Category: Life

Friday Photo: City By Dark

Posted on February 19, 2012 by Jennifer Wolfe

Traveling in a new city can be intimidating. Add to that traveling alone, in a new state, using unfamiliar public transportation, and you have a recipe for a pretty intense experience. I’m too stubborn, though, to let a little dark get in the way of what I want.

Having never before visited the nation’s capitol, I was determined to do the tourist things. I’m not shy about asking for help, advice, directions, or anything else that will keep me from doing what I want and seeing all the city has to offer.

Last night was one such experience. After dinner I headed to the metro, and introduced myself to Calvin, the friendly older gentleman in charge of the L’Enfant Metro Station at night. He couldn’t have been happier to help this California girl navigate herself around the city.

After assuring me there were ‘lots of police’ out at night, he directed me onto the ‘blue line’ towards the capitol. Upon exiting the underground stop I was astonished to be the only person within sight-and it was 8:30 p.m. on a Friday night!

Heading towards the Capitol Building I was struck by the majestic glow coming through the barren trees. The strength, beauty and majesty of our country shone brightly, and I began circling the grounds to see it from every angle. Turning, I caught a glimpse of the Washington Memorial towering high in the sky, lit up like a beacon. I began walking, sure that there would be more undiscovered beauty waiting for me along the way.

Walking the city alone, in the dark, may not be for everyone. But for me the calm and solitude of the chilly night was the perfect backdrop for the brillance I encountered. And I didn’t have to share it with anyone else-it was all for me tonight.

Are you letting something get in your way?

primark

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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It’s All In How You Say It

Posted on February 13, 2012 by Jennifer Wolfe

I believe that most people don’t obsess about language as much as an English teacher does. It’s our curse. We can’t overlook a misplaced apostrophe, an incorrectly spelled word, or a dangling modifier. English teachers know language, and we have radar to catch those who abuse it.

It’s all really for a good cause. Language experts are all about communication. Using the written word to convey our thoughts, opinions, emotions and information is our forte. And when it’s misused – watch out. You’re no match for us.

Surprisingly, I don’t have a problem with ‘net speak’. My students use it as they do any other second language, and they know when to switch back and forth. And if they forget, well, I surely remind them.

What really gets me going, though, is poor word choice. It’s laziness, simplicity and thoughtlessness combined. Word choice really ruined my week. I had an unfortunate encounter with a word that no educator wants to have in the same sentence with his or her name: layoff. Use of this word in schools from now through March 15 is sure to create high anxiety and low productivity, which is exactly what happened to me.

I received an email indicating that I would be ‘bumped’ in lieu of a potential ‘layoff’ and I had 48 hours to respond. End of email.

Now, communicating by email is a dangerous thing for those who are unable to express themselves well with the written language. Unlike handwritten letters, email has very little emotion or personality to help the recipient understand the nuances of the message. Word choice becomes critical, and unfortunately this week, word choice was just plain….wrong.

When I read the words ‘bump’ and ‘layoff’ my heart dropped into my stomach. I have 10 years seniority in my district and could not imagine what this meant. Twenty-one years of teaching and I’m still worrying about a layoff? This was definitely not the message I wanted to receive at the end of a long school day, but there it was.

I pulled my jaw shut and started to process. I went back into my head and began to spin all sorts of scenarios about what might be going on and how I would react. In other words, I panicked. Layoff is not a good word.

After lengthy discussions with colleagues, friends, the assistant superintendent, and a night spent tossing and turning, another email provided clarification came that ‘layoff’ was the wrong word choice. ‘Bump’ was correct, ‘layoff’ was not. ‘Bump’ isn’t ideal, but it’s sure better than ‘layoff’. One wrong word choice, and my day and night flipped into a tailspin.

Precision of language may be a curse of the English teacher, but there’s a good reason. Words have power. They can bring elation and devastation. They can show emotion and action. Words well chosen and precise give us the ability to communicate at a high level, and words chosen thoughtlessly and carelessly can bring us to the lowest depths of all.

The next time you’re typing an email or texting someone, remember: it’s all in how you say it.

Jennifer Wolfe

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Friday Photo: Back to the Future

Posted on February 10, 2012 by Jennifer Wolfe

Some days I wish for that machine from ‘Back To The Future’ – the one where I could climb in and time travel backwards. In the movie, Marty McFly found himself thirty years back in 1955, smack in the middle of his parent’s romance.

Mainly, I’d travel back to beautiful places I’ve been in my life. I’d love the convenience of pushing a button and finding myself in a new location. If I felt like great adventures, I’d go to Nicaragua. For youthful abandon, I’d wake up in a hostel in Amsterdam. Missing my childhood pen pal? I’d go back to Yorkshire, England. Nostalgia for family who have passed on would send me back to Sherman Oaks, California. A yearning for academic stimulation would find me in Berkeley.

Today I want to jump in with Marty and travel back to the place where generations of my family have landed before me. I want to walk on the soft white sand towards the lone Cyprus. I want to climb over to Bird Rock and peek into the Whaler’s Cabin at Point Lobos. I want to climb Hawk Tower and stare into the Pacific, imagining Jeffer’s view from the early 1900s. I want to watch my babies bury themselves in the sand of the Bird Sanctuary Beach and giggle as they wiggle their toes free.

Then tomorrow I’ll be back in 2012, immersed in life as I know it today. I’ll be driving from mountain to mountain, cheering my children as they catapult down the ski run. I’ll be packing lunches and loading skis, grading papers and doing laundry, unloading groceries and washing dishes.

But just for today, could you open the door and let me have a moment just for me?

Jennifer Wolfe

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Banning Barbie: A Look at Iran’s Attack on the American Beauty

Posted on January 30, 2012 by Jennifer Wolfe

For the last decade, Iran has been down on Barbie. Toy stores were banned from selling her, and Iranian children were discouraged from playing with or purchasing our genuine American girl for fears of the ‘westernization’ of Iranian culture.

This week, Barbie was banned.

Iranian police have swept into toy stores throughout the country and taken Barbie into custody, closing down the shops that were harboring the criminal.

Since Barbie was born in 1959, she has been an American symbol. Her empire evolved over the years, and became an icon for American children. However, American Barbie hasn’t been without her own controversy, and I kind of understand why the Iranians might be so interested in putting Barbie in the closet. I know I was.

Many women feel that she is an incorrect and unrealistic image of females – of any age. Personally, her curvaceous plastic body and painted on beauty queen smile always rubbed me the wrong way. A child of the 70s, I didn’t grow up owning any Barbies-thank you, mom. Naturally, when I had my own daughter I declared our house a ‘Barbie-free zone’.

That lasted until about kindergarten, when it seemed as if every child invited to our birthday parties had visited ‘the pink zone.’ Barbie became the most popular gift choice of the elementary school set, so I instructed my daughter to thank them politely, and they went into the under-bed ‘Barbie box’.

I didn’t ban her from playing with them. If Barbie loving friend came over and wanted to drag them out, so be it. The allure didn’t last, and shortly after the play date ended Barbie was boxed and returned to her proper place. There were no tears or temper tantrums, and eventually Barbie was…donated.

I wanted my daughter to have her own images of what a real woman looked like, dressed like, and acted like. My 5’2 body is more akin to Barbie’s little sister than any beauty queen’s. My husband isn’t a beach-babe-surfer-type, although I do live in California. I’m not the type to wear skin-tight clothing and heels to my middle school teaching job, nor do I drive a pink Corvette or live in a plastic palace. And neither do my friends.

http://www.islamfortoday.com/iran02.htm

So the Iranian solution of ‘Dara and Sara’ as replacement to Ken and Barbie actually makes some sense to me. I belive children and adults should have realistic role models. The part that doesn’t make sense to me, though, is the militant banning and forcible removal by the Iranian police. Haven’t they learned that which is unattainable often becomes more desirable?

Maybe the police should take a lesson from this American girl. Give the children role models that you believe in. Banishment creates backlash. Find a place for Barbie that keeps her within reach, but not too far away to touch.

She’s only made of plastic, after all.

Jennifer Wolfe

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Moms at Work

Posted on January 25, 2012 by Jennifer Wolfe

I’ve always been a working mom. I was one of those women who thought that I could do it all – full time teaching, ever present spouse and greet my kids after school with a tray of freshly baked cookies.

Life didn’t exactly turn out that way.

When my daughter was born, I was sure I could return to my 7^thgrade English teaching job. It only would require a 60-minute round trip commute and leaving her home with her dad all day. And, I could still breast feed.

Luckily, the sleep deprivation got to me, and I realized not all that was going to happen.

After six months home with her it was time to return to the classroom. I settled on a 5^thgrade position that would allow me to work closer to home and have fewer papers to grade. I could zip home on my lunch hour to feed the baby, zip back for the afternoon and be home in time to bake cookies for my husband.

Life didn’t exactly turn out that way, either.

Trying to time a feeding for the 10-minute window I had available didn’t sit well with my stubborn daughter. The tears when I left didn’t sit well with my husband. Fifth graders were sucking all my patience – they were so clingy. And the cookies? That was just a fantasy.

The following school year I tried something else – a 7^thgrade position in a town about 10 minutes away. The plus side was the curriculum-my comfort zone-and my schedule-8-12. The down side was the commute-15 minutes each way might have well been crossing the state line. But she was growing up, and didn’t depend on me quite as much. My husband mastered the art of the long walk to tire her out, and she adjusted.

Then life presented baby #2.

This time I gave in. Stay at home mom I would be. The pendulum swung, my husband took a second job, and I spent every waking moment with both kids. I baked cookies-but he was too tired to eat them when he got home. Baby #2 didn’t seem to know who this man was that stumbled into the house every night, too exhausted to play, laugh or go to the park.

Going back to work was at least familiar, if not exciting. Teacherwolfe went into full gear. I decided that the commute could be a time for myself, and found that by the time I got home mamawolfe had reappeared and was excited to re-enter the home. My husband left his second job, balance slowly reappeared, and so did the cookies.

Life never tasted so sweet.

Jennifer Wolfe

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