In my blogging and other social media posts for May, I have largely focused on the gifts and challenges of mothers. Today I’d like to offer some snippets of wisdom each of my grandmothers offered as I was growing up.

My mother’s mother, Grandma Wetzler, ran a food stall at Hollins Market in Baltimore, travelled around the world, and held the family together with her calm and steady presence. My father’s mother, Grandeema Bracken, knew all 47 grandchildrens’ birthdays, hated to cook anything but dessert, and always had a pithy quote to offer in response to a problem. Two very different grandmothers, yet each one offered me gifts that I still treasure to this day.

In addition to being an entrepreneur, Grandma Wetzler was a wonderful cook and baker. One of her baking specialities was cloverleaf rolls, which she always made for us kids when we spent the night at her house. When I was in college, she taught me how to make bread, but only offered minimal instructions about the kneading process, which she always said was the most important part. “Just knead it until it feels right,” she offered. But because I lacked her 50 years of bread-baking experience, I had to find a recipe that told me to knead the dough for about 10 minutes or until it felt smooth and elastic. With that guidance gleaned from an old cookbook, I set off on my bread-baking career which continues to this day.

Grandma Wetzler was also an accomplished seamstress and made me and my two sisters all of our holiday dresses until we went to high school. When I was thirteen, she taught me to sew in much the same way she taught me to make bread, using a completely hands-off approach. She demonstrated how to cut and sew a skirt and then walked into the kitchen to let me make one on my own. Somehow I figured out the puzzle and managed to make a skirt with only one error—the darts were on the outside. An easy mistake to correct. After that, I went on to make nearly all of my own clothes for years and even established a dressmaking and sewing instruction business.

My grandmother Wetzler was a strong woman who inspired me all throughout my life. I never saw her cry or get discouraged, though I’m sure she dealt with many disappointments and challenges throughout her 101 years. When she was nearing 100, her favorite thing to do was to sit on her front porch and rock. When I asked her if she missed anything or ever got bored, she’s smile at me and say, “Honey, I’ve got my memories.”

We called my father’s mother Grandeema Bracken, probably to distinguish between the two grandmothers. Because she lived on the other side of town and did not drive, we did not see her as often as my other grandmother. Still, she had a powerful influence on my life. Every year when she sent me a birthday card, she included the day and time of my birth, and my birthweight, and length. I wish I had just one of those cards today.

Grandeema made it a point to tell all of us to take good care of our things so they would last. When I was about 10 years old, she gave me a slim box that contained a pair of tan and brown kid gloves and a hand-written note. The gloves were in perfect condition and buttery soft. They had been hers as a young woman, and she gave them to me as a special gift. I don’t remember the exact words of the note, but I know she emphasized the importance of taking care of those gloves so I could have them for a long time. I remember wearing them to church several times, and because I was a child, I managed to get them dirty somehow. My mother told me I could carefully wash them by hand and then stretch them out and let them dry on a towel. I’ll never forget how disappointed I was a couple of days later when they finally dried. Instead of the soft, supple gloves Grandeema had entrusted me with, the gloves were stiff and hard. I was embarrassed that I had failed to take good care of them and never told my grandmother. How I wish I still had them as a memento of her.

When I was in my 20s, Grandeema gave me a very practical, hand-held egg beater. As if to make up for my youthful carelessness with the kid gloves, I have managed to keep that egg beater and use it for the past 35 years. I still use it for whipping egg whites or whipped cream. Every time I do, I hope I am making my grandmother smile up in heaven.

Grandeema also left me with some very practical and poetic advice about the power of the written word. I hear her reminding me to be careful whenever I am tempted to fire off a quick email or write an angry letter to someone.

“Say it in flowers, say it in pink. Whatever you do, don’t say it in ink.”

This advice has saved me a lot of embarrassment and regret over the years. Simple and poetic.

I loved my grandmothers and still have wonderful memories of time with each of them. I’d love to hear your memories about your own grandmothers. Please share with me and my readers.

One of my most enduring lessons about teaching occurred during a speech therapy techniques class Towson University. One of my classmates asked a questions that seems to haunt all new practitioners when they are searching for that one way to do things, that one way that will work. The question? “What’s the best way to help kids learn the speech skills they need?”
The answer? “Do whatever works.”

I didn’t realize it at the time, but that one piece of advice—to do whatever worked for the students I had in front of me—was the master key to successful teaching. Because my professors were well-versed in the stages of child-development and knew the importance of play, they stressed the value of playing games to teach challenging language concepts and problematic speech sounds. After all, if kids learn about the world through play, then they will learn language and articulation skills through play as well. It was my job to figure out what engaged my students and then to provide a variety of activities that would allow them to practice the skills that they needed.

And what fun we had! I made puppets and we put on puppet shows where one of the goals was to give directions and then follow them correctly. We played “Fish” to practice social skills and learn about taking turns, as well as to reinforce various speech skills. Because it was often difficult for small children to leave their classrooms and work with me for half an hour in the speech room, I had to make that half an hour as much fun as possible. I had to find what worked. And I didn’t know it at the time, but I was improving my way through the daily challenges every teacher faces.

That same piece of advice—do whatever works—would be my most helpful parenting strategy as well. Snow day when I had planned to work on a new project? Pull out the boots and mittens and head outside for sledding. Rainy day at the beach? Paint the seashells the kids found just the day before. Prom dinner falls through at the last minute? Whip up a salad and serve the homemade stuffed shells your kids love so much.

I didn’t know I was modeling good problem-solving skills for my kids. I was just doing what worked in the moment. I didn’t know I was showing them how to handle disappointment. I only knew that I was faced with a challenge and had to resolve it quickly.

Gauging the needs of my students and my children and adjusting my plans based on their needs in that moment were also skills from improv. So whenever I feel like my routine is getting stale or I need to switch things up to get better results, I go back to some basic rules I learned in my improv classes, like the one I took with Larry Bukovey during the Florida Creativity Conference in March, 2015. Here are three gems from his class that can help you in teaching, mothering, and life—places where moods and needs are as fluid and unpredictable as the helicoptering seedlings swirling around my patio.

Rule#1: Say “Yes” and.

Larry taught us that if we want to move the scene forward, we need to say “yes” to whatever our scene partner offers. That way you keep the energy and action fresh. You are also forced to stay in the moment and respond to any challenge that your partner presents. This rule holds up just as well in the classroom as it does in the home. Faced with the unexpected, just say yes and see what unfolds.

Rule #2: Focus on the here and now.

That’s all you have when you improve a scene—the present moment. We played lots of games to help develop our skills of paying close attention to the now. By tuning in to the needs of those around you., you are free to drop any fixed-agenda and move with the energy of the moment.

And from improv artist David Alger, this rule:

Rule #3: Change, change, change.

Life is all about change. The more easily we can adopt to changes, the more fun we can have moment by moment. And the more fun we’re having, the more likely it is that our kids and our students will be smiling as well.

Are you ready for improv? Let me know which of these three rules you like best.