Cereal

My colleagues and I recently had a passionate discussion about cereal. (Yes, we lead lives of quiet desperation.) It was clear by the twinkling in our eyes as we shared our cereal stories that our love for our favorites was more than just about filling our bellies. We had memories and routines that fueled our connections with the brightly colored boxes bursting with wholesome goodness. It was also clear that many of our favorites were probably not the most healthful, but the boxes boasted extra fortification, so surely that cancelled out any evil.

Frosted Flakes was one favorite. The ritual of eating the crunchy, sweet flakes as quickly as possible so more flakes could be clinked into the leftover milk can be quite satisfying. The final slurps of milk top off the delicious experience. The bright blue box with a gregarious tiger smiling at you each morning is not a bad way to start the day.

Reese's Puffs popped up as another delight. The name was spoken almost in a whisper as if it was a dirty little secret.  Instinctively, we sensed that something with so much buttery, sweet goodness might not be a nutritional  powerhouse, but risks are willing to be taken in the world of cereal. I confess that these flavorful little orbs never make it to a bowl of milk in my world. I eat them like candy straight from the box. Thus, the reason they are not on my shelf. Most days, that is.

A cereal from bygone days also received mention, Quisp. It was known for its cartoon commercials featuring a little other-worldly character flying around with his propeller driven beanie cap. The cereal is now in limited production but one of our co-workers snagged a box at a local grocery store. The small box commanded a hefty price, but the siren song of nostalgia beckoned and soon we were all enjoying a trip down memory lane. The little saucer shaped discs provided a slightly sweet, Cap'n Crunchy flavor. We agreed that our memory was probably better than the actual product but it was good to catch up on the latest escapades of Quisp found on the back of the box.

Cheerios will always be my cereal of choice. My shelf is rarely without the bright yellow box. The little oaty O's fuel my Calvinistic roots with their unpretentious steadiness. I like to eat them right out of the box when I am feeling a bit peckish or as an evening snack in a bowl of cold milk. There was a time when I doused them with sugar for a little extra zip, but common sense has since prevailed, and the cereal now remains au naturel.

So, the next time you are in need of a conversation starter, ask about favorite cereals. I guarantee you will be delightfully entertained. Your other option is to ask about favorite presidential candidates.

Enough said.

  

Color

The earth is revolving its way into an equinox position, releasing northerners from the grip of darkness.  The glorious beauty of sunrises and sunsets is once again evident as salmony pinks and wisps of silver nuzzle into the iron grayness of winter. Illusions of green poke out from under the melting snow. Black and white chickadees search for food morsels in the the shaggy bark of trees. Cardinals command attention with their flaming coats and melodic songs.  It is no surprise that upper Midwesterners crave color after a winter of gray slush, leafless vegetation and dirt encrusted vehicles.

Maybe that has something to do with the latest craze for coloring books. I haven't done an ounce of research on this subject so be forewarned that my observations are born of a fascination with this movement rather than any kind of expertise. I am amazed at all the adult coloring books nestled among the tabloids at every checkout counter. A checkout clerk shared with me that she can't wait to get home in the evening so she can start coloring.The books have titles such as Color Me Calm, Creative Haven, NatureScapes and Color Therapy. There are coloring magazines ensuring a fresh set of pictures and designs for each month. There are books dedicated to your favorite televisions shows such as Dr. Who and Game of Thrones. Even my eighty-seven-year-old mother, not known to be an arts and crafts person, loves her coloring books, so much so that she signs each completed picture.

All of this puzzles me. Throughout recent years of teaching, the subliminal message sent to me and my fellow educators in my district has been one of anti-coloring and hands-on project designing. Technology, technology, technology, the only way of the future. Students should be choosing prefabricated template designs for their powerpoint presentations so they are prepared for pitching ideas and products in the "real world."  Modern Writer backgrounds replaced Cornflower blue crayons. Glowing computer screens replaced poster paper. The sound of projects is reduced to the tapping of computer keys rather than the sliding of color splashes on paper and the chatter of students exploring artistic design.

Don't get me wrong, I believe students need to know how to use technology for their future success. Schlepping a poster into a high-powered business meeting might not be advisable for career advancement. But, let children explore non-pixelated designing, please. Few things can compare to the the joy of opening a fresh box of crayons and reading color names such as Robin's Egg Blue and Vivid Tangerine. Inspiration is further goaded by a mass of white paper begging for the personal touch of a student's imagination.

My niece recently shared with me that she is becoming weary of computer projects. "I just wish I could design something real again." Perhaps our zeal to prepare children for future jobs eclipsed our sense of what developing minds often need, the calming power of coloring. I don't have to teach kids how to text, snapchat, click buttons, stare at screens or shut themselves off with a computer. I do, however, have an obligation to let them explore possibilities that exist outside of the techie world.

Powerpoints and Google Drives are still in the future for my students, but, look out, I just bought a bunch of new 24-count Crayola sets. Let the coloring begin.