Be Not Idle

In referring to an article about the Obama administration’s (so far) unsuccessful attempts to revive talks between Israelis and Palestinians:

I don’t believe Kool Aid is Kosher.

Sunday evening Mass was canceled, leaving us ladies to commiserate in the parking lot while the Baptist minister’s dog barked at us through the fence.

Yesterday was a great day. It started off cool and sunny, then segued to warm and sunny. Everyone seemed to be jolly, from the man who held the door for me at the post office to the dog rolling in a long-dead squirrel by the side of the road. Even the radio jockeys, notorious for their innane chatter, played great songs with few commercials.

A co-worker had invited me to an investment/retirement planning seminar. I went more out of friendship than anything else, but it was interesting and conveniently located down the highway from my lunch date. I ate fruit and drank coffee (great Cadillac Coffee!!) while listening to what do with a $1 million investment for retirement. I don’t have $1 million, let alone the $10K minimum, but it was interesting.

Then I went to lunch with Michele, my old college roomie, friend, confidente, and shoe expert. She took the edge off my hunt for sensible shoes, which I must wear from now until my death.

*sniffle!* Good-bye, O Turquoise Sandals with 3-inch Cork Heels! I will miss you!

She chauffeured me to a hardware store to pick up toggles and hooks and then to a coffee shop. Coffee!!!

I arrived home to find several messages from friends/family (which always does wonders for me). Then I joined another friend at the firework display at the Marine City Octoberfest.

“Octoberfest in September?” you say.
To which I can only reply, “BEER!”

The evening was cold enough for jackets, but it made the display over the St. Clair River that much clearer. And it was gorgeous, especially the five different types of Roman candles and the coil of bright lights. How do they do that?

This morning I woke up thinking of a maze, which brought to my early-morning mind the brick labyrinth at a summer house. I’ve walked the labyrinth on one occasion – a particularly wet day when walking on the beach proved too cold – but found it dull, as it inexorably leads to a single point.

Such a labyrinth would make a simpler life because, as complex as it looks, you’re brought to the end. A maze is full of choices. Sometimes we realize a few turns in that this is not our path. Or we discover the truth only when a dead-end blocks our way.

Or perhaps we never realize it.

That’s a frightening thought. Unlike a rat’s maze, the goal isn’t as clear-cut as a lump of cheese.

Well, I was pondering this image when I came to today’s morning readings. And here it is, in the end of Psalm 119: 9-16:

I will ponder all Your precepts
and consider Your paths.
I take delight in Your statutes;
I will not forget Your word..

Point taken, Lord.

Where is the wise one? Where is the scribe? Where is the debater of this age? Has not God made the wisdom of the world foolish? (…) For the foolishness of God is wiser than human wisdom, and the weakness of God is stronger than human strength. - excerpted 1 Corinthians 1:20-25

On this feast day celebrating Your Triumph on the Cross, Lord Jesus, thank You for sharing the frailty of humanity, and for sharing Your strength with us.

Life is short… and art is short.

Before the workers came to install a new sliding glass door, I had to make room for them to work. I took down the vertical blinds. I also moved a free-standing corner shelf.

The shelf worried me. It held a number of ceramic pots containing bamboo, aloe vera, and the ubiquitous philodendron. (I have a theory that all the philodendrons in the area are the offshoots of cuttings taken from one generous, green-thumbed resident of Marine City, Michigan.)

I was nervous when I moved this plant stand, afraid I’d break something in transit. But it stood steady near the stove, out of the way of the work.

That is, until I had to get a glass of water.

Every one of my creations broke, leaving only a store-bought milk-glass compote and a glass frog (a circular glass plate with holes for plant stems).

Was I sad that I lost all the hard work? Sure.

But I wasn’t hurt. (Shocking, I know.) And the aftermath has been positive. With the shelf now empty, I got the idea of taking it to work to serve as a office supply station (works beautifully). With nothing in that corner of the kitchen, more light comes through the new door.

If I wish, I can make other bowls and vases. And I’ve gotten better, so the new will be more beautiful than the old. Unless I drop them….eek!

Some of my conservative web-quaintances ™ are disgusted by the President’s plan to address Kindergartners and other elementary school children. Bob Parks, at Black & Right, even embedded the “lesson plans” to go with the historic address.

President Obama’s Address to Students Across America September 8, 2009 –

Ha! Amateurs! I refer both to the conservatives and to the “Teaching Ambassador Fellows” who wrote the plans.

Conservative political commentors think they get ticked off by propaganda posing as “education”? Since I spent the summer working on new lesson plans for all my classes, I am furious at these so-called “Teaching Ambassador Fellows”. The classroom activities list is pure crapola. There’s no justification for how it fits ANY curricular goals, and it’s not even grade-specific. Heck, my colleague who was hit by a drunk driver made better lesson plans from the hospital!

A first-year student in the college of education couldn’t get a decent grade on such shoddy work, so I wondered what these “Teaching Ambassador Fellows” were. Thirteen fellows sent to the U.S. Department of Education as ambassadors to learn about this strange American tradition that some like to calll “edumacation”? Why, no! In fact, these thirteen people were chosen for their leadership, their students’ achievements, and their “insight on education policy”. You can read more here:

http://www.ed.gov/programs/teacherfellowship/awards.html

Click on each person’s name and you can read his or her fellowship-earning essay. I find a few vomit-inducing in their political-speak. Except for Tamra Jackson, who spent 23 years in the same district, there seems to be a plethora of experiences outside the norm; e.g. teaching in prison, working under a government grant, etc.

I smiled wryly at the teacher who was shocked to find that education was politicized and that colleagues resisted improving education. Try telling a local politician or business leader that his daughter is failing history class because she plagiarized her term paper. I dare you. Or, in my case, have a “school improvement” guru tell you that American students do worse on tests than the average student in a developing nation, so we should adopt their strategies. And when you point out that the average citizen in that nation doesn’t take those tests because their education ended before high school, the guru smiles patronizingly and waves off your critique. Bonus points if the nation in question has a history of considering girls less worthy of education than boys.

BTW, I have noticed that a lot of the “education experts” at conferences escaped from the daily grind as soon as possible. For example, the writer of The Freedom Writers Diary, Erin Gruwell, left the classroom after her memoir became a best-seller and she had a media tour. She became an educational consultant after just four years of experience as teaching. She now heads the Erin Gruwell Education Project, which focuses on inclusion and scholarships.