Reading with kids is a joy

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being yourself, Jane Butler, listening, reading, second grade, teacher

Today I started volunteering at a local elementary school, reading for thirty minutes separately with two second graders. I’ll be going every week throughout the school year to be their personal cheerleader in reading.

We had a lot of fun because discovering the story together, was a delight. Even though I know the story already, and even though I read it twice in one hour, it was a special experience each time. Each of the kids saw different parts of the story as significant and each was excited by different parts.

The little girl I read with was ridiculously cute, asking me when I would be coming back. She was clearly keeping tabs on me, calling out as she left, “See you next Thursday!”

Time to be a kid before it’s over

I heard something pretty unusual last night and I liked it. It was my daughter laughing. I guess I hadn’t heard that in a while because it cut through the air with a happiness that made me stop a moment and take note. She just recently decided not to continue on the travel softball team she’s been on, not that that was such an easy decision because she really enjoyed it, but I believe the weight of that decision and the weight of all the practices and tournaments has been lifted and there is room again for childhood fun. She’s seventeen and not quite an adult so the last vestiges of her childhood are hanging on for her to enjoy. And I think she saw that and didn’t want to go another year forgoing her life.

The travel team was actually a lot of fun. The families in it were great because they came from all walks of life and we met people we otherwise would never know. And everyone was fun to be with. The girls were great because they worked hard, grew individually, played so well they won far more than they lost and made the long hours of tournaments a lot of fun for the parents. My daughter did well individually too, improving her positions, her hitting, her fielding, everything got better because she put in the time and took it seriously.

That might have been the problem in the long run. It was pretty serious. You had to make all the practices, twice a week, or explain why you weren’t there. Your excuse had to be approved, because it was, after all, a team effort. The tournaments were serious too because everyone was counting on everyone else to make it a win. This was a showcase team so girls were being scouted by colleges in hopes of getting scholarships, and several on our team did. But my girl wasn’t even sure she wanted to play softball in college.

So when it came time a year after joining the team to sign up again and start a new season she told us she didn’t want to do it. It was a hard decision for her to make because being on a winning softball team had a lot of good in it but she told us that even though it was fun, it wasn’t enough fun. Enough fun for all the hours she put in. She’d rather do something else with those hours. And it’s not like she would be idle. She still has marching band, academic team, pit orchestra for the school play, softball for the school team, volunteer work at a horse farm, and as she told us, time with friends. And all of this is in addition to her honors classes and applying to college.

So that’s what I heard last night that sounded so unusual…laughing with friends. She and her girlfriend were singing their heads off with karaoke in the basement. I am glad to see her having fun and relaxing and enjoying the last days of childhood. She’s been playing tennis, and baking, playing piano and walking the neighbor’s dog. She’s been playing cards with us at home and going out for ice cream. She’s had time to do things that before just didn’t fit in.

Travel softball was fun, but for her it was too much pressure. Too much working for something she didn’t necessarily want to work so hard at, and all in favor of having the time to just be a kid.

Rugby selfie with Mom and Dad

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being yourself, Jane Butler, parents, play, relationship, rugby

Last Saturday at the college rugby game we went to see, one boy broke his nose and another broke his leg. Not among those tending to their bleeding children, I had time to pose on the sidelines with my son and husband for this selfie.

I’m learning a lot about selfies. Turns out they are not just about self-absorption as I thought, but instead according to my daughter’s research paper (tipped by a generous cousin at UGA) I learned that they have much to do with communication and self-awareness.

If I’d been my son taking this picture I’d have been full of pride at the idea I’d inspired both my parents to travel two hours south from their home to see me play with my team. I’d have felt pride in being part of a team, in being fit, in being alive on a spring morning. No idea what was actually in his mind when he snapped this but he was eager to share it, texting it to me moments after he took it. I, in turn was eager to text it to each my two other kids.

For me the unspoken message here may seem obvious to some, and some may take it for granted that this is how families behave. But for me the idea that we travel to see our kids, that we have fun together and take such spontaneous candid happy moments as evidence of that, is the grateful message in my texts. I want to encourage our family to stay together and have fun together and texting selfies is a way to do that. I communicate my joy of being with my son and the implied joy of being with any of my children, and I report my awareness of this happy time by sending it to my kids.

It is hard to have kids leave home and spend their time away, so meeting them and enjoying their company whenever we can is top on my mind, and funny, my son’s selfie helps me appreciate that and share that and hopefully create more of that for the future.

West Chester Story Slam diversion

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being yourself, blog, change, Jane Butler, writing

I certainly appreciate all of my readers here and especially those that are very loyal and offer comments, but you might have noticed I have slowed down my postings quite a bit. It’s because I have been changing my writing focus and trying to honor my own sense of what I want to write about. For a long time I’ve done talks to mom’s groups about the importance of playing with our children and actively developing relationships with them. I love doing this and I have tailored my blog to support that. And I will continue.

But I stumbled on the West Chester Story Slam in January and it has changed everything! See my Video tab above to see the stories I have told there.

As a writer I was taken with the opportunity to write a five-minute spoken story that could reach so many more people and get an immediate reaction from them. And, since I love addressing audiences, and since I love writing, I have been focusing all my attention there. This blog has been so satisfying for me as a place to carefully examine my feelings about families and children and, as my tagline suggests, things I am learning while growing up, but the one-way nature of it is isolating and quiet compared to the live audience at the Side Bar Restaurant downtown.

For example. Although I did well the first time I tried telling a five-minute story at the story slam, I tied for first place with two very good story tellers, the second time did not go as well. I attempted to tell a less funny and more serious story and halfway through lost my way and told the audience I had to ditch the effort because I couldn’t regain my footing. Amazingly the crowd yelled out for me to keep going, to try not to give up! They actually shouted for me to try again and not be defeated. I’d love to think that this was because my story was so fascinating but I am pretty sure it was because of the very supportive nature of the group and the spirit of the whole idea of sharing stories in this way. People wanted to see me succeed at what I had set out to do. It might have helped that I very sincerely told them that even I was disappointed because I’d been looking forward to sharing my story. So I did continue and although there was break in the middle while the audience offered counseling, I did complete the task, and felt a resolve to return the next month and get it right. (Which I did with a story about my dead cat.)

So the point is, that the story slam is a place where I have placed great effort in the last few months because I feel a connection with the crowd there. The immediate feedback from them is priceless as I stretch myself to try to tell more broader-based stories.

I’ve noticed that my stories there help me work on my larger project, my memoir, since the stories can be chosen directly from the memoir and honed both for the story slam and for the book. So if you like this blog and if you are out there, feel free to yell from the back row that I should not give up and that you appreciate what I do here, because otherwise I cannot hear you and I am afraid that at the moment the folks at the story slam have got my greater attention.

First annual ladies beach weekend

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being yourself, change, friends, Jane Butler, play

Years ago I tried something like this and it just didn’t work. I didn’t have real friends and I didn’t know how to treat them well. But today I am letting go of past fears. I am at the beach house my parents left me for the first annual ladies beach weekend, encouraging us all to enjoy ourselves and relax and share. Hard to believe there is a rule in my head that suggests I cannot do these things, but that’s the truth.

Enjoying myself, using the house for fun, these are not part of the history of my life. This time we are cooking for one another, talking about our families, learning about how brave we each have been in our lives, and so many other things.

I am proud of myself for getting this right. Once, years ago when I had friends stay with me, I got it all wrong. I was so afraid of my parents, who owned the house at the time, that I worried everything I did would upset them. They had many rules and I put them on my friends who visited. I insisted to my friend, who had three kids and a husband along, that she clean the shower stall top to bottom since they had used it once! I could see that she thought this a little extreme. But that’s how it was…since we rented the house it always had to be in ‘show’ condition.

It goes with out saying that this took away from the fun of the trip, worrying about the state of the house.
I passed on the issues I had with my parents to my friends. My relationship with my parents included me being afraid of them. Having to do everything to please them with no regard for how absurd it might be, or how degrading it might be. I was too afraid to stand up to them. Now I am valuing the fun of being together and putting that on a higher priority than whether the house is clean. It feels so much better to invest in the friendships than it does to invest in the property. Both have to be done, but I like the way friends talk back and show appreciation for our time together.

Thank goodness I have finally gotten this right. Using this house for fun and for friendship, for laughing and growing. Holding it as a museum to my past, to my parents who bought it, and to ideas that I have outgrown is over now.

Tonight we will have fun together and before we go, unlike last time, we will make plans to do this again.

The first time I heard how babies are made or Ridiculously fun thing to do for my birthday

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being yourself, Jane Butler, parents, relationship, sex, West Chester Story Slam

So for my birthday I granted myself a night out, last night, telling silly stories instead of packing for the family trip today.

Crazy thing listening to yourself. That is, following an intuition to just go do it. I just went out to the West Chester Story Slam last night, signed the releases allowing a YouTube presentation of my story, took the microphone, and went ahead and told it. Don’t get me wrong, I have many stories to tell, but last night’s has been on my mind a while. I’ve told it plenty before, but never for the express purpose of entertaining. So it was a little like being a stand-up comic where you carefully pace and time and reveal your truths and then watch people laugh.

I loved it. And I was even one of the winners!

Now I am automatically entered into the Grand Slam in November where each month’s winners compete for the title of Best Story Teller in Chester County.

So what was my story about? Some say it’s about how sex education differs by generations, but I say it’s about showing respect to your kids even when you must embarrass yourself. It’s about sacrificing for kids because you’re a parent.

Click on the link above to see a video of me telling my story on the story slam website.

Letting kids lead the way

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being yourself, Jane Butler, joy, piano lessons, teacher

Last night one of my piano students, my very youngest and most wiggly, played his piano piece entirely with his nose! He did not get tired of how hard it was, apparently finding it preferable to struggling through the difficult fingering I was looking for. His nose is tiny, too! He is a little guy with a little nose, but he persevered. I allowed it because it was the most focus I’d gotten out of him the entire lesson, and he was hitting the right keys. He tends to dash around the keyboard playing whatever he’s learned, showing off and enjoying the thrill of knowing what to do with all those eighty-eight keys. Granted, it is pretty basic stuff since he’s only had about five lessons so far, but I see the joy in his actions and know he is having a great time. So once he was done playing Mississippi Hot Dog with his nose, I proposed we try it again, this time with the right hand.

He conceded, but at the end of that ordeal he laid his head down across middle C and told me he was really tired.

I bet!

An unconventional piano concert

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being yourself, Jane Butler, piano recital, teacher

Last night my living room was packed with kids and their parents, all smiling, all happy to be there, and all ready to hear the kids share their music. It started out the way you might think, rather serious and quiet and nerve-wrackingly formal! I explained about putting names in a hat and how anyone, student of mine or not, was welcome to play piano, whatever the caliber. I asked for a volunteer to go first, a hand shot up and we were off. After she’d played she picked a name from the basket and my newest little student came up. He has had two lessons yet sat down to play “The Pecking Hen”, a challenging exercise in hitting each white key in succession all the way down the keyboard. The crowd went wild.

Besides the prepared pieces of my students, a friend of a student, a nine-year old girl who doesn’t take piano lessons anywhere got up and played a one-finger rendition of “Mary Had a Little Lamb”. A mom and her daughter did “Heart and Soul” and called over to me after quite a few rounds, “How do we stop??” Kids came up in twos and played two different songs at the same time as a ‘duet’ because we let them.

It was an unconventional concert but it was low pressure and high fun. My student who declined to participate last year agreed reluctantly this year on the strength of the stories of last time, and ended up being one of the ones to return to the piano two more times to show what she could do. Her parents and I were delighted to see that she stretched herself by playing a piece she hadn’t planned on. The setting was right for risking it. The praise and recognition were genuine and supportive and easy to get if you stepped up to the piano and tried something new. One girl even suggested she play “Over the River and Through the Woods” while others sang, so an impromptu choir emerged to cap off the evening.

What a great night. What a fulfilling experience to teach kids to play music and then have them share it with the rest of us just for the fun of it. Low pressure, high fun. Thanks everybody.

A six-year old’s first impression

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being yourself, express feelings, Jane Butler, piano lessons, relationship, teacher, trust

The mother of one of my piano students came to me last week and asked if we might start her six-year old boy on lessons on a trial basis. We’d do a fifteen-minute lesson and see how he took to it. After all, he’d been asking for lessons and copying his sister for weeks now.

So, after his sister’s lesson I sat down with him at the piano and we started. All we do at the first lesson is touch every key and name it, spell some words on the keys like DAD and CAB, and then I usually do some silly quizzes about which hand is which and which finger is which. It gives us a chance to get to know one another and to introduce the piano, and it is easy.

In just fifteen minutes, I can decide whether the student is ready and able to take lessons. For instance, this little boy stayed focused and engaged with the process the whole time. He didn’t get frustrated, and he did know which hand was which. It’s hard to teach kids piano if they are unsure which is the left hand or if they keep looking back at their mom to see if they are getting the right answers. But he was willing to trust in the process and allowed a fifteen-minute relationship with me all for the sake of learning piano. They say first impressions are real so I am counting on it, and I feel this guy is ready.

The crazy thing about this experience is what he did next because it is a reminder that kids are just as capable as adults of sizing up the situation. His first impression is valid, too. After we were finished and I told him he’d done a good job, he ran right over to his mother. I got a perfect look at his back as he spoke to her.  In a clear and loud voice, as if I couldn’t hear him he told her, “I want piano lessons.”

Kids are great. They know how they feel. And there is such a short line between how they feel and what they say without a lot of smoke and distraction in-between, that if the adults in their lives are good stewards of that we can trust them to be honest with us for a long time.

I come back victorious riding a horse

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change, dreams coming true, friends, going home, Jane Butler, joy

Today I am doing a happy dance because I just came back from a visit with the folks who live in the house I grew up in. They welcomed us to see all that they have done in the way of changes. My kids and husband came, all of us delighted at the notion of a family there breathing a new life into the place.

We brought Mom’s famous spare ribs and cole slaw dinner and sat on Mom and Dad’s old picnic table in the yard with our new friends who grilled corn in the smoker/grill they built in the yard, and served a divine gingerbread with whipped cream. All the kids trekked to the creek while the adults got to know each other in the garden and hen house. And through it all I walked around feeling free. Because so much has changed.

I wanted to do all this to help me see the changes that time has allowed. In this setting, with my kids and husband around me it is easy to see my life in perspective. I can be in this old home now with a self-awareness I never had before, an understanding of what it is to be alive and to be present in time appreciating what I have and who I am with. I am old enough and experienced enough to consciously share my love with my family and my new friends. To get to do so in this gorgeous setting filled with memories of much less clear days, creating new memories in precisely the same place, is priceless.