The Decimal Doesn't Move (duh)

I recently sat down with my 10 year old 5th grader to help him with his math homework.

I say I sat down to help, but the truth is that arithmetic and are are actually not the best of friends. In fact, I get sweaty palms and feel a warm flush just thinking about my own experiences in ye old math classes.

I was what fancy folks now call Gifted/SLD with very strong verbal skills and frighteningly challenged mathematical skills. Most of my teachers didn't understand my kind of ability back then and I spent a lot of time feeling humiliated by both my inabilities (why can't you get this) and my abilities (how can someone so smart be so dumb). Suffice it to say, these memories do not signal the highlight of my youth.

It helps for you to know this because it will explain the emotional roller coaster that I experienced from approximately 4:15 to 4:30 on that fateful afternoon.

I heard the call, panicked, put on a happy face and sat beside him. My knee twitched as I pulled out my iPhone and opened the YouTube app and took a deep breath. (This is what I do when my kids ask for help outside of the language arts. There is always someone out there who can help me out). Then I saw the assignment: decimals & exponents. We were dividing numbers like 1.23 by 10 to the second power.

Hot diggity! This is math I actually know! Bring it.

My posture straightens, my brow cools. Heck, I place the iPhone face down on the table, turn to him and begin. I am eloquent (if I do say so myself) and share all the secrets I learned when I, too, had to divide and multiply decimals by integers of ten.

I smile conspiratorially, lean in & say, "This is my special trick: When you multiply, you move the decimal to the right; when you divide, you move it to the left. Like this,"

Then I launch into three examples that are truly breathtaking by all accounts. I look back at my son, expecting an amazed expression -- after all, I am just short of David Blaine level when it comes to math magic at this moment -- and he is looking at me with pity.

He shakes his head slowly with soft eyes, the way you do when someone is trying, but just not quite getting it. Then he says, "Mom, the decimal doesn't move."

Blank stare.

He tries again.

"Decimals don't move, Mom. They are fixed." He speaks the word slowly, as though I am hard of hearing or maybe not so good at the English language or maybe recently suffered a bump on the head.

He continues, "Numbers move. Like this" Then he launches into a brief explanation that involves a chart and arrows and other things that I just can't explain so I'll give you a visual (see below).

As he does, he stumbles onto the answer to his original question. He is excited; as always, my pint-sized Taurus loves to learn and he loves to be right.

He is doing his celebration dance (lots of "uh huh's" and "go me's" with a very funny face) but I am not sure what to do. On one hand, I am ecstatic that he found the answer. Ecstatic that he loves to learn and loves to succeed academically. On the other, I am back in time, feeling like I am lost in the math world. I am afraid that this corner of the academic world has (once again) left me behind and I have no idea what in the world he is talking about.

I feel obsolete and inadequate.

This is when the personal impact of the new shift to Common Core hits me. It is not as cut and dried as some folks would make it out to be. It is a wonderful and terrifying thing. It represents a change in what I knew -- and I didn't know much in that area -- and presents a whole new way of teaching and learning that leaves me (an educator by trade) feeling confused and inadequate, yet excited by what this could mean for students. At the same time, it is the key to my 5th grader "getting it," so much so that he can use what he knows to think rationally and deduce the correct process he needs to use.

The educator in me knows that is good stuff. Really good stuff.

So while I am uncertain and I am leery, I am also excited and encouraged. And I can't help but wonder if someone had laid a similar foundation down for me, would I feel the way I do about math today, or would I be empowered by my deductive reasoning skills the way my son has?

Not sure, but it's definitely food for thought.

Until next,

No Gimmicks, but Still Golden

Today I read on Facebook that a friend lost 20 lbs.

She looks amazing: lean, strong, happy.

There's a comment or two that emphasize that she did this with "no gimmicks" just clean eating and working out. I couldn't help wondering what people might think in response to this.

As I've gone through my own fitness journey, I've had people try to get me to go with gimmicks. Worse yet, now folks are hitting me up for quick fixes like I have a secret stash of crack and we are in an alley somewhere.

I don't know what to say: gimmicks don't work.

If gimmicks worked, the weight I lost on a gazillion fad diets over the years (Atkins, cucumber/vinegar drink thing, lettuce diet, you name it; I did it!) would have worked. I would have lost weight and ridden off into the sunset with my perky little rump.

It didn't happen for me.

It isn't likely to happen for you.

You can't get a shot and live off of 500 calories a day or sprinkle something on your food or restrict yourself to only certain foods, none of this, etc. and expect your body to respond as it should. Oh, you might get a short term response, but in the long term that fat is gonna slap you like a gelatinous boomerang. It will not be pretty people. Not pretty at all.

I think I've said it before, but I will say it again: It takes time, energy and determination to gain weight; it will take time, energy and determination to lose it.

These are the brakes.

The friend I mentioned above happens to be a fitness professional. She teaches kicka$$ classes in the DFW area. The kind of classes that make you pray out loud, maybe even grunt from time to time.

Consider that: She works out for a living. She knows what she is doing and has the support of one of the best personal trainers I've ever met. And it still took 6 months to achieve her hot, lean look. Six. Months. Although she was trading fat lbs for muscle lbs, that still works out to less than a pound a week.

People come to me and want to lose twice that in half the time. I'm not sure that this is realistic, but I am certain it is not wise. More certain that anything that fast is not likely to last long term.

Here's what I am thinking. Consider making small, sustainable changes in three-week segments. Here are five small steps to get you started:

1. Integrate a comprehensive supplement (multivitamin, Shakeology, calcium, iron, magnesium, B12). 
2. Establish a realistic workout program and stick to it.
3. Commit to one serving of root vegetables every day (carrots, beets, sweet potatoe, jicama, leeks).
4. Integrate one serving of leafy green vegetables every day (spinach, cabbage, brussel sprouts, artichokes, collard greens).
5. Spend 15 minutes listening to or 10 minutes reading positive, edifying words (personal development, spiritual, work related, goal oriented content) each day.

If you concentrate on committing to one goal at a time for 3 weeks each, that will take you just under 4 months. I'd love to know how the scale moves and your measurements change with this simple series of commitments. No fireworks, no rah rah, but you will succeed and change your life.

I am rooting for you and believing in you.

Until next,

Engagement: A goal worth pursuing

A few years ago at about this time, I set a goal for myself.
That year, the goal was engagement.

I wanted to feel planted in each moment and often (far too often) I felt that I was only feeling the true impact of events after the event had passed.

I ran, ran, ran full throttle through each day and in the quiet moments -- like 3 minutes before I succumbed to exhaustion -- I would smile when I remembered the tenderness of my children's kiss. The wonder in their eyes. The sadness that lingered in the corners when they waited for their turn to hold my attention, undivided. The subtle kindnesses of my husband. The smile from a clerk in the market. Anything. They tickled the edge of my consciousness like falling snowflakes, melting before I could really grasp the impact of each.

As with most things, I mastered this skill when I was at work but by the time I got home there was nothing left. It was a difficult, disconnected time in my life.

Years later, life has slowed. The old me would probably make small gagging sounds if she saw how slowly my days pass, often doing only one task at a time and moving to the beat of a slow bass line rather than a racing snare.

Some days I wonder if the sacrifices I've made to live life at this slower pace are worth it. Other days, there isn't a doubt in my mind. Today was one of those days.

I have a woman in my seated strength training class who recently started attending classes again. She is stately and graceful and kind. She also suffers from dementia as a result of Alzheimer's.

I am new to her which means that on any given day or time she may know me and she may not. All we have for certain is each moment. In that moment, she may not know my name or my face but -- if I am engaged and present -- she will always know my kindness.

Today we shared an hour. We began laughing and hip shaking to the beat of "Kansas City" by Wilbert Harrison. The 30+ years between our ages melted and there was a fierce shimmy breakdown as we giggled like school girls. The class began and I could see her focus fade and return throughout the hour. As she left she remembered me again, we connected over my new found home in a town she'd lived in for years and then she was gone again, body present but mind lost somewhere in time.

This is why we must claim each moment. Why we must pay whatever price there may be for living fully in the present, for seeing each person truly. In an hour and fifteen minutes, I may have had 10 minutes of clarity with this beautiful woman. Perhaps less. But each moment was precious. Each moment lifted my spirit and recharged my soul. I would like to believe that her spirit and soul felt the same.

As you "resolve" this year to make changes for the better, know that it may take years to inch toward your goal, but the measure of a worthy goal is in the beauty revealed as a result of its pursuit.

I wish you love.

Until next,