Cheers  to teachers and...moms

It's Mothers day, so I must do a shout out to my mom and all the phenomenal mom's I know and those I don't.  One day a year to celebrate Motherhood, is way too little.

But I wanted to write about teacher.  Actually, I have never taken a class with three of my all time favorite teachers, although I have definitely learned the most from them.  There are my mom, my sister and my brother.

 My mom was an English teacher.  I thank her for making me somewhat of a grammar geek/snob.  I also credit her for my love of books and reading.  Did you know that parents owning books-more than being read to or being provided with their own books- is highly correlated to their kids becoming readers and book lovers themselves.  We always had books around, and memories of my mom frequently include seeing her with a book.

I take back that I never had her as an actual teacher because I am pretty sure she was a substitute in one or two of my classes.  Although she knew how to teach, her real strength as a substitute was being able to manage unruly kids.  Once she was warned that the class she was subbing for had locked a previous sub in a closet.  Her first words to the class were "I heard you locked your teacher in the closet yesterday.  There will be none of that happening today.  "  I am sure that she struck terror into the most harden delinquent in the class!

Another teaching gig that I know she aced, was being a Sunday school teacher.  This easily could have become repetitive and boring, and I am sure that quite a few Sunday school teacher see an opportunity to preach dogma to bored teenager, or complete Biblically based worksheet with rowdy 10 year olds.  But my mom really liked teenagers.  She liked challenging them to think about their belief and memes in new ways.  She liked lively discussions and sometimes, even got into trouble for bringing up controversial topics or using edgy materials.  Maybe it seems as if teaching Sunday School is a not real teaching, but I guarantee that she changed more minds and influence actions just as much as anybody teaching algebra in a High School.

My brother is a High School Band teacher.  He and his wife, who is in charge of the drum line and color guard, have taken the band program in their small town, into the national spotlight with their amazing marching shows,  Here is a link to one of their brilliant performances

https://youtu.be/uDMnAWdVlEo

Even though his prowess as a teacher and his ability to visualize and create amazing  performances is a strong suit, he is even more amazing at how he interacts with students.  Just as my mom made kids be respectful and made them think, Paul holds his kids to high standard,  He believes in them and motivates them to be their best selves.  He never questions their ability or willingness to make things happen.  I have seen him in action.  He is stern and demanding without ever losing his respect or love for those kids.  and they respect and love him right back.

My sister never really wanted to be a teacher.  She is an actor from birth and by training.  When we were kids, she and I used to put on shows for our mom and dad and anyone else who may have been around.  Most of our show consisted of lip syncing to sound track albums from Disney movies.  I always thought it was so nice of Beth to let me be the lead character.  In days long before  every girl wanted to be one of the Disney Princesses, I was being Aurora and Snow White and Cinderella and Alice in Wonderland.  Poor Beth was relegated to being all the other characters.  What I didn't realize at the time, was that , by making me be the one note hapless heroines, she got to dance around as Cinderella"s animal friends, cast spells as  the fairy godmother, drink tea with the mad hatter, look into the magic mirror as Snow White's step-mother, and the turn around and be the magic mirror itself!  She was a pint-sized one woman  show!

After years of being a working actor, she succumbed to her desire to have a steady paycheck and took a teaching position at a performing arts high school in New Jersey.  Just as my mom and brother have inspired and shaped their students, my sister is creating a classroom full of thoughtful and sensitive aspiring actors.  While many of them do go on to use their skills in the field, she is really giving them the tools they need to be thoughtful and expansive human beings, by challenging their believe about themselves and the world.  Here is a like to a video of her students, nominating her for a Tony award to acting teachers.

https://youtu.be/bp0Cfi10O8g

 By the way, my very busy sister also operates her own outstanding school for actors.  Here isa link to her school's website  www.njactors.org

I am fortunate to have these amazing teachers in my life.  I do feel a tiny bit inadequate to two such decorated and well-loved teachers.  Teachers and actors love to give out awards for excellence.  Therapists aren't even able to tell anybody about any of their work, let alone make a video of their best sessions!  I'm definitely in the wrong feild if I'm looking for accolades, butthe rel unsung heroes are Moms who could never be singled out as Mother of the Year, because they are all the best mom's in the world.!

Here's to my own best mom!  I love you!

I'm back again.  I tend to come and go so frequently!

I have figured out something about myself.  I get busy.  I get behind.  I feel guilty for not keeping up,  I procrastinate.  I give myself a hard time.  I procrastinate more.  And then I figure I shouldn't be focusing on frivolous things until I get my "real work" done.  This does  not stop me from playing word games until my head explodes,or reading drivel or watching my very important TV shows.  It just keeps me from being productive in other meaningful ways.

Here is what I have been up to,in the meantime.

On the MS front:  I have "graduated" to using a walker.  My neurologist wrote me the order for it and said "You're gonna kill me, but I think it's time"  So I got one, and , what do you know...I actually get around a lot better and can last a lot longer-which is very important when you are shopping.  The next time I the neurologist , I had the walker.  I said, "I think I get around a lot better with this thing."  He responded,"God, yes!"  Not just yes or even "I think so, too," but, "God, yes!" Somehow, that was just a little disconcerting...

Amazingly, my practice has been picking up a little.  That's part of the reason I have gotten behind on paperwork.  I hate paperwork.

In order to not feel like a complete slug, I spend a great deal of tie taking open coursework classes.  I am currently taking "The Neuro-biology of Everyday Life"  through the University of Chicago.  Originally I was trying to take it more seriously; trying to pass exams and doing course projects etc and then I realized the reason I never followed through with getting a doctorate degree.  I hate that stuff!  I only want to absorb the interesting stuff.  (Just as an aside, I really did debate going back to school for a few minutes.  I even took the Miller Analogy Test and scored n the 98th percentile nationwide-I am a good test taker).  Since I hate studying and completing paperwork, but love actually learning new stuff, open coursework is the best thing.. It even beats going to seminars and conferences because it's free!  Plus I don't have to wear shoes.


Learning stuff makes me feel as if I am accomplishing something, even though I'm really not.   I watch a lot of TED talks for that very same reason.  So I'm knowledgeable, but being so doesn't really help me accomplish much.  Although, maybe that's why I aced the MAT.

So now that I feel as if I got that off my chest, maybe I can get back to the story of becoming me.

It's teacher appreciation week, so I think I will focus on amazing teachers I have had or that I know.  Watch for it!

More things I learned in college that had nothing to do with classes

I figure pretty much everyone has a  rude awakening to life when they go away to school for the first time.  You are exposed to so many new experiences and people. You are only responsible for yourself and you are beholden to no one.

Oddly, this led to my first "grown-up" feeling.  You know.  Those moments in life where you think to yourself "OMG,!  I am actually an adult!"

This is not a typical adult moment by any stretch.  I was in this dormitory talent show with two other girls who were my next-door-neighbors.  They were music majors, too.  Holly was a violinist, and Laurie was a voice major.  We teamed up to sing "Boogie Woogie Bugle Boy" in three part harmony. Holly on the lead, Laurie on soprano, and I got stuck on bass but also sang all the highest notes since Laurie couldn't go as high as I could.  I didn't have her power, but I had the better range.

We were waiting our turn to perform and Holly started playing around with the microphone, pretending to fart into it after each line of the song.  I had a very clear sense of knowing I was an adult in that very un-adult-like moment.
I am not sure what it was that made me feel that "I'm an adult" feeling.  I think it was because no one was there to tell us not to act so silly.  In fact, the only person who could be called "an authority figure" was the RA who was probably all of 21 years old.  A peer, really.


You would think that maybe my realization that I was in adulthood would lead to more mature decisions.  Riiight...

I can honestly say that I was a super straight/nerdy/prudish teetotaler in high school.  I never got drunk.  Never had sex.  Didn't have any clue that there were even any drugs in the world.  I am pretty sure, in hindsight, that there was a whole world of debauchery going o around me but my friends were savvy enough to leave me out of it.  I'm not sure why they let me be their friends, given what a judgmental party-pooper I could be!

I won't say I went wild in college.  I never skipped a class , even though I never carried fewer than 16 credit hours.  The worst thing I did academically were that a dropped a class (The History of Jazz- the professor took all of the soul right out of it and left it bleeding out every ounce of interesting).and I flunked statistic the first time.  Since stats is a required course for psychology majors, I had to take it again.  The second time I took it, I found a professor who understood the math anxiety  from which every female psychology/music major suffered and geared it toward being something interesting...like what the statistics actually measure rather that just how to get the measurement numbers..  Actually, the real reason I don't like math is that you can't divide numbers by zero, and I just can't get a visual of why.  Plus, the only  useful part of math in my life is percentages, because I need to know how much a sweater costs if it's marked 30% off.


So academically at least, I remained pretty committed and made some semi-mature decisions.  I won't say I was wild in college at all, but to some degree I discovered the sex, drugs, and rock and roll aspect of life.

The very first thing I discovered was that boys were actually attracted to me (!!) I had boyfriends and dated in high school, but the friendships always happen first.  Now, the guys were pursuing me, Since I'd never seen them before, I knew it was  based purely on how I looked.  Revelation!  I was a hottie! I didn't really know how to handle that type of attention.  I made out (just kissing and groping.  I think the kids today use the term "making out" as a euphemism for intercourse)  Some of the guys were cuter than others, and I had one guy who followed my around like a puppy dog until I let him down gently bu completely ignoring him.  Telling him I wasn't interested just seemed rude.

I also discovered that college guys were not willing to date a girl who wouldn't go past that version of making out.  I had at least two guys who quit pursing me after a few weeks of dating because I wouldn't have sex.   I told one guy I didn't have "experience" and he said, "Do you think I;m stupid?".  I took me a while to figure out that he thought I was lying.  Nope, I was just naive.

The "drugs" part of my wild and crazy freshman year was actually just me getting drunk for the first time.  Remember Holly, the microphone farter?  We used her empty violin case to sneak a bottle rum into our dorm room.  I don't know how we got the rum in the first place, but were thought we were pretty ingenious to use her violin case to get it past the RA.  Just think of how much more booze we would have been able to sneak in if we used a cello case instead!

My first serious drinking experience was a rum and coke party in the dorm room.  I got drunk enough to puke it all up.  To this day I am no fan of rum and coke.  As I puked into the trash can, I just kept thinking "This is so un-ladylike".  I don't remember getting drunk again for a very long time!

The rock and roll aspect of those days was real more of a discovery of true straight-ahead jazz courtesy of my first real long-time boyfriend.  I branched out from Brahms and Tchaikovsky (my fave composers) to Phil Woods and the Toshiko Akioshi-Lew Tobackin big band.  What a rebel I was!

That's enough for this post.  Here is a picture of me from those days

More insight

I have let this blog become something that causes me anxiety.  I have decided that it is something I "should" do and that I "should" write specific thing.  It is no longer enjoyable when I put limits and expectations into the content.
So, in order for maintenance of my mental health, I am gong to write in a more spontaneous, here's- what-I'm-thinking-today kind of way. Here goes.

I have the old phone that I used in my first apartment.  It is a princess style push-button, colored that hideous 1970's burnt orange.  It weighs as much as a small Subaru.  I'm pretty sure that it was rented from the phone company, which is what they did in the olden days.  You eventually owned the phone, apparently.  Either that, or I just never returned it!  I threw that phone against the wall once after breaking up with one of my boyfriends.  I used it in at least three apartments, maybe even after grad school.  I don't know how it ended up still being a thing in my life or how it migrated to my office to become a play therapy toy. All I know is, it's still with me.  The kids love it.

My sister has something similar that she uses as a prop with teenage theater students.  Her phone is even older than mine.  It is a standard black rotary model.  Although my touch tone push buttons are fodder for ridicule, her rotary dial poses an epic challenge.  Her students are unsure of how to make the dial turn, doing things like just punching the hole over the number or tying to open the phone like a combination lock.

My sister and I may seem to be in highly disparate professions.  (Psychotherapist vs actor and acting instructor/coach), but we are always surprised at how many similarities there are in how we go about reaching our goals.  (That particular situation will likely end up in future blogs.)  But today, I want to share my favorite phone story.

This is a sad,  nostalgic story, in that current and future generations will never have the opportunity to experience the joy and satisfaction of slamming the receiver into the the cradle after an angry conversation with your mother.  Caller ID has rendered the ability to crank call your arch enemy, asking him things like  if he has Prince Albert in a can (better go let him out) or if his refrigerator is running (better go catch it), or my personal fave, "This is the Jefferson City sewage company, and we've had just about enough outta you!"

And this story, concerning old fashioned phones, would never have occurred in the modern days of cell phones and text messages.

My sister had a job as a tour guide at the Missouri state Capitol building.  Most days she provided guided tours, pointing out the rotunda whisper gallery acoustics and the beautiful Thomas Hart Benton paintings.  Or she was assigned to the Governor's mansion where she could point out interesting architectural details.  But on this particular day, she was assigned to Loman's landing.   It was an infrequently visited tourist sight with two building's.  I guess it was pretty boring
I also guess that's why she called me.  She had too much time to think about stuff.

Our house had two phones.  One on the kitchen wall, and one on my Dad's desk, in his office upstairs. If you picked up the receiver of one phone, you could listen in to the conversation occurring on the other.  My brother went through a period where he liked to try to listen in to our private talks.  If you didn't hear him picking up the other phone, you would be able to hear him breathing.  If you quietly said,"Paul, get off the other line.",he would yell down, I'm not on the other line". There was almost never anything interesting for him to hear, anyway

This was the days before portable phones.  The receiver was tethered to the "call box" with a curly cord that got shorter as it tangled.  Every once in a while, you had to let the receiver dangle on the cord so it could unwind itself.  But even at it longest, you only had about five feet to move before you were rudely stopped like a dog on a leash.

I was too young for a real job, but old enough to be home alone during the day.  The phone rang, and I ran to answer.  This was also the days before answering machines, so we all jumped at the sound, just like a caveman being tapped on the shoulder. The tap could just be a neighbor inviting you to his cave for dinner, or it could be a saber tooth tiger testing out the tenderness of his possible prey. You never knew who could be calling.

The phone ringing interrupted whatever very important thing I was doing; probably watching TV or eating a whole rasher of bacon or singing along to a show tune as I banged out the melody on the piano (I did this A LOT).
I answered "Hello?"
"Amy, you gotta clean out my fish bowl for me!"  She was almost out of breath in her panicked state.  "I didn't have time to do it this morning, and now Fred and Ginger are both gonna DIE if you don't!"
Did I mention she is a little dramatic.
"No"  i answered.  I was loving having the power to thwart her desires.
"Please!!!"She was begging now, with a little sob in her voice.  "Think of poor Fred and Ginger!"
"No.  I'm not cleaning your fish bowl.  Your fish will be fine if you do it when you get home".
"I don't have time tonight!  I'm going out, right after work!!!"
"Oh well, you'll have to get new fish, cause I'm not doing it"
"Fine!  Be that way!"  Slam!
I got to hear the loud clunk as she hung up on me.  Oh well> I got back to whatever very important thing I was doing.  But just as I started whatever it was, the phone rang again.  I was pretty sure it was her calling back.  Ring ring ring ring....ten, eleven, twelve times.  No answering machines in those days, remember?  What if it wasn't her?  What if it was my mom checking in?  She'll be furious.  What if it was someone trying to reach my Dad? What if it was an emergency?

I answered,  "Hello?"

"Bitch!"

Somethings never change

More theology

I am veering from my reminiscing today because I had a little epiphany last night.

If you have read past blogs, you will know about my brand of theology.  I am sure that there are people who would say I am an atheist because I don't subscribe to the conventional idea of a God we have to come to though religion and faith.  I am not a-theist;without an idea of God or a faith.  It's just an evolving idea, informed by religious traditions and cemented in science.

Here is my epiphany,  This my seem as if it is just a re-hash of my older thought, but it was not.  Do you know how,when Eliza Doolittle finally understood what Professor Higgins was trying to teach her in My Fair Lady?  It was the proverbial light bulb going off in her head moment when she was finally able to say, The rain in Spain is falling on the Plain" without a Cockney accent.  I was finally able to FEEL what I have always believed in my head.

I have always said that God is everything and everywhere; responsible for all life and all creation of all that exists in the universe.  But last nigh I finally understood that at a cellular level.  The full meaning of the force that we call God simply being the surrounding everything like soup that is capable of permeating into you very bones and that IS your consciousness.

We mess things up when we give God a personality.  Whether it an old man with a beard (who likes an awful lot like Santa Claus, living on a cloud in heaven and sending out gifts to the faithful with angels instead of eves!), or Morgan Freeman passing on the title to Jim Carrey.  We do a grave injustice to the vastness og this thing we call God.  We ell ourselves short by denying that we cannot be separate from that vast creative force.

We are also being arrogant and misguided  in the thought that, somehow, if we just live correctly and say the right thing, that we will be any more worthy of God's love than anyone or anything else.  It is the epitome of arrogance to believe that some personality of God just decided to throw some people onto a planet to see if they could sink or swim.  I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but we are the result of an accident in nature.

In no way do I think this makes humanity less worthy of love and respect.I think everyone should be in awe that the force that creates everything was able to create this remarkable world and this remarkable universe.  I just think that in a universe this vast, expansive and varied, we think that we are any more marvelous than anything else in said universe. I  think it is a very big mistake to limit ourselves to a narrow way of thinking about anything.

I also think we are ridiculous in our idea that "God" is responsible for suffering.  That, somehow, God would knowingly allow a child to be abused or people to starve or a hurricane to wipe out an entire city, He didn't reach down and say "I think I'll give that one Multiple Sclerosis because she was mean to her sister, or just because I like to see how people deal with stuff.   God doesn't do this.  Nature,which is way much bigger of a force than humanity, does this without any idea that this is a good or bad thing. It just is because it is.

Here was the other part of my epiphany.  I have always believed that "God is Love".  But the reverse of that statement is the real truth.   Love is God.  I think that, if we are truly understanding of that force that creates all, it would feel like love. Not because it decided to, but because that is the feeling that that energy gives us.  It like fire is hot and ice is cold.  That just its property.  The property and essence of that God force feels like the most profound and amazing love. People confuse that with a personality that has to choose to bestow love somehow. That energy has no choice in the matter.  It just is what it is.

Next time I will write about smaller.less complicated thing again!

















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Journey onward

Have I mentioned that I didn't start in college as a Psychology major?  I went to The University of Missouri in Kansas City to go to the Conservatory of Music.  I actually (this is bragging) got a full ride scholarship to play the cello in the orchestra. I was supposed to play in The civic orchestra of Kansas City, too, but I conveniently forgot that part.  Several of us had the same scholarship, and when they would go to Civic rehearsals, I would wonder why my scholarship didn't stipulate attendance.  Years later I was looking through the scrap book my friend Carole gave me as a graduation gift after high school. Lo and behold, the letter did mention something about membership in the /civic orchestra being one of the requirement.  Oops!  Can they take back my degree?

Just like everyone else in their first venture away from home full-time, I discovered a lot of things about myself that year.  I discovered that my endless pursuit of popularity in high school, held very little panache or prestige in college.  I wish  I could say that these things were profound and included a lovely coming-of-age moment.  It was really things like:  It is really nice to sleep in on Sunday morning;  I was a lot cuter than I ever thought I was; I was better at a lot of things than some of the other kids; I was worse at a lot of things than some of the other kids; it could be much cooler and more fun to hang out with the kids I would have considered "hoods" (that's what we called the bad kids at my high school) than with the kids I usually hung with.  And the most important thing was that I had no desire to spend 4-6 hours a day in a practice room in the basement of the Performing Arts Center.

I have come to understand that, just like real writers enjoying the process of committing words to a page, real musicians enjoy the process of perfecting the musical phrase exiting their instrument.  I liked the process of rehearsing with the whole orchestra, and I enjoyed playing concerts.  But I was more enamored with dressing up to look fancy and being on stage than I was with knowing that I was contributing to the glorious whole of creating a musical experience.  I really do like classical music and I love those sound of a well-played cello,  But I am not committed enough to making myself create that sound.  Plus, I never really had the chops. I was competent, but not inspired.

So, I discovered, that I was a lot more interested in the people playing the instruments than how rthey played their instruments.  So I switched to a psychology major after my freshmen year and breathed a sigh of relief.  In order to keep my scholarship, I had to continue to play in the orchestra and take some music classes, so I actually ended up with a double major.

Here are some of the thing I learned during the course of my undergraduate education.  some of the things were in class, and a lot of it was just during life.

1,  Most of college is about showing up and being able to stay the course.  You have to be competent enough to complete reports and take tests at an expected level, using correct grammar and punctuation, and knowing how to format correctly.  I'm not trivializing how hard it can be, it's just that much more of success in higher education is about committing to it.  Question:What do you call the guy who ranked last in his medical school graduating class? Answer : Doctor.

2.  It is okay to not be perfect (see above joke)  But, it does not punish your professor to do poorly in his or her class class just because you think he or she is an ass.  You're the one who gets the bad grade.

Which leads to
3.  There are some crappy teachers and there are phenomenal teachers.  Find the ones who are great and get as many credit hours as you can from them.

I think that enough for now.  But as I write I am having some actual insight (imagine that) about things I discovered during my education that I will explore next time.  For now, peace out, baby!

How on earth did I get to this place anyway?

There is a concept called internal or external locust of control.  If you are a word collector, a more psychoanalytic way of saying this is alleplastic or autoplastic.  The both mean the same.  Do you feel a sense of control over your life and destiny (Internal locus of control or autoplastic) or do you feel as if life happens around you and are just a victim of your circumstances (external locus of control or alleplastic).

I think I have always felt that I pretty much get to decide what happens to me.  At least I did until I got diagnosed with MS.  Now I realize that the only thing I really and truly get to control is my response to given situations.  Of course, you can and absolutely should plan things.  Do what you can with what you have from where you're at every moment.  Then sit back and hope that all your ducks are in the right row and that the  best possible outcome will happen.  But also, expect that some of your ducks will wander into a different row and that something unexpected will change everything.  Hey!  It happens!

But this is supposed to be a blog about my journey up to now.  So make with the wavy Scooby doo backward-in-time-lines, and here we go again.

My first job in the "field"  was as a summer relief worker a Day Care Center.  The day Care was a part of the children's home run by my Dad.  He really struggled with having me work there (nepotism and all that), but I applied, and, Bob's your uncle, (Look it up, its a real expression), I was hired.  I got to be the  summer relief for the teachers and the cook while they were on their vacations.
 I started as an aid, then cooked for a month, and finally had my own classroom.  I think I was 20. The best things about that job were that I got to go to the pool everyday, so my hair was platinum blonde and I was so tan.  I have funny skin.  I am pretty white.  (Shockingly Caucasian.  I glow in the dark.)  But, I get a pretty good tan.  I guess I shoulda been born in California.  Here is me at my sister's wedding that summer.

Me and my sister,  She is the gorgeous one and I am the short one with the platinum hair and killer tan

  I also really liked being the cook, because I got first dibs on everything.  The real cook had planned the menu before hand and had super easy stuff for me to make.  We also got donations for afternoon snack.  It was usually stuff like peanut butter cracker or applesauce, but once we got boatloads of Twix Bars.  That was a little dangerous for me. I really like sweets!

The kids were the real best part of that job.  They were all cute.  I had a few favorites,  There were two sets of twins.  Both sets were boys.  One set were named T-Wani and D-Wani. We called them T and D and they were ALWAYS in some kind of trouble.  The little girls were no angels.  Once they were told not to put water in the sand tray, but the sand mysteriously got wetter and wetter.  The girls were taking big swigs of water in their mouths and spitting on the sand to get it wet.  EWW! But very resourceful!.  I have pages of pics of those kids.  they were all great kids.  I still remember their names even!  In hind site, I can see which kids were probably being neglected and which were potentially victims of abuse  It warmed my 20 year old heart when the kids asked to go home with me, but now I would see it as a pretty significant warning sign that maybe there was a reason they didn't want to go home.

It's funny to think of them now.  That was 32 years ago!  They are all grown up with kids of their own....  maybe even grand kids!
.
Overall, I think the Day Care was a pretty tame intro into the world of direct service.  It gets a lot hairier when you see the big picture and become a little less naive about people's intentions
But that will have to wait til next time!

So til next time, farewell to social services until after graduation from UMKC.