Thursday, September 30, 2021

 Thursday, September 30, 2021

 

   Last night, I was tired by 8:30 pm, but I didn’t want to go to bed that early. I was afraid I would be wide awake at 1:30. That didn’t happen. I slept well until 4:30, and I would have been happy to laze about in bed for a few more hours. What a delicious sleep!

   I didn’t take on the Kukuna hill because my leg was in complaint mode.

    Scott helped me put on the yoga toes on my right foot after I had them halfway on. I used them because the metatarsals on my right foot are collapsing. My second toe is climbing over my first. This is trouble. I was hoping the yoga toes would help keep my foot alignment intact.

     When Yvette came in this morning to get the yoga stuff to set up for class, she grabbed the yoga toes and went to wash them. She likes things to be clean more than I do. Yvette worked in the restaurant business for years. She learned about the necessity of cleaning. Me, I think germs are good for you. I’m not a complete slob, but I think too much sterilizing creates more problems than it solves.  

    Yvette put the other set of yoga toes on the left foot. There is no way I could reach that foot on my own. When Yvette looked, she saw I had put the yoga toes on my right foot incorrectly. There is an extra-wide space at one end for the big toe. I squeezed my big toe into the little hole. It didn’t feel good. Yvette made sure they were on both feet correctly. That felt much better.

  I could feel my back flat on the floor in the middle of the yoga class. That may not strike you as remarkable, but it was for me. I have a spinal curvature; flat has not been an option, but it has been my goal since I identified the curvature in my mid-fifties. Bit by bit, I have milli-metered my way to a new alignment.  

   I recently started working directly on my piriformis. This little glute muscle can create havoc in your life if it doesn’t like how it’s treated. My PT gave me exercises to address its needs. Then I asked my acupuncturist to work on it. 

    The acupuncturist worked on the muscles on the front of my left thigh. She said the piriformis was tight because those muscles pulled it tight. She also thinks my left hip was forward of my right one. Interesting. When I sit, my left hip is further back than my right one. My knees don’t line up. As I worked on it, I returned to a theory I had held before. The problem comes from my right lower abdominal muscles. 

      I remember walking a mile to school each day when I was twelve, thrusting my right hip out and back. I pushed. My whole-body alignment was off. My dad warned me that I would be in trouble when I got older. I thought, “What does he know? I’m twelve!”  You can see I was at an impressive age to know everything. As I think about it, I think the acupuncturist is right. As I walked, my right hip was thrust to the back as well as out. I also remember something another bodyworker told me; if you want to correct a postural problem, do the opposite of what you have been doing. In this case, it means thrusting my left hip out and back. I’ve been trying it. It caused muscle strain in my abdominal muscles. I must be doing something right.

   I felt fantastic this morning, happier than I’ve felt in a long, long time. The pressure of constant tears had lifted. I don’t assume this will last forever, but it is lovely for now. I have some powerful old wounds to work my way through. What I have gone through recently reminds me of how I felt after my father died when I was fifteen, leaving me alone to deal with my mother. I didn’t have a good night’s sleep until the first night I slept in a dorm my freshman year of college. I had been terrified the whole time.

   The loss of Mike contributed to this current mental state. It’s not that he could have or would have intervened in my current situation, but he did once. The first time I brought him home to meet my mother, I needed a nap before dinner. I went up to my childhood bedroom and lay down. He came into the room, pulled the chair out from the desk, placed it, so it faced the head of the bed, and sat there and read. He made it plain to my mother that she would have to deal with him if she attacked me for my behavior. This one act had a profound impact on me. It was so Mike.

    I read an update entry from September 30, 2020, while preparing to post it on the public blog. I watched the end of The Good Place. Eleanor finally decided to release Chidi from the real good place, allowing him to move on to oblivion. At first, she tried to convince him to stay but finally let him go. I let Mike go. It was entirely in my hands. He had communicated that he wanted to go, as Chidi had. At the time, I was thrilled that I knew his feelings so clearly. I still am. I wish him all the best wherever he is. I loved and still love that man. He was a wonderful contribution to my life. I miss him; I miss his love and support. He was such a comfort to me in my old age, actually at any age. I wept. These tears were not the ones I was holding back before when I felt like I wanted to cry at any moment. These were just grief over having lost Mike, not grief about the difficulties I have to face without him. 

  When I posted today’s blog entry and checked the stats, I saw the numbers were off the charts. Ninety-three hits, all from Hong Kong. I would love to know the cause of this surge. I assume it’s a class assignment from some English teacher, but I have no way of confirming it.

    Club Rehab phoned this morning to set up appointments for my pelvic floor treatments. When I requested more PT sessions from my primary for my hip problem, she assigned me to Club Rehab rather than Hawaiian Rehab, where I wanted to go. Katie’s a PT that is perfect for me. I love working with her and she with me. My doctor changed the prescription at my request.

  Shortly after, Hawaiian Rehab called to schedule appointments. I knew it was to cancel for today. There would be no other reason for her to call. Yes, Katie was out for the day. Very disappointing. I set up several future appointments.    

    I had a noon appointment with California E. I thought her father said 3 pm PT which is noon HT. No response. We are having trouble getting together. I have managed to have two sessions with her so far. Her father only speaks and writes Spanish. My Spanish is weak at best. 

We have no way to communicate directly. We have to do it through a program called Remind. Supposedly, it provides a translation option, but it doesn’t work. 

   I had an appointment with 3rd grade A. He had been gone for a week to attend a family funeral on the mainland. I made conversation with him and asked him who had died. He didn’t know. I do hope it is someone he wasn’t close with. I know whoever it was, it hit his mother hard. I was concerned that A was so out of touch with what was happening around him. I saw this a lot in my students these days. Judy, who also worked with the learning disabled, has seen it a lot. Students would have no idea what was going on around them. One girl was going on vacation but had no idea where she was going. I suspect this has to do with an audio processing problem. I have established that A’s visual processing is good. I have asked his mother to play The Phonics Discovery System 5 Stories audio file for him. She doesn’t because it irritates her. I told her to play it for him when he’s asleep softly enough so she can’t hear it. I don’t know if she started now- very frustrating.   

Wednesday, September 29, 2021

Wednesday, September 29, 2021

 

     My sleep last night was troubled. Obsessive thinking got the better of me. I have been swinging back and forth; I get this feeling under control, and then it gets me under control. Fortunately, the swings weren't wide. I go from discomfort while being functional to calm and fully functional. I see this as something I am going to have to go through.

    While there was some discomfort in my leg and hip last night because of the work with the acupuncturist, I could still walk as far up Kukuna as I have been.   Even the young and healthy prepare for the Kukuna climb. It's pretty steep.

     As I passed Judy's driveway, I saw a car slowly descending the steep hill from her house. Given the hour, I assumed Adam was bringing Luke home to get him ready for school after spending the night with Judy. Luke is a severely disabled child with Fox1G genetic syndrome. Sometimes he goes on lengthy crying jags. Judy gives her son and daughter-in-law a break by taking care of him for the night so that they can get some sleep. When Luke's distressed, he must be carried at all times. It's tiring. However, it wasn't Adam; it was Judy. She had an early morning Turo drop-off scheduled with Mei. Mei usually doesn't call on Judy to do those early morning ones; Jane or Jeff, the co-owners of the Turo site, do those. Now, Jane and Jeff weren't available. Judy happily pitched it. Mei is one lucky lady to have Judy on her team.

      Judy has been a fantastic support. She called while I was in one of my deep, obsessive phases.   She understands this results from my PTSD, triggered by an occurrence. I can't share the occurrence on the update because it involves other people. I doubt anyone meant to hurt me, no less throw me in a tizzy like this, but something happened that was a reprieve of some of my mother's most disturbing behavior. 

       Mike used to say that he felt I had been tortured. Judy said her first impression of him was when she met Mike. Neither of us had it easy. We were the whipping boys for our mothers. I guess that's what Mike and I had in common; it bonded us. He once said he thought I would start crying and be unable to stop one day. When that day came, I was to call him immediately. He would come home, and he would hold me through it. Well, it looked like that time had arrived. I felt unmoored from emotional control at times. My body was bursting with the need to cry. No, it was not just because I had lost my beloved Mike. Although, indeed, that was a factor. He saw himself as my protector and my refuge. And he was both those things for me. Hopefully, I was that for him too. Again, that does not mean we were always perfect with each other.

       For those of you who know the study, The Magic Relationship rule: for every negative interaction, a couple, probably any two people, must have five positive interactions for a relationship to be functional rather than dysfunctional. The one out of five is rock bottom; ours was much better than that. My best guess is it was a one-to-fifty ratio. The worst thing that bothered me about him was his inability to hold a casual conversation. Doing so requires improvisational skills. You have to know how to build on what the other person said. Mike didn't know how to do that unless the conversation had a purpose or a context. Then he was good, even fantastic.  

   He did other things' wrong,' like he consistently forgot to turn off the stove or oven, not to mention a few bad personal habits. I found those funny. 

    The biggest thing that annoyed him about me was my excitability and tone of voice when I got frustrated with him- which I know of. He was more rigid in his thinking than I was. He was terrified of chaos. Why would someone terrified of chaos want me in his life? Good question. But it worked.  

    Judy recommended I get medication to help me through until I reached the other shore. I used to be on Lexapro. My line was, "I'm on Lexapro for my husband's anxiety." I don't know how much it did for me. I got off it after Mike died. I didn't have to worry about his anxiety anymore. Besides, my doctor wrote me to make sure I wasn't taking more than half a pill. There is the possibility that it was Mike's anti-anxiety medication that caused his fatal pancreatitis. Of course, he was on doses beyond the recommended amount. 

       Nonetheless, the doctor's message was all I needed to get off my prescription. It was over two years before I started experiencing this emotional turmoil. I suspect the chemical was well out of my system by then. I had been okay; then I fell off a cliff. I didn't want to go back on the regular medication. I had some CDB pills in the house. 

     Damon recommended I get them after Mike died. I took two the other night when my thoughts overwhelmed me, and I couldn't sleep. You have no idea how radical that is for me. I have to be reminded I can take an Ibprobum when I am in physical pain. It just doesn't occur to me. I had to be in serious pain to do this on my own. When Judy recommended chemical relief, I took her advice. I took two more pills. It had an almost immediate effect. I have always been very chemically sensitive. Using the CDB pills means I can take something periodically without committing to a daily medication regime. 

  Right after Judy's call, I went to Kaiser for a GYN appointment. The medication must have had some effect already. While I wasn't totally calm, my blood pressure was 111 over 64. So low, I would think it's somewhat of a concern at my age. My weight was also a surprise. Usually, I take off my shoes and outer clothes; yes, I always wear a sweatshirt when going to Kaiser. They keep their temp low, and I freeze. Today, I didn't feel like stripping down. The scale usually came within 142 to 145-pound range. Today it was 140.8, with all the extra weight. My scale had been telling me I was losing weight. Agitation is good for my figure. It makes some people eat more. I eat less.

    I am one of the blessed old women who always looks for the nearest bathroom. I wanted to see if anything could be done to help the situation. It seemed to be getting worse. The doctor was a sweet young woman with eyes like the blue-eyed Afghan girl with the dark orange hood taken years ago. Fortunately, the good doctor's eyes were free from that young girl's suspicion and pain. She smiled when I made the association, indicating she had heard this comment many times before.

     She had many thoughts about the causes of my problem. As part of the diagnostic procedure, she had to catheterize me. Now that was a whole new experience but not as bad as I thought it would be. I was surprised. It reassured me that Mike wasn't completely miserable with his catheter. He spent about four weeks with it because he couldn't get out of bed or use a urinal. It only came out in preparation for his death when he was taken off all life support. 

      Before the doctor catheterized me, she cleaned the area. That made sense. When she was finished, she pointed to a box of tissues, suggesting I wipe myself. As I threw the tissue into the trash, I noticed something that looked like blood-soaked wipes on top. When I looked again, I saw the strain of yellow; it was iodine. I am allergic to iodine. I throw up when I consume it internally in hard-shelled seafood, iodized salt, or one-a-day vitamin pills. When my skin comes in contact with it, I develop a rash. Ow! When the doctor came back to hand me my report, I asked her if she used iodine. Yep!.  She Gerry-rigged a bidet. She asked her nurse if she had something I could use to clean my privates with water. She came back with a liter of drinking water. That's what I used. I squeezed the bottle and had my own improvised bidet.

    I went to the Croc store next. As I was moving into the right turn lane to get onto Henry Street, a cop car came zooming up behind me to my left, blue light whirling, but no siren. I only saw him in my side-view mirror at the last minute and pulled over. I'm not sure he could have gotten through without hitting me if I hadn't. I have no idea where he went. 

      I went to the Croc store because I had problems with my new Crocs. I ordered the same size, but the shoes didn't fit properly. The toe box was wide enough but too short. From what I could figure out, the back strap on the new shoes was too short. I took the shoes to the store to see if someone there could take the straps off my old red Crocs with the paper-thin soles and put them on the new ones. The store owner did that for me.   

     As I pulled out of the Coconut Grove parking lot, I had a little car accident- at my usual under 5 mph. I can't make right turns. I didn't see the projected area below the row of bushes. There was a little pile of rocks, decoratively displayed, perfect for me to run over. The damage wasn't too great; I have a scratch on my right rear hub cap. Oh, well.

     Then I went to Home Depot to return the three half cinder blocks I bought to replace the cracked large planter filled with dirt that held the mailbox erect. However, the ground in the front of the house is slanted. The stack of cinder blocks rested there at a precarious angle, ready to fall on someone. I thought of ways to level the area or use shimmies under the bottom block. Neither seemed like a good permanent solution. If they didn't work, someone could get hurt. I would have to replace the planter with another one.

   I was planning to pick up such a planter when I returned the cinder blocks. While waiting for the clerk to process my return, I got a text from California E's father saying they were ready to sign in. Oh, Oh. I had forgotten. I told them I would be home in half an hour and ran out of the store before the return had been processed. It wasn't a great loss. Each cinder block cost $2.50.   It was all for naught. E wasn't available when I got home half an hour later.

    I remembered why I hadn't entered our appointment in my calendar. I had written California E's father through Remind. Then I couldn't read the thread to confirm which dates I had requested. I forgot to ask for help from Julia or Laura. E's dad and I agreed to meet the next day at the same time.

  I had an appointment with adolescent D.  He was doing well with using his auditory working memory, and I saw no purpose in continuing working on BrainManagement Skills – for now. We applied Phase I of the Phonics Discover System to an eighth-grade reading passage. Phase I always starts with the sound of the word. Either he reads the word, or I do. Once one of us has said it, he figures out the sounds in words and which letters represent those sounds. 

   He read one word correctly and was surprised. I thought he read it right by "accident." He often said that he read a word wrong by "accident." Well, of course, it was an accident. He hadn't deliberately misread words. He didn't seem to understand his tendency to read words incorrectly was his problem. Now his mind was reading words correctly by accident. This means his automatic processing is starting to work. Yay! 

     I told Judy I was reading spiritually minded books on Buddhism to see if they could help me regain my mental composure. She recommended Thomas Merton. I read Seven Story Mountain when I was in high school. I didn't remember it. Mike has several books of his. I found Seven Story Mountain and started reading that. Wow! Wow! and Wow! His language is incredible. I found the way he used words so satisfying. So far, I had only read his description of his childhood. I wasn't into his psychospiritual thoughts or teachings. 

    Judy said that many people don't like reading him; they consider him boring. I can imagine I did when I was in high school. His sentences are complex, and his thoughts weave in and out.   However, I love following the trail. It's like finding the melody in a jazz piece. 

Tuesday, September 28, 2021

 Tuesday, September 28, 2021

 

   I had a fantastic, peaceful night’s sleep. My morning walk to the intersection on Kukuna was easy.

   During the driveway yoga class, I had Scott help me put yoga toes on my right foot. They’re a foam ‘frame’ with holes for my toes. They hold the toes in the ideal position for the foot. 

    I have been having problems with both my feet of late. The problem with the right foot occurred when I tried on a new pair of Crocs and discovered it was too short for my foot. The reason I wear Crocs is for the large toe box. I had the width I needed with these shoes, but not the length. I experienced pain walking and numbness. The pain subsided, and the numbness was better, but the second toe curled toward the first.

    I recognized the problem when I saw it. It’s a hammertoe. My grandmother had it. I drove her to the podiatrist to have the calluses caused by the misalignment removed. She was in constant pain. After seeing that, I never forced my foot into an uncomfortable shoe. There had to be plenty of room for my toes to do their thing.

    A few years ago, I learned that my second toe is longer than my first because of a foot malformation. The second toe only appears longer than the first. It is the first toe that is shorter than the second because its metatarsal is closer to the heel than it should be. This throws off the whole alignment of my foot. The other day the second toe was actively trying to climb over the first. When I checked online, I learned they sell gadgets to prevent the runaway toe from having its way. You essentially tape the second toe to the third and fourth toes. I have done that and put a foam wedge between my first and second toes. I tried the yoga toes to see if I could get the metatarsals back into their earlier alignment before the Croc incident. I had learned to live with my metatarsal malformation. There is a possibility that the foot problem caused my whole-body misalignment from the start. Having a short first metatarsal throws off your walk- big time. I plan to try the yoga toes during the two yoga sessions to start and see how it goes.

    I spent the day working on my application to be a tutor at the local middle school. Before I handed in phase 3 of my application to work 2 hours a week for under $25 an hour as a tutor for the public school, I had to go through this byzantine application procedure. I was now trying to complete a 17-page packet after completing a 5-page one. It took a week after I finished to be called and told that I should get my TB test. I handed the results within half an hour after  I got them. A week later, I had heard nothing. I tracked people down. Given the ridiculousness of this procedure, I take everything literally. It says all information must be filled in, or the application will be rejected. Oh, yes. There’s one page where it says, “Type only.”  Does anyone out there have a typewriter I could use? 

  I finally tracked down the woman I needed to talk to to get Phase 2 of the application a week after submitting my TB results. She knew nothing about me. She asked if I had filled out Phase I and had my TB test. Then she told me that she would give of copy of the application to a clerk at the middle school. I went in the next day. The clerk had no idea what I was talking about, but I convinced her I was on the level, and she put this 17-page packet together for me. 

    I worked on filling it out the next day. There were questions I couldn’t answer. I called the middle school; they told me I had to talk to Denice at the high school, who did this work for the middle school after the working day. She was substituting for someone who was out. I got hold of her one day but forgot to ask a second question. That’s when the fun began. I called her every morning, left a message, and then called several times during the day, hoping to catch her. 

    After several days of that routine, I called the main number of the high school, asking if Denice was out. No, she was in a meeting. The receptionist went to talk to her. She left a message that I should call her at the intermediate school after four. I asked what number I should use. The school secretary was about to give me the main number when I told her they don’t answer those phones after four pm. The secretary went into the meeting and told Denice. Denice sent back the message that someone was pulling my leg. Boy, they make it hard to apply for work here.

     My body pounded with fear and anger, not because of the application process. I have been suffering from bad anxiety and grief. I meditated. When I sit with these feelings and observe them, I feel calmer. I don’t know which makes me more uncomfortable, the fear or the rage or my fear of my fear or my rage. Who wants to be emotionally out of control? Yuck.

    I had an acupuncture appointment at 10 am. I got in the shower at nine and set my alarm for 9:30 to leave the house for the appointment. Fortunately, shortly after I got out of the shower, I remembered that she was coming to my house. She offered to do so after I stopped making appointments. Her workspace is a small, enclosed room. Yvette has a massage table with a headrest in the largest bedroom, with a whole wall of windows, not to mention cross ventilation.  

     The acupuncturist asked me what I wanted to work on. The PT gave me exercises for my piriformis. She started on the muscles on the front of my thigh. She said the piriformis was overstretched because the muscles on the front of my thigh were so tight. They were tight; I know that. Resting that leg in a straight position when I’m lying down is hard. Then she asked me to turn over and put the needles into the area around the piriformis. The impact was immediate. I felt the energy running down my leg. It was amazing. Whatever problems the muscles on the front of my leg had, the muscles in the glute and the left side of my back needed work. As she left, she suggested I take a nice long nap.

    Jean called. She and John were making considerable progress in their packing. Their original move date to the retirement community was in August. There were three or four postponements because the development was renovating their apartment. The last delay was from October 4 to October 12. This series of delays should be done deliberately. It meant Jean and John were always working as fast as they could. There was no way they could have everything done in time for the first date. John had lived in the house for over fifty years, and they were both massive collectors of books and paper. John still had notebooks from college. Jean has been living there for about forty years and has done an enormous amount of writing for work. They needed those reprieves. They could never have made it by the first date.

   Jean was still struggling with the pain in her back and her leg. She is going on the path of injections into those muscles to relieve pain. I know Jean has a curvature caused by bad postural practices, as I do. It doesn’t seem her PT has said anything about changing how she sits as she works. That would make a difference if it didn’t destroy her altogether.

    I had my second session with Canada A. I asked him to focus his attention on the prefrontal lobe of his brain last week, concentrate on that body part the way one might focus on a hand or a foot. What’s the purpose? The body part in use gets the most blood. We can get blood to go there by using it or focusing on it. Try it. Sit quietly and focus on your hand. Wait and see what happens. You will feel the pulsation increase. Focusing on the brain without ‘using’ it gets blood to flow there. It’s a bit like priming the pump. He said he did it once or twice. I suppose my directions weren’t clear. I wanted him to do it as often as possible. If we’re in the habit of not using a body part, it takes special effort to engage it. 

    Today I worked on how much he wanted to change. He said an 8 out of 10. Then I asked him how much resistance he had to change. It was also about an 8. When I asked him why he wanted to change, he told me to avoid negative consequences. When I told him to give me a positive reason, he said so he could feel better about himself. These were both consequences of doing or not doing; his emphasis is on the outcome. When I asked him what gave him pleasure about video games, he said it was the outcome. I don’t think it is the outcome. I believe our greatest pleasure comes when parts of our brains are in harmony or our brains are in harmony with those of others. 

   I asked him to pick an activity he could focus on that he usually avoided doing. He suggested his homework. On, no. That’s like starting mountain climbing with Everest. He picked brushing his teeth. I asked what was positive about this activity. He said his mom wouldn’t be angry. Then he said his mouth would feel clean. Outcomes are undoubtedly important, but man can’t live on outcomes alone. I suggested he focus on the sensory parts of the activity, squeezing the toothpaste tube, watching the toothpaste come out on the brush, his arm movements as he brushed his teeth, and the way the brush felt on his teeth. The more senses involved, the more brain involved, the more pleasurable. 

_____-______-______

Musings:

    Back to thinking about people who like concepts to be simple. I’m a complex thinker. I believe we need all sorts of thinkers to keep society balanced. One way is not better than the other. Any way taken to an extreme is destructive.

   Ego is one of those terms. One has to be brain dead to be free of ego. Ego is the definition of self, ie. This body is mine, my name is, I live with these people. All these are elements of ego. The problem is a rigid ego. Now you don’t want an ego that has no constancy. That’s craziness. You want an ego that can adjust to a reality that contradicts your current self concept.

   The other concept that drives me nuts is “live in the present.”  I participated in a spiritual training. The trainer said, “the past is gone; the future hasn’t arrived yet; all you have is the present.”  Within the same session, she would say, “In our next session, we will  .. .  ,,” and check out the website for all the courses we will be offering next semester. I hear her referring to the past and the future.  

   I believe that concept has some validity. , My need to think of the past or the future was limited. I was removed from my normal life. I had nothing to plan for. Concentrating on living in the present made some sense. Even then, when the bell rang for lunch, I had to refer to the past to know its significance. To get my meal, I had to remember where to go and direct myself to get there. I performed those actions because I anticipated the future, a meal. 

    It’s not that I don’t see the value of holding our focus on the present. It is a wonderful discipline, but it is limited. Some people commit their whole lives to this concept. It means denying anything that isn’t present. It’s an excuse for spiritual by-passing, ignoring anything negative.

   I wish the teachers presented a more realistic view of the role of living in the present. What does it mean to do so?

Monday, September 27, 2021

  Monday, September 27, 2021

 

            I slept well last night. I managed to calm my mind, but I still have been racked with grief. Of course, there is Mike's death, but there have also been other incidents that have thrown me off my pins. 

           I got up at 5:30, strapped on the reflective bracelets, and headed out. The climb up Kukuna was easy. I saw a figure coming down the hill at a distance. I couldn't make out who it was until we got closer. I recognized Tammy's gait before I saw her face. Tammy makes it to the top of Kukuna. I haven't walked up there in a few years. My leg wasn't in good enough shape. 

     Tammy complained about the dogs that came out to bark at her when she passed their house. She usually walked on the other side of the street. Today, she walked on their side and let them bark. I was surprised. Carol, another walker with two dogs, told me those dogs barked when other dogs were around. The owner would come out a yell at her, claiming that her dogs were making his bark, waking his wife. Now, I found out those dogs bark at people walking by without dogs. Tammy got good pissed at the thought of those owners yelling at passersby, telling them not to walk near his house.  

     At 11 am, I had my reading office hours. Again, someone who hadn't met with her student yet. She didn't even know the sex or grade level and wanted pointers on where to start. I told her, as I had a previous tutor with the same question, I couldn't give a two-semester course in teaching reading in an hour. However, this time I was in a more generous mood. 

     Start with introducing yourself. Ask the student if they know why their parent signed them up for tutoring. The answer may be, "I don't know," but always start asking the student. Then ask what they would like help with. They may know. It may be reading, or it may be math. If reading, ask the student if they need help with word recognition or comprehension. I told her the emphasis was on word recognition up through grade three. After that, it is on comprehension and building a solid knowledge base. I told her to get back to me once she had some information on her student.

       I had a dental appointment set up for 12:30. I messed up my teeth by eating chocolate and then lying down for a nap, marinating my teeth in a chocolate slurry. I went to the dentist because I lost a filling. He was shocked at all the new cavities I had. I had an appointment to get a mold for my teeth. I am getting a mold I can fit over my bottom teeth, which are a mess. Not much of a problem in person. There's so much else to look at. But on Zoom, teeth are a big deal. Then I realized the configuration of my teeth would be different once I had the filling replaced. I'd better wait. I went in to speak to the dentist. He agreed. He had the time to fill the teeth. I was in the chair for an hour with my jaw wide open.  

     I pulled out my aluminum' wallet' when I went to pay. I found an old credit card of Mike's in there. Yes, I have Mike's old, canceled credit cards. He had a ton; I found something like thirty cards. However, I never opened my wallet in the house anywhere near where the cards were. This was Mike, aware I was having a tough time and reaching out to me.

    Shortly after he died, he did something like this. I woke up one morning after having a nightmare that he had left me for another woman. Mike would never have left me for another woman. It's not that he wouldn't have left me. That was possible. But he would never have gotten involved with another woman before he left me. Impossible. The man was incapable of that. When I got up that morning, the heavy, metal standing towel rack in my bathroom had been moved. Not just moved but put on top of a box. I didn't do it; Elsa, my 12-pound dog, was incapable of it. He was upset that I would think he left me because he rejected me. Boy, I loved that man and his role in my life.

     As usual, Adolescent D. didn't sign in on time. I called him, as usual.   He needed a few minutes because he was making his younger sister lunch. When he did come on, I first checked how his auditory center was doing. Sound penetrated the force field and entered his auditory working memory space. I asked if he understood what people said better. Yes. I asked how he felt about the audio file. He said it was boring and never wanted to listen to it again. I find that when people hate it, they have an auditory processing problem. I know the cure. I break down the words into their phonemes, but I hold the sound of each one for as long as I can. He finally said he was kidding me. Okay. I missed that joke. 

  When I spoke to his mom, she told me he listened to it over and over. This may make a huge difference. I asked her if she saw changes in him. She was quizzical. Did she hear that his voice sounded stronger? He wasn't saying "I don't know" every other moment; he asked questions and stated what he thought. Oh, yes. It's incredible how good changes can slip by us. Not so for changes for the worse. Oh, no, we catch those right away. There's nothing wrong with mom. We're designed to pay more attention to the negative than the positive. If everything is going well, nothing requires attention. If something goes wrong, our lives may be at stake. We damn well better pay attention.

  In the last several sessions, I have focused on the BrainManagementSkills and given just a few minutes to the PDS Phase I work. Today, after I learned that he had made progress independently, I switched to reading immediately. We went to work on the 8th-grade reading selection, applying Phase I, working from sound. He had trouble discerning where he broke words into syllables from the sound of his speech. The exploration paid off. Today, he recognized the -en pattern. Usually, each sound is an individual experience for him.

   After my session with adolescent D, I met with Isaac on Zoom. He is a young man I met while walking in the neighborhood. He is on the island volunteering in a Christian school teaching children k-8th. He was struggling with how to teach the alphabet to the kindergarten group. I wrote up several suggestions he could use to teach alphabet recognition and letter formation without using a pencil and paper. We discussed the philosophy of learning and teaching as we went along. He was delighted we met. We are on the same page; teach, don't test. Emphasize what is right, not what is wrong. Create a social context for the learning. Give the student agency.

Sunday, September 26, 2021

 Sunday, September 26, 2021

 

    I had another lousy night’s sleep. I was agitated about an unresolved issue. Thinking about it helps somewhat; I come up with solutions. But most of it is a waste of time. The upside of this trait is that I hang on to something until a problem is solved; the downside is that I hang on to things that can’t be solved. I’m the opposite of passive. As with all things, the AA prayer says it all. A little of this and a little of that and the wisdom to know when to apply what. 

     While my leg gave me some discomfort while lying in bed, it was fantastic as I took on the steep hill this morning. The climb was easy, and I made it up to the third fire hydrant. Some discomfort in my lower left leg showed up as I turned into my street. I only had a stretch on almost flat ground before I got home.

     My blog stats are spiking again. I had 100 hits today, mainly from Hong Kong. Schools are back in session, and some teacher is assigning my blog. The significant spike earlier was in Egypt, and it was now in Hong Kong. My tech and I think these large numbers mean some teacher is assigning it to his class. The blog’s name is making the rounds. If my interpretation is correct, my numbers should be high every school year. No one leaves comments. I guess none of my readers are invested. 

    I lay down on my sofa, anti-gravity bed. I felt lousy, as if I had been up all night smoking and drinking, filled with toxicity. I applied my vipassana training. I tried to do it during the night when I was in bed, but I was consistently overwhelmed by my fears. I felt much better as I lay there, slipping in and out of sleep. Some of the tension drained. Ah! This feeling is a nightmare because this is how I lived in my childhood, constantly battling to find a way to deal with the real dangers, all psychological, which surrounded me.  

    Sunday is another set of NPR shows. Krista Tippet had Stephen Batchelor on today. My friend John had recommended Buddhism without Belief by Batchelor. It is my favorite book on the subject. I keep it by my bedside even though I don’t read it regularly. I ordered Batchelor’s new book, The Art of Solitude. I ordered all of his books. I need to be reminded to meditate daily. 

   While I listened to the radio show, I did routine straightening that doesn’t happen as routinely as it should. It’s nice to see the order. I could do it every day and feel better. Do I do it? Do I remind myself of anyone? It all takes all of two minutes, and things look refreshed. 

    I checked the numbers on my 5 Stories audio file. The number jumped. Did adolescent D actually listen? I texted him. Sure enough. Wow! This is incredible news from him. He decided to do something and did it. He took charge of himself. Wonderful!

     Damon called. He was walking home from playing tennis. A friend was in town and coming for dinner. We mostly talked about August, and how he was doing in school. We haven’t discussed his schoolwork yet. August is a responsible child. Everyone is sure he’s taking care of business. Damon said things weren’t going well with his roommate. They’re very different. August is social, and his roommate is very reserved – possibly on the autism spectrum.  

    August said they discovered they were in the worst dorm and in the worst room in this dorm. Their dorm has no air conditioning. Their room doesn’t face the ocean, which means no breezes, and it is right next to the entrance, which means people pass their door all night long. Then their window overlooks a parking lot, which means headlights flash on their ceiling all night long. The room across the hall became free. One student left, and the other went somewhere else on the campus. August and his roommate are angling to get that room. It would be an upgrade. Cylin, August’s mother, and I said, “Just move in. Squatter’s rights.”

     I got an email from sixth-grade D’s mother saying she wanted to drop classes until he got his eyes checked. I think this is because I told him the lines of print jumped around, making reading challenging. I should learn to keep my mouth shut. A vision problem can cause that, but you would see the eyes flickering back and forth. D’s problem is perceptual. We’ll see. I taught him the release pattern. It helped. Even if it comes back, he can fix the problem using the release. It may take many releases before the brain pattern changes permanently.  

Saturday, September 25, 2021

 Saturday, September 25, 2021

  

    I got tired at 9 pm on cue. I couldn't keep my eyes open. I tried to stay up because I wanted to sleep through the night. I slept well, only waking around 4 am. That's not too bad since my alarm is set for 5:30. I had some leg discomfort. A tennis ball pressed into the left side of my body resolved that, so I could fall asleep easily. 

    Elsa and I walked up to the second fire hydrant on Kukuna. My leg did beautifully-no discomfort. At the far end of our walk, I realized that Elsa hadn't made a poop on our walk.\ I checked my pocket for the unused doggy bag. Yep. It was there safe and sound. I knew there would be a gift for me when I got home.

    At 8 am, I had the M and W sisters. I started with M, as usual. Today, she made the same 'mistakes' every time. We've read the same stories several times, and she doesn't remember the words, or she doesn't try to use memory. I had W continue with automatic processing. Both girls have problems with automatic retrieval.

     I ran into a friend who lives down the street, walking to visit my immediate neighbor, Mei, to deliver star fruit from her property. You always wind up with access if you grow something on your property.  

      This neighbor had a stroke in 2019. She was a young woman, just over sixty. She was visiting her mother, who was suffering from the onset of dementia, when the stroke hit. Her mom drove her to the ER. She told me she went swimming for the first time since her stroke. She discovered that her left side was much weaker than her right side. She wept. So far, she has made remarkable and ongoing improvements. This was a shoc. Something new to work on for her. She is like me, constantly working on regaining strength

   I smiled to think of her husband when she went swimming. He is as protective of her as Mike was of me. Kind of funny. I pictured him hovering over her with his arms outstretched, ready to grab her at a moment's notice. 

    This woman is also overly cautious about chemical herbicides. She and her husband put up special draped fences, so neighbors' spraying does not contaminate their property. Today I found out what this was about. When she was a child, she had to walk through a cornfield treated with Round-Up to get to school every day. She said her system was overloaded and super sensitive to any sprays as a result.

     I went to Mei's house with my neighbor as she delivered the star fruit. Mei came out to greet us. Behind her, we saw her new house guest. She has taken in an exchange student from Germany, a fourteen-year-old boy. He is in her son's class in the Parker School, about 45 minutes away. Mark had another residential placement. His host gave a party for his class. While there, Mei learned that the host's house was another forty minutes further away. They decided that the boy would move in with Mei and her family. Mei reorganized her house. She put the boys in the ohana and set up David's bedroom as a study area for them. Both boys are thrilled with the arrangement.

   While standing there, Mei went into the house and brought out a tray of pork moon cakes. She gave one to me and one to my neighbor. My neighbor is vegan. Too bad. I got two of them. I ate one right away and saved the other for dinner.

      Adolescent D. and I worked more on the force field, shielding his auditory working memory from receiving speech sounds. He had no idea how force fields were penetrated in video games, but he could describe what the field in his head looked like. It was a thick red ring, the same depth in all directions. He said there was no spinning as I had seen it. That's as far as we could get. We spent the rest of the session applying The Phonics Discovery System Phase I.  

    He intended to listen to the audio file. He proposed putting a post-it note on his bed. That hadn't worked. He couldn't remember. He suggested he listen to it right after the session.

     I bathed Elsa. The vet said I was to bathe her two to three times a week with the medicated shampoo. Yuck! I have to leave the soap on for fifteen minutes; she shivers the whole time. So sad. Which is worse, sitting with the soap or the lesions

    I texted Isaac and Matthew to set up times to talk. Isaac is the young man I met while walking who was spending the year volunteering at a small Christian 2-room schoolhouse here in Hawaii. His principal wanted him to teach kindergarteners the alphabet using scripture. I thought about it and have developed ideas for doing that in ways appropriate for that age range.

     Matthew is the special education supervisor for the local middle school who asked me to become a tutor for the school. I detailed all I had to do to get to the next application phase. I completed a several-page application and a TB test before receiving the second application packet, a 17-page job, some of them double-sided. Some of these pages are repeats. I have to prove my citizenship again. I will only get the fingerprint card for my FBI check once I've handed in this 2nd application. 

   I filled out the application on Friday. There are sections I can't fill in because I don't have the information. I called Denice, the woman in charge of this process. She didn't answer. I will call again on Monday until I get through. One of the pages says, "Type only." Do you know anyone with a typewriter I can use? Maddening.

Friday, September 24, 2021

Friday, September 24, 2021

 

   I just had two appointments today. One with my therapist, Shelly, and one with a Step-Up Tutoring student who has problems with reading she couldn’t deal with. I continue working with a therapist to overcome the PTSD of my youth.  Denial is not my style; I had to incorporate it into my life skill arsenal. 

     I used to work with Shelly every two weeks.  I started working with her once a week a while ago just because I could afford it, and I love learning more myself and the human condition. I also find the more I learn about myself, the more tolerant I can be of others, the more responsive instead of reactive.  I didn’t need support from her for a while. Then something happened a few months ago that threw me right back into old mental patterns. That on top of not having Mike to hold me and comfort me. Most annoying. Now, I need those weekly meetings. 

    For the past year, I had enough skill to pull myself out of the terrified state and get back on even keel.  However, I am never as peaceful as I have been. Not even Mike’s death threw me like this.  It was this incident plus Mike’s death that left me in this state. 

    I started the session telling Shelly a story, which led to another story. The second one had me laughing so hard I could barely speak. The first story was about my Alzheimer’s scare.  I occasionally smelled smoke as I woke up. I couldn’t find the source. There were no reports on brush fires on the island.  Olfactory hallucinations are a symptom of Alzheimer’s, among other things, like a brain tumor.  I made an appointment to speak to my doctor about it.  When I made the appointment, I wrote a few words explaining my concern. 

    The Saturday before Labor Day, I smelled a strong scent of smoke.  It didn’t go away when I got up and went for my morning walk.  When I ran into another walker, I asked if she smelled smoke. She sure did; she complained it hurt her throat. Ah, Thank, God. While the information relieved on my personal concern, now I had to wonder what was burning and who was in danger. 

    When I ran into Vince and Juli, I mentioned the smoke to them too. Oh, yes, said Vince. They’re roasting pork. They do that every Saturday and Sunday.  They are doing an unusually large burn today because it’s Labor Day.  He was sure that was the source of the smoke because he recognized the smell of the wood they used. I canceled my doctor’s appointment. She got a good laugh.

     I told Shelly I had a sensitive nose because it was well trained.  My mother was hypervigilant. Often, while we were eating dinner, she would put her hands up and say, “What is that?”  Dorothy and I went to work. We knew there was a sound or smell she couldn’t identify.  We had to identify it before we could continue eating.  As I told this story, I viewed it from an observer’s point of view.  It would be a comic scene in a movie. I couldn’t stop laughing.

   After my father died, my uncle came out to visit every Sunday.  After a few of these experiences, he became concerned about his hearing.  He had it checked. There was nothing wrong with him. The doctor said, “Your sister-in-law has supersonic hearing.”

     I have struggled all my life to get control of my fear. Some people  retreat.  I don’t retreat; I display it for all to see. When I was younger, I assumed everyone who didn’t manifest fear wasn’t afraid. I worked on healing the cause of the problem.  I don’t know when I learned that others suppress their feelings to control themselves. Suppression was explicitly discouraged by my father. He had some vision of a new world where we could all be free. Beware the utopian! I can control much of my behavior now except when dealing with individuals who hurt me in specific ways that remind me of my mother. Then I lose it; my words can be sane and logical, but my tone becomes spitfire. I would do well on the McLaughlin Report, a weekly news program where people argued loudly. I would see people speak publicly; there are those who reveal their fear and those who either don’t feel it or just don’t reveal it.  I longed to be one of those who had control. 

     I have mixed feelings.  The alternative to that hyper speech is control.  I have an aversion to that control too. I associate it with manipulation. My father was gently manipulative. When I heard that tone of voice, my hair would stand on end.  I know that my behavior prevents me from effectively resolving differences with other people.  (Mike used to say, our relationship worked because there was always one adult present, and it wasn’t always the same person. When it’s always the same person, it’s a dysfunctional relationship.)  Since I need to negotiate with some people, I must, I have to get this behavior under control. While that has been my goal for my whole adult life, it is only now that I’m working on it specifically.  Weird. 

   Shelly directed me to focus on my body, to find where the bad feeling associated with my parents’ manipulations sat.  The object is to focus on it, describe it and watch it transform.  I use the same strategy with my students to modify their brain patterns. 

     I can report that I envisioned talking to the people who are disturbing my peace of mind, my tone was better. I don’t know if it is quite where I need it to be.  I need to be the adult in the room. Their fear drives them to withdraw, the extreme opposite of my pattern. How’s that for irreconcilable differences? 

    I finally had a second session with Step Up E, a third-grade girl with serious reading problems.  even if it was a bit later than expected. Our appointment was for 3 pm. I’m German; 3 pm means 3 pm.  I did other work and gave up, but I didn’t sign out. At 20 after I got a text from her father saying, buenos tarde.  I checked. There she was. Does this family run on Hispanic time? 

   I worked with her on her visual processing. She said she had no trouble ‘seeing’ the letters; they weren’t blurred.  This meant her eyes sight was okay. Then, I checked what part of the brain she used to process visual input.  She pointed to her temple area-Broca’s and Wernicke’s.  I have found that kids who process visual information from there always have trouble.  I teach them to use ‘the screen’ across the forehead area.  I’ve been doing this process for about thirty years, and so far it works reasonably well. 

   She told me the letters moved about in her head, rather than on the page. Some kids see the letters moving around on the page.  Her letters moved both from side to side and up and down. The kid’s response is to resist this movement, make the fluctuations smaller.  

       I teach a release exercise. I told her she should find this exercise fun, not scary. If it does feel scary to stop. I have never had anything go wrong with this exercise; but no one is going to go the distance if they find it scary. I told her to just close her eyes and allow the fluctuation to be as large as it had to be, as big as her head, as big as her room, as big as her house, as big as her neighborhood.  She said the fluctuations were as big as the city.

   After we did the exercise, the letters were stable. I asked her if this was new or not. She said no because they were sometimes steady before. In this case, the steadiness lasted longer than usual.  A good sign! There are cases where one release fixes the problem permanently. Most need more releases.  This is an exercise that will change the brain.  As with with all behavior patterns, it can take time to make the changes.

    I knew already she had trouble distinguishing letters. She said confused h/n, b/d, f/r and p/q.  B/d and p/q are directionally different. h/n and f/r are vertically different.  I started with the h/n distinction.  She was able to tell me the stem of the h was longer the stem on the n.  I found some printed material with both h and n in it.   I showed her how to use the surrounding letters to discern the letter size. If a n is next to a d, the stem of the d is long, and you can tell that the n is shorter. 

   We worked on letter naming without reading the words. Unless she improves her ability to recognize letters, her reading will not improve.   She started okay and then read h as s.  This is a word retrieval problem.  I will work on that next time.

    I recommended that she do letter naming with her mother. I also recommend she do that a little with her regular tutor in each session. 

      Aside from the two sessions, I had a pretty lazy day.  I have work to do if I want to get the Phase II video out.  I have done nothing to that end.  I started watching the movie Starling on Netflix. It got terrible reviews on Rotten Tomatoes.  They thought the A listed performers were wasted on this melodrama.  It deals with depression, and there isn’t an edgy moment in it. I thought it was great. 

Thursday, September 23, 2021

 Thursday, September 23, 2021

 

    While I walked down Kukuna on my morning walk, one of the Toms passed me. As he walked past me, a cat was winding herself between his legs. He said, "She is called The Tripper." Wow! that was obvious. I didn't remember ever seeing her. I certainly have no recall of her ever approaching me. Tom said she avoided me because of Elsa. Thank you, Elsa. Tom picked up The Tripper to prevent her from getting between his legs. She seemed perfectly happy with that solution.

    During savasana today, Yvette offered to place the chair so I could rest my lower legs on them. She told me to relax my legs. I hadn't realized they weren't relaxed. She tied a strap around my thighs. I relaxed and then pushed against the strap. I had an endorphin release, and the impact on my body was immense. Katie, my PT, directed me to work on turning out my legs. This exercise impacted my turnout.

   After yoga, I  worked on the strip along the driveway before the gardener came the next day. If did the clipping done, they would do the clean-up. I wanted to get some vines off the fence. The targeted area was difficult to step into. There were several aloe plants. They have large succulent leaves with little spikey points. They don't scratch, but they're worth avoiding. Once I stepped over them, I took one more step to get nearer to the fence. There was a dip by the fence. I managed to hold on and get some of the vines down, but I knew I would have difficulty getting out. I tried to grab a branch on a neighboring shrub to haul myself out. It broke off in my hand. Fortunately, Scott was in the driveway. I asked for help. He had to grab both my hands to pull me back onto the driveway.

    Scott had assembled my new weed whacker the other day. I asked him if he would supervise my first attempt to use it. I had visions of it dragging me down the street. I went to find a long pair of pants. The weed whacker throws stones; you need protection. I found a pair of dungarees I bought when I first moved to Ohio. Let's see, that's about 18 years ago. I fit into them. Wow! I also found two pairs of goggles I bought years ago for Mike and me and never used. So outfitted, I made my first attempt to use the weed whacker. I particularly wanted to clear the tall grass around the mailboxes, ours and our neighbor's, for the convenience of the mailman. The weed whacker wasn't that unmanageable, but I did have a small pebble hit me in the cheek. 

      I went in to work on the blog post and update. Then I went for one of my short, frequent walks. Heart Solar arrived to replace the bad solar panels. The driveway was crammed with cars from us, the gardeners, and now the solar panel technicians. I should have served liquor.

       I check my Tesla app twenty times a day. It's fun. I saw it wasn't working. What happened now? When the solar panel guys were here, they shut the system down- better than electrocuting themselves. Rather than call the Provision Solar company, I called Tesla customer service. The customer service person kept telling me to shut up and listen. I did. It was just easier. Eventually, she got to my problem and told me how to reboot the program. 

   My friend Jean called. The last time we spoke, she told me that a two ½-year-old, part of her daughter's social group here in Hawaii, had died. He had a pool incident, and his parents had to take him off life support. Jean got another call about two of her daughter's best friends; both died within the last week. I can't remember why they died. It was all too much. The boy was a tragedy for everyone who heard it. The two forty-year-old women are a tsunami of death for all that knew them.

     I had a session with sixth-grade D. We continued talking about his jumping lines of print when he read. I asked him to describe the jumping. He said they always started jumping up and down. They started jumping from side to side as he worked to control it. From what he said, it was clear that he struggled to limit the range and speed of the back-and-forth swings. I told him to relax and allow the swings to get as large as he wanted. I always tell students to stop the process if it feels scary. It should be interesting and fun. I also tell students that I have had hundreds of students do this exercise. Truth: I don't know how many I have led through these releases. I'm a teacher, not a researcher. I never note what I've done and with whom I've done it. I've been using BrainManagementSkills with students since the early seventies. That's close to fifty years. Even if I only used it with two people a year, that would be 100 right there. I used it with many more than two a year. One reason I include my notes on my students here, I hope someone reads them and can do the necessary research. There is no formula. I listen carefully to each student. Whatever the image is, it has to do with what they're perceiving. I never push it. I wait until it feels right. With some, that means within fifteen minutes of meeting them. With others, I may wait months before they feel ready. Even then, I will wait for several sessions before I have the student do the release. This is what went on with sixth grade D.  

    He said the lines were steady after we did the release. No, this does not mean they will never come back. It does happen that way with some students, but I never tell them that is the case. I tell students what to do if it does come back. Just stop reading, close your eyes, and do another release. With each release, they will come less frequently, and eventually, they will stop.

    At three, I sent the Zoom invite for third grade A. His mom texted me that he wasn't home yet. He wasn't home by 3:30. I had a four pm. His mom said, let's cancel.

     I sent my Zoom invite for my 4 pm with the W and M sisters. They didn't sign. I had given up hope of them signing in. I didn't know what was wrong. However, I sat there without signing out, working on the updates. Suddenly, there they were. The mom apologized. She was working on their test results. What test results? Their Covid test results. Both girls had colds and needed tests before returning to school. I worked with M, the younger of the two girls. Her reading stays at the same level. I had her read Stories #1, 2, and 3 of the Carpenter Series. There are some words she remembers better, but I don't see any real progress.

Wednesday, September 22, 2021

 Wednesday, September 22, 2021

 

     Rodney, my gardener, called to ask if he could come tomorrow and if it would be alright with me if he dropped off his trailer today.  

  Judy spent about an hour visiting, not hanging out. She has a job driving cars for Turo drop-offs at the airport for my next-door neighbor. It's a dream job for Judy, and Judy is a dream employee for Mei. Judy lives two driveways away from Mei. There are often last-minute changes. Judy doesn't have to travel to get here. Her proximity makes her flexible. She comes to my house if she has a few minutes to less than an hour between drives.  

  I worked in the garden, trimming shrubs so the gardener could take the waste. I needed a shower. I did that while Judy took a call from her sister-in-law. I love having people make themselves at home in my house and hang out. 

   Yesterday, I tracked down the woman in charge of new hires for the middle school. I had completed my first application, which was mainly concerned with proof of my US citizenship. Then I got my TB test. I made an appointment the moment I was told to do it. When I picked up my results, I drove up from the clinic to drop them off at the school. I was expecting to be handed the next part of the application with the FBI fingerprint sheet to get my background check. But no. The woman who did that job would only be in after school. Yesterday, a week later, I called to ask when I could expect to get that application. Could I call her? No, she came to the middle school after 4 pm, when they shut down the phone system for the day. Fortunately, the secretary recognized my name and told me the woman in charge worked at the high school during the day. I could call her there. I did.

   Denice, the woman in charge of applications, had no idea who I was. She asked if I was told I could apply for a job? Did I have my TB test? She either has a ton of applications or . . . . . . I convinced her I had done everything I was supposed to do. She would give Ginger a copy of the application at the middle school. I was to pick it up the next day today. That's what I did. I went to the middle school, found Ginger, and asked for the application.

   Ginger didn't have a clue who I was and had no packet. I dropped the right names, and she believed I was supposed to get one. She said she would get one for me. She went into a side room and assembled papers. When she came out of the room, I approached her. She said, "This is my original. I have to make a Xerox copy." Jean, my hanai sister, called while I sat there. I spoke to her. No one objected. About 10 minutes later, Ginger handed me the packet. I had planned to go to the police station immediately to get my fingerprints for my background check. I looked through the packet and asked Ginger where the necessary sheet was. No, I couldn't get that sheet until I had filled out this packet.   It was 17 single sheets, many double-sided. Some just had writing on them. This application procedure is draconian.

   I was supposed to have Mama K's crew a 2 pm. I needed to reschedule for 2:30. She said, thank God, she was getting ready for her oldest son's birthday. I asked her if she wanted to cancel. Yes, yes, yes, thank you. I have this poor woman terrified of me. I thought she dissed me once and blew up at her. She doesn't dare cancel on me again. I tried to tell her I was more flexible than that, but it didn't seem to get through.

    I had adolescent D after school. We continued talking about how his brain worked. I asked him if he could remember a sequence of letters without reading the word. He did very well. He quickly rattled off letters in the correct sequence from left to right and then from right to left. This is an exercise I learned from a Neurolinguistic Programming instructor. When I first did it, I couldn't do it. With practice, I've improved at holding a visual image of words in my head. D was good at it from the get-go.  

      He could tell me where he held the visual image. It was where I discovered it works the best, in the forehead area. When I made a sound, he could tell me that he held that one in the same place. Well, now we know why he is having problems. He was using his visual processing area to process sounds.   I redirected him to use the best place for processing speech sounds. He tried, but nothing came through. We perceived his situation the same way. We also both felt that sound bounced off that area. A force field surrounded it. I had no idea how to fix this situation. Nothing came to me.

    I talked to him about what he had to do to participate in solving this problem. He had to hold the question in his head, "What can I do to penetrate this force field?" I told him I would be holding the question when I slept, in every waking and sleeping minute. I held the question in my mind, hoping to find a solution to this problem. I told him he had to do this too. D is usually passive. Life washes over him, and he is completely helpless. 

    I don't teach my students that they have total control. They don't; no one does. But neither are they completely helpless. The answer to the question may not come for years, but you keep holding it. I don't mean you consciously hold the words in your head. You put it on automatic. This question isn't rhetorical when the answer is, "There's nothing you can do? You're a sitting duck." This is a real question that assumes there may be a solution. If the answer doesn't come easily, you still have to go on with life until you have exactly what you want. It's the AA prayer, "Grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change, courage to change the things I can, and wisdom to know the difference."  Isn't that the truth? 

______-______-_______

 

Musing

 

  Thoughts from the Elephant Whisperer. When your focus is on survival, all your attention is focused on the external world. The introspection of the industrial world makes no sense. 

  Just as zoo animals become anxious, so do we when we are removed from the threats and joys of the natural world. Am I recommending that we all forgo our indoor plumbing and return to cave living, where we are strongly bonded with all of nature and our fellow man? I guess it's a choice between anxiety and outright fear. I don't know about you, but I'm not prepared for a return to a primitive life. I'd rather learn to deal with my anxiety.

Tuesday, September 21, 2021

 Tuesday, September 21, 2021

 

   I broke down in tears on my morning walk, upsetting poor Olga. All she did was tell me that the high school had found the letter they received from the National Merit scholarship people, telling them that Olga’s daughter had qualified as a semi-finalist. She needed that letter to get the application to be a finalist. The deadline was on October 6. Their indifference and the possible consequences of their disregard for Alexandra’s life hit me. Poor Olga. I had been on the verge of something for a while. I have been easily irritated and overwhelmed. I felt irritated and ineffective in the tutoring sessions. It all felt meaningless. Grief was weighing heavily on me. Tears don’t come easily to me. This crying broke the tension, and I felt somewhat better for the first time in a while. 

    I think that was the way I felt in my childhood-constantly. It’s a lousy feeling. I wasn’t comfortable anywhere or able to enjoy anything fully. I can appreciate why people do drugs.

   During morning yoga, I asked Scott if he could help me assemble my new weed whacker. As far as I could make out, the assembly directions started with “Make sure the motor is turned off.” Hmm! I finally remembered to tell Scott how much I appreciated his little organizational touches. Where I had dumped Elsa’s refuse bags on the ground, Scott had gotten a five-gallon Home Depot bucket with a lid. Where I had the charger for my electric car lying on the ground, Scott set up a hook. Each time I use one of these arrangements, I think how much Mike would have loved them. I told Scoot, “Mike would have felt like he died and went to heaven.” No one laughed. Yvette only commented on Scott’s talents. I repeated the comment for her benefit. She got it then. Okay, it’s a bit dark.

    At 8:30, I left to drop Elsa off at the groomer’s. This was her first time there. Her old groomer just shut up shop without telling any of us. I loved him. He also charged $40 an hour, if you can imagine. It was my first time with the new groomer, Doggie Detail. Dick’s grooming shop, the old grooming place, had the look of a homeless encampment. Everything was Gerry rigged. This new shop looked like a high-end Spa, beautifully decorated with all the best equipment. Just one woman, the owner, ran the whole shop. She told me she had another groomer working with her, but it didn’t work out. I imagine no one would live up to this lady’s expectations.   

   While I was there, I asked her if she did family plans. Yvette had just taken her two dogs to Petco. I didn’t care for them. I had to drop Elsa off whenever and then pick her up when they were ready. I didn‘t like it. With Dick, I had to drop her off before 7 am and pick her up before noon. If she was anxious, I found her sitting on his lap. Now, how’s that for loving care? This groomer didn’t do family plans or tender loving care. I’m prepared to try Petco again. Yvette and I can produce photos from fifty years ago to prove this is not a fly-by-night connection.

 I got home from dropping Elsa off shortly before I had my 10 am client, sixth grade D.

       I edited the story D and I had written together on boogie boarding in the ocean. He didn’t want to read a story with me. He wanted me to send it. He had mentioned the other day that the lines moved when he read if there was more than one line of print. I asked how much he feared making mistakes when he read. He said on a rate of 1-10 a three. A three is what everyone feels. It’s the default level. Everyone lives with the concern of making a mistake. No, no, no. His has to be much higher. He’s Mexican; Latinos do not feel fear. Maybe I should use a different word – concern. I suspect that his level of ‘concern’ for making a mistake makes him hypervigilant in his reading and causes some of his current reading problems. I thought of doing EFT tapping with him, but nothing felt right. I switched to a regular reading activity. 

      I selected something at a fourth-grade level and applied The Phonics Discovery system Phase I. I got funny vibes from him. “Do you think this is a silly exercise?” Yes. As I suspected. He said he could always read the big words; he had trouble with the little ones. I switched to sixth-grade material. Trust me; he didn’t do well with that. He missed whole sections of words, misreading middle or final sections. I told him Phase I aimed to sharpen his perceptual skills, so he didn’t miss whole chunks of words. He said the exercise made more sense as we went along. I discussed phonics rules with each word. While he was familiar with the rule for the pronunciation of c, he hadn’t learned the same rules applied to the pronunciation of g. I’m hoping this process will speed up as we go along.

   After my session with sixth-grade D, I did a few clerical chores before I headed out to pick up Elsa. The groomer said she would be ready around 11 am. I checked my email and saw a Facebook friend invite by someone whose name I didn’t recognize. Today, I checked if we had any mutual friends before I accepted the friend request. When I checked Boris Kearney, who pursued me to be an online friend, I discovered we had no mutual friends. When I checked his page, he had pictures of friends and family from the Middle East. I don’t think so. I blocked him. I got a request from another man today. Not only did I have mutual friends with him, I finally recognized the man’s name too. Ah!

   I called Doggie Detail to see if Elsa was ready. She said it would be about another twenty minutes. I headed to Home Depot to pick up the three half-cinder blocks for my mailbox. No, I’m not going to put them in the mailbox; I’m going to stick the mailbox post through the cinder block holes to keep it upright. While some mailbox posts are buried in the ground, most are not. You have to dig through solid rock. There’s a reason there are no basements in Hawaii. 

   Judy called just as I turned onto Kaminani from Queen K. After Mike died, Judy called me daily to check on me. She was fantastic. In the past two weeks, she hadn’t been as regular. She had a lot going on in her life. I didn’t take it ‘personally.’ However, I did suspect that this triggered the dip in my mood. I asked her if she could make a point of calling daily. It seemed clear that this was very important to me. We didn’t have to have a long conversation; I just needed regularity. This is what I had with Mike. Of course, with Mike, I was number one. We had our eye on each other; we had each other’s backs. Judy asked if I would consider coming over for dinner. I have been avoiding situations like that unless they are in open areas. I don’t need that as much as someone who checks on me daily. I think desolation closed in on me when Judy stopped calling regularly. All my other problems closed in on me. Life became pretty dark.

     I arrived home in time for a session with Canada A. A is a fourteen-year-old boy. His mother found my information on Facebook and knew someone I had worked with many years ago. She said A had been diagnosed as dyslexic. His mom said his big problem was his lack of organization. The first thing I discovered was his speech problem. At first, I thought he was speaking with a Canadian accent that I had difficulty understanding. But no, he has an actual speech impediment. The first thing I wanted to check was his reading. He read a passage at grade level. I didn’t see any signs of dyslexia. I got to work on the organization problem.

   I talked to him about the relationship between the prefrontal lobe and the rest of the brain. If we only follow impulse, there’s no one at the wheel driving the bus. It just careens down the road, swerving left and right in response to the pitch of the terrain. 

    I also talked about how taking charge and using our conscious minds can be unpleasant. Most people prefer to do what feels best, often easiest. Everyone loves it when things fall into place and require no effort. When we spend our lives doing only that, we’re screwed. At least in our modern world. Canada A prefers to play video games over anything else. We’re talking about addiction. 

   I suspect that giving little conscious thought to what we do works in a highly structured social environment. There’s always room for individuality, but the range is much narrower. If someone gets out of order, the social group takes action quickly. The preservation of social order is paramount. Otherwise, there is chaos and anarchy. We are living at the edge of social anarchy. All options are open. There is not a single variant of human existence that is not possible—Conservative groups battle against this; liberal groups for it. We can make it, allowing for all the variety if we achieve a new order of social organization. If not, we’re screwed. That social order does not have to be rigid; it has to be all-inclusive. Of course, regardless of the cause, we may be screwed anyway, given what is happening to our environment. 

    Canada A rescheduled for next week. Hopefully, I gave him something to think about. 

     The A I have already been working with will now be called third grade A because I have to distinguish him from Canada A. I sent the link and notified his mom. She said he wasn’t home yet. He was so delayed that his mom canceled for the day. I needed the break. I curled up with the Elephant Whisperer. It is not as warm and fuzzy as I had hoped, but it is still a good book. The author describes one life and death crisis after another. Fortunately, all are resolved; it’s a comedy. Let me tell you; elephants are control freaks. It’s their way or squoosh. They can turn a human being into hamburger meat with a single step. They can take down a home with a good shove. While the author has many good, ecstatic moments of blissful communication with them, he keeps reminding us, dear readers, that he is always in a life-threatening situation.  

     Then I had the M & W sisters. I started with M. She had spent the day at home, sick. She wasn’t feeling well. She made more mistakes than usual. She forgot one of the long vowel rules, and then a few minutes later, she recited it. She and her sister had extensive phonics training with an Orton-Gillingham instructor. It served the girls well.   

   I worked with W on 2nd-grade material to foster automaticity. Mom came along and asked if that wasn’t too easy for her. I explained my theory of automaticity all over again. I then switched to 4th grade. She read that more fluently after we had practiced automaticity on the 2nd-grade material. I had used 2nd grade because I wanted her to feel comfortable reading in a relaxed way, making no effort. 

    On my before-dinner walk, I ran into Isaac. He’s a young man doing a year of volunteering teaching in a local religiously based school. I learned a little more about his role. He teaches everything to everybody. It is a two-room schoolhouse, k-3rd, and 4th through 8th. He was struggling with how to teach. He was teaching Kindergarteners the alphabet. The principal sounded untrained and wanted the kids to learn the alphabet by writing scripture. With my methods, he can use scripture because he can use any text. He sounded excited to use me as a resource. Let’s see how it goes.