The children were all uneasy, eating cold pizza from Mama Gino's and anticipating our long awaited canoeing trip on the last day of school. Fourth grader Ashley wanted more than anything to be in a canoe with me.
"You are big and strong Ms. Wolford and you won't let me fall in!" Ashley said, gripping her neon green sparkled shirt in anticipation. I love Ashley for her kindness to others and for maintaining a keen interest in our science experiments. She always reminded me to bring in prizes for the top students, but I told her that a prize meant nothing compared to her intelligence. I knew the comment would resonate with Ashley as she moves onto middle school in the fall. She most definitely thought about it as she rested her head on my shoulder, calming her fears before her first canoeing trip and the two of us knowing, in our hearts of hearts, that we may never see each other again after the trip was over. It was on all of our minds, and the many kind words and hugs that were exchanged that day were never quite enough, as more and more children were picked up at the end of the day and removed from my classroom.
All the little ones in kindergarten walked out of the boys and girls bathroom, sporting their bathing suits and completely forgetting their tshirts and shorts in the stalls. One little girl came out of the bathroom, revealing both buttocks on purpose, and in a squealing bit of laughter, she ran up and down the hall, totally and completely limitless, and I let her, because that moment was hers to have and hers alone.
And when I think of 4th grader Stephanie, I will forever send love her way, and pray for her health, wealth, and happiness.
"I only made a C in Math Ms. Wolford" she said, her long black hair strung over her eyes to cover the build up of disappointment. She whispered to me as though it were a deep secret that she trusted enough to tell me.
It was the two of us, among three others waiting to be picked up near the end of the day.
"Stephanie, let me tell you something about me. I used to get grades that made me very happy, and grades in math that upset me. I would come home crying and not understanding what I was doing wrong, " I said.
Stephanie inched her seat closer to mine. I continued;
"So I started asking my teacher why I got the grade that I did. And sometimes, I would agree with them, but most of the time, I didn't because as I began to ask why more and more, I found that the answers came from me instead" I said.
Stephanie was silent. I gave it a few seconds and went on.
"And your C, and my D, and those jumbled in A's and B's will always be part of our school life. You will see them again and again Stephanie, but they cannot, and will not, be the mark that defines you," I said.
I had the flow and I wasn't sure if I was saying the right thing here or if I would get in trouble for motivating her to see grades in a new light. I never knew with the wackiness of administration and school laws if I were crossing the line, but I didn't care because in this moment it was pure synchronicity--Stephanie was hurting and my experiences might plant a seed of new thought. This was my moment to potentially guide her along into middle school.
We started by looking through old boxes of free workbook giveaways from the teacher's of the charter school's past. There were hardly any with 5th grade mathematics, but we lucked out by finding a BrainQuest for 5th Grade. There was a fabulous math section with all sorts of fun questions for Stephanie. She was glowing and she rummaged through the books.
"When our parents, teachers, and friends can't tell us the answers, we have to find them on our own," I said, shuffling through the dusty books.
"I can study these over the summer Ms. Wolford. I will know some facts that I'm sure will come up in math!" Stephanie said.
And in this moment, I felt like I had gotten through. The seed was planted and Stephanie was already, within a matter of ten minutes or less, changing the way she saw herself and the world around her.
Her mother at last picked her up, begging her to hurry up with gathering her belongings. Stephanie ran up to her mother and started showing her the BrainQuest math questions.
"I can study these," Stephanie said.
Her mother shook her head and carried on with her conversation on the phone. She hadn't known the shift Stephanie was experiencing, but the secret was sealed so tight that no one would know except for us, the strength we shared--the perfection of the moments we created together. And as Stephanie came up to me to say goodbye, her eyes began to swell, but this time it was for this moment--our moment of empowerment.
"This is our secret Stephanie--remember when you go to middle school that you, and only you will know the power of your own intelligence; only you know how much you are worth and no one else can ever determine that. Always remember that you have the power to be whoever you want to be" I said.
Stephanie crossed her heart, zippered her lips shut, and quickly ran off to find her mother.
I took a moment to thank the universe for the magnificence that just occurred. I marveled in the moment that finally came, and at last, I found my purpose.
And if in these moments where I shine the most, where the conversation flows and the heart beats at the thought of infinite possibilities, then I welcome the promising future ahead of me and give thanks to my creators--my parents who gave me this chance to grow with all the children I have met along the way.
Victory is free, and I am soaring.
Saturday, June 19, 2010
Wednesday, June 16, 2010
Angels to Calm the Current
I am hustling all around Boston, from one job to the next, trying to make a post-graduate life for myself and to pursue a dream that has at last boarded the bus, ready for departure. I am smiling most of the time and whispering to myself, "it is well, it is well" in the morning, sipping on the sweetness of my toasted almond coffee.
And I forget how easily peace welcomes me...how incredible the solace feels and then, all really is well.
It is in this moment that I feel my true self, quiet and at peace while the bus jerks the women and children that board. As the woman sitting next to me talks on the phone to a friend about the shortcomings in her relationship, I pray for her happiness, and wish love her way. When a senior citizen holds onto their seat for life, my heart asks the driver to slow down, and eventually, he does.
A three year old sits in front of me with his mother, busy interacting with an electronic game of some sort. His hair is curly and his eyes open to the scenery passing before him. He is marveled by the morning and greets me behind the seat handle, smirking and in love with the peace that we both share. Just before he gets off the bus, he squeals with laughter at the sight of me waving goodbye. And when the doors close, I pray for his mother's success and wish them health, wealth, and happiness forever.
And when I arrive at the VA Medical Center, the bus rushes off before me, my hair flying in all directions. The hospital stands tall against my own height. The river flows from down below the Longwood pathway and the swans glide along, limitless and glistening under the morning current.
And I feel the truth seep into my skin, the current calming, and the angels close by my side.
And I forget how easily peace welcomes me...how incredible the solace feels and then, all really is well.
It is in this moment that I feel my true self, quiet and at peace while the bus jerks the women and children that board. As the woman sitting next to me talks on the phone to a friend about the shortcomings in her relationship, I pray for her happiness, and wish love her way. When a senior citizen holds onto their seat for life, my heart asks the driver to slow down, and eventually, he does.
A three year old sits in front of me with his mother, busy interacting with an electronic game of some sort. His hair is curly and his eyes open to the scenery passing before him. He is marveled by the morning and greets me behind the seat handle, smirking and in love with the peace that we both share. Just before he gets off the bus, he squeals with laughter at the sight of me waving goodbye. And when the doors close, I pray for his mother's success and wish them health, wealth, and happiness forever.
And when I arrive at the VA Medical Center, the bus rushes off before me, my hair flying in all directions. The hospital stands tall against my own height. The river flows from down below the Longwood pathway and the swans glide along, limitless and glistening under the morning current.
And I feel the truth seep into my skin, the current calming, and the angels close by my side.
Wednesday, June 9, 2010
There should be a celtics ice cream (and there probably is...)
My Baby, Glen Davis--the "Baby," played well last night for the Celtics, but lost it at the end.
First, I must admit how PROUD I am that I can NAME a basketball player other than Allen, from the Celtics. I forgot how intriguing the dynamics are of a single game--every player was emotionally, physically and mentally IN IT. Kobe, on the other hand, fully pissed me off because you could tell with the pinch in his nose and the beadiness of his eyes that he was higher than thou. And even though his plays were like that of a demi-god taking center stage, I thought of Rondo, the ensemble--the pipsqueak, that made little miracles the whole time for the losing Celtics.
I don't know if I believe in the hype but I do know that I might have induced some bipolar disorder last night with the root beer float sugar high, the Glen Davis, Baby come-to-me attitude, and the 7 point loss low, just as we were about to get it right.
One more game, guys, and GOOD, because I cannot handle the mental distress any longer!
Nor can I handle the conglomeration of screaming men just outside my window...
First, I must admit how PROUD I am that I can NAME a basketball player other than Allen, from the Celtics. I forgot how intriguing the dynamics are of a single game--every player was emotionally, physically and mentally IN IT. Kobe, on the other hand, fully pissed me off because you could tell with the pinch in his nose and the beadiness of his eyes that he was higher than thou. And even though his plays were like that of a demi-god taking center stage, I thought of Rondo, the ensemble--the pipsqueak, that made little miracles the whole time for the losing Celtics.
I don't know if I believe in the hype but I do know that I might have induced some bipolar disorder last night with the root beer float sugar high, the Glen Davis, Baby come-to-me attitude, and the 7 point loss low, just as we were about to get it right.
One more game, guys, and GOOD, because I cannot handle the mental distress any longer!
Nor can I handle the conglomeration of screaming men just outside my window...
Monday, June 7, 2010
Impulsive? No. Intuitive? YES.
As I move into a professional, "real person" post-college position at the Research Center, I am beginning to face hap-hazardous moments that pinch at my innards, and yet the barf bags remain obsolete-- just like the bags on the planes that once made the world sick at first flight. I'm growing and glowing and it feels incorporeal.
I recently took an initial infallible risk at the research center...one that could have cost me my job if my actions truly soured. My intentions were good and my GUT told me to move forward with it. Out of an incredible fear that someone affiliated here google's my name on a saturday night, I will disclose the details of the event to only my mom...whom, is proud of what I did and together believed that my intuition, not my impulses-- has always guided me. My sense of self has brought me all of the abundance I have in my life, and all that is to come. There ain't nothin nor no one out there that can break that.
The potential catastrophic event, however, meshed and mushed and molded into something truly outstanding--by the end of it, I facilitated a blessing for the center. And when this happened, this wonderful news that my risk actually propagated a series of events in which two researchers now want to collaborate, I am grateful. I sit in this quite room, with the air conditioner buzzing, Rihanna playing, and my research reviews, sprawled out on my desk--amassed in a messy but much needed victory. I take two seconds to wisper thank you to the universe, and I carry on with my typing.
My mom told me not too long ago that shortly after having my sister, she began working as a Bank Teller in my birthplace, El Paso Texas. Her boss informed her on a performance review that if she had any intention of moving up the corporate ladder, that she would have to change her hair style. After having a child and trying her best--the best that she could do, evidently, was to invest in a new do.
It is a projection, a perception, a belief--and we can choose to believe it. We can chose to let the wave of malice propagate the chemical impulses of our neurons--which, most definitely think, all the time, about their actions. Our chemical impulses take those beliefs and rationalize them if we tell it to. But our soul always knows--it always corrects the firing, and it always initiates the rewiring, eventually.
And so my friends, take what people say lightly, or don't take it at all. We can choose to watch the words shatter through the glass that our bosses, spouses, friends and enemies create, or we can change the way we look at things.
And when we start to take this approach, the things we look at, change.
I recently took an initial infallible risk at the research center...one that could have cost me my job if my actions truly soured. My intentions were good and my GUT told me to move forward with it. Out of an incredible fear that someone affiliated here google's my name on a saturday night, I will disclose the details of the event to only my mom...whom, is proud of what I did and together believed that my intuition, not my impulses-- has always guided me. My sense of self has brought me all of the abundance I have in my life, and all that is to come. There ain't nothin nor no one out there that can break that.
The potential catastrophic event, however, meshed and mushed and molded into something truly outstanding--by the end of it, I facilitated a blessing for the center. And when this happened, this wonderful news that my risk actually propagated a series of events in which two researchers now want to collaborate, I am grateful. I sit in this quite room, with the air conditioner buzzing, Rihanna playing, and my research reviews, sprawled out on my desk--amassed in a messy but much needed victory. I take two seconds to wisper thank you to the universe, and I carry on with my typing.
My mom told me not too long ago that shortly after having my sister, she began working as a Bank Teller in my birthplace, El Paso Texas. Her boss informed her on a performance review that if she had any intention of moving up the corporate ladder, that she would have to change her hair style. After having a child and trying her best--the best that she could do, evidently, was to invest in a new do.
It is a projection, a perception, a belief--and we can choose to believe it. We can chose to let the wave of malice propagate the chemical impulses of our neurons--which, most definitely think, all the time, about their actions. Our chemical impulses take those beliefs and rationalize them if we tell it to. But our soul always knows--it always corrects the firing, and it always initiates the rewiring, eventually.
And so my friends, take what people say lightly, or don't take it at all. We can choose to watch the words shatter through the glass that our bosses, spouses, friends and enemies create, or we can change the way we look at things.
And when we start to take this approach, the things we look at, change.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)