I’m spending my winter break in the snow.  Actually, that’s not entirely true.  Like a good ski racer mom should, I’m spending my winter break in the mountains, at the ski hill.

We’re just missing the snow.

At first it was kind of nice-the weather was clear and cold and the snow making machines were doing their thing day and night.  We could hardly tell the difference.  I enjoyed not having to slog through snowbanks from the car to the cabin.  Hauling luggage and groceries was much easier, and I haven’t even had to take the snow shovel out once.

Then it warmed up.

Suddenly I wasn’t spending my mornings and afternoons on the slopes.  Instead, the lodge became my home for seven hours a day.  Outside the windows I could watch the dirt streaks appear and the rocks uncovered.  Morale was going down on all fronts.

Aside from learning a snow dance, I needed to do something different.  As I set off on a walk in the afternoon, I began to make startling discoveries-there was more to this place than snow.  The simple, stark beauty of winter dormancy took hold of me, and I found myself snapping photo after photo.  This image was taken on the border of the Alpine Meadows Ski Resort, where I spend many days during the winter months.

As I looked at this little frozen creek I realized that the lack of snow wasn’t altogether bad.  I thought about how we often wish for the familiar, the known.  These are the places we feel comfortable and safe – and predictable.

I’m learning that if we look at the flip side, though, we can see some pretty amazing things, and that by turning our perspective around life looks beautiful, just in a different way.

What can you flip over and discover in your life today?

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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While my 8th grade students are learning about the Constitution, the Bill of Rights and the American Revolution, history is being made right in front of us.  Colonists, in the form of UC Davis students, are rebelling against the Red Coats, in the form of the administration and the government. And just like in the Revolution, it all started with a shot heard round the world. Only this time the shot came from a can of pepper spray.

What began on Nov. 15 as a peaceful Occupy UCD protest on the university quad climaxed as a violent confrontation between students and police. Students, tired of being “taxed” for their education, revolted against their oppressors, the “government.”  They organized and chanted: “Black, brown, Asian, White, 99 percent unite”. The problem is, as they organized, they did not count on the 50-plus police officers turning their revolution into a full-fledged attack.

Armed only with signs proclaiming “Beat Wall Street Not Students” and “People Over Profit,” students occupied administration buildings the first day and then the quad the next. They were asked to leave, but they didn’t, so they were arrested. And as they sat peacefully, they were systematically doused with yellow flumes pepper spray. With their message clear, the police then dispersed, leaving students in pain and confusion.

And now I’m confused.  What really is happening here? Students and professors acted within their rights to peacefully assemble and voice their freedom of speech on their campus that they have paid inflated prices to attend. Aren’t the salaries of these officers paid by the students whom they are supposed to protect?

Everyone knows the status of public education in California. There’s not enough money to run programs, pay salaries, or equip facilities to meet 21st century standards.  Protest chants of “Education must be free, no cuts, no fees” have been shouted by university students and professors trying to get their message out. And in return, they are silenced with spray?

Who is leading this revolution? How can the tables turn from a peaceful protest to police intervention?
Police are not supposed to be part of the problem. If seated students linking arms are not breaking the law, don’t spray them. If they are breaking the law, then why did the police spray and then leave the scene?

Where have the students’ rights gone? Systematically arresting students would seem to both acknowledge their rights to occupy their own campus as well as send a message to others to disperse or accept the consequences. Where are the people’s rights over profit here?

Maybe the police didn’t count on the students’ ability to fight back with media. Armed with cell phones and video cameras, our tech-savvy citizens’ ability to tweet and harness the power of the web provided them invaluable ammunition to their fight. The cameras do not lie — they are just another tool for nonviolent protestors to gather their troops and spread the word.  The Red Coats are coming. Link together. Stand strong in the face of oppressors.

So now we prepare for a revolution with the real message becoming lost in the muddle of the war. The issue is far from over.  The troops are now strategizing, both sides arming themselves and readying to launch a new offensive. And as Patrick Henry tried to teach us over 300 years ago, “The Constitution is not an instrument for the government to restrain the people; it is an instrument for the people to restrain the government-lest it come to dominate our lives and interests.”

Maybe everyone should sit down together on the grass for a minute and think about that.

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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Once upon a time there was a young girl growing up in an old, small town.  She had long, straight chocolate colored hair and deep brown eyes.  Her oval face held a blank expression most times, as she was the type to watch and listen more than express what she was thinking or feeling.

One autumn day this young girl arrived at school.  She loved her school-it was clean, quiet, and full of places to play.  She loved her teachers, and was a quiet and obedient student.  Unlike most kids her age, what she enjoyed most about school was reading.  She was happiest when she was working alone in her books, learning about new people and places and things.  Also unlike most kids her age, what she disliked most about school was PE.  It wasn’t that she disliked exercise-actually, she loved playing softball, hopscotch and four square.  For her, PE was terrifying for one reason: DODGE BALL.

In her little old town dodge ball was the favored sport for PE class.  Students begged and pleaded each day to play dodge ball during their treasured exercise time.  And as convincing as the students were, the teacher almost always agreed. Dodge ball it would be.

From beginning to end, dodge ball was excruciating.  The two manly boys who were always captains lined the other children up to select teams.  First chosen were always the other ‘sports boys’.  Next came the ‘tom boys’, and then the cute, outgoing girls.  Last was always the oval faced, brown eyed girl.

After that exercise in taxonomy, the game began.  Circling around their prey, the ‘sports boys’ would throw the ball at each other, eager to show off their quick reflexes and agility.  The prey would scurry from one side to the next, not wanting to be hit yet not quite wanting to back down, either.  Then the ‘tom boys’ jumped in, dodging with grace and flexibility.  The cute, outgoing girls giggled, admiring the prowess of the young, manly hunters. 

The young girl trembled, knowing it was just a matter of time before she became the victim.  Eyes wide, she tried to avoid the flaming red sphere, but every time SPLAT! she took it in the stomach. On the back.  At the ankles.  Tears welled up in her big, dirt colored eyes. 

Not sure which was more painful, the sting of the ball or the burn of the humiliation, she attempted to survive.  The predators became more confident.  The giggling girls pumped their testosterone.  SLAP!  TWANG! Over and over the ball would smash the young girl down, the laughter of her classmates growing louder and louder and LOUDER.  Paralyzed with pain and fear and humiliation she froze, absorbing one sting after another after another.

And in that moment, relived thirty-five years over and over, she realized something.  The young chocolate haired, dirt eyed oval faced girl learned that she owed her classmates a thank you.  For what she realized is that those ‘sports boys’ and ‘tom boys’ and laughing spectators had taught her a very important lesson: dodge ball is the way the world works.   

And in that moment, decades later, she realized that like dodge ball, it’s easy to run away from what’s coming at you.  She realized that it’s painless to punch someone in the gut, slap them on the back, ding them at the ankles and go back for more.  Because of dodge ball, she learned that it’s hard to stand strong, take the hit, stay upright, and confront each obstacle hurled by others.  She understood that life really is about survival of the fittest.  And because of dodge ball, she survived and lived happily ever after.

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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