A few weeks ago, I read George Weigel’s column “Rediscovering the sounds of silence” in my local Catholic newspaper. I agreed with his overall message that we need to embrace silence more in our parishes. Sacred Heart Parish in Bowie, MD, where my friend Lyzii was married two summers ago, has a big sign in the back of the church to encourage the practice of silence. It says, “‘My father’s house is a house of prayer.’ (Matthew 21:13) Please maintain silence while in the church.” It can’t hurt that there is not so much a narthex as a breezeway, so there’s no place to stand around and talk noisily after Mass, but the existence of such a sign is noteworthy. Sacred Heart is also one of the most love-filled, physically beautiful, oldest, and most orthodox parishes I know back home. Those people appreciated silence.

However, I disagree that parents with noisy children should be forced into cry rooms or encouraged to attend separate Masses. I believe that removing children from situations where they act out will never encourage them to learn to behave. It will just teach them that all they need to do to escape enforced quiet is to be noisy. When I make a threat to my students (“Do that again and you’ll get time”), I always follow through. Always. The first time I let something slip or try to be lenient, I lose my credibility entirely. The best way to teach children to behave during Mass is to keep taking them no matter how badly they misbehave, with appropriate consequences for such misbehavior. When they are old enough, they’ll learn that they just have to be good. There is no other option.

Obstinate children, therefore, should be taken to cry rooms or out of the main church. No parent should be forced to start Mass in the cry room. It’s not called the child room; it’s for crying children until they stop crying. The associate pastor at my old parish in Alabama told a story from his previous parish of a family with children over ten years old who came to an evening Mass, went straight to the cry room, and proceeded to eat a fried chicken dinner in that room throughout Mass. Cry rooms are supposed to be a concession to parents who want to respect the congregation’s right to a peaceful Mass but don’t want to miss Mass themselves, not a segregated space for all parents, all the time.

Similarly, children who fuss or coo briefly should not be taken out of the main church immediately. Such interruptions used to bother me until I reordered my emotions. When I hear a momentary noise, I pray, “God bless that child.” I wasn’t taken to church as a baby, but I used to be one, and I might have one (or more!) someday. Children aren’t silent all the time; they haven’t learned that behavior yet. Until they do, we would do better to show compassion toward them than to reject them altogether.

Child noise complaints aside, we would all do well to embrace silence. It’s harder to hear God when there is constant noise crowding him out of your heart.

(written with reflection on a similar reaction post at the blog Fumare)

This year, I’m almost going to miss Lent. I gave up sweets, as is my custom. Graham crackers and rosé wine is about as close as I have come so far. I also took up reading a booklet of (undated) Lenten reflections from the writing of Henri Nouwen that Sarah’s mom sent us last year. (This reminds me that I missed my trigger, which is changing clothes. Pause for prayer…and I’m back.) Finally, I decided to do Stations of the Cross on Fridays and follow BustedHalo’s FastPrayGive Calendar.

Lenten resolutions 1 and 2 have gone well. The latter two have not. They crashed and burned in one day: this past Friday. Having successfully fasted from rushing through my day (On Wednesday, I stopped during my planning period to examine one of the student paintings in the hallwayl it was lovely) and from self-pity (I think I complained during lunch on Tuesday; I usually commiserate with the other teachers), I headed to check Friday’s fasting challenge as I conquered my daily bowl of cereal. “Fast from dairy today.” On cheese pizza Friday, this was an epic fail. Some of the calendar’s other devotees made similar slip-ups (most commonly over morning cups of coffee), so I wasn’t alone. To add insult to injury, I completely forgot about going to Stations after dinner because I had to finish my lesson plans and got caught up in dinner conversation with Brogan, D, and D’s sister. I atoned by donating the cost of two gallons of milk to my FPG bowl.

Yesterday morning was somewhat redeeming, though. The prayer challenge was to pray in a new way to be closer to God. I took one of my favorite Bible verses (Psalms 51:10), one I previously had as an LJ icon during Lent, and created some word art.

Somehow, just asking for help made me feel like I’d received it.

Nope. Word 2007: 0. Well, 1 for making deleting tables easier. But in that case, Lindsay: 2 (+1 for awesomeness).

—1—
I do not make New Year’s resolutions. I make resolutions whenever I feel like it. The last thing I resolved to do was start praying Night Prayer again, and I haven’t been doing badly at it.

—2—
I had a lovely time ringing in 2010. Becca and I went down to Nick and Mary’s house. We watched some classic Cosby Show (but then, they’re all classic!), played Mario Party on Becca’s new Wii, tried out Uno Spin, and toasted along with Dick Clark. When I was in my MTV phase, I enjoyed the nontraditional midnight cover song, but after Clark’s stroke, I converted back. You have to admire that tenacity.

—3—
Just as I did last year, I managed to drive my mom’s Equinox back home without incident; let myself in; shower; go to Mass for the Solemnity of Mary, Mother of God; come back; and eat breakfast before I ran into my mom at all. Dad was lounging in the same recliner during that entire period, but he was enjoying a day off, so I can’t blame him. It was nice to feel productive and accomplished for once.

—4—
I cannot believe that the last full day of my break is tomorrow. They always go too fast, and I never manage to work or read enough. I did make up for an entire semester’s worth of TV watching with a two-week Degrassi: The Next Generation marathon, though.

—5—
Continuing my teen TV-fest, I watched Angus, Thongs and Perfect Snogging on Nickelodeon tonight. I read the first few Confessions of Georgia Nicolson books, but her writing style was very kitschy and unnervingly British, so I got tired early on.

—6—
I think I might have a legitimate problem with my work. I have lost my ability to focus, especially on school/work. I wasn’t always like this, and it’s true even for things I enjoy (prayer, pleasure reading, sometimes even TV). The question is, where am I going to find the time to sort this out?

—7—
I am trying to blog more. It’s the same mini-resolution I make every time I’m on a long break from school. Writing makes me happy, though, and it helps me empathize with the work I assign to my students. Let’s see how long I can persist this go-round.

My prejudice going into Avatar was that (a) I didn’t know what it was about, and (b) I had a bad experience with the last 3-D movie I attempted. Granted, it was Spy Kids 3-D: Game Over, which was not a great movie in the first place. The main problem was that the DVD was only viewable in 3-D, and watching it through the cheap cardboard glasses made my eyes hurt. I tried watching it without them, but the pictures were so blurry that I was annoyed the whole time.

When my mom asked if I wanted to see Avatar, I was reluctant. She brought me a pair she had kept after another movie. I was surprised to see that they were much higher quality: like sunglasses with a dramatic blue-green tint. I was still wary of wasting the (as I later I found out) $13.50 ticket if watching the movie gave me a headache, but she suggested that I get a refund and see something else if it came down to that. I finally agreed.

When we finally got in to see the movie, I put on my 3-D glasses for the Despicable Me trailer. Lo and behold, I could (still) see! I had to take the glasses off a few times during the movie to rest my pinched nose (I already wear glasses, remember?), at which point I discovered that the alien language subtitles were also in 3-D (I couldn’t read them).

I must say that Avatar was one of the most beautiful films I have ever seen. It was just gorgeous. The 3-D was impeccable, the scenes were expertly crafted, and I believed what I was seeing.

The plot was terrible. I could tell how it was going to end. It got awkwardly political about halfway through, having managed to avoid the politics during the earlier part of the film despite featuring multiple military characters. I see Avatar much like I did The Village: nice, but I’ve seen this story before.

Sherlock Holmes was a great movie. I love Jude Law largely for his accent, but I thought he acted well in The Holiday. Robert Downey, Jr. was a great Holmes, though he was entirely unlike Sir Arthur Conan Doyle’s creation. I thought all the acting was masterful. I love a good mystery. I was a little worried when the movie took a dramatic turn toward the occult, but the end left me entirely satisfied.

I think this is why I don’t usually write movie reviews. I am not very good at them, so I think I’ll stick to teaching English.

This one is bittersweet. I had my old hard drive removed at Best Buy, but I left it at home so it wouldn’t be damaged before I could buy the enclosure kit for it. That left me without any of my mp3-only music (I still have a soft spot for CDs), including the version of “O Come, O Come Emmanuel” I wanted to use for Song Prayer Friday before Christmas break. (All was not lost: I found it playable online as well.)

1. What song do you play the most? All my most-played songs are by Switchfoot. I can’t remember off the top of my head if any one tops the others.
2. What song do you play the least? I had a few songs I downloaded, but never played, but I took care of that recently.
3. What’s the last song you added? Amazon MP3 offered a free song every day leading up to Christmas. I’ve been snagging free MP3s for a while, but I found the song-a-day promotion through Matt Maher’s newsletter. The last song I snagged and listened to was Big Bad Voodoo Daddy’s cover of “Mr. Heatmiser” from The Year Without a Santa Claus.
4. What’s your favorite playlist? My favorite is actually my playlist of Internet radio stations. I listen to music I own sometimes, but I still love the radio.
5. What kind of iPod (or MP3 player) do you have? I don’t! I’ve never really wanted one. Now that so many great radio stations are online, though, I could be persuaded. And of course I wouldn’t turn down one as a gift.

December 18: Morning Routine

1. What time do you usually wake up on weekdays? 5 a.m. Oh-dark-hundred. It gets me in the shower before Jess with about twenty minutes to work before I leave for school.
2. What about weekends? 8:30 on Saturdays when I’m at home, 8:00 on Sunday so I can do my hair before church. I set an alarm even on Saturday. Queen of the neurotics here.
3. What do you eat for breakfast? I love bagels (usually with butter, though plain cream cheese is great when I can get it) and Honey Nut Cheerios.
4. Do you take a shower at night or in the morning? Always in the morning. I can’t feel clean or wake up properly unless I shower first thing.
5. How long does it take you to get ready? Much too long. On weekdays, I don’t leave until 7. On weekends, I have a personal rule against eating lunch until I’ve gotten dressed, which is at least by 1 p.m.

December 25: Childhood

1. What one food most reminds you of your childhood? Ham pancakes. I think my grandma only ever made them once, but that one time she made me pancakes with bit of sliced ham in them has stuck with me forever.
2. How old were you when you learned how to ride a bicycle? I don’t know. Of greater note is the fact that I don’t think I remember how to do it anymore. I am capable of many things, not all of them good.
3. How old were you when you stopped believing in Santa Claus? Again, I don’t know. I know that what cinched it for me was when I realized the handwriting on our gift-bagged presents from Santa was the same as my mom’s.
4. What was your favorite television show/cartoon when you were little? I remember watching a lot of Rainbow Brite and My Little Pony, but mostly my Barney videos.
5. What is the youngest age you remember being and do you have a specific memory of when you were that age? I remember one evening when I was about four years old. My dad had brought home some live crabs for dinner, and he came stomping downstairs wearing his uniform boots, holding tongs in his potholder-encased hands. I died laughing. Later, one of them did get away, and my mom made me climb onto the couch with her so it wouldn’t pinch our toes. I was more interested in leaning over to peek into the kitchen and watch my dad galumphing about.

I tried to surprise my mom for her 50th birthday by coming in on the day of it (Friday). I got permission from my principal and president to take half a personal day, called in an outside sub, prepped my sub folders, drove to my old community on Thursday night, got a ride to the airport from Sarah: the whole nine yards. However, winter decided to arrive that very day. That and the black hole that is the Atlanta airport meant that I arrived six hours later than planned. Courtney blew the surprise when my dad called home about one of my various delays. He had told Ryan, but not Courtney, so when she shouted “Lindsay’s at the airport?” in surprise, my teleworking mom overheard. She and my grandma had been worried about my flying in the next day, since the area was expecting two feet of snow. I made it in on the right day, but that was the only successful part of my plan. I can only imagine the chaos if I’d been planning an actual party.

Saturday’s snow was beautiful. It fell all day long and was so intense that I had no hope of making it to Mass on Sunday. I know inclement weather is a legitimate excuse from the Sunday obligation (and I had checked the ADW website just to be sure), but I still missed being there. I think that’s the first time I’ve missed Sunday Mass since I overslept once when I was just starting to make my way back. I consoled myself by watching TV Mass twice: on the local channel from the Shrine and on EWTN.

The rest of my week was a string of lazy days, to be honest. I managed to finish my Christmas shopping in one day at the mall and Wal-Mart. I got all my ninth-graders’ papers finished and updated their grades. And on Thursday, my new baby arrived: the espresso black HP pavilion dv6t notebook on which I am currently typing. My old Dell has nothing on this guy—and from talking to my parents, I know it actually cost less. It was the best Christmas Eve present ever!

Christmas Day was also good. We had our latest start ever: 11 a.m. Ryan’s a big boy now. (He’s thirteen.) I got the new luggage I requested, some chocolate, Borders and Old Navy gift cards, and some cash. Our trip to grandma’s house was largely uneventful, though I think it’s the first time I have taken a book but not sat down to read it.

Last night, I went with my family to see Avatar in 3-D. My glasses were uncomfortable since I have to wear my regular ones at the same time, but the colors and 3-D effects were absolutely gorgeous. The story was lame; I’ll elaborate in a future post. Tonight, we attempted to see Sherlock Holmes for free on base, but we wound up going to pay for it when the base theater never even opened. Now that was a good movie.

For the next few days, it’s back to work, out for visits…and quality time with my new baby.

Today, I read an NYT article from mid-November about the practice of teachers selling lesson plans online. I hadn’t realized there was a controversy. I am a big fan of ReadWriteThink.org, and I use other free lesson plans to support my own all time. Simply basing my discussions off the recommendations in the margins of my teacher’s editions is using someone else’s ideas to help me teach. If I ask my mentor teacher for help, he is giving me ideas. Who would expect me to come up with everything from scratch?

When teachers with classroom experience go to work for education companies (like those who have been selling prepackaged units for ages, or even textbook publishers), it makes sense that they take their experience and lessons along with them. No one expects to pick up a lesson plan or unit and do exactly what it says; something always needs adjusting. The problem seems to be in selling those lessons. If you have used ideas from another teacher or your textbook, that person deserves the credit. But if it’s your idea, and you don’t want to give it away for free, don’t. It’s a simple concept for every other profession: why not teaching?

One of my favorite things about the NCTE Inbox is that it works for me like a selective lit and ed news aggregator. This week, in addition to the aforementioned “book” article, it brought me an essay about teaching writing: another of my primary interests at the moment because I teach sophomore composition. (A stack of essays is waiting to avalanche me in just a few minutes.) The author, a former writing instructor, shares his experiences teaching college students and adults about how to write. These perspectives always interest me because one of the reasons I became a high school teacher was to help create better adult writers. It is a classic teacher fallback to blame previous instructors’ inadequacies and failings for your students’ missing abilities. (You, a tenth-grader, can’t spell? Your third-grade teacher must have sucked.) As a sophomore, I nearly drooled from my dropped jaw when an English major classmate couldn’t punctuate dialogue. (Of course you need quotation marks around things the characters said!) With every grammar lesson I teach, I take one small step toward fighting the disintegration of writing skills that has plagued Generation IM.