Are You Afraid of the Dark??

It was a dark and stormy night. 

Tree branches hanging low against the outer walls scraped the windows like giant claws trying to rip open the wall and gain access to the interior.  The low moan of the wind, first nearly imperceptible, then screaming and angry added tension to the already spooked huddled group.  The only light in the oppressive room came from the occasional flash of lightning that blinded from the tiny window, creating evil shadows that danced on the gray walls.  Would this night and its infernal blackness never end?  Where was daybreak and the relief that would dispel the gloom?  The human mind can only endure so much horror and tension before it breaks and imagines things that are not there.  Such was the scene before my weary eyes.  It was a nightmare from which there would be no awakening.  We were plunged into blackness, and with it, deep despair…

Okay, OKAY, it wasn’t quite that bad.  Here’s what REALLY happened…

As this overcast day began, I was quite certain that my principal would be popping in during some portion of my reading block for an evaluation.  There were the usual rumors and stirrings of teachers in the workroom reporting that he was on the prowl and actively visiting classrooms.  To that end, I carefully prepared for the day and felt confident in my lesson plans.  Bring it on, Mr. Principal!

The children arrived and we began our day in the usual fashion.  I had just taken my first steps into the reading block (with an eye on the door for The Man), when suddenly the room was plunged into blackness.  All activity in the room ceased.  Please remember that my classroom is in the basement of our ancient school building.  I affectionately refer to my room as The Dungeon for a reason.  I have two very small windows in my room, but one is filled with a window air conditioner, so any natural light that happens to stumble into my kingdom is pathetic at best.  On a brilliantly sunny day, we get a tiny patch to enjoy (it sounds like a prison cell), and when it is dark and overcast, I am thankful for bright artificial lighting.  So when the lights go out… it is pretty darn dark down there.  The hallway beyond our door has no window whatsoever.  It is REALLY dark out there.

I was aware that all eyes were on me to guide them into a non-panic mode.  I was silent for the first few moments waiting to see if it was a blip on the grid that would immediately correct itself.  No lights reappeared…. still dark…. still dark…. “OKAY, children,” I said warmly, “it’s fine.  We’ll just keep going with our day.”  I knew it was coming and yet I did not invite it.  “I’m scared,” a small voice trembled.  Time to get proactive, Mrs. Dahl.  “Everyone come here,” I urged.  I knew they needed to feel another human being at that moment, and so I had them gather in a small circle.  I reassured quietly, but firmly, and told them that we would do reading time the best that we could, using the paltry light from the window to read by.  I knew the act of familiar routine would help dissolve their fears.  With my reassurances ringing in their quaking ears, they moved to grab their reading baskets. 

Just then my tardy principal appeared like an apparition at the darkened door.  He looked a little frazzled, I thought.  He commanded me to keep going instructionally and I smiled inwardly.  That was exactly what we were doing.  He nodded once, then was swallowed by the blackness of the hall as he left to “reassure” other teachers and classrooms of nervous students. 

The same trembling voice that had admitted fear of the dark now had a new and even larger dilemma.  “Mrs. Dahl,” came the tortured voice.  “I really have to go to the bathroom.”  A pause.  “… and I’m afraid to go by myself.”  This was quite an admission as this overwrought child was of the male variety and asking your female teacher to accompany you the to bathroom is unthinkable when you are an all-grown-up first grade boy.  “I’ll stand in the hall just outside the door,” I assured him. He did his business, grateful for my presence, and we continued our day.

Gathering my charges in a circle by the light-bearing window, we lay on our stomachs and popcorn-read our story out of our reading textbooks.  I had each child take the hand of the person on either side of them before we began.  “Remember, boys and girls, if you start to feel afraid, there is another person close enough to touch right beside you.  We are all here together and we are fine.”  They smiled and exhaled with relief.  I thought we should have a Reading in the Dark party, so I dug cheese puffs out of the closet and we read and munched and got orange splotches on our textbooks from our cheesy fingers.  I began to hear giggles and knew we had turned an emotional corner.  Fear had given way to adventure.

Mr. Calm appeared again with a flashlight in hand and handed it to me “just in case anyone needed to use the bathroom.”  Great timing. 

We were well past the ninety-minute mark of our Egyptian Plague.  Obviously flashlights had been delivered all around for the blackened hallway was now filled with beams of moving light as adventurous kids moved to the bathrooms en mass.  It was like a spelunking party out there.

I decided to forge ahead and administer a short quiz.  I was reading the first question to them when suddenly the fluorescent fixtures buzzed back to life.  It was a little blinding and a lot surprising.  “Darn,” one disappointed cherub exclaimed.  I was surprised.  ‘You LIKE the dark?”  “Yeah!” they all cheered.  A pint-sized problem-solver suggested we turn the lights back off.  I arched an eyebrow.  “Wait… you want it to be dark again??”  I was incredulous.  Another cheer.  I nodded and little Sally Sue ran to the wall switch.

And so, with the power back on and our reintroduction into the 21^st century, we sat on the floor and took our reading quiz in the dark.  These kids kill me.  And I love it with all of my middle-aged heart.

We had ourselves an adventure today.

And next year, I am requisitioning miner’s hats…

Full of Thanks (and turkey)

thankful |ˈTHaNGkfəl|

adjective

pleased and relieved: [ with clause ] : they were thankful that the war was finally over | [ with infinitive ] : I was very thankful to be alive.

• expressing gratitude and relief: an earnest and thankful prayer.

This day is nearly done.  My contribution to today’s feast, homemade crescent rolls and an artery-clogging bacon and broccoli salad, were easily prepared.  Our oldest, Trevor, is home for the long weekend and we have already enjoyed rare extended fellowship around our farmhouse table.  Someone else got to clean house for the gathering; I had only to show up bearing my edible gifts.  I loved today.  It was restful and full of sweet tradition.  It was my favorite sort of day. 

The only aching sigh of my heart was the two empty places at the table where Ryan and Cody should have been.  Letting go of adult children is both wonderful and terrible.  My wise mother always claimed that each stage of parenting is fun and unique.  She was right, of course.  I love the freedom of my rapidly emptying nest, but the echo of my own voice in a large and still house is a diligent reminder that my children are infrequent visitors in their own home.  I can only gently remind them that their home is always ready to receive them for however long or short they can visit.

I thought about that yesterday as my eyes swept my classroom and took in the chaos left in the wake of The Day Before a Holiday.  A three-day school week means that I could never expect to get in a full week of the reading basal.  I used the time (wisely, I feel), to go back and reinforce concepts that were a bit hurried before.  We played contraction bingo and practiced identifying plural nouns.  I am feeling better about their mastery of those important concepts.  Filling their little minds with all the required knowledge is such a hurried, sloppy affair sometimes.  If I could single handedly revolutionize the educational field, I would slow down instruction to a more rational pace.  But I digress….

I set about scraping paint off the table from our clay pot turkeys and picking orphaned crayons off the littered floor.  As school days go, it had been a little nutso.  I had forgotten that our PE time had been adjusted to be at the very end of the day, just before the bell rang.  While they ran their little hearts out in the gym, I frantically tried to organize their Thanksgiving crafts and graded papers so that they could just grab coats and backpacks and rush out the door to a four-day weekend.

In spite of the sudden blood pressure spike, I felt a hint of smile tugging at the corners of my mouth.  I was a little giddy as I thought about the coming break. Truthfully, I have not felt this way in three years.  As I searched the closet for plastic shopping bags to send paper chains home in, I realized that I had turned a momentous corner in my career and life.  It hit me like the crest of an emotional wave.  It was back.  My balance was returning and it felt incredible good.

When my charges were gone and the room suddenly quiet, I set about packing up to leave.  There was a time when I would have backed a United Van Lines moving truck to the door in order to transport half my classroom to my house so that I could keep working and get stuff done from the comfort of home.  Yesterday I had surprisingly little to take with me.  Oh, I’ve got projects, all right.  But I am learning to prioritize and not set the bar impossibly high (a major shortcoming).  I am learning to ask the imperative question, “What needs to be done TODAY?” and then leave the rest for another time.  Maybe you can teach an old dog new tricks after all…

I am even surprisingly excited to decorate the house for Christmas on the day after Thanksgiving – a strict tradition in the Dahl house.  Last year I was downright grumpy about it.  My children were alarmed.  They kept trying to find “the thing” that would ignite my Christmas spirit, which is normally legendary.  I felt nothing but drudgery and duty as I wiped dust off plastic tubs and haphazardly tossed ornaments onto trees.  “Who cares about any of this?”  I kept thinking moodily. I was still trying to figure out how to be a teacher, I was in the middle of a graduate-level online course, and I had to somehow muddle through the holidays.  Last Christmas was horrible and I hated feeling so unlike myself.  My poor Hannah must have pondered how to strike out on her own at the tender age of fourteen. 

But this year feels completely different.  I am more ME.  Even this stupid blog is prime example.  I was amazed to realize a few days ago that last year at this time, I had twice as many posts as I do this year.  It averaged out to something like two a week.  OK, where did I eek out that kind of time on top of all else?   I have no clue.  I have determined that I will write when time and topic allow it.  I will not stress about it in between. 

So on this day of thankfulness, I am thankful for all of the clichéd things, like the rest of America, but I have a few items on my list that are unique to me.  If you have any interest in my list, read on…

I am thankful for Sam’s Club French Roast coffee beans.

I am thankful for milk chocolate and caramel – preferably together. These go great with the aforementioned French Roast coffee.

I am thankful for stretch jeans, which dovetails with the previous items.

I am thankful that my sons, Ryan and Cody, are being loved, fed, and nurtured in other homes tonight.

I am thankful that I am excited about Christmas again.

I am thankful for my church family that welcomes other cultures and is a safe haven for the saint and the sinner alike.

I am exceedingly grateful for friends that deepen my joy and make me laugh.

I am thankful for the unspeakable privilege of bringing four children into this world and for watching them write their own stories.  My heart beats with every breath they take. 

I am thankful for the man that shares my life and thinks I hung the moon. 

I am thankful that the second half of my life looks as interesting as the first half was.

I am thankful that I am gainfully employed.

I am thankful for sunsets so breathtaking I am forced to stop and stare.

I am thankful for lip gloss.

I am thankful for parents and aunts and uncles and cousins.

I am thankful for my siblings – the only other people on the face of the earth who get my jokes about our growing up years.

I am thankful for the teachers in my life who took an interest in me and made me feel intelligent, capable, and funny.  I hope I successfully pay that forward.

I am thankful for irises in my flowerbeds that make a splashy showing every summer.

I am thankful that when I shared the story of the very first Thanksgiving with my first graders, they had zero concept of that brand of hardship.  Even the poorest among them has food and shelter enough to grow and thrive.

I am thankful for the treadmill awaiting me that will help me atone for the overindulgences of today's dinner.  Holy cow, I am still stuffed!

I think I am most thankful for perspective enough to understand that I have it pretty darn good.  See, here’s the thing about gratitude and thankfulness.  If you hold your list of Things I Am Thankful For up against someone else’s list… a friend, a neighbor, a coworker, or a relative… then you don’t get it yet.  You are comparing your life with a life that will never be yours.  If you think owning something you don’t have, or meeting someone you don’t know, or becoming something you’re not is your path to happiness, then you need to hear this from me… you will never be happy, for true happiness is never circumstance driven.  Joy is the legitimate child of Contentment.  Contentment is the factory where Joy and Happiness are manufactured.  And here is the important part of this little sermon… contentment is a CHOICE. 

People are unnecessarily unhappy.  It drives bad decision-making, ends good relationships, and slides into despondency.  It is a preventable ailment.

So today, I do not place conditions on my gratitude.  I am thankful.  There is nothing more to add.  I am blessed, yes.  Unbelievably and immeasurably blessed.  But if it were all stripped away, I hope I would say the same.  For there will always be irises in the spring and sunsets that breathe the promise of another day. 

This is my “earnest and thankful prayer.” 

I am content...

The Magic Tree House: A Battleground State

We already had the presidential election, in case you had not heard.  It’s over.  The president for the next four years has been decided.  If you missed it, too bad for you.  The winner?  You’ll have to read to the end of this post for that groundbreaking news.

It began this way; the high school history teacher, a young redhead with the last name of Gandy, found his way to my dungeon last Friday morning with a fistful of paper ballots.  Would I please have my students participate in the school wide election?  Of course!  I love civics and love any opportunity to pull my children into that realm of conversation.  I cautioned him, however, that my children would be certain that their class election would indeed decide the next president… literally.  They will be astounded and outraged if the general election produces a different result than they come up with.  He smiled as if he didn’t really believe me in his Irish soul.  Really, Mr. Gandy.  You should never doubt a first grade teacher.

The ballots had only two voting opportunities on them; the U.S. presidential vote and our state senator candidates, Rick Berg (Republican), and Heidi Heitkamp (Democrat).  I knew I had the perfect children’s book to go with it.  Now, if I could only locate it before the bell rang.  Where was it, wheeeerrrre was it??  Aha!  Unbelievably, it was exactly where I thought it should be.  I may or may not have mentioned previously that I am not the most organized person in the world.  Occasionally the Mary Poppins gods smile upon me.

I marshaled the Darlings through morning pledge, book sticker charts, snack, and then into reading block.  I shared with the children the exciting news that WE were going to get to vote in the presidential election!  They cheered; for what, they were not entirely certain, but it sounded like fun to their six-year-old brains. 

Their base of knowledge on this topic is almost entirely molded by the amount of interest expressed in their individual homes.  If mom and dad do not talk politics in front of the kids, then the kids are a tad clueless.  We do discuss politics SOME in first grade.  But let’s face it; they are still trying to wrap their brains around the fact that the elementary principal and the school superintendant have no real powers outside of the school building.  To a first grader, being sent to the principal’s office is akin to being sent to the depths of the sea to face King Neptune.  Thinking large about who runs the country (and what’s a COUNTRY?  Is it as big as Wing, Mrs. Dahl?), is more than a little mind-blowing. 

I was smiling as I finished my triumphantly-located-perfect-for-the-occasion book, Grace For President by Kelly DiPucchio, a darling tale of a little girl who is shocked to discover that there has never been a female U.S president (I am a little amazed by that myself).  With the encouragement of her teacher, an election is declared and Grace is pitted against the school cool guy.  I won’t spoil the ending of that one yet either.  If you have primary-age children, read it and discuss it, even after the election. 

The Darlings loved the book and were rooting for Grace clear to the end.  Now it was time to vote!  I set up a polling booth, using one of their Saxon math folders – the kind covered with basic math information to be used as a quick reference resource.  We use them when we test so that the temptation to glance at other’s work is kept to a minimum.  I emphasized that voting is a private act and no one has the right to interfere or know how a person has voted.

Back to the election.

I played the part of U.N. observer (“Has anyone tried to influence your vote?  Are you indeed, a U.S citizen?“) I pulled name sticks out of the tin and ceremoniously had them come to our polling booth with a marker in hand.  All eyes watched each other seriously weigh options and then settle upon their choice for either president or senator.  To my surprise, poor Heidi got precious few votes.  I guess my book on “Women Can Do It As Well As Men” didn’t carry much weight.  No wonder we still keep electing men.  So with serious faces, Crayola markers in hand, and addition facts to twenty staring them in the face, they carefully marked their choices.

When all had casts their votes, I wrote the nominee names on the board and then we got to practice our tallying skills.  Eight ballots cast and eight tally marks on the official election whiteboard.  The major networks will share the results with a bit more sophistication, but the result will be the same.  By the end of the night, we will know who is our president.

As I broke my own rule and watched neon yellow markers fill in circles, I tried to mentally determine which children might come from conservative families and which ones from more liberal-leaning families.  I know, I know… voting should be a private act.  But I am the UN, remember?  I can make my own rules.

I laughed inwardly as child after child voted for Obama and then went on to vote for the Republican nominee for senator.  Did they hear the name Rick Berg at home or on television for roughly eight thousand times, and the name stuck?  Do they naturally gravitate to a man, as society at large does?  Do they just really like the name Rick?  I have no clue.  But one thing is obvious.  The Magic Tree House in not a blue state and not a red state.  We are unashamedly purple. 

Here is the tragic reality that will occur today during one of the most important presidential elections of our nation’s history.  My six-year-old students voted with as much information and knowledge about the candidates and issues as many a voting-age American.  It truly grieves me how little effort goes into making these monumental decisions.  Not all are so ill informed, of course (thankfully!), but the numbers that are, are just far too high for my comfort.

So who do my first graders think they single-handedly placed into the Oval Office?  Obama was the clear victor.  Of course, the incumbent always has momentum on his side.  It is easier to keep with a known quantity than risk someone even worse, at least that is what history has borne out. 

And so today, the 6^th of November, 2012, we get to gather at our local polling place and place a private vote for those that we feel will do the very best job for our towns, our states, and our country.  Are my Darlings the New Hampshire and Iowa of elementary politics?  Will their votes be prophetic for the rest of the country?  We should know in mere hours. 

The thing I love most about the aforementioned book, Grace for President, is that the deciding vote (yes, of course, for our heroine Grace!) was cast by a boy who surprised the school by bucking the trend and voting against the pack.  When asked why he did it, he responds that he felt Grace was the best person for the job.  Ask yourself the same question today as you pull the lever or fill in the circle or punch the computer keys.  Who will lead with true wisdom and preserve our beautiful nation?  Will we be better or worse off in four years as a result of your vote?  You must make that choice and vote with conscience, understanding the weight of your decision.  It is a high honor to live in a democracy.  Please do not disgrace it with crass indifference.

In the meantime, I have a class of first graders who will discuss today’s events over milk and granola bars, confident they have voted intelligently; a microcosm of coffee shops and gathering spots everywhere.  We will track results and discuss events until the closing bell. 

God bless America!