Z is for Zeal

This is it.  Today is my last day of being 40. I wanted to end the year on a positive note and so I chose zeal as the word for Z.  Hopefully, for those of you who have followed me through the alphabet, you will know that I believe it is good to still feel passionate about your pursuits and actually that middle age is a good time to be enthusiastic about new pursuits and causes.    Not to get carried away of course, you don’t want to become a zealot, but passionate ardor helps keep us inspired and engaged in the word around us.

So after my year at 40, what have I learnt?  Well, that 40 is the beginning of a new exciting phase of my life.  And like I said in my very first blog post forty is a journey I throw myself into with reckless abandon, a lot of humour, and a good box of wine.  Or maybe two. 

Thanks for letting me share the first year of the journey with you.

Cheers!

Y is for Youth

Well, I imagine we all know expression youth is wasted on the young and I’m sure most of us have said at one point if only I knew then what I knew now.  Well I’m here to say (a) I don’t think it is wasted and (b) if I did know then what I know now, I probably wouldn’t have done a lot of the things I did then, which in many case (but not all), would be a shame.  Here’s a question for you. Would you, knowing then what you know now, ever go to high school?  Yeah, no thanks, me neither. Sometimes it’s better not to know what you’re getting yourself into.

In order to be young you need to be free of the burdens and fears and experience and inhibitions you accumulate as you grow older.  Does that make sense?  Without the freedom of youth to grow and experience, we wouldn’t be who we are today.  We have most of our lives to be experienced and wiser and to know better, I wouldn’t want that when I was young too. 

It’s easy to look back from where you are now and criticize.  But refrain yourself from passing judgement your younger self.  Don’t analyze your past behavior.  You did what you did because you were who you were at the time.  Accept it and move on.  Even learn from it.  Just don’t let it hold you back now.

X is for X Chromosome

Image via Wikipedia

The double X (XX) is what makes us females.  And I’m glad I’m an XX and not an XY.  Aside from just the elegant symmetry of the double XXs, there are a lot of things I like about being female.

Not that there’s anything wrong with being male, it’s just that being female is the only reality I know so I’m going to enjoy it.  It reminds me of the feminist mantra “different but equal.”  Because we are different.  Yes there are more similarities, but the differences are worth celebrating, be them big or small. 

There are some obvious big ones, one of which is clearly the ability to have children.  I am fortunate enough to have been able to be pregnant and to me nothing else changes you like the feeling of another human growing in your belly.  To be a tad romantic, I found the whole process almost magical (despite morning sickness) and in awe of the powers of the human body and mother nature.  

On a superficial level, there are more clothing options for women, more shoes, more hair styles.  I change my hair style / colour all the time; if my husband did that people would wonder what’s up (maybe they do with me too but are just too nice to say so).  There are things I like about my husband that I wouldn’t like for myself, for example hair in places I don’t want it. 

I guess what I’m trying to say that we are who we are and we need to celebrate it.

W is for Wonderment

We are lead to believe that part of growing older includes losing that sense of wonderment, like the bell off Santa’s sleigh in The Polar Express that the adults don’t hear.  By the time you arrive at a certain age, you’re supposed to have the “seen it, been there, done that” attitude.  But this is so very wrong. 

I remember giving birth to my daughter, and thinking as they placed her in my arms for the first time, “Holy, we made this?  Are you kidding me?” 

I still get that sense of wonderment each Christmas watching my kids put out cookies and milk for Santa, amazed at their sheer joy and ability to believe in magic. 

And I got it just the other day when the falling snow was so beautiful. As it landed on the car windows you could see the most intricate details of each snowflake.  They looked like the ones of paper we hang on the windows and both my husband and I marvelled at them, in awe of the beauty nature provides us with.

Life surprises us with gifts each day, we just have to be open to finding them.  If you cannot open your eyes and find the wonders around you, then you will grow very old indeed.

V is for Victoria’s Secret

I know there are a lot of lingerie stores out there but Victoria’s Secret is my favorite.  And oh, what a wonderful day it was this fall to find out stores are now open in the GTA.  I can even think of three relatively close by.  Not that I mind ordering online, but sometimes you just like to get a feel for the fabrics.

To be honest, and to disclose more information about me than you really need to know, I didn’t think much about undergarments until after I had kids.  After nursing three kids and finding myself in my mid-thirties, I could no longer rely on youth alone to keep things looking good as I had done in my twenties.  Childbirth, nursing, aging, all takes its toll and when I finally threw away those dreadful nursing bras for good, I found that I had gone down a whole cup size.  Add that to the surgery I had on my left breast for a mastitis-caused breast abscess; let’s just say that the “girls” were in need of a little TLC and a bit of help.

So thanks Victoria’s Secret.  Your Miracle Bra really is just that.

U is for Umpire

I am an only child and it is for that reason I wanted to have more than one child.  It was pretty lonely growing up.  Oh, I had friends, but friends can’t be with you all the time.  My mother swears that I was so good at sharing because I was just so desperate to have someone to play with. 

One thing that stuck with me as an only child is the relative peace in the household.  I had seen my friends and their siblings fight but never imagined how often I’d be the umpire with my own kids.  It amazes me how much they fight and how trivial matters are turned into these huge ordeals!  Now having said that, they do get along well most of the time, but it’s like that nursery rhyme about the little girl with the curl.  I think it goes, There once was a girl, who had a little curl, right in the middle of her forehead.  And when she was good, she was very very good, but when she was bad, she was horrid. 

So when times get tough, I do act as umpire.  Sometimes for a few minutes; sometimes it feels like whole days.  I know what your thinking, use these opportunities to teach conflict resolution, problem solving, empathy.  Sure, I try.  I do.  I really do.  But the kids teach me way more.  Sometimes people can’t be reasoned with.  Arguments are mostly based on emotion, not logic.  Siblings have the most amazing love-hate relationship I have ever seen.

And despite the screaming and yelling and frustration, on some level I am glad to be part of it.  Not that I like them to fight but that (and I’m thinking big picture here) they know they can let out their frustrations and still be loved.  They can disagree, argue and fight with a person and know that that person will still be there for them.  Once the issue is resolved  (no matter how trivial it is) the relationship remains intact.  That’s not an easy lesson to learn and one that will continually challenge them all their lives in all their relationships.  I wish I had had similar opportunities.  I think it would have made me a better person.

T is for the Toronto Maple Leafs

Artwork at College Station on the subway in Toronto, Ontario. Image via Wikipedia

Yes the Leafs.  Now you either love them or you hate them and I admit that I love them.  They have been a part of my life since I can remember.  In fact some of my earliest and best childhood memories involve watching Leafs games with my dad and my cousin.  My dad would always spend the first intermission preparing Kraft pizza from a box which we’d enjoy later in the game.  And I know the way which I yell at the TV is behavior I learnt from those days. 

As a teenager, back in the day when it was still possible to get tickets and at an affordable price we’d go sometimes by subway, last-minute, down to Maple Leaf Gardens on a weeknight.  I remember in the mid-80s lining up for hours to get playoff tickets.  I remember in university skipping the last half of Women’s Studies on Wednesday nights so that my room-mate and I could watch the game.  And I remember, in painful detail, the crushing game seven loss against the Kings in 1993.

Now with three kids I don’t have as much time as I used to, to sit and watch a hockey game.  And I have yet been able to justify the cost of taking a family of five to the Air Canada Centre.  But the Leafs are always there, one of the constants in my life.  And occasionally, when we have a quiet Saturday night, there is nothing better than a beer or two, and a Leaf game.  And while I don’t make Kraft Pizza from a box, I teach my kids it is okay to yell at the TV and … to love something unconditionally.

S is for Self

Self(n): the individual as an object to his own reflective consciousness.  Self is also the first element in innumerable compounds, generally of obvious meaning. 

Well, what could be more fitting as a topic of discussion for one’s blog on turning 40.  How has my “self” performed over the last 40 years and what is my self-awareness like now?  As a painfully shy child and young adult, I spent the early years of my life lacking much-needed self-assurance.  In fact I would say that it wasn’t really until I reached my mid to late twenties, even thirties that I really had feelings of self-complacency and felt secure in myself.  With two degrees and a good job I was self-reliant and that always helps one’s self-respect. 

I look at my personal growth like a savings account with compounding interest; it continually builds upon itself.  I’ve come out ahead.  I’ve built upon all that I’ve learnt and I’m pretty self-satisfied; pleased with my own doings.  I am happy with how my life has turned out and am excited to be starting a new career as a writer.  Now I’m not going to get all self-delusional and think I’m going to win a Giller prize or anything like that, quite simply writing is something I’ve always wanted to do put lacked the self-confidence the take the risk of putting what I write “out there” for other s to see.    I have always been too self-conscious.  Now at 40, whether it’s due to maturity or parenthood, that fear is gone (well, almost).   I have enough self-esteem to be self-indulgent and pursue my dreams. 

Yes, indeed, each morning I can look at myself in the mirror and say, yup, I’m pretty self-satisfied.

R is for Re-Do

Image via Wikipedia

So one of my kids this year keeps coming home from school with Rs.  What exactly is an R?  I’m not really sure but she says it means re-do.  I’m assuming it comes before an F.  You get one chance to do it over again.

So it got me thinking.  What would I redo, if I could get the chance.  What part of my life would I slap a great big red R on?

I guess there are little things I’d like to have handled better but when it gets to the really big issues it gets tricky.  Because I wouldn’t want to change anything in my life that would prevent me from ending up here right now.  And it would.  The way I see it, life is a chain of events – you change one event and the rest of your life unfolds differently.  Now maybe I watched too many Star Trek episodes about the space-time continuum back it the nineties, but it’s a scary thought nonetheless.  And really, how do we know that fixing one big mistake wont lead to an even bigger blunder in the future?

I’ve said it to my kids and I’ll say it to you.  Making mistakes is how we learn and grow.  How we handle the crap life throws at us defines who we are. 

I guess that’s the difference between school grades and life.  In life there is no redo, there is no F, it’s just…well…life.

Q is for Quality Education

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Or lack there of. 

Seriously, it’s alarming.  Yes, I know there are a lot of good teachers out there who work hard, who engage the students, who have some pride in what they do, and fortunately my kids have managed to have a few of them, but they carry a heavy load, picking up slack for the rest of the bunch. 

I try to have a relaxed attitude, I know the institutional method of education is not for everyone and that some years you are going to have a good teacher and other years you’re not, that’s just life, but right now it feels like my kids are on a sinking ship and there are not enough life boats to go around. 

To begin, my daughter is in a 4/5 split.  It’s a large class, over 30 students, crammed into a classroom too small to handle that many students, in a wing of the school that’s chronically over heated, so much so, that parents have been asked in the past to send in water bottles so their kids stay hydrated.  Add to that sweaty sardine can of a classroom a teacher who cannot gain control of the class.  In the first few weeks most of the kids were not understanding the work they were given and most test results came back with failing grades.  Give the kids a chance to rewrite the tests and again most of them failed. 

Red flag anyone?

Parents have been in and out of the school trying to figure out what’s going on.  To the teachers credit, he has asked for help, but as far as I can tell nothing has changed.  Personally, I wanted to wait it out a bit, see if things would sort themselves out, as the students and teacher adjusted to their environment.  My waiting game hasn’t paid off.  My own child is now, as far as I can tell, failing everything, except for those subjects this teacher doesn’t teach.  So now what?

A volunteer schedule has been sent around for parents to help out primarily with class discipline and secondarily, subject support for math and french.  Really?  This is what it’s come down to?  I have a huge problem with this because this is clearly a performance issue.  Parents are there to support the teacher but to enforce class discipline?  This just doesn’t sit right with me.  Isn’t this what they are taught in teachers college?  They are professionals, after all.  What other profession can ask for volunteers to help them with the basics of their job.  If my husband were having problems with people who reported to him could I go in and help him manage his employees?  Oh my God, no!

Secondly, my son’s class is on their third teacher of the year.  His teacher is on a leave of absence, which is fine, I’m not saying she can’t  be on leave, but is it fair to the students to reserve this class for her when the school cannot say for certain when she’ll be back?  Yes, she gives them dates, but they have already changed, and that can happen again.  These kids are only in grade three.  They need structure and stability in a teacher, not a revolving door.  Add to this the new report card system that is based upon the teacher “getting to know” your child instead of grades.  Who knows my child? Your guess is as good as mine.

One last thing.  Above all else, I want my children to learn some of life’s basics; a healthy work ethic, a sense of pride in their work, an interest in learning.  They are not getting any of those as far as I can tell. Their school is run down and dirty.  Putting soap in the bathrooms is next to impossible.  It doesn’t seem to matter to some teachers (not all) if homework is done on time or for that matter done at all. 

Here’s what they’re learning at school:  Why work hard to hand something in on time if the deadline is meaningless?  Why do a neat job on my work when no one cares about the environment I go to school in?  Teachers aren’t interested in what they’re teaching or the material, why should I?

An example: My daughter brought home a page of instructions for an assignment.  It had been done on a typewriter and had been photocopied so many times it was blurred and crooked.  A TYPEWRITER people, not even a dot-matrix printer (remember those?).  Second, my son brought home a worksheet, hand written, from 1985.  19 fricken 85!  Now don’t invent the wheel if you don’t have to but as a teacher, would you not want to have some pride and self-respect in the work you’re handing out to your kids?  To me, this says, I’m so lazy I can’t be bothered to update the material that has been used for the last 25 years!

Teaching is not an easy job and hat’s off to all those who do it well.  To those who offer new perspectives and new challenges for my kids, congratulations!  I admire you all and thank you sincerely.  But isn’t it time we, as a society, looked a little harder in our kids education, dug a little deeper, and realize that things need to change and they need to change now?

Just my opinion.