Author: Wendy Kennar

It’s Stressful

Posted on by Wendy Kennar

There’s been a lot going on these last few weeks. And I’m not even talking about the big scary stuff such as the heartbreaking devastation in Ukraine. 

I’m talking about things in my own little corner of the world. 

I had some medical tests done recently. Here’s the thing about that — it’s stressful. It’s stressful knowing you need the tests in the first place, it’s stressful waiting for the tests (because for me, it took several weeks to get the appointment), and then it’s stressful waiting for the results.

I was very glass-is-half-empty about it.

I was sure these tests would not come back with good news.

I tried to explain my reasoning to my therapist. 

For years now, I’ve had many symptoms that aren’t quite “right.” Not red-flag wrong, but enough to cause a doctor to pause and order more tests, just to be sure, just to rule out something else.

For years now, those tests have all come back fine, or at least, okay-enough. But as I told my therapist, I feel like there are only so many “get out of jail free” cards a person gets. I felt I must have used up my limit by now.

There’s the other part of me that feels as if I’m waiting to be further punished. As if some higher force is looking down at me thinking, “Ha. You’re talking about pain in your leg. You’re saying it’s harder to sit, to stand, to walk, to drive. You think this is bad now. I’ll show you bad.”

But then a friend of mine gave me another way to look at it. 

She told me that the higher power up there figures I have enough going on. This higher power knows I’m dealing with crap (aka pain and the complications that come with chronic pain) every day. So they’re not going to give me something else to deal with. My plate is already full.  

My friend used a few curse words in our conversation that I will leave out of this blog, but she made me laugh, and helped me see things in an entirely different way. 

It’s true. I am dealing with “crap” every single day. Some degree of pain. There are medications to take. Medications to try. Appointments, consultations, labs, scans. Heat, ice. Rest, exercise. It doesn’t stop.

And in case you were wondering, my tests came back with good news. 

Where the Light Enters

Posted on by Wendy Kennar

I admit. I didn’t walk into the bookstore looking for First Lady Dr. Jill Biden’s book. I was vaguely aware of it, but it wasn’t at the top of my ever-growing want-to-read list.

Yet, turns out I couldn’t resist the buy 2 get 1 display. And Where the Light Enters: Building a Family, Discovering Myself  was one of the books I purchased that day as part of that sale. And even after buying the book, it didn’t sit on my shelf for months before I picked it up. I felt there was something about this memoir. And I was right. 

This week, I’d like to share some of the passages that touched me:

“Every scene on those walls, every role I’ve played, has taught me so much about what family means. I’ve learned — and am still learning — about the bonds that make up a family. Few of us would reduce those bonds, that gravitational force, to something as simplistic as blood. Families are born, created, discovered, and forged. They unfold in elegantly ordered generational branches. They are woven together with messy heartstrings of desire and despair, friendship and friction, grace and gratitude.”

“I realized early on that teaching was more than a job for me. It goes much deeper than that; being a teacher is not what I do but who I am.”

“There’s always a part of you that wants to step into your children’s lives and make the right decisions for them — pick them up when they stray and put them on the safest, easiest path, just as we did when they were small. But the tragedy of being a good parent is that the better you are at your job, the less you will be allowed to swoop in and protect the people you love most in the world. You have no choice but to trust that they’ll do their best and hope that fate will be kind.”

“Over the years, I’ve heard so many people talk about teachers in a way that doesn’t reflect the reality of teaching that I know at all. They think it’s a job for people without ambitions, that teaching doesn’t take a lot of skill, and that teachers have short hours and summers off. I’ve taught in a lot of different environments, but one thing is always the same: teaching is rewarding, but it’s a tremendous challenge, too.”

“There’s something profoundly optimistic about teaching. We are taking the best of what humans have to give — lifetimes of knowledge, wisdom, craft, and art — and handing it over to the next generation, with the hope that they will continue to build, continue to make our world better. It’s a conversation with our past and future selves at once, a way of saying, Look what we’ve done! Now what will you do with it?”

“So why do we do it? We do it for that spark in a student’s eye when an idea falls into place. We do it for the moment when a student realizes she’s capable of more than she’d thought. For the chance to hold a student’s hand as she begins to explore this wild, incredible world through books and equations and historical accounts. We do it because we love it.”

Forever a Role Model

Posted on by Wendy Kennar

It’s Women’s History Month, which has got me thinking about women I grew up admiring. 

One of my earliest “famous” role models was Sally Ride. Famous, as in I could find a listing for her in our World Book Encyclopedia. (And I say “famous,” because in terms of role models, I looked up to my mom.)

From the time I was in fourth grade until the time I was a senior in high school, I wanted to be an astronaut. No one told me I couldn’t. After all, I was smart. I was good in math and science. And, Sally Ride had done it first. Other women had followed. There was no reason I couldn’t. 

I admired Sally Ride so much, and tried to learn as much as I could about her. I remember saving up my money to purchase To Space and Back, a book Ms. Ride wrote with Susan Okie. 

My goals and career dreams changed. But my admiration for Sally Ride never did. Inside the copy of To Space and Back, I have a ticket stub from 2005. A ticket stub that allowed me entry to hear Sally Ride speak at the Los Angeles Times Festival of Books, when it was held on the UCLA campus. 

It’s been a long time since I’ve read this book. I used to bring it into my classroom, and share it with my students. My son and I have read it together. But for quite a while now, it has sat on a bookshelf (along with other space-themed books).

And that’s the power of role models – and books. They stay with you, and keep a special place in your heart. 

By the way, in case you missed it, you can click here to read my blog post from November 2020 about my autographed picture of Sally Ride. 

Readers, I’d love to know. Who is a woman you admire? A woman you consider a role model? Let me know in the comments section.

A Timeless Anthology

Posted on by Wendy Kennar

I’m not a podcast person. But I am most definitely a book person.

Zibby Owens is a podcast-about-books person. More than that, she is an author, publisher, and CEO. And a mom of four.

I recently finished reading Moms Don’t Have Time to Have Kids: A Timeless Anthology edited by Zibby Owens. The anthology is a collection of essays written by more than forty authors who have all been featured on the podcast Moms Don’t Have Time to Read Books. The book is divided up into categories, things that moms (and dads) don’t have time to do: Sleep, Get Sick, See Friends, Write, and Lose Weight.

Here’s the incredible part about this book — I found myself relating to so many of the authors. The specifics may differ (where we live, how many kids we have, the ages of our kids) but the emotions are universal. 

Not only did I enjoy reading this anthology, but I have also added to my ever-growing list of “want-to-read” books. Many times, after reading an essay I found myself looking up the writer and then adding their books to my Goodreads “want-to-read” list.

Allow me to share just a few of the book’s gems:

From “Room for One” by Allison Pataki:

“I could read the surprise on my husband’s face. He’d asked me what I wanted for my upcoming birthday and I’d answered quickly and simply: a night away. A night away from him, away from home, away from our daughters, our dog, our laundry — all of it. One glorious night in a hotel room by myself.”

From “While I Was Sleeping” by Camille Pagán: 

“But mostly, I’d been the one to grow. As mothers, we do so very much because we can. Because we think we should. Because who else will do it? The rest of our families will.”

From “The Little Pink Unicorn” by Heather Land:

“These days, I have a new perspective on self-sacrifice. I will always give my love, my time, and my attention to the ones I care about most. But from now on, that has to include me. I’ll probably never quit tending to the needs of my children (when they have their own), but I will continue to remember that I should love and tend to my own heart as well.” 

13 Ways Writing Is Easier Than My Autoimmune Disease

Posted on by Wendy Kennar

It all started from a 5-minute writing exercise. I used a prompt from Barbara Abercrombie’s A Year of Writing Dangerously: 365 Days of Inspiration and Encouragement (great book!), and when my timer went off five minutes later, I knew I had written the beginning of something. That first draft went through some significant changes.

13 Ways Writing Is Easier Than My Autoimmune Disease is the final result. 

I’m happy to say it was recently published at The Mighty. You can click here to read the essay in its entirety.

Dismissals and Rejections – of Symptoms and Submissions

Posted on by Wendy Kennar

“It’s not a realization that came to me easily or early on in my life as a chronic illness patient. It took me several years to finally recognize it and to see what had been in front of me all along.

Not until I marked my submission tracker with that most depressing word, “Declined,” did I make the connection. I realized that having a piece of writing declined and leaving a doctor’s appointment without any answers share many of the same emotions.” 

Those paragraphs are taken from my personal essay, “Dismissals and Rejections — of Symptoms and Submissions,” recently published at Spoonie Authors Network. You can click here to read the essay in its entirety.

4 Reasons Why Chronic Pain Sucks

Posted on by Wendy Kennar
(This magnet hangs on a board near my desk.)

I’ve been told I have a positive attitude. I’ve been praised for not letting my autoimmune disease take control of my life.

I try. I try very hard to look at the bright side, to acknowledge that things could always be worse, to do the things I want to do pain or no pain.

But, in all honesty, the last couple of weeks have been really bad. Like trying-not-to-cry-as-I-walk-back-to-the-car-after-taking-my-son-to-school bad. 

In our home, we don’t curse. Even words that other families might use, like “sucks,” isn’t a word we use. Except, occasionally. 

Today is one of those occasions.

Chronic illness sucks. Chronic illness that causes chronic pain really sucks. There’s no rhyme or reason to it. For example:

  1. Sleep does not equal less pain.  I rarely sleep through the night. If I only wake up once, that’s a good night’s sleep for me. But the other night I did something I hadn’t done in a long time — I slept through the night. My body had a full night of uninterrupted sleep. I woke up, amazed to realize it was morning. I got out of bed and felt … lousy. Terrible pain. From the moment I woke up until I went to bed again that night.
  2. Muscle spasms worsen everything.  I was sitting at my desk, with the dull pain I’m used to in my left leg. As my son was showering, my left calf began to twitch. And not in its usual twitching spot — more on the inside of my leg. This was the outer side of my calf. My muscle twitched, and I tried to rub my leg. My muscle continued twitching, and I bit my finger. It finally stopped twitching and I had a really hard time getting up from my desk chair. I had an even harder time stepping into my own shower. My leg was tight when I went to bed that night and no different when I woke up with the alarm the next morning.
  3. Rest doesn’t automatically mean relief.  I have been making an effort to take time for myself. To rest. Not in the form of a nap, but sitting outside on our patio, reading a book. I usually spend my days taking care of household chores, dealing with appointments, and writing. But I have been making a conscious decision to set aside some time during the week — when my husband is at work and my son is at school — just for me. To sit in one of my favorite places, doing one of my favorite things. I hoped to notice an improvement — an increase in relaxation, a decrease in discomfort. Nope. Maybe it’s too soon. Maybe I need to do this more often, more consistently. In any event, I got in some extra reading time. 
  4. Pain levels fluctuate.  When I spoke to my husband on one of his breaks, my pain wasn’t bad. It felt so good to be able to say that to him. By the time he called on his next break, about three hours later, it was bad. Pain-pill bad. I hadn’t done anything physically strenuous or anything I could see as a possible trigger (like gardening or standing on a step-stool to reach something on a high shelf in the closet). The pain shifted — from not bad to real bad. And for no apparent reason. 

Reaching For the Stars

Posted on by Wendy Kennar

Months ago, I listened to a virtual author talk sponsored by the Los Angeles Public Library System. As a bonus, everyone in attendance was eligible to enter a raffle to receive a free copy of one of the author’s books. 

You probably guessed by now that I was lucky enough to win a copy — José M. Hernández’s Reaching For the Stars: The Inspiring Story of a Migrant Farmworker Turned Astronaut. 

For most of my childhood (fourth grade to eleventh grade), my dream was to become an astronaut. And today I am just as curious, just as awe-struck of those individuals who do become astronauts. 

This week, I’d like to share a few passages that stood out to me during my reading. What really struck me were the supportive words and encouragement the author received from so many members of his family as well as several of his teachers. 

“That is why the individuals who are named José are known as creators. You have the power to create a reality out of your dreams and shape your life accordingly.” Encouraging words spoken by Mr. Hernández’s abuelo. 

I loved reading about Mr. Hernández watching Neil Armstrong on the moon and deciding he wanted to be an astronaut:

“When I heard these words, I felt indescribably shocked. I was captivated by this man, by this science, which left me in awe. Absorbed in the broadcast, I got up abruptly to get closer to the television screen. I had an epiphany. During that exact moment, I discovered what I wanted to be when I grew up: an astronaut, or un astronauta. And from that moment on, I was determined that absolutely nothing would get in the way of my dream.”

And while strapped in and waiting for space shuttle Discovery to launch, Mr. Hernández thought:

“La magia, or magic, is hard to discover, but I believe that passion in the heart and positive thinking in the mind are the two ingredients for achieving something extraordinary. Just ask a scientist, an inventor, or an artist — a simple idea or dream has given birth to some of our history’s greatest inventions.”

You can also learn more about Mr. Hernández and his Reaching for the Stars Foundation by clicking here. A Netflix film is being planned about Mr. Hernández’s life and journey into space. 

The Hill We Climb

Posted on by Wendy Kennar

A year ago there was a moment in time when I was thankful for the pandemic.

Because of the pandemic, my husband was working from home and my son was participating in Zoom school. Because of the pandemic we were all at home, all able to hold hands and witness together the historic Inauguration of President Joe Biden and Vice President Kamala Harris. 

I don’t remember much of the speeches from that day. But I do remember a strong feeling of reassurance. The feeling you get when the teacher is back in the classroom instead of an inexperienced substitute who has poor classroom management skills.

And I absolutely do remember Amanda Gorman. I remember her yellow jacket and her red headband. I remember her poise and presence. And I remember the delivery of her powerful words. Words that seemed to envelope us all, and remind us of all that is good and possible. Words that made me feel we were on the road to being okay. 

As Oprah Winfrey writes in the foreword of this collectible gift edition, “Everyone who watched came away enhanced with hope and marveling at seeing the best of who we are and can be through the eyes and essence of a twenty-two-year-old, our country’s youngest presidential inaugural poet.”

When I recently re-read The Hill We Climb: An Inaugural Poem For the Country, I was just as awestruck as I was the first time. If you haven’t re-visited Ms. Gorman’s powerful Inaugural Poem, I highly recommend it. This is a book which forever will find a home on my bookshelf, and years from now, will be passed on to younger generations.

As Ms. Gorman writes:

“But one thing is certain:

If we merge mercy with might, and might

  with right,

Then love becomes our legacy,

And change, our children’s birthright.”

Life Glows On

Posted on by Wendy Kennar

The first book I finished reading in 2022 is Claire Cook’s nonfiction book Life Glows On: Reconnecting With Your Creativity to Make the Rest of Your Life the Best of Your Life.

It’s a book about acknowledging all the ways we express ourselves creatively. It’s also about acknowledging the need for, and the benefits of, dedicating time and energy to a creative project.

I love Ms. Cook’s definition of creativity:

“Creativity is the box of crayons we use to tell our story, and in telling our story we figure out who we are.” 

And I love this recommendation:

“Every day, do one good thing. And after that, give yourself permission to do one creative thing for yourself.” 

Then there’s this bit of motivation:

“Being creative is about touching hearts. It’s about finding our own heart. It’s about tapping into our past and remembering the unique experiences and insights that make us who we are. It’s about flipping our adversity and challenges and experiences into a point of view, a vision, a style, a voice. It’s about standing strong in our authenticity and individuality and distinctiveness.”

I also enjoyed this paragraph about one of the benefits of getting older:

“Because the coolest thing about getting older is that we really can just be whoever the hell we want to be. If we’re lucky, we’ve stopped caring so much about pleasing the rest of the world. Nobody can tell us who we are. Or who we aren’t.”