Auld Lang Syne

Should old acquaintance be forgot
And never brought to mind

The oldest friends I can remember, the oldest "friends" I can remember playing with as a child, are my cousins Mark and David Boe. Aunt Mary would come over to our house fairly regularly to visit with mom and while she did, Mark and David would play with Susie and me in our backyard at our house in Bloomington. It's probably about then that I learned how to tell time, because when it was time for Aunt Mary to leave, we'd hide Mark and David. After all, if they were hidden, they couldn't leave, could they? Never mind that we couldn't play with them either, it was all just part of a wonderful game. We had all sorts of wonderful games, we four! Some were part of the silliness that is just part of being a member of the Boe family...

At family dinners, someone will always quietly starting passing ALL the serving dishes around the table in the same direction. There will be some people who are in on the joke and others who are so busy talking and eating, they don't realize it's all for nothing. Everyone waits to see how long it takes those folks to notice. Except for the year Barbie, who was still in a high chair on the corner of the table, got impatient with the nonsense and flipped the bowl of mashed potatoes on the floor. She still hears about that one!

Another dinner table bit of silliness is to put your index finger on the side of your nose. If you noticed someone doing it, you were supposed to do it too. You were just supposed to continue doing whatever it is you were doing, or saying, but with your finger on your nose. The big joke was to see who was the last one who noticed.

We also held Easter Egg hunts and then Easter Egg smashing contests. There's an art to coming up the winner in the egg smashing contest. But I still remember the year Mark hid my mom's egg under a plant next to a dead robin. Her shrieking and scolding and his laughing are the epitome of both of them and still makes me smile.

Then there is the habit of pulling out your hankie (or kleenex, or anything white) to wave goodbye as people leave. I'm told that comes from great-grandma Geisen, Big Muddy. But everyone does it for everyone, especially as they leave the Farm. It's a way of saying I Love You.

But probably the biggest silliness Susie and I had with Mark and David growing up was on holidays when someone was cooking a turkey and we'd form teams to try to be the first to get the red and white temperature probe that pops up when the turkey is done. I have no idea who came up with this game, but we played it for years. We'd form teams of two, usually me and Mark and then Suellen and David. We'd go to great lengths to get the cook (usually Aunt Mary) on our side, then distract the other team so we could be in the kitchen at the exact moment the bird came out of the oven and claim the probe. The rest of the evening would be spent trying to steal it away from the other team. This was incredibly important because whomever had the probe could POKE the other team with it!

Mark and David are from a family of five boys. They've shared with me that Susie and I are like the sisters they've never had. I always looked at Mark as the older brother I never had. I don't see him that often because he lives half a content away. But he always calls me when he comes back home so we can be sure to see each other. I have always felt protected by Mark. He was there for me when my mom died. He keeps in touch in spite of the distance. So....as we take out our white hankies and wave goodbye to 2011, here's a toast to my oldest friend and favorite cousin. Love you, Mark!

We'll take a cup of kindness yet
For auld lang syne

Not a Day Goes By

Got a picture of you I carry in my heart
Close my eyes to see it when the world gets dark
Got a memory of you I carry in my soul
I wrap it close around me when the nights get cold
- Lonestar

Pictures are so important. They capture moments in our lives, in our histories. The truly good photographs capture personalities. I have always been interested in history. I think that came from reading Laura Ingalls' books. From that, it was a short leap to wanting to know about my own history. And the Thomas family was rich in that history.

Grandma Helen had a wonderful treasure trove of old papers and documents and photos that have all been passed on to me. I have indenture agreements from the 1700s. I have property deeds that pre-date the American Revolution. I have family bible records and wills. I have business IOUs that give me insight into my ancestors' business transactions, and diaries that share private thoughts, and personal correspondence that document romances and family feuds. As I delved into the genealogies of the various family branches, I found church records and census records and cemetery records. I traveled to places to get first-hand information, and watched as the internet offered an explosion of scanned records.

The most fascinating have been the photographs. The earliest I have are the silhouettes and the pencil sketches that were done at the time of the Revolution, long before the invention of photography. But they clearly show me who our Dutch ancestors were - the Van Schaicks. And then I have some treasured daguerreotypes that were taken before the Civil War that show me what my Thomas ancestors looked like, including Moses Thomas who was born in 1779. Over time, the photographs change from sepia to black and white to color.

There are hints in these photographs too. In multiple photographs of the same individual, some show nothing but seriousness. Others show a twinkle in their eyes. Others have a hint of sadness. Some have very plain clothing while others have jewelry or a pocket watch or a mason's pin. As I've taken up scrapbooking, I'm looking at how I can pull together the information I have with the photos I have and preserve the memories of these ancestors. It is important to know our past - who they were, the world that they had to live in, and the legacy that they left us that we will, in turn, leave our children.

For Christmas, Theresa gave me a flat "family tree" metal sculpture that is about 3x3' and hangs on the wall. It has several small picture frames that you can hang among the leaves on the tree, of family members. She started with my mother in the center and branched out from there. It's beautiful, and it made me cry. It's full of all the pictures I carry in my heart...

Poems, Prayers and Promises

And talk of poems and prayers and promises
And things that we believe in.
How sweet it is to love someone
How right it is to care.
How long it's been since yesterday
And what about tomorrow
And what about our dreams
And all the memories we share?
- John Denver

On Christmas Eve, we were all gathered around the kitchen center island munching on snacks, and someone made reference to a line in the poem "The Night Before Christmas." Laura's boyfriend had no idea what we were referring to. We were all surprised that he didn't understand the reference and in unison, the girls started reciting the poem. They didn't quite get all the way through it, but they were close. And we started talking about poetry. The other one they know well and can recite most of is "The Cremation of Sam McGee" by Robert W. Service. It's a long one, 14 verses.

Both my mother and my father's mother, my Grandma Helen, used to recite poetry to me. I'm not sure why my mother was so big on poetry because I don't ever remember her mother reciting poetry. Grandma Helen had all sorts of nonsense poems she would recite to us. But every December 24th, my mother would read "The Night Before Christmas" to us. And "The Cremation of Sam McGee" was one of her favorites and we all thought it was just ghastly enough to be fascinated with it as children.

Another favorite of hers was "Barbara Fritchie". A story about Stonewall Jackson marching into Frederick town, and 90 year-old Barbara Fritchie flying the Union flag from her attic window in defiance. And when the rebels tried to shoot it down:

'Shoot, if you must, this old gray head,
But spare your country's flag,' she said.

I always thought that was an incredibly brave and patriotic thing to do. And if I reflect back, that was probably planted the earliest seeds of my patriotism. The understanding that being patriotic means taking a stand for your country in the face of personal cost. The poem was written in 1864, and whether or not the events in the poem occurred exactly as written, it has inspired countless others, including Winston Churchill who visited the town in 1943 and recited the poem as well.

One Christmas, Grandma Helen gave us the book, "The Best Loved Poems of the American People." I spent countless hours pouring over that book. It contained some famous passages from Shakespeare, some well known Bible verses, famous speeches, songs such as the Star Spangled Banner and God Bless America, and dozens of others. Many of the poems in that book are part of the Core Knowledge curriculum at my school. At a time when too many school districts are cutting curricula, poetry is too often on the chopping block. Or it is replaced with simplistic poems by modern children's authors. Classic poems are just as important as classic literature, and can be just as inspirational. It's important to share them with our children as part of our past and our future.

And what about our dreams,
And all the memories we share?

Daddy's Money

She's got her daddy's money
Her mama's good looks
More laughs than a stack of comic books
A wild imagination
A college education
Add it all up, it's a deadly combination
- Ricochet

My Baby Girl was telling me about the person she was interning with. His parents wanted to send him to a language immersion boarding school at age 11. Boarding schools were the norm in his country, but he objected to the language immersion. He told them he refused to go. They insisted as his parents they knew best and he must listen to them. He told them if they sent him, he would break all the windows he possibly could on his first day there. The school would either expel him or give him another chance. If the school gave him another chance, he would break any remaining windows at which point they most certainly would expel him and he would never get into another boarding school. His parents decided not to send him. My daughter did not consider this very good advertising for having children.

While each of my children have presented their own parenting challenges, it seems to me that she has been my most strong willed of the three, although to a less violent degree than her mentor. "No, I will NOT join the National Honor Society!!!" and other such statements were not uncommon. She thought up activities her sisters never would have, constantly kept us on our toes with her activities, and continues to do so.

One area where my husband and I are strong partners is our parenting. Not that we have always made the best parenting choices - after all, no one gives you a manual - but we do have certain areas where we strongly agree, and I think this has been key. The first is that we believe in helping our kids channel their personality traits constructively. This has been key over and over and over (and I have been fortunate enough to build an entire school on this philosophy). It meant that when my middle daughter demanded a lot of physical attention, then we looked for socially acceptable ways for her to do that at each stage of her growing up so she didn't seek it in unacceptable ways. It meant when my oldest daughter acknowledged her perfectionist traits, we helped her look at careers where that was an asset.

We've also always tried to ask ourselves what our end goal is in any situation - and keep focused on that rather than the short term. That's why when my Baby Girl insisted the NHS was stupid, we were able to come back at her with the reasoning that we wanted some stand-out listings on her college applications and give her a list of what we saw as options rather than get in a battle over NHS. It's an adult version of....You have to wear socks, do you want the red socks or the blue socks? Parenting this way minimizes a lot of the teenage battles we know our friends had. It also lays the ground work to discuss with kids why some choices are better than others, thinking through options, etc.

And the last thing we did was tag-teaming. When one of us was better suited to deal with a situation, we acknowledged that and took the lead. Or, when one of us had reached our limit, we acknowledged that too and took over for the other one. Sometimes we were able to realize that limit before things escalated. Other times, maybe not so much. But it was huge to be able to do that for each other.

So my take on this is that when children give us challenges growing up, if we as parents invest in them and support them and nurture their strong will (instead of medicating them) these are the children who will grow up to have the most impact on this world. I can look at my Baby Girl's mentor and know that somewhere along the way, his parents did something very right.

Shuttin' Detroit Down

My daddy taught me in this country everyone's the same
You work hard for your dollar and you never pass the blame
When it don't go your way
- John Rich

At my school, the teachers often bemoan students' lack of investment. Their unwillingness to put forth any effort on assignments, and, all too often, convey the attitude that they should be given a decent grade anyway because, oh, I don't know, they're a wonderful person?

Well, pardon me if I don't shed a tear
They're selling make believe and we don't buy that here

We could analyze it and try to figure out if it relates back to parents who have been worrying about their child's self esteem since the day they were born, but often the parents are just as frustrated at their children's lack of investment as the teachers are. And what's frustrating is the schools - the teachers - are being held accountable for the test scores for kids who aren't invested. For kids who don't care. It's pretty darn difficult to make someone come to the table if they don't want to be there. If they don't see something in it for them. And why should they? They'll get what they need...eventually...from someone...

It's a very different mindset when you've worked 30 hour weeks to pay your own tuition. Those dollars are worth something you gave up, so you study your butt off because you're not willing to see those dollars go down the drain.

Now I see all these big shots whining on my evening news
About how they're losing billions and it's up to me and you
To come running to the rescue

A local columnist asked older readers, folks who had come of age during the Great Depression, to share "Life Lessons". He asked them to evaluate their lives now that they've been around the block a few times. One of the things he mentioned was that it was clear they had developed "work habits in an age of scarcity." A very interesting concept, that is...

How different my students would be if they had developed work habits in an age of scarcity...instead of having everything handed to them - which many of them have!

Well that old man's been working in that plant most all his life
Now his pension plan's been cut in half and he can't afford to die
And it's a crying shame, 'cause he ain't the one to blame
When I looked down to see his calloused hands
Well let me tell you friend it gets me fightin' mad

When I watch a sixth grader act non-chalant about not getting his homework turned in, I know he is not thinking about how it will impact his future because he has never seen his father unemployed for lack of finishing school....or his mother cry because she cannot pay for groceries. He has not seen how something as simple as doing Math problems in November affects the whole rest of his family a year and a half later in May.

'Cause in the real world they're shuttin Detroit down
While the boss man takes his bonus paid jets on out of town
DC's bailing out them bankers as the farmers auction ground
Yeah, while there living up on Wall Street in that New York City town
Here in the real world they're shuttin Detroit down

And so part of what we do as teachers is to help kids care. Help them see why the material we present is relevant and matters. To them, to the rest of society. We need them to be invested so we ALL don't shut down.

Highway 20 Ride

A part of you might hate me
But son, please don’t mistake me
For a man that didn’t care at all
- Zac Brown

How do we measure the cost of what we do? And whether it's worth the price? There was an editorial piece in the paper today, written by a mother serving in the military, and how she feels when people thank her for her service, and she wonders if she's paid too great a price for our Freedom. Not because she served in Iraq, but because she wasn't there for her son when he needed her, and he committed suicide. And it made me think about my daughter lashing out at me, angry that she has to compete with 300 children for my attention. And how everyone at my school has to believe in the higher principle of what we are doing at this school...to make it worth jumping ship, giving up tenure, working longer hours for less pay. In the end, will it matter more that I started a school to provide parents with educational choice or that I was there for my family? Is that being selfish? Or serving a greater good? And how do you know?

And I count the days
And the miles back home to you

And when my daughter goes to study abroad, is it worth it because it furthers her education and career goals? Or too high a cost in the emotional toll it takes on the rest of the family because we worry about her and miss her so very much?

And my whole world
It begins and ends with you

I believe in service. And making the world a better place. I know my daughters do too. Right now, I am striving for balance. It's a late life lesson. Because I know that without family, there is very little else. So I am striving to find that balance. It's elusive because I believe so strongly in that service and the higher purpose of my school. But the world does begin and end with my daughters. So the best I can do is to keep the communication open and hope that I am doing a good job keeping tuned in to seeing the world through their eyes.

Many a Long and Lonesome Highway

Many a long and lonesome highway lies before us as we go
In the end I'll do it my way, look for me where the four winds blow
- Rodney Crowell

This has been an incredibly hard couple of months. I've had the weight of the world on my shoulders trying to find a new building for my school and serious doubts whether or not it's going to happen. If it doesn't, there are 40 people without a job and 350 kids without a school. It keeps me awake at night, I've lost weight, and heaven knows I work way too many hours. The support I wish I had from certain people isn't there, and I've been a wreck. On top of it all, I've gone back to school for my superintendent's license, and my daughter has been overseas for several months. My stress has been sky-high. And for the first time since my school opened, for the first time in four years, I took a vacation. I went to Brussels to visit my sister and her family, and then on to Dublin to see my daughter.

It did me a world of good to spend time at my sister's. Not only to spend time with her, but also to spend time with my nieces and nephews. I absolutely love teenagers! I love their energy and their honesty. While we were there, I asked Becca to act as tour guide and she showed me some beautiful buildings - not even knowing how much I love architecture. The next day, Ben and I tried our luck getting around the city without Becca's help, perfectly willing to get lost in the process of finding waffles. And in the evening we ate, and laughed, and watched TV, and laughed, and talked, and laughed a lot. All very good.

Becca will be graduating this spring, and says she wants to come back to the States to go to college. We don't see each other that often as it is; hopefully our paths will still cross occasionally and we'll see each other on holidays or other family events. I'm looking forward to seeing the adult she will become because I believe right now she carefully guards who she is. And that in the coming years, as she comes into her own, we will all be the better for knowing her because she is a person of incredible depth. This song is for her.

I believe in love and danger
I believe that truth is stranger
I believe that fear is much too strong
I believe the best will find me when I leave the rest behind me

Many a long and lonesome highway lies before us as we go
In the end I'll do it my way, look for me where the four winds blow

Pledge Allegiance to the Hag

Don't cry for me when I'm gone
Just put a quarter in the jukebox
An' sing me back home
- Eric Church

Sing me back home... What a wonderful sentiment. I've been to too many funerals where the person officiating didn't know the deceased very well. I found their words to be meaningless at best, and grating and insulting at worst. I have a lot of anger toward the man who officiated at my mother's funeral. It was more about him than it was about her. And he wouldn't let us kids speak during her funeral, only before it started. When both my grandmother and my uncle died, on the other hand, their pastor knew them well, spoke about them eloquently, and invited a lot of the family to speak.

I don't belong to a church and there is no Pastor Max to officiate. But I do believe that the power of music is just as powerful as prayer. And just as healing. Music has carried me through the most difficult times in life, and helped me celebrate the most momentous occasions. And why shouldn't it "carry me home" in the end? People say they want their funeral to be a celebration of their life. I do too. But I want it to be a celebration through music. And what is that music? Here are the songs I want to sing me home, in this order...

Go Rest High on That Mountain - Vince Gill
....a good song about being called home
Carefree Highway - Gordon Lightfoot
....it just speaks to who I am
Summer - John Denver
....it's about continuing on
I Hope You Dance - LeAnn Womak
....it's about hope for the future
Southern Cross - Crosby, Stills and Nash
....for my love of music, the water, and the night
16th Avenue - Lacy J. Dalton
....for believing in your dreams
The Dance - Garth Brooks
....for my mother
You'll Accompany Me - Bob Seeger
....for Gregory
Baby Girl - Sugarland
....for all of my daughters
Unchained Melody - Righteous Brothers
....because I want my ashes to go in the St. Croix River, to the Mississippi, to the sea

There Goes My LIfe

She hugged them both and headed off to the west coast.
And he cried, "There goes my life.
There goes my future, my everything.
I love you, Baby, good-bye."
-- Kenny Chesney

When my Baby Girl graduated from high school, we had the opportunity to submit a baby picture and a short message to her in the yearbook. I gave them the words "There goes my life, my future, my everything, I love you Baby." She recognized it for the Kenny Chesney song it was, and it made her happy. I heard the song driving home from work today, and it made me happy. It's about a young man upset he's going to become a dad and worried "there goes my life" and how it turns into his love for his daughter as she grows up and eventually leaves home and he feels a part of him is leaving.

The first one to leave home was Theresa, who did go off to the west coast. Laura went off to the east coast. And Sarah went off to southern Minnesota. And eventually, they all came back again. And left again. And so it goes, and probably does with most families. Right now we have one at home, one in Ireland, and one who's been living with her boyfriend not too far away for several years. But that's not what the song made me think about. I've been doing a lot of genealogy and I've been thinking about the legacy we leave behind....both in terms of the work we do and the family we grow. If my grandparents were alive today and were to say, "There goes my life...." What would they see?

On my father's side, my grandparents would see three children, fourteen grandchildren, and twenty-seven great-grandchildren. They would see 5 teachers, 3 in theater, 3 in business, 1 engineer, 1 diplomat, 2 health professionals , 1 in the music field, and others who are students going into law, and various other fields. Not to mention those who have devoted their career to raising their children and volunteer work.

On my mother's side, my grandparents would see three children, thirteen grandchildren, and eighteen great-grandchildren. They would see 10 in business, 3 engineers, 1 diplomat, 1 in education, 1 mechanic, 1 lawyer, and students going into law and theater. Not to mention those who have devoted their career to raising their children and volunteer work.

It's important to me how I've raised my children, my life, my legacy. I'm proud that they're all so different and of the life they've chosen. But it also matters to me the life of every child I touch. It's as important to me as all the Science lessons I ever prepared, all the Reading lessons I ever taught. I have a special place in my heart for the kids who struggle to be at school...struggle to sit still, struggle to get along, struggle to find the good in themselves. It's almost always the boys and almost always the boys who have never had someone believe in them and treat them positively.

Sometimes it's as simple as letting them know my office is a safe place and they can always come talk to me. Or letting them know I'll treat them fairly and with respect. Other times it's a battle of wills...of me going round after round with them that they are worth something and I am not going to give up on them and yes-they-can-do-it so let's try again. And again. And again. Some stand out more than others.

But they are just as much my life, my future, my everything, as my own daughters.

This Is Country Music

It ain't hip to sing about tractors, trucks, little towns,
And mama, yeah that might be true.
But this is country music...And we do.
--Brad Paisely

Thirty years ago, I got tired of listening to pop radio. The songs were tired and trite and boring. I started turning the radio dial and I hit on a country radio station and stopped long enough to listen. I don't even remember what the song was but I do remember two things as I listened to the next song and the next and the next... You could sing along to these songs. And they were real.

It wasn't just one longing-for-love song after another (though heaven knows country music has enough of those). They were also songs about family and life and children and fun and hard work and values and patriotism and God and beauty and grit and everyday America. It was real.

So turn it on, turn it up, and sing a long.
This is real; this is your life in a song.
Yeah this is country music.

And I've never left. Some country performers inspire me more than others. Several I've seen in concert...John Denver, Reba McIntire, Highway 101, George Strait, Patty Loveless, Kathy Mattea, Dwight Yokum, Kenny Chesney, Billy Dean, Randy Travis, Luke Bryan, Billy Currington, Tim McGraw, Sugarland. But I love the real things they sing about. So what is "real"?

If you ask people what the "American Dream" is, you'll get a wide variety of answers depending on who you ask. I know people who strive for large homes, lots of belongings, and annual vacations to resort destinations each year. They want to drive nice cars, send their kids to the best colleges, and buy whatever suits their fancy. The problem is...too often, they almost always want whatever is next on the horizon and are never quite satisfied.

If you talk to someone who is new to this country, the American Dream is having the freedom to walk down the street and speak their mind without fear of arrest. Having a place to live, a job, and hope of a public education for their children is the American Dream.

And you get everything in between.

Country Music folks will tell you the American Dream is about the family farm, patriotism, mamas and babies, and a whole host of other things that come with the price of hard work and no guarantee. That, and a little bit of whiskey and horses and Jesus.

At work, someone saw all the NFL memorabilia I have on the back of my office door and they asked if I was a season ticket holder. I told her no, that if I had that kind of money, I would be donating it to charity, not spending it on things like NFL tickets. That took her off-guard. Not that you can't reward yourself once in a while, but an extravagant lifestyle shouldn't be an end, in and of itself. If it is, it's time to come down to earth and get real. It's important to define your values and keep them forefront. Then life doesn't just happen to you, you live it intentionally.

That's what Country Music speaks to: values and the realities of the day to day. And it's why it sparks so many memories, thoughts, and ideas every time I listen to it. How could it not inspire me to write?

So turn it on, turn it up, and sing a long.
This is real; this is your life in a song.
Just like a road that takes you home.
Yeah this is right where you belong.
This is country music.

Chain of Love

He was driving home one evening,
In his beat up Pontiac
When an old lady flagged him down,
Her Mercedes had a flat
He could see that she was frightened,
Standing out there in the snow
'Til he said I'm here to help you ma'am,
By the way...my name is Joe

She said I'm from St. Louis,
And I'm only passing through
I must have seen a hundred cars go by,
This is awful nice of you
When he changed the tire,
And closed her trunk
And was about to drive away,
She said how much do I owe you
Here's what he had to say

You don't owe me a thing, I've been there too
Someone once helped me out,
Just the way I'm helping you
If you really want to pay me back,
Here's what you do
Don't let the chain of love end with you

Well a few miles down the road,
The lady saw a small cafe
She went in to grab a bite to eat,
And then be on her way
But she couldn't help but notice,
How the waitress smiled so sweet
And how she must've been eight months along,
And dead on her feet

And though she didn't know her story,
And she probably never will
When the waitress went to get her change,
From a hundred dollar bill
The lady slipped right out the door,
And on a napkin left a note
There were tears in the waitress's eyes,
When she read what she wrote

You don't owe me a thing,
I've been there too
Someone once helped me out,
Just the way I'm helping you
If you really want to pay me back,
Here's what you do
Don't let the chain of love end with you

That night when she got home from work,
The waitress climbed into bed
She was thinkin' about the money,
And what the lady's note had said
As her husband lay there sleeping,
She whispered soft and low
Everything's gonna be alright.
I love you... Joe.

-- Clay Walker

I can't write about this song without printing the whole song in its entirety because of the story. It's a sweet song that reminds us what goes around comes around. And that's the way it should be. But it also came to mind after looking through pictures of my uncles online...and my mother. And the "Joe" story she used to tell me about her brothers. How her brother Barron had them convinced that if you went to the corner store and said "Hello, Hello, My name is Joe, Give me something free!" The store owner would. I don't know that they ever had the nerve to try it, but this was the big sibling joke they always tried to convince each other to do.

Another joke she told about frequently was the time Ronnie's friend would always stop by on his way home from the grocer and set his bag on their wide newel post while he visited. Then come flying down the stairs because he'd stayed too late, grab the bag, and run out the door. So one time Barron tied the bag to the newel post. When Ronnie's friend came running to grab the bag, it didn't go far. In fact, it broke open with the force of being grabbed on the run, and went spilling in all directions. The boys thought it was hilarious. The friend, not so much....

Or the time they got my mother to hold one hand to a shorted metal lamp, and the other hand to the metal railing down their front steps. She was not amused when she got the strong jolt of electricity.

So this is where I get my sense of humor from... My cousins hiding my Mother's Easter Egg next to a dead bird in the garden just to startle her. My cousins trying to convince my brother to jump down the clothes chute or accidentally on purpose fall in the creek. Or throw me in the swimming pool - lawn chair and all. My uncle making up crazy nicknames for us all. Because it's part of the chain of love that is this family.

Tattoos on This Town

It sure left its mark on us
We sure left our mark on it
We let the world know we were here
With everything we did
We laid a lot of memories down
Like tattoos on this town
- Jason Aldean

Last week I drove past 8244 12th Ave S in Bloomington. It's the earliest home I have memories of and the house was pretty much as I remembered it. It's where the highchair tray fell on Suellen and cut her lip open. It's where I watched Casey Jones on TV. It's where our dog had her puppies in our wading pool. It's where my cousins Mark and David came over to play all the time. It's where I spent the Christmas my dad built the doll house for us. But that was a lifetime ago...

Sometimes I feel like I have so many "lifetimes ago".

It was a lifetime ago that I lived every spare moment outdoors around the Minneapolis chain of lakes...biking, swimming, boating, jogging, skating, sledding. It was a lifetime ago that I lived for marching band, and all the high school football and basketball games we played at - and the goofing off afterward with an amazing group of friends. It was a lifetime ago that I worked at Camp Tamarac, something that set me on paths I never could have imagined. It was a lifetime ago that I biked cross-country, lived for rock climbing, and hitchhiked to California.

There ain't a corner of this hallowed ground
That we ain't laughed or cried on
It's where we loved, lived and learned real stuff
It's everything we're made of

It was a lifetime ago I held my babies in my arms and nursed them and slept with them and carried them everywhere. It was a lifetime ago I homeschooled my girls. It was a lifetime ago that I became a La Leche League Leader so I could help other moms and then went on to serve on their international board. It was a lifetime ago that I went back to teaching and then decided to go back to school for my Masters.

Everything I do, I seem to do with such intensity. Maybe that's why moving on from one thing to the next makes each one seem like a separate lifetime. Someday, I want to write full time. And then it will seem like a lifetime ago that I started a school. This has been the most intense thing I have ever done. Sometimes my family complains I am distracted about things but it is hard for me to shut down when 300 families have placed their children in my care. When it becomes routine and boring and mundane, it will be time for me to move on.

Everywhere there we are
It hits me right in my heart

The most important tattoos though, are around my left ankle...

Sarah Theresa Laura

I Know Where Love Lives

There's a house on the edge of town It's a little old, it's a little run down Full of laughter and tears and toys Crazy things only love enjoys
- Hal Ketchum

I would love to be able to describe my Mom. I can't begin to do justice to the person she was to me and how much I loved her. I had trouble even defining some of the ways she influenced me, because they are so engrained in who I am. It's too enormous. This is the best I could do....

1. Laugh and the world laughs with you. Cry and you cry alone. I probably heard this from my mother more than any of her other sayings. My mother was always laughing. I can't begin to count the number of times she would dissolve in giggles to the point tears would run down her face. She came from a family of practical jokers; teasing was good-natured, and kindly and no one ever doubted that they loved you. She was silly and fun and taught me to value friends and family who made me laugh.

2. The meaning of finesse. Mom played the card game Bridge. She belonged to several Bridge groups and even taught it at various community ed programs. I think she would have lived and breathed Bridge if she could have. I was the only one of her kids who picked up the game...sort of. But it was in learning Bridge I learned the term and the art of finesse. It's a life skill everyone should know.

3. A love of games. She was up for playing anything - board games, card games. word games, anything. She taught me to both play for the fun of it, and probably honed my competitive side as well.

4. How to listen. My mother was born deaf and so had to learn to lip-read. To "hear" what people were saying, she had to stop what she was doing, look at them, and give them her undivided attention. That's a far different and deeper form of listening than we give most people in this busy world of ours.

5. To sew, knit, and crochet. I was in 4th grade when she taught me to use her sewing machine. And not much older when I learned to cook. My mother didn't learn these things until she was in college, majoring in Home Economics. She grew up with a maid in the house and never had to do these things. She said she didn't want her daughters to "waste" their college education on these things. I'm sad that she felt she wasted her college years, but proud at what my siblings and I have done with our education.

6. If the mountain won't come to Mohammed, Mohammed will come to the mountain. She taught me I wasn't the center of the universe. The world wasn't going to come to my doorstep. If I wanted something, I'd better go after it. Learn how to meet other people on their terms when it's necessary.

7. The dinner hour. She would lament that we kids would finish our meal and want to be off and doing things after 20 minutes; that the dinner hour wasn't lasting an hour. But what was important was that we always sat down together as a family. Every night. We talked about our day, knew what was going on in each others' lives, and learned the art of conversation.

8. An appetite for reading. Probably because she didn't get information from audio sources as readily as others, she was a voracious reader. And through watching her read, and being read to, I grew up with the notion that reading was important. And have passed that on to my children.

9. Traditions. My mother was big on the little things that made up traditions from year to year. Like reading us "The Night Before Christmas" every Dec 24th when we were little, or always bringing "camping cake" when we went to the dome. It gave us a sense of things to look forward to and find myself doing the same for my girls.

10. How to make each of her children feel completely loved. I always felt like Susie was her favorite - I think we all did. But I never felt any the less loved because of it.  I always felt her love for me was so complete and so total. I only hope that I will be remembered by my children like my siblings and I remember her.

I know where love lives
She's sitting on the back step in the evening air
With sea green eyes and her chestnut hair
You keep your mansions of gold, buddy, I don't care
Cause I know where love lives

Fishin' In The Dark

Lazy yellow moon coming up tonight
Shining through the trees
Crickets are singing and lightning bugs
Are floatin' on the breeze...
- Nitty Gritty Dirt Band

Of all the places I know, the best place of all to see lightning bugs is at the Farm. The Farm. My Aunt Mary's Farm outside of New Richmond, Wisconsin. It isn't a diary farm like most of Wisconsin, or even a hobby farm. It's just 40 acres of trees. Aunt Mary's dad bought it from two Norwegian brothers who couldn't pay their taxes, so he had a place to hunt. Mary spent a lot of time there growing up when there were epidemics going through the Twin Cities and her dad thought it best to get his wife and two kids away from it all. The farm house looked like it had been built by two old farmer brothers...a small kitchen with a pump in the sink instead of running water, a small living room, two small bedrooms that had been tacked on in back, and an even smaller bathroom. There was a nice enclosed porch off the back, and a low, sloped roof over it all.

When I was a young girl, my family used to go up there with our Boe cousins to cut down our own Christmas tree. We'd get there and it would be a big laughing argument who had to go chip all the drowned mice out of the frozen-over toilet in the bathroom. Because, of course, there was no heat inside until someone fired up the gas heater in the living room. So we'd all tromp off in the woods, cut down our trees, go back inside and eat sandwiches with cocoa, and then head home. Once in a very great while, we went up for the day in the summer, but what I mostly remember about the old farm house, is the winters.

When my Aunt Mary inherited the place, she tore down the old farm house, put in an in-ground pool where the house had once stood, and then brought in a pre-fab three-bedroom home. She added a deck and a three-season porch. She cleared a lawn around the pool, and it became a really nice place to be. The reason I never spent much time up there in the summer is because my parents always had it for a week each summer but it was their time away from us kids for a while and we kids were farmed out to other relatives. But once I had kids, my folks wanted to spend that time with their granddaughters, and they started inviting me to join them for their week at the Farm. And so ever since my girls can remember, it's been a part of their summers.

Lying on our backs and counting the stars
Where the green grass grows

And it's where I spent time with my Mom. More uninterrupted, relaxed, enjoyable time with my Mom than anywhere else I can think of. We would sit for hours by the pool playing games like Upwords and Scrabble. We'd watch the girls and talk about them and be so proud of them. We'd reminisce and gossip and tell stories and get the giggles. And sometimes just sit and enjoy the silence of each others' company. But I just loved being in her presence with nothing pressing to do, no interruptions, just feeling loved. And when Mom passed on, I somehow inherited my Mom's week at the Farm...and my girls continue to come.

Staying the whole night through
Feels so good to be with you

Sometimes I have the chance to go up to the Farm a bit earlier than everyone else, or stay later after they've all gone home. Or sometimes I just stay up late at night after everyone's gone to bed, and I go sit out on the three-season porch in the dark and watch the back yard all lit up with a zillion lightning bugs floating around the back yard. And I'm at peace. I feel my Mom's presence so strongly there. It is a special place to be.

Teenage Daughters

I ain't complainin' but I'm tired,
So I'm just sayin' what I think
And if we're being honest,
Then honestly I think I need a drink
My baby's growin' up,
She think's she's fallin' all in love and that I hate her
At seventeen, she's just like me when I was seventeen
So I don't blame her

-- Martina McBride

I was at a parenting conference once, where the speaker was specifically addressing parents of teenagers. She held her hands in front of her, one above the other, palms facing, and about a foot apart. She told the audience, "This is how the parenting relationship starts out...with the parent up here." She wiggled the fingers of her upper hand. "And the child down here." She wiggled the fingers of her lower hand. She went on... "The parent does everything for the child. Takes care of the child, feeds the child, teaches the child, disciplines the child. But by the time the child is an adult, you want to end up like this...." She switched her hands to a position where, instead of an above/below position, they were side-by-side, palms facing, about a foot apart. "You want to be equals, on par with each other. And you want to have a good relationship. But...." She went back to the above/below position. "In parenting, you don't just gradually shift the relationship gently to that of equals." She slowly and gracefully moved her hands back to the side-by-side position. "Instead...." She put her hands back to the above/below position. "With teenagers it's more of a rocky back and forth..." Her hands jerked back and forth, back and forth, as if they couldn't decide whether to be above/below or side-by-side. "....until they finally become adults."

She went on from there, to talk about expectations our society puts on teenagers, how that's changed over generations, how various institutions such as schools and churches figure into that, and so on. And our job as parents is to decide what values we place on things, what we want to convey to our kids, and what battles we want to fight. And in the end, what do we want? To be right all the time? To instill certain values? To be friends with our adult children? To set our children on a certain career path? Something else?

Remember when we use to be everything they ever need
We had them believing we were cool
It's like it happened over night
We're always wrong, they're always right
We used to be the ones breakin' the rules

Personally? It's not my goal to be best friends with my children, I'm not their age and I think it's inappropriate when parents try to interact with their children on the same level as their age peers. But I do want my children to enjoy spending time with their family, doing things as a family. As adults, they can choose how they spend their time. I'd rather they choose to spend time with their parents because they enjoy doing so, not because they feel they should.

And as they were growing up, I tried to choose my battles and decide what was really important and what wasn't. I think being a teenager is a time to try out different personas and figure out what you're comfortable with and who you want to be. I remember a conversation in the teacher's lounge one day at work. One of my colleagues was extremely distressed because her daughter wanted to dye her hair blue. After listening to her complain about this for a while, I finally asked her what was really going to be hurt by it. Well nothing, but she just felt it was wrong and would lead to other bad things. I told her that my daughter had purple hair, but otherwise was doing fine. She got good grades at school, had a job, wasn't doing drugs, or getting in trouble with the law, and if purple hair was the worst I had to worry about as a parent, we were in pretty good shape. She said she hadn't looked at it like that.

She rolls her eyes when I'm funny
But she's sweet when she wants money and her freedom
Oh my God, she's got a car, swears they wont go far
And I wish I believed 'em

On the other hand, we tried really hard to teach our girls to talk things through with us like adults. And to work through situations like adults. Sometimes we call these things "life lessons". The girls don't particularly like them, but they've gotten to the point that they recognize them for what they are. Like the time one of my Baby Girl's friends got in a car accident when her parents were out of the country and she didn't know who else to call so she called me. I could have taken care of the whole situation for her, but that's not the way I was used to doing things with my girls. Instead I sat her friend down and explained to her how to talk through the accident with her insurance company - and then let her make the calls.

They're beautiful, wild and free
Everything we wish we could be
But they're still crazy
Oh you know, they make us crazy

I know things weren't always smooth sailing for our girls and there were places we made mistakes. But I know they had it easier than a lot of teens. I remember my sister-in-law spending a few summers with us as a teenager, being treated like an adult while she was here, and having a relatively easy time of things. She was acting responsibly about things, probably largely in part because she was being treated like an adult and wanted to live up to that. But then when she went home, her mom went back to making all sorts of rules, treating her like a kid, and she said she felt like, "What's the use?"

I end up having this conversation with parents of my students quite a bit. I talk with them about helping their children with "life skills". They can jump in and mediate the immediate problem, or they can give their child the life skills to be able to handle it themselves. For example, a student who's having trouble on the playground...and the parent wants to get involved and have the adults settle it. And I talk to them instead about giving their child the "words to use" so they will know how to handle these situations that will arise over and over again because knowing how to stick up for yourself is an important life skill. And it's hard for parents to let go enough to do that. But in the end, parenting is about letting go. And most of the battles that occur in the teenage years occur when parents can't let go.

When my oldest was graduating from high school, the teacher who spoke at her graduation spoke about the "Lassie" TV shows in which the boy finds a stray dog and wants to keep it, and the dad says no, you have to let it go. So the boy takes it back to where he found it and tells it to go away, but the dog doesn't go. So the boy throws a stick at it. But the dog still doesn't go. So the boy throws another stick and yells, "Go away! I hate you!" And so it is with parenting. Sometimes, the parent has to yell so the child will go away.

Or maybe the child has to yell so the parent will let go...

Or maybe in the wisest of situations, the child and parent realize it's about walking side-by-side. It's about the parent giving the teenager the respect and room to make adult choices. It's about the teenager acting safely and responsibly so the parent knows it's okay to let go.

Me and Bobby McGee

Busted flat in Baton Rouge, waiting for a train
And I's feeling nearly as faded as my jeans.
Bobby thumbed a diesel down just before it rained,
It rode us all the way to New Orleans...

-- Janis Joplin

This song is in a category all it's own in so many ways. You can't not recognize it when it comes on the radio. Or sing along. Or understand the era it represents. And for me, it also brings back the memory of learning to play the guitar.

It was at the downtown Minneapolis Schmidt Music store with a long-haired hippie instructor who passed around a nail clipper and told all the girls to cut their fingernails (horrors!) And if we decided to buy the guitar we were using, we could apply the $68 cost of the lessons toward the purchase price of the guitar. I still have that guitar and, on occasion, I still play it.

The instructor passed out a piece of paper with the song "Me and Bobby McGee", showed us how to finger the G and D7 chords and dragged us through the song, insisting our fingers change position on cue even though we were fumbling through it.

Freedom's just another word for nothing left to lose

I'd never heard of Bobby McGee. Or Janis Joplin. But I fell in love with the song and those words. To this day I sing them to myself, most often while I'm driving.

And feeling good was easy, Lord, when he sang the blues,
You know feeling good was good enough for me,
Good enough for me and my Bobby McGee.

Actually, I sing it a lot when I'm driving. And I can hear her voice. And I can still picture those guitar lessons some 35 years ago. I love the thought of being so free you have nothing left to lose...

From the Kentucky coal mines to the California sun,
Hey, Bobby shared the secrets of my soul.
Through all kinds of weather, through everything we done,
Hey Bobby baby kept me from the cold.

Shouldn't we all be so lucky to have someone we are that close to?

One day up near Salinas,I let him slip away,
He's looking for that home and I hope he finds it,
But I'd trade all of my tomorrows for just one yesterday
To be holding Bobby's body next to mine.

I love the sweet wistfulness of this song. We've all been there. And we all have things we would be willing to trade one of our tomorrows for, just to have one more yesterday. Usually, it's another day with the ones we love the most and miss the most. So to close our eyes and be able to let the music take us there instead is why this song resonates...

Freedom is just another word for nothing left to lose,
Nothing, that's all that Bobby left me, yeah,
But feeling good was easy, Lord, when he sang the blues.
Hey, feeling good was good enough for me, hmm hmm,
Good enough for me and my Bobby McGee.

It Happens

Missed my alarm clock ringing,
Woke up, telephone screaming,
Boss man singing his same old song.
Rolled in late about an hour,
No cup of coffee, no shower.
-- Sugarland

I've been following a thread of conversation on Facebook with someone that started out about vacations and maternity leaves, but it touched on a lot of important topics as various people chimed in. It was mostly about America not giving as much vacation time as other developed countries. And some viewpoints about the importance of hard work and the balance between expecting people to contribute and be self-supporting, and the charity and care of our citizens. And where priorities are placed or maybe misplaced...when corporate CEOs make millions, while millions of people go without. All this matters to me a very great deal, more than I can explain in a thread on Facebook, and I'll explain why, and explain how I've chosen to live my beliefs on this...

• Maternity leave...babies need to be with their mothers. Period. For the sake of equality some might ask what about dad and I will argue that dad is the next best, and any family member for that matter. But babies need breastmilk. And we need to follow the model of our Scandinavian neighbors and give mothers the paid maternity leave they need. Until we start investing in our families, we will not have the infrastructures we want. We can pay for it on the front end or on the hind end, and the front end is far more productive.
  
  
• Some families can't or won't or don't have the means or ability to care for their children. Again, if this is the case, we need programs that will. But we need intelligent programs and we need programs without so much bureaucracy and red-tape and paperwork that it takes away from the important work of caring for our children. I should know. As a charter school director, I am doing more for less and getting better results than my expensive school district neighbors. And yet I still spend way too much money "being accountable" to our politicians when I could be actually doing the work of educating children.
  
  
• You can't simply say this is necessary or we had to do it that way because.... That is endorsing the status quo and is never okay. Even when things are going well, the status quo should always be questioned. There is always room for improvement.
  
  
• Once you've questioned the status quo, you have to also come prepared with alternatives or it will be only a short period of time before you're brushed aside and people stop listening to what you have to say. I've found two ways to facilitate change. One is to throw the baby out with the bath water. Depending on what scale you do this, it can be called starting over, entrepreneurship, or a revolution.
  
  
• The other way to bring about change is to do it incrementally. Highlight what is good and right and then talk about how you can take that in a new direction with some tweaks. Help people visualize what can be. Energize them about what they have to give.
  
  
• Start making life choices that reflect these values. Start refusing, even in small ways, to be part of the status quo if you don't like it, and start showing other people that there are alternatives - AND - without being labeled an in-your-face-nut, show them that there are alternatives that work.

So what have I done? I worked long enough to qualify to buy a house and then when everyone said it couldn't be done, I quit my job and we existed on one income and one car for 15 years. I nursed my babies long past the age everyone said I should, especially my youngest and everyone said she would be too dependent on me. I think Connecticut and Morocco proved that wrong. I homeschooled my girls because I believed I could give them a better education when they were younger, and then enrolled them in public school when I felt they were ready, not when an arbitrary age came along. I went back to teaching and fought like hell for the services my struggling kids needed and wouldn't stand down when I knew I was right.

Pretty soon, I became the voice for the teachers because they knew I would speak up - respectfully, but speak up nonetheless. And in the end, it got me on almost every committee there was in the building. That led me to getting my principal's license, and insight as to what was really good and really wrong with our educational system. And just like when I was a teenager and vowed to myself I would not do certain things as a parent, I promised that when I became an administrator, there were certain things I would not do. So I set out to create a different sort of school.

Along the way...my Uncle Vern died. I was scared to death of him as a kid because he was so stern. It was only as I grew older that I realized how really cool, how really interesting he was, and how much I enjoyed talking to him. At his funeral, every single one of his children spoke about how, at dinner each night he would ask each of them in turn, "And what did you do to make the world a better place today?" And that they were expected to have an answer. What a powerful message that was for a child growing up! I wanted my children to have that message - and my students. I didn't ask it as a nightly question like my uncle did, but more and more, I became vocal about making a difference in the world.

And so what is different about my school? It isn't the Core Knowledge curriculum. It is something intangible I've tried to create within the framework imposed by all the state laws and Department of Ed rules we have to follow.

It is a place children want to be. It is a place parents want their children to be. It is a place teachers want to work. That is no small order. What makes a school a place EVERY child wants to be at? Where every child feels accepted and successful and cared for? How to we as a staff create that and genuinely convey that? That is the task we have set before ourselves. We have made a commitment that every adult in the building will get to know every single child by name. We will individualize their learning. We all have a stake in their success. Today the Phy Ed teacher was working on a Math lesson with two boys. That exemplifies what I mean. I have other students who, instead of coming to my office because they are in trouble, know that when they are having a tough day they have a free pass to come to my office to talk to me. After the first month or two of school, they almost never need to come talk to me - simply because we have created safe places for them at school and there are adults they trust.

It is a place where teachers have a voice in how the school is run. They are allowed to question the status quo, share ideas, argue as to what is best, make changes, do it differently. All as long as they can show that the children are learning and are well cared for. But it is more than that. They are allowed flexible time off, reasonable comp time, and vacation options within the school calendar. And we talk about what we want the school to become. How we want to shape it, what we want the culture of the building to be. That's something that doesn't happen in a lot of work places. The staff are energized by it and the potential of what can be. My goal, as an employer, is to help a whole cadre of teachers, parents, and students who will eventually become parents and employers themselves, see that there are alternatives to the rigid rules-for-the-sake-of-rules work environment - and that you can create places of work that are both flexible and productive. Places where people want to be. I have not just started a school. I have intentionally invested time in creating a specific work environment for my teachers because I believe that is just as important as the classroom environment they create for their students.

The thread of conversation on Facebook ended with an article about vacations providing people with a sense of renewal. Everyone needs time off. Someone I know worked for a company whose policy was simply "take what you need, but don't take too much." She said that wasn't a good policy because people tended to be too conservative and not take very much at all. My experience is that not everyone is renewed by vacations per se. Some people get a far stronger sense of renewal by doing something creative like woodworking or quilting (I fall in this category). For others, like my teaching partner, it was physical exercise. For my father, it wasn't the time off, but rather the travel (he just happened to need time off to travel).

So yes, I agree there is a huge issue of misplaced priorities, especially when there are CEOs making millions and we have corporations that could be putting that money towards employees' maternity leave, vacation leave, etc. La Leche League has been fighting for longer maternity leave for years. So have other groups. Support that. Look at countries like Finland and Norway and Sweden and see how they made it work. Look at companies in the US that have very family-friendly leave policies and still make a good profit, start highlighting them in the media in very public ways. Start looking for legislative incentives for companies to provide this sort of policy. Revolutionary change is unlikely on this front in the US. So what is good that can be tweaked? What can be? What is the change that you can provide?

I Run To You

This world keeps spinning faster,
Into a new disaster.
So I run to you, I run to you...
-- Lady Antebellum

Today, I watched as the skies turned black, and heard the tornado sirens go off. Tornadoes are nothing new in Minnesota. I have grown up with them. So I turned on the TV to see if the sirens were anything serious. And watched as the reports listed actual tornadoes in Brooklyn Center, then Blaine, then North Minneapolis, then Forest Lake. One after another they were dropping from the sky. Never this many. I started to gather my things. My cat, my drugs, my phone, my laptop. And went to the basement.

I am absolutely terrified of tornadoes and I am not sure why. I have lived with the threat of them my whole life. I was five when they nearly obliterated the town of Fridley. My friend from high school and college roommate, Colleen, lived in Fridley at the time and remembers her father throwing her and her siblings to the floor and throwing himself on top of them to protect them as the windows of their home imploded. She remembers the aftermath when it wasn't safe to walk on the rain-soaked grass because downed live power lines were snaking through the wet grass. She remembers the devastation.

Although I have never seen one, I remember more than one night of being wakened by my dad and taken down in the basement when it was storming or sirens were going off. When my children were born, I had nightmares of seeing tornadoes coming down the street and not being able to get to my babies. When it stormed and my husband would stand in the street and watch the clouds, it would make me panic.

We live near an extremely large body of water and I think the temperature variances it causes does odd things when it storms out here. One time, a tornado did go through, not too far from here. We were having a party for Laura. She and all her little friends and their mothers huddled in our basement until it passed. I have seen the clouds over our house churn in an obvious circular pattern and look as if they were going to drop a funnel, and then move on.

Today, there are tens of thousands of people without power, dozens hurt, and at least one person killed. What was even more disturbing about today's storm was that it was not the usual sticky humid hot day you associate with a tornado. It was 11am and rather cool. And they just kept coming. It will take some time to clean this all up. At least when these disasters strike, it brings out some of the best in people.

Where Were You?

Where were you when the world stopped turning
That September day?

--Alan Jackson

When monumental world events happen, people remember where they were, what they were doing. They remember where they were when Kennedy was shot. (I was only three.) They remember where they were when the Challenger blew up (I was a mile from home, waiting at a red light and heard it on the radio.) They remember where they were on September 11th when the World Trade Center was attacked.

Where were you when the world stopped turning
That September day?
Teaching a class full of innocent children?

I was in my classroom with my teaching partner, Mike, and the students were due to arrive in a few minutes. Our Phy Ed teacher, Paul, went running down the hallway yelling , "A plane flew into the World Trade Center! A plane flew into the World Trade Center!" Mike and I rushed into the hallway in confusion. And then went into a classroom where other teachers were gathering, where there was a TV. As we saw events unfold, we came to the realization that the first plane crash wasn't an accident and one of the teachers started to pray out loud. Someone else started to cry. Then we realized the kids were arriving and we did what teachers have to do every day...make sure their students are okay. So we went back to our rooms, stunned and shaken and greeted our kids good morning.

Did you weep for the children
Who lost their dear loved ones?

And one of our boys came into the classroom sobbing. He heard on the bus radio that a plane had been flown into the Pentagon and his uncle worked at the Pentagon and was his uncle dead? No, I'm sure your uncle is fine. And that's when it dawned on Mike and I. My God, our Country is under attack! What the Hell is going on?!? And then...the Pentagon? My sister works in Washington D.C. What's next? Was she okay? And it was her birthday to boot. And then the Towers fell...

Did you stand there in shock at the sight
of that black smoke rising against that blue sky?

Almost every teacher that day kept the students busy with mindless activities because our minds were elsewhere and we couldn't teach. We alternated between scouring the internet for information and making calls to people and checking news reports.

Did you weep for the children who lost their dear loved ones
And pray for the ones who don't know?
Did you rejoice for the people who walked from the rubble
And sob for the ones left below?

When our kids were at Specialists, and Mike and I were able to finally turn on the TV in our classroom, Mike broke down in tears watching people walk bloody and injured from the rubble. Everyone was in shock that day. And we watched as the first responders started helping people out, and normal citizens helped each other. And became heroes.

Did you burst out in pride for the red white and blue
The heroes who died just doing what they do?

My Baby Girl says she wants to fight terrorism. She may or may not go down that path. The thought of her doing that work scares me. But so does the horror of that day. Someone has to do it. There will always be people who have to address the evils and wrongs of this world. From the children who bully each other on the playground, to the adults who mastermind acts of terrorism on innocent citizens.

I was watching the Country Music Awards when Alan Jackson sang this song for the very first time. They say the inspiration for this song came to him late one night shortly after 9-11. They kept the rehearsals at the Awards under wraps. Everyone knew they were witness to Music history when he sang it for the first time and it gave me goosebumps listening to it:

I'm just a singer of simple songs,
I'm not a real political man.
I watch CNN but I'm not sure I can tell you
The difference in Iraq and Iran.
But I know Jesus and I talk to God
And I remember this from when I was young.
Faith, Hope, and Love are some good things he gave us
And the greatest is Love.

When teachers work with children with difficult behaviors, the theories state that you can't just eliminate a behavior, you have to replace it with something else. You can't just tell a child "don't do that." You have to tell him what you want him to do instead. When our armed forces go into a country like Afghanistan or Iraq, and occupy it long after we accomplish the military mission, there's a reason for it. We're helping to rebuild the infrastructure. On a national scale,we're helping them with what they can be doing, instead of just what they shouldn't be doing. It seems somewhat of a paradox, but there are examples small and large...tear it down so you can build it up. Just always remember to build things back up. Always. Especially for the children.

Faith, Hope, and Love are some good things he gave us
And the greatest is Love.

LIttle Miss

Little Miss checkered dress, Little Miss one big mess
Little Miss I'll take less when I always give so much more
It's alright, it's alright, it's alright
Yeah, sometimes you gotta lose 'til you win
It's alright, it's alright, it's alright, It'll be alright again

This is my Sarah song. My beautiful Sarah who is a wonderful, different personality every different day. She tries on different clothes, hair, make-up, personas, depending on her mood. Always changing.

Little Miss down on love, Little Miss I give up

She will get overwhelmed and announce "I give up". But she always bounces back. Always. She has more strength and perseverance than most people I know. More smarts. More stamina. And she's overcome a lot more than most. She'll be able to get through anything life throws at her.

Little Miss do your best, Little Miss never rest
Little Miss be my guest, I'll make more anytime that it runs out
Little Miss you'll go far, Little Miss hide your scars
Little Miss who you are is so much more than you like to talk about

She's quiet, private, but has more substance than most people realize. She's got a quick wit, and I love when it surfaces. She's got a lot of talent too - more than she gives herself credit for. She can think things and create things that most people can't even imagine how to do.

Little Miss brand new start, Little Miss do your part
Little Miss big 'ole heart beats wide open and she's ready now for love

It's alright, it's alright, it's alright
Yeah, sometimes you gotta lose 'til you win
It's alright, it's alright, it's alright, It'll be alright again

She's starting over right now. I'm happy for her. And excited to see where she lands. And enjoying this time with her right now. And every time I hear this song, I think of all the different Little Miss moods Sarah is. I have always thought of her as a butterfly. Mariposa. Papillon. Butterfly. Someday I will add a tattoo on my leg for her -- a butterfly that she has designed for me.

Southern Cross

I have my ship
And all her flags are a flyin'
She is all that I have left
And Music is her name.

Teaching is, by nature, a reflective profession. Educators are constantly assessing what they could do better, differently, to reach the student who still doesn't get it. Or maybe the student who does get it, but you want to push to an even higher level of understanding. We are always thinking about what we do...who we are....

I was at a concert last week with my Baby Girl. Sugarland. One of our favorites. I was in the arena with some 13,000 people watching the warm-up bands. Watching the crowd. They had arms in the air, swaying back and forth, totally enraptured in the music. And it reminded me of a religious revival...people with eyes closed, faces upturned, arms raised, basking in the inspiration of the Music and the Word. And I realized in that moment, that Music is my inspiration, my Gospel, my Word. It always has been. It is no accident that my writing, all through the years, has been laced with song lyrics.

I have been watching a friendship of mine move further and further away as she has become more and more involved with her church. It has become her social life, the only thread of her conversation, and harder and harder for us to find common ground. I am happy that she finds solace and social connections in her church. But it leaves little common ground any more in our friendship and I feel more and more distant from her.

Everyone should find inspiration somewhere. A lot of people find it in the unspoken beauty of nature. Others find it in the service they give. Many find it in their faith. For me, inspiration will always be in two things... The possibility of what can be. And Music.

When you see the Southern Cross for the first time
You understand now why you came this way
'Cause the truth you might be runnin' from is so small.
But it's as big as the promise, the promise of a comin' day.

She is all that I have left
And Music is her name.

My Old Friend

My old friend, I recall
The times we had are hanging on my wall
I wouldn't trade them for gold
Cause they laugh and they cry me
And somehow sanctify me
And they're woven in the stories I have told
- Tim McGraw

My Baby Girl keeps a picture postcard on her wall of wide-eyed baby nursing at the breast who has turned to look at the photographer. It's a black and white close up - mostly of the baby, very little of the breast - and it's endearing because the baby has not stopped nursing but has turned to look. We call it the "MamaBaby" picture and it comes from La Leche League. I think my Baby Girl keeps it because she remembers nursing - she nursed until she was almost four years old. I love it because it reminds me of my time as a member and volunteer in La Leche League - more than ten years.

When my first daughter was born, I nursed her because it seemed like the natural thing to do. I didn't know anyone else who nursed, but it made sense to nurse, so I did. Six months seemed long enough, so then I weaned her, and went on to solid foods and a cup with her. All was good.

Then came my second daughter. She was colicky and every evening after dinner, her crying would escalate to the point of screaming that would last for hours. Both my pediatrician and a friend suggested I go to a La Leche League meeting so I could talk to other mothers who might be able to give me some advice on how to cope with the colicky behavior. I almost didn't go back. But I was desperate and so I decided to give them one more chance. That second meeting turned into years of meetings and eventually deciding to become a volunteer leader. Eventually I took on other leadership roles within the organization...accrediting other women who wanted to become leaders, then helping plan their annual conference, then as coordinator (president) for a three state area, and eventually serving four years on their international board of directors.

All told, I was with La Leche League for over 12 years. They're far more than just an organization that provides breastfeeding information. They truly do provide mother-to-mother support and information for parenting. No fancy gizmos, expensive purchases, fast-paced programs, competitive preschools, or trying to out-do each other. Just an accepting group of women who celebrate a simple kind of mothering. League has some simple tenets they ask leaders-to-be to reflect on during the accreditation process. There is one in particular that has deeply influenced me: From infancy on, children need loving guidance which reflects acceptance of their capabilities and sensitivity to their feelings. I have tried to remember this with my daughters, and with my students. And when I moved on to create my own school, I have incorporated it at a fundamental level in developing a culture of individualized learning for our students. But really, all of La Leche League has shaped me. As an educator, as a parent, as a person. And deep down, I do not feel I can ever repay what the women in that organization gave to me. They gave me the skills to help me help my daughters become the amazing women they are.

But as my daughters grew up and the years passed, I needed to devote more of my time to my work as an educator. My youngest was in middle school, and I was back in graduate school. I had retired from League, and with the exception of just a few people, my contact with League dwindled. Until last night.

My old friend, I apologize
For the years that have passed
Since the last time you and I
Dusted off those memories

I got together with nine other women from League, most of whom I haven't seen in 10 or 15 years. We reserved a private room at a restaurant and all had dinner together - and talked for four hours. Like we had just seen each other last week. We all remembered each others' kids' names and the many things each of them had been involved in. To a degree, there's probably a common personality that's attracted to LLL in the first place, but everyone's interests and pursuits were about as different as you get. I'm a school principal, someone else plays in a rock band, another is a published author, a nurse, a fiber arts specialist, a lactation consultant, a parent educator, and someone who is studying the ministry. Every woman I've met in LLL is unique and talented. And made her job as a mom a priority. Not something that came after yoga class. They celebrated each others' children. Not compared them.

My old friend this song's for you
Cause a few simple verses was the least that I could do
To tell the world that you were here
'Cause the love and the laughter will live on long after

My most wonderful memory of La Leche League was when I served on their international board of directors and was at one of their biannual conferences. The organization was going through growing pains, trying to figure out how to celebrate the fact that we were truly an international organization and not just a US organization...and the woman who organized the conferences didn't quite get it. A board member colleague, someone who grew up in the US but had married a German and been living in Europe for many years, gathered women from several countries who had young infants. A mother from Africa stepped up to the microphone. She wore her native dress and held a very young baby in her arms. No one understood the words she began to sing, but everyone recognized the love in her eyes and understood she was singing a lullaby to her baby. And when she was done, a mother from another country come up to the microphone and sang a lullaby in her native tongue. And another. And another. There was complete silence in a room of thousands as these mothers from around the world sang their lullabies as if there was no one else there except their own sweet baby. And it was one of the most moving experiences I've ever been witness to.

It's been over 60 years since La Leche League was formed, by seven women in Chicago, Illinois who wanted to offer breastfeeding information and support to women so they wouldn't encounter the same difficulties they had. It's grown into an organization in over 100 countries and has had tens of thousands of volunteers and hundreds of thousands of members. It's helped millions of babies. One mother and one baby at a time. When those women were singing in that room full of thousands of young mothers, not one baby was crying. Breastfeeding is about more than just infant nutrition, it's also about parenting. That's why I hope my daughters will breastfeed too.

The Music Is You

Music makes pictures and often tells stories
All of it magic and all of it true.
And all of the pictures and all of the stories
All of the magic, the music is you.

--John Denver

To My Daughters...

Thomas is a Welsh name, and the Welsh have a saying... "To be born Welsh is to be born privileged. Not with a silver spoon in your mouth, but with music in your heart and poetry in your soul."

My Baby Girl told me she was having a discussion with her boyfriend about whether magic existed or not. He claims that it doesn't; everything has a scientific explanation. Others will tell you it's God's hand. I raised my girls to believe in magic. Not the "wave a wand" type of magic you see in Harry Potter movies, but the joy and wonder of the unexplainable. Of the power and beauty and enormity of nature. Of the intensity of will power and love that can move mountains and overcome all obstacles. Of the healing power and inspiration of music. It is the last one he should understand. He is a musician.

These pages are full of the music that has shaped my life and continues to inspire me. Through that music, I am sharing the stories that are my history, and through that, your history. And in reading them, I hope you will also find some tidbits of magic. I love you more than I can ever, ever express. More than you will ever, ever know. These are my love letters to you.

All of the magic, the music, is you.

Love, Mama