Dear Solomon,
Proverbs 4:13 Always remember what you have learned. Your education is your life – guard it well.
For a long time I’ve been contemplating education. What is education? What is the BEST education? How would I describe MY EDUCATION? How can I GUARD my education? You would think that a person who has spent most of her life working in education, would have well-formulated answers for these questions. Think again.
Formative Years
Experts say that I learned more in my first five years than the sum total of everything else learned for the rest of my life. In that case, my education began when I was born. As the fifth child, I was privileged to have four built in tutors. Barry’s specialty was teasing. His ribbing gave me the tools to stand up to any smart mouthed playground bully. Tim’s specialty was language arts. He taught me to listen to stories and appreciate puns and jokes. Rebecca taught me about compromise and getting along. Instead of emulating her example, however, I used her peace-making tendencies to my advantage, often accompanied by the plea “Don’t tell Mom.” Through Val’s example I learned how to organize, delegate, and make things happen. I also credit my siblings with teaching me many of the “tricks” I learned by the time I was 18 months old. According to family history, I could say my ABC’s, quote memory verses, recite nursery rhymes, and rattle off the Pledge of Allegiance.
School Years
My formal education began in the fall of 1970. I recall my excitement – I was finally going to school like the big kids. My sense of self-importance was amplified when I learned of the official kindergarten supply list provided by the school. Shopping for those materials – a box of crayons, a nap mat, a chunky pencil, a smock – is one my earliest and most vivid memories. My plans were sidetracked by the USMC, when Dad received orders to return to California. Thankfully, California had kindergarten allowing me to experience the joy of blocks, fingerpaints, carpet squares, bee stings, scraped knees, swings, and the bars. I was terrible on the bars.
My early years of formal education included some struggles. In first grade my teacher invited my mother to a conference early in the year. Her concerns included “Mary doesn’t listen or follow directions,” and “Mary ignores me.” My mom figured out the root of the matter quickly and explained to my teacher that I did not know my name was Mary. When she came home she asked, “Does your teacher call you Mary?”
“No,” I replied, “She (Mary) sits right behind me.” I wondered how Mom had found out about this troublesome student who appeared to exasperate Miss Kelly.
Reading was not a struggle for me. I grew up a household full of bibliophiles. Making friends with peers, however, was a challenge. In third grade the report from school was that I was sad, preferring to spend time in the janitor’s closet over the playground. Fourth grade was a mixed bag. I struggled with my times tables and had a couple of scraps with bullies. The highlight of that year was donning white pants and a white shirt and serving on the “crossing guard,” a highly esteemed position.
Fifth grade brought the biggest change. My parents took me out of the public school system and enrolled me in a small, Christian school. There were many adjustments to make. I wore a dress every day, struggled with a challenging Abeka curriculum, finally mastered my multiplication tables, and participated in my first speech meet. The best part of the year was forming friendships – some that will last a lifetime.
The school was sponsored by and located at our church campus. From 5th grade until I graduated in 1983, I spent 6 days a week (during the school year) on the CCS campus. My mother and sister drove busses. My brother married my little sister’s teacher. I participated in dramas, speech meets, World’s Finest Chocolate sales, newspaper drives, carnivals, student council, ACSI conventions, and a plethora of activities and events. School was a huge part of my life, and I loved it!
College
I enrolled in San Diego Mesa College for summer school immediately after graduating. I spent the following summer at the Universidad de Madrid in a Spanish immersion program. I returned to Mesa College, married, moved, and resumed my education at American River College, followed by CSU Sacramento, and eventually CSU, Chico. At the same time that I was enrolled in each of these schools, I was enrolled in the school of becoming a wife and mother. I wouldn’t necessarily recommend taking both courses at once, but it lent itself to many adventures.
My first semester of college was fun. I loved school. I thought college was easier than high school, and I always scored near the top in every class (except for swimming). I did make it out of the little end of the pool though and considered that a success too.
My second full semester of college I learned what it was like to be swept off my feet by a young romantic transplant from Sacramento. I experienced wanderlust on dates built around long drives through the countryside. He schooled me in college basketball, the Raider Nation, indoor soccer, and football. I thought I already knew about baseball, but his insight was expansive. I attended romantic dinners, composed love notes, read up on body language, and accidentally discovered the formula for motivating someone into considering marriage. So absorbed was I in this course of study that I got a C in one of my college classes.
This romantic offshoot was interrupted by a summer abroad. This was my first opportunity to apply much of what I’d been learning in life up to this point. I used my Spanish skills to communicate, but I also used the language arts tricks that Tim taught me along with years of spelling and vocabulary tests to decipher roots and translate signs in French, German, and Italian. I used the organization tips that Val demonstrated to make things happen and plan excursions. I used the interpersonal skills that Becky taught me to get along with people from other cultures, age groups, and socioeconomic statuses. And I’m pretty sure I can thank Barry for giving me the backbone to stand up to peer pressure. Despite my youth and distance from my family, I didn’t feel pressured by anyone to party or do anything unseemly. I also learned that love can grow deeper through absence, and an engagement followed on the heels of my return to the states.
During the rest of my college career I learned how to juggle the responsibilities of work, school, and family. I learned that you don’t have to take out student loans, and that it is possible to stretch your life out of shape in order to accomplish a goal. I began college at 18 with no idea what I was doing or where I was going. I graduated at 23 with a toddler, another baby on the way, and an offer on a house in Marysville, CA. For the next 10 years I learned how to cook, sew, clean, homeschool, and what not to do as a parent. I didn’t master any of these pursuits except for the how-not-to-parent one, but I learned a lot. I returned to work and school in 1999 and finished my credential is 2000 when I left the academic portion of my education behind!
Post Graduate
But I didn’t stop learning. For several years I examined the charter school, independent study, distance learning side of California public education. Through repeated exposure to the terminology and the state standards I’ve learned how to talk educratic gibberish with the best. I’ve also learned that people homeschool for dozens of reasons and the best way to serve students and families is to care deeply about them. While on a detour from being an employee I started a small consulting business and took a crash course in feast and famine freelancing. I launched a ceremonial dove release business on a whim and became an amateur avian veterinarian as well as somewhat of a pigeon expert. And through it all, the life lesson of family and friends continue to shape my understanding and comprehension of life.
Last year, I took a position at a juvenile correction facility and was shocked to learn firsthand how jails and prisons succeed and fail. One position led to another and my work with inmates has taught me to appreciate the opportunities that I have been afforded. I have a close and personal look to scrutinize scars and examine deep emotional wounds. I’m learning about the sensitivity that is required to help people who are hurting. I added more words and phrases to my lifelong list of “What Not to Say,” and even made a few entries on my list of “Say This, Not That.”
So, Solomon, when I started this post way back in February, I shelved it because it seemed so “me focused” and pretentious. I couldn’t seem to tie enough of it to academia and the all the stuff I thought I learned in school. I felt like there was nothing clever, insightful, or interesting to say. (I might have been right about that.) And then, I discovered that I could not move on until I finished this post and published it. You win! Once again, you knew the truth a long time ago. My education IS my life. The two are intertwined and inseparable. Thank you for causing the teacher in me to reflect.
Saturday, July 31, 2010
Monday, February 8, 2010
Dear Solomon - Maybe You Should Make an Infomercial
Dear Solomon,
Today, you can buy a solution for almost every problem. A quick dial of an 800 number, and a life-changing product will be delivered to your doorstep within days. I can’t help but notice how interested others are in my solving my problems, restoring my health, making my life easier, and in fixing my hair. That’s right, my hair. In fact, the only ones more interested in my fixing my hair problems are my two teenage daughters – and their interest is mainly self-preservation. At 14 and 16 it’s possible to die of embarrassment.
My personal perspective about hairstyle is decidedly Calvinistic, and unfortunately, I am not one of the predestined. Still, great hair and the latest styles hold a fascination, much like the feelings that sweep over me when watching a contortionist. I can’t imagine experiencing it, but it’s mesmerizing to observe.
"As Seen on TV” hair products fall into one of four types. Volumizers, like Bumpits and special hair growth stimulating shampoos, are intended to create the illusion of more hair. Styling aids, like Hairigami, the Revo styling brush, and the Hair Zinger promise to transform the user with amazing styles from sophisticated to sexy. Many of these products come with a detailed instruction book or video that makes sense to the pre-ordained, but is gibberish to me.
The category of hair products that tempts me are the “Disaster Remedy” products. The disaster of split ends is discussed by a fabulous male stylist with a thick European accent. He describes his treacherous encounters with split ends with the gravity of a Dr. Salk. His invention, the Split Ender promises to eliminate the scourge of split ends forever. Greyban, a root concealer pen is essential for covering up pesky gray tresses. Hair removal products like Smooth Away and the Facial Hair Trimmer promise to break the cycle of endless shaving, plucking, and tweezing. Most promise a “painless” remedy, a relative term, as anyone who was suckered into buying an Epilady can attest.
A very long time ago I went to bed with a wad of gum in my mouth. My subconscious mind, unaware of the peanut butter solution, directed my body to the kitchen where I proceeded to snip the gum out of my hair. When I awoke the next morning, my conscious mind assessed the situation and came to the conclusion that Mom was going to kill me. I decided a baseball cap would look especially good with my outfit that day. Mom, in the kitchen, was contemplating the loose hairs scattered about the kitchen floor. She had little time to speculate. I arrived for breakfast, baseball cap strategically positioned over the exposed area of my scalp. I’ll never forget the look on Mom’s face as her face sunk into her hands. The rest of that morning is a blur.
My next hair disaster didn’t occur until my senior year in high school. I was a fashion late bloomer. My older sisters were “frosting” their hair and somehow I was swept up in the potential of sporting a sophisticated new hairstyle. Val and Rebecca gave my hair a frosting. I liked it! I became almost giddy with admiration for my new look. I decided to jump all the way in and add a “perm.” Sixty of my hard earned dollars were wasted at the salon on what I now refer to as the “Great Hair Calamity of 1982.”
The interaction of the chemicals used to produce the highlights and the chemicals used for the perm leeched all the color from the highlighted portions of my hair leaving it GREY. The timing couldn’t be worse. It was a week before my senior pictures, and I had a head full of gray hair. The hair professionals decided that my pelt was badly damaged – additional attempts at chemical restoration were not advised. “Did I want my hair to fall out?” Looking back, I should have replied with a hearty “Yes!” A flowery scarf tied about my bald head, and sympathetic glances would have been more desirable than the attention I received from my schoolmates.
I washed my hair daily with a brown rinse (temporary color) to cover up the gray. I also had a mess of a perm to deal with. Perms require very little maintenance; I could just run a pick through it. The stunning results were that I resembled a poodle – one that desperately needed an appointment at Petsmart. When my curls finally grew out, I was hesitant to try anything permanent.
The temporary solution was the curling iron. I bought fat ones and skinny ones. Some came with steamers, and others were coated with precious metals. I studied the instructions and observed my sisters, my friends, and even my sisters’ friends. No amount of studying can compensate for a lack of natural ability. I was rarely successful. When I stared at my mirror image I was confused about which way to turn. Somehow each twist produced unexpected results. A pattern may have been emerging, but I couldn’t grasp it. I felt like I was parallel parking a 24 foot Suburban with a camping trailer hitched to the bumper.
Later, as a young mother with two toddler boys, I entered the age of hot curlers. I jumped on the bandwagon late, but made up for it by purchasing two sets of CONAIR Hot Setter Pro's. They were much easier to use than curling irons. I settled into a routine. Thanks to CONAIR, I was able to keep the big hair look well into the 90’s, long after it was passé. I secured my loose, bouncy mane with AQUANET EXTRA HOLD so I could face hurricane force winds with every hair glued firmly in place.
Most recently, hair straighteners arrived along with a cultural preference for sleek and tidy arrangements instead of the flowing, playful locks of yesteryear. Volume is still preferred which makes the desired look, straight but not flat, impossible. I purchased a straightener, and had my hair cut in the style of the gal from The Devil Wore Prada – the young one, not Meryl Streep. My commitment to using a straightener is sporadic. It’s easier to operate than a curling iron, but it still requires time and patience, and the effort expended rarely matches any feelings of satisfaction I receive. I’m still waiting for a product that I can apply to my husband’s eyes so that he can be under the illusion that I have the hair of his dreams.
But instead of purchasing products to solve hair problems, I’m interested in products that solve life’s problems. When I think about Wisdom, the way you personify her, I am filled with dread. I’ve felt the sting of her reproof when I reject her advice. She’s laughed at my disasters, mocked me when I’m overtaken by calamity, and ignored me when it was too late. She makes me feel like all my missteps in life have put me on a path where I will be paying the piper for a long time. I’m reminded of an interview I saw with a man who’d survived the Tsunami in Sri Lanka. His son was torn from his arms; he lost his entire family. He was a devout Buddhist, and from his perspective, it was Karma. “I must have done something terrible in a past life,” he reasoned, “to have something this bad happen to me.”
By Proverbs 3, I was reflecting upon all the wrong I’ve done in this life. I thought of the discouragement I’ve caused, the disrespect, disloyalty, anger, and pain I’ve inflicted. If wisdom and lack of wisdom is limited to the constructs of Karma, then I have some bad times ahead of me! I have reaped negative consequences from the mistakes I have sown. In the interest of changing my future harvests, I decided to do things differently and was hoping your advice would take me in the right direction. When it came to applying the wisdom you recommend, however, it is a bigger task than I initially thought. It is SOOOOOOOOO big, as a matter of fact, that I sometimes feel like giving up. The more I try to “understand,” the less I really know. It’s easy to feel like a failure.
I sought wisdom and understanding in tackling the problem of a malfunctioning ALL-IN-ONE printer, copier, scanner. I read the manual, examined the inner parts, and observed the movements in a printing cycle. I tried cleaning and dusting all the parts. I found a place where ink had leaked and pooled and spent hours cleaning it. I felt like I was tried EVERYTHING. Still, it didn’t work.
God, in His mysterious ways was preparing me for the path straightener. My knowledge is only part of the equation. So, in the interest of NOT leaning on my understanding I began to acknowledge God in my “office machine repair” ways. I thought of the broken printer and confessed how far my understanding and troubleshooting had gotten me. I then leaned on God to supply what my understanding lacked. And that morning, the printer worked.
I meditated on the path straightener instructions of Proverbs 3:5-6. “Trust in the Lord with all my heart. Don’t lean on my own understanding. In all my ways, acknowledge Him. And He will keep my paths straight.”
To be honest with you, office machine repair is just a beginning. I can think of dozens of applications for a path straightener: tangled conversations, scrambled emotions, jumbled intentions, and a rats nest of hurt feelings to name a few. As much as I appreciate understanding, what excites me most is the moment when the announcer says, “But wait, there’s more!” and Proverbs 3:5-6 was that for me. All that I comprehend pales in comparison to knowing that something greater than my understanding is available to me. And I don't have to pay shipping and handling to get it.
Today, you can buy a solution for almost every problem. A quick dial of an 800 number, and a life-changing product will be delivered to your doorstep within days. I can’t help but notice how interested others are in my solving my problems, restoring my health, making my life easier, and in fixing my hair. That’s right, my hair. In fact, the only ones more interested in my fixing my hair problems are my two teenage daughters – and their interest is mainly self-preservation. At 14 and 16 it’s possible to die of embarrassment.
My personal perspective about hairstyle is decidedly Calvinistic, and unfortunately, I am not one of the predestined. Still, great hair and the latest styles hold a fascination, much like the feelings that sweep over me when watching a contortionist. I can’t imagine experiencing it, but it’s mesmerizing to observe.
"As Seen on TV” hair products fall into one of four types. Volumizers, like Bumpits and special hair growth stimulating shampoos, are intended to create the illusion of more hair. Styling aids, like Hairigami, the Revo styling brush, and the Hair Zinger promise to transform the user with amazing styles from sophisticated to sexy. Many of these products come with a detailed instruction book or video that makes sense to the pre-ordained, but is gibberish to me.
The category of hair products that tempts me are the “Disaster Remedy” products. The disaster of split ends is discussed by a fabulous male stylist with a thick European accent. He describes his treacherous encounters with split ends with the gravity of a Dr. Salk. His invention, the Split Ender promises to eliminate the scourge of split ends forever. Greyban, a root concealer pen is essential for covering up pesky gray tresses. Hair removal products like Smooth Away and the Facial Hair Trimmer promise to break the cycle of endless shaving, plucking, and tweezing. Most promise a “painless” remedy, a relative term, as anyone who was suckered into buying an Epilady can attest.
A very long time ago I went to bed with a wad of gum in my mouth. My subconscious mind, unaware of the peanut butter solution, directed my body to the kitchen where I proceeded to snip the gum out of my hair. When I awoke the next morning, my conscious mind assessed the situation and came to the conclusion that Mom was going to kill me. I decided a baseball cap would look especially good with my outfit that day. Mom, in the kitchen, was contemplating the loose hairs scattered about the kitchen floor. She had little time to speculate. I arrived for breakfast, baseball cap strategically positioned over the exposed area of my scalp. I’ll never forget the look on Mom’s face as her face sunk into her hands. The rest of that morning is a blur.
My next hair disaster didn’t occur until my senior year in high school. I was a fashion late bloomer. My older sisters were “frosting” their hair and somehow I was swept up in the potential of sporting a sophisticated new hairstyle. Val and Rebecca gave my hair a frosting. I liked it! I became almost giddy with admiration for my new look. I decided to jump all the way in and add a “perm.” Sixty of my hard earned dollars were wasted at the salon on what I now refer to as the “Great Hair Calamity of 1982.”
The interaction of the chemicals used to produce the highlights and the chemicals used for the perm leeched all the color from the highlighted portions of my hair leaving it GREY. The timing couldn’t be worse. It was a week before my senior pictures, and I had a head full of gray hair. The hair professionals decided that my pelt was badly damaged – additional attempts at chemical restoration were not advised. “Did I want my hair to fall out?” Looking back, I should have replied with a hearty “Yes!” A flowery scarf tied about my bald head, and sympathetic glances would have been more desirable than the attention I received from my schoolmates.
I washed my hair daily with a brown rinse (temporary color) to cover up the gray. I also had a mess of a perm to deal with. Perms require very little maintenance; I could just run a pick through it. The stunning results were that I resembled a poodle – one that desperately needed an appointment at Petsmart. When my curls finally grew out, I was hesitant to try anything permanent.
The temporary solution was the curling iron. I bought fat ones and skinny ones. Some came with steamers, and others were coated with precious metals. I studied the instructions and observed my sisters, my friends, and even my sisters’ friends. No amount of studying can compensate for a lack of natural ability. I was rarely successful. When I stared at my mirror image I was confused about which way to turn. Somehow each twist produced unexpected results. A pattern may have been emerging, but I couldn’t grasp it. I felt like I was parallel parking a 24 foot Suburban with a camping trailer hitched to the bumper.
Later, as a young mother with two toddler boys, I entered the age of hot curlers. I jumped on the bandwagon late, but made up for it by purchasing two sets of CONAIR Hot Setter Pro's. They were much easier to use than curling irons. I settled into a routine. Thanks to CONAIR, I was able to keep the big hair look well into the 90’s, long after it was passé. I secured my loose, bouncy mane with AQUANET EXTRA HOLD so I could face hurricane force winds with every hair glued firmly in place.
Most recently, hair straighteners arrived along with a cultural preference for sleek and tidy arrangements instead of the flowing, playful locks of yesteryear. Volume is still preferred which makes the desired look, straight but not flat, impossible. I purchased a straightener, and had my hair cut in the style of the gal from The Devil Wore Prada – the young one, not Meryl Streep. My commitment to using a straightener is sporadic. It’s easier to operate than a curling iron, but it still requires time and patience, and the effort expended rarely matches any feelings of satisfaction I receive. I’m still waiting for a product that I can apply to my husband’s eyes so that he can be under the illusion that I have the hair of his dreams.
But instead of purchasing products to solve hair problems, I’m interested in products that solve life’s problems. When I think about Wisdom, the way you personify her, I am filled with dread. I’ve felt the sting of her reproof when I reject her advice. She’s laughed at my disasters, mocked me when I’m overtaken by calamity, and ignored me when it was too late. She makes me feel like all my missteps in life have put me on a path where I will be paying the piper for a long time. I’m reminded of an interview I saw with a man who’d survived the Tsunami in Sri Lanka. His son was torn from his arms; he lost his entire family. He was a devout Buddhist, and from his perspective, it was Karma. “I must have done something terrible in a past life,” he reasoned, “to have something this bad happen to me.”
By Proverbs 3, I was reflecting upon all the wrong I’ve done in this life. I thought of the discouragement I’ve caused, the disrespect, disloyalty, anger, and pain I’ve inflicted. If wisdom and lack of wisdom is limited to the constructs of Karma, then I have some bad times ahead of me! I have reaped negative consequences from the mistakes I have sown. In the interest of changing my future harvests, I decided to do things differently and was hoping your advice would take me in the right direction. When it came to applying the wisdom you recommend, however, it is a bigger task than I initially thought. It is SOOOOOOOOO big, as a matter of fact, that I sometimes feel like giving up. The more I try to “understand,” the less I really know. It’s easy to feel like a failure.
I sought wisdom and understanding in tackling the problem of a malfunctioning ALL-IN-ONE printer, copier, scanner. I read the manual, examined the inner parts, and observed the movements in a printing cycle. I tried cleaning and dusting all the parts. I found a place where ink had leaked and pooled and spent hours cleaning it. I felt like I was tried EVERYTHING. Still, it didn’t work.
God, in His mysterious ways was preparing me for the path straightener. My knowledge is only part of the equation. So, in the interest of NOT leaning on my understanding I began to acknowledge God in my “office machine repair” ways. I thought of the broken printer and confessed how far my understanding and troubleshooting had gotten me. I then leaned on God to supply what my understanding lacked. And that morning, the printer worked.
I meditated on the path straightener instructions of Proverbs 3:5-6. “Trust in the Lord with all my heart. Don’t lean on my own understanding. In all my ways, acknowledge Him. And He will keep my paths straight.”
To be honest with you, office machine repair is just a beginning. I can think of dozens of applications for a path straightener: tangled conversations, scrambled emotions, jumbled intentions, and a rats nest of hurt feelings to name a few. As much as I appreciate understanding, what excites me most is the moment when the announcer says, “But wait, there’s more!” and Proverbs 3:5-6 was that for me. All that I comprehend pales in comparison to knowing that something greater than my understanding is available to me. And I don't have to pay shipping and handling to get it.
Thursday, January 28, 2010
Dear Solomon - I'm Working on My Grip
Dear Solomon,
Before I report on my current progress I’d like you to consider how well I’ve done with some of the practical applications in Proverbs 1 and 2. I was stellar in the “do not” department. Here are some examples of ways I’ve heeded your warnings:
• I didn’t waylay any harmless souls.
• I did not lie in wait.
• I avoided throwing in my lot with thieves. (Unless Mafia Wars counts – does it?)
• I didn’t rejoice in the perverseness of evil.
• I did not follow an immoral woman along the path to death (And, for extra credit, I didn’t lead anyone along that path either.)
I’d give myself a passing grade in the following areas as well.
• I paid attention to parental advice.
• I sought wisdom and understanding
I’m not sure how you’d score the final item, but I’m confident that I made progress. I listened more, criticized less, and saw things from another perspective. I get the feeling that you’re setting me up. Just as I began to ooze confidence, I encountered chapter 3.
LOVE and FAITHFULNESS are big ideas. The amplified version gives me a greater sense of my shortcomings. Love = mercy and kindness, shutting out all hatred and selfishness. Faithfulness = truth, shutting out all deliberate hypocrisy. The message puts it this way.
How is my grip on love and loyalty? Does the tablet of my heart resemble the art young lovers carve into trees? Or is it more like an inner city pedestrian overpass tagged with hatred, selfishness, and hypocrisy? At the risk of exposing my inner jerk, I will confess that I love my family, and I love Chipotle; but I consistently communicate more approval and satisfaction towards Chipotle. My husband is much more valuable and worthy of my adoration than anything on their menu. Yet my heart is so marred by selfishness and hypocrisy that it ignores him and turns somersaults when the tantalizing aroma of a carnitas burrito wafts into my olfactory range. As much as I’d like to think of myself as a work in progress, sometimes, I’m just a piece of work.
My heart is difficult to fix, but reformation through fashion neckwear could be the answer! I’m experimenting with a silver engraved heart necklace that daughter #2 gave me for Christmas. Each morning I follow your advice and "bind" this symbol of love and loyalty around my neck. Throughout the day I touch it gently to remind me keep my grip. It seems to be effective for everyday circumstances, but it was no match for the conflict I faced at work earlier this week. No amount of toying or fiddling generated warm and devoted feelings toward my employer. For those circumstances, I’ll need to upgrade to a scarf – something more substantial so I can give it a sharper tug. I’m looking for one to keep in my desk drawer.
Can you believe I only made it to verse 3? This project is much harder than I thought it would be. Your advice is changing my life – one nugget at a time.
Thanks,
-bw-
Before I report on my current progress I’d like you to consider how well I’ve done with some of the practical applications in Proverbs 1 and 2. I was stellar in the “do not” department. Here are some examples of ways I’ve heeded your warnings:
• I didn’t waylay any harmless souls.
• I did not lie in wait.
• I avoided throwing in my lot with thieves. (Unless Mafia Wars counts – does it?)
• I didn’t rejoice in the perverseness of evil.
• I did not follow an immoral woman along the path to death (And, for extra credit, I didn’t lead anyone along that path either.)
I’d give myself a passing grade in the following areas as well.
• I paid attention to parental advice.
• I sought wisdom and understanding
I’m not sure how you’d score the final item, but I’m confident that I made progress. I listened more, criticized less, and saw things from another perspective. I get the feeling that you’re setting me up. Just as I began to ooze confidence, I encountered chapter 3.
“Let love and faithfulness never leave you; bind them around your neck, write them on the tablets of your heart. Then you will win favor and a good name in the sight of God and man.”
LOVE and FAITHFULNESS are big ideas. The amplified version gives me a greater sense of my shortcomings. Love = mercy and kindness, shutting out all hatred and selfishness. Faithfulness = truth, shutting out all deliberate hypocrisy. The message puts it this way.
“Don’t lose your grip on love and loyalty, tie them around your neck; carve their initials on your heart. Earn a reputation for living well in God’s eyes and in the eyes of the people.”
How is my grip on love and loyalty? Does the tablet of my heart resemble the art young lovers carve into trees? Or is it more like an inner city pedestrian overpass tagged with hatred, selfishness, and hypocrisy? At the risk of exposing my inner jerk, I will confess that I love my family, and I love Chipotle; but I consistently communicate more approval and satisfaction towards Chipotle. My husband is much more valuable and worthy of my adoration than anything on their menu. Yet my heart is so marred by selfishness and hypocrisy that it ignores him and turns somersaults when the tantalizing aroma of a carnitas burrito wafts into my olfactory range. As much as I’d like to think of myself as a work in progress, sometimes, I’m just a piece of work.
My heart is difficult to fix, but reformation through fashion neckwear could be the answer! I’m experimenting with a silver engraved heart necklace that daughter #2 gave me for Christmas. Each morning I follow your advice and "bind" this symbol of love and loyalty around my neck. Throughout the day I touch it gently to remind me keep my grip. It seems to be effective for everyday circumstances, but it was no match for the conflict I faced at work earlier this week. No amount of toying or fiddling generated warm and devoted feelings toward my employer. For those circumstances, I’ll need to upgrade to a scarf – something more substantial so I can give it a sharper tug. I’m looking for one to keep in my desk drawer.
Can you believe I only made it to verse 3? This project is much harder than I thought it would be. Your advice is changing my life – one nugget at a time.
Thanks,
-bw-
Monday, January 18, 2010
Dear Solomon, Have You Ever Played the Ungame?
Dear Solomon,
According to you, I should seek understanding. Understanding is a fuzzy concept. How do I know I’ve achieved it? Let me tell you about things I understand and things I don’t understand.
I understand why placeholders are used in a multi-digit multiplication algorithm and the need for both explicit phonetic instruction AND exposure to a rich vocabulary to develop strong decoding and comprehension skills. These two “understandings” were birthed from years working as a teacher and studying how kids learn. In educational pedagogy there are other things I don’t understand like theories of Cognitive Development, Social Cognition, and Control Theory. I’ve studied these ideas, took and passed exams relating to them, participated in group discussions, and even wrote essays about them. So why is it that I still don’t “understand” them?
I understand how to ski and snowboard. I’m not advanced in either pursuit, and there are times my body doesn’t cooperate with the theories that my brain is attempting to execute. I’ve swooshed all the way down the mountain on skis (repeatedly) and transversed across the slopes slowly on a snowboard. Due to my outstanding efforts I awarded myself an “understanding” merit badge – not a blue ribbon or an advanced award, but a badge nonetheless. I also awarded myself a “THANKGODIDIDN’TGETACONCUSSION” badge for nursing a throbbing headache from smacking it on the ground repeatedly (while learning to snowboard) and later earned a “SERIOUSLYYOUARETOOOLDFORTHIS” award when fear of experiencing additional soreness led me to give up in the middle of my fifth snowboarding lesson. I don’t understand moguls, half-pipes, rails, and terrain parks. My lack of understanding contributes to the pleasure I experience while oooh-ing and ahhh-ing the Olympic endeavors of athletes like Shaun “the Flying Tomato” White.
One reason I enjoy watching sports, whether I fully understand them or not, is that I understand competition. I grew up in a “game playing” home. I remember learning to sort my cards according to suit and number. There were also opportunities for instruction in attentiveness; Dad had little tolerance for distraction. When it was my turn, I was to be ready. Intensive training in concentration took place at the cribbage board. Occasionally, when I finished counting a hand, Dad would ask, “Is that all?” That was my cue to re-examine. Just as often, he would give a quick nod, rattle off what I had missed, and march his peg closer to the skunk line.
As a teen, I didn’t understand the UnGame. Why would its manufacturers make it look just like a game when it’s so Un-EVERYTHING? Setting it up required a paradigm shift. 1) Agree upon the length of the game. I examined the instructions for clues and found the following rules: “No Challenging,” “No Probing,” “No Sarcasm,” and “Remain Silent.” I immediately determined that this was UnFun and UnWorthy of any length of my time. My hostess, on the other hand, had received this as a Christmas gift and had an intense desire that it be opened and played. More importantly, one of her guests was a gentleman of interest. The accompanying surge of hormones clouded her judgment and made the stack of “lighthearted” and “serious” topics exceedingly appealing. Despite the fact that I managed to break all of the rules during the set up period, I caved in and agreed to play for the suggested game length (45 minutes). I, along with several other “players” suffered in silence while the red and blue markers bared their souls and spouted off tender and encouraging affirmations on cue.
The UnGame had one lofty purpose that I’m beginning to appreciate. By playing it, participants developed understanding. They practiced listening, communicating, respecting, and reflecting. Mastery of the Ungame could have been beneficial. I recently read an explanation of how children learn to solve problems from their parents. In one study, children who saw their Mom and Dad attempting to understand each other, tended to value and use cooperative strategies in problem solving; whereas children who observed competition and fighting between their parents tended to argue and strive for their own ways. As I read this I gulped out loud. Did my competitive habits explain the years of scrapping and jostling I’ve refereed?
Am I getting closer Solomon? Can I understand things I don’t experience firsthand by following the rules of the UnGame? Can I understand people and events? Here are my understanding strategies for 2010 inspired by you and the UnGame. Listen. Spend quality time with others. Create a loving and caring environment that is a safe place for others to open up and be honest. Do not criticize, use sarcasm, judge, or compete. Remain silent.
Thanks again for another dose of your weekly wisdom,
-bw-
According to you, I should seek understanding. Understanding is a fuzzy concept. How do I know I’ve achieved it? Let me tell you about things I understand and things I don’t understand.
I understand why placeholders are used in a multi-digit multiplication algorithm and the need for both explicit phonetic instruction AND exposure to a rich vocabulary to develop strong decoding and comprehension skills. These two “understandings” were birthed from years working as a teacher and studying how kids learn. In educational pedagogy there are other things I don’t understand like theories of Cognitive Development, Social Cognition, and Control Theory. I’ve studied these ideas, took and passed exams relating to them, participated in group discussions, and even wrote essays about them. So why is it that I still don’t “understand” them?
I understand how to ski and snowboard. I’m not advanced in either pursuit, and there are times my body doesn’t cooperate with the theories that my brain is attempting to execute. I’ve swooshed all the way down the mountain on skis (repeatedly) and transversed across the slopes slowly on a snowboard. Due to my outstanding efforts I awarded myself an “understanding” merit badge – not a blue ribbon or an advanced award, but a badge nonetheless. I also awarded myself a “THANKGODIDIDN’TGETACONCUSSION” badge for nursing a throbbing headache from smacking it on the ground repeatedly (while learning to snowboard) and later earned a “SERIOUSLYYOUARETOOOLDFORTHIS” award when fear of experiencing additional soreness led me to give up in the middle of my fifth snowboarding lesson. I don’t understand moguls, half-pipes, rails, and terrain parks. My lack of understanding contributes to the pleasure I experience while oooh-ing and ahhh-ing the Olympic endeavors of athletes like Shaun “the Flying Tomato” White.
One reason I enjoy watching sports, whether I fully understand them or not, is that I understand competition. I grew up in a “game playing” home. I remember learning to sort my cards according to suit and number. There were also opportunities for instruction in attentiveness; Dad had little tolerance for distraction. When it was my turn, I was to be ready. Intensive training in concentration took place at the cribbage board. Occasionally, when I finished counting a hand, Dad would ask, “Is that all?” That was my cue to re-examine. Just as often, he would give a quick nod, rattle off what I had missed, and march his peg closer to the skunk line.
As a teen, I didn’t understand the UnGame. Why would its manufacturers make it look just like a game when it’s so Un-EVERYTHING? Setting it up required a paradigm shift. 1) Agree upon the length of the game. I examined the instructions for clues and found the following rules: “No Challenging,” “No Probing,” “No Sarcasm,” and “Remain Silent.” I immediately determined that this was UnFun and UnWorthy of any length of my time. My hostess, on the other hand, had received this as a Christmas gift and had an intense desire that it be opened and played. More importantly, one of her guests was a gentleman of interest. The accompanying surge of hormones clouded her judgment and made the stack of “lighthearted” and “serious” topics exceedingly appealing. Despite the fact that I managed to break all of the rules during the set up period, I caved in and agreed to play for the suggested game length (45 minutes). I, along with several other “players” suffered in silence while the red and blue markers bared their souls and spouted off tender and encouraging affirmations on cue.
The UnGame had one lofty purpose that I’m beginning to appreciate. By playing it, participants developed understanding. They practiced listening, communicating, respecting, and reflecting. Mastery of the Ungame could have been beneficial. I recently read an explanation of how children learn to solve problems from their parents. In one study, children who saw their Mom and Dad attempting to understand each other, tended to value and use cooperative strategies in problem solving; whereas children who observed competition and fighting between their parents tended to argue and strive for their own ways. As I read this I gulped out loud. Did my competitive habits explain the years of scrapping and jostling I’ve refereed?
Am I getting closer Solomon? Can I understand things I don’t experience firsthand by following the rules of the UnGame? Can I understand people and events? Here are my understanding strategies for 2010 inspired by you and the UnGame. Listen. Spend quality time with others. Create a loving and caring environment that is a safe place for others to open up and be honest. Do not criticize, use sarcasm, judge, or compete. Remain silent.
Thanks again for another dose of your weekly wisdom,
-bw-
Tuesday, January 5, 2010
Dear Solomon, You May Want to Tone it Down a Little...
Dear Solomon,
It’s week one and I’ve been contemplating the first chapter of Proverbs. The way you introduced your compilation of wisdom convinced me that I can use your help. My life has grown more and more complicated over the years. I have three part time jobs, a fledgling business, a family, and a menagerie of animals. I am faced with dozens of choices every day, and I can rattle off my failures more rapidly than I can identify my successes.
Like most parents, I flourished my pom-poms when I read verses 8-9. I am a big fan of children listening to their parents – especially my children listening to me. I decided to APPLY these verses in a new way by identifying instructions and teachings that MY parents passed along to me, and do things THEIR way.
As I took down the outside Christmas decorations, I was careful to coil the extension cords EXACTLY how Dad did it. I also repackaged each item into its original box just the way it came and sealed the box tops. The entire time I heard Dad saying, “Do it right the first time, and you won’t have to do it again.” It felt like Dad was right there with me as I went about my chores. Embarrassed at what he would think, I quickly straightened up my tool shelf in the garage. Seeing the little jars of nuts, bolts, and screws made me think of how often I followed his ways without thinking about it.
Following Mom’s advice, I put myself on kitchen alert. My counters were wiped often, and I snatched dirty dishes out of the sink with a swiftness of a Kung Fu move. My goal – leave no dishes undone at bedtime. It was nice seeing a spotless kitchen first thing in the morning.
When I ran errands on Sunday afternoon, I noticed that the gas gauge had dipped below half a tank. Following Dad’s lead I pulled into a service station even though the “low fuel” light had not yet come on. It was actually pleasant to pump my gas without rushing in the sunshine.
Your analogy of wisdom crying in the public squares, at the gateways of the city, and in the noisy streets inspired me to look for wisdom wherever people gathered. I started at Walmart where I found “Spend less, live better.” That was good advice. On the radio I heard, “Your right thinking sometimes produces right actions; other times it’s right actions that produce right thinking.” I tucked that little gem away to ponder and use later.
I researched advice on television and radio – more public forums. I found Dr. Phil, Dr. Oz, Suze Orman, Dr. Laura, Dave Ramsey, and Oprah. Each had something wise to say. In the bookstore I found shelves and shelves of advice on all subjects. I accessed advice from Dear Abby, Miss Manners, and the Ex-Ettiquette folks in the local newspapers. You are right, wisdom is EVERYWHERE and she isn’t whispering.
Can I give you a little advice? Consider toning down your personification of wisdom to appeal to today’s audience. People don’t want to be laughed at, mocked, or subjected to a retaliatory snub. Your portrayal of wisdom makes Dr. Laura seem soft. I know you’re trying to warn me about the harshness of the consequences that follow foolish choices, and I appreciate that. (Believe me, I’d rather read about harsh things than experience them.) Anyway, it’s just a thought.
So, that’s my progress on Proverbs 1 so far. It’s hard to believe the first week of the year is almost over. Can’t wait to see what you teach me next week.
Sincerely,
-bw-
It’s week one and I’ve been contemplating the first chapter of Proverbs. The way you introduced your compilation of wisdom convinced me that I can use your help. My life has grown more and more complicated over the years. I have three part time jobs, a fledgling business, a family, and a menagerie of animals. I am faced with dozens of choices every day, and I can rattle off my failures more rapidly than I can identify my successes.
Like most parents, I flourished my pom-poms when I read verses 8-9. I am a big fan of children listening to their parents – especially my children listening to me. I decided to APPLY these verses in a new way by identifying instructions and teachings that MY parents passed along to me, and do things THEIR way.
As I took down the outside Christmas decorations, I was careful to coil the extension cords EXACTLY how Dad did it. I also repackaged each item into its original box just the way it came and sealed the box tops. The entire time I heard Dad saying, “Do it right the first time, and you won’t have to do it again.” It felt like Dad was right there with me as I went about my chores. Embarrassed at what he would think, I quickly straightened up my tool shelf in the garage. Seeing the little jars of nuts, bolts, and screws made me think of how often I followed his ways without thinking about it.
Following Mom’s advice, I put myself on kitchen alert. My counters were wiped often, and I snatched dirty dishes out of the sink with a swiftness of a Kung Fu move. My goal – leave no dishes undone at bedtime. It was nice seeing a spotless kitchen first thing in the morning.
When I ran errands on Sunday afternoon, I noticed that the gas gauge had dipped below half a tank. Following Dad’s lead I pulled into a service station even though the “low fuel” light had not yet come on. It was actually pleasant to pump my gas without rushing in the sunshine.
Your analogy of wisdom crying in the public squares, at the gateways of the city, and in the noisy streets inspired me to look for wisdom wherever people gathered. I started at Walmart where I found “Spend less, live better.” That was good advice. On the radio I heard, “Your right thinking sometimes produces right actions; other times it’s right actions that produce right thinking.” I tucked that little gem away to ponder and use later.
I researched advice on television and radio – more public forums. I found Dr. Phil, Dr. Oz, Suze Orman, Dr. Laura, Dave Ramsey, and Oprah. Each had something wise to say. In the bookstore I found shelves and shelves of advice on all subjects. I accessed advice from Dear Abby, Miss Manners, and the Ex-Ettiquette folks in the local newspapers. You are right, wisdom is EVERYWHERE and she isn’t whispering.
Can I give you a little advice? Consider toning down your personification of wisdom to appeal to today’s audience. People don’t want to be laughed at, mocked, or subjected to a retaliatory snub. Your portrayal of wisdom makes Dr. Laura seem soft. I know you’re trying to warn me about the harshness of the consequences that follow foolish choices, and I appreciate that. (Believe me, I’d rather read about harsh things than experience them.) Anyway, it’s just a thought.
So, that’s my progress on Proverbs 1 so far. It’s hard to believe the first week of the year is almost over. Can’t wait to see what you teach me next week.
Sincerely,
-bw-
Friday, January 1, 2010
Dear Solomon, Have You Been to Walmart Recently?
Dear Solomon,
Last month, I discovered everything I needed in life is in aisles 11 and 12 at Walmart. In the laundry detergent section, jugs and boxes whisper their promises from four-color glossy labels. CHEER! What a wonderful and exhilarating thing to have for those occasions when I face 10 loads of post-camping-trip drudgery. BOUNCE? Maybe using that will add a spring to my step? BOLD. Hmmm. Although there are times when I need this, I will have to be careful to use if sparingly on the kids’ things. Shout! That’s how I feel about stains too! Gain. I will have to use this selectively, and it must never, ever touch the bathroom scales.
When I gaze at the shelves at the end of the aisle; I have to pinch myself. The Joy I need is nestled amongst the liquid dish soaps. I can barely contain myself when I see that Palmolive has reached a new level offering custom aromatherapy formulas that promise to turn my future dishwashing experiences into mini-spas. I can choose from “anti-stress,” “tranquility” or “energy.” I need all three.
And have you seen the latest in air fresheners? The old Febreeze is no match for the Airwick line. I can choose from “relaxation lavender & chamomile,” “calming cherry and magnolia,” “island paradise” or “hidden pleasures.” Glade offers me “angel whispers,” “clean linen” and “sunny days.” All will find a place in my basket.
The next section contains oven cleaners. Easy Off is a great concept that you might want to include in your next publication. If you could work out a dieter’s formula - it will be a best seller. In the toilet bowl section there's a little something called Vanish. Now, that's something I’d like to have on hand for my problems. Fantastik multi-surface cleaner sounds like a nice pick-me-up. Scrubbing Bubbles. Thank you. SOS? How do they know? It's all about knowing your audience and these writers know me!
It's going to be difficult to stick with my plan if these labels deliver on their promises - especially that unassuming bottle of yellowish liquid on the very bottom shelf. It captures me like a deer caught in the bright headlights of hope. Mr. Kleen, a genie in a bottle, muscles bulging, rag in hand promises to be the man of my dreams. He beckons. I'm thinking I should start with a gallon.
And did you know I can buy Resolve? I plan to apply it liberally from head to toe. I RESOLVE to eat healthier, exercise, do more things that energize me and stay away from those things that drag me down. I can use a can of PLEDGE too. Perhaps it will make my PLEDGES stick. It can't hurt to try.
These products make my spirit soar and as a new decade unfolds I am eager to immerse myself in their life changing resources. I'm sure you're shaking your head in amazement by now, or perhaps you're intimidated by the competition, but I still plan on reading a chapter a week from your stuff - kind of like a back up plan - just in case my inventory fails me.
My progress on chapter 1 is coming soon.
Sincerely,
-bw-
Last month, I discovered everything I needed in life is in aisles 11 and 12 at Walmart. In the laundry detergent section, jugs and boxes whisper their promises from four-color glossy labels. CHEER! What a wonderful and exhilarating thing to have for those occasions when I face 10 loads of post-camping-trip drudgery. BOUNCE? Maybe using that will add a spring to my step? BOLD. Hmmm. Although there are times when I need this, I will have to be careful to use if sparingly on the kids’ things. Shout! That’s how I feel about stains too! Gain. I will have to use this selectively, and it must never, ever touch the bathroom scales.
When I gaze at the shelves at the end of the aisle; I have to pinch myself. The Joy I need is nestled amongst the liquid dish soaps. I can barely contain myself when I see that Palmolive has reached a new level offering custom aromatherapy formulas that promise to turn my future dishwashing experiences into mini-spas. I can choose from “anti-stress,” “tranquility” or “energy.” I need all three.
And have you seen the latest in air fresheners? The old Febreeze is no match for the Airwick line. I can choose from “relaxation lavender & chamomile,” “calming cherry and magnolia,” “island paradise” or “hidden pleasures.” Glade offers me “angel whispers,” “clean linen” and “sunny days.” All will find a place in my basket.
The next section contains oven cleaners. Easy Off is a great concept that you might want to include in your next publication. If you could work out a dieter’s formula - it will be a best seller. In the toilet bowl section there's a little something called Vanish. Now, that's something I’d like to have on hand for my problems. Fantastik multi-surface cleaner sounds like a nice pick-me-up. Scrubbing Bubbles. Thank you. SOS? How do they know? It's all about knowing your audience and these writers know me!
It's going to be difficult to stick with my plan if these labels deliver on their promises - especially that unassuming bottle of yellowish liquid on the very bottom shelf. It captures me like a deer caught in the bright headlights of hope. Mr. Kleen, a genie in a bottle, muscles bulging, rag in hand promises to be the man of my dreams. He beckons. I'm thinking I should start with a gallon.
And did you know I can buy Resolve? I plan to apply it liberally from head to toe. I RESOLVE to eat healthier, exercise, do more things that energize me and stay away from those things that drag me down. I can use a can of PLEDGE too. Perhaps it will make my PLEDGES stick. It can't hurt to try.
These products make my spirit soar and as a new decade unfolds I am eager to immerse myself in their life changing resources. I'm sure you're shaking your head in amazement by now, or perhaps you're intimidated by the competition, but I still plan on reading a chapter a week from your stuff - kind of like a back up plan - just in case my inventory fails me.
My progress on chapter 1 is coming soon.
Sincerely,
-bw-
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