Hope. Joy. Peace.

These are significant (important, meaningful) words for those of us who remember, and often retell, the traditional Christmas story.

Admittedly (saying something that is true), hope, joy, and peace can be difficult to find today. Sometimes, however, we can find them in unexpected places. I was happily surprised to find them recently in the story of Lester Potts, a man who suffered from Alzheimer’s disease.

Alzheimer’s disease is the most common form of dementia, an illness that affects your brain and memory and makes you slowly lose your ability to think and behave (act) normally.

In the early stages, people with Alzheimer’s begin to have difficulty thinking and remembering, but these difficulties don’t usually interfere with (prevent something from happening) everyday activities. You may have trouble doing more than one task at a time, solving problems, and remembering recent events or conversations; difficult activities may take you longer than they did in the past.

As Alzheimer’s gets worse, the symptoms become more obvious and make it difficult for you to take care of yourself. Eventually Alzheimer’s leads to death.

The mental changes that Alzheimer’s patients experience profoundly (very much, deeply) change the way they see themselves. And the way their families and friends see them. Many of the symptoms can be embarrassing and often cause patients and their families to withdraw from (stop taking part in) social activities. The last several months I’ve watched as one of my good friends and long-time mentor (an experienced person who advises and helps someone less experienced) has gone through this struggle (difficult time) with his wife. It’s very difficult.

Several years ago, Dale Short told Lester Potts’ story in the UAB (University of Alabama/Birmingham) Magazine. He writes that the changes in Potts “hit his family like a cyclone (violent storm).” His condition was soon bad enough that he couldn’t safely stay at home alone. Fortunately, his family were able to find an adult daycare center (a place for someone to stay while their families are at work) for him, a place where he felt comfortable. It became one of the few bright spots in his life.

One day a volunteer art teacher breathed (brought) hope and, eventually (in the end) , joy into Pott’s difficult life when she encouraged him to try painting with watercolors. Soon he began to bring home different kinds of paintings: still lifes (arrangements of objects like fruit or flowers), landscapes (pictures of the countryside or land), flowers, birds, and holiday scenes. They were often painted in bright colors, sometimes brighter than real-life.

Potts’ son Daniel, a doctor, said that “the breakthrough (important discovery) was nothing short of (less than) a miracle. Dad no longer had the ability to communicate through words, but somebody cared enough to unlock (open) a hidden talent. There’s something…about art; it can form connections in the brain even when the mind is fading away (slowly disappearing). He realized what he was achieving (doing, accomplishing). He was proud of the paintings he brought home, and he’d show them to us again and again.”

What a wonderful gift! Little did that volunteer art teacher know (she had no idea) how much joy, hope, and peace she would bring to Lester Potts and his family when she encouraged him to begin painting.

You can find Dale Short’s story here; the story that gave me the idea for this blog post is here. This YouTube video – Painting in the Twilight: An Artist’s Escape from Alzheimer’s – tells the story of Lester Potts and another artist who used art to communicate when they could no longer do so naturally.

~ Warren Ediger – English coach/tutor and creator of Successful English, where you can find clear explanations and helpful suggestions for better English.

Photo used under Creative Commons License.

It probably goes without saying (is not necessary to say) that active people live longer than sedentary (spending a lot of time sitting down, not moving or exercising) people. Thanks to three recent research studies, we now know a little more about what and how much we need to do to live longer.

The first study followed (paid attention to) 7500 people in England for ten years. Every week the people being studied recorded (wrote down) the number of hours of activity and level of intensity (amount of energy required) for each activity – mild (using a small amount of energy), moderate, or strenuous (using a lot of energy).

Researchers found that any kind of activity increases life expectancy (length of time people are expected to live) and that more strenuous activities increase life expectancy the most.

The second study, in Denmark, followed 5100 bicycle riders for 18 years. Every week riders recorded how many hours they rode and how strenuous their rides were. Riders who rode regularly and rode harder (with more energy), lived four or five years longer than casual riders.

Finally, researchers from the National Cancer Institute (NCI) in the U.S. found that people who followed the government’s recommendation – 150 minutes of moderate activity, such as brisk (full of energy) walking, per week – lived almost three-and-one-half years longer than sedentary people.

The NCI researchers also made two other interesting discoveries: first, overweight people lived longer with moderate exercise, even if they didn’t lose weight; and second, people who exercise at a low level (10 minutes of walking per day) added almost two years of life expectancy. Even a little bit of activity helps!

The government’s recommendation comes from the American Heart Association and the American College of Sports Medicine. They recommend at least 30 minutes of moderate activity five days per week to become and remain healthy.

But, you ask, what’s a moderate activity? When you’re doing a moderate activity, you’ll be able to talk while you’re doing the activity. If you’re doing a strenuous activity, you’ll only be able to say a few words before you have to take a breath. If you want to know if the activity you’re doing is moderate or strenuous, try the “talk test.” Stop occasionally during the activity and try to recite (say something you know) a poem or song or talk to a friend. If you can do it easily, the activity is moderate; if you’re breathing too hard to do it easily, the activity is strenuous. The goal: moderate activities that are almost strenuous.

Any activity, or combination of activities, that increases your heart rate (how fast your heart beats) will help. People I know use brisk walking, jogging (to run slowly), bicycle riding, ballroom dancing, swimming, jumping rope, or hiking (a long walk in the mountains or countryside).

Which are you – active or sedentary? I try to be as active as possible. I ride my bicycle several days a week and work in my yard a lot. Both are moderate, and occasionally strenuous, activities.

Note: If you’re interested, the three studies I mention are described in more detail in Can Housework Help You Live Longer?

~ Warren Ediger – English tutor/coach and creator of Successful English, where you can find practical suggestions, such as How to read more: A lover’s guide, for better English.

Photo courtesy of Wikipedia Commons.

I don’t remember the boy’s name anymore. It was more than twenty years ago and I’ve had so many students since then, it’s hard to keep track (remember; be aware of something).

He sat in the last row (line of seats), had somewhat unkempt (not combed; not neat) blond hair, and was slightly overweight. That I remember for sure.

I was a student teacher (someone training or preparing to be a teacher) at Humboldt High School, one of St. Paul’s – how shall I say it? – “lowest performing” schools (schools where students did poorly). I was assigned (given the task) to teach a Spanish I class to a group of seventh, eighth, and ninth graders (roughly 13- to 15-year-olds).

I was far from (not even close to) being a very good teacher during the 12 weeks I spent at Humboldt, but no one jumped out the second-story (floor or level) windows of the classroom, so that, I thought, was something (a small accomplishment).

The boy in question (who I’ve been talking about) never seemed to like my class. In fact, he was the kind of student who always has this somewhat (slightly) impatient (not willing to wait for something) or even hostile (angry; mean) look on his face.

Worse still (even worse), he had the habit (would often) of asking questions almost in the form of a challenge (trying to disagree with or defeat someone), as if to say, “Really? I don’t think so.”

Teachers, like mothers, are supposed to love all of their children equally, but we all know this isn’t true. There were students whom I really disliked, and who I am sure disliked me.

Well, I disliked this kid. As a new teacher, I didn’t appreciate (like) the fact that he was always asking questions. I thought he was trying to trip me up (make me make a mistake) or show the rest of the students how dumb I was.

I answered his questions, of course, and tried to smile as I did so (as I answered them). But inside (in my thoughts), I wished (hoped) that he would just stop showing up (coming) to class.

Finally, my 12 weeks at Humboldt drew to a close (ended), and I had my last class with my students. We had a little party, I think, and I said good-bye to the students.

As class ended, everyone slowly left the room except for the boy. When everyone else had gone, he walked up to me and gave me an envelope with a card inside. He just smiled, said “Thanks a lot!” and left.

Standing alone now in the classroom, I opened the envelope and pulled out (removed) the card. It said something along the lines of (something like this, but not exactly):

Dear Teacher,
You are the best teacher I have ever had.
Thank you!

As you can imagine, I was stunned (really surprised). I stood there speechless (without words), amazed at how wrong I was about this boy.

I never saw the student again. My time as a student teacher ended, and the following year I took a job at another school.

Sometimes we just don’t know what is going on in the minds of those around us. We think we know, but we do not.  If we are lucky, we are given the chance to discover just how wrong we are before it’s too late.

~Jeff