Pay it Forward

Pin It This is the 'Thought' of January for my students. I decided that I'd share it with my blogging friends as well...

Recently I’ve been thinking about the way we treat others and the kindness we show. When someone does something nice for us, what do we do afterwards? Often we thank them, feel good inside for a while, and have good memories about the event. But what happens after that? What type of difference do we make in the lives of others once someone has done something nice for us?

It’s often too easy to pass up untold opportunities each day in which we can make a positive difference for somebody else. I’m sure that we’ve all had a time in our lives when we were feeling low, depressed, or was just having a terrible day. Nobody else knew what a hard time we were having; and yet someone, sometimes anonymously, left us a kind note, a plate of cookies, gave us a phone call, or did something that just made our day a little brighter. We all remember how that felt, and yet do we give back that good to others?

There was a movie that came out a few years ago called Pay it Forward; it was about a young boy who decided that he would do something nice for five people. This thing that he would do would be something that those five people couldn’t do for themselves. When these individuals asked if they could pay him back, he would instead tell them not to pay it back, but to pay it forward. In other words, continue on the chain of kindness to others and help make a positive difference in the world.

A few years ago, some of my students and I were sitting in the lunchroom talking about this movie—and just how much we liked it—when a thought occurred to me. We watch movies like this, we enjoy their message because it makes us feel good, and more often than not we don’t take it any farther than that. We don’t incorporate what we’ve learned into our everyday behavior.

It is my hope that we will all be a little more aware of those around us. I hope we will reach out a little more, and remember that Christmas is not the only time in which we can show kindness to others. A school program I attended once proclaimed the motto, “If it’s meant to be, it’s up to me.” Let’s all try a little harder to make a positive difference for those around us.

And He's off...

Pin It I am posting this morning as I make ready to leave.

I was going to go yesterday for two days, but with events panning out as they did, I didn’t get to leave yesterday as I’d originally hoped. Therefore, I have decided to head out to the desert this morning and plan to be home late tonight.

If anyone is wondering just where I’ll be, it will be in the San Rafael Swell. More specifically, I’ll be in the Buckhorn Wash, out by Flattop Mesa, and maybe even head out to the Hidden Splendor Mine a bit later in the day.

I plan to watch the sun set while sitting on the edge of the vermilion cliffs at Little Grand Canyon—after all I didn’t get the opportunity last time.

I’ll surely come back with tales of adventure to share.

Until then,

Adieu

I need a hero

Pin It There are times in my life when I’m ready to give up.

I look at the obstacles before me, and I think that they are too much for me to handle.

There’s simply no way I could do it all on my own.

Then, along comes someone who is an inspiration. A person who’s either already overcome the odds, or is currently doing it.

It’s people like this which inspire me. Their example encourages me to pick myself up off the ground. Though I know I will probably fall again, it is these examples which keep me believing that I can overcome and succeed.

Some of these people are around me; I see them day to day. I count on them, yet they have no idea of the impact they make on my life; little life-saving moments in time. And there are others…those who do not know me. They’ve never heard of my little blog, and chances are—never will they do so. Some of them inspire me to be my best, to get up when I fall, and to believe in that power we all have inside.

May Nick Santonastasso’s story inspire you, like he does for me.

Save it for later

Pin It Though undoubtedly this is a tune which you’ve heard many times before, I wanted to share it regardless of that possibility.

There are certain songs which have come into my life through various means, and many of these songs I’ve grown to love…usually because of how they make me feel, or who I associate them with.

Make some memories with me, will you?

Goodnight, bloggers.

Free to Be, You and Me

Pin It “Ladies first!”

Have you ever heard anyone say that before? To me, it was something I was raised with as a common rule. Girls were supposed to be first when going into a building, getting a meal, or choosing a seat at a party or theater.

However, is the idea of girls always being first really a good idea?

When I was in elementary school, my teacher brought in a movie one afternoon which had come out back in the seventies. To be honest, movies were a rare thing when I was a kid, and I was excited to see what it would be.

She told us that it was called, “Free to Be, You and Me.”



I remember watching this film with my friends and laughing, wishing that the magical carousel horses would spring to life and come to find me…they never did, but the segments of this show were entertaining—especially to a group of elementary-aged kids.

It was about a decade ago that my sister found a copy of this on VHS and presented it to me on my birthday. I couldn’t believe she’d found it…I remember watching it shortly after it was given to me and it still made me laugh.

One of my favorite segments is about a little girl who is convinced that she should always be the first…she’s a little bit stuck on herself, and thinks she’s greater than she really is.

I could tell you all about it, or simply let you watch.

I choose to let you discover all on your own.

The Visitor...(or oddity)

Pin It Each year my class puts together a newspaper.

In order to get ready for the task of interviewing, I usually invite a guest to come to the classroom, and give the students ample time to practice this skill. Additionally, the kids practice note-taking, summarization, and generally—all about being a professional.

However, on this particular Tuesday I had failed to find a suitable person to be interviewed. I had decided to instead let the students ask me questions to practice their newly-acquired skills. However, as I sent them back to their desks so we could begin, the classroom door opened and in walked a woman who was…how do I say this?

Odd.

I say odd in the best of ways. In fact, the best way you can use that word is how I choose to use it now.

She looked completely lost as she sauntered into the room—having come in completely on accident. Her eyes blinked slowly behind her oversized spectacles, ivory and silver accordion in tow. I immediately thought about calling the office for help. Then a thought struck me…this could be a silver lining to a proverbial black cloud. After all, I was in need of a subject to be interviewed and—quite conveniently—this woman happened to come by. Surely there would be no shortage of interesting things about her.

So instead of calling the principal, I asked if she would consent to be interviewed by my fifth graders. She smiled, somewhat confusedly, and whispered that that would be fine.

I could tell that many of the students were unsure what to make of this woman who looked somewhat like a flower power child gone gypsy. However, when I said they’d be practicing their interviewing skills, the room was a flurry of paper and pencils, blank pages appeared on desks, fluttering like pigeon wings.

I must say that I was impressed with my students…they were polite and asked excellent questions, however, I think the kids were more in a state of shock than awe. Some of them looked nervously around the room as she strode to the front as if she were taking her position center stage at Woodstock itself.

We soon learned that her name was Mary Sunshine—though, hating this name, she changed it to Lieannaconnanaannaconnadonna, and she was a world traveler in search of the perfect donut.

Before long, she decided to dazzle the kids with a little polka which she promptly began to play on the accordion she’d surnamed, “Baby.” I feel pretty bad though, Joey really gets nervous around new people—especially people he isn’t comfortable with. I hope she didn’t notice that he started crying because he was scared.

When she was finished, the kids began to ask her a few more questions. Though the questions were very appropriate and well thought out; many of the students were confused at her answers. When she said she was born on a little island off the coast of Iowa. One or two of them exchanged wary glances—I could see little cogs turning in their minds…was there a coast off of Iowa?

I could tell that the kids were just being nice…and most of them weren’t sure what to make of Mary Sunshine. When one of the boys was asked if he’d rather have a car or an accordion, I knew he was being polite when he said that he’d rather have the accordion. Poor kid, having to lie to a complete stranger.

Before I knew it our time was up, and now was moment for little Mary Sunshine to make her way back to wherever she was going. I couldn’t say that I was sad to see her go…having her leave lifted a huge weight off my shoulders.

Yeah, I guess she thought that she was really something…I mean, she wrote about it on the internet…you could read more about that here.

P.S. By the way...today my class learned about writing different kinds of leads. These are the leads they came up with when writing about their experience yesterday with Mary Sunshine. I hope you enjoy them…

• The donut-eating, world-traveling, accordion-playing girl actually turned out to be pretty cool.
  

• Just imagine a girl playing her accordion in the streets; she has no job, no shelter, and hardly any money. Her income comes from her accordion…
  
  
• Kids, how would your parents feel if you moved out at 14 and changed your name to Lieannaconnanaannaconnadonna?
  
  
• “Don’t take yourself too seriously,” Said Lieannaconnanaannaconnadonna. Good advice from a woman who travels the world in search of perfect pastries…
  
  
• A five year-old woman who travels the world playing the accordion searching for the perfect donut?
  
  
• What would you do if a crazy lady comes and tells you, “I’m searching the world for the perfect donut?” If you’re anything like our fifth-grade class, you’d be shocked.
  
  
• Crazy. It was a crazy afternoon in Mr. Z’s fifth grade class when Lieannaconnanaannaconnadonna came into the room toting her accordion with a smile as big as Christmas.
  

And my personal favorite:

• Lieannaconnanaannaconnadonna. No, it’s not a disease. It’s not an animal. It’s not even a real word, that is, unless you’re her.

Why cookie dough doesn't taste the same

Pin It I remember when I was a little kid.

Whenever my mom would bake chocolate-chip cookies I’d always be anxious to get at that bowl of dough. I would dream of a day when I’d be able to make an entire batch of cookie dough and then eat it all.

I wouldn’t even share it.

However, when I was a kid and Mom would make cookies, she’d always use this ancient mixer with two beaters to get the dough ready. When it was sufficiently mixed, she’d push that little button and the beaters would shoot off of the mixer like a pop gun. She’d then use the scraper to get nearly all of the dough off—but not quite.

Mom would then hand these beaters out to us kids. And when mom gave you a beater to lick, it was like licking the dew of the gates of heaven.

It always amazed me just how much dough was really on each of those beaters. Especially when a little trained tongue was covering every square centimeter in the desperate attempt to get as much off of them as humanly possible.

There was really something magical about cookie dough enjoyed this way.

When I got older and had moved out, I decided that I would make a triple batch of cookie dough and my roommate and I would eat it all while watching one of the Back to the Future movies….It wasn’t as wonderful as I thought it would be. Visions of pure unadulterated bliss faded away, and a sensation of nausea took its place instead.

It was not what I had expected.

Even after this sickening experience, over the years I’ve made hundreds of batches of dough…the most popular is that of the notorious “Chunk-A-Poo” cookie which is...how do I describe it?

Wonder?
Bliss?
A party in your mouth?

No matter how you say it…the stuff is good. I decided to make a batch of this dough and as I was cleaning off the one solitary beater, I looked at all those little chunks of dough clinging to it.


As I did, a thought occurred to me. The reason that cookie dough does not taste the same to me is that when I was a kid, it was a limited commodity. There was scarcity. Hence, I enjoyed what I had a lot more. Being able to make it when I’m an adult, and can eat as much as I want makes it lose some of its magic.

As this thought come to mind I decided I’d only eat what was on the beater.


You know what? It still tastes like those pearly gates