Portfolio Review. The words themselves are enough to make new homeschoolers break out in a cold sweat.
This is our first year of homeschooling, and it's had its ups and downs. We began in July, after careful evaluation and planning. We've been official since September - the State only operates on a traditional school year. We can either have our daughter tested annually (a process she does not manage well) or have her portfolio reviewed by a Maine certified teacher. We've opted for the latter.
I keep careful records and samples of all her work. I have the portfolio in process. We truly want her to learn, to grow, to achieve. We don't fake any records, and I certainly don't give her automatic A's - she has to earn every grade she is given. And yes, she has even failed at times.
She is learning subjects she has never been exposed to previously. Her math is now at an 8th grade level, from the 5th grade level she began at in July. (She's technically a 6th grader). Her reading and comprehension are at a 9th grade level now. Her vocabulary is better than most college students. She is currently studying Latin, Photography, Culinary, Chemistry, Maine History, Music History, Art History and many other subjects. Intellectually, I know she is well above where normal sixth graders are intellectually and socially.
And yet, I fear the portfolio review with an unmatched trepidation.
Locating a certified teacher willing to review her portfolio is a challenge. I've researched local groups, and found that the homeschool groups for the state have a couple of teachers that meet with everyone anually to review portfolios. But do I really want someone who is not familiar with us, our manner of instruction, or our goals, to review and certify our work? Homeschoolers of Maine has a certified teacher (and former homeschooler) who does reviews annually for fifty dollars. Yes, I'm sure being a homeschool veteran she understands the process and the multiple aspects of instruction. But HoME is a Christian-based group - will we not pass if we have not provided religious instruction? There is something to be said for knowing the family, the child(ren), and the methods of learning and instruction. I instruct my daughter upwards of nine or ten hours some days. It may seem like a lot to some, but I follow my daughters lead on these days. If she is enveloped in a chemical process, I don't stop her to begin another lesson. I let her go - allowing her to become invested in her own learning process. She reads each and every day, and her favorite local place to visit (aside from her new nephew's house) is the library. This brings me immense joy - two years ago she hated reading and anything associated with it.
There is a movement within the ranks of homeschoolers to publicize the benefits - the children and fmailies who begin college at fourteen, who discover new methods of generating heat, who enter medical school at seventeen. But I never hear about the families who don't succeed. I don't hear about the family who tried homeschooling and miserably failed when presenting their portfolio. What happens then? In failure we learn, we experience - even if it is not our own.
Another aspect of HoME's evaluation process - it's done without you present. What if they have questions? Shouldn't the teacher be able to converse with you and/or the child? What about the parents who fake the portfolio, making it look like their child has learned 4 languages, three instruments and is now working on solving problems in quantum physics all at the age of nine? Wouldn't it be prudent to simply ask the child to play "Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star" on the xylophone?
I tried to contact one of my daughter's former teachers - one that has since retired. I really liked her, although she was not my daughter's favorite. Why? Because she was a hard ass. While I appreciated it, my daughter felt she was 'mean'. I, on the other hand, understood her attempts to drive the kids, that she was looking for them to find their own 'spark'. Unfortunately, she was so burnt out after thirty years that she wanted nothing whatsoever to do with teaching any more. And who could blame her?!
So I am left back at square one. The State of Maine says I can have ANY Maine certified teacher - you would think it would be easier, or that I would be less particular.
Fortunately, I still have eight months to locate someone.
Saturday, November 30, 2013
Week 13 - Revision
They hadn't been approved for much. They had spent their weekend
afternoons daydreaming over glasses of wine and prose, and when the
numbers came back, the jarring reality was a hard strike to their
cheekbones. The real estate bubble had burst, and left them out in the
cold. The real estate agent assured them something lovely could be
found within their price range, but they weren't as convinced. They went
home, dejectedly climbing the three flights in the dark to their little
apartment. They knew they could find the home they all wanted, it was
just going to take some work - and time.
He poured over real estate books and weighed the options. FHA was a lower interest rate and smaller down payment, but included closing costs and limited their selection of properties to homes under ten acres. Fannie Mae and Freddie Mac were possibilities, but given the poor decision making done in the recent past, resulting bailouts and government conservatorship, he didn't particularly care to be involved with either of them. There was also a VA loan - one that was looking more and more attractive. No down payment, but it did include a VA Funding fee. More importantly - they offered a higher allowable debt-to-income ratio that might permit them to search for higher priced homes. They could afford it; they had worked out the numbers - they just needed a bank to support them. He might as well use his military background for some good.
She spent her time looking over real estate offerings, exceptions like easements and interests, water right and access points, property lines and encroachments. Were they willing to compromise on the size of the property? Was rehabbing an older home a possibility if the house had good bones? Their plan was to have this be their final move, so they wanted a home they would be comfortable in for years to come. They had each agreed on a 'non-negotiable' aspect - even their eleven year old daughter. For him - it had to have a decent garage where he could work out of the weather. For their daughter - it had to have a pool, or enough room to put in a pool comfortable. And for her - it absolutely had to have an upgraded kitchen. They all agreed that it needed to be a minimum of ten acres, and zoned to permit farm animals on a small scale. They had also agreed that there should be enough room in the house to allow for guests and a home office. And - it had to be within one hour of Bangor.
It hadn't seemed like their requests were too much at the time, but now she was beginning to wonder. Was there more they could compromise on?
The barriers had seemed to be the time to the city and the lot size. Could concessions be made on these issues? Maybe another 15 minutes wouldn't seem that bad if they found the perfect property? Could they survive with eight acres versus the ten they had previously decided upon? She wondered.
She plugged in the requirements again into her computer - but this time with the amendments. A slew of new properties popped onto the screen. "Huh! Look at that!" she muttered out loud. She began plugging away through the map of properties, eliminating ones with zero possibilities.
He brought his plan to her - the VA loan. They had wanted to go the traditional route through a local bank, but maybe this option would fit more to their plans and goals. They didn't require a down payment, so perhaps the money they had saved could, in part, be used to fix up an older home? He winced as he said it, unsure what her reaction would be. He was taken aback when her eyes lit up. She had found some homes on the outskirts of their time constraints that just might fit the bill, she said.
They sat down together and reviewed each property, the pros and cons of each, and narrowed the choices down to five. He made another appointment - this time with a mortgage broker - to talk about the possibility of a Veteran's Administration loan.
Maybe this was all going to work out after all.
He poured over real estate books and weighed the options. FHA was a lower interest rate and smaller down payment, but included closing costs and limited their selection of properties to homes under ten acres. Fannie Mae and Freddie Mac were possibilities, but given the poor decision making done in the recent past, resulting bailouts and government conservatorship, he didn't particularly care to be involved with either of them. There was also a VA loan - one that was looking more and more attractive. No down payment, but it did include a VA Funding fee. More importantly - they offered a higher allowable debt-to-income ratio that might permit them to search for higher priced homes. They could afford it; they had worked out the numbers - they just needed a bank to support them. He might as well use his military background for some good.
She spent her time looking over real estate offerings, exceptions like easements and interests, water right and access points, property lines and encroachments. Were they willing to compromise on the size of the property? Was rehabbing an older home a possibility if the house had good bones? Their plan was to have this be their final move, so they wanted a home they would be comfortable in for years to come. They had each agreed on a 'non-negotiable' aspect - even their eleven year old daughter. For him - it had to have a decent garage where he could work out of the weather. For their daughter - it had to have a pool, or enough room to put in a pool comfortable. And for her - it absolutely had to have an upgraded kitchen. They all agreed that it needed to be a minimum of ten acres, and zoned to permit farm animals on a small scale. They had also agreed that there should be enough room in the house to allow for guests and a home office. And - it had to be within one hour of Bangor.
It hadn't seemed like their requests were too much at the time, but now she was beginning to wonder. Was there more they could compromise on?
The barriers had seemed to be the time to the city and the lot size. Could concessions be made on these issues? Maybe another 15 minutes wouldn't seem that bad if they found the perfect property? Could they survive with eight acres versus the ten they had previously decided upon? She wondered.
She plugged in the requirements again into her computer - but this time with the amendments. A slew of new properties popped onto the screen. "Huh! Look at that!" she muttered out loud. She began plugging away through the map of properties, eliminating ones with zero possibilities.
He brought his plan to her - the VA loan. They had wanted to go the traditional route through a local bank, but maybe this option would fit more to their plans and goals. They didn't require a down payment, so perhaps the money they had saved could, in part, be used to fix up an older home? He winced as he said it, unsure what her reaction would be. He was taken aback when her eyes lit up. She had found some homes on the outskirts of their time constraints that just might fit the bill, she said.
They sat down together and reviewed each property, the pros and cons of each, and narrowed the choices down to five. He made another appointment - this time with a mortgage broker - to talk about the possibility of a Veteran's Administration loan.
Maybe this was all going to work out after all.
Week 12 - Book Intro
There are very few books that I have read (and I have read a LOT) that have evoked a physical reaction from me - both were written by Stephen King.
The Green Mile is the riveting story of Paul Edgcomb, the prison officer in charge of the death row cell block at the Cold Mountain Penitentiary in 1935. One of the inmates, John Coffey has been wrongfully convicted of the rape and murder of two young girls, and is awaiting execution on death row. During his period of confinement, Coffey reveals a secret ability to heal and to 'give back' illness.
Edgcomb is the epitome of the tragic hero. He is a man of integrity, a man with morals and sense of humanitarianism. He believes, in spite of their actions that brought them to this final place, that all of his charges should be treated humanely and with respect. Most of his peers on the block feel the same, but one - Percy Wetmore - is a sadistic and brutal guard. Wetmore seems to have it out for the emotionally weak inmate Eduard Delacroix, and the pet mouse he has adopted (Mr. Jingles). Afforded to the position via nepotism, Edgcomb and his staff cannot get rid of him. After intentionally botched execution that he was in charge of completing, John Coffey touches Wetmore, and 'gives back' a terrible illness into him, causing him to have a moment of crazy. He shoots another inmate to death and falls into a vegetative state for the rest of his life.
I never thought I'd be so pleased at the painful and surprising retribution received by any one individual, nor so moved to tears over a pet mouse.
During the subsequent investigation, Paul Edgcomb questions Coffey at length. Coffey says he can show him, but he will have to give something of himself - nothing was free. Edgcomb, only half believing, agrees. Coffey takes his hand, and shows Edgcomb everything - from what really happened to the young girls, right up through the reality of Percy Wetmore.
The side effect from the sharing is unexpected, and Paul Edgcomb isn't sure if it's punishment or not. The story concludes with Edgcomb in his senior years, evaluating his choices and his own mortality.
The Green Mile is akin to a modern day Dickens piece - superb characters rich in depth, intriguing plot lines, and an unexpected emotion evocation that is unparalleled by any other modern day author.
The Green Mile is the riveting story of Paul Edgcomb, the prison officer in charge of the death row cell block at the Cold Mountain Penitentiary in 1935. One of the inmates, John Coffey has been wrongfully convicted of the rape and murder of two young girls, and is awaiting execution on death row. During his period of confinement, Coffey reveals a secret ability to heal and to 'give back' illness.
Edgcomb is the epitome of the tragic hero. He is a man of integrity, a man with morals and sense of humanitarianism. He believes, in spite of their actions that brought them to this final place, that all of his charges should be treated humanely and with respect. Most of his peers on the block feel the same, but one - Percy Wetmore - is a sadistic and brutal guard. Wetmore seems to have it out for the emotionally weak inmate Eduard Delacroix, and the pet mouse he has adopted (Mr. Jingles). Afforded to the position via nepotism, Edgcomb and his staff cannot get rid of him. After intentionally botched execution that he was in charge of completing, John Coffey touches Wetmore, and 'gives back' a terrible illness into him, causing him to have a moment of crazy. He shoots another inmate to death and falls into a vegetative state for the rest of his life.
I never thought I'd be so pleased at the painful and surprising retribution received by any one individual, nor so moved to tears over a pet mouse.
During the subsequent investigation, Paul Edgcomb questions Coffey at length. Coffey says he can show him, but he will have to give something of himself - nothing was free. Edgcomb, only half believing, agrees. Coffey takes his hand, and shows Edgcomb everything - from what really happened to the young girls, right up through the reality of Percy Wetmore.
The side effect from the sharing is unexpected, and Paul Edgcomb isn't sure if it's punishment or not. The story concludes with Edgcomb in his senior years, evaluating his choices and his own mortality.
The Green Mile is akin to a modern day Dickens piece - superb characters rich in depth, intriguing plot lines, and an unexpected emotion evocation that is unparalleled by any other modern day author.
Week 13 - Appreciation/Depreciation
The book had instilled a sense of order and rationale to an otherwise unmoored and
disorienting existence. It was a handbook of sorts; eschewing a list of
the "Ten Concepts of Fearlessness", a list that made sense. I had
resisted the book initially - it couldn't possibly be taken seriously. A
rap artist and a strategist author? For real? But, a good friend had
recommended it. "Just take a look at it; it makes sense," he had said.
And it had.
His previous book, 'The 48 Rules of Power' had intrigued me. I'm fascinated with how individuals take control and gain power, when they obviously don't posses high intellect. I've met a number of high-powered businessmen and politicians, and I am completely bewildered half of the time. How in the world did this person get to this role?? They don't speak intelligently, let alone eloquently. They have no writing skills. They don't appear to be able to relate to anyone else. They are awkward, counterfeit and perplexing. And yet - they are in positions of power the average person could only dream of being.
'The 48 Rules of Power' provides a framework of standards - a guideline to garner position and power. Some of the rules are skills most people who have worked in a business environment have knowledge of (some, like me, the hard way). The first rule - "Never Outshine the Master" is one anyone who has ever had a boss will understand. Some are uncomfortable, such as rule number 11 - 'Keep people dependent on you' or rule number 15 - 'Crush your enemy totally'. Still other make sense, life skills articulated in a way that make them easily identifiable. 'Guard your reputation' and 'keep your hands clean' are a couple.
The newest addition, ''The 50th Law' expounds on these guidelines and includes and additional ten laws, the 'Ten Laws of Fearlessness'. Rap mogul Curtis Jackson (aka 50 Cent) teams up with the previously discussed author Robert Greene. Because of the street-wise vernacular of Jackson, these laws are more edgy and apathetic, and occasionally downright crass (Rule #3 - Turn Shit into Sugar).
I didn't want to like this book. A non-fiction author I liked and respected teaming up with a <gasp> rap star? Come on! Really?! Could you pander to the public a little more? I was mortified for him. And then I was curious. What had led him to this path? I decided to trust him - once. I wanted to find out what his reasoning was and why he selected this particular co-author/subject.
Curtis Jackson came from a tough background, but I wasn't privy to the details before now. (Disclaimer - I am not a fan of rap music in general; I am much more of an early jazz/blues fan and find rap music repugnant the majority of the time.) The idea behind this work is that there are two primary drives within human nature - fear and love. The authors make the theory behind each law relateable by providing history and examples from Jackson's life. Not only are some illegal, but some are immoral and downright scary. And yet, I was drawn to the person he has made himself into - an extension of his former self, but 'better', more self-assured, stronger and in control of his own destiny and environment. In spite of his history, not because of it.
This piece of work was an unexpected surprise. One paragraph in particular struck a vein with me, hard and deep. I hold it close, even today. Truthfully, can you ask any more from a single written work?
"Understand: the day you were born you became engaged in a struggle that continues to this day and will determine your success or failure in life. You are an individual, with ideas and skills that make you unique. But people are constantly trying to fit you into narrow categories that make you more predictable and easier to manage. They want to see you as shy or outgoing, sensitive or tough. If you succumb to this pressure, then you may gain some social acceptance, but you will lose the unconventional parts of your character that are the source of your uniqueness and power. You must resist this process at all costs, seeing people's neat and tidy judgements as a form of confinement. Your task is to retain or rediscover those aspects of your character that defy categorization, and to give them even greater play. Remaining unique, you will create something unique and inspire the kind of respect you would never receive from tepid conformity."
And it had.
His previous book, 'The 48 Rules of Power' had intrigued me. I'm fascinated with how individuals take control and gain power, when they obviously don't posses high intellect. I've met a number of high-powered businessmen and politicians, and I am completely bewildered half of the time. How in the world did this person get to this role?? They don't speak intelligently, let alone eloquently. They have no writing skills. They don't appear to be able to relate to anyone else. They are awkward, counterfeit and perplexing. And yet - they are in positions of power the average person could only dream of being.
'The 48 Rules of Power' provides a framework of standards - a guideline to garner position and power. Some of the rules are skills most people who have worked in a business environment have knowledge of (some, like me, the hard way). The first rule - "Never Outshine the Master" is one anyone who has ever had a boss will understand. Some are uncomfortable, such as rule number 11 - 'Keep people dependent on you' or rule number 15 - 'Crush your enemy totally'. Still other make sense, life skills articulated in a way that make them easily identifiable. 'Guard your reputation' and 'keep your hands clean' are a couple.
The newest addition, ''The 50th Law' expounds on these guidelines and includes and additional ten laws, the 'Ten Laws of Fearlessness'. Rap mogul Curtis Jackson (aka 50 Cent) teams up with the previously discussed author Robert Greene. Because of the street-wise vernacular of Jackson, these laws are more edgy and apathetic, and occasionally downright crass (Rule #3 - Turn Shit into Sugar).
I didn't want to like this book. A non-fiction author I liked and respected teaming up with a <gasp> rap star? Come on! Really?! Could you pander to the public a little more? I was mortified for him. And then I was curious. What had led him to this path? I decided to trust him - once. I wanted to find out what his reasoning was and why he selected this particular co-author/subject.
Curtis Jackson came from a tough background, but I wasn't privy to the details before now. (Disclaimer - I am not a fan of rap music in general; I am much more of an early jazz/blues fan and find rap music repugnant the majority of the time.) The idea behind this work is that there are two primary drives within human nature - fear and love. The authors make the theory behind each law relateable by providing history and examples from Jackson's life. Not only are some illegal, but some are immoral and downright scary. And yet, I was drawn to the person he has made himself into - an extension of his former self, but 'better', more self-assured, stronger and in control of his own destiny and environment. In spite of his history, not because of it.
This piece of work was an unexpected surprise. One paragraph in particular struck a vein with me, hard and deep. I hold it close, even today. Truthfully, can you ask any more from a single written work?
"Understand: the day you were born you became engaged in a struggle that continues to this day and will determine your success or failure in life. You are an individual, with ideas and skills that make you unique. But people are constantly trying to fit you into narrow categories that make you more predictable and easier to manage. They want to see you as shy or outgoing, sensitive or tough. If you succumb to this pressure, then you may gain some social acceptance, but you will lose the unconventional parts of your character that are the source of your uniqueness and power. You must resist this process at all costs, seeing people's neat and tidy judgements as a form of confinement. Your task is to retain or rediscover those aspects of your character that defy categorization, and to give them even greater play. Remaining unique, you will create something unique and inspire the kind of respect you would never receive from tepid conformity."
Week 11 - All the Fun of Expertise With Less Filling
Does anyone value their property anymore? There are cemeteries of properties after property looking transient and ramshackle. Overgrown shrubbery, cadaverous vehicles, broken down washing machines on their decks, scorned vegetable gardens and sparse or nonexistent landscaping.
They drove further up the road. Aware of fast moving cars approaching from behind, they pulled off to the shoulder and dismally peer at yet another listing. While the listing wasn't a blatant lie, someone had obviously invested a significant portion of inheritance on professional photography. The woman was weary, and shook her head sadly as she scrutinized the house. She'd had high hopes for this one, and had enough for today.
They hadn't been approved for much. They had spent their weekend afternoons daydreaming over glasses of wine and prose, and when the numbers came back, the jarring reality was a hard strike to their cheekbones. The real estate bubble had burst, and left them out in the cold. The real estate agent assured them something lovely could be found within their price range, but they weren't as convinced. They went home, dejectedly climbing the three flights in the dark to their little apartment. They knew they could find the home they all wanted, it was just going to take some work - and time.
He poured over real estate books and weighed the options. FHA was a lower interest rate and smaller down payment, but included closing costs and limited their selection of properties to homes under ten acres. Fannie Mae and Freddie Mac were possibilities, but given the poor decision making done in the recent past, resulting bailouts and government conservatorship, he didn't particularly care to be involved with either of them. There was also a VA loan - one that was looking more and more attractive. No down payment, but it did include a VA Funding fee. More importantly - they offered a higher allowable debt-to-income ratio that might permit them to search for higher priced homes. They could afford it; they had worked out the numbers - they just needed a bank to support them. He might as well use his military background for some good.
She spent her time looking over real estate offerings, exceptions like easements and interests, water right and access points, property lines and encroachments. Were they willing to compromise on the size of the property? Was rehabbing an older home a possibility if the house had good bones? Their plan was to have this be their final move, so they wanted a home they would be comfortable in for years to come. They had each agreed on a 'non-negotiable' aspect - even their eleven year old daughter. For him - it had to have a decent garage where he could work out of the weather. For their daughter - it had to have a pool, or enough room to put in a pool comfortable. And for her - it absolutely had to have an upgraded kitchen. They all agreed that it needed to be a minimum of ten acres, and zoned to permit farm animals on a small scale. They had also agreed that there should be enough room in the house to allow for guests and a home office. And - it had to be within one hour of Bangor.
It hadn't seemed like their requests were too much at the time, but now she was beginning to wonder. Was there more they could compromise on?
The barriers had seemed to be the time to the city and the lot size. Could concessions be made on these issues? Maybe another 15 minutes wouldn't seem that bad if they found the perfect property? Could they survive with eight acres versus the ten they had previously decided upon? She wondered.
She plugged in the requirements again into her computer - but this time with the amendments. A slew of new properties popped onto the screen. "Huh! Look at that!" she muttered out loud. She began plugging away through the map of properties, eliminating ones with zero possibilities.
He brought his plan to her - the VA loan. They had wanted to go the traditional route through a local bank, but maybe this option would fit more to their plans and goals. They didn't require a down payment, so perhaps the money they had saved could, in part, be used to fix up an older home? He winced as he said it, unsure what her reaction would be. He was taken aback when her eyes lit up. She had found some homes on the outskirts of their time constraints that just might fit the bill, she said.
They sat down together and reviewed each property, the pros and cons of each, and narrowed the choices down to five. He made another appointment - this time with a mortgage broker - to talk about the possibility of a Veteran's Administration loan.
Maybe this was all going to work out after all.
They drove further up the road. Aware of fast moving cars approaching from behind, they pulled off to the shoulder and dismally peer at yet another listing. While the listing wasn't a blatant lie, someone had obviously invested a significant portion of inheritance on professional photography. The woman was weary, and shook her head sadly as she scrutinized the house. She'd had high hopes for this one, and had enough for today.
They hadn't been approved for much. They had spent their weekend afternoons daydreaming over glasses of wine and prose, and when the numbers came back, the jarring reality was a hard strike to their cheekbones. The real estate bubble had burst, and left them out in the cold. The real estate agent assured them something lovely could be found within their price range, but they weren't as convinced. They went home, dejectedly climbing the three flights in the dark to their little apartment. They knew they could find the home they all wanted, it was just going to take some work - and time.
He poured over real estate books and weighed the options. FHA was a lower interest rate and smaller down payment, but included closing costs and limited their selection of properties to homes under ten acres. Fannie Mae and Freddie Mac were possibilities, but given the poor decision making done in the recent past, resulting bailouts and government conservatorship, he didn't particularly care to be involved with either of them. There was also a VA loan - one that was looking more and more attractive. No down payment, but it did include a VA Funding fee. More importantly - they offered a higher allowable debt-to-income ratio that might permit them to search for higher priced homes. They could afford it; they had worked out the numbers - they just needed a bank to support them. He might as well use his military background for some good.
She spent her time looking over real estate offerings, exceptions like easements and interests, water right and access points, property lines and encroachments. Were they willing to compromise on the size of the property? Was rehabbing an older home a possibility if the house had good bones? Their plan was to have this be their final move, so they wanted a home they would be comfortable in for years to come. They had each agreed on a 'non-negotiable' aspect - even their eleven year old daughter. For him - it had to have a decent garage where he could work out of the weather. For their daughter - it had to have a pool, or enough room to put in a pool comfortable. And for her - it absolutely had to have an upgraded kitchen. They all agreed that it needed to be a minimum of ten acres, and zoned to permit farm animals on a small scale. They had also agreed that there should be enough room in the house to allow for guests and a home office. And - it had to be within one hour of Bangor.
It hadn't seemed like their requests were too much at the time, but now she was beginning to wonder. Was there more they could compromise on?
The barriers had seemed to be the time to the city and the lot size. Could concessions be made on these issues? Maybe another 15 minutes wouldn't seem that bad if they found the perfect property? Could they survive with eight acres versus the ten they had previously decided upon? She wondered.
She plugged in the requirements again into her computer - but this time with the amendments. A slew of new properties popped onto the screen. "Huh! Look at that!" she muttered out loud. She began plugging away through the map of properties, eliminating ones with zero possibilities.
He brought his plan to her - the VA loan. They had wanted to go the traditional route through a local bank, but maybe this option would fit more to their plans and goals. They didn't require a down payment, so perhaps the money they had saved could, in part, be used to fix up an older home? He winced as he said it, unsure what her reaction would be. He was taken aback when her eyes lit up. She had found some homes on the outskirts of their time constraints that just might fit the bill, she said.
They sat down together and reviewed each property, the pros and cons of each, and narrowed the choices down to five. He made another appointment - this time with a mortgage broker - to talk about the possibility of a Veteran's Administration loan.
Maybe this was all going to work out after all.
Saturday, November 2, 2013
Week 10 - Self-Defense is Too Violent?
A friend's husband is a police officer and a martial arts instructor in Veazie. He offered a free, anti-bullying class for kids - all you had to do was sign up. I've been looking into getting my 'tween' daughter some type of self-defnse training, so I signed her up, albeit against her will. (She doesn't like 'new' things and she's kind of lazy. Okay, a lot lazy.)
She loved the class, and didn't want to leave after 2 1/2 hours.
He teaches Krav-Maga, a self-defense system developed for the Israeli military. It consists of a wide combination of techniques culled from boxing, Muay Thai, Judo, wrestling, grappling and others. It focuses on realistic fight training - incidents you would see in the real-world, when you are in serious bodily danger. Just the sort of training every parent wishes for their child.
We spoke briefly after class about his desire to expand, and I mentioned he should align with the University Recreation Center and offer classes there. He said he had tried - but the administration, in all their nobility, felt it was "too violent" to offer to college students.
Um, what?
Tai Kwon Do on Tuesdays and Thursdays is fine. Combat Boot Camp class on Sunday morning - great. But actual, real-world defensive maneuvers that might reduce the number of rapes and assaults on a college campus? Noooo sir, we don't want that overt violence around here.
Unless you keep your child in a padded cell for eternity, at some point they will come into contact with an unsavory character. Shouldn't they know how to appropriately deal with them? UMaine says no. Classes at the Rec Center should be light, fun and help you keep that six-pack or bikini body (it will be Spring soon enough!) No one wants to have a serious discussion about 'bodily protection' or 'rape prevention' or other scary topics, let alone offer a class that puts it front and center, and perhaps empowers students.
Nationally, 17% of college students report having experienced violence withing the previous year. That's only reported cases. While it may not seem like a high number, 17% of students at the University of Maine equates to slightly over 1,700 students. Seventeen hundred students. Surely a class once or twice a week that might reduce those numbers might be deemed valuable?
UMaine is like the Kennedy family - they don't air their dirty laundry until it becomes public fodder. They project a regal image of light and airy - great education, fun place to live. None of the dark discourse - parents wouldn't want to pay $27,000 a year to send their children somewhere where there might be <gasp> violence!
Until there is a publicized incidence of domestic violence, rape or other vicious attack that makes it newsworthy - administration will play ostrich. Then, when reporters are calling and focus must be redirected, will they define a strategic plan to implement a ten year plan to address the issues - one that will include a weekly self-defense offering at the Rec Center.
She loved the class, and didn't want to leave after 2 1/2 hours.
He teaches Krav-Maga, a self-defense system developed for the Israeli military. It consists of a wide combination of techniques culled from boxing, Muay Thai, Judo, wrestling, grappling and others. It focuses on realistic fight training - incidents you would see in the real-world, when you are in serious bodily danger. Just the sort of training every parent wishes for their child.
We spoke briefly after class about his desire to expand, and I mentioned he should align with the University Recreation Center and offer classes there. He said he had tried - but the administration, in all their nobility, felt it was "too violent" to offer to college students.
Um, what?
Tai Kwon Do on Tuesdays and Thursdays is fine. Combat Boot Camp class on Sunday morning - great. But actual, real-world defensive maneuvers that might reduce the number of rapes and assaults on a college campus? Noooo sir, we don't want that overt violence around here.
Unless you keep your child in a padded cell for eternity, at some point they will come into contact with an unsavory character. Shouldn't they know how to appropriately deal with them? UMaine says no. Classes at the Rec Center should be light, fun and help you keep that six-pack or bikini body (it will be Spring soon enough!) No one wants to have a serious discussion about 'bodily protection' or 'rape prevention' or other scary topics, let alone offer a class that puts it front and center, and perhaps empowers students.
Nationally, 17% of college students report having experienced violence withing the previous year. That's only reported cases. While it may not seem like a high number, 17% of students at the University of Maine equates to slightly over 1,700 students. Seventeen hundred students. Surely a class once or twice a week that might reduce those numbers might be deemed valuable?
UMaine is like the Kennedy family - they don't air their dirty laundry until it becomes public fodder. They project a regal image of light and airy - great education, fun place to live. None of the dark discourse - parents wouldn't want to pay $27,000 a year to send their children somewhere where there might be <gasp> violence!
Until there is a publicized incidence of domestic violence, rape or other vicious attack that makes it newsworthy - administration will play ostrich. Then, when reporters are calling and focus must be redirected, will they define a strategic plan to implement a ten year plan to address the issues - one that will include a weekly self-defense offering at the Rec Center.
Week 9 - Kismet
I have been busily and desperately searching for work. Again.
I have been out of work since February of 2011. After my divorce, I was losing my house. In a reckless and scandalous move, I quit my job in an effort to save it. I had another job lined up in the longer term but the only way I could access my retirement fund was to leave my job. So I did. I ended up not only losing my retirement, but the house as well.
Some lessons are very hard-learned.
I've been going back to school. Partly to achieve the degree, but also partly to narrow my focus. There are so many things I enjoy doing that it's been hard to 'choose' a path. I fell into IT a long time ago and I've always hated it. I have an opportunity now to choose something I really want to do every day, but it's an awful lot of pressure!
I thought it was culinary (I really love cooking and I'm good at it), but after a year I discovered that a) Culinary school will kill your love of cooking within 2 months; and b) cooks in Maine don't make squat for money.
Scratch Culinary.
I moved on to business. I had started a small business cooking a couple of years ago. Just a part time business - the kind many moms and grandmothers do in their spare time 'in the County'. I learned another valuable lesson - I despise accounting. So, Business as a major is kaput too.
There have been aspects of each (and other subjects) that I thoroughly enjoy. I love cooking - on my own terms, and in my own way. I don't always adhere to a recipe, and sometimes - <gasp> - I don't measure. In business, I love helping people, but not the tediousness of bookkeeping and accounting. I'm a creative personality, an artist of sorts, and if I don't have that outlet...if my hands are tied (literally or figuratively)...I choke in the realest sense of the word.
One arena I have always become lost in for hours has been my reading and writing. This past month, in a single week - three different people suggested I find a way to write for a living. I hadn't really considered it before now. After all, writing, as a profession, is not a 'serious' career. Writing is akin to starving actors - it's what you do while you're waiting tables, waiting for the dream to take it's last breaths.
Then I thought, what do I have to lose? I figure it's kismet, right?
I thought more and more about it, in spite of myself. What would happen if I took a shot at it? I've always had this secret dream tucked away in the back of my heart and head. You know the one - that dusty, leather-bound 'Great American Novelist' dream shared by anyone who's read Kerouac or Fitzgerald. Could I afford to try, to possibly learn that I'm not adept or skilled enough to earn a living at writing? Not in the financial sense, but in the most elemental and core facet of my being.
In most aspects of my life, I'm a seemingly moderate risk-taker. But truth be told - I'm a closet over-analyzer. I research and investigate, take notes, interview and interpret, take notes, evaluate and scrutinize before making any kind of final determination. My significant other makes jokes about how he wishes I would hurry up and write my novel already - we could use the money, and we both want to move out of the city. Which, he reminds me, I could easily do with a writing job.
Subtlety is not his forte.
So, I set about researching (my standard M.O.) on the internet. How would I even begin? What are my chances of success? Is it worth it?
What if I spent the next year writing, submitting, getting rejected and submitting some more? I would be no worse off than I am now financially. I'd be dejected and morose probably. I'm pretty stubborn, for an Irishwoman even, so I probably wouldn't give up easily. Maybe I'd turn into one of those prolific writers who's not recognized for their genius until long after they've left this Earth.
Maybe I'd just fade into the dust and my writing would blanch into obscurity on the Net, hopefully to be found in some graphically embarassing way for my grandchildren.
I worry that I'm not good enough. Another lesson hard-learned at this point could potentially be catastrophic. Writing is personal. Rejection is business. How do the two enmesh comfortably? I'm guessing this is why so many writers are melancholy and pessimistic. I anguish at the thought of being forced to tell my family I have failed.
And then I think - but...perhaps.....I won't fail. I have just as good a chance as anyone out there. In fact, I lament the writing of others daily - like the South Portland-Cape Elizabeth Sentry's article on the next generation of students, captioned (front page) "Future collegions".
Surely I can do better.
So I've done my diligence and signed up for multiple freelance sites initially. I'll catch up on my writing class. I'll write daily - or at least try. I'll submit proposals often. Maybe someone will even take me up on one of them. Perhaps I'll even make a little money and buy that farm we looked at earlier today.
I wonder if Jack Kerouac wondered about kismet?
I have been out of work since February of 2011. After my divorce, I was losing my house. In a reckless and scandalous move, I quit my job in an effort to save it. I had another job lined up in the longer term but the only way I could access my retirement fund was to leave my job. So I did. I ended up not only losing my retirement, but the house as well.
Some lessons are very hard-learned.
I've been going back to school. Partly to achieve the degree, but also partly to narrow my focus. There are so many things I enjoy doing that it's been hard to 'choose' a path. I fell into IT a long time ago and I've always hated it. I have an opportunity now to choose something I really want to do every day, but it's an awful lot of pressure!
I thought it was culinary (I really love cooking and I'm good at it), but after a year I discovered that a) Culinary school will kill your love of cooking within 2 months; and b) cooks in Maine don't make squat for money.
Scratch Culinary.
I moved on to business. I had started a small business cooking a couple of years ago. Just a part time business - the kind many moms and grandmothers do in their spare time 'in the County'. I learned another valuable lesson - I despise accounting. So, Business as a major is kaput too.
There have been aspects of each (and other subjects) that I thoroughly enjoy. I love cooking - on my own terms, and in my own way. I don't always adhere to a recipe, and sometimes - <gasp> - I don't measure. In business, I love helping people, but not the tediousness of bookkeeping and accounting. I'm a creative personality, an artist of sorts, and if I don't have that outlet...if my hands are tied (literally or figuratively)...I choke in the realest sense of the word.
One arena I have always become lost in for hours has been my reading and writing. This past month, in a single week - three different people suggested I find a way to write for a living. I hadn't really considered it before now. After all, writing, as a profession, is not a 'serious' career. Writing is akin to starving actors - it's what you do while you're waiting tables, waiting for the dream to take it's last breaths.
Then I thought, what do I have to lose? I figure it's kismet, right?
I thought more and more about it, in spite of myself. What would happen if I took a shot at it? I've always had this secret dream tucked away in the back of my heart and head. You know the one - that dusty, leather-bound 'Great American Novelist' dream shared by anyone who's read Kerouac or Fitzgerald. Could I afford to try, to possibly learn that I'm not adept or skilled enough to earn a living at writing? Not in the financial sense, but in the most elemental and core facet of my being.
In most aspects of my life, I'm a seemingly moderate risk-taker. But truth be told - I'm a closet over-analyzer. I research and investigate, take notes, interview and interpret, take notes, evaluate and scrutinize before making any kind of final determination. My significant other makes jokes about how he wishes I would hurry up and write my novel already - we could use the money, and we both want to move out of the city. Which, he reminds me, I could easily do with a writing job.
Subtlety is not his forte.
So, I set about researching (my standard M.O.) on the internet. How would I even begin? What are my chances of success? Is it worth it?
What if I spent the next year writing, submitting, getting rejected and submitting some more? I would be no worse off than I am now financially. I'd be dejected and morose probably. I'm pretty stubborn, for an Irishwoman even, so I probably wouldn't give up easily. Maybe I'd turn into one of those prolific writers who's not recognized for their genius until long after they've left this Earth.
Maybe I'd just fade into the dust and my writing would blanch into obscurity on the Net, hopefully to be found in some graphically embarassing way for my grandchildren.
I worry that I'm not good enough. Another lesson hard-learned at this point could potentially be catastrophic. Writing is personal. Rejection is business. How do the two enmesh comfortably? I'm guessing this is why so many writers are melancholy and pessimistic. I anguish at the thought of being forced to tell my family I have failed.
And then I think - but...perhaps.....I won't fail. I have just as good a chance as anyone out there. In fact, I lament the writing of others daily - like the South Portland-Cape Elizabeth Sentry's article on the next generation of students, captioned (front page) "Future collegions".
Surely I can do better.
So I've done my diligence and signed up for multiple freelance sites initially. I'll catch up on my writing class. I'll write daily - or at least try. I'll submit proposals often. Maybe someone will even take me up on one of them. Perhaps I'll even make a little money and buy that farm we looked at earlier today.
I wonder if Jack Kerouac wondered about kismet?
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