The play's the thing!

Harry has been rehearsing for his upcoming play, All's Well That End's Well, for the past several weeks. The theater group putting it on is relatively new in the city, calling itself Classical Actors Ensemble, and the production is funded in part by the Minnesota Arts and Cultural Heritage Fund (yes, yet another organization the Republicans want eliminated). The play opens Friday, May 6th at the Walker Community Church in Minneapolis, and runs the following three weekends. The last Shakespeare play Harry did was Henry V at Theatre in the Round, and before that, Measure for Measure. His part in that as the Duke is the second longest in all the Shakespeare plays, and the memorization nearly killed the old geezer. In this performance he has a less strenuous role as the old lord Pepe Lafew. and will be using his comedic wit rather than taxing his failing memory. (Details at www.classicalactorsensenble.org.)

I personally have had a rather strained relationship with Shakespeare in my life. I broke it off with him back in college. I was actually enjoying a Shakespeare course with an excellent English professor when I chose to drop out of school and get married. (I eventually broke it off with that man too, but mistakenly gave him another chance.) I never gave Shakespeare another chance, deciding the language was exasperatingly difficult. Then I met Harry, who doesn't believe in God but does believe in Shakespeare (though not in the Stratford man), and I became curious as to just what inspired this great worship. Over the past ten years of our marriage, I have slowly done a complete 360 on the great Bard. Indeed, I have learned there is a lot to make much ado about when it comes to Shakespeare. I worship him now as well

It began with Harry insisting I had to see one of his favorite films, Shakespeare in Love. Then we both read a couple of books about the mystery of the authorship of the plays. Both these experiences made me want to see the plays even though I knew my frustration with the language would be as great as I remembered it. I always remember my mother taking me to see The Tempest at the Guthrie when I was in my early twenties and we both fell asleep. I had no idea what the hell was going on.

The teacher in me had an idea, and I bought and read the Cliff Notes for the two Shakespeare plays Harry was in at Theatre in the Round, and it helped a bit. I found that after reading these streamlined versions for idiots, I could at least get the gist of what was going on. A few years back, I watched the movie of Midsummer's Night Dream three times with three different St. Louis Park high school English classes and, lo and behold, by the third time through, I was really into it. I was laughing at the jokes and following the plot.

The big moment, however, came when I saw the film of Merchant of Venice with Al Pacino. I found my tears began to drop as the gentle rain from heaven. The language pierced my soul. Then I saw Hamlet at Theatre in the Round last month and I felt bolted to my seat, even though the production was not the greatest. Harry was embarrassed that a wife of his had waited until her seventh decade to see what some call the greatest of all plays (though my daughter and my husband hold out for Lear, which I still have to look forward to). All I can say is, Hamlet was worth the wait.

If I had not met Harry, I probably would have allowed my fear of Shakespeare to keep me from appreciating the genius of this playwright (whoever he was) from four centuries back. Come see Harry in his latest venture, which he says will be a Shakespeare comedy which will actually be funny. Meanwhile, I have to pick up my Cliff Notes at Barnes and Noble this weekend: a fan of Shakespeare I am; an academic scholar like my husband, I am not.

Food Bank NYC

New York has a primitive and brutal subway system, a tribute to the triumph of free enterprise over government planning. What the heck is wrong with having escalators, as they do in London, Paris and Madrid? Ah yes, Europe, so much more civilized! I swear you need to climb up and down hundreds and hundreds of steps just to get around this city on the subway. With my arthritic knee I would have killed this past week for an escalator or, better yet, lots of cash to spend on taxis.

Alexis always takes me to new and interesting restaurants when I visit her in New York and this past week was no exception. We ate great food: West Indian, English, and authentic BBQ in Brooklyn with her boyfriend, Curtis, and his family. She and I, of course, also went to the little diner around the corner from her apartment. I also had a two-buck hot dog from a cart in Central Park, and lox, bagels and cream cheese at a typical NY Deli on Second Ave. I did not put on a pound either, because when I was not eating I was chasing Alexis down the street, jumping on and off buses, climbing the two flights to her apartment, -- and most aerobic of all -- the endless subway stair-stepper!

Alexis was on spring break but had studying and work to do. She is in grad school full time and has two jobs, one at Baruch College and the other at Baby Bo's Mexican restaurant in mid-town. Part of her job at Baruch is to coordinate community service activities for the students in the class in career planning which she teaches. The freshman students have to put in a certain number of community service hours (just as the judge ordered Lindsay Lohan to do!)

This week she took her students to a soup kitchen in Harlem run by Food Bank NYC, which serves dinner to well over 700 people each night. We had to set up for dinner, serve it, and clean up afterward, and she asked me to go along. Monday night's dinner was baked fish, potatoes, corn, salad and cookies. The people were very hungry, and many kept thanking us volunteers. We had all worked hard and found the experience rewarding. On Thursday, the day I left, Alexis took a larger group of her students to work at the Food Bank warehouse in Manhattan, where the food for the soup kitchens is packaged and then distributed all over the city.

This sort of experience was indeed rewarding, but it was also an upsetting reality check, especially for someone like me who always eats so well while in NYC (and even in Minneapolis!). I kept thinking during our volunteer shift that it is not enough to just get upset. It was very clear that without volunteers, Food Bank New York would never be able to function. I am sure there are many such places here in the Twin City area, in fact my husband used to work for one, and I could put my "upset" reaction to good use.

When you think about it, what is really primitive and brutal is the fact that so many people in our world are desperate for a good meal and few of us who eat so well everyday do much to change this situation. Are we sure the British and European "welfare state" is such a terrible idea? Maybe someday the term civilized will include the meaning that people do not go hungry in the world.

Old dog, new tricks.

Just when this old dog thought she was doing OK in the new classroom teacher technology department, I began to notice that my teacher lexicon was out of date. More new tricks to learn! I have always addressed my young classroom inhabitants in a variety of ways: class, kids, students, you guys. The young teachers in one of the districts I sub in are trained to refer to their students as "friends." "Friends, we are going to have a guest speaker today." "Friends, I need your attention, please." Truthfully, I find this language a bit disingenuous if not nauseating.

I think of teachers as surrogate parents, adults responsible for a child's academic and social development during the school day. In my old-fashioned world, friends are people who have your best interests at heart, as teachers do, but friends do not boss you around for your own good as a good teacher does. If your friends are bossing you around they probably are not your friends for long (been there!). Besides, since when would all your teachers or classmates be your friends???

The other shift in teacher speak in this district is the constant use of the phrase, "Make a good choice." When Susie is acting like a total brat the teacher now says; "Susie it doesn't look like you are making a good choice by throwing that block at Bobbie." "Please make a better choice." What if the child thinks a good choice would be to throw the block instead at the teacher who just reprimanded her?

In such a situation I instinctively tell the child, "Stop throwing that block, and if you do that again you will be sitting in the time-out chair until I tell you to get up." It's a rare child that I have found throwing the block again. It's a rare child who does not need to be told that certain behavior is not tolerated, plain and simple. Children are like puppies, they respond to rewards and to being socially ostracized. I remember giving my daughter a time out when she was two and a half or so, and there were few time outs and tantrums after that. Sometimes all it takes is a swift response by the teacher, invoking the time out chair or corner, and that bad behavior ceases, sometimes never to be seen again. The key is to be swift and not to engage in the child's protest, tears or arguments. When I observe a teacher arguing with a child it makes me cringe!!!

Making choices is a constant predicament of human life, and it takes time to learn how to make good choices. The most effective way to teach a child to make good choices is by modeling good choice behavior yourself and setting limits for children at every turn. Sometimes it is best not to give the child a choice at all. Giving children a long list of choices or being afraid or too lazy to discipline them is asking for trouble. Children who have not been given clear boundaries become manipulative, and children who are used to always getting what they want are not pleasant children to be around.

I am very strict nowadays in my teaching: this is due in part to the nature of subbing and in part a response to our culture of limitless choice. In truth, students are relieved to have a strict sub. Children are happier and feel safer with adults who take charge and set limits. Of course, the children who have been allowed to be in charge fight hard to keep their control. Parents of the best behaved children in class always told me they did a lot of disciplining at home. These parents were often surprised but happy to hear their children behaved well in class. The students who behaved the worst often had parents who could not believe their children were behavior problems. They would act shocked when you told them their child frequently misbehaved (talk about disingenuous!). As a teacher, I know full well that a child's classroom behavior is a direct result of how the child is parented.

So, this old dog teacher will continue in her old-fashioned ways, just as the older generation always does. She may be hip to the new technology, but she will resist the new language and she will remain fond of limited choices for her students. Let's face it .... she should probably be put out to pasture!!!! Or maybe some of the younger teachers would like to put her in the dog house.

*I had a nice moment last week. Two middle schoolers stayed after class, and when I asked them what was up, they said they wanted to tell me that their class had never behaved so well. I am old fashioned but I am still kick'in!!!

Patient Beware!

I am working to break the chronic pain cycle in my neck that has been going on for several months. (Some people would argue I have been a pain in the neck for years!) I changed chiropractors this week after deciding the one I chose by Googling Chiropractors 55416 was not working out. It was a bit like going to the circus, a circus I was supposed to attend and buy a ticket for four times a week, according to the doctor. April was the beginning of this clinic's "spring into health" week. On my second appointment, I was quizzed about nutrition by a 300-pound staff person while doing my warm-up exercises. For each question answered correctly you earned a ticket. The tickets were put into a bowl for the weekly prize drawing. The most tickets, however, were given to people who brought in new clients. After three treatments, and few tickets earned, I took a copy of my x-rays and headed out the door.

I decided to hold chiropractic auditions at two clinics in my neighborhood: given the price of gas lately I thought it a reasonable way to make a choice. I wound up conducting only one audition, since the first doctor got the part. He came across as knowledgeable and interested in helping me, rather than in making money off me. He said one or two treatments a week would help for now. He looked shocked when I told him my circus story, and admitted that some of his colleagues in the field are not high on the integrity scale. I replied that that is probably true in all professions: some people have no business being teachers and such types can do a lot of damage, especially to children who desperately need good teachers. I am hoping I found a good chiropractor with some integrity who can give me a little relief. So far, his insistence that I use lots of ice packs and stop some of the exercises I have been doing has helped relieve some pain.

My heath crisis has been good in the sense that I have learned to put more trust in my intuitive powers to detect and reject smarmy individuals, as well as in my acceptance that there is probably no quick fix for this pain. Not that I haven't tried to find one. My family practice doctor says I still have pretty good mobility in my neck but he has encouraged me to pursue different avenues of treatment. Perhaps the spine specialist I see in early May will have some clear answers, but until then I will plod along with an ice on my neck and I may try some yoga.

The two physical therapists I have seen over the last several months I now know had me doing exercises that actually increased my problems. Even the beloved Dr. Oz gave some advice on his television show recently that seemed sensible for me to try but made things worse. I have tried so many things. Now I look back and see the path I have taken through this maze of pain had me going in circles. If only I had known I was in a maze!!! I feel like Alice, "Which way do I go?" "Where do you want to be?" "I don't know," "Well then, it doesn't matter which way you go."

My mother used to say when I faced hard times in my life: "Jeanne, always remember, things could be worse." I have been saying that a lot lately. Mom could not abide complainers. She believed life was hard (as do most dour Scots), and one needed to accept the fact and get on with things. The therapists I saw over the years for different mental ailments used to stress that one should not minimize life's pains but acknowledge them, feel them, grieve them in order to heal. I think both my mother and the therapists made their cases well. I also believe some of life's pain never heals. You learn to cope maybe, yes, but you may never heal.

Today I opened an email from a friend I made briefly in Cabo, and once again I could hear my Mother's words. Cathy and and her husband, Scott, lived above us the second year we lived in San Jose. We learned of their plans to sail across the Pacific in their small sailboat. They had been working on the boat and the plans for the trip for a long time and were both excited to begin their adventure. We spent fun times over dinners together, and Cathy made Harry nutritious milkshakes after his accident. I sent them a couple emails over the past year, but never heard back. I assumed they were still at sea. I learned today that they set out a year ago as planned, and after a few days at sea the winds they had expected never came, their fuel was low, so they had to head back to the west coast. Cathy took ill shortly after their return and she learned she had a rare form of liver cancer. She has lost over 40 pounds and has been in horrific pain. The prognosis is not good.

Sometimes the winds stop blowing us forward in life and we have to resort to other means, turn around, and go backwards for a time. Sometimes a course of actions turns out to be the wrong course. Sometimes the good news we hope for does not come, and sometimes the bad news keeps coming. And other times, we just have to accept things and be grateful for the good things we have experienced in the past and move forward into a future which may not be so good.

I was not surprised by the tone of Cathy's email. She is one of those people who are genuine and true and good. She spent much of her email expressing thanks to her family for their love and support. She is concerned about her husband and his not being able to sail the past year, and she asked about Harry's recovery. Somehow today, a pain in the neck became just a pain in the neck, and I became a lot more grateful.