Bittersweettoast

I am not sure what it is about the Sunday New York Times. Perhaps it's just the leisurely tone that tends to describe the last day of the week. Perhaps it's because the Sunday edition gives my mind and eyes a rest from the often depressing daily news. Whatever the reason, Sunday's paper often gives me inspiration. Anne Patchett is my muse today. She has long been a favorite author, so when I saw her name below an editorial titled, "My Year of No Shopping", I delved in. This topic has been on my mind a lot this holiday season because of my kids. When I asked them a month ago about Christmas ideas, their lists were scant. I didn't think much about it until decorating our tree last weekend and realized how little would go under its limbs this year. I'm okay with this. I am happy that many younger generations seem genuinely interested in our planet's health and welfare and our need to stop over-indulging. Anne Patchett's essay  is a reminder that us o

During my second year of teaching I had a parent who prefaced every conversation by saying, "Well, you know, I AM a psychologist..." Code speak for, "You are a young, lowly teacher who knows nothing, so let me enlighten you." I WAS young and new at the profession, not wise to the realities of parenting, but I wasn't stupid. Midway through October, I did what most every teacher I know does when group dynamics call for a disruption -- I changed the seating order in my classroom. Now, had I been a psychologist, I would have known that this was a dangerous thing to do to kids. My psychologist parent helped me see the light. "I AM a psychologist," the conversation once again began, "and humans are creatures of habit. In a large lecture hall, students will naturally gravitate to the same seat, day after day. Your students are being harmed by this new seating arrangement." Now back in the day I had to go up to the school office to take phone calls b