Treasure Hunting: Geocaching for Memories

Posted on July 11, 2011 by Jennifer Wolfe

Sometimes, taking a walk with my son Cameron and my dog Cola is just the best thing to do. We’re lucky in Davis to have a multitude of options for our journey-from our place in central Davis we can really head in any direction and find something to see. After discovering geocaching a few years ago, our walks have turned into moments of discovery.

Geocaching is a game of high tech hide and seek. It’s kind of like treasure hunting, except typical cache treasures aren’t worth much in monetary value-it’s all about the hunt. “Cachers” find the thrill is in trying to solve the mystery and find the box, can, or whatever creative container has been hidden using coordinates from a GPS. Personally, I like the geocaching app I downloaded on my iPhone-it has allowed us to hunt and seek for treasures everywhere we go, in any city or state.

As Cameron, Cola and I stroll along on our hunts we start to notice things we haven’t before-even in our own neighborhood. We pay attention to the little details around us as we search for clues to the mystery. We talk and walk, and when we think we’re close we check for ‘muggles’-(cache-speak for those who aren’t part of the caching community). After we log our find it’s on to the next, and the next, and pretty soon it’s dark, and we head home. We’ve cached all over Davis- the Arboretum, old North Davis, CommunityPark, Covell, Northstar and Stonegate. We’ve climbed bridges, dug around in dirt and spiderwebs, and even stumbled across a large roosting bird of some sort out by the freeway. There have been moments when I was ready to give up, and suddenly Cameron would pop up with a huge grin on his face and the cache in his hand.

What I’ve learned is that stuff is hidden everywhere. For me, geocaching isn’t about finding the capsule, or logging the visit. It’s the journey we take to get there. It’s the wild turkeys roosting in the trees, or the geese in the bird sanctuary. It’s the turtles and peacocks at the Arboretum and the yellow roses blooming along the Toomey Field fence. And mostly, it’s the stuff that my son and I discover about each other along the way.

What I’m still learning is that it’s ok to get lost in the moment, and to slow down and notice the stuff. The memories I log in my mind are the most valuable treasure of all.

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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Speak Softly: How To Coach So People Will Listen

Posted on July 6, 2011 by Jennifer Wolfe

Scenario: Hot July night in Davis, CA. Little League Fields are full of spectators smiling and sweating through the sweltering 100 degree plus heat amidst umbrellas, ice chests, and the search for shade. Hundreds of people were gathered to watch our local children battle it out in the District 64 all star games.

I do love Davis Little League baseball. Starting with T-ball, our sons and daughters learn to run, bat, throw, catch, and play hard. As they move through Farm, AA, AAA, and into Majors, games turn from endless marathons of good natured cheers and encouragement to intense moments of strategy, skill and endurance. But tonight’s game got me thinking about HOW we teach them to play the game.

My son has had dozens of amazing Davis Little League coaches. As a teacher, I am always amazed at and profoundly grateful for the contribution they make to the program-my son wouldn’t be the player he is without their dedication. I’ve watched them coach through rain, wind, cold, and heat with smiles on their faces and a constant positive attitude. They teach, supervise, and prepare their players to do their best and never give up-excellent life lessons. But tonight I watched a different kind of coaching-this came from a visiting coach from a neighboring town during the all star games.

This visiting coach used the ‘bark and drill’ approach. He was loud, and barked as if he were conducting a symphony of soldiers on the field. I tried to listen to what he was saying, and I have to admit that most of what spewed out of his mouth was ‘positive’- but the kind of encouragement that I would expect from someone training kids to win at all costs. The strategy he used didn’t seem to involve his head or his heart-it was intimidating, loud, and abrasive. Because I was sitting merely 10 feet away from his ranting, I couldn’t help but wonder how the players on the field (namely the third baseman) could keep their focus. He yelled, but did anybody hear him?

Baseball is a game of concentration and observation. Players need to plan ahead, think it through, and know what they will do if and when the ball arrives in their space. This ‘coach’ was taking all individual thought away from his players in favor of overwhelming them with his plan. Is this what we really want our kids to learn about playing a sport? Are these the life lessons our kids should learn?

What I’ve learned is that the best way to get people to listen to you is to let them hear you whisper. Trying to “lift up” versus “shout down” has always served me best-both in and out of the classroom. What I’m still learning is how to deal with these yell leaders-if you have any ideas, please let me know. And please, thank those coaches in your life who teach by example, and know how to really communicate what’s important.

Jennifer Wolfe

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Double Rainbow

Posted on June 30, 2011 by Jennifer Wolfe

“Life is not measured by the number of breaths you take, but by the moments that take your breath away” – Anonymous

One of those moments for me is seeing a double rainbow. Now, I’m not a science teacher, and I would be hard pressed to give an accurate description as to the reasons for this phenomenon. Something about refraction and reflection I think, but what I do know is that no matter what I’m doing, a double rainbow stops me in my tracks. The sense of unpredictability, fragility, and instability hits me, and I can’t take my eyes off it. I’ve given up trying to snap a photo-it never seems to capture the intensity of color or splendor. It is a moment that could be gone in an instant, best savored in ‘real-time’.

A friend of mine passed away last month. He was exactly my age, was a teacher, married, and had two young kids, a boy and a girl-just like me. Also like me, all he had really ever wanted to do and had done for a career is teach junior high. He was a really, really nice guy-one of those people who everyone likes and is just happy all the time. Now, he’s gone. He passed away as the school year was winding down, causing all of us who knew him to stop what we were doing and just grieve.

A few weeks ago his family held a celebration of his life. Hawaiian shirts and baseball gear were the requested attire. Although he didn’t live in Davis, he made an enormous impact on our community, especially noted by the numbers of former students who turned up at the memorial. Teaching is one of those professions that doesn’t always allow us to see the impact we have on our students in the moment. We move from day to day, month to month, and when we hit the 180 day mark our ‘term’ is over. We say goodbye, sign yearbooks, give hugs and best wishes and they leave the classroom. For me, it often seems like our time together was too short and I’ve still got more to teach.

What I’ve learned lately is that moments with people are unpredictable, fragile, and when looked at from the right perspective we can see everything in living color-ROYGBIV. What I’m still learning is that moments and people may be gone in an instant, but the imprint they leave on us is what’s memorable. And like the double rainbow I saw on the way home from the memorial, meant to be savored right now.

Jennifer Wolfe

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the path

Posted on June 28, 2011 by Jennifer Wolfe

Sometimes we don’t know where we’re headed. Actually, most of the time. This is especially hard if you’re one of those people who likes to know where they’re going-all of the time. Like me.

I’m not much of a risk taker. I don’t like high places, ledges, surprises, or the unknown. I like to have a plan. I like lists, planners, recipes and getting things done. But every once in awhile I surprise myself, and take a step. Sometimes they are baby steps, sometimes, mamabear steps, and sometimes I just jump without thinking or looking. Those are the scary ones to me, and more often than not I end up regretting something about them. Especially when it involves over-indulgence. But lately I’ve taken a few mamabear steps that have actually come out ok.

I was talking with a new friend the other day, and we were discussing what it’s like to be our age and feel like we’re getting to the place where change is really quite scary, especially if it involves careers, money and doing something that other people (younger ones) are more skilled at, more experienced at, or maybe just more courageous. We agreed that sometimes ‘putting ourselves out there’ is essential to open the door of life just a tinge wider, giving us a new view and opening up the possibility that ‘there’ will respond. And the crazy thing is, it usually does.

This has happened to me a couple of times over the last few years, giving me the confidence to now keep the door propped open. Just a tinge. For some of us just taking the jump into parenthood is the opening. For some, finishing school, a project, taking a trip or creating something just for the sake of creativity. Like a blog.

What I’ve learned is that Lao Tzu’s famous quote, “The journey of a thousand miles begins with one step” is absolutely true. That step can be small, medium, or large, but it’s a step all the same. And usually, if you’re on firm ground to begin with, the step comes out ok. And then another one can follow right after it. If the ground beneath you is muddy, crumbly, or slippery, that step might take longer or require some thought, but it still can be done. What I’m still learning is that I can trust myself to take the step, and to know that there are so many people in my life that will hold my hand if I need help to get down the path.

Jennifer Wolfe

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All by myself

Posted on June 28, 2011 by Jennifer Wolfe

I used power tools today. Actually, it was A power tool, not more than one. The project at hand was to hang an outdoor screen, which involved drilling into stucco. It also involved going to the hardware store, buying the green screw thingies that go into the stucco, purchasing a special 3/4″ drill bit just for masonry, and then somehow figuring it all out by myself. Oh-there was also caulk involved. To protect the stucco.

Each year my husband and son spend a week together at Mt. Hood, Oregon at a ski racing camp. Since I don’t race, I use the week to stay at home and finish all the projects I’ve put on my summer ‘to-do’ list. I actually don’t mind the week alone (smile) and don’t even mind the projects. I clean the carpets, organize the cupboards, go through the year’s worth of photos, read, sleep, watch movies, and hardly cook at all. I also usually paint something, but that’s another post. So today, it was the window shade. After obtaining the good advice at Ace Hardware, I gathered my tools and headed up on the ladder. My teenage daughter wasn’t too interested in helping, which disappointed me somewhat-what a great chance to see what mamawolfe could do all by herself! I tried to get her to help with finding some tools, plugging in cords, but quickly realized I was on my own. So up the ladder I went, drill in hand. I knew it was crucial to get that first hole drilled correctly. You can’t erase a stucco hole. After careful calculations, a few pencil marks, and some concerted effort I had a hole. I quickly squirted some caulking in, hammered the green screwy thing, and screwed my cup hook in tightly. It worked! Next, more lining up. My confidence strong, I measured, drilled, caulked, hammered and screwed again. Up went the shade! I actually did it all by myself! Full of pride, I snapped a picture as evidence and descended.

Later, after the chores for the day were done, we decided to watch a DVD-The Social Network. On the ‘big’ tv upstairs, the one with the large screen and surround sound. It’s girl’s week, after all. We assembled dinner, and slipped the DVD in. Turned on the tv, all good. But no movie. No picture, no sound. We couldn’t make it happen. We tried texting my husband to find out what was wrong, but no response. We just couldn’t get it to play. Humbly, we returned downstairs to the more simple, familiar machine. Small screen, no surround sound, but we would watch our movie.

What I learned today is that I can do some things I never thought I could. I can successfully drill into the side of a stucco house. I can use a caulk gun. I can hammer and screw and hang all by myself, even while standing on a ladder. But I can’t operate a simple machine. I need my husband. A friend commented on my Facebook (ironic, huh?) tonight, saying it seems like my family is never in the same place. It made me think about the time we do spend apart, and how it gives me the chance to do things all by myself, and how I really do need my family around. Not just to turn on the DVD, but to celebrate the simple things, and to help me learn. I’m still learning how to do a lot, even at my age.

Jennifer Wolfe

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