Sorry, I was going to put this on the last blog but had to get off of the computer cause my better half needed it quickly.
So after reading these past moments of mine I am taging others to share some of their defining moments.
Sunday, September 28, 2008
defining moments
I guess I really should call these past several posts defining moments.
Here is one more and then I promise to stop and not bore everyone to death.
Several years ago I attended a class given by a Brother Residori. He gave a class that changed my life.
He spoke on racehorses and turtles. He explained that each of us is either like the racehorse or a turtle. Each has different characteristics but of equal worth in the eyes of God.
We have all met them. Racehorses thrive on excitement,compitition, racing to get things accomplished, always moving and doing things quickly, etc.
Then there are the turtles. Slow moving, thorough, steady, easy going, laid back, etc.
the jist of his talk was about accepting ourselves and others, including the differences. Racehorses shouldn't look down on Turtles and vice versa.
At that time in my life, I was new to the church and dealing with feeling inadequate around many of the long time members, etc.
When I sat in that class, it was so wonderful. I had found my nitch. I could work with the racehorses, could accept their characteristics but didn't have to be one. Whew!!!
I could work with the turtles and appreciate their seemingly slower progress and appreciate their steadfastness.
The true personal revelation was to finally find where I was. I cannot do things at a fast pace for any length of time. I have since found out that I have ADD which explains alot.
I realized that I am a turtle with an occassional racehorse spurt. Don't laugh. It was the most wonderful thing that could have happened to me. I had found where I stood and how to deal with others and it was so liberating.
The funny thing is, it was such a defining time in my life and when I told him about it several years afterwards, he doesn't even remember giving the class. Oh well, I am so glad that he did.
Here is one more and then I promise to stop and not bore everyone to death.
Several years ago I attended a class given by a Brother Residori. He gave a class that changed my life.
He spoke on racehorses and turtles. He explained that each of us is either like the racehorse or a turtle. Each has different characteristics but of equal worth in the eyes of God.
We have all met them. Racehorses thrive on excitement,compitition, racing to get things accomplished, always moving and doing things quickly, etc.
Then there are the turtles. Slow moving, thorough, steady, easy going, laid back, etc.
the jist of his talk was about accepting ourselves and others, including the differences. Racehorses shouldn't look down on Turtles and vice versa.
At that time in my life, I was new to the church and dealing with feeling inadequate around many of the long time members, etc.
When I sat in that class, it was so wonderful. I had found my nitch. I could work with the racehorses, could accept their characteristics but didn't have to be one. Whew!!!
I could work with the turtles and appreciate their seemingly slower progress and appreciate their steadfastness.
The true personal revelation was to finally find where I was. I cannot do things at a fast pace for any length of time. I have since found out that I have ADD which explains alot.
I realized that I am a turtle with an occassional racehorse spurt. Don't laugh. It was the most wonderful thing that could have happened to me. I had found where I stood and how to deal with others and it was so liberating.
The funny thing is, it was such a defining time in my life and when I told him about it several years afterwards, he doesn't even remember giving the class. Oh well, I am so glad that he did.
trying too hard
When I was in elementary school, handwritting was really stressed.
We had to practice alot and we were graded on how neatly we could write. You had to hold your pen a certain way and slant your paper a particular way. I hated hand writting, no matter how hard I tryed, mine was never the really pretty flowing script that was so popular.
One day I just had had it. The harder I tryed the worse I got and I just knew I was going to make another bad grade.
I remember just sitting there and saying to myself, the heck with it. I was never going to have good handwritting and I was tired of trying and I decided to just accept the fact and get on with it.
It was the funniest thing, once I did that, I just wrote without thinking about it. I relaxed and stopped holding the pen so hard and just let it happen. I ended up having the best penmenship in the class. The teacher would let me write the examples on the board of how she wanted our handwritting to look. I loved how my handwritting looked especially after what it had been before.
I have found that very helpful in my life. When I am trying to do whatever and find myself getting all up tight and try and try and only get worse, sometimes I just have to stop and let go, to walk away.
By letting go and accepting that I may not be able to get it perfect and just do the best I can, it comes together and many times I am surprised at how good it turns out.
We had to practice alot and we were graded on how neatly we could write. You had to hold your pen a certain way and slant your paper a particular way. I hated hand writting, no matter how hard I tryed, mine was never the really pretty flowing script that was so popular.
One day I just had had it. The harder I tryed the worse I got and I just knew I was going to make another bad grade.
I remember just sitting there and saying to myself, the heck with it. I was never going to have good handwritting and I was tired of trying and I decided to just accept the fact and get on with it.
It was the funniest thing, once I did that, I just wrote without thinking about it. I relaxed and stopped holding the pen so hard and just let it happen. I ended up having the best penmenship in the class. The teacher would let me write the examples on the board of how she wanted our handwritting to look. I loved how my handwritting looked especially after what it had been before.
I have found that very helpful in my life. When I am trying to do whatever and find myself getting all up tight and try and try and only get worse, sometimes I just have to stop and let go, to walk away.
By letting go and accepting that I may not be able to get it perfect and just do the best I can, it comes together and many times I am surprised at how good it turns out.
Meanest teacher in the world
When I was in what is today called middle school, I had a math teacher. You walked into her class, sat down, got your pencil and paper out and never said a word unless she called on you.
Once everyone was seated and absolutely quiet, she would start class. I don't remember ever seeing her smile.
I remember not liking her very much and watching the clock and just living to see the hand say it was time for the next class.
We did alot of chalkboard work. I never voluntered to go to the board and hated being called on because most of the time I didn't know how to work the problems and just plain felt stupid.
After being in her class for a short time, I began to really listen to what she was saying and to understand what she was trying to teach us. Little by little I began to enjoy it and loved knowing how to work the problems.
I remembered one day she had given us a problem. She had had two kids come up to work it on the board and they got it wrong. I was so excited because I knew I knew how to do it. I raised my hand and headed for the board. I remember it as if it were yesterday. I started to work the problem, the solution started just like the two who had gotten it wrong and the class started to make fun and tease that I was doing it wrong. It was one of those long problems that had several steps and they had left out a step. The teacher was watching me and not saying a word. I did the step that they had left out, finished the problem and sat down. I felt 10 feet tall.
After that day, I loved math class and appreciated a teacher who though really strict, really taught.
Once everyone was seated and absolutely quiet, she would start class. I don't remember ever seeing her smile.
I remember not liking her very much and watching the clock and just living to see the hand say it was time for the next class.
We did alot of chalkboard work. I never voluntered to go to the board and hated being called on because most of the time I didn't know how to work the problems and just plain felt stupid.
After being in her class for a short time, I began to really listen to what she was saying and to understand what she was trying to teach us. Little by little I began to enjoy it and loved knowing how to work the problems.
I remembered one day she had given us a problem. She had had two kids come up to work it on the board and they got it wrong. I was so excited because I knew I knew how to do it. I raised my hand and headed for the board. I remember it as if it were yesterday. I started to work the problem, the solution started just like the two who had gotten it wrong and the class started to make fun and tease that I was doing it wrong. It was one of those long problems that had several steps and they had left out a step. The teacher was watching me and not saying a word. I did the step that they had left out, finished the problem and sat down. I felt 10 feet tall.
After that day, I loved math class and appreciated a teacher who though really strict, really taught.
get off my back
I was just reading my grandsons blog about being bored with school. It brought back a memory of when I was in school.
In my family there was me and my older sister Pat. She skimmed by and really struggled with school. My folks acted like whatever she made was OK. I came along and supposidly was supposed to be pretty smart. Snort snort. They would really ride me about my grades and it really bugged me. One day I was really bummed and popped off at my girlfriends house about it. No one ever said, but I am sure she told my folks.
School was boring to me and I hadn't really tryed very hard just for spite because I felt they were trying to make me make good grades.
I don't remember exactly but I began to notice that my folks had stopped pressuring me about my grades.
It was what I had been spouting off about but somehow when it happened and they no longer bugged me about it ,it kind of left a void, leaving me without something to pop off about.
Now that I didn't feel like I had to make good grades just to please, I began to find out that learning wasn't so bad. I began to pay attention in class and found out I really could understand and in some cases actually enjoyed myself. I kind of liked making good grades. I wanted to make good grades for me. I even took some of the classes that were considered hard to just prove to myself that I could do it.
I actually look back now with a sense of pride at what I learned.
I am so thankful for parents who did the best they could with such a rebellous daughter and for "getting off my back" and letting me learn for myself how good it feels to make good grades because I wanted to.
In my family there was me and my older sister Pat. She skimmed by and really struggled with school. My folks acted like whatever she made was OK. I came along and supposidly was supposed to be pretty smart. Snort snort. They would really ride me about my grades and it really bugged me. One day I was really bummed and popped off at my girlfriends house about it. No one ever said, but I am sure she told my folks.
School was boring to me and I hadn't really tryed very hard just for spite because I felt they were trying to make me make good grades.
I don't remember exactly but I began to notice that my folks had stopped pressuring me about my grades.
It was what I had been spouting off about but somehow when it happened and they no longer bugged me about it ,it kind of left a void, leaving me without something to pop off about.
Now that I didn't feel like I had to make good grades just to please, I began to find out that learning wasn't so bad. I began to pay attention in class and found out I really could understand and in some cases actually enjoyed myself. I kind of liked making good grades. I wanted to make good grades for me. I even took some of the classes that were considered hard to just prove to myself that I could do it.
I actually look back now with a sense of pride at what I learned.
I am so thankful for parents who did the best they could with such a rebellous daughter and for "getting off my back" and letting me learn for myself how good it feels to make good grades because I wanted to.
Wednesday, September 24, 2008
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