Teachable Moments *

Posted on February 4, 2025 by hdh

The story spark was Life Lessons. The writing prompt I chose was “A decision I made,” and the quote: “Sometimes you win, sometimes you learn.” – John Maxwell

Teachable Moments *

It was March 15, 2001, and all students were off from school for Curriculum Development Conference Day for teachers. We all gathered in the high school auditorium for the keynote speaker, Dr. Steven Sobel,  a motivational speaker, educator, and humorist. During his speech, he said, “A lot of kids won’t tell you, but this is the day that you can reach me.” I was into writing down quotes back then, so I wrote down what he said. I don’t remember what Dr. Sobel talked about that day, but the quote has stuck with me for all my teaching/parenting since then. 

Every day, teachers, parents, and children go into the world with the hopes that they will be able to learn something new and share some of their knowledge so that others can also learn. 

As a teacher, when you have a class of students that are all over the place – socially, cognitively, and behaviorally, in addition to whatever baggage they are bringing to the day from home, you try to find a middle ground that you hope teaches everyone the skills you have in your plans. With Common Core, mandates, and testing pushing us to accomplish so much in so little time, it becomes an even harder task. There’s not as much time to find those teachable moments with individuals as you try to push everyone along at the same rate. 

Over my 50+ years as an educator, I have found this true. Challenges I faced with students required me to try all sorts of creative and different strategies to help guide them to be successful learners. Each challenge made me think about each individual who needed to be addressed to conquer their fears, overcome their handicaps, and feel proud of their achievements. I was lucky back then. I had more time and fewer restrictions.

In my early years of teaching, I teamed up with another teacher, and we both taught 4th and 5th-grade inter-age classrooms. That meant that each of our classes comprised a combination of  4th and 5th graders. We kept most students for 2 years (our 4th graders became our 5th graders). As fifth graders left our classes, a new set of 4th graders entered. It allowed us a lot of flexibility. We could split the classes such that one of us taught all the 4th graders social studies or science curriculum, while the other taught all the 5th graders the fifth-grade social studies or science. Or, we could combine both classes and divide the students into more homogeneous groups based on individual skill levels. We did that with math and reading. There were times when we kept our own classes for subjects such as writing.

This allowed us not to be restricted by grade level but to deal with the students on their cognitive level. You can’t do that today. Each year, we decided who would teach which groups so that we, as teachers, wouldn’t stagnate our teaching of the same thing all the time. 

What was nice about this system was that when one of us encountered a 4th grader struggling with a particular concept, such as math, we realized that that wasn’t the time to teach them that skill. So we could say, “Don’t worry about it. You’ll learn this concept with us next year.”

Finding a teachable moment and method sometimes gave us small victories. I’ve written about a few of those small victories in older blogs. You can read some of them by going to http://www.hdhstory.net/Storyblog/?p=271 and following the links at the bottom of the blog entry page to read more. 

We must be keenly aware of our audience and teachable moments when teaching and sharing experiences. Recognizing that “This is the day you can teach me” is crucial to being an effective teacher and parent, so keep a lookout for it.

* This is a revised version of a piece I wrote in April 2016

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Remote Control – a simple tool

Posted on January 28, 2025 by hdh

 

This is an updated version of a piece I shared in August of 2018

Remote Control – a simple tool

Why does everything we own that has any electronics in it come with a different remote control? Your TV, Blu-ray disk player, sound system, and cable box have their own remotes. With smartphones now, you can use as many apps that do the same things to control things. 

This always created a problem for me early on. I would watch a certain program and play sound through speakers, but the program was on the VCR, and the sound came from somewhere else (usually the TV). The Cable box had to be on to play the video I wanted, for it was channeled from the VCR to the Cable Box. Then, of course, the TV had to be on. And if you had to change to live TV, it required reconfiguring each remote.  Very frustrating. 

Then, someone created a multi-(Universal)-remote. This allowed you to program all your other remotes on this new remote so that now all you needed was one remote. Of course, a degree in engineering in remote design was needed to program each component of this new remote, but we managed. I should say – I managed. Others in my household just accepted that this new remote worked and pushed whatever button I said would do what they wanted it to do. 

 

Of course, eventually, a TV breaks, and you need a new TV. Now, you must find the multi-function remote and remember how you configured it the first time so it will work with this new TV. Yes, it was an endless process.

 

And what do you do with all of the other remotes? Keep them in a box and hope that someday, when you give away a device, you remember which remote went along with it. Pretty much that’s what we did. The picture at the start of this story shows all the remotes I owned at the time of the original writing of this piece in 2018.

 

My favorite remote was the TV remote my child, at a very early age, dropped and broke. Since I could no longer use it, I replaced it with a new multi-function one. The new one never did all the things that the original one did. But then again, the old one could not do anything now. 

 

Instead of throwing away the broken remote, I kept it. I was not planning on foisting it on any person we might give the 13” TV it was supposed to come with. I just felt that maybe someday I could either fix it or use the parts to fix something else.

It became a very important remote as my child grew older and had trouble sleeping, both fearing and having bad dreams. I gave them the remote, which

they had no memory of breaking, and told them it was to be used for sleeping problems. If they woke up having a bad dream, all they had to do was pick up the remote and change channels, and they would find a different, more pleasant dream to have. It must have worked because we had fewer sleep issues.

 

Even though my child is grown up and no longer living with us,  I still have the remote in case they need it. However, they are more likely to pull up a video game controller or whatever app is on their phone to reset whatever is troubling them.

 

Personally, I’m waiting for that magic remote myself. Wouldn’t we all like to change the channel of some of the bad dreams we all are living/having?

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The Missed Chance

Posted on January 24, 2025 by hdh

The writing prompt for this piece was – a tear.

The Missed Chance

The look on her face said it all. Closed eyes, head down, and a tear falling down into her lap. This was the day that she never thought would happen. 

She took the long path to get to where he was. She thought he would be there waiting, but she was too late. 

The emotions that had built up in her, the thoughts that continued in her mind, and all the words she had not gotten a chance to say were gone. He was gone. 

She should have been comforted. He was in a better place than he had been. He had reached the next plateau of spirit, wherever one goes after death. But she could not get beyond the fact that he left too soon, and she was too late. 

Memories of their time together flooded her mind. All the places that they’d been. All the friends that they made. All the love that they had shared. 

Of course, the things that did not go well were buried in those memories, too. The miscommunication. The relationships outside of their bond, both hers and his. The arguments.

She believed the breakup was a good thing. The departure was needed and would work. But it hadn’t. And here she was, saying goodbye to a ghost. It wasn’t fair. It should have been her.

Had she taken the shorter path, she might have been there early enough to stop him from giving up on her. If he had waited just a few minutes more, she would have been there in time. 

Fate is a cruel mistress. Did he leave in anger? Was it frustration at her being late? Was it another meeting he had to go to? She’ll never know. 

And what about the vehicle that hit him? Was it an accident or some spurned lover seeking revenge?

The look on her face said it all as the unending tears continued to fall.

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The Artifact

Posted on January 11, 2025 by hdh

The writing prompt for this piece was – One January morning, you awake and discover that you have become invisible. What happens?

The Artifact

 

The alarm went off. It was time to awaken. I stretched my arms above my head and slowly got out of bed. The previous late-night’s workload at the lab had taken its toll. 

I am a scientist at NASA’s Alien Technology Analysis Department. That new artifact that had been brought to Area 51 was a puzzle. It took hours for me to take it apart. Inside, I found countless connections to trace, buttons to push, and liquids held within to break down and analyze. And still, I had no idea what its purpose was.

As I passed a mirror in the hallway, I was taken by the image reflected there. Or should I say the lack of image? What was wrong with the mirror? Everything behind me seemed to be reflected except for me. 

I looked down at myself and could see all of me. I went back to the bedroom, and I woke up my wife. She opened her eyes, bewildered. 

“Do you see anything different about me today?” I asked. 

“Where are you?” she screamed. “And why did you wake me up? I don’t have to go to work.”

“I’m right here,” I responded. 

“Oh, sure you are. Stupid joke; Now go away wherever you are and let me sleep!”

This made it even more confusing for me. 

I dressed, went downstairs, and had breakfast. Every mirror in the house reflected the same lack of me.

I got into my car and drove to the lab. The drivers I passed stared at me. Could they not see me, either? If so, I was lucky not to have been stopped by police as a rogue, runaway, driverless car.

My destination was the security entrance gate to the Area 51 compound. How was I to get in, if they couldn’t see me? Unfortunately, or fortunately, as it happened, it never came to that. 

The being that showed up in the road ahead of me made me stop the car. It pointed to me and made a signal that I should step out of the vehicle. 

I was a bit unnerved by this, but being a scientist and curious, I chose to do as instructed. 

“You have something that belongs to us,” was spoken to me in perfect English.

“You can see me,” I asked, “Who are you, and where do you come from?”

“I repeat,” it replied, “You have something that belongs to us. We wish for its return.”

“What are you talking about?” I stammered, “I have nothing, and as a matter of fact, I am nothing at the moment. Did you do this to me?”

The alien, for that is what it must be, spoke, “So many questions, inquisitive one. Return the device you have been playing with, and all will be well.”

“Do you mean the device I took apart yesterday?”

“Again, with the questions – Yes. Return it now.” the being demanded. 

Don’t ask me what happened next. I found myself back in the lab at my workstation. All the pieces in front of me made more sense, and I managed to put them all back together. No one in the lab even noticed what I was doing. 

Next, I found myself back on the road with that alien thing, who promptly took the device from me and disappeared before my eyes. 

I returned to my car, glanced up at the rearview mirror, and saw my own reflection. 

As I continued to the lab, I wondered; how I was ever going to explain the missing artifact. 

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You Have a Holy What?

Posted on January 8, 2025 by hdh

The writing prompt for this was – “Hole”

You Have a Holy –  What?

As a kid, I always dreamed I had a hole in my hand. This was not visible to the outside world, but I could access it. The idea probably originated from my reading of Green Lantern and Flash comics. When superheroes needed their super suits to rescue someone in distress, they just popped open a ring or some small object, and their miniaturized little suit would appear and immediately grow to its regular size.

So, I wanted something just like that. I didn’t like rings and the like, so I wanted a hole in my hand. From this hole, I could pull out any object I wanted that I might need. Sure, I wanted to be a superhero, and with this hole storage area, I managed to pull out weapons and other necessary items in my fight against crime.  However, that wasn’t its only purpose. Anything I wanted could be miniaturized and stored in my endless storage compartment in my hand. 

If I needed an extra table and chairs for an event. They were in my hand. If I needed a casserole dish to prepare a meal (which I didn’t do much of as a kid); the hand had it. 

I just needed to think of something I wanted; it might have been something I never heard of before that day, and it was there for the taking in my hand. When I was done using whatever I created. It would shrink back and go right into storage again. 

For most of my childhood, this belief continued in my mind. I even envisioned it in my waking hours. 

Don’t you all wish that you could have that capability? Think of the money you’d save.

 

Now, for the hole in my head, which I’ve been told numerous times that I must have, that is a (w)hole other story. Maybe I’ll write about that sometime…if the idea doesn’t escape my head. 

 

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The Torch has been Passed

Posted on December 30, 2024 by hdh

The Torch Has Been Passed

There he stands, the old man. I’ve seen pictures of my ancestors’ final days. They are old men, too, leaning on their scythe with a spent hourglass in hand. You can see the aged wrinkles on their faces, white beards hanging down to their waists, a tired expression with a glimpse of happiness on their face, knowing that they’ve left a wish of prosperity to their descendants. But this is not the man I see before me.

Yes, he is old, but the scars and baggage he has accumulated in 2024 are greater than those that preceded him. His back bent low, his expression not one of hope for the future he must pass on. He looks at me with foreboding and sadness. He hesitates as he passes his burdens on me and slowly hobbles away to join his brethren. 

‘Tis the next day. It is 2025. I stand here alone. It is said that the age of puberty has grown shorter and shorter over the years. I am a case in point. I should be a baby. I should be slowly taking in the information left by my father and age throughout the 365+ days of my life at a normal pace until I reach the time to pass on at the end of December. Puberty, for me, should not occur until at least May. The cold months of January through March are meant for me to learn about the past and create building blocks for the future. April through June are when I grow the seeds of my knowledge, blossom, and learn more about who I am. July through September is when I bear the fruit of all my endeavors. Leaving me from October to December to forge the pathway for my future child and the role he must take the following year when he takes my place. 

But here I sit, the day after. My sash claiming I am the newborn 2025 is already tattered. I need to be the adult I am not yet, for there is so much to deal with that was left to me that cannot wait. If my father looked the way he did when he passed, what am I to become when I have so much to fix before I’ve even started?

I call to the friends and supporters of my ancestors. I reach out to Hope, Compassion, Acceptance, Empathy, Respect, Love, and Trust. I plead to Intelligence, Understanding, Truth, and Community to take a stronger role in my tasks. 

I am more than a compiler of data, a collector of records, an observer of what passes. I am an active participant in this world. My appearance and demeanor represent all that is happening—the joys, the sorrows, the ups and downs, the rights and the wrongs.

Can I age out before my time is up? I don’t know. It has never been tested, and I do not wish to find out. I want to live a full life. I want to age gracefully, not in shame, as my father did. I want to be remembered as someone to emulate. I do not want to leave to my offspring what was left to me. 

Therein lies my tale. It is but the day after my father entrusted me with my task. I believe a better future is in store for me and the world. How it ends, time will tell.

 

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The Forgotten Journey

Posted on December 19, 2024 by hdh

Today’s writing prompt was – Light. I chose to write about light in the darkness.

The Forgotten Journey

It was a dark and stormy night. Oh wait, I’ve done that line before. Well, it was darkish, at least, though it was during the day. The storm and night came much later.

I found myself in the middle of the Forgotten Woods. For those of you who have never heard of the Forgotten Woods, I should describe it to you. I was going to say something here, but I forgot what it was. 

Anyway, here I stand in the middle of this wooded area. Around me, there are lots of trees. It must be some sort of forest or woods or something. I have no idea how I got here or how to get out of here. This is a problem; I’m sure I should be somewhere else. 

It’s good that I have my writing notebook to write down what is happening should I be asked to write about this experience someday. 

Drawing a map might be a good idea to track where I have been. As I take out my pencil to begin drawing, I’m astounded at the beauty of all these trees. They all reach high into the sky and diffuse the sunlight so that shadows surround me. If I had my phone, I would have taken a picture of them. But I must have forgotten it at home.

There is a winding path in front of me that I choose to take. Hopefully, that will get me to where I am going. 

I can hear the sounds of different kinds of birds chirping and squawking all around me. I bet they’re having a good laugh at my predicament. 

I notice that I’m carrying my writer’s notebook. I should write all this down in case someone asks me to write about this experience someday. 

Someone must have been in this forest before. I see remnants of pages torn from someone’s notebook along the way, with scribbles that resemble my writing. Either someone is copying my writing style, or I left them there on a previous trip. I should remember that, shouldn’t I?

You know, it’s not a bad idea to leave clues; I might pass this way again. As  I go to tear out a page from my writer’s notebook, I discover some pages in my book have been torn out and are missing. I wonder who did that. I would never treat my writer’s notebook like that.

The sun is going down, and my tree area is getting darker. I decide to go toward the sunset, hoping that will get me somewhere I recognize. The path I’m walking on is headed in that direction anyway. 

It’s not long before I see a break in the trees. Could this be the end of my journey?

As I leave the Forgotten Woods, some memories begin to return. I remember that I was challenged to go into the woods alone by some friends of mine. I sort of remember starting my journey, but the next thing I recall is coming out of the woods.

Being much wiser now, I circumnavigate the woods to return to my starting point, thus averting any more forgetting. 

When I was confronted by my friends who challenged me about my experience, I looked down at my notebook with its torn pages. My response to them was simple. “I’m not going to tell you. I left clues for you all in the forest. It’s up to you to find them and get the answers to your questions. Good Luck.” That was my challenge, or maybe it was payback.

I turned away from them and headed back home. The last I heard, of the five that went in, at least three were still looking for clues. 

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I remember…

Posted on December 14, 2024 by hdh

The writing prompt for this piece was “I remember…”

I Remember…

I remember the day that it happened so long ago. 

We were at the seashore, looking out at the turbulent waves rushing towards us on the shore. As they reached the shore, there was a loud crashing sound, the sand tossing in spirals in the air to match each wave. Each wave followed the other. 

Then, as the sky darkened, it came. I’m not sure who saw it first, but the reaction to this bedraggled creature was the same. It was one of awe and fright. 

As the creature, for that is the only thing it could be called, stood up, it stared at us. Its skin matched the undulations of the waves. Its color was the darkness of the sky. However, its face did not match the body it possessed. It was that of a child. 

We stood frozen in place as this child/creature moved toward us. As it looked us over, it appeared to be examining us. It stopped before me and waited.

But what was it waiting for? We didn’t know. And then, it spoke. 

My partner and I looked at each other. At the same time, we both said. “It spoke in …” I said, “English’. My partner said, “German.”

It wanted to know where it was and who we were. 

I explained that we were humans, and my partner, a language teacher, more curious than me, spoke in French, “Nous vivons aux États-Unis sur une planète appelée Terre.”

The creature nodded. It said, “Thank you.” This time, we heard it in English and French.

We had so many questions, but it did not stay to hear them. It just turned and faded back into the sea.

As it disappeared, the darkness receded, and the waves dissolved into a calm. 

It has been 7 years since that day. Neither of us wishes to talk about it, unsure if it ever happened. But I can assure you I remember the day that it happened so long ago.

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The List

Posted on December 9, 2024 by hdh

The writing prompt for this week is – Lists of things you don’t want either to give or get. I brought in an old friend of mine for that.

The List

I ran into my friend Ronald the other day. He was looking rather forlorn. This was unusual for Ronald. He always seemed to be a perky person, looking for adventure, ready to tackle any trouble coming his way. At least, as long as the trouble passed him by and was foisted on someone else…usually me. 

So I asked him, “You look troubled, Ron, what’s up?”

“I don’t understand it,” he said, “everywhere I go and try to do something, I get sent away.”

“Can you give me some examples?” I asked.

“You know that kid that’s been missing in our neighborhood for a week? Well, I thought I saw him, so I went to the police station and wanted to report it, but they wouldn’t let me in.”

“Isn’t that the same kid that you’ve been going to the police every day since you heard there was a reward for information to finding him, telling them that you’ve seen the kid somewhere else?”

“Yeah. What’s your point?”

“And haven’t you been at home the last 3 days claiming to be sick?”

“I had to go get my medicine,” he replied, “and the drug store is next to the police station, and I could have seen him there.”

“Where else have you been sent away from?”

“The Supermarket. Is it my fault that the few times I’ve been in Stop and Shop, something stacked collapsed in the aisle I was in? And I was going to pay for that bag of cookies, but I forgot to take them out of my cart, or maybe it was my jacket pocket because my cart was full; I’m not sure. Now, if anyone recognizes me in the store, they ask me to leave unless a responsible adult accompanies me.”

“Is that all?” I continued.

“Well, there is your parent’s house. That’s been going on since we were kids. It’s just not fair.”

“Look at it this way,” I suggested, “Most criminals gain their notoriety by being placed on a public ‘Wanted’ list, gaining more fame the higher they rank. Conversely, you have gained your notoriety and rank as ‘Number 1’ on everyone’s ‘Unwanted List’ with very little work on your part.”

Ronald thought about that for a few seconds and smiled, “You know, you’re right. I am famous for not getting myself in trouble, yet no one wants me around. It’s an honor to be on an unwanted list.”

“Except you’re not on my unwanted list.” I said, “I still consider you my friend.”

“True,” he said, “which reminds me, I have a great idea of what we can do today.”

I stammered, “You…i..idea…us together?”

“Sure!” he shouted. It’ll be great fun. What could possibly go wrong?”

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The Inheritance

Posted on December 6, 2024 by hdh

The writing prompt for this piece was a set of words to choose from to start our writing. I chose all of the words to include in this piece. The words were: And, Maybe, Time, Wait, Before, Now, and Thanksgiving. 

The Inheritance

And the time had come. It was difficult to wait this long. The decision had been made before I was born. Now was the moment that I was to use my inheritance. 

I never believed I would be able to do this. 

My first Thanksgiving as a teenager was when my grandfather pulled me aside and explained it all to me.  

“Harvey, you have been given a gift,” he said, “The firstborn male child of every other generation inherits it. When you reach your 21st birthday, at the exact time you were born, you must say these words:

The time is right. 

I have no fright. 

I need to use the power of flight. 

Back in time is where I will go, 

To the ancestor, that will let me know

The power that I hold within.“

My grandfather couldn’t tell me what that power he spoke of was. He told me that only the first one could explain. My grandfather was clear that my words would send me back in time to where the power originated and that all questions would be answered. 

I had eight years to ponder this. Eight anxious, frustrating years of letting my imagination go wild. Just the thought of being able to travel through time was enough to feed my dreams with all sorts of alternative realities. 

I couldn’t talk to my parents about it, for they were not of the chosen generation. They would have no knowledge of what was to happen. 

You should note that a few days after my grandfather gave me the words, he passed away. At least, I think he did. He just disappeared one day and was never seen again.  When I asked my mother about it, she informed me that all my grandparents had passed away before I was born.

Despite arguing that I had seen and talked to her father, she said I must have just been dreaming.

 

So here I stand, twenty years old at 4:22 in the morning, waiting for the second hand to reach 12. 

Was it all a dream? Time travel isn’t possible, right? This is a foolish thing to do. But no one is here with me. I mean, it doesn’t hurt to try. Maybe this power that I have in me can be used to help this world. It certainly needs it.

 

10, 9, 8, 7, 6, 5, 4, 3, 2, 1:

“The time is right. 

I have no fright. 

I need to use the power of flight. 

Back in time is where’ll go, 

To the ancestor that will let me know 

The power that I hold within.” 

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