Tuesday, October 29, 2013

Way To Go, Audience Guy. 10/29/13

I had a wonderful birthday and a great weekend of fun to celebrate.  It is humbling how many people took time to look out for me and make sure that it was a special day.  I said on the social media page that the love and care created a bubble that insulated me from too much sorrow.  It was true, what I said.  Until the weekend, and the one thing I saw. 

We attended the Texas Renaissance Festival, sort of a tradition for the past five years or so, and had several adults and two little ones.  Wearing costumes and makeup has always been an escape of mine.  I can paint and dress how I want to feel and usually, the feeling follows.  If I share a song or two in the meantime, don't be surprised.  I can always conjure up an imaginary audience to applaud my effort.  Kind of spooky, right?  Like I'm a modern-day Norma Desmond!  Anyway, it was fun to dress up and go be amongst others that enjoy the same sort of thing.  With that many adults, a few of us were able to sneak away and see the "not for kids" show.  Entitled "Sound and Fury", they use Shakespeare as a framework for double entendre and some downright naughty comedy.  The show was enjoyable, albeit a little lengthy.  But it was what happened as it started that threw my day of make-believe for a loop. 

The actors started out by explaining that they perform some improv with audience members.  They then searched for a guy and a girl to go on stage.  One of the actors would start some dialogue, stop abruptly in the middle and touch the guy or girl's shoulder to finish the phrase.  I am doing my best to recall the sentiment from this past weekend, if not the precise words:  Actor "I have found that I cannot live without....." (touches guy's shoulder)  Audience guy turns to audience girl and says "You".  Entire audience "awwwwwww".  Actor "And so, this being the situation, I have found that I need to say......."(touches guy's shoulder).  Audience guy turns to audience girl, kneels, opens a ring box and says "I can't live without you, I love you very much, will you marry me?"  Audience is on feet, cheering.

I cheered - for a moment until the brick hit me.  Love is out there, all around. But mine is gone.  I managed to hold back actual sobbing and just leak a few tears, raise my glass and whisper "I wish you more years than we had."  I do not wish to deny anybody of their joy and happiness.  Joy and happiness are the balancing weight to sorrow and despair.  Although I am sad and feel often alone, I wish the very best for those that are at the opposite end of the road.  Well done, audience guy.  I hope the two of you have many years, much love and don't have to say goodbye too soon.

Friday, October 18, 2013

I Just Need Bigger Hair, That's All 10/18/13

I read a lot.  Books, magazines, articles, blogs, bumper stickers, notes I confiscate from students.....you get the idea.  It's one of the greatest pleasures in life; being wrapped up in a great story, and only stopping to read out of pure necessity, then realizing it's ninety minutes later than it was a minute ago! 

Lately I've been reading about grief.  Some of the reading is helpful, some depressing, all at least a little sad.  I thought I was helping myself.  In the past few weeks, things have been a little harder.  The dear friends that I've shared this with understand and tell me their experiences.  "The holidays are always difficult no matter how much time passes.  It's been six months and you're just realizing how permanent this is.  You have had to be so strong without a break, you must be mentally exhausted." So I'm here to say - you're right.  The holidays are going to be way difficult, always and forever.  I am just starting to feel the constancy of being alone.  And I am exhausted.  I am such a controller, though, that I control who gets to see and hear my breakdowns.  (It's mostly those friends mentioned above that understand those things.....they've been there in one way or another, so I don't think they'll find me mentally unstable.)

I thought I would help myself.  I googled 'grief harder at six months'.  I can do this!  I can READ myself whole again, right?  Lo and behold, the first result was a blog call 'Handling with Grace'.  What a coincidence!  I am "Grace Under Pressure", and this is so similar to mine!  I had to read.  I just knew it would help.  I started reading.  It's a heartbreaking post from a young woman, dated 1/31/12, six months since she lost her mother to brain cancer.  Beautifully written, I will share the link below so you can check it out if you are interested.  But I got distracted while reading.  What beautiful pictures!  What a neat font!  How do you get your archived blogs to show on the sidebar?  Do mine show?  I don't know!  You have ads!  Holy cow, this blog is like the perfect cheerleader/princess of blogs.  I feel like the Cinderella (before fairy godmother) of blogs!  I am sorry that my confession of attention disorder is not giving the respect to this lady's blog that it deserves. That's why I will share it below, it really is thoughtful and beautiful.   I started blogging for myself, therefore I chose a layout, font, color, title, etc. that pleased me.  I never thought I would have the nerve to share what I wrote.  As it turns out, I've become quite the sharer.....and I never really looked back to see if things were ok.  That's kind of like not looking in the mirror, right? (And this is not begging for compliments.....I liked what I saw when I looked again, I was just surprised that I didn't look at what was out there before I put mine together.)

But that other blog was such a beauty.  I went running to the mirror to see if I could even compete. My blog looked like a middle-schooler, the other was like a homecoming queen. It felt like eighth grade all over again.  I always needed more, so I thought.  More eye shadow, more lip gloss, more and bigger hair....the only things I needed less of were braces and pimples.  I am still trying to achieve that perfection in life.  I am also more aware now than ever that I just am who I am.  You see, six months alone can make you take a good hard look at yourself, even if there is no intention of trying to make anyone else look.  You know what?  The braces are gone.  Yep, just teeth now.  Everything else still feels like I need more.  I just need bigger hair, and I'll feel better about myself.  Right?  Who am I trying to kid?

I figured it out. Reading can fix a little bit. I just read what I'd written above, and it helped me determine something:  Blogging helps, but it doesn't cure anything. There's just something missing.  That voice that used to tell me I was pretty. Or laugh at me.  Or laugh with me. That voice would have either not cared about how the blog looked, or researched five million ways to make it really cool.  No amount of big hair or an archived sidebar can bring that back.  And that is the real reason that grief is harder at six months.








http://www.handlingwithgrace.com/2012/01/grief-at-6-months.html

Wednesday, October 16, 2013

From MTAI to PDAS: M&Ms, Zombies and Mice

The year, I believe, was 1987.  All teachers in Mississippi now had to be evaluated according to state standards.  "MTAI" was the acronym of the year, Mississippi Teacher Appraisal Instrument.  All teachers now had to be officially assessed, according to guidelines set out by the state. These guidelines included several different areas, or "domains" in which a score was given.  We were carefully trained (made to sit through hours of meetings....), so there would be no way we could score badly.  We chose a class period, turned in a lesson plan - in the hand-written lesson plan book with the carbon copy pages - had a meeting to discuss the plan, and then the day came.  The principal had to stay thirty minutes.  They watched and checked everything. I remember leaving the lesson plan on my desk with a pack of M&Ms, as if chocolate could make anything I did wrong disappear!  I was, and still am, quite good at putting on a show, so it went very well, high scores all around.  But in between the observation and the actual knowledge of the scores, my brain told me everything I did was wrong.  "Uh-oh, you accidentally started the wrong song on the record the first time."  "You shouldn't have given that Mean Look, maybe that brought the score down."  "WHY OH WHY did that kid have to do a total snot-sneeze in the middle of the lesson?"  I am my own worst critic, and almost every teacher I know is the same way. 

Evaluations have evolved, and still exist in every state. They are a federal requirement. Remember "No Child Left Behind"?  It required every state to evaluate their teachers yearly.  Everybody likes to think that a "bad" teacher would get a poor evaluation, and poof! - disappear.  It doesn't happen that way, though. The evaluations sound harsh, but if you don' score well, you're given many opportunities to fix it. 

Flash forward 26 years to this past Friday.  I was not 'officially' evaluated.  First of all, after so many years in Texas, you move to an advanced level that just requires three "drop-ins" a year.  Each drop-in is about ten minutes.  Secondly, drop-ins haven't started yet this year.  However, the district has added something called "mega-monitoring".  We've been told what they look for when they mega us, but we've not seen any feedback, or been told how the statistics will be used.  All I know is that they enter the classroom when a lesson is in full bloom, stand there and look around while playing on their phones.  Ok, that's exaggeration - because we are aware that they are checking a checklist of the required items on their phones.  (I wonder if the district pays for the administration's Iphones???)  About three to five minutes, and whoever mega'd you is gone. This past Friday, I had the illustrious experience of being mega-monitored twice in thirty minutes.  The first time, it was the main boss.  In she comes, while we're singing "Zombie Style" (a lovely parody of "Gangnam Style).  I was scared to death.  Schools are not very open about celebrating Halloween these days.  I personally choose the attitude that I don't do anything scary, only fun.  "Zombie Style" is fun!  Quickly, when the song ended, I called the class' attention to the vocabulary word 'parody', already written on the board.  Quick thinking.  In a flash, she was gone.  The class sang a few more songs that they got to choose.  I call it "Fun Song Friday", and it's one of my ways to foster a singing student body.  They can choose ANY song!  So when the assistant main boss walked in, the kids were singing "Mousie In the Snow".  It's definitely a Christmas song.  And it's early October.  Every child singing, smiling, doing motions.....did that count?  I went with my mental defenses and told myself not to worry. 

I didn't worry - until the students were gone and it was my lunch.  Then I started thinking.  (Oh no, not again.....) Why did I tell that child that I didn't have to give him a reason for changing some one's seat?  Why were we singing a Christmas song?   Why did I have magazines in a Guinness Stout box sitting on the table?  Why do I teach?  Why don't I answer phones and create spreadsheets somewhere? 

After lunch, there was a nice note in my teacher mailbox from the assistant main boss, telling me how much she had enjoyed her visit and seeing all the smiles on the students' faces.  If she had told me in person, I probably would have said "That's because I gave them the Guinness, haha" very nervously.
It's a good thing that the feedback from the official evaluations is on paper.  I should have three drop-ins this year.  For the past two years, my evaluator(s) did not finish my three by the deadline.  Once again, I took it personally.  I felt that nobody wanted to come see me teach, because they would have to be writing down so many things that go wrong!  Once again, I did well.  I don't know what I worry about, except that I truly care about being a good music teacher.  I made my peace about eight years ago with the fact that I am "just a music teacher".  I decided to be the best one I could be.    I certainly hope, though, that this year's person is able evaluate in a timely manner. Evidently I'm quite awesome, zombies, mice and all.


"Zombie Style" and "Mousie In the Snow" published by Music K-8 Magazine
Plank Road Publishing, Inc.

*I learned that the district does not supply the Iphones for the mega's.  They use their own phones, but the app is free.  Cheapskates.

Saturday, October 12, 2013

Along The Rocky Road 10/12/13

There are things I'll never say
and feelings I'll never express.
You have to know it's just my way,
I don't mean what I do say any less.

If I smile, I mean it somewhere,
even though my eyes fill with tears.
The duality of grief and living
is complex and full of fears.

I enjoy any conversation,
it's nice to hear a voice.
Emptiness gets really loud
and it's not like I had a choice.

I was blissfully unaware
of living with such daily pain.
I regret now not taking the care
with other friends that beat me there.

Striving to appear normal, like "each day is new"
I'm programmed that way, society to blame,
Stopping to cry isn't how we play the game.
But grief is churning inside of me like a bubbling witch's brew.

Writing this to thank all those that guide me along,
message me on the computer, a squeeze on the arm.
Letters, notes, comments, songs,
A hug, a smile that says "I know where you are."

I may not let on, but I need you desperately.
Being alone is not as easy as I thought it would be.
Were all of your encouragement in the shape of letters written,
you would find them faded and worn so thin from reading again and again.

I will survive, you and I both know that.
I just have to work through the new way of life
at the same time I'm wrapping up with everything past.
One step at a time on a rocky road -
Thank you to those that share the load.

Tuesday, October 8, 2013

Accepting Change and Trying Not to Break Things 10/8/13

Roxy-cat fell asleep on my computer keyboard yesterday.  She pretty much owns the house, so that isn't a surprise.  This is a cat that will smack a 55-lb. dog in the face if he tries to take her place on the couch.  She regularly 'yells' at me if I stay gone too long - very loud, prolonged meowing.  I've read that she is supposedly vocalizing her love, but it sounds like yelling to me!  I think she feels better after she yells at me, like she's had her say, and it helped! She wasn't yelling yesterday, though, she was fast asleep on the keyboard.

The thing is, I wanted to use my computer at that time.  She was in my way.  So, I did what any good cat lady would do, I picked her up and put her down on the floor beside me!  Only.....Roxy didn't want to get up.  Is the keyboard of the computer nice and warm?  Does it massage?  Is she just obstinate?  Who knows, the mind of Roxy is mysterious.  Because she didn't want to get up, she held on to the keyboard with her claws.  The inevitable result?  She pulled a key right off.  Of course, anyone might say that I pulled the key off by so cruelly lifting the darling from her nap.  I noticed that the claw was caught, but the key popped off before I could let her go for relief. I wasn't too worried, I've put keys back on before.  They kind of snap back on, easy, right?

I put the key on.  I pushed.  No snap.  I looked at it - Oh!  It's not the 9, it's the 6, turn it the other way!  No snap.  Little white plastic pieces underneath keep slightly moving and not snapping.  It's broken.  The cat broke the computer key.  All because I insisted on pulling her off her spot, and she tried to hang on.  Hmmmmm......

I can identify with Roxy.  I get really comfortable with certain places, things, people.  I'm pretty sure that I'm the kid that cried when I was seven and my mom get a new car.  I don't know how I ever left for college....I think just to prove I could do it.  I still have favorite t-shirts, blankets, jewelry, mixing bowls.....get the idea?  I am huge on tradition and comfort.  I pride myself when I can change, move, toss out, rearrange - because I know that doing so is a total challenge to my personality.  I really prefer to hang on, just like Roxy.

Who handles change better?  The adventurous personality?  The rebel?  The military kid?  That would be a great study.  I have learned to handle it because there were other entities forcing the change.  I have never really wanted to leave any of my jobs.  It just happened.  I never really wanted to live so far away from family, it just happened.  And  I certainly never wanted to end up on my own at this age and stage, it just happened.  I'm hanging on with my claws like a stubborn cat right now.  I'm not cleaning out rooms in the house, because I want don't want to sell the house.  I do know that I have to, and I will....I just don't want to!!  (Funny note - we were going to sell it this spring anyway...)  So let's just hope I can turn and face change with a winning attitude and pull my claws back in and not break anything.  Maybe if I have a place where I can go and yell for a little while, I'll feel better.

Tuesday, October 1, 2013

The True Story Behind "Thank God For Makeup". 10/1/13

I cried myself to sleep last night.  I felt sad from the moment I left school after the little show.  I had been named employee of the week, the choir did well on Saturday, and last night I had directed a successful, cute little show. My district boss thought that the little show idea was great, and praised it.  What could have been sad about a day like that? (Besides the obvious, that is...)  I wanted to share it.  I wanted to tell him.  I didn't want to text this person or call that person, I wanted to flop down in my recliner, beside his recliner, and tell him about the day and the evening. 

I tried telling the dogs.  They don't speak English.  They also don't actually take the time to process whether what you are telling them is an accomplishment or a shameful moment, they just jump on the love bandwagon, tails wagging away.  I didn't even try telling the cats, their level of  'don't care' surpasses the dog's love.

So I cried.  I thought of calling or messaging many people.  They're all there for me.  The overwhelming thought I had?  I will make them sad.  I mean, there's no sense in making another person sad on a boring Monday night, right?  So if you are one of my people, and you are thinking "I wish she had called me!"  I would have, and I thought about it.  But because I didn't, you didn't go to sleep sad.

Instead, I cried, slept a couple of hours, woke up, checked the phone, cried a little more, the got rudely awakened by the morning alarm.  Going through the morning routine is a bit of a consolation.  Another day has arrived, it's time to look it in the face.  I put on my makeup, and the  song "Tears of a Clown" kept running the my mind.  I know, it's about a breakup, most songs are.  But I started thinking about how I look with my makeup fresh in the morning.  It enhances the 'real me'.  No, it doesn't hide every scar and wrinkle...but it helps.  It opens my eyes.  It enriches my eyebrows and lips. It actually kind of.....magnifies the real me. (Good or bad....) With my makeup, I can still pretend for a bit that I'm in my forties, haha.  I also have a feeling, whether it's true or not, that my makeup hides my sadness.  When the mascara goes on, my eyes have their happy crinkle.  (Crinkle with some wrinkles.)  That can disguise the fact that I went to sleep crying because I felt so all alone.  Please don't tell me if that's not true.  Please allow me this small deception that helps me face each day.

After the makeup application this morning, I felt better.  I also wanted to put a cute status on my favorite social networking site.  "Cried myself to sleep last night but am much better this morning" did not win.  Neither did "Had really cool stuff happen yesterday, but nobody to tell".  Or there could have been "Aren't you glad I didn't call and make you sad last night?".  Instead, I started thinking about my beautiful makeup job   (the song was still there......"my smile is the makeup I wear since my breakup with youuuuuuuuu.......) and I simply wrote "Thank God for makeup".  Take it as you will. 

The real healing comes when I can finally have an hour or so to sit down and pour this all out through typing fingers.  I think that it because I know that nobody HAS to read it, like you would have to answer the phone.  You can not read it at all, stop half-way....your choice, just like writing it is my choice.   I'm a bit addicted to the writing right now, but it and the makeup serve good purposes for someone in my position.  They cover, yet magnify the real thing.  Thank you so much for listening, I hope you're not too sad now.  If you are, try some new eye-shadow.