as if some person, the keeper of time, took switch in hand and turned up the RPMs to life. We no longer are traveling at 33-1/3. We have gone past 44 rpm and have even surpassed the old 78. Yet, life continues. We get up each morning, we take a breath, and we start our day. Life continues.

For the last few weeks, my office has been on summer work hours. We work 4-10s (4 days, 10 hours each). This allows for the office to be shut on Fridays, supposedly to save money. It also means three-day weekends. Since our little one and my wife are now off for the summer, I actually get up very early and head into work so I have a few hours to get work done before others show up. It doesn’t matter that I leave the house early since they would be asleep even if I left for the normal hours. So early to bed, early to rise, makes a man able to have some time in silence.

Here in Southern California, we go through a season of June Gloom. Early in the morning, we have clouds form over the ocean that are then pushed over the land. If you wake up early enough, you will generally find yourself in fog and mist. I like this time of year though a number of SoCal residents prefer the warmer days. One reason I like it is due to where we live. While we are part of Los Angeles, we are in the mountains. The gloom tends to burn off quicker at this level. This makes going down into the valleys interesting since you can see the fog and clouds just hanging below waiting for you to pass through them. It is even nicer when you drive back up the hill and break through into the sun and blue skies.

The other reason I like June Gloom is for the silence. Mind you, it is pretty quiet at 4:30 in the morning – fog or no fog, but the addition of the fog seems to remove any remaining morning sounds from the area. Quite often when I am out and about at this hour, I get transported back to the mornings of basic training. While the call of the bugle was anything but silent, the march from roll call to the chow hall was quiet with only the sound of the boots hitting the pavement. The sun was not up, cars were not moving about, just us. The trainees, their lovely Training Instructors, and a few birds. Otherwise, no sound.

As I mentioned earlier, fog adds to the silence of the morning. Having lived in the land of fog, the UK, and even growing up in Western New York, I have experienced my share of foggy mornings. I can only imagine that walking in a deep fog is probably the closest I will get to suspended animation. You cannot see anything (believe me, I have been in fogs in which anything more than a few inches was obscured), you really cannot smell anything, and the sound has been deadened. One is in silence. One is left to be with him/herself.

In the last few weeks, I have been walking out my door to this June Gloom, this wonderful fog, this peaceful silence. At first, I walked at got in my car and off I went. As each day passed, I have found that I am lingering longer and longer in my backyard before getting into the car. This morning I sat. I sat there in the dark. I sat there in the middle of the fog. I sat in silence. I have found that the silence is starting to sneak into other aspects of my life. I no longer turn on the radio in the car. My drive is in silence. I no longer turn on music or news when I reach the office. I listen to quiet for the first couple of hours in the office. Even tonight, while sitting with my daughter, who is reading, there is no sound in the room – just peace.

I want to admit that this can be a scary thing to do. When one does not have outside sound filling one’s ears; you are left to your thoughts. At first, I found my brain was full of its own noise. I went over lists of things to do. I thought about issues that were happening with the family. I replayed old problems in my head. I worried about the future. I worried some more. After a while, though, your brain gets the message that it does not have to be fully active all of the time. It finally will settle into its own silence. Then you get to enjoy both outward and inward silence. You get to think about nothing. You can find a new inner peace.

So what does fog and silence have to do with the opening of this post. I am finding that the more that is happening in the world, the more I need silence in my life. It all started a few weeks ago with the killing of a gorilla. It moved through politics and the naming of candidates for the upcoming election. Finally, this week with the tragic murders of the men and women in Orlando and today, the death of a 2 year-old while at Disney World. It seemed like everywhere one turned the news was all over the place. Even listening while listening to a musical radio station or watching a comedy on television, the breaks all had some bit of information about how additional facts were coming out and how we needed to watch or listen to be up on all of the stories.

While the radio and television and their advertisements for news is not new, the 24/7 barrage of media is still a relatively new thing for our world. There is no turning off the information. It is always on. What makes it worse is that the stations know that they cannot just repeat the same facts over and over so they break in to the story as soon as something new is discovered. The problem is that they do not give the people a chance to check on whether or not the new fact is accurate – it gets broadcasted with the understanding that it can be corrected later. It just doesn’t stop.

Add to this, the fact that social media allows everyone to voice their opinion and facts. Facebook is not a place of refuge from current events. One cannot find some respite from the speculations of how things could have been, should have been, or how they would have handled it. I see friends, life-long friends, in full blown arguments on how things should be handled. I see others jumping into conversations and verbally attacking people who they have never met, but feel comfortable enough calling them every name in the book just because they disagree. I see and hear a lot of talk, but no one seems to be listening.

Through all of this, as I sat this morning in my shroud of silence, the lyrics to Simon and Garfunkel’s Sound of Silence played in my head. While I am sure the song had a different meaning when first written, the words seem to be talking about today:

Ten thousand people, maybe more People talking without speaking People hearing without listening

It seems like so much is being said but nothing new is being voiced. It feels as if so many people are hearing without listening. They hear the words but are not listening to what the other person is saying,

The above comments are not just about the normal every day person. It is really about our leaders. They talk but say nothing. The do not listen to each other. There is so much that they could learn, but they let the words fall in the well of silence.

So, for now at least, I am turning off the noise. I am sitting in my silence. I will not isolate myself. I will turn on the noise to keep up with new events in the world, but then off it will go again. I would rather be walking around in no sound than in the sound that is currently happening.

So tonight I wish everybody the chance to find that silence. Find that peace.

Thank you for meandering with me tonight.

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Second Communion

Posted on June 5, 2016 by Bob Martin
Photo by lizbarlakphotography.com/

Photo by lizbarlakphotography.com/

Tonight is one those nights where I truly write more for me than anyone else. I hope that others will be able to read and enjoy, but in the end, this is one of those things that I put down so I can remember later.

Last week, our daughter made her First Communion. I am not sure why it’s “made” rather than “take or took”. None the less, she made her First Communion. Now for those who are not that familiar with the Catholic faith, this is when a member of the church first receives the Body and Blood of Christ. This normally takes place at the end of second grade. It is a big first step for a young person as they move through the sacraments.

So last week, our little eight-year-old took a step in her faith. A young girl normally wears a simple white dress. Her Nana, remembering the old days, bought a veil to go with the dress. She looked beautiful. I saw a glimpse of the future to the how she will look if and when she decides to marry one day. If you ever want to see a Dad turn in to putty, let their little dress in this fashion and then have them come and take your hand. I looked at this little angel staring up at me and then looked down at the tiny little fingers that held my hand. Then add her quietly asking, “Daddy? Do I look pretty?” Pretty? That is not the word to describe how she looked. I just stood and stared.

Of course this moment was broken as she let go of my hand and started twirling and dancing around the room followed by jumping off the couch to make the skirt poof out. She is our little girl. She knows when to be quiet and beautiful and then how to bring laughter into the room. So with that off we went to the service.

We arrived early – very early. My wife was concerned with all of those that were coming that we would be able to all sit together. It was nice because it gave us time for some photos and quiet time in the church. Soon the others started to arrive. 34 in all, young men and women gathering in their finest. Moms, Dads, Grandparents, Aunts, and Uncles the families filled the church. It was nice seeing these young people, who only a week earlier in their t-shirts and shorts were running around, taking the service so seriously.

I had the good fortune of being a lector for this Mass. I had the chance to be more than a spectator. I also had the chance, due to an elderly mother with a walker and wife with a new knee, to sit in the front row which is reserved for the handicapped. When it came time for the actual communion, we were sitting a few inches from our daughter. Add to this the fact that her Godfather was a co-presider and the Mass turned out to be more than we could have expected or hoped for.

I was nervous for our daughter when the time came. She had been so excited for the last few weeks, I was fearful that she would drop the Host. She smiled as she stood next to me waiting her turn. It was not her normal smile. This smile had a huge amount of pride behind it. She knew that she was becoming a full member of the parish. She stepped forward but kept looking at her mother and I. When her turn came, she did just as practiced. I felt proud of her and myself. I kept it together. For some reason, the only time I almost lost it was when one the Matriarchs of the parish stepped next to me in line and placed her hand on my shoulder. She looked at me and the joy she showed almost made me get that dust in my eye. I think it was because we were able to be at our normal Mass where all of these older members have watched our daughter grow since 10 days old.

Of course after the service, one must celebrate. We gave our daughter a choice – she chose Gordon Biersch – a place she has been to almost as much as church. Family and friends gathered to eat and celebrate.

I sat there, that night, as the proud papa. I thought back to my First Communion. Quite frankly, I remember nothing about it. I remember the classes that led up to it, but not the actual day. I know that St. Bernard’s held a special Mass just for the students to be able to make their First Communion. I remember the priest like it was yesterday, Fr. Foley. I do know that our family also went out and celebrated. I actually had one of the munchkins from The Wizard of Oz serve me that day. He had long since left Hollywood and worked at one of our local restaurants. However, that, I think, is where the similarities end. I think this day meant much more to our daughter than it did for me.

The one thing that gets mentioned every year when we celebrate those receiving their First Communions is that this is the first of many. The priest normally makes a plea that we see all of these young faces again next week and the week after. The sad thing is that we may not see some of them until it is time for Confirmation. The priest talks to the kids and tells them that they are welcomed every day.

Our daughter took this to heart. I will say that while she was excited about last week, this week and going to church was much more exciting for her. I truly believe that she was counting the minutes until church this week. All she kept talking about was making her second communion. She kept asking when it was time to go. She really wanted to do it all over again. Though this she was looking forward to being able to do it with her parents. She positioned herself between us as we moved to the altar. She kept looking back at me showing me that no longer were her hands crossed over her chest – they were in prayer form ready to receive. She was more excited to receive it just like everyone else and not in a special format. Tonight she told me she was looking forward to her third.

So that was her special day. I write this one to share, yes, but more importantly to print out and put away for her for years from now. I want her to remember this day. I hope she can do it without my words, but they are here just in case.

Thank you for meandering with me.

Photo by lizbarlakphotography.com/

Photo by lizbarlakphotography.com/

Posted in celebrate, family | Tagged | 4 Comments

They Did What?

Posted on June 3, 2016 by Bob Martin

Good evening all. It has been a while since I have had time to write, and I have missed you all. Writing, for me, is such a release and I have so missed putting my thoughts down and sharing. Part of the thing that has kept me writing is that work has kept me realllllly busy. The other reason is that the world has been so negative of late, and I was finding it hard not to touch on some of those topics. While I do accept and deal with the negativity, I don’t like to spread more of it.

With that in mind, tonight’s post might seem that I am bringing negativity into the world, but stay with me and I will try to bring it around to positive. I want to share some of the events that I have witnessed or been part of over the last week. I bring these events up because I am concerned for our young people. I see so many posts about younger people not living up to expectations. However, like I have mentioned in the past, they learn their behavior from somewhere.

The first one happened at our daughter’s First Communion. I really had expected to be able to write about this beautiful ceremony, and I am sure in a few days I will. However, I will share the events after the Mass. Now if you are not Catholic and never been to a First Communion, I want to let you know that this is supposed to be an extremely reverent event. Normally, after the service the children are brought up on the altar for pictures. A group shot is taken and then individuals. On most occasions, parents line up civilly and await their turn. NORMALLY!

I lectured at this Mass and walked out with the procession during the closing song. We walked out the back and I quickly walked around the side of the church to get back in to take photos. I walked back in and stopped. There on the altar were the children and the parents. The two people in charge were trying very hard to regain order. They started getting the parents back down onto the floor so that pictures could start. I attempted to move toward this cloud only to be pushed back not once, not twice, but three times. I swear I thought some rock band had walked out to start a concert. But wait…there’s more.

My mother had the chance, along with my brother, to fly out for this special event. Since my wife just had knee replacement surgery and my mother uses a walker, we had the chance to sit in the first row which is reserved for those who are handicapped. During the fray mentioned above. My 78-year-old mother stayed in the pew sitting quietly waiting. My wife turned around in time to see a mother climb over from the second pew into the first. She CLIMBED OVER the pew in church. She then, without hesitation, while still standing on the first pew, climbed over my mother. My mom sat there not knowing what to do and when my wife said something, the lady ignored her and moved on.

I get it that not everybody attending the Mass was Catholic and may not understand the service. However, I would think that any person would have enough common sense to know that this is not acceptable. The children stood on the altar watching all of this unfold. Some of them actually had fear in their eyes as they watched all of this.

The next situation happened this morning at a Starbucks near my house. This Starbucks, like most, is extremely busy. The parking lot has enough spaces, but when it gets busy it can mean that you are parking a bit away from the building. We pulled in hoping to get in and out with some drinks and be on our way. However, life throws lessons at you at the most unexpected of times.

The benefit to my wife’s surgery is that we have a handicap placard for a short time. Okay. That benefit might be more for me than her. So as we entered the lot, I saw a blue spot right in front of the building. This would be perfect so that we could all go in and place our order. While my wife gets around on the cane, it does still take a lot of effort with the cane. So that chance to get something feet from the door was a great surprise. Then we saw a bigger surprise. In-between the two spots was the blue thatched pattern with big letters stating – No Parking. Although it might have been hard to read with the car that was parked directly on top of the writing. We were able to get a spot on the far side, and left the family in the car while I went in for our order. I know – this is not the end of the world.

I did take a moment to look at the car and see a driver sitting there. For once, I went over and knocked on the window. She refused to open even a crack. I pointed beneath her and said, “This is a no parking spot, and you are blocking people who need the handicapped from parking here.” She shrugged her shoulders and turned away. I then realized that she was typing away on her computer. Only later did it dawn on me that she was sitting in the parking lot using the free Wi-Fi from Starbucks.

I mentioned something to the employee who told the manager. I could hear the manager respond with, “I don’t run the parking lot.” The poor employee turned back to me and tried to smile when she said, “The manager will go out in a minute.”

The last event came at K-Mart. We stood in line waiting for the person ahead of us to be checked out. She stood their talking away on her phone. While I have seen this many times, this person surprised me. I watched a few times as the clerk tried to talk with her, and she refused to halt her conversation to even acknowledge the man. So we all waited for her to break the dialogue in order to give the clerk money or a response. He stood there very calmly and waited. She finally finished and left.

Now I started this by saying I wasn’t going to be negative and yet it seems like that last 1090 words are nothing but negative. Well, that is dependent on how you take things. I stopped today and wondered why the world brought these things into my life. At first I was allowing events to take me down. I could sense frustration and stress over these and other events. Then I stopped.

A friend recently gave me a book, that I am half-way through, and it talks about life much like I have tried to live over the last year. Find the reason. Find the lesson. Find the good. So that is what I am doing. I am looking for the lessons.

I pondered about this and hear is what I heard come to my head. What about you? What have you done? I started wondering what I have done in recent days, weeks, months where I have put my wants above all others. I may not have climbed over pews, but I am sure that I wronged others. I am sure that I have been self-centered to the point that I was totally unaware of my surroundings. I am taking this as life’s message to me that before I can worry about what others are doing, I better make sure that I am doing right.

So negativity? NO. Positive. These events happened. I cannot change that. What I can change is me. So I am walking away from this by being making sure that I am not forgetting to look outside of me when I act. I will make the change to not do actions that cause hardships for others.

So I invite all to find that positive.

Thanks for meandering with me.

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Memorial Day

Posted on May 29, 2016 by Bob Martin

Veterans CemeteryJust in case you have been hiding somewhere with no calendar, TV, radio, or internet access, today is Memorial Day. So, yes this post like so many on Facebook, Twitter, Instagram, and others is about this particular day. I am sure that by now many of you have had your fill of information and comments about this day. I hope that you will indulge me by accepting one more.

I find it interesting for I think that this day may bring out more confusion and comments than any of the other days that acknowledge men and women in the military. Not only does it cause confusion for those who have never served, many people I know who did serve end up trying to deflect any compliments given to them. In the end, it is a day on the calendar just like the other 365 (don’t forget leap year). It is what one chooses to do with it that will make it different.

First I want to apologize to people from the past. I can’t say that the list is long –it is just that I do not remember the names of those to whom I need to apologize. In the past, I, along with other veterans I know, would take to correcting people who would recognize our service on this day. It was not that we didn’t appreciate that recognition, but more that I felt both a need to explain the day and to not take credit on this day in particular. Not one person who thanked me did it to be anything but sincere. I did not turn away the compliment out of spite but more guilt (I am Catholic remember). I felt that I was being given credit for something I did not do. I did not die for my country, and that is what today is about – those who passed defending their country.

The reason it gets confusing is because we have a number of days that recognize the military. Of course there is today, Memorial Day – a day to honor the fallen. We have Veteran’s Day – a day to recognize those who served. We also have Armed Forces Day (heck, this one had fallen off my radar a long time ago, I forgot it existed). This is a day to recognize those who are serving. No wonder it gets confusing. People know that they all deal with the military, so they go out of their way to acknowledge someone, anyone, who served. It may also be due to the fact that while we have been at war for a number of years, it is not the type of war that our parents and grandparents experienced. It goes quietly on day after day. The whole country is not involved either through serving, rationing food, rubber drives, or some other form. The majority of America can go through their day without hearing about war. With that so goes the meaning of some of the days.

Perhaps what would be the greatest day of all is when we finally reach a point that we no longer need to have all of these holidays. Memorial Day will always be around since those who perished deserve to be remembered. However, it would be nice to see the world get to a point where wars are history, and militaries are no longer needed.

The other thing about this day is the amount of chastising you see in comments. People are posting about how the weekend is not about the BBQ or picnic. We see the cartoons where the little boy is asking the dad what was the cost, and we see a headstone. It has gotten to the point that people should feel guilty about going on with life on this day. While I realize that the point is just to get people to remember why they do not have to work on this day, it has gone beyond that. I see the comments that Memorial Day is not about the sales or the food. Of late, I am wondering why not? As a person who served, I wonder how I would feel if I had lost my life, and, while looking down from the after-life, saw families celebrating the start of summer – having BBQs – saving some money in the no-tax sale. Would I be upset? I think not. This is just my view, but I would be happy. For the fact that all that was still going on meant that our freedom was still intact. It would have meant that my life was given so that others wouldn’t have to and that life would continue. Would it bother me if they took a moment to remember – no. I think that is what the comments are really asking for – just a moment. But isn’t that something that we need to work on as a whole and not make people feel guilty?

I must share that when I was young, Memorial Day, for me, meant a number of parades. We would march throughout the weekend from one little town to another. I think there is a large number of people who just want that to return. But my question is this, were those parades for the fallen? I remember politician after politician in those parades. I remember bands, firemen, and veterans all marching, but it was a celebration. The real part of Memorial Day happened at the end of the parades. My little village sits right outside of Fort Niagara. Inside the fort is a veteran cemetery (or was – not sure since I haven’t been there in a long time). There we gathered for prayer and remembrance. There Memorial Day took place. There my brother or another soprano player played taps. The sound of the bugle called out and echoed in the silence of the trees. There we remembered while those who had lined the parade route went for their BBQs. They were no more in the wrong than any person today. They were celebrating the life that those who had given all had given them.

So today, I will celebrate Memorial Day. Guess what? We are having a BBQ – and that is okay. Today, I will most likely have somebody who knows my history say thank you. That is okay. I will accept that thank you for the ones who cannot. It will not be my thank you, but theirs. I will acknowledge for them. Today, I will not correct a person who wants to recognize any part of the military. I will be happy that they do. Today I will stop and remember those whose names I know that did not come home. I will remember that young man that used to work for me before going into the Marines. I will remember those he saved while giving his own life. A tear may fall; a tear will fall. I will think of the families who are missing someone at the table.

I want to leave you with this image. Here in Los Angeles, we have a beautiful Veterans’ Cemetery just off the 405. The local scouts are invited every year to come for the Memorial Day services. I went one year with the local troop. The boys and girls all showed came in full uniform. The seating area was filled with Veterans, families, and kids in brown. I remember, being my first visit, looking behind me at all of the white headstones. The number was too large for me to count in a short time. As far as my eyes could see, white markers. I remember thinking that this was a big job and we would be there a while.

The service started. We had speakers, prayers, and some music. At the end, small American flags were passed out to the troops and we dispersed. A worked along with the boys. The boys worked their way down the rows. You could watch as they each did the exact same thing. A flag was planted, the boy stood up and snapped to attention. A hand was raised and the fallen was saluted once again. After a couple of seconds, the salute dropped and the boy moved off to the next marker. I walked with a young scout, I believe he was still a cub scout at the time. There was something about watching this young man of 9 or 10 stand there in his uniform and salute the flag; salute the fallen. An innocent youth respecting and thanking a fallen soldier.

I looked out over the cemetery a few minutes later. What had been a sea of white was now a mix of white along with the flapping of the Red, White, and Blue. I thanked the men and women who could not respond. I prayed that their deaths had not been in vain. And then, with tear rolling down my cheek, I prayed for the young men and women who had just placed the flags. I pray again tonight for each and everyone one of them that theirs may never be a marker where a flag has to be placed on this day.

It has been over a decade since that day. I hope my prayer has held.

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To the Class of 16

Posted on May 26, 2016 by Bob Martin

Tomorrow night the second to last of my seventh grade students will be graduating. I have had other students and other mentees graduate in the past. There is something different about this group. They were seventh grade students when I first met them – 12 and 13 years olds  – still babes. Tomorrow, they leave the safety of their school to go out into the world. Some will go on to college, some will work to find a job, others will join the military. I wish I could be there to see them walk, but, alas, family obligations keep from being there. Perhaps that is a good thing since I am sure that my eyes would have a misting problem.

Tonight, they are still my kids – I told all my students once one of my kids always one of my kids. Tonight, I still see them as middle school students. So, for the last time as Burbank students, I have one last thing to say to them.

 

Dear students,

First, I want to say congratulations. You are about to walk across a stage to pick up a diploma that says you have reached the first peak of many that you will climb in your lifetime. Take some time to enjoy the view from this one, but don’t linger too long. Life was not meant to be spent sitting in one place. Others need to be reminded to look before starting your next path. Either way take the time to enjoy. You have earned this and deserve the time. Then get going on the next journey.

As you head out of the nest that has been your home for the last 12 years, remember that no matter what is happening in your life, you are never alone. This is something to remember in the most difficult of times. You are not alone. I will say it again. You are not alone. Life is not always easy – some of you learned that lesson a long time ago. Life will have its ups and downs. During your up times, it is easy to find people to be with you. During the down periods, there will times in which you feel as if you are alone and no one is with you. This is not the truth. Even in the darkest of times you will always have others with you; all you have to do is reach out and look. Think about those with whom you have spent the last four or more years. Those friends may travel far in physical miles, but they will be with you in spirit whenever you need them.

If there is one thing that I hope you learned from me (other than proper writing) is that nothing is permanent. Go after your dreams, but do not be afraid to reevaluate your path often. Just because you said that you wanted to have a specific career when you were six doesn’t mean that that is who you are today. Do have a plan, do have a goal, and go for it. However, if you start down that path and find out it is not what you want or not what you had expected – change. This life is too short for you to be stuck in a job you hate for four decades because you believe it is what others expect of you. As long as you are able to handle your responsibilities (family, bills, self) then change.

The most important thing is that you must DO. You must try, you must work, you must learn to be dependent. I hope you learned this by being in my class. Do not sit around waiting for others to take care of you. Do not expect that jobs will come to you. You must go out and find them. You must interview. You must earn it. Do not blame others when things don’t work out for you. Yes. Others’ actions might affect events within your life, but in the end – you are responsible for your actions.  

The next piece of advice is for you to start saving – four years ago. There is no promise of a pension or social security by the time you reach retirement age. You being able to take care of yourself and your family is dependent upon you being able to save. Talk to those who know what they are doing and start saving for your old age now. It is a proven fact that those who start early will have a better chance of being able to retire and stay at a comfortable level. Save not only for retirement, but save for that rainy day when the car breaks down or the water heater quits. Save for those high-priced items that you so desire. The less you depend on plastic and credit the easier your life will be. I wish that someone had sat me down early in life and helped me understand just what saving meant and then helped me set it up. Do not become so burdened with bills that you are living paycheck to paycheck.

Al of the above is very serious advice. It is my worrying about you being able to survive in this world. Now for the other side of the coin.

I remember sitting in class and listening to you talked about English and so much more. Your personal connections to stories being read or topics being discussed lead to laughter, thought, tears, and so much more. I got to know you all, not as students, but as budding young adults. You shared your hopes, your dreams, your fears, your sadness, and your pains. I saw the beauty inside each and every one of you. Poetry Café was one time in which you all broke down walls and let people in to know you a little better.

Some of you were so quiet that one could almost forget you were there. Some studious to the point that I worried about your stress levels. Some were struggling with internal conflict brought on by school, home, and elsewhere. Others shouted out or tried to be the class clowns – some for attention others trying out new material. What I saw were 35 unique individuals each period – no two periods the same. Through it all, you became my kids.

I remember so many of you sitting in my class during lunch – the chess games, Battleship, conversations, music, and fun. I tried to tell you that I was the meanest teacher on campus. I really tried. Yet I couldn’t do it. You all saw right through the façade. I worried about each and every one of you from the first day you walked in my door. I listened to your problems and tried to understand how difficult it was to be a teen today. I wondered how you found the strength. You all proved to be so much stronger than I could ever be.

So tomorrow (or today depending on the reading), May 27, 2016, you will cease to be high school students and you will become graduates. You will be looked at as adults. People will be expecting greater things from you. I know and have known for many years that you are capable of all of that and more.

The last thing I want to say is live. Do not be afraid to go out there and live. Try new things. Explore the world. Make the world better. Have few regrets. This can be the scariest piece of all. Too many people find a comfort zone and stay in it. Don’t be afraid to be goofy and silly. If there is one thing I wish it would be that I had laughed more. Don’t be so focused on climbing all the peaks in your life that you forget to enjoy yourself while you are doing it.

So congratulations once again. Job well done. You have not only passed you classes, but you have passed through the problems and tribulations that have blocked your paths. You deserve the pat on the back.

Now it is time to say good-bye. I wish you the best. I worry for each and every one of you still today. I pray that you have been given the tools you will need to succeed in whatever it is that you chose to do. My children no more. Adults you have become. I wipe away some dust that seems to have come into my eye as I picture you all walking across the stage. Seventh graders start up the steps and soon morph into the wonderful people you are today. Thank you for allowing me to be some small part of your life.

Good-bye and good luck.

 

Mr. Martin

 

 

 

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Potato Latkes and Theater

Posted on May 22, 2016 by Bob Martin

710726Tonight I had the pleasure of creating a birthday dinner for my sister-in-law. A few days ago, I asked her what she would like for her special night. For the main dinner, nothing seemed to come to mind. However, for a side dish she asked for potato latkes. Being of Jewish decent, every once in a while she will throw something out there for me to cook. I immediately agreed to that for her. She has done so much for my wife over the last 20 years, I could not turn down such a simple request. Potato latkes it would be.

I stood frying the little patties of potatoes. Quite often while cooking, I allow my mind to wander. I couldn’t help but smile as I fried. I have never made these before, and yet, they hold a great memory for me. Internally I had a laugh. This memory then led me down the road of so many more. Somehow this little recipe took me down the path of my old theater days and the bloopers that happened.

Potato pancakes remind me of Fiddler on the Roof. I performed in the show while a member of the Niagara Falls Little Theater back in the 80s. One evening, the young man who played Motel confided in me that there was a scene in the play that he just detested. The scene had two women talking on stage and he interrupted looking for the daughter of one. He felt that the scene had little use in the play. I tried to get him to understand that the scene had nothing to do with his character, but it moved the story line. He just laughed and insisted it was a bad scene.

Later, during the evening performance, he was in the green room playing cards. I can remember being in the wings watching that very scene. His cue came. His cue went. No Motel appeared. He was still playing cards. The two ladies, Golde and Yente, looked at each other. I am sure the pause was a split second, but standing in the wings, I thought I could hear minutes tick by. The quickly spoke a few lines bringing the play back around to his cue. Nothing. A few of us in the wings tried to think of something. One person even started for the door. Then we heard Golde mention that she would soon have to get dinner prepared. Yente asked what she was going to make. “Ah, you know,” in a deep Jewish accent, “I will make some bread, some potato pancakes.”

“Oh. I love your potato pancakes. How do you get them to taste so good?” Yente questioned.

Golde started giving a recipe for potato pancakes. It sounded so good, I wanted to write it down. Finally, she mentioned something about milk or something and Yente came back with, “Oh speaking of that I saw Motel with your daughter.” The play was back on track.

Live theater is great to watch, but it is even more exciting to be part of the action on stage – hoping that all the lines and props work as expected. It is even better when things go wrong and you have to think on your feet to stay on track.

I think the first blooper that comes to my mind deals with junior high. We were doing a murder mystery. We told all the actors to leave the props alone. One young man was adamant that he would take care of his own props. This include a prop pistol with blanks. Sure enough the whole reason we asked people to leave props alone came true. The climax came. The murderer was on stage. The lights were dimmed (it was night). The victim with his back to the door was totally unaware that anyone had entered the room. The gun was drawn. The audience sat on the edge of seats. A thunder clap happened. The trigger was pulled back and we all heard – click. Click. Click. Click. Then the murderer yelled bang. The body fell over.

Phones also offer a problem when it comes to them ringing on cue. I sat on stage in a different play. The heat of the moment was to be broken by the ringing of the telephone. The moment came and ……. Silence. We started the conversation and brought the topic back to the line that should prompt a phone ringing – silence. On the third try and no phone, the person opposite me looked at the group and asked, “Did I just hear the phone ring?” It was all I could do to not burst out laughing – I think the audience did. Just the same – it worked. The girl picked up the phone and the show went on.

The last share comes from my time in England. I had the privilege of being part of a British Panto. If you have never heard of a Panto, let me explain. They are a tradition during the holidays over in England. You take a children’s fairy tale and add modern music. To add to it, the hero is a male character played by a girl and there is at least one female character played by a male in drag. Cinderella would have the ugly step-sisters as men in drag. Our play was Snow White. I played the Royal Housekeeper – I looked beautiful. The difference with a Panto is that actors often break the fourth wall and talk to the audience. These are supposed to be for the family, but it really is all about the kids.

During this particular run, we had two incidents happen that surprised us. The children are told at the beginning that it is acceptable – wanted – for them to cheer and boo throughout based on which character enters. The Queen always got the best reactions. Sometimes a little more than boos. One evening the kids were really into not liking the Queen. She had just finished singing a nice song, the theater quieted after the applause. She walked toward center stage preparing for her next line when out of the dark came, “You’re ugly.” A little boy decided he really didn’t like the Queen. The funny thing is that well dressed as the Queen, the actress was a beautiful person. She ignored him. He yelled again.

The Queen spun around lowering herself and pointing in the direction of the voice and responded, “You’re not such a looker yourself.”

The boy threw back a “I’m not afraid of you.”

The Queen kicked back, “You – me in the parking lot during intermission.” With that she straightened up and adjusted her dress and went on with the play.

During the same run of the show, we gained a dwarf. We always allowed the younger members of the audience to sit up front for the best views. This also allowed us to be able to talk with them and interact. It meant that we also would pass through them or close by when exiting or entering the stage. I believe it was our last evening. The Queen was giving instructions to the Woodsman on getting rid of Snow White. What nobody noticed is that a little member of the audience – perhaps 4 or so had been watching the dwarfs – played by kids. I guess he decided he wanted to be a dwarf. He quietly crept to the side and up the steps. I think that he was confused when he got backstage and couldn’t find the Dwarfs who had moved to the dressing rooms. So, the little guy did the next best thing – he moved toward the lights. The Woodsman turned to the Queen to plead letting Snow White live. She turned down his request. He turned to leave and found that next to him on stage was this child. He looked back to the Queen and asked if this apprentice could help. She replied, “I don’t care just get him and Snow White out of my sight.” The Woodsman held out his hand to be met with a tiny hand. The two went off together to kill Snow White.

All of these memories and so many more came to me today because I fried up some potatoes. I just never know what is going to strike up a memory and where I will go.

So with that, a Happy Birthday to my sister-in-law and a thank you for meandering with me tonight.

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End of Year

Posted on May 20, 2016 by Bob Martin

School's outTonight’s posting is dedicated to a number of friends as we reach the end of the year. This is the time when every single emotion is tested, stress levels will be off the charts, and people long for the next week to be done. Yes, I am talking about teachers and the rest of the crew that works in education. The end of the school year is upon us, and oh what a time of year it is. I know that some might think this is premature, but our district now has less than one week left before the halls go silent.

Now, before getting into the heart of the post, I will start by saying that almost every job comes with some form of stress. Employment of any sort brings deadlines, demanding bosses, colleagues that don’t get along, as well as a whole list of items. However, those who work in the public’s eye being paid for “by the tax-payer” deal with something different. Being the son and son-in-law of nurses, as well as a quasi-brother-in-law, of an Angel of Mercy, I know that the men and women who provide loving care to those in need have just as much stress. The same goes for jobs such as firemen, police, and others. While all those jobs bring stress from the public eye, I think education does being an additional level since parents are involved every day. Parents that want the best for their kids.

This is not a martyr piece. I am just writing about what the end of the year is like. I hope that I can provide a little bit of insight into the walls of education about what the end of the year is really like. I do this because, well honestly, I have been asked enough if I am happy about the end of the year. I also am questioned whether I am excited about the upcoming summer, and am I looking forward to the next few months off.

Here is what is going on in the classroom of every child at this time of the year. The children are excited about the upcoming end of school. Depending on their age, that excitement could be in check as they prepare for finals. Yes, even the students are having to complete the job before taking the first breath of summer air. There is stress right now for students in the upper levels as they prepare to spit out facts, figures, equations, chemical information, and other instruction. The worry about getting in to the right college (juniors and sophomores not seniors) is high. Students will spend hours getting ready to do their best. Younger students don’t have those worries. They will spend the last week enjoying the company of their friends. They will dance with their teachers. They will have kickball competitions. Their tests are done. They will enjoy. But what about the teachers? Are they rejoicing like so many in society believe?

Teachers have now kicked into high gear – no matter the level. The upper levels are going through the process of administering the finals spoken about earlier. They must have two hours of silence as the students work through each and every question. This is not a time for them to sit at their desks drinking coffee. They must actively proctor assessments since some students, just like students of the past and future, will find ways to gain assistance during the test. Teachers must be up and moving about the room.

Teachers are also going through stacks of final projects, papers, and other assignments getting them all done so that they matter toward a grade. Many, like I used to be, are also being bombarded with homework from weeks past that miraculously showed up in a binder. Then we have the other aspect starting to turn up. Some parents are just looking at on-line gradebooks for the first time in weeks, and they are shocked.

This is the time of year, like the week before winter break, when parents find your phone number and e-mail address. Requests for extra credit come pouring in so that Johnny can move from a D to a C- or Becky can move from an 88% to that all too prized 90%. “Can you please give my child something extra to do to raise his/her grade?” I have even had parents ask if their child cleaning the classroom could add some points to the final mark. You try to explain that the child has had the last 20 weeks to do the assigned work and get extra help, but that, sometimes, falls on deaf ears. The best is when you are told, “A good teacher would just bump up the grade.”

One must not forget the report cards. Both elementary and secondary teachers are now pouring over the books trying to give each student the grade that he/she earned. On top of the that citizenship and work habits must be marked and comments added. One might think that elementary teachers have the easy end here, they only have one class. However, they must provide grades for all subjects and for all students. Secondary teachers could have up to 175 students if they have a normal 5 classes or 210 if they teach 6. Each student must be given grades and comments.

I think out of the two levels, I have the most sympathy for the elementary teachers at this point. They may not have finals, but they have so much more. The schools all have their final activities – dances, sports, presentations, and more. These teachers are with the students all day with little breaks. They must keep the students engaged all the way to the end. And in the end, they will say good-bye. They have had these students all year, all day. The fourth graders and below will be back next year, but not the fifth. While all teachers will lose students, the younger students are still cute. It is harder for those good-byes.

Good-byes. I almost forgot about these. On top of everything else. Teachers must prepare to say good-bye. 5th graders will move to middle school. 8th graders will move to high school. 12th graders will graduate. At each level, they leave. At each level good-byes must be said. At each level, come next Thursday, the rooms will be empty. Parents and others think that the teachers’ countdown as well. Okay – they do. But then soon it hits. They are gone.

I remember walking the last students out after the last bell rang on the last day. I then would go back to my room and sit down at my desk. The room was a shambles. Papers strewn about. Chairs and desks no longer in line. The walls now had faded marks surrounding where the students’ work hung only days before. I remember those moments when my door would swing shut. The click echoed in the empty room. A lone paper would fall to the floor. I would sit and look at the empty desks. For me this was a hard moment. This was the time I questioned whether or not I did everything possible for those kids who just tore out of the building. Would they succeed? Would they remember my class?

As for the summer, well, teachers may not come to work every day, but the students are never far from their mind. After a bit of a break, or for some no break at all, there will be conference to attend, classes to take, and new curriculum for which to plan. The weeks of summer will pass quickly, and before they know what happened, they will be back in their class lining up the desks, hanging the posters, and getting ready for the next group.

Me. Well, I chose to move out of the classroom. That choice also meant working through a good part of the summer. I will look forward to the summer as well because my phone will go quiet. I will get to help put together ways to help teachers next year with the technology. I will help plan so that maybe, just maybe I can help a teacher worry more about their students and less about other things.

The same goes for principals, assistant principals, and staff. They are busy with promotions, text books, transcripts, parent conferences, building next year’s schedule, and a multitude of other things.

I started this piece by saying this is not a martyr piece. I don’t want people to walk away feeling sorry for teachers. Teaching was a choice – a calling. It is not easy by any means, but then again, one should know enough about their career before entering it to know the difficulty level. No. I do not want you to feel sorry for them. However, I do want the reader, especially parents, to know what is happening right now. If a teacher is unable to drop everything to talk with you, do not take it as a slight. Take it as they are working to get everything done for your child and all the other children in their care. If your child has reached this point of the year with an 89.95, don’t ask for the teacher to, wink wink, bump it up.

More importantly, this is not the time of year to be telling a teacher how to do their job. Unless you have done the job, you do not know. The fact that you sat at a desk for 12+ years does not make you an expert in education. If you must feel like you need to do something, call the school and ask what help they need. If you think of a school as a factory running at high speed all year long then this last month, the factory’s gauges are now all topped off in the red zone.

You do not have to feel sorry for teachers, but at least now you have a little understanding.

Thank you for meandering with me tonight.

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