The Cricket, My Friend?

The sound was so familiar.. The piercing song, emanating from my past, was suddenly here again letting me know it was in the house. I walked to the garage to see where the tiny creature with its billowing voice was hiding. The chirping stopped then resumed once I began speaking to it. What had changed?

I was living in a new reality. Suddenly the sound of a cricket living nearby was both welcoming and comforting to me. How could that be? I was not annoyed by its piercing call to its family. But I might be with more lying in wait. Context was important.

I began speaking, in hushed tones, in this adjacent space called a garage. The company was appreciated. He had to know. The sound stopped as I walked to see where he might be. But really. I did not care. Just being here was all that mattered. In the past this noise would have been sought out for evacuation. But not now. I enjoyed the comraderie, the conversation. Had my standards been lowered? No, they had changed. That is all.

The cricket was here and so was I. In the house I listened. The voice was gone if only for a moment. Then it began again. It's noticeable sound a calming reminder that company was here, a friend from our past. Its presence was to acknowledge to me that some things can change. I had felt it. Punctuating the silence of the night was a welcome nuance. I could sleep with that cricket sound both familiar and comforting. The mind helps when we begin to see things differently. I even smiled.

As time marches on, have our thoughts on animals changed, too? I hope so. As a little girl, in the 50's, 'pork' was never associated with pigs those clean, intelligent and social creatures. Veal, oh my, was the worst. Baby cows being nurtured for a few months till 'it was time'. How could they! Then charbroiled steaks from sweet, lovable cows to that place of horror. Imagine being a butcher. Can't be easy at all. ......But for now, I listen to the cricket. 

Books. Baking. Animals, Too

I'm managing to reduce the paper trail, spanning nearly 50 years. Moving is hard work but reducing my living footprint is much harder, without my husband and my 12 year old pup. Last year was not an easy one for us. But much worse for others, I know.

I had been sleeping on a Canadian made sofa for a long time. Snoring got me here, (my husband's, not me, initially, but my dogs kept me downstairs for many reasons, one dog at a time.). ... Sleep was critically important, especially, where driving was concerned. I had to leave, not him. Then there was my sweet girl's dilemma's. ..... Silly, maybe, but my retriever had had several surgeries, emergency and otherwise. The sofa was now off limits to her. I had to protect her. My life evolved.

New 'chapters' in this life have opened up a new way of living. One of these steps was ridding the house of books. I was an addict here. We both were. In my case, the yeast dough program, begun on a teacher hunch that morning, in 1994, was up front and centre. It had to be. (I was on the cusp of the next step in my 'career' when life happened last August and its consequences - Sept. 3rd and Christmas eve of last year.) My book collection had to be reduced but new found treasures came to life. My purpose had been re-ignited and made clear. My standards had changed; new decisions, made. 

Many books were being given away while others disposed of. Nowadays no one wants free books, nowadays -  not even libraries. And so I purged my investment. Some, however, still held an obvious  hold on me. The Education of the Central Nervous System was one, a book printed in 1898 about enriched environments and impact on the brain. It was compelling reading, then and now.

Language is about learning and higher order thinking. What better way to teach those skills than engaging a five sense thinking tool called yeast dough to dig through the massive learning wall. My books were my personal on line course. (Web sites change. Books do not.) A frightened child becomes soft and forthright when engaging with dough. The challenges were unlimited, a curriculum like no other

I came upon one book in particular about baking bread so I thought. But I was in for a shock, saddened by photos of animals, in various poses, with recipes on one side of the page and the animal on the other. (Though I have eaten meat on occasion, my favourite meal has always been being cottage cheese with home made noodles) many other people are strict in their food beliefs. Where is the respect for both parties here? Those pictures were in poor taste. It was a book with unclear intentions, I guess. I had bought a baking book without my customary cursory look through.  It tore me apart. 

Another picture, nearby, assailed me when a photo of duck feet, rising above the liquid in the roasting pan, appeared opposite a beautiful drawing of a majestic duck as though a painting had been done. I asked myself, Why? The shock value was lost on me. Times have changed. The book had been printed many years ago. The final insult was a 'thank you' near the end of the book with a photo of a precious cow looking out at the reader supposedly saying those words.. Where was the respect for both parties?

As I slowly amass a glorious but condensed collection of books for my 'return to teaching', I was thrilled by one book that stood out as the master of all: Baking by James Peterson. It was mine and everything a baking book should be. I was one lucky girl. I shall continue on this somewhat heartbreaking journey of book disposal. Many have gone but a few stars remain helping me deliver a new age in elementary special education. Challenging special needs children through the lens of language is the name of this learning game for special children.

Teaching developmentally delayed children to think as they use language in a continuum for learning and thinking using yeast dough can never begin too soon. Time stands still for no one. (Reading and writing, not required!) Fun and silliness will follow as they learn. Every child must become masters of their own fate from the beginning as they engage in making pizza, doughnuts and croissants. Let the games begin.