Dr. Elizabeth Green

Instructional Designer, Writer, and Free Spirit

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Experiencing Shame and Compassion

October 16, 2016 by Elizabeth 4 Comments

My husband, Stewart and I went to Germany. Since I didn’t want to be a rude foreigner expecting everyone to speak MY native language, I learned enough German phrases to order in a restaurant, navigate the train systems, and translate local weather reports. Overall, the German people were warm, inviting, and friendly whether or not we spoke their language.

We travelled by train to Hamburg and schlepped our luggage from the station to our hotel. I was dreaming of soaking in a hot bath, drinking bottled water that wasn’t carbonated. Many European restaurants serve carbonated water as the beverage of choice.

We offloaded our luggage and walked to a neighborhood supermarket. As we readied for checkout, I pulled out my credit card to pay. Stewart grimaced. Germany had already switched from the magnetic swipe system I used at home to the chip system. He had seen me struggle navigating the card reader directions written in German. I explained I wanted to save my Euros for our final cab ride to the airport. I studied the person in front of me using the chip reader, trying to memorize the steps in the process.

I spoke the usual greeting, “Guten tag” to the clerk at the checkout stand. The harried 20-something woman didn’t smile back as the check-out line began to lengthen during this busy part of the day.

As she scanned my items, I inserted my card in the chip reader. I couldn’t read the German directions telling me when to remove the card or submit my PIN. My panicked brain would not retrieve the practiced German phrases. I pulled my card from the machine and handed the clerk cash. She yanked the card from my hand and barked something in German. I don’t know what she said, but it wasn’t, “Welcome to our beautiful country. May I help you?” She pushed the card back into the machine and pounded codes into the keypad.

The kind-looking man behind me gave a sympathetic half-smile. The clerk continued, louder this time. She paused. I assumed she was awaiting my response. Flustered, I could only say, “Sprechen sie English?” (Do you speak English?)

She rolled her eyes. There are some gestures that are international. Feeling the stares of those waiting in line behind me, I kept my eyes on the transation.

Stewart’s footsteps said, I told you so, as he walked toward the exit. I considered leaving my items behind and following him, but the promise of non-fizzy water and a hot bath with epsom salt changed my mind. I muttered an apology to a kind-looking man behind me, picked up the water, salt, and German chocolates, and headed for the peace and comfort of our hotel room. The week of trying to navigate a foreign culture and language was taking a toll. There was a LOT of noise going on in my head.

During the quiet of my evening salt-bath soak, I thought about the hundreds of public school students I taught who were learning a new language and culture as immigrants. I hope I was always patient and kind. But I’m sure there are times I wasn’t was overwhelmed, tired, and impatient. Like the clerk, I expected newcomers to adhere to my rigid classroom expectations. Some of my students might have taken a risk like I did to learn something new in a short time period and frustrated their classmates who huffed their impatience under their breath or rolled their eyes. I thought of the thousands of students in the schools I coach. Some of the schools educate students with as many as 50 different dialects. Considering everyone’s needs, learning styles, abilities, and language acquisition is a daunting task!

Young girl sitting on the streetJust like my experience of learning to use a credit card chip system in another language, students learning new skills, such as mathematics, computer coding, cooking, playing an instrument, or welding while practicing a new language is over-the-top difficult. Fortunate students have teachers who understand mastery takes extra time, extra practice for students and extra patience for teachers. Less fortunate students sometimes experience public shaming.

I wonder what might have happened if someone who spoke fluent German called out the clerk for her behavior? What if someone who knew both languages stepped up to help me navigate the card reader? What if someone quietly said a few softspoken, kind words to the stressed clerk? Would a small act of courage and kindness help?

The experience reminded me to be an encourager by speaking a gentle reminder when someone rolls her eyes or sneers at the teen who doesn’t fit in. I can practice courage when someone tells a racial or ethnic joke. I can model compassion to speak up for the those outside the mainstream culture; the LGBTQ student or friend struggling to fit in; the shy obese girl; the child with special needs; or the immigrant.

Have someone ever shamed you because you were an outsider?

How did your experience help you practice compassion?

Leaving Shame Behind

May 22, 2016 by Elizabeth 5 Comments

photo iPhone lost in snow

Leaving Shame Behind

I never lose my cell phone. Never. Since I work from a home office and travel frequently, my phone connects me to the office and clients. I need it for my livelihood. While travelling, I keep it close by and check it obsessively for time, flight updates, and messages from home or the office. I keep multiple chargers, one in my travel bag, one in my car, and several at home to keep the juice flowing. I never want to be out of touch when on the road. I never lose my phone until I lost my phone.

I was on my way to a family ski trip. As usual, I checked my phone multiple times while waiting to board. As the plane landed, I reached to turn my phone on to check messages. It wasn’t in the usual places, my pocket, purse, or my laptop case outer pocket. After deplaning, I searched every inch of my laptop bag without success. Since this trip was only for a long weekend, I wanted to spend every moment enjoying the family and the beautiful Rocky Mountains, not trying to locate or disabling a phone. I spent much of the evening contacting the airline lost and found department and the phone company. At bedtime, I shopped online for a new phone and made arrangements to pick it up the following morning at the phone store.

The following morning, the family took the car to the mountain to ski and I called a cab for a ride to pick up my phone, so I could enjoy the rest of the vacation. My cab driver, I’ll call him Luis to protect his privacy, slumped low in the cab, hiding his face behind his dark hoodie. I gave him the destination address for the 15-minute trip and started the usual small talk.

Me: “This is a beautiful city. How do you like living here?”

Luis: “I don’t feel like talking.”

Me: “That’s fine. I understand.”

I remained quiet. Before we reached the end of the block he said, “I thought this would be a good place to live, but I was wrong. It hasn’t been good to me.”  He began pouring out his distress about his health. He had gastrointestinal problems. He had been to multiple doctors, had a colonoscopy, and still no answers. He was sick, miserable, and discouraged.

I told him I had GI issues as well, so much so that I had surgery to remove a portion of my colon. I explained that traditional doctors saved my life, but I had to use functional medicine specialists to find the right help with my diet to get well. Luis said that he was out of money for doctors he spent it all on the tests. He used to be a happy and fun person to be around. Now, he is sick and he is a drag to everyone around him. He said his friends and family would be better off without him.

His words concerned me greatly and I knew I had only a few minutes to talk with him before arriving at our destination. Besides the time constraints, I knew Luis could not hear much chatter, as he was in depression’s pit.  Why I lost my phone became clear to me. I knew I could not hold back telling him about my son’s suicide and there was no time to gently ease into Jay’s story.

I don’t talk to strangers about something as sacred as Jay’s passing. I learned better from watching the horror on peoples faces and experiencing the uncomfortable silence that follows.  When an acquaintance makes small talk about my family, I say we have four children.   Most people don’t want to know details about our large blended-family brood. They don’t ask questions and move the conversation to something else.  I’m relieved.

I told Luis I knew something about depression, as I had been depressed myself and that my son took his own life when he was 16. I further explained, Jay was a school shooter, holding his classmates hostage with a gun, before taking his own life. Luis sat up a little straighter in his seat and lowered his hoodie to hear. He asked questions about my son’s death. I tried to express in a few words the magnitude of grief and guilt a suicide leaves behind for the family, especially the mother.

I told him there was help for his GI issues. There is evidence that the gut creates much of the serotonin, the chemical responsible for depression or feeling good. When the gut is out of balance, some people become depressed. I learned this through my recovery to better health through functional medicine specialists.

Luis asked more questions. He said he was trying to eat right and explained in explicit detail his GI distress. He spoke without embarrassment as someone would to a physician or with another human who understood his distress and the intimate intricacies of a very personal body function. Luis was discouraged because he didn’t have any money left for seeking other types of help.

I asked him if he told the doctors about his depression. He said no. I suggested he go to the emergency room and to explain how he was feeling. They could help. That was the immediate need. He wondered how they could help with depression when the issue was his gut.

Luis:  “They (the doctors) told me there was nothing wrong with me.”

Me: “You are not crazy.  Depression and GI issues are related. The traditional doctors you saw might not know this. The immediate need is to deal with depression and you didn’t tell them about this.”

Louis’ tone turned angry.

Luis: “I went to bed last night and asked for a miracle. Jesus could do a miracle. He could heal me. I asked for a miracle and expected one when I woke up this morning. Jesus could do a miracle and heal me, but he won’t.”

I felt the short ride’s time ticking away.

Me: “You wanted a miracle. Here’s your miracle. I never lose my phone. Never. But I lost my phone yesterday on the way to this city. I did not want to catch a cab this morning and spend my vacation at the phone store. I wanted to enjoy the city and the mountains. Because I lost my phone I am riding in your cab. Who else in this city would understand GI issues like I do, someone who has been there?”

Luis: “No one”

Me: “Who else would ride in your cab that understands GI problems and depression?”

Luis: “No one”

Me: “So there’s your miracle. It doesn’t look like you thought it would. It’s not an immediate healing, but losing my phone and me being in this cab with you is a miracle. Now pray for the next miracle. Look for the next small miracle. Go to the ER. Tell them you are depressed. Ask them to help you. Ask God to send the next right person to you. Sometimes miracles are one small step at a time or the right person at the right time. I know you can get well. I did.”

The cab pulled into the parking lot. I touched Luis’s shoulder and the next miracle was he didn’t recoil. I gave him a card with my contact information. I told him I would have a new phone within an hour and he could call me anytime he needed me. I would listen. I said, “I will pray for you and pray for your next miracle. Please go to the ER today.”

God used my lost phone to connect me with Luis and influence him to seek treatment.  But God also used Luis to speak to me.  I am hesitant to speak about Jay’s passing with those outside my very small circle of friends and family.  There is shame associated with mental illness and suicide. As the parent of a school shooter, I experienced this in a exaggerated way.  The media frenzy, the comments from well-meaning yet ignorant people, and the verbal attacks from just plain mean people left scars.

Most parents of school shooters go into hiding.  However, I was a self-supporting single parent when Jay died.  I couldn’t hide physically.  I had to keep my remaining family afloat financially and emotionally. I continued to work the following years as a teacher, administrator, and instructional specialists.  My fear of public shame and ridicule were compounded by concern of losing my livelihood.  So in a way, my silence was a hiding place. Meeting Luis was my divine cue to speak up.  I’m leaving my shame behind along with my lost cell phone. The new model is better anyway.

Assume = Ass-u-me

November 19, 2013 by Elizabeth Leave a Comment

assume pixOscar Wilde said, “When you assume, you make an ass out of u and me.  When others do not act as expected, the tendency is to make up a story or assume motives.

  • When a student does not complete a homework assignment, the teacher may assume the student is irresponsible, lazy, or was busy playing video games.
  • When a teacher misses a department or school meeting repeatedly, the teacher-leader may assume the teacher does not place a priority on the meeting or sees tardiness as an attempt to undermine authority.
  • When colleagues do not enforce school rules, such as enforcing dress code violations, a teacher may assume he or she is the only one conscientious and brave enough to take action.

When others violate our expectations, it is easy to make up stories explaining behavior.  When emotions, especially anger are involved, the portion of the brain that is logical ceases to function.  The lower part of our personality takes over and we may:

  • verbally attack the offender;
  • if possible, punish the other person;
  • throw a tantrum;
  • taunt, tease, insult, or use sarcasm; and/or
  • spread the story behind the offender’s back.

Stunned by the violent outburst, the original offender wonders what prompted such a strong reaction.  The cycle continues as he creates his own story about this.

I am reading Crucial Accountability by Patterson, Grenny, Maxfield, McMillan, and Switzler.  More on how to break this cycle,  based on Crucial Accountability in the next post.

Boots, Shoes, and Peace

September 18, 2013 by Elizabeth 2 Comments

boots

The media bombards us with images of violence.  This week it is a mass shooting in Washington’s Navy Yard.  Another case of guns and mental illness.  It seems bad news and fear mongering attracts viewers and sells advertising.  A simple solution is to turn off the news.  However, there are television monitors in many public places, physicians’ waiting rooms, salons, airports, fast food restaurants.  We cannot escape the images.  Worst yet, our children cannot escape the deluge of violence and uncertainty.  As educators, we have no control of our students’ viewing habits beyond our classroom.  Some of our children experience violence in their homes or neighborhoods.  Our children come to us with unspoken anxiety, sometimes expressed in aggressive, passive, or self-destructive behavior.

An Italian physician, Maria Montessori (1870-1952) dealt with children in war-ravished Italy at the turn of the last century.  In many ways, the children who attended her schools were much like modern American children.  They witnessed violence and lived in an uncertain world.  Dr. Montessori required children to remove their boots before entering the classroom and put on slippers.  This was an outward symbol to leave behind the chaos of the outside world and enter a peaceful place.

I wonder what symbols you have that home or school is a peaceful place.  Children may have rituals that help transition from outside to home, much like Mr. Rogers removing his jacket and putting on a sweater.  At home, you may ban the news, ask friends and family to remove shoes, change into leisure clothing or shoes.  The ride home in the car can be a time to leave behind daily worries.

Many secondary schools ban gang symbols, certain type of clothing, or colors designating a safe space.  Some schools in colder climates require a change from snow boots to stocking feet.  Peaceful classroom teachers look for ways to help students transition, which may be outward signs such as boots to slippers or something more subtle, such as taking a few minutes to journal, observe silence, or take a few deep breaths.

Please take a few moments to share what you do to help students or your own personal children leave behind the chaos and enter a peaceful space.

About Me

Hi! I'm Elizabeth. ...a researcher, educator, instructional designer, writer, mom, activist, and optimist, and this is my personal blog.  I mostly write about educational issues, but can get sidetracked into issues that I find interesting or timely.   Disclaimer This is my personal … Read More...

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Hi! I'm Elizabeth. ...a researcher, educator, instructional designer, writer, mom, activist, and optimist, and this is my personal blog.  I mostly write about educational issues, but can get … Read More...

From the Blog

  • Experiencing Shame and Compassion
  • Leaving Shame Behind
  • Avoiding Burnout – Getting Real About Your Schedule
  • Self-care for Teachers: A Lesson from my Peach Tree
  • Insist on Educational Excellence

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