Mike's death; Betty's life...

Sunday, June 21, 2026

Wednesday,June 19,2024

I woke up at 11 after going to bed at 9, exhausted. That was scary. While I felt wide awake at 11, I fell asleep until 3 a.m. I slept so soundly that the side of my face and my hand felt numb. I mustn't have moved. After that, I dozed and thought. Thinking like that, especially right before I get up, is a bad habit.

I found more lesions on Elsa this morning. One showed up about a week after her dental procedure when the vet extracted ten teeth and sewed up a hole in her gum. I assumed it was from the stress of the procedure and would clear up. When the doctor changed her food from the prescription Science Diet for digestive allergies to the Royal Canin Ultimo, her skin cleared up miraculously. Now, the number of lesions is increasing instead of decreasing. I feel terrible if she faces the discomfort of those infected wounds again.

It just occurred to me I accidentally changed her food. I ordered the Royal Canin hydrolyzed protein instead of the Ultamino. Her skin cleared up when she was on the Ultamino. She continued doing well on the hydrolyzed protein. I made an assumption it would be just as good. Maybe between the change in food and the stress, her skin was breaking down again. I'll call the vet tomorrow to find out. If that's the case, I will order more Ultamino immediately if they say it's a problem.

I was planning to work with the twins at 8:30. At 8, my phone rang, and it was Shelly. I need to remember to write down our appointment in my calendar. This was a significant session. I started saying I thought I should focus more on behavioral change. Both Shelly and I are big advocates of trauma theory. We believe that a lot of people's problems result from unresolved trauma. It's very au current now. I've thought it was worthwhile since I was in high school in the fifties. I was ahead of my time and considered entirely out of my mind. I observe that efforts to change are limited to downright futile unless underlying issues are dealt with first. Once they are sufficiently resolved, sufficient is a relative term, behavioral change can be achieved. I want to stop ruminating on issues that cannot be easily resolved. I have plenty to occupy my thoughts in satisfying ways. I don't need to upset myself with things not going my way. I decided Cognitive Behavior Therapy was a good direction for me now.

Then I started analyzing what it is that sends me around the bend. There's a consistent pattern. There are those in my life who never ask me what I think or feel but insist they know. Then there are a select few who see me in a negative light, accusing me of thoughts and feelings that don't resemble any thoughts and feelings I recognize as mine. I had a therapist like that. She made assumptions about concrete facts and acted on her beliefs without ever asking. She merely apologized when she was told she was wrong. These weren't topics that could be debated. It was things like how much college I attended, if I had ever held a job, my bra size, and how much sex I had with Mike. This therapist always lamented her inability to figure me out. But she never asked me a single question about myself. I hung on with her because I knew her function in my life even if she didn't. Had she asked why I continued working with her, I would have told her the truth. But my thoughts and opinions on anything were irrelevant.

Some people fear my judgment. They also have no interest in what I think. They prefer to torment themselves with their thoughts about what I think rather than ask me. These people actually don't care about what I think. They most certainly don't. They use me for their flights of fantasy.

At the base of that trauma was my mother, who gaslit me, convincing me I had thin, baby-fine hair, that no one liked me, including my father, and that she was the only one who would tell me the truth because she was the only one who loved me enough. I think she honestly believed most of what she had to say.

Shelly recommended a visualization. She borrowed it from a childhood experience. To get to the base of the issue, she recommended sliding down a spiral chute in my imagination. She was familiar with this from her childhood and assumed I would be too.

Her elementary school in Michigan had chutes like that so children could rapidly exit in case of fire. Since they used them during fire drills, Shelly had several opportunities to ride down one. She said she was terrified. You sped down them so fast she got Indian or rug burns. Someone had to be at the bottom of the chute to catch the kids as they came out. Holy cow! No, we had nothing like that in the Bronx.

I use a comparable image with the people I work with. I think of a well or a large hole, an abyss. We must lower ourselves to the bottom of it to face our fears. This works well as long as we control the descent. It is totally inappropriate as a therapeutic tool if it is forced. The person has to make the descent in complete control, motivated by curiosity.

I used the image Shelly suggested. I hung on to the sides of the slide for dear life. I didn't budge an inch. I was terrified to make the descent. I did what I recommend others to do in a similar situation. Back up. Leave the situation. Get to a safe location. I walked away from the chute. It led to a typical shouting match with my mother, where I fought for ground. I learned only toward the end of her life that she considered any difference of thought a personal threat. She was mad as a hatter! Poor woman! What a horrible way to live.

As I was verbally battling with my mom, I caught sight of my father on the sidelines. He had a peculiar grin on his face. He was getting off on our conflict. That was a disturbing image, but not really that surprising. My mom was a highly reactive person, quick to anger, while my dad was a very controlled person. My sister says she tried to provoke him to anger. He never responded. He also died young.

I switched my attention from my mother to my father. I saw his behavior as insidious. Because he couldn't express his own anger, he set up my mom and me as anger porn. I knew some of this when I was a child. On the day of his funeral, I thought it was a good thing he died because I would never have made it to adulthood with my sanity intact if he had lived. He was manipulative and controlling- in a very loving, accepting, and supportive way. I was committed to being more like my mom when I was younger. At least you could see her coming. I recognize some of my dad's behavior as predatory. I try to be very careful to know what motivates my behavior: how much is for me and how much is genuinely for the benefit of the other person? Just because we feel we're doing something good doesn't mean we are. I still hadn't resolved the issue with my dad when the session ended.

I had Adolescent D at noon. It was an exhausting session that went nowhere. Hopefully, it's the darkness before the dawn.

I ate some lunch and did some weeding. Some miscellaneous blades of grass are impossible to kill. I use boiling water. they say, "You and who else?" I try to pull them out by hand. They say the same thing. They're tough.

Then, it was a Ulu Wini Day, as it is every weekday, except for Tuesday, when there are no organized activities for the children. Today, all the children were sitting at the long tables. The noise level was terrible.

I continued working with going-into-fifth-grade CL. I moved on to addition with regrouping. She was somewhat comfortable with that. Going-into-sixth-grade RM joined us. She did a few more problems using repeated subtraction to solve division problems. She did something a bit weird. I realized she was trying to use the standard division algorithm. I went over that with her. She got it somewhat, but I wouldn't bet on it yet.

Going-into- third-grade MV came by. I hadn't seen her all summer. She was also having severe problems with low-level math. She came from the same group of islands CL came from. There is much more 'backward' culture than the Marshall Islands' culture. There is little use for any formal education. I suspected MV had the same poor number sense that CL did. I asked CL to do the exercise with MV, which I had done with her. I meant for her to go around and count objects and write down the number. Instead, she did several double-digit addition problems without regrouping. I hope it did something.

Going-into-second-grade JM came to me to work on math. She did single-digit addition and did it well. Going-into-first-grade TR also wanted to work on math. She did single-digit addition problems on her own. If they're having fun, I can't imagine anything better.

Tuesday, June 18, 2024

I was exhausted last night. I had been exhausted most of the day, exhausted to the point of dysfunction. I finally reinstated the rules of place value in my mind sometime during the night. Having lost a firm grip on those principles was scary. I don't know the significance. I don't think about place value daily, but I have thought of it and how to teach it repeatedly for years. It's something that should have security embedded in my mind. Why did it get so mixed up?

I woke up around 3:30 and went back to sleep till 4. I finally got up around 4:30. Grief and loneliness weighed hard on my heart. After Mike died, my niece called to say she was concerned I wasn't dealing appropriately with his death. I told her it wasn't an issue now; I would deal with it when it became one. Boy, it has hit hard, and it becomes harder. I don't like loneliness.

I walked with Dean and Nina this morning. I saw them at quite a distance, but I wasn't sure if it was them or just white lines on the road. Those 'white lines' were changing their position in relation to the fences and houses. Then, I had to determine if they were moving toward or away from me. When I saw the 'white lines' at the bottom of one of the walker's legs, I knew it was Dean. He's the only one wearing white socks.

I mowed the streetside strip this morning. Peter's father weed-whacked the front strip we share. I mow it as a courtesy to my neighbor across the street, whose mailbox sits on that land. If it isn't cut back, she has to wade through knee-high grass to get to her mailbox.

Peter's dad's action was perfectly timed. I wouldn't have to mow their section, too. Patrick and I see mowing as a form of therapy.

I spent the day writing and pouring boiling water on weeds. Weeding with boiling water serves multiple purposes. It gets me up and moving on regularly. The water takes about five minutes to boil in the electric tea kettle. I sit and write for those five minutes. Then, take the carafe to the yard and pour the water directly on the weeds. It kills the weeds while doing minimal damage to the soil. Yvette expressed concern the boiling water killed the microbes. I checked with the state agriculture extension office. An expert said boiling water does not cause permanent soil damage. The microbe population is reinstated within two days.

I worked with Adolescent D. I find my work with him exhausting. It is just grueling. I'm sure he feels that way too. I opened up the possibility there were psychological factors. There often is a problem with students who fall behind in school. I asked him if he still believed he had to be perfect. He gave an emphatic No!. This was the strongest statement I had ever heard him make. He used to think perfection was the goal. I convinced him that pursuing perfection only guaranteed failure. Since perfection is impossible, failure is a certainty. If the goal is to be good enough, you have a chance of having some success. Some degree of failure is always accompanies learning something new or overcoming a difficulty. Still, success is possible with a good enough standard.

Monday, June 17, 2024

It was just me and Clyde on the bluff at Old A for Chi Qigong. It was another beautiful day; the mornings are always clear. The rains come in the afternoon or evening. While we usually do the repeated action 66 times, Clyde proposed only doing them 33 times because he had difficulty holding the count. I didn't argue with him because I had gotten a phone call from my friend Jean in Arizona. "Was I still planning to go to the bank for her?" Oh, dear. I had forgotten about it. I thought I had written it into my calendar. I hadn't. I was a bit disoriented by her reminder. I was anxious to get back to her.

When Clyde finished the sequence, I called Jean back. Of course, I could do it today. Today would be a perfect time to do it. Twenty-six-year-old SL had canceled for today because she was still recovering from surgery, so I had the whole morning free.

The bank would open at 9 a.m. I went to Target to pick up Dave's whole grain bread, raspberry jam, a pastry I craved, and a few cans of lentil soup. While I was there, I checked out the frozen sections for meals that were on sale. Amy's had a two-for-$10 sale. I couldn't take them with me now. They would defrost in the hot car while I was in the bank.

By the time I was through at Target, it was close to 9 a.m. I drove over to the bank. I got a parking space right in front, a good sign that others wouldn't be waiting to speak to a bank official. When I entered, I noticed the bank opened at 8:30, not 9. Oh, dear.

The layout of this bank was very different from mine. I walked up to one of the loan officer windows. "You have to sign in," without making it clear where I had to sign in. I noticed a good-sized screen. I signed in under my friend Jean's name. Now, I just had to remember when they called to respond.

I didn't see any place to sit, so I stood at the front of the bank. There were only two people available to see people. One was talking to a client; the other was busy with paperwork. I noticed there were seats at the back of the bank. I asked the loan officer doing the paperwork if I was supposed to wait there.

There were three people already sitting in the area waiting for service. I found a seat and observed them. The man to my left was busy reading something. An older woman across from me looked like she was playing games on her phone. The third person was a young woman with two young children, a boy of about seven and a girl of three. She was wonderful with them. Being in lonely mode 24/7 these days, I immediately thought of how devastated they would be if they lost her. The three of us waited and waited. No one came for us.

I turned to the man to my right. He said it was the third time he was there. They were understaffed, and the bank had been in chaos for at least a week. That didn't sound good. I thought maybe I should leave and come back. It didn't sound good like I was going to see someone today when a young woman came from a back office and asked us why we were there. I had Jean on the phone at that moment and handed the phone to the bank official. The young woman told me she had to check on something and she would be right back.

When she returned, she asked me to follow her to her office, a room to the side of the bank behind the booth I hadn't seen when I arrived. Janette continued her conversation with Jean over my phone. There was some confusion, and there were problems understanding each other. Janette stayed calm and helpful. She proposed calling Jean on her business phone. There were problems getting through. When she made the connection, I was free to leave.

I had to go to the bank for Jean because she had already spent several hours on the phone on hold. Then, when she did get someone, they couldn't help her unlock her debit card. Janette said she had the same experience when she called in as a bank client. Phone calls to the bank were handed over to a third party. They were unhelpful. She advised Jean to hang up and call back when she was switched over. Eventually, someone from the local branch would answer. I left, not knowing if this would work out successfully.

I went to PetCo to make an appointment for Elsa's grooming. Then I went to Target in the shopping center across the street and picked up nine of Amy's frozen foods I had seen on sale when I was there earlier. I went home and unpacked my groceries. I fit most of the frozen food into the freezer with ease. The ninth one was a problem. I made it for lunch, ate half of it, and saved the other half for dinner.

I didn't work with Mama K's girls this morning. Every Monday, they help at a food bank through their paddling club. Mama K gets the children involved in wonderful activities. Anything to keep them from playing games on the iPad.

I did more weeding of the large area where the Schefflera trees had been removed and the mulch was laid. I can only do so much of that at a time before my back starts complaining and it needs a rest. I finally looked at the Schefflera that Dan had just cut back lower down the property. It was happily putting out new shoots. The Stump Out either wasn't working at all or not working yet. I planned to come down and do some more damage.

I packed a bucket with my cordless drill, drill bits, squeeze bottles filled with Round Up, copper nails, and a ball-peen hammer. It was treacherous clambering over all the refuse Dan left when he cut the tree down was treacherous. I thought better of doing it without support. I got my cane before I took on the chore. I managed to drill holes in two or three of the trunks. The tree must have been cut back before. It put out shoots, which became trunks like a hydra. I have many more trunks to go. Before I do, I need to clear the area of debris so I can safely work there. Also, one trunk grew on Mei and Peter's side of the fence. I will have to ask them to take care of it.

I drilled holes in the wood exposed by the cut. I noticed that some came out grey while some came out cream-colored. The cream color was live wood, whereas the grey was dead. No point in putting Round Up in something already dead. I drilled diagonal holes on the side of the trunk, put the nozzle of the squeeze bottle, and squeezed. I stopped the moment the Round-Up overflowed the hole. This is the method Lutz recommended to kill unwanted trees. It's fairly quick, acting faster than just about anything else. This is important because a small portion of the poison is required and confined to the tree; its damage may be limited to the tree. I would do the copper nail trick some other day.

Lutz says copper nails are ineffective for killing trees. I used two on a twenty-foot haolo koa I cut down. Of course, I poured boiling water on all new shoots. It would be hard to know which worked. If both did, could one have worked without the other?

It was a Ulu Wini day. Every weekday during the summer break is a Ulu Wini day except Tuesday. The community center did not plan any activities on Tuesday, and no tables were set up outside the center where I could work.

I saw going-into-fifth-grade CL. The math stuck. She was able to do multi-digit addition and subtraction without regrouping. We started addition with regrouping today. She got it pretty quickly. This is not all my teaching. Teachers have struggled to teach her math for the last year since she arrived here in Hawaii. Now that she has developed number sense, she can use everything they've taught her.

I had an upsetting experience today while teaching CL. I considered teaching place value. When I started, I realized I had trouble remembering how it worked. I have taught place value a lot. I passed on teaching it to CL not only because it would be too confusing for CL but also because I was confused at the moment. My mind went 1, 10, 100, 101, 110. When I hit 100-100, I knew I was in trouble.

This is the first sign of a mental deficit I've experienced. It was a little scary. I assume I will have more. There's still so much I want to do with my life. My teaching methods are effective and easy to learn, and there are no method-specific materials to buy. You can use whatever you have at hand. For some teachers, the openness of the methods isn't a positive but a negative. It allows too much variation. They have to learn on the job. They don't understand; they can grab any printed material and use it as is. If they're intimidated by a word, skip it.

I learned today that CL is not Marshallese; she is Chuuk. The Chuuk Islands are a different group from the Marshall Islands. The two groups are in conflict at the housing center. Too bad.

I checked out the Chuuk Islands. Most of them have a population of under five hundred. Life there must be very simple; it is usually called primitive. The residents are unfamiliar with other cultures, and their people live close to nature. As I said yesterday, if CL's parents were to walk down a NY city street, everyone would stare at them. Country bumpkin doesn't begin to cover it. I feel so sad for these people and what they've lost having to move from their lovely Pacific Island.

The Chuuks are also known as the Truks. I read about them in the 1960s. Edward T. Hall wrote a book called The Silent Language, where he compared different cultural understandings of time and space. Boy, that book stuck with me. He compared American, German, and Spanish concepts of time. What a scream! Americans consider being five minutes late for a meeting being on time; at fifteen minutes, an apology is required; at half an hour, you'd better have a good excuse. For Germans, one minute late is on time; five minutes requires an apology; after half an hour, there'd better have been an emergency. For the Spanish, fifteen minutes late is one time; half an hour requires an apology, etc.

The Truk's were mentioned in this book. Someone came running up screaming about a fire as if it were occurring at that moment. They were referring to a fire that happened ten years earlier. I thought, and still think, that's a highly dysfunctional concept of time. I wonder if the Truks continue to see time that way. I'll check with Shauntel tomorrow.

I had going-into-second-grade KS. I had to call him over to me. I drew four parallel lines and asked him to write his name. Wow! That was quite a difference from where he started. I just showed him that the head of the g is the same size as the n, and the g's tail goes below the line.

No other children wanted to work with me. Besides that alarming experience when I couldn't remember how place value worked, I was tired and glad to go home. I tried to rest. It wasn't a satisfying one. There was clearly something wrong. Maybe I had a minor stroke. I remember when Mike had a brain scan while working in Columbus. There was evidence of a minor stroke. Neither of us remembered a time when he seemed to be having one. Small strokes must be common occurrences at my age.

I had an appointment with Adolescent D at 4. Then he changed it for 4:30 and then 5, when we finally met. I asked him how his job at Costco was going. He worked at the check-out counter as the cashier's assistant. Our work, analyzing the sound/letter relationship of each word, felt grueling. I wondered if I was losing my love of teaching or if there was some other reason. I usually take endless pleasure in this activity. I had to think it out.

When walking this evening, Elsa slipped out of her harness. Darby called in alarm when she saw it. Darby always walks Elsa in the evening; some think Elsa is hers. No, She walks her because she is still working on recovering from her stroke five years ago.

The UPS truck coming down the street stopped dead when it saw Elsa was loose. Everyone who drives in this neighborhood knows Elsa and knows she will 'attack' their car. I called Elsa and picked her up. Darby put the leash back on. It had been properly closed. We couldn't imagine what had gone wrong with how the leash was put on to make it possible for Elsa to slip out of it. Darby thinks it was put on too loosely. I think one of her legs must have been loose. All's well that ends well.

I didn't do any writing today. I was too brain-dead. I happily fell down the Bridgerton rabbit hole.

Sunday, June 16, 2024

The mother of going-in- 4th grade CH wasn’t in church today. She canceled a session for Thursday afternoon because she was ill. The plan was to speak after Mass. It wasn’t clear why she wanted to talk with me rather than reschedule my session with her son.

She called, saying she had heard of me through someone. She had just been told that her son wasn’t welcome back at the private school he’d been attending because of his poor progress in reading. She had him evaluated, and he was diagnosed as dyslexic. She said she didn’t understand what the report said. She tried to tell him the problem could be overcome with effort. Both Judy and I suspect there is something else going on here. She knows of a child with autism who attends the school without a problem. I thought at first the problem may have been that the mother harangues the teachers to make more of an effort to help her son. The other possibility is she has used denial and insisted there’s no real problem; her son is fine, and it will resolve itself. They kicked him out to force his parents to find help for him.

Whatever the reason the school kicked him out, I hope she will call me. I have an excellent track record for helping kids who haven’t been helped by anyone else. I also hope she isn’t just too sick to call. I worry about that, too. She has four school-age kids and is a loving mom.

I had going-into-fourth-grade MH today. She always looks sad. Today, I told her she looked sad and that she could talk to me if she wanted to. She said nothing. Afterward, I thought she might be thinking there was nothing I could do to improve her situation. That might be true. If she is having problems with someone, I probably can’t change the situation. I have to make clear to her that I might be able to help her cope with it.

MH’s reading is good. I would love to know her tested grade reading level at the end of the year. Her father thanks me for everything I’ve done for his children. I think he is more concerned about the psychological benefits than the academic ones, which is why he doesn’t terminate our relationship.

I continued as usual with Adolescent D. The work feels grueling. I wish I could think of something to do to make it feel better, but nothing has come to mind.

I continued watching, enjoying and being soothed by Bridgerton.

Saturday, June 15, 2024

It was a heavy grief day over one lost relationship or another. As an extravert, I always seek connection. I love loving people. I have someone who accused me of being a predator. Wow! I try to see it from their point of view. Suppose they're someone who has chosen to deal with the difficulties of childhood with avoidance. In that case, they spend their life avoiding too much connection. That keeps relationships with peers light; let's talk about baseball, cars, recipes, or music. But let's never talk about ourselves, and we should never discuss our relationship. I go in the opposite direction, for better and for worse. Let's not talk about ourselves, and let's never talk about our relationship. I've had my own missteps. I don't think there is any one way out of psychological and social difficulties.

I loved it when Isaac was here, and I watched some of the awkwardness in our relationship resolve. Sometimes, it just resolves without much fanfare. Sometimes, it requires overt discussion. It can be challenging if it requires more explicit discussion than implicit resolution of boundary issues. You never know which way it's going to go. You have to test the waters. You must ask for what you want, say no to what you don't want, and negotiate from there. It can be scary, especially when you haven't built up a supply of trust.

I think introverts who see me coming with a big smile on my face must see me as a local sociopath, someone who loves bombs and then blows up in their face. I learned the expression love bombing from Lutz. He married a local woman who turned out to be an honest, honest-to-God sociopath. She loved bombed him. Then, once they were married, she set about tearing him to shreds. He reports she once said about a woman she was befriending, "I've got her so she thinks I really like her and she can trust me. Soon, I'll start attacking her and watch her fall apart." Those weren't her exact words, but they capture the gist. Holy cow! Are there really people like that in the world. Scammers who sweet-talk you to get your trust are only after your money. This woman was after causing pain. She got off on schadenfreude.

Now, in all fairness, not all people who pull a bait and switch are sociopaths. They may suffer from a bad attachment pattern: they're anxious-avoidant. I think my mom was that way. She was passionate about her children. She put out intense, too intense, loving vibes. And then, when I got near her, she'd push me away in something close to disgust. It was hard. She had some sadistic tendencies. But from what I learned about her as an adult, she was as upset about them as everyone else. My poor mom. I remember craving closeness with others and pushing it away in absolute terror when it was an option. I resolved it when I learned to set my boundaries instead of relying on others to do it for me.

I only had Adolescent D today. We agreed that he can read single-syllable words with ease. He has remaining problems with multi-syllable words. I'm curious if he's okay with two-syllable words by this point. I'll have to watch for that specifically.

Netflix says there's a new season of Bridgerton, but every time I turn it on, I'm forced to watch Season One again. Maybe I watched the series on Amazon, so Netflix thinks I'm new to it.

Oh, the other day, I finally watched Crazy Rich Asians. What fun! It's not quite as good as my Big, Fat Greek Wedding, but it's enjoyable.

Friday, June 14, 2024

I woke at 2:20 a.m. and thought, "Oh, no!" It took a while, but I fell back asleep. The next time I woke up, it was after 4 a.m., which was good enough. I still stayed in bed. I shouldn't have. Any thoughts I have while lying in bed are more draining than when I sit up, even the productive ones.

This morning, the productive thinking was finding ways to help going-into-fifth-grade CL get basic math. Yesterday, I discovered she used her right brain to think of math. You need your left brain online, or you're sunk. Ideally, you need both to do well in math. The left and right brain, the abstract and the concrete, have to work together in math, especially the basic elementary school math, which is so closely connected to the concrete. Is that her problem, the lack of coordination between the left and right?

Then again, is it just a problem in math? Does she have a good memory for written words? Spoken words? Does she remember instructions her mother gives her? "Go to your Auntie and get a cup of sugar and a box of eggs." Can she hold on to those words until she gets to her Auntie's house? That would make it all left brain problems.

Then why does she have a problem getting her left brain online? Is there a neurological problem from birth? Did she grow up simply not using the left brain a great deal? She wouldn't have needed left-brain thinking if she came from one of the smaller Marshallese Islands. Is this a pattern unique to her family? If it is, it does not indicate a genetic condition as much as a learned behavior. When we synchronize with those around us or become attuned, we learn to be like them. How we use our brains is learned as much as behaviors visible to those around us are learned, like the language we speak or how we eat.

Then, there is the possibility that the problem is getting learned information into long-term memory. Can CL hold it in short-term working memory but does not deposit it into long-term memory? I've already asked her if she has seizures at night. Seizures reset the brain and wipe clean short-term memory before information can be passed on to long-term memory. That consolidation happens when we sleep. If so, does this affect just abstract information or concrete visual information, too?

This was my second day with IWT (Interval Walking Training). I came across a video on research conducted in Japan on senior citizens. IWT differs from regular interval training because it alternates slow walking with faster walking instead of low-intensity with high-intensity movement, appropriate for a healthy twenty-year-old. I set my alarm to go off after three minutes. There's not much difference between my relaxed walking and my energetic walking. For the intense three minutes, I swung my arms and lifted my legs more.

Because I was expecting Casey to come by to do some gardening work in the afternoon, I went to Ulu Wini in the morning today. I had told going-into-sixth grade CL I would be there early. She said she would be sure to be there. When I arrived, she was nowhere to be seen. I got the head of the social work team to call her parents. She arrived shortly afterward; so did her parents.

CL's family must have come from one of the smaller islands in the Marshall Islands. I don't know why they came to see me, but it was impressive that they did. Both the mother and father and two preschool-aged children. It was an intact family which responded to their child's needs. That sounds pretty good.

These poor folks must experience Hawaii as comparable to Mars. I can't begin to tell you how alien our world is to them. If they walked down a city street, everyone would stare at them as if they came from Mars. All the Marshallese grieve the loss of their homeland. They moved to Hawaii because the USA test bombing program made their home inhabitable. Not only do those folks not speak English, but they can't read or write in any language. They are helpless.

I asked them not to stay while I taught their daughter. Sometimes, having parents there is a good idea. I ask them to be there for a first session to assure their child they will protect them from me and support them if they feel uncomfortable. Unfortunately, some parents think protecting me from their child's inattentive or rude behavior is their job. No. I'll deal with that.

I wonder if I successfully communicated to these poor parents that I wanted them to go so CL could be in her most relaxed state. The kids have learned to trust me not to be judgmental; parents are too invested to ever let go of that with their children. Making judgments and correcting their children is part of their job description. They did leave. I will ask Josephine if she can arrange a conference with the parents with a translator. While the parents are babes in the woods, they deserve all the respect anyone can offer them for their courage.

When I had CL alone, I first wrote the numbers 5 and 4 on a piece of paper in the order. I asked which was the larger number. She picked four, the number to the right. I concluded she assumed the number to the right would be the larger, and she had no number sense. She did not connect the numerals with physical quantity. When l laid out the Cuisenaire rods, she could see which was the larger quantity. Anticiipating, the possibility she couldn't tell the difference when looking at numberals, I formulated a plan.

I grabbed a sheath of paper and pencil, told CL to follow me, and walked around the grounds counting objects. How many trees are in that space? How many cement lids are over there? How many cars are parked in this space? How many empty parking spaces? How many mailboxes? How many washing machines? How many dryers? After counting a set of objects, she had to write the number on the paper I was carrying. I asked her if this was helping. She said yes. If that was true, I assumed she made no visceral connection between the abstract numerals and the concrete objects she encountered. Children develop number sense by counting the objects in their lives- any and all.

When we returned to our seats, I gave her simple one-digit addition and subtraction problems. She asked for a number line, which I wrote. She has to learn to do it for herself. She was creating and solving problems on her own. I tried one double-digit addition problem without regrouping. That was too much. I'd try again on Monday.

I met with going-into-second-grade KG. I followed up on his handwriting. His hand grip was much more relaxed. I had prepared pages with printed lines he could use to practice his handwriting. The other day, I gave his father blank pages last to help KS practice. His dad had done nothing with him. Oh, so sad. I gave him the pages I prepared and told him to take them home immediately. There's a better chance KS will do the work on his own.

I had to grab going into third-grade SP. He announced it was moving to Spokane, which surprised me. When I spoke to Shauntel, one of the social workers, she told me they had just found out about it this morning. She suspected his mother was taking him there to live with an older brother, and then she would return to Hawaii. We do not anticipate this will go well for this boy. He has serious learning problems and is emotionally immature.

At 4:30, I had an appointment with a going-into-fourth-grade LG. This was my seventh session with him. He could read low third-grade material with ease now. He told me in one of our recent sessions that he had started reading road signs. Holy cow! That's something four-year-old emergent readers do. How did he cope in school?

He got stumped on two words: first, the word twenty. I guided him through the decoding process. I divided the words into syllables for him. A skill he has yet to develop. Did he know the sound /en/ made? No. I wrote the word ten. Did he know that word? What sound did the /en/ make? He struggled with that but got it. "Put the /w/ sound before the /en/; blend them." "now put the /t/ sound in front of /wen/." He got that and then was stumped on the /ty/. He didn't know what sound the /y/ made. I wrote the words mommy and daddy. Did he recognize those words? Yes. What was the final sound in the words? It took him a minute, but he figured it out. Then he had to go back and reconstruct the /twen/ and the /ty/ and blend those. He got the word.

A few words later, he hit the word thirty. Again, he declared he didn't know the word and acted like he didn't have a chance in hell of figuring it out. Again, I led him through the decoding process. /ir/? /th/ and /ir/? He got it but still couldn't figure out the word. He couldn't remember the sound of the /ty/ from the word twenty, which he had read a few minutes before. He was in a dead run, avoiding the work. Once he figured it out, he was angry at himself for missing an easy word. Oh, fun. Another perfectionist.

I have to teach kids to tolerate challenges, lack of perfection, not knowing, confusion, etc., etc. His mother came into the room. I thought she would push him, but no, she just wanted to say hello. I told her what was going on. She said he did that all the time. I assured her I would deal with it. Perfectionism and failure avoidance are as much a learning problem as word blindness, perhaps even more serious.

Darby came by in the afternoon to drop off the empty trash barrel. I asked her to come in to look at my permanently stain window. She noticed it was double-paned. Can you get a window these days with a single pane? She didn't know how to help me. When she left, I looked up stained double-paned windows. The stain was caused by moisture getting in between the panes. It must have something to do with a bad seal. When we did our evening walk, I told her what I had found. She nodded. Apparently, she knew that. She said a well-sealed window won't have that problem. I told her how I had hosed down the windows at the front of the house. She gave me a look of alarm. Using tap water on the glass will damage it. Our tap water contains silicon, which can etch glass. She felt slightly better when I told her I had squeegeed the water off the window. Many people hose the windows and then leave them to dry. Apparently, that's when the water does its worst.

Friday, June 14, 2024

Thursday, June 13, 2024

Today was my sister’s 79th birthday. She had a lovely day in her neighborhood in New Jersey; not too hot and muggy and with no thunderstorms. I remember Central Jersey in the summers, particularly Princeton, which was built on swamp land. It is compared to Mumbai.

I woke up too early and did some agitating, but not too bad. I dozed on and off until it was time to get up. I also thought about the new client I will meet for the first time this afternoon. His mom hired me, not realizing she knew me from church. We greet each other every Sunday. When I realized who she was, I texted her to identify myself. With church people, I always say I’m Deacon Mike’s wife. I suspect she didn’t know who he was from how she responded. That would be possible. She attended Holy Rosary Church before the pandemic. It hadn’t been used for masses since. She may never have met Mike or only seen him once or twice. Also, I did say I was his wife rather than his widow. That may have confused her, making her think of a current Deacon Mike. As far as I know, there isn’t one.

Darby came over to return the trash barrel. She told me she was burnt out from all the activity at her home. Five workmen were installing a fence. Patrick and Darby were very involved. I tried to share CDK’s dance to Someone I Used to Know. She watched it briefly and then averted her eyes. I was a little disappointed. I walked her out to get myself out and active. I walked her part way home and told her about my experience with a student with the 0-6=0 concept. She couldn’t take that in. Ah, I remembered: she was on overload. No more room in the inn. Her brain needed total rest after her day’s activity. I needed to apologize for my insensitivity.

Darby did get me out of the house. I turned on the hose and rinsed down and squeegeed the windows facing the driveway. It might not be enough to keep those windows from going to ruin as the ones in my closet area had, but it was the best I could do.

Today was my last update from 2023 until July. It was the day I fell and shattered my shoulder and my elbow. The regular updates will start again on July 1, 2003

I don’t have enough to do. like my mother, i love high energy output. when isaac and I worked hard and fast on Monday to get the side room windows and floor cleaned after moving the table before he had to leave for his flight back to the mainland, my down mood lifted.

It was a Ulu Wini day. I started with going-into-six-grade KS. I worked with him yesterday on his sight vocabulary but forgot to work with him on his handwriting. I wanted to see if he had made any progress. He had. his grip was better, but he still flicked the pencil, making poorly formed lines. I had him ride my hand while I formed the letters in his name and then reverse it., with me riding, and guiding, his hand. I could feel the stiffness in his hand and arm. I asked him if his hand hurt when he wrote. Yes. Did his arm hurt too? Yes. I didn’t know how to help him immediately. I asked him if I could pray. He was good with it. I asked what I could do to help KS. I often get good answers; I have no idea the actual source. Then I asked him if he was angry. He nodded.

I had a surprising experience in the 1980s. I did a month long class in Dallas, Texas, where I learned an Orton Gillingham method for teaching phonics from Aylett Cox. I lived in a dorm room by myself attending classes Monday through Friday and flying to San Antonio on the weekends to spend time with Yvette and her family. When I got ready to go home, I had this strange tension come into my arms. The muscles tightened up uncomfortably. I recognized it as familiar. I assumed it was anger. I was restraining my arms so I didn’t hurt anyone. It was upsetting to experience, as I was heading home to Mike and my mom, who lived with us the last eighteen years of her life. I didn’t understand the significance of it. I still don’t. Why did my anger, or was it just my restraint, return when I was going home to a loving home? Did I have anger at these two people I loved? I’m sure. Human relations are tough, but I didn’t experience anger that required continual restraint. Because of that experience, I thought that might be KS’s problem.

I don’t remember all of our discussion. I did ask him if he had ever hurt someone. Yes, he had hit another boy. I asked him if he hurt him? Did he kill him? No. Did he put him in the hospital? No. Did he need medical attention? No. He cried. I almost laughed. Maybe I did laugh. He didn’t do much damage despite his rage.

I explained the human condition to the boy. We all contain anger. We all experience anger at others. We all feel that impulse to kill occasionally. It’s just part of the human condition. Did that make him feel better? Yes. “If you didn’t do much damage when you were your angriest, you have nothing to worry about.” I laughed and told him it would be almost impossible for a boy to make it through to adulthood without having hit someone. He told me all the discussion made him feel better. I observed KS as he interacted with the other children. His face looked more relaxed, happier.

Going-into-first-grade AN came to me next. These kids ask for help. It’s a wonderful experience for me. She wanted to work on math. She could count up to 100 without difficulty. I gave her one digit addition problems. She did well. I taught her counting on using a number line.

Next going-into-second-grade KJ came to me. She wanted to work on reading. She is one of the students that had a huge breakthrough from her work with me. I gave her a low third grade passage. She read it flawlessly. Next we have to work on comprehension.

Going-into-sixth grade-ML and RM came to continue the work on subtraction with regrouping, It looked like they conquered it- for now. Let’s see if they remember it. We’ll find out when we go back to division using repeated subtraction. So far I’ve only given the kids problems like 600 divided by 4. Nothing requiring subtraction with regrouping. I will up the ante soon.

Going into sixth grade CL joined the group. It became clear she had trouble with all forms of math. She couldn’t do basic first grade addition. At first, I thought no teachers had tried to help her. She told me her teacher had worked hard with her, but she could never remember what she had been taught. I had to think about her. Why was she having problems with the most basic math?

Wednesday, June 12, 2024

I had Mama K's girls at 7:30, Which works out when they're up. Sometimes, they sleep in, and we have to do it later. I continued working on automatic processing with Twin A.

While Twin E is good at recognizing single-syllable words, she is behind her sister at decoding multi-syllable words. She's at the stage where I divide the words into syllables for her and push her to "read one syllable at a time." Getting poor readers to do that is a daunting task. They're used to guessing the word since they can't decode it. They keep returning to the first syllable in hopes the penny will drop. However, she is doing better in stating the text's main idea and supporting details. So far, everything we do is non-fiction.

I had an appointment with Shelly, my life coach/ therapist, at 8 am. I talked about feeling shattered. There was an interpersonal bad note, the announcement about the covid restrictions being completely overblown with disastrous results, and plans to demand proof of citizenship before being allowed to vote. That's a reasonable demand, but not if they get it in place before the upcoming election. Sitting with my shattered innards was the most effective. The visualization that worked was allowing someone hostile toward me to 'kill me' for the purpose of love and healing. I know; I know. It sounds counterproductive. But my discovery is that when it is done for love and healing for both people, not just one, it is healing. I saw the other person stabbing me. Then I saw shards of glass as large as coffee tables and end tables slicing through my body from back to front. It was very relaxing. It calmed me down.

I thanked Shelly for supporting me. There have been times when I proposed a visualization like that when she was inclined to stop me. She learned through the result that it can have benefits. The closest I can come to figuring out how it works is we put our anger in God's hands with positive intent. This can never feel like a plan of action. That's out. It has to be a lucid dream. So far, I have never had it go wrong. It always results in benefits for all parties. I don't know where I learned it. I don't use it often. But I've always been pleased with the results.

Judy called. She came home from her long weekend on Lana'i after visiting her son and his family. His musical production was performed while she was there, along with several birthdays. She was debating whether to go to work or not. She didn't want to for her sake, and everyone else she might have contact with. I told her I had N95 masks she could have. I left them in my mailbox for her to take. I found out afterward that she had chosen to stay home. She was reluctant to do that because she's in a 90-day trial period at Target. After it ends, she will be entitled to a pay raise and her choice of hours. Oh, well. I hope it works out.

I got a call from a woman who said someone gave her my name. Her son just finished third grade in a private school. The school told the parents he wasn't welcome to return for fourth grade because of his problems. They said the diagnosis was dyslexia. The parents had a formal evaluation done. The mother didn't understand the jargon. She said something about communication skills. It sounds to me like an audio-processing problem. I'll see what the evaluation says and come to my own conclusions. We made an appointment for Thursday at 4;30.

The mother gave me her name and her nickname. I asked about the origin of her nickname. She told me she was Polish. After I hung up, the penny dropped. She attended my church. I had observed her son. I could see something was amiss. Last Sunday, one of the parishioners spoke to me about working with the boy. I said I thought he might be out of my range. However, the mother told me of an exchange she had with him. She told him they would work together really hard and lick the problem. The boy told her that wouldn't work. This means he is not cognitively impaired. A cognitively impaired person cries and says no, or more to the point, can't make such an insightful comment.

Every day except Tuesday, Saturday, and Sunday is Ulu Wini day during the summer break. I enjoy working with the kids and the staff, which is incredible, as well as the community atmosphere. These kids come from a culture where kids run loose, and everyone watches out for all the kids. I sit at a table and watch children of all ages, sometimes only with their age group, and sometimes playing or caring for children of different ages.

Going into third grade, PL came to me first. She wanted to work on reading. I opened Reading Roots #37. It was much too difficult for her. I let her struggle and gave her the words when she missed them. I did no teaching. Next time I work with her, I will guide her through phonemic analysis- if she will stand for it. This young lady has ideas of her own.

Next came going into sixth-grade ML. She's the one who presented me with the problem of 0-6=0 and blew my mind. I understood it from her point of view, but I also had to get her to understand 'mine,' the conventional one. AI explaining the -6 in terms of debt. I suspected the concept of debt would be too abstract for her, too. I needed a concrete example that would fit her experience.

When she saw 0-6=0, she saw it from her perspective. She went to someone and asked for six cookies. The person said, "I don't have any." Therefore, she walked away with none, which equals zero. To see it conventionally, you have to picture it from the Giver's point of view. So ML asks for six cookies. The Giver says, "I have none. No, wait a minute, I have four unopened boxes in the closet." The Giver gets one box out (a ten Cuisenaire rod). She 'opens' the box, lays the ten cookies (ten units) on the table, and throws away the box (sets aside the ten bars). There are now 10 cookies on the table. Now, the Giver can give ML six cookies. How many does she have left? The three unopened boxes in the closet (hidden under a piece of paper) and the four remaining ones after ML walked away with her six. That seemed to make sense to ML. I'm not counting my success before they're fully hatched.

I love doing work like this. I love being blown away by another person's way of perceiving the world and then figuring out how to communicate either my point of view or a conventional one, as I did with this math problem.

ML continued working on division using repeated subtraction, as did going into sixth grade RM.

I called going-on-to-second-grade KS. I worked -again- on the sight word list. I noticed he slowed down as he reached the end of the list. I asked him if his mind felt jammed up as he read. I asked him if his head spun. Yes! Kids who are aware of the spin spend a lot of energy trying to slow or stop it. I showed him how to get rid of it with a spin release. His spin went from the center out and sped up as it went. He waited until it stopped independently, and I had him reread the list. It went more smoothly.

I've done the spin release with children for at least thirty years and never have had a bad outcome. The closest I came was with one boy. I tried it with him in second grade; he refused to do it then. I never push anyone into doing it. I have to trust their judgment as to what is good for them. I worked with him again when he was in fourth grade. At that time, he still couldn't remember a word from one sentence to the next. This time, he was cooperative. I explained the theory behind the spin to him. He said, "Oh, I thought it meant I was crazy." No. It doesn't mean that or, as some people prefer to believe, they're possessed by the devil. (I have to be careful I'm not working with a child whose religious beliefs focus on the devil.) It means a bit of confusion got stuck in the brain. That's it. Our minds are constantly churning.

I suspect they churn in circular motions just as our DNA does. There's a resting speed and an active speed. When we face unknown circumstances, even something at school, our brains go a bit faster, and the spin gets wider as we search our brains for something familiar. If the spin can't be resolved satisfactorily, it stays lodged in our minds. The spin release describes what it does; it releases the spin. If it's not released, the person has to fight constantly to keep it under control so it doesn't interfere with perception, learning, and general comprehension of the world. It can be bad.