Last week I began a "Kindness Project" that is far more than a project to me. The details are as follows: For each of the people on my Facebook Friend's List, I am creating a personalized post telling them why they are special to me and what their presence means in my life. One reason I'm doing it? Because Aunt Mattie taught me to always let people know how important they are to you, and why, before it's too late. The other reason is found in the story below! When I was a teacher, someone sent it to me. I never forgot the powerful message.

...because it matters!
One day a teacher asked her students to list the names of the other students in the room on two sheets of paper, leaving a space between each name. Then she told them to think of the nicest thing they could say about each of their classmates and write it down. It took the remainder of the class period to finish their assignment and, as the students left the room, each one handed in the papers.

That Saturday, the teacher wrote down the name of each student on a separate sheet of paper, and listed what everyone else had said about that individual. On Monday, she gave each student his or her list. Before long, the
entire class was smiling. "Really?" she heard whispered. "I never knew that I meant anything to anyone!" and, "I didn't know others liked me so much." were some of the comments. No one ever mentioned those papers in class again. She never knew if they discussed them after class or with their parents, but it didn't matter. The exercise had accomplished its purpose. The students were happy with themselves and one another.

That group of students moved on. Several years later, one of the students was killed in Vietnam and his teacher attended the funeral of that special student. She had never seen a serviceman in a military coffin before. He looked so handsome, so mature. The church was packed with his friends. One by one, those who loved
him took a last walk by the coffin. The teacher was the last one to bless the coffin. As she stood there, one of the soldiers, who acted as pall bearer, came up to her. "Were you Mark's math teacher?" he asked. She nodded: "Yes." Then he said: "Mark talked about you a lot."

After the funeral, most of Mark's former classmates went together to a luncheon. Mark's mother and father were there, obviously waiting to speak with his teacher. "We want to show you something," his father said, taking a wallet out of his pocket. "They found this on Mark when he was killed. We thought you might recognize it."
Opening the billfold, he carefully removed two worn pieces of notepaper that had obviously been taped, folded and refolded many times.

The teacher knew, without looking, that the papers were the ones on which she had listed all the good things each of Mark's classmates had said about him. "Thank you so much for doing that," Mark's mother said. "As you can see, Mark treasured it." All of Mark's former classmates started to gather around. Charlie smiled rather sheepishly and said, "I still have my list. It's in the top drawer of my desk at home." Chuck's wife said, "Chuck asked me to put his in our wedding album." "I have mine too," Marilyn said. "It's in my diary." Then Vickie, another classmate, reached into her pocketbook, took out her wallet and showed her worn and frazzled list to the group. " I carry this with me at all times," Vickie said, and without batting an eyelash, she continued: "I think we all saved our lists."

That's when the teacher finally sat down and cried. She cried for Mark and for all his friends who would never see him again.

The density of people in society is so thick that we forget that life will end one day. And we don't know when that one day will be.

So please, tell the people you love and care for, that they are special and important. Tell them, before it is too late..
http://laffy.homestead.com/Stories.html
Image @ picstopin.com

I was hashing out my plight as an educator for the umpteenth time with a family member. I told her in a huff of frustration, "I'm a good teacher!" I thought she understood me, knew me well enough to know this wasn't boasting on my part, but a comment based on the efforts of a lot of really amazing educators and administrators who shaped me, molded me into that "good teacher" I claimed to be. My skills in the classroom are more of a statement about those who've been a part of teaching ME, rather than my own "wonderfulness". Besides studying my butt off, the biggest thing I did was be smart enough to listen when wise people spoke and instructed me. But my family member didn't get this part at all, as she quipped, "Well, you certainly think highly of yourself."

Those words hurt me at the time, but now they just make me chuckle. Who do I see looking back at me when I strip myself bare? For a long time, all I saw was a woman who felt defeated by life, in general, and the battles that she'd faced both internal and external. I saw a woman with a great, aching need to be accepted and understood, worthy of love from those around her, particularly those she needed most. I saw a woman with no power over the people, places and things around her, who got good at putting out fires, but not so good at taking control over her own destiny. I don't see that woman at all, now. In fact, the only place she exists anymore is tucked away in my memories!

People often say to let your light shine on the whole world. Finally, I can feel my own light burning bright, shining out, and I've taken charge of my own power to better control what happens NOW, and what happens NEXT! Do things happen in life that we can't control? All the time, but that doesn't make us powerless puppets of the world. I am stripped bare, having shed the "make-up" covering my flaws, and leaving it behind on a tissue in the trash. This is who I am, all of who I am, and not everyone likes it. Certainly not everyone finds it beautiful, but that's O.K. Whew! Took me a very long time to be able to say that and mean it! Do I think "highly" of myself? I certainly don't see my own life as having more worth than any other, but I finally DO see my own worth! Maybe that's not beautiful to everyone, but it is to me! My challenge to all who read my words is this: find your own worth and never, ever allow another human being to take even one tiny piece of it away again. And when you doubt the existence of your own light, make someone smile and you will see the glow of its reflection shining clear and bright in their eyes!

While doing a search for the words, "We're all just stories in the end" (to see what would pop up), I came across a video for Doctor Who. The clips were all from episodes of Amelia Pond's adventures with the doctor (...and what do ya know, he calls her Amy). The words from the video had me glued to my laptop..."There's a little girl waiting in the garden. She's going to wait a long while, and she's going to need a lot of hope. Go to her. Tell her a story. Tell her she'll go to Sea and learn to fight pirates. She'll fall in love with a man who'll wait 2,000 years just to keep her safe. Tell her she'll give Hope to the greatest painter that ever lived. And save a whale in outer space. Tell her, this is the story of Amelia Pond, and this is how it ends."

I sobbed as it played, imagining my own childhood, myself sitting in Aunt Mattie's precious rose garden and wondering what I'd done to make my parents abandon me. I'd have given almost anything for someone who'd wait and watch over me 2,000 years JUST to keep me safe. But what did it all mean? I'd heard of Doctor Who, but I'd never seen even part of a single episode and yet here it was, calling to me with messages that touched my own life in ways I'm only now beginning to understand. When I found this video, I'd just started telling my story on my writer's website, and like the fictional Amy, I'd waited a long time to find myself, feel worthy of love, heal and be free! I eagerly began watching Season One of Doctor Who, at first just desperate to come to Amelia's part, but sinking in to the story, itself and willingly putting that part on hold. The idea of traveling through space has always been an aching dream of mine and seeing the characters do it makes me crazy jealous, even though I know it's merely fiction. I've reached the first episode of Season Seven, devouring each adventure, including Amy's as I go, and metaphorically holding my breath, waiting. I don't know what I'm waiting for, exactly, except that I'll recognize it when I see it. And if I could, I wouldn't want to know how my own story will end.

*Images @ favin.com (girl at the window) and bbcamerica.com (tardis, below).

"You own everything that happened to you. Tell your stories. If people had wanted you to write warmly about them, they should've behaved better." ~Anne Lamott

While having lab work done today, the lovely Lab Tech asked me why I'd left teaching to become a writer. The short answer actually came from the mouth of my former Administrator, who used the phrase as a politically correct way of getting rid of me. She said, "You are not a good fit at our school." Truer words were never spoken, although not in the way she meant. I love being a teacher almost as much as I love writing; both are in my soul, along with a continued search for knowledge and wisdom as a life-long learner.

I became an educator because the administration and faculty of my first school, in Arizona, were of the same mind as myself in regards to the importance of our youth and giving them the best education possible, so that they could turn that into opportunities. My first three years in a classroom was a magical time! When I moved away, I was worried I'd have trouble finding that same passion and commonality of goals, but happily I did so at the second school, here in North Carolina, where I taught for five years. I felt like I mattered at that school, like I was part of a good team, a family, as we worked together to create a positive learning environment. It was difficult to leave them, when again my husband's work took us away. The final k-12 teaching assignment I took, at first, seemed as ideal, but instead became the epitome of all the horror stories I'd heard over the years from other educators about working in a hostile environment. Why wasn't I a good fit there? Because I believe in accountability, as well as equal opportunities for all students. I wasn't a good fit, because I refused to pretend that I wasn't being bullied and threatened by students on a daily basis, even though this country has a federally mandated "Zero Tolerance Bullying Policy". When I told my administration that I was afraid of a couple of my students, it was suggested, "If you feel so terrorized, why don't you just quit?" Classrooms should not be places of fear, nor should they be a place of inequality, especially in this day and age. Everyone should matter, and be held to the same standards.

The U.S. Constitution, of which my husband swore an oath and dedicated 24 years to defend, guarantees everyone sleeping under that blanket of freedom has a voice, and at every turn, attempts have been made to silence mine on this matter. I didn't become a writer because I was blackballed from teaching for doing what was right and using my voice, even when I was told to be quiet. I was always a writer. Now, I just have a different classroom, a bigger one on the "world stage", to share my experiences, stand up for what I believe is right, and also indulge my own creative side by adding fiction writing to the mix! What better lesson to give my former students than living by the very examples I've given them over the years? I will never fit in a place that would callously, carelessly put myself and others in danger. I will never fit in a place that ignores the "truth", for any reason. And as long as I'm an American, I will use my voice, speak my truth, stand up for what's right, and fight for the causes I'm passionate about, with education of our youth being at the top of that list!

*Image below @ oneaverageamerican.com.

Not long ago, my oldest daughter flunked out of college at N.C. State. She is currently working on finding her balance and getting on track and this afternoon, over lunch, we were talking about it. I believe her insights could help a lot of young people to find their own path towards a happy future. This is what she had to say:

Interview with Hannah Schaefer--

What do you think happened that caused you to fail at your college experience?
I wasn't ready. I didn't even know I wasn't ready. Didn't think about it. Everyone else was going and it never entered my mind not to go. And once I flunked out and started applying to jobs, I realized that I could find one without a college degree, but my options were a lot more limited.

What's the hardest thing about being twenty-two and in your position?
I mean the hardest thing, I would say, is the uncertainty...I don't know what kind of job I'll have, what kind of life I'll have. I don't know what kind of money I'll make or what bills I'll have and will my income be enough? It seems like everyone else seems to know, but I don't.

I think more people are in your position than you think. How are you going to get on a path you're secure with?
The first step is going back to school so I can make myself more hire-able.

Do you think high school prepared you for life?
Not really. High school was easy and I didn't have to work. I think they helped me as much as they could have with our school system being the way it is now. They place a lot of emphasis on college, but they don't talk about other options or actually prepare you for what college is going to be like. I mean, in that part, it's all about the teachers. Teachers in AP Courses, and others who know what's coming and what they're doing...they do a great job of pointing you in the right direction but the curriculum, itself, is mostly useless.

What is the biggest mistake you made?
Thinking I wouldn't have to work for it, if I had to boil it down to a nutshell.

What advice would you give to other young people close to your age?
Look at their options. Do they want to go to college? Do the want to take a year off? How will they support themselves? Do they want to join the military or travel? Do they want to go to a trade school? Explore all of the possibilities and learn about what is out there. Your future is your responsibility.

So, have a plan, you think?
Yeah. Something that's not what everyone else is doing. Something they decide for themselves after they know all the options. Don't do something just because your teachers expect you to, or your friends, or parents or whatever. Find what you want, make a plan and pursue that.

And if they don't know what they want?
They don't have to decide right now. There's plenty of time. Do something you enjoy or pick up a hobby and work to support yourself while you're figuring that out.

Many of life's lessons are learned the hard way and most of them can't be taught from a book, or a classroom, or even from parental guidance. Most of the lessons we learn, we must learn through trial and error, success and failure. As a mother, it's not easy to watch your child (even a grown one), take a fall and get hurt, but I know that with my children, as myself, we must learn on our own and win our battles as they come. She will, however, be getting chainmail for Christmas, because one thing's for certain..."Though your battlefield may be different, the need for armor is as real today as it has ever been." ~author Unknown

My husband and I were in his truck headed to Lowe's over the weekend to purchase supplies for an outdoor art project I'm working on, when a campaign ad came on the radio. Most days, ads like this become white noise in the background of my world (especially at this time of year), but this one was talking about how, "Thom Tillis is responsible for North Carolina classroom's having no textbooks." That was just one item on a list of things he was being blamed for, but it was the one thing I knew to be an outright lie. Now, I don't really care one way or another about Thom Tillis or his politics. I don't even know enough about the man to fill up a full sheet of paper, but I do know a thing or two about education issues in North Carolina, having taught here for six years, and after finding myself on the wrong end of the political cesspit that swirls around those issues, I've made it my business to become even more informed. Anyone can easily look up certain facts about problems with education in North Carolina, i.e. teachers highly underpaid (average salary rank = 40th, according to teacherportal.com), large class sizes, lack of textbooks in classrooms, etc. What people can't easily uncover is the seedy underbelly of just what's really going on, of which the Thom Tillis ad is a perfect example.

In an attempt to improve test scores an effort was made (or more accurately, another in a long line of unsuccessful attempts) to better "standardize" curriculum, so that classrooms across the state were learning the same things (and I say test scores because improving the actual quality of education in our classrooms is NOT a priority for our legislators, no matter what side of the table they sit on, and there are stacks of credible information to support that claim). The hype about the hope was standardization of curriculum would give equal access to learning across the board for all students, especially in regards to basic concepts and thinking skills.  Enter North Carolina's adoption of the National Common Core Program. Educators across the state were informed that "it was coming, get used to the idea, and oh, by the way, the current textbooks didn't fit with the curriculum, so they're out...and budgets aren't enough to replace said textbooks, so that's out, too!" We (teachers) went to workshops, had staff meetings, grade level meetings, dug through mountains of resources that "might work" in an attempt to scurry lesson plans that reflected our thorough use of Common Core objectives, which ought to be noted, North Carolina is in the process of dumping, as quickly and quietly as possible. Like "No Child Left Behind" (which sounds GREAT, in theory), National Common Core Curriculum is another in a long line of political gimmicks that have the power to make those playing politics look like rock stars, while destroying education in our Nation one poisoned scheme at a time. Why don't we have textbooks? Because Common Core told us to throw them away! Nobody can blame all of that on Thom Tillis, no matter how good they are at spinning lies, even if he voted for the adoption of the Common Core curriculum, himself. No man, or woman, is an island. Is he good for our state? That's debatable!

*Images at asutesra.wordpress.com (student) & opinion.latintimes.com (classroom cartoon).

Ever have those perfect moments where you wish time would freeze, so you could hold on to them just a little longer? Moments that you stumble across and it feels like taking that first perfect bite of cake, savoring it on your tongue before finally having to swallow it down and lose the pleasure of it in your mouth to the process of mundane digestion. In dark days, those moments are a lifeline. In happy times, days fill up with so many of them, that it's easy to take them for granted. I shared many "perfect moments" with Aunt Mattie and they sustained me through a broken childhood, and shattered dreams. They often kept my fears at bay and reminded me that there is always a light in the dark, if you know where to look.

While writing this blog article, I sat on my deck enjoying the comfort of having nature all around me. I need the outdoors, especially with difficult topics, because it helps soothe things that hurt. While remembering various "perfect Mattie moments", tears of longing streaming down my face, I looked up. Playing right next to me was a black butterfly with indigo-tipped blue wings, fluttering carefree in the bushes beside me. "I am here," I could almost hear her whispering. "Alive...In the breeze that's teasing your hair and on the leaves...in the flowers you scent on the wind and the tingling bells of chimes dancing through time and space and the Universe. I am the blue of the sky above, the sway of the trees, and the call of birdsong." Try as I might, I cannot suspend the moments I wish to capture, nor call them back once they have passed...except in my memories and on a clean sheet of paper, with words that will never do justice to the feel of the actual moment, itself. It is enough, however, to remember and be ever mindful of when new moments will come...and they will come!

*Images @ carolinanature.com (butterfly) & girlichef.com (chocolate cake).

The following conversation took place late one evening in the fall of 1993, right before my babies, husband and I moved to RAF Lakenheath in England, where he was stationed from 1993-1996. We stayed with Aunt Mattie almost a month before heading out across the Pond and I cherished every moment I got to spend with her before we flew away.

"You were only three," she said, "...standing there restlessly on the church pew bench, sorting through my purse and handing me bits from inside." My head rested in Aunt Mattie's lap while I listened to her tell me stories from my childhood. She absently stroked my hair with hands gnarled by arthritis that I knew was painful, even though she didn't show it, nor complain. Her face reflected the peace that I always found by just being close to her. "Dr. Martin looked over in our direction and smiled at us, which considering the topic of his sermon, I thought strange. I looked over at you and stifled a laugh. I'd been wondering why you'd been so still for the last five minutes, very unlike you! Your face was covered in my red lipstick!" I laughed and so did she. "You know, if you'd been like most parents, I'd have been in big trouble," I told her and reached up to squeeze her hand. She squeezed back, looking down at me, her eyes filled with tender love. "You were just a child and children, especially, require patience, although you were a challenge to mine frequently,"  her eyes twinkling their approval of my mischievous nature. "I wasn't your responsibility, and yet you raised me like I was your own. Thank you," I said, sincerely. "You were mine, you are mine and always will be," she reminded me.

It was many years passed my childhood days before I truly understood what the term Safe Harbour meant and that Aunt Mattie has always been the very foundation of that idea for me. It all begins with her, the person who taught me that home is not a place. Home is found in a select few people, who step into our lives and give us sanctuary, nourishment, and unconditional love. Rarely do we stay in Safe Harbour, but we always return again and again, after the storms of the world have battered us around to the point where it's almost more than we can bear. We return to patch our hull, freshen our paint, repair our mast, before we once again sail away in search of new adventures. "A ship in port is safe, but that's not what ships are built for." ~Rear Admiral Grace Murray Hopper

*Images @ etsy.com (lipstick) & bobpittmanart.com (sailboat).