Off Day

Snatched this gem from my old xanga (xanga.com/carolynofgreengables). It's appropriate for today. And the past week.

Off-Day: Is there some French word for that?

It's easy to believe that off-days never really happen when you're not having one. But today has taken that notion's family hostage and made it beg for mercy. (I started with "But today has blown that notion out of the water," but it felt too cliched. We have cliches for a reason, though. Tested and proven.) I showed up late to my last final of the semester. I mean a half hour late kind of late. Then I couldn't understand the directions. After asking if I was on the right track (I kid you not) three times, I finished and left the classroom with 40 minutes to spare. Wow. Easier than I thought. Then I got to the restroom where some girls who had just finished the test were saying that it was harder than they expected. I ascertained the instructions from them. Then I swallowed whatever shreds were left of my pride and whispered the situation to my professor. "Carolyn, is this an off-day for you?" she remarked. I think she thought that I was going through something especially difficult: heroine withdrawal, a break-up, a death in the family. Praise God, no! I just can't seem to FOLLOW DIRECTIONS EVER. So then I finished and it may have been "B" material at best. Also, why can't we find any stars for the top of the tree? Or, more to the point, where can we find a star for the top of the tree? haha, "to the point"

Posted 12/11/2008 10:54 PM

Asking Better Questions

In the teaching ESL class I took this month, we watched a video from the late 1970s about Mexican-American acculturation in southern California. They were experiencing all the racism, poverty, and loss of identity that comes with immigration. The most striking part of the video was when the interviewer asked some of the Mexican-American high school drop-outs, "what do you want to be when you grow up?" This is a familiar question, and it seems to me that it is really asking, "how will you make money when you are old enough to do so?" It's a good question for an individualistic, transitory, capitalistic society to ask of its members. But the teens in the video, who come from a communal, stationary society just stared blankly into the distance, and responded with a nervous chuckle, "I don't know."

I wish the interviewer had gone on to clarify, "You mean you don't dream of anything happening in your life?" Then it would have been clearer if they merely didn't know how they would earn money, or if they had not been encouraged to dream about their futures, and to picture life differently. The tragedy would be if they had not been given the power to view themselves as agents for change and betterment in the world. That possibility was heart-breaking, and everyone in my class felt it.

I recently attended a party of about 25 bright, enthusiastic young people. They are certainly exceptions to many rules. They carry the hope of Christ in their hearts. They walk with confidence wherever they go. They change the world by listening to God and people. If you ask them what they want to be when they grow up, they might also stare at you blankly for a bit. They are entrenched in that very battle of deciding how they will earn their bread. For them, too, the question doesn't have a more inspirational answer than a stare into the distance, and a faint, "I don't know." But, if we change the question a bit, and begin with "what do you want in life?" or "what are your hopes for the future?" we will get to the heart of the matter.

Here are a few of their responses:

• I want to be a father to children, and not just in the biological sense, especially for boys.
• I want to teach, and help build a community.
• I want adventure, love (maybe getting married, but maybe not), and wisdom (because I love to read books).
• I want to do everything, go everywhere, and meet everyone.
• I want to serve. I like where I am right now.
• I want to do one of the following before I die: star in a show, or start a camp for troubled youth, or...
• I want to write a novel, like War and Peace, that follows a person through all of life.
• I want to have a family, and have an outlet for adventure.
• I want to adopt four boys.
• I want to do something that matters, that no one ever gives me credit for.
• I want to have the ability to go off on thinking tangents for as long as I like.
• I want to play Encore all together with my giant family.
• I want to live outside of the ordinary.
• I want to know people and encourage them to know God better.

I'm far more satisfied with these answers than with those I gave as a child, "nurse, vet, waitress [ahem, little Carolyn, you mean 'server']."

A Dorm Story: What I Learned About Knees

Students were getting in and out of a taxicab minivan in front of the residence hall. Lachelle and I happened to be talking there when we suddenly noticed that Krysta, a student from China, was leaning pitifully on the floor of the minivan, awkwardly situated with her knee. 

Upon closer inspection, we found that her kneecap had dislocated, and it lay at an odd angle, frightening the poor girl almost as much as the pain. It became evident that in no way was she moving from the edge of the cab.

Lachelle went to find crutches, of which the dorm has an abundance for reasons untold. We called 911, and waited. I suggested that the perplexed cabdriver keep his meter running, for she could not move even the vertical meter upward to sit in the van and be taken to the Emergency Room. She could not, in other words, have chosen a more expensive seat upon which to become immobilized.

To make matters worse, the tough but shy Krysta was “parked” directly in front of the residence hall entrance, and it happened to be dinner time. Students were pouring out, wondering and gawking. Krysta, did not hesitate to tell them, I’m pretty sure, to keep moving and to mind their own business. 

When the EMTs arrived, we had racked up a sizable cab fare. But Krysta was treated almost immediately in the ER, and experienced great relief, after which we waited for three hours to get the x-ray and its results. 

If you’ve ever had knee trouble, you know the story does not end there. We were in and out of physical therapy for the rest of the school year. As inconvenient as that continued to be, it was actually an incredible use of time, because I got to know Krysta on these frequent drives, and she got to see that the advisers cared for her. I found that she was not actually shy, and that she had a great interest in a friend of mine: Jesus. The story continues this fall. In the meantime, some morals:

Moral 1: take care of your knees,

Moral 2: especially when the only seat available is going to charge you by the minute.

"Guess the Impulse Buy": A Fun, New Game

I made a special trip to the store tonight, folks, and I bought the following:

• Gatorade
• Fantastic yellow nail polish
• Chocolate
• Antiperspirant (you know, with aluminum)

Which was not on the original list? Probably 1/3 of you guessed it (because, let's face it, chocolate is ALWAYS on the list): Gatorade.

I won't explain the nail polish. So, regarding the deodorant, I've been trying to take two steps to prevent breast cancer (and only two steps, 'cause, well, let's not get crazy): use deodorant without aluminum, and use BPA-free bottles. But tonight I needed deodorant with aluminum in it, because tomorrow I'm helping with a wedding. There's pressure to look and smell good, despite lifting chairs and rolling tables, and keeping calm when the electricity goes out. So, here's to making an exception!

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More on bottles: http://www.sciencedaily.com/releases/2009/03/090326100714.htm
I'm not providing you any links on the aluminum thing. The studies are generally inconclusive, like, not enough to take aluminum antiperspirant off the market, but conclusive enough for us to stop buying it.

The Horror/Honor of Needing People

After special needs week at my favorite summer camp, we were in the midst of group debriefing when someone began his story with something like: "Despite the fact that these people have been dealt a horrible hand, they are still cheerful..." I don't remember what else he said because I got all hung up on the word "horrible." What was so horrible about needing help with things? Even things like going to the bathroom. Or what was so horrible about smiling all the time? Or what was so horrible about occasionally bursting out in shouts or song? Or what was so horrible about pacing a lot, and needing to be calmed down by other people? These situations are not average, of course. But were they horrible?

We're afraid to need each other. We're afraid to have to bear ourselves in the most vulnerable way, like needing to be helped in the bathroom.

As we told stories at the end of the week, I know several of us were surprised that the sights and smells of the bathroom did not repulse us more. I know we were surprised that we felt incredible accomplishment, and incredible humility after helping to wipe another person. It's a matter for gratitude to the one in need that we were able to be so materially helpful, so intimately trusted.

Each of those most vulnerable people are able to bestow upon their helpers a valuable gift which cannot be repaid. Who is greater in the Kingdom? The person who has no choice but to be vulnerable (like widows and orphans in a patriarchal society, or the meek, poor in spirit, persecuted, Matthew 5), because God says he will personally plead their case, bless them, give them the earth for an inheritance; or the one helping the vulnerable person, like the good Samaritan, who fulfilled the requirements of the Kingdom by loving his neighbor as himself?

We have to become like little children, Jesus said, trusting implicitly. We have to acknowledge how we cannot help ourselves, and smile up at our Father, and say, "thank you for wiping me."

To be honest, just writing that makes me uncomfortable. But... vulnerable ≠ horrible, in fact, it may be the opposite in light of eternity.

Why Summer Makes Me a Better Teacher

Someone told me recently that good teaching takes good content and good delivery. By content, she explained, she meant the life well lived, not just the lesson plan, but the honing of my approach to life. By delivery, she meant being able to explain my approach; because if you're a teacher, that's what you're teaching from beginning to end: how you view life.

That is what the summer is good for:

Perspective
Being quiet
Looking at a sunset, and letting it wash over me for as long as it will.
Not being the first to leave,
Not having something to say,
Not having a plan,
Not eating at 5 pm if I'm not hungry,
Reading for hours,
Talking around the fire,
Setting up a tent and sleeping in it,
Taking a nap midday because I didn't sleep well in the tent.

Summer is good for driving for hours to see my people,
Going to church,
Turning off my phone,
Going the long route on the jogging trail,
Having brunch with small groups of people,
Talking at the kitchen table about the world's problems,
Praying at the kitchen table about our own problems,
Writing letters that help me to sort through the crashing waves of thought,

And later, in August, summer is good for remembering why I love a schedule and a routine and students.

No Culture Has it All Right

But, c'mon, Japan. Schadenfreude on a whole new level. Start at 1:17. I dare you not to laugh at some of these moments. Others are just cruel, like the lady with the vegetables.