So several of us are taking a 'course' to gain a certification, in an area we already know. It's just that piece of paper to say we know what we know, ya know?
Unfortunately, with our background and skills, we are more than a bit critical of the course we are taking, and are finding it frustrating. The directions aren't always clear - and we learn that when we're graded! 'Oh, surprise -- you got marked down for not reading my mind!' There are two purposes for the course -- one is for an audience who is trying to learn this course management system from scratch; the other is to earn this certification -- for which you already have to have some experience/expertise. We are the latter. As a matter of fact, we have more experience than the instructors do. I think maybe they are a bit overwhelmed by us.
Anyhow, the frustration level was high this morning. And, we decided I'd write the instructor suggesting maybe a change in the process. Whew. I'd forgotten how nervous this can make a person -- having to face an instructor from the student point-of-view. And this is a company I had hoped to work for on a contract basis after retiring! Yikes. Probably not likely now!
Anyhoo -- will wait to see what instructor says to our suggestions. I personally hate the 'read my mind' mindset. And, I don't like get graded down for something I am asked to have for one purpose, which not only mucks up the second purpose, but is confusing in the process!
Monday, March 23, 2009
Saturday, January 17, 2009
Family Values
So -- I've been thinking a lot about family lately. This has been a winter of making connections.
My son has cancer. No matter the age of your child, it's tough to face the fact they could die. Intellectually, of course I know he will -- but I want it to be after I'm gone. To think of the world without this wonderful person now, while I'm still here, hurts in a way that is hard to explain. It's a deep ache, a bottomless fear.
Even so, there have been good things to come out of this. There is a very good chance he will recover in fact, so I have more optimism than fear most of the time. He has Stage III Hodgkin's lymphoma, and has responded extremely well to his first treatments.
Every weekend, I go into high gear cooking for at least one entire day. I make baby food for Zachary, just because that will help both Adam and Kristen save time and effort -- they need both right now to deal with Adam's illness. And, I make foods that appeal to Adam, comfort foods that he can keep in the fridge or freeze. Foods they can use for family meals or when Adam can only eat a little. Stews and soups. Today it's chicken fricassee (which I'll package with a dumpling mix) and clam chowder.
Last weekend we talked about how this past year might have gone if we'd lived 50 or 100 years ago. We don't think Kristen would have survived Zachary's birth or the complications that followed; we don't think Adam would survive either. But today they are thinking that soon Adam will have his teaching certificate, that they can look ahead to more children. I feel lucky, given a gift, blessed.
Another gift: Adam's illness has brought another family member back into the circle of my life: my brother. We have communicated very little for over 30 years, he is pretty much a stranger to me, to my children and husband. Yet, he wrote a moving note to Adam when he learned of his cancer; he told of his own bout with life-threatening illness. We have written back and forth a bit since then. It feels very good to me to be re-establishing this connection; I am excited.
Last summer my sister-in-law brought me a copy of a sampler survey to complete. I have a sampler which has been passed down in my family for some generations. I honestly didn't know how many, or exactly what the connections were. I kept the survey on my desk for a long time. Randomly doing some searches on Google the other day, I typed in what I thought the lady's married name probably was -- bingo! I found a complete genealogy book on the web on her family. The book, originally published in 1901, was digitized last year sometime -- I wouldn't have found it before then. Not only did I find Lucy, the sampler-maker, but all the succeeding generations, down to my grandmother (3 years old in 1901). I can fill it in from there. I was so excited to find Lucy -- with our cultural bent towards tracing everything through male lines, I was afraid I'd never find her.
Lucy stitched her sampler in 1818; she lived until 1901. Her obituary gave me a sense of the woman: Mrs. Lucy Bristol, better known as 'Grandma' of Southfield, died tuesday morning, February 19, 1901, aged 93 years, 3 months, and 19 days. Three years ago the 4th of December the good lady sustained a fall, breaking one of her hips, since which time she has been confined to the house. Two months ago she began to fail and the end came Tuesday last.
Saturday night she arose and while trying to make the fire burn a little more briskly, her clothin caught fire and she was badly burned. this no doubt hastened her death. Her son, W.A. Bristol was also severely burned in putting out the flames. Mrs. Bristol had been a redident of Southfield for many years and had witnessed many changes in this part of the state. [excerpt from The Birmingham Eccentric, Feb. 22, 1901.]
They don't write them like that anymore! I feel as though I've touched the spirit of someone who went before me.
Family -- present, past, future -- our connections to each other, to the world; I can imagine a huge web criss-crossing the country, the globe, beaded with sparkling lives -- and I am one small bead here in northern Michigan.
My son has cancer. No matter the age of your child, it's tough to face the fact they could die. Intellectually, of course I know he will -- but I want it to be after I'm gone. To think of the world without this wonderful person now, while I'm still here, hurts in a way that is hard to explain. It's a deep ache, a bottomless fear.
Even so, there have been good things to come out of this. There is a very good chance he will recover in fact, so I have more optimism than fear most of the time. He has Stage III Hodgkin's lymphoma, and has responded extremely well to his first treatments.
Every weekend, I go into high gear cooking for at least one entire day. I make baby food for Zachary, just because that will help both Adam and Kristen save time and effort -- they need both right now to deal with Adam's illness. And, I make foods that appeal to Adam, comfort foods that he can keep in the fridge or freeze. Foods they can use for family meals or when Adam can only eat a little. Stews and soups. Today it's chicken fricassee (which I'll package with a dumpling mix) and clam chowder.
Last weekend we talked about how this past year might have gone if we'd lived 50 or 100 years ago. We don't think Kristen would have survived Zachary's birth or the complications that followed; we don't think Adam would survive either. But today they are thinking that soon Adam will have his teaching certificate, that they can look ahead to more children. I feel lucky, given a gift, blessed.
Another gift: Adam's illness has brought another family member back into the circle of my life: my brother. We have communicated very little for over 30 years, he is pretty much a stranger to me, to my children and husband. Yet, he wrote a moving note to Adam when he learned of his cancer; he told of his own bout with life-threatening illness. We have written back and forth a bit since then. It feels very good to me to be re-establishing this connection; I am excited.
Last summer my sister-in-law brought me a copy of a sampler survey to complete. I have a sampler which has been passed down in my family for some generations. I honestly didn't know how many, or exactly what the connections were. I kept the survey on my desk for a long time. Randomly doing some searches on Google the other day, I typed in what I thought the lady's married name probably was -- bingo! I found a complete genealogy book on the web on her family. The book, originally published in 1901, was digitized last year sometime -- I wouldn't have found it before then. Not only did I find Lucy, the sampler-maker, but all the succeeding generations, down to my grandmother (3 years old in 1901). I can fill it in from there. I was so excited to find Lucy -- with our cultural bent towards tracing everything through male lines, I was afraid I'd never find her.
Lucy stitched her sampler in 1818; she lived until 1901. Her obituary gave me a sense of the woman: Mrs. Lucy Bristol, better known as 'Grandma' of Southfield, died tuesday morning, February 19, 1901, aged 93 years, 3 months, and 19 days. Three years ago the 4th of December the good lady sustained a fall, breaking one of her hips, since which time she has been confined to the house. Two months ago she began to fail and the end came Tuesday last.
Saturday night she arose and while trying to make the fire burn a little more briskly, her clothin caught fire and she was badly burned. this no doubt hastened her death. Her son, W.A. Bristol was also severely burned in putting out the flames. Mrs. Bristol had been a redident of Southfield for many years and had witnessed many changes in this part of the state. [excerpt from The Birmingham Eccentric, Feb. 22, 1901.]
They don't write them like that anymore! I feel as though I've touched the spirit of someone who went before me.
Family -- present, past, future -- our connections to each other, to the world; I can imagine a huge web criss-crossing the country, the globe, beaded with sparkling lives -- and I am one small bead here in northern Michigan.
Friday, January 16, 2009
Oskar's Teachings
About 4:00 this morning, as Oskar tried to snuggle under my chin while licking my face, my mind caught a whole list of 'things my cat taught me'. Oskar is about 7 lbs of energy and life, no waste; he fills our house and keeps both dh and I, as well as Tikka and Iris, all on our toes.
I know there are other lists about 'things I've learned from my cat/dog' -- but this is Oskar's take:
- When you are happy or content, make appreciative sounds.
- Sleep warm, preferably with company; be sure to sleep enough.
- Stretch a lot, any time of day.
- Play. Anything can be fun, even if it doesn't look like it at first.
- When you need attention, go for it. Butt your head into someone so they focus on you, or walk all over their hands. Rub wet sandpaper gently on their face.
- Have courage: go ahead and explore new places, even if they are dark. You never know what will be there; trust that you can make it.
- Move in slow motion when needed -- very slow motion. Trust your instincts to know when it is time to move with lightening speed.
I think he might have something there.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)