The German in me has come out: Die Frau (translation: The Lady) will post her ramblings, thoughts, and gripes so she won't drive her loving man, supportive family, or amazing friends screaming into the night.
First of all, to briefly address the recent terrible events in Newtown, CT, my heart aches for the 20 children and 6 adults who lost their lives. I suppose if this means actual, productive discussion about gun control and how we treat mental illness (although autism is not a mental illness, and it gets me fired up when it's treated as such), that's something good. Focus on "actual, productive": Tragedies like this produce way too many knee-jerk reactions and bring out a lot of bile and finger-pointing, which accomplishes nothing. I'd also like to see the names of the victims used a little more instead of the media un(?)intentionally glorifying the name of the shooter. In my little opinion, if we let the name of the person pulling the trigger fade into obscurity, perhaps others wouldn't try to imitate him later. The victims seem way more important to memorialize. I also like the idea of the 20 random acts of kindness that have sprung up--a positive coming from such an awful negative. For now, I hug J a little tighter and wonder where and when this kind of thinking will end or what we can do to lessen it a bit.
But on a different note (and I need to do this for myself, this blog, and anyone reading it), I got this idea from another blog and figured I needed a lighter post than my previous one and as a counterpoint to the great sadness that's weighed so many of us down recently. So here goes:
Five Facts You May Not Know About Me
I still choke up a little every time the Christmas tree grows after Linus wraps it in his blue blanket and tells the rest of the gang the story of the nativity
I can't stand for labels in a cabinet to face in/away from me.
Goldfish crackers are my biggest food weakness. I'm taking that on one fish at a time.
I've never read any novel by Ernest Hemingway.
I sometimes talk to myself in the bathroom mirror, just vocalizing the thoughts in my head. I realized this when I caught myself doing it at work recently and wondered just how loudly I was talking and whether my co-workers could hear me.
I try. I try to have patience. Most of the time, I do. When I taught, my phrase was that I needed about eight oceans of patience to deal with the students and all that went with them. Now I have my own child, and he's the dearest darling of my heart. He is smiley and gives hugs and sturdy and climbs all over everything. He shrieks with laughter at the dog and when we tickle him.
I just wish he could tell us some of that.
I feel selfish and terrible for even writing this. He could have so many other problems that I don't even dare *think* about, and I know that every child progresses at his own rate. I *know* in my heart that with guidance and time, he will form words and one day T and I will look at each other in wonder and say, "God, remember when he didn't say anything? Now he won't stop talking!"
But I get scared. And frustrated. And impatient. He's learning sign language, so that's been HUGE. Currently he only knows the one, but "more" covers an awful lot of territory. It gets hard on some days to focus on what he *can* do rather than what he *can't* because the latter include things we've been waiting for and seeing other kids do. We don't always concentrate on the former enough.
I feel as though we should play with him more, that if we find the right combination of toys and gestures, maybe something will connect. That's it, though, really, keep trying different methods until he makes that leap (baby step?) in his little mind. And then the questions: *Are* we doing enough? Should we do something different? More? Should he have more therapy? Should we just relax, considering we've heard all sorts of stories about kids not talking for a while and then suddenly coming out with full sentences? How long will this lack of words go on? Is he OK????
We'll just keep doing a little, every day, and I will work my hardest at not letting the what-ifs and the uncertainty get to me. I, unfortunately, can be a champion worrier; combine that with my first-time motherhood and the overpowering love I have for this child and my feeling that I would do anything to help him, and...yikes.
So I will say the Serenity Prayer more often and do what I can from my end, and I'll wait for J to be ready. That's really all I can do. And I'll remind myself that it's enough.
In three short weeks, J will turn one. ONE. When I look back on these last 344 days, I can't believe how much we've gone through and how much kindness has come our way. I admit when I lost my job a scant five days after giving birth, I felt absolutely terrified. The raging hormones didn't help, nor did my feeling like a complete novice as a new mother (no, nobody ever told me about pedaling/pumping poor baby J's legs to help with gas. WHY NOT?!?). T and my parents took care of absolutely everything, including T getting our health insurance taken care of in two days so we didn't lose coverage. Our parents came by daily, offering food, support, and another pair of arms. I couldn't do anything strenuous, post- surgery, so my mom did laundry, vacuumed, and cleaned when T was at work (he did quite a lot of the housework as well). My sister M and various other friends called with mommy advice and just kept me sane. I cannot begin to express my gratitude during those first few weeks, challenging with a new baby anyway, on top of the extra wrinkle added to our lives.
Since then we've made a lot of mistakes but a lot of progress as well. We've learned what we can do with and without; again, our parents have been generous with their time and support. We got creative in terms of gifts and stayed on a budget, one I suspect we'll keep to a great extent once I finally have a job. Looking for work has made me examine my other interests, as I've written before, and consider a career outside of teaching. I have definitely had (too many) "Why me?" and "It's not fair!" moments where I wondered how in God's name I could distinguish myself from the 100 applicants for the same position. If only they'd let me get to the interview portion, I could just show them. No, I don't have the exact requisite skills you want, but see how my skills I do have can transfer over? Total strangers I've met or e-mailed through mutual connections have
helped me with resumes and job suggestions; again, I feel so grateful
for their help. They didn't need to help an unknown, yet they did.
I've looked at jobs I wouldn't have even considered before because personal pride simply has no place in my life right now: I need a job for financial and, frankly, social reasons. I want to start building our nest egg back up, and I've loved spending time with J. It's a gift that I'm so lucky to have had. I just need to interact with adults in a job setting again, too. I know full well that I'll look back on this time wistfully one day, but both J and I need a little socialization!
So we'll see what comes next. Immediately, my sister's wedding next weekend. I'll focus on J when his birthday comes around. This post is about me. It's been a hard year, but I honestly wouldn't trade it because it's been a wonderful year in myriad ways as well. I have my sweet boys, a wonderful family, good friends, and a lot that others don't. It's all about perspective.
Well, J has grown in leaps and bounds...almost crawling, almost sitting up, close to teething. Today he reached the fabulous milestone of ratcheting his cries up to a scream when he's really hungry. It's that cry you cringe at when you hear it in the grocery store and promptly turn your cart around and head toward...anywhere else. But now he has a few new toys from Santa (aka grandparents), so life isn't too bad (as long as milk comes rightnowimmediatelyfasterSCREAM). I'm pretty excited for his first Christmas and all the ensuing pictures. He got a sweet little Christmas outfit from my dad and stepmom, so that will enhance the cuteness. Not that I'm biased.
On a more sober note, yesterday I found out the boy I home-tutored for most of the last school year passed away on Monday. He had a rare form of cancer and his family viewed his survival as a long shot, but boy did they try. Kid went through surgeries, chemo, you name it. I got him through ninth grade English... we met once a week. We did a lot of talking about non-English related topics, mostly movies, books, Buffalo sports teams, and the annoyance of younger siblings. Andrew was mature for his age and handled his illness with a lot of humor and calm. A huge sports fan, he collected all sorts of memorabilia, and foundations such as Carly's Kids and Make a Wish helped him get a few more, plus visits and introductions to many of his sports heroes. When I heard he'd died, I broke down because...why? Why a teenage boy? Why right before Christmas? And then I thought about it...this last surgery was a long shot at best. It may sound terrible, but now he doesn't have to suffer chemo or the many side effects, no more colostomy bags, no more weight loss or worrying that a simple cold would become not so simple. T also pointed out to me that I had the privilege of giving him a normal spot in his life, even if that normalcy involved me chiding him about missed homework deadlines and making him write essays. I'm so glad I got to work with him and get to know him. It's one of the privileges of teaching.
But I've also begun to realize that I can do that sort of helping elsewhere, too, outside of that profession. The idea of getting out of teaching for a while has rolled around in my subconscious for a few months now. I'm meeting tomorrow with a colleague of my dad's who may be able to connect me with others who can help me find work. I'm cautiously optimistic...the unemployment's running out relatively soon, and I have to have something under my belt. In the meantime, I can remember Andrew and hug my own precious, healthy boy. If I don't get to this site before Sunday, merry Christmas to all of you who celebrate it (and happy Hanukkah right now!) and--J is kind of crawling as I write this. I'm going to go watch that little miracle.
I've been pondering something lately that's always nagged me slightly, even though I know it shouldn't. I've been at my job for the last four years, and I try to be friendly with everyone because that's just who I am. I have people I've become friendly with, but I've never managed to find anyone I truly click with, and I don't know why. While I realize this is the insecure part of me that I've always tried to whittle away, and I know I'm a good person and friend, that small part of me wonders why it hasn't happened. And it makes me wonder if I'm in the right place. Do I really want to stay somewhere where I'm just considered a "nice person" but where I'm never entirely going to fit? Should that matter? I like many of the people I work with, and they're dedicated to their students and their jobs in a way I genuinely respect. I have good bosses and a good relationship with my students. So what's the problem, really?
I think it's that part of me sees my colleagues forming friendships and having inside jokes and conversations I wish I had at work. I have wonderful friends outside of work who support me and make my life amazing. Yet, perhaps because of the nature of the job, having a buddy seems helpful and a little necessary. I don't know where I'm going with this at all; I just thought I'd finally give voice to it, get it out. It's the end of the school year, I'm a scant 25 days away from my due date, I'm tired and hot, and my defenses are down. But I'm not sorry I wrote this.
Today the proposed state budget came out. Looks like a lot of cuts, including, of course, education. This means schools, which means teachers, which may well mean me. I'm writing this in immediate response to this and the warning from my principal that cuts would be, in his words, "unprecedented". So while I've had to deal with this for the past four years, this year feels different for a number of reasons.
We all knew this was coming. Last year the school district barely squeaked by because we managed to raise taxes just enough to cover the deficit in spending. But now the governor has proposed a cap on how much to raise taxes...and I can't blame him. The state can't keep taxing everyone to death because it's so screwed up financially that the only way out is to gouge its citizens. I live in the county with the highest taxes in the COUNTRY. Don't think I don't know. Frustration just boils through, that it always seems as though education gets cut first instead of reorganizing and trimming fat from places we damn well know could lose some. Or a lot.
I'm scared. Being 34, a mom, and jobless doesn't fit well with my mental picture of my life. I know I'll land on my feet, but my position is at best precarious. I've played this game of Survivor and stayed on the island, to stretch the metaphor, so far. However, I've never had so much at stake before. We have a child coming, and I can't afford not to work. Yes, I'll find something--I'm qualified and have good references. T will get another job if he has to. But I don't mind expressing that the meantime doesn't feel good at all.
I will try very hard to work on what I can control. I've updated my resume. I'll stay calm. No more extraneous purchases. Keep baby healthy in utero. Particularly, I can focus on the rest of this school year and making damned sure I give those students everything I've got. Best of all, I'm not in any way in this alone. I have a wonderful support system in my husband, family, and friends, and we will come out of this.
I started this post earlier on in the week but didn't get to it until today. In my sophomore class, we were doing a wrap-up of Mark Twain's essay "The Lowest Animal", an extremely ironic essay in which he uses biting humor to point out that, because of man's terrible habits, he should actually be listed as the lowest animal, not the highest. We did a quick run-down of what Twain writes about humans: They're greedy, war-mongering, cruel, the only ones who enslave, the only creature that blushes (or needs to, he points out), hypocritical patriots, narrow-minded of other religions. So I asked the class, Is he right? Are we still this way? Without hesitating, they all said yes. This prompted a follow-up: Can we change this? Is there any hope for humanity?
These kids, at fifteen, resoundingly answered No in my one class. No, they did not think there was hope for humanity; no, they did not think we could change. When I asked why, they responded that things had just become really bad and that they'd simply continue in this way because that had become the way of the world. A few still held out hope, pointing out good deeds and suggestions of small movements that could and did turn into larger ones. I mentioned the Greek story of Pandora, where while she let out all the bad in the world, hope still remained.
What got me most upset--and I told them this-- was that in their fifteen years on earth, those who came before them had given them this sort of mindset; we have apparently handed our youth a world full of despair and cruelty, and they don't see it getting any better. I urgently told them they had to because if they didn't see a vision of a better world, it wouldn't happen. I said they made me even more determined to do what I could to change their vision. I want to bring up something hopeful every day to these kids to prove them wrong. God, I hope I can prove them wrong.
My other class took a more hopeful view, with one student even saying that he believes we all have the ability to make the world a better place--we just have to choose to. This is a student who rarely speaks up in class and seems fairly frustrated with school (as only a fifteen year-old boy can be), so I found it deeply heartening to hear him say this. Some did think humanity was destined for apocalypse, but others pointed out that Twain was looking at the world from his perspective and had seen different things than today's youth had--the students in my classroom simply hadn't had the life experience that Twain had, and perhaps Twain had a darker perspective on the world. They did recognize that all great and good movements start with a small group of dedicated individuals...as do the terrible movements. So it can go both ways.
I realize a lot of the discussion could have come from the fact that it's winter. It was 7:30 in the morning and they weren't quite awake, but were tired and resentful of being at school so early. They're teenagers and prone to melodrama. But it made me think--we of generations past have to help create a world that fifteen year-olds see some good in. At least, I think so. If that makes me naive, so be it. So I leave you with a pretty cool, palindrome-like poem. It gives me hope, and I hope it does for you, too. Do try to read it with the audio to get the full gist.
I haven't even had time to read others' blogs, much less really post to my own. The time between Thanksgiving and Christmas for a teacher flies at breakneck pace, and I just finished up my last ever certification class, so that's one part off my plate. which is nice. Don't get me wrong; I love what I do, but I think when you mentally prepare for something that's coming, like a break, you get into a certain mindset that's hard to get out of. I've felt alternately Grinchy and supremely Christmassy at different times over the last few weeks.
Last weekend I went to a memorial service for a family friend who died of breast cancer. She was 41 and left behind a loving family, including her husband and four year-old twin boys. Wait, no. Don't get too sad. Yes, of COURSE it's tragic. But I went to her service and realized just how much she did with her life, every day, even though she knew it was limited. She fought her cancer for about seven years, if I remember correctly, and it even went into remission for a while. As her husband so eloquently said at the service, she faced each day as an exciting challenge and did so with a good deal of grace and optimism. She didn't ignore what was happening to her; she just didn't let it rule her life. Every time I saw Gyda, she had a smile on her face and she lit up a room; the number of people there to bear witness to her life demonstrated just how much she affected those she came into contact with. What touched me most was that her husband pointed out to his boys that all the people in that room loved Mommy and would help them remember and love her.
It just put a lot into perspective. I'm so grateful for what I have, grateful that we had to make room in the refrigerator last night for the food we'd just bought. I have so much that I try not to take for granted, although I have my moments, just as anyone does. It's funny that at the holidays, this time of "peace", I and others feel so frantic all the time. I haven't gotten my holiday cards out yet, and I have friends who made SURE they were there on my doorstep on December 1. I'm trying to keep a budget but not shortchange anyone. I don't know if it's consumerism that makes us all crazy because we buy into it (hah! I made a funny!) or what? The kitchen is a constant mess, along with other areas of the house. If I hear one more "news" story about Tiger Woods that doesn't involve his performance during a golf tournament, I will go completely insane. I feel that friends I attempt to make contact with don't return my phonecalls, and I wonder if it's that they're simply busy or it means we're slipping away from each other. I keep meaning to exercise but something always gets in the way, whether it's school or grading or grocery shopping or my own lack of motivation. The other night I was in a hideous mood for no reason I could put my finger on, my head full of doubts and negative thoughts.
I don't know where all of this is going. The two paragraphs seem to completely contradict each other. But I guess what I'm trying to express is that I think we all need to find our tiny moments of peace and serenity when and where we can get them, and we need to remember that what's important is how we live our day to day moments. At the end of your life, nobody cares if the kitchen was clean. So I leave you with something that the King of Consumers, Starbucks, put together. It's actually pretty fantastic, so enjoy. Enjoy each other.
I had a big, bad one today, at least in my book. In thinking about the economy, going to a union meeting and listening to them talk about massive budget cuts, and talking to a few colleagues who know their stuff, I realized, quite bluntly, that a position at my current job may well not exist for me next year. [J from work, if you're reading this, please, PLEASE keep this between us and the blogosphere. I know I don't need to ask that, but I do anyway.]
I've always known, somewhere in the back of my mind, that my tenuous situation may not work out the way I wanted it to. I've got other people vying for a position as well, but the fact still remains that we may have nothing to compete for. I can't go on taking others' maternity leaves for the rest of my life, and I can't wait around for others to retire. So, as frustrating as it may be, I may well have to start over at a new job once again. I can't tell you how disheartening this makes me feel, like some sort of glorified placeholder. I also worry because the more years of teaching I have under my belt, the more expensive I am to hire. Now, not all districts care about this, but it may narrow options a tad.
I got home today, assessed my feelings, went through one handkerchief and several tissues, and reassessed. I am very qualified to do what I do. Even in this economy, someone will need a teacher with my background. Circumstances may make it so that I can stay in my current district, though I'll still look elsewhere; it would be pure foolishness not to do so. I can get good recommendations and find something. It will do me no good to wail and gnash my teeth and complain about the unfairness of life. Whoever said life was fair? All I can do is give my 100% and make every single effort to secure myself a probationary (more permanent, with the chance of tenure) position...somewhere.
I still have some growing up to do. I did some of it today. Nobody owes me anything; I know this. Nobody will give me anything: I have to earn it on my own, based on what I do. I have no control over anyone but myself, and if I don't control my own actions, I don't control my destiny. I also have to accept the fact that I'm human and I make mistakes. However, I still need to listen to the inner voice that tells me how best to help myself; that other self-sabotaging voice needs to go on the back burner, the one who tells me to read a few more pages in my book or that I've earned a rest and don't need to grade those papers until "later". No regrets, no cursing myself for not doing what I could have done to help myself. There's no room for it.
So wish me luck. This being a grownup thing is awfully hard, but I think it's worth it.
