Life, Liberty, and Education

This week I would like to rant a bit about schooling. Now, don't get me wrong... I know school is good and wisdom-enhancing and important. I think about Greg Mortensson from "Three Cups of Tea" fame and I realize the importance of education in the world. We truly are blessed in America to have a culture where school is a by-product, an after-thought, a mundane part of life that is considered a right of each and every child. We don't need to fight for our child to have an education. We don't need to build a school on a mountainside. The mountainside is already levelled and the school is sharing space with a laundromat, a dry-cleaner, and two drug stores. School is simply a part of growing up.

Yet, I wonder at the evolution of our education system and its viability to today's world and to today's children. I starting thinking about this issue yesterday, at work. You see, after finding a book on Scotland for a tired mother, I was hijacked for about thirty minutes as she vented her dissatisfaction with her son's schooling. In seventh grade, at the age of twelve, he has, on average, two hours of homework a night. Sometimes, when big projects are due, he has three or more hours of homework, which bleeds over into the weekend hours. If you consider a three hour homework weekday and add it to a traditional school day (6 hours of schooling, an hour of busing), her son works a total of 10 hours a day. Ten hours a day! And he's twelve. When I asked the mother when her son gets to relax, she laughed cynically. "Relax? He never gets to relax."

Now on to mother number two. This mother has a son in the eighth grade, so he is thirteen. At thirteen, his English teacher is requiring the class to read Barack Obama's book " Dreams from my Father," which is an adult book. Perhaps you've never read it but it deals with one man's struggle with race in a family of mixed-origins and in an culture of hidden agendas. It is a good book. It probes ideas that are rarely brought to the surface in an America that likes to pretend that all lives and all people are equal. It really makes you stand up and consider where your prejudices lie and from whence they spring. It is a good book. For an adult. At thirteen, this book delves into topics that are so far from teenage reality as to be laughable. Not only that, there are numerous swears in the book when President Obama recalls incidents from his turbulent past. Now at thirteen, I know that kids use swears but do we want to be promoting them in classroom literature? A random "damn" certainly is not the end of the world but "motherfucker?" I got to draw the line there.

What are these two random, real-life stories telling us? In my mind, they indicate the (what I like to call) "adultification" of children in America. American adults work-hard, play-hard, and jam every spare moment of time with "stuff." We play with our stuff via video games and computer chat rooms. We run around and buy more stuff to clutter up our living rooms and home offices. And we chat via twitter and text and (ohmigosh, how retro) cell phone while we do all this stuff with our stuff. We send our children to day-care so we can make money to buy stuff. Then, on the weekends, we shuttle them around to playgrounds and playgroups and random team activities so we can be with our stuff, electronically-connected, emotionally-devoid. This way, we don't really need to "be" with our kids, just next to them. Parallel play.

Education in America is simply indulging our desire for little, mini adults that we can drop-off with the babysitter or in front of the TV while we run around in ever-tightening circles. Let's get off this ridiculous merry-go-round! How happy are we? How emotionally open can we be hard-wired to complete strangers? We tell our kids, "Let me check my e-mail," "Let me get this one phone call," "Let me work out the babysitting schedule." And where are the kids? Sitting on the floor, listlessly playing Barbies or Matchbox cars. Waiting. Waiting for us. Because the needs and wants of children have not changed in the millennia that humans have walked the planet. They want love. They want to have fun. They want to run and jump and explore. And they want to do it with someone. Not a virtual friend or a virtual pet in a virtual world. They want to do it with us.

Let's stop trying to force adulthood onto our children. It certainly hasn't made us happy. Instead, let's focus on the "childification" of adults. Let's remember the simple joys of jumping in a leaf pile or rolling down a grassy hill. Unplug people and feel the freedom of the world around you. Unplug and feel the joy of ife!

Once we do that, the school systems will stop trying to "adultify" our children. They will halt the hours of homework and the adult-book reading lists and the stress-inducing tests. For if we embrace our own children, we won't need them to be mini adults any more. We will allow them the pleasure of reading "Tom Sawyer" instead of "Dreams of my Father." We will give them the opportunity to run and play instead of sit and sweat over homework. Our values will have changed and, thus, the education system will follow our lead. Many parents feel disenfranchised in the political structure of the school system. In reality, we hold all the power. It will take time for the "childification" of American adults to permeate the culture. In the meantime, stand up for what you believe in. Voice your concerns. Not just once but over and over and over again until your voice is heard. This is your child. You have the right, indeed, the responsibility, to look out for him or her. Teachers and principals exude an air of authority but they're just people. You are your child's best advocate. Don't give up and don't give in. Your child deserves a childhood.

Thoughts on Halloween....

Halloween! It's here ~ jack o'lanterns and rustling leaves, and choco-candy galore! I love me some Halloween. But I do have a bit of a gripe....

.... you see, I wandered into my local Halloween party store to pick up some paper goods and s...s...c..a..a..a..a..a...r...y decorations and decided to head on over to the costume department. Big mistake. Costumes? More like strips of fabric held together with dental floss! Now, I understand the excitment of the twenty-somethings and their Halloween parties and the rah-rah-sis-boom-bah of the masquerade mystique. I "get" the fun of being able to take on the persona of someone else, leaving behind the drab, dull office job and becoming Supergirl or Wonder Woman or a flirty French maid from a bad 1930's detective movie. (Humphrey Bogart, eat your heart out!) When you're hot on the prowl and looking for some man-flesh, a sassy, skimpy skirt and fish-net stockings are a must have!

But seriously.... is that ALL the Halloween costume manufacturers can think of for women's costumes? 'Cuz I don't want to dress up like a flirty French maid and I certainly am not on the prowl for some man-flesh. (In fact, man-flesh may be highly over-rated but that's for a whole other blog! *wink*) I want to dress up like a Ninja. That's right, black pants, black skulky shoes, black wrap-around shirt, black face wrap, and black tight-fitting hat. Katana optional, as long as I can have those sharp, pointy stars. I want to tap into that mystical Eastern energy that allows human beings to run on air and leap from tree limb to tree limb. I want to magically materialize before my enemies and scare the crap out of them. And I don't want my ass hanging out of my outfit while do it!

As you may imagine from my diatribe, there is no such thing as a woman's ninja outfit in the Land-of-Halloween-Costumes-Manufactured-by-Masogynist-Pigs. There is also no Star Wars clone warrior outfit, which is my second choice. Instead, I must choose from sexy, short-skirted Dorothy (with stuffed Toto-in-a-basket), sexy, short-skirted Red Riding Hood (with stuffing-in-the-basket) or slinky, slits-up-both-sides-of-the-skirt Princess Leia (with no basket at all... thank God!)

In true rebel diatribe fashion, I have chosen to reject the offerings of the masogynist pigs and go with a Spider Queen outfit cobbled together from random spider accessories and a spiderweb shirt I found in the waaaaaaaay bottom of my costume box. But... though I claim rebellion, I can not truly separate myself from the Costume-Masogynists. They enter my bedroom on slippered feet, leaving their pawing prints all over my Halloween costume. I must admit, my spider shirt is completely see-though and one step away from sis-boom-bahing on a shiny stripper pole.

Damn you, Costume-Masogynists! Just wait. Some day, when you least expect it, when you're sitting in your fat-cat luxury box seats waiting for the cheerleaders to trip onto the court and wave their pom-poms, there will be ninja venegence. And ninja FURY! Mark my words. Your time is coming!

Meditation ~ Numero tres

So, this week, in an effort to mix things up and... once again... try something new, I performed a twenty minute Tai (Thai) Chi series that I found on my onDemand channel. The twenty minute segment is meant to be perfromed in the morning, to bring in good, fresh chi and remove blocked, stagnant chi. (Chi, in this case, being the Chinese word for their concept of energy in your body and in the universe.) I am totally digging this Tai Chi moving meditation. It is really very relaxing. It also doesn't hurt that it is filmed on a beautiful ocean beach (scenery for which I am a major sucker) and performed and narrated by a hunky older man (another type of scenery for which I am a sucker). *wink*

But, seriously, the two times I have tried Tai Chi (via video), the narrators have been male. And, in and around the South Shore of Massachusetts, the instructors of Tai Chi are almost universally male. I find this interesting and I wonder why men seem to flock to Tai Chi. Perhaps it is the martial arts connection but I find Tai Chi to be as relaxing as yoga. Sometimes more so because of the focus on energy and the different positions of the hands and feet. I was pleasantly surprised that one of the hand positions I use in energy work (using two hands and forming a triangle between thumb and forefingers) is the common position used in Tai Chi to move energy into and out of the body.

Anyway, I encourage you to try Tai Chi if you haven't before. It is really quite wonderful!

Mother

We spend so much time emulating the Mother Goddess, espousing her wisdom, her serenity, her innate femininity. We see the epitome of her on television, in the tabloids, slapped on billboards as far as the eye can see. Nursing mothers, playing mothers, mothers watching Sprout with their toddlers, mothers dancing to Barney tunes. On Amazon, we read the blurbs of mothers who love "Bear in the Big Blue House" as much as their little ones, who sing the praises of "Baby Einstein," who want to cuddle with soft blankie books. Mothers in magazines play Candyland and ball toss and Dora Bingo and we say to ourselves, "What great mothers! Look at all they give to their children." We smile and nod and thank the divine that our next generation will be sane and caring and considerate. In short, we buy into this notion of mother as giver and care-taker.

But what about the mothers? Taught to put aside their own needs, thoughts, ideas, and (heaven forbid!) wants, what happens to the mothers when the babies grow up, go off to school, no longer spend every waking moment at their sides? What happens to them when their children make new friends, participate in soccer, drama, ballet, or tennis? As they sit on the sidelines, cheering on the accomplishments of their children, beaming with pride at every goal, pirouette, and ace serve, how do they disentangle themselves from the routines and rituals of their children and re-gain their own perspective, their own goals, their own selves? How do they find their own truth?

I suppose, for some mothers, this isn't an issue. They've worked throughout their care-taking days and so are unaffected by the abrupt change in lifestyle. (And, don't kid yourself, it is abrupt.) Part-time or full-time, they've been working toward personal goals and, so, with their child pulling away into his or her own self-contained universe, they've suddenly got the room to pursue the things they may (or may not) have been putting off. Good for them! I say, go for it girl!

But for me, and I suspect lots of other mothers, I feel as though a part of myself has been summerarily ripped off, leaving a raw, gaping wound. And everyday (everyday!) salt is rubbed in until it hurts so much I just want to rip everything else off in an effort to stop the pain. I want to kill, maim, destroy. I am mad. Not peeved. Not aggravated. Not upset and angry. I am stark, raving mad at the entire situation. Not pretty, not pleasant... but there it is. Medical doctors talk about post-partum depression and Brook Shields made it famous but I think post-caretaker depression is as debilitating. (Maybe it's not a clinical depression but it should be!)

Now I understand why women have another baby just as their first child is boarding the bus for school. Now I realize the personal power behind schooling your wee ones in the comfort of your own home. It's the need to continue the mothering process that has been schooled into us, as women, from a very young age. The need to nurture and care and nourish is overwhelming and, now, no longer necessary. Move on, Mama, the kids got their own lives. You need to get one too.

But how does one do that? Get a life. How does one know what to do, where to turn, what hobby or job to pick up when one can't get off the sofa? When a movie with The Rock in it becomes the sole focus of the afternoon? When every resume is met with a deafening silence? You look in the mirror with your baggy, 6-year-old clothes and your unwashed, tangled mop-like hair-do and your dull, unfocused eyes and you ask, "Who are you? Who are you now?!" And there is no answer because you are all alone.

Faery Reiki and Other unusual energy systems

Soooooo, in an effort to restabilize my emotionality (it is a word...now), I have begun looking at different healing modalities that resonate with me. Last summer I was attuned to the first level of Shamballa Multi-dimentional healing, which I love a TON! My goal is to receive all four attunements and achieve teacher-master-healer level within the year. I think it is do-able! But, in the meantime, I happened to stumble across a few other forms of Reiki that seem to be connected to my Otherworld kin ~ Faeries!

I am wondering if anyone else has heard about these forms of healing and, if so, what kind of experience you've had with them. They are all relatively new, so I'm trying to find out about them.

There are ~ Faery Ray-kay; Faery Reiki; Fairy Realms Reiki; Energy and Magic of the Faeries; Unicorn Reiki; and Elven Shamanic Healing. Any and all info you've got would be appreciated.

Daily Meditation part deux

I have pledged to meditate on a daily basis for a month to see how it goes. So far, I have meditated for two weeks... missing, maybe, two or three days. I'm pleased with my progress so far but not 100% satisfied with the experience. I mean... it's fine and it allows me 15 or 20 minutes to sit and stretch and turn off my brain. Most of the time, I feel better afterwards. But I feel like there is so much I need to do! And the time just keeps slipping away.

And, of course, most of the problem stems from my confusion over what exactly needs to be done. UGH.

I think I'll go drink some tea. At least I know how to do that!

Olives, olives!

I have decided to take the info from the previous month and upload it to my Blog. That way, people can go back and read it if they're interested! Here is September's rant!

I love olives. I eat them any time of the day. In fact, I'm pretty sure I could live on nothing but olives... all day, every day. I've heard that in Turkey and Greece that "no meal is complete without olives." I agree with that. Green olives, black olives, olives in oil, olives from a can, olives in a dish, olives by themselves... seriously... I have an olive addiction.

So I started thinking about what olives symbolize in the world at large. There's the whole idea that olives represent prosperity and well-being. From my church-going days, I remember Psalm 128:3, "Your wife will be like a fruitful vine inside your house; Your children will be like young olive trees around your table." I probably remember that because the psalm actually mentions kids in a positive note. And... well... it talks about olives. Even then I had a healthy obsession with the fruit. But the olive trees in the psalm represent an abundant harvest, a good yield, a fertile farm which easily provides for the family. Olives, then, are the food which lightens the load, growing well and thriving over time.

Yet, they also are the food of the fabled "olive branch," which symbolizes peace. When the olive branch is offered in the midst of argument or war, the fighting ceases. Silence ensues. And opposing sides meet to discuss terms of withdrawal and the end of hostilities. One little branch, one small fruit, and yet it has the possibility of bringing so much happiness and contentment to all. If only it is given the chance.

Many times we forget about our own possibilities. We lock-step ourselves into our current lives without taking a moment to look around at our own unique skills. A lot of times these skills and possibilties are never explored. We are told that we "can not possibly" do any number of things that seem right and perfect to us. We can't create magic because it's make-believe. We can't sail on the open seas because we don't have a boat. We can't defeat our worst nightmare because it's always been there. We can't do... well, whatever it is we want to do... because we're small, big, old, young, a boy, a girl... fill in the excuse of the day.

In the end, the excuses don't matter. They are simply shields behind which we are hidden, by others and by ourselves. The simple olive does not hide. It thrives in the sun, reaching toward the life-giving rays. Our lives can be like that, forever reaching upward and out to bask in the sun of our own possibilities, forever growing and expanding into the reality of our own marvelous skin. Like the olive, we can forever change the world, enjoy the world, explore the world and ourselves, if we but try. And believe.