I'm not really here...

The thing about grief is that it comes up when you least expect it to.

I am at a conference in New Mexico, away from my bed and my bathroom towels. I hate it. When I first got down here, I called my uncle to wish him happy birthday and when the machine picked up, my dead aunt's voice came over the phone. Hello, not prepared for that shit. It really knocked the wind out of me. Then I got a couple emails from my uncle on Tuesday as I was getting all this information from my conference. It was the perfect storm, and I had a bit of a breakdown.

I feel better now, but I can't wait to get home tomorrow.

The thing about grief is that you have no rules. If you need to sit in a dark room watching America's Next Top Model, do it. If you need to eat chocolate covered pizza, do it. If you need to plunge back into the work you've been doing and plow forward, do it. But no one... NO ONE can tell you the rules for grieving.

I'm here at the conference, but I'm not really here. And that's okay.

Summer so far...

It is no secret, summer makes me happy. Swinging in my sky chair, getting pedicures, staying up late with a book, watching The Price is Right and getting really jazzed when they pull out Plinko; they are simple pleasures, but they'll do. Our agrarian school year really makes me feel guilty that I'm not out tending to my soybean crops, but only if I've spent a particularly lazy day. For the most part, summer is about recharging the batteries, training for new classes, and planning for the next year.

The summer has also had its challenges. Aunt Marti's death has really stymied me and I have to figure out my "new normal" without her. That takes time... and a lot of selfishness on my part. I've been a little turtle-like lately. I don't want to meet new people, I don't want to think about school, I don't want to be obligated to anyone or anything. I imagine that will lessen with time, and my friends have been really gracious with me. Vitamin D, frisbee-lovin dogs and cool drinks give good comfort on days when I don't get out of my pajamas.

Aunt Marti

My Aunt Marti died last night. She was diagnosed with pancreatic cancer last summer. It was a hard year. My Aunt Marti was a person whose motto was "go" and when she was diagnosed, it was hard for her to reconcile cancer with "go". She stopped talking as much, but she felt very deeply and very closely, you know? I have no idea what it must feel like to stare into your own mortality, to see it come nearer when treatments fail and diagnoses are proclaimed. Marti was strong, brave, and at the end, very peaceful.

I thought about a poem that might help me express Marti best, but all I could find was a poem that expressed my grief. John Hannah reads it in "Four Weddings and a Funeral".

Stop all the clocks, cut off the telephone,
Prevent the dog from barking with a juicy bone,
Silence the pianos and with muffled drum
Bring out the coffin, let the mourners come.

Let aeroplanes circle moaning overhead
Scribbling on the sky the message He Is Dead,
Put crepe bows round the white necks of the public doves,
Let the traffic policemen wear black cotton gloves.

He was my North, my South, my East and West,
My working week and my Sunday rest,
My noon, my midnight, my talk, my song;
I thought that love would last for ever: I was wrong.

The stars are not wanted now: put out every one;
Pack up the moon and dismantle the sun;
Pour away the ocean and sweep up the wood.
For nothing now can ever come to any good.

--W. H. Auden

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 28^th 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.

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.