Let's Save the World, Teachers!! (Or at least finish the year!) 3/23/14

I saw "Divergent" last night.  I really like the movies set in the dystopian future, especially ones based on YA novels that I have read.  The young people have to overcome all the wrongs that have been set in place by silly grown-ups since the world ended/big war/great disaster...whatever happened in whichever book.  There is always a challenge.  The characters at that point in the story are stretched to their mental and physical limits trying to make it out/in/to the next stage/stay alive. The formula varies, but the final challenge, in the novels and the movies, remains the most tense, suspenseful, casualty-filled part of the story.

All teachers are getting ready to enter their final challenge.  When I thought about going back to school after spring break, I thought about the last thirty minutes of "Divergent".  I also thought about "The Hunger Games" and every single "Harry Potter" book.  We're in the last months now.  Almost every school has about ten to fourteen weeks left.  Testing will be occurring on a regular basis.  Administrators will be needing to wear diapers worrying about testing abnormalities and audits.  Students will be getting in fights and falling in love.  It's funny that they are tested right around the time when their year-long relationship with the others that surround them reaches its peak!

Spring Break is just what is says: a small break.  The imminent end-of-year hill that we climb is in sight even though we are on vacation. (Is it subliminal that I accidentally typed 'hell' instead of 'hill'?)  I hope, all my teacher friends, that you were wise enough to treat yourself well this past week, because that may not happen again for a while.  We all know it, and our smiles and laughs to each other during the day will help us through.

So here we are, teachers....our final battle of this novel (or movie) is approaching.  Choose your weapons, revive your skill-set, encourage your team.  The good guys always win, don't they?  I'm right beside you, let's go!

A strange path to a very happy place 3/17/14

Very happy?  How?  I've been on my own for 10 months and had to do more "stuff", and endure more than the normal share of hardships. Hidden away from the world, with only a relative or very good friend on the phone or with me, I've broken down so many times that I started to think I was broken.  I started to think that my outward brave face and strong attitude was holding me back because I didn't give myself an appropriate amount of "sulking around in public" time.  Well, sorry, people, I'm not going to pout for all of you.  I know for a fact that some people thought it was strange how quickly I went back to work last year, and how I've just carried on........as if nothing at all happened. I'd like to see how those people react in the face of a tragedy. (Obviously though, I do not wish tragedy on anyone.)  I think many of them would then realize that going back to work and seeing people and sharing stories-sad, funny, or happy-can be healing and comforting.

I did pour feelings out through my writing, though.  The first few pieces I wrote after Scott died, I sobbed the whole way through writing.  Some later pieces, I pounded the keys of the computer unreasonably hard, because I was very angry about the subject.  I also had to let some sit and take their time - as well as completely delete some and not publish others.  I became obsessed with tracking my page views.  This blog engine has a stats page for me, on which I can see how many views each post has, how many views today, last month, and all time for the blog.  I can also see the referring website, the country you are in, and which browsers have been used.  Not in a personal way, just numbers accumulation.  I quickly became obsessed with my 'numbers'.  I've been known to check my page counts at dinner, in the airport, at school and while shopping.  In trying to 'boost' my numbers, I shared links to my blog in a lot of places.  I just never realized that somebody in one of those places would go back and read every one of them.  Not only read every one of them, but then contact me, end up talking with me, and later on want to meet me.

At this point, I have to apologize for my earlier post that ranted against the lady that told me to "meet someone online".  Kind of.  That was still somewhat insensitive of her.  If we still wore black for a "period of mourning", it might not have happened.  But never mind the online love lady, I want to talk about this person  that found a link to my writing I posted in a grief support forum. This person sent me a private message almost two months ago on the forum, saying they admired the job I was doing as a mom and a teacher after my loss.  They had experienced loss, also, and we started messaging back and forth and talking about different things.  I suppose you've figured out by now that it's a 'he'.  Where did this come from?  I didn't ask for this, or go looking for this, or sign up or join or advertise.....it found me.  From my writing.  Whoa.

We progressed to talking on the phone.  I'm two months behind on my recorded TV shows.  It's very scary when you don't know someone at all, but then you're talking and sharing experiences, and you feel you start to know them.  And then he got the nerve (I know for a fact that it was just as scary for him...) to ask if we could meet.  My answer?  "Not yet, I'll think about it.".  I mean, what is a girl supposed to say?  Then I went to Mardi Gras.  There will be a chapter in the book that tells what happened at Mardi Gras to make my decision clearer. (I dream about making these writings into a book that may help others who travel this path. Everyone can dream, right?) The week after Mardi Gras, he asked again to meet.  I said yes.  We worked out a plan for him to come visit me in Texas.  It was exciting, but I experienced a nervousness that beat out any performance nerves.  I felt I knew him, after two months of talking.....and I was comfortable enough to tell him on the phone: "Well, I know you're not an ax-murderer, so yes, I will invite you!"

Without throwing details to the world in my writing (because there is another person involved in this story....) I would like to say, with all respect to everything that has happened in the past year, that this weekend was like a fairy tale or a Hallmark channel movie.  It started with flowers and ended with a good-bye kiss. I didn't even check my blog stats one time.  I'm happy at the moment, in spite of the strange path.  I hope you can be happy for me, too. I'll be careful, I promise.

When The Music Starts - My Choir at the Toyota Center! 3/9/14

It was the busiest of weeks.  I define 'busy' as any length of time where your focus is required to be on something besides that which you want to be doing.  So I guess any work day is busy.  But even work days have small breaks, lunch, planning...things like that during which you can take a breath, check your e-mail, look at your phone...without other requirements panting at you like a dog.

The undertaking of an elementary field trip is no small task.  Add in the fact that the little darlings are all in different grades and homerooms, they must wear their choir shirt, they have to perform, and certain paperwork must be turned in on every one of the forty-nine students (49!), and I received a busy week.  I was bombarded by questions, papers, looking for papers, figuring how to collect them and feed them after school, figuring out how to get them on the bus and get to the Toyota Center in time....I worked, planned, e-mailed, texted, made phone calls, and typed up papers. Don't get me wrong, I didn't procrastinate; I've been working on this since August.  It's just that the last week is crunch time, and I wanted to go over every detail as many times as possible. When the music starts, we all need to be ready!  I don't like to be wrong about anything!

I must say a huge 'thank you' to our office staff and all the teachers that helped with the little details.  And I thank the principal for just letting me handle it all and staying out of my way.  I prefer to work unassisted and without a hawk looking over my shoulder, questioning everything I do.  And I got it my way!  Pure luck, I know.  The big day, Friday, rolled around and I was up early.  Packing what I would need and getting dressed and ready.  There was a five-minute space when I, the choir director, could not find my own choir t-shirt.  But it was only temporary, the shirt was found and on with the show.  Headed to school, my choir and I got a shout-out on the radio from local morning show Dean and Rog.  That made me very happy, and I hoped that a lot of our teachers and parents had heard it.  I parked at school, carried in all my 'stuff' and was late for the staff meeting.  Not only late, but had already been mentioned, so everyone knew I wasn't there on time.  I claim Rockets game excuse!

Let it be known that during this day, I taught my full schedule of classes, except when the assistant principal spelled me for thirty minutes due to having won an hour lunch with my team.  I was missing a permission slip, I had to call the parent.  I had no less than four students without their t-shirts, and only five to spare.  I typed an agenda for the afternoon to give my principal, who was riding the bus with us.  I figured out how many students I needed to place on each row for our performance from the stands. I dealt with the fact that my underwire on one side was a goner, and hoped that the effect would not be seen on the big screen.  The day went by.  I left during planning and picked up their pizzas.  I was ready for the crowd immediately after school.

They were wound up, to say the least.  I kept them corralled, with the help of precious friends that volunteered to stay for the pizza portion.  They ate healthy portions, and then the orange things appeared. Those obnoxious blow-up noise makers were springing up all around the room!  I outlawed them immediately.  Do not blow them up, put them away, I do not want to see them.  Little did I know that one parent had supplied her child with enough orange things for every one of the 49 kids to have two!   That's a new rule to chalk up for next year.

We loaded the bus.  The principal, me, the bus driver's family and 49 kids.  We told them:  same rules as always.  The bus driver turned on the radio.  The kids sang and took selfies.  I had to trust that all those ten and eleven year olds were taking decent pics!  It got loud.  We had to tell a few to sit back down.  The principal looked unhappy most of the time.  Half-way there, she informed me that we had a "seat-hopper", so she went and sat toward the back.  I frowned at my children (they know if my smile is gone, it's a biggie) and we rode the rest of the way there.

When you take 49 students on a 90 minute bus ride, restrooms at the destination are of the utmost importance.  When that was taken care of, our escorts took our group up to our spot via the freight elevator! There were some scared little darlings, but I, the fearless leader, told them if they want to be a famous singer or actor, they have to learn about arriving the 'secret way'!  Once in our rows, we waited to sing.  Parents were arriving and bringing their child some food, the arena was filling up, kids were clapping noisy orange things and asking for the restroom again... one mom (who has been precious and helpful and kind for six years now) handed me a bottle of water.  "For you, Mrs. McCarty".  True kindness exists.

We got our three minute warning and the kids put away the orange things and focused.  Once the music started, they were in auto-mode.  They got a little distracted by the big screen, but the sound was amazing - on key, energized and sweet.  I realized that I don't focus on bus behavior or how they interact with each other.  I touch on those things - but what I really teach is how they should act and what they should do when the music starts.  They did it.  I was proud.

The rest of the evening was a nightmare of restroom trips, loud clappy orange things in my ear and a few that couldn't behave. It was also a big win for the Rockets, so that made it fun.  What I am going to choose to remember most is the sound that came from my choir, because what you do when the music starts is really important.

Double Classes and Taking a Breath

Double classes.  Sometimes it's terrible.  Sometimes it's perfectly fine.  Sometimes even - one hour of terrible followed by one hour of wonderful.  Double classes for a "large group" teacher does not mean two homerooms.  It means three to four homerooms of darling children.

It takes a certain amount of disciplinary skill to handle large group.  There's the authoritative voice, the appeal to all the years that they have known you (and your expectations), the promise of reward, and the occasional threat (and action) of having to "sit out".  It is possible to manage a large (from 60-90) group of students successfully if you have enough tricks in your bag.

Teaching double classes is difficult and sometimes annoying, but I only expound on that to relay the miraculous fact that I, on a day like today, can still be in a "good mood".

Someone like me, on their journey of grief, may smile, laugh or joke on the outside.  But for a long period of time, those looks and sounds are surface only.  I heard an actual account, just yesterday, of what others say about "how she's doing" (she being me).  They say "She's doing great!"  and best of all; "Her spirits are good."  The person that knows my spirits is someone I only speak to about once a week.

I am not calling those people liars.  They are telling the truth as they interpret it.  They are seeing my act on the stage that is my world.  The costumes, the makeup (Thank God!) the portrayal of expected emotions, and the utterances of the lines that everyone wants to hear.  I have fooled them all, haha!  Until now.  Today, my smile felt real.  Today, the feeling down deep inside matched the way my eyes crinkled with laughter.  On a double class day, no less!

It's a journey.  On a journey, you make progress.  Some are quicker, some are slower.  There is no minimum or maximum speed.  Some progress is internal.  Some is very public.  And some...well, some has to do with coming to terms with your new self because all of the sudden it's not as new, it's who you are.  It was an abrupt realization.  In my mind I compared it to someone in the movies or on TV that is knocked out and not breathing.....and then WHAM! - they take that breath and they're still alive.  My emotions did that recently.  That isn't a complete victory over inner sadness - it's just a break from it.  Like anything that starts, though, it can grow.

Today, I was doing great.  The life-saving breath experience was still a memory that made me feel happy inside. My spirits were good today.  It's about time, they've been bad inside for almost a year - in spite of what some others think.  You just couldn't see it.  Today, the double class did not incur my wrath.  (Wrath for me usually being a lecture, haha.)  Instead they incurred my humor and sly jokes that tricked them into behaving for me.  I know that actually feeling the happiness I've faked for so long won't be permanent, but I pray it won't be a stranger, either.