Seeing My Bully with New Eyes

In seventh grade, the girl whose locker was next to mine stuffed me in my locker and closed the door. The way I remember it, I was in the locker for about fifteen minutes.  Who knows, though, if that is accurate.  What is accurate is that the memory has stayed with me.  The other part of the memory that has stayed with me is my outburst at the supper table that night when my dad said something (probably not in a confrontation way, by the way) about my mood.

“You and Michelle Ross have made this the worst day ever!” I screamed dramatically as I threw my fork down on the plate and ran from the table to my bedroom.

That is all I remember.  I do not even remember the fact that Michelle stopped coming to school in the middle of ninth grade.  In fact, when Michelle – now married with a son and living within an hour from me – requested to be my friend on Facebook, I could not even remember if she had been in high school with us.  Turns out that she was not.

Honestly, it was out of curiosity that I accepted Michelle’s friend request.  The only things that I remember of Michelle is that she stuffed me in a locker and where she lived.  I think we might have been in Girls Scouts together, but that might not be true.  This is not unusual with me for me to lack memories of those with whom I attended school. Over the past twenty years, I have lived a completely different life from then, and - until recently - have not had much contact with any of my former classmates.

Over the past few years, I have learned a lot about Michelle’s current life.  I know that she deeply loves her son; she is a good mom.  I know that she and husband are truly committed to each other for the long term; she is good wife.  I have learned that we probably disagree on some things, but we also agree on quite a bit.  One of those things is that kids should be held accountable for their actions at home and at school.

Becoming Facebook friends with her – an act of curiosity – has made me enjoy her as a friend.  When she threatened to clean out her friend list, I asked to remain on it because she is a fun part of my adult life.

The funny thing is that I thought this would be where the blog post would end.  I thought that I would write some little ditty about how we can all move on from our past differences.  The actions of our childhood do not have to define us.  The way that we interact as teens do not have to determine how we interact as adults.  Even those who have hurt us in some way in the past could become our friends as adults.  As my 20th class reunion looms this coming summer, I have had this thought over and over as I see people collaborating on the event who hardly spoke to each other in high school. 

This is resiliency.

But this is not where the blog post ends.  When I sent Michelle a Facebook message to ask her permission to share about the locker incident on this blog, she consented but also said, “As a child a was VERY abused by my step dad, and I am guessing that is why I brought it to school, so I think some bullies are fighting demons of their own...my two cents. Not that it is okay by ANY means; just something to think about.”

I did think about it.  I thought about it quickly and deeply. My heart told me that the 15 minutes that I had experienced in the locker and still have as a memory were nothing compared to what Michelle had endured.  I wrote back and asked her to share more with me that I could share with readers.

Michelle’s thoughts: I have to believe that bullies are not born but that they are made, made from the circumstances that live in every day while they're growing up in their homes. That is why I say we don't know what demons those bullies are fighting. Are they getting beat everyday when they get home, as I experienced, or being molested? I think when a child acts like that, there has to be a reason.

I considered myself "tough," but I never considered myself a bully until you told me what I did to you, and how you felt. This is no excuse for that, but since I was being abused at home, I felt in control when I went to school and I acted tough in my school world, being a bully to others. That is something I didn't realize I was doing. I was so scared about what was going to happen to me when I went home every night, I could have stayed at school all day.

When I was 15, I ran away from the abuse, and I moved to be with my biological father to a new town in a new state at a new school . Then I was getting bullied by the other kids because I was new. My philosophy is you cannot bully a bully. So as I started sticking up for myself, I also started sticking up for those that were getting harassed every day. I was "tough" once again but I saw how both sides of it, the bullied and the people bullying.

Today I make sure my son is good to everyone, and he is; it is his nature. He is God's gift and a miracle, and he is here on Earth to bring happiness to everyone he meets, which he does. He is very small from being a premie and has experienced some bullying by others. That is when mamma bear comes out.

This is her story in her words.  And I cannot thank her enough (even though I have offered to meet up for dinner sometime) for sharing this and agreeing to allow it to be shared on this blog in this blog series.

Michelle hit on two things that are super important in any discussion of bullying…two things that so often are either given a quick gloss over or no attention at all.

Number One: Michelle never considered herself a bully until I told her what she did to me.  Michelle did not remember what she had done … still does not, actually.  I told her about it somewhat flippantly on Facebook as a comment on one of her status updates.  What breaks my heart in this situation is that now that I have told her about it – over twenty years later - she thinks of herself as a bully.  Does one action make someone a bully?  I recently heard that apparently that is all it takes in a classroom here in the Twin Cities.  A six year old picked on another kid in his class – one time - and now the teacher considers him a bully.  In fact, neither “the bully” nor the child “being bullied” even knew what those terms were.  The teacher “taught them” about bullying while “dealing” with the situation.  Really?  Will this “bully” ever be able to become a good dad?  I doubt that his teacher thinks so!  And will this child ever be successful in that teacher’s classroom?  Again – I doubt it.  We can only pray that this year’s teacher is lazy and will not tell next year’s teacher about the “bully” coming up the ranks.

Number Two: There is more to a child than her outward behavior.  Michelle acted tough because she had a traumatic situation going on in her home.  When children act out in a classroom, someone should probably do a little digging into the situations.  I realize that this is hard – especially with teens who are not inclined to talk to adults in the first place – but this is necessary.  I am not  talking about isolated incidents of kids being kids (and yes, I do believe that there are time when kids just are being kids).  I am talking about students who are continuously throwing their weight around, intimidating other students, and causing continuous harm to others. 

I doubt that everyone will grow up and become Facebook friends with someone who stuffed them in their locker.  But – I can honestly say that I am glad that I accepted Michelle’s friend request.  Seeing the situation through her eyes has completely reconstructed the incident for me.  I will never again think of that incident without knowing the truth about Michelle’s life at that time.  What I experienced for fifteen minutes was minor in comparison to what Michelle lived every day at home.

Often we focus so much on helping the victims – the bullied – rather than on helping those who are considered bullies.  If we want to stop the problem of bullying, we need to do everything we can to make sure that children are safe and that they have no reason to feel the need to be tougher than their classmates.  Anti-bullying curriculum is not the answer to this. Observant teachers, competent social workers with time in their job to look into concerns, supportive communities, and great parents for all students are the answer.

Related websites:  Parent Further and Search Institute

The Bullies and the Snow

Kindergarten was a great year for the little girl who happened to be me. In the same month the my mom married the man I had already started to call DAD, I also started school. I had looked forward to school like no other, I am sure.  My mom had read to me so much that I could not wait to read the books that they would have at school.  I wanted to go to the school library, listen to the teacher read, and read and read and read.

As a May birthday and as the offspring of two not-too-tall people (ok, really – my mom was short!), I was smaller than most of my classmates.  I had to use a stool to reach the water fountain in the classroom.  One of my “boy friends” (I think we were even married on the playground at some point) could actually rest his arm on my head.  Being small did not matter to me because I loved school.

Mrs. Sanderson was a wonderful teacher.  She ran our kindergarten classroom in ways that you could tell she loved to teach and that you could tell she was good at it.  I do not remember our class getting into trouble much.  I have super fond memories of kindergarten – learning to read and more.

Both of my parents worked during the day, so my younger brother spent the days with “Grandma Babysitter” and her husband – yep, you got it – “Grandpa Babysitter.”  They lived within walking distance of my school, so I walked to kindergarten after lunch (this was back in the days of half day only) and then their house when kindergarten was over.  I remember watching The Beverly Hillbillies at their house while having an afternoon snack before one of my parents came to pick me up.

I had a super cute winter coat and boots that year.  I confidently walked from school to the babysitters’ house one day midwinter.  Suddenly, two second grade (aka BIG) boys came up from behind me and pushed me into the snow.  I was shocked, scared, and – of course – wet and cold.  They pushed more snow into my face and laughed at me.  I think I probably started to cry, and that probably made them laugh harder.  Before long, though, they left me alone. 

As I slowly pulled myself out of the snow bank, I looked up.  There was my dad.  This only made me cry harder, of course, because I was hurt, upset, wet, and cold before I saw him.  But now, there was my dad to save me from all of this.  He picked me up, dusted the snow off of my clothes, and put me in his car.  I do not remember if I spent the afternoon at the babysitters’ house or not. In fact, I do not remember anything else from that day.

What I do remember from that day was that my dad was there just after the whole thing had happened.  Had he arrived on the scene just moments before, he would have been there to take those kids to task for picking on his daughter.  But he was not there then. He arrived after the fact.  And to a certain extent, now – as a 38 year old – I actually think that was good.  I learned something very important that day although I doubt that I could articulate it at that young of an age.

Up until that day, I probably thought that my parents could keep me safe from just about anything that came my way.  But that was no longer true.

Going to kindergarten was just the start of many years of gradually getting more and more independent from my parents.  Until then, my parents had controlled as much as they could: who watched me while they worked, what I did in my free time, and who my friends were.  Once kindergarten started, though, I was on a trajectory to become the person I am today.  And part of that trajectory, unfortunately, included getting shoved in the snow by second graders or being made fun of because I was shorter than the rest of the class.  They no longer could protect me from all of the negative parts of what the world had to offer me.

Looking back, though, I am not sure that is all bad.  In fact, the need for children to grow up and become independent from their parents is foundational to development.  Becoming independent means that, sometimes, things will go well for us while at other times some big kid is going to push us into the snow.   My dad showing up to console me rather than to save me probably did not seem like the right thing at the time, but I probably learned much more because that is how it went down.

What did I learn beside the fact that those big kids were mean to me?  Well, for starters, I discovered that snow will not kill me even though North Dakota snow banks are pretty cold.  I learned that I could pull myself up and out of a snow bank without anyone else’s help. I also have dusted myself off and made it to the babysitter’s house, but it sure was nice to have someone else come along and give me a ride home. 

More than anything, though, I learned that my dad’s big, strong arms might not stop what the world sends my way but they will always be there to remind me that he loves me.  It may seem like a cliché, but a hug from my dad really can make something big and awful seem like I could conquer it.  He will not usually conquer it for me, and that is a gift.  But he is always there to give me a hug, listen to me talk something out, or just agree with me that something is not fair.

Please hear the next paragraph with the understanding that there are definitely extreme times when adults need to step in, protect kids, and make it all stop.  However, kids do not need their parents or their teachers to fix everything or to protect them from all of the negative possibilities that are out there.  The more typical truth is that adults need to get out of the way of the action and simply be available on the sidelines to cheer or to console.

Without the lesson from the snow, I may have missed out on this important knowledge.  While I would have preferred to have skipped the snow experience, I doubt that I would have known these truths about myself and about my dad from something that did not involve adversity. 

How has this been true in your life?  What life lessons have you learned from difficulties?

Wilde Roast Café–Minneapolis

Located right in my office building is a gem of a café where I love to eat. Unfortunately for them as a business and for me as a consumer, it is a tad pricey.  That did not stop me yesterday when the huz wanted to join me for lunch on his day off.  It was a bit cold out yesterday, so the idea of staying in the office building while still having lunch with him was a big draw for me.  I also really like their food – especially the sweet potato waffle fries which are served with a side of cinnamon spiced marshmallow fluff.  Other dip their fries into the fluff, but I eat the fries separately and then consume the fluff as my dessert.  A touch of heaven?  Definitely!

I have loved this café since first going there.  They had me at “Wilde”…especially with the floor to ceiling tapestry of author Oscar Wilde. I realize this is a bit odd, but our family loves Oscar Wilde writings.  The girl even used a portion of The Picture of Dorian Grey in her Interpretive Prose category during last year’s speech season.

The owners have decorated the entire café with Victorian era furniture and feel.  This is a fun mix with booths, high top tables, and other fixtures of modern cafes such as refrigerators.

Choosing from the extensive menu is truly the only hurdle in this outing.  I do require that my selection (or the huz’s if he is willing to share) includes the waffle fries with fluff.  Someday, I do want to venture out and try one of their pizzas.

The huz had the Zena Burger with waffle fries.  He asked for it to be medium, but it came out well. As he said, “When you pay $10 for a burger and ask for it to be medium, it should be medium.”  I do not know if he would order a burger again in the future.  They do chicken breasts with the same toppings as their burger – maybe that would be a better choice…unless you like well done burgers, I guess.  The coolest part of the burgers, in my opinion, is the circular, pretzel bun.  Ok – that is a yummy idea!

I had wanted to try the Famous Mac&Cheese for quite a while now, so I jumped in even though it seemed absolutely C-R-A-Z-Y to pay more than $10 for the dish.  Unfortunately for my budget, I really liked the dish.  A lot.  And I would definitely want to order it again.  I would not order it with the regular (non-sweet potato) fries even though they were interesting with a hint of garlic flavor that seems to have come from the oil in which they were cooked.  The odd thing is that the menu says it comes with a side salad, but the person who took my order said it would be an up-charge of $1.

Although the prices could stop many people at the door (desserts are even uber pricey), venturing in will prove to be a worthwhile investment.  I am so glad to share this yummy café with only 700 other employees of the office building.

So – come to visit me at work, and we can go have lunch here.

Your Life is Not an Encore

Last night, I saw the opening night performance of The American Idiot at the Orpheum Theater in Minneapolis.  Through a bit of fortune, perhaps, I scored a couple of tickets and took a friend who enjoys theater with me. I was so glad that this particular friend joined me as she has a critical mind but also enjoys music and an adventure.

We did not know much going into this particular adventure, but we knew a couple of things.

Number one: the musical comes with some warnings of “adult themes” and strong language.

Number two: the musical has Green Day music in it.  Neither my friend nor I are exceptionally Green Day literate, but we had both heard enough songs to know that we could at least enjoy the music even if the “adult themes” were a bit too much for us.

I am always honest…perhaps blunt to a fault.  So I am going to honest and blunt. 

The bad was pretty bad.

The musical is a Green Day concert – without the actual Green Day band, of course – held together with a loose plot about frustrated young people.  Honestly, their frustration, extravagant drug use, and sex-without-relationship attitudes get a bit old in this 90 minute musical.  With the number of f-bombs and simulated sexual acts on stage, this show would have been rated “R” if it had been a movie.  At first, I thought all of this was to set up the characters; however, as the musical went on, it just got worse and more explicit. 

Please note: I am not a prude, but I am not a fan of sexually explicit scenes or excessive f-bomb usage.  I just do not think that either is necessary.  While there was plenty of license taken, there was nothing artistic about it.

By the end of the musical, I felt depressed as the overall message of the show is that life is meaningless.  The young couple who create a baby split up, the main character nearly dies of an overdoes before giving in to the “chains” of an office job. And the young adults just get angrier.  Even though they all come back for a reunion homecoming, there is no true hope or meaning to any of their lives. They have settled on being less angry, but none of them have found meaning.

The only character with any truly “positive” resolution in the entire show is the young man who had gone off to war and lost his leg at the knee.  Woe to the theater-goer who hopes for a show of redemption like Les Miserables.

This was so disappointing because the music was so good! At one point, I did consider closing my eyes and just listening to the music because the music was that good.

What was good was really, really good. 

All of the performers are extremely talented.  This musical is very demanding – musically and physically.  All of the performers wear a microphone.  Several play many roles and pull them off convincingly.  Many play instruments at various points in the show.  The band – even the string instruments - is on stage throughout the entire performance.  They blend in seamlessly – almost as a part of the set but not entirely.

The set!  Wow – seriously…AMAZING.  It alternates between being an apartment building on a street and being several television sets which play brainwashing subliminal messages during the anti-establishment song scenes.  There are moveable and changing parts of the set which truly made me gasp in awe.  The best example of this was during the song “Holiday” when the scaffolding changed into an open bus as the entire cast heads to the big city. 

My vote for the song with the best harmonies was “Before the Lobotomy.”  In this scene, four wounded soldiers sing a quartet.  I was breathless; it was that good!

My vote for the song with the best choreography was “Extraordinary Girl” in which a wounded soldier has a medically drug-induced dream about a girl who resembled “I Dream of Jeannie.”  The two of them flew through the air, performed acrobatics, and sang.  This is possibly one of the most awesome moments I have ever seen in a musical!

My vote for the best line in the show was from the main character near the end of the show.  At the beginning of the show, the young man had left home for New York to make it rich as a musician. Instead, he gets sucked into the drug scene, has a rocky relationship which ends because of his drug use, and becomes a total burn-out who sells his guitar to pay for a Greyhound ticket to go home.  He writes to his mom, “Dear mom – you know how dad - I mean Brad - said I would never amount to anything?  Well, I’ve one-upped him.  I have amounted to nothing.  I knew you’d be proud.”

Overall:  I am not a total Broadway snob who says that it should not have been on Broadway because of the Green Day music.  On the contrary, I am very much in favor of using great music in musicals.  We all love to sing along with our favorite musical songs; if those songs happen to be by a pop punk band like Green Day, I do not oppose. In fact, the music is what kept me in my seat last night. What I do oppose is poorly written storylines with shallow characters combined with the base humor, over-the-top nasty language, and needless explicit sex scenes.

The bottom line?  The ticket value of my seat tonight was $81.  My suggestion?  Spend the same amount of money and go to a concert.  You get all of the good and skip all of the bad.  When the best part of a musical is an encore that is not part of the storyline, there are problems.  Blunt – yes – but honest.

Spoiler alert:  If you do not want to know about the encore, you should not continue. 

The encore rocked!

The dark mood lifted along with the curtain as the entire cast … all 17 of them … strapped on guitars, played them, and sang “Time of Your Life.”  Everyone in the theatre was on our feet for the entire song.  The girl in front of me wanted to start a trend by holding up her cell phone with the lighter app. It did not catch on.  However, in my heart, I sort of wanted to join her.  It was the first hopeful moment in the entire evening.

PS:  Chuck the Usher is the best.  He rocks!  Thanks for the picture, Chuck!

Feeling Uninspired

My blog usually posts a new entry daily at 5:30 a.m.  I tend to write my posts -  at the latest – on the night before I post them if not days in advance.  It is not unusual for me to have a couple of posts in the works or scheduled a day or two in advance.  As I have mentioned in previous posts, this blog is one of the coping mechanisms that I have in place to deal with the manic side of my bipolar nature.  When my mind races, I blog. It helps me to focus my thoughts on a single subject, or it allows me to tangent in the many different directions that my thoughts race.

However, the blog also can be a coping mechanism for the down sides of my bipolar nature.  That is today.  It is hard to tell what is actually in play in days like today.  I drove home to Minneapolis from Grand Forks, ND, last night as there was some “weather” predicted.  I wanted to avoid that.  However, that meant that I did not fall asleep until after 2:30 a.m.  Perhaps I am just tired?

But I have been feeling the swing downward after a few months of an up swing.  I guess we will have to see how things sort out as the day and week goes on before I decide if this is circumstance or biology. 

Whether from the bipolar part of me or not getting enough sleep, I am completely uninspired today.

The horrible thing is that I have much to to be inspired by right now.

On Saturday, I spent the day as a judge at a high school speech meet where the boy and the girl competed.  They are awesome!  The boy recently returned to in person (vs online) high school in part so that he and his sister could compete in the duo category of speech. They rocked! They took first place!  They each also placed in their individual categories with only a week’s preparation.  This is inspiring!

Even the students whom I judged and who struggled with their performances are inspiring.  To stand up in front of a group of eight peers and be judged by an adult (who – if it is me is a former English teacher and VERY critical!) for a minimum of three rounds is simply amazing.  Even those who do not win are winners just for trying.  I do not believe that everyone should get a medal for trying, but they all earn my respect.  And they inspire me!

Inspiration continued on Sunday when the kids and I joined several family members to celebrate the 88th birthday of my maternal grandmother.  Living that long should bring about inspiration alone, but then taking a look at her life adds even more inspiration.

Because her brothers went off to war when she was young, my grandmother left school at 8th grade and worked alongside her father on the family farm.  She can dance, yodel, and tell it to you straight.  She is the one who told me when I was pregnant with my first child only weeks after conceiving. She provided emotional support to my mother during a difficult marriage – encouraging moving across the ocean to try to save her marriage.  And then, when the marriage crumbled, she allowed my mother, my brother, and myself to move in with her while we got our feet under us.

My grandmother became a widow around age 50, but that did not stop her from getting the most of life.  She still works six days a week, goes to play Bingo with her friends, and remembers every family members’ birthday with a card and a “little something.”  When I was in college, she sent me a letter with two dollars in it every week.  She used to bake up a storm as many friend and relatives can attest to (ask them about how much weight they gained on a visit to her home!).    My grandmother attends church at least once a week, and she serves as a greeter for the church.  At 88, she often seems to have more energy than I do.  She is an inspiration to me and to many others!

In the process of writing this post, I have realized that lacking inspiration is truly a flaw of my own introspection.  Once I looked outside myself – even just to my own family members, I found that inspiration is easy to find.  Imagine if I would have looked to my work place, my friends, or my extended family.   After that, I can look to the rest of the nation, the world, and even history!

The next time I feel uninspired, I will sit down to write a blog post and consider who inspires me in that moment.  Rather than wallow in my own feelings of inadequacy, selfishness, and pride, I just need to look outside of myself and realize that inspiration is not hard to find.

Once I see the inspiration around me, I then need to consider how I too can be an inspiration to others.  This is not because I want people to say, “Wow – Stacy really inspired me!”  Rather, I am called – because of my faith – to be an encouragement to others to do inspirational acts.  Hebrews 10:24 - And let us consider how we may spur one another on toward love and good deeds.

I am thankful to my children and to my grandmother that, when I am feeling completely uninspired because of circumstance or biology, I can look to them as an example of love and good deeds.  May we all find inspiration in one another.  And may we all provide encouragement to others toward love and good deeds.

Eyebrow Raising Moments–Round Two

As I write this post, I am listening to the soundtrack of The American Idiot in preparation for seeing it on Tuesday evening.  Many thanks all readers who have read and commented on this blog.  Thanks to you, the Hennepin Theatre Trust has chosen me as one of their exclusive bloggers to share my thoughts from the opening night.  Thank you!

As promised on the earlier post about things that make my eyebrows raise, I share photos of some of my recently collected eyebrow raising observations.  What are eyebrow raisers?  Oh, you know, those things that – when you see them – you wonder WHY?!?!?!?!

How can anyone be passionate about food and grocery?  I know that is not exactly what the sign says, but that is how I read it the first time I saw it.  Therefore, I have to share it with you.  This does show you how important it is to read signs thoroughly for proper understanding.

Why did Peeps stop doing what they do best?  Stick to the chickens, Peeps, they were the original and the best.

1) Nothing is free.  There must be a catch. 

2) I am breathing air, aren’t I?  Should I be expecting a bill?

This explains a lot.  They really are all about getting me to buy things that I do not need.  And here I thought that the stores really cared about me.  There goes that idea!

I hope you have enjoyed the second edition of my eyebrow raising moments.

Happy Sunday!

The Goose is Loose!

I just spent three fabulous days with a group of educators at a conference in Rochester, MN.  It is my favorite conference each year because it is inspiring, challenging, and – often – just plain fun.  I could post about the conference, but I am still processing that.

Instead, I would love to share the coolest thing that I discovered while there.

Apparently cities and towns in Minnesota have to have some kind of trademark statue (think Peanuts in the Twin Cities or Paul Bunyan in Bemidji and Brainerd).  In reading about the history leading up to the goose contest, I found that much thought went into choosing this town mascot.  I learned that a goose adorns Rochester’s flag and that the minor league baseball team is called the Honkers.

Back in 2009, there was a contest of painting statues of geese.  Eighteen statues of geese – each 4 feet in size but decorated in very different styles – have since been placed around town.  Visitors can take part in a little scavenger hunt of sorts and find all of them.  Or – one could just go to the visitor’s bureau website and find the map of where they are located.

I happened upon two of the geese during my time in Rochester.  I did not plan for this nor did I go looking for them.  I did not even know about this until I had literally stumbled upon them.

I found this goose in the skyway which I walked at least six times from the Hilton Garden Inn (yes, LOVED it!) to the Civic Center where the conference was held.  I know for a fact that I did not notice it when I passed it the first three times; however, a cute little boy was touching it as I passed it…the cute little boy drew my attention to the goose. 

I found this goose in the Civic Center when I had to step out of a session in order to be part of a conference call.  It caught me off guard as I definitely did not expect to find it there.  Additionally, I had no idea that 18 of these things can be found all over Rochester!  Fortunately, the picture below explained that there were more of these…and that led me to do the research leading to this post.  Perhaps some day I will take a day and visit all 18.  I know that sounds kind of dorky to some, but it sounds really fun to me!

Did I have other fun times while I was in Rochester?  You bet! 

I thought that my room at the Hilton Garden Inn was great (by the way, did you know that you can ask for late check out times?  My new fun thing to do!).  I was also pretty impressed with the cool arrangement of my shampoo, conditioner, and soap in my shower.  What a fun extra touch that the cleaning staff did.  I would like to think they did it just for me!

I had dinner with my boss at a yummy Greek-turned-steak restaurant called Michael’s.  I would like to think that the man who seated us (pictured below) was Michael, but I doubt it.  In case you are wondering, I had saganaki (you have to see it and taste it to believe that it rocks) and shrimp scampi with angel hair pasta drizzled with a garlic and butter sauce.  It might be the best shrimp scampi dish in the Midwest.  Deee-lish!

Happy Saturday!

Taylor Swift: Taking on Her Bullies

Bullying and anti-bullying are buzz words all over the education arena these days.  How do we identify bullies?  What should we do with bullies?  What are those who are bullied supposed to do?

Honestly, I know that there is a lot to this.  I know that kids are being picked on.  I know that it hurts.  I know that it causes deep wounds.  However, we learn from every hard thing in our lives.  Like coal turning into diamonds, the pressure we feel encourages us to be better – if we are encouraged to be better.  I have learned very little from the times in my life when I feel good about myself.  I learn from the hard times. 

I have learned resiliency.  And where is that in any of the curriculum around bullying?

I think that we all need to rethink bullying in terms of how Taylor Swift showed us how she deals with bullies earlier this week at the Grammy award show. 

During the 2009 MTV  video music award show, Kanye West interrupted her acceptance speech by taking away the microphone and saying, “Yo Taylor, I’m really happy for you, I’ll let you finish, but Beyoncé has one of the best videos of all time. One of the best videos of all time!”

How awful!  What a bully!  Seriously – there is no other word for that rude “gesture.”

I am sure that many Taylor Swift fans wondered what she would in response to that horrible man’s publically humiliating attack on her.

Instead of taking Kanye to court (the grown up version of a school child telling the teacher), Taylor decided that she would take the high road.  She kept doing what she does best – writing music and singing it.  And winning awards.

On Sunday night, Taylor Swift took home a Grammy award for her song “Mean.”  And her acceptance speech was awesome!

“There’s really no feeling quite like writing a song about someone who’s completely mean to you and completely hates you, and then winning a Grammy for it.”

In the performance on the live telecast, she even changed the words in the final chorus…

Someday – I’ll be singing this at the Grammy’s…

And all you’ll ever be is mean…

I think that this whole scenario should be worked into the curriculum that we use in schools for bullying (if we even use curriculum, but that is another blog altogether!).  Making something great like a Grammy award winning song from a really horrible experience is a great way to deal with adversity.

What did Taylor have in her resource bucket that allowed her to do this?  That is what we need to focus on with students.  Instead of developing anti-bullying curriculum, let’s give all students the resources – the assets – that they need in order to be great participants in society.  The Search Institute provides excellent resources for schools, parents, and community leaders in this area of building assets, forming resiliency, and helping students become healthy, productive citizens.

That is where I believe our focus should be so that student learn to deal with any adversity that comes their way and turn a horrible situation into a Grammy award winning performance.

Tutti Frutti

A new yogurt shop opened in Maple Grove, MN, a while back.  The fam recently found it, and I thought I would share it with readers.  Fun place!

 

YUM!

Resting in Duluth

A business trip typically does not mean rest; however, my trip to Duluth on Monday for a job-related court appearance was exactly that.  I drove up on Sunday evening because the appearance was an early morning hearing.  I arrived in time to pop the popcorn, plug in the computer, and turn on the television just in time for the Grammys.  Refer to a few blogs prior to this one for why the Grammys were such a big deal to me this year.

I stayed at the Radisson in downtown Duluth.  I had a great room with an awesome view.

The lobby environment is one of the most welcoming I have ever seen.

In the morning, I had breakfast upstairs in the restaurant which revolves slowly (360degrees every hour and fifteen minutes) ….

….with breathtaking views of the harbor and the city.

 

What did I have to eat?

Bacon, of course!

My Mom and the Beach Boys

How is it possible that watching the Grammy Award show can make someone cry?  Well, if one of the performances makes you think of someone who is no longer with you by stirring up a good memory, then you might cry.

So – there I sat last night watching the show with the intention of enjoying a performance by the Civil Wars (who, by the way, won both of the Grammy Awards for which they were nominated) when the Beach Boys take the stage.  Their song made me think of a great memory that I have with my mom.

Mom managed rental properties for owners, and sometimes we traveled to visit places out of town to make sure that things were going well.  On one of her trips, she took me (and possibly my brother) along.  I do not remember why – maybe she wanted to spend time with us or maybe we did not have school. For whatever reason, though, we were along. 

To pass the time, we listened to music in the car.  We all love to sing, so we sang along. Mom would turn up the music super loud, and we would sing as loudly to match it.  We did not really care how we sounded, and it was so fun.

One of our favorite cassettes (yes, it was cassettes in the car “back then”) was a compilation of the Beach Boys’ greatest hits.  We would just sing and sing and sing.

Our favorite song – Surfin’  - had this great little bass ditty that I would sing super loud:

Bom Bom Dit Di Dit Dip
Bom Bom Dit Di Dit Dip

It was hilarious, and we had a lot of fun. 

The thing about this memory is that it is just one of the many goofy things that my mom did to make life fun.  The singing bit is pretty normal, but is coming up with an alternate personality normal?

I actually think it was pretty normal given the circumstance

When she was a single mom for a few years, my mom had her share of frustrating moments.  I was almost three and my brother only a few months old, when my mom started to raise us on her own.  Things could get a little nutty, I can only imagine.  Now that I have my own kids, I shake my head thinking about how things must have been for her.

Rather than go batty or scream or do crazy things that I am sure she was tempted to do when she had had enough of our behavior, mom had an alternate personality – Gertrude – who would “come out” when needed. 

Do not misunderstand, my mom did not actually have a personality disorder.

Rather, my mom was super creative and found a way to cope with the stresses of being a single mom.  Gertrude would scold us in a mean voice, but my brother and I would start laughing right away.  Our behavior would change almost instantly as she berated us for being mean, horrible children who were ungrateful for the work that our mother did for us. She would tell us that we should be nicer to our mom, and – actually – she was right.

It was honestly hilarious.

These are some of the favorite memories I have of my mom.  When someone leaves so soon in life (she was 53 years old), there are only so many memories.  I am so glad to have these fun memories of her.

And I guess – once again – I was caught by surprise at what would remind me of her.

Thanks, Grammy Awards!