On the Bright Side

My big, intimidating, mean high school English teacher asked the class who was taking the SAT on Saturday. Vaguely aware that there even was such a test, I didn’t raise my hand. After class he bellowed from his desk, “Van Wagenen, see me!” My heart stopped. I’d had a rather scary run in with him a few weeks back (more on that in a moment). I cautiously approached his desk. He asked, “Are you going to college?” “Yes,” I replied. “Where are you applying?” Ummmm, hadn’t really thought about that yet. Honestly, I didn’t even realize you had to apply. I just thought when the time came I’d pick a college and go. He scrawled a note onto a slip of paper and said, “Bring this to the guidance office.” “Okay,” I said. On the way I read it: “This young lady is clueless. Register her for the SAT and get her started on the college application process. Frank” He was actually Mr. Frank, but he was big on using last names only. Here’s the back story. A few weeks earlier the same, “Van Wagenen, see m...

My youngest son turned 21 in January. Such a milestone! I shared an adorable baby picture of him on Facebook wishing a “Happy 21st birthday to this little man.” In addition to all of the usual responses, “Happy birthday!.... where does the time go?...” I got a beautiful message in my inbox from an old college friend. It was a copy his wife singing her own rendition of  “Stop Time” from the musical Big . She sang with such heartfelt passion I got chills. Ironically, as her lovely voice sang, “Birthdays fly - 7,8,9,10” all I could think was I don’t miss that. At all.  With each birthday party, I was just happy to be closer to the next. “Then he’s two, such a little man, so alive and so smart..”   and such a pain.... Was I a bad mom?   I recall the terrible twos, fours, eights, twelves, fifteen through eighteens… each phase getting scarier than the next. I may have wanted time to go backwards, but never stop. At that point I just wanted a fast forward button! Someti...

"Now more than ever!" Sometimes I think if I hear that phrase, “more than ever” again I’ll jump out a window. It is repeated so often, especially during election cycles. Candidates insist that we have “never before” seen such a crisis - whether fiscal, cultural, international… Henny Pennies need to convince the electorate that the sky is falling and they are the only one who can fix it… before it’s too late!!! Hogwash. But while the “now more than ever” cliché is overused and misleading (there are plenty of episodes in our history that I am, frankly, glad I missed) it is easy to see why it is such a popular mantra. Cable news channels compete for attention in an oversaturated marketplace. Wolf Blitzer hosts his show from the “Situation Room,” requiring a new “situation” (or several) to get his audience hyped up and hooked for two hours every day. That is a lot of situations. Fox News and MSNBC need to compete with all of the “breaking news” on CNN, so they chime in with...

I’ve been reading Thomas Merton’s Seven Storey Mountain, his self-proclaimed “autobiography of faith.” The mountain borrows from Dante’s Mountain of Purgatory. In his book, Merton explains his frustrations as a young man at not really knowing his “vocation.” He felt called to be a monk, but was not quite sure if it was his vocation. He spent the better part of a decade looking for signs to verify his worthiness for such a calling. Rather trust his own instinct,  he convinced himself that he must be wrong and continued to go to work as an English professor at St. Bonaventure, in upstate, New York  He milled about writing novels and teaching, convinced that what he really wanted to do - become a monk - could not be his actual vocation. Thus he stayed stuck in a job that kept him from growing into his potential. His hang up about his true vocation got me thinking about the word, and about the difference between a job and a vocation; between a vocation and an occupation. A ...

It’s that time of year again: People cutting in line because they obviously have somewhere to go; crowded stores and streets; and the endless music being piped into our lives, indoctrinating the “holiday spirit” (spend your money) into our weary souls, if only for a few stressful weeks. The holiday season really has become a direct manifestation of our culture. We have a very all-or-nothing attitude when it comes to celebrating. Maybe that is because most of us are truly too busy working to take the time out to celebrate in moderation on a more frequent basis. No, in America it is “Go hard or go home! During the work week, we work hard. On the weekends, we play hard. During the summer, we vacation hard. And during the holidays, we rejoice – hard! We jam it all in: the food and drink, the running around, the sleep deprivation, and the dent in our bank accounts, the family obligations and politics… all in honor of the “holiday season.” I’ve never been much of a “Put the Christ back...

It’s here. The Season. From too much food to too much fun, the “all in” mentality that typically accompanies the holidays is reinforced by that little voice in the back of our heads deluding us into believing that, come January first, we have a new lease on life. The reckless abandon of the month of December that racks up the pounds and draws down the bank account, becomes our motivation to take on the world with a whole new fervor. In many ways I am grateful, albeit amused, at this cyclical ritual that defines our consumer culture. I equate it with a collective case of spiritual bulimia. Initiating with Thanksgiving, where we stuff ourselves full of food as a symbol of our gratitude, followed by Black Friday, our nationwide shopping spree, where I have at times found myself thinking, “There must be something I need!”, to the multiple weekly parties, charity functions and family gatherings that are now what we simply call, "The Season." And so it starts: the binge before ...

I don’t enjoy the first few weeks of school as much as I do now once we get rolling. It is a “getting to know you” process. Unavoidable, but still, not fun. By now each of my classes has its own personality, making the repetition of lessons six times per day less monotonous. Things strike kids differently and the questions raised during class change the conversation all day and hardly a week goes by that I don’t learn something new. We spend 180 days together, and some days are better than others. There are days when I am just “on” and the energy is palpable. And other days when I wonder if I’m even really in the room because everyone looks like they are about to fall asleep! I used to take that really personally, but experience and wisdom are teaching me that sometimes I just can’t compete with a sugar crash or personal situation outside of my realm. So, I carry on, do what I can and hope for the best. Realizing that the students don’t have to love every minute of every one of my ...