Category: frustration

Grit

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I am compiling rejections from my poetry submissions. But, don’t feel sorry for me. Each one comes back, looking for a second, third,  or twentieth massage.

That’s what good writing takes–effort. And, holy cow, is this fun. Revising feels like a word game for introverts–the only competition is with myself.

When I’m not revising, I’m surfing/reading. I had no idea there were so many literary sites. Everyone wants to write these days, it seems. This is my newest find where I just read (and will share with my writing peeps) — this.

It’s like my own little MFA.

Reflecting on #NPM

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I really thought I might make it, writing a poem a day for National Poetry Month. But since I’ve now missed a day, I think it’s time to end this experiment.
This was a stretch for me. My writing has been limited to feature and news stories for our local paper, academic writing, and blog posts–both personal and professional. When I opened my writing studio in January, my intent was to push myself to explore creative writing, which I loved as a child. Even as a reporter, I tried to focus on telling stories rather than covering budget hearings. One of my favorite assignments turned out to be spending the summer with homeless alcoholics in Fredericksburg. The paper allowed a three-day, front page series of stories.

Opening the studio has allowed me to dream big dreams. Write poetry? Sure. Start a novel? Why not? Work with other writers? Of course.

What I hope to do now is choose some of the poetry that has potential and toss the rest. Wendy Bishop says this: “Revision takes you from self to society, from the writer’s concerns to the readers’ concerns.”

The real work begins.


#npm

Overcoming Fear

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I went skiing yesterday.But that wasn’t the hard part. Riding the chair lift almost paralyzed me.

You see, I hate heights. Really. And fast rides that make me feel out of control. I tried skiing a few years ago at Snowshoe, and I almost fainted when the lift stopped halfway up to rescue someone who was injured. Humming, staring off at the beautiful view, breathing my yoga breaths–nothing seemed to help. I swore I would never ski again.

So when our friends asked us to join them on a quick trip to Seven Springs, I hesitated, knowing I would have to ride that lift again. And then, I thought: “what’s the worst that could happen?”

I guess I am tired of my fears controlling me. I’m a worrier, even when I have no control over whatever it is I am worrying about. All my reading about mindsets and mind-body connections has convinced me that I can–that I should–let go of some of this.

We packed up food for several days, rented a condo, and drove up Sunday morning. My first test was Sunday afternoon, when my friend suggested tubing.

“How scary could that be?” I wondered. At the top of the mountain, I hesitated. The longer I waited, the faster my heart beat. And then I watched a 4-year-old go down. Geesh.

I jumped in, spun around a few times, held my breath–and made it. Not only did I have a wonderful time, I even went down face first on my last ride.

By the time we hit the first ski lift, I was ready. And you know, it wasn’t so  bad. I can’t say I was completely at ease. Getting up and off that contraption took a lot of focus and mental effort. But each time, I realized I was relaxing more and more. I would have missed a great three days if I’d let my fears keep me home.

How often do we anticipate the worst? How often do we let our worries control our emotions and actions? Why do we need to have such control in our lives?

Letting go is sometimes all it takes.

Why? Why Not?

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An early morning brain dump: Why not….

  • eliminate grouping by grade levels. Let students move through outcomes and benchmarks at their own pace.
  • hire teachers year round for a substantial increase in salary. Most effective work needs to happen when students aren’t in class. Teachers must stop thinking of their day as time spent only with students. Teachers must have time to read, work together, be inspired and creative, reflect, and plan. Every year. Always learning.
  • re-think the school day. Why not spend less time together and more time asynchronously?
  • allow students to learn math, English, science,and art around a passion: say sailing? woodworking? astronomy?
  • eliminate grades for conversations and portfolios. Sorting and ranking creates a society of winners and losers (and power struggles)
  • develop ways to help students understand that effort, real effort, pays off
  • ask the questions instead of giving the answers
  • think of inquiry as central to learning

inspired by looking through a different lens

Is it true? Am I programming forgetfulness?

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Brainphoto © 2008 dierk schaefer | more info (via: Wylio)
I am listening to Opening to Our Lives with Jon Kabat-Zinn, a podcast about mindfulness tweeted by @micwalker this morning. But I am also writing this post.

Kabat-Zinn asks: Can you hold this moment in awareness?

No, I can’t.

And I wonder if all this multi-tasking is having a profound effect on my memory. This weekend I attended Educon, a fabulous unconference at the Science Leadership Academy in Philadelphia. Like-minded folks gathered to talk about teaching and learning–and using social media tools to enable this shift we’d like to see.

But that’s not what I want to focus on here. Instead, I want to share two moments of the weekend when I totally forgot a conversation I had had. And it scares me.

One was with my friend @ehelfant, whom I was catching up with at the end of a session.

“Hey,” I asked. “Do you want to walk back to the hotel with us after the next session?”

“Sure,” she responded.

I looked forward to having a few uninterrupted moments to chat with her. And yet, as the next session ended, I wandered downstairs, connecting with two other friends who were waiting, and headed back to the hotel.

“Where are you?” she texted later.

Oh. My. Gosh. I had totally forgotten.

The second incident involved my husband, who called Saturday night to tell I had forgotten the keys to the house. He told me he would leave the house open for me. Yet, as I rode the train on Sunday, I panicked because I realized I had forgotten my keys. I called a local friend who happens to have a key to my house and stopped on my way home.

Later my husband asked: “Didn’t you remember our conversation? I told you I would leave the house open.”

I was stunned. And, frankly, I felt a rush of fear race through my body as this has been happening frequently to me. Alzheimers? Careless thinking? Laziness? Or is it more? Could it be my habits of mind lately–the reading while I’m listening, the talking while I’m texting, the writing while I’m searching–are the cause?

New York Times reporter Tara Parker-Pope wrote about this last year in “An Ugly Toll of Technology: Impatience and Forgetfulness.” She interviewed Dr. Elias Aboujaoude, director of the Impulse Control Disorders Clinic at Stanford, who said: “We’re paying a price in terms of our cognitive life because of this virtual lifestyle.”

Dr. Aboujaoude also asks whether the vast storage available in e-mail and on the Internet is preventing many of us from letting go, causing us to retain many old and unnecessary memories at the expense of making new ones. Everything is saved these days, he notes, from the meaningless e-mail sent after a work lunch to the angry online exchange with a spouse.

“If you can’t forget because all this stuff is staring at you, what does that do to your ability to lay down new memories and remember things that you should be remembering?” Dr. Aboujaoude said.

On the podcast now,  Kabat-Zinn is talking about how choice, too, contributes to these cognitive issues.

(See I’m doing it again.) “It’s intoxicating,” he says. You feel powerful because you can make multiple decisions at any given moment–but you lose clarity and focus.

Hmmmm. I am going to take his advice and stop here. I want to attend to what he is saying about finding my center.

I really don’t want to lose my mind.