PLUM TREE BLOSSOMS AGAIN


The plum tree is in full bloom again. From my office window I watch a troupe of bees doing a dizzy dance of plenty around the fluffy branches.

PLUM TREE REDEMPTION

For most of the year the plum tree in our back yard is a nuisance. It hangs over the driveway and drops its seasonal debris on my car. In the fall the leaves drop. In the summer the tasteless plums drop or are thrown down by the squirrels. And at random times the raccoons break off a branch that lands on the car hood and causes a small dent or scratch. BUT for a few glorious days in the spring the tree completely redeems itself.
If we are really fortunate and the rain or wind don’t come at this time we are treated to a wonderful event, the tree in full bloom. The tree makes the yard smell divine and it looks like a giant party dress made of white lace.
 From my office window I have a special treat when the sun is setting. The light is warm gold on the top of the Oak behind the bright white plum. The pictures here are a feeble attempt to capture and share this moment.
So when the leaves fall and the sticky plums cover my car I remember these few days. It’s all worth it.

Substitute Teachers


Substitute Teachers: challenges and student perspective

         Substitute teachers are near and dear to my heart. One of my jobs as a psychologist in a large urban school district was training substitute teachers on classroom management. And now my son is a substitute teacher, while getting his teaching credential.  
         There are many myths about subbing, like "Don't smile for the first day." I advise the opposite.  Even if you are facing a challenging group of adolescents, smile and tell them that you're so happy to be there, because this is your favorite age group and the teacher has said so many great things about them. It's hard to be evil to someone who likes you.
         One of the many strategies is to put a few sample notes home on the board, e.g. "________________ was so helpful today in the class. I appreciate the positive attitude and helpful behavior." The sub states that he or she loves to send positive notes home or to leave them for the regular teacher. The sub then invites students who want such a note to let him or her know at sometime during the day. Amazing what this motivates in a classroom.
         So, I was very impressed by the letter that my niece's fifth grade daughter wrote about a long-term sub when the teacher was out with knee surgery. Granted, she is an exceptionally thoughtful and bright child, but I thought the information and perspective would be valuable to anyone who is doing substitute teaching (and to teachers selecting a long-term sub)
         Thanks to Sophia.

Dear Mrs. G.,
We are writing this letter first to welcome you back, and we are very delighted to see you again as our fifth grade teacher!  We hope you had a full recovery and are feeling much better.
The second reason we write this letter is to express our concern regarding the atmosphere of the class during your absence.  While we understand that filling in as a substitute teacher is not an easy job, we feel that there was a very high level of stress.  This stress made learning difficult and made the classroom very unpleasant at times. We believe many of our actions were interpreted as misbehavior, and numerous pink slips were distributed to students who have never been reprimanded for behavioral issues. For example, good-hearted joking and fun was not tolerated and was regarded as bad behavior. The threat of receiving the punishment of pink slips added a lot of tension on us, and some of us took it very hard. The class felt controlled by the fear of earning a pink slip. Even for those of us who were not the subject of a pink slip, the situation of seeing our classmates being treated unfairly and our classmates’ reactions to the punishment were upsetting to the point of deep sorrow for each other.
I, as our anonymous writer, felt this sorrow throughout your absence. Though I didn’t get a pink slip during this period of time, I did watch many of my classmates receive them. I watched sobbing out of agony after class, recognition to everyone that you need to stop talking, even if you were trying to work and your tablemate wants to start a conversation, groups drawing together on the back of their papers while waiting for others to finish their sprints, but then misinterpreted for passing notes. Also, as mentioned before, humor was not accepted.
I am still very stressed from what happened the Thursday this paragraph is being written. I also keep this name anonymous. I felt as if I needed to converse this issue with a group of students. Because of this I felt compelled to write this letter. Honestly, I feel we tried really hard to be on our best behavior and show respect in the beginning, but every day class got stricter and stricter, and we slowly became restless. Finally I realized that it wasn’t that we were bad students, but that we actually really missed you and we wanted our normal routine. I personally feel that the class was not run by reward and kept calm, as you would do.
Thank you for taking this time to read this letter, you have no idea how incredibly pleased we are to have you back. Next time you have a sub, we would appreciate it if you were able to vary it with different people, if you have a choice. We look forward for better times with you this school year.


"Mistakes were made" -- the art of deflecting blame.


My original title was "When the passive voice is active." Amazing how often this article  from the Christian Science Monitor is relevant.

Mistakes were made in owning up to mistakes

By  / March 16, 2007
BERKELEY, CALIF.
"I acknowledge that mistakes were made here." With those words Tuesday, Attorney General Alberto Gonzales became the latest public figure to rely on the nonapology apology's best friend: the passive voice.
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"Mistakes were made" is the consummate case in point. It has become a contemporary mantra. Why won't those pesky mistakes quit making themselves!
Writers are cautioned – sorry, let me begin again: editors caution writers to eschew the passive voice. It's needed sometimes, but too much of it is considered bad form. And in public life, it almost always has the effect of avoiding accountability. But in government hearings and statements these days it seems to be the norm.
This trend and the common use of the generic "They" – as in "They just can't seem to get along in Washington" – lead us to mask the reality that actual individual human beings have power and accountability in creating positive or negative outcomes. Anyone who works in a large organization has also observed the trend to attribute most problems to management.
When I hear such vague blame, I have started asking, "What specific person?" and "What specific action?"
When I confront my own teenagers with their mistakes, they sometimes protest, "You're trying to make me feel guilty." Darn right I am! Sometimes that is the right response to a bad choice. Blame is not always a game; it can be an appropriate reaction.
Passive voice has so cheapened the concept of a mea culpa that various officials in government hearings and press conferences actually seem to be proud of themselves when they acknowledge that "mistakes were made."
And the really brave ones admit that the buck stops at their desk. With a grave tone they state: "I take responsibility. I was ultimately the one in charge."
What they usually mean is this: "Some jerk under me messed up, and I'm being gracious by pretending that I think it was my fault. But of course you realize I am blameless."
Wouldn't it be refreshing to hear an official say, "I made a big mistake by appointing a friend (or a relative or someone who contributed to my campaign). I should have hired someone with the knowledge and skills to do the job." After fainting from shock, most people would admire that candor and maybe trust that the same mistakes would not be made again.
I try to fight this pattern of accountability phobia in my own work by quickly acknowledging errors and getting on with solutions. I'm consistently surprised at how forgiving people are; they are generally equally ready to move on to solutions.
As a psychologist, I am often asked to work with children who have difficulty accepting responsibility. I try to help them see that when we give away blame, we give away power. If we don't recognize that we messed up, then we don't realize that from that same source of power we can generate solutions.
In counseling, I assign children homework: Each week, they have to share a mistake they've made so we can figure out a better course next time. It's amazing how quickly they learn to say, "I made a mistake when I ...." Remarkably, I never hear the children say, "Mistakes were made."
• Susan DeMersseman is a psychologist and parent educator.

Kids and Money Issues


This article continues to be relevant in the lives of many families.


Talk to your kids about money

Published 4:00 am, Saturday, October 25, 2008

When my son was 6, he asked, "Are we as rich as Tommy?" after he had visited Tommy, who had every imaginable toy.
We were in fact "richer" than Tommy's family, and I explained that different families simply choose to use their money in different ways. Back then, he was unimpressed that we were saving so that he could graduate from college with little debt.
We always felt confident about that benefit (and the short-range one of seeing less mess in his room). Sixteen years later, the choices we made to achieve that goal also make sense to him. He has even reassured me, "I had enough stuff."
The nation's financial crisis gives families an opportunity to learn how to focus on their goals and make careful choices with whatever resources they have.
Children who never hear "no" or "not now" or who never have to save for something special are robbed of valuable skills. They don't learn how to set a goal, take necessary steps and make necessary sacrifices, delaying gratification to achieve something of greater value than temporary pleasure. Our mantra was "short-term pain, long-term gain."
Another valuable skill is to accept minor disappointments with grace. Many parents experience discomfort when they cannot give their children something they request. They want their kids to "have things better" than they did.
But often it is doing without and working toward an achievement that builds the kind of character that overindulged children will lack. It is easy to confuse our own needs with those of our children. Do they need this toy, or do we need to give it to them?
By making the managing of finances a family project, children can take pride in contributing to the well-being of the family. For example, youngsters can become the "power patrol" - turning off lights and monitoring water use.
Older children can help with shopping. When the going gets tough, the tough shop more wisely and teach their children in the process. The family can set long-range goals for some desired trip or item, and the steps to take and sacrifices to make to achieve it.
This crisis can give us all the opportunity to re-evaluate what is truly important and how we can convey that to our children.

Income Inequality -- another perspective. GOOD and RICH

Good and Rich

     I'm glad that Warren Buffet, Bill Gates and the people that endow the McArthur Foundation are rich. There is sometimes a tendency in the media and politically to assume that all rich people are willing participants in class warfare and want nothing more than to hold on to their money.
     Yes, there are some so thoughtless and shallow that they do such things as build dog houses for 300,000 dollars or put their pooches in designer duds. But for each one of them there is someone who has found a way to enrich the world with their riches. What's more, many of their contributions are done anonymously, without a black tie gala or their picture in the social column.
     I'm not advocating for better tax breaks or loopholes for them. I just want to recognize the good. I believe that we sometimes get more of what we shine the light on. I don't quite know how to do this, but if you know Bill, Warren or the McArthurs please extend my gratitude.  Since we probably can't do that, maybe we can simply be inspired on a small scale to our version of philanthropy. We often think about what we could do if we won the lottery, but in the eyes of so many in this world, most of us have already won the lottery. This is the theme of the oped piece below. (Please also watch "American Winter" on HBO)

Saving the world – one person at a time

Everyday people, not just billionaires, can make a big difference in people's lives.

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By Susan DeMersseman / July 31, 2006
BERKELEY, CALIFORNIA
Warren Buffet recently donated $31 billion to the Gates Foundation, representing the largest charitable donation in United States history.
It's wonderful to see people with tremendous resources do great good. I was also struck by the apparent glee with which Mr. Buffet made this decision. It was as if he had decided not only to make a difference in the world, but also to enjoy doing it.
Most people would like to have the resources of a Warren Buffet. And I believe many would like to be able to make the kind of positive impact that a person can make with the benefit of great wealth. People often say, "If I won the lottery I would..." And then they mention a charitable act they would perform if they had enough. They might send a relative's child to college, build pure-water systems in thirdworld countries, or support a homeless shelter.
I work in schools where the need is great, and I often wished that I could help some of the kids I worked with. If I were to win the lottery, I thought, I'd have enough to do the things that seemed generous beyond my means.
But one day as I talked with one of my little clients about my life and my children, I realized that, in his eyes, I had more than he could imagine! It gave me a quick jolt of insight into what is important and what is enough. That summer his teacher and I sent the little boy to camp. He and his mom were homeless, and it was the first time in ages that he had spent so many nights in the same bed.
The wonderful but perhaps daunting truth is that right under each of our noses is some act, more powerful than we might realize, that in one person's life could make a huge difference. My work brings me into a community where the need is great, but the opportunity to make big differences with small acts is even greater.
Looking at the big picture, there are so many problems in the world and so much need that it can be overwhelming. Some evenings, by the end of the TV news, I'm exhausted, left wondering whether I should donate a kidney, adopt an orphan, or write my congressman.
People call it compassion burnout. When the task seems too great we sometimes shield ourselves by giving up, or we stop caring.
Earlier this year I tested a 9-year-old boy who was reading poorly. English was not his first language, and Luis had other obstacles as well. He did, however, have a gift for spatial reasoning and made wonderful drawings. The few hours we spent together must have meant something to him, for each time I saw him after that he waved as if we were old friends.
Then the week before school was out I watched one of those newscasts that left me with that wrenching sense of powerlessness. I could not pull off some heroic trip to the neediest corner of the world, but then I was reminded of Luis and other children I worked with. If I could make a small difference closer to home; maybe I was not completely powerless. So with a very small investment, I went shopping and found items for several kids who needed a cheerleader in their corner. On the last day of school I called each in and gave them a journal, a sketchbook, colored pencils, and markers. And with each went the message, "You have a special gift, and I hope this helps you develop it."
The kids were pleased with the gifts, but Luis's reaction was the best. I asked if he knew what the word encouragement meant, and he responded easily. "It means putting courage into someone when they don't feel so strong." WOW! Mr. Buffet will be able to help millions of people, but millions of us can do it, too – one person at a time.
• Susan DeMersseman is a psychologist and parent educator.