The Sharing Game

children-sharing-sweetsDo you remember the Barney catchphrase, “Sharing is Caring!” and how he used to always espouse the joys you can get from not being selfish? Well, all of that was just an extension of your mother telling you that it’s always good to help out others who may not have what you have. And you know in the back of your head you were probably saying something like, “But it’s mine!” Well, I feel your pain, but perhaps your mother did have a point.

When I was a kid we lived at the end of a block of rowhouses in Southwest Philadelphia. Now, a rowhouse could have been seen as a detriment since the walls were so thin and were all connected, but my mother used the situation as an opportunity to teach a value lesson. She said that since our walls were “shared” we could share other things as well. I guess it was an attempt at helping to make a closer knit community in the middle of what was a depressed area.

And share we did, but it worked both ways. That’s the glory of sharing. Instead of being covetous of what someone else had, we took turns having it all. But in order to truly share you need two or more people who can understand the bigger picture. That’s why so many kids can’t share effectively without getting angry, possessive, or suddenly unsure about what taking turns really means. Continue reading “The Sharing Game”

Learning to Change

thThe R on my keyboard sticks. In fact, every single time you see an R in this blog post just know that I’ve typed it in repeatedly before it showed up. I’m not quite sure when it started, but it was probably about three weeks ago. It was subtle, too, at first, so that I merely found it mildly annoying. In the beginning. Then it began truly bothering me this past week. With a vengeance.

I thought about prying the key up and trying to figure out what was happening underneath, thought about being the keyboard doctor, but I stopped myself with one very real fear: what would happen if I couldn’t get it to go back on? Then not only would I be without a perfectly working R key, but I would then have also maimed my keyboard to no avail. At least it’s not my space bar.

When it began messing up my Facebook posts and responses, that’s when I knew it was more than just an inconvenience. I mean, it’s Facebook! That’s probably an extension of my anal retentive nature, needing everything to be perfect, and being extremely disappointed when it reveals itself to be different from my ideal. It’s why I’m hardly ever satisfied, even when things go as well as they can possibly go. I’m always looking for that perfect scenario, that fluid R to complete my keyboard.

When I was young it first manifested in my bedroom while I was counting bars on my window. I would sit on my bed and stare through the glass at those thick black bars that made me feel like I was in prison. I counted them over and over again, even though they never changed. There were eight in total, and it eased my mind to have such a solid footing. I knew there were eight, and everyone else who counted would have seen eight as well. It was soothing in its way.

Continue reading “Learning to Change”

The Dumbing Down of Language

127192508_640When I first began teaching ninth grade English I remember thinking about the language I was going to use and whether or not the students would understand the way I normally convey language. And the thought process was all tied up and twisted together with the zone of proximal development I had learned in my education program in school, the process of learning that forces kids to stretch beyond their normal reach but not so far that they get frustrated. It also provides for some scaffolding to help kids reach that level instead of letting them flounder out there. But I think for ease’s sake, too many teachers, nay, too many parents, participate instead in the dumbing down of language.

My mother used language that I didn’t understand all the time when I was growing up, but she also encouraged us to ask questions, and the same was true when reading books. One of the biggest issues most kids have when it comes to tackling large words when reading is that they want everything given to them. As a parent it’s hard to watch your children struggle with doing anything, much less trying to tackle words that are a bit too big for them, but one of the worse things you can do is to make it too easy for them. They won’t learn the glory of perseverance and the satisfaction of achievement, and they will take too much for granted. My mother believed in that philosophy, making sure she never gave me or my sister those words, providing us with support with letter sounds and blends, but never handing it over pre-packaged. And I appreciate her for that. Continue reading “The Dumbing Down of Language”

The F Word

GRADE_FI hear it everywhere, from on the streets, to at work, on television shows, and even from my own children. It’s pervasive in this culture, and I can’t stand it. Every single time I hear that word I want to scream because it’s probably the single most overused, and most incorrectly used, word in the language. When I was younger I used to use it to excess too, so I understand why it’s so widely used, but as I’ve gotten older it just grates on me and I want to say something every time I hear someone say it. The other day I was at work when a little kid was whining to her mom, and she said the F word. I wanted to say something to her, but her mother did it instead, explaining what that word really meant. I was proud of her; it’s not often that I hear anyone corrected for its use.

Then I told my seven-year old she couldn’t have her iPad this morning, and I heard it for the umpteenth time come out of her mouth.

“But Dad, it’s not FAIR!” she told me, and I couldn’t take it anymore.

“It’s not fair that some people don’t have anything to eat while others waste food,” I said. “It’s not fair that other kids don’t have an iPad and you do. You want to give them yours?” Continue reading “The F Word”

The Apologist, Part 2

Those two little words.

“I’ve skirted all my differences, but now I’m facing up. I wanted to apologize for everything I was, so… I’m sorry.” – R.E.M.

When I was a kid I remember my mother giving me “the look,” the one that said I did something wrong and I needed to somehow make it right. But I never knew what it was I did wrong in the first place, and I had absolutely no idea how to make it right. She would sit me down and explain what I did wrong. Maybe I pulled my sister’s hair, or I stole the Kool-Aid, or I forgot to feed the guinea pig, or one of a million other things I tended to mess up during the course of my short life up until that point. But that was the easy part, coming up with the problem; it was the solution that always proved to be difficult.

I’m sorry. Why was that always so hard to say? Maybe because I wasn’t. Not really. Not ever. Continue reading “The Apologist, Part 2”

Living Next to Disney

Disney-World“People who live next to Disney hardly ever go there.”

I lived the first twenty-one years of my life in Philadelphia, the city of brotherly love, the birthplace of the U.S. Constitution, and the home of the famed Liberty Bell. And after I ventured out into the world and met more people from other places, I finally realized just how interesting the place of my birth was. The history packed into the place could fill several books, and yet it was something I took for granted being able to walk into Independence Hall anytime I wanted, or passing by Betsy Ross’s house on my way to South Street on Thursday evenings in July. Moving away, though, gave me a perspective I never would have had otherwise.

When I won a trip for a week at Disney World, to stay on the park property, I was ecstatic. I was going to the most magical place on earth, to spend a week with several other groups of kids from all over the U.S., and it was going to be amazing. Among the group of kids who all congregated there for the week were teenagers from California, from Texas, and from Atlanta. There was also a group from Orlando, and I was so excited to meet them. I mean, they lived right down the block from a place I would kill to live near, and I wanted to know how amazing that was for them. But when I asked the question, one of the girls laughed at me and said, “People who live next to Disney hardly ever go there.” She explained that it didn’t mean the park wasn’t amazing. What it meant was that you can get used to anything. You can take anything for granted. Continue reading “Living Next to Disney”