Tag: Parenting

What Can President Obama’s Inaugural Address Teach America’s Children?

Posted on January 26, 2013 by

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White House, October 2012

I watched President Obama’s inauguration, on the birth date of Martin Luther King, Jr., with a delicious sense of happiness. Parents, educators and American citizens easily make the connection between the two leaders; I began to think about how Obama’s inaugural speech’s messages will leave the same lasting impact on our children as did MLK, and how his ideas of freedom, change, citizenship, equality and character can be used to educate our children.

Obama’s speech sent a message of freedom and ‘limitless possibilities’ for America’s children. He believes that each generation has an obligation to peacefully work towards freedom, and that by working together, using new responses to what was set before us in the Constitution, we can create change. His statement that we can turn enemies into friends represents the essence of how children can begin to learn to create freedom for all.

To create change, Obama asks Americans for commitment. Our children may not understand the ‘it can happen to you’ message, but they do understand that the world is ours to share. Learning about climate change, new ways of creating energy, developing and using new technologies are all ways that as adults we can adjust to our time, and create a future that is sustainable for our children and our children’s children. Obama’s message that ‘together we are stronger’ is a way our children can learn to work together to solve the challenges of our future.

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JFK Center for the Performing Arts, Wahington, DC

Citizenship is something we profess to teach in school, but Obama’s speech highlights the necessity of working together as American citizens. As we teach children allegiance to American ideas set forth in the Constitution, we must teach them to work together to understand the power of this obligation, and the hope that can be realized through action. Teaching our children that they don’t always have to agree, but they do have to listen, collaborate and work together.

Children understand the concept of fairness. Obama’s speech addresses the concept of equality as a way to grow our country, and an necessity because we are Americans. He said, ” Our journey is not complete until all our children, from the streets of Detroit to the hills of Appalachia to the quiet lanes of Newtown, know that they are cared for, and cherished, and always safe from harm.” Each of us, regardless of gender, religion, belief, disability, sexuality, or race deserves equality because we are Americans.

Finally, Obama’s inaugural address can teach America‘s children about the concept of character. Our children will inherit the errors and successes of this generation, but by learning the concept of hard work and responsibility will have the necessary tools to conquer the challenges of tomorrow. Obama said, ” And we must be a source of hope to the poor, the sick, the marginalized, the victims of prejudice – not out of mere charity, but because peace in our time requires the constant advance of those principles that our common creed describes: tolerance and opportunity; human dignity and justice.”

What better message can we send to our children: that by working together, and understanding and acting on the concepts of freedom, change, citizenship, equality and character we can not only improve ourselves, but better our future as a nation.

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Jennifer Wolfe

Jennifer Wolfe, a writer-teacher-mom, is dedicated to finding the extraordinary in the ordinary moments of life by thinking deeply, loving fiercely, and teaching audaciously. Jennifer is a Google Certified Educator, Hyperdoc fanatic, and a voracious reader. Read her stories on her blog, mamawolfe, and grab free copies of her teaching and parenting resources.

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Tolkien, Time, and Why Does It Go So Fast?

Posted on January 23, 2013 by

“All we have to decide is what to do with the time that is given us.”

J.R.R. Tolkien

The Fellowship of the Ring

Observatories always have scared me a little bit.  I’m not sure why, other than my extreme childhood motion sickness that kicked in every time the stars and planets swirled around overhead.  I much prefer the real thing.  Laying on my back on a wooden dock, looking up at the meteor shower, or watching the sunset from my upstairs window, or witnessing the dawn over the ridge of the Sierras creates much more meaning than seeing the entire universe spin before my eyes.

It’s all about time, though.  Stretching my brain big enough to encompass the billions and billions of years our solar system has existed simply exhausts and terrifies me.  I was born in the 60s, a time of revolution. A time of possibility.  A time of purpose.

So today, in the 21st century, how is it that the exact same number of seconds, minutes and hours that every human has possessed, the precise amount of time, does not constantly fill me with possibility,  purpose. or revolution – instead of panic?

Live in the moment. Seize the day. Live every day like it is your last.

I’ve heard them all.  We are all busy, busy people. We all have a new day every 24 hours to use as we see fit.

So why is it that my day, which starts well before dawn, never seems long enough? Is that why I’m always running a e message in my mind?  Slow down, focus, be in the present, there will be time for that later…

I wish it was as simple as Tolkien said.

Nicaragua Lily and Cameron

I wish all I had to decide was what to do with the time that is given us.  I wish that such a simple decision wasn’t so complicated.

I’m great at it in the classroom. I maximize every single second. I don’t believe in wasting one minute of the 55 I get with my students each day.

When the school day ends, and I start my second job at home, I feel the same way.  The afternoons and evenings are jam packed with chores, homework, lessons, and a bit of reading, writing, cooking, and the occasional chess game.

Weekends- November to April are in the snow.

Summers? Travel, camps, gardening, and catching up on the neglected issues from the school year.

I wish every second I have could be frozen, duplicated, or held in my heart. I am acutely, painfully aware that the time with my daughter at home is rushing by. My son is on the cusp of all that is good and terrifying about adolescence.  It’s  not really as simple as Tolkien says.

I tick the hours by; days turn into weeks, then months. Then years.  Suddenly, it’s been nearly 18.

Time is more precious now than ever.

Someday soon, I will have more time than I can imagine.  Endless hours to decide what to do.

Just not who I want to spend it with.

 

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Jennifer Wolfe

Jennifer Wolfe, a writer-teacher-mom, is dedicated to finding the extraordinary in the ordinary moments of life by thinking deeply, loving fiercely, and teaching audaciously. Jennifer is a Google Certified Educator, Hyperdoc fanatic, and a voracious reader. Read her stories on her blog, mamawolfe, and grab free copies of her teaching and parenting resources.

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What do Kids, Parents, and Dreamers Have in Common with MLK and President Obama?

Posted on January 21, 2013 by

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I’m sitting in my study on an overcast Monday morning.  The sun came up a while ago, but went unnoticed by me as I busily wrote in my new journal, sketching out writing goals for 2013 along with ideas, hopes and worries.  I’m trying to move forward, you see.

As I covered the fresh, lined pages with scribbles, clusters and words coming from deep inside, the pre-inaugural images played alongside, just intriguing enough to catch my attention occasionally.  I watch video from FDR, Reagan and Obama’s past inaugural addresses, and  the words, “We have nothing to fear but fear itself” catch my ear, just enough to cause me to leave my dreams and listen more intently.  JFK flashes, his memorable, “Ask not what your country can do for you; ask what you can do for your country.”

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And then President Obama, reminding us that, “This is the price and the promise of citizenship. This is the source of our confidence. The knowledge that God calls on us to shape an uncertain destiny. This is the meaning of our liberty and our creed, why men and women and children of every race and every faith can join in celebration across this magnificent mall, and why a man, whose father less than 60 years ago might not have been served in a local restaurant, can now stand before you to take a most sacred oath.”

These great statements came from men of differing backgrounds, political parties, races and religions.  While they varied greatly in their presidencies, they all share the common message of ordinary, everyday courage.  I drift away from my own goals, and begin to toss this idea around in my mind.

As today’s American parents, we grew up in the shadow of these words.  We trust our children will be safe and return to us as they leave the house each day.  We agonize over how to handle their failures and successes in order to nurture them into compassionate, confident human beings.  We work hard and try to make good choices to steer our children in the right direction.

Daily, we ask our children to do their best.  We ask them to go to school, follow the rules, and face down peer pressure.  We believe they will handle puberty, relationships, and their sexuality with maturity.  We expect they will work with all teachers, complete projects and assignments with above-average scores, and show their inner warriors on sports teams.  They will go to college, graduate and have a career.

And the dreamers – the writers, the musicians, the artists that enhance and elevate our thinking through their imaginations.  We are in awe of those spirits who have the audacity to believe that someone else will listen to them, read their words, or look at their dreams as they lay them before us in all their unprotected glory.

12 10 trip DC 086As I walked Capitol Mall in 2012 for the first time in my life, images from history books swirled through my mind. I became lost in the stories, the events, and the courage of so many men and women who had stood precisely in my location.  Their stories are not all famous, and many have gone unknown amidst the pomp and circumstance of our nation.  As I gazed up at the MLK Memorial and read the inscriptions of hope, I realized that they are all there with me, really.  Their desires to live and die for their convictions.  Their courage in the face of unknown consequences.  Their belief of living in the present, and their audacity to hope that somehow, their very existence in this world could bring change and move us forward as a country and a people.

Turning back to the news, I realize I haven’t missed much.  The rituals continue, the reporters recall each move of everyone-who-is-anyone in Washington.  The people along the parade route cheer, wave, and smile as they catch a glimpse of the President as he drives by. This time, they vow, we were not going to miss it.  We will do whatever it takes to be a part of history.

What I think they’re missing is that they already are.  Kids, parents, and dreamers who line the Mall today are not only the past, but also the future.  FDR, JFK, MLK and Obama are simply the embodiment of the collective courage of America.  They are one of billions who walk out their door each day and face extraordinary, everyday courage.  It is what we have in common, and what will move us forward as a country.

Have courage.  Do what Martin Luther King Jr. asked, and remember, “There comes a time when one must take a position that is neither safe, nor politic, nor popular, but he must take it because conscience tells him it is right.

Have courage.  Make history.  Move forward.

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Jennifer Wolfe

Jennifer Wolfe, a writer-teacher-mom, is dedicated to finding the extraordinary in the ordinary moments of life by thinking deeply, loving fiercely, and teaching audaciously. Jennifer is a Google Certified Educator, Hyperdoc fanatic, and a voracious reader. Read her stories on her blog, mamawolfe, and grab free copies of her teaching and parenting resources.

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Snow and Sickness and Those Horrible Mommy Moments of Panic

Posted on January 16, 2013 by

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I was sick for most of the winter vacation.  Really sick.  Runny, sneezy, want-to-claw-out-my–itchy-eyes sick.  For days.  This is NOT how I wanted to spend my vacation.  I imagined a long, restful break full of cooking, baking, laughing, skiing, long walks in the snow, dinner with friends, games by the fire…not exactly what I got.  Instead, I was on the couch, tissue close at hand, too tired and grumpy and feeling sorry for myself to be pleasant company for anyone besides my family.  They had no choice.  It was everything I could do to not invite the whole Tahoe basin to my pity party.

Why is it that teachers always get sick on their vacations?  Not fair.  Who was the little creep who infected me with this?

The other bummer about being sick, besides thinking about all those sick days you’re NOT using, is that when you’re a mom, no one takes care of you – and you still have to take care of them.

Actually, now that my kids are teens it’s much easier.  Those baby years were rough-I guess I do have it easier now. I don’t have to change diapers, rock them to sleep or read Curious George for the millionth time.  But they still needed to be fed, and in the snow, grocery shopping is a huge ordeal.  I wasn’t up for that at all.  No endless circling the parking lot for a space, slogging into the store, pushing the shopping cart through the snow (that’s a fun one – have you tried it?) or heaving over-packed grocery bags through the four feet of snow to our door.  So, I did what any mom would do: I sent my son to the store.  On foot.

Ok, it’s not as bad as it sounds.  There is a mom-n-pop type store just down the snowy icy, street.  He can’t drive, but he can walk.

I slapped $20 in his hand, gave him a strict lecture about walking on the highway versus the road (I told him to choose the road-he’s quick, but jumping out of the path of a sliding car is not worth it), and sent him off.  It was daylight.  It was just down the street.  It was just for some eggs.

I watched him walk away, headphones over his ears, smile on his face.  Happy to be helping mama, or happy to be out of the house?

30 minutes later and it was getting dark.  No sign of teenager, eggs, or anything else that would alleviate my anxiety.  I was ready to call out the patrol. But, I was sick, on the couch, and in my bathrobe.  I had to fight my natural urge to hurl myself through snow banks to go find him. My baby was out in the snow.  In the dark.  Sensing my impending eruption, my husband volunteered.

As he geared up, amazing thoughts flashed through my mind.  Images of my son taking a detour, going to the highway for a shortcut, bounding through snow banks.  I imagined the sirens racing down the highway on the way to pick him up, the phone call, the hospital…I was way gone into future-trip land.

Just when I felt I was about to burst, something dark caught my eye.  There he was.  I spied him out the window, sauntering down the street, carton of eggs in hand, and headphones on ears.  He wore a huge smile on his face.

I exhaled all my anxiety, and tried to use the next sixty seconds figuring out how to handle myself. I couldn’t yell. I wanted to scream and release all my rage and fury about what he’d put me through.

Angrymamawolfe.

I fought the urge to run out into the snow and throttle him.  I figured the best bet was to play it cool, act as if I wasn’t worried.

Coolmamawolfe.

He walked through the door, stomping the snow from his boots. “Mom, I spent some time down at the lake. It was amazing.  The sky was so beautiful.  I took pictures.”

Amazedmamawolfe.

My heart melted along with the clumps of snow on the hardwood floors.  What a fool I am.  What a silly, foolish worrywart.  What a paranoid, over-protective parent.

I wanted to give him a lecture on the dangers of wearing headphones, but his sheer joy took it out of me.

“You’d be so proud of me, mom.  I checked the expiration dates.  One carton expired tomorrow, so I didn’t buy it.”  I could feel him growing up as he spoke.

You’re right, Cam, I thought as I hugged him close. You have no idea how proud.

Through Cameron’s eyes:

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the sky was truly amazing, wasn’t it?

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I see why he wanted to get closer…

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that’s a little too close, Cam

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OK, so there was a bit of goofing around…


Tahoe Pines on Dwellable

Jennifer Wolfe

Jennifer Wolfe, a writer-teacher-mom, is dedicated to finding the extraordinary in the ordinary moments of life by thinking deeply, loving fiercely, and teaching audaciously. Jennifer is a Google Certified Educator, Hyperdoc fanatic, and a voracious reader. Read her stories on her blog, mamawolfe, and grab free copies of her teaching and parenting resources.

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Kurt Vonnegut and Left of Center

Posted on January 12, 2013 by

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“I want to stand as close to the edge as I can without going over. Out on the edge you see all kinds of things you can’t see from the center.”

– Kurt Vonnegut

I wonder sometimes how close to the edge I can really get, where I can take risks and where I need to crawl back to the safety of the middle.

Where do I teach my children to stand, and where do they naturally gravitate towards?

So different from when I was a kid.

I wonder how to live life close to the edge without falling off.  Tipping over.  Or tripping into the abyss.

I wonder what would happen if I took one. step. closer.

Who would follow me?

Could I balance like this, on the railing of life, arms wide open? At my age?

I wonder if this is something only a 13-year-old boy could do. Would do.

Life has a funny way of showing us.

Right now I think I’m cruising along in the fast lane.

Straddling the center median at times.

Like a bumper car, hurtling back to the middle at one moment, then flooring it back to the edge.

I am seeing all kinds of things I never saw from the center.

Out here on the edge. 

Jennifer Wolfe

Jennifer Wolfe, a writer-teacher-mom, is dedicated to finding the extraordinary in the ordinary moments of life by thinking deeply, loving fiercely, and teaching audaciously. Jennifer is a Google Certified Educator, Hyperdoc fanatic, and a voracious reader. Read her stories on her blog, mamawolfe, and grab free copies of her teaching and parenting resources.

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