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In this issue:
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***Thinking about this: Why your burnt toast matters |
| Somewhere in the world lurks a soul or two who can say they’ve never burnt a piece of toast. For those of us who have, we likely never imagine it has consequences beyond our own breakfast. But a recent incident starring a piece of burnt toast brought me a sharp reminder of just how much the actions we consider private and insignificant can impact others.
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| My husband oversees the heating, ventilation, and cooling systems for a multi-story business tower. A sixth-floor tenant filed a service call, citing a burning smell in their suite of offices. The possibility of electrical fire is always treated with urgency, and my husband arrived at the suite promptly, where the manager greeted him with, “The whole office smells like burnt toast, and it’s not coming from here.”
Each floor of the building shares a common air distribution system, so my husband went from tenant to tenant, asking “Do you smell smoke?” All answered “Yes,” and . . . wait for it . . . “It smells like burnt toast.” The culprit revealed itself just steps from the entry door of the final tenant—a shiny chrome toaster on the desk of a young man who could not have been more stupefied to learn that his brunch boo-boo had fouled the air of every single person on the floor. Stupefied, and “pretty mortified,” my husband reported. “I mean, how many people have a toaster on their desk, and how many get called out for burning toast while sitting at their desk?” This story has a humorous overtone and harmless outcome, thank goodness, but the larger context is something to take to heart. By our actions and words, we can and do unknowingly pervade the essential elements, environment both physical and emotional, safety and health of people we aren’t even aware of. In that regard, we all have a metaphorical toaster on a desk. Let’s always be aware of the settings we choose, and never turn our backs, even for a moment, when the coils are red. |
***Children’s books for difficult times |
| Based on my son Bryce’s comment that he likes what he learns from children’s books, each month I feature stories that have messages that speak to, as the song goes, kids from 1 to 93. This month’s titles explore children working through difficult feelings.
You may know Jacqueline Woodson for her many books for children and adults, including the Newbery Medal winner, Brown Girl Dreaming and other award winners too numerous to name here. In the profound and poetic Each Kindness, a child learns the devastating price of passing up opportunities for kindness. Its message, that the regret of having wronged someone is not easily undone, transcends all ages. The story may leave you and your child aching for the main character, but also knowing that it’s a necessary ache, and one we can avoid by choosing kindness.
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| “Ellen reminds us that we should listen more than we talk and learn more than we teach.” This testimonial from beloved educator Paula Kluth (Pedro’s Whale) is one of my favorites. Cori Doerrfeld’s The Rabbit Listened gently brings this point home. A child (intentionally gender-neutral) struggling with loss retreats into silence as a parade of others impose their opinions about how s/he should feel and what s/he should do. But when a rabbit comes to sit at his side and quietly listens … just listens … healing begins.
(I bought these books from my neighborhood independent bookstore. Please support your local indies if you possibly can.) |
***Excerpt: Reframing “normal” |
| “Your child has many social selves. To embrace all of them, and therefore him as a whole child, is to redefine how we view normal—one person at a time.”
When asked for favorite passages from my books, I often turn to “A Word about Normal” from 1001 Great Ideas for Teaching and Raising Children with Autism and Asperger’s. In this lovely parable, a middle school speech therapist reframes a mother’s concern that her son hasn’t made many friends and might not do things she considers “normal” for a teen. Here it is in its entirety: A Word About “Normal” “Normal.” Now there’s a word we’d like to see omitted from your social vocabulary entirely—in not just what you say, but how you think about your child and their autism or Asperger’s. For many parents, emphasis on this two-syllable trip-off-the-tongue utterance can become a handicap of immeasurable dimension. Learning to think social and be social in whatever degree your child is able challenges him enough without our heaping on the additional burden of meeting the subjective measure of “normal.” Here’s a true story with a happy ending from a middle school in Some Place, USA. “I just want him to have a lot of friends like I did,” Mom frets to the speech language pathologist. “To have fun doing all the normal kid things and teen things that we all did together.” “When your son came to me last year,” the SLP tells Mom, “his social thinking skills were pretty nonexistent. He didn’t understand why he should say hi to people in the halls, he didn’t know how to ask a question to further a conversation, or how to engage with a peer during the lunch hour. Now he’s working on those things. That’s a huge amount of progress.” “But he’s only made two friends.” “I would rephrase that: he’s made two friends! One shares his interest in model trains and one shares his interest in running. He knows how you feel, though. So I am going to share with you what he told me the other day. He said, ‘I don’t want a lot of friends. I can’t handle a lot of friends. More than one at a time stresses me out. I can talk to these two friends about things I’m interested in. They are great for me.’ “Walk through this or any other school,” the SLP continues. “You’ll see a huge range of ‘normal’ middle school behavior. You’ll see nerdy normal, sporty normal, musical normal, artsy normal, techie normal. Kids tend to gravitate to groups that make them feel safe. For now, your son has found his group. You and I walk a fine line: honoring his choices while continuing to teach him the skills he needs to feel comfortable expanding his boundaries.” Your child has many social selves. To embrace all of them, and therefore him as a whole child, is to redefine how we view normal—one person at a time. —– I’m deeply honored to have 1001 Great Ideas lead Boston Public Library’s list of recommended reading for Parenting an Autistic Child. See the whole list here.
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***“When you start talking about cookies . . .” |
| Chef Christina Tosi is adamant: “No matter how bad your day is, when you start talking about cookies . . . there’s just no bad news.”
[Our bear cub friend says, ” . . . saucer-sized cookies . . . raisins, walnuts, chocolate bits, peanut butter . . . hey, Ma! Did you read Chapter 15?!”] I took inspiration for Annie’s cookies from an Amish recipe by Emma Byler, clipped from a newspaper. I changed out a mystery ingredient to fit the story, and that’s the fun of these cookies—it’s so easy to make them your own by swapping out some of the “ten things” to suit your family. If you try them, let me know how it goes! Photos welcome. |
Many of us have found solace in baking throughout the long weeks of the pandemic. I wrote about cookies-as-therapy as far back as 2004. More recently, book clubs have requested the recipe for Annie’s Ten Cup 
Cookies from The River by Starlight to bake and enjoy at their Zoom meetings. In the book’s memorable cookie scene, Annie takes passive-aggressive revenge on an unkind townsperson by raising money at the county fair, not by selling cookies, but by selling guesses about the ingredients. Anyone who can name all ten ingredients gets free cookies. When she accumulates an enormous vase full of Miss Liberty dimes, she donates the full amount to her harasser’s charitable organization, forcing the woman to write her a thank-you note.
***Final thoughts: “We must accept finite disappointment but never lose infinite hope . . . Faith is taking the first step even when you can’t see the whole staircase.” ~Dr. Martin Luther King Yours in faith and hope, Ellen
© 2021 Ellen Notbohm |
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