Saturday, April 15, 2023
This is the day the IRS made; hang your head and be sad. No, I don't really feel that way. I wish more of my taxes went to people in need instead of the military. One of the NPR programs argued that people would be happy to pay taxes if they could decide where their money went. Interesting idea. I would love to experiment with it. But what would we do with those who think they shouldn't have to pay taxes and should receive all the benefits? This applies to the rich as well as the poor. Extreme forms of entitlement aren't attractive.
I woke early, thinking I had an eight-a.m. appointment with Mama K's crew. I signed on to Zoom at eight and waited for a response. I called Mama K. No answer. I called again immediately. One of the twins answered. "My mom is getting dressed." I was surprised.
Mama K had told me we would have to work on the phone today because she had to leave early to find a place to park on the parade route. Because I got to them before they left the house, I worked with the twins before they had to go. I apologized to Mama K for calling so early. I forgot we usually meet at nine am on Saturdays so she can sleep in. She said, "No worries. It worked for me. You got me up." I would work with K once they got settled on the parade route. I never heard. I texted her. She said they were still looking for a spot. Fourth-grade K is doing much better. I wasn't concerned about him.
As for the girls, Twin A read at a mid-second-grade level. She was slow, but it was at an instructional level. This was her first reading today. On Wednesday, she will read it a second time. If she reads it with better fluency, I will test her comprehension. If not, we'll save that selection for a third reading. I can't imagine we will proceed step by step to the third-grade level. We will have to do more work on the second-grade level. We'll see. Maybe she'll surprise me.
Twin E read a piece for the first time. She is going better but still struggles at a pre-primer level. I plan to have her on a first-grade level by the start of the fourth grade.
The days feel slower. Not good. I still got some stuff done. I finished cleaning the lanai of dog poop stains. After much procrastination, I did work on my "in case of my death' document. I have a will, but I need to address other issues not covered by it. That's what this document is for. I made major revisions today. I think I will finally have a form that I will be satisfied with.
I was supposed to have first-grade Steven today around four pm. He and his mom had been out most of the day. Mom called while they were driving home in the car. Steven didn't want to work with me. His mom told me today he decoded the word April. This is what I have been hoping would happen. Mom said they did more figuring out the individual sounds in words without looking at letters first. Sometimes, she initiates it; sometimes, he does. If he does that, he doesn't need me anymore, at least not for now. That took all of two hours. Mom also told me she has become more aware of Steven's speech problems. He mispronounces and drops sounds. She has been playing The Phonics Discovery System 5 Stories audio files for him every night. She said she thinks the audio file is affecting her.
I told her not to work on Steven's speech differences yet. Focus on honing his auditory perception of the speech sounds. Don't link the process to letters. Sometimes, give him the sounds of a word and ask if he can figure out the word. Sometimes, say the word and figure out what the individual sounds are. As his perception of speech sounds improves, some of his speech problems may clear up. Then there can be some back and forth with," You say it that way, and I say it this way." The process should be judgment-free. You're not teaching the 'right' way to say it. Steven's a bright child. He'll figure out he has to change his speech production to communicate with people. I worked in a program teaching English to Spanish-speaking welfare mothers. A colleague of mine adapted her speech to better communicate with the students. She couldn't speak Spanish but used a Spanish accent and incorporated more Spanish words.
I ran into my neighbor Carol on my before-dinner walk. She had an inground infinity pool built. She offered me access to the pool to cool off on hot days or do water aerobics with her. I love this neighborhood.
The other day, Lutz told me he had looked all over this island and that this neighborhood was the best to live in. There are several reasons. One, we live in the sweet zone, between seven hundred and one thousand feet altitude. Lower, it gets hot and sticky. Higher, it gets cold and damp. Yvette and Josh lived at fourteen hundred feet before we bought this house. They had to wipe the moisture off the walls. Everything rotted. Our road has light vehicle traffic. It is a through street, but it is sandwiched between two others. People from higher up take the above road; people from lower down take the road below us. People from all over the development come to exercise on our street because it is flat, quiet, and shaded. Boy, did we ever luck out!
As I was talking to Carol, Scott drove by. He was off to town to buy something for Yvette and Josh. Josh had an adventure today. He came across an old man who fell while on his postal route. It took him an hour to get him to where he had to go to get help. Then Josh had to come home to change his clothes; he was covered in blood. It will be interesting to see how his supervisor responds to his actions. Anything is possible with this post office. It is just as likely that he will be reprimanded as he will be praised. No, it is more likely that he will be reprimanded. Scott went out to pick up dinner for Josh and Yvette.
I'm about finished with Wright's book on Why Buddhism is True. At the end of the book, he summarizes the statements he thinks are true. The idea of not-self is on that list. I saw a new definition, one I disagree with. Self apparently is only the conscious mind. He talks about meditators observing the 'mind that thinks itself." If I understood what I read correctly, we are not responsible for that mind which thinks itself. Holy cow! How's that for not taking responsibility for what we put out in the world. Here's my mom claiming she didn't do harm because she didn't intend to do harm. She wasn't responsible for acting out. That means all you have to do is deny unconscious motivation. That puts me in conflict with some Buddhist ideas.
Yvette's new puppy was fine today. She ate and drank normally and explored the yard on a leash so her stitches didn't rip out.
Black gnat season has arrived. If you leave out a glass of juice, you'll find it sealed with a layer of dead bugs. It's most annoying. The good news is they don't bite.
I watched more of Schmigadoon, Schmicago. Wow! The allusions to other dark shows, Sweeny Todd, Hair (not that dark), besides Chicago. The dance numbers are incredible. The nightclub scenes are all Fossesque. I love his choreography. I could have done a lot of those moves when I was young. Fosse had no turn out. Neither do I.
Sunday, April 16, 2023
I was awake at a ridiculously early hour. I managed to doze a little and get my morning-in-bed exercises done. I was up shortly after six am. I had church today. I made it there in plenty of time. I got a space in the church parking lot. Fewer people were sitting on the south lanai than usual. The large extended Samoan family wasn't there. The two men from the family who serve as ushers were: Maybe the rest of the family sat inside the church with the refrigeration.
The priest of the mass was the one I didn't particularly like. His presentation is closer to hell, fire, and brimstone speaker than instructions on how to be a good person than I like. He also speaks with a strong foreign accent. I can't even understand what he says. Just as well.
Fr. Lio asks for weekly money for a new 'chiller.' The huge air conditioning unit, which is necessary to cool the church, is rusted. The church is one block from the seashore. The salt air does a number on metal. Judy told me it is kept cold because he suffers under his vestments. Fr. Lio may be comfortable. The rest of us have to don winter clothes to be okay.
After mass, I looked for Judy and Paulette. I noticed that one of our parishioners was extremely thin. Was he okay? Judy was talking to someone, but Paulette was free. She knew the man was sick, but she wasn't sure what his problem was.
Don approached Paulette and asked if she knew the name of this young couple's new baby. No, she didn't. The parents were Patricia and Andrew. Their first child was Joseph. Since this family sits on the south lanai each Sunday, I was assigned to learn the new baby's name. I discovered that Patricia was a teacher. As you can imagine, that perked up my ears. Might she be interested in what I do?
I was about to head home when I remembered I had a Costco package of Pull-Ups in my car. I walked back to my car and got the package. As I approached the steps to the church, I saw a young couple coming down the stairs. I asked the young man if he could carry the package up to the greeters for me. I need both hands to hold the box. There's no way I'm climbing stairs without holding on to a rail. Those days are gone.
I stopped at Target to pick up more Nature's Miracle. I hoped to find something that would actively dissuade Elsa from pooping on my lanai carpet. No such luck!
At two pm, I had third-grade KPS. I was prepared to work on academics. She told me her teacher commented on how well she did on division. I did discover one glitch at the end of the session. KPS wanted to play school with her as the teacher. Sounded good to me. She led me through a division problem. She divided 5 into 784,032. I started with the question, "How many times does 5 go into 7?" She didn't know anything about this approach. Which one of us is missing the point? Are they teaching a different procedure now? Who can I ask? Ah, Elijah. I called him after I was through with KPS. It took a minute to get him to understand my question. Dealing with each digit as I did was the only procedure he knew. I have to figure out KPS's confusion- or mine.
I proposed working on reading. KPS said, "Isn't this session where I get to talk about myself?" Okay. In the previous sessions, she talked about her stressful situation with her mom. KPS lives with her grandmother. KPS's mother was not fit to care for her when she was born. In our last session, KPS complained about how her mom often yelled at her. I spoke a lot about my childhood situation with a problematic mom and how I survived and had a good life. I also talked about setting boundaries with her. However, I was in my thirties when I did it and in a strong relationship with the man who became my husband. Setting boundaries with a difficult person is risky. You can lose them for good.
Today, she had only good news. She was doing much better in school and with her mom. I asked her what made the difference. She said, "You." Wow! I know I'm good, but I have no idea what I did that caused this change.
She told me that she told her mom that she didn't want to be spoken to harshly. (Not her words.) Her mom made an 1800 in response. Wow! The two of them fight over which one loves the other more. They are happy with each other. Holy cow! Did I do something to make this possible? If so, what?!!! When I told her how I set boundaries with my mom, I warned her it might be risky and that it was asking a lot from a nine-year-old. It sounds like she took the risk, and it paid off. Holy cow!
KPS's grandmother agreed that we should meet twice a week, one for academics and one for personal issues. I wanted to support KPS in dealing with all the difficulties she has with her mom. Looks like I won't have to serve this function. Hmmm! I can't imagine Mom doing this well all the time. I must speak to her grandmother to tell her what is going on. I don't want to get paid for something her grandmother doesn't want. We'll see. I'm a bit confused.
At four p.m., I had second-grade M. I asked her how she was doing in math. They were still working on adding multiple two-digit numbers by tens. She described the process perfectly, and it was clear she was strong in this area. We worked on reading.
I used a third-grade story I got from an online service. M made many small errors along the way, but she corrected them. Her decoding was good. Her comprehension was excellent.
While my arms felt better, my right hip felt worse. My PT, Katie, said she was concerned that the pain I reported while walking in my right hip indicated arthritis. It feels like my left hip did before I got the hip replacement. I limited my step goal on my pedometer app to 5,000 from 10,000 after the fall. My right foot feels much better. It's neither broken nor sprained. It's just badly bruised, black and blue. It's not 100% better, so I'm still taking it easy. I will have to continue the limited steps now because of my hip. I considered contacting my orthopedic surgeon to ask for an evaluation. Maybe I'm up for a second hip replacement. I'm not having problems with the first one, and I love this surgeon.
I texted Sandor that the eyeglass frame was damaged when I fell. I didn't see it at first. I've had trouble with glasses ever since I had cataract surgery. I wasn't worse off after the surgery, but neither was I better off. My failing eyesight is a bother. I do so much with my eyes, reading and writing, mostly on electronic devices. It's all hard on my eyes. Sandor had already ordered the new lenses for my eyeglasses. He assured me he could find a frame that would be good with the new lenses.
Sandor asked how I was recovering from my fall. The biggest problem is my infected index finger. I broke a nail as I fell, and it punctured my cuticle. We poured hydrogen peroxide over the wound. I learned hydrogen peroxide is good for only three months after it's opened and only a year unopened. My container had been open for the last ten years. It couldn't have done much to clean out my wound. I have been soaking my finger in hot water with Epson salt and applying tea tree oil. It seems to be working, but it's not eliminated. I may have to take antibiotics. I have some on tap to be used for my dental procedures. I need to do that for the next two years because of the hip replacement. Sandor said he could give me amoxicillin if I needed it. I ordered more online from Kaiser. It will have to be approved by my doctor.
Sandor and I shared infected finger and toe stories. He had an awful, infected toe. He went to the emergency room in this small Ohio town where he attended school. His doctor was blonde and blue-eyed. When the doctor punctured his infected toe, Sandor cursed in Spanish. The doctor said in perfect Cuban Spanish, "Watch your potty mouth!" Both men asked each other what they were doing in the middle of Ohio. Sandor was attending school; the good doctor was doing his residency.
I told the story of an infected hangnail. It looked like the infection was gone, but my mom recognized it was just encapsulated. On her advice, I went to a doctor. He offered to lance it or give me antibiotics. I took the prescription, but I was sure he was wrong. I went about my day. I visited my mom in her mother-in-law's apartment in the late afternoon. "Hey, Mom. Look at this red line." My mother calmly said, "That's blood poisoning." I went to the drugstore immediately to fill out the prescription. I am watching my infected finger for any red lines.
I started watching Yellowstone last night. Maybe not. Shimicago is almost too much for me. Besides, the next episodes of Schimicago and Ted Lasso weren't coming out till next Wednesday. I watched some of Season 4 of The Marvelous Mrs. Maisel.
Monday, April 17, 2023
Elsa and I had an eight am appointment with the vet. She needed her shots updated. I asked to have her ears checked but not to treat her skin condition. I was dealing with it. While I could go inside and be with Elsa, I chose not to and waited in my car as I had during Covid. The vet called. These young vets, fresh out of school, want to fix everything. The vet's voice vibrated with alarm and excitement. Elsa had a terrible ear infection, and it was directly related to her skin condition. No one had ever told me that before. They were treated separately. Previously, the vet gave her a shot of something good for a month. I couldn't get her ears wet.
Had I tried hypoallergenic food? Yes. Had the medications the doctor prescribed worked? No. Did I bathe her regularly? Yes, I lied. I try to do it once a week. Those last words reflect my good intentions, not what I actually do. When I checked the calendar, it had been a month between her previous two baths. I'm supposed to do it at least every other day when her skin is bad, using this antiseptic soap I get through the vet. I also learned the foam they recommended is a cleanser rather than a medicine. Keeping her clean is the key.
Because my right hip bothered me on this morning's walk, I messaged the orthopedic surgeon who performed my hip replacement last June. I love this woman. She talked to me, assuming I was a reasonably intelligent human who would understand her medical explanation for my problem. It made a huge difference. I don't trust people who feel I should accept everything they say because they are experts. By midday, I had a phone call from her appointment nurse.
Dr. Salassa had an appointment available for noon the following Monday. I need to get a new X-ray of my right hip. June, here I come. Who is June? The X-ray technician at my local Kaiser clinic. We've become bosom buddies.
I was exhausted early today. I haven't felt 100% for a while. I didn't know what the problem was. I wake up feeling good. Then I need an hour or two nap around ten am. When I got up, I finally got the courage to call the church to see how much it cost to put an ad in the bulletin. I figured I would be doing the church a favor even if I didn't get any business from it. I was surprised to learn that there might not be any more room. Usually, both sides of the last page are devoted to ads. The back page is full, but the other side is primarily pictures of church events. I've always interpreted that to mean they were short on ads. The person on the phone said they would ask Fr. Lio if there was room for another ad. She asked me what it was about and my name. It occurred to me later that she didn't ask for my number. Did she know who I was and figure she didn't need to ask, or did she forget?
Paulette texted to tell me she would be home after eleven if I wanted to come up and get Kangen water. Elsa went nuts when I picked up the blue bottles for the water. She was so excited. Elsa loves visiting Auntie P. She throws a cat toy mouse to her the whole time.
As I started up the long driveway, Elsa was almost groaning. Knowing how obsessed she was with Auntie P, I had no compunction about letting her out at the bottom of the long driveway. Elsa took off. I honked the horn to attract Paulette's attention; she was in the driveway doing some tree trimming. Elsa came back to me. I couldn't move because I didn't know where she was. Paulette called her. It took several tries before Elsa charged up the driveway to Paulette and that toy mouse, and it was safe for me to drive the rest of the way.
Paulette, Elsa, and I retired to their outdoor lanai. Paulette and I talked story. We also talked about grief. We're both widows who miss our husbands. Are we better off for our happy marriages? I hear some women talk about how happy they are to be alone. I miss being loved and loving.
I came home to continue working on the updates. I fall behind so easily. All I have to do is miss a day.
I had Adolescent D at two pm. We continued working on his need to do nothing. He said to me, "Did my mom talk to you? I got out of school early today; now. I have to go early." Huh? He was inarticulate. I wonder how much poor verbal expression skills are behind his problems. As it came out, his sister was in a play, and he had to leave early to attend it. It was hard getting information out of him. His mom was already at school. His dad was home and driving them there for the performance. It would have been good if his mom had arranged an earlier session. I had the time.
Darby heard Elsa bark as we passed her house on our before-dinner walk. She quickly threw on shoes, grabbed a mask, and rushed out to catch up with me on the last lap of my walk. I realized I was down; I had been down since Monday when the dentist did a number on my head with his pessimistic talk. I had consciously pushed those aside; no point in thinking about it. But my body had not let go. Talking to Darby lifted me a bit. Hopefully, I will be up to full steam again tomorrow.
I heard a talk on one of my Sunday NPR shows about having three brains, the one in my head, the one in my heart, and the one in my gut. How's that for twisting words. We have three decision-making centers. They are often in conflict, but we have only one brain. Those other centers are the nerve ganglion in the heart and the one in the gut, but they are not brains. The brain is the organ in the head.
I tried to watch an episode of Mrs. Maisel last night. Amazon had a technical problem. I finished watching Madama with Toni Colette. Wow! The movie is great, except it's a downer. No, it's not violent, but it does not show off the best of humanity. That's all I want to see at this point. I found another movie on Amazon, Mrs. Harris Goes to Paris. It looks delightful. I will finish watching it tomorrow night. It's a movie Mike and I would have loved to watch together. We had similar tastes. While he had more tolerance than I did, neither of us could stand violent or scary movies.
Tuesday, April 18, 2023
Steven's mom called me at six thirty in the morning. It was when she was free. Steven was in school, and her first meeting was twenty minutes away. He was zooming ahead. They talked about the sounds in words every day. It was a fun activity. Steven's mom shared a video of Steven talking about the planets. He gave a presentation from memory worthy of a functioning high functioning high schooler. I wrote to his mom, saying that she had a problem. It was partially a joke, but only partially.
In our culture, we value high-functioning people. If a mom has a super bright kid like Steven, she thinks she hit the jackpot. It was a Puerto Rican welfare mother, an English student of mine, who taught me a different point of view. She said in her community, parents are concerned if their child is exceptional. Raising a special child, whether the child is exceptionally low functioning or exceptionally high functioning, is irrelevant. They are both problems.
I remember reading once that there is a tragedy in everyone's life. Still, the greatest tragedy is to have your tragedy be exceptional. If we share the same problem, we're okay.
Steven's mom and I discussed problems in school with his teacher. She refuses to make any modifications for Steven. I can understand Steven's mom's point of view, but classroom teachers can't afford to think like that. Teaching a group of twenty-plus kids is hard enough. Focusing on each child's individuality is crazy-making.
Classroom teachers must think in terms of types. Here's an analogy. We are exposed to many kinds of fonts, all variations in letter formation. Think of having to consider those differences as you read. With any luck, you're hardly aware of them. Reading would become impossible if you focused on those details. Similarly, teachers think in terms of grade placement. This child is a first-grader; this is what they should learn and what I must teach.
Many years ago, this wonderful principal shared his insights about me. He said I was very unusual. Most people who thought as I did leave teaching children and went into higher education. Wow! What a gift. I thought something was wrong with me, that I couldn't adjust to the classroom. However, this is where I belonged. If I'd gone into college teaching, I would never have developed the teaching methods I did. It would have been another box. I don't do well in boxes. Working with kids who had problems learning permitted me to focus on how people learn and address issues at that level. While it makes me sad beyond words to see my accomplishments all wind up in the dead letter box, I had a blast developing them, and I have helped hundreds of kids and some adults.
Classroom teachers are comparable to movie directors. They have to hold the big picture; they can't focus on details. They hire people who know their jobs, understand what they want, and give it to them. When it comes to acting, helping an individual actor make those adaptations is up to the acting coach. They work with the actor one on one. It's unreasonable to ask a director to do the job of the acting coach or the acting coach to do the job of the director.
On the other hand, I have heard actors talk about directors who understand the actor's perspective because they have been actors themselves. Some directors are better at adapting their direction for actors. I have never heard acting coaches criticized for being unable to direct a film, just directors for being insensitive to the needs of the actors. Teachers have to lead classrooms of children for a whole year. No movie director faces a challenge like that, and movie directors are well-paid with plenty of vacation time between films.
I finally sprayed the crepe myrtle in front of the house. I hope I did it early enough before the sun was too high in the sky. I used horticultural oil to kill dust mites. If you apply that stuff when the sun is high, the oily substance can act as a magnifying glass, damaging the leaves.
I made a fruit salad with yogurt and granola for lunch. I usually buy fresh blueberries. They last a surprisingly long time. Last time, I decided to try the frozen ones. Well, that was a disaster. I can't take them out of the freezer and use them; they have to be defrosted before they taste like blueberries. The defrosted blueberries go bad more quickly than the fresh, unfrozen ones.
I heard a creak in my attic while typing today's entry. Whenever I hear such a sound, I remember when a house guest heard something walk across my roof. I didn't hear it then, and I had never heard anything before or since. However, yesterday, Paulette told me how the rats ran across Judy's metal roof at night until they had the huge tree overhanging their house cut back. The rats here are Polynesian. They live in trees during the day and come out at night. The island is awash in rats and mongooses. Why? The mongoose was imported to kill the rats. Only one small problem: the rats are nocturnal, and the mongooses are diurnal. They never meet. How about a bit of research before setting a plan in motion?
I was stunned the other day to learn that people born blind can learn to see after corrective surgery. I had learned there were neurological windows for learning. The brain could never recover if you didn't get the necessary sensory exposure in that window. If I understood what I read correctly, a blind person's brain can adjust after corrective surgery in two years.
If you need clarification about this, here's the issue. While the eyes transmit information about the outside world, our brains make sense of it. Babies aren't born understanding what they're seeing or feeling. There's a good chance they don't know where they end, and the crib begins. They learn it over time. I don't know how long it takes to realize that basic distinction or how long it takes to learn to see, but it does require learning.
When blind people come out of corrective surgery, they can't understand what they see. It's all an abstract painting. It takes the brain two years to learn. The implications are enormous. This is a testimony to neuroplasticity. It means we can overcome any deficit.
I had a session with third-grade J and his sister, first-grade Iz. Third-grade J has no learning issues; he has trouble controlling his anger. He told his parents he was angry because they weren't together. Their parents aren't just divorced; they are often in conflict. The father is an active alcoholic who writes terrible texts to the mother, unpublishable. The mother is often overreactive when things don't go her way. I dealt with J as with KPS; I told him about my own and other survivors' stories.
I told him to keep an eye on his adulthood. At eighteen, he will be out of his parents' care. He had to decide who he wanted to be. Did he want to be like his dad? If not, he had to start figuring out other ways to deal with difficult situations. I affirmed that his situation was difficult and not his fault. He did nothing to cause these problems. They were there before he was born.
I also told him Brooke Shields's story. Her mom was an alcoholic. She said she worried about keeping her alive. Children who have unreliable parents worry about stuff like that. I listed the people who would be there for him, his grandmother and uncle. He would be safe. I asked if this story helped. He said yes. He said yes to all the stories I told.
I also told him that while he had to be the adult, his parents had the legal right to that adult status. I told him what my father said when I tried to disobey him. He said he didn't have to be right; it was his legal responsibility to make decisions for me, and I had to respect that until I was of legal age. I loved that he didn't declare he was right because he was the adult, and I was wrong because I was the child. Parental authority isn't based on who's right and who's wrong. There is only a statistical chance that the adult's point of view is better than the child's.
I told him another story: I told my uncle I was so unhappy when I was seventeen. He said, "Compared to the rest of the world, your suffering is trivial. Some people suffer much worse circumstances. But everyone's suffering is relative to their own experience." I told J about the children in Ukraine who have lost their parents and are wandering alone in bombed-out cities. Some words Shelly taught me came out of my mouth. I feel your pain. All this calmed him. It has a calming effect on kids when I tell them stories about adults who suffered difficult childhoods.
When I told J that childhood is hard, he agreed. Are there some who have easy childhoods and are truly carefree? I hope so. That wasn't my case, and it's not J's.
I worked with his first-grade sister next. Something had happened to the computer, and we couldn't connect. We met by Facetime. Iz wanted to read a book to me. She read the story of the Princess and the Pea. It's at least a high first-grade level. She missed an easy word to decode. She will need a bit more training on decoding, but she is doing well.
I watched the rest of the movie Mrs. Harris Goes to Paris. Lovely! Highly recommend it. It has a happy ending that's not soppy.
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