Cliff Notes from Grad School: Week One

- It’s a little cold in Seattle, I mean, maybe I was talking up summers in the Northwest a little too much, but seriously? In the 50’s at night and a high of 70 degrees – I am ready for a little something more.
- I have been riding my bike to school and each day seems to be a new adventure. I have some getting into shape to do – the 4.5 mile fairly flat ride should not make my legs as tired as they have beenJ As a hear “On your left” over and over I try to make excuses for myself – I don’t have a fancy bike or but I am carrying a 20 pound bag, but really I just need to dig in and get stronger. For now all I feel is the wind of the bikes flying by and the view of these old men with white hair and tan skin. Maybe by the end of the summer I will have as nice of calves as they do.
- On the way home on Tuesday a rat ran in front of my bike. I was less disturbed by the fact that a rat had actually just crossed the path in front of me and more distracted by the fact that this rat seemed to have a very kinked tail. Do rats play chicken with the bikes? And if they do, this one needs some practice.
- So far my all of the professors, directors, guest speakers, and fellow-students have been great. How inspiring and productive it can be to have such a diverse group of ages, backgrounds, and experiences come together with a common passion. NFL players, Olympic medalists, DI athletes, athletics directors, academic service advisors…AWESOME, but a bit intimidating.
- Now back to work – a paper to write then 5 articles and 7 chapters in my textbook to read, better start crossing something off that list.
- So, I wrote this originally entry on Friday, but because I don’t have internet at my place yet I never posted it. The thing is, now it is Monday morning and I have to pull back on my weather comments – this weekend was wonderful! The sun was out, clouds were gone, and the words “I love this place” continued to slip out.
- Friday night our IAL (intercollegiate athletic leadership) cohort had a happy hour then I went over to the Whalen’s for a nice family birthday for Tom. Saturday morning Carlo and I went rollerblading at Aliki, maybe the most beautiful place to view the city. The rest of the afternoon was spent reading and napping (maybe a little too much of the napping…) I met up with Carlo again at a hockey BBQ and was introduced to a bunch of the guys he plays with – good and fun people. After that I went to see the Hangover with Tom, Cory, and Zach. Sunday I woke up early, wrote my paper, went to church, met with my new prof, did some reading, talked to friends, and made some pizzas that I ate with Linda (my mama housemate) and Jessie (a new friend from IAL). The point is, it was a great weekend…
- Week Two, accounting – now this will be interesting.

Questioning Love and Hate.

How do I teach love? Do you love because you have been loved? Do you hate because that is what you know? If you know both hate and love, which will prevail? And why do hate-filled words and actions show easiest to those you love the most? What is the magic recipe for those kids who do know so much hate, but break through the cycle using their hurt as motivation to spread love and joy and encouragement? Do my students know how much love I have for them? Do they know how much it breaks my heart when they say such ugly things to each other? How can I ever know? How can I be a model of love, unconditionally? Just as I wish the words would be carefully spoken from student to student, I must be careful to speak only with love. For when the patients dwindles and the temper heats up my words fill quickly with hate just the same. I bite my tongue and change my tone. I forget my ego and remember all we can accomplish comes in baby steps. I speak to the love I have and the love that will carry me though. And even when chaos muffles my words I will keep speaking because that is simply the only way anyone can ever hear me.

“If you mess up, don’t stop dancing”

I am listening to the chattering and giggling of hundreds of little girls and a few wonderfully brave boys. From age 5 to 18, the kids are smiling. They are happy and nervous - all starting to feel the butterflies in their stomachs. I hear no cursing, I see no pushing, I am filled with joy. Brianna peeks back to make sure I am still here. A quick wink and smile comforts her fears. I wave to some of the other kids’ mom’s across the auditorium and hear a tiny dancer ask Brianna if she is adopted. Maybe not, but my pride for my little girl is beaming as bright as all the other moms. She now knows what it feels like to truly dedicate her self to something. She did not get a prize, money or candy, but the smile that she can’t hold in as she dances across the stage lets me know that this is far better than all that. She gets it.