"What Can You Do With A General When He Stops Being A General?"

Lessons Learned

“What Can You Do With A General When He Stops Being A General?”

“White Christmas” is, by far, our family’s favorite holiday movie. The lines, the songs, the choreography, the gestures, the elaborate sets and costumes completely engage each and every cousin, aunt, uncle, and grandparent gathered around the living room watching and listening and singing along to this classic  with full smiles.  And if a gentle snow begins falling outside our home at the end of the movie, just like the final scene of the movie, well then, all the better. Fabulous. Absolutely fabulous. In the story, General Waverly retires from the Army and struggles a bit to find footing in the new life of retirement after a very busy and decorated life in the service; hence the song, “What can you do with a General when he stops being a General?” Retirement is a chapter, a season of life that many eagerly anticipate for years and years, as the thought of increased discretionary time is unequivocally alluring. The thought of even available time outside the typical spin cycle of life’s frenetic daily pace is the longed for daydream that frequently tickles one’s imagination while galloping on the treadmill of climbing and achievement in a job or career. But then it finally arrives, retirement that is, and regardless of how giddily anticipated  it has been and for how long, it still arrives like the screeching halt of touchy brakes. Boom. Stop. Fini. With your box of belongings draped over your arms, you head to your car as your cubical is dusted off and prepared for the next player who has been charged to pick up the ball and run. The drive home is washed with emotions ranging from jubilation over the “my time’s my own” reality to a pinch of concern in response to the perplexing and confusing question bubbling up inside wondering who exactly one is apart from a long time job or career. Hello. Redefining or reinventing one’s self requires some deep contemplative time, so right now in this exact moment on this awkward drive home, a pinch of emptiness douses the jubilation.  Tomorrow morning, lounging in a bathrobe until 10 AM may be great medicine for the heart and soul, but will it feel so decadent morning after morning after morning after morning? Somehow I feel as though we are innately wired to want to regularly bring our gifts to the table of need and offer our best to tackle challenges that exist around us.  No two individuals are the same and the gifts possessed by one are the gifts needed by another. By sharing and serving in this manner, growth and progress occur. In bringing home the box of belongings, one is essentially withdrawing from the exchange of gifts for the enrichment of all, and that simply cannot be; not permanently anyway.  I retired last June. Thirty years in the classroom for this teacher, and it was unquestionably the career of my dreams and of my heart. But it was time. Time for a change. Time to breathe. Time to reassess. “ What can you do with teachers when they stop being teachers?”  For a short while, one can busy busy hands with part time jobs and engage minds accustomed to spontaneously creating exciting plans and activities that magically build bridges of learning for learners of all ages and all ability levels all of the time with various good and meaningful projects, but at some point, the desire and need to serve and share consistently, deeply and significantly will become overwhelming.  Teachers are meant to teach; it’s who they are. But the where, the when, and the how, that would be the trick. Needs most assuredly abound in our families, neighborhoods, and communities, and the skill set of a veteran teacher could provide valuable support when reaching into these needs to offer hope and help. Retirement is a change, not a checking out.  Even in retirement, especially in retirement,  teachers must continue to teach, minister to individual needs, build a warm collaborative esprit de corps, open the doors of possibility, and lead the charge of encouragement and affirmation regardless of the classroom or arena in which they serve. There’s much work to be done; no time for the bathrobe today.

I Miss Her.

Lessons Learned

Cancer Steals

 I miss her. She had end stage cancer. Although she had battled cancer twice before and won, this time was different and she was very tired. She was a mentor, a role-model, a light in the darkness, an endless giver, a perpetual hugger, a tireless servant, a champion for the voiceless, a babysitter for my boys, and a dear, dear change-your-life kind of friend. She was the person who, when she entered a room, all in the room were made better simply by her quiet, loving presence. She, in her vivid and brilliant imagination, constructed programs to serve those in greatest need in our community and then somehow managed to graciously sidestep the voluminous red tape of well-meaning committees and enact her loving programs, always serving up smiles, hugs, and assistance. She danced ballet. She painted beautiful pictures. She basked in God’s glorious creation all around her. She fiercely loved her family and her neighbors. She loved. She lived. And in her living and loving she taught us lessons of infinite and eternal importance without ever writing a lesson plan.  She poured more life and living into her short years, than most people do in ten lifetimes. When the end was near and exhaustion was mercilessly gaining, her husband called and asked if I had a few minutes to visit with her.  Dropping everything at the tiniest chance to give to this matchless giver, I raced over. He said she was tired and that a few minutes would be all she could muster.  Whatever she wanted. Whatever she needed. So we talked and talked and laughed and reminisced and before long, she asked her husband for an old photo album which together we wandered through with waves of emotion swinging from giggles to tears. It was precious, precious time. A deep and lasting gift from her which I will forever cherish.  We shared time, the priceless treasure. The gift had nothing to do with the right most eloquent  words to say or the loveliest purchased present; to be sure, and any thought to any of those would have diminished the true gift which was simply shared, treasured, beautiful time.  A perfect time that I was blessed forever to share.  Time. She passed and left the world much more beautiful than she found it. I am a life changed because she lived.

Creativity Fizzles Out When There's No Time For Play

Lessons Learned

The Playfulness of Creativity

Creativity dwells within a playful spirit; of this there is no doubt.  If eyes contain a playful sparkle, you can be certain that a deliciously creative scheme is lurking ready to spring from just around the corner. This creative sparkle is highly contagious and extraordinarily irresistible to children who have not yet swallowed themselves up in a plethora of doubts and self-consciousness. We learn to push the sparkle away, however, as we grow older because it feels silly and childish and an extremely inefficient use of our highly structured, scheduled, and accounted for time. Our time is far too important, far too valuable to be frittered away in pointless child’s play. Really? We readily relinquish that playful creative sparkle in exchange for the joyless lockstep of nebulous beige uninspiring “keeping up with the Joneses” expectations.  We draw ourselves closer to the comfort, security and measurability of conformity. But why? If the trade that we so eagerly choose does not set us in a happier place, then why do we not offer greater resistance, ask deeper more probing questions, or at least attempt to retain remnants of playfulness for weekends and holidays? Why do we walk away so very easily from that which makes our heart light and our smile lasting? As we move away from the creative sparkle, we clearly seem to lose a little joy, a little lilt in our step, and a little piece of our ability to see possibility, because these things are all swirling around within the wonder and delight of playfulness. Why do we allow ourselves to be herded down this sad and tired path which so easily can become a sad and tired rut? Why do we opt for sparkle-less when we surely could choose sparkle-full? Why are we surprised and then disappointed when we cannot come up with a new idea, a new plan, a new solution, a new possibility, when we have deliberately discarded the playful sparkle which is exactly where all of this originates. Perhaps it is time to discard the clock, loosen our too-tight bowties, and regain our sparkle.  So, as an elementary creative drama teacher, I am allowed the excellent privilege of playing every day. Bliss. Sparkle. Joy. No one plays better creatively than children, whose eyes and hearts are filled to the brim with sparkles and whose imaginations are perpetually ready to fully engage. For example, to the kindergartners I mention that a blue heron is sort of a shy seeming bird with very long legs; let’s walk like blue herons. Instantly, twenty perfect blue herons fill the room. Let’s walk like a scissors. Twenty snappy  scissors. Let’s swish like a sprinkler. Twenty spectacular sprinklers. And on and on we play and could easily continue  forever this way, because children never ever run out of imagination. They never run out of playful sparkle. They never run out of new ideas, new stories, or new reasons to play. Growing older does not have to mean turning our backs on that glorious, happy, wonder-filled sparkle that thrives on a playful spirit which drives imagination, creativity, and ultimately innovation.

Running On E

Lessons Learned

Just Say Thanks

It’s really quite simple.  When the car is running out of gas, you fill the tank; that is, if you want the car to continue moving. People are not dissimilar to this with respect to appreciation and encouragement. Kind, gentle, affirming words fill the soul with energizing joy despite the age of the hearer. And kind, gentle, affirming words are free of charge; no need to add a line to the budget.  Balm to the soul. Impetus to run a little farther.  Uplifting to the heart.  The push to carry on, to try harder, to jump higher, to get up again, to not walk away.  Sometimes, all that’s needed is thank you. And yet it seems we have a strange propensity to hoard these sorts of words, as if uttering them diminishes us or will serve to arrest aspiration in the hearer. We, however, freely and generously pour out our unsolicited opinions that bite and snip, our whiney complaints, and our interminably long lists of chores and orders, in much the same manner as a spigot stuck on high. Is it really easier and more beneficial to beat people down with the work harder speech than it is to offer the encouragement or appreciation speech and watch them work harder of their own volition in response to verbal affirmation? Which stirs the most meaningful motivation? Which builds and nourishes the strongest loyalty? Which empowers for the long-term? In our classrooms, which, in obsessive pursuit of metric excellence, have frequently become places of scripted interaction driven by the time constraints associated with high-stakes testing, the unscripted but life-giving words of affirmation which desperately  need to be said and heard often get lost in a stressful flurry. Unless I tell you it’s not good, assume that it is good and keep at it. What sort of motivation does that limp verbiage inspire? Emptiness is the result of that limp verbiage. And no one can run on empty.  We direly need to stop. We direly need to breathe. We truly and absolutely need to look one another in the eyes and speak encouragement and affirmation and appreciation to one another. Students. Colleagues.  Family members. Neighbors. We’re running on empty and the fuel to share, the fuel we need is free. Why are we waiting?