When we got to the car, Deborah was struggling with her trunk. Her keys had slipped in there just as she was closing it. Five of us were engaged in helping her solve her problem. Finally, one of the men in the car body shop passed a metal rod. One of the yogis could slip it into the slightly opened window and pop the door open. He saved the day.
Sharry and I drove off. She had this billowing red thing she was carrying. I asked her what it was for. She was doing a hula rehearsal on the lawn downtown. She told me that she had been doing the Hula for 25 years and belonged to a group that performed and competed. Hula competitions are big here. They are also hell on the knees. Someone told me that Hula was never designed to be an extreme sport. Watch some of the competitions on the Internet ( Merrie Monarch); you'll see how they are now. She told me they are performing at 10 am on Saturday at the Queen's Palace on Ali'i Street. I will try to go.
When I got home, I played endless games of FreeCell, avoiding other activities, but I did start laundry. Then, I showered and got ready for school. I was there around 11:30, as planned. The parking was so bad that I couldn't find a place to stop so I could go to the office and sign in. Forget that. I drove to the lower parking lot, found a space, and walked to the classrooms.
D. from Mrs. B's class worked on letter naming. He didn't miss any letter names today but hesitated before naming some. He is more confident. I set him up to listen to the audio file on phonemic awareness, The Quiet Queen, on bandcamp.com. He says he is enjoying that. He also says he sees a big difference in his reading.
K. was next. She wanted to bring out an easy book. I asked her to bring out the grade level one that she was having someone read to her. She thought it would be too hard. Most of her problems are psychological, not cognitive. She read well on grade level. I asked her if she was surprised. She said yes. I told her I wasn't. She was wonderful. I could see her use word attack skills to figure out words. I told her that her improvement was all on her. I had only worked with her for five sessions. She gave me a big smile. It came out she felt she had to be perfect at everything. I asked her what happened when she wasn't. She was clear; nothing bad happened; it just felt lousy. I did EFT, tapping on myself, not her. "Even though I can't read perfectly, I know I'm safe," using Pat Carrington protocol. I hope she can show what she can do to everyone else soon.
Then, I switched to working with Mrs. D's class. With B, I discovered that he was distressed when he didn't understand what people said immediately. This included speaking to him in German after making it clear that I didn't expect him to understand. I did EFT on this: "Even though I don't understand what someone is saying, I know that I am safe," also using Pat Carrington's protocol. He said it made him feel better.
R. remembered two of the four words we covered the other day. I thought that was good since they were the ones she didn't know when we started. Then, I introduced the word they. She read that as there and them, despite repeated attempts on my part to help her internalize it into her memory. This is the first child I have worked with who I think had a neurological. I don't know if I can fix her. She was fully cooperative and a real trooper.
Mrs. D. offered C., who I had worked with on Friday, an opportunity to work with me. He was the child who had squirmed in his seat the other day. He said absolutely not. Wow! I thought he would be pleased to see me. I thought he would see me as someone who offered him some hope. I'm not sure what is going on, but there is no way I am forcing a child to work with me. Mrs. D. says he is the most work-avoidant child she has ever worked with.
When I came home, I worked on the blog and watched some TV but did not work on the books. I would have to reach shelves where I had to bend down, which is always challenging.
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Musings:
Here's another bug-a-boo of mine. I hate it when someone says, "It's not personal." Excuse me; if someone damages me physically, mentally, or emotionally, it is personal. It happened to me. Arguing that the person didn't specifically target me or that they were acting out of some personal history doesn't help. It still happened to me. I have to cope with the effects of their actions.
Here's an example of something that was not personal: Mike and I were in therapy together. The poor guy started sobbing and said that he sometimes wanted to push me in front of a car when we crossed streets. Now, that feeling was not personal. The man never did and never would have tried to push me in front of a car. In fact, given his feelings, he should be up for sainthood for how kind, considerate, and respectful he was of me – and loving. I knew his feelings related to his childhood experience, particularly with his mom. I understood that having those feelings was painful for him and not damaging to me. My heart went out to him. I felt so bad. Guess how I feel about his mother, who generated these feelings in such a good person?
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