Exclusion

Teenage social dynamics are difficult for kids to navigate, let alone adults. Children’s social groups build walls so high and strong that kids in the same classroom don’t communicate with each other.

And then there’s the child who is on the outside of all of it. Sometimes these kids are still developing socially. Sometimes, it’s not their fault at all. No matter what, these are children who want friends, but are not making them. What happens when the outcasts reach out? Most of the time they will be rejected. 

Several times, my children have been in the middle between trying to give one of these kids a social opportunity while risking rejection by their own group of friends who want nothing to do with those kids. Sometimes, my children have been rejected. Sometimes, they have been the wall builders.  

So what do I tell my child to do? Be candid with the outcast child about his behavior: “When you jump on furniture and demand attention, it is annoying. I want to have plans with you, but you need to be more socially appropriate.” Most children don’t know how to say this and the outcast child probably can’t do it! Such a tactic is not realistic; most children couldn’t give or take that kind of feedback. 

Children would simply be cruel: “I would like to include you in our plans but I’ve been out-voted. The others don’t want to include you.” This is an evasion. In several cases, my child didn’t want to include the outcast either but felt obligated. Sometimes I insisted my child be inclusive. Sometimes I failed, too. 

We tried to forbid our children from being exclusionary. As Grace Palay put it, “you can’t say, you can’t play.” Yet, kids’ social groups have only limited fluidity and parents have limited control. As parents, we have made it very clear to our kids where we stand. Not all parents work that way. 

Some social groups were built by parents. Some social groups are maintained by them. I often wonder which one controls which? As a teacher, I see how the social worlds of parents and children are intertwined. In many cases, the kids are pawns in the parents’ social games. 

Some parents recommend their children conceal rejection with dishonesty: “Our plans have fallen apart and I have to go home and do homework anyhow.” Does this fool anyone? It is code. We all know what is being said. It is the same as the cruel statement and it is a lie. 

While white (or gray) lies may be easier in the short run, they are the most problematic solution. They avoid dealing with the real issues. They teach both the child lying and the child being lied to that this kind of dishonesty is a real solution; it is a cop out. It teaches kids that you can say and do nasty things if you cloak them in little lies.

Would you advise your child to be totally altruistic? “My friends aren’t comfortable with including you, so I will make plans with you by myself and not go with them.” How many kids reject their friends and run off with the outcasts?  Would your eight, ten, or fifteen-year-old do this? 

This solution is very costly. Very few kids want to be with these isolated children and the child who stands up for him or her often ends up isolated, too. Is losing friends worth reaching out to a child who needs one. Most teenagers will not make that trade. Could they make it once in a while? Is that enough? 

That leaves one option: “Sure, you can join us.” And that is the choice I struggled to get my children and students to make. 

Twenty Years Ago: January 2004

I was surprised by all the ways that January 2004 was similar to January 2024. It was quite different, of course, but the similarities showed how things had not changed. While this reflection on twenty years ago has been a wide-eyed tour of the past, it also shows how my present is still connected to that long ago time. 

I laughed when I described our return from vacation as, “mildly overwhelming” because I was feeling the same thing after I got off the plane with my twenty-something children and my aging eighty-something parents. 

Similarly, the entire family spent a few days, “bubble headed” then and now. We got home and everyone went to sleep, even though it was 7am. Some of us took longer to get back on Central Time – the same someones as twenty years ago. 

We arrived home exhausted and, as I went to bed, “I was so tired last night that when I tried to read, the book kept slipping from my hands.” I had napped earlier but it didn’t matter at all. We were pooped! 

Twenty years ago, my daughter got a stomach bug as we got home from vacation. The same thing happened this year. However, this year, she had to suffer on a plane back to D.C! I felt guilty that I could not nurse her the way I did in 2004. 

Fortunately, unlike 2004, none of the rest of us caught that bug. In 2004, it went through the house like that nauseating montage in the movie version of The Secret Life of Dentists. In 2004, we also shared colds; not doing that this year.  

I laughed out loud when I referred to, “The ladies of the morning;” my mother, my wife’s sister, and my wife’s aunt, who would always call us before 8am. While that no longer happens, my wife and daughter have a morning call routine now. 

As it was in 2004, I returned home and I almost immediately planned the next trip. Then it was a spring break visiting my cousin in Florida back then, this year, it is little jaunts, local science fiction conventions, and a February escape. We no longer celebrate spring break. 

January remains a month of dental visits for most of us. While we no longer have a dog, my daughter’s dog had his dental visit, too. He is in much better health than our elderly ailing dog was in 2004. I was considering doggie diapers, the insulin was so ineffective. 

When my parents moved recently, I found a disc with old photos. My father took photos of the house in 2004 for insurance purposes. Most of the house looked pretty much as it did before they moved. 

That is where the similarities end. In 2004, we had some significant snowfalls, the water main broke and we had no water for a while. The furnace’s pilot light went out and we spent a very cold evening before we figured out the issue. We saw The Lion King with the folks and the kids. It was a little much for our younger child. 

As I have written about in the past, our school moved finals before winter break a few years ago. In 2004, we had two weeks of class then finals, and then the start of the new semester. That makes things more stressful. I do not miss all that grading! I would sit in my younger child’s room and try to get on the school network since the school was just over the fence. Sometimes it worked. 

I often told the story that my parents complained that their grandchildren always used “please” and “thank you” with them. I didn’t know my reply was exactly twenty years old, “At dinner, when my father made his please-thank you comment, I informed him that we were making a special rule just for him. Where the kids normally said, “please,” they would instead say, “now” or “darn it” and instead of “thank you,” they would say “finally” or “it’s about time.”

My daughter made the school spelling bee. I really don’t like spelling bees.  I rehearsed and then officiated a bat mitzvah since our congregation had not yet hired a rabbi. Like this year, the end of the month brought snow and brutal cold. 

Finally, “I was awakened at 1:55am by a  phone call telling me that the folks alarm had gone off and should they send the police? At that time of night, I thought it best to have the police go look around. However, if the problem was something inside, a burst pipe or other problem, they wouldn’t see it. I needed to go to the house. So I got dressed, bundled up and off I went.” Fortunately, that situation has not happened often. My parents just moved out of that house and now live only ten minutes north of me. 

If you ask me what were the highlights (or lowlights) of January (or February) of 2004, I probably could not have provided many specifics. When I read my old journals, it come back powerfully. Things have changed so much, mostly for the better, but I miss when my kids were little and my parents were younger. I do not miss the frenetic and stressful life we lived in 2004. 

Twenty Years Ago: December 2003

For so many years, December was the most challenging month of the year. The weather turns colder, the weeks of school between Thanksgiving and winter break are hectic, and there are many holiday celebrations. I am not sure this got any better as my children got older. Thus, my level of busy was at its peak, “My school computer froze on me yesterday and it is sitting in the tech office. I have a haircut, interdepartmental lunch, I’m teaching Humanities solo and I need the laptop cart in the computer lab. It is going to be one hell of a day. Oh, and did I mention there is an FAC meeting after school. Oh yeah, need to call the kids’ doctor to set up a nasal spray session for them.”

The dog was still waking us up early – but not enough. He was leaving us smelly surprises, too. He was nearly blind, but had an operation on his eyes that was helpful – and time-consuming. 

We celebrated Hanukkah with family and at temple. I was also getting ready for a special family trip for winter break! We had never been on such a long plane flight as a family. Boarding a dog with significant medical needs was challenging. I kept waiting for the kennel to tell me it was too much. They didn’t say that in December – but they did say it later. 

I noted that, although a lot was going on at school, it was the portion of the day over which I felt like I had the most control, “Teaching is a challenge today, but that was the easiest part of the day.”

Packing for ten days out of town with young children was stressful, “We are going to schlep a ton of bags. We have four small bags, several as little as one of our carry-ons, one large Pullman, a car seat, three backpacks (carried on), and one rolled-on carry-on. Thank goodness we do not have a connecting flight; with so many pieces of luggage, the odds of getting one misplaced are way too good. Unlike my usual strategy, two of the bags primarily have the kids’ stuff and three have mostly our stuff.” It was clear to me, even then, that we overpacked. Oh, well. 

One theme of this retrospective of 2003 is that we had lots of colds. December was no different. One of my children almost always had a cold and either my wife or I would share it. However, this was the first time that our children got a flu shot. That helped! 

As we got closer to winter break, I found I was more and more desperate for the time off, – “I just need some downtime. I just need some time to turn off the real world.” Recently, one of my children felt the same way. These trips are now more about being together than relaxing and decompressing – but that was not the case twenty years ago.  

When we finally left, the kids were great on the long flight “Both took naps, both watched DVD, both nibbled and read and played chess. They are awesome.” They were and are great travelers. I sat between them with lots of activities and things to eat. The trip there was laden with anticipation, which helped. 

The trip itself was wonderful. I think that getting away from Chicago’s gray and cold weather is healthy and helpful. A change of scene is also a great way to feel renewed and see things differently. However, we do make the distinction between a trip and a vacation. While there were some vacation elements, such as the children going to the resort’s kids club, this was most certainly a trip. 

One child had an issue with water in the ear that necessitated a house call from a doctor. We learned that, after a day of play, the kids might literally fall asleep at dinner if we ate too late. One fell asleep and I had to carry him back to our room. 

We celebrated Hanukkah and enjoyed the resort’s Christmas activities. My parents traveled with us, and have over winter break since the kids were born. It was great to be together. I have always been so grateful that my parents have been such an integral part of my children’s lives – and are to this day. 

On the way home, the kids were tired. Yes, they slept, but they were also out of sorts. No one was looking forward to going back to the cold – or regular life. And then we moved on to 2004, as we now move into 2024: with hope, with conviction, with anxiety, and with renewed resolve. 

Happy everything to everyone! 

Twenty Years Ago: September 2003

I love the fall. I love the start of school. I love Rosh Hashana. I love September! The weather cools down and trees start to change color. It is a time of endings and beginnings. 

In September of 2003, we were all starting school. My daughter was starting fourth grade and my son began kindergarten! I started my seventeenth year teaching at the high school. We took photos of everyone’s first day of school – and none of us started on the same day. 

I have written about the start of school before. While I love the start of school, it is not without anxiety. I had several evenings of teacher nightmares. I had spent hours and hours setting up my classrooms and preparing materials, lessons, and lists. 

My Peer Helpers were very busy during the first week of school. They accompany transfer student and escort them to classes, help them get books, sit with them at lunch, and assist them in their acclimation to their new school. I did the logistics of pairing students, writing passes, scheduling lunches, and making sure that every non-freshmen new student had a Peer Helper guide. 

And I had a new teaching partner and two new teaching teammates! The new Humanities team met their large classes in our double classroom! It was exciting, frightening, and exhilarating – but not without challenge. On the first day of school, the Wi-Fi network went down. The kids did not yet have devices, but I was very dependent on my laptop. It was a good lesson in always having a plan B! Glad I was also trained in improvisation! 

The new class was a double period: 89 minutes long, “Wow! Teaching for 89 minutes is exhausting, exhilarating, and freeing! I can imagine that teaching for 42 minutes will feel confined and packed too tightly. Although I had concerns about having too much time, and we did “whip around” a great deal and it was slow, things were neither rushed nor packed too tightly nor too loose or leisurely. We got a ton done and in a reasonable manner. The kids’ letters were awesome too! It is going to be a great year!”

The fall means movement toward the Jewish High Holidays. We have a “Meet the Congregation” Friday night service, choir rehearsals, and lots of planning. September temperatures are unpredictable. It was warm for both the beginning of school and the High Holidays. Neither the school nor the building at which we held services had air conditioning. I wore shorts to school, but I was in a suit for services.  

On the same night as my children’s open house, I helped with the Senior College Night presentation at school by talking about writing college essays. I started at my children’s school and then rushed back to the high school to come in just in time for my portion. Again,  no air conditioning! 

Of course, there were homeowners association meetings, kids’ orchestra rehearsals, Sunday School, soccer, PTO meetings, the Congregational Steering Committee, and the faculty advisory council. Then there are the surprises that create more opportunities for improvisation. My minivan suddenly needed repairs and then, once it was working correctly, the garage door broke trapping both our vehicles, “Okay, so now the garage is fixed but we have an electrical problem. When Quinn turns on her light switch, she blows the fuse for half the upstairs! She’s done it twice. Something weird is going on with her fixture. That is the same fixture the electrical guys worked on when they were last here. Could be a bad switch somewhere. Once again, we need a service person out here. Problem du jour.”

We participated in the annual ALS charity walk in the rain, celebrated my uncle’s big birthday, and went out for Saturday night date nights while leaving the kids with one of many former student babysitters. We struggled to find a sitter on a weeknight for our own open house night at the high school.

One thing the babysitters could not take care of was the dog: I had to give him his shots regularly in the morning before school and the evening before dinner. So when I traveled to Naperville for my uncle’s party, I had to be sure to get back home before the dog had an accident. We started making a trip home after dinner but before the show to ensure that the dog got his medicine. 

The dog would wake us up in the middle of the night, so we increased his insulin – again. My wife would walk to school at 7am and I would get the kids off to their school before getting to my classroom much closer to the bell, “This morning I will bring Quinn over to Shepard for her first orchestra rehearsal. After school, she has horseback riding with my mother. Then the ice cream social. It will be a long day for Q. We have a faculty meeting after school, so it will be a long day for us too!” When I did eventually get home, I would get dinner ready and, once the kids were in bed, grade well into the night. Oh, yeah, I was also preparing to be the rabbi-substitute at a bat mitzvah! 

“It feels like it has been so much longer than a month. New classes, new kids, new course, new teaching partner, new schedule, and on and on. New year too. 5764. Okay. I’m ready. Here we go!”

Twenty Years Ago: August 2003

August 2003 was an exhausting mix of summer and school. It was a swirl of family activity, classroom setup, travel, home improvement, socializing, celebrating, and dog drama. I don’t blame any reader who looks at this piece and says, there is no way all of that occurred in the month before school starts. I found it difficult to believe myself. 

This was a very social month! We got together with ten families (one at a time). We went to the Museum of Science and Industry, the Hancock Building, Illinois Railway Museum, Arlington Park, and the Planetarium. Without the kids, we went to the movies and saw the Broadway touring company of Mama Mia. We had dinner with our dear friend, Dorothy. 

We celebrated my mother’s 65th birthday with a big party at the Chicago Botanical Garden. My brother and his family came in for the event which was held in the garden’s pavilion. It was a fantastic evening. I toasted/roasted my mother with a fun ode in her honor. 

My folks, my wife’s aunt, and the four of us took a trip to the Wisconsin Dells. We took two cars and made a stop in Madison where my parents went to college. We stayed at the Wilderness Lodge, rode the indoor and outdoor water slides, took our “dam pictures” on the Ducks, played miniature golf, got an old-time photo, and saw the obligatory water show at Tommy Bartlett’s. When I got home, I started plans to visit my cousin in Florida for spring break. 

The dog continued to need plenty of attention. I became the sole person to give him shots. He continued to have overnight accidents and thus was crated in the evenings. He was angry with me about that. He developed a sore on his cheek. We moved to a vet who was nearby rather than schlepping all the way down to Wilmette. The dog stayed at our new vet’s boarding kennel while we were at the Dells. 

Home projects continued. We finished replacing both the roof and the siding on the house. We also replaced all the gutters. Of course, it rained as we replaced the roof. The banging above my head was both headache-inducing and shook the house such that things fell off shelves in every bedroom. We replaced and repaired ceiling fans, 

On the school front, I had a workshop with my new teaching team. I prepared my classroom and spent a ton of time at school. I made copies of handouts, sent and prepared emails, created decorations, and made name plates and other welcome materials. I had dinner with the Seeking Educational Equity and Diversity (SEED) group. 

“I did some work at school and got there just after 11. I stayed until just after 3! That place is a black hole. I didn’t have a ton on my list but I did this and that and the time vanished. It took me more than an hour to send all of my e-mail letters from last year.”

Meanwhile, I was still taking adult Hebrew lessons, scheduling field trips to various houses of worship for my Sunday school class, and organizing the congregation’s Friday night services for the upcoming year. And in August, rehearsals for the High Holiday choir started. 

Sometimes, I wrote in my journal that I was overwhelmed, “I feel at odds and ends, unsettled. I don’t know if it is the approach of school, the lack of structure right now for this family, Sunday School field trips, Friday night services. There are a lot of balls up in the air. I worked on lots of this and that today, but I don’t feel like I put any of it to rest. Yes, I got two small tasks off the list but the big ones remain, and GROW! Each task gives birth to a new one once accomplished! I find myself blocking and wanting to NOT do some of this stuff.”

But at other times, I am just rolling with the coaster, “It is amazing the difference a day makes. I spent the morning in school today and got a ton done. Handouts are ready for the first day. I gave the policy packets to Jean’e and worked on the Power Reading word games. I finished the room signs and gave them to Debbie to laminate. My desk is all set up and I am ready to start decorating the room. If I spend a few hours tomorrow, I’ll be in great shape! The only thing that is not EXACTLY there are humanities lesson plans and those must be done collectively. Friday night services are coming along, I’ve made a variety of calls for Sunday School; I will just need to follow up. I have an appointment to take Q to meet with the camp lady too! All my projects are on the burners and cooking nicely.”

Thank goodness those Augusts are behind me! 

Twenty Years Ago: July 2003

Reading my journal from July 2003 made me feel old and tired. I needed to be twenty years younger to be that busy – and it was summer break! I was also reminded of how distant 2003 was; at least I no longer use a Palm Pilot. 

July of 2003 was action-packed and fun-filled in every domain. My to-do list overflowed. We had a new roof and siding installed on the house. I ordered a new computer, returning to a Mac after several years of using a piece of c. I worked on school projects, schlepped the kids around, and hosted dinners with every family in the neighborhood. 

“So much accomplished today and yet I feel unsettled. I put together the newsletter puzzle piece and fixed the Counseling Website. I got all my at-school tasks done. I read a great deal of Nervous Conditions and I shall finish it today and be able to get back to Kate regarding the choice. Lots of little bits and pieces done. I am glad I don’t live like this all the time. It would make me too scattered, too fragmented.”

In addition, I was preparing for our annual summer trip. I took the kids for their yearly physicals and even the van got its own check-up. I helped my daughter get ready for overnight camp, met with the school Peer Helping staff and my new teaching team, and consulted with the chair of counseling about his website 

The dog was having regular overnight accidents and was diagnosed with diabetes. I learned to administer insulin shots to him twice a day. To keep track of the insulin dose and its effects, I created a chart so we could figure out the correct dose. Finding boarding for him while we were away became a challenge due to his need for syringes. I changed veterinarians because I didn’t have time to schlep to Wilmette constantly. 

I am not a fan of home remodeling or construction, “I hate this kind of work anyway. The pounding, the disruption, the noise and mess. The chance of problems. These “solutions” seem to bring as many issues as they solve. Today siding off, tomorrow roofing, Saturday siding back on. I hope that brings an end to it. Enough already!” 

July wasn’t all work and tasks. It was also highly social. We went out with couples, hosted eight families over for dinners, participated in our block party, ate at Sweet Tomatoes multiple times, and had a Fourth of July party (on July 3rd) because we could see the Deerfield fireworks from our backyard. We marched in the Fourth of July parade with our congregation, had several out-of-town friends visit, and went to Great America, Navy Pier, Northbrook Days, and the library’s summer programs. My folks took my daughter to a special overnight grandparents’ university at the University of Wisconsin in Madison. The kids slept at their grandparents and great-aunt’s homes several times. They spent a ton of time at my folks’ house throughout July. 

While the kids were having a sleepover, my wife and I went to see a brand-new musical at the Goodman: Bounce! My wife had been adamant we get tickets. It is rare that she is so excited about a specific play, so I made it a special evening. We had a wonderful dinner and then got excellent seats at the theater. Unfortunately, the play was awful. At intermission, she almost yelled at me, “You said I love Stephen Sondheim!” That’s when I understood why she was so eager to see this play. She confused the two Stephens. “No,” I said to her, “You don’t like Stephen Sondheim. You like Stephen Schwartz.” We adore musicals like Pippin, Wicked, Working, Children of Eden, and others by Schwartz. She is not a big Sondheim fan. “Oh,” she replied, “Can we go home now?” We left during intermission. 

While my parents looked after the kids, my wife and I traveled to San Francisco for a week. We saw my aunt and cousin as well as friends from college. We visited with one of my former students who recently graduated from college. We drove along the coast and visited the Hearst Mansion. As always, we also toured several universities. My wife, in addition to the rest of her duties, helped kids with the college process. We did some wine tasting, sunset watching, and lots of relaxing. It was a refreshing change from our usual routine and I loved the slower and easier pace: the kind of pace I now enjoy in retirement. 

I printed out MapQuest pages to help me navigate the 850 miles I drove on vacation. I tried to check our home answering machine for messages with limited success. I had no way of getting my email without a computer. Disconnected meant something different in 2003. 

Upon returning home, life went back to the summer circus. My daughter attended art camp. The dog started regularly waking us up in the middle of the night to show us the big puddles he created in the kitchen. He also made it difficult to give him his medicine. He was remarkably clever about holding on to a pill and then spitting it out in odd places. 

At the end of July, I began writing my daily journals on my new Macintosh! My son lost his first tooth, we experienced some spectacular storms, and did our best to soak up the summer before August arrived, signaling the end of vacation and the return to the reality of school. 

Twenty Years Ago: June 2003

January may be the official beginning of the calendar, but for a teacher, it really starts in August and ends in June. Teaching is a profession that has clear cycles. As a young parent and teacher in June of 2003, cycle was the operative word.  

As we get to the end of the school year, all of the conflicts and issues of the semester move to the foreground. I hate grades. I hate the effect they have on students, their families, and what they do to relationships. It is one of the reasons why I have never used an averaged grading system. 

In 2003, I was using a portfolio grading system. Students would demonstrate their growth by analyzing their work throughout the semester and evaluating it on our skill-based rubrics. Of course, this meant that they had to complete that work. 

There was one student in particular who had failed to turn in so many assignments that demonstrating growth was nearly impossible because there was so little to see. I met with him almost every day on his free period and helped him with missing work. My goal was not a “good” grade by a passing one! I noted in my journal, “It is amazing that this boy is not sick of me yet nor has he become mad at me. It is clear that he needs attention. I have given him opportunities to tell me to stop supervising him so closely but he does not say it. He wants this kind of close attention.” Throughout my career, I met many students like this young man. 

Grades weigh heavily on me. I err on the side of the higher grade if a student is on a bubble. Students used my evaluations and their own and their work to demonstrate what grade they thought they deserved. Most students are surprisingly accurate. Many are harder on themselves than I am. 

For some students, grades are critically important – but not for all. But they were ALL important to me, “I am spending too much time thinking about these kids’ grades and what they want, and how they’ll feel and react. I need to move to a grading system that takes it out of their and my hands more – a more objective system. That will be helpful.” That is why so many teachers use a purely numeric system: it is easier when it is cut and dry. It is also inaccurate and unfair. So, for my entire teaching career, grading was a process, conversation, and a pain in the mind.

If you are related to a teacher, you know that the end of the year is the busiest and most stressful time of the year. That spills into all parts of my life. I developed another cold. I had to close down websites so people would not think we were in school to reply to their requests. At the time, in addition to my own teacher website, I was also “webmaster” for the English Department, the Counseling Department, Peer Helping, StageWrite, and recommended reading websites. I was also putting together a new website for my new class: Humanities. 

June is also a time to say goodbye to retiring colleagues. I have attended every retirement celebration that the school has thrown while I worked there. At the time, the school retirement party was held after graduation. Thus, it was never particularly well attended. People from the retirees’ departments and older teachers would attend, but many people had just spent a day teaching, an afternoon at graduation, and needed to get home to their families. It was certainly one of our most challenging daycare days. Thankfully, my parents had our kids and we celebrated three wonderful careers. 

I was delighted at how our principal talked about each of the three retirees warmly and in great detail with few notes. There was a stark contrast between the two classroom teachers, one of whom was in my department, and the retiring department chair. I wrote about how narrow the teachers’ scope of influence. Neither had sponsored clubs or coached sports. Neither was that involved in building committees or projects. They were very focused on their classrooms, kids, and courses. This was not the case for the department chair, whose influence was far-reaching.

If the year ends in June and starts again in August, then the time in-between is not a “break,” it is project season. Every year I taught I had a list of things that got pushed into summer. I start trying to hit this list as soon as the last bell rings: everyone has their yearly doctor and dentist appointments, all home improvement projects are scheduled, and preparations begin for the next school year. 

My kids were keeping doctors in business that spring. I worked on my new course preparation a few hours every day. We had a new roof and siding put on the house and remodeled a bathroom. Summer was a blur! I wrote, “I don’t feel like I am on break. I worked at the building most of the day yesterday. I straightened out the English website. I think I have a handle on that now. I worked on putting my computer back in order and doing a few other bits and pieces.” I even served on an interview team to fill a spot in our department. 

Speaking of cycles, my son learned to ride a bicycle without training wheels! My brother and aunt visited and it was good to see them. The kids started day camps. We had workmen at the house six days a week! I had a planning session with the Sunday School faculty. Each day was very busy and I noted that I was falling asleep quickly and sleeping soundly. Consequently, my journal entries were often short. I talked about a great deal -but briefly.  

I was planning a summer vacation; my wife and I always took an “annual honeymoon” and the kids stayed with my parents. It was almost always in July. I took a school workshop learning to use Adobe Illustrator. I used it to improve graphics on my websites and to create some functional and fun posters for my classrooms. 

In the wider world, a new musical called Wicked premiered. The Mars rover was launched. I put our car phone, cell phone, and home numbers in the brand-new National Do Not Call List from the Federal Trade Commission. 

But like that list, June was a long parade of all the things that didn’t fit well during the school year. I suppose a teacher’s two seasons are not winter and road construction but the school year and everything else you need to get done! 

Twenty Years Ago: March, 2003

I am reflecting on my life twenty years ago by reading my daily journals. Click here for an introduction. 

If February was busy, then March 2003 was a five-ringed circus. I didn’t sleep through the night even when I was taking nighttime cold medicine. I spent much of the month recovering from a cold. It was snowy and cold and winter got its last licks in during its final month. “I think my body is falling apart,” I wrote. 

My daughter had orthodontist and pediatrician appointments, x-rays of her adenoids and wrists, violin lessons, and a performance of the baby scene from Free to Be You and Me for a school gifted program event. She planned her birthday party and, when I questioned one name on her invitation list, I told myself to, “back off.” She brought home a hat she made at school that said her new year’s resolution was to stop yelling at her brother. She yelled at her brother? When? 

We celebrated my son’s fifth birthday with a play party at the park district. Since he was getting ready to go to kindergarten, he had a marathon of inoculations at his yearly March physical and it felt like a reward (or punishment) for recovering from all his illnesses of the prior month. 

I kept track of all my appointments on my Palm Pilot, needed to replace the phones that were installed in our cars, and watched shows recorded on VHS tape on our VCR when I worked out in the morning. 

“I am the human pinball.” Often my schedule wedged my home, school, and parenting responsibilities into a small space. I wrote about finishing class at 12:15 and rushing to volunteer at the book fair at the elementary school and then returning to the high school for an afterschool meeting, coming home and cooking dinner before leaving for Shabbat services in the evening. On the weekend, we attended the school’s musical, attended a community workshop, took my Sunday school students on a field trip, and had families over for pizza and play.

I wrote that, “School is the simple part of my life.” Yet, the more I read, the less simple school seemed. I met with the Peer Helpers in the morning, taught two or three classes a day, was assigned a new teaching partner to co-teach an integrated social studies-English class for the next year, drafted on to a “think tank” to work on the new daily schedule, and moved toward performance of our creative writing event, called Stage Write. School had a lockdown drill I said I was, “overstuffed to the max.” 

As part of our congregation’s steering committee, I attended interviews and other events to hire a rabbi. We met the man who would become our rabbi this month. He did a Shabbat service and I drove him around the area. My wife felt that we should move quickly to hire him or another congregation would snap him up! I noted that I was the youngest member of the Steering Committee. Now, I am one of the oldest and most senior! 

In the middle of the month, we declared war on Iraq because President Bush believed Saddam Husain had weapons of mass destruction. My father and I saw this very differently and had some passionate discussions about it. 

I was planning trips for spring break and the summer. My wife’s mother was struggling and required a great deal of care and attention. She had an infection, then an allergic response to the medicine for it, and the doctor struggled to locate an alternative treatment. My folks returned from a vacation, were home for a week or so and then left on another one. Once again, I watered plants, fetched mail, and got groceries for their return. 

“Running, running, running. Lots to do and little time.” I went to my professional development class, SEED several nights throughout March, tried to figure out how to grade student journals without commenting on everything; we had clogged toilets, trips to the train station (to just watch the trains go by), and several dinners at Sweet Tomatoes. 

Yet, when things slowed down occasionally, I wrote, “I love lazy and slow mornings when we can get them.” Spring break was a chance to do just that, although I reminded myself to “use it well.” 

“Spring is here and summer is quickly being planned. Zoom, zoom, zoom.”

Twenty Years Ago: January 2003

In January 2003, I began a habit I have maintained to this day: writing every day, usually in the morning. Click here for an introduction to this set of posts. My journal entries often revolve around my family and our daily activities, and, of course, school. At the time I started journaling regularly, my daughter was 8 and my son was 4. Their schedules, especially my daughter's, dominated our lives. I drove her to various activities, which in turn dictated my calendar. She was involved in a number of activities, including playing the violin, dancing, forensics (with a speech tournament that month), playing basketball, and she had a lot of homework. I also mentioned in my journal a diorama project that I felt was beyond her capabilities, and I wondered about children whose parents couldn't or didn't help them with it. My parents and my wife's aunt appear in my journal that month often when they help transport my children from one activity to another.

I mentioned in my journal that January 29th was "crazy hair day" at my daughter's school. I have a photo of it, though I doubt my daughter would let me attach it to this post. At the time, when we were at a soccer game or school event and people asked which of the children was my daughter, I would simply say "the tall one with the hair." She had (and still has) beautiful, very curly, dark red hair, which was a constant battle to keep under control. She wished she had straight hair. When we first saw the movie Mulan, she cried, "I want her hair."

In addition to my children's activities, I was just as busy in my personal and professional life in January of 2003. I wrote at length about developing a new multidisciplinary curriculum. I was also sponsoring a performance of student creative writing called "Stage Write," serving on the Faculty Advisory Council, on a committee redesigning our daily schedule, taking an evening class in Seeking Educational Equity and Diversity (SEED), teaching Sunday School, running the congregational Shabbat services, and serving as secretary of the homeowners association. 

It is unsurprising that I was feeling stressed. I noted I had a sore neck and I was feeling a little dizzy, perhaps overwhelmed. However, I also noted that writing in my journal allowed me to vent, complain, rant, and express things that I couldn't express in other ways.

I was heavily involved in my school department. I tried to organize a departmental book club. I noted that the department struggled to have social events, and I was critical of teachers who didn't start doing their new course planning early and then complained about being rushed. At the same time, I asked myself if I really wanted the challenge and stress of those new classes.

January was a month of transition for all of us, as we were returning to school after winter break and adjusting to the start of a new semester. I didn't start writing in my journal on the first of the month; rather, the entries for this month begin at the end of the month. Next month, I’ll have a full month of journal entries to use. 

In addition to all of these activities, I was studying world religions for Sunday School. I listened to lectures on audio as I exercised in the morning. In my journal, I reflected on different philosophies and theologies, and even played around with the idea of creating my own religion, sometimes seriously and sometimes satirically.

At one point in my journal, I wrote, "I am the juggler, boy am I the juggler." This was a mantra for me during much of my children's younger years, as I felt like I was constantly keeping swords or flaming torches in the air and if I dropped any of them, I might cut off my arm or burn down the house! 

It was a little stressful to revisit January 2003, and I know more intensity is on the way. Thank goodness I am now retired. 

Watch Out Parents: Big Conservative is Not Just Coming After Teachers and Librarians

We need to talk about how you are interacting with your children at home. What are you teaching them? How are you modeling well? Are you making the right choices - the best choices? Would your legislators and political leaders approve of how you are raising your children? Do you talk about CRT? Are you too accepting of gender non-conforming behavior or ideas? Would you allow your child to use they/them pronouns? If so, Big Conservative might knock on your door for this kind of thought crime. 

We hear about parents’ choice. That is the rationale for a slew of censorship across more than a dozen states. However, which parents? What choices? For the most part, these book-banning (and sometimes burning) movements are aligned with a far wrong wing political agenda. They do not reflect ALL parents’ choices, just a specific conservative religious and usually white one.  

So this isn’t just about parents having a say in what their kids read in school. This is about ideologues having control over your children’s educations. Teachers and librarians were the first to experience this intense scrutiny and vitriol, but this movement will not end with them. 

You may think, what I teach my children in my own home is not anyone’s business but my own – and you would be right as long as what you were doing was aligned with Big Conservative. But if it is not, your behavior might be labeled child abuse and you as a negligent parent. 

Several states banned children who identify as a gender other than the one assigned at birth from receiving any interventions. They criminalized the act of assisting these children from even exploring anything beyond their gender at birth – even if their parents did it! 

So if you are looking at teachers and librarians and thinking, just pick less controversial texts, just make your lessons about the subject area and not about social issues, know this: that same message will be tailored for parents who don’t agree with the censors and extremists. 

Let’s go one step further: How will these wrong wing censors know you are veering away from their prescribed curriculum? Your children will tell them. The idea that children would “turn in” their parents was common in totalitarian and fascist regimes. Whether it was the Hitler Youth, the Soviet Union’s Young Pioneers, or Communist Youth reading Mao’s Little Red Book, this technique has deep roots in authoritarian governments’ control of parenting. 

So as you are confronting those who don’t want their kids to “feel uncomfortable” in school because topics deal with parts of our past that are problematic, this is just the first battle in a larger war for who decides what your child learns – in and out of school. 

As with abortion, immigration, and elections, choice just means sticking with Big Conservative’s point of view; freedom means the right to express opinions that echo specific politicians in a specific party. They are not advocating for freedom and choice, they are creating vehicles to coerce and control – and their reach will not end at the schoolhouse – if we don’t stop it, it is going to ram through the door and enter your house! 

Thank Goodness for Teachers!

The school year is starting. Some of us welcome the “back to school” sales, while others see them as the death knell of summer’s freedom. And even though they are not paid during the summer, schoolteachers have spent an unfair and disproportionate part of it getting ready to receive our children. 

Professors, teachers, and especially public school faculty have become political punching bags recently. Not only is it disgusting and unfair, but it is also sharper than a serpent’s tooth! Public schoolteachers are the masons of success and, as we continue to learn from the pandemic, the foundation of our economy. When the schools stopped, the great machinery of business and industry stalled and sputtered. 

So let us give thanks for those wonderful souls who teach our children. Let us give thanks to those who have earned enough education to join the upwardly mobile and the moneyed upper middle classes, but eschew just earning a living and instead choose a vocation of giving. 

Let’s face it; those who teach could have been bankers, lawyers, doctors, scientists, artists, and all manner of professionals. Instead, they chose service to the children and our communities. They deserve our gratitude – and support! 

Get off their backs! If you don’t like the book, read your child another one. If you don’t like the ideas, discuss your beliefs with your children. While what happens in school certainly shapes children, it pales compared to what happens at home. If what you, as parents, are teaching your children can be so easily washed away by school lessons or activities, that speaks to what is going on at home far more than what is happening in the classroom. 

Consider this: teachers receive and welcome your children, even on the days when things have not gone well, even on the days when your kids were upset with you or you with them, even when you thought that maybe this whole parenting thing was a big mistake, even on the days when your children wondered if you still loved them. To whom did they turn? Their teachers. And their teachers reassured and supported them. You’re welcome. 

I have been concerned about using the term love here because it has been dirtied and maligned by those who cheat on their spouses, swindle their customers, lie to their constituents, and then tell you that you can’t trust teachers. It has been sexualized by those who pay hush money to sex workers and similarly would silence teachers who want to help our children make this a safer and saner society –for our kids and all of us. 

Because, like good parents, teachers love our children. They sacrifice for our children. They are not perfect. Like parents, they range from stellar to so-so. Like politicians, they make mistakes, even in service of larger goals. Yet, like good shepherds, they lead our children to find nourishment, comfort, community, and enlightenment. 

Stop beating up teachers and start extolling and exalting them. They hold our country together. They love our children even when we falter. 

And frankly, some of your children have questions they are afraid to ask you. Some of your children are curious about the books you have stolen from the library and destroyed. They want to talk to you about the concepts you want teachers to hide from them. Banning these ideas from the classroom will not prevent this exploration. It will not stop kids from thinking. It will change their view of their parents.  

Do you want your children to realize that, sometimes, their teachers have their best interests at heart even when their parents are silent and afraid? Thank goodness their teachers are there even when their parents want to shut down the conversation. In the age of the internet, banning books and forbidding discussion will never stop the ideas. Teachers know this. Some folks fear this. There is no stopping it. 

Teachers are the support structure and safety net of our society. As we send our children back to the classrooms, let us be grateful. 

Time Enough for Heinlein

There are books that we treasure. There are books that live in our minds. There are books that shape our identities. For me, the writing of Robert A. Heinlein, but especially Time Enough for Love and Stranger in a Strange Land were formative reads. I read them as a high school student and, time and again, I keep coming back to them. 

I have reread Stranger several times since high school, but recently, I reread Time Enough for Love for the first time in decades. I had forgotten about the novel’s almost uncomfortable exploration of love taboos. What I remembered strongly were two other aspects of the novel: The character and wisdom of the main character, Lazarus Long, and his wonderful list of aphorisms in his “notebooks.” 

I have quoted these aphorisms from memory ever since. I have posted them on my dorm room door in college and used them as sample belief statements in my Sunday school class. One, in particular, formed the basis of final exam essay question, and another has justified adjourning congregational committee meetings for more than two decades! I will list some of these wonderful, wise, and clever statements a little later. 

Time Enough For Love argues that, “The more you love, the more you can love — and the more intensely you love. Nor is there any limit on how many you can love. If a person had time enough, he could love all of that majority who are decent and just.”

That majority includes everyone – and this book explores that in-depth. Everyone means that you could love, passionately and sexually, the people our society says you can only love in a platonic non-physical way: your family! I had forgotten how this novel took the idea that long-lived people might eventually fall in “Eros” love with their children, siblings, and parents. In fact, Heinlein’s lengthy and obsessive exploration of our main character’s affair with his own mother was at times both excruciating and cringe-worthy. It made the point – and then kept making it. 

What stuck with me as a teenager was not the incestual nature of the book, but the wisdom the oldest man alive shared. His thoughts about love, for sure, but also about religion, politics, and plain old not-so-common sense. 

So here are only a few of the wonderful aphorisms from “The Notebooks of Lazarus Long.” 

Heinlein was clearly a religious skeptic, another point that would have made this book a winner for teenaged (and later) me: 

“History does not record anywhere at any time a religion that has any rational basis. Religion is a crutch for people not strong enough to stand up to the unknown without help. But, like dandruff, most people do have a religion and spend time and money on it and seem to derive considerable pleasure from fiddling with it.”

“God is omnipotent, omniscient, and omnibenevolent-it says so right here on the label. If you have a mind capable of believing all three of these divine attributes simultaneously, I have a wonderful bargain for you. No checks, please. Cash and in small bills.”

“The most preposterous notion that H. Sapiens has ever dreamed up is that the Lord God of Creation, Shaper and Ruler of all the Universes, wants the saccharine adoration of His creatures, can be swayed by their prayers, and becomes petulant if He does not receive this flattery. Yet this absurd fantasy, without a shred of evidence to bolster it, pays all the expenses of the oldest, largest, and least productive industry in all of history.”

“Sin lies only in hurting other people unnecessarily. All other sins are invented nonsense. (Hurting yourself is not sinful - just stupid.)”

Several of Lazarus Long’s statements might be commentary on today’s political issues: 

“What are the facts? Again and again and again-what are the facts? Shun wishful thinking, ignore divine revelation, forget what “the stars foretell,” avoid opinion, care not what the neighbors think, never mind the unguessable “verdict of history”--what are the facts, and to how many decimal places? You pilot always into an unknown future; facts are your single clue. Get the facts!”

“Does history record any case in which the majority was right?”

“A generation which ignores history has no past—and no future.”

“The two highest achievements of the human mind are the twin concepts of “loyalty” and “duty.” Whenever these twin concepts fall into disrepute--get out of there fast. You may possibly save yourself, but it is too late to save that society. It is doomed.”

“Never underestimate the power of human stupidity!”

Most of the wonderful aphorisms are just plain good advice:

“Everything in excess! To enjoy the flavor of life, take big bites. Moderation is for monks.”

“Yield to temptation, it may not pass your way again.”

“If you don’t like yourself, you can’t like other people.”

“A motion to adjourn is always in order.”

“Do not handicap your children by making their lives easy.”

“Sovereign ingredient for a happy marriage: Pay cash or do without. Interest charges not only eat up a household budget; awareness of debt eats up domestic felicity.”

“Another ingredient for a happy marriage: Budget the luxuries first!”

“To stay young requires unceasing cultivation of the ability to unlearn old falsehoods.”

“Money is truthful. If a man speaks of his honor, make him pay cash.”

“Anything free is worth what you pay for it.”

“Pessimist by policy, optimist by temperament--it is possible to be both. How? By never taking an unnecessary chance and by minimizing risks you can’t avoid. This permits you to play the game happily, untroubled by the certainty of the outcome.”

There is no doubt that some of Heinlein’s writing has not aged well. Many of his ideas were chauvinistic and sexist. His portrayal of women is deeply problematic. Yet, unlike some of the other important writers of the golden age of science fiction, his work is still engagingly readable and shockingly relevant. 

That may be why, once I finish reading the Hugo nominees, I am going to read The Cat Who Walks Through Walls! 

Good Riddence to the 2021-2022 School Year

I dreamed last night that I was visiting my old school on the last day of the year. I dreamed that I was going through offices and classrooms, wishing people well, and meeting new staff members. We joked and hugged and laughed and were all dressed in Halloween costumes. I dreamed that things were just as I left them, but different and better.

But that isn’t the school at which my friends and former co-workers teach. That isn’t the reality of education at the end of the 2021-2022 school year. That was my dream (really), but the truth is that my friends are survivors of a disaster. They end this year with anxiety, anger, frustration, grief, pain, and lots of tears. 

And it shouldn’t be this way. 

Teachers, Counselors, and other school staff are asked to carry it all. They are simultaneously hailed as heroes who will save, protect, and sacrifice for their students with opportunities and weapons and love and knowledge, and then derided as groomers and political opportunists, lazy slackers, and self-serving conspiracy puppets. When it serves the sound bite, they are the saviors of society and when it fits the narrative, they are taking our children into an uncomfortable world of race, gender, and masks. 

And it is too much. 

My colleagues have been carrying the pandemic. Their mantra has been “We’ll make it work,” and “We do what’s best for kids.” They have been performing a high wire acrobatic juggling. Sometimes, their administrators and school boards, and communities have stood by their sides and provided a net. But just as often, those who should be their allies have turned on them and thrown them flaming torches and shaken the tent, threatening to bring the entire circus crashing to the ground in flames and flesh. 

And teachers are exhausted. 

So as the end of the school year approaches, as summer rounds the corner, kids are fidgeting in their seats, and classrooms start to smell of sweat and cut grass, as the looming grading deadlines feel like Kuber-Ross’s stages, let us bid a not so fond goodbye bye to this disaster of a school year. 

Of course, we wish you a relaxing and rejuvenating summer, time with your family, and time to yourself. We wish you health, which has been Sisyphean these past two years.

And we thank you. 

I am not sure I know how to do this. As a retired teacher who left just before the sky fell, I can only half imagine what these years have felt like. For the first time, I have heard several school friends say to me, "I hate working here." As a supporter on the side, I have seen the disrespect and destruction, heard the yelling, and unbelievable thoughtlessness. Alice had it far easier. I felt both guilty that it was you and relief that it wasn’t me and anguish it was happening. People say to me every day – every.single.day – that I “got out at the right time.” I wish you could join me. Right now. 

And we should be concerned that you will. 

Teachers are leaving in droves. They watch their friends and colleagues of decades marching toward the cliff’s edge and feel the pull of gravity. Wonderful, inspiring, passionate professionals are packing their classrooms for the last time right now. As the lockers slam and the sneakers squeak down the hall, they are crying with relief and shame. Accountants are not asked to kill themselves for taxes, but sometimes healthcare folks are. 

And our teachers. 

This is not an exaggeration. I have heard a call for a student strike in the fall. What if students said, “We aren’t going back to our classrooms until it we are safe from gun terrorists.” What if parents said that?  What if teachers, across this nation, said, we will not conduct another active shooter drill until lawmakers stop the senseless stream of school shootings! 

So hear me clearly. Hear it from a retired veteran teacher: Teachers, you have been outstanding. You have made critical differences in children’s lives. You have nurtured, challenged, enriched, advocated – and educated. You have fought the good fight – over and over and over and over. What you have done matters and will continue to matter, even if you are no longer doing it. 

And now it is your time. 

Some of you will return to the classroom in the fall. Some of you will retire. Some of you will watch the stream of buses and kids with backpacks and step out of the line. Some of you will place your own children at the front and focus there. 

And that is okay.

The last bell is ringing. It brings relief and intense sorrow. Set down the load. Rest. Hold yourself and your loved ones. You have been through a war and, although it is not over, we are hoping for a few months of cease-fire. Go to your bunker. Hug your people. Cry. Unload. Recover. 

And this summer – and all that comes after it – do what heals and helps you. 

Has It Really Been Only Two Years of COVID? It Feels Much Longer.

Part1: Time

For many years, I have made a family calendar as a Father’s Day gift with photos from the prior year. The calendar starts in July of the current year. Of course, some of the photos must be older than one year because I start putting the calendar together a few months early to get it ready and printed. March is that border. The photos are from one year old until April then they are two years old. 

As I turned the page on my calendar, the photos shocked me. This was no April fool joke. They were from the first month of the pandemic. I had a moment when I thought I messed up and included much older photos. I had the opposite of déjà vu is: I felt like the photos could not be only two years old. They felt ancient. 

I have written about the experience of having my adult-ish kids return home and leave – several times during the first year of the pandemic. I have written about my fears of COVID and working hard to get everyone to take precautions. But this was different. 

What struck me, as 2020 appeared on my calendar, was the power of doubt and distance. We are just returning to a kind of normal. I am still wearing a mask when I go to a store, which I am doing more often than I did in 2020, but still infrequently. Yet, there are people who act as if the whole horrible situation is over and gone. I hope they are right. 

I can’t say the second year of COVID moved quickly, but those photos from two years ago feel further from my present. Did this year feel like several years? It didn’t feel that slow while I was living it. I was busy and days flew by.  But now, as I glance backward, the reverse route seems to stretch back well beyond only two years. 

Part 2: Weight 

I don’t think the issue is just about my perception of time; it is also about the enormity of the past two years. There were many major milestones. If I had to carry them all, it would be more than I could handle. Maybe it is the emotional weight of the past two years, the anxiety, fear, relief, and hope – and that cycle repeating over and over. 

I remember riding a Superman roller coaster at a theme park many years ago. Instead of sitting in a seat, the riders were placed in a prone position, as if they were Superman flying. However, it didn’t feel that way. I felt like I was squatting on all fours and the only thing preventing me from dropping to a horrible death was the support under my belly. With roller coasters restraints that pushed me into a chair, I had the illusion I could hang on to something if the bar in front of me released. If this Superman tummy thing broke, my only hope was that I really could fly. I guess I’d fly for a few seconds. When the ride ended, all I felt was relief. 

I haven’t become accustomed to that lack of control, helplessness, and unpredictability. I carry them with me. My mask may come on and off, but I am always carrying the concern and worry (and the mask!). And when hope appears, I am suspicious and tentative. When nothing bad happens, I am grateful and relieved. 

Part 3: Balance

Right now, we are in a COVID sweet spot. People are behaving as if they believe this whole horrible two-year-long episode is over. I hope they are right, but I feel certain they are wrong. I want to take off my mask, but I am afraid of what might happen to the people I love. 

Predictability is one of the many causalities of this pandemic. Uncertainty has become a permanent resident. Every choice feels like placing a bet in a casino, without the fun thrill. 

Reading news of the world is horrifying. I give to charities and do what I can to assist, but it never seems like enough. I am frustrated by politics. I scream at the television and lament my fellow citizens’ clannishness. It is overwhelming. I face the issue and then, having looked at it, wish I could close my senses and retreat.

I am tempted to quote Dickens (and some of you know my deep relationship with the work I am about to reference), but I am so grateful that these past two years were not the worst of times – for me. They were for so many – and continue to be horrible! There were some moments that ironically felt like the best of times. My children were home, then they left. We were all together and could support each other - and then we were apart and on our own again.

Part 4: Now

It was two years ago that the world got sick. It has only become more so and in ever-increasingly complex ways. Denying what we have experienced feels disrespectful to all of those who have suffered. Selfishly focusing on my people will not protect them. I wish the pandemic were truly over. I will do what the public health folks tell me is best for our collective health, but I am painfully aware that this is a group project – and like these projects back in school, too many members of our group are not doing their fair share. The good may not balance out the bad. Our current health may not protect us against future illness. 

Yes, I must learn to cherish now – and consider how to help others while preparing for an uncertain future. But I should not sacrifice present joys to future anxieties and horrors. I can be grateful for my good fortune, help those who are struggling, and stay grounded in this positive potential. These past decades, I mean years, have taught me how agonizingly fragile the present might be. 

1000 Days of Retirement: What Keeps You Busy?

Whatever I want. 

I thought about leaving it at that. Seriously, asking people what they are going to do when they retire or what they are doing in retirement is akin to asking what comes next to high school and college seniors. 

Before I retired, I would tell people that I was going to take a gap year and just figure things out. I would also joke that I was going to become a pirate. It is difficult to plan for retirement when one doesn’t know what it will look like. 

And now, 1000 days later, I am still figuring it out. Of the 1000 days since I retired, 720 of them have been during the COVID pandemic. At least once a week, someone says some variation on, “you retired at the right time.” Yes, I did. I deserve no credit for it. 

What have I been doing in retirement? A great deal! However, the big difference is that I am busy without being frenetic. I call it easy busy. One of the best things about retirement is that I get more control of the pace, and I have been trying to slow things down. When I list what I do on a particular day or week, it is much less than in my life when I was working.  That is one of the best things about retirement: it is reasonable.  

I love my slow mornings. As a high school teacher, I awoke at 5:15, did a half-hour workout, put my lunch together, took care of whatever home tasks had to be done in the morning, and got to school in the 7:15 range. Now, I can sleep a little later, although my body is still trained for early rising. My workout is now about an hour long. I take time making a far more interesting breakfast and read my morning feeds. 

After that, my activities fall into a few categories: 

I am getting to things I did not have time to do while I was working. We cleaned the basement during COVID, redecorated my daughter’s room into a new study and media room (which I call my ready room), and began a project of scanning and organizing old photos and documents. I have some plans to do some learning activities once we are less concerned about COVID. 

One of my worries about retirement was that I would become disconnected from my friends, especially those for whom my main connection was school. So I am very purposeful about sending emails, making lunch dates, and keeping in touch. When we were locked down, this turned into more phone and video calls as well as texts and emails. But with or without the pandemic, socializing has become a far greater part of my day-to-day life than it was while I was teaching. 

I am very active in my congregation. I planned our twentieth-anniversary celebration, run the fundraising, and teach in our Sunday school. I used to coordinate the oneg Shabbat food after Friday night services, but we haven’t done that since the pandemic began. However, I am still in charge of announcements. I am delighted to be singing in our choir again! 

I coordinate two science fiction book clubs. I volunteer with the planning of the World Science Fiction Convention in Chicago, which will be on Labor Day weekend downtown.  The pandemic made conventions more challenging. I attended a few virtual cons and have attended two in-person conventions in the last few months. 

I am spending more time and energy with my family. My children came home during the summer of 2020 and I helped with whatever they needed. I was walking my daughter’s dog, fixing meals, helping with technology, and helping my son move to Detroit and drive my daughter back to DC. Speaking of technology, I am the IT help desk for my folks and a few others. 

My family involvement includes more formal family structures. My wife, cousins and I are forming a family council. I have become the bookkeeper for our family's philanthropic activities. My involvement in our family business has increased far beyond what I anticipated. In fact, being more connected to the family business was a bit of a retirement surprise. 

I really really like to read. I have been reading RSS feeds, books, short stories, articles, non-fiction, and lots of other things. I have to be careful or I might read a day (or more) away! 

Before the pandemic, my wife and I would go to live theatre regularly as well. We love to travel and planning our trips took lots of time and energy. These are slowly returning. We have seen some plays at the high school. We went on a trip to California and I am planning trips to be with our kids. The more time I spend on travel planning, the more traveling we can do! 

Oh, yeah, and I grew a beard. 

Yet, when someone asks, “what keeps you busy,” I am at a loss to provide what I think would be a satisfying answer. Now I can just tell them to read this! 

What I Really Want to Say on our Holiday Card

I have never written a Christmas letter. This is not a Christmas letter, either. Read on and we’ll all figure out exactly what it is. Each year, finding photos for our family holiday card is not difficult, but writing the text is excruciating. The problem is more than a lack of real estate. It is trying to strike a balance between a positive holiday tone, acknowledging the big things going on in the world, acknowledging the things going on in our family, and trying to say something worth saying. Oh yeah, I also have three really discerning editors in my family. 

I want our holiday card to celebrate the friendships and connections with the many people for whom it is created. If I were to personalize each card, it would take me months to complete and I fear it would feel boilerplate anyway. I want to say to so many people, “I see you! I celebrate you! This card was created with you in mind – specifically!” 

Yet, I don’t want our holiday card to simply ignore what is happening in the world. It seems perversely ironic to send out smiling photos when children are losing their caregivers to COVID, the planet is unraveling, and people are being shot in wheelchairs and schools. But a woes-of-the-world card is not the idea, either. The balance is tricky. 

Could our holiday card be a kind of friendship card, a “we’re thinking of you and you bring us joy” card, a “your friendship is important” card? The values that the holidays represent work, just not all of them. When we get cards that seem steeped in religiosity, no matter what the religion, I always feel like the card isn’t really meant for us – or the sender doesn’t know us very well. 

We send our holiday card to a lot of people. We have been sending our holiday card via email since 2010. When we sent cards in the mail, I had to think about how many to print, get stamps, and take time to assembly everything. Things still take time, but it doesn’t cost more to send to more people. This is good; it allows us to be highly inclusive. However, it also means that our card has a larger audience – and how do you communicate well with a diverse group using such a small space? 

The photos are the important part of the card. That is why I take so many all year long: to get a few good ones! But I don’t want to be a show-off. My card is about communicating not posturing. 

I worry about those who don’t get my card. I post the card to Facebook so I can be as inclusive as possible. If we receive cards from people who were not on our list, we send them a card right away. That doesn’t happen much anymore. I know we are still missing people. Sorry about that. 

I don’t save all the cards I receive. I do save some of them, especially those that are particularly clever, powerful, or hit me in the feelies. These cards mark time, growth, and change. I may not write the Christmas letter, but I make sure that the landmarks are noted in the photos: driver's licenses, graduations, retirements, and important moments. 

Sometimes, I write a poem or short pithy statements on the card. They are never good enough. I would be a terrible greeting card writer. This year, I kept the main message to four words: Love, health, community, and family. That seemed to encapsulate 2021. 

May the year ahead be everything you hope. May you take lots of pictures that you want to save forever and share with the world. May this terrible disease pass over your family and community. And may you know that we are thinking of you, wishing you well, and sending you all our love. Think all that will fit on the card? 

Five Weddings and I Have Questions

In the past five weeks, my wife and I attended five weddings. The weddings were outdoor and indoor, big and little, religious and secular. We know the families well and we were outsiders. We traveled and stayed close to home. It has been rejuvenating and wonderful to share the joy of these couples and their families. Yet, as I reflect on these weddings, I have questions. 

Planning a wedding is rehearsal for marriage. The dynamics that will become the backdrop of married life are developing for most of these couples. The event itself is a reflection of the couple and, sometimes, their parents. Some weddings are big parties, others are an affirmation of tradition, and some feel like skating on silk. 

It has been more than thirty years since my wife, our families, and I planned our wedding. It is clear there is a continuum of involvement in wedding planning for the grooms. Some sit to the side and do as they are told. I am a theatre director and English teacher. I like control. I was actively part of putting together our wedding. Most of the grooms seemed involved in the wedding, although one joked about the triviality of his participation.  

Gender roles were very much on display at these weddings – and there are things that baffle me. Of course, I want to walk my child down the aisle. I can’t imagine NOT doing that. However, in several of the weddings we saw, only dad walked the bride down the aisle. Often the groom walked down by himself. Both parents walking their child down the aisle was the exception, which surprised me. One of the side effects of this is that certain parts of each family are more visible and others slip into the background.

What surprised me more was the line at the end of the ceremony: “Let me introduce for the first time, Mr. and Mrs.” Many of these weddings finished that with “Groom’s first and last name.” So the bride was just Mrs. That felt strange to me. Twice, it was “Mr. and Mrs. Groom’s last name.” I guess that is a little more egalitarian, but not much. Twice, it was Mr. and Mrs. Bride and Groom and Groom’s last name,” so at least the bride got her first name in there. One time, the bride and groom were introduced separately, although the bride was introduced with the groom’s last name. I did not take it as a given that my wife would take my last name. We discussed it. I know so many people who do not change their names when they get married, so maybe this was not a representative sample. 

I have only officiated at one wedding. While I hope I did an okay job, I am sure that our rabbi would have done it better. Weddings feel far too important to leave to amateurs. Two of the weddings had a friend officiate. They were fine. One had someone I assume they hired. He did better with the ceremony, but it was clear that he didn’t really know the couple. This is one of myriad reasons to be part of a community. The ceremonies that I thought worked the best were led by officiants who knew the couple and were experts on how to make a wedding work well. 

Most of the couples wrote their own vows or wrote letters to each other. In most cases, they read these, although once, the officiant read them. These were universally beautiful and the best part of the ceremonies. When this part was absent, the ceremony felt far less personal. The readings in the weddings were, for the most part, traditional, tried, and true. They felt routine. The music was highly varied and included both religious and pop as well as tunes that I had never encountered. In a few ceremonies, the music felt more meaningful than the readings. 

Several of the weddings were grounded in religion while others appeared to go to great lengths to minimize religious references. I wonder how the couples who come from different backgrounds will deal with religion. Will they avoid it, as they did in their wedding? I worry when the way we deal with differences is to push them to the side. Why not celebrate our different cultures? 

I have questions about the receptions. I am not fussy about the food (but I love it when someone cares enough to worry about us vegetarians) and I don’t drink much beyond the toasts. My wife and I like to dance a little. What is important to me is being able to connect with the people who invited me. I really appreciated it when the bride and groom and their families made it a point to greet their guests. I loved being able to meet family members I did not know – often very important people in this celebration! When some of these key people were inaccessible, I wondered if everything was okay. 

The toasts were very good. None of the weddings had those stereotypical horrible wedding embarrassments. The best toasts were obviously written in advance. The impromptu toasts, while clearly heartfelt, had less impact. However, a few times these toasts were written out and still ended up an unfocused ramble. I was curious about who did and did not speak. The bride’s father always spoke, but not always the bride’s mother. The groom’s parents sometimes spoke, but often, the mother less so. The best man and maid or matron of honor spoke in all but one, yet the other members of the wedding party, especially the siblings of the couple, didn’t always speak. When some of these important people did not toast the couple, I had questions. 

At the first and last of our five weddings, no one clinked glasses asking for the couple to kiss. I didn’t know how they managed that. It was brilliant. When I heard the clinking at the other weddings, it made me question the practice. Not only did I not miss it, but it gave the bride and groom the opportunity to move around more freely. 

I could list question upon question about the choices of song for the mother-son and father-daughter dances. There seems to be one that is clearly the standard choice for Christian families for the father-daughter dance. I did wonder about the father of the groom and the mother of the bride. Why not include them? Why not invite the families up to dance with each other after the traditional gendered dancing. 

Two of the weddings threw the bouquet and garter. Like the glass clinking, I didn’t miss these when they were absent and found it a bit jarring. One of these weddings seemed to take it seriously and the other played with them in a funny and sexy way. It was nice to have an activity that called people to the dance floor, but I wondered about the unspoken message about the importance of marriage. Okay, we were at a celebration of marriage. 

None of our five weddings was for a same sex couple. None of them was a second marriage. I wonder how these parts of the celebration would be seen in other forms of unions. 

Because symbols are so important to me, and I worked in a world where implied meanings reins, I was highly conscious of the combination of all the elements during my wife and my wedding. Not everyone appears to do this. As a theatre director, I think about my audience. But a wedding is not a play. It is for the couple and their families. The audience is as much witness as participant. For some, the real focus is on the couple, their experience, and how the wedding elements help them both celebrate and prepare for their life together. Still, I have questions.