According to my calendar today is national Ask a Stupid Question Day.
As an educator I like to believe there is no such thing as a stupid question and that inquiry of any sort is better than the deafening sound of silence that comes from indifference.
Instead I am using today to share two quotes from Albert Einstein that I've discovered in the past year.
I shared the first one last March and have referenced it countless times while facilitating training sessions and workshops. It reads, "If I had an hour to solve a problem and my life depended on the answer, I would spend the first 55 minutes figuring out the proper question to ask. For if I knew the proper questions, I could solve the problem in less than five minutes."
I cannot imagine a parent or a professional who wouldn't benefit from spending less time trying to fix problems and more time trying to understand them.
The other quote hits especially close to home as Richard and I have two young boys with years of schooling before them.
"Most teachers waste their time by asking questions that are intended to discover what a pupil does not know, whereas the true art of questioning is to discover what the pupil does know or is capable of knowing.”
Everything about the sentiment of that quote shines to me. Inherent in what Einstein said is the belief that each child is capable of something great and that gifted teachers purposefully help students discover what that is.
I could ask you to visit the Comment Section and respond to a question that I pose. Or, I could ask you to visit the Comment Section and pose your own question. That seems more fitting for today.
And remember that despite today's holiday, there is no such thing as a stupid question.
Shining off until...
At 3:00 today a local pumpkin patch opens for the season. For days now I have been racking my brain, trying to figure out why I find this factoid notable and worthy of writing about at the House of Shine.
I have decided it's because simple events like this have a way bringing out our inner Shine. These annual rituals serve as invitations to rise above our daily grind and to reconnect with things we cherish but all too often take for granted.
For me, opening the Hall-Johnson Pumpkin Patch is like opening the flood gates to so many things for which I am grateful:
Bright blue skies, vibrant orange pumpkins, green grass and crisp fall temperatures.
Crunchy leaves
Laughing with my boys as we "Boo" houses and frantically try to getaway without getting caught
Reacquainting myself with all my favorite sweaters, jeans, and boots
The excitement of deciding on Halloween costumes and the anticipation of trick or treating
Flashlights, being out later than normal, and sorting candy on our living room floor
The sound of my kids laughing
Oatmeal cookies right out of the oven, fires in the fire place, and spending cozy nights in our home.
Preparing for Thanksgiving and, right on the heals of that, gearing up for the wonder of the holiday season.
Opening the pumpkin patch and welcoming me inside conjures up memories that instantly refuels my tank.
For me, fall begins this afternoon at 3:00 on the corner of Hall-Johnson and Poole Road. How about you? What marks the beginning of fall for you and what memories does it conjure up that you are thankful for?
Shining off until...
My son and I recently finished reading Swiss Family Robinson and within the first 70 pages, I decided this family shined and that they were worth reminding you about.
The first seven pages tells of the terrible storm responsible for shipwrecking the family. The remaining 140 pages tells of their adventures while living in the Land they called New Switzerland. Below is a small sampling of how this family spent the first of their thirteen years stranded:
The first night they rigged sails from the ship to make a tent they could sleep under.
The next day they discovered they could use oyster shells as spoons, gourds as bowls, and coconuts as cups. They even made a table from a butter cask.
By day two the family built a pulley that would raise and lower wooden beams, enabling them to build a house in the trees. Their house came fully stocked with a staircase, bamboo floors, and walls made from planks and sails. They named it Falconhurst.
But that wasn't their only house. They quickly explored the new land and set up a multi-room winter home in a cave they called Rockburg. Additionally there was: Safety Bay, Shark Island, Flamingo Marsh, Calabash Wood, Cape Disappointment, and Tentholm. Each was carefully built - and named - with the help of mom, dad, and the four boys.
The Robinson's were equally successful at foraging for food. They immediately discovered potatoes and soon after discovered cactus, jasmine, vanilla, sugar cane juice, and a root that could be turned into flour. They also built a trap to catch birds and fishing poles to catch salmon.
In their free time, they carved a canoe from tree bark, dipped candles, made boots from rubber tree syrup, and grew cotton that could be woven into clothes.
That, plus more, all happened in the first year.
You can chalk the list of accomplishments up to fiction and dismiss the message or you can ask yourself this:
When you are faced with tragedy - or even just the unexpected - do you do what the Robinson's did? Do you bloom where you are planted and search for ways to bounce back? Or do you retreat, behaving like a victim who is desperately waiting to be rescued?
Shining off until...