Friday, July 22, 2022

Friday, July 22, 2022 

 

  I got up at 5:30 today because I had a 7:30 PT appointment. I had to walk the dog, feed her, shower, do my MELT exercise, and meditate before I left the house at 7 am.  

  Katie, my PT, said she had been at work since a quarter after six. She was catching up on paperwork. I told her about my week, how I hurt my leg on Saturday, straining it on the walk up and down a steep hill when the tree trimmers came to determine what needed to be done to preserve my view. Katie said there was a good chance it hadn’t been my overdoing it that had caused the problem. It is normal for there to be glitches in the healing process, reoccurring problems which resolved. She worked on relaxing some of the tense muscles in my left thigh. She worked directly on the muscles around the hip joint for the first time. Since the swelling was mostly gone, she was more comfortable putting pressure directly on the surgical site.

   I had a list of chores to do while I was in town. My first stop was at the UPS store to drop off some packing material for reuse. I hate to throw away what I don’t have to. The UPS store was already open at 8:30 am. As I pulled into a parking space in front of the store, someone got out of the car next to me. He was heading into the store. I asked him if he could take the large garbage bag with the packing material in for me. He was suspicious but then did it. I preferred not going in if I didn’t have to. That way, I didn’t have to put on my mask. Given how contagious this new strain of Covid is, I prefer not to be around others in an enclosed space.

   My next stop was Target. I went right to the exit to find the battery recycling bin. I couldn’t find anything labeled ‘batteries.’ When I checked with a clerk, I learned they no longer provided that service. Oh, well. I went on with my shopping. I needed more acetaminophen, dog pill pockets for Elsa, and distilled water for my desktop air cooler. While there, I checked if they had Hersey’s Milk chocolate with whole almonds nuggets or kisses. They sure did. At half the price I pay when I order through Amazon. I grabbed all four available bags of the family-sized packages. I planned to go to Safeway to pick up onions, Campari tomatoes, and Dave’s whole-grain bread. I was on my way to the checkout when it occurred to me to see if Target carried any of the last two products. Sure enough. Cheaper too. I called Judy and asked if she needed some tomatoes. She turned me on to this brand. OMG! They taste like the ones I knew as a child. So good!!! Target also carried Dave’s bread. I wasn’t surprised they had a plain yellow onion.

  Before I went to the transfer station to drop off cardboard for recycling, I stopped at Office Depot to see if they recycled batteries. Nah. They don’t do it either. When I looked it up online, it discovered no one recycles used batteries. Oh, well. The clerk said to try Atlas recycling. They have a booth at the transfer station. Correction: they had a booth at the transfer station. The homeless are the recyclers these days. I collect my refundable recyclables and give them to get the refund money. 

  Since it was still too early to get into Costco, my last stop, I drove up to the Foodbank to drop off a box of chicken ramen soup cups. I thought the soup would be good. Yuck! I liked their miso ramen; I thought the chicken must be great. Not! For the second time today, someone arrived just as I did, and I handed them the box without going into the store myself. 

  Costco wasn’t open yet when I pulled into the parking lot. I got in the waiting line. At the far end of the building, a group of people were doing light yoga exercises. They were employees waiting for the opening along with the customers. Walking around the store, I saw some of them with brooms sweeping. 

  One of the expensive items was after was on sale. I bought three of them. Because the store opened before 10, the official opening time, I was out by 10:30 and home by eleven. 

  The Wordle word for today was triste. I missed getting the answer four days ago. I often get the hard ones and miss the easier ones.

  At noon I had my second appointment with seven-year-old L. Today I had her under better circumstances than last time. She sat at the kitchen table; her image was in the middle of the screen, the lighting was good, and her mother wasn’t there to correct her. I have had several uncomfortable encounters with the mother. She “knows’ how everything should be. She has unwavering confidence in everything she knows and won’t consider another point of view. Not my cup of tea.  

  I had a good time with L. She revealed her ‘diary.’ As far as I knew, she couldn’t read or write. The diary was filled with sketches. The one I saw wasn’t particularly good. If she keeps it up, she may be good eventually. Knowing she was inclined toward art, I tried a BrainManagementSkills exercise. I had her visualize her blanket. When I asked where she remembered it, she pointed to the bridge of her nose. This was a new one. I pushed her to use the center of her forehead. I might have to reconsider that. Maybe she was showing me something new. I had her write her name on the blanket and read the letters forward and backward. She could ‘read’ the first three, reading the letters from left to right. When I asked for the last two, she could recall them. Then I asked her to name the letters starting with the last letter and moving to the first She was able to visualize them, but she named the letter e as b. I asked her to reconsider its name. She went through the alphabet and correctly named the letter e, an excellent strategy, but why does she get confused so easily?

  I asked her if she wanted to fix the problem with missing naming letters. She said, “No!” She liked it when she did it, and her friends laughed. Great! I pointed out she would probably have trouble learning to read if she didn’t fix it. She told me she didn’t have problems reading. I showed her the story we worked on last time. She could identify the word a, the, and cat. That was it. I pointed out she didn’t have the problem of misnaming words when she read because she couldn’t read them.  

  I had proposed writing a story together at the beginning of the class. I opened a new document. She asked how she could draw the story. I told her she had to use words, and I would write it. No, she wanted to draw it. When I made clear she didn’t have a choice, she told a well-structured story. 

  Her mother texted me when the class was over to ask how it went. I called her. I told her what she had said about not wanting to change. The mother told me the girl was saying that because she was insecure. That certainly was possible, but I wasn’t convinced. She seemed sincere, and it would be a sophisticated scam for a seven-year-old to pull off. She insisted her daughter did not mean what she said. I replied that I didn’t know. Please, don’t tell her what to think. Let me guide her. If she did take action to control the situation, I would have to quit. She was interfering with my way of working. The mom is entitled to have someone who does what she wants. She should hire someone who will do that. It’s not me. I have a very different approach to working with students than shoulding them. I want to know who they are. You can’t get people to change unless you know who they are in the first place. You can’t solve a problem unless you acknowledge it.  

  When I thought about my conversation with the mother afterward, I thought maybe she was saying L embraced the way her mind worked as compensation. If you have a lemon, make lemonade and call it good. There’s just ‘saying it” versus believing what you say, embracing a defense as a good thing. The defense may solve one problem. Unfortunately, it could create several more serious ones. 

  On my evening walk with Elsa, Mei approached me, asking if I would consider tutoring her six-year-old daughter. She was concerned she couldn’t teach her proper English. Mei speaks with a Chinese accent and makes some grammatical errors, but she is understandable. I assured her that Anna would learn to speak English despite her mother’s limitations. I told her my story; it’s the story of most children born to immigrants. We learn from our peers. If we are around peers who speak standard English, that’s what we learn to speak. 

     I don’t like to push young children into tutoring. If Anna were under six, I couldn’t have considered it. I had someone ask me to tutor their four-year-old in letter formation. I turned down the job. I disagree with pushing children to learn to read earlier than five or six. I like the Waldorf philosophy, which says to work on language skills and storytelling skills in preschool and the first two years of regular school. Only start teaching children to read at the age of seven. I told Mei I would only work on Zoom. I prefer it in several ways to avoid direct contact and exposure to Covid. 

   Judy might be interested in tutoring her. Judy would meet with her in person and has training and experience. Judy had the same reaction I had. Anna didn’t need tutoring in English. She would be fine.

    Darby called to ask me if I wanted a pink shirt. Her mom had sent her one in the wrong size, and she didn’t wear pink. She also asked me if I knew a neighbor she had run into. I didn’t recognize the name. The man asked about me; he hadn’t seen me. I was blessed to live in a neighborhood where people look out for each other. I remember the world being like that when I was a child, although it wasn’t always to my advantage. Neighbors reported my behavior to my parents when I preferred they not. No one is reporting on me nowadays. It’s all good.