The childlike quality of speaking truth to power

 The only way to achieve equality in relationships is to speak your truth and listen to others in equal measure. 

"Girls are too good"

Today I watched in awe at the power of your keen ear.  While jamming to your playlist, you correctly identified its origin, from your favorite movie, Wolfwalkers.  I equivocated, uncertain, not quite in agreement, and consulted Spotify.  The name didn't make any sense.  "This is Intolerable" by Bruno Calais.  You knew it immediately, after the first few foreboding measures. 

It had a compelling piano melody, so compelling that it drew your energy away from the dulling work of penciling in your RRJ. 

Before I knew what was happening, you were seated at the piano, your hands immediately going to the notes you were hearing, but in harmony.  Without even having to search for it, you knew right where to place your hands to produce those complementary notes. 

Awesome listening. Powerful attunement.  Right on task, even if you weren't doing your school work, you were learning the only way that learning can be sustained, through following your bliss. 

Later, we were talking about why you didn't like doing homework.  (Duh, mom, because it's so boring).  Anyway, to introduce some levity, I told you about my students and pulled a face to illustrate how they're always on the verge of dozing off in my classes.  I had attempted to enlist your assistance to find a way to make homework - to make learning - fun, as it should be. As a teacher, this is definitely a skill I want to develop. And you are my most precious student. 

You proposed having a reward for every homework assignment you finish: a piece of toast with jam & butter, a piece of candy, some time to play with your friends, some time to watch your shows - the things you most value.  But, I had to ask, does making a reward for yourself make the doing of the homework more fun. 

"Yeah, sorta," you replied. "It helps motivate me."

So I re-iterated the invitation - let's see if we could make annotating the text of your Studies Weekly fun! Annotating, I explained, is a skill I teach my college students.  You rolled your eyes when you heard this.  I told you, "it's very simple, but very few people know how to do it right."  I was eager to do it with you, to learn some California history. Having grown up in Texas, I had learned close to nothing about California history.  

When I pulled the face, you got in on the act, describing how my students would actually be logged on to Zoom while playing a video game and listening to the news.  So, in other words, completely distracted. "How would I know?" I asked. "They're all just black boxes. Besides," I added, "the students I was talking about were in my in-person class" -  the first I'd had in two years. 

"Still," you elaborated on how you could just see them completely zoned out on her game. And then you corrected yourself. "Actually," you said, "I can't really see a girl doing that, only boys."

"Why?" I asked.

"Because, girls are too good."

And you are correct, we are.  

So after a levity break, and a reminder of our own self-worth, we put our noses to the newspaper. We read about Rancho Petaluma and the Californios. We read about modern-day uses for gold. Did you know it's used to treat rheumatoid arthritis?  Google knows.  We asked because we were curious. And then you told me, as we sat gorging on the steady stream of easily accessible information, "Google is a know-it-all."

Yes, yes she is. Aren't we having fun already!

The annotation had its own series of distractions and diversions. It took us nearly an hour to read and annotate three articles, but we visited so many topics along the way, including making a mental note to plan a trip to see some of these historical places, to take pride in what we know about the places we are from, however far removed. I watched as you grinned greedily at the thought of the riches in your gold teeth and computers. We cuddled and talked about pre-pubescent changes underway. You sniffed my ear and told me it smelled bad.  When I objected to this, you invited me to smell your ear. "It smells like strawberries," you said after sticking your pinky finger in your ear and giving it a sniff.  We talked about all the annotations we were making and how it gets done at school and how you don't really remember since it's been so long since you were in class for that lesson, your thrice weekly pull-out Word Wizards classes always requiring you to miss, thereby saddling with homework double-time - not just the most basic, intellect-dulling worksheet imaginable, but also the in-class work that you missed the chance to do with your class, where you might benefit from the full social dimension of learning. 

I find myself suspicious of all these "interventions"  and how much they actually support your learning, which is to say, I don't support them at all. Uncharitably, I wonder if your third grade teacher simply finds you a handful and has figured out a way to send you away at the most convenient times to help the other students focus.  All children are exceptional in their parents' eyes.  Mine, doubly so to me. 

Recently, your best friend's mother asked me if I'd ever heard of twice exceptional children, suggested I might have been one.  I think she might have obliquely been suggesting that the apple doesn't fall far from the tree. 

On Friday, I received an email from your Word Wizards teacher, deeply offended by its town.  I reached out to two people for support. One of them urged me to have the school perform an IEP assessment, suspicious of signs that suggest ADHD.  The other reminded me what a good job I'm doing as your mother.  Both were valuable perspectives, upon which I continue to ruminate? What does it mean to be a good mother?  Among my highest priorities is to teach you to love yourself completely.  To love yourself means to know yourself and that journey will become more and more your own.  How much trust do I put in modern medicine to name a "malady" that is more likely just societal malaise?  How much can I shift the society even as it shapes our growth?  So much in our world is broken, but not so broken to be beyond repair. 

I had to learn to navigate my own way, and it's been a long row to hoe, but am I better now for all the struggle I endured to avoid a diagnosis, to spend years self-medicating, and beating myself up for never quite living up to my potential?  Your mileage may vary.

You are a Ridgway, your mother's daughter, a force of nature, an artist, and a doer.  

Perhaps it's time to learn how good we really are.

Weekly wisdom

Thanks to some transformative experiences with WisdomKeepers this winter, I have some new insights to strive to embody as I learn to deepen my trust and the care I show to myself and others.  

Thank you Rachel Natland and Chris Morasky for sharing your gifts so generously on this journey.

Wisdom kernel #1:  Don't let your past oppress your present.

Wisdom kernel #2: Through our lives, we are sometimes invited to reflect on what makes one 'successful'.  Everyone gets to decide their own answer to this question, whether that's happiness, health, family, friends, or something even more intangible.  For me, I'm going to go with this: A good life (for me) is one in which I  make a few quality commitments (to myself) and keep them. 

Let's keep growing.

Time to celebrate!

Parched by the universe puzzles

Thank goodness we don't have it all figured out! How boring life would be with no puzzles to solve.

And so I find myself this happy Monday, buried in grading and unable to stop thinking about the fundamentals of physics - both at particulate and astronomical scales.

We know the universe is expanding. And that it is doing so at an accelerating rate. But what is it expanding into?

We know that gravity, the attractive force between massive objects ought to counter that expansion, sooner or later, but it seems there is some other force at work here. Some kind of "dark energy" that provides a repulsive force, propelling the universe ever outward into... what?

I am reminded of the theoretical model of the tides. In this model, the Earth and its watery envelope bulges on the side nearest to the moon due to gravitational attraction. On the other side, the Earth and the oceans bulge, but for a different reason - rotational inertia, which is sometimes described as centrifugal force. Could it be that the universe has such a spin that propels it ever outward?

Others have questioned along these lines. The apparent answer does not satisfy: if we measure from different points, we should see different things based on if the universe is spinning or not or how much. This is where my ignorance of the subject becomes a liability and eggs me on to learn more.

But for now, another question: is it possible that the scale of our vantage points just isn't big enough to resolve the spin, its direction or momentum?

As for what it is expanding into, I am reminded of ripples. A minor disturbance to the surface of a calm pool of water causes the energy to propagate outward, endlessly - well, at least to the edges of the pond. Why?

Why does the energy seem to flee the center, the place of the original disturbance?

This reminds me of a conversation I recently had with a student. He envisioned this outward expansion as being limited by a tenuous connection between all particles. When everything had unraveled so completely as to only be attached in a linear way, only then would the universe begin to collapse back in on itself. An interesting notion, one worth exploring.

His description led me to envision a spherical or perhaps even toroidal universe. If the ripple model applies to an expanding universe, toroidal is the way to go. But still the question remains: what does it expand into, in an apparently edgeless, infinite 'verse?

It staggers. And leaves me with an unquenchable thirst.

Another puzzle: the double-slit experiment. I need to better understand this test - the ways its been performed, the hypotheses tested, the conclusions. I feel like I'm missing something about the resultant interference pattern.

Something tells me it has to do with energy levels.

When you blow into a penny whistle, it emits a particular pitch determined by the length of the whistle. BUT, if you blow a little harder, it emits at a much higher pitch. It is possible, if you blow just the right amount of air, that it will emit both pitches at the same time. What does this have to do with wave-particle duality? I'm not sure, but I want the math to explore it more.

So for the first time, in I don't know how many years, I am setting a New Year's Resolution. I will start here, with Tibee's playlist. From there, who knows. But there must be a way to sate this thirst.

Onward! Outward! upward! Through! Ganapati Om Jaya

The Tendency to Minimize

It has been a wisdom-colored week. Wisdom dispensed, but not not infused.

Not yet living wisdom. Expressible, yes. But radiated? Not quite. Not from me at least.

My hard head apparently has a few more knots to untie. And I will admit, wisdom merely painted on the outside rings hollow, trite. So I'll keep it to myself for now. Let it ferment until it makes a quality libation.

Here's a piece of what's fermenting.

I received an odd piece of feedback this week that got me thinking about the ways I communicate. Often the words that come out of my mouth are admittedly not always well-planned.

Mini-me shows me often how pedantic I must sound to the world, as she lectures me on the particulars of some subject.

"Dear god!" I think, "what kind of person am I? Do I really come off as such a know-it-all? Or is that her father's influence?"

It is kind of a loathsome quality. One that I have been working to remedy since I first heard my voice in my child's. Don't get me wrong, I love my daughter. And my husband. And myself.

But nobody likes a know-it-all.

First, let me ask you, how often do you preface a statement with the word "just"?

As in "only." Almost as though you were trying to excuse some behavior or circumstance. To defend it as harmless. To minimize.

About four years ago, I was visiting a friend when it was first brought to my attention that this is something I sometimes do.

Overcome with her  kindness, I offered a compliment: "You are just beautiful."

Her friend corrected me: "How about just saying 'You are beautiful'"?

I was offended. Not to have been corrected, but that I could have been so insensitive. Why had I just offered a compliment that in essence minimized her beauty? I was hurt on behalf of my friend for my thoughtless and unkind words. It was truly a back-handed compliment.

I was duly reprimanded. And I hope I had the good grace to at least apologize for the mistake. More likely, I retreated in embarrassment.

And did you notice how the feedback was delivered? With the word just? As if to minimize the sting of being corrected. Or was it to minimize...? The woman who corrected me could have given me her helpful feedback without including the word "just"

This brings us back to the odd piece of feedback I received this week. I was attempting to communicate with my husband about our daughter's behavior to offer a perspective that might help address some of the parenting challenges we've faced recently. "She's just trying to make sense of her world," I said.

Now, the written word is a terrible medium for conveying tone.  I would have described my tone as  matter-of-fact. But in fact, the way it was received was as a reprimand. As if I was pointing out something that should have been obvious - just by including the word "just"

It was a good piece of feedback, but it kind of stopped me in my tracks.

It got me thinking.

Why do we try to minimize things? Why not simply describe them as they are? Without judgement. (I will admit, I was tempted just now to use the word "just" in place of "simply" - when I probably could have left adverbs out altogether).

Without judgement. Wait. That doesn't ring true. As someone who frequently suffers from foot-in-mouth syndrome, I know all too well the damage that can be done by speaking without judgement.

Am I suggesting speaking without adverbs? No, that's just silly. Where would our purple prose be without adverbs.

I have a hypothesis that women use "just" as an adverb more frequently than men. Anybody have any statistics on that?

Why would they? Because women are socialized to be more accommodating, to minimize, to excuse. And how does that make us come off when we communicate that way- whether women or men?

People don't want excuses.

And truth is they don't want to be excused either.

When people behave badly, they appreciate being kindly called out for it. For having a boundary clearly defined.

I see it with my five-year old all the time. She protests. She negotiates. She wheedles and whines. But when I calmly give her a limit and explain its rationale she calmly accepts it. She appreciates having that boundary there. It creates a sense of safety and security.

It's the same with my students. That's why we set class norms at the beginning of the semester and revisit them when needed. It gives us clearly defined limits of expected behavior and helps foster a safe space where learning can happen.

But you don't want boundaries to be too restrictive. They can't be arbitrary or capricious.

There has to be a good reason for having a limit in place.

Maybe that's why "just" gets us in trouble - because it constricts necessarily, shrinks the space of possibility.

So I'm just going to have to be better.

Ahem,

I'm going to have to be better about communicating clearly.

That we may push the boundaries of what is known, and what can be known, in a way that is bounded with mutual respect and understanding of our full capacities as rationale human beings.

All the Lovely People...

This morning, my husband asked Alexa to play the Beatles over breakfast.The songs began to shuffle. Unconsciously, as much as I love the Beatles, I  tuned it out. About three or four down the playlist, I hear the familiar strings begin to mourn Eleanor Rigby, followed by my daugther's voice: "All the lovely people," she says, "like boys."

"Boys are lovely people."

I didn't correct her - lyrically or conceptually. What's the harm in letting her persist in this small misinterpretation? It might very well be an improvement on what Lennon and McCartney originally intended.

And many boys are, in fact, lovely people.  (I resolutely refuse to acknowledge in any way that her comment, at five years old, might suggest she is becoming boy crazy).

But it did get me thinking. About listening.

Listening is an important part of our parenting philosophy. There's a whole book about it. And while we don't subscribe to all of the techniques proscribed therein, it does help give us a framework for one crucial strategy to maintain connection with our offspring.

Indeed our entire marriage succeeds only because we strive for good, solid communication - only achievable through listening. Not the passive kind that often suffices when jamming some tunes, but the active kind (of which you've surely heard) that involves soliciting feedback to make sure that you've heard (or been heard) accurately and that you understand.

And, yes, listening is an important part of our girl's musical education (through the Suzuki method), where we know if we've played it beautifully or not by the quality of the sound.


Someday, our daughter will find out that Eleanor Rigby (and all the rest of us), while perfectly lovely, are also a lonely lot. Who will give her this feedback remains to be seen... perhaps she will read the lyrics somewhere, or a friend or relative will offer correction, or she will hear a cover in a slightly different way than she heard the original and it will send her on a quest to find out the real words.

A harmless error in listening requires no feedback.

And yet, how many times, in my classes, have I offered some guidance or insight that was misheard and I never even knew it? It begs the question of whether I am giving my students enough opportunity to practice active listening. And other questions besides: do I solicit their feedback, sufficiently and effectively? Do I know not only how well they understand, but how well they have understood through me.

Lately, I have adopted some of the metacognitive strategies from the Reading Apprenticeship framework, that emphasizes reading for understanding. As part of this, I have stressed graphicacy skills and encouraged students to develop habits that build their learning independence. But reading is just one of many ways of learning.  Perhaps I have been putting too much emphasis here while neglecting the other important modes: aural, visual, kinesthetic, social, etc...

Likewise, learning is not a solitary enterprise. One of the advantages of RA is the way it acknowledges and leverages the social aspects of learning.

So as I sit down to re-tool my classes, as I do during every intersession (but especially so in summer), my daughter reminds me of the fundamental thing that makes relationships work: listening.

Teaching and learning is the meta-relationship.

I'm going to have to open up my ears, to model active listening and thoughtfully consider how to get meaningful feedback from my students more regularly. They are all truly lovely people. And I know right where they belong: right here, right now, in relationship to where they sit in a sea of new knowledge.