Adventures in Pickleball…

When I retired everyone said, “Now that you have all this free time what will you do?” I would stare back at those people and think, “What won’t I do?” This first year of retirement has been filled with new things, solo travel, learning to draw and paint, volunteering, camping and generally saying yes to all the opportunities presented me. So when my “friend” ( and I use term loosely) said let’s learn to play Pickleball I said yes, and then I said, ” What the heck* is Pickleball?”

Using my super-power, “Looking Stuff* Up on The Wikipedia”, I found that Pickleball is, and I quote here… “A paddleball sport that combines elements of tennis, badminton, and table tennis. Two or four players use solid paddles made of wood or composite materials to hit a perforated polymer ball, similar to a Wiffle ball, over a net.” The USA Pickleball Association or USAPA (yes that is a real thing) says it is the fastest growing sport you have never heard of and; in the last six years the sport has had a 650 percent increase in numbers. I love a good trend so I jumped on this bandwagon with both feet.

As soon as I could, I signed up for a community education class with my partner Dan. That first night we walked into the Gym and I knew I had found my people…or so I thought. The crowd was not as blue haired as I imagined it would be, and as luck would have it a couple I had known through teaching was there. At first sight this class was filled with what I considered to be fun people.

Our instructor Coach Carl, was super knowledgable and had been playing for years. He was encouraging and eager for us to love the sport that he adored. Lesson one was mostly Carl running through the basics and us practicing our craft through drills, changing partners often. That Shangra-La was not to be the norm, the next week we got down to business.

After some instruction and drill time Carl said it was time to play. He divided us up into groups; I want to pause here and say I know a little something about grouping people. As a teacher, one is always making groups and naming them. The good group is something like The Blue Birds and the shit group is The Buzzards. It quickly became apparent that Dan was a Blue Bird and much to my dismay I was a Buzzard. I love a good challenge, so right there I decided to work hard and maybe by the end of the night I WOULD be a Blue Bird too. The joke was on me…

The games got started and I could see the Blue Birds out of the corner of my eye. They looked like they were floating on air, their paddles never missed, their serves were low and fast. I hated and admired them all at the same time. Conversely, my group looked like THEY had two left feet and were playing with blind-folds on. I was obviously placed in the wrong group.

After the first game Carl stopped us and we rotated. The winners went to the right and the LEARNERS went to the left. Who was he kidding we all knew LEARNERS was Picklespeak for LOSERS! I moved LEFT again and again, I moved left all night! Meanwhile Dan was always moving right, at one point he was so far away from me I thought he was in another time zone. This was not shaping up to be what I had imagined. Maybe Carl saw a flaw in my play and I was put in the correct group, maybe I was a Buzzard…

Week after week we attended class, Dan, the WINNER, always moving right and me, the LEARNER always moving left. One night we were so far apart I had to Uber home without him. 😦 I was LEARNING a lot but not fast enough. And by the end of the session this Buzzard had NEVER won a game!!! Man that was a crushing blow to my ego…

Somehow Dan talked me into another 6 week class. This time Carl was off in Mexico playing in Pickleball tournaments and no doubt telling tales about the “Super Buzzar” he met the fall before. Our new teachers seemed nice and we got off to a good start.

The second week came and again we were put into groups. This time there were two sets of Bluebirds and two sets of Buzzards. It appeared that I was the youngest and most agile of the Buzzards and if you know me I know what your thinking…no the others did not come with portable oxygen tanks! That second night I actually won a few games. Half of me wanted to jump the net like some Wimbledon champ, the other half was saying, “calm down Billy Jean these people are two decades older than you. As of this week we will be 4 weeks in, and although I’m not a Bluebird yet I have been seeing more wins than losses.

In the end I realized slow and steady wins the race. But I gotta say this Pickleball race feels super long and I am a super slow “Learner”… I am enjoying my new life, and even though I complain I’m always looking for a good game of Pickleball. If any of you see Coach Carl in Mexico tell him I finally won a game!

*You may have noticed two spots in the blog that had an asterisk, this my friends is where I had to edit because the original words were deemed too offensive for Facebook and therefore I was unable to advertise the post. And no that is not a joke!

Dan the Super Bluebird!

Does this match?

One of the hardest part of my retirement is getting dressed in the morning. First world problems I know… Stick with me here, before I retired I would get up each day and realize I had 130 sets of eyes staring at me all day. When you are under that kind of pressure you really think about your choices and what reaction they will elicit.

A lot of those 130 sets of eyes don’t care what you have on or even realize you are wearing clothing but a portion of them have no filter and think you have no feelings; so they feel free to say whatever they think about the outfit of the day. One of my favorite questions regarding what I had on was, “Miss Halasz do you think that top matches those pants?” I did until about 30 seconds ago and clearly I was wrong. Or, there is always the, “there is no right answer to this question” statement, “Do you own a mirror?” One day I had a new striped shirt on and a student said in a huff, “Do NOT wear that shirt again it makes me dizzy it’s so test patterney!” And the final reaction was repeated often this last year, a hand gesture and screaming, the student in question would look at me and wave his hand from my head to my toes and scream, “Oh No, No, No!”

On the flip side of that coin is when they like what you are wearing. I once had a kid tell me, and I quote here, “Miss Halasz, in that outfit, you are working it like a cross-dresser on a Thursday night!” What the hell does that even mean???? One youngster said, “No other teacher your age would wear something that on fleek!” First, how old do they think I am and second if a 13 year-old thinks this is a good look perhaps it’s not age appropriate for this boomer?

These days I dress in whatever I want. You would think this would be one of the great rewards of being retired. Everyday is jean day, no snarky comments regarding my striped shirt choice and full on comfort 24/7. Actually it has created an entirely new level of stress in my life. What if I put on an outfit that looks horrible? Will any of my friends have the nerve to tell me I look like shit? Or, do I really need the sparkly tennis shoes, do they fit into the real world of adulting? When I worked, my excuse for buying something a bit over the top was always, the kids will think its a riot. Now that I have no students to care perhaps my love of the sparkly shoe is just bad taste coming through…

And Finally, post working there is an entire section of the closet I don’t know what to do with. Can I really wear my “Field School Gear” in public without being a teacher? I mean, a Mighty Field Mice t-shirt on a school spirit Friday fits in just fine, but in the real world will I look like a dork. And how about all those Mighty Mice broach and earring sets, will they still represent school spirit or have I just slipped into the creepy neighbor category with a mouse fetish??? And don’t even get me started on the number of tie-dyed Field Volleyball shirts I own… What do I do with all of these treasures and will any of them fit into my new job as coffee shop denizen?

This retirement gig is good but don’t let anyone tell you it doesn’t have its stresses. Sure these are first world problems but problems none the less. Maybe a nice mouse broach on this Might Mouse hoodie will cheer me up!

Tech Support

I wanted to give a quick shout out to my pal Seth. On Sunday Seth helped me learn a few new things that will make blogging easier and make my pages look more professional. He actually taught me a line of “Code”, holy hell I feel so 2019!!!

Just a word about Seth. I believe he could teach me anything. And in truth he has. Years ago someone at the National Science Foundation, NSF, had the great idea that if you trained teachers better, with regards to Math, student test scores would rise. It does make sense, the deeper ones knowledge is on a topic the more resources they have at their disposal to help others learn said subject. I had the extreme good fortune to get this NSF training with a wonderful group of people one of whom was Seth.

I’m not going to lie, my Math knowledge stalled out in 7th grade in Mr. Modelyn’s class where I earned an “F” because I couldn’t do my math facts quickly enough. (I’m sorry but that cute boy in the next row was so distracting I had no time to learn those math facts. Darn you Tom Csenar!) Additionally my self-esteem took a hit in college where I failed Math For Elementary Teachers One. (That may or may not have been lack of knowledge, rather a plethora of partying and not going to class!) Even with all this baggage Seth “cheered” me onto success in the NSF program. When I say “cheered” I mean patiently and painstakingly worked with me until I actually understood all the concepts. He never gave up on me, even during my most hopeless and tearful begging fits.

Additionally, I had the pleasure of teaching with Seth. His educational philosophy and view of what is best for children helped me become a better teacher. He would ask me just the right questions or challenge a belief I had which in turn made me think more deeply about my relationships with children and my own educational philosophy. All with the patience of a saint. 🙂 (He will hate that line!)

I try to end these blog posts with some sort of bottom line or take away, so here are two. One, get one of those friends who challenges your thinking, someone who doesn’t let you give up. And two, some of us may be old but it doesn’t mean we can’t learn some new thing, such as a line of code that will center the heading for the photos on your blog! This was a very long post to say THANKS Seth, love you.

* The names are never changed to protect the innocent, spelled incorrectly, but never changed!

English teacher speaking English.

Last Spring with my retirement looming I decided that maybe what I needed was a retirement adventure. After all, every year for the last 52 (one way or another), when Fall came around I was starting school. And in the coming year, the fall of 2019, I would be starting… nothing. So I did a little research and came up with the perfect solo adventure.

I had heard of a program called Angloville, where native English speakers traveled to other countries to work with adults who wanted to improve their conversational English. Angloville has programs in several European countries but the country that captured my imagination was Hungary. Shortly before WWII my fathers family immigrated to the United States from Hungary; I had always wanted to see “The Old Country” so working with Angloville seemed like a great fit.

My trip to Hungary coincided with the first week of the new school year. I was too excited about my upcoming adventure to miss any of my old routines. I planned to fly to Budapest where I would spend a few days on my own and then meet up with the Angloville group and travel to the Varga Tanya Hotel in the heart of Hungary, near the Kiskunság National Park..

After a few days on my own I joined up with the Angloville volunteers and our fearless leaders Astrid and Kornél . The other volunteer English speakers were from Northern Ireland, Scotland, The US and South Africa. Early on in this adventure I knew I had found my people, funny, talented, kind, open hearted and irreverent, because of course, I am funny, talented, kind, open hearted and irreverent. The Hungarians were a bit more nervous at first, but soon they were open to the experience of living outside of their comfort zone.

During the week each native speaker was assigned one Hungarian to mentor. The mentoring would culminate with a 5 minute presentation, in English. Additionally the native speakers met with other Hungarians in a variety of sessions including one on one discussions and group activities. Each night ended with a good glass of wine and folks just sitting around chatting about life. Language camp, with wine, for adults, how could life get any better!

I was seeking an adventure to begin my retirement and that is just what I got. The Angloville program helped me kick-off this new phase of my life and blessed me with a host of new friends. I’m ready to go boldly into retirement and live my dreams. 🙂