New Doctor, New City

I stepped out of bed to start my second day in paradise. Instead of landing on two steady feet, my right foot crumpled when it reached the floor. Swollen and red, it seemed twice the size of my left foot.

I had a Podiatrist in San Francisco and after treating my broken foot I asked if he knew someone in Hawaii. He didn't. How do I find a Podiatrist in a city I've been in for less than 24 hours? I searched online and found a doctor from California, who went to Stanford and USC and played Water Polo. Purely scientific research, I know. I chose familiarity.

Dr. Familiar (AKA Dr. Greg Morris) had an office with a view of the entire downtown Honolulu area and an ocean that spread from left to right for as far as I could see.

How could this be bad?

It wasn't. He was great. My foot would survive and I would start physical therapy the next week.

I hobbled out of his office to spend the afternoon at the Verizon Store, after my three month old replaced Droid phone broke.

Unexpected, and just like real life. Only in Hawaii.

SPAM, Rice and Malasadas

Hawaii. Mark wants to start over and move to Hawaii. It's not totally out of the blue, he does have family there and he wants to get back into the tourism business. So, we spent February on Oahu, deciding whether to live there or not.

Landing at Honolulu Airport as a tourist, I usually rush to get out of the airport, to the hotel and the beach. This time, I knew we were staying for a month; this was not vacation. We were looking to settle on the island. We had a leisurely lunch at the HNL food court and watched the tourists dragging their bags to flights headed back to the mainland.

Mark and I rented a car and dropped our bags off at the condo before heading to buy groceries. We were greeted by a large cockroach, belly up and dead in the entryway. All the buildings in Honolulu spray for cockroaches. It's a problem in the warm, muggy tropical island paradise.

No worries. Mr. Roach was disposed of and we drove to Foodland, the neighborhood grocery store.

As I entered Foodland, the hot and cold cases greeted me with SPAM musubi, sushi, Korean chicken and various meats breaded, fried and covered in some kind of sauce or gravy. We picked up a tray of fried chicken for dinner with rice. I searched for plastic forks, but only found a holder containing chopsticks.

Down a few aisles for my food staples, I came across the SPAM section in the row where I anticipated finding my Bare Naked Granola. Yes, a SPAM section. In every flavor I never imagined.

Where’s the Wallaby organic yogurt, gluten-free section and organic produce? I certainly wasn't in the Bay Area anymore.

Instead of candy and gum and trashy magazines in the checkout area, we were tempted by bamboo plants and leis for sale.

I was contemplating returning to California early, when, after dinner, I saw the sun setting into the sky. We ran down to the harbor where I snapped this photo of the sunset.

I sighed and released all the tension from my back. I would stay.

We ended our first day on Oahu at Leonard’s, where I ate my first-ever malasada; a fried, doughy, donut-like ball sprinkled with cinnamon and sugar, that melted in my mouth. Oh, so good. Mark's Grandma used to take him there as a kid. I was honored he shared with me a place from his childhood memories.

By 9pm (11pm California time) I was in bed trying to sleep with air-conditioning whirring in the corner of the room.

Starting Over

Three months. That’s how long it took my foot to heal. I broke the second metatarsal on my right foot. Four to six weeks, the podiatrist said it would take to heal. When I saw him two months later and the bone was still fractured, he told me I was a slow healer. Ugh.

For three months, I alternated between hobbling on crutches and lying on my sofa with my foot elevated and iced.

Every setback in my life has given me new gifts. This time, almost everything has changed. I am revamping my blog to include my everyday thoughts, experiences, adventures, etc.

And so, I begin.

Since October, my grandmother’s house sold, good friends moved out of state, friends passed on, my boyfriend (whom I’ll call “Mark”) wants to move out of state, and I still can’t walk correctly after three months with an immobilized foot. How’s that for change?

My grandparents were more like parents to me, especially after my father ‘s ALS diagnosis. Selling the only house that was a constant home for me is bittersweet. It’s tough to let go, but I have wonderful memories I will always cherish. The same is true for everything else. Friends pass away, but I will carry the beautiful memories of them with me. I may leave San Francisco, but “The City” will remain in my heart.

I dread change. Yet, it is the only constant and after years of fighting change, I realize it also lets in new people, places and adventures. I must let go of the past so new can enter. My “home” is really inside of me. Wherever I go, there I am.

With change looming every day, I’ve been purging my belongings. My goal, with the help of a storage unit, is to pick up and go with only absolute necessities in possession - some clothes, an open attitude, and two working feet.

Just wait until you hear the change Mark has planned for us.

Guidelines To Success - Classroom Organization

I broke my foot in September. For three months I was on the sofa with my foot elevated. I didn't do much of anything but rest. Forced rest usually happens right before a period of change and now it looks like I may move. So, I started purging and while cleaning out my files I found my Resource Book for Training Teachers, compiled by LA Unified Teachers and the University of Southern California in 1982.

Check out this page:


CLASSROOM ORGANIZATION

1. Plan your work carefully - There is no substitute for good planning.
2. Be prompt with clerical work - You expect students to meet their assignments; be careful about meeting your own.
3. Do NOT do clerical work in class - The class period belongs to students; they are your first responsibility.
4. Start slowly - A steady, well-organized pace is far better than a big explosion that fizzles out.
5. Establish routines - Whether it is a form for written work or a procedure for turning in papers, students need to know a way of doing things.
6. Set standards - Partial learnings, careless work, sloppy behavior and poor citizenship result from a teaching situation without standards and objectives.
7. Be firm but fair from the beginning - Control must be gained from the start. It is easier to relax control than it is to impose it after is has been lost.
8. Know your students - Knowledge of the student is important; study all the records and observe.
9. Be Patient - All children will not grasp your words of wisdom the first time.
10. Be calm - Fear, excitement, and frustration are contagious. A calm teacher is the key to a calm classroom.
11. Keep a sense of humor - It will save many a situation.
12. Observe other teachers - You can learn much from your fellow teachers and they are usually willing to share their experiences.
13. Accept and apply suggestions - Observation and suggestion are meant to help, not hinder.

Do they even teach this anymore in teacher training programs? There's even a section on diagramming sentences!

ALS Breeds A Teacher

ALS left me with no parents. For those who don’t know, ALS (Amyotrophic Lateral Sclerosis), also known as Lou Gehrig’s disease, is a motor-neuron disorder that is always terminal.

My father was diagnosed in 1971. I was seven. He had noticed weakness in his hands and trembling in his fingers. In spite of my parents’ valiant efforts to keep life normal for their two young daughters, ALS took over our family life. At eleven, my mom in the throes of taking care of a sick husband and my father debilitated by the disease and unable to care for himself, I took over caring for my younger sister and myself.

Fast forward to 1988. I grew up and became a teacher. A sixth grade teacher. A teacher of eleven year olds living in a chaotic, immigrant barrio, forced to grow up way too fast. I vowed to help them and make sure they had their childhoods left intact. A woman who’d grown up without parenting, deciding to parent her students? Yeah. I see it now. Did I know that was what I was doing back then? No. But lately thoughts of my father, his illness and how it changed my life, have swirled in my head. I realize I became a teacher to put some sense of “right” back into my world.

I truly believe teaching is a calling. It has always been my passion. But is a calling something we’re born with or something that develops from our life’s path? A fireman friend of mine years ago said, “Cynthia, We’re the lucky ones. We were born with a calling and we get to fulfill it everyday.”

Now I wonder - a calling or destiny? Or does it matter, as long as I’m feeding the passion?

If you are a daughter of a parent who has/had ALS, please join our new Facebook group:
Daughters of ALS

A Balboa Bar and A Distinguished School

A few weeks ago I wrote about sending letters to my former students upon their High School graduation. One e-mailed me the other day. She's going to Yale! Wow. Yale. Ivy League. Great for her.

In other news, my former Principal and teacher friends from that school are in Orange County at the Disneyland Hotel, picking up Baywood's California Distinguished School award.
Congratulations Baywood Elementary!

Last I heard, the group left Anaheim, lost and wandering around Newport Beach. Hope they find a Balboa Bar!

Funnies

A friend e-mailed these to me with the subject: "Why Teachers Drink"

A Cure For Teacher Complaining

“It’s time for another weekend in the desert,” said Elizabeth. Friday afternoon our group of five teachers piled in the car and drove out the school parking lot to Rancho Mirage near Palm Springs.

As we drove the two hours, we talked and complained about school, students, administrators, school conditions, funding….you get the idea. We needed to vent to people who would understand, but after two hours of griping and complaining we were in a bad mood.

Warm, sunny Rancho Mirage greeted us. At the condo, we drank strawberry daiquiris and sat around the small patio table overlooking the golf course.

“No more talking about school,” Elizabeth declared. “Any time one of us says a word about school, she has to put a dollar in the middle of the table and the money goes to buy us drinks tonight.”

We continued this tradition for all our Palm Desert weekenders. No matter how much money ended up on the table, it cured our bad mood every time.

Here we are years ago (back in the 80’s) in Palm Desert, ready for a night of “Teachers on the Town”.