My new blog home is lonely without you!

While I'm loving WordPress and happy to share with any of you diehard Blogger fans why I now prefer it, I feel like I've left behind some of my old readers!

So, come join me at my new blog home:

http://oliviaobryon.com/2012/06/09/the-illusive-twenty-something-happiness/

Hope to see you there!

My blog has moved!

Little old me has outgrown this little old blog.

Time for a new name, a new platform, and a new look:

www.oliviaobryon.com

If you use blogger as your reader, you can still add me to your blog feed or sign-up to follow me by email.  Hope to see you at my new online home!

No, we ain't gonna take it!

I'm feeling a bit revved up.  And, yes, Twisted Sister is stuck in my head.  This week was hard at school.  I will do my best to express myself while being careful not to overstep any professional boundaries, but I really wish that I could just say everything that's on my mind.

The hardest part about my job can be how I am sometimes treated.  I work my butt off.  I put my heart and soul into my work.  I care about every single one of my students, even the ones that are the most behaviorally challenging.  Fortunately, the parents of my most behaviorally challenging students have been supportive this year, so that's not what's eating at me.

I just wish that I could invite the families of all of my students to come in and spend a day in my classroom.  I would like them to see what it is like to balance the individual social, emotional, physical, and mental needs of 30 students simultaneously while also attempting to teach a class.  A lot of times, I only have a couple of minutes to solve problems that come up in my room, and it's not because I don't care, (imagine one student having an asthma attack, while another is crying under her desk, while two others are bickering... that's not an unusual scene after recess in my room).

I'm a very reflective and pragmatic human being.  I am willing to admit when I make mistakes and grow from them.  However, there are also times that I feel like families have to be present in my room during the event and know all of the students involved to truly understand the choices that I make.  Being a teacher is not the same as having children, unless you have 30 of them.  I'm not saying it's harder, I'm just saying it's different.  You're more likely to get the teacher to understand where you're coming from if you approach him or her with respect and a willingness to admit that maybe you do not fully understand what happened either.

There, I feel better.

Separation of School and Home

I know that I run a risk having a blog and being a teacher.

I try to use my maiden name for writing and my married name for teaching, but sometimes this is not enough.  Some students found the online me today.

Teaching can be all consuming.  Papers to grade at night, lessons to plan on the weekends, after school events to coordinate, parents texting and calling at all hours.  Don't get me wrong, I love my job (most of the time), but I also need a separation of school and home.

So, tonight, when I discovered that I had been discovered, I was pretty disappointed.

Sometimes I need a little break to be me, even if it's public, on the internet, in pursuit of my other passion, writing.

Hopefully, they found me so boring that they don't come back...

Familial Insomnia

It's 10:43 and I should be asleep.  I get up 7 hours and 17 minutes from now.  Anything less than 8 hours of sleep does not work for me.

However, I'm wide awake, obsessed with the concept of how many direct ancestors are responsible for me being here, typing this tonight.  Maybe I should not have slept in until 11, or taken that nap, or shared some of Alex's mocha after dinner...

2,048 direct ancestors in the past 10 generations, to be exact.  Two parents, four grandparents, eight great grandparents, 16 great great grandparents...  I feel like I have the Math Curse that my students love so much.

Oops on the 2,046 instead of 2,048... Apparently my mental math isn't as good as my fourth graders'!

Ten generations probably only gets me back around 300 years, (liberally assuming each generation has children about every 30 years).  That means, we really have thousands of direct ancestors, far more than the 2,048 that I was patient enough to calculate.

This blows my mind.

And, it does not even take into account all of the great aunts, second cousins, etc. that we're genetically connected to, (or their thousands of separate descendants).  The more I start to think this way, the more I start to feel like the whole world must somehow be related.  I guess it doesn't help that my dad found some MacKays related to us in the 1600s, (I don't think this automatically qualifies me as being related to my husband, right?).

What I also find interesting about all of this is that even though I connect most with my paternal last name, I really have countless last names in my background that are just as responsible for me being here.  According to my dad's recent family tree research, which gets a couple of our lines back to the 1600s, I am just as much German, French, Prussian, and English as I am Irish, but since my last name is O'Bryon, I've always connected most with this piece of my heritage.

It's fascinating to think that we're really the result of so many people from so many backgrounds.  I have ancestors that lived in the original colonies, ancestors that were Native Americans, ancestors that migrated only a couple of generations ago from Prussia.

I am so many people.  You are too.  The math nerd in me can't get over this.

A partial list of the last names in my background over the past few hundred years, maybe we're related!

Portland: Mecca of the Hybrid Hipster

Last night Alex declared to me that he is a hipster.  He is out of the proverbial closet.  Pipe smoking, road-bike riding, hipster.  Apparently, this video confirmed it for him, even though I was pretty sure that his love for Portland, Berkeley, and messenger bags gave him away years ago.

Actually, we're a new breed of hipsters.  True hipsters might call us posers, but I think we're just a hybrid of the hipster and the yuppie.  I'm not ashamed.  I like organic food, shit yogis say, and, of course, Portland, (as well as yuppie things like homeownership and a regular paycheck!).

So, when a coworker/friend asked me if I wanted to spend 26 hours stuffed in a Prius on a road trip to Olympia for her roller derby bout that would include a night in our beloved Portland, how could I say no?  (And, seriously, how could this scenario get anymore hipster?)

Yes, I know, true hipsters do not admit their hipster identity under any circumstance.  That's why I'm the hybrid version.

Here's my top 10 hybrid hipster reasons that I love Portland:

1.  Dirty bars, (even if I want to exit the dirty bars at midnight ;)
2.  Revamped industrial districts
3.  Foodie food
4.  Voodoo donuts, (standing in line for anything makes it that much cooler, okay, not really, but I still like weird donuts!)
5.  Microbreweries galore
6.  Green everything, (trees, hillsides, environmental consciousness, bicycles...)
7.  Proximity to the Oregon coast, Columbia Gorge
8.  Dogs welcome EVERYWHERE
9.  Alabama Street & NW 23rd, (two neighborhoods that make me miss Berkeley... hello gourmet food trucks with picnic seating areas!)
10.  Isn't Portland where young people go to retire?


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Voodoo Donuts in the middle of the night here I come!

Poetic Obsession

I'm taking a journey through other people's lives.  Through the stories of authors published, through their insecurities and perseverance.  More often than not, I hear myself in their stories.  Neurotic obsessions with the written word.  Undying insistence that they deserve to be published.

Maybe I do not deserve it yet, I often think.  But, I will.  I will write and write again until it works.  Until it clicks and all makes sense and someone will want to pay to read it, even if really, I only write it for myself.  Writing for myself does not pay the bills.

Each day I add agents to the growing list, I read stories.  Story after story of not giving up.  Author blogs.  Each day a different theme, a different message, still somehow threaded together, connected between entries, shouting truths at me.

Today, poetry.

First, it was Janet Fitch's advice to read poetry to learn how to write.

Then, it was a young agent, stumbled across after chasing down Barbara Kingsolver, who when googled, I discovered was the poet of delightful oddities.

So, poetry it is.

My late grandmother was a poet.  Ever since I was a child, I've carried around this book from house to house that belonged to her.  It is filled with poems, pencil marked with her favorites, an extra, my favorite of her favorites, glued to the inside of the back cover.  Somehow, one book of poems, created an imaginary bridge between the living and the dead, a relationship between us over shared words.

Just reading poetry helps my words flow.  Poetry, poetry, poetry.  Such a simple, often overlooked piece of the writing world, yet home to so many wonderful secrets.  I never thought I liked poetry until just now.  Turns out I've liked it all along.

Any poets out there?  Any poems to share?  I can feel a new obsession brewing.  A goal, perhaps, of one poem read each night.  New inspiration.

On the inside front cover, the name Frank Schmold is written in cursive, a mysterious figure in my imagination.

One of my grandmother's favorites I read aloud over and over as a melancholy teenager.

Rose petals from those melancholy teenaged years, pressed for posterity.

Last, but not least, the poem my grandmother glued to the inside back cover.  I've always wondered who or what it made her think of...

100th Post: Writing Business Plan!

To keep myself focused, I made a writing business plan for the rest of the year:

May - June 7:  Research one agent/day to add to my query list.  Create spreadsheet to record submission guidelines, contact info, why I selected each agent.  I already have a list of 7 agents that represent authors that either are young/up-and-coming or wrote books that I enjoy.  Goal is to have 30+ agents on my list for summer.

June 8 - June 22:  Hello summer vacation.  Two weeks to edit/revise my manuscript before submission.

June 23 - 30:  Perfect my basic query letter, (to be tweaked based on information gathered on individual agents above).

July 1 - 31:  Submit query to minimum one agent/day, making up for any days missed on subsequent days.  Goal 31+ agents in 31 days.

August:  Post pitches for next book to blog, commit to next book idea, (I have four!).  Even if nothing happens to the first book, I am determined to keep moving forward.

September - October:  Research background information for next book, read similar books, non-fiction texts to support experiences in book.

November:  Nanowrimo!  Time for another 50,000 words!

At this rate, I should produce at least one book/year, (last book began in July, got rolling in November, will be finished June).  

Last, but not least, I have to celebrate that this is my 100th post!  It has apparently been a very wordy year.

I love lists/plans/notes/calendars.  They give a sense of control over the future, making huge tasks feel attainable.

Travel Bug.

Growing up, I was obsessed with travel.  Scrapbooks full of travel magazine cutouts.  Subscriptions to Conde Nast and Budget Traveler.  A constant barrage of pleas to my parents to take me somewhere, anywhere, everywhere.

In college, I got close to living my dream.  I submitted a dorky audition video to a Travel Channel show.  To my amazement, I was invited to audition in LA.  I didn't get picked.  Instead, I was interrogated by a panel of producers about my boyfriend situation.  Apparently having one wasn't very desirable for "reality television."  Oh well.  I would not have traded my boyfriend for the gig.  He's now my husband.

Today, I am still obsessed with travel, but in a more subdued way.  The characters in my book travel for me.  Of course, I'd love to take their places, but my priorities have shifted.  Gone are the days when I would spend every last dollar in my savings account to run off on some adventure, or at least gone for now.

Instead, one trip at a time, as I work my way through an always changing list.  This YouTube video reminded me of how I once purchased $5k in film equipment in hopes of becoming a travel filmmaker.  I admire these guys for actually making it work.  It's important not to let dreams die.

Here's my top 10 dream travel list:

1.  Missoula, MT (Home to my aunt/uncle, scary grizzly bears, yummy beer, and beautiful wilderness)
2.  Gothenburg, Sweden (Home to my lovely cousin, her family, and midsummer)
3.  New York, NY (Still never been, want to see my cousin dance for the New York City Ballet, and live out Anthony Bourdain's Layover food itinerary)
4.  Barcelona, Spain (My favorite city in Europe, Alex hasn't been, I want to relive its Gothic streets, Mediterranean beaches, and vibrant markets)
5.  Tokyo, Japan (I still have a Lost in Translation fantasy of this city, I want to wander from Karaoke bar to Karaoke bar in the middle of the night)
6.  Buenos Aires, Argentina (From Evita to Las Madres de La Plaza de Mayo, Buenos Aires is darkly mysterious and reputed to be the Paris of Latin America)
7.  Paris, France (Yes, I've been, but a good deal of my book occurs here and I've been following the blog of a young family that moved to Paris, which is exactly the sort of thing that deeply inspires me)
8.  Maui, (Okay, I know I'm going to Kauai this summer and have been to Maui before, but I really want to take Alex on the road to Hana and to Mama's Fish House)
9.  Dalmatian Coast, Croatia, (Google image it for instant explanation)
10.  Prague, Czech Republic (Unbearable Lightness of Being is one of my all-time favorite books, takes place in Prague, MUST GO.)

What's your list?

Mom

My mom and I have the same hands.  She humored me for this post by letting me take these silly pictures to prove it.  Our hands are exactly the same size.  In fact, when pressed together, they are mirror images.

The older I get, the more of my mom that I find in myself.  Hands, laughter, kindness.  I owe much of who I am to her.  She influenced me to become a teacher.  She showed me how to be brave and not care so much about what others think.

"To thine own self be true."  The most famous words of wisdom from my mom.

For so many years I fought against all of the things that I admire most about her.  Refused to eat the right foods, scoffed at activism, pretended not to care about nature.  In all of my childish efforts to be different from my mom, I've ironically turned out in many ways to be the same.  

Better yet, I am now proud of these similarities.

Being a mom has to be one of the hardest jobs on the planet.  All of that waiting for your kids to fully appreciate, understand, and embrace your efforts.

Thank you Mom for your patience.

My mom and I are more alike than I realize.

Oh, May.

While other teachers count down the days until summer, I childishly declare my love for May.  In fact, May might just be my favorite month of the teaching year!  I think it goes back to that correlation between anticipation and happiness-- May is like the Friday of teaching.

Oh, May.

You bring two weeks of testing,
With four minimum days.
Oh, how I love thee,
Let me count the ways.

First there is time,
Each day out by four,
No more long evenings,
Watching the door.

Second there is sunshine,
Evenings stretch before dark,
Time to do yoga,
And take the dog to the park.

Last there is teaching,
With the tests over and done,
More time for history,
For art, and for fun.

Source: dearfriendrebekkaseale.blogspot.com via Nicole on Pinterest

Why my toes will be naked this summer!

I love pedicures as much as the next girl.  In fact, I anxiously await the warm months for the excuse to have someone rub my feet and make my toes look cute.  It's a cheap thrill.  In my circle of friends, it's also a social ritual.

However, this summer, my toes will be naked.

I make this declaration now because I know that it is going to take some serious self-control to decline the inevitable invitations.

Here's why I'm abstaining:

1.  When my last pedicure finally chipped away this fall, I discovered that my toe nails were half dead, suffocated beneath the polish.  Six months pedicure free, they're beginning to look healthy again.

2.  Prompted by my experience above, I decided to do a little research on the chemicals in nail polish.  Among my most interesting findings, I discovered that chemical-free nail polish, which I planned to substitute, often contains the same harmful toxins despite claims to the contrary, (further reading click here).  

3.  In college, my IR classes highlighted the unfortunate truth that many nail salons are part of human trafficking rings.  Immigrants are promised jobs in the US, then work as indentured servants to earn back their freedom.  The conditions of these arrangements often border on modern slavery, not to mention the harmful effects of breathing toxic nail polish all day.  Click here for one example in Ohio.

So, there you go.  Naked toes seem like an easy way to cut back on some of the toxins in my body, restore health to my sad little toe nails, and make a social statement that people shouldn't be forced to breathe toxic nail polish fumes all day as a job.

I promise, if you know me in real life, I will attach no judgment to whether you continue to use nail polish or visit nail salons.  Goodness knows that I still buy clothes made in sweatshops, talk on a cell phone that could debatably give me a brain tumor, and partake in all sorts of other activities that people disagree with on either health or moral grounds.  I can only handle a couple of battles at a time, so I chose this one.

Good-bye nail polish :(

Retail Therapy: Anticipation Purchases

I fancy myself minimally materialistic.  I won't lie and say that I don't like new things-- I do, but generally I avoid situations that make me want to purchase items that I don't need.  In other words, I consciously avoid shopping.

However, today I gave in.  Alex and I went to find new jeans for him and came home with goodies for me.  New running shoes, check.  Need those to run on the beach.  A hat to block the Hawaiian sun from my face, essential.  Flip flops to replace the ones rotting from yard work, yep.  1950's inspired D&G sunglasses to look cute, okay, I didn't need those, I just wanted them, badly.

Thanks to Nordstrom Rack I managed to purchase all of these items for around $160.  Not bad when you consider that the D&G glasses retailed for $155 alone.  In fact, it's a rare dose of retail therapy that so far brings zero remorse.  Usually, I have a hard time buying anything for myself, anything, and often I end up taking everything back.

I don't feel guilty this time is because I justified everything as "necessary" vacation purchases for our summer trip.  A stretch, perhaps, but I have always derived extra morsels of anticipation from buying little things to use on vacation.  Somehow, these purchases prolong the happiness derived from travel as their imagined use enhances the entire experience.

Maybe retail therapy is not the secret to lasting happiness, but sometimes, it really doesn't hurt.

My collected treasures...

Now I'm officially beach ready!

To sell or keep your wedding dress?

Most people sound surprised when I tell them that I'm selling my wedding dress.

"Don't you want to keep it?"

"What if your daughter wants to wear it?"

"I bet you'll wish you had it when you're an old lady."

Maybe they're right.  It is not an easy choice.  I am attached to it.  

However, it also bothers me, hanging there in my closet, taking up so much space for the sake of the past.  My real attachment is to the memories, the pictures, the day.  The actual dress is just one piece that happens to take up a gigantic amount of space in my bedroom's "quaint" 1950s closet.

While I understand the logic of keeping it, I also romanticize the idea of it living on as part of someone else's special day.  Perhaps it will be like the Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants but with a wedding dress between strangers.  I almost imagine it becoming its own story, a book even.  Living on from love story to love story.  Ending its life well-used, tattered in some thrift store until someone finds it and decides to reinvent it again.  Maybe I have too much hope for my little old dress.

The hippie in me likes the idea of selling it though.  Let someone else use it again.  Reduce, reuse, recycle.

I know there is a chance I'll miss it, but I also enjoy the small act of rebellion in not holding onto it.  We'll see.  Someone actually has to buy it first.  

When I went shopping for a wedding dress, I thought I wanted something understated, tea length maybe.  I almost bought a vintage Audrey-Hepburnesque dress that hit at the knees.  I anticipated the shock value of defying tradition.  However, no other day in my life would I ever have the excuse to revel in such pageantry.  I didn't even want to try this dress on, but my sister Kaitlyn convinced me, and once it was on, I was happy.  Now, it would be cool if this dress could make someone else feel the same way!

Writing: Hope, Focus, Perseverance

Audrey Niffenegger, author of Time Traveler's Wife, sent out 25 agent queries before landing an agent.

I don't fancy myself at her level of writing, so I am prepared for the reality that finding a home for my first book may take forever, literally.  While I'm researching agents with similar authors and small publishers accepting manuscripts, I'm also anxious to start writing again.  Writing is the fun part.

My next book already lives inside my head and I'm obsessed.  It's very different than my first.  Darker, more developed.  This time, I plan to thoroughly brainstorm the characters backgrounds before I begin.  I'm excited to see my writing grow.

Last time, in the heat of 50,000 words in one month, (under Nanowrimo's tutelage), I knew where I wanted to go, but I didn't stop to plan along the way.  In some ways this was wonderful.  It got me past the first couple of chapters, where I usually get stuck.  It also surprised me as the plot unfolded, allowing me to live in the story like a reader instead of just following an outline.   

I've tried to outline write before, it didn't work for me.  I had fun writing the outline and then lost interest when it was time to write the middle chapters.  

Do you have a writing process that works best for you?  

I enjoy hearing how other people write.  I relate a lot to Audrey Niffenegger.  She wrote Time Traveler's Wife for herself, for the enjoyment of writing, in her moments between doing other things.  I could not help but note that she's older than I am.  This gives me hope that I can craft myself into a distinguished writer over time.

Now, all I need is a mantra...

Source: elissabassist.com via Avril on Pinterest

Happy May Day: Let's Bring Back the 40 Hour Work Week!

Life is so much happier when we spend 8 hours a day at work.  The days that I leave school at 3:30 feel so much more complete.  I have time for a nap, yoga, writing, walking the dog, and spending time with my husband-- all in one evening!

However, 3:30 days are rare.  And, I know I'm not alone.  Eight hour days were uncommon at my old job.  Friends all complain of being overworked.  Companies blame the recession.  A recent media debate exploded around whether people have to be parents to justify leaving work at 6:00.

I know that I'm lucky.  If I plan my time right, I can leave at 3:30 some days.  As a teacher, I also get breaks.  But, I sacrifice pay for these luxuries.

In honor of May Day, I proclaim my support of a societal shift back to the 8-hour workday!  Call me a Marxist, but we could all use a little more life in our life!

What is your book about?

Today, I showed up to work and was humbled by all of the interest that I received about my book.  For some reason, I forget that I broadcast pieces of my life on the internet, so it always throws me off when my real and cyber worlds collide.

The question that I received repeatedly, "What is your book about?"

Seems easy enough.  I just get so self-conscious about sharing my writing soul to real live people, (somehow internet people, even if they're actually the same people, are less intimidating!).

My one sentence answer:  A couple that is frustrated with their jobs and life and decides to sell everything to travel separately.

Not the most poetic response, but truthful.

Even trickier, however, is putting my 59,089 words into a couple of meaningful and engaging paragraphs.  If you've already read my previous attempts, save yourself the time now, stop reading.  Tonight's attempt is likely no better than before, and more likely than not, will drive me crazy with revisions.

However, if you're new to my explanation of my book, read on!  As always, thoughtful input is welcomed.

Expecting Happiness

Kristen and Jake are like many couples in their late twenties. They were told that they could be anything they wanted when they grew up. The problem is, beside each other, they can’t figure out what they want. Somehow, they’ve found themselves stuck in windowless cubes, trudging to meaningless jobs, grasping for purpose. Most nights, they forget to even look at each other.

After a failed pregnancy reawakens their dreams of adventure, they quit their jobs and sell their house to travel. Unable to agree on a shared vision of escape, they embark on separate journeys.  Jake, a lanky but attractive runner, heads across country by car, intent to live out his teenaged fantasy of the open road. His first destination, Las Vegas, Nevada, hotbed of sin. Kristen, a striking contrast of dark hair blue eyes, sets off for Germany, feigning the desire to visit a long-lost cousin. In truth, she secretly hopes to reunite with a handsome Spaniard living in Paris.

Torn between the allure of seductive foreigners and their own unrelenting longing for one another, an ironic twist of fate ultimately forces Kristen and Jake to decide whether the life that they left behind held the secret to what they truly wanted all along.

Expecting Happiness is part travelogue, part love story, part cathartic escape from a generation’s discontent.

59,089 words later...

Holy smokes.  I just finished editing my book after my second read and the momentary sense of completion is exhilarating.

59,089 words...  Six months of work after work... 144 pdf'ed pages... Approximately 240 actual book pages...

Phew.  Now it's time to wait for my kind readers to give me their input so that I can make my final changes and submit to agents this summer!  I already have one request for my manuscript, which is a pretty cool feeling, (and a lot of pressure to make it perfect!).

I feel like it's also time to manage my own expectations.  I was reading the blog of a published author this morning, where he shared that he has written four books, the first of which is still unpublished.  I know that this is pretty common for authors to write multiple books before they get published.

Still, I'm hopeful.

If nothing else, I've learned how to do it, so I can do it again, and again, and again, until it works.

Happy productive Sunday!

Done!  (For now...)

You Can Go Back

Last night, I went to Woodstock's Pizza in Davis with my husband and a friend.  I never realized how many memories I have connected to this place.  Late night post-party pizza trips with beloved friends, pizza deliveries to the dorms in order to avoid the dreaded DC, infamous stories of fake IDs confiscated in the pursuit of alcohol...  Apparently, Woodstock's Pizza was much more memorable than I ever realized back in college.

It has been six years since I graduated, which means that some of these memories are ten years old.  Whoa.  I loved college, but I never fully appreciated this glorious period of my life until it was over.  Sleep until whenever, do whatever, surrounded by friends, (even if do whatever was fairly tame for me!).  I loved studying outside underneath the trees on the quad, giggling with friends over dinner, riding my bicycle all over town, claiming my apartments.  Really, college was my first real chance to be independent, and I loved it!

This past week, the theme in my life has been that you can go back in time, it just won't be exactly the same.  Stepping out of the car in downtown Davis, I felt old.  Not in a bad way, but in a wow, I really was a baby 10 years ago way.  Standing in line to order pizza, I felt so much wiser than the giggling bunch of girls in front of us.  I once was them.  

The funny thing is that I kept watching the door, expecting old friends from college to walk through.  I found myself looking for Rachel, Tanya, Liz, and Katie.  I felt the ghosts of us sitting around a table in the center of the restaurant, laughing, gossiping, planning our futures.  Now, the future is here, and I am alright that I can't fully go back.  It was enough to sit there and remember.

As Alex and Ryan talked about the present, I remembered everything I loved about Davis!

The Next Twenty Years

I celebrated my grandmother's 80th birthday in Bodega Bay with my family this weekend.  It was a surprise party, much like the party that we threw for her twenty years earlier, for her 60th birthday.  My family, and my mom in particular, gets a big kick out of surprising my grandma.

As we ended last night watching family videos of a beach house that we rented two decades ago, I reflected on life, time, and family.  We all know that time goes by too quickly, but gathered in a house perched over the ocean, there was a comforting sense of repetition, that we can still have the past in the present, if we remember to try.

I look forward to many more new memories with my family smushed together in beach houses, and, if fortune is on our side, another "surprise" party for my grandmother's 100th birthday twenty years from now!

There is something magical about Polaroids, like they instantaneously validate the present as classic memories.  Thanks Nick for taking these, (and letting me steal them while you napped!).

A Happy Little Story...

Today was one of those days that I remembered why I like teaching.  Please understand, there are many days that I forget.  Between challenging behaviors, long hours, and pressure to have high test scores, it can be easy to lose sight of why I chose this profession.

Today I remembered.

After school, I work with a group of students that need extra academic support.  One student, a girl who is routinely behaviorally challenging and does not easily express herself with words, did not feel like learning.  It was too much hard work.  As the other students worked away at converting fractions to decimals on their white boards, she gave up.

However, our little group decided that we were not leaving her behind.  She had to do the hard work whether she liked it or not because we believed she could.  Still, she didn't believe in herself.

To sweeten the deal, I told the students we would have a party if she could figure it out.  Reluctantly, she and another student went to the back of the room and worked diligently for twenty minutes.  They called me back.  She still could not do it.

I told them to keep working, and they did, until finally she was able to show me she that understood.  The look on her face told me she was proud.  We were all proud.  The students cheered, the CD player flew on, and we danced, and laughed, and played catch with their stuffed class mascot, a Husky.

Still, the student was quiet.  She was too busy doing something to join us.  I didn't know what it was.  Then, she appeared, proudly holding up what she had typed on her Barbie laptop, her show-and-tell for the day:

Mrs. M, You're Nice.

I smiled, she smiled, then she joined the dance party.  The afternoon light soaking through my windows, happy children dancing because they were proud to learn and help each other, I felt happy.  I danced too.

You're as smart as you work to be!

Source: principalj.blogspot.com via Amber on Pinterest

I love this!

I'm telling my students over and over this month that you're not born smart, you work hard to become smarter: "Your brain is like a muscle.  The harder you work it out, the smarter you get!"

This has fascinating implications for praise.  If we tell our kids that they're smart, they're less likely to take risks, because they're afraid they'll look dumb if they make mistakes.  On the other hand, if we praise their hard work, they're more likely to take risks, grow, succeed.  For anyone interested in this concept, New York Magazine has a great article from a few years back:  "How Not to Talk to Your Kids."

Makes total sense to me.  It took me 26 years to decide to try something that I might be bad at, (and, it's still painful when I don't immediately succeed).  Granted, my parents did not just praise intelligence, they also praised hard work, but I'd be curious to know how much praise I've received in life based on intelligence alone.

Maybe effort-based praise does not solve everything, but it's still a very motivating concept for kids.  Anyone can be the "smart one" if he/she works at it!  I guess it's a good reminder for us adults too...

Time to do some brain push-ups!

Good News: I no longer feel like I'm going to die!

One of the occupational hazards of teaching is germs.  I am constantly surrounded by germs.  In fact, something so nasty is going around my classroom that I had 6 students absent on Tuesday.  While this was pretty wonderful for the sake of quiet, focus, and my ability to teach, it was also downright horrible because I got sick too.

Even though I still do not feel great, I'm past that absolutely terrifying point where you feel like you're going to die.  Seriously, my head and neck hurt so much that I was busy googling Meningitis.

Thankfully, it feels like the worst is over and I'm ready to drag my tired little body back to school tomorrow.

The only upside of being sick?

The honest to goodness excuse to do nothing productive.  I did not clean, I did not cook, I did not work, I just sat on my butt.  Generally, I find the need to do six productive things at once, so this little mental break was nice, even if it was excruciating to speak or move.

Among my more entertaining discoveries while sequestered to the couch was the documentary The Hollywood Complex, streamable on Netflix.  It chronicles families that move their children to an apartment complex in Hollywood that caters to parents hoping their children will become big stars.  The complex even touts famous alumni like Zac Efron and Hilary Duff, (speaking of which, Hilary's now a mom, what the heck?!).

Don't get me wrong-- this is cheap entertainment, verging on trashy even, and definitely an interesting commentary on our societal obsession with celebrity.  However, for anyone like me that harbored childhood dreams of stardom, it is highly amusing!  As a teacher, it also made me wince at the education these kids are receiving.  One scene at a private school for child actors actually made me feel like an amazing teacher by comparison.

At any rate, sick or not, if you're looking for something to pass the time, check it out!  Otherwise, take some vitamin C, wash you hands, and don't let children cough in your face, (words of advice from an expert).

Photo courtesy of http://www.thehollywoodcomplex.com/

Finding my green thumb!

What I need least in the entire world is another hobby.  

However, this weekend I found one anyway.  Gardening.  I never thought I'd say it.  I used to think it was the hobby of very patient old people, or my mom, (and, no, mom, I'm not calling you old!).  Maybe I was wrong or maybe I'm getting older, more patient, and more like my mom.  

Either way, this weekend I reclaimed my backyard from the cold ugly fingers of winter.    While there is still work to do, it went from an overgrown disaster zone, to a place that I might actually want to eat my breakfast.  I pulled out the lawn furniture, killed a few black widows, (after blessing them first), and replanted my little planter box with fruits, herbs, and veggies that I hope will survive long enough for me to actually eat.  

In the three hours that I spent engaged in manual labor, I felt strong, healthy, and connected with my little piece of earth.  It was a meditation.  I appreciated all of the work that goes into everything that we eat.  I felt happy even.  And, to top it all off-- it was a workout!  I am still sore from all of that squatting and shoveling.

Here is the book that inspired it all.  Alex surprised me with it last year and I'm finally putting it to good use:

Source: amazon.com via Haley on Pinterest

It convinced me that if its author could grow a cool garden on an apartment patio, I could do alright with a full-sized backyard.  Prior to reading it, my plant kill rate was about 100%.  Now I'm successfully keeping plants alive, well, most of them!

My happy little spot.  The lavender in the middle was one of the first plants that I managed NOT to kill!  In fact, it has quadrupled in size under my loving inattention!

Goodbye winter!  Hello outdoor furniture!

My box runneth over!

Entrepreneur Love

Alright, I know that I've shared these fabulous entrepreneurs on Facebook, but I am all about giving love to the entrepreneurs in my life.  Growing up the daughter of one of the world's great entrepreneurs, (as well as the sister to a girl that once sold rocks in our front yard and will likely be another great), I have always deeply admired people that take risks to create financial independence.

Heck, I have even tried unsuccessfully myself, (wedding videography/documentary maker anyone?!), so I definitely know the spirit when I see it and strive to continue chasing it through my writing.  Soon enough, I will also be married to an entrepreneur again, as Alex is imminently headed back to real estate.  Which reminds me, does anyone want to buy or sell a house?  Oh, wait, that's a different post!

Back to the point, it seems like I am surrounded by inspiring entrepreneurs.  Here are a few recent inspirations in my life, thank you ladies for reminding me to be brave and take risks!

1.  Shaka Soaps

My husband's cousin recently launched her own home business making all-natural soaps and spa products in Hawaii.  Not only are the ingredients wonderful, but the products are stylish.  Jessica followed her heart to take the risk to move her family to Hawaii and has not looked back.  I admire the guts!  Her home business is experiencing great success, including the use of her products by celebrities.  Doesn't get much better than that!

 Check out Jess' awesome products at:  http://www.shaka-soap.com/

2.  Tanya Leigh

My dear friend Tanya is blessed with the courage to pursue her creative endeavors.  She has sold gorgeous wedding veils, fabulous dresses, and handsome silk neck ties.  As a design major at UC Davis, she kept us all on our toes in her various fashion shows, (excuse the rhyming!).  Currently, she blogs for Style Bistro and does amazing freelance fashion illustrations.  I truly cannot wait to see what she does next!

 Check out Tanya's creativity:  http://drawntostyle.blogspot.com/ 

http://www.etsy.com/people/ancoravintage          

http://www.stylebistro.com/

3.  Botany Factory

Apparently UC Davis is just a hotbed of creativity, because another lovely friend from college, Katie, is a designer for Old Navy as well as the owner of Botany Factory, a quirky cute company that creates terrariums and offers occasional terrarium-making classes set to live Blue Grass music in the Mission in SF.  Katie has also received press attention for her terrariums, and I cannot wait to buy one!

Check out Botany Factory and adorable Katie:  http://www.botanyfactory.com/index.html 

4.  Flock & Farm

Staying at my aunt Colleen's house was always the biggest treat when I was growing up.  She has been an entrepreneur longer than I have been alive, and her house was always abuzz with her pursuits.  Whether I was pouring through the blue prints for her contracting jobs or chasing around baby chicks for her pet store, I was always in kid heaven.  The best of course, was when she had baby sheep that I could bottle feed and cuddle.  I can still remember the wooly softness of a baby sheep hug!  Now, Colleen turns the wool from her sheep into gorgeous blankets for her business Flock & Farm.  With baby sheep season upon us, I think I may have to go visit sometime soon!

Check out Flock & Farm:  http://flockfarm.com/

Every nerd has her day.

Are you from Harvard?

Are you a professor?

Are you a nerd?

No, I'm just highly intelligent.

That's what I told my students every time they inquired about my attire today.  It was Nerd Day.  Every Wednesday in April, we dress up with a different theme for the equivalent of a pep rally to get kids excited about the otherwise dull act of taking the STAR test.  We started the day in the gym, rocking out to Teach Me How to Study, (aka Teach Me How to Dougie).  The result: students loved it, I'm pretty sure that nerd fashion will be making an instant comeback, and that silly song is still stuck in my head.

Teach me how to study, 
All my teachers love me.

While I was happy to dress up, I realized that it hit a nerve.  I was a nerd, am a nerd, will always be a nerd, and, let's be honest, people are not always nice to nerds.  I remember walking around high school keeping my intelligence very quiet because it didn't feel cool.  Heck, even my own siblings gave me a hard time about studying all of the time. 

So, today, I dawned my nerd gear, (items that I regularly wear anyway, just not all at once), and set off to tell the world that I'd rather be called highly intelligent than a nerd.  It felt good.  I let my nerd flag fly. 

Who knew that telling ten year olds that it is better to label people as highly intelligent than as nerds would feel so cathartic?  I guess it makes sense that a nerd would grow up to be a teacher.  Who better to love school and push others to do the same? 

Today, this nerd, I mean highly intelligent person, had her day.

My best nerd face.

It's a good day when the sparkly Toms make the cut.

Sidenote:  I can take no credit for finding this YouTube gem, the other teachers on my team are responsible!