My latest blog posts

      Well, this past week was one of polar opposites. Grades 3-8 students were immersed in taking the ISTEP, which is Indiana’s standardized test. The children in K-2 classrooms were celebrating Dr. Seuss’s birthday, which was March 2nd, and is always part of the ‘Read Across America’ initiative complete with Seuss activities galore. See what I mean? The same day in which Indiana kids were either celebrating reading, or plodding through it to place in a certain percentile.

       With four of my grandchildren, I was reminding them to go to bed early, get a good breakfast and have that number two pencil, well-sharpened and ready to go. With my other grandchildren, I was hunting up my Dr. Seuss hats, books, t-shirts, and shoes. Why, yes I do have a pair of tennis shoes with the Cat in the Hat picture and Seuss’s name emblazoned on them. Am I rich or what? No Jimmy Choos in this closet, but I am rocking my Seuss shoes. I know you are jealous. But back to the debacle at hand.

       As I delved into that ISTEP abyss, I saw the pressure, fear of failure, and stress my sixth graders exhibited. My jovial, loving connection with these kids would soon be replaced by educational alienation. I read directions. I proctor. I write the time on the board. I am a jail warden without the uniform. I feel as though I am betraying them when I am asked a question I cannot answer. The mantra is the same: “I can’t answer that. Just do your best.” And we all know, they can’t do their best without me.  I hate every second of standardized testing.

        But then my imagination pulled me to the Seuss side.  I wondered what it would look like if Dr. Seuss—albeit, any of his characters took a test like ISTEP? Let’s give it a whirl.

Dr. Seuss Takes a Standardized Test

                               On the second of March in the Jungle of School
                               Dr Seuss was waiting to begin the I Test Like a Fool;
                               He had his crayons: purple, orange, and bright blue
                               But all were replaced with a pencil named Two.
                               “I am so excited to show what I know
                                And describe to the Testers all the places I’ll go;
                               I’ll tell them great jokes and rock this room with laughter-
                               I’m certain that joy is what they are after.

                                I’ll show them I’m loving and that I am kind,
                                And share all my answers to those who fall behind.
                                I’ll bring out my glitter, my sequins and glue
                                And show my creativity to the Testers and you!
                                And if we get scared-from our shirts to our pants-
                                I’ll lead the class in a brave and bold dance;
                                We’ll whistle and wiggle and I’ll play the kazoo
                                The Testers will thrill at the dances we’ll do!”
                                But the teacher glared at Seuss, and said, “We’ll have none of that-
                                The I Test Like a Fool is not ‘Cat in the Hat’
                                It is dark, hard, confusing and strains your brainy
                                It is serious and stuffy, like cloudy and rainy.
                                You must not speak, but instead, think and plot
                                If you are nervous, the Testers care not.
                                I will read strange directions and stare at the clock
                                I will wring my hands and pace like a fox.
                               Some will do well, and others will plummet
                               To the depths of percentiles ’cause you simply can’t ‘sum’ it;
                               The story you write must fit on these lines 
                               Even though the best parts are still in your minds.
                                Now I am your teacher and I know you ‘by heart’
                                I marvel at your compassion and know you are smart;
                                And if you don’t pass, don’t think you are dull
                                Because these numbers don’t measure the whole YOU at all.
                              I know you may struggle, but when I look in your eyes 
                              I do not see failure, but instead I see ‘tries’
                              So do not think you’re worthless if you botch up this test
                              You will do just fine because you are the best!”

Well, my apologies to the great Theodor Geisel who penned books with fun and nonsense so kids would cuddle up to their grown-ups and plead, “Read it to me again!” And in the process these little ones’ minds were mastering receptive language and unraveling this ominous process called literacy. I have taught reading for thirty-six years, and I am amazed any of us can do it—and in thousands of languages! Our brain is so amazing! And so much more fun when wearing a Dr. Seuss hat.

    If Horton Hears a Who, it probably will be me. “A person’s a person’s no matter how small”– but ‘Do Not Pass’ a standardized test and that’s not true at all. Tomorrow is a new day. Time to put the Grinch to bed and look forward to all of the ‘creachas’ coming into my classroom eager to use their glue, glitter, and goofy selves to rock my world.

     You Testers don’t know what you’re missing.

       Every now and then it happens. Song lyrics float across our auditory neurons and pretty soon we are singing, swaying and smiling. As they used to say on American Bandstand, “I give it a 95 because it has a good beat and is easy to dance to.” And that is a good summation if one dances. I don’t. Nope. I am the musical connoisseur who defaults right to the lyric. Perhaps it is the writer in me, but I’ve gotta know what the folks are saying. If the rapping, yapping, tapping, dabbing slops over the lyrics, I’m gone. Am I willing to give it a second chance? Oh sure. My musical repertoire is quite eclectic.  I bounce around from Frank Sinatra to Bruno Mars, Selah, off to Adele, Journey and Tony Bennett and twirl back around to John Mayer with a touch of Johnny Swim. Twist my arm and I may listen to country, but it really needs to be a crossover like Carrie Underwood. Okay, open the door for Dolly and Reba and a few measures from Glen Campbell.

        Enough on the ‘Life and Times of Deb Hall’s Music Collection’.  I will move on to the real thinking behind, ‘Lyrics to Live By’. Once upon a time I heard a song, ‘Forever Young’ recorded by Rod Stewart. In an instant, I felt that this work should be in every church hymnal. And I know that this view is substantiated by the fact that I used this song in many classroom musical/video presentations. Why? Because in a teacher’s eyes and heart, that kid is ‘forever young’ as they kind of remain a permanent third grader, sixth grader, or whatever ‘grader’ they are when they steal our hearts. It’s how we are wired. The gal with whom I am now Facebook friends may have a husband and three kids, but to me she remains little Lisa, third row, class of 1986. See? Forever young.

         The lyric that has captured my heart and soul is the tune recorded by Meghan Trainor and John Legend, ‘Like I’m Gonna Lose You’. It has a swell sound and catchy beat if you are prone to power up your boogie shoes. But the words! The words take on a life of their own and remind us to own our life. Let me help you here. The gist of the tune is to love someone like you might lose them. Pretty simple, right? Morbid…..no. Yet the lyricist begs us to savor the moment with those we love. Here’s a taste:

So I’m gonna love you
                                          Like I’m gonna lose you
                                          I’m gonna hold you
                                          Like I’m saying goodbye
                                          Wherever we’re standin’
                                          I won’t take you for granted
                                          Cause we’ll never know when
                                          We’ll run out of time
                                          So I’m gonna love you
                                          Like I’m gonna lose you
                                           In the blink of an eye 
                                          Just a whisper of smoke
                                          You could lose everything
                                          The truth is you never know
                                           So I’ll kiss you longer
                                           Any chance that I get
                                           I’ll make the most of the minutes
                                           And love with no regrets
                                           Let’s take our time
                                           To say what we want
                                           Use what we got
                                           Before it’s all gone
                                           ‘Cause no, we’re not promised tomorrow
Is it not a universal fear that we may lose those folks we cherish? Haven’t all our journeys been overshadowed by making mistakes, messing up, and creating a rubble of regrets? This song, with its edgy and funky riffs delivers a classic statement: I am loving you with the passion and urgency as if it were our last moment on Earth.  Because it very will might be.

             I remember an old Richard Marx song that had this line: “If the angels call tomorrow there is nothing that we haven’t said.” Can’t say I remember much else about that recording, but man, that one line has framed my life. It prodded me to put the silly note in my kids’ lunch boxes, make the phone call to apologize, or scrawl a love note on the mirror in bright red lipstick. Never let the good stuff go unsaid. Indeed, I often say that when I enter Heaven I want to have empty pockets….that I saved no love, compassion, kind words, good deeds, talents; that I am all used up.

              I admit that this song truly time-stamps my heart. My son is a cop. My sister is in hospice care. My oldest granddaughter will soon be driving, and I have a new grandchild arriving any day now. When my youngest son calls me as he walks from the subway in New York, I shudder at the cacophony of the urban chaos. When the media reports that a youth suffered “fatal wounds” I whisper a prayer before I read the name. The truth is this: our worlds can change in one phone call.

              Yet I don’t want my words here to mar an affirming song and darken it with worry and the  ‘what-ifs’. I am way too joyous and hopeful for that stance. Rather, I share a philosophy that simply reminds us to stay in the moment, cherish that boy behind the badge; rock that baby a bit longer and smile because, as Carl Sandburg wrote, “A new baby is God’s opinion that the world should go on.”
Trust that we never run out of time for kisses and hugs, and when love-filled words are on our lips, we let them go with wild abandon. Love. Now. Say it. Now. Forgive. Now. Savor it. Now.

              “If the angels call tomorrow, there is nothing that we hadn’t said.”

              And now….I am going to love you, like I just might lose you.

              Because there is no better way to say hello or good-bye than with words laced in love.

I am a dreamer. Oh, not in that romantic, weepy, swooning, Coke commercial kind of dreamer way.

Well…now that I put it in print and re-read it, yeah, I am. But what I am trying to tell you is that I dream every night when I sleep. And I remember the dreams. All bazillion of them. I do believe this is the reason I awaken tired, with crazy hair, and the animals have fled my bed because they can’t take it anymore. If you really know me, this is no big news. You have already heard about my bizarre adventures during my night-night time. I think my sandman is on crack.

I also love to sing. And if I am a bad dreamer, I am even a badder singer.  (It’s my blog. My bad grammar. I am not in the classroom at the moment, so get over it).

How do I know I sing badly?  Well, folks let me tell you. When my four children were young, I would sing them lullabies. You know, lyrics from Broadway musicals, church songs, and holiday songs. My little ones would place their hands over their ears and beg, “Mommy, we promise we will go to sleep if you will stop singing.” I got the hint.

Which brings me to my bad singing and bad dreams.

I dreamt the other night that I was singing in my shower and a scary male person threw open the shower curtain and assaulted me. Suddenly, as dreams go, I was in the courtroom facing my assailant. The judge asked me to tell what happened on that fateful morning. I replied that I was taking a shower and singing. I saw the guy, freaked out, and remembered nothing after that.  The judge was peering at me and asked what I had been singing. I innocently responded that I was crooning, ‘I’m Dreaming of a White Christmas’.  She then asked me to sing a few measures.

Well, I’ll be darned. I had hardly gotten to the good part when she slammed down her gavel and bellowed, “CASE DISMISSED!”

What??? I had a bad dream that I sang so bad that the case was dismissed because the attacker had to be subjected to my vocals?

Where’s the justice in that?

Maybe tonight I will get a good night’s sleep and just stick to snoring.

That’s so much safer.