This is a list of things I probably shouldn't do again. You can call them mistakes, goofs, idiotic behaviors, etc... However, I call them lessons. No, they didn't happen all in one day, one month, or one year. They have been accumulating over a life-time. This is part 1. I know more will come to mind as time goes on and of course there will be lessons learned after I publish this list.
I PROBABLY SHOULDN'T:
Tell a co-worker, "Ignorance is NO EXCUSE," who confessed that she had never read a novel until college, when she was required to do so.
Tell my son that his art teacher will kill him if he misbehaves in class, because Jordan shared this information with the art teacher.
Try-on a shirt that was a size too small over my head right by the rack instead of going to the dressing room. It got stuck...on my head. My friends were laughing too hard to help me get it off my head. I thought I would suffocate, but I was laughing as well!
Wear bright yellow. Enough said.
Show a friend a dance move from "West Side Story" on a concrete surface between classes.
Send a note complaining about the co-worker mentioned earlier accidentally to the co-worker mentioned earlier!
Put Mr. Clean in a dishwasher. Lots and lots and lots of suds.
Laugh so hard I snorted during a prayer.
Wear prairie dresses that made me look like Holly Hobbie.
Cut my hair in a wedge.
Get a perm. I looked like Little Orphan Annie and my friend's son sang "Tomorrow" to me.
Stand on the seat of my bicycle while coasting into the yard and grabbing onto a tree branch. Dad cut the branches back each year.
Allow my kids to buy a gerbil. I was the only adult in the house who wasn't afraid to catch it and carry it to the cage when it escaped.
Scrub the floors with Mr. Clean and then with Tilex.
Sneak-out of a freshman girls' dorm at Ouachita, drive around for hours with my co-horts, and sleep in my car until the dorm opened the next day. Bad hair, neck ache, security officer catching us as we walked in the dorm.
Turn on the self-cleaning setting for my oven right after grease spilled from the Thanksgiving turkey. FLAMES!
Put my foot on a bent-wood rocker and tie my shoe. When I regained consciousness my nose was swollen.
Clean a lit lightbulb with a wet cloth.
Drive 75 miles an hour while listening to the Dixie Chicks singing "Sin Wagon" outside Showlow, Arizona. It's a 50 mph zone which is closely monitored by the highway patrol. Felony speeding...merciful and cute DPS officer...lowered the radar reported speed,,,recommended for driver's improvement school.
Eat mimosa beans while stringing them into "Love Beads" in my front yard with a friend. They are poisonous. Stomach pumping is the treatment for ingesting mimosa beans.
Trust my son when he says the antibiotic in the pill bottle is Cipro not Penicillin. Allergic reactitons last a while.
Wear bow-toe shoes.
Forget my earplugs when traveling with my husband.
Use spray-on instant tanning solution.
Spray PAM in a skillet over a gas stove.
Tie a balloon bouquet on a dauschound's collar so she will look cute. When we finally caught up to her and pulled her out from under the bed, CPR was an option.
Connect my first washing machine with my father-in-law without taking out the packing around the drum. Who knew this would cause the dang thing to walk around, shimmying, and shaking!
Try "Around the World" with my Duncan Yo-Yo in front of the televison set. Crash-Flames-Smoke.
More soon!
Hey! I never said I was perfect! LOL!
Saturday, December 26, 2009
Tuesday, December 15, 2009
An Unexpected Blessing
In 1968, my family and I lived in Lubbock, Texas. We lived near my mother's and father's families and were very close to our relatives,especially the ones who lived nearby. My mother's sister, Loretta and her family lived within a mile from our home, we attended church together, and my cousins were two of my favorite playmates and friends. During the years we lived in Lubbock, I don't remember a week when we did not see their family.
One day my mother told me that my aunt Reta was going to have a baby. This was such an exciting event since there had not been a baby in our family for at least four years. I don't really remember much about her being pregnant, but I do remember seeing her at a church social wearing a reddish orange maternity dress. She looked young and lovely in my memory. She was probably due to deliver the baby sometime in late January or early February.
Early, on December 1, I awoke to seeing a light in the kitchen and hearing whispers and murmurs from my parents. Being December, it was common to wake-up before sunlight, but on this day, it seemed earlier and there was definitely a feeling that something was not right. When I got out of bed, my dad told me that my mom had gone to Reta and Buddy's house because my uncle Buddy had taken Reta to the hospital to have her baby. Mom was going to get the girls ready and bring them back to our house and take my cousin Judy and me to school. THIS WAS IT! THE BABY WAS BEING BORN! I asked my brother what the baby would be, but he wasn't forthcoming with any information. What was supposed to be such a wonderful and exciting time was quiet and full of concern. When my mother arrived with the girls, I was hustled to the car and driven to school. Mom didn't say much, but Judy and Linda seemed as normal as ever.
At school, it was not easy to keep my mind on my studies. A baby was being born and I was missing it all! I don't remember the day dragging, but I was really relieved when my mom and the girls picked me up from school that afternoon. My mother didn't look all happy and excited, but she told me that I had a new cousin, and his name was "Charles Greg". Instantly, I was in love with this unseen little baby. His name was perfect and I was beside myself as I discussed this with Judy and Linda. They had a little brother and I would be able to share this event as we shared everything else, together. My mother told us that our grandparents would be coming to our house for supper. It just kept getting better!
However, when we got to my house, things were still quiet and serious. More phone calls and this time, my mother closed the doors to the kitchen and the dining area. Judy and I talked about the secret they had to be keeping from us. There had to be something going on and in my child-mind, it had to be something even more wonderful. I crept up to the door outside the kitchen and tried to listen to what my mother was saying into the phone. I must have bumped the door or given her reason to know I was listening outside because all at once, the door flew open, smacking me right in the center of my forehead. I fell back on my bottom and my mother grabbed me by the arm and proceeded to spank me with an amazing amount of energy and obvious anger. I was no stranger to spankings, but this never occurred when my cousins were around! My mother grabbed me by the arm and steered me into my parents' bedroom where I was told to stay until my father got home. Lucky for me, he came home early.
When Dad came home, my uncle Buddy was with him. Buddy quietly took Judy and Linda to my bedroom and closed the door. My daddy took me by the hand and put me in his lap as we sat in the red rocking chair in the little den in our house. My dad told me that my aunt Reta had not just had a baby, but had actually had twins. He was so gentle and so sweet as he told me that these babies were terribly tiny because they had been born too early. He went on to tell me that one baby, "Craig" had been too small to live and that he had died. Died? A baby had died? I buried my head in my father's shoulder and cried at this horribly sad news! What about the other baby? What about Greg? My daddy told me that he was alive and weighed just over a pound. He explained that Greg was so small that his body would fit in my father's hand. I remember looking with my dad at his hand and imagining a perfect little soul resting on his hand. Dad told me there weren't even diapers small enough to fit him and he was "naked as a jay-bird". However, this new baby was going to have to live in the hospital for some time and of course, there would be a funeral for the other baby.
Finally, the mystery was over. When Buddy, Judy, and Linda came out of my room we could talk about Greg, but there was a feeling like a dark cloud in our home that evening. My grandparents, aunts and uncles came for dinner but the celebratory feelings you expect with a birth were missing. I remember clinging to my grandfather for security, because everything seemed so unsure.
I can't remember what happened for a couple of days after that. My family's lives didn't seem too different, except that my cousins were staying with us while my aunt was in the hospital. The funeral would be on Saturday, and I could go or stay home with my brother. I chose to stay home that day. On Sunday, there was a red rose in a vase on the altar at church to honor Greg's birth. It always bothered me that there was not two roses that day.
During the days and weeks following Greg's birth, my mother began spending time at my aunt's home. She would drive my aunt to the hospital and take care of Linda while my aunt would go upstairs in Methodist Hospital and feed Greg. When it was after school, the girls and I would sit quietly in the hospital lobby and my mother would go upstairs with Reta. The hospital rules were specific, "No Children Allowed". It was boring sitting in the lobby, and I often dreamed that I would one day be allowed to go upstairs and gaze at the growing baby. Unfortunately, this didn't happen. I secretly blamed Judy and Linda for this. I was sure that I would be considered older without their presence if they were not there.
Suddenly, it was Christmas Eve. Like most ten year olds, I was excited for the next morning when there would be surprises and wishes come true waiting for me under the Christmas tree. My family and I ate dinner and went for our annual drive around Texas Tech to enjoy the Christmas lights. Only, instead of heading for home, my dad drove the four of us to Methodist Hospital. My parents explained to me that my aunt, uncle, and the girls were spending the night with Buddy's mother in O'Donnell and they khad been to see Greg earlier. I thought to myself, "Great, sitting in the lobby on Christmas Eve." Only, this time, my parents told me that I could go upstairs with them to see the baby! This was so unexpected! I couldn't believe it was actually happening!
Together, the four of us climbed the stairs and walked to the nursery where Greg had been living for almost a month. I knew he spent all of his time in an isolette where he received very special care. What I didn't understand was that when I looked through the large window, over to the side was his little bed, away from all the other babies in the window. He wasn't on display like all the regular babies who were swaddled in blankets. It was like he was isolated from the group. However, I could see his little body and to my relief, he was wearing a little tiny white gown and was tightly wrapped in his own blanket. He was small, but he was so terribly precious. At that moment, I was overcome with an amazing sense of love for him. While I was looking at him, I felt my mother's hand on my shoulder. I turned and buried my face into her stomach and felt her wrap her arms around me. It was a very comforting and very loving feeling. This was truly a Christmas blessing.
When you are ten, you think about the toys you want Santa to bring. I was no different. However, the gift my parents gave me that Christmas Eve will always be a wonderful memory and a moment I want to remember forever. Some presents come unexpectedly, and they are always a blessing.
One day my mother told me that my aunt Reta was going to have a baby. This was such an exciting event since there had not been a baby in our family for at least four years. I don't really remember much about her being pregnant, but I do remember seeing her at a church social wearing a reddish orange maternity dress. She looked young and lovely in my memory. She was probably due to deliver the baby sometime in late January or early February.
Early, on December 1, I awoke to seeing a light in the kitchen and hearing whispers and murmurs from my parents. Being December, it was common to wake-up before sunlight, but on this day, it seemed earlier and there was definitely a feeling that something was not right. When I got out of bed, my dad told me that my mom had gone to Reta and Buddy's house because my uncle Buddy had taken Reta to the hospital to have her baby. Mom was going to get the girls ready and bring them back to our house and take my cousin Judy and me to school. THIS WAS IT! THE BABY WAS BEING BORN! I asked my brother what the baby would be, but he wasn't forthcoming with any information. What was supposed to be such a wonderful and exciting time was quiet and full of concern. When my mother arrived with the girls, I was hustled to the car and driven to school. Mom didn't say much, but Judy and Linda seemed as normal as ever.
At school, it was not easy to keep my mind on my studies. A baby was being born and I was missing it all! I don't remember the day dragging, but I was really relieved when my mom and the girls picked me up from school that afternoon. My mother didn't look all happy and excited, but she told me that I had a new cousin, and his name was "Charles Greg". Instantly, I was in love with this unseen little baby. His name was perfect and I was beside myself as I discussed this with Judy and Linda. They had a little brother and I would be able to share this event as we shared everything else, together. My mother told us that our grandparents would be coming to our house for supper. It just kept getting better!
However, when we got to my house, things were still quiet and serious. More phone calls and this time, my mother closed the doors to the kitchen and the dining area. Judy and I talked about the secret they had to be keeping from us. There had to be something going on and in my child-mind, it had to be something even more wonderful. I crept up to the door outside the kitchen and tried to listen to what my mother was saying into the phone. I must have bumped the door or given her reason to know I was listening outside because all at once, the door flew open, smacking me right in the center of my forehead. I fell back on my bottom and my mother grabbed me by the arm and proceeded to spank me with an amazing amount of energy and obvious anger. I was no stranger to spankings, but this never occurred when my cousins were around! My mother grabbed me by the arm and steered me into my parents' bedroom where I was told to stay until my father got home. Lucky for me, he came home early.
When Dad came home, my uncle Buddy was with him. Buddy quietly took Judy and Linda to my bedroom and closed the door. My daddy took me by the hand and put me in his lap as we sat in the red rocking chair in the little den in our house. My dad told me that my aunt Reta had not just had a baby, but had actually had twins. He was so gentle and so sweet as he told me that these babies were terribly tiny because they had been born too early. He went on to tell me that one baby, "Craig" had been too small to live and that he had died. Died? A baby had died? I buried my head in my father's shoulder and cried at this horribly sad news! What about the other baby? What about Greg? My daddy told me that he was alive and weighed just over a pound. He explained that Greg was so small that his body would fit in my father's hand. I remember looking with my dad at his hand and imagining a perfect little soul resting on his hand. Dad told me there weren't even diapers small enough to fit him and he was "naked as a jay-bird". However, this new baby was going to have to live in the hospital for some time and of course, there would be a funeral for the other baby.
Finally, the mystery was over. When Buddy, Judy, and Linda came out of my room we could talk about Greg, but there was a feeling like a dark cloud in our home that evening. My grandparents, aunts and uncles came for dinner but the celebratory feelings you expect with a birth were missing. I remember clinging to my grandfather for security, because everything seemed so unsure.
I can't remember what happened for a couple of days after that. My family's lives didn't seem too different, except that my cousins were staying with us while my aunt was in the hospital. The funeral would be on Saturday, and I could go or stay home with my brother. I chose to stay home that day. On Sunday, there was a red rose in a vase on the altar at church to honor Greg's birth. It always bothered me that there was not two roses that day.
During the days and weeks following Greg's birth, my mother began spending time at my aunt's home. She would drive my aunt to the hospital and take care of Linda while my aunt would go upstairs in Methodist Hospital and feed Greg. When it was after school, the girls and I would sit quietly in the hospital lobby and my mother would go upstairs with Reta. The hospital rules were specific, "No Children Allowed". It was boring sitting in the lobby, and I often dreamed that I would one day be allowed to go upstairs and gaze at the growing baby. Unfortunately, this didn't happen. I secretly blamed Judy and Linda for this. I was sure that I would be considered older without their presence if they were not there.
Suddenly, it was Christmas Eve. Like most ten year olds, I was excited for the next morning when there would be surprises and wishes come true waiting for me under the Christmas tree. My family and I ate dinner and went for our annual drive around Texas Tech to enjoy the Christmas lights. Only, instead of heading for home, my dad drove the four of us to Methodist Hospital. My parents explained to me that my aunt, uncle, and the girls were spending the night with Buddy's mother in O'Donnell and they khad been to see Greg earlier. I thought to myself, "Great, sitting in the lobby on Christmas Eve." Only, this time, my parents told me that I could go upstairs with them to see the baby! This was so unexpected! I couldn't believe it was actually happening!
Together, the four of us climbed the stairs and walked to the nursery where Greg had been living for almost a month. I knew he spent all of his time in an isolette where he received very special care. What I didn't understand was that when I looked through the large window, over to the side was his little bed, away from all the other babies in the window. He wasn't on display like all the regular babies who were swaddled in blankets. It was like he was isolated from the group. However, I could see his little body and to my relief, he was wearing a little tiny white gown and was tightly wrapped in his own blanket. He was small, but he was so terribly precious. At that moment, I was overcome with an amazing sense of love for him. While I was looking at him, I felt my mother's hand on my shoulder. I turned and buried my face into her stomach and felt her wrap her arms around me. It was a very comforting and very loving feeling. This was truly a Christmas blessing.
When you are ten, you think about the toys you want Santa to bring. I was no different. However, the gift my parents gave me that Christmas Eve will always be a wonderful memory and a moment I want to remember forever. Some presents come unexpectedly, and they are always a blessing.
Sunday, October 25, 2009
Coaching Training
Last year, four of our school district's instructional coaches encouraged me to attend an eight session training on "Coaching". Wanting to know how to be an effective coach, I wholeheartedly signed up for the training with two other district coaches. I was excited, really excited that I would learn listening strategies and ways to gear conversations with our teachers in a way that would make me a better coach. It would be held in Tucson and we would dedicate eight days to become a better coach.
Carrie, Denise, and I walked into the training site on that eventful Thursday morning. The room was small, underground, painted gray, and my first thoughts were BUNKER! There were small narrow windows inches from the ceiling and a sense of claustrophobia immediately set in. As we looked around, Carrie and I saw the dreaded "Circle of Trust" in the corner of the room. I wanted to grab my notebook and purse and sprint right out of there! The horrified look on Carrie's face summed it up! She turned and said, "If we have to hold hands and sing Kumbayah, I am SO out of her!" Nervous laughter erupted from my mouth and I looked at Denise who was giggling so hard that I think she had tears in her eyes. We cautiously set our things down on an empty table and were encouraged to take a seat in the circle.
Little by little, the other participants came into the room and happily took a seat in the circle. We were introduced to our trainers. The strange thing was was that none of them looked like TRAINERS. One wore a sleeveless black sundress covered by a crocheted, open weave sweater vest. One wore a capsleeved t-shirt, faded navy blue Dockers that were too short, royal blue socks, and blue Crocs. The third was younger and dressed contemporary, but her long hair came past her knees. I kept looking and searching for the "real trainer". Someone with a suit or at least someone wearing black pants and a conservative sweater... But this person never appeared! Then, the one with the Crocs stood up and introduced herself and she rang an oriental bell, declaring the session "open".
As with most new things and trainings, we all were encouraged to introduce ourselves and share where we worked. However, this was accompanied by drawing a "Zen" card from a deck and explaining how the quote related to ourselves. ZEN CARD! NO WAY! How hippified was this training going to be? This was definitely pushing me to the edge of my comfort zone. When the cards were handed to me, I took the pack and shuffled through every card looking for some statement that related to me. No randomness here! I looked up and about eleven horrifed pairs of eyes and two amused (my friends) were focused on my actions. Trying to look relaxed and non-threatening (to myself and the strangers) I introduced myself and read the quote about intuitiveness.
I started taking mental notes as the group began to introduce themselves. Connie, from the Cherokee nation, was working as an academic and cultural counselor for Native American students in a school district in Tucson. Mark was an engineer. Ariel was an engineer who formally worked at the University of Arizona as a professor for Women's Studies. Jayne, with a charming British accent, was a life coach consultant who occasionally worked with the trainer who wore Crocs. Ruthie Dee Javelina (interesting name) worked for the U of A in their Repsonse to Academic Intervention (aka tutoring) Department. Wanda, who desperately needed a pedicure, was a parent who was having issues raising her only child, worked for a Non-Profit. Stacy, Lisa, Danielle, and others worked for a "Non-Profit". No company name, just non-profit. As people introduced themselves, it finally dawned on me... I was in Social Service Purgatory!
From there, it was down-hill. Carrie, Denise, and I were immersed in the doctrine of listening reflectively, keeping our comments and observations to ourselves, observing body language, etc... I am sure the group and participants observed that my body language was screaming, "EIGHT FREAKING SESSIONS!!!" The time there dragged. It was endless, no matter how hard I tried to pay attention to the details of the people were surrounding me.
At trainings and workshops, the participants usually spend time working in groups, posting thoughts and/or comments on giant Post-It notes that stick to the wall. The presenter with the Crocs took a poster she made and reached above her head to adhere it to the wall. With her arms extended above her head I couldn't help but notice that she had an incredible amount of underarm hair protruding out of the cap-sleeve of her shirt! I know I did a double-take and whipped my head around to say something to Carrie and Denise. I whispered my observation to Carrie and made her look. About that time, the presenter raised her arms again, and we both saw the shocking hair that was lurking out of her shirt! Screaming, "EEEWWW!" would not be considered professional, but at that moment, I decided I could no longer try to care about what I was supposed to learn. I had been surprised, shocked, and was now trying desperately not to dissolve into hysterical laughter. The thread I was hanging by was growing very thin and one small move, one little bit of humor could send me right over the edge of no return.
I wish I could say that we took a break, I got myself undercontrol, and things improved from there, but that was not the case. Finally, it was approaching four o'clock and "Hamster-Hiding-In-Her-Arm-Pit" declared that we needed to migrate to the circle of trust. I was exhausted and this was due to trying to swallow all the laughter I had inside me. The black sundress presenter tossed a "ball of respect" my way and when I opened my mouth, a lot of nervous laughter escaped! It was like trying to hold back the creature in the movie "Alien". I pleaded being overwhelmed and tossed the ball to Denise who gave a similar comment and some laughter escaped from her as well. Carrie, pretending to be shy, said something quiet and reserved. The hair past her knees presenter took the oriental bell and chimed our encounter closed for the day. I jumped up, raced to get my notebook and my purse and hustled out of the bunker with my friends as fast as we could move. When we got to the parking lot, I said, "When we get back to Douglas, I am going to KILL the coaches who insisted we come here!" This was echoed and basically "Amened" by Carrie and Denise.
One session down and seven more to go!
I wish I could say that Day 2 was an overall improvement from Day 1 and that I had taken hold of the information that was being presented. Instead it was Day 2 of Jana needs to practice self-control. I was exhausted from the previous day's stifling the hysterical laughter, but there was still an issue with my not being able to make it through one hour without a snicker, giggling, or some type of humor overload. It didn't help that Carrie would frequently make little comments about the presenters or the participators. That usually set me off. It also didn't help that I found myself back in the circle of trust with a Zen animal card. We still worked in small groups or pairs and we were encouraged and prodded into changing partners regularly.
Connie was pretty cool to talk to when we worked together. She asked me about my heritage and if I had any Cherokee blood in me. This was a surprise as my father had told us many years ago that his great grandmother was from the Cherokee Nation. I told her that she probably had all types of "wannabe Native Americans" ask her questions about her background. We laughed and joked for a while which cemented her into my acceptance file for the day.
Near the end of Day 2, I was trying to focus on the presenter, taking notes, and maintaining self-control when out of the corner of my eye, I saw a leg move in the air. I turned to Carrie who had also seen some type of movement. Standing on one leg at the back of the room was Ruthie Dee Javelina, moving slowly into different Yoga poses. Okay, day over. Time to go.
Day 3 and Day 4 are pretty much a cosmic blur. We had a two month break from the first two days, but the memory of the horrors we experienced were still on our minds. Day 3 and Day 4 included more Zen, more trust circles, more information and practices, more Non-Profits, and more laughter. What changed was we were located to a sunny room with large windows at a different location. We could walk to a local CVS during our break and no one seemed overly concerned with us returning on time. This could be that some of our fellow participants were not overly enthused with us either. We had two of the original three trainers, but black sundress's husband was in Houston receiving chemotherapy at the Anderson Cancer Center. We would learn from the long haired trainer and the trainer who still wore Crocs. It went by at a slightly faster pace and I learned to live for the outdoor practices in a lovely courtyard. At the end of Day 3, the presenters announced gleefully that we would be moving back to the Bunker for future training. "NO," I said very loudly which caused everyone to look at me. I finally confessed that it was just way to creepy to be underground without natural sunlight for long periods of time. To my pleasure, the presenters said they would try to secure our "Garden Spot" and would let us know if we could use it for the remaining trainings.
Day 5 and Day 6 things finally took a turn. We met at the Garden Spot, in our same room as before. More of the participants were missing from the initial training, so we were a smaller group. Black sundress was back, but would be moving to Houston for several weeks due to her husband's cancer. Lisa, one of the non-profits actually requested to move away from Carrie and me stating that she wanted to work with others. None of the men ever returned, and much to my dismay, Connie didn't return either. I really liked her. Ruthie Dee, our Yoga Queen, also did not return and I found myself wondering if the non-returnees received part of their expensive registration fee. I actually participated and laughed when appropriate during both days. During Day 6, we had to give comments that we have and would receive on a job performance evaluation. The Non-Profits shouted out, "Needs Improvement, Satisfactory, In Order To Be More Productive..." I was alarmed! I didn't receive comments like this on my evaluations. I looked at Carrie and Denise in dismay and they had similar expressions on their faces. I stood up and said quite loudly, "OMG! If I received comments like that I would either cry or quit!" They turned and looked at me (of course I sat on the back row) curiously. Finally, I had done something other than laugh! They started asking us questions and probing into our evaluations and our expectations for ourselves. It was amazing! There had been a break though! When we sat in the circle of trust at the end of the day, there was a different feeling going on in our group. Or maybe it was just me.
Finally, Day 7! Cruising in a little late, which had become a bad habit, the three of us came to a screeching halt when we entered the room. There was a man there, one we had never seen before. No introductions, This had probably happened before we blew in. We started as usual...Zen card and chime and we took our usual seats together at our favorite table. Only something was definitely going on! The man was interupting and making comments during our presenter's time to shine! What the heck!!! I thought Denise was going to slap him! We all gave him the Douglas Unified Stink Eye! How rude could he be!! Who was this interloper? Every time he spoke I glared at him. During a small group session, I asked him who he was and what was he doing in our session. Much to my embarrassment, he politely informed me that he was a "Senior Presenter" and was there to monitor our group and the trainers. Oh No! He didn't just say that! Monitor our group? Needless to say, everytime he said something, we just sat in our seats, occasionally rolling our eyes. During our CVS break, I told our long haired presenter that he was undermining their hard work. She got tears in her eyes and agreed that he just didn't fit into our little group. I think she told our presenter who wears Crocs because she gave me a sad little smile like we were in on our own private little secret. The time flew by and when we were sitting in our closing circle of trust, I just couldn't look him in the eye. I felt like I was betraying our presenters.
Day 8. For some strange reason, I just didn't feel good when I left our hotel. I couldn't put my finger on it, but the atmosphere didn't seem right. We went through the motions: Circle of trust, practice, CVS break, more practice, lunch... However, there was a break through that did make me laugh. During a small group practice, our presenter who wears Crocs, informed our group that she had a hard time dressing appropriately for workshops! Denise, Carrie, the presenter, and I just burst out laughing! I politely kept it to myself that I think she had made huge steps by shaving off the hamster, as it might hurt her feelings. We noticed that the long haired trainer had a little "baby bump" and that was some cause for sincere jubilation. And before we knew it, it was time to walk up to the Nazi trainer-man, collect my certificate, and take my seat in the circle of trust for the last time. We tossed around a ball of respect and Jayne rang the oriental chime for the final closing. We all signed a lovely card for black sundress, hugged each other goodbye, exchanged professional cards, and left the Garden Spot.
I learned a lot in the eight sessions. I learned how to coach someone into a planning session, a reflection, and other hopefully useful tools for my work. But what I really learned was that given enough time, I could adapt and maybe even morph into some who accepts, not just tolerates the differences in strangers. Even someone with a hamster growing under her armpit.
Carrie, Denise, and I walked into the training site on that eventful Thursday morning. The room was small, underground, painted gray, and my first thoughts were BUNKER! There were small narrow windows inches from the ceiling and a sense of claustrophobia immediately set in. As we looked around, Carrie and I saw the dreaded "Circle of Trust" in the corner of the room. I wanted to grab my notebook and purse and sprint right out of there! The horrified look on Carrie's face summed it up! She turned and said, "If we have to hold hands and sing Kumbayah, I am SO out of her!" Nervous laughter erupted from my mouth and I looked at Denise who was giggling so hard that I think she had tears in her eyes. We cautiously set our things down on an empty table and were encouraged to take a seat in the circle.
Little by little, the other participants came into the room and happily took a seat in the circle. We were introduced to our trainers. The strange thing was was that none of them looked like TRAINERS. One wore a sleeveless black sundress covered by a crocheted, open weave sweater vest. One wore a capsleeved t-shirt, faded navy blue Dockers that were too short, royal blue socks, and blue Crocs. The third was younger and dressed contemporary, but her long hair came past her knees. I kept looking and searching for the "real trainer". Someone with a suit or at least someone wearing black pants and a conservative sweater... But this person never appeared! Then, the one with the Crocs stood up and introduced herself and she rang an oriental bell, declaring the session "open".
As with most new things and trainings, we all were encouraged to introduce ourselves and share where we worked. However, this was accompanied by drawing a "Zen" card from a deck and explaining how the quote related to ourselves. ZEN CARD! NO WAY! How hippified was this training going to be? This was definitely pushing me to the edge of my comfort zone. When the cards were handed to me, I took the pack and shuffled through every card looking for some statement that related to me. No randomness here! I looked up and about eleven horrifed pairs of eyes and two amused (my friends) were focused on my actions. Trying to look relaxed and non-threatening (to myself and the strangers) I introduced myself and read the quote about intuitiveness.
I started taking mental notes as the group began to introduce themselves. Connie, from the Cherokee nation, was working as an academic and cultural counselor for Native American students in a school district in Tucson. Mark was an engineer. Ariel was an engineer who formally worked at the University of Arizona as a professor for Women's Studies. Jayne, with a charming British accent, was a life coach consultant who occasionally worked with the trainer who wore Crocs. Ruthie Dee Javelina (interesting name) worked for the U of A in their Repsonse to Academic Intervention (aka tutoring) Department. Wanda, who desperately needed a pedicure, was a parent who was having issues raising her only child, worked for a Non-Profit. Stacy, Lisa, Danielle, and others worked for a "Non-Profit". No company name, just non-profit. As people introduced themselves, it finally dawned on me... I was in Social Service Purgatory!
From there, it was down-hill. Carrie, Denise, and I were immersed in the doctrine of listening reflectively, keeping our comments and observations to ourselves, observing body language, etc... I am sure the group and participants observed that my body language was screaming, "EIGHT FREAKING SESSIONS!!!" The time there dragged. It was endless, no matter how hard I tried to pay attention to the details of the people were surrounding me.
At trainings and workshops, the participants usually spend time working in groups, posting thoughts and/or comments on giant Post-It notes that stick to the wall. The presenter with the Crocs took a poster she made and reached above her head to adhere it to the wall. With her arms extended above her head I couldn't help but notice that she had an incredible amount of underarm hair protruding out of the cap-sleeve of her shirt! I know I did a double-take and whipped my head around to say something to Carrie and Denise. I whispered my observation to Carrie and made her look. About that time, the presenter raised her arms again, and we both saw the shocking hair that was lurking out of her shirt! Screaming, "EEEWWW!" would not be considered professional, but at that moment, I decided I could no longer try to care about what I was supposed to learn. I had been surprised, shocked, and was now trying desperately not to dissolve into hysterical laughter. The thread I was hanging by was growing very thin and one small move, one little bit of humor could send me right over the edge of no return.
I wish I could say that we took a break, I got myself undercontrol, and things improved from there, but that was not the case. Finally, it was approaching four o'clock and "Hamster-Hiding-In-Her-Arm-Pit" declared that we needed to migrate to the circle of trust. I was exhausted and this was due to trying to swallow all the laughter I had inside me. The black sundress presenter tossed a "ball of respect" my way and when I opened my mouth, a lot of nervous laughter escaped! It was like trying to hold back the creature in the movie "Alien". I pleaded being overwhelmed and tossed the ball to Denise who gave a similar comment and some laughter escaped from her as well. Carrie, pretending to be shy, said something quiet and reserved. The hair past her knees presenter took the oriental bell and chimed our encounter closed for the day. I jumped up, raced to get my notebook and my purse and hustled out of the bunker with my friends as fast as we could move. When we got to the parking lot, I said, "When we get back to Douglas, I am going to KILL the coaches who insisted we come here!" This was echoed and basically "Amened" by Carrie and Denise.
One session down and seven more to go!
I wish I could say that Day 2 was an overall improvement from Day 1 and that I had taken hold of the information that was being presented. Instead it was Day 2 of Jana needs to practice self-control. I was exhausted from the previous day's stifling the hysterical laughter, but there was still an issue with my not being able to make it through one hour without a snicker, giggling, or some type of humor overload. It didn't help that Carrie would frequently make little comments about the presenters or the participators. That usually set me off. It also didn't help that I found myself back in the circle of trust with a Zen animal card. We still worked in small groups or pairs and we were encouraged and prodded into changing partners regularly.
Connie was pretty cool to talk to when we worked together. She asked me about my heritage and if I had any Cherokee blood in me. This was a surprise as my father had told us many years ago that his great grandmother was from the Cherokee Nation. I told her that she probably had all types of "wannabe Native Americans" ask her questions about her background. We laughed and joked for a while which cemented her into my acceptance file for the day.
Near the end of Day 2, I was trying to focus on the presenter, taking notes, and maintaining self-control when out of the corner of my eye, I saw a leg move in the air. I turned to Carrie who had also seen some type of movement. Standing on one leg at the back of the room was Ruthie Dee Javelina, moving slowly into different Yoga poses. Okay, day over. Time to go.
Day 3 and Day 4 are pretty much a cosmic blur. We had a two month break from the first two days, but the memory of the horrors we experienced were still on our minds. Day 3 and Day 4 included more Zen, more trust circles, more information and practices, more Non-Profits, and more laughter. What changed was we were located to a sunny room with large windows at a different location. We could walk to a local CVS during our break and no one seemed overly concerned with us returning on time. This could be that some of our fellow participants were not overly enthused with us either. We had two of the original three trainers, but black sundress's husband was in Houston receiving chemotherapy at the Anderson Cancer Center. We would learn from the long haired trainer and the trainer who still wore Crocs. It went by at a slightly faster pace and I learned to live for the outdoor practices in a lovely courtyard. At the end of Day 3, the presenters announced gleefully that we would be moving back to the Bunker for future training. "NO," I said very loudly which caused everyone to look at me. I finally confessed that it was just way to creepy to be underground without natural sunlight for long periods of time. To my pleasure, the presenters said they would try to secure our "Garden Spot" and would let us know if we could use it for the remaining trainings.
Day 5 and Day 6 things finally took a turn. We met at the Garden Spot, in our same room as before. More of the participants were missing from the initial training, so we were a smaller group. Black sundress was back, but would be moving to Houston for several weeks due to her husband's cancer. Lisa, one of the non-profits actually requested to move away from Carrie and me stating that she wanted to work with others. None of the men ever returned, and much to my dismay, Connie didn't return either. I really liked her. Ruthie Dee, our Yoga Queen, also did not return and I found myself wondering if the non-returnees received part of their expensive registration fee. I actually participated and laughed when appropriate during both days. During Day 6, we had to give comments that we have and would receive on a job performance evaluation. The Non-Profits shouted out, "Needs Improvement, Satisfactory, In Order To Be More Productive..." I was alarmed! I didn't receive comments like this on my evaluations. I looked at Carrie and Denise in dismay and they had similar expressions on their faces. I stood up and said quite loudly, "OMG! If I received comments like that I would either cry or quit!" They turned and looked at me (of course I sat on the back row) curiously. Finally, I had done something other than laugh! They started asking us questions and probing into our evaluations and our expectations for ourselves. It was amazing! There had been a break though! When we sat in the circle of trust at the end of the day, there was a different feeling going on in our group. Or maybe it was just me.
Finally, Day 7! Cruising in a little late, which had become a bad habit, the three of us came to a screeching halt when we entered the room. There was a man there, one we had never seen before. No introductions, This had probably happened before we blew in. We started as usual...Zen card and chime and we took our usual seats together at our favorite table. Only something was definitely going on! The man was interupting and making comments during our presenter's time to shine! What the heck!!! I thought Denise was going to slap him! We all gave him the Douglas Unified Stink Eye! How rude could he be!! Who was this interloper? Every time he spoke I glared at him. During a small group session, I asked him who he was and what was he doing in our session. Much to my embarrassment, he politely informed me that he was a "Senior Presenter" and was there to monitor our group and the trainers. Oh No! He didn't just say that! Monitor our group? Needless to say, everytime he said something, we just sat in our seats, occasionally rolling our eyes. During our CVS break, I told our long haired presenter that he was undermining their hard work. She got tears in her eyes and agreed that he just didn't fit into our little group. I think she told our presenter who wears Crocs because she gave me a sad little smile like we were in on our own private little secret. The time flew by and when we were sitting in our closing circle of trust, I just couldn't look him in the eye. I felt like I was betraying our presenters.
Day 8. For some strange reason, I just didn't feel good when I left our hotel. I couldn't put my finger on it, but the atmosphere didn't seem right. We went through the motions: Circle of trust, practice, CVS break, more practice, lunch... However, there was a break through that did make me laugh. During a small group practice, our presenter who wears Crocs, informed our group that she had a hard time dressing appropriately for workshops! Denise, Carrie, the presenter, and I just burst out laughing! I politely kept it to myself that I think she had made huge steps by shaving off the hamster, as it might hurt her feelings. We noticed that the long haired trainer had a little "baby bump" and that was some cause for sincere jubilation. And before we knew it, it was time to walk up to the Nazi trainer-man, collect my certificate, and take my seat in the circle of trust for the last time. We tossed around a ball of respect and Jayne rang the oriental chime for the final closing. We all signed a lovely card for black sundress, hugged each other goodbye, exchanged professional cards, and left the Garden Spot.
I learned a lot in the eight sessions. I learned how to coach someone into a planning session, a reflection, and other hopefully useful tools for my work. But what I really learned was that given enough time, I could adapt and maybe even morph into some who accepts, not just tolerates the differences in strangers. Even someone with a hamster growing under her armpit.
Thursday, October 22, 2009
Getting Started
I always wanted to be a writer...
I can remember sitting in the pew at my church in Lubbock, Texas, when I was about seven writing weird little stories that I would give my mother to read. She would look at the paper, look at me, and sometimes she would smile. I always had a story going on in my mind, but as I grew older, I never took the time to put the words on paper. So, in my attempt to put the thoughts into words, I decided to try this blog thing. I know so many people say they want to be a writer, but if I don't give it a try, then it will be something to add to my regret list.
[Now, I know you are wondering about a regret list, but I just decided that will be an idea for one of my blogs!!!!]
So, on this blog space I will be writing about things from my past, memories that I want to share. I will be writing about random thoughts that often cross my mind. I will be writing about things that are happening right now in my life and the world. And maybe I will write about some hopes and dreams for the future.
I hope you will read these from time to time. It will give you some little hint of who I am and maybe you will get to know me a little better.
I can remember sitting in the pew at my church in Lubbock, Texas, when I was about seven writing weird little stories that I would give my mother to read. She would look at the paper, look at me, and sometimes she would smile. I always had a story going on in my mind, but as I grew older, I never took the time to put the words on paper. So, in my attempt to put the thoughts into words, I decided to try this blog thing. I know so many people say they want to be a writer, but if I don't give it a try, then it will be something to add to my regret list.
[Now, I know you are wondering about a regret list, but I just decided that will be an idea for one of my blogs!!!!]
So, on this blog space I will be writing about things from my past, memories that I want to share. I will be writing about random thoughts that often cross my mind. I will be writing about things that are happening right now in my life and the world. And maybe I will write about some hopes and dreams for the future.
I hope you will read these from time to time. It will give you some little hint of who I am and maybe you will get to know me a little better.
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