..."magooshans"

sycamore trees...
the streets of my neighborhood in Mudville...
are lined with them...

and now...the leaves are turning yellow...



then crackly brown...and falling to earth...

we had several on the ranch... big ones...
that provided me with hours of companionship...
growing up pretty much alone...out in the country...

my brother didn't count...
he was almost 4 years younger...
and liked other stuff...

we'd play sports stuff for a while...
but he always had to win...
and would cheat if he had to...
or sulk if he lost...



I had imaginary friends when I was really young...
before my brother was born...
I'd make up stories involving them...
have long conversations with them...

I was always very verbal...
almost from the moment I learned to talk...
Mom said that it was a constant dialog...
[I hear you LOL, MM...& I don't blame you...]

when I moved on from imaginary friends...
I "taught" my stuffed animals...
or the birds in the trees...

my brother didn't want to be taught...
that may have been the beginning of the gap...
that still lies between us...

as I was a child of the 50's...
and a fan of Roy Rogers, Hopalong Cassidy...
and every other cowboy on TV...
having a set of small cowboys with horses...
[think "army men"...but with 10 gallon hats & horses...]
gave my active imagination a direction...

and soon, I was spending all my time "playing"...
out behind the barn with the toy cowboys...
I made houses & barns...with beds & used lawn cuttings for hay...
but soon I began to be limited in my scenarios...

until one fall day, I looked down and saw this...



a ball from the huge sycamore tree behind the barn...



had fallen and was losing it's seeds..
and as they fell off.. it left a fuzzy ball...



when I picked it up, I noticed...
that some of the fuzz had been pulled off...
and what was left looked sort of like a person...
[come on...I was a little kid...]



there were tons of them...
and I also discovered that the fuzz or "hair"...
could be removed strategically...
creating a Mohawk or a beard...

suddenly...my world expanded...
I had lots of potential new characters for my stories...
I created an entire culture...a tribe...
I showed my brother...
who was occasionally interested in my kind of "play"...

he, being quite young at the time named them "Magooshans"...

we had a neighbor whose name was Mahdajian...

my brother had heard Dad mention his name as having the ranch...
back up, behind the barn... but he couldn't say his name...
so my "tribe" of indigenous sycamore natives...
"out behind the barn"...
became Magooshans from them on...



for years...

I would sit out behind the barn...
mostly by myself..making up stories...
resolving conflict...making families...
having control of the situation...
feeling a part of something...
that I had no where else...

they were expendable...
they could be washed away by the irrigation waters...
burned in a fire..blown away by the wind...
but there were always more...
waiting for the next story...

as I walk Molly along the fall streets today...
50 years later...I see the fallen sycamore balls...
the furry centers surrounded by the seeds...

and suddenly...I'm 9 or 10 again...
by myself...
out behind the barn...
playing with the Magooshans...

if I close my eyes...I can smell the raisins curing...
a faint whiff of "winery"in the air...
wood smoke from the workers camp fire...
the few who have stayed to box the raisins...

it's getting dark...
the north wind is chill & smells of rain...
there's also a whiff of sage...
as the wind picks up rattling the big dry leaves overhead...
sending a shower of them down on my head...

I put my cowboys, horses & Magooshans to bed...
shiver with the chill and go around the barn...
as the gloom of evening is settling in fast...
the kitchen windows glow with a yellow light...

Dad's in from the fields...
and is getting cleaned up for dinner...
Mom's bustling about fixing it...
my brother's sitting at the table coloring...

I pause, just out of the warming circle of light...
watching...wondering why I don't seem to fit here...
why with all that is warm & comforting in front of me...
I feel so lonely...so unwanted...
wanting something I can't describe...
so much that it hurts...

but the wind is cold...and I'm hungry...
so I go inside...
knowing that something is missing...
just not knowing what...
and trying not to think about it...

and 50 years later...

I still haven't a clue...but I remember that feeling...

...pretend you're 8...then it all makes sense

when I grew up in the 50's/early 60's...
[graduated 8th grade in 1962...]
that was what a birthday party was supposed to look like...
although in the reality of the times...
[black & white photography...]

they more often looked like this...




I went to a country school...
that just happened to be built next door to our ranch...
["Boomer", don't'cha know...]

and the custom was to have a monthly classroom party...
on the theme of whatever holiday was biggest that month...
and to honor the month's birthday kids...

in my class, everybody's birthday was in the summer...
or in the winter/spring semester...
so for the first several years of my school life...
I got to have my birthday celebrating Halloween...

now Halloween is very different if you live in the country...
NO trick or treating...unless you went into town...
[which ALL the cool kids, who were not my friends, did...
hence ...making them even cooler...]

so the Community Club [think PTA...]
always had a Halloween Carnival on Halloween night...
if it was on a school day, we wore our costumes to school...
working ourselves into a frenzy...
and then, went nuts at the carnival...
[the really cool kids would come before or after trick or treating...
and eat their stash in front of the rest of us...]

so they were the only ones...
who got sick from the candy...
we didn't get a lot of candy...
but could win candy apples...
or popcorn balls...or cookies...or candy...
and you didn't have to have...
a "bomb-sniffing dog" test it first...

Ah..the "good ol' days..."
it really was an innocent time...

so, anyway...back to me...
[and that's the whole point...]
I never had friends...
so I never had the big birthday bash...
that wins you elementary school popularity...
ergo, I wasn't invited to any either...
[childhood can be a vicious circle...]



so due to my lack of popularity...
and complete frenzy with which children embrace Halloween...
my "shared" birthdays with Halloween...
were completely forgettable...
from the chocolate cupcakes that ALWAYS had candy corn on them...
[I HATE it...it's too sweet...]

to the liberties they took...
with the lyrics for "Happy Birthday"...
[Happy Birthday to you...
you belong in a zoo...
you look like a monkey...
and smell like one too...
and it often was worse...]

or forgetting it was my birthday...
[yeah, my mom baked cupcakes EVERY month...]

I always felt slighted...ignored...
completely unappreciated...
add that to being unpopular anyway...
and do you wonder that I don't think much of Halloween...?

maybe that's where the "bah,humbug" attitude began...
the last birthday celebration I had...
was a surprise party on my 21st...
which was after a symphony rehearsal...
and I don't remember it...[21st... guess why...]

I've also spent a number of birthdays...
at football games, parades or band reviews...
including 2 49er halftime shows...
[mid-sixties when they were BAD...]
and a BUNCH of rehearsals...

and after this one...
I may stop counting...

trick or treat...?

Bah, Humbug !

...bite me, Piglet style

if you are a regular reader...
you know of Piglet's mouth lesions...
due to an immune system problem...

my vet was going to have a vet dentist friend...
pull several of her teeth...
as that seems to help in this kind of situation...

it had been a couple of weeks since her last steroid shot...
and I knew she was starting to hurt again...
she was eating very tentatively...
and had started huddling next to me the last couple of days...

so today... as I was sleeping off this stupid virus...
that I don't have time for right now...
with Piglet snuggled as close as she could get...
and looking as pitiful as could be...
the phone rang...

it was one of the techs at my vets...
telling me that the surgery would be tomorrow...
so I needed to have her there around 8:00 AM...
with NO FOOD in the previous 8 hours...

I could have managed that with Pigs...
SHE wasn't eating anyway...
Fluff, on the other hand would have been VERY upset...
as she tends to eat little meals... OFTEN...

so... since Pigs was already at hand...
I scooped her up... and took her in then...

she was NOT happy...
but was soon resigned to her fate...
I know she didn't expect to be left there...
and is at this very moment...I'm quite sure...
plotting some terrible revenge...

as I sit writing this...
through the fever fog of whatever this is...
I can hear the rumble of the treat ball...
being plied for it's goodies in the LR...

Lacy is looking much better after the medicine for her cold...
[I haven't heard a sneeze in hours...]
I need to go back to bed...
I wore myself out doing the trash & cat boxes this AM...
then making a run to the store for soda crackers...
Sprite... soup... deli turkey breast...
and frozen mac & cheese...

also carrot juice...yogurt...yogurt shots[immune booster]
milk... Hershey's syrup... and malted milk powder...

they don't carry malted milk powder at Raleys...
so I stopped on my way home from dropping off the Piglet...
and got some...as well as the Sprite I forgot earlier...
[I am VERY fuddled at the moment... as a result...
THIS post is taking a lot more effort than usual...]

one of the managers of the SMART Foods store I was in...
was a band student of mine...probably 15 years ago...
but today... another young man in an apron...
who I recognized right away as a former student...
[their eyes never change...nor does their smile...]
said,"excuse me, are you a teacher?"

since I recognized his face, I cut to the chase...
and told him I remembered him...
he had been in one of my English/reading classes...
in the last 4 years I taught...

he mentioned a Japanese anime movie,"Princess Mononoke"...
that I used to have the sub show when I was absent...
[the kid's good behavior for the sub would affect what I left
the next time I had to be gone...a test or a film...their choice...]

he mentioned how much he had liked that film...
and how it had gotten him into that genre...

it never fails to amaze me how some little thing you do...
can so impact someones life...for years...

it's probably been 6 or 7 years since he was in my class...
but he still remembered that film...

I told him that his manager had also been a student of mine...
the way he grinned, I'm sure they'll be comparing "Miz B" stories soon...

when I was a kid...we never went to "town"...
without seeing someone who had been a student of Mom's...
even in her later years...people would stop her on the street...
to reconnect with her...to tell her how important she'd been to them...


when she had to have a complete hysterectomy in 1990...
to remove a pre-cancerous growth...
and was hospitalized in Fresno at St Agnes...
I arrived one day, on my long commute from Mudville...
to find her asleep...
with a young man I didn't know...
sitting there as she slept...

he introduced himself as one of her "former students"...
telling me that Mom was his favorite teacher...
and that he owed her a lot... so he had come to pay his respects...
we chatted... and after a while... he left...

when Mom woke up... I told her that he had been there...
she was sorry that she had missed him...
she told me that he had had some learning disabilities...
that kept him from reading and as a third grader...
he was already way behind...and it was getting worse...

Mom recognized his disability... and worked with him...
special tutoring... and a large dose of encouragement...
worked for him... and he had gone on to succeed in school...
and later became a very successful businessman...

he had always given her credit for his success...
she would just say that she was in the right place...
at the right time...to be able to help...
it was her job... and she was glad to do it...

I have no unrealistic ideas about all the kids who were in my class...

I know that I wasn't the most important teacher in their lives...
[at least... not much past jr high...]

I'm just pleased when someone who had me during grades 7/8...
[when ALL adults who are authority figures are not to be trusted...]
remembers at least something from my class with a smile...

and goes out of their way to say...

"didn't you used to be my teacher?"...

that leaves a warmth that I know isn't fever...

...school daze & nightmares

this is my 4th year being retired...
after 20+ years in an inner city middle school...
[grades 7 & 8....]
the last 4 years, I taught reading & English...
for the 17 years before that, I taught music...
[as well as English, world history & careers...]

but for the last 10 years of that 17, only music...
4 bands [3 levels] & orchestra...

most of my students didn't have much...
so I worked very hard...
to build up a cache of school equipment...
they could use without any cost to them...

I liked my job... my school...
my colleagues & my students...

we didn't "memorize" a piece...
and then go to "contests"...
playing the same piece until we won a trophy...
but they did learn to read music...

we participated in a community parade...
from time to time...
and generally went to the CMEA festival...
[sort of like "THE state test" for musicians...]

I NEVER had the same advanced students, as a group...
for more than 1 year... so just as they got "good"...
they moved on to high school...
so we never earned a rating of "I"[superior] at CMEA...

but we often earned a "II"[excellent]...
and one year... the best group I would ever have...
came SO close... to a "I"...
it really hurt...

the judge said, "you're really pretty much a "I"...
but next year, there'll be no question...
so I'll give you a "II" this time...
and next year, you'll really appreciate...
the "I" you earn..."

there was no "next year"...

of the 65 students in that group...
only 12 were 7th graders...
and the 8th graders would scatter...
to many different schools...

it had been the "perfect storm"...
and then... it was gone...



I had a "Music Room"... much like this...
[most commonly called "the band room"...
until I added orchestra to my schedule...]

I would spend about 2 weeks after school was out...
cleaning instruments & mouthpieces...
putting together the "Summer repairs" list & p.o....
marking & piling them in a safe spot...

sorting music, filing it, doing inventory...
closing out my fund raiser accounts...
painting & repairing music stands...
and storing EVERYTHING away behind locked doors...

I didn't get paid extra...

but if I didn't do it...
no one else would...
and it needed to be done...

so I just did it...



2 to 3 weeks before school was to start...
I began to go back...
[I didn't get paid extra for this either...]

to "un-pack" my room...
put away the "Summer repairs" that were now, back...

re-stock my supplies of reeds, oil...
cork grease, strings & rosin...
drumsticks, mouthpieces, chin rests...
ETC....
[out my own pocket, of course...]

make sure I had enough "beginner" books...
[one year, I had 63 in beginning band...
at the first of the year... IN 1 CLASS...]
playing 9 different instruments...
besides percussion...

by the 2nd quarter...
I was able to whittle it down to 45...
by moving the most talented "up"...
to intermediate or advanced band...
this would be the year of my best advanced band...
which would have 15 1st year players...
by the end of the year...

before school started...
I also relabeled instrument cases...
labeled music folders...
chose music, passed it out...
I had racks for each class...

and set up my room...





when I left music...
I also left most of the "fun" behind...

I still had to set-up my classroom...
now an ancient portable...
with very limited storage space...
and since the "administration" decided that we had to "vacate"...
[ie...move "everything" out and take it home each summer...]
because of "renovation" and relocation of some teachers...

this meant that all the textbooks...
had to be returned to the book room...
at each "school closing"...

and retrieved, at the "opening"...
hauling them on a wobbly cart...
making a number of trips...
over bad blacktop and cracked cement...
unless there was construction...
then ...it was over dying grass and hard, uneven dirt...

and finally, UP THE RAMP...
into my classroom...

this was AFTER hauling stored boxes of classroom materials...
from my garage to my car, packing the car...
driving to school, driving back behind the portables...
unloading my car... carrying things UP THAT RAMP...
and then, re-assembling my classroom...

I would still get that "tingle" all teachers get...
looking at the "finished" room...
just waiting for the ones who would populate...
[or as I came to think, the last couple of years...]
"infest", the room in a day or two...

I didn't come to dislike "kids"...

they just became so different...

more,"entitled"... less interested in learning...
LAZY...spoiled... and willful...
nothing could make them care...
about their future... about how they treated each other...
about the lack of respect they had...
for everything... and everyone...
including themselves...

but even when I liked my job & students...
and looked forward to returning to "my school"...
working again with colleagues...
and administrators I liked & respected...

I had the "dreams"...

at first, I thought that I was the only one...
then my good friend & mentor said...
"Oh, yeah... school dreams...we ALL have them..."
and I felt better...

I haven't had them for a while...
since I left all that behind...
but the other night...I had one...
and it was a doozy...

waking me up at 5 AM...
agitated... in a foul mood...
I couldn't settle down...
& just go back to sleep...

I had to distract myself...
playing solitaire on my cell to clear my mind...

[THIS... is why I don't watch violent scary films...]

it was a pretty common "school dream"...
I had a new class... a rowdy, noisy group...
not unlike ones I had the last year I taught...
but for some reason, there were some adults there too...

sitting with the students as "visitors"...

and when I employed the usual "methods"...
to show that I WAS in control...
the students responded...
but the adults undercut my authority...
and chaos reigned supreme...
until the bell rang...

in my dream, I left the classroom, extremely angry...

I went looking for the principal...
who saw me coming...
and made himself scarce...

then, as I was looking around for him...

I woke up...

in these kind of dreams... all is surreal...
I'm never at "my school" or in "my room"...
but I'm somewhere familiar...
[in this dream, I was teaching at MY elementary school...]

sometimes...I used to dream that I had left CA...
and returned to Chicagoland...
in these frequent re-occurring dreams...
I often lived in the same place...
[NEVER a place I had lived...]
and was aware that I had left CA...
and my old school...
and was trying to find a job teaching there...

since the dreams were surreal...
rooms would "morph"...
become smaller or larger...
or become other places altogether...

I can still see bits & pieces of these dreams...

sometimes they were "school dreams"...
where I was the teacher...
and sometimes, I had returned to grad school...
to finish the DMA I started, but left undone...
a kind of "school dream", I guess...

although my most common grad school dream...
is coming into a class I've missed a couple of times...
and there is a test...
and, of course... I'm clueless...

the other one is that I rush to a rehearsal...
only to discover that I either don't have my trumpet...
[or the music...]
or I don't have ALL the trumpets I need...
or some other necessary piece of equipment is missing...

but ... it's in my car...
now...if I only knew where my car is...

sometimes, I was still in Mudville...
but at my school's "rival"...
and being mistreated because of where I was from...
[ironically... I did post-retirement "testing" at this school...
and was "looked askance at"...for that very reason...]

the common ground is always frustration...
a loss or lack of control over my situation...
[and we all know about my "control issues", don't we...?]
and for teachers... the "new class" is always...
the "great unknown"...

I've left all those school issues behind me now...
I only think of them when I have my monthly FFers lunch...
[the letters stand for something "clean"...and, I'm NOT telling...]
with several former teacher colleagues...
though we did just meet last Saturday...
and there was a LOT of angst & frustration vented...

I guess I just held on to some of it...
causing the "school dream"...
that's a relief...
because I don't need any more stress...
what with the impending bath tear-out...



so, attention all you "school ghosts & goblins"...
find someone else to terrorize...
because...
Catsinger has left the campus...

...too many years spent with 7th & 8th graders

I suppose it was inevitable...
I "dumbed myself down"...

interesting...that I should post this, today...
I always told my students,
"Today [April Fool's Day...]
is your day...
dedicated to all jr high kids...
everywhere...."

some smart kid would "get it"...
and say, in an annoyed manner...
"ha,ha...very funny"...

ironically...
I ALWAYS used "rich" vocabulary
with my students...
and consistently taught my students
"new" words they could actually say
in front of their parents without fear...
perhaps, even teaching Mom & Dad a new word...
[my students always thought that was cool...]

of course, having taught English and reading,
I know how reading levels are determined...
you count the number of syllables in 100 words...
you also count the number of words in sentences...

the more syllables in the 100 words...
the more words in the sentences[showing complexity...]
the higher the "reading level"...

I switched to a more "poetic style" format
a while back to improve
the readability of my posts...
about the same time that I was encouraged
to make the font larger...
for pretty much the same reason...

when I return to the those
"thrilling posts of yesteryear"...
before the format change...
I find them harder to read
and am always glad I made the switch...

I also notice the sheer volume of verbage...
when fonts are smaller...
and lines are wider in other blogs...
it can be daunting...

of course, the quality of fine writing
in many of the sites I visit
that use a more "traditional prose" style...
is not altered by it's format...

I guess I just like my style...

so, now that I've tried, unsuccessfully,
to cover my embarrassment
at my blog's jr high "reading level"...
with both excuses and general whining...
it's time to "cat up"....

this means I'll stretch, s-l-o-w-l-y...
yawning several times, scritch the couch...
slink into the kitchen, have a snack...
and return to my nap..

...nyah,nyah...

my mother's mother was my "Grandma Grace"...
everyone called her Grace, her middle name...
I was sooo lucky to get that as my middle name too...
[sort of like having your room painted pink, "for you"...]
of course it might have been worse,
her first name was "Lola"....

I'm told that my first name also means, "Grace"...
upon discovering this,
my classmates would dub me "Grace Grace",
and the battle was joined...

I've "mellowed" a lot since then,
but back then,
I would react to being made fun of,
just the way they wanted me to...

I would get mad, get in fights, yell
and generally try to "make them stop"
or "make them sorry"...
that NEVER works....
but I didn't know that then...

they would cackle with glee as my face got redder...
I would sputter with the effort of finding something, anything,
awful enough, to say that would show them !
[I was fighting for my dignity, although I didn't realize it then...]

It's so easy for an adult to see a child being tormented and say,
"they'll get over it" or "kids are just mean to each other like that, it'll be OK...
but if kids don't see adults stopping the verbal carnage,
they see it as tacit approval,
and the "victim" wears a target for a loooong time...

if your peers tell you you're worthless often enough,
of no consequence,
and of no importance to them as a person worthy of respect...
it's almost impossible to not start believing
what they are telling you about yourself...
and then you're lost...
in the dark places no light seems to reach...
where having the name "Grace" seems a cruel joke...

when I taught, students were not allowed to pick on each other in my presence...
when playing tests took place, [in class, in front of each other],
no one was allowed to laugh or make fun of anyone's efforts...
on pain of a really bad grade...

if someone was being bullied or threatened,
I would escort them to the AP or councilor's office
and make sure that "conflict resolution" was begun...
then I would follow up, so no one "slipped through the cracks"
in the overburdened system...

disparaging remarks of a personal nature were not allowed...
I discovered that the students liked that atmosphere...
they could let their guard down and just be themselves more...

was my classroom a haven of peace ?
of course not...it was jr. high, after all...
but there were more good feelings than bad,
and when I could no longer create that kind of learning environment,
because the kids wouldn't buy in anymore, I retired...

these days, my life is conforming more to the ideal
of living up to my middle name
[and the meaning of my first...]

the struggle for dignity and acceptance goes on,
but in new ways, with much better results...

instead of having to fight some detractor tooth and nail
for my sense of who I am
and the respect I know I deserve,
the love and sense of belonging, I've craved

I have only to look in my Creator's eyes ,
to see myself as He sees me...
as I am becoming...
and I'm home free...

you ask ,"how can I do that ?"...
it's easy, when He sends His friends to be those eyes,
gleaming with His Love and acceptence...
then, " the struggle over....
comes the peace..."