The Art of Beginning a New Year - Part II

Much of my inspiration comes from Ernie.

 

I wrote 12 resolutions this year.  I intentionally set out to write a dozen because I like the number 12.   There are  - -

• 12 days of Christmas
• 12  months in the year
• 12 people who have walked on the moon
• 12 letters in the Hawaiian alphabet & I remember really liking turning and being 12 years old.

 

I know you are thinking 12 is really ambitious and I should probably reread my post titled, "The Art of Beginning a New Year - Part I."  I want to set myself up for success and be a proud, card carrying member of the 15%  of people who actually keep their New Year's resolutions.  I made sure my resolutions were obtainable, valuable, and somewhat measurable.  I keep track of progress with tally marks on a rustic (i.e. not cute) chart I zipped up on my lunch hour.

 

Here are some of my resolutions:

 

I will work out two times a week.  Workouts can be 30 minutes and walking counts.  ("Old Me" would have insisted on working out for an hour, four to five times a week with an intimidating, unlikeable personal trainer thrown in.  "New Me" is mature enough to realize exercising twice a week is better than my current zero times a week.)

 

 

 

I will let my kids invite friends over at least once a month.  (This one is painful for me.  Let's face it.  I had kids later in life, I teach middle school, and am somewhat of an introvert.  This all adds up to me wanting to escape children during my free time, despite liking my kids' friends.  But I swear "New Me" can rally.  I figure all the friends can come over on the same day.  It will be like ripping off the Band-Aid in one quick yank.)

 

 

 

I will cook "Real Food" dinner at least three times a week.  This will piggyback on teaching my kids both manners and how to cook.  (Several weeks ago I ordered 100 Days of Real Food - Real Fast.  I have periodic panic attacks about not teaching my kids how to cook and not springing for organic milk.  Then I have  anger attacks because I have to do all the cooking and buy all the milk.  Rather than continuing my panic and anger attacks, I decided to be proactive and start cooking dinner with my family.  So far, the kids have liked all the recipes from 100 Days of Real Food and haven't whined about helping in the kitchen.  Wait, Lulu was repulsed by the beef chili and made herself a stack of delish, buttered carbs, I mean tortillas, instead.  There is always room for improvement.) 

 

 

 

We will have family game night twice a month and it has to last for at least an hour.  (I like playing games with the kids, especially since they have passed the Chutes and Ladder and Candy Land phase.  My oldest requested that I update our board game collection since he has been playing the same games for most of his life.  I found myself on Amazon ordering questionable games like: Betrayal at House on the Hill, Exploding Kittens, and Killer Bunnies.  This Saturday my parents are coming over for a game afternoon.  I am particularly thrilled because this allows me to meet yet another resolution - I will visit my parents, with my kids, at least one time a month.  Check and Check.)

 

 

In a brilliant move, I taped the resolutions to my bedroom door so I will remember them.  In past years I have written resolutions in notebooks, closed the notebook, and that was the end of those resolutions.  Accountability is very important with resolutions.  And, who better to keep me accountable than my own children?  I enjoy getting nagged about "Game Night" while brushing my teeth. 

 

I would LOVE to hear about your plans for 2017.

 

Prairie Eydie

 

P.S.  My 12 resolutions have all been approved by my friend, Ellen.  I can now safely say I will be among the 15% who are still working on their resolutions in March.  Not so sure about June.   

 

 

 

 

The Art of Beginning a New Year - Part I

 

 

We have all made it through the holidays.  I just finished packing away the last Yoda-Wearing-a-Santa-Hat ornament and throwing the remaining Christmas cookies in the outside trash can (I can't trust myself to throw cookies in the kitchen trash because I might fish them out during a 4:00 PM energy slump emergency.) 

 

Truth?  I am feeling bloated and not prepared for 2017.  It is that bitter cold time of year, in Wisconsin, when I rush home to put on my stretchy PJ pants and oversized, stained t-shirt. I have been spending hours watching Millie, our new kitten, play with her glitter balls.  Yes.  It is time to craft some 2017 resolutions.

 

 

 

 

Travel back in time with me to January 2013.  This was the last time I wrote resolutions.  My marriage was ending.  It was snowing A LOT and I had thrown out my back trying to start the snow blower.   Plus, my three kids still needed meals and snacks DAILY.  I was clearly overwhelmed. 

 

The ears and bow are cute and all, but I would run the marathon dressed as Snow White.

 

So I did what all overwhelmed people do, I started writing New Year's Resolutions.  And I did not stop at 1 or 2 paltry weight loss goals.  I crafted a detailed, 14 page narrative on how I would make 2013 the BEST year of my life.  I was finally going to finish writing a best selling novel while training to run a 1/2 marathon in Disneyland!  I would volunteer every week at Old World Wisconsin, living out my dream of wearing wool clothes in August while churning butter.   (Old World Wisconsin is a quick two and a half hour, round trip commute from my house.  I could learn a language while driving to and from my volunteer gig.) I would give my children swimming lessons in fresh water lakes while driving to the Grand Canyon.  Finally, I would take the remaining two classes to get my English degree.  (Beowulf and Advanced Grammar.  Never mind that I  got a D in Non-advanced Grammar.)

 

After I finished writing my resolutions, I called my friend, Ellen, to read them to her.  (You may remember Ellen from my "Hot Mess at Hot Yoga" posts.  She was the one who told me to get over myself because no one was looking at me attempting the "Tipping Bird" pose.  I can always trust Ellen's honesty, just as she can trust mine.  Ellen once ran her "Get Your Ass to Class" campaign by me.  She designed it to target all of her tardy students.  Her idea got two definitive thumbs down from me.) 

 

 

Luckily Ellen didn't have any plans for New Year's day since she had time to listen to my resolutions in their entirety.  After I finished reading and was gulping water to rehydrate, Ellen wasted no time in saying, "You can't do all of that!  It is all completely crazy."  Now, this could have been my "Rocky Moment" and I could have countered with, "Oh yeah?  I have 12 months to prove you wrong!"  But I heard the truth in her words and was relieved I didn't have to drive cross country with my kids.  I decided if I woke up every morning with enough sanity and energy to get through the day - that would be enough. 

 

Join me next time when I share my 2017 resolutions.  There are 12 of them, but I promise to keep them brief.

Happy New Year!  May your year be full of "Rocky Moments."

 

Prairie Eydie

 

 

 

 

The Art of Happy Holidays - Prairie Eydie Style Part I

 

 

Every holiday season I have to remind myself that I am not Martha Stewart or Ina Garten.  My house won't be featured on HGTV and Bing Crosby won't be dropping by to smoke a pipe and judge my use of tinsel.   I have spent many holiday seasons pretending to be someone I am not.  Lets take a walk down memory lane.  We can start with baked goods.

 

One December, many years ago, I decided I would be the person who showed up with an amazing platter of Christmas cookies.   I fantasized about my kids bragging to future college roommates about how amazing their mom's Christmas cookies were.  I imagined bake sales not starting until I arrived with my array of cookies. 

 

So, for two weeks I entered a Christmas cookie hell of room temperature, grass fed butter, dusty floured counters, and satanic spritz presses.  (Don't message me with your fairy tales of how spritz cookies are so easy to make.  I don't believe you.)  The kitchen timer was constantly dinging, alerting me to either take chilled dough out of the refrigerator or baked cookies out of the oven.  I developed a long lasting tic, hearing the kitchen timer everywhere I went.  I baked cut out sugar cookies, peppermint candy canes, thumbprint cookies, spritz, and marzipan fruit.  I even tried to make homemade caramels.  (The end result was a caramel syrup that was quite tasty poured over ice cream.  I was able to return the six rolls of waxed paper I had purchased.)

 

 

 

 

My finished cookies did not look beautiful or remotely tempting.  No college student would be waiting at their mailbox in hopes of a care package.  Bake sale coordinators would wait until I left to chuck my cookies into the compost.  My cookies looked like someone who hated to bake made them and they all pretty much tasted the same.  Sugary with more than a hint of overpowering peppermint. 

 

 

 

 

 

Family members did not want to eat my cookies.  I entered a downward spiral.  I couldn't take all my hard work going to waste, so I started devouring the cookies.  Eventually I had to lock the cookies in my trunk to stop myself from pouring milk over them and making a crumbled cookie cereal. 

 

This episode of cookie mania taught me to not spend hours doing something I hate that no one else cares about.  I am now known as the mom who makes the super, tasty spiced pretzels. (Thanks for the super easy recipe, Diane!  I owe you.)  I am fine with other moms wearing the "Cookie Goddess Tiara."

 

Be sure to join me for Part II of "The Art of Happy Holidays."  You will learn how streamline your decorating and ditch the Dickens village.

 

Prairie Eydie

 

 

 

Sick of Sinuses - Part II

Today marks week 10 of my chronic sinus infection.  I want to scoop my eyes out with a melon baller.  I want to explain, in detail, how the neti pot backs up behind my eyes.  I want to stay in bed and watch ALL the episodes of Gunsmoke.  (635 episodes; plus, a character named Miss Kitty.  My cat's name is Miss Kitty, so I already have a personal connection to the show.) 



I swear this ISN'T me and Diane.  I don't even own pink shoes.



I just came off a 5-Day-Predinisone-Blast (as in "a lot of prednisone" not "a whole lot of fun at one time").  For two and 1/2 glorious days I felt like myself. 

• I made the kids dinner, not relying on my current standby of rolling up whatever was in the fridge in four tortillas. 
• I went shopping with my friend and we behaved badly in Wal-Mart.  (as in "we bought way too many mismatched Pioneer Woman bowls" not "we got into a hair pulling gal fight in the shampoo section").
• I returned to reading actual books (The Orchid Thief, by Susan Orlean) and not just listlessly flipping through Cooking Light magazine, imagining someone would show up at my front door with one of the featured "Amazing Weeknight Recipes"  (There was a Tortilla Soup that looked good.)

 

IT WAS A FABULOUS 2 AND 1/2 DAYS!

 

 

 

Sadly, with the exit of prednisone and antibiotics, my cranky sinus infection reappeared.  I just about lost my mind and wasted no time in drafting a survival plan.  Here is what I have so far:

 

• Continue to invest in Himalayan Salt lamps even though there is no proof they are working. 
• Direct my family from bed using a megaphone.  The kids will probably draw literary conclusions between me and those old people who always stayed in bed in Charlie and the Chocolate Factory.
• Drag self to Costco to buy Turmeric capsules.  It might be a waste of 25 dollars but it also might be the best 25 dollars ever spent.  Bonus:  I can save money by eating Costco samples for dinner if I time my visit right.
• Give myself permission let "Clean House Standards" fall even lower.
• Come to terms with the fact that Fall yard clean-up will not be happening this year.

I suppose I could take up knitting or rug hooking.

 

I am off to Urgent Care to see what they have to say about my sinus situation.  Meanwhile, my friends, be well and keep those sinus cavities irrigated.

 

Eydie

 

 

 

Prairie Eydie Learns Something New, Part II

Warning.  The f-bomb detonates frequently in this book.  Definitely not for everyone.  In fact I can only thing of about three people I could recommend this book to.

 

 

I started reading Drive: The Surprising Truth About What Motivates Us, by Daniel Pink, last night.   Amazon had delivered the book several days ago and it had been laying on the living room floor waiting for me to get motivated to read it.  (Warning:  The book starts off with a lot of data, for those of you who suffer Staff Meeting PTSD.)  I  wasn't feeling motivated to read something life changing because a friend loaned me the super hilarious memoir Let's Pretend This Didn't Happen, by Jenny Lawson.  This book features nonstop hijinks, like when the author's dad adopted a rafter of turkeys and how the turkeys got caught in the windshield wipers while trying to peck the family's eyes out??!?  Good stuff.  Much more fun than finding out how all my carrot/stick motivation programs were a worthless waste of time. 

 

 

 

I have picked-up a bad habit from a friend of mine.  Now I open to random page in the middle of the book and start reading there.  As a Middle School reading specialist, this is against everything I teach my students, but it is kinda fun.  The first sentence I read in Drive blew me away.  (NOTE:  This is paraphrased because I didn't use the valuable strategy of marking important passages with post-it notes.  Truthfully I would be happy if my students used a post-it to mark where they let off reading.  So much time is wasted with the questions, "Now.  Let's see.  Where did I leave off?) 

 

 

 

85% of people do the right thing at work.  Rules and regulations are created for the remaining 15%.  Daniel Pink is telling me that 85% of people could handle flexible scheduling.   Possibly, all of my work could be done in four days instead of five - but I am working eight hour days, 5 days a week because some screwballs will take advantage of the system and cruise the corridors looking for donuts and caffeine. 

 

The second section I flipped to in Drive was about "task shifting".  Again, I didn't use my arsenal of post-its and am paraphrasing - If someone is bored with their current assignment, have them train someone else in the skills they have mastered. 

 

 

 

This is my 27th year of teaching and I would LOVE me some task shifting.  I could train someone to choose books for kids who hate to read and show how I boost vocabulary.  I could also suggest a gazillion books for kids who love to read.  In return, I would love be trained by someone else.  Here is a super short list of beneficial things I could learn from co-workers:

• How do I best teach our English Language Learners (ELL)?  Yesterday, I learned that most languages, other than English, don't use rhyming words.  Wow.  One of my 7th graders was having a rhyming breakthrough and I didn't even know what a big deal it was.
• What is Google Classroom and how can a luddite*, like myself, use it in my classroom.  (I actually put post-its notes on my phone to remember things.  It is the only thing that seems to work.)
• How do you keep things fresh after teaching for more than ten years?  What inspires you to return to the classroom everyday? (Other than new school supplies.)

 

Finally, I am super motivated to start reading Drive from the beginning.  Let me know what you think and if you want to shift some tasks.

 

Prairie Eydie

 

*Luddite

 

 

 

 

The Art of Knowing What Not to Say

I have read articles on what to say to people who have lost a loved one. I know saying "There is a reason for everything." or "I know how you feel." (and then launching into your own story of loss) are not comforting statements. 

 

 

No kids.  Candy corn isn't a vegetable.

 

 I have yet to find an article on what to say to someone who is divorced.  After my divorce people said things like - "At least you have the whole bed to yourself." and "Now you can eat popcorn for dinner whenever you like."   If I wanted a bed to myself, I could have gone to the guest room and not bothered with the messy, expensive divorce.  Popcorn?  Seriously?  I would rather have Pirate's Booty and candy corn for dinner or a hearty steak. 

 

Since there is such a need, I have decided to momentarily step on my soapbox and be the spokesperson for the divorced (or at least the spokesperson for myself).

 

I have lost track of how many people have told me, "You are SO lucky to have every other weekend kid free."  There are several reasons why this is not the thing to say. 

 

Did Bob even want to win the Nobel prize for literature?  Last I heard, he wasn't returning their calls. 

I don't want my kids to pack their bags and leave every other weekend.  They are now past the stage of dangerous two year old behavior and don't require constant "sharing interventions."  Sure, they aren't as adorable as they once were, in that "freshly bathed, footie pajama kinda way."  But, I enjoy my children and feel sad when they leave. A sliver of empty nest syndrome.  Suddenly, I have no one to discuss if Bob Dylan should have won the Nobel Prize for literature.  No one to read Little House in the Big Woods to.

 

 

 

On these "kid free" Friday nights I have learned to distract myself.  Thrift shops are great distractions, as is Downton Abby.  (Hmmm.  Lady Mary had no problem handing over Master George to Nanny.  George was only paraded out during tea or to be giddily tossed around by Thomas.)  

 

 

 

People who tell me I am lucky must think kidless weekends are full of  soul-feeding-creativity and  luxurious pampering.  Nope. 

• My kids don't know how to wear anything twice, so I am washing piles of laundry. 
• I am grocery shopping because kids gobble a lot of grapes and know how to suck down the milk. 
• Usually I run out of time, but I try to prep some food for the upcoming week.  My kids think flour tortillas are a food group and that sandwiches are a main course.   
• I am cleaning the house, trying not to let my standards fall any lower.  I moved into my new house in February and have yet to dust. 

People who are envious of my "kid free" weekends, probably just want some time to themselves.  Time to collect their thoughts.  Or maybe take a hot, uninterrupted shower.  Figure it out, people!  You deserve some free time and don't need to get divorced to find it.  So, get out those calendars, fire up those popcorn poppers, and sprawl out on that bed!

 

Okay.  I am now stepping down from my soap box.

 

Eydie

 

 

 

 

Prairie Eydie Learns Something New Part I

 

 

I went to a fabulous professional development session on Friday.  Note.  I have rarely used the words "fabulous" and "professional development" in the same sentence.  It is now Sunday and I am still thinking about what was said on Friday.  Pretty good.  The session was taught by Chris Gleason, Wisconsin's Middle School Teacher of the Year. (Bravo!  Great decision Wisconsin!) 

 

The topic was "Motivation and Assessment."  I was attracted to the "motivation" portion  because I teach struggling 6th and 7th grade readers.  HECK.  I also struggle daily with motivation and need tips.  I am not very motivated to make my bed, even though bed making has been linked to happiness.  Also, I am not motivated to make the meat loaf "cupcakes" recipe I tore out of a magazine three years ago.  Some days I am not motivated to teach my unmotivated students because I am out of ideas of how to motivate.

 

But I LOVE seeing those neat rows of stickers marching across the tagboard.

 

10 minutes into his presentation, Chris said the carrot and stick approach (think gold star sticker chart) to motivation isn't effective and actually decreases the behavior you are trying to foster.  This finding has been replicated in 70+ studies. 

 

 

 

MIND BLOWN. 

 

I have 26 years of using  extrinsic carrot and stick motivation strategies in my classroom. 

• I have stapled individually wrapped lifesavers to vocabulary tests so the students would at least look at the test before slam dunking them in the garbage. 
• I have baked homemade brownies every time a student finished reading a book.  (I think I only baked three pans of brownies all year, which tells you how effective that method was.) 
• One year, candy corn was doled out every time students were sitting in their chairs.  The "Year of Candy Corn" was a particularly rough year, especially when stores stopped stocking candy corn after Halloween.

 

 

 

I have 12 years of using the carrot and stick approach with my children.  Sigh.  I confess, I have used:

• M and Ms for peeing in the Elmo potty
• Weekly allowances for doing chores
• New books for good report cards.  (Personally I don't find the book  reward all that reprehensible.) 

You are probably either thinking:  a) I am a horribly misguided person  who should have known better. OR b) What can be done to motivate people?

 

Here is what I have down in my notes, under the heading - "What DOES Motivate?"

 

1.  Autonomy over task, time, and technique.

 

2.  Mastery because becoming better at tasks matters.  You have to be excited about being bad!  Woot!  Woot!

 

3.  Purpose.  It has to be a cause bigger than yourself.

 

In other words, the activity itself needs to be the reward.   I was trying to process all of this over the phone with my dad last night. 

 

Eydie:  I shouldn't be giving the kids an allowance for doing their chores.

Dad:  Oh.  Why is that?

Eydie:  If I pay them to do something around the house, they will always expect money and will never set the table without being paid. 

Dad:  Hmmmm.

Eydie:  So starting tomorrow I am just going to give the kids their allowance and expect them to do chores around the house.

Dad:  Good luck with that.

 

 

 

 

Maybe before I stop using carrots and sticks with my children, I should head out to buy one of the books Chris recommended - Drive, by Daniel Pink.  I will let you know what I find out.

 

Eydie