2018: A Year of Milestone Anniversaries—Both Historical and Personal

A few weeks ago, it dawned on me that 2018 brings with it three significant personal milestone anniversaries, with one connected to the historical anniversary today of Martin Luther King, Jr.’s, death.

As was true across the nation, the news of the assassination of MLK 50 years ago today brought with it disbelief, grief, anger, riots, and curfews. For the Kansas City area, the curfews began on April 5, the same day I arrived home from high school to find my 74-year-old father, who suffered from Alzheimer’s, lying down in our front yard. He had fallen and broken his hip. Appropriately, my mother rode in the ambulance that took him to Shawnee Mission Hospital and gave me directions to wait at home for her call to pick her up. Because her call didn’t come until several hours later, I was forced to drive the three miles to the hospital, and, trust me, at age 16, driving under curfew in the dark with no one else on the streets, worried I could be arrested, I was terrified. Still, Mother and I made it back home safely with no police officers stopping us. My father passed away a few weeks later shortly after the assassination of Robert Kennedy.

Continuing on the personal anniversary theme, this year will be the 100^th anniversary of the birth of my half-sister, Edna May, who was 33 the year I was born. Because of the difference in our ages, Eddie seemed more like an aunt to me than like a sister, but I remember her for her one-on-one chats when she would visit as well as for her unique birthday presents—one being an ant farm, which, I’m confident, my mother came close to banning from the house, especially when the ants themselves arrived in the mail. To honor Eddie, my father’s side of the family will be participating in our first big reunion in Breckinridge, Colorado, in June. I can’t wait for Granddaughter Samantha to meet more relatives on that side of the family!

Finally, it was 25 years ago in February that my mother passed away at age 88. Because I have a previous blog post recounting the details of that day, I won’t do so here. Instead, because way leads to way, I’m also reminded of several of my high school students I had the privilege of teaching that year—many who kept me going as I was deep in grief, with one student (one story), in particular, I must mention: Megan Denton was in my creative writing class—she had previously been in my freshman honors English class and frequently babysat for my son, then age 8. As was the beginning-of-class practice, I started with roll call—this one simply reading from a little book entitled I Have Learned with the expectation that students would emulate its examples by sharing something they had learned. Racing through a few pages, I was caught off guard when I turned a page and read, “I have learned that when someone special passes away….” I stopped reading as I tried to keep my emotions in check but was unsuccessful and began breaking down in front of the class. Not missing a beat, Megan jumped out of her seat, came to the front of the room, took the book out of my hands, continued reading a few more examples, and then led the class roll call. How blessed I have been to have had such wonderful students!

Yes, this year is, indeed, one for milestone reflections and embracing what I’ve learned:

•         Sometimes we can’t separate historical events from our own personal ones, regardless of their insignificance to others.
• 
  
•         People might be surprised that they still have the power to bring family together even after their passing.
• 
  
•        Even in times of sorrow, we can embrace happy memories, too, and those long-ago happy memories can still make us smile!
• 
  
•         Finally, it’s indescribable how quickly the years pass yet how fresh the memories remain.

Saying “Goodbye”—Again—to Coffee

I will admit that I’m probably a bit of a hypochondriac. I’ve even made that statement to my doctor when I go through a long list of all my symptoms that I keep track of between appointments; however, she just smiles and tells me I’m not—probably her kind way of being professional, but I do wonder if I’m part of the after-hours chuckles when the office closes.

I presented her with a new list at my recent “Welcome to Medicare” exam, which included some different office tests—some that seemed to validate some of my symptoms and some that assuaged some of my concerns. Overall, everything checked out well, with only one slight out-of-range area regarding my bad cholesterol so the doctor suggested I watch the cholesterol in my diet and exercise. Even my thyroid scores were in range—a test that I have every six months because I have no thyroid and am dependent upon the one medication I’m prescribed. The only big concern was my office EKG, which, as the doctor explained, suggested some irregular blood flow in my past. Immediately, I tried to connect the EKG results to one of my listed symptoms, but the doctor stated there was no connection. Still, she continued, we’d better play it safe and schedule a Calcium Score Scan on my heart.

As a result, I spent a large part of my afternoon Googling the details of the scan, which led me to an explanation of the scoring, which led me to coronary heart disease, which led me to symptoms, which explained many of my listed symptoms, and which convinced me that my days were numbered. After all, my father died of arteriosclerosis so maybe I inherited it. No longer was I accepting that I was still experiencing hot flashes and everything else that goes with them!

Because I knew the long Labor Day Weekend would slow down the process of setting up the scan, I did what I could to be proactive and immediately made changes in my diet to lower my cholesterol. Yet, in Googling everything about cholesterol, I concluded that my diet is already low in that area; still, from now on, I’m eating only egg whites, less cheese and ice cream, and more onions and garlic—and a daily glass of red wine. Yea! As to exercise, I already spend almost two hours, five days a week at the gym, plus walk my dogs daily.

When the med center finally called, I was able to set up the scan the same week at 1:40 p.m. The kicker was that for 24 hours previous to the test, I could have NO caffeine. That, of course, meant that I could not have my usual pot—yes POT—of coffee that morning. I knew what was coming but could only hope that the daily Aleve I take for my arthritis would lessen the inevitable headache. No such luck! By the time noon rolled around, my head was throbbing; plus, I couldn’t sit still or concentrate on anything, not to mention—as I’m sure my husband would mention—I was cranky, along with being anxious about the test results. I just knew that the results of the scan would require I be rushed to the hospital.

Instead, the scan was no big deal—much quicker and easier than what was described on the Internet. I even got to keep all my clothes on! Plus, when the technician told me my score was zero, meaning that I had absolutely no calcium built up at all, I had to restrain myself from tackling her with a hug. I was so relieved and took time to count my blessings.

Still, I had to contend with my wicked headache, so the first thing I did when I arrived home was make a big pot of coffee, but, by that time, I couldn’t even look at it because nausea set in. As a result, I spent the next couple hours alternating from sitting to lying down to walking around the house to trying to be sick until I finally crashed on the bed with my loyal dogs guarding me and probably wondering, What in the hell is wrong with you?

After I rested for awhile, what registered most with me was the obvious dependency—okay, addiction—I have with coffee, and I didn’t like that! In all areas of my life, I like to be in control; instead, coffee was controlling me. So, when I could read again, I picked up my iPad and Googled the pros and cons of caffeine/coffee as well as the pros and cons of drinking coffee vs. tea. Granted, there is a mixture of research and opinions on the subject as there are, indeed, pros and cons of both beverages. Still, making several connections between my daily intake of coffee—not only the caffeine but also other chemicals within it—and my listed symptoms plus my new knowledge that coffee interferes with the effectiveness of my thyroid medication, I’ve decided to say “goodbye” to my coffee, again. Besides, several years ago when I was diagnosed with GERD, I went an entire year with almost no caffeine at all. No coffee, no tea (except for decaf), no chocolate! When a doctor tells me to do something, I follow directions—with one exception being going through another colonoscopy, but that’s a different story for another time.

Another good part of the day was I lost a pound—no doubt because I had no coffee for over 24 hours. All right, probably because the withdrawal came with a lack of appetite. Anyway, as many of us know, seeing even one fewer pound register on the scale increases that needed motivation for me to eat smart and switch to drinking tea again. As a result, today I’ve added a variety of teas to my pantry and cleaned up and put away the coffee maker.

Will eliminating coffee altogether make a big difference in my health, however? Will my symptoms list grow shorter? Will I finally take off a few more pounds and lose my belly fat? We’ll see. I’ll keep you posted.

Oh, and as to my greatly used Starbucks Gold Card…there’s no need for concern. As long as Starbucks still has chai lattes, I’ll continue to utilize the drive-through.

Turning 65

There’s something about birthdays, especially big ones, that naturally call for reflection. Certainly, turning 65 is one that involves much more effort compared to other birthdays in which I could just sit back and let the celebration wash over me. I’ve actually been eagerly anticipating this birthday for a few years because of my enrollment in Medicare—a program that I would describe as a blessing! After a great deal of self-education, visiting with my financial advisor,  and chatting with a few different insurance agents, making Medicare decisions by the various deadlines has taken a great deal of time during the past few months. But, having been on the program for three weeks and having already benefited from it, I can say that, even enrolling in the most expensive—premium-wise—supplemental plan, I have a feeling of security as well as a monthly raise, as the total amount out of pocket each month is less than the previous monthly premiums I’ve been paying. Still, my goal is to stay as healthy as possible but still enjoy the occasional non-nutritional treat—after all, I’m 65 and I have earned it!

This new year also comes with full retirement, a decision I made a year earlier than I had originally planned. I knew that there was no way I was going to continue teaching on campus when guns will be allowed in July 2017; however, there’s also truth in knowing when the time is ripe. As a result, in May, after my last college composition class, I walked into the house and announced to Jim, “I’m done.” And now that classes have begun for the fall—on a date I wasn’t even tuned in to—I still know that I made the right decision. Just knowing that my daily routine no longer includes grading essays is pure joy!

In reflection, I realize that I’ve made most of my big decisions in the same manner, following the title of a Mary Englebreit book, Don’t Look Back. I’ve always had a tendency to make decisions without a great deal of deliberation yet, fortunately, with few regrets. That approach has applied to enrolling at KU (at the last minute, instead of K-State), accepting job offers, moving residences, making major purchases, and breaking off relationships—both personal and professional. Granted, I’ve sometimes wondered how “way [might have led] on to way” had I taken a different road, but not with a longing to go back in time to do anything differently—with the exception of wishing I had gone out for musicals in high school.  (I still yearn for an opportunity to play Eliza Doolittle!)

Along with reflection, however, I’m not through setting goals, if for no other reason than believing in the role of life-long learning. Whether I live a few more minutes or many more years, my natural curiosity to learn more about the world I live in, including the parts I’ll never experience directly, is innate to who I am. As is true with birthdays, some learning embraces us, with no effort on our part, but a great deal of learning requires our deliberate involvement through activities and through reading.

As a result, I restart my blog, “Honest Truths and Other Redundancies,” to share my continued learnings and self-reflections throughout the next stage of my life. Always in tune with audience and purpose, I recognize that my thoughts may be only for myself; however, I invite you to come along on this journey if and when you choose.

I See Scotties

“We see things not as they are, but as we are.”

--Henry Major Tomlinson

Some of my favorite activities on a warm, cloudy day are taking our dogs for walks, going on bike rides, and just sitting out on our deck, all which provide me the opportunity to lose myself in the clouds. They mesmerize me as much as I am captivated by the ocean waves when I have the opportunity to vacation on the beach. When I gaze up at the sky, however, I can’t help but see creatures and objects, especially when the sky is filled with billowing, cottony, flowing designs. In particular, I can’t help but see Scotties! Silly as it may seem, I’m filled with delight as I picture my beloved Mr. Gus rollicking overhead, signaling me that he is not only just fine in his doggy afterlife but also making me smile as I spot him romping above me. Today was one of those days when, no matter what cloud I examined and no matter how much each cloud transformed, there was Gus in all his orneriness—once even playfully making a new friend by sniffing another Scottie’s behind. I’d like to think that Gus is hovering over our homestead these days to send his “happy birthday” greeting to his former playmate, Dharma, our dachshund, who is turning 16 at the end of the month.

At the same time, it’s not only in the clouds where I find my old four-legged friend, as I can just as easily see Gus in the outline of a bush or tree, in a complex crack in the pavement, in the shape of a partially eaten piece of toast, and more. Crazy, but true! No matter the explanation—whether I’m still grieving that feisty little terrier or simply because Scotties make me smile—I know that I see Scotties simply because I want to see Scotties! In other words, my brain works with my emotions to produce something that I want. Mission accomplished!

Likewise, I believe our brain works in the same way in different venues and activities—sometimes not for the best. For example, I want to believe only what’s good about my friends and most (just trying to be honest) of my family, so I might easily overlook one of their flaws because I don’t want to believe they are capable of doing any wrong. (As teachers, we’ve all dealt with those types of parents, and I publicly apologize for being one myself upon occasion.) Similarly, I might blindly trust someone so deeply with my private feelings or risk expressing my innermost beliefs only to learn that they have been passed on to someone else. Even when two people witness the same event, their take on what happened can be quite different, perhaps depending upon what they want to see—for example, whether or not that team member did, indeed, step out of bounds or commit a foul.

Furthermore, as a generalization, this phenomenon could explain why we might be prone to misinterpret emails or make illogical inferences about body language. On that note…don’t misinterpret what I’m saying—I’m making no judgments here, as we’ve all likely been on both sides of these situations; plus, I’m not holding on to unrealistic expectations that anyone should—or could—be perfect. Finally, I know I’m stating nothing new or profound. At the risk of cliché, it is what it is—only it may not be what is at all!

As I now re-examine those clouds, I see that the sky is completely overcast, and Gus must have gone elsewhere, perhaps to visit my mom or to play with his doggy siblings that preceded him in that dog park in the sky. He may be taking his afternoon nap or basking in a pond of treats and squeaky toys. Even so, I can say today has been a good one because I was able to spend some much needed time exactly as I wanted—with my Scotties in the clouds!

My Journey Through Due Process

Reflecting on the past weekend with the Kansas legislature voting in a new school finance package, which includes stripping teachers of due process, I am sad, disgusted, and angry. And I won’t even waste time trying to explain the difference between having tenure, which Kansas teachers do not have, and having due process, which Kansas teachers will no longer have if—and probably when—our governor signs the bill into law. Granted, anyone can provide a list of reasons explaining why teachers need due process; however, although I’m now retired from the K-12 public school system, I’d like to share my personal list of reasons because there’s a great likelihood that, without my having had due process beginning with my fourth year in the classroom, I may not be able to claim today that I’m in my 41^st year of teaching in the state of Kansas.

Without due process, I may have been unwilling to maintain high standards in the classroom. For example, as an English teacher, I occasionally had to deal with students cheating on assignments. I’ve always considered there to be four options when dealing with cheating: 1) Give a zero. Period. 2) Give a zero but provide an opportunity for the student to do the assignment over. 3) Give the student a warning not to cheat again—a hand slap, if you will. 4) Ignore the situation because dealing with the student and his/her parents is too much of a hassle. Usually, I opted for #2, meaning that I was usually in for a hassle every time. In the worst instance, I dealt with an extremely popular and capable student cheating on a book report with one of her friends. When I responsibly called home, her father, who was obviously ready for my call, responded loudly, angrily, and obscenely, falsely accusing ME of inappropriate behavior. My shock was on several levels as this was not just any parent, but one who was a respectable dentist in the small community in which I taught. Fortunately, my principal backed me; however, another principal might not have done so. In fact, another principal might have been a best friend with that parent, or worst yet, that principal—or my superintendent or a school board member—could have been the parent of the child who cheated. Without due process, the risk might have been too great for me to confront all involved, causing me to skip to option #4. On that same note, depending upon who the student and parents are or what the relationships are between those parents and my administrators, I could be influenced when I give grades, serve on scholarship committees, lead the selection process for cheerleading or the school musical, or submit eligibility reports on student athletes. Without due process, the results of these decisions might not have mirrored which students, indeed, earned these honors.

Without due process, I may not have been able to advocate for my students. On a professional level, I will be so bold as to say that I’ve ignited a spark in hundreds of students by inspiring them to love reading and writing. Leading students to books that interest them, despite the controversy of subjects and language, I’ve found ways to give students credit for those readings in my courses; likewise, in teaching years of high school creative writing, I’ve made no topics—or language—off limits. (Students did have parameters in reading language aloud, however.) Without due process, I would have felt a need to place more restrictions on reading and writing, thus, smothering some students’ passions and curiosities that I’m confident played a big role in the completion of many high-quality assignments. Without due process, I may have refused to answer innocent yet sensitive questions that students asked during the reading of Romeo and Juliet, such as “What’s a maidenhead?” or students’ defiant questions, such as “What’s wrong with saying ‘That sucks'"? Instead, I provided straightforward, whole-class explanations.  And on a more personal level, despite the law that requires teachers to report issues of abuse and sexual harassment, without due process, I may not have mustered the courage to make some of those reports considering whose parents I accused. Especially, I might not have had the courage to walk into my principal’s office to report inappropriate behavior I witnessed between a student and one of my colleagues. Even when I knew I would be ostracized by some of my peers for making such a report, at least I knew, with due process, my job wouldn’t be threatened for doing what was right.

Without due process, I might have been more severely penalized—or even fired—for making a few mistakes in my four decades in dealing with students, administrators, and parents. I knew I was wrong to call in sick from Colorado when I took a couple days off to go skiing. I knew I was breaking fire code when I stayed in my classroom to finish preparing for the next class period when everyone else was outside for the fire drill. I knew I was breaking school rules when I sneaked a student out of in-school suspension to participate in an activity that he couldn’t make up if he missed my class. I knew I could have been more professional by not hanging up on a parent who was cursing at me on the phone. I knew I was wrong when I lost my cool with my principal and slammed his door as I left his office. Yes, I’ve made some mistakes over the years—and I was even written up once and rightfully so. On the other hand, one time when an administrator wrote in my evaluation something that he couldn’t back up when I asked him to do so, I boldly submitted a written rebuttal to the report. Without due process, any principal who wanted to get rid of me could have jumped on any single one of those actions and told me “don’t let the door hit you on the way out.”

My most memorable experience that would have likely turned out differently had I not had due process was the year I was president of our local teachers’ association—a year when our district negotiations hit rock bottom with a new superintendent and board who were not teacher-friendly at all. When we ended up at the fact-finding stage, after stacking our contracts district-wide, I was called to testify—with an oath to tell the truth—on an incident I had witnessed in which a school board member and the superintendent lied. I can’t explain how disturbed I was to have to tell the truth on that public witness stand in a room filled with district administrators and respected community members. But I did tell the truth, shaking and holding back tears. Without due process, however, I don’t know how I would have found the courage to do so.

These are just a few of the situations that I can recall from my teaching journey with due process. At the same time, I’m confident other teachers have experienced worse. Perhaps, if you don’t know me and must base your judgment of the quality of my teaching solely on what I’ve described here, you might think I am a terrible teacher. I’ll simply respond, "I am not." You can find me on the Internet.

My father used to say, “Be careful what you wish for because you might get it.” In the past few years, a majority of Kansas voters have “wished for” a more conservative group of politicians filling the state legislature and the governorship. As a result of that wish being granted, what those voters got over the weekend is the stripping of due process from every teacher in this state—a situation that is likely to result in teachers who are less courageous when necessary and, instead, more unlikely to be advocates for their profession, their colleagues, and their students. Without due process, the risk to act as needed may be too costly for many teachers, with their new silence leading to the condoning of unfair and unjust situations in schools. In the words of Thomas Jefferson, “All tyranny needs to gain a foothold is for people of good conscience to remain silent.” My hope is that, through your loud voices and your votes in November, you have different wishes and bring back due process so we can continue to attract high-quality teachers to Kansas classrooms and maintain the solid reputation of our educational system, which we have had for so many years. Let’s not allow the new school year beginning in the fall of 2014 change all that we can be proud of.

My Transforming Teacher-Anxiety Dreams

After 41 years in education, I still have anxiety dreams about beginning a new school year, and my only consolation is that I know such dreams, although varied in content, are common among teachers. Now that I’m teaching solely at the college level, however, those once-a-year night terrors in late July through early August now plague me for a second time in mid-January when I anticipate spring semester with a new group; plus, with my new courses beginning this week, the onslaught of those night terrors have taken on a completely different theme with all my teaching moving online.

Even when on the surface I’m feeling nothing less than excitement to begin a new school year, out of the blue, like clockwork, I awake tossing and turning having walked into my new classroom with students everywhere, filling every nook and cranny of the classroom and sitting on desks and countertops. And did I say, “sitting”? No, no…those students are talking, singing, dancing, laughing, yelling, without any hint—or care—that I have called class to order and am ready to teach them everything they need to know about English. It is pure chaos! Yes, my worst nightmare! (At least I have all my clothes on, as some of my teacher colleagues have confided that their anxiety dreams have them naked in front of the class.)

Evidently, though, I’ve left those chaotic scenes behind, at least for this upcoming spring semester. Yes, it’s so funny how the brain works—or how our dreams surface our evident anxieties that must be buried deep inside us during the day. Again this semester, I’m teaching Comp. II to college freshmen, but for the first time, this semester all my teaching is online, and, unbelievingly, my anxiety dreams have adapted to fit the situation. Two nights ago, I awoke, having dreamed about my incapability of formatting a document that I desperately needed to post in our learning management system—or LMS. I can still clearly see the two-column chart on which I was unable to move the contents from the right-hand column over to the left-hand column. That dratted software would not cooperate, leaving me helpless to meet my students’ needs—as if they would read the document anyway. Still, formatting it perfectly was not going to happen. I was beside myself! Then, last night I was hit with another outlandish nightmare…. I was grading a student essay online, but for the life of me I couldn’t figure out where the sets of parentheses fell. Yes, this essay was not only riddled with parentheses, but there was no logic of their pairings. As usual, I wanted to give the student the benefit of the doubt, and, as I too often do, I was doubting my own ability to figure out what a student—who was possibly much smarter than I am—was trying to do. I awoke just as I was having a major meltdown.

In contrast, during my years of mentoring new teachers, I always said that most good teachers—even veteran teachers—begin the school year with a bit of nervousness—a clear sign that the teacher is conscientious about doing a good job—but my dreams in the past 48 hours have been completely ridiculous! In fact, greatly anticipating getting started, I even released my course a few days early to the students already enrolled. I just hope that those nightmares aren’t predictors that my computer will be crashing any time soon.

When I bravely revealed my recent dreams to my husband, also a long-time educator, he suggested that the worst anxiety dream would be to show up for class and there are no students at all. Maybe. But I’ll hope for a full class of conscientious students who can’t wait to begin their first major essay! I know…I’m still dreaming!

I Can’t Help What I Like

Triggered by reading a movie review in this morning’s paper, I’m reminded by how my likes and dislikes can be so different with what seems to be the norm. I’m not talking about my general dislike for opera or skiing or Greek food or, even as a passionate dog-lover, pugs and Boston terriers, as I am in pretty good company with those topics. No, I’m talking about disliking what most people do like and appreciate, but I don’t. For example, I don’t like apple pie, and I’m the only person I know who doesn’t. I don't like candles because I'm afraid I'll burn down my house. I don’t like Harry Potter books, yet I appreciate that they are well written and have turned on millions of children to reading. In my personal and professional worlds, there are people whom everyone else seems to idolize, but I don’t; in fact, sometimes I’m not a fan at all. (Note that I’m smart enough not to mention specific names.) And my husband frequently reminds me that I’m the only person he knows who doesn’t like the movie Lawrence of Arabia. No, I don’t! In fact, quite honestly, it bored me out of my mind, and I actually fell asleep while trying to watch it. Because it’s my husband’s favorite movie in the universe, however, I truly want to like it…but I don’t!

Likewise, there are some things I do like, although I seem to be in the company of only a few. Back to the movie review I read this morning…. Granted, my husband and I saw The Wolf on Wall Street on Christmas Day, the day of its release, based on its good pre-release movie reviews. Since that time, however, I’ve read numerous reviews and comments from critics and friends who have labeled it “trash” and have admonished others for giving it such high accolades. For myself, however, not only did I like the movie, but I’m quite surprised that I liked it at all. In fact, the very next day, a few of my family members (at a post-Christmas gathering) asked me about the movie, and in all cases my response was “I’d describe it as ‘greed, drugs, and orgies’…but I liked it!” The looks on my relatives’ faces mirrored my own surprise since I despise greed, I don’t do drugs (except caffeine and a bit of alcohol, of course), and I’ll go to my grave being embarrassed by nudity (thanks to my Victorian mother). Still, I found the movie captivating because, at least based on what I’ve read, the story of Jordan Belfort was true! Yes, he thoroughly disgusts me! And I’m so glad, based on the movie’s depiction of life on Wall Street, that that culture has never been a part of my life. Still, what a great movie! In today’s review in the Kansas City Star, C. W. Gusewelle, whose writings I enjoy and respect, states, “I don’t make unreasonable demands of a movie. All I ask…is a narrative that’s coherent, a setting that is believable, and characters appealing enough that I care about their fates.” For me, however, it’s that last descriptor that doesn’t hold up. By the end of the movie, I couldn’t have cared less about Belfort’s fate! He was a disgusting asshole and, in my mind, deserved nothing good, based on his actions and lifestyle. Had the story been fiction, I might not feel the same; instead, I might lump it with the gruesome horror and bullet-and-blood-riddled Hollywood blockbusters that I can see no purpose for. But because The Wolf on Wall Street story is true, it fascinated me. At the same time I am reminded of Big Brother in Orwell’s 1984 and Archie Costello in Robert Cormier’s The Chocolate War. What great characters to hate! What tremendous talents Orwell and Cormier—and Scorsese, in the case of Belfort—displayed in creating those characters that will stay with me.

My point here is not to review the movie, as I’m not a qualified movie critic. My point actually is a curiosity as to why people so passionately like different things compared to the norm (granted our taste buds are different) and specifically why I like and appreciate different things compared to most other people. Likewise, in my teaching life, I’ve found myself in the minority on several topics, issues, and methods, even when they carry the label as “research-based” or “best practices.” For example, a few that come to my mind are five-minute walk-throughs, the value of pacing guides, assigned reading based on quantity (see my previous blog), and limited passes to the restroom. At the same time, I know I’m a hypocrite in these areas because I’m confident that, if any of my former colleagues are reading this post, they could easily counter with “But, Kay, I distinctly remember when you used to….” (Fill in the blank with numerous truths—many that now make me cringe and for which I am often inclined to write personal letters of apology to former students and their parents).

I suppose the key is to keep our minds open to all possibilities, be tolerant (at least to a point) of others’ opinions and tastes, know when to keep our mouths shut about what we do and don’t like (so we can keep the friends we have—family members are stuck with us), and know that there’s nothing wrong with us when we deviate from the norm, even when we’re surprised by our own opinions. Holding to these practices should help me keep myself in check when I’m reminded that, just as I may be the only person who doesn’t like Lawrence of Arabia, my husband is the only person I know who doesn’t like pizza! (I’ll end here by practicing keeping my mouth shut.)