Blog Pause Day 2: Feeding Ducks, More Did and Less Didn't, and One Folder We All Should Keep

Blog Pause Day 2: While looking over this year's blog entries, these three posts stood out.  The first entry, the "duck feeding" post, wouldn't have been possible without my youngest daughter's perfect expressions; I still think she -- and how the entire duck-feeding situation goes downhill -- is hilarious.  The second post shows a shift in perspective that we all could use -- namely, celebrating more of what we did accomplish, rather than beating ourselves up for what we didn't.  Today's final entry reminds me that an encouraging word can go a long way.

Enjoy, and thank you for visiting Robin Kramer Writes!

1) Child Feeding Ducks (a progression of reactions) | originally posted September 30, 2016

Stage One: Utter Delight.  Wow!  There are ducks!  And I have bread!  And ducks eat bread!  What a fortunate combination!  I can't believe that you took me to the duck park, Mom!

(Keep reading here.)


2) Don't Forget the DID in DIDN'T | originally posted February 8, 2016

Right now, I'm sitting at the desk in our office, nursing a headache and feeling slightly overwhelmed.  Though it's only Monday, I already feel behind.  The weekend catapulted me into the week without much warning.  I didn't get the house in order, I didn't make a significant dent in the papers I need to grade, and I didn't finish the two recommendation letters students asked me to write last week.

I could list a dozen more didn'ts -- things I didn't do, didn't finish, or in some cases, didn't even start.  I'm good at noticing the didn'ts.  (Keep reading here.)


3) The One Folder Everyone Should Keep | originally posted April 4, 2016

At the end of the semester when all parties, students and professors alike, feel overburdened, I find myself advancing through each day like a doctor in triage.  I constantly assess my to-do list, judging what surely will die if I don't attend to it immediately and hoping that everything else survives in the meantime.  (There are always a few casualties.  Right now my sleep schedule, for example, could use resuscitation.  Paddles!  Bring me the paddles!  Stat!)

It's frenetic and weary, which is a horrible combination, like being asked to sprint through sludge.  You know that you should be progressing at a good clip, but you can't make your legs move at the right speed.

Yesterday, in the midst of this tiredness, I opened an email from a student in one of my public speaking classes.  (Keep reading here.)