Perhaps it was the beautiful long rolling hills, the chilly temps or the feel of the warm sun as it washed over my shoulders and face…or it could have been the way the light danced upon the water’s surface that made me fall in love. Whether it was these things or sound of the babbling brook we passed, I spent my day basking in a euphoric rush of adrenaline and eager anticipation. Between the postcard-perfect houses with their grazing cows, and the one I wanted at the bottom of the most beautiful hill – not one moment was less than breathtaking.
I consider myself a city rider as I love the hustle and bustle of the nearby traffic and the competition between myself and the changing signals. On a few rare occasions I have stumbled upon a ride that touched me and created memories I’ll never forget – even though it wasn’t among the cars and streetlights. On Thursday, I found another. I was a country girl riding her bike, being charmed by the simplicity around me.
I could have laid in that green grass forever...
We began the day at Sosebee Cycling Park in White, Georgia and followed this route. Sosebee was created by a local cyclist who recognized the need for a place to park and change clothes for those who came to enjoy the roads around his home. Using his own property, he created a cycling park for others to enjoy.
The sign at Sosebee Cycling Park in White, Georgia
The back of the Sosebee Cycling Park Sign - What Cyclists see as they leave the lot.
The day was beyond words. I struggle to explain the way it felt but it was the perfect mix of rolling hills and long, fast stretches of road. There were twisting turns and sharp descents. I felt as though I connected with everything around me. There were things surrounding me that I don’t always see: the way the shadow of another cyclist moves along the shoulder beside you or the sound of the bike behind you. The little brown bird that fluttered just beyond our wheel… The bales of hay that I wanted to climb… The laughter and the joy of the experience…
“Words are but symbols for the relations of things to one another and to us; nowhere do they touch upon absolute truth” ~Friedrich Nietzsche
If life is little more than illusion, made visible by the tales of you and I, for what purpose is this blog beyond mere entertainment? I can’t write of the truths I know…
“If I wrote a memoir, I’d leave a copy by your bed so you could reflect on my thoughts, share my experiences, and look deeply at the protected parts of me. Maybe then you could see…me”
As I sit down across from the general education teacher at the kidney shaped table where the children would sit with the teacher in the space that I suspect she often occupies, I am keenly aware of the powerful arrangement created by the setting of our meeting. I am given the position of the learner as she takes the seat of knowledge; I am here to be educated about my child. I feel sure I know my daughter best, but as an educator myself I understand how the teacher is taught to view the problem. I will listen, even though I am aware that our definitions of the “successful year” we discuss are dissimilar and I search for a way to reconcile them.
Although I nod and agree, I cannot push aside the recognition that we are not speaking of the same type of success. For the classroom teacher, “success” has a much broader implication that is informed by the charge we are given through the mandates of our current educational policy. She isn’t to blame; she is a product of her profession and she too must endure the evaluation of her own success, as measured by the results of the students. Clearly she is not old enough to have known teaching before “success” became a mandate and our children were reduced to the test results they produce. She pulls a composition notebook to show me the tally marks she has made to document the instances of my child’s behavior. She tells me of the stickers and rewards, selected by her and her co-teacher, which have been provided only to yield little successful improvement. There was a time when I would have praised her commitment to improving my daughter’s behavior, but I’ve lost that way of thinking and I politely nod and ask a few questions for good measure. My mind wanders back again to that word “success,” and I begin to consider how many parents have sat in this chair, metaphorically speaking, to listen to tales of success as it is defined by policy. I suspect many other parents feel as I do: success for my child is not what we speak of in parent-teacher conferences, at least not in the way that I think of success. And then I ask myself, what exactly is this word “success”?
On Monday, May 9th, I headed to work. It was a fairly ordinary day. I had eaten my usual fried egg and wheat toast for breakfast. I made lunch and coffee simultaneously and laid out clothes for one while I begged the other to come down from the ceiling fan. The dogs ran circles around my feet as I tried to tie JB’s Nikes and untie the noose Aaron had tied around his sister. After the bus pulled away carrying number 1 to school, I barreled out the door and put on my sun shades as I buckled number 2 into the booster seat. I was headed to work after dropping off the boy to have a play date with Papa, I had a bike on my roof, and I was working to ignore the back seat chatter about level 11 of Angry Birds (how do 4 year olds learn these things and who exactly is he talking to?!?!). I turned onto Melody Lane and soon realized that Monday, May 9th wasn’t as ordinary as I had first thought.
On Mondays, I don’t usually take Aaron to visit Papa but I always have a bike on the roof. And on Thursdays, when I do take Aaron, I never park in the driveway – always in the garage. So my Monday and my Thursday collided and I was left with a shattered pile of carbon, a damaged garage door facing on the front of my parent’s house, and a nicely bent Yakama roof rack system. It wasn’t an ordinary Monday, it was the King of ALL Mondays.
The carbon steerer tube snapped inside of the frame, ovalizing the head-tube.
I’ll spare you the details of how Lee single-handedly talked me down from a nearby ledge and how Clint was unbelievably supportive despite the fact that I had just single handedly destroyed the most expensive item he’d ever let me buy aside of the car and the house. My two BFFs, Heather and Scott, texted me almost immediately after the onset of the catastrophe, completely unaware of what had recently transpired. After receiving my frantic response, both were wise to lurk in the shadows upon realizing that I had just managed to destroy the single most important object that I possess.
At 12:06 that afternoon, Ruby was laid to rest.
Fast forward 16 days, 13 hours and 26 minutes: Ruby II is under construction. A little DA7900… A dab of blue on a stealthy looking carbon frame….
Have you ever watched a carpenter create cabinets, a bench, or a front porch? His ability to efficiently complete his task requires the use of the various tools that he keeps in his toolbelt. These tools, coupled with the carpenter’s knowledge of how to use them, makes the bench evolve from wood and nails to a piece of furniture. But could he build a bench if all he had were a saw? Or, if we asked that he drive his nails using only a rubber mallet? The process would certainly take longer and I suspect that he might quickly become frustrated and explore a new career. As he becomes frustrated with swinging the mallet, there is surely a Chinese worker or an Italian craftsman using a pneumatic hammer to develop a better, more beautiful piece of work.
In education, we are using a rubber mallet when we should be using a pnuematic hammer. In order to produce the next generation of citizens who are proficient in the critical fields of Science, Mathematics, Engineering and Technology, we have a responsibility to provide the correct tools to our students. Tools that they know how to use, want to use and provide the type of results that will continue to keep our country at the forefront of economic competitiveness in tomorrow’s global economy.
We have an obligation to know our audience and teach to them in the way that they learn. No longer can we afford to idly sit by and use our old tricks if we expect our future generation to gain the skills that support innovation, creativity, critical thinking, and problem solving.
Today’s educational leaders are notorious for getting
so caught up in educational jargon that they loose the
ability to recognize what a good teacher is, which teachers teach, and the importance of having teachers who
can build effective relationships with their
students. Case in point, I was sent a hilarious video this morning and I’ve linked to it below in hopes of inspiring a giggle. Enjoy!
I spent time today in a meeting of stakeholders who have an
interest in how to improve issues related to the disproportionate rates that we identify and discipline students. I thoroughly enjoy these activities as they are
thought provoking and encourage reflection on
topics that otherwise go unnoticed in the whole scheme of our day
to day activities as educators. I am particularly interested
in the disproportionate rates in which we discipline students of
color and I firmly believe that we need to look at our
personal biases and practices, and use behavioral infractions
as teaching opportunities. I also firmly believe that we do
not discipline students of color more frequently because of their
race, but because of their culture and our lack of understanding of
that culture. And most importantly, once we
recognize that there are disparities in our actions, after we change our practices, we must begin to teach others that there are better ways to
influence how a student behaves.
As I drove home today from the meeting, I was engaged in rich
conversation with a school administrator from a nearby mammoth
district much like the one I am used to. We talked about how
you make sustainable change in teacher practices and he indulged
my need to think aloud about the role that central office plays in
professional learning opportunities. I realized that for far
to long, I was guilty of asking students, teachers and now other
adult leaders to do things that I did not model for them. Yet
I was emphatic about how disturbed I was that students, teachers
(and now other adult leaders) could not perform to my
expectations. I never made the connection that if I would model my expectations, the students, teachers and building administrators that I work with might have been able to implement my ideas because for once, they would know exactly what my expectations look like.
Fast forward a few hours and as I am typing, I find myself reflecting upon how I apply this principle to my activities as a parent. I am often frustrated
with my children when they provide a less than respectful response
to a request but how often do I respond to them or my spouse in a way that is
less than respectful? I am never intentionally disrespectful
to my children, but we all have our levels of tolerance and when
those levels are exceeded, our behavior tends to reflect our
frustration. So in thinking about his, I also recognize the
need to look more deeply at how I respond when I am frustrated and
identify some ways that I can improve in that area. “Walking the
Walk” should apply to my involvement with my community and the school that my children attend. As an educator, I am quick to grumble about the lack of support the community provides to its local schools and the ideals of education, but neither my husband or I regularly volunteer at my daughter’s
local school or attend PTO meetings. We are members, but we
are not contributing members. We are no different than the
parents who frustrate me.
Today’s mental exploration of these topics gives me charge to find more time to volunteer within my community, change my personal habits in an
effort to have a more powerful impact on my children, and
to find a way to influence those around me so that they engage
in similar meaningful reflection. In doing this, I hope that
I will plant the seed that when we do as we would like to see
others to do, change slowly takes hold.
