Saturday, May 28, 2011

What I said at graduation...

Good morning seniors. What a beautiful day to graduate from high school. I am very honored to be speaking here today at your graduation. And I can kinda guess why you asked me to be your graduation speaker. Exactly 17 years ago I sat where you are sitting, exactly. On May 28th 1994, I graduated from Niwot High School, I sat on this football field and wore my green and white tassel. It was and is my dad's birthday, happy birthday, dad. And every year it is a memory that I turn back to as for the last 8 years I have come back to this football field for other Niwot students' graduations. Each year I sit here and get a little misty-eyed when the band plays Pomp and Circumstance as everyone walks out onto the field. I get to relive that memory because I teach at the same high school I graduated from. Huh. Well, now I know why you asked me to be the graduation speaker, I have become your cautionary tale. You want to know how you can prevent this fate from happening to you. Yes students, in 17 years you could be the teacher speaker for the Niwot High Senior class of 2027. You'd better start writing your speech.

I remember very few details of my graduation day. It was a little overcast and all kinds of exciting. I don't remember who spoke (which doesn't bode well for me today) but I do remember our class song, “Walk on the Ocean” by Toad the Wet Sprocket. The lyrics of this song are incomprehensible to me. “Walk on the ocean, step on the stone, flesh becomes water, wood becomes bone.” What does that even mean? Is it a message about skin care? Is it about trying to get people to walk more often? Our unofficial song, “Chattahootchie” by Alan Jackson was a little more direct. If you don't know the song, the chorus goes like this, “Way down yonder on the Chattahoochee /Never knew how much that muddy water meant to me/ But I learned how to swim and I learned who I was/ A lot about livin' and a litttle 'bout love”. Yes, Niwot was a bit countrified back in the day. And even though the Chattahoochee river is nowhere near Niwot, Colorado. I like that last part, I learned who I was, a lot about livin and a little bout love.


I asked some friends and family what I should tell you today. My mom said that you should get off the internet and go be with real people. My dad said you should get rid of your cable, it is a huge waste of time. I would say the same about Angry Birds, if you get it, be prepared to watch hours of your life disappear. My friend Jen said that when you're scrounging for quarters for the laundromat, you should call your mother and thank her for washing your socks, folding them and putting them away. My friend Shannon, who is living at the south pole right now for the winter advised that you should always wear underwear.

On a more contemplative note, my aunt Martha said that you should savor the kernels of hope that launch you beyond the banal of everyday life. My friend Kara said that you should decide what a beautiful life means to you and then go out and live it. My friend Amy said that you will always have opportunities to reinvent yourself, just like Lady Gaga, even when you're old like my parents.


I think all of those messages can be simplified into one idea; you have to go out and live. The experiences you will go through will help you clarify who you are, what you want, and how you live. Go out and live, or as the crew of Star Trek would say, “boldly go where no one has gone before”.

Today is a testament to your “book learning”, but what you'll remember most about high school are the moments that only happened once that can't be recreated. You know those moments; that time you laughed so hard your sides hurt, the moment you felt proud of yourself for accomplishing something so difficult, the incident that left you heartbroken, calling your friends for solace. We learn through all our experiences, good and bad. We learn more about communicating when we have disagreements with others, we learn more about our work ethic when we need money to buy something, we learn more about love when we sit and wait for Gerard Butler to call us. We can read about these feelings and character traits in books and of course in Oprah's magazine, but the only way we learn about living is when we go out and live.

I thought a lot today about songs that express this idea of going out and living. There are literally hundreds of popular graduation songs; from the cheesy to the obscure. The song you chose, “Send me on my Way”, by Rusted Root is a great song, it really highlights this idea of going out and living. Despite the fact that it was written in the 90's before you were born, it tells you to get on out of here, you have places to go and people to meet.

The unfortunate part of this weekend is that it will end. The parties will be over, the cake will be eaten, the gift cards will be opened and spent and then it will be Tuesday. Then what? Well, first write those thank you notes, because they don't write themselves. Then face the unexpected with openness, don't be afraid of what the next day may bring. It could be good, it could be heartbreaking, but don't write the story before the day dawns, let tomorrow surpass your greatest expectations. As that famous line from the movie “Castaway” so aptly expresses, you never know what the tide will bring in. This day is just one day in your life, an important day, but truly only the beginning for you. Tuesday may feel kinda depressing, but you'll get through it. Don't let fear dictate your choices, keep looking forward hoping for the best to happen. I can't wait to see how your stories turn out. Congratulations, Class of 2011.

Wednesday, May 25, 2011

Accepting criticism

Today was the last day of school. Can I get an AMEN? The year was overall really good; great students, fabulous peers, lots of laughs, but it had some really difficult moments that I feel could have played out a lot better. I'm reflecting a little tonight because I don't have any papers to grade. I might even read a book later.

I guess I don't really want to talk about what was bad about the year because it seems very pointed and critical. It is very pointed and critical and is directed at a handful of very specific people. Now criticism is not always necessary, or nice, and it seems that there are many channels on the cable that use criticism, finger-pointing and general cranky-pantsness to make other people less so the criticizers can be more. I didn't have those motives when I pointed out some easy, fixable problems (read: weaknesses) to certain people (read: not students) but the thing that gets me is that once the criticism/areas of weakness were highlighted in detail (read: v. v. delicately) and data was provided to support my criticism, nothing changed. Absolutely nothing.

I don't like receiving criticism. I'm kinda sensitive about that. If I have spinach in my teeth, I'd rather you keep it to yourself. I guess I don't like the fact that I have to rectify, reform, or amend what I've made wrong. I'm right, dammit. But in my self-righteous huffinpuffing, I have to realize that I'd rather make it right than live in ignorance. My sophomores finished the year reading Oedipus Rex, and I asked them what they thought the lesson was. It isn't reaaaaalllly about a guy who marries his mom, it is more about how this Greek guy lived in his arrested development which prevented him from actually seeing the truth. And once he learns the whole truth, he gouges out his own eyeballs because he has to atone for this blind, arrogant ignorance.

So back to the criticism thing. What I took away from this school year is that it is important to admit when you're wrong, PARTICULARLY if you are a leader, president or guide. It has been my personal experience that when I admit I am wrong, I feel better, people trust me, and mutual respect is established. My classroom benefits from my ownership of the truth that I am not the I Ching of the universe and occasionally (very occasionally) I make mistakes. I enter grades wrong, I forget names, I'm only human. If you think that not owning your shit makes you a better, loftier, more righteous person, then you are delusional. Everybody poops.

Sunday, April 24, 2011

He is Risen indeed!



Here I am this Easter, huddling with tea and toast and a massive head cold. Didn't make it to church this morning and won't be making it over to a friend's for Sunday dinner. I'm a little sad about all that. Today is a holiday, and I will be coughing and hacking at home.

But the birds are still chirping outside my window, and the day is starting with bright morning light instead of the snow of yesterday. Even though I am not celebrating the empty tomb with fellow parishioners or partaking of some ham with my friends, I know that Jesus is here. I know that He is risen, indeed.

Despite all the junk that has been stirred up within me the last couple months, I believe that there do come those waves of hope. Maybe they don't last very long, but my hope is like a surfer, paddling out to the next wave so that I might be carried through the hardships with as much hope as I can catch (Kara will like that metaphor ;-)

I am a cynical person when it comes to the stuff we cannot see. I believe that if I have low expectations, I will not be disappointed, but the problem is that I'm disappointed anyway. Hoping is hard work sometimes. Some people have that hope easily, then you snarl "stupid Pollyanna" behind their back. For me, I know that I can have it if I want it. Here in my pj's on Easter morning, thwarted by this stupid cold, I can have that hope.

To me, Easter has always been more about resolutions than New Year's Eve. So here today, I resolve to paddle like mad for the next wave, and not let the swells defeat my faith. It will be hard work, and my arms will burn, but that hope might see me through to the shore.

Saturday, April 9, 2011

April Rain Song (2/2)

So in this post I will try to be less cranky. I am trying to shift out of the rut that I get stuck in, and I've found that comes with discipline and practice, not just wishing it away.

This is the calendar post for April. It's a pretty nice message to have when I am feeling really crappy. I've been thinking about what I will say at graduation and this seems like it would be a good part of the message.

Also, I made this with my Aunt's old political buttons and other buttons I had... I felt like sharing my craftiness.


And April is National Poetry Month, so here is another April poem for you.

April Rain Song

Let the rain kiss you
Let the rain beat upon your head with silver liquid drops
Let the rain sing you a lullaby
The rain makes still pools on the sidewalk
The rain makes running pools in the gutter
The rain plays a little sleep song on our roof at night
And I love the rain.

Langston Hughes

No matter how crappy I feel and how down I get, I know that the shift does come. Sometimes it comes when I least expect it, but I try to surf the wave for as long as I can.

April comes like an idiot... (1/2)

Well I wish I could tell you that I am like super awesome and jazzed about everything and happy happy happy. The best I can say of today is that the sky chair is up and the weather is warmer and my windows are open and the birds are chirping. But that's outside. Inside there is the rutted track of crappy, harsh self-messages that my brain runs over again and again and again. At least I can say that it is my brain and I'm not really crazy (I hope). But it frightens me how easily I get stuck in the rut. I am the skeptic and the general cranky pants who sits in the corner wondering where it all went wrong.

SPRING

by: Edna St. Vincent Millay (1892-1950)

      O what purpose, April, do you return again?
      Beauty is not enough.
      You can no longer quiet me with the redness
      Of little leaves opening stickily.
      I know what I know.
      The sun is hot on my neck as I observe
      The spikes of the crocus.
      The smell of the earth is good.
      It is apparent that there is no death.
      But what does that signify?
      Not only under ground are the brains of men
      Eaten by maggots.
      Life in itself
      Is nothing,
      An empty cup, a flight of uncarpeted stairs.
      It is not enough that yearly, down this hill,
      April
      Comes like an idiot, babbling and strewing flowers.



Snow in April. Which you can barely see, but it's there... lurking.