What to say on a St. Patrick's Day card?

Mom and Dad,

While many rhapsodize on the luck of the Irish today, I'm grateful for the Irish traits of grit, persistence, and faith that have helped you heal. 

Thinking about St. Patrick's Day one year ago, the night in the ER, dreadful calls to the sibs, not knowing anything medically, I'm awed by the sheer determination that has moved you forward - from hospital to skilled nursing facility, from skilled nursing back to your home.  

A year later - though your world is still dominated by PT visits and wound clinic treatments, you are walking without a cane, managing your world, and sleeping normally, things we weren't sure would ever happen again.  Those Irish traits have served you well.  

I am so grateful for, and awed by, your recovery.  

Love you. 

Brain-Building

During those moments when I find myself alone and at loose ends, if I'm not reading (or writing), I'm playing The New York Times CrossPlay Scrabble game.  I play against the computer (which I've set to moderately challenging), and it's a quick back and forth.  No waiting for anyone to respond.  

Playing so quickly has allowed me to be more strategic in my game play, including trying to use the double and triple word scores, in addition to the double and triple letter scores. It's quick, I'm not impacted by the baggage of playing another person, and I'm on a winning streak that makes me feel great.  

Going to take a few moments to beat my last score.  

Bam Bird, Anyone?

Last Friday my sister texted me about hanging out. "We could Mahj!" she tempted.  I was in.  Unfortunately, the rest of the foursome were busy/out of town/not available (and her kids each said no); when I realized it was just the two of us I worried we might have to cancel.  But, I shouldn't have...she learned that we could play two hands each!

So Friday evening found me knocking at my sister's door, juggling Costco sushi, Dots' Pretzels, and wine.  She was ready, her new sherbet-colored tiles on the mat, game cards and dice ready to go.  Playing two hands at a time adds a level of complexity to American Mahjong, which is an already-complex game.  But, it provides a certain amount of flexibility too - as you are working with 28 tiles rather than 14. I love some of the rules as well - sneakily stealing from the discard pile with those blank tiles...game changer.  And, discarding a Bam Bird means Cheers all around.  Fun!

Our first game started at 5:30, and we chattered on about family and life and forgetting who had drawn or discarded last. I don't know how many times we both had to count our tiles to see who was up next.  That first game took almost two hours, but I managed to get both of my hands to the final Mahjong.  We played that night until 11:30 - and the hours flew by.  

I love a Friday evening - the work week is over, the weekend is beginning, there are no obligations until Saturday.  Hanging with my sister and playing Mahjong was exactly the right way to celebrate.  

 

Reserved Reading

It's Thursday, and two issues of the New Yorker sit on my kitchen table...along with last Sunday's paper.  I have a hard time making myself read anything but light realistic (possibly romantic) fiction on a weeknight.  So this more non-fiction oriented literature remains on the table till lazy Sunday rolls around, when I settle in my chair (yes, the one I'm currently sharing with the grand-dog) and go through every section of the Sunday paper...saving the Comics for last.  With more coffee to fuel my brain, I hunker down again and dive into a New Yorker, flipping through the magazine to see which article I'm going to start with. I have made a deal with myself that I will finish every article that I start; not going to lie, some articles have been a slog.  But, I find I learn a lot - then I reward myself with the Crossword Puzzle.  Love a Sunday morning.  

What's The Saying...Let Sleeping Dogs Lie?

We have been grand-dog sitting for the newly-(well, November)-weds.  They are travelling these last two weeks, and my husband and I aren't really sure when they return.  It's been very fun to have her visiting us...and I'll be glad when her mom and dad are home.    

I can admit out loud, my dog-lover friends please forgive me, that I'm not really a pet person. We had a crazy beagle, when my kids were young, that we chased around the neighborhood with hot dogs when she escaped, which was often.  This left me with a little PTSD about dog caregiving.  

Luna, however, is a sweet mixed rescue - beautiful feathered tail, long snout and hound coloring, and she is the best size, just reaching my knee.  While she does think she's a lap dog, I've gotten her to understand, after being burned (literally and figuratively) that I don't want to be jumped on.  So we are good.  Last weekend she leapt onto my lap and my hot coffee christened us both.  

In comparison to our beagle, Luna is amazing.  She's a people dog.  She clearly communicates with us by sitting politely, lifting her left foreleg, and tilting her head.  She asking to play (ball, fetch, tug, turnover) anytime and all the time.  With our fenced in backyard, and the lovely weather, she has enjoyed the freedom of roaming in and out of the house and has spent most days chasing squirrels along the fence.  This evening, she is curled up in my favorite chair (which is hers when she's here) and she's sound asleep.  

All this excitement means she sleeps really well. I do like a sleeping dog.  

The Road Less Travelled

 After yesterday's slog through traffic to get to Lancaster, PA - I took the scenic route home.  Key was there were fewer cars and trucks on the road with me.  Route 30 across Pennsylvania to Gettysburg was fascinating.  As I drove I was making mental lists...I could write about that...or, I could write about this!  

As I meandered through small towns, many that ended with "ville," I found myself admiring the houses.  Some sat right on the road - I'm sure the road encroached on the property over time.  Others, surrounded by barns and trees I admired from afar.  There were traditional white farmhouses, Victorian style, with  porches and steep roofs.  Some with the beautiful wood trim that must be a challenge to maintain.   

I find, though, that I'm especially drawn to the brick style homes from the late 1800s, often with white shutters.  Thankful for the reduced speed, I found myself distracted by these lovely deep-red homes, many with turrets, some set back with a lovely lawn, others lined up like townhouses leading to the heart of the village.  In between towns the two lane road rolled over the gentle hills and through stubbled corn fields, resting still from winter.  Occasionally I saw a herd of cows along the road - although more were lying down this afternoon.  

At Gettysburg, I turned the car South and enjoyed the slightly faster traffic on Route 15.  More beautiful and historical brick buildings were revealed as I went through Emmitsburg and passed Mount St. Mary's.  I love this section of the journey - the landmarks are familiar and time seems to stand still.  I didn't slow down until the American Legion Bridge going over the Potomac...and soon after, I pulled into the driveway of my own brick home.  

The Pull of the Open Road - Realized!

The open road calls to me, often on the way to work when escape is on my mind.  It's a real pull; I grip the steering wheel tightly as I cross over the highway, however, the car often veers (subconsciously, of course) towards the on-ramp.  

Today, I got to take that on-ramp...I'm headed out to recruit new teachers.  I pressed on the gas and the engine of our 2015 Acura leapt to respond. I think the speed and change of scenery is good for it as well.  The Mount Vernon Parkway was a dream, and the sights of Washington DC flashed by, brief flickers in my peripheral vision.  Endorphins rushed through my system. I was FREE!  

Onto 395 N - and the traffic slowed down...in fact it pretty much crawled.  I did enjoy watching the flights pass overhead on their way to National Airport, and I could have sketched the Waterfront I sat on that curve for so long.  Over the Anacostia Bridge onto 295 - things remained stop and go - but I can always find something interesting to look at!

When I finally hit 83 N in Pennsylvania, I relaxed into the drive. The traffic moved fast, but the speed was consistent and the driving felt very civilized - you know, people used their blinkers! The highlight though?  I regularly began to see cows on either side of the road.  Big ones, little ones, brown ones, cream ones...shaggy furry ones...and they were all standing up (IYKYK).  

I ended up the afternoon in beautiful Lancaster, PA, and I'm looking forward to hiring new teachers tomorrow for our school system. In the afternoon - I think I'll take a different scenic route home; perhaps I'll try to find more cows.  

Welcome Spring!

With the warmer weather today, I have enjoyed sitting quietly on the back deck and observing the wildlife awaken from its winter stasis.  While the crows have been an idiosyncratic presence most of the winter, I was delighted to see and hear a few more species of birds.  Cardinals, House Finches, and LBBs (little brown birds), who mostly disappeared for the winter, are drawn to our water garden for a drink or to freshen their feathers.  These little twitterers also like to take the fluff from our miniature cattails to form their nests.  As of today, the cattails have exploded into straggly puffballs - the perfect enticements for tiny beaks.  For the few cattails that remain, velour-like chocolate brown, the end is near, as my husband will clean out the pond today to ready it for the frogs and fish that will soon call it home.  

Delayed Gratification

 I've been implementing my own version of the Marshmallow test - with myself as the vict...I mean test subject.  I hate that Netflix and it's compatriots in paid-programming release all (or some) of the episodes of its' newest releases at once.  

Honestly, I'm a product of the delayed gratification generation.  Are you? Well, full disclosure, I'm Catholic - so I have been waiting for the end of the world for many years...although, I'm pretty sure I'm not a candidate for redemption.  But, denial and delay have long been precepts of the Catholic faith.  Perhaps Lent, currently underway, is having an impact on me.  

Here is where I'm experiencing this delayed gratification:  I hate to watch the end of a program - so I don't.  Most recently, I've been watching the series Victoria, (yes, it's not recently released) and it's fabulous.  The music (I watch the whole intro and outro, because of this) is amazing; the visuals are superb, and I love the actress playing Victoria (Jenna Coleman).  However, I cannot get past the next-to-last episode filmed in Season three.  But, is this delayed gratification, or is it just delaying an end...I don't want to watch the end.  I know what happens in history - I do not want to separate from the storyline that I have connected to in Victoria...it seems so real. 

I've also stopped moving forward in the series of The Diplomat, as well as Virgin River.  Both of these series have been gripping for me - and yet, I cannot move to the end of each.  

I hearken back to those days when I was young, and my siblings (all younger) and I would gather in front of the TV with our snacks or dinner on a Friday night to watch first The Muppets, then Dallas, and finally, with the youngest in bed, Falcon Crest.  Now that was some delayed gratification.  Who shot JR?  We waited for a long time to find out, and I'm better for it.  

Now, I'm carefully curating my access to Bridgerton (self-imposed, limited release, weekly) - hoping to extend my enjoyment of the show over time.  Delayed gratification is a powerful motivator to get me through the week.  

It being Women's History Month, in our Admin Meeting this morning we were asked to consider (and share) a woman celebrity that we admired - and a non-related woman that had influenced us.  I was low on coffee, at that point, and felt stumped, especially to even name a celebrity.  

After a hot minute, however, I began to think about all of the women who have impacted my career as a teacher and educational leader - and there are so many of you.  In fact, as I start to name you, I realize that there are so many, I would not want to miss recognizing one.  

You have nurtured, 

you have supported, 

you have cajoled, 

you have convinced, 

you have led, 

you have collaborated, 

you have spoken truth, 

you have left fingerprints, 

you have believed, 

you have shared, 

you have cried, 

you have made mistakes, 

you have admitted ignorance, 

you have changed your mind, 

you have lifted yourself up, 

you have lifted others like me, 

you have been my teacher.  

You have been an important part of my journey - and I'm thankful for all you have shared with me.  Yes, you!  :)

Energized!

The rain this afternoon had me predicting that there would be a low turnout for our rising sixth grade orientation...turns out, I was wrong.  This evening almost 350 students and parents came to school to learn a little more about sixth grade, talk to some current students, and get a tour of the building.  When I walked into the auditorium and saw just how packed it was, I got energized!  The team handed me the microphone and the evening just flew by. I am so lucky to love the school that I work in! 

My Goal - Slow your Roll

Eight Grade lunch is my daily touchstone...if I make it through that grade level's lunch relatively unscathed, I'll likely make it through the day.  Hmm - what's my rubric, you might ask?  Well, a 4 is no trash on the floor or on the tables, moderated indoor voices, seated until called, and respond to requests for attention.  Often failure is measured in the number of apologies that I have to make to the staff (custodial and support) that are helping monitor lunches.  

In December, we dismissed the bad behavior as pre-winter vacation crazy - everyone knows that this is real.  

In January, we anticipated the new year reset meeting, hoping that clarity around expectations would improve the cafeteria outcomes.  

In February, I despaired...could it be that this group would never demonstrate the maturity the we expect?  Seriously, even the Seventh Graders were better behaved at lunch.  

Recently, I realized our mistake.  Typically, our eighth graders eat in under 10 minutes - and during the lovely weather, this means they are headed outside for some fresh air for the last 25 minutes of lunch.  But during this cold and inclement weather, we haven't been taking anyone outside...so we need lunch to take the full 35 minutes - and students to be able to eat in the cafeteria as they would in a restaurant.  A week ago I put the hammer down and threatened assigned seating by homeroom for all students.  That, along with some coaching of the adults to slow things down at lunch, has proven effective.  

Without the anticipation of getting in and out of the cafeteria fast, the eighth graders have relaxed a little, picked up some games, and eased up on the energy.  They are still loud (ok, it is a school cafeteria).  But, there is less trash on the table and floor, and more giggles and chit chat among friends.  Our chess players are still deeply engaged - and our uno tables are having a blast.  Today I had to ask the Taco, Cat, Goat, Cheese Pizza game table to quiet down just a little - their screams of victory were drawing a lot of attention!  

I'm attributing their success to maturity - finally making its slow way through the eighth grade class.  As of today, I am hopeful that we will make it to June.  

March, Even the Name Sounds Grim

I have to admit, I have come to anticipate the month of March with trepidation.  In recent years, March has presented a series of challenges... the loss of a friend, the Covid Pandemic, and last year, a slip on the stairs for my mom leading to multiple surgeries and a year of recovery.  These challenges have impacted my usual optimistic outlook.  

So, today, I'm giving March the side-eye.  What does it have in store this year?  Certainly I'm not trusting today's spring-like weather.  I've seen the snowflake on the weather app for this upcoming week.  

Perhaps returning to regular writing with you, fellow slicers, will encourage me to focus on the small successes and many joys that can refill my cup...

...like seeing the bright, hardy, green leaves of future daffodils poking through the snirt this morning.  

Spring IS just around the corner.  

Strength and Fragility

We are fragile beings - nothing drives this point home more than watching my mom struggle with multiple significant health issues.  

My mother is a small-town girl from the country.  New Yorker - but, she'll tell you, not from the city, from up North where ancient mountains dominate the horizon and streams and rivers abound.  She is the Army General's wife - raising five kids all over the globe, moving them, educating them - and then sending them out into the world, all while being married to the Army.  She is the person who was home when we moved every few years.  Even now, when I think of home, it's where my mom is. She is, without a doubt, the strongest person I know.    

Seeing her in the hospital bed, wearing an interested face and making small talk the way you are supposed to when there are visitors, is inspiring.  When the visitors go there is a glimpse of the stress and strain this fall and subsequent hospitalization is having on her.  There is a tremble to her chin, and a wobble to her fingers.  Her broken bones aren't hurting her yet - the pain meds are strong.  And, I'm glad that she hasn't asked for a mirror, as the bruising is terrible.  Her voice shakes a little with acknowledgement when she conveys to me that the doctor reported "This will be a long road to recovery." 

So, I was not surprised when she said this evening, "Well, if I'm going to be here for a while I need to get into some routines.  Ellen, please get my face wipes and my cold cream.  Let's start there."  

As the shift change occurs, the nurse pops in to say goodbye and the General's wife returns, graciously thanking her for the help over the last few days and wishing her a relaxing few days off.    

Why We Do What We Do!

This morning, tired and stressed, I subbed in for one of the admin team covering cafeteria duty.  This is the best part of the morning (I said, sarcastically) - before the school day starts, when students come into the cafeteria and pretend they are going to eat breakfast, and then don't.  

Getting from Door 1 - where they enter the building to the cafeteria door can sometimes be way more fun than it should be.  So, this morning found me, somewhat grumpily, standing in the hallway welcoming students into the cafeteria for breakfast.  

As the first bell began to ring, one of our seventh graders, autistic, hyper-focused, and often incensed by the behavior of other students, walked up to me.  Squinting through his glasses, hat pulled low and fists curled in agitation, Adam glared at me and then said, "Congratulations, Ms. E. Smith, on being Principal of the Year." 

"Thank you, Adam," I responded, "You are the best."  He grinned and moved on into his day.  And, so did I.  

Self-care for Ladies of a Certain Age

 Last Wednesday, sitting in the hospital while my mom was undergoing a second surgery to immobilize her broken pelvis, I began to feel lightheaded and slightly nauseous.  I was terrified that, like my brother the day before, I was coming down with the norovirus.  Literally, terrified.  I left my sisters and headed home anticipating the nasty symptoms would descend on me swiftly.  

Fortunately, nothing.  I was tired, exhausted really, and napped off and on till dinner.  My mom, always upbeat, noted the next day that I likely just had a sinking spell.  "Not surprising," she said, "ladies of a certain age always have sinking spells."

Yesterday, back at the hospital for a long stretch, I again felt lightheaded and dizzy.   In the afternoon, my husband mentioned he often felt incredibly stressed during hospital visits. When he added, "I get lightheaded and feel uncomfortable," I realized that the symptoms I was experiencing were likely stress and anxiety-related.  

So, at least I know what's going on and what to do.  Taking care of one's self is never easy to prioritize, and during times of great stress it's even harder.  But, the walk I took in the evening yesterday was something that I can do again, and my plan to spend time with friends and family can help as well.  

Reality Check

The cell phone vibrates with a call; my sister...but my dinner is just heated and the glass of wine stands ready to refresh.  I hit the button on the side, shut down the call, and turn the phone over.  Focused on a late dinner after a long day, I pick up the glass and sip the chilled sauvignon blanc.  

Zzzzt, Zzzzzt, Zzzzzt.  "Hmm," I think, "Another call?  That's unusual."  I flip over the phone and my heart drops when I see it's my sister calling again...and then, a text from her saying, "I need you to call me now."  

I answer - and within two minutes I'm on the way to the ER.  "Life can change in a blink," my mom says, when I finally get to see her.  "We were just carrying a plant up the stairs."  

My parents have been so young and vigorous that the years creeping by have deceived me. In one fell swoop their (and our) lives have become more complex, and yet what's important has been drilled down to one simple concept:  gratitude.  

Mom will be ok, I hope - it will be a long journey to recovery.  Dad will be ok - his bruises and bumps will heal.  Our family will ensure they have what they need.   So thankful for my siblings and extended family.  Grateful for more time.   

Faced with an Audience...

I have literally no idea what I said on Thursday afternoon.  I do remember standing on stage, microphone in hand, and gazing into the darkened auditorium, overwhelmed by your support.   

Here is what I wish I had said:  I love being the principal of Dorothy Hamm Middle School.  I love the relationships I have built with staff, students, and families.  I love our mission - to create a place where YOU belong and gain the skills YOU need to become whatever you want.  I love learning with you and building the skills I need to be and do better.  

There are a lot of I's in that paragraph, but the job is really about WE.  Together, WE have created an amazing school.  We have developed relationships that are the foundation for student success.  We seek to create a place of belonging and becoming for staff and students alike.  Our building's Civil Rights history asks US to ensure that a rigorous, high-quality education is accessible by all who enter our doors - and together we work hard to make this happen.  

And thank you. 

• to my family for helping me lean forward into life
• to the teachers and staff I've learned from over the years (yes, you)
• to the talented administrators I've worked for and collaborated with 
• to the students whose infinite potential brightens the future 

We aren't done.  Let's continue.  

Gratefully.   

Acceptable Escape

My go-to activity these days is to hunker down into my reading chair and escape into fiction of all sorts. Reading is an acceptable form of escape from the demands and complexities of my life.  Over the course of two weeks, I devour many books, reading before bed and for hours on the weekend.  

A trip to the library for replenishing complete, I relax into my chair, book bag on my lap, and I pull each book out to reread the inside cover.  Where will I start?  

• Something light and humorous - currently reading anything by Jenny Colgan for this category.  
• Romantic - possibly a historical novel from Mary Balogh.  
• Scary - am I ready for something that I can't put down while my heart remains in my throat until the last page like the most recent Kristin Hannah?  

An orderly stack develops to the left of my chair - and soon the bag sits empty on the right, ready to collect the finished books and the cycle can begin again.  Ahh...

After Action Report

I sit quietly in my chair, breathing in and out in an attempt to calm myself after the argument.  I focus on the rhythmic whooshing in my ears and veins and the trembling of my arm muscles.  I realize I'm gripping the arms of the chair and move to relax my hands, breathing in while I stretch the fingers out.  The fuzzy feeling in my head must be a post-adrenaline chemical reaction, the down after such an intense up.  Drained, I stay where I am.