Time Well Wasted*

If you’ve looked at the “What I’m Reading” section of this blog, you’ve noticed that last year I challenged myself to read one non-school related book a month for 2014. At the conclusion of 2014, I was quite pleased to find that meeting the 12-book challenge was easier than I anticipated, so much so that I’ve upped the ante this year and set my goal at 20 books for the year.

Over the next few blogs, I’m going to be talking about things I learned, or relearned, through the course of getting back into reading for enjoyment, rather than reading as a chore or a checklist I have to get through for work.

One truth is that making time for reading is not hard.

When I first started the challenge, I knew my children would not be the most helpful in allowing me to meet my goal. They’re young, like a great deal of attention, and when they’re not given it, find other ways of entertaining themselves which typically end in the dismantling of one or more rooms in the house.

The other obstacle was the fact that I already read quite extensively for my job. Between books for each of my classes (yes, I re-read all books, every year!) and the writing assignments students complete, I’m reading constantly. How was I going to find not only the time but also the energy to add to my daily reading?

I started by setting a goal: I’d dedicate the half hour before going to sleep to reading. By that point, the kids would be in bed, and any work I‘d have to get done for the following day would be completed. Once I established the routine, I figured it’d be easy to stick to.

The problem was that I started off reading books that would not stand for a 30-minutes-a-night limitation. The first book of 2014 was Jennifer Donnelly’s Tea Rose. To say that I couldn’t put it down would be an understatement. I’d go so far as to say I nearly neglected my children for the book. I say nearly because their basic needs were all taken care of throughout the course of my reading the novel. They may have watched more episodes of Mickey Mouse Clubhouse during that period of time, though. 

I found that if the book were good enough, I’d find the time to read. If I arrived somewhere early or was sitting in the doctor’s office waiting for an appointment, I’d have my Kindle, or my phone with the Kindle app, that allowed me to squeeze in a few pages or chapters during down time.

The more time I spent with Donnelly’s characters, the less I cared about other “stuff” I was missing: the latest episode of The Big Bang Theory or Modern Family, and the time wasted scrolling through my timeline on Facebook or pinning baking feats on Pinterest that 90% of the time end in complete failure.

I crack up every time I look at this.

The unexpected lesson in making time for something I always enjoyed, and had allowed to get away from me?  I was actually more present in other areas of my life.  I disconnected from being connected to everything, deleting time-sucking apps from my phone that I learned I didn’t miss while spending time reading—so why would I miss them while hanging out in the backyard with my family, or out to dinner with my friends?

Reading seems, on the surface, to be an isolating activity. But when I think of the conversations I’ve had throughout the course of the year with relatives and friends about the books I’ve read or when I think of the excerpts that connect to lessons I’ll teach to, and discuss with, my students, I realize just how shallow that judgment is.

Finding time to read has allowed me to assess and prioritize how and where I spend my precious time. As I enter into another year and a new reading challenge, I am much more content replacing vacuous status updates with a tea entrepreneur, a Scottish Highlander and his time traveling wife, and a blind young woman as she tries to survive occupied France during WWII.

That’s some time well wasted.

*To borrow a phrase from Brad Paisley 

Realizing my Dream

The last dream of my soul is in the process of coming true. For as long as I can remember, I've wanted to emulate my mother. The balance of encouragement and tough love, the freedom to figure things out for myself, as well as the knowledge that I'd have support if I fell, allowed me to figure things out for myself. She would guide, but not control.

In serendipitous fashion, I purchased Garth Brooks's new CD this week, as I've been figuring out how to present what the last dream of my soul is. There is one song on this album that speaks so beautifully to what my mom provided me, and what I ultimately want to provide my children: freedom to grow, to learn, to mess up, to try again--in short, to navigate the world with confidence built upon accomplishments of their own doing.

The song, "Send 'em on Down the Road" is my parenting credo. In the chorus, Brooks sings, "you can help them find their wings/But you can't fly for 'em/'Cause if they're not free to fall/Then they're not free at all"(Beeson/Shamblin).

I find that my parenting philosophy is closely connected to my teaching one; it is quite likely that my time in the classroom has only bolstered my resolve that my children need to be given the freedom to not get it right the first time so they can experience the satisfaction of perseverance, and the independence of completing the task before them even though they struggled.

Also serendipitous is that through reading all of your "Last Dream" essays, I'm finding myself commenting that the first step of achieving your dream is to set the intention--in the words of William Arthur Ward, "if you can imagine it, you can achieve it; if you can dream it, you can become it." Thus, I want to share with you an essay I wrote in high school--the beginning of the last dream of my soul, that I find coming true step-by-step, and that will hopefully continue to unfold in the manner I have planned.

Works Cited:

Beeson, Marc, Shamblin, Allen. "Send 'em on Down the Road." Man Against 
          Machine. Perf. Garth Brooks. RCA, 2014. CD. 

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The Woman I want to Be

One of my favorite places:
Ham-Smith at UNH

The sun warms thoughts of jubilation as I rise for the finale of my four years as a UNH Wildcat.  Semblances of relief, pride and accomplishment scurry in synchronization through my mind.  As I ascend another rung in the ladder of my years, I recall the prominent female figure in my life who has shared her wisdom and learned from her mistakes; she has inculcated me to follow.  Through me she will forever endure.

As my life’s path guides me to my occupation, the countenance of my mother is embedded in my mind’s eye; pride and encouragement are evinced on her face.  This encouragement allows me to imagine the myriad of students I will one day inspire.  The determination she has instilled in me will reap its rewards with my promotion to department head of the English Department and the renowned debut novel I will one day compose.

My husband and I on our wedding day.

Upon savoring the sweet taste of success, I am propelled into marital bliss.  I portray my mother in my new role as wife.  I have received her wit and good humor; both of which endear my love to my whimsical stories.  My husband’s strong arms embrace me as we talk by the fire of all that occupies our thoughts.  To him I show passion in my beliefs and my inner clarity, as did my mother to my father.  Like my mother I am confident in who I am, and will not sacrifice my individuality. 

With my kids at the Halloween Parade

I will convey this same cardinal confidence in my children.  No being will ever tell my children what they can and cannot do.  Their inner clarity allows them to one day navigate their own destinies, as my mother urged me to do.

My mom and me at my friend's wedding.

As the organist begins to play "The Wedding March", new feelings of relief, pride and accomplishment scurry in synchronization through my mind.  My daughter is being escorted down the aisle on her father’s arm, while tears of descend from my eyes.  I taught her everything a woman should be.  I am assured she is my greatest accomplishment.  I have passed onto her all the wisdom of my mother, the woman I want to be.