Sliding into the grave

Robert Plant - Led Zepplin

David Lee Roth - Van Halen

Robert Plant and David Lee Roth both started out as the long-haired, bare-chested, crazy-sexy, front-men of hugely successful, ground breaking bands. These men epitomized the ideal of the "Rock God". If you polled a representative sample of so-called Generation X, I'm willing to bet you'd find the vast majority of us either wanted to be one of these provocative crooners or be with one - and a sizable portion wanted to be both.

Robert Plant and Alison Krauss -
Bluegrass Emmy

So as a Gen Xer, it makes complete sense that as my years add up and I consider just what aging may bring, I turn to these idols of my formative years for guidance.  And here's the thing - despite their very similar beginnings, Robert and David Lee have taken radically divergent paths toward old age.  Robert Plant strayed from his rock 'n roll roots and tried new stuff - this turn began with the Honeydrippers at about the same time that David Lee was at the top of his game.  He's explored different genre, and has seemed to have, well, just slowed down a bit - sort of easing into those "golden years".

David Lee Roth and Van Halen -
reunion tour

David Lee Roth, on the other hand, has chosen the "slidin' into the grave" approach. It seems he's doing what he's always done - rocking hard, drinking hard, and cashing in on the success of his youth. Touring again with the brothers' (and son) VanHalen has undoubtedly been incredibly celebratory and lucrative for him.

So the big question is. "Which is the better approach to aging?" Though I know which path I'm following, I don't know the answer to that.  Who's more content with his life? Who feels the most fulfilled? Who knows?

Work and Family

Last week, I was working for the MEAP Access helping to set the "cut scores" - basically deciding what it means to meet expectations on this test.  The process was actually very enlightening, and a great professional discussion helped clarify understanding for everyone in the room.  The meeting was four days long, and since I had a fairly long commute, the state offered to put me up in a hotel for the week.  I took advantage of this offer on Tuesday night, and had dinner (on my own dime) that night in the hotel bar.

I was dining with a colleague, and, after the woman next to us discovered we were teachers, she informed us of the ills of collective bargaining (Teachers in my district make more than I do!) and the audacity of the Assistant Principal in her district to have been out sick the past week.  I will spare the details of the conversation that followed, but let it be known that I did not once raise my voice, use any expletives, or resort to name calling.  Pat me on the back next time you see me:)

However, as I sit here with my sick little boy - missing my third day of school in a week and a half for this reason - I'm thinking back on the conversation and the assumptions of the woman.  A piece of her support for her opinion was that there was no way she could miss that much work, implying that if she did, she'd be out of a job.  I have no way of knowing if this is her perception, or her reality, but either way, it's a sad statement as to the value of the American workforce and the American family.

I love my job - I really do.  And I need my job; without it, our lifestyles would take a serious nosedive.  So my job is important - to me, to my family, to society - but not as important as my family.  Any professional commitment I make is weighed and decided by it's impact to my career, but first by it's impact to my family.  And if my family needs me at home, I will be at home. 

Life, including career and family, is a series of choices.  We always have a choice, and each of those choices have consequences.  I want to always make choices that reflect my core values. Finding the balance is what's hard, and the perception that a person's livelihood will be destroyed by taking care of his or her family is devastating to that balance.  Why has it become acceptable to the public that work should come first? This is exactly why we need that much vilified collective bargaining.

My Boy The Hacker

For the last several weeks (really, since New Year's Day) I've been intending to begin regular contributions to my blog.  As you regular followers have likely noted, this intention has not exactly come to fruition.  Today, however, it seems Eric has learned to read my mind and decided to jump-start my blogging by posting one for me.  So since I believe him to be a very smart young man, I will take his "encouragement" as a sign that I need to start setting aside some personal writing time each day.  Hopefully you'll be seeing more of me in the future.

Thanks Eric:)

Oh! And check out his website - Eric Loubert Horror - and his youtube channel - also Eric Loubert Horror.

Hello :)

Hello people! Sorry I haven't written in a while. I've just been busy. So I'm here to promote my boy's website, Eric Loubert Horror. He has been in to this kind of stuff for a while. I think it's awesome. He also does YouTube videos. Click HERE to go to his YouTube channel!

Both he and I would appreciate it if you followed his blog or subscribed to his YouTube channel. Thanks for checking it out. I'll try to begin posting more often :)

PS: Hi Penny. This is Eric. If you're wondering how this got here, well, I hacked your blog! You should log off next time :) LULZ!

The NWP and Me (or How to Revitalize a Teacher)

Three summers ago, I decided to take a break from sipping Bloody Marys poolside (which is, of course, a teacher's typical summer activity) to participate in the Red Cedar Writing Project.  One of my former professors suggested I should apply, and since I hold her in the HIGHEST regard (you know who you are Sue:), I figured I'd give it a try despite the serious dent it put into my leisure schedule.

Our first day, I was convinced I had gotten in way over my head.  There was no way, I was sure, that I could possibly keep up with all the amazing teachers I had somehow managed to get myself mixed up with.  These people were phenomenal.  They published articles, taught honors classes, understood that hyperbole is the BEST thing EVER.  This was a room full of the people I want to be when I grow up; how could I even hope to fit in?

Turns out, I did fit in, because this wasn't a cut throat environment; this was heaven. A group of people - educators - that wanted to grow, wanted to share, wanted to learn.  And we did.  I don't believe a single one of us left that summer as the same teacher who entered.

I have since participated in two more Summer Institutes as a Co-Director with the Chippewa River Writing Project, and am about to plunge into another season of learning, sharing, and growing.  Those Bloody Marys will still be cold in July.

Mamma Mia

In four short weeks, I will again be a married woman. This is bringing me great joy, and of course, great anxiety.  I am absolutely convinced that marrying John is the greatest choice I've made in many years, and I fully expect to spend the rest of our lives in wedded bliss.  So, only the joy is coming from the whole being a married woman thing; the anxiety is coming from the becoming part.

Twenty-some years ago, I  stood up on an alter in front of a few hundred people and, after an uncontrollable bout of the giggles, married my first husband.  It wasn't a ridiculous wedding - well not overly ridiculous anyway - but it was enough to satisfy any fairy-tale dreams I held about just how a marriage should begin, and was kind of emblematic of the entire relationship.  Presentation was more important than truth.

This time, I'm looking for less flash and more substance.  And beginning the journey intimately makes sense, so the initial intention was to include only the kids in the ceremony, illustrating our commitment to each other and our family.  No friends, no extended family, no parents.  Enter the anxiety.

Because of recent discussion - John with his dad, who would like to be a part of the day. Me with Ally who hit my heart by asking how I'd feel if I weren't invited to her wedding - we've been rethinking including our parents.  The truth is, I have no problem with John's dad joining us; it's my folks' inclusion that I'm not so sold on.  And now my question: Is my hesitancy in inviting my parents because I'm still harboring all that teenage angst and I just need to get over myself?  Or is it because I'm afraid of Mom's subtle rejection and fault-finding?

Writing for Catharsis

It seems Karma has a way of being, well, Karmic I suppose.. So long as I live the clean life - take the high road, keep my nose clean, remain on the up and up - my life travels down a grand path.  And for the last year or so I have kept so clean that I practically squeak.  And life has been full of loveliness.

All it takes is just one, teeny tiny stupid choice to muck things up a bit though.  It's amazing how that which at one point of my life is standard practice, can, at a different point put a serious dent into bliss. Karma makes me pay for those stupid choices -