First of all, I want to thank those of you who have been reading this blog and sending me lovely emails and/or saying encouraging things when we meet. Today while talking to Friend A our conversation went to the goofiness of blogs and I suddenly felt weepy. True, we have all been fighting colds and and not getting enough sleep because of the cacophony of coughs (excellent alliteration execution), but mostly I think it's because I have found this whole blogging business to be surprisingly more.
It's more work than I thought -- chucking something onto this screen at the end of a night when I'm exhausted; it's more personal than I thought -- how to express an idea without some bloodletting?; it's more embarrassing than I thought -- seeing mistakes -- either mechanically or substantively days after the fact... yipes...; it's more humbling than I thought -- I talked to somebody who has a "following" of tens of thousands a day... ummmm, yeah...I don't have that. I didn't set out to have that (of course I say that -- it's like when that kid broke up with you in 7th grade and you were all: well, I didn't want to be going out anyway...). I truly do see this as a journal for our family, a way to stay connected to a few friends, and maybe a way to share ideas with others who question what and how this generation of moppets can be learning...
And yet, in the spirit of full discloser, as stupid as it sounds (I've been blogging for a solid three weeks) there was a part of me that heard that (tens of thousands a day?!?), and thought: wow, I'm pathetic... I'm doing something chumpy and I'm not even a "successful" chump...
However, three people came through for me. Friend A, my high school English teacher, and Mr. Rogers.
Friend A, seeing me crumble, said simply: "Don't stop."
Ms. G's card that she gave me on graduation night said to remember that more important than a best-selling novel will be the words that I write to my family and friends.
Mr. Rogers spoke to me through a video that I really should watch every morning before I open my mouth for the day...
Today, after a hard day of blowing my chapped nose and destroying any confidence my kid might have had in his/her math skills (I'm pretty sure that I won the Biggest Biotch in the Building competition -- and we live in an enormous building -- eat that tens-of-thousands-a-day...), I knew that my family needed some healing. And so I turned to Fred Rogers.
If you haven't watched Mister Rogers & Me you need to get on it. On the cover it says that it's "one man's story," referring to the director, Benjamin Wagner's meeting and subsequent exploration of Mr. Rogers and his ideals. That's been done in some books. What the movie does is something cool -- it demonstrates how Wagner's talent (and the talent of his brother) -- talents that could be seen as incongruent with Rogers's message (using short clips and brief encounters to get across the message of slowing it down and being present) -- have a place. Each of us have talents that have a place.
In both writing and literature analysis classes we talk about how brilliant it is when the craft reflects the content. So here is a movie that talks about a man, a teacher, who says: you are important and I like you just the way you are. And then the movie itself shows not how the director started wearing cardigans and speaking v-e-r-y slowly, but how he used what he had to offer and built something good. What he built is a depository for all these profound Mr. Rogers nuggets that a worn out and weepy stay-at-home home-schooling mom can watch in just over an hour, and ultimately feel like tomorrow is going to be a better brand new day. And while there are things that I can/should improve, what I fundamentally have to offer is fundamentally good.
Just as important, I was reminded that my kids are valuable just the way they are. Even if they don't know their place values. Actually, because right now they don't give a rip about flipping place values.
Apparently Mr. Rogers wanted to share with people the importance of finding and appreciating the deep and the simple in a world that is increasingly shallow and complex. I've committed to help with his mission. The next time somebody asks me what our "curriculum" is, I am going to say: "We are learning how to contribute something deep and simple in a world that is shallow and complex." When pushed for specifics, I will say that we are starting with gratitude. If I am grateful that my spawn can see the numbers I'm writing, hear the questions I'm repeatedly asking, and smile at me even if they are frustrated, how much better are the lessons going to go?
And so, if you're reading this: thank you for doing so. Thank you for supporting me -- with the scheme, with the blog, with trying to be a better human. It's a good feeling to know you're out there.
