My Students and I

How much do I  love my students? I love them in so many ways. Imagine -- a sandwich counter worker, a scrap metal worker, a flooring worker, a windmill factory worker, a hospital worker, a Wallmart worker, two nursing mothers, a mortuary science student, one married couple, two sets of boyfriend/girlfriends, and sisters who are both single mothers --all this amazing opportunity in my Thursday night Composition I class.

In a way, we go together because they're all beaten down from jobs, kids, and school. And so am I. Beaten down may be an overly melodramatic way to put it, but my point is I think we get each other because we're all trying to do it all. Why else would anyone teach or take a three hour night class?

By the time we reach the final third hour, I know we're getting to the end of every one's brain power, including mine. I try to keep the three hours interesting with small groups, class participation, audio/visual diversions, and a plentiful supply of hard candy strewn across the center of the table around which we sit. I dismiss at about 8:45 pm and my students dart out of the room like rockets. I don't blame them. They still have 30-40 minutes of driving in the dark. They return to homes in all directions, north, south, east, and west.

So, here's the magic. Last Thursday I returned  their first batch of graded papers, essays that I was terrified to grade. I got some advise from a dear professor friend on how to set up the next assignment; but for this one, I just had me to go on. Grading essays is almost as terrifying as being a parent--you just don't want to shut anyone down. Yet you want the grade to be fair and academically useful. And so I decided to make up for my inexperience by giving each paper a lot of consideration. I went over each student work three times and wrote tons of comments including what worked well and suggestions on where to stretch the writing.

Yes, the magic. And so it was 8:45 p.m. and time to dart out the door. I returned their graded papers and excused the class. . .and. . .where's the darting? No one darted. My students just all sat there in their seats and poured over my comments, unique to each essay. And so who darted? I did.

It's a moment when you realize the power you have over others. And it's frightening. Yet I understand, because I do the same thing when my monthly packet is returned from my mentor. When I see that red, white, and blue postal priority mailer arrive I drop everything and immediately rip it open. On the spot, I read all the comments front to back. No matter what. I read my mentor's suggestions over and over again. And then I put them somewhere special knowing that I will probably read them again in the future.

 My writing mentor is always extraordinarily kind and useful. I have great teaching role models.

Why am I blogging when I should be reading, annotating, writing, preparing my class, participating in the book discussion board?

Because I am.

Thanks so much for coming over!

With love, T

Who ate the What?

Match the letters with a number. Multiple matches may occur.

a. scrambled eggs
b. popcorn
c. boiled pasta with butter
d. fresh smelling spaghetti and meatballs leftover from ten days ago
e. girl scout cookies (one entire box of carmel delights)
f. canned garbanzo beans and frozen broccoli, sauteed in olive oil, onions, and garlic

1. the father
2. the mother
3. the sister
4. the brother
5. none of the above due to parental disagreement: odor vs. time

Average suburban family has just returned from normal spring break. Father, mother, sister, and brother are serenely smiling at you now. Mother tilts her head in satisfaction. You may calmly return the smile and offer a polite "hello." Wait a minute, stop this narrative -- where's the dog? Where's the average suburban family dog? You may now holler in panic, "Where's the DOG GONE DOG!" Calm down. There are zero dogs and two cats. (There's always got to be a rebel in the 'burbs.)

Average suburban family is indeed serenely smiling because they are over budget and under no circumstance going out again tonight. Over tired and under the weather. (Actually, just the father is that, but mostly Ok.) They've decided to eat only what they can find in their ho-hum middle class cupboards, fridge, and freezer. How can a middle class kitchen be so full of food and yet nothing to eat?

O, but there is. A feast is found in these cupboards, fridge, and freezer. And you, dear Charmer Friend, must match the above numbers with the above letters to guess who ate what. Multiple matches may occur. On such a Saturday night, why would you possibly want to do anything otherwise more meaningful than to play this extraordinary food game?

Thanks so much for coming over to the Charmer Blog. Answers tomorrow.

With love, T xoxoxoxo

P.S. Average suburban family needs a normal, ho-hum garden.

Walking in the Warmth

You know what I like about Brooklyn? Especially on a sunny 70 degree day? Elderly people. You see lots of them slowly walking about the neighborhood. You also see disabled people, baby people, Jewish people, Catholic people, Arab people, Chinese people, and at least one visitor from Iowa. People are coming out from the dark of their double and triple locked apartments.

Here, people live close to each other. They have to because there is simply no room for otherwise. You can't believe how valuable a parking space is. You could get claustrophobic. Or you could simply soak up the warmth of honest to goodness human contact with people of all sorts and sizes.

There's an unexpected gentleness in Brooklyn. Folks walk slowly. It's nice.

I still feel sad when I stand at the 69th street pier, scan New York Harbor, spot the Statue of Liberty, and miss the two towers that disappeared. I don't think buildings should be built that tall, but I still miss them.

Thanks for coming over to the Charmer Blog.

With love, T

Welcome to St. Patty's Day

Hello Charmer Friends and welcome to St. Patrick's Day. I am watching the parade in gorgeous, sunny, 5th Avenue Manhattan. From the comfort of my pajama's and a television in Brooklyn. Put it this way, we can handle about one trip to the city per spring break.

I know, I know, people do it everyday. It is very exhausting. Yesterday, Amanda and I were on a total of six trains. 6. Due to a combination of seeking the best express routes and hopping on wrong trains.

Our visit to the Met didn't work out as I had hoped, although we did make it to the lobby and I strained to peak behind the security guards for a glimpse at the magnificent Statue of David. No such luck. Next time the Met is an all day affair.

However we did make it to the Madame Tussand's Wax Museum and a 4-D showing of Sponge Bob Square Pants, thanks to the special aunt treatment. Now you know our secrets of how to enrich children with The Arts. And one little boy got the special uncle treatment, including an Irish version of a Yankee's baseball hat. (For the record, the father is a Mets fan.)

Meanwhile, Bob and I have been reading The Road by Cormac McCarthy. Nothing like a bleak apocalypse to make our spring break complete. Talk more about that later. It's the Woody Allen in us. (He's a famous NYC filmmaker who seemed more comfortable with depressing subjects.)

Thanks for coming over to the Charmer Blog and I hope you are all well.

With love, T

Your Very Own Brooklyn Tour

Even after all these years, I really have to gear up for the subway ride into Manhattan, aka "the city," as the locals call it. Taking the train into the city for six years was fine when I lived here, got a lot of reading done. But mostly I don't miss it. Yet many people do it for decades. Some people work in New Jersey and their daily commute from Brooklyn involves a train, bus, and boat. Not to mention the cost. This place can be a hard place to live and work.

So today as we thought about what to do, a 2-hour round subway ride held little charm for me. So we drove the car to Coney Island and shivered in the wind over Nathan's hot dogs. I'm saving up my gumption to go into the city for tomorrow which will be the big one for Amanda and me. Up and out first thing. Others will meet us midday. Thank goodness the TV show "Gossip Girl" is filmed near the Metropolitan Museum of Art, which means both my daughter and I want to go to there.

Mostly, we are enjoying family and playing with 5-year-old twins and reading and napping and wii-ing. It occurred to me today that my kids will have been to NYC too many times to count, and yet have not experienced many of the tourist sights. But hey, we're off to a good start thanks to today's scintillating driving tour which included a delicious Coney Island hot dog, ethnic neighborhoods, and old sites of their father's past life. We were going to show the kids their birthplace, Long Island College Hospital, however by that time the backseat duo were begging to end the Brooklyn tour.

"People would pay for this tour," insisted the father.

"Why?" asked the boy.

"I'll pay you to end it," suggested the girl.

Thanks much for coming over to the Charmer Blog. I hope you are all well. And I hope one day you can get a real deal tour of Brooklyn by the husband of yours truly.

With love, T

P.S. On Monday I start as communication director with the Des Moines Area Religious Council. My new commute is 8 minutes by automobile.

Jammed in Pittsburgh

When you're stuck in a traffic jam in Pittsburgh, you know you're in the wrong place.

"I knew we should have gotten you that GPS for Christmas," said Bob's brother. "But no, you said you didn't need one."

Bob's sister said that too.

But who needs a GPS when all you do is take I-80 straight across Pennsylvania? All the way. All the 8-hours across this state. West to east, no complications. There is no getting lost. Yet there we were, in Pittsburgh, which, by the way, is not on the way to New York City.

I blame it on bad entrance ramp signs in rural Pennsylvania. And the sad thing is, once you're on the wrong road, you stay on the wrong road. By the time you are able to turn around you are -- well -- in a traffic jam in Pittsburgh.

Your kids are all crammed up in the back seat with their blessed electronic diversions. By now, your 10-year-old son has watched "Meet the Fockers" three times and you've quit counting all the ways this movie is inappropriate for your child. You're just glad he's laughing out loud in the privacy of his headphones, even though you've placed him in the incorrect city, wrong state.

Besides that, spring break is swell. And I will tell you more later. Perhaps pictures too. I was trying to take a blogging moratorium, but here I am. Be assured, we're here, in Brooklyn, New York, USA.

The tea is ready so I gotta go. I hope you are all well.

With love, T xoxoxoxxo

Good News of Great Joy

It is my pleasure to announce the beginning of a Nursing Mothers Room, a clean, comfortable, private space for mothers to nurse their babies on Sunday mornings at St. John's Lutheran Church in Des Moines, Iowa.

They may need rocking chairs, I don't know. If they do I'll let you know and perhaps you could help. But in the meantime, I am basking in this beautiful sign of hope. That babies are born. And that they are welcome at our church. This is the kind of church to which I want to belong.

It will be formally announced next Sunday but I heard about it today and got permission to blog on the subject because the idea is so lovely. As with many things, nursing and me have a mixed history. I did it, barely, for three months, with much pain, and just when I figured it out I "had" to go back to work and so I quit nursing because the idea of pumping was waaaay out of the realm of my abilities.

Meanwhile, a dear colleague pumped in the office supply closet so she could continue nursing after her leave was over. She put a sign on the door that said something like "Stay Out." So we desk workers had to wait before we could retrieve our necessary paper clips, pens, and folders. The dark little room with dusty shelves was more sanitary than pumping in a bathroom stall, she said. I wish I had that tenacity. All I could do was stop nursing at three months, when I had to return to work.

"Had" to return to work???? Did I really "have" to return to work? That is the irony of it all because in hindsight the answer is no. At the time, I had this Midwestern protestant work ethic that said a firm yes. (By the way, that's another thing I'm at odds with -- the Midwestern protestant work ethic. Another blog for another time.) It's interesting to me now, having been laid off, thinking about "having" to go to work. What it really means to "have" to work. And the truth is, if I could rewind my life and change two things, they would be to nurse my two children longer than three months. Even four months. I mean, would the universe have stopped just because I took four months maternity leave, rather than three months?

So when I found out today that St. John's is starting a Nursing Mother's Room, I swelled up with joy. It's simply such a special time. And for a community -- it's special for everyone because that new little life is our hope. And now we can authentically say, you are welcome here.

And the poetic justice is that 10 and 13 years after nursing, my kids need me more than ever. And now is when I can be with them because I am not dealing in paper clips and files and futility. With a hundred thousand thanks to being eliminated and terminated. Paying bills is a good thing. And it's even better when you don't have to sell your soul to do it. If at all possible.

Thanks for coming over to the Charmer Blog. I wish you all a wonderful week of work and priorities and taking care of babies.

With love, T

The Return of Ox and Angus

Remember Ox and Angus? They're coming back.

Spring break. Our house. Anger management. Cat sitting. That's what Ox and Angus do. And we are lucky enough to have them around so we can go away during spring break.

Ox and Angus are hulking big college football players -- you know, Iowa - football - football -Iowa -- who were recruited from Texas. When those big brothers first came to Iowa, there were some issues with handling their brawn and they were put on probation as in no spring break for them lest they lose their scholarship, which their mother forbade. She has a tattoo on her neck.

Fortunately for us, we know the religion professor of Ox and Angus who set us all up with house sitting. It's a win-win situation. The boys get away from campus with cable TV and a freezer stocked with Salisbury steaks for a week. We get live in house sitters who love kitties and do litter boxes. Well, OK, we pay them cash, but I'm just saying. They're good with cats. Our only rule is no girlfriends. We don't even make them clean the bathrooms. (Bob does that when we get back.)

All this to say there's another Charmer Virtual Vacation coming up soon and it will be full of surprises. Destination New York Citae. Speirs-o-Rama. Food. Food. Food. The other coast, as they say in L.A. (Baby). Visuals included. So get your bags out as we do not charge for luggage and the dates will be announced soon, but I'll give a hint in that it falls over St. Patrick's Day. There is nothing like Irish celebration in Brooklyn, New York.

Thanks much for coming over to the Charmer Blog. Stay safe.

With love, T