Dreaming

I've been reading Whitney Johnson's book, Dare, Dream, Do in tidbits over the past several weeks. These days I don't read anything unless it is in tidbits. Whitney's book has proven very useful for this sort of disrupted reading. It is the kind of book better digested slowly if it is to have any impact on your life. Mostly it has made me ask myself the question, over and over: what do I want to achieve in my life?

Like you, the obvious answer to that is, "A lot."

I am not, however, talking about the things that most women want: a successful marriage, a safe place to raise her kids, children who become productive adults, the money to put good food on the table and and a roof over our heads, security, etc. etc.  I want all these things too, of course, but I think the purpose of Whitney's book goes beyond these things. Or, at least it does for me.

I want to know what unique thing I might accomplish that leaves a mark. An accomplishment that primarily belongs to me. Something I can point to with a mixture of humility and pride and say, "Because I did THAT, the world is a better place, and I am so grateful!"

I think I was always a teacher. There was never a time when I didn't want to improve and be in charge of everything around me, much to my little sister's chagrin, I'm sure. I've spent the last year thinking a lot about school. My kids' school, my own master's degree efforts, the structure and function of schools, the good and the bad in schools, and on and on and on. My dear, patient, Plantboy hasn't had such an earful about education since I was a first year teacher.

So I think I know what I want to do.

I want to start a school.

Oh, I have long toyed with the idea, but I always shirked for a lot of reasons. I couldn't see how a school could be built from the ground up and move from small to large. I couldn't see how to fund it. Public or private? Location. Logisitcs. And oh, my, the list of things necessary for creating a school are legion. But in a year's time, my oldest, very smart and unusual son will be in middle school and I have serious reservations about the school system in the city in which we find ourselves. I have sometimes spoken here about funding issues that have led to larger and larger classes and fewer and fewer days. for much that we love about living in our current city, we do have grave concerns about our sons laying a good foundation for reaching their potential.

So here is the school I want. I have no next step really. The "doing" part of Whitney's Dare, Dream, Do formula is still eluding me, but that school I want no longer seems like a such a pipe dream.

Here is a basic outline. I have more specifics in mind and may sometimes share them. If you have any ideas about what you'd like to see in a school for your child, please, by all means, share.

Grades: A 6-12 secondary school.

Enrollment: Each grade would max out at 60 students in three cohorts of 20. Cohorts would probably vary from year to year, at least for the first few years. 420 students would be the maximum enrollment. This doesn't mean classes would only be 20. Sometimes cohorts would combine--different types of instruction require different numbers of students.

Type of School: Charter. Public schools are nearly impossible to re-design from the top down; most decisions are taken out of administrative hands by those further up the hierarchy. Private schools are too expensive and exclusive.

Requirements: Because technology is utilized at the school to help individualize education, students from all academic backgrounds would be welcome. However, the rigors of the schedule and expectation of parental involvement will naturally weed out many from a  variety of demographics. That ever-hated lottery would probably have to come into play if the school model proved successful.

Yearly Schedule: The school would be organized around a trimester system, with students in school about 200 days each year. The format would be more of a year-round situation. 6-7 weeks on with a week off and then 6-7 more weeks with a larger break after that of 2-6 weeks. Students will get a major break at Christmas, in the spring, and a slightly longer one in the summer. There would be a fall semester (roughly Sept-Dec), winter semester (Jan-April) and spring semester (May-Aug).  Teachers at the school are paid more like full time employees with their vacations only occurring for 1-2 weeks between trimesters. When students are not in school, teachers are expected to spend intense hours in group and individual planning sessions, setting goals and writing and compiling curriculum.

Daily Schedule: Grades 6 and 12 begin at 8:15. Grades 7-11 at 7:15. The first hour in grades 7-11 is an exercise period, with each grade on a different schedule so that only 60 kids do each activity each day. (Research shows that brains are more active when exercise is undertaken prior to learning.) From 8:15 to 10:15 and from 10:30 to 12:30 students in grades 6-11 attend core classes in two, two-hour blocks. Half the school takes STEM first (Science, technology, engineering and math) and Humanities second (English, History and Art). The other half does the opposite. At 1:15 students go to the first of three elective hours that go 1:15 to 2:05; 2:10 to 3:00 and then 3:05 to 3:55. Parents pick up at 4. 6th (and possibly 7th) graders only do two elective hours in the afternoon and finish at 3:00.

Academic Schedule: Student education moves from being highly scripted in the 6th grade to being entirely student choice by the 12th grade. Each year's curriculum is integrated, meaning that in the core, morning subjects, students pursue a major course of study through the year, though this theme might vary between Humanities and STEM. For example, the 8th grade course of study would follow the theme, "Our Changing World." In science, students might study adaptation, genetic mutation, geology. In technology and engineering students would study a variety of transformative technologies throughout the ages, as well as how to make these technologies. Students would also learn how to read and make seismographs and study weather prediction. Math applications and projects would involve mutation rates, calculation of the age of the earth and other natural materials, and understanding seismological waves and data. In Humanities, English courses will focus on literature from 7th grade on. In the 8th grade year about change, the literary focus would be coming-of-age literature. History studies would revolve around major human migrations, diasporas and genocides. Art studies would revolve around transformative art movements.

Electives: Students would have a lot of choices in electives offered, and a concerted effort is made to offer EVERY class. This can be done through technology use as on-line courses become more varied and better. Students can choose up to 9 electives a year ("up to" because in younger grades their are more prescribed classes), though some of them are taught over two trimesters.  All but a few mainstream AP classes will be given as elective, on-line offerings, or through partnerships with local public high schools.

Teachers: As stated above, teacher wages are higher at my school because they are expected to work more hours. I would look for teachers with a varied background and multiple certifications and interests. They would spent most of their time in their speciality in their a.m. classes, but each teacher would be expected to teach two elective offerings a day as well. These electives would vary based on teacher attributes, interests and effective on-line courses.

Those brave few who have followed up to this point may want to check back over the next few weeks. I have a few more ideas to post, and some examples of what a day might look like for several different students at my dream school. I am finding the defining of my dream to be very satisfying and a little bit scary at the same time, probably because the satisfaction I take from the details now won't stay that way if I don't act.

The Power of Moms

I would like to welcome any new visitors here today. Perhaps you clicked over from the essay about my dad on The Power of Moms today.

When I was a girl I loved the movie Gidget--the  original with Sandra Dee. It is such a girl-power show. And yet, there was a line at the end of the movie that really bothered my budding teenage sensibility. Gidget's mother asks her to read out from a sampler stitched by her great-grandmother. It says, "To be a real woman is to bring out the best in a man."

What?

Can that be right?

For a long time I would have said, "No way," but a husband and three sons later I'm not so sure anymore. I think that the real power of women does lie in influencing others. Maybe most particularly men.

Today is Father's Day. I'm away from my little men in order to spend the day with my own dad. My dear Plantboy willingly took the boys this weekend without hesitation. I got the real gift this Father's Day: a mom's weekend out! He is such a good man. I'm grateful for the way he has allowed the women in his life--sisters, mother, wife--to mold and shape him. I have truly seen the best of him, and I'm grateful to have been part of his life.

It is a strange thing sometimes being in a houseful of men, but a powerful blessing too. Daily I see the influence that I can have. I understand what Gidget's mother was trying to teach her.

The Big Boy Bike

I'm headed out of town tomorrow morning and have 87.6 things left to accomplish, but I need to digress for a moment.

Those of you who have met my middle son have probably been impressed by him. He is impressive. He saves his less impressive behavior for the four of us who live with him. This is probably pretty typical for a 7 year old, but I have to admit that he can be pretty Jekyll and Hyde. So far I see little evidence of him growing out of this "phase," but I assume it will come eventually. I think he is far too rational a little being for it to continue indefinitely. He will eventually learn to master his temper and see that he can choose for life to be sweet.

An ongoing point this past year has been his bike riding. Though physically dextrous and wonderfully coordinated, he is small. So small. Almost the smallest child at our elementary school though there is a whole class of kindergartners behind him. He has a build like a little gymnast. He will be 8 in December but still wears a size 4T or 5T in pants, when I can find that rather elusive size. We have tried very hard not to make it a deal, but others sometimes do.

Last fall, we upgraded him to the next size bike in the garage with the idea that, at nearly 7, it was time to ride without training wheels. The Youngling was given the little bike and taught to ride. Padawan, on the other hand, let his two-wheeler sit for months in the garage, stubbornly refusing to try and getting angry at the suggestion. He got so good at scootering he could almost keep up with the bike-riding Jedi Knight. We tried retrofitting his bike for training wheels, which turned out to be rather disastrous.

And then, last Saturday, brain wave.

I didn't ride my blue Schwinn banana-seated beauty until I was 8, though I'd had the bike more than two years. It was too big and my short legs wouldn't reach the ground. I was terrified of falling. It wasn't until a weekend at my grandmother's house and cruising around on a very young cousin's bike (the ground easily accessible in case of tipping) that I felt comfortable.

On Saturday a neighbor up the street was getting rid of a tiny bike. Rather than remove the training wheels from the Youngling's bike, I asked if I might borrow the neighbor's for a few weeks.

Instant success.

Within ten minutes of the new bike at the house, a careful explanation of my reasoning to Padawan, as well as the story of my own experience, he was riding all over the street. On Wednesday he rode the tiny bike on a two mile round trip to 7-11 for Slurpees. Last night? He got out the big bike and cruised all over the place, sometimes with only one foot on a pedal, yelling, "This is so easy!"

And now he'll never forget.

Hopefully I won't forget to apply my own childhood experiences to my mothering so I have a little more empathy.

I wish this mothering thing were as easy as riding a bike . . .

Dreams

I haven't yet finished Whitney Johnson's book Dare, Dream, Do yet. I think if it is to serve its purpose then it is important to digest it in small chunks. Also, this semester is doing the proverbial, "kicking my butt" and time for anything as wonderful as dreaming or reading about dreaming is back-burner stuff right now.

And yet . . . when we have dreams that are such a part of us, it is hard to just STOP dreaming. To stop thinking about them. To not allow our minds to wander to that what-if place.

So today I'm going to take a few minutes to do dream-inventory. I am publishing another piece on Dare to Dream later this summer in which I talk about my belief that it is time to take "my turn" and that a re-evaluation and shake up of my life feels much-needed at the moment. August is the month for that: the next six weeks will just be too busy. But in preparation for the shake up, I think taking a few minutes to  chronicle my dreams is useful. These dreams here are, for the sake of brevity and staying on the subject, dreams related to me personally. Of course I have dreams and hopes for my family as well.

Writing: Some mini-publishing opportunities have presented themselves this year. Besides Dare to Dream I will publish on The Power of Moms blog. Some of you will have read the piece, at least in part. I wrote it a few years ago about my father and posted it here for Father's Day (or his birthday?). It will appear with some tweaks on the site on Sunday. My academic writing has improved immensely and any of my college courses with a heavy emphasis on writing have been very fulfilling. I need to spend some serious time on my fairy tale, using so many excellent suggestions for revisions and improvement. By serious time I mean probably 100 hours. It doesn't seem like much if I could just find a way to write full time! In addition, I have another novel in my head--not plotted out--but mostly written. Another story that with a couple hundred hours could make it to page, complete. It might not be a marketable story, but I really love it and think it deserves to be told. So the common thread here is clearly time. I am still not sure that I have pursued this writing goal to its limit. Some cursory failed efforts at publishing don't seem like quite enough. I think I can do better. When is the question? I sometimes wonder if I should have put school off for a year and spent the past year just writing.

School: Up to now, school has mostly been time consuming. In other words, if you put in the time you get the A's. It has been interesting and enjoyable though not particularly difficult. This semester is proving to be very different. Two of my three classes are very hard, involving concepts and skills that are by turns abstract, difficult, time-consuming and just plain challenging. I know the purpose of school is to stretch yourself, and for that I am glad, but 9 credits may have been overly ambitious this term. I have dreamed of a master's degree for so many years: in less than a year I will walk across that stage.

Employment: My final school project will be some major volunteer work in my sons' school next year, working with fourth grade teachers to provide better and more personalized science instruction for children in classes of 35 kids. I will probably be involved upwards of 10 hours each week. Oregon schools (maybe especially in our area) are in a rather big mess at the moment. Lay-offs, growing classrooms, fewer days--apocalyptic stuff really from an education standpoint. The thought that I might actually get hired a year from now is starting to seem a bit laughable in light of the latest round of lay-offs. The thought of subbing for a year or few (like many do) before getting hired makes me feel a bit nauseated. The thought of not working in the field at all after the sacrifices I've made to get where I am (not to mention that student loan piling up) is disappointing on more levels than I care to think about. Reading Dare, Dream, Do has made me think again that what I really want is to start a school.

I find it odd that at nearly 40 years old I'm still wondering what path, exactly, my life will take. Of course, the point of this blog (if there is one) is that the journey is what matters; at the end of it all, perhaps it is more about traveling than arriving. Or perhaps that the puts and downs of traveling makes the destination more sweet.

What We Ate

I am thinking a lovely blog would involve me writing down what we eat from our garden each day/week and then taking pictures of it.

So many things to do. . . . so little time.

But this is the week in which I say we are really beginning to enjoy the goodness that is living in Oregon. So far this is what we had:

Saturday: Strawberry Julius with copious amounts of garden strawberries.

Sunday: Strawberry-rhubarb crisp. I usually just put in the latter, but Plantboy convinced me to add the berries because he thinks the rhubarb alone is too tart. And, honestly, the strawberries are coming out our ears. We also had balsamic vinegar roasted red and yellow beets. The beets were so tiny and tender and delicious that I nearly cried for joy. We've planted these in waves and I hope to enjoy them all summer long. I was meant to make Pioneer Woman's fried onion strings too, but I kind of forgot. These will have to make the menu later this week. Sweet and tender and crunchy and, oh, boy, they are good. I won't buy onions or garlic or shallots for the foreseeable future. I served two types of potatoes, neither of which are ready yet, but I did garden chives on the mashed sweet potatoes and rosemary in the fried fingerlings. Oh, and there was broccoli too.

Monday: Crispy Asian Salad. I used a combination of lettuce from the garden and store bought. Truthfully, we are a bit at the tail end of our lettuce. The butter lettuce all got to large and bitter. The mixed garden greens are still okay because it has been pretty cool. We've been eating lettuce for probably a month or more. Garden toppings for the salad included onions, colored carrots and strawberries. Okay, Plantboy had strawberries, I thought they were just a little much for the dressing, but he said the dressing was so good that once everything got coated in the stuff you couldn't really tell the difference anyway. Hmm....

Tonight: Lemon Rosemary bread with rosemary from the garden. I am serving a side of carrots with the lemon-cream sauce and grilled chicken, but my own are not quite ready. Yesterday's were a bit premature.  So close.

The brilliant thing about this time of year is just going out and seeing what is ready to pick. It is quite lovely really. Dinner plans shift around more this time of year because it just depends on what is "on." In a week or two I'm going to have so many potatoes that I'll hardly know what to do. Any suggestions for new and delectable ways to use them are welcome.

See wouldn't it make a lovely blog? It would require regular posting, focus to an idea, commitment to taking really good pictures . . . . yeah, so not for me. Maybe it would be a great project for Plantboy.

Girl Power

Tomorrow is my 13th anniversary. Yeah, Plantboy!

And though it would be easy to come up with 13 reasons to love Plantboy (Number 7: I have to turn down NPR when I get in to the car because he runs it at full volume.), I'm going to use my time here today to speak for a moment about the movie we saw for our anniversary date on Saturday.

Plantboy chose the restaurant and I chose the movie: Snow White and the Huntsman. I had been pretty gung ho all week until I read some of the stinky reviews on the film. Cool visual effects, no heart. Hemsworth cute but a real meathead. Spotty accents. Can Kristen Stewart actually act? Charlize Theron is better sultry and subtle than screechy. Etc. Etc. Still, we finished our wonderful dinner by 7 pm and the last thing I was going to do was go home and put my own kids to bed on date night, so to the movie we went.

I actually think it was good to read the reviews. My expectations were so low by the time we sat down that there was really no where for my opinion to go but up.

Way up.

I actually agree with a lot of the criticism. Can Kristen Stewart act? Is twitching and a partially opened mouth and a "rescue me NOW" air really acting? The accents were inconsistent. Why don't they just let Hemsworth loose with his Aussie-boy sound? And yes, he is a bit of a meathead. Charlize Theron was just plain terrifying a few times, and the guy who played her brother was just creepy beyond reason.

What the reviews didn't say (and I will, so don't read the next part if you don't want spoilers. Though, honestly, the Snow White story is pretty familiar, no?) but I will is that Snow White is a remarkably strong heroine. Yes, yes, she is pretty. But she is also tough and determined. She faces the queen without any of her admirers--large or small--because she knows the duty is hers alone. She inspires others to follow her. She brings out the best in the men and women she meets. The premise in this movie is not that evil Queen Ravenna wants Snow White's heart as proof of her death, but that she needs it for some kind of ritual that will make her immortal, because it is a heart so strong and pure. The ritual part wasn't too clear . . . I think the implication was that she was going to eat it or something. That part was a bit hazy, although I might have been distracted by the visual effects that fill this movie at every turn.

And now a moment about those visual effects--we've come a long way since Star Wars Episode One, baby. These effects are so seamless and realistic that it is hard to tell when (if ever) you are looking at a screen shot that hasn't been altered in some way. And yet, none of the actors ever appear stiff or wooden. Their interaction with the effects is so honest that you really believe it is happening. It is escape fantasy at its best. The film, even at its darkest, is still lovely.

Three films lately have painted an aging woman's desire for youth and beauty as a thing that is soul-sucking and craze inducing. Tangled; Mirror, Mirror; and Snow White and the Hunstman. Each mother-figure in these movies uses a combination of cruelty, manipulation and magic to achieve their beauty. In the end, the obsession over youth and beauty destroys each one in turn. An interesting commentary on our time, particularly in these last two films where iconically gorgeous women were cast as the queen-leads. There can be little denying that beauty is a kind of power.

By the end of the movie there are two men in love with Snow White. (No, no, one is not a vampire and the other a werewolf, though the humor of this actress chosen for this part was not lost on this viewer.) The Huntsman, made a widower by Ravenna's evil insatiability for young and beautiful victims, and the Duke's son, William, a young man of noble birth who was a friend of Snow White's from childhood. William is clearly the better choice for Snow White as far as her being a future queen and all. He also isn't a wimp singing down wishing wells and looking for a princess to kiss. He is a remarkable archer who has also sacrificed much to save Snow White's life. He has loved her for all his life. The Hunstman, (and no, he has no other name, don't even ask) on the other hand, is surprised to learn that he loves Snow White. We learn that she inspires him to be a better man (ahem: Darcy effect, thank you very much), just as his dead wife did. It is this second, reluctant lover for which we feel much compassion. He knows that it is impossible for a man as rough and hard as he to win the love of a queen, and he is very nearly absent on the most important day of her life. And while she seems anxious that he not be absent, the movie-goer doesn't really know. The movie ends without her choosing. Nor does she know which lover's kiss is the one that wakes her from the poison apple.

Okay, okay, to the moment I loved and has stuck with me.

As Snow White stabs the queen (using a technique taught to her by the Huntsman) she looks into the witch's eyes with such determination and compassion at the same time that you think this Snow White is the real deal and that she deserves to be queen. She tells the usurper, "You can't have my heart," and I was so certain she would follow that line with the expected, "I've already given it away." And then she would choose a beau, etc. etc. No. The line was just the first part. You can't have my heart. The implication is clear. It is MINE. And I'm using it, thank you very much. The queen dies in a dried up slumpy heap in front of the large, bronze mirror at the heart of her magic. Snow stands up straight and looks straight into the heart of the mirror. Her face is just off center, and I really expected one of the men, left practically useless by Ravenna's last glass shard-warrior spell in the other room to come running in and stand in that empty space near her. To complete the picture.

But no one came.

This Snow White stands alone.

Strengthened by the men in her life, but rescuing as often as she is rescued, she doesn't need to choose any one of them to rule her kingdom with compassion and power.

This is a new sort of heroine. Women and girls are gaining strength in unprecedented ways. It is a remarkable and an exciting time to be alive, isn't it?