hum·ble [huhm-buh l, uhm-] hum·bler, hum·blest,
verb, hum·bled, hum·bling.
adjective
1.
not proud or arrogant; modest: to be humble although successful.
2.
having a feeling of insignificance, inferiority, subservience, etc.: In the presence of so many world-famous writers I felt very humble.
3.
low in rank, importance, status, quality, etc.; lowly: of humble origin; a humble home.
4.
courteously respectful: In my humble opinion you are wrong.
5.
low in height, level, etc.; small in size: a humble member of the galaxy.
Monday, January 14, 2013
Wednesday, April 25, 2012
So who got the education in all of this?
When I first sent Cindy off to the 'big city' for a high-falootin' snazzy education, I thought the transition would be, well, a piece of cake. After all, why wouldn't it be? She breezed through the first 12 years, so the next four would follow suit, right? No? Let's make that a Hell No.
I had thought, naively, that her school had done it's job, by preparing her educationally. I had done my job, preparing her emotionally. Unfortunately, whoever was in charge or preparing me, dropped the ball.
Going into the Marine Biology program, had been her goal since she was 8. It never veered off course, it never changed, it just 'was'. I sat with her when she went to orientation. I listened as this smart, articulate girl spoke with the Dean of the program, asked the right questions, took notes, she ran that show. She knew it would be tough. She was ready. Bring it on.
Or not.
Educationally, I think she could have stuck it out. Unfortunately, college math is geared towards kids who have come from larger populated schools, with more advanced math programs to offer students. For a kid who's graduating class consisted of under 50 students, the campus in and of, itself is overwhelming. Going from having a name, from everyone knowing you, your folks, what you did on the weekend, what you did at 4:08 p.m. on January 8, 2006, to where you are just another body, or tuition payment, is pretty scary stuff. Toss in parents who didn't have this experience, who don't understand how incredibly difficult this is, who assume the problem must lie within her, and let's face it. This could have gone either way.
First semester...1.9 GPA. Academic probation. Every conversation with mom and dad turning into an argument. Toss in the college night life, which I now understand, is an outlet. Frankly? I'm surprised she didn't pack up lock, stock and barrel, move home, lick her wounds, and chalk it up to experience. I would have. I can sit here, without a hint of a doubt, and tell you I would.
No. She dropped back, stared failure in the face, and punted. "Social Work"? We asked? Never once, had she hinted for a career that involved nurturing humans, in anyway shape or form. "Whatever", was our response. She's in college. "Shrug". Switching gears mid-stream, had us thinking she was crazy, but we went along with it.
In this process, I think it's me who's done the learning. There was a moment, where it hit me with crystal clarity. "She needs to enter adult-hood the same effed up way the rest of us have". It's time to stop parenting, and start supporting. When that happened, she sailed right through. She was wrong about Marine Biology. It may have been her chosen career, but the good that she will do, and IS doing in the field of human relations, is not always rewarding, it's not always pleasant, but it's a field that needs what she brings to it. That, no-fail, you won't beat me, and I won't give up, attitude. Working with low-functioning high needs children and families, is not made for someone who is going to pack it up and go home, every time things get a bit rough.
This all came to mind, as I was posting on my Facebook wall. I tried to tag her in a post, and when I highlighted her name, one of the options was to search her name on Google. I thought 'why not'. This article popped up. I remember this incident, as it caused yet another argument. Not one to get hysterical over underage drinking, I was appalled at police involvement. Not that I was innocent at her age, I certainly wasn't. However, none of my 'mischief' led to police involvement. Pure luck. Again, I had never lived in a college town, and I didn't realize that police are very different there, than in the small town I grew up in. As I read it now, 4 years, many learning experiences (my own) later, I see something that I chose not to see then. "Bergin, who also admitted to drinking,"
I ignored that part earlier. The part where she admitted to it, owned her behavior, and took responsibility for her actions. That line is significant for more than my ignorance to the larger picture, it's significant, because 4 years later, I can read it, not focus on behaviors that I can't control, but to look at it with the realization, that my kids are good people. At the end of the day, it's enough. Despite bumps, blurbs, and tears, it's enough. The rest, my friends, is gravy. For without the guts to own up to something you know will land your ass before a judge, you don't have what it takes to stand before a football stadium and receive a diploma, and enter the world prepared to give direction to other people.
Life is a journey. It's a path. It's not a stone walkway, impossible to move. It's yours to maneuver as you see fit. And you will. Not because of a degree, but because when something isn't working, you can drop back, and punt, and send it sailing in the direction you want. Through MY mistakes, of not supporting you when you needed it most, and not trying hard enough to understand, you became stronger, and wiser. I will spend the rest of my years being your friend, your mother, and your confidante. THESE are things that I learned in college.
I love you.
I had thought, naively, that her school had done it's job, by preparing her educationally. I had done my job, preparing her emotionally. Unfortunately, whoever was in charge or preparing me, dropped the ball.
Going into the Marine Biology program, had been her goal since she was 8. It never veered off course, it never changed, it just 'was'. I sat with her when she went to orientation. I listened as this smart, articulate girl spoke with the Dean of the program, asked the right questions, took notes, she ran that show. She knew it would be tough. She was ready. Bring it on.
Or not.
Educationally, I think she could have stuck it out. Unfortunately, college math is geared towards kids who have come from larger populated schools, with more advanced math programs to offer students. For a kid who's graduating class consisted of under 50 students, the campus in and of, itself is overwhelming. Going from having a name, from everyone knowing you, your folks, what you did on the weekend, what you did at 4:08 p.m. on January 8, 2006, to where you are just another body, or tuition payment, is pretty scary stuff. Toss in parents who didn't have this experience, who don't understand how incredibly difficult this is, who assume the problem must lie within her, and let's face it. This could have gone either way.
First semester...1.9 GPA. Academic probation. Every conversation with mom and dad turning into an argument. Toss in the college night life, which I now understand, is an outlet. Frankly? I'm surprised she didn't pack up lock, stock and barrel, move home, lick her wounds, and chalk it up to experience. I would have. I can sit here, without a hint of a doubt, and tell you I would.
No. She dropped back, stared failure in the face, and punted. "Social Work"? We asked? Never once, had she hinted for a career that involved nurturing humans, in anyway shape or form. "Whatever", was our response. She's in college. "Shrug". Switching gears mid-stream, had us thinking she was crazy, but we went along with it.
In this process, I think it's me who's done the learning. There was a moment, where it hit me with crystal clarity. "She needs to enter adult-hood the same effed up way the rest of us have". It's time to stop parenting, and start supporting. When that happened, she sailed right through. She was wrong about Marine Biology. It may have been her chosen career, but the good that she will do, and IS doing in the field of human relations, is not always rewarding, it's not always pleasant, but it's a field that needs what she brings to it. That, no-fail, you won't beat me, and I won't give up, attitude. Working with low-functioning high needs children and families, is not made for someone who is going to pack it up and go home, every time things get a bit rough.
This all came to mind, as I was posting on my Facebook wall. I tried to tag her in a post, and when I highlighted her name, one of the options was to search her name on Google. I thought 'why not'. This article popped up. I remember this incident, as it caused yet another argument. Not one to get hysterical over underage drinking, I was appalled at police involvement. Not that I was innocent at her age, I certainly wasn't. However, none of my 'mischief' led to police involvement. Pure luck. Again, I had never lived in a college town, and I didn't realize that police are very different there, than in the small town I grew up in. As I read it now, 4 years, many learning experiences (my own) later, I see something that I chose not to see then. "Bergin, who also admitted to drinking,"
I ignored that part earlier. The part where she admitted to it, owned her behavior, and took responsibility for her actions. That line is significant for more than my ignorance to the larger picture, it's significant, because 4 years later, I can read it, not focus on behaviors that I can't control, but to look at it with the realization, that my kids are good people. At the end of the day, it's enough. Despite bumps, blurbs, and tears, it's enough. The rest, my friends, is gravy. For without the guts to own up to something you know will land your ass before a judge, you don't have what it takes to stand before a football stadium and receive a diploma, and enter the world prepared to give direction to other people.
Life is a journey. It's a path. It's not a stone walkway, impossible to move. It's yours to maneuver as you see fit. And you will. Not because of a degree, but because when something isn't working, you can drop back, and punt, and send it sailing in the direction you want. Through MY mistakes, of not supporting you when you needed it most, and not trying hard enough to understand, you became stronger, and wiser. I will spend the rest of my years being your friend, your mother, and your confidante. THESE are things that I learned in college.
I love you.
Friday, November 18, 2011
Though I face most awesome odds... Thor is helpless... never!
Although he is no 'God of Thunder' tomorrow marks a year since Thor has come to live with us. Ergo, it's his Birthday. I don't care what his stupid papers say. His new life began with us, so I say it's his Birthday.
To repeat the story of how he came to be with us would be, well, redundant. It's filed under my 'notes' on my facebook page.
Last week, I had an illustration, of sorts, of how far he has come.
If I let any of the dogs out together, they like to go visit the neighbors. The neighbors are cool about it, just calling to say 'they're here'! And I traipse out in jammies and slippers, hunt them down, and they come, right away to the car. On this particular morning, I hadn't had my coffee. I opened the door, thinking 'they'll be fine while I grab a cup a joe.' Grabbed the coffee, came back to the front door, and they were gone.
I grab my keys, and my coffee, and stomped out to get them. (Drinking my first cup of coffee while herding wayward Newfoundlands is not a good start to the day) As I get to the end of the driveway, one lone Newf stands alone. Sitting there. Not leaving the driveway. Looking quite pleased with himself. A look that said 'if only dad could see me now'! Sure enough, he was able to resist the peer pressure, and not be disobedient.
As he went back to the house, it was hard to imagine that mangy, stinky, infection filled dog that I had brought home. With windows open. I didn't even touch him without rubber gloves, that first time.
When we lost Thor, Abby had been gone for a little over a month, and it was an awful month. Maddy laid for hours in the driveway, with her head on the ground, waiting. Don wouldn't even come in the house when he came home, he went down back to visit her. We were all so sad.
By the time Thor came, we channeled all of our grief into nurturing him. He thrived. Quickly. It took a couple of months to get his digestive issues under control. We got him fixed. We fed him antibiotics like they were tic-tacs, and the dog I had to physically drag to get in the Jeep, will now fight all the others for shotgun. He is loving, he brings us joy on a daily basis, and is endlessly grateful.
There is no question in my mind who did the 'rescuing' here, and it wasn't me.
Happy Birthday, Thor.
Wednesday, November 16, 2011
Later that same day.....
Yes kids, I'm back. For those of you who read my blogs over at myspace, you can expect pretty much the same. For those of you who didn't, here is what you can expect. Witty repartee, brilliant, insightful discussions on the structural breakdown of societal values facing our world today, and intricate dialogue of politics and religion. You can expect that. But you won't get it.
What you'll get is exactly as promised in the title. Much Ado about Nothing. A lot of tongue, in a lot of cheek. A lot of sarcasm, and yes, even snark. Ramblings, musings, and rants. A lot of talk about Newfoundlands, and a lot of pictures of Newfoundlands.
My opinions are mine. I own them. That doesn't mean that I expect everyone to blindly agree. Just the opposite. I embrace opposing opinions, I welcome them, and I want to hear them.
In my younger years, the world was so black and white. I would not waiver from where I was, on any given issue. Years, and life, have taught me that there is a lot of gray in the world. I find that gray by being open to other points of view, and will respect whatever you have to say.
I may not agree, but I will respect it.
I'm still new to this format, but I have some friends I'd like to link to. As soon as I figure out how, I'll be adding some other fabulous writers.
Since I haven't been blogging, I've had, on average, 3 posts a day running through my head. (Too bad you missed them-they were quite good). Now that I am up and running, I will be lucky to pull together 3 a year. That's just how I roll.
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