Sunday, October 2, 2011

Worlds Colliding




So, here it is. My attempt at taking everything that I am currently thinking about and putting it all together. What do I mean? I mean there is a knocking from within that is asking me to do some kind of project that will take what I know and what I am learning about education, teaching, learning, thinking and combine it somehow with my thinking about yoga, meditation, being and overall zen! Quite a tall order wouldn't you say? And yet is it?

It is my humble opinion that we are so lost on so many levels right now that it is scary. My belief is that our path was carved out for us on September 11th and that as a nation we have reacted kneejerkingly with fear. Fear has driven us as a people to make choices, give up freedoms and lose our collective and individual voices as never seen in this country before.

We are the land of the free, the home of the brave and yet they blow up our towers and we cower to whatever it is that we are "told" to do! And with the giving up of our power we have handed it willingly to those security guards at the airports and the people who are "above" who have NO idea what happens every day in a classroom and ultimately to those terrorists. They win.

We are so caught up in trying to walk the ever narrow tightrope of what everyone else has deemed important that we do not even see what is right in front of us and that is each other.

I see this most clearly in classrooms where teachers are teaching programs, curriculums, common core standards, GLE's, etc and not children. Lost in many cases is that human connection that keeps us all moving and wanting to live and be alive. A series of tasks to be completed, checklists to be checked, scores to be achieved takes all sense of wonder, curiosity, desire and the true beauty of learning.

Watch a person engage in something they are passionate about and you can see them glowing with that powerful yearning and desire to know more, do more, learn more. It is infectious. I watch my son Zachary as he spends hours pouring over my camera, reading the manual, experimenting with light, form, shape and color as a result of taking the one photography class offered at his high school. He is so in the zone that he can't even answer a question. Passion is driving him and it is a beautiful sight. A sight I have NEVER seen him have from taking any other class at school...ever.


One of his friends, has one of the most talented teachers I have ever had the privilege of having and knowing myself. Terry Moher was my writing instructor at UNH and working with her allowed me to free up my voice and to write that which needed to be written. Her open minded approach and remarkable conferring techniques allowed me to drive the bus of my own writing. Her questions and suggestions provocative, her manner accepting yet challenging at the same time. She also teaches here at Exeter High School and Zach's friend told me she is the best teacher he has ever had. In asking him to explain why he had to stop and think..

"Well, it is not that it is hard to get good grades, because it is not. It is more that it is the hardest class that I have because we have to think so much." He went on to talk about the choices that Terry allows these students. He talked about the choice she gave them to either write a paper or take a test. And if they did chose the test then they would also be responsible for helping her to come up with the questions for the test. You can see his mind working as he weighs these two ideas wondering if there is an easier way out...but he knows that either way he will have to think. And that leaves him thinking!! Thinking about his own thinking, learning and what it is that he has learned himself from reading Huck Finn. FABULOUS!!! Why? Terry teaches her students. It is that simple and that complicated.

So what does this have to do with my thinking? It is proof positive that when a teacher engages with students it matters. This does not mean that every teacher is going to reach every student, but it does show that if we try we can reach some of our students. I mean if there are more of us out there reaching out, trying to connect with students, work with students, be with children, curl up with a good book with kids, laugh with students, converse with kids, ask for opinions from our kid, LISTEN to them...and be human with them then we are going to see the change happen that we want to see in the world...thank you Ghandi! We need to break down the barrier of what came out of good intentions in the name of better education (based on fear mind you) and see our kids who are waiting on the other side. They NEED us as people. They NEED us to listen. The NEED us to be there for them for more than the basics. They are a very sensitive generation. They are the generation that is going to stop chasing the all mighty dollar and move to work in a more global world, and most of our schools are not in step with them on this journey. They will move on without us, but just imagine if we could facilitate and nurture all that they have to offer. They are brilliant. Their minds work differently having grown up as natives to technologies and yet we, the dinosaurs of technology bawk at it and try to find things wrong with it instead of accepting that is who they are, for better or worse and working WITH them and what they know! I believe in my heart of all hearts they are lightyears ahead of us all...but stuck in a system that models it's education after an industrial model...of which we no longer are!!


I worry that in my work as an educator for the past 20 plus years that we do NOT talk about kids anymore. The conversations, if led by the professionals themselves, tend to lean on what programs they are "doing", what scores their students are getting and not getting, and how little time they have in the day. When I used to sit down with teachers the conversations often started something like this, "I have this one student, James who hates to write..." Our conversations need to come back to those we are teaching because in the process the education system is becoming something that is nothing more than a series of checks and balances, as sterile as a hospital room, white, stark, blinding. It is less and less accessible to our students because they want more. They need more. They deserve more. It is no accident that the percentage of medicated kids is on the rise. I would need medication to stay awake in some of the classes I have observed as well...but WHY anesthetize our kids to cope with a system? Why not teach aesthetically and work to engage our students? They are smarter as a generation than we give them credit for. If we could all just take a collective breath together and begin to contemplate and see all of the insanity that is going on around us then perhaps we could begin to move our thinking back into the realm of humanity. We need to stop "DOING" school in the name of programs and test scores and all out systems failures. We need to jump out of the boxes we have put ourselves in and see that this is a system made up of people, not products and that people thrive and grow and change because of relationships and connections and thinking and curiosity, not because they happen to fill in the right or wrong dots with a number two pencil on a computer generated and scored tests.

And yet I also feel the need for a disclaimer to all of those dedicated, amazing, wonderful teachers out there(You KNOW who you are!!) who work to fight against all of these ideas and others as they slog their way through a confusing labyrinth of expectations, goals and trying to do the jobs that are expected of them and balancing that with the needs of their students. It is the ultimate juggling act with a million plates in the air and I admire you and know that I could not do the job that you do right now because for many of you there is so little freedom. My hope is that one day we will all return to the freedom to teach as we once knew it and that this "system" we are all in will find it's way back to humanity and out of the insanity it is in!! We need to stand up to fear and return to what we KNOW is good teaching and that begins with starting each year out getting to know our students, NOT testing them and placing them on a grid that means, ultimately, nothing to that child who is there and wanting to learn and often means even less to those who are teaching them!

Stepping down from the Soapbox...thank you for indulging me!

Wednesday, September 28, 2011

Cha, cha, cha changes...





I confess I am a great proponent of change.
In fact my life's work is to ask educators to think about change.
And yet when changes are forced upon me, I find myself so much more resistant to them.
Change has to come from within.
I know this through and through...

But when those changes are thrust on you out of circumstance all you can do is hold on and hope for the best. Personally I am going through SO many changes, including the "BIG" change. And for the most part I love it. I have let go of all of the "have to's" and I am no longer "shoulding" on myself!! I realize that in the end it is what we do with each day, each moment, each conversation that matters. It is what is in front of me in the here and now that I need to be working with in some way. Somehow without the monthly cycles I am more adept at letting things be instead of anticipating the next cycle, the next thing to do, the next thing to plan. I sound so evolved here don't I? Read on!!


And then there are the changes that are born out of the passing of time. Emma going off to college forces me to look back and see that time does not pass, it actually sprints and that you got to hold on for much of that ride in order not to miss it! I missed lots and I hope I did not miss the rest! As much as I tried staying present through the major child-rearing years I realize that in all my efforts I was still often the busy working Mom who did not embrace every moment, but I was there for the big stuff and the little stuff...but not everything. I did the best that I could and that is all there is!! No judgements about what I could have done better...and yet...

I find this incredible need to buy her stuff, send her stuff, and when I visit I make sure to buy her more stuff. Emma is not a stuff person, but my drive is palpable. It is a primal urge that moves me into the stores and asks, "Do you need more shampoo? Laundry detergent? A glass box? This necklace, God knows you only have like 50!!" Like she can't go to the local store and get that when I am not there!! And although I know this craziness is only in my head it is not something I can stop!

But what I am really trying to "buy" is an assurance that I have given her everything that she needs to go out into the world, to be independent, to survive and thrive on her own. And in all of my security there are insecurities that I have not yet done all that I needed to do and yet..it is too late. She is gone. She is on her own. It is a make it or break it situation and the ultimate test of parenting. As a friend of mine said, you teach them their whole lives to be independent and then dammit they actually go out and do it!! But my silly little fears are about the lack of control that I have and in that realization comes that change of letting go...the change that has been slammed into my life and that I must deal with in one way or another!! I have to let go. I have to trust that what I have done up until this point matters and that although she will have struggles and failures and victories and retreats that she has somewhere in her arsenal of life lessons something to deal with whatever it is that is presented to her. Change be damned...it happens whether you want it to or not so hang on and try to enjoy it on the way. I am certainly trying to!!

Monday, July 11, 2011

For the Love of Color

A fresh coat of paint made it's way onto the dining room walls yesterday. What a color it is. In the green family, a very new family for me. You see, I have never been a green girl. My world of paint color has seemed to stick in the more vibrant worlds of yellows, reds and oranges. I will never forget the first time I painted my living room red at the old house on Oaklands. It was like taking a huge tube of lipstick and watching it seep across the white walls. What a blast. I knew in that instant that I was addicted to color and the more the better, like the Halloween orange in my livingroom here on High Street. I remember Emma and I looking at the samples and wanting to go for it, but being nervous it was too much. After the initial strokes, there was no turning back and I have loved it everyday since.

You know time is passing when you paint the first room in the house that you painted when you first moved in. The dining room was the first canvas I dared to touch because so many of the colors in the house were very muted, pastelly and while they are not something I would have picked, I loved them...and still do. And the reason I felt I could do this room because it was clearly the one room that the woman who lived here before us, was unable to get to. It was still clad in a heavy, dark, maroon wallpaper that was so out of step with the rest of the house that flowed from room to room so beautifully. Even half of the woodwork was only done, leaving the dark heavy mantel and china cabinet next to the white woodwork of the windows. In a sense I felt the need to do that room, to finish the work that Jackie was never able to.

You see, Jackie still lives here too. Jackie raised her five year old son in this house. Jackie died in this house. From cancer. She also made sure we lived here, but that is another story. This one is of color and the choice I made yesterday would be very high on her list of selections. In fact, I would even venture to say that she helped lead me to this color. Greens...tough for one who is not naturally drawn to them I again went through the process and put various samples up on the walls. What I thought I wanted did not seem to be out there. So I started a survey and asked everyone who went through to give their vote and EVERY person picked the same one. And so that was it! I went to the paint store, bought a gallon of Benjamin Moore's Croquet, knowing if it was horrible I could always paint over it.

Glorious I tell you. Simply glorious!! The room is transformed into an elegant space that I am so excited to decorate with all natural elements. I want to create several pieces myself to give it that David Bromsted feeling that stamps it as my own. (You must be a HGTV junkie to know what I am talking about here!! LOVE Color Splash!) And as I envision my pieces I only hope that my skills will be able to keep up with what I am seeing in my mind's eye. Either way the excitement at the thought of creating is enough to get me a bit giddy! I am an idea person. I love ideas and have gotten to the point where I realize the ideas are so much fun that if I don't get to follow through with them then that is okay...because that creative processing piece gives me pause and I just LOVE that part of it all. Follow through is where I am always lacking, but again...we are talking about color here!!

So, on top of all of this is the woodwork, which is where this whole project started. I have always wanted to paint over the woodwork, but have avoided it like the plague because it is SO much work! So my Mom volunteered to do that and well...this dining room project was born. And that is where this project still is. Much woodwork to be done, but that first impact of a whole new fresh coat of paint is just like nothing else! God I love change and this green thing might be something to stick with! In celebration of such a move I even bought myself a pair of green sloggers...gardening clogs! NEVER before would I have picked green. Colors are part of who we are and where we are at that given point in time. Gone is the bright happy yellow from those dining room walls and in with the serene, calming, oh so elegant touch of croquet. So I say hello green. And is there a theme? I am actually gardening and enjoying it for the first time, and doing the weekly Farmer's Market CSA with SO much green coming into the house once a week it is a scramble to figure out what to do with it all, but hey...green is in. It is fashionable...it is hip and apparently, so am I!! Go green!

Saturday, July 9, 2011

Barely 8 o"clock

It is barely 8 o'clock
and I have been to the beach
walked the dog
talked from the heart
listened with the soul
had precious time
with a dear old sole

Moving with the
fog...adding to
the community art project
of beach "trash"
Ushering in the day
with the waves on my heels
toes in the sand
ahhhh......breathe

It is barely 8 o'clock
I have sent off the
almost 100 riders of
the Granite State Quest
off to conquer the 100
miles that lie ahead of them

I have listened to the doc
in tight bicycle shorts
from Mass General
say that when he was born
most children died of cancer
I heard him say that today...
75 - 80 % of them are cured.
Tears start to form
Amazement and gratitude
seep through my being
as Emma's face flashes in my
head...I see Patricia
and time stands still
for just a moment.
She has been there for it
all. So much more
than a nurse practitioner.

It is barely 8 o'clock
I arrive back home
to sleeping teenagers
those damned birds still
trilling and tra la laing
in the day
what orchestra thrives
in those trees out back.

Feeling full.
Feeling hope.
More than despair
Ride on GSQers
Right on Dear old friend.
Looking forward to yet
another walk and talk
a "twalk" on the beach
with you

It is barely 8 o'clock
and my intention is to make
this sacred morning time
a part of my every day
for in the getting up
in the getting out
I cannot lie in my
own head
in my own bed
and worry the day away

Early morning time
there is no other time
quite like it.
A gentleness lies in
each minute as the day
begins to crack open
the sun yawns over the horizon
It is barely 8 o'clock
I am off to yoga
hello day...

Thursday, July 7, 2011

A Bit More of Me...

Today is the first day
in an infinitely
long line of days
I have woken up
and recognized a
bit
more of
me

Settling into a summer-kind-of
morning pace
coffee
computer
water the flowers
meditate
yoga and
now the day can begin

green paint
on the dining room walls
waiting to be chosen and
given life.

beds that need to be weeded
house that needs to be cleaned
not overwhelming
just a summer pace
knowing I will get to it when
I
get
to
it

or not.

the cacophony of
birds trifling in the day
makes me pause
slow down
wonder creeps back into my being
where have you been
dear sweet wonder?

less flat
less crying
keeping the demons at bay
for today

it is good
it is all good
glad to see you
again...me

it has been too long
I have missed you
even if you are just a
bit more of me.
I will take it.

Saturday, June 25, 2011

Rest in Peace Mae and a CSA



I am joining a CSA called Stout Oak Farm and the farmer herself is Kate Donald, although she will always be Katie Sullivan to me. We first met many many years ago at Greenfield Farm in New London, NH where I taught horseback riding lessons and she was one of my students. She was a sassy little thing who would not take anything from anyone be it human or animal. I liked Katie right off, her spirit, her determination and fire and all at such a young age. I can still see her in her tan britches, tall black boots and her pony tail bobbing from left to right, stomping off with great conviction in an effort to get whatever it was she wanted or needed.

Fast forward about 20 years and I walk into the Blue Moon for lunch one day and this gorgeous woman, still with that long gorgeous ponytail, behind the counter asks, "Are you Tomasen?"

"Yes....," I reply searching the recesses of my grey matter to try to pinpoint just if and how I know this person.

"I am Katie Sullivan, you used to teach me horseback riding lessons and I owned Mae."

Ding, ding, ding the pinball in my brain rolled around each cortex making connections left and right leaving a shining array of colorful recognitions and memories behind. I smiled. Katie!! Yes, Katie.

You see, Mae (aka: Greenfield Farm's Maple Sugar) was my horse at Greenfield Farm. A feisty registered morgan that Kathy and Larry "gave me" to break and ride and train as my own as part of the deal for working and essentially living on the farm. I saw Mae come into the world in the most beautiful luminescent sac of magic, saw her stand up within minutes and saw the look of spirit in her eyes as she stared into mine and wobbled around the stall. Mae had a mind of her own from that very first day. I was the first one on Mae's back, the first to lunge her, the first to stroke her, the first to feed her from my hand, the first to show her (which she hated by the way) the first to do everything with her. There was a bond between us like no other I have ever experienced.

So, when it was time for me to go off to college, leaving her seemed impossible. Kathy and Larry called up some old friends at Merri-Lee farm in Lee and had Mae transferred there so that I could ride her. I would borrow someone's car or jump on my bike clad in riding boots and britches and ride over to be with my horse. But, Mae was not happy there and the times that I could actually get to the barn became less and less. The places to ride were difficult terrain and Mae, it seemed, missed her family and her home at Greenfield Farm. She was clearly pissed off that my visits were so far and few between. She became obstinate, trying to throw me at every turn. The fire in her eyes now had a red anger to them as well. After one semester, she went back home and they decided to breed her.

I will never forget the night I got the phone call in the middle of the night that Mae was in labor. My barn buddy Jen and I jumped in her yellow tinged Maverick and drove all the way up Route 4 from UNH to see Gus arrive just as we did. Magic again I tell you. Sheer magic. Life. Amazing.

Not long after, or maybe even before that, Katie bought Mae as her very own. I remember feeling jealous at first. Not sure that anyone but ME should own Mae, but I also remembered that spirit and realized they were perfect for each other. Katie, a good 6 or 7 years younger than me, had the time to be with Mae and work with her and be with her when I could not.

So how do I get from Mae to a CSA? Kate is now leasing her own farm and has been at the Farmer's Market for several years, but THIS is the year I have been waiting for as she has also created a CSA and I am in! I am excited to support Kate in her lifelong dream and to be a part of healthy living, supporting a local and blessed farmer and to eat locally. You know the drill...ALL great stuff!!

A rainy Thursday, a slow farmer's market, I stop by and find Katie under her tent surrounded by her beautiful bounty. She tells me this is the year she is selling shares in her crops. We chat, exchange information and then a wash of sadness crosses her face. "Mae died." she tells me as tears filled her eyes. We reminisce about the life of leisure Mae retired to up on the mountain right above my sisters house. "She lived a long life" and we figured she was probably about 36 years old. Could that even be? Or was it 32? Whatever it was, she lived a long life, a beautiful life and she was loved. Kate speaks about her last owner who loved Mae as we did. We exchange a look of sadness, a knowing that we were lucky to have shared an incredible experience with an incredible animal. Loss...yes and at the same time a bit of celebration for the long happy life and the new connection Kate and I will now have. From Greenfield Farm to Stout Oak Farm. Rest in Peace Mae. You were loved deeply by two very eager young girls in britches and forgotten you will never be.
draft
9:13:00 AM

Monday, June 20, 2011

Honoring Sadness

There is a sadness lurking around me
Seeking to creep in and overtake me
with his long heavy arms and dark eyes

It begins with a feeling of fatigue
one that makes you say "no" to
all that is happening around you.
No to yoga.
No to the daily dog walking
No to the beach
No to it all...
because you know that no matter
what is tried...it will linger.

A sadness so profound that I don't
know where to hide it, where to
put it, what to do with it and yet
I feel it in every limb of my body
every muscle that connects my bones
it is living and breathing off of me.

It is a sadness bathed in glory as
it signifies the changes in life
that must come.

Good changes, hard changes.
Changes.

I am so tired.
There is not enough sleep
to cure this exhaustion as
each day moves into the next.
Today, even the sunshine
wanes and loses the fight.

I try to discover a sense of beauty
peace and wellness....to eat right,
to exercise, to try to overcome what is
trying to overcome me, but today I am
losing. Today I give. I am too tired to fight.
I don't want to fight anymore.

And so I will be one with the sadness today
and allow it to live it's life through me
as it must do with the faith that this too
will pass and understanding it is all
part
of
the
process.

Honoring sadness
counter-intuitive
yet a necessary
process
of
accepting and living
with
loss...

Wednesday, May 18, 2011

This Son of Mine

This son of mine...

It is 4 am I cannot sleep
thinking of this son of mine.
"He is so friendly" the other Mom's
tell me of my son out and around town.
"He speaks to me and it is from the heart."
I smile inside and out
so proud of this son of mine.

He is incredibly talented,
this son of mine and when he
puts his mind to something
there is no stopping him.
Researching the latest technology
in equipment, starting up his own business
he is resourceful, invested, inventive, artistic...
he amazes me, this son of mine.

"He is lazy" they tell me
of this son of mine.
and I cringe thinking they
do not know him.
"Academics are not his interest" they say.
Judging him without taking
any shared responsibility.
What they don't see is the brilliance
in this son of mine.
In fact, I am not sure they see him
at all.

It is a system, broken, that seems
to take down everyone in it's wake.
One who is this son of mine.
and as a mother my heart breaks
knowing that there is little I can do
to save this son of mine, part of
a sinking ship, untouchable, very far
out to sea


"We are losing him." they tell her
of this son of hers.
"I know and that is why I am here..."
"Have you considered private schools?"
they ask her.
Their only solution for yet another
brilliant son of hers.
She has five children she has been
in for meetings all year long
She asks me...
What else can she do
with this son of hers?

And so I too will go in for yet
another meeting around the big table
where they
will share more choice cliches about
this son of mine
and I will again defend this son
of mine for who he is.
An amazing mind that finds work
takes on challenges
creates projects
and is engaged in thinking
everywhere in the world, except within
the four walls of school
Comic tragedy
this son of mine

These sons of ours
will be successful
because they have figured things
out that took me years.
They do not buy into working solely for a grade
Without purpose they are not
motivated to do any more than what
is necessary to
get
by.
And get by they will
these sons of ours...

But still it keeps me up
at night, imagining a system
that would embrace these boys
and work with them to use their
minds
and be done with simply
biding their time
biding his time
a year at a time
a year at a time
a year at a time
a year at a time
this son of mine.

Tuesday, May 17, 2011

My Latest Poem...

Silence, Stillness
The world’s eyes opening
Squinting
And stretching before my eyes

The sacred yawn of morning
Brings a solitude of newness
A feeling of hope, renewal, and life.

The woods, my magical forest
With twinkling eyes winking
Surrounding me as we
Usher in the day as one.

South Beach Martha's Vineyard 2007

South Beach Martha's Vineyard 2007