The Apprentice and The Craftsman

Room 5-313. That’s where the magic happened. It was in this room that I learned to truly express myself. I opened up completely, tried things that I’d never done before, learned a few tricks of the trade…lost my inhibitions. I blushed innocently when told that I had not only met expectations, but exceeded them. It was in this room that I felt the need to do more and give more…because I liked the feedback that I was getting. It was here that I fell in love with… creative writing.

I think we all did—the entire class. Ms. Stanicic had a way of making every assignment interesting, and getting us interested in every assignment. Her lessons were engaging and offered hands-on learning opportunities. She had a way of turning the most challenging work into child’s play. She shared her time with the students fairly, making each one of us feel like we were her favorite. I’d still like to think that I was one of her favorite students, and I’d bet that hundreds of others who were lucky enough to occupy a chair in room 5-313 still think that too. It wasn’t just a class, it was a team. We all shared a bond with her. She believed in us and made us feel as though we could do anything. She celebrated our successes, and provided constructive feedback to help us overcome our setbacks. She supported and encouraged our participation in school activities, accepted nothing less than our best effort, cheered us on in our victories, and picked us up in our defeats.

She was concerned about my well-being and found a way to connect with me on a personal level. I remember being dressed in a red blouse with huge ties that my mom had carefully joined together to make the perfect bow for picture day. Somewhere between leaving home and lining up for pictures, the bow had unraveled. I pressed my chin against my neck, tied the bow as best I could, and headed over to take my picture. Ms. Stanicic watched intently as the camera man positioned me for the perfect shot. Then she noticed the bow. She hurried over and interrupted the camera man so that she could fix my bow. When she finished tying it, it looked just like my mother’s…perfect, picture perfect.

Ms. Stanicic didn’t do these things for recognition, extra pay, or a promotion. She did them because she loved her job. She absolutely loved being my teacher…and I knew it. Her enthusiasm, commitment, skill, and motherly ways made me enjoy coming to school. She made me want to work hard. She made me want to do my best. There were times when I lacked confidence or felt a bit inadequate, but she made me believe that I was smart, talented, and special. She inspired me to write. My experiences in her class helped to shape who I became and I am forever grateful for the privilege of occupying a seat in room 5-313. For me, that’s where the magic happened.

Love is a Fairytale

My first teenage relationship ended when I learned that an acquaintance was weeks away from having his baby. That was in my senior year in high school. It was devastating, but I got over it. A few months later, my father drove me to my high school prom because my date didn’t show up. My face displayed confidence and pride, but inside, I was crushed. If that wasn’t enough, while at college I discovered that the guy I was dating was sleeping with a friend who I knew before I was even in first grade. All of this before I turned 19. Luckily, I had a pretty high self-esteem.
Well, after kissing those frogs, I realized that finding “Prince Charming” wasn’t quite as easy as it seemed in the fairytale. So, I decided it was best if I waited until after college to get in another serious relationship…obviously it wasn’t working out for me. To say that I was leery when the next guy showed up is the understatement of the century. I reminded myself of the pact I had made (with myself) and tried to find all of the reasons why I shouldn’t even consider changing my mind. First of all, he was new on campus, so he was obviously too young for me. Then there was the odd circle of friends he hung out with—sort of Woodstocky. Plus, I needed to focus on my grades.
Fast forward to a couple of months later and “Mr. Woodstock” was my steady boyfriend. He was well-rounded, smart, stubborn, a little older than me, and just as complex. He had a tough exterior as a result of experiences that caused him to make his own pact (he wouldn’t let anyone get close enough to cause him to act based on emotions). Then came “we” and I learned that underneath the surface was a sensitive, passionate, vulnerable young man. I loved him completely.
Four and a half years later, I was walking down the aisle towards my husband-to-be, to pledge my love and commitment. The ceremony was drama-free. No one stood up to announce their disapproval of our union, he didn’t leave me standing at the altar, and there were no ugly stepsisters trying to fit into my glass slipper. That was sixteen years ago. Today, I can honestly say that after twenty years, I am still in love with my college sweetheart. Although our relationship has not been without trials, we grew up together and learned that love is about giving without expectation, compromising—even when you end up with the shorter end of the stick, respecting one another, acceptance, giving each other space to grow, connecting (mentally and physically), and supporting and protecting each other. Through the years, I’d have to say that the most important thing we’ve learned about love is that it is unconditional.
There was a time when the dating scene was just one nightmare after another for me. However, just when I began to think that love was a fairytale—something that only existed in a girls childhood dreams, I saw him. Then he saw me, and over time, we defined love. So, I guess when I thought love was a fairytale, I was right—for he is my happily ever after.

Imagine (A poem suitable for Black History Month)

I thought I'd share a poem I wrote several years ago. Feel free to share your thoughts.

Imagine

Imagine if the odds were against you at conception, simply because of the color of your skin.
Imagine if you had to fight a battle, but no one really expected you to win.
Imagine being given second hand tools and asked to carve your future, without fully understanding your past.
Imagine if you deserved first place, but always had to settle for last.
Imagine being called to complete an ambiguous task and learning that others faltered in their quest.
Imagine if you gave your all, but could never be more than second best.
Imagine inheriting the responsibility of ancestors, who fought to secure your place.
Imagine what it’s like to be born indebted to your entire race.
Imagine looking for your history, but not finding it in the book you’re required to read.
Imagine if your lineage were a mystery that you had to solve in order to succeed.
Imagine being told you could soar, but learning you could only go so far.
Imagine if you exceeded every expectation, but someone always raised the bar.
Imagine being taken from your country, to a place where the customs are not your own.
Imagine giving away all that you’ve worked for, and never reaping what you’ve sown.
Imagine having intelligence beyond measure but being denied the chance to grow.
Imagine caring for your enemy; imagine being raped by your foe.
Imagine giving birth to children and being forced to relinquish parental rights.
Imagine starting a revolution only to find you couldn’t win the fight.
Imagine if you mastered your native language, but were forced to speak in another tongue.
Imagine daily torture and mental anguish; imagine being lashed until you’re numb.
Imagine if you could be killed just for reading, because education was not allowed.
Imagine if you were used for breeding, or sold to the highest bidder in the crowd.
Imagine if you prepared a feast for others, but had to make your meal with the scraps they gave.
Imagine if the Queen of the Earth was your mother, but you had to live and die a slave.
Imagine risking everything, just for the chance to be free.
Now imagine, just imagine, what change means to me.

Melanie Geddes, written February, 2003

Happy New You!!!

Remember the Etch A Sketch? It was a very popular toy when I was younger and although various companies have expanded the concept and created newer versions, it is still in toy stores today. It’s square in shape, red framed with a white knob on each side of the frame and a grayish area in which to explore your artistic abilities. In order to “draw” you have to turn the knobs strategically and accept the fact that you can never lift the drawing mechanism. Therefore, there are no separations in your design…everything is connected. I loved the Etch A Sketch, but must admit, it was one of the most frustrating toys ever made. Each time I decided to use the Etch A Sketch, I’d start with an idea in mind. I’d position the drawing mechanism to the spot that I wanted it to be in and start turning. In my head, I was prepared to produce a masterpiece, but what I saw on the screen was never what I intended. So, if you’ve ever used an Etch A Sketch, you will understand that I spent a lot of time shaking it up. For those of you who aren’t familiar or simply can’t remember, that’s how you “erase” what you created. To add to the frustration, you couldn’t erase just a part of the design, it was all or nothing. So playing with the Etch A Sketch was an early lesson in Starting Over. I’d like to say that after so many attempts I was eventually able to draw a memorable picture…or at least write my name in cursive (anything other than straight lines proved to be quite a fiasco) but that is so far from the truth.

Although sometimes it feels like there is only one way to do something; that is a myth that we create when the other options seem more difficult than the challenge we are facing. We keep working on the same picture, drawing the same crooked lines, and taking those long pauses to try and figure out if there’s something else we can do to salvage what we thought would be our masterpiece. We reach the point where we are no longer satisfied or happy with what we are doing, but we just keep going, thinking that there is no other way. Truth be told, we hate what we’ve created but lack the courage to start over. Well not this year! This year, I challenge you to really Shake It Up. Start over and get it right. If something isn’t working in your life, it’s time to take a new direction. Thank God our lives are not boxed in like the Etch A Sketch! We can separate the good from the bad. We can build on our successes and learn from our mistakes. We can keep what is working and get rid of what isn’t. We can start where we want and go in any direction we choose.

It’s a new year, no more corny resolutions. It’s time for meaningful changes. It’s time for self evaluation and personal commitments that don’t have to be made aloud, aren’t obligatory, trendy, unrealistic, or based on you looking over somebody else’s fence. Take an honest look at your Relationships, Spirituality, Health, Career, and other aspects of your life and change what isn’t working. No more confining yourself to the existing boxes...redefine yourself and your expectations. It’s a new day, a new year, a new you…a Happy New You.

Avatar...a Dream Come True

Last weekend I saw the movie Avatar. The running time is nearly three hours but it certainly didn’t feel like I was in the theater for that long. To be honest, it wasn’t a movie that I would have chosen to see, but the family voted and I was outnumbered. So, as usual, I took one for the team. That’s what moms do. So, I went there with minimal expectations. In fact, I was prepared to get in a comfortable position, strategically place my hair in front of my eyes, pull my little blanket up around my neck and catch up on some much needed z’s. Well, that never happened. The movie was fantastic. The storyline was great, the characters were memorable, it was loaded with action, the graphics and special effects were amazing! Best of all, it was a love story. There was something in the movie to captivate each one of us. Now that’s what I call a “family meal deal!”
Ok, I’m beginning to sound like a movie reviewer so I’ll try to get to the point. Well, after seeing the movie, I went back and looked at some of the interviews with the director, James Cameron. In one of the interviews Mr. Cameron said that he had created the blue alien-like characters decades ago. The screenplay was complete way back when he racked up all those Oscar awards for the movie “Titanic.” So, one might ask “why did he wait so long to make the movie?” Get this: Mr. Cameron says that there was no way to create what he envisioned for the movie…the technology simply did not exist. In a nutshell he’s saying that the world wasn’t ready for his dream. Instead of shortchanging himself by settling for less, he waited, and waited, and waited. While he waited, he worked on other projects, talked with people who could understand and support his vision, and studied his craft so that he would be able to make a cutting-edge movie when the time was right. That was ten years ago. Avatar was in production for over four years. Some of us don’t want to wait four months to realize our dreams!
If you have a dream that you truly believe in don’t let anything stand in your way…not even reality. Anything is possible. Don’t be in a hurry to actualize your dream. Sometimes, your dream is so big that even you have trouble believing it is meant to be anything more. Guess what? If you don’t believe it, no one else will. On the flip side, Mr. Cameron didn’t stop living trying to make it happen. He continued to work on other things, and in the process won some Oscars. That means that he put in an amazing amount of hard work to do those things that may not have been as important to him as Avatar. Nonetheless, he realized that if you are going to do anything, you should do it well…or don’t do it at all.
So keep your day job (at least for now.) Do your job to the best of your ability. You are there for a reason. Don’t be so self-indulged that you stop seeing the people around you. It’s the people who you meet that will help you to get your big dream off the ground. You’ll get confidence, feedback, advice and referrals that you may never have received had you not traveled the road you’re on. You’ll even get criticized—and sometimes it will help you to sharpen your vision. Other times, it will help you to realize who’s really in your corner. Your dream is not one to be put on the back burner and left to scorch, but you may have to put it on a low simmer and keep stirring slowly and adding a few spices here and there until it’s just right. Whatever you do, don't stop stirring and don't leave it there too long!

How Do You Measure Up?

It seems like just yesterday I was standing in my family room with tear-filled eyes singing “Here I am baby…signed sealed delivered I’m yours!” Not only had I had an opportunity to witness history, I got the chance to help make history by campaigning and voting for President Barack Obama. I can remember feeling so excited that night. Although I felt he had a good chance of winning, I kept thinking about those hanging chads that kept Al Gore out of the White House. What I quickly learned was that when you commit yourself to a goal or purpose whole heartedly, destiny will meet you half way. It is not enough to expect greatness (even though belief and expectation are necessary,) you have to put in the work that is required to reach the goal. Destiny is chauffer driven to your door by Work. The greater the effort, the greater the success.

Often I talk to people who are frustrated because they haven’t figured out their true purpose but I believe that sometimes purpose reveals itself after you have began working on something or at something. Seriously, do you think that President Obama knew that he was destined to be the first black president of the United States? I think that he lived a life where mediocrity was unacceptable. I believe that he pursued excellence in all of his endeavors, no matter how small. He understood that opportunity doesn’t always present itself on a silver platter. Sometimes opportunity has to be unearthed with a rusty shovel.

I remember seeing a picture of President Obama after a long day of campaigning. In the picture you could see a big hole in the sole of his shoe. He had literally walked a hole in his shoe in order to meet potential supporters. How many of us have that level of commitment to achieving our goals?

A year has passed since President Obama was elected and a lot of us are measuring his successes and failures over the course of the year. I hear talk about Afghanistan, Iraq, the economy, healthcare, and dozens of other issues that people are judging him on. I’d like to challenge everyone to think about what you have or have not accomplished since the 2008 election. Redefine yourself and your goals. Shake off any self doubt, roll up your sleeves and take control of your future. It’s true that nothing is impossible and I also believe in destiny, but nothing comes to the man who waits and hopes and dreams without any action. If you want something, you’ve got to develop a plan and put in the work to make it happen. There’s gotta be some worn out pumps and some run down heels. If you’re not tired, you’re not working hard enough. So get yourself a theme song and get out there and live your own impossible dream!

An Open Letter to Parents

I am deeply concerned that the parenting role is being reduced and watered down by societal changes and redefined social norms. Some are trading in old school values for an opportunity to either live vicariously through the youth or have simply determined that what was once considered a decent upbringing is no longer relevant. It is not uncommon to see teenage boys with their pants sagging so far below their waistline that they have to hold them in the crotch area or walk with their legs apart in order to keep the pants from falling down. Sadly, it’s no longer uncommon to see these boys walking alongside their parent. Teenage girls are dressing so provocatively that it is difficult to determine if they are on their way to school or just returning home from a long nights work at the local strip club. Embarrassingly, some of their mothers wear and share the same type of attire. The tattoo phenomenon has gotten so far out of hand that teens are getting them to commemorate a sixteenth birthday. In fact, by then many already have at least one other tattoo. Nowadays, you’ll find toddlers with saggy pants, excessive jewelry, and outfits that are too tight, too short, or just too sexy. What messages are we sending these children?

In an age where our children are exposed to negative imagery via television, radio, peers and the like, it is up to parents to establish rules and guidelines of acceptable and appropriate behavior. We should also serve as role models for our children and be an example of the type of parent that they should aspire to be. The truth is, from the day we bring them home from the hospital we begin the process of shaping, molding, and instilling values that they may hold onto for a lifetime.

It seems many parents don’t see harm in dressing up their sons like little gangstas or think it’s cute to put skimpy or tight clothing on their daughters. They don’t seem to realize that children are extremely impressionable and are being influenced by the choices and decisions we make. As the children begin to get a little older and act out negative behaviors, these same parents are alarmed. It’s as if they are surprised to see the outcome. They appear to be totally caught off guard and genuinely disappointed. The question is, why? If you pour cake batter into a heart-shaped pan, you can’t expect it to come out of the oven in the shape of a star. You would have needed to use a star-shaped mold. So why do we expect our kids to be any different?

I remember family gatherings from my childhood years as though they happened yesterday. First and foremost, children were not allowed to participate in adult conversations. The adults limited our exposure to topics and ideas that were not appropriate for children. We did have time to interact with the grownups—most of the time it was through a family game or a talent show. I remember younger cousins reciting their ABC’s and singing songs they learned in school or at church. I distinctly remember going to the front of the room to name all 50 states from memory. Other family members read poetry, played instruments, sang songs or showed off their dance moves (my sister was an expert at “The Hustle” and “The Freak” and I thought I was a master at “The robot.” Good or bad, the adults cheered us on. It was always good, clean, fun. Nothing was “Too hot for TV.” Perhaps there were no “You Tube” moments (at least none that would become viral sensations,) but we didn’t miss anything.

Nowadays, some adults seem to take pride in having their children be able to “Get low” or gyrate and grind the hardest. They look on gleefully while their children sing all the lyrics to a song intended for adults, and are tickled pink to see their son be bop across a room or their daughter switching harder than a grown woman.
I think it’s time for parents to take a page out of the old school parenting handbook and set some standards. Stop being intimidated by your child’s cries that “everybody does it.” The truth is, everybody doesn’t. Stand firm to values and explain why certain behaviors are inappropriate. Perhaps when it really counts and someone tells them that “everybody does it” they will be able to do the same.