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God Bless Mr. Gale Wendell Marshall

Last Sunday I read the obituary of a man that changed my life – dead at 68 years old after over 40 years of teaching. His words and kindness supported me through my toughest times as I always remembered the way he made me feel as though I mattered, as though I had value. He taught me compassion and how to listen. More importantly, he taught me how to be, well, me.

1985 We get used to the way things are sometimes and just don’t realize that there may be a better way – especially when we are young. Children and teenagers often do not know of hope and future due to lack of life experiences – or, unfortunately, due to dreadful life experiences.

My parents loved me and had no idea what was happening to me and I was always too scared to tell them – so typical. I did not want to hurt them. I began high school much like I completed junior high and elementary school – by blindly walking through the motions – being driven by the choices made around me, about me, to me – rather than by my own choices. This is what I thought life was. I was soft spoken and painfully shy and always trying to make someone else happy. I believed I had no control, no voice. I felt worthless, lost, and invisible. I was suicidal. Enter Mr. Gale Marshall.

1987 As he taught me to value myself, I began to realize that I do have a future. I began to find my voice and test it out. As I tried to decide what I wanted to do with my life, I continued to struggle; I barely graduated high school due to attendance issues. I did not have adults in my personal life that knew how to get to college and my parents could not afford to send me, anyway. Unfortunately, the guidance counselors only spoke to those that knew what to ask. Through the years Mr. Marshall greeted me with care and concern and always took a moment to check in – always willing to listen. His genuine compassion reminded me daily that I mattered and that I could do whatever I set out to do. I graduated and decided that I wanted to be the one to find the invisible child. I wanted to be a teacher.

It took me nine years to earn my degree – that’s a post for another day. When I won District Teacher of the Year in 2015, the speech I gave to the auditorium full of teachers described the impact Gale Marshal had on my life. It was not one intervention or a specific act, but rather who he was every day that saved this little girl. He had no idea the impact he made. No idea.

Thank you, Mr. Marshall. May you rest in peace knowing that every day I try to continue your work and continue to seek out the invisible children in my classroom and lift them up with love. God bless you.

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a mom, a Facebook post, and God’s plan

Dear Mom,

Your granddaughter posted a photo on social media today. It was a picture from last year of her towering over me as I stood in my cap and gown, freshly graduated with a masters degree. You wouldn’t believe how tall that little baby we brought home grew to be. She was only one when you passed, she is 24 now. Anyway – above the photo were three simple statements:

Make your own luck.
Finish what you start.
Kill them with kindness.

You see, today is mother’s day. She posted this as a tribute to me and “just a few” lessons I taught her. I was confused when I first saw them. I did not really understand my reaction. I thought it was because it did not have the “happy mother’s day” stamp on it. But then I realized what was really going on inside my head and my heart and I suddenly saw you in the photo, standing between us, embracing us. Beaming at my accomplishment – raising such a wonderful young woman. I quickly moved from the post so as not to succumb to the pain of loss on this day of celebrating motherhood.

So, then I spent the day at the pool with my other daughter, Rachel. You never got to meet her. She is funny – she has our wit (and modesty). She makes me laugh and gives the greatest hugs. She said to me…out of the blue…you never really talk about your mom. Such an innocent observation by such a bright young lady. I felt ashamed at first – like I had dropped the ball. My eyes filled with tears and my heart filled with love – embarrassed, overwhelmed, and frustrated. I mean, I think about you every day. I talk to you all the time. You are a daily presence. I felt like I was letting you down, like you had been dishonored by this statement. I felt like I was letting down my children by holding on to my memories and keeping them to myself as I still struggle with your loss after all of these years.

Then, I thought of Yaya’s post. Oh yea – Yaya is the nickname that Michael gave to Alexis when he was 2 because he could not say her name. It was adorable. You never got to meet him, either. He reminds me so much of Boo Boo, handsome, bright, and hugely tender-hearted. Anyway – as I thought of that post again I realized that they do all know you – even if they don’t know that they know you.

They know you because they know me. They know you because I teach them the very lessons that you taught me about living your life with purpose, working hard, and giving everything of yourself.

Make your own luck – you taught me to go for the things that I want in life and not to just sit around and wait for things to happen. Be proactive – not reactive. Thank you.

Finish what you start – you taught me integrity and faithfulness. Determination and commitment. You taught me to never give up. Thank you.

Kill them with kindness – wow – this one hit the hardest today. No matter how much someone hurts you, no matter how much you do not understand them – Kill them with your kindness. Someone needs to. Chances are, no one ever has. How you balanced this lesson with also teaching me not to be a doormat is really something that someone needs to put in a manual, or something. Mom, I am as kind to people as I know how to be – I promise.

I miss you. You always made me believe in God’s plan – to have faith that you were never given more than you can handle. I remember – sometimes you would look to the heavens and say “you gave me a mountain this time, Lord” when things were really hard. Well, Mom, It feels like that mountain range is now between us.

My heart is heavy on this Mother’s Day. I promise to persevere because that is who you taught me to be. I promise to love my children because that is what you taught me to do. I will continue to teach them about their grandmother. And I promise to keep the faith that we will be together again one day. This is God’s plan.

I love you. Happy Mother’s Day.

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getting ready; another smash book

As I prepare for for my trip this summer with students I am continuing my tradition of keeping a smash book throughout the journey. I can’t wait to fill it!!

We are traveling with Education First Tours (EF Tours) and will be visiting Germany, France, Spain, and Portugal on a 16 day trip. I have the largest group yet, at 27 travelers. I encourage them to write about their experiences while we are traveling and I model this with my smash book. Writing down the little jokes and other things that make you laugh; exploring your feelings as you are far from home in a new culture, recording your memories for years to come…these are the things I tell my students when they ask “what should I write about?”

Thanks for reading my post! Read more at Fields of Poppies. The original SMaSH Book post is here.

the struggle is real

Injuries can be very frustrating. Whenever I feel the first bit of pain, I tell myself I need to just run through it…it will pass. When it does not pass, I tell myself…you just need to stretch better. Next, I tell myself…you just need more ice and some ibuprofen. This cycle of pain and mental struggle continues for this runner for weeks before I ever consider that there may actually be an injury. I mean, suck it up, right?

Well, I recently had a hard landing on an obstacle course rope swing. So stupid. I simply did not realize the earth was so close and my feet hit before I was ready for them to hit. The left one hit first, then the right – and my knees bent a way in which God did not really intend. I did not realize it, but I had just won a slight sprain in the left and deep bone bruise in the right. Of course, it will be almost 2 months before I get that information. I assume I need to just “walk it off”. In fact, that very day, I then proceeded to repel down a 50 foot wall and continued to walk for hours.

Fast forward two weeks or so. I am teaching, coaching track, and still trying to run periodically. My husband counts on me for his workouts. He doesn’t like to run alone. I even wrote about what I was experiencing here, so I will not rewrite it. I will tell you that I thought I was just still recovering from my marathon.

Finally, after 3 weeks of rest and the pain not really going anywhere – I went to see an Orthopedic Surgeon. At this point, the team trainer fell rather confident that I had torn my meniscus. After x-rays and an exam, the Dr. felt that was a rather good assumption. “Let’s get the MRI to be sure and I can do the procedure on Friday.” (you see, I was pushing for him to go through the process quickly because … well…do I need to explain that?) When I went back in on Thursday, expecting to get prepped for a procedure on Friday – I mean, I even already took the day off – he told me the actual diagnosis – deep bone bruise. I sat in shock – all of this for a bruise? “What kind of wuss am I?” I asked him. He assured me that I was no wuss and that I had a very serious injury of the right tibia. Unfortunately, no quick fix – more rest, then, more rest. UGH.

So, I am very grateful that I do not, in fact, have to have surgery. I am also glad to know that I was not setting some kind of record in the marathon recovery time needed department. My third blessing here is that I had a team trainer that took great care of me and sent me to the doctor. I would have NEVER gone to the doctor on my own – such is my suck it up nature.

Before the diagnosis I had set the goal to run my next marathon on October 31st. He said that he felt I should still be able to meet this goal. I will keep you posted.

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the few…the proud…the incredibly sore

Educator’s Workshop at Paris Island March 1-4, 2016 for the Recruiting Station of Columbia, South Carolina…holy cow…what an amazing experience. The sign that speaks the mission of the base really says it all. “We Make Marines”

My participation in this workshop tops the list of professional development experiences and learning about what I can do to help young people to find their paths, wherever they may lead.

Our group of 30 educators stayed in Beaufort and traveled to the base daily. We met Marines and recruits and learned what it takes to be a US Marine. We also were able to experience shooting the M 16, repelling down a 50 foot wall, running the obstacle course, and of course, visiting the pit.

The PIT – a sandy spot that looks like it is ready for a beach volleyball game, but I assure you this is not a fun spot. PIT, I believe stands for “personal incentive training”. Now, I don’t know if that is an official breakdown or one of affection. I know we all thought that some “personal incentive training” could be very effective in our classrooms.

The repel wall… one marine at the top and one at the bottom. These 2 men are there to make sure you go down safely. You could pass out and drop and still be lowered without harm. This did not assuage my fear AT ALL! So, here is the whole story. When we first arrived, they put us in formation and said “those that have no intention of repelling please go to the back fence”. I did not move. I was in. The instructor explained what was going to happen and told us to go get our gear. I walked with the group, but in the room with the gear – I bailed. I came out empty handed…I just could not do it. My fear of heights was going to win today.

The Marines that we were working with over the course of the 4 days expressed their dismay as I passed by to join the non-participants. I stood to the side for the 20 minute preparations of the group – anger growing and frustration brewing. Not only was I battling my fear of heights, but I had just hurt my knee on the obstacle course (read about that here). Still, I could not take it any longer and I walked up to my Drill Instructor and said “I don’t want to wuss out – is it too late?” No it was not. They went and got gear and got me ready in 60 seconds flat. As I climbed the stairs the shaking began. I tried not to think about it as I watched educator after educator disappear over the side. It was finally my turn.

Marine number 1 hooked me up, told me to step back, and then, just lean back. I tried and tried. We were to put our heals over the edge – half on, half off sort of thing. And then, keep legs straight and do a trust fall – 50 feet in the air – with the guy that is going to “catch” you 50 feet below. I kept staring into the eyes of Marine number one and listening to the voices of those below – trying to distinguish that of Marine number two. I had my first heal over the edge. As I tried to inch my other foot back, I rocked back and forth, left to right, not really making any progress. As the anxiety level rose, I had to step from the edge completely again. UGH! I repeated this twice. Seriously? I was so frustrated that I could not overcome this. I wanted it so badly! My Marine was so patient and so good and calming a woman on the edge.

Again, I get my right heel over the edge. “Now, just move your left foot,” he said. Sure. “I’m trying!” I screamed. Mental note – do not piss off the Marine holding the rope. Deep breath. Finally, I edged the foot back and he said , “you are there – now just lean back.” and in one fell swoop I dropped over the edge. The exhilaration at all time high in this 46-year-old life – I made it half way down the wall before they stopped me. My fingers were dangerously close to the rig and we needed to reposition before they lowered me the rest of the way. Whew. When I hit the ground it was hard to even think straight because the adrenaline was so high. I do remember, however, giving a great big hug to Marine number two.

I can see why they make recruits to this. A trust and confidence builder for sure. I am so grateful for the experience and to two very special Marines that I will never forget.

“You and Me Against the World”

Released in 1971 – The song was written by Kenny Ascher and Paul Williams – two men. I never would have guessed it. Fast forward 17-18 years or so, after my parents split for the second time and my brothers were doing their own thing, it was just me and my mom mourning the loss of our family alone, together.

Fast forward to 1993 – my mom passed and I was a single mother with a 13 month old daughter. I often sang this song to my daughter at night when I put her to sleep.

What the song is about: A single mother’s anthem. A mother sings to her daughter about their journey through life together.

My favorite lines:

“You and me against the world,
Sometimes it feels like you and me against the world,
When all the others turn their backs and walk away,
You can count on me to stay.”

What the words mean to me: This is the verse that first pushed me to sing this at night to my daughter. My mom stayed. She was a rock, a dependable, persistent rock. I wanted my daughter to feel safe and secure and to know that I would be present – always – and that she could depend on me and never disappoint me.

This verse also has the hint of how I depended on her. I put all of my energy into this little girl and our life together. After my mom died, my daughter kept me going out of sheer necessity – food, shelter, etc. Then, my daughter kept me going because I wanted to give her a better life and I was the only one in the world that could do it. We were alone, together.

“And when one of us is gone,
And one of us is left to carry on,
Then remembering will have to do,
Our memories alone will get us through
Think about the days of me and you,
You and me against the world.“

What the words mean to me: I often cried through these lyrics. Still do. I wrote this in an earlier post about my mother and another Helen Reddy song – “My mother remains my hero and a visage of strength, powering through life’s challenges with courage, integrity, and conviction.” (Read that post here.) I never thought anything could ever really keep her down or take her away from me. I think I sang this to my daughter, in part, to try to prepare us both for the day we will be apart. When my mom took ill and died 10 weeks later, I had never considered for one moment that she could be taken away from me. So naive at 22.

I think of my mother every day. Memories are all I have of her…and ‘remembering will have to do’. She is in my heart and the heart of my children – even the ones she never got to meet. They have been touched by her because I have been.

The tears through these lyrics also let me express my sorrow to my daughter. They allowed me show my daughter that it is okay to be sad and express your feelings…and that life does, indeed, go on. I would speak of my mother and recall fond memories of her, sharing the stories. I would tell Alexis that grandma is in heaven and I will see her again one day. Which leads me to the next verse.

“And for all the times we’ve cried I always felt that
God was on our side.“

What the words mean to me: I spoke of God and faith to my small, little girl. Although my anger towards Him exploded within me at times, and I questioned my faith when such an angel as my mother had to suffer so, and to meet such an ugly, early end – I know that the same faith got me through. The same faith that God has a plan is the same faith that helped me to raise a beautiful and talented young lady. I see my mother in her, now – strong, smart, confident, kind, independent, forthright, and loving. This brings me peace.

Full Lyrics for “You and Me Against the World”:

You and me against the world,
Sometimes it feels like you and me against the world,
When all the others turn their backs and walk away,
You can count on me to stay.

Remember when the circus came to town
And you were frightened by the clown,
Wasn’t it nice to be around someone that you knew,
Someone who was big and strong and looking out for

You and me against the world,
Sometimes it feels like you and me against the world
And for all the times we’ve cried I always felt that
God was on our side.

And when one of us is gone,
And one of us is left to carry on,
Then remembering will have to do,
Our memories alone will get us through
Think about the days of me and you,
You and me against the world.

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Love Bucket

Flowers!!! So, my husband brought daffodils to my classroom the other day. He had cut them fresh from our front yard and wanted to brighten my day. Needless to say, it worked.

Many different analogies cover relationships and how we balance ourselves, how we judge our contentment and happiness. I choose to go with the love bucket. Perhaps you saw that I referred to it in another post – Slushie to the Face. Anyway, it is very obvious. When you are treated with kindness and thoughtfulness, when your needs are placed in front of others – your bucket gets a scoop of lovin’. If your love bucket runs empty then you have no way of filling anyone else’s. And that really is the goal, isn’t it? To fill others with love?

I try very hard to fill the love buckets of those in my life. On this day, though – my husband really nailed it. I had commented on how pretty they looked in the front yard and even said the words…whose day could I make brighter tomorrow by bringing them some fresh, bright yellow flowers? I promise this was in no way a passive aggressive hint to my husband that I would like for him to bring them to me. That’s just not how I work; or how he does. In fact, until this day I would have told you that I had a much better chance of having flowers in my classroom if I just cut them for myself rather than wait for him to do it.

Let me explain – that is not a slam against him – it’s just now how he thinks, generally. I mean, if he cuts them, then they will die sooner. If he cuts them and removes them from the house, then we cannot enjoy them at home…where we spend most of our time together. I get it. They are planted there – they should stay there. Now, that’s how he thinks. That all just adds to the gesture.

Wow. Nice one, honey. To be surprised after all these years. Not just by the flowers, but by the change in perspective. My bucket runneth over. Thank you for taking the time out of your busy day to make me feel loved. These daffodils are way better than any store bought flowers because we grew them together – gross, right? The grosser the sentiment, the fuller the bucket – that’s just how the love bucket works. Have you handed out your scoop of lovin’ today?

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“Take Me Home, Country Roads”

Released in 1971 – John Denver first released this song written by Bill Danoff, Taffy Nivert, and John Denver

What the song is about: No hidden meaning here…it’s about the country roads of West Virginia and the joy of traveling home.

My favorite lines:

“Country roads, take me home
To the place I belong
West Virginia, mountain momma
Take me home, country roads”

What the words mean to me: I wanted to belong somewhere and I longed for a country road to take me home. My home was not in West Virginia, or in the mountains, but I guarantee my home had my momma. I longed for her when I was a child. We were sent to my grandmother’s home in Florida every summer due to the need for child care. My dad had John Denver on an 8-track tape and I remember listening to it in the car – both directions. On the way to Florida it made me very sad. All I could think about was how much I was going to miss my mom and dad. On the way back to Ohio at the end of the summer I felt lost because abandoning my grandmother did not seem like the right thing to do, but I so did not like being there. I wanted to be with my mother and father – always.

There was one road in particular that I will always remember on the journey home that this song brings to mind. It is barren and straight and goes on forever. It felt symbolic of how far away and empty I always felt as a child – no matter where I was.

Take Me Home, Country Roads – full lyrics

Almost heaven, West Virginia
Blue ridge mountains, Shenandoah river
Life is old there, older than the trees
Younger than the mountains, growin’ like a breeze

Country roads, take me home
To the place I belong
West Virginia, mountain momma
Take me home, country roads

All my memories, they gather ’round her
Miner’s lady, stranger to blue water
Dark and dusty, painted on the sky
Misty taste of moonshine, teardrops in my eyes

Country roads, take me home
To the place I belong
West Virginia, mountain momma
Take me home, country roads

I hear her voice in the mornin’ hour she calls me
The radio reminds me of my home far away
And drivin’ down the road I get a feeling
That I should have been home yesterday, yesterday

Country roads, take me home
To the place I belong
West Virginia, mountain momma
Take me home, country roads

Country roads, take me home
To the place I belong
West Virginia, West Virginia, mountain momma, oh momma
Take me home, country roads
Take me home, down country roads
Take me home, down country roads

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Getting back in the game.

So, after a lifetime of an on again, off again relationship with running – I finally ran my first marathon 2 months ago at 46. It was my third attempt at training and my first time at the starting line. Read about it here.

I did all the research about recovery – what I should eat, what kind of time to take off. The moment I crossed the finish line I knew I wanted to run another. Fast forward 2 months – I have really struggled with getting back out there. I knew this was possible. It, too, was in the research. I mean, I have been running, but not with the passion and fervor that kept me training through the cold and rain. And the 3 miles feel like 10. Also, I hurt my whole right leg – bruised every part of my knee-joint and connective tissue when I landed hard, sadly, from a marine corps obstacle course rope swing (whew – that was a mouthful). This does not help the motivation to run.

Honestly, my schedule during track season makes it very difficult to run. Our meets keep me out until 10 or 10:30 pm. On nights that we do not have meets I get home around 5:30 – generally physically, emotionally, and mentally exhausted. The other night, after a track meet, I crawled into bed around 11:30 and I hurt more from toe to hip than I ever did before, during, or after my marathon training. I had a restless night and awoke feeling the same way – simply aching. Standing at the finish line for 5 and a half hours on that track – after a day of standing on concrete floors – I guess is just too much for this 46-year-old lady.

Friday morning I emailed the male track coach who has great experience that I like to tap into now and again. I asked him “what am I doing wrong to feel so awful?” He suggested that I still needed to recover from my marathon. Say what? I struggled with this idea. Big time.

So, I jogged a few laps on Friday before the kids all hit the track. Then, I stretched well and promptly walked over to the trainer to get that knee iced down. The knee has been feeling better – and I have been under her care since the injury. Her suggestion has been to use it – keep running and keep checking in with her. No problem.

I ran a 5k with some friends on Saturday – I felt pretty strong, surprisingly. This morning, Sunday, I also ran with some confidence. I ran and easy, easy 4.5 and stretched and iced everything. I have been also been drinking a lot of water this weekend. I think I am going with that I was severely dehydrated on Thursday.

I need to get a race on the board. A half, I think. And a few 5ks through the spring.

What’s the point of this post? I am running – and I am not going to let my busy schedule, painful 15 hour days, or anything else keep me from running. Now if I can just believe that because, evidently, getting back in the game is hard after a marathon.

inspirational-running-quotes-when-running-on-empty-16

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Batter up!

I just sat through the first scrimmage of our girls softball team for this season and boy was it cold! So, after coaching track and going on a run with my husband, the weather seemed tolerable enough – oh no — no, no. The lack of clothing on my body and the failure to stretch after my run, and the (what felt like) 20 degree drop – not a good combo – I have some tight muscles!

Anyway, I enjoy going to the sporting events of my students. I try so hard so go at least once every season to every sport. My goal is 2-3, but sometimes I just cannot make that happen.

As I looked at the softball team tonight I realized I either currently teach or have taught every girl on the team, by far the highest volume of students of any sport. And, although my fingers maintain little feeling still as I type this post – my pride for these girls knows no bounds. Although I left after 2 hours and they still had more game to play, at one point they were down zero to 7. They fought their way back to an 11-7 lead. Nothing makes me more certain that I am in the right place when I see young folks rise above and conquer. It had nothing to do with me – I was merely a spectator. But, boy it felt good to see them fight and find that success.

I do not know at this time if they won the game, but they definitely won my heart (too much?). Well it’s true – and I know that I am a big sap! If you get a chance to attend a sporting event at a local high school I encourage you to take it. These kids work tirelessly at their sport. We often hear comments like “this generation is so lazy”, “these kids are so entitled”, “no one wants to work for anything anymore”. But these kids go to school all day, maintain their grades with homework (sometimes hours), and practice every single day for 2 hours after school – not to mention friends, jobs and chores. And yes, I put friends on the list because, let’s face it, relationships of all kinds are work. These kids work hard. These kids have drive. I was so tired after work today…but then I just remembered how tired my students must be, too – and so I go and sit in the cold. Way to go girls!

***update – I wrote this a few days ago – the girls won the game. I have since been to a few more games and they continue to thrive! Go Canes!

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