Growing into Politics

 

Children are naturally conservative.  They know the difference between right and wrong, they understand the consequences of not following rules, and see the world in black and white.  As they grow, they are exposed to different views and tricky issues.  Often they go off to university and come back with crazy ideas.  No, they are just growing up.

The first issue that made me pause and reflect, was that of women's rights. Why should my future be restricted to being a wife and mother?  And why should I always be the second choice for leadership opportunities? Others might find their own moments when they dare to question the beliefs of their parents.

My mother, brought up in a conservative Christian home, was faced with several 'moments' which necessitated some rethinking of her childhood beliefs.  It wasn't until BREXIT that she got involved in politics.  Her life experience taught her that we should never move backwards, and gave the Liberals her vote.

Just as some of us find reason to question our allegiances, others see the importance of standing firm, clinging on to their beliefs as if the world depended on their steadfastness.  As the world becomes increasingly connected, this single-mindedness requires us to build walls, dig in, and live within our own little worlds.  This is what produces isolationism and popular nationalism.

A true democracy is much more difficult to achieve.  That is why most nations began with a monarchy or dictatorship.  It takes work and education to become a group of people who can govern themselves. We must not only respect the other members of the group, but teach our children to respect those who are different as well. 

Some of these lessons come within life experiences: a realization that we are destroying the earth for our children; a loved one is denied medial attention due to lack of health insurance; a local paper starts to publish inflammatory and divisive literature; violence is preached from the pulpit; a neighbor or coworker uses the 'n' word; your child is pulled in for questioning by immigration control.  

Three Takeaways:

1. You are never too old, or too young, to have a change of heart.
2. You are not any better than your neighbor, no matter what campaign sign he posts in his yard.
3. Growing old gracefully means allowing for honest reflection and tolerance. 

COVID Summer

 

A neighbor's pumpkin display reminds me that summer here in Minnesota is coming to an end.  And what a different summer it has been! Some might rather try and forget the whole year.  Recently I read a 'letter to the editor' in the local paper.  The nearly incomprehensible rant made it sound like the world was coming to an end, and found plenty of people to blame for the situation.  Really?  The prodigal nature of these past few months had been totally missed by this bitter individual.  Let me give you my view, and I guarantee that it will be far more uplifting than the piece written in the paper.

Schools closed down, shut down and laid people off.  The school I am fortunate enough to have signed on with sees this as a time to rethink the way we offer education and step up our services.  This has led to better collaboration, more effective use of resources and technology, and a slew of new ideas on how to engage students online.  We are Zooming and planning and posting.  We have to find a way because the alternative is unacceptable.  Just yesterday I attended a creative seminar via Zoom, where I found myself playing word games and engaged in silly activities with complete strangers from all over the world. What an innovative summer it has been!

My elderly mother fell ill, airports closed and holiday plans were cancelled.  But when I explained that it was absolutely essential that I visit my mother in London, a flight opened up (at a price), COVID testing was available, and other plans were rearranged.  Not only was I able to get where I was needed, but I went with a clear conscience of not carrying the virus with me.  My brothers and I enjoyed daily group calls on WhatsApp, connecting from three different continents. While there I connected with so many friends and relatives over the phone, who were all sending mum their best wishes and love. What a summer of connecting it has been!

We were advised to stay home, but why would I want to go out?  Stores and restaurants closed, along with entertainment venues.  I found this an excellent chance to start a new hobby, to use those left over art supplies and create something pleasing to the eye.  I have always enjoyed designing, but needed some inspiration to get started painting.  I found that inspiration in my own backyard.  I had not taken time this year to plant much because the original plan called for Jon and I moving to Africa in July.  But nature never disappoints, especially if you know where to look.  Drawing requires careful study of the plants, and I found even the weeds interesting. My herbs and vegetables were no longer just to eat, they were artistic subjects as well.  So now I sit down to work at my laptop between vases of dahlia and dianthus, pausing to watch the bees buzz from flower to flower outside my window. What a beautiful summer it has been!  

COVID disrupted our departure dates, but allowed us to spend more time with family in Minnesota, and in our home.  

So we go to church today, and I ponder on the effect this summer has had on all of us.  We sat outside in the street, enjoying the bright sunshine.  We wore masks and kept out distance from other members of the congregation.  We took communion from individualized pods with peel-off tops.  We were blessed. I marveled at all the creativity that had gone into making this assembly possible, all the new ideas dreamed up to keep us safe in this pandemic. This certainly has been a creative summer! Today's reading from Psalm 26 was so appropriate for all of us wondering what our response should be to this time of COVID.

"Test me, O Lord, and try me; 

examine my heart and my mind.

I have not sat with the worthless,

nor do I consort with the deceitful.

I will wash my hands in innocence, O Lord,

that I may go in procession round your altar, singing aloud a song of thanksgiving and recounting all your wonderful deeds. Lord, I love the house in which you dwell and the place where your glory abides."

Never once does the psalmist find fault with another, or seek to place blame for his situation.  Go out and do what you can to make this world a better place.   

I don't usually suggest books on this blog, but here is one to end your summer reading with:

"Prodigal Summer" by Barbara Kingsolver

 

 

The Guest Book

When is the best time to sort through and get rid of stuff accumulated over the years?  To keep myself busy during a 2 week quarantine at my mother's house, I began to organize some drawers and cupboards. I found it easy to discard old magazines, junk mail, broken office supplies and half used candles. When looking for somewhere to put away seldom used dishes, I came across the real antiques.  These tureens and serving plates were used when my mother was a girl and are worth little today. Their beautiful shapes and patterns have been marred with cracks and chips: hardly something you would use for guests. But the memories... I decided to display them in a way that would remind my mother of all the family meals over the years.  If something is worth keeping, then it is worth seeing! 
I started to dig out more, ... next stop the attic.

I found an old electric train set we played with as children, original paintings, old photographs and letters!  I read through my grandfather's old journals and started to appreciate all the handmade Chinese pieces around the house. They must have been lovingly picked out at some remote market place, then shipped back back to my mother's childhood home in London. Not quite the same as picking up a trinket online from Pier 1.  The paintings were by a Yorkshire artist, Kershaw Schofield: not worth a whole lot, but apparently my mother remembers him as being a friend of the family.  My father's family were the artists, and their watercolors already

take prominent place on the walls.   The letters included a telegram sent November 2, 1959, announcing the birth of my brother Michael.  And a mysterious silver filigree dish turned out to be a 25th wedding present to my grandparents while visiting China. By going through my mother's things, I was discovering her history.  I was glad I had taken the time to research each piece before deciding its fate.  I set some pieces aside awaiting my mother's return from hospital, so I could ask her about them.  One such piece turned out to be my grandfather's napkin ring. (Everyone had their own in those days.)  And seeing the dishes and silver tea service reminded her of all the people who came to visit.  That led me to examine the old leather bound Guest Book more closely.  Unlike most guest books, this one didn't restrict itself to one home, or one event.  It straddled years, starting in 1942, in a war torn London, to today, making several moves along the way.  Visitors recorded their home addresses from all around the world, many in Chinese at the time of Communist

takeover.  My Grandfather was instrumental in getting many missionaries out at that time.  There was even the name of Herbert Hudson Taylor, the son of the great Hudson Taylor (1832-1905 ). 
It is too late to for me to start a guest book of this magnitude, but I am very conscious of finding a way to preserve the memory of all the people who have come into my life, and into my parents' lives.  I can do this through the preserving of beautiful things with meaning and memories attached. I can also do that through my writing.

I do have a copper picture, given me by my very first class in 1982. (Before I was a teacher, but an assistant in Mrs Ardelean's 4th grade class.) . On the back the class each signed their name, and some added sweet notes.  "June Paik - remember me."  How could I forget?  But one day one of my children, or grandchildren, will turn over this picture that hangs in my kitchen, and ask, "Who are these people, and how do they fit into my family's history?"

Pre&Post-Season Spring

It is definitely spring in Minnesota.  This year I find I view the expected changes differently. The sun is warm and pleasant to sit outside.  In bringing out the lawn furniture, I find it needs a good cleaning, and the bird bath seems broken beyond repair. Still, the heat haze causes the fields to shimmer, despite their lack of color. Some farmers have begun their planting, but most fields still have the remains of last falls harvest. And the corn husks have taken over my flower beds. The last of the winter winds brought dead branches down as well. We are not really supposed to be burning, so I am piling all these dead remains of last summer into a pile, along with the leaves we raked up last fall. I deliberated leaving the corn husks strewn about to protect the new growth from frost or rabbits. To no avail, there are rabbit bites in my tulips and the tips of the lily leaves are yellowed from frost. I have discovered a new menace to my shrubs, an unseen visitor who comes in the night and chews off the bark.  I'm guessing it is deer.

I notice all this as the winter snow recedes and leaves the remains of 2019 uncovered. The soda cans and candy wrappers are so unsightly.  As are the dead branches of whatever it was I planted last year in my new shade garden. I stare at the twigs,  willing them to burst into life before my eyes. I never have been too good at waiting for late bloomers.  I am tempted to get rid of the failure and head to the store to buy a replacement. I will wait a little longer for the grape vines to show any signs...
I watch the tree creepers looking for insects in the bark.  The trees still look so bare, it is hard to imagine them with leaf. A pair of jays are building a nest in the top of the old pine tree. The pines are looking shabby, dull and in need of a good pruning. Then I am reminded of how much I appreciated them all winter, being the only green out my window. The hawks' nest is in plain sight up in the oak tree.  I remember the building of it last year, before the leaves... and the chicks arrived. Thankfully, the family has not returned.

The frogs are back... from where? They crowd our window wells sluggishly waking up. It is hard to believe they have been in a frozen slumber all winter. I wish them well, but feel they need to move on to wetter areas.  And where have the flies been all winter? They have either just hatched, or woken up, to pester us in our rooms. 
There is a lot of activity around town. On one side our neighbors have got their gardens started, and are sunning their tomato plants. Neighbors on the other side are bored and have started up their motorcycles and  flame-throwers.  A boy I haven't seen since last summer has started spending days shooting hoops. We rummage through our freezer to see how much hamburger is left from the last butchering for barbecue.
Each day uncovers more certainty that summer is on its way, and more uncertainty as to how it will compare with last year.  Spring of 2020 will be known as the Corona Spring. We know that better times will eventually come, but are constantly comparing our present situation to this time last year.  Maybe it isn't so different from all changes of season.   Don't be too quick to give up hope... stick it out.

Why Go?

When Jon and I mentioned that we were looking to possibly go overseas again, family and friends asked us, "Why?" It is a good question, one I had to think about.  Probably for the same reason we didn't tell our family at first, ...they don't understand.  "You are settle here now." "You just fixed up your house." "You both have jobs that you like." "You are near family, and no one's getting any younger!"

It is true, we are happy back in Minnesota, working in Waterville Public Schools. This blog is testament to all it means to us.  And there is nothing better than having my three boys visit each holiday.  Why would we want to leave?

The first reason is purely financial.  It is hard to turn down an offer of a salary (all tax free) and benefits that are twice what we can hope to make in Minnesota.  Then we think of all the projects we'd like to take on, all the places we could visit, the dreams still unreached. A little extra money would go far to enriching our lifestyle. However, it isn't only these added luxuries that are missing. The American lifestyle is expensive, three boys in college is expensive, travel to visit my family in Europe is expensive, the cost of each credit needed for my teaching certification is expensive, those taxes that come around once a year are expensive, health insurance is expensive.  I could go on.  The simple act of taking an overseas teaching post would take care of most of the expenses above just in their benefits package. Others are taken care of just by leaving the US. 

Another reason to leave is purely professional. There are some great international schools that are well funded and well connected. The experience in one school might lead to a position elsewhere. The professional development programs, all paid for, provide learning opportunities around the world.  Most students are college bound, motivated and going places. Within these institutions we rub shoulders with diplomats, politicians, millionaire business men, and celebrities.  They are looking for leaders and educators who will influence the world's future leaders and policy makers. Professionally there is little to compare to, especially in the rural Midwest.  I know that if I want to move into a job as a Media Specialist in a forward thinking school, I have to go abroad, or to a larger district in the city.

I recently read an article, "How to Be an Expatriate in 2020," about why in midlife we tend to want to travel more. It describes a "heightened sense of our mortality,"  and the desire to live life as fully as possible. I certainly identify with this, and Jon even more so. It is hard to follow our friends around the world through Facebook and Instagram while we find ourselves snowed in once again. When will we feel like we have done enough, that we are ready to stay put? Obviously not yet.  And the pull towards my parents homeland is strong. I secretly wish I could spend quiet weeks or months in England exploring the countryside and siting down to tea with my family.

I know the real reason Jon and I are going overseas to live and work again.  It is our identity, our home, our history and our community.  We met overseas and had a wedding shower in Brasilia. I had one baby shower in Bulgaria, and two in Brazil. We celebrated my oldest sons graduation in Kwajalein. Each celebration was made special by the attendance of friends I had known for years, and those I had just met. We supported each other in bad times, pulled through the hard times and celebrated all those that our lives had brought us into contact with. It was quite meaningful that for my last birthday celebration, I was able to spend time with friends I had made halfway across the world. Jon and I will never appreciate, or be appreciated by, anyone more that our fellow expats round the world.  

Jon and I will be traveling to Africa for the next two years or so.  If your first response is, "Why not?" (rather than "Why?") then please come and join us for at least a part of our new adventure. And remember, none of us is getting any younger!

Home for Christmas

My parents always worked hard to make Christmas at home each December, despite the fact that it was the middle of summer. We did all the usual baking, shopping and decorating; then eating and silliness. These traditions defined Christmas for me growing up: the full house, the music, the party.  As my brothers and I left home, it became harder and harder to be together as a family at Christmas. In those days travel was expensive, so we found a substitute family with whom to spend the holidays. It was never quite the same.

As a mother I realized that it was now up to me to create Christmas traditions.  That is when I started feeling the pressure to deliver.  I must not only roast a turkey, cook all the sides, but bake creative and delicious cookies as well. My house must be decorated wall to wall, and presents had to be bought. The gifts stressed me the most, as I had no idea what other people actually wanted.  I would spend days planning all the details, hunting for ingredients, and still feel like Christmas fell flat.
I realized that it wasn't just Christmas time, it was any social get together. Friends started to notice how I never invited anyone over. I was relieved to find myself abroad, where I didn't have to make entertain, put in all the work only to be disappointed in the outcome.

For the same reason I always found an excuse not to throw big birthday parties for my boys.  What if no one showed up? Life can be very limiting when you are constantly in fear of disappointment.
It wasn't until we moved back into our house in Minnesota, that I realized that I hadn't been trying to make Christmas, I had been trying to make a 'home'.  Something I had had in my childhood, then lost.
Now that I am home, I enjoy the atmosphere of being home.  I have no need to go out looking for obscure ingredients to make fancy dishes that no one much likes. I no longer try to fill the place with presents that no one much needs or wants. I no longer feel guilty on spending far too much on decorations that mean so little.
I do bake mince pies, because that is what we like.  I make sure the turkey is BIG, and forget about the beets and Brussel sprouts. I spend time shopping with my boys, rather than for them. I count the minutes and seconds until they come home, and am so grateful they are home.

Lastly, and this is the biggest change... I invite anyone and everyone over!  I have found my home again.

Merry Christmas and come over any time of year!

Children's Garden - Part 3: Failure

I have considered Froebel's concept of 'Kindergarten' and applied the act of weeding to the need for discipline within education, but how to we deal with failure? Why do some children never bloom? Why are some incapable of growth? Should we ever give up on a child, or ask for help?
I do not value interference in my garden.  It is something I do alone, and take pride in. On occasion I have  consulted the internet, or Google Photos for advice. I prefer to learn by observation.  Someone I know described it as "shotgun gardening", because if you shoot enough you'll eventually hit something.  I can relate: thinking that if I plant enough...

But a tree was growing up in the middle of my flowers.  It had to go, but I didn't have to tools necessary.  I had to call in my father-in-law with a tractor.  Similarly, as a new teacher, I was frustrated by a student whose needs where beyond my capabilities.  A wise supervisor quietly moved the boy into a more experienced teacher's class, and we were both able to make progress that year. We cannot be 'shotgun teachers'.  We can't afford to lose many along the way.  Specialists should be consulted more often and young teachers encouraged to ask for help.  When asking for help is seen as failure, then you are in the wrong school. I learned that the hard way.
I am an avid pruner.  I deadhead and cut back and remove anything past its prime. However, I am beginning to realize that all this pruning is more for my benefit.  It makes the garden looks neater, clears space for some more manmade features and gives me a sense of accomplishing something.  But not all pruning is good for the plant.
My hydrangea has never flowered.  I finally found out it is because of my pruning it too early in the spring. Apparently it needs to be just left alone, no matter how much the dead branches bother me.

 Not every plant needs my constant care. It is possible to overwater, overfeed and over-plant. I love the idea of finding an unhealthy looking plant on sale, repotting it and cutting off the dead bits.  Often the plant, despite my attentions, dies or refuses to grow. I probably would be better off letting it be for a bit, and attempting to find out its real needs.  Not every child needs me hovering over them, monitoring their every move. Independence needs to be nurtured, and children will learn to ask for what they need.
And I can't save every dying plant on the CLEARANCE rack.  Many have been through too much: forced to bloom too early, deprived of sunlight and space, and quickly discarded.  I am learning to appreciate them in whatever form they come in, broken or healthy, because the simple fact that they have life,.. gives me life.