Building Bravery

 

I’m at the top of the water slide and there is only one way down.

This might be a bad idea, my brain whispers. You don’t like speed or falling. And you keep getting letters from the AARP. 

“Humph!” I retort, refusing to back down. It seemed like a manageable plan when I was climbing up. Yes, I’m fifty-one and I haven’t been on a water slide in years—but I’m challenging my comfort zone, so here I am, perched up high, with the water far below.

I picture myself gliding down the slide with the grace of a mermaid, landing elegantly into the turquoise water with barely a ripple. I fumble from a standing to a sitting position and attempt to lay down on the slide. My body starts to slide, so I grab the sides above me. Yikes! Too fast! But gravity is pulling me downward, so half nervous, half elated, I let go.

A moment later I splash into the water, and surface with a bear-like snort, water up my nose. My hair is like a tangled clump of seaweed (Ariel the mermaid never had this problem), but I swim to the edge and feel a little proud that I did something new, something not entirely comfortable. Of course, I’m glad that no one witnessed my awkward attempt. This was just for me. It didn’t need to be graceful—it just had to be done.

Truthfully, this was not one of those skyscraper waterslides you see in videos online. It was an eight-foot 1970s pool slide with a curve, but shoot—I challenged my own doubts, and I'm glad.

Moments later, I’m informed that the family did see my descent, and I feel a bit chagrined. My performance was like the videos of a confused panda somersaulting backwards off a deck or getting tangled as she attempts to belly-flop a swing set. These pandas are graceless--but determined. My slide attempt was clumsy. The Olympic synchronized swim team will not be recruiting me, but hey—I’m proud I did it. 

A year ago, I decided I was going to try more things outside my comfort zone, without caving to my fears of failure or looking stupid. Trying things (not cuteness or perfection) is the win.

So what is bravery? It often is portrayed as physical challenges in which injury is possible--visible displays that defy fear or gravity. As kids, our role models were Wonder Woman and Superman. We learn that bravery is skydiving, bungee-jumping or walking over hot coals. Action. Capes. Shields. Heights.

I say sure, these acts require courage, but bravery can be small acts (that feel big). It's brave to raise your hand in class, sharing a personal story because your teacher asks for volunteers. Your heart may have been pounding, and this goes against your brain’s command to avoid anxiety-inducing acts. But you did it anyway. I'm proud of you for that.

Sometimes bravery is in doing something new. Or making major life changes. Bravery is not a contest, with a finish line and a clear winner. It’s not always a physical challenge--it may be an attempt to overcome a fear. Bravery is built by challenging yourself.

My own bravery journey has been an ongoing quest. I've done activities that made me scared, like climbing Half Dome at Yosemite. But the bigger challenges were not physical--they were emotional. My journey has had loops, wrong turns and dead ends, but I kept going. Two books that helped me shift my fear of judgement are Brave, not Perfect by Reshma Saujani and Rejection Proof by Jia Jiang. I heard NPR interviews with each author, and their stories fascinated me. I decided that like them, I wanted to try things that were out of my comfort zone. 

Physical Threats

When I was a child, I was scared of everything: big kids, dogs, snakes, spiders, heights, judgement, the dark, roller coasters. I’m still scared of heights but over the last few years I have challenged myself to ride the Skyfari gondola above the San Diego Zoo. You ride high over the treetops—awesome for some, but scary for me. I’ve ridden it at least thirty times now, and while it’s not 100% comfortable, I’m much less nervous than before. I used to count the seconds until it was over, both hands clenched onto the pole. Gradually, I began holding the pole with only one hand, and eventually, I stopped needing to hold the pole at all. To those without a fear of heights, this may not seem like a big deal. But for those of us who don’t enjoy falling, this was a big deal. A sign of my growth. I’m proud of that.

Me on the Skyfari ride. Look--no hands!

And what about my fear of snakes? In the last few months, I've challenged myself to look at the snakes in the science museum. I used to look at the floor in the reptile room, determined not to look at snakes, with their beady eyes and big appetites. But recently, I started looking at the snakes because I wanted to challenge my fears. When I was very young—five or six—we saw a long rattlesnake on the ground, less than ten feet away. I was terrified. My mom told us to back up very slowly so as not to startle the snake. The snake moved along, and no one was hurt. But this is a core memory, and it is not easy to overcome fears that date back decades. So, looking at snakes in glass enclosures is my first step toward challenging my own fears. We will not be getting a snake as a pet any time soon (at all, ever) but I’m building my way up to possibly holding a gentle, sleepy, small snake at local nature center. 

(Update: I wrote this post about two weeks before publishing it and during that time I said to myself, "Why put this off? You can go hold a snake right now. Empowering!" So, we went to a nature center and held a California Kingsnake. I was a little nervous but not terrified. I challenged my own fear and it wasn't overly scary. Go me!)

Physical health can present huge threats. I know people who are facing true health challenges right now: cancer of various sorts. That takes amazing courage by the patient as well as by the patient's loved ones. A friend’s husband is battling cancer, and I know she worries about him. But I see her walking her dogs each morning, going to work, dropping kids at school, despite her worries over her husband’s cancer. He is brave and so is she.

Physical threats sometimes involve the loss of a home, which is a double loss because it also involves emotional loss. I’m quite proud of the people I know who have started over after losing their home. Putting one foot in front of the other after tragedy—that takes guts. Courage doesn’t have a look or an age—it’s on the inside.

Emotional Threats

Fears sometimes involve emotional discomfort, not a lack of physical safety. A lion eating us is frightening for obvious reasons, but why is public speaking so scary to many people?

It's brave to face an emotional hurdle. 

Our ancestors who lived outdoors faced physical threats as well as emotional threats like exclusion. When people lived in nomadic tribes, feeling accepted within the tribe ensured survival, because food, shelter and safety were group goals. To be shunned could lead to death. Fear of exclusion is real, even if we are no longer nomads.  This is why fitting in at school feels so important to kids. Everyone wants to belong without judgment. 

A close friend came to town for the weekend, and we had a long talk about life. She’s faced a lot of challenges and is still finding her footing. In my eyes, she has true courage and resilience.

I'm proud of facing an emotional challenge a few months ago. It was graduation at the school where I taught art for seven years. When I visited my former students at school in September 2024, I promised the eighth grade that I would go to their graduation in June 2025 and I wanted to keep my promise and cheer on the kids. But I was nervous about it for weeks ahead of time because I did not want to be near my former boss at graduation. He was dishonest with me, and I confronted him when I visited school in September. Although necessary, the confrontation was uncomfortable, and I didn’t want a repeat. But I found the courage to go, and it was so good to see the kids again and to be part of their milestone. Of course, it wrecked me afterward—the loss of that part of my life. It opened wounds that had been healing for almost a year. Still, I’m proud that I didn’t let fear stop me. Courage can be small or big acts—but it often means doing what you feel is right, even when there is potential discomfort.

Fear of judgment or exclusion has reared its head multiples times in my life. My fears said, “Don’t rock the boat. It’s safer to be quiet.” So, I didn’t speak up. Or if I did, I was tentative. I dressed in a safer way, because I wanted to earn approval. I’m happy to say that I’ve grown and I dress in whichever fun way I want now. I speak up. I still like belonging but I’m not willing to shrink myself to fit into the mold. (Shrinking myself to please others didn’t work anyway, so it was a double loss.)

Sometimes going against the group feels as threatening as battling a lion. Speaking up might lead to exclusion—but it is essential to find the courage to be true to yourself. 

Fight or Flight

How do our bodies respond to fear? Some people sweat, faint, or have a fast heartbeat. Why do we have physical responses, even when the threat is emotional discomfort rather than physical harm? My online search led to the University of Edinburgh Science Media website, which posted the article 

 "Fear: from ancestral origins to modern thrill-seekers."  

Here is what I found:

Anxiety first emerged for human protection in the face of present danger. Fast forward to modern times, and our need to protect ourselves from predators has disappeared. Some of those instincts have remained ingrained in our programming, but most of our fear now lies in the future; whether that be paying bills on time, preparing for exams or working on a relationship. We now live in a delayed return environment, where the choices we make in the present will often not have an impact until later.

When we are afraid or anxious, our bodies release stress hormones. This leads to increased blood flow and oxygen directed to our muscles—a way to prepare our bodies for battle or escape (fight or flight).

So why do some of us experience these physical symptoms when we are not in physical danger? Certain activities feel emotionally dangerous. For some people, public speaking leads to the release of stress hormones--even a panic attack. There is no actual lion, but the audience feels like the lion.

Yet there are people who love scary activities—haunted houses or extreme sports. Why do these people run toward frightening activities, while others run from them? The University of Edinburgh article says that some people seek a natural high (dopamine release) from scary activities.  

The Comfort Zone

People fascinate me: our differences, and our commonalities. Everyone fears something.

Our fears and strengths are a map of who we are. What do we fear? What is our comfort zone?

We are encouraged to get out of our comfort zone. This often feels counterintuitive—like trying to exist without oxygen. So, why get out of our comfort zone? Here are a few reasons:

·       Our comfort zones can be a safe place, but they may limit us, too. If you don’t try new things, you may be missing out on something wonderful.

·       Taking baby steps out of your comfort zone allows you to grow. Growth is good!

·       Tiptoeing out of our comfort zone is a way to challenge our own fears, to dismantle them. If you challenge that inner voice that says, “Don’t,” and you try something and it goes well, that fear no longer controls you. It’s freeing.

There is a kid at my preschool who recently challenged his own comfort zone. He’s four and this is his first time in preschool. He looks strong and confident but he was nervous about his first visit to our outdoor art studio. His teacher cajoled him into trying it and I didn’t insist that he try the messy stuff like finger paint. He was allowed to play with toys I have set up for the kids who don’t want to make messes. I reassured him that he can take his time getting used to this new activity. Allowing someone to take baby steps is important, whether that person is four or sixty-four. It helps ease their anxiety. The new activity is not always the challenge—it’s the fear of the unknown aspects of the new activity/food/person/job/place. Fear of failure or discomfort.

A friend recently commented that she wishes she had the courage to dress in a braver manner. She is stylish but sticks to a neutral palette. I was surprised because I think of her as quite brave. She plays softball, after all! I dress in a fun and perhaps brave way, but I’m terrified of softballs. (Specifically, moving softballs. Softballs on the ground are okay.) I’d rather confront a rattlesnake than get hit by a softball zooming toward my head at fifty miles per hour! What terrifies some is fun and exciting to others. 

Discomfort won’t kill you.

A therapist I know says that avoiding scary things is not the answer. She advises us to remember that we can handle uncomfortable things. Avoiding discomfort keeps us removed from the possibility of good outcomes. Her advice has been helpful when I was nervous. If the “why” is important, and the potential good is there, challenge yourself to try something and know that you can handle some discomfort. The growth is the reward. This is coming from me, the kid who was so shy at four years old, she stood outside birthday parties because she didn’t want the kids looking at her. (I’ve come a long way!)

Have you overcome a fear? Please share in the comment section. 

(I've been told that the comment section is not allowing people to comment this time around. Sorry about that. Blogger seems to be a little temperamental right now. If you are able to comment, I always enjoy the feedback.)

I hope you are proud of challenging your fears, even if you think they are small victories. They aren’t. And challenging our fears helps us to grow. Let's keep building our bravery. We’ve got this!

Growing Pains--and Gains

I think we can grow all the time.
But it's true that we grow more when we are challenged...

 

I’m back again with several pieces of happy news. First, I’m happy to report that my mood is much better than it was two months ago, when I last wrote a blog post. Among other things, I have a new job, which I will tell about below. I also have photos to share from my latest art adventure.

But first, a PS to my last post about having to leave my teaching job. (I will not blog about this forever, but it is still fresh and there are both sad and happy updates). Thanks for your kind messages after my last post. They help.

If you did not see my last post, I had to leave my teaching job of seven years because my former boss changed the hours to include after-school art for the kids staying late. He would not let me keep my regular teaching schedule if I could not do afternoons, so I reluctantly made the decision to leave.

One piece of good news is that I got to see my former students in September. I was not planning to go to school because I felt too raw. But my former boss wouldn’t send my goodbye email to the kids, after promising he would. At first, he agreed that a teacher should not vanish without explanation, but weeks passed with no email.

In July, I wrote my letter to the kids and attached it to an email to the boss to send before school started, but weeks passed. I sent a second email to him, asking about my letter. He replied and said he would send it. More time passed so I sent a third, polite reminder email. No response. Another week passed and I sent my fourth email on this subject, saying, “If you have changed your mind about sending this, please let me know.” No response.

Finally, I texted the former boss that I planned to visit school two days later to say goodbye to the kids, since he had not sent my letter. He replied, discouraging me from visiting. I said that I’d waited five weeks for him to email the kids, that I felt brushed off and that the kids and I needed closure. When I arrived, again he attempted to dissuade me from visiting the kids, saying, “It’s best not to stir things up.” I said I disagreed, had been invited by the teachers, and that the kids and I needed closure. He accepted it.

Even before I reached the first classroom, I was swarmed by kids hugging me. My tears soon started, and I told the kids how good it was to see them. I visited each classroom, telling the kids that I never wanted to leave but that the new duties included afternoon hours I could not do. I encouraged them to be good listeners for their new teacher. They didn’t have to choose—they could like us both.

I hugged or first bumped more than three hundred of my former students (they chose which). Most wanted hugs. The third grade and fifth grade made me cards, knowing that I was visiting. After I’d visited half the classrooms, I learned that the new art teacher was not teaching after-school art, after all. Not many parents signed up kids for the after-school homework and art classes. Furthermore, the new art teacher could not come for after-school art lessons. He now teaches at two schools, and his first school would not allow the after-school hours at the second school. This supposedly came to light after he’d signed our school’s contract.

I felt outraged that I’d been forced to choose, then ignored and kept in the dark. After visiting the classrooms, I marched into the boss’ office and said that I’d heard about the lack of art classes in the afternoon. I suspect he wanted the teachers and kids to think leaving was my idea. I felt disrespected and badly treated. I stood up for myself, which has always been hard for me. Next, I went next door and spoke to the pastor about the shabby treatment. The pastor comforted me, saying he would talk to the principal about answering emails and showing more respect. I felt both heartbroken and vindicated.

Here are a few photos of letters and cards from my 3rd and 5th grade students. I love those kids. 

A third-grader's portrait of me. Colorful and smiling.
I'm honored!

Clearly a portrait of me. I do love red and polka dots!

Thanks for hanging in there with this long story. I felt it was necessary to follow up to my last blog post, since I was able to visit the kids and get closure. My heart truly felt like it could burst with happiness when those kids shrieked my name and ran to me. Goodbyes are necessary, but so hard. The healing (although slow) has begun.  

Another piece of good news is that I recently began working at a local preschool. 

The hours, location and overall feel of the place feel like an excellent fit for me. These new kids will not replace my bond with my old students, but my heart feels like it’s healing. The little ones are so open and it’s easy to form a bond with them. I mostly work with three-year-olds, but also help with four- and two-year-olds. I still dream a lot about the school where I used to teach. The dreams are confusing, but I know my heart is healing. In support of my new teaching job, I’m taking another Child Development class online. It’s a lot of work but interesting and I’m learning quite a bit. Good to keep the brain active, right?

A couple of weeks ago I substituted for the four-year-old’s teacher, and we did a Halloween art project. Here are the vampires they made. Cute, right? I will be doing more art with the kids, starting in the new year. 

I’m also trying to step out of my comfort zone, to try new things, to grow.

On October 19 and 20, I participated in Bella Vita, an art festival in Little Italy in San Diego. Thirty artists each did an eight-foot by eight-foot chalk drawing on pavement, all with Italian themes. The art was temporary—kept only for two days, but that’s okay. It was about appreciating something in that moment. My scene depicts an Italian street with colorful buildings, and a vintage Vespa scooter in the foreground. I spoke with so many people that weekend, and it felt great to connect with people around art. Lots of people had fond memories of riding a vintage Vespa or of travels in Italy. One man said he wanted to jump right into my scene and ride off on an adventure. What a compliment!

Back in July, I emailed the festival’s organizer and asked to sign up to do a chalk drawing. I’ve never done a big chalk drawing on pavement. So why start in such a public way? It’s ironic, but on the heels of my job loss pain, I suddenly felt drawn to challenges I previously would have avoided. My comfort zone of teaching did not protect me from loss and hurt. So, I decided that I was not going to limit myself by doing only things I knew I’d be good at. I wasn’t going to let anxiety or perfectionism win.

It’s freeing to realize I will survive the hurt if I fail. But I’m happy to report that I was pleased with my first attempt at a big chalk drawing. Some of the other artists were a lot more experienced with chalk, but I decided I would not be intimidated—I’d use the opportunity to learn from them, and I did. 

Here are some photos from Bella Vita. Please pardon the shadows. It's hard to take a great photo of something on the ground but I did my best. Thank you to the friends who stopped by to say hi and to the fun new people I met that weekend.

Oh, the '60s Vespas...always a favorite subject for me...

This willingness to try new things partly is due to an interesting book I read this year. The book is Brave, not Perfect, by Reshma Saujani. The author writes about her former fear of failure, and how a huge percentage of girls and women fear failure so much that we don’t even try certain activities. She encourages people to do new things imperfectly because you gain something invaluable from trying, regardless of the outcoming. I’m tired of letting my fears win or limit me. I am sad that I spent decades not trying things because I feared failing or not looking good while I did something. I cringe even writing that but it’s the truth. I’m ready to try more things. Ready to stumble or even fail. Ready to grow.

This is truly a season of change for me. It’s my first time working at preschool, and I learn new things every day. There are similarities with teaching K-8^th grade kids, and differences, too. I hadn’t planned to start a new chapter this year, but that is how things happened. They say it’s not about controlling what happens in life, which is impossible. It’s how you respond to the unexpected. Can you pivot? Yes, you can. It’s an important reminder for those of us who sometimes feel afraid of new challenges. Will it be scary at times? Yes. But you are so much stronger than you think you are, and it feels good to stretch and grow.

On that note, I want to close with a thought on thankfulness because we are officially in Thanksgiving season. I am thankful I got through my rough summer and found another job where I feel appreciated. I am grateful for my family and friends, who have given me extra support these last few months. We have a lot to appreciate in America, imperfect as it is, and I am thankful for our many freedoms.

Thank you so much for reading. It’s been a hard few months for me, but it helps to share my story, and your support comforts. I will return soon with more adventures in art. Until then, be safe and shine on!

 

Transitions

 

New pink erasers. The smell of crayons. Full bottles of Elmers glue. Yes, school is in again. This fall, however, is different from the others. I am not gearing up to teach art to kids, as I have every fall for the last seven years. I wanted to explain, because my blog has included a lot of kids’ art over the years.

I had no plans to stop teaching art at the private school where I taught part-time for seven years. Teaching became part of my identity, and I loved watching my students discover their creative sides.

In July, my boss told me that he needed someone to run a new art program during after-care at school. It would be for two hours each day, after school. He did not want to hire someone else to do afternoons, while I kept my Wednesday teaching schedule. I suggested various compromises, but he wanted one teacher rather than two.

It was a hard decision, but ultimately, I chose to step away. The school is twenty miles away, and I felt it would be a lot for me to create new lessons, drive to school, set up, teach for two hours, clean up, and repeat the next day. My youngest just started a new school and isn’t old enough to drive, so the school pick up time would conflict with my teaching after school. It’s just a different schedule than what worked so well for my family, and so I am stepping back. I will miss my students so much, but I will keep in touch with some of the families. I hope the kids will remember me and know that their teacher cared.

I liked being part of a team of teachers, working together toward a common goal. Earlier in my career, I painted murals, usually alone. While I like solitude, one needs balance. It felt so good to be part of a group, to make a difference with kids.

When you are a teacher, especially of little kids, you become part of their world. It’s a sacred bond. In addition to creating art projects, I put Band-Aids on ouchies. I comforted crying kids who felt left out. I gave teenagers life advice about believing in themselves. It was so much more than a job. So, I am mourning this loss. Each day I feel both happy and sad emotions. My family and friends have made sure I laugh each day, but it’s a struggle to make sense of all this. I’m choosing to write about this here on my blog because we bond when we share our true feelings, when someone tells us their stories. I’m not looking for pity, but I’m also not ashamed to admit how hard this loss is. 

Obviously, there are much bigger problems in the world than where I work. I’m lucky that I have a choice about where I work, because many people do not. But when you give your heart to your job and your students, and when that changes without warning, it’s difficult to accept.

My current plan is to work another part-time job, but not in a classroom. Because I have a degree in art but not a teaching credential, it limits where I can teach. I’m not ready to start teaching somewhere new, because I’m still mourning the loss of this position, and I miss these kids. But in the future, I may be back in the classroom again and blogging about kids’ art. I have a few ideas about what’s next, but I want to make a thoughtful choice, not a quick decision, so I’m mulling things over first…

I had two special moments recently, when I was plein air painting around town. A little girl came up to me with her mom and I explained to her what I was doing. She was too shy to talk to me, but I enjoyed our time together. Here is the Craftsman house I was painting. 

I told her I thought the house looked like it was hidden behind trees and that it reminded me of a fairy tale because the house felt mysterious, like a secret. Later, once she was home, across the street, she waved at me from her living room window, again and again.

A few days later, two young boys and their dad walked by my easel. I was midway through painting a yucca tree. I liked the contrast between the pure white of the yucca flowers and the crisscrossing of the dark power lines.

Upon seeing my canvas, the older one smiled and said, “Oh, it’s the same tree right there!” It boosted me to talk with them. These moments reinforced how much I love being around kids.

This blog will continue, as I post about my own art adventures, doing plein air painting around San Diego. I want to do more public art, so there may be posts about that, too. There are still stories to tell and color to bring to the world, even if student art will not be the focus for now.

Here are a few photos of what I’ve been up to this summer. My summer took an unexpected turn, but I tried to find happiness each day, watching sunsets, painting outdoors, and walking in nature.

1970s Schwinn Stingray Fastback

Painter's Point, La Jolla, CA

The Rady Shell at Jacob's Park, downtown San Diego

Thank you for reading and for your positive feedback all these years, as I took my first tentative steps as a teacher and grew to love what I did. You’ll see me here again before too long, bringing stories of art and creativity. Until then, thanks for being here. Be safe and find some joy.

 

Skunk in the Bunk

She’s been sprayed!

She is our sweet dog, Bella, and she had a skunk encounter tonight. Technically, the skunk was not in any bunks. But the skunk smell wafted throughout several rooms of the house, including bedrooms, so I’m justifying the title of this post that way. Also, it’s my blog and I can name posts what I want! (PS: I’ve earned it after the skunk drama.)

We adopted Bella almost three years ago from a rescue organization. She came already named (a new name chosen by the organization). I wanted to name her something funny like “Spike” or “Jaws” but I didn’t want to give her a third name to learn, so Bella remained her name. But I digress.

In our nearly three years together we have not had a skunk situation. We live a few blocks from canyons, so maybe we should count our lucky stars that she hasn’t been sprayed before now. But all that changed in an instant. Around seven pm I let Bella out for her nightly run around the backyard. Suddenly, she’s racing back toward me and I instantly smell that unmistakable stench of skunk. She’s rubbing her face against the ground again and again, and I realize she’s been sprayed in the face and is trying to rub away the pain. I call for help from my middle kiddo, technically the owner of the dog, and Google “Skunk spray to a dog’s face.” The article recommends putting a wet cloth to the dog’s face or eyes. Right. Have you met this dog? She doesn’t do anything I want her to, so my comical attempts to wet her face are met with racing in circles, running outside (toward the skunk?!), and general disobedience. It’s like negotiating with a two-year-old. Not possible.

We decide to spray Bella down outside with the garden hose, mindful to steer clear of the gigantic spider spinning a web nearby (the one I almost walked into a few days ago. It’s at face level, naturally). Bella loves the hose, so this helps not only with getting the skunk oil out of her eyes but hopefully off her fur, too.

I take a one minute break to text my nextdoor neighbors for advice, since their dog recently was sprayed by a skunk. Wonderful neighbors they are, they deliver skunk shampoo within a few minutes.

We move our party from the yard to the bathroom. We start giving her a sponge bath, being careful not to get the shampoo in her eyes, which are already red and irritated. She is happily bribed to be washed since there are two cooked hamburgers in a plastic bag on the edge of the sink. The burgers were already on the sink, if you must know. That’s where I always keep hamburgers. Don’t you? Okay, truthfully they were in the fridge but I was happy that I had them cooked and ready to go—because when you are having a SSS (skunk stench situation) you don’t pause to cook burgers. At least I don’t.

As we were cleaning the dog, and laughing about this strange turn of events, it occurred to me that a combination hamburger stand/dog wash station has untapped potential. No one has capitalized on this yet. (If someone reading this ends up building one, I insist on being paid at least twenty dollars for the idea.) “Skunk ‘n' Grub” could be its name. Although, it doesn’t have to be only about skunk spray emergencies—it could be just for routine dog washes. Maybe “Suds ‘n' Grub.” If you’re vegetarian you could go to its sister franchise, “Suds ‘n' Spuds,” for delicious fries made from happy potatoes, grown in organic soil under majestic blue Idaho skies. $14.99 buys your dog a wash/dry and you all the tasty fries you can eat.

Anyway, we washed the dog and her eyes seemed a lot better. Bella shook the water from her coat several times during our rinse down, so now I don’t need to take the bath I’d planned. In related news, our bathroom floor looks a lot shinier than it was yesterday. And Bella’s coat is also shinier than it was yesterday. We used the blow drier on her a little bit, and brushed her fur while it dried. For her spa treatments, she lay regally on several towels, pleased to have not one but two humans doting on her. (As it should be, I could hear her thinking.) 

Her eyes were red from the spray but she is happily sleeping now. 

The timing of tonight’s Surprise Shower is amusing for two reasons. First: I actually pondered taking Bella to the DIY dog wash place today. She was overdue for a wash. But I had lots of art to grade and decided to put off the trip another day or two. Now I’ve saved myself a trip if Bella’s home bath takes care of the skunky residue. Truthfully, timing is rarely on my side. I’ve often washed my car the day before it rains. In keeping with this trend, a skunk spraying would happen a few hours after I’d taken the dog to be washed. This particular episode marks a change from how things often work in my crazy world (“Sarah’s Shenanigans,” as my friend Nicole aptly named them). I’m not saying I’m thrilled about the spraying, but timing was somehow on my side. This one time.

The other interesting piece of timing is that Hubby is on a work trip. My mom always joked that disasters happened only when my dad was out of town, so we are keeping the family tradition alive. But seriously, if there is a silver lining in all this (besides the clean bathroom floor, blog post inspiration, and idea for Suds ‘n' Grub), it’s this: if Hubby had been here, I would have yelled for help and he would have helped immediately. But because he wasn’t here, I handled it on my own. I used to doubt whether I could handle unexpected trouble. I used to think other people had better ideas about how to handle problems. Luckily, over time my confidence has grown. I think some of us often underestimate ourselves. Obviously, this wasn’t a dire situation like carrying an injured person off of Half Dome and performing emergency surgery on the way down with nothing but a few safety pins and a flashlight. But these unexpected situations are a good reminder to me that I can handle things I haven’t encountered before. I wish I’d spent less time second-guessing myself over the years. Still, I’m proving to myself that I can handle the unanticipated.

So that is the tale of a lifted skunk tail, and the trouble that followed. It’s not a fairy tale, but it does have a happy ending in that Bella survived her skunk encounter and we did, too. After her bath, she soon returned to her happy self, snoozing in her favorite spot. I’ll check with the vet tomorrow to see if there is anything else we need to do. As for me, I have a dozen towels to wash, but that’s okay. And on the plus side, the lingering smell of skunk in the house distracts one’s eye from all the dusty surfaces! 

Thankful in San Diego

 

You are familiar with the film Sleepless in Seattle? Well, I am thankful in San Diego.

A few weeks ago I brought Thanksgiving coloring pages to my Kindergarten and first grade students. We colored turkeys, cornucopia and piles of fruit. With my youngest students I usually give them directions, step by step, but I also have to be flexible. Art is not math, with only one right answer. When we began this project I told the kiddos that we would start coloring certain parts together and after that, they could color whatever they wanted. However, when I say, “Let’s start by coloring the head of the turkey gray and the turkey’s wattle red,” some kids don’t hear that. They seem to hear, “Color the whole head red.” And a few somehow heard, “Scribble all over the turkey in a random fashion, using whichever color you like, but certainly not the recommended gray or red.” But hey, at this age art should be purely about having fun and being creative. So I give them points for effort. If some of them got extra colorful with their turkeys, who am I to squelch their gusto? And so we have several turkeys dressed for Mardi Gras.

 

1st grade--this is clearly the lesser-known tropical turkey...

I asked them what they are thankful for this month, and here are some of their answers:

My family! My friends! My Chihuahua. My brother! YOU! (I’ll admit, I love that answer. They’re too young to be buttering me up for good grades. Kindergarteners are honest, so I did feel appreciated.)

I asked whether they help cook for Thanksgiving. They all claim to help. Some say they help with the turkey. Two students said they like helping with Thanksgiving cupcakes. This is a thing? Where have Thanksgiving cupcakes been all my life? Mom? I need answers.

Anyway, Thanksgiving is on their brains and we had fun doing art to celebrate this season.

1st grade

My third graders also colored turkeys, but they drew their own, and I love the variety in their drawings. You thought all turkeys looked alike? Think again.

My fourth grade students made 3-D Thanksgiving turkeys. Turkey can be either friend or food, and wherever you stand on that issue, the kids had fun making these cute critters. In case anyone wants to make one of their own, I’m including the steps at the end of this post. I only see the fourth graders once in November, so this lesson needed to be something the kids could complete in one class session. Our November is very choppy, with Veterans Day, parent-teacher conferences, and Thanksgiving itself. They finished in less than forty five minutes, and even had time to add personal touches to their turkeys. Didn’t the kids do a great job?

Let’s pause a minute. I’ve got something you’ve been waiting for—

tights that don’t get runs? I wish. It’s a short round of Thanksgiving Trivia.

Which US president declared that Thanksgiving would be a permanent holiday? 

Abraham Lincoln.

In 1928 what did Calvin Coolidge receive as a Thanksgiving present?

a)      An antique coin from Colonial days.

b)      A live raccoon.

c)      1,928 cookies, handmade by local children.

(I hope you’re genuinely debating which of these is the answer. 

It’s B!)

Which year was canned cranberry sauce first available to Americans? 

1941.

            Okay, now back to art. (You kids are always trying to get me off topic. Back to our lesson.) 

My older students made Thanksgiving cards to give to someone in their life. I suggested family or a friend, but one seventh grader vowed to give his to the family cat. (Ahh, seventh graders: always full of ideas.)

The assignment was to draw three fall leaves floating down gracefully. I asked them to use fall colors, and write something thoughtful inside the card. (The seventh grader with the cat said he would write, “Meow” inside. Okay, kid. Knock yourself out. I’m sure the cat will be delighted.)

7th grade

6th grade

5th grade

7th grade

6th grade

This month the students and I took a moment to think about all we appreciate. It’s certainly been a…memorable year. There have been some very difficult months, but we still have a lot to appreciate. And so, as we get ready for Thanksgiving, I wish everyone a safe and festive holiday, however you celebrate.

Until we blog again…I am Thankful in San Diego.

                                               ________________

Pine Cone Turkey Art Project:

Supplies needed:

• ·         scissors
• ·         half of a blank paper plate--ideally uncoated (not shiny), with a ridged edge
• ·         glue (hot glue is ideal but white glue also works)
• ·         pinecone (ideally with a little space between the scales)
• ·         small amount of brown craft foam (roughly 4” x 1”) but cardboard works
• ·         red foam/felt/fabric/paper (size of a penny)
• ·         gray crayon, colored pencil or marker
• ·         brown crayon, colored pencil or marker
• ·         black pen or marker

Instructions:

1.       Cut a paper plate in half. On the straight edge, draw a half circle, roughly 2” in diameter.

2.       Cut out the small half circle. (We will not need this small half circle so it can be recycled).

3.       Put your paper plate on the table in front of you. The plate has a raised part, and this is pointing up. (This is the same way you would put the plate on the table if you were using it for a meal.)

4.       Find the half circle that touches the table when you lay the plate down. Color it gray.

5.       Color a brown arch about half an inch wide, directly next to the gray semi-circle.

6.       Leave a space blank next to this brown arch you just colored. This will be a white stripe or arc.

7.       Next, (leaving the gap of white), draw another arch of brown.

8.       If you want to draw some lines to suggest feathers, you can do this with your black pen.

    9.  With your black marker or crayon, draw feathers on the gray part of your turkey. They look like upside down "U" shapes.

10. If you like, you can cut “feathers” on the edge of your plate. Do this by making small cuts all around the round part of the paper plate (not the straight part).

11. Cut a small piece of foam or felt (1-2” square) to be the base of your pinecone so it does not roll away. Glue the base to the pinecone.

 12. On your remaining piece of foam, draw a simple turkey head and neck, roughly 1” wide by 2” long. With a black marker, draw an eye. Cut out the turkey’s head/neck. 

           13. With  red foam or felt, make the turkey’s wattle. It should be bumpy looking and roughly the size of a penny. Glue it to the turkey’s neck.

14. Glue your turkey head and neck to the pine cone so that the scales of the pinecone are facing away from the head.

15.    Place your pinecone so that the felt or foam base is on the table. Find a place in the pinecone to put the paper plate so that it will not fall out. Tuck it into the pinecone until it is secure. If it needs glue to stay in place, apply some glue. Now you have a cute 3-d turkey. (You’re so creative!)