Flexibility of Oil

A year ago this time the Special Education Department was told several of us were getting a program change at the new semester.  Dory, we’ll call her, a gumdrop of a woman who runs around spreading news of the end of the world, leaving sticky footprints in her wake, came to me to say she would be sharing my room with me, holding three classes during my lunch and prep periods.  Usually, we special ed teachers are nomads, dragging our camels from one village to another with all our materials piled high on humps, limited unloading space, maybe a corner of a desk top and token drawer.  Up until her news, I’d been lucky enough to have a room to myself, the first time ever. During my prep periods I got to stretch on the floor, sort through materials, and eat my midmorning breakfast.  When Dory told me I’d be losing my private time, I was gracious and let her know she was welcome.  Aren’t I wonderful?

Not so fast!  Shortly after the news, Dory walked into my class while I was giving an oral quiz.  She stopped me and said, “I’ll be moving into the classroom tomorrow.  Where can I put my cabinet?”  No big deal.  Then she said, “And Lindsay, I don’t want you in the room while I’m teaching.”   I was flabbergasted.  I argued that I have materials to prepare.  I wouldn’t be interfering in her teaching.  She said it would change the dynamics.  “How many students do you have first and second period?” I asked.  “Two,” she said.  Two!  How dynamic is that?

I turned red in front of my students who sat quietly, perhaps waiting to see if I was going to slug her.  “I’ll talk to you later,” I said calmly.  “We’re in the middle of a quiz right now.”

After she left, I shook my head, but the dirt and dust clung. In fact it clung all day while I told on her to every one of my buds, as well as everyone else I saw that day.  I guess I thought that the more people who agreed with me, the righter I would be.  And if I’m in the right, I would win out.  I can’t tell you how many times in my life I’ve been stunted by that misconception. 

With right on my side, I was going to clean up the world.  I found Dory in the main office and pulled out my arguments.  “Be reasonable, Dory.”  That, I thought, made me sound reasonable.  “Everyone here shares space and has no problem.”  That’s always good; be part of a united front of muckrakers, a mob raising their mops at the castle wall and shaking their various cleaning products.  “We teachers need to be flexible.” Again, didn’t I look more evolved than she?  Dory interrupted every sentence after one or two words, so I wasn’t able to get my requests, wisdom or cleanser out.  “Let me finish,” I said.  She shook her head continuously while I said, “How is it okay that you come into my class in the middle of my teaching to talk to me about all this, but I can’t sit in the room and be silent during your class?”  See how right I am?  She explained that thirty seconds is different from an entire class period. 

All day and night I obsessed over this.  My frustration at not being able to be in my classroom was outweighed by the outrage I felt at having been up against an interrupting brick wall of unreasonable, inflexible behavior.  Weren’t we all in this together?  Weren’t we supposed to work together to make it easier rather than harder?

I didn’t sleep well that night and still in the morning I was reaming her out in my head.  I said a prayer to help me let go, but right after that little prayer, I continued arguing: “Be flexible and reasonable.”  

Something shook loose.  I changed my prayer on my way out the door.  “Help me be flexible and reasonable.”  The dust and dirt let go.  I had a new mission, one that I could direct and control.  I’d been so busy trying to clean up the world; I forgot to check under my rug.  I went off to school that morning with a chance to be truly gracious.  I would have to figure out how to plan and grab whatever I needed and find places to hang out.  In my exile, I graded papers in another teacher’s room where I observed her style.  During another prep period I worked in the computer lab where I got to be a part of the chatter and laughter of other teachers and staff. 

I realize that being right is what wars are made of.  If oil can make friends with vinegar without giving up it's boundaries, then we can too.  Maybe I am right, but what’s it matter?  Now the world has gotten bigger since I mopped up under my own rug.  My reality is that as long as I focus on what I can change—me—life is wonderful.  And today, so am I.  Again, peace prevails!  You can all lower your mops now.  Go on.  Go home.

Sweet and Salty Salad with Vinegar and Oil Dressing

A recipe to show us how it’s done!

 

Orange beets peeled and cubed and steamed in just a little bit of water

Organic mixed greens (I like the herb mixture with dill and cilantro.)

Purple cabbage sliced in strips (adds nice color)

Red and yellow peppers chopped (best to get organic, if you can find them this time of year)

Organic carrot sliced thinly, julienne style (they curl—very cute)

Celery sliced (adds a juicy crunch)

Cucumber, peeled, quartered and sliced

Jicama, peeled and chopped

Organic blueberries (You have to pay an arm and a leg for them.  But we can’t change that.)

Feta cheese crumbles

Olive oil

Balsamic vinegar

Salt, pepper, cumin and a splash of cayenne

The measurements are up to you.  I like to add the water from the steamed beets as part of the dressing.  Surely this salad will leave you feeling satisfied, knowing you’ve done the right thing, which, in the kitchen and on the inside, truly matters.