I started to wonder today if I will ever feel pure joy again. The true, pure, bubbling-from-inside joy that we feel when something is incorrupt, happy , adorable, innocent, comical, surprising......you get it, right?
It's as if my joy has become a whack-a-mole. I hear something funny. I laugh. I think: "oh wait until I tell Scott.." whack. I see a commercial for a cool new show. "Cool! I'll have to tell Scott!" whack.
The kitten (is anything a more pure joy than a kitten?) is jumping great distances, playing with a new toy, just being so joyfully CUTE - and I think "I can't wait until Scott sees her...." WHACK!!!
If I'm with someone - maybe one of you that actually reads this - and I laugh......it's not fake! I do still find things funny, amusing, frustrating, you name it! It's just that when I feel those emotions, I had thirty years of being able to share them with him. Funny was funny twice. Frustration got shared and ridiculed. (Sometimes the ridicule was pointed at me for getting frustrated!!) Cute animal stuff was a staple of our lives. If one of the dogs was asleep, dreaming and yelping, sitting an adorable way - we had a code - "Look at big white dog!" - because we knew saying their name would distract them and change the moment.
I know that joy is promised from God. I can still hear that lady singing "Restore unto me the joy of thy salvation...."in church when I was young. That particular quote came from David - yes, the Old Testament King David. But David needed his joy restored because he had sinned big time (adultery, murder....big time). What did I do to deserve this? Was this a plan for him and me from the beginning? I don't think I would have agreed to it. Why us? Why me? One of the many questions I have for that big Q&A session in the sky.
I will try, you know. I don't intend to become a depressed, sad, mean person. But don't forget that underneath the trying, I'm not whole. He was indeed my other half, so I'm not complete any more. But will I ever feel joy without getting whacked? I'm not sure. I think all happy occasions that may occur for me for the rest of my life will be tinged with sadness. I can't imagine it happening any other way. So please understand if something really happy or funny is going on - and I just close my eyes and get quiet for a minute. It's to absorb the whack.
Sunday, June 30, 2013
Monday, June 24, 2013
"It'll be hard", they said. 6/24/13
"It'll be hard", they said. "You have to make sure you take care of yourself", they said. "All the feelings will come back again", they said. And they were right.
People tell you how you will feel for certain events. Movies and TV tell us to cry at weddings, cry when we leave our first-born at kindergarten, bean with pride at graduation, etc. Everyone is full of advice for those that are grieving a loved ones' loss, too. Mostly, they are right on track. Mostly.
You see, "they" can say all they want to you - but nothing prepares you for the waves of grief. You can be going through all the motions of life, talking, laughing, helping prepare dinner, cleaning up - and CRASH! Tears, sobbing, struck silent because speaking would turn into crazy shrieking......it all hits you like a huge salt-water wave from behind. Then life goes on pause while you cry it out, talk it through, do whatever it takes to re-surface from the drowning that is grief.
So I'll agree - it was hard. Being together with the entire family but feeling his absence like a knife in my stomach was hard. Making sure all the details for the service were in place, yet knowing all along why we were doing those things was hard. The finality of people arriving at the chapel, the service actually happening, seeing and welcoming old friends for a terrible, terrible reason was hard. It was also beautiful, comforting, and a blessing. Because those friends weren't just there for him. They were there for us. That part of celebrating and remembering someone's life is amazing. You see each other and although years have taken their toll on the physical appearance, the jokes, personalities, and love you've had for these friends immediately resurfaces. Then you promise to get together again soon and not let so much time pass.
All of that was hard. But you know what's even harder? After. The service ends, the friends go to their homes, the visiting with family ends, we head home, and......nothing. Nothing to look forward to. Waking up and thinking "why?" The hammer of ALONE FOREVER hitting me in the head again and again. Convincing myself to do chores and catch up on TV and try to enjoy the pool when I'd rather sit in my bathrobe and stare.
It's a kaleidoscope of feelings - twisting toward resigned, happy memories, sadness, anger, despair, etc. etc. And there are no "stages" (sorry, Ms. Ross). There is more a gumbo of different feelings that swim around and attack you when you suspect it least.
So - go ahead, tell me how I will feel. At least I'll know that someone else has been there and knows how hard it is, and that it hits without warning. If I'm crying, talk to me anyway, that's better than being alone forever. And if it happens to you, or to someone close to you - remember: It'll be hard.
Truer words were never spoken.
People tell you how you will feel for certain events. Movies and TV tell us to cry at weddings, cry when we leave our first-born at kindergarten, bean with pride at graduation, etc. Everyone is full of advice for those that are grieving a loved ones' loss, too. Mostly, they are right on track. Mostly.
You see, "they" can say all they want to you - but nothing prepares you for the waves of grief. You can be going through all the motions of life, talking, laughing, helping prepare dinner, cleaning up - and CRASH! Tears, sobbing, struck silent because speaking would turn into crazy shrieking......it all hits you like a huge salt-water wave from behind. Then life goes on pause while you cry it out, talk it through, do whatever it takes to re-surface from the drowning that is grief.
So I'll agree - it was hard. Being together with the entire family but feeling his absence like a knife in my stomach was hard. Making sure all the details for the service were in place, yet knowing all along why we were doing those things was hard. The finality of people arriving at the chapel, the service actually happening, seeing and welcoming old friends for a terrible, terrible reason was hard. It was also beautiful, comforting, and a blessing. Because those friends weren't just there for him. They were there for us. That part of celebrating and remembering someone's life is amazing. You see each other and although years have taken their toll on the physical appearance, the jokes, personalities, and love you've had for these friends immediately resurfaces. Then you promise to get together again soon and not let so much time pass.
All of that was hard. But you know what's even harder? After. The service ends, the friends go to their homes, the visiting with family ends, we head home, and......nothing. Nothing to look forward to. Waking up and thinking "why?" The hammer of ALONE FOREVER hitting me in the head again and again. Convincing myself to do chores and catch up on TV and try to enjoy the pool when I'd rather sit in my bathrobe and stare.
It's a kaleidoscope of feelings - twisting toward resigned, happy memories, sadness, anger, despair, etc. etc. And there are no "stages" (sorry, Ms. Ross). There is more a gumbo of different feelings that swim around and attack you when you suspect it least.
So - go ahead, tell me how I will feel. At least I'll know that someone else has been there and knows how hard it is, and that it hits without warning. If I'm crying, talk to me anyway, that's better than being alone forever. And if it happens to you, or to someone close to you - remember: It'll be hard.
Truer words were never spoken.
Monday, June 10, 2013
No right or wrong......right? 6/10/13
Please just keep telling me there is no right or wrong way to handle this. If I laugh at something, I feel guilty. If I eat, I feel guilty. If I haven't teared up or cried in a while, I feel guilty. I am not the picture of a woman whose husband has just died suddenly and young.
Well, maybe not. If you count the obsessiveness over the event and surroundings, then maybe I am. If you count the blank staring time, yeah, maybe. If you count the very act of sitting and typing these words to try to make myself feel better - I am a picture, just not a typical one. But what is typical?
Everyone says "Do what you feel". "Go back to work when you feel ready". On and on, emphasizing that our personalities are all different and what is right for one person may not be right for another. At least society has come that far. I want to get back to normal, I just don't want to stumble along the way. But I probably will.
I just want to be me. I like attention, but not this kind. I am held together and propelled onward, however, by the fact that people have reached out to me with cards, food, gift cards, flowers, and facebook messages. Now that they are slowing down, I keep looking for more. Is that wrong? Oh yeah, no right, no wrong - right?
There's too much when this happens. Too much to do, too much that I think is expected, too much to share, too much to keep in. Too much exhaustion and too much of being wired with no sleep. Too much food. Too many fears. I just don't know what to do with all the too.
I worry for my kids. Not about them, they are strong and wonderful. But for them. Does that make sense?
This morning, someone posted a Sondheim song on facebook - "Losing My Mind". I guess the song is about a wanna-be affair, but what a message! I wake up, I think of you. I eat breakfast, I think of you......sometimes I just stand still, not moving......and I think of you. Truth.
I consider a night of sleep without taking a pill a victory.
Crying in the grocery store is ok, right?
Three weeks yesterday. Time just goes on, and time has no idea that my husband is gone.
A little something is wrong with one of the cars - I feel his absence as if someone has ripped out my insides.
I'm starting to feel tired. I've been standing, walking, working, talking, decision-making, questioning, researching, communicating......living but without the joy.......and it's become exhausting. I think people are worried about me if I'm alone, but I need to be alone a little bit. I feel all the work weighing down on me, like the world on Atlas. I need peaceful rest. It will be four weeks in a couple days, and I feel as if every muscle has been clenched since it happened.
The sadness is a stealthy attacker. I tried to go see a movie. One of the previews was something we would have wanted to see together - and I realized I would never see a movie with him again. Crying during previews - not usually done. Not wrong, because nothing is wrong......right?
I've realized a lot of things will never happen again. I've realized that now - when shock and grief is as fresh as the dawn - you accomplish all the things that need to get done with the help of loving family and friends. I've realized that songs are going to make me cry. Seeing certain items in the grocery store is going to make me cry. Typing about crying will make me cry. But the main thing I've realized is that when you love someone as much as I loved him, you miss them every day, hour, and second of your life when they are gone. I don't think this will change once a year has gone by, instead of just a month. Sorry. If I'm driving, laughing, doing laundry, teaching, talking on the phone, shopping........anything.......I miss him. I'll love him for all of my life. Good thing that can't be wrong.
Well, maybe not. If you count the obsessiveness over the event and surroundings, then maybe I am. If you count the blank staring time, yeah, maybe. If you count the very act of sitting and typing these words to try to make myself feel better - I am a picture, just not a typical one. But what is typical?
Everyone says "Do what you feel". "Go back to work when you feel ready". On and on, emphasizing that our personalities are all different and what is right for one person may not be right for another. At least society has come that far. I want to get back to normal, I just don't want to stumble along the way. But I probably will.
I just want to be me. I like attention, but not this kind. I am held together and propelled onward, however, by the fact that people have reached out to me with cards, food, gift cards, flowers, and facebook messages. Now that they are slowing down, I keep looking for more. Is that wrong? Oh yeah, no right, no wrong - right?
There's too much when this happens. Too much to do, too much that I think is expected, too much to share, too much to keep in. Too much exhaustion and too much of being wired with no sleep. Too much food. Too many fears. I just don't know what to do with all the too.
I worry for my kids. Not about them, they are strong and wonderful. But for them. Does that make sense?
This morning, someone posted a Sondheim song on facebook - "Losing My Mind". I guess the song is about a wanna-be affair, but what a message! I wake up, I think of you. I eat breakfast, I think of you......sometimes I just stand still, not moving......and I think of you. Truth.
I consider a night of sleep without taking a pill a victory.
Crying in the grocery store is ok, right?
Three weeks yesterday. Time just goes on, and time has no idea that my husband is gone.
A little something is wrong with one of the cars - I feel his absence as if someone has ripped out my insides.
I'm starting to feel tired. I've been standing, walking, working, talking, decision-making, questioning, researching, communicating......living but without the joy.......and it's become exhausting. I think people are worried about me if I'm alone, but I need to be alone a little bit. I feel all the work weighing down on me, like the world on Atlas. I need peaceful rest. It will be four weeks in a couple days, and I feel as if every muscle has been clenched since it happened.
The sadness is a stealthy attacker. I tried to go see a movie. One of the previews was something we would have wanted to see together - and I realized I would never see a movie with him again. Crying during previews - not usually done. Not wrong, because nothing is wrong......right?
I've realized a lot of things will never happen again. I've realized that now - when shock and grief is as fresh as the dawn - you accomplish all the things that need to get done with the help of loving family and friends. I've realized that songs are going to make me cry. Seeing certain items in the grocery store is going to make me cry. Typing about crying will make me cry. But the main thing I've realized is that when you love someone as much as I loved him, you miss them every day, hour, and second of your life when they are gone. I don't think this will change once a year has gone by, instead of just a month. Sorry. If I'm driving, laughing, doing laundry, teaching, talking on the phone, shopping........anything.......I miss him. I'll love him for all of my life. Good thing that can't be wrong.
Sunday, May 5, 2013
Piece by piece...... 5/5/13
I bought a raffle ticket for a beautiful quilt back in February. Either I didn't win, or they haven't had the drawing yet, I don't even remember. I just know that it was a good cause and it was pretty. Even though there are no quilts actually covering any of the beds in my house, I really love them. The designs, the fine stitching, the stories of how quilting served a social and practical purpose in history; all of that is fascinating to me.
I personally have only ever made one quilt square. The ladies of the church each constructed a square. The squares were then sewn together and quilted with batting and backing as a gift for the departing preacher's wife. I don't know if my square held up or not, but the final product was very nice - especially when I compared it in my mind to my one raw-edged square.
Since I have lived in a few different places, I think and reminisce about friends all over the world quite often. Certain people are just strongholds to me. Others are acquaintances with whom it is fun to laugh and joke. Many of my friends were my students at one time. I still feel that I have the role of encourager to them - even though they are well-grown with families of their own. The way that everyone you know is connected to you is unique - like a quilt.
Imagine a weekend morning where you stayed in bed a little longer, all cozy. You know the comforting weight of the covers that keep your body warm? That is your daily network - everyone that is a part of your routine. Co-workers, teachers, students, the same worker where you buy your coffee every day.....they hold us in place and keep us steady.
The beautiful, spread-out, cool section of the quilt - you know, you kick out and run your foot under it every now and then - is the part of our network that remains with us even though we have moved on. The cousins, friends from school, the ones from our first job, the former students, the other parents from when your own children were young; they remain a part of our covering even years later.
What about the corners of the quilt? You know that there are the people that you knew, spent time with and laughed with, yet you are only in contact with them if you there is a tragedy or a need. They are beautiful, helpful members of your quilt - they just don't receive as much wear from you.
Finally - that part of the covers that you pull up next to your face to snuggle? That is the part of your quilt that you need daily - your family, your best friends, the ones that help you with problems ranging from running out of eggs to serious illness or job struggles. All of us need those who are the always-there, constant people in our lives, and we feel cold and uncomfortable without them.
My quilt is beautiful. It's also unique. Everyone's is unique! I am thankful for all the friends and influences I have had in my life - and I am going to keep trying to smooth and take care of the snugly part of my quilt - as well as to straighten and appreciate the corners and everyone in-between.
I personally have only ever made one quilt square. The ladies of the church each constructed a square. The squares were then sewn together and quilted with batting and backing as a gift for the departing preacher's wife. I don't know if my square held up or not, but the final product was very nice - especially when I compared it in my mind to my one raw-edged square.
Since I have lived in a few different places, I think and reminisce about friends all over the world quite often. Certain people are just strongholds to me. Others are acquaintances with whom it is fun to laugh and joke. Many of my friends were my students at one time. I still feel that I have the role of encourager to them - even though they are well-grown with families of their own. The way that everyone you know is connected to you is unique - like a quilt.
Imagine a weekend morning where you stayed in bed a little longer, all cozy. You know the comforting weight of the covers that keep your body warm? That is your daily network - everyone that is a part of your routine. Co-workers, teachers, students, the same worker where you buy your coffee every day.....they hold us in place and keep us steady.
The beautiful, spread-out, cool section of the quilt - you know, you kick out and run your foot under it every now and then - is the part of our network that remains with us even though we have moved on. The cousins, friends from school, the ones from our first job, the former students, the other parents from when your own children were young; they remain a part of our covering even years later.
What about the corners of the quilt? You know that there are the people that you knew, spent time with and laughed with, yet you are only in contact with them if you there is a tragedy or a need. They are beautiful, helpful members of your quilt - they just don't receive as much wear from you.
Finally - that part of the covers that you pull up next to your face to snuggle? That is the part of your quilt that you need daily - your family, your best friends, the ones that help you with problems ranging from running out of eggs to serious illness or job struggles. All of us need those who are the always-there, constant people in our lives, and we feel cold and uncomfortable without them.
My quilt is beautiful. It's also unique. Everyone's is unique! I am thankful for all the friends and influences I have had in my life - and I am going to keep trying to smooth and take care of the snugly part of my quilt - as well as to straighten and appreciate the corners and everyone in-between.
Saturday, April 27, 2013
"Did you know that student over there is banging his head on the table?" 4/27/13
Yes, there was some head-banging happening. Not hard enough to hurt, just enough to show off. Four teachers had tried to talk to this student about the issue, but he would just scream and cry. The main teacher of the student faces this behavior from this same student almost every day. We know the personality well enough to let them calm down a bit first, then take care of whatever may be wrong, or may have been done wrong.
At the place where I teach, there is a discipline "program" that we follow. Let's call it "***". *** involves rewards for positive behavior. Many teacher hours go into creating guidelines for behavior in every area of the school; as well as the challenge of constantly being urged to come up with "new, fresh and exciting" rewards. *** just doesn't work. It also has given administrative staff the freedom to look at a teacher and say "you need to handle this yourself".
Now, before I expound upon a subject that is not only part of my everyday life, but what I feel is a huge contributor to the greater wrongs in this world, I will at least specify where my experience lies. I teach elementary music, grades kindergarten through fifth, in a public school in a very large district in Texas. Our school population for those ages I teach is a little over nine hundred. You may not get the impression from this particular post that I enjoy my career, but I do. I think I'm very good at a) teaching music basics, b) understanding little ones, respecting and meeting their needs, when possible, and c) using humor and structure to keep order within my classroom.
It's not just bad or ineffective parents that are creating the little ones of today with the "sense of entitlement" and plain old bad manners. Our schools, starting at the top echelon of each district, are bent on insisting that bad behavior of students is on the decrease. Programs such as **** serve one purpose - to lower the number of office referrals. In other words, students that misbehave no longer face consequences. Therefore, those acts of misbehavior do not become part of the record.
The old-fashioned among you (I include myself) may ask - "What is the purpose of not punishing wrong-doers? Isn't our whole society based on the concept of law and order?" You may disbelieve what I am telling you: that teachers are left to creatively discipline every child for every offense, without any backup or higher consequence. And yes, it is definitely not a true statement that NOBODY gets in trouble. If another child is harmed, there are consequences. If other parents call and complain about things their innocent child is a witness to, or worse, subjected to, steps are taken. If it makes the news, a consequence is part of the press release. In a nutshell - most things fly under the radar these days, without any serious repercussion for most serious misbehavior. Is it any wonder that some of our young adults that are facing the challenge of mental illness feel more free to act out with violence?
I did a little research - very little, I might add. I don't know to whom state education agencies are held accountable. The federal government, for monetary aid? The taxpayers and voters? I do know, simply by checking a few state education agency websites, that the public can view the discipline data by district, broken down by offense, race, and economics. Therefore, it is clear that every school district reports its "dirty laundry" - expulsions, felonious offenses, assault of faculty, even truants and in-school suspensions - to its governing state agency every year.
Can you imagine the picture of the superintendent of each district lining up at a confession booth? Every suit and tie business person that runs a district stepping in one at a time to confess the 'sins' of their children? Of course, that's just imagery on my part. But it is all reported. There is paperwork to be done, computer reports to submit, and, eventually, one grand table to be filled in on the state website, for all to see. Do the results affect anything at a state level? My research didn't give a clear answer. But when I checked the Texas Education Agency's website for discipline subjects, I did find a link to the Texas Education Code, Chapter 37, which charges each district to have a code of conduct that specifies everything that could lead to removal from the classroom up to expulsion. The terms are general, when you look from a elementary viewpoint. (They also have a misspelled word, which disturbs me on a completely different level.) I truly believe, with the wording being as general as it is in "Chapter 37", that those discipline reports could be used against a district when it came to funding decisions. A school district's best bet is to look as perfect as possible.
Perfect? With children? Children are not perfect. They run indoors, they push and hit each other, they interrupt adults, they lie, they show their privates to others, they pitch screaming kicking fits, they peel paint off walls and trash restrooms. That's just what I could say with one breath. I've been teaching for twenty-three years. I'm not being mean - those are the bare facts! Most children used to be taught to control the afore-mentioned impulses before attending school, but that's where times have changed. With the advent of more and more working parents and electronic entertainment, over half of a new kindergarten class does not know how to look at an adult and speak their first and last name. I'm not talking about shyness, I'm talking about social skills. Instead of being nurtured, experienced in public behavior, learning to sit quietly while be talked to or read to, and having some small responsibilities of which they can be proud of accomplishing, many new kindergarten age (5 years old) students cannot speak their name, do not know if they are a boy or a girl, and cannot walk around the corner to use the restroom alone. Instead of teaching them to start reading and counting and sorting, the first nine weeks of school are used to teach social skills.
Do I have the perfect answer? Of course not, or I would be in every state capital, selling my "method" to every state agency for the big bucks, like so many other companies and individuals out there. I've heard and used many methods in all my years. Most of them are a re-bottling of a college class I took in 1983, called Educational Psychology. The only new things I learned after that were the changing acronyms and certain gang information that I didn't learn in college! I know from experience, though, when the shark got jumped. I know what caused things to head down the wrong path. It is simply the fact that consequences were removed for general bad behavior. If a child is nothing but talkative, the teacher must deal with it. Silent lunch, take recess, sit apart, simple little things. For a very talkative child (yes, he may need medication, but no teacher can even imply that....or say anything if he is supposed to get it, but doesn't!) those consequences accomplish nothing. If sending him home would go on that state record, it doesn't happen! That child is free, with only small results, to keep all the other children in the classroom distracted. Children today are learning that breaking little rules doesn't matter.
My heart goes out to our children that have severe problems, diagnoses, whatever their challenge may be. The child that was banging their head on the table had gotten caught in a lie and was upset with himself. I did go talk to him (again), managed to let him know I would be fair with him when he settled himself and we resolved the issue about thirty minutes later. This child was a ten-year-old. As I said, I am kind to all and respect them as people even though they are little. I also manage to keep the terrible behaviors at bay with humor, kindness, a little wisdom (a good seating chart works wonders!!) and a little help from my friends! But I mourn the loss of the day when teachers, administrators, parents and the community worked as one to make sure that children learned how to behave correctly before they went on to middle school or high school. I fear that there will be many more violent lessons before we regain the strength and fortitude to actually discipline. I pray I'm wrong.
At the place where I teach, there is a discipline "program" that we follow. Let's call it "***". *** involves rewards for positive behavior. Many teacher hours go into creating guidelines for behavior in every area of the school; as well as the challenge of constantly being urged to come up with "new, fresh and exciting" rewards. *** just doesn't work. It also has given administrative staff the freedom to look at a teacher and say "you need to handle this yourself".
Now, before I expound upon a subject that is not only part of my everyday life, but what I feel is a huge contributor to the greater wrongs in this world, I will at least specify where my experience lies. I teach elementary music, grades kindergarten through fifth, in a public school in a very large district in Texas. Our school population for those ages I teach is a little over nine hundred. You may not get the impression from this particular post that I enjoy my career, but I do. I think I'm very good at a) teaching music basics, b) understanding little ones, respecting and meeting their needs, when possible, and c) using humor and structure to keep order within my classroom.
It's not just bad or ineffective parents that are creating the little ones of today with the "sense of entitlement" and plain old bad manners. Our schools, starting at the top echelon of each district, are bent on insisting that bad behavior of students is on the decrease. Programs such as **** serve one purpose - to lower the number of office referrals. In other words, students that misbehave no longer face consequences. Therefore, those acts of misbehavior do not become part of the record.
The old-fashioned among you (I include myself) may ask - "What is the purpose of not punishing wrong-doers? Isn't our whole society based on the concept of law and order?" You may disbelieve what I am telling you: that teachers are left to creatively discipline every child for every offense, without any backup or higher consequence. And yes, it is definitely not a true statement that NOBODY gets in trouble. If another child is harmed, there are consequences. If other parents call and complain about things their innocent child is a witness to, or worse, subjected to, steps are taken. If it makes the news, a consequence is part of the press release. In a nutshell - most things fly under the radar these days, without any serious repercussion for most serious misbehavior. Is it any wonder that some of our young adults that are facing the challenge of mental illness feel more free to act out with violence?
I did a little research - very little, I might add. I don't know to whom state education agencies are held accountable. The federal government, for monetary aid? The taxpayers and voters? I do know, simply by checking a few state education agency websites, that the public can view the discipline data by district, broken down by offense, race, and economics. Therefore, it is clear that every school district reports its "dirty laundry" - expulsions, felonious offenses, assault of faculty, even truants and in-school suspensions - to its governing state agency every year.
Can you imagine the picture of the superintendent of each district lining up at a confession booth? Every suit and tie business person that runs a district stepping in one at a time to confess the 'sins' of their children? Of course, that's just imagery on my part. But it is all reported. There is paperwork to be done, computer reports to submit, and, eventually, one grand table to be filled in on the state website, for all to see. Do the results affect anything at a state level? My research didn't give a clear answer. But when I checked the Texas Education Agency's website for discipline subjects, I did find a link to the Texas Education Code, Chapter 37, which charges each district to have a code of conduct that specifies everything that could lead to removal from the classroom up to expulsion. The terms are general, when you look from a elementary viewpoint. (They also have a misspelled word, which disturbs me on a completely different level.) I truly believe, with the wording being as general as it is in "Chapter 37", that those discipline reports could be used against a district when it came to funding decisions. A school district's best bet is to look as perfect as possible.
Perfect? With children? Children are not perfect. They run indoors, they push and hit each other, they interrupt adults, they lie, they show their privates to others, they pitch screaming kicking fits, they peel paint off walls and trash restrooms. That's just what I could say with one breath. I've been teaching for twenty-three years. I'm not being mean - those are the bare facts! Most children used to be taught to control the afore-mentioned impulses before attending school, but that's where times have changed. With the advent of more and more working parents and electronic entertainment, over half of a new kindergarten class does not know how to look at an adult and speak their first and last name. I'm not talking about shyness, I'm talking about social skills. Instead of being nurtured, experienced in public behavior, learning to sit quietly while be talked to or read to, and having some small responsibilities of which they can be proud of accomplishing, many new kindergarten age (5 years old) students cannot speak their name, do not know if they are a boy or a girl, and cannot walk around the corner to use the restroom alone. Instead of teaching them to start reading and counting and sorting, the first nine weeks of school are used to teach social skills.
Do I have the perfect answer? Of course not, or I would be in every state capital, selling my "method" to every state agency for the big bucks, like so many other companies and individuals out there. I've heard and used many methods in all my years. Most of them are a re-bottling of a college class I took in 1983, called Educational Psychology. The only new things I learned after that were the changing acronyms and certain gang information that I didn't learn in college! I know from experience, though, when the shark got jumped. I know what caused things to head down the wrong path. It is simply the fact that consequences were removed for general bad behavior. If a child is nothing but talkative, the teacher must deal with it. Silent lunch, take recess, sit apart, simple little things. For a very talkative child (yes, he may need medication, but no teacher can even imply that....or say anything if he is supposed to get it, but doesn't!) those consequences accomplish nothing. If sending him home would go on that state record, it doesn't happen! That child is free, with only small results, to keep all the other children in the classroom distracted. Children today are learning that breaking little rules doesn't matter.
My heart goes out to our children that have severe problems, diagnoses, whatever their challenge may be. The child that was banging their head on the table had gotten caught in a lie and was upset with himself. I did go talk to him (again), managed to let him know I would be fair with him when he settled himself and we resolved the issue about thirty minutes later. This child was a ten-year-old. As I said, I am kind to all and respect them as people even though they are little. I also manage to keep the terrible behaviors at bay with humor, kindness, a little wisdom (a good seating chart works wonders!!) and a little help from my friends! But I mourn the loss of the day when teachers, administrators, parents and the community worked as one to make sure that children learned how to behave correctly before they went on to middle school or high school. I fear that there will be many more violent lessons before we regain the strength and fortitude to actually discipline. I pray I'm wrong.
Wednesday, April 3, 2013
I'm not who I used to be - but why? 4/3/13
I'M NOT WHO I USED TO BE!!!
I may see you after 20 to 30 years, at a reunion, or while visiting my family. I look older, not skinny anymore, and the face - still smiley. The makeup still done. The rings, bracelets, earrings - still the same style. But you don't know me. I am not who I used to be.
I may have the same smile, the same laugh, and the same old eyes. But I'm not that person anymore. I keep that sweet, innocent, faith-that-could-change-the-world girl in a special place in my heart. Every now and then, she has to surface. It may be to comfort someone, it may be to fake it through a conversation, or it may be to defuse a situation with her peaceful, positive attitude. But she stays put away unless needed. She is not who I am anymore.
What changed? Whose fault is it? I have tried to analyze it so many times. Was it moving a lot? Was it having children? Was it family? Friends? Church people? Disappointments? The answer is yes. As I have traveled the road from youth through middle age, everything has affected my beliefs and my core values. Some things that I would have condemned when I was young are now things that I can not only accept, but stand for.
What I wonder is - does this happen in every generation? Could a 16-year-old that was raised with slavery turn into a 50-year-old that ran an equal opportunity business? Did a 20-year-old that campaigned for prohibition later become a middle-aged social drinker? I'm sure it did happen. And so...I am one of the ones that has changed. But what about those that don't? Really- what's it like to be one of those people?
I have many friends on a certain social network that are from my high school days. I sometimes take a "stalker-ish" look at their particular page to see if they've changed like I have. Sometimes I don't need to look. Some of them are still saying, endorsing, and espousing the same ideas and doctrines that we were fed in high school. Some of them still have that change-the-world faith. I'm a bit jealous of them in particular. Others drop hints that they too, have changed. Others declare it openly. I just wonder how I "landed" in the changed group.
"Jaded" - an older word, meaning hardened, cynical, negative. Am I jaded? I hope not. My career allows me to be a positive influence on little children all day long. I couldn't manage that successfully if I were jaded. But then something happens. A little five-year-old girl tells me that mom and dad were fighting all night and dad threw mom down to the ground. A nine-year-old boy tells me that his new step dad doesn't like him and makes him do chores from the time he gets home from school until bedtime. The special beast that is the preteen almost-middle-schooler learns to get attention by putting down others hurtfully and publicly. I always jump in and help, bridge, strive to foster healing. It's my instinct. But every instance over the years has taken away my innocence and belief that I can change the world. Therein lies the problem. As individuals, we cannot change the world.
I think part of my answer (to the "how did I end up this way? question) has come to me while sharing these thoughts. The blind faith gains sight - or insight - into particular situations when they cross my path. And I - I do the grown-up thing and allow these situations to change me in the way I think honors and protects the precious souls and feelings of the individuals in this world that receive hurt after hurt. Whether those individuals are children or adults, I think I owe them fairness. And kindness. And a listening ear and understanding heart. I owe them love. And if love has been what changed me, so be it.
I may see you after 20 to 30 years, at a reunion, or while visiting my family. I look older, not skinny anymore, and the face - still smiley. The makeup still done. The rings, bracelets, earrings - still the same style. But you don't know me. I am not who I used to be.
I may have the same smile, the same laugh, and the same old eyes. But I'm not that person anymore. I keep that sweet, innocent, faith-that-could-change-the-world girl in a special place in my heart. Every now and then, she has to surface. It may be to comfort someone, it may be to fake it through a conversation, or it may be to defuse a situation with her peaceful, positive attitude. But she stays put away unless needed. She is not who I am anymore.
What changed? Whose fault is it? I have tried to analyze it so many times. Was it moving a lot? Was it having children? Was it family? Friends? Church people? Disappointments? The answer is yes. As I have traveled the road from youth through middle age, everything has affected my beliefs and my core values. Some things that I would have condemned when I was young are now things that I can not only accept, but stand for.
What I wonder is - does this happen in every generation? Could a 16-year-old that was raised with slavery turn into a 50-year-old that ran an equal opportunity business? Did a 20-year-old that campaigned for prohibition later become a middle-aged social drinker? I'm sure it did happen. And so...I am one of the ones that has changed. But what about those that don't? Really- what's it like to be one of those people?
I have many friends on a certain social network that are from my high school days. I sometimes take a "stalker-ish" look at their particular page to see if they've changed like I have. Sometimes I don't need to look. Some of them are still saying, endorsing, and espousing the same ideas and doctrines that we were fed in high school. Some of them still have that change-the-world faith. I'm a bit jealous of them in particular. Others drop hints that they too, have changed. Others declare it openly. I just wonder how I "landed" in the changed group.
"Jaded" - an older word, meaning hardened, cynical, negative. Am I jaded? I hope not. My career allows me to be a positive influence on little children all day long. I couldn't manage that successfully if I were jaded. But then something happens. A little five-year-old girl tells me that mom and dad were fighting all night and dad threw mom down to the ground. A nine-year-old boy tells me that his new step dad doesn't like him and makes him do chores from the time he gets home from school until bedtime. The special beast that is the preteen almost-middle-schooler learns to get attention by putting down others hurtfully and publicly. I always jump in and help, bridge, strive to foster healing. It's my instinct. But every instance over the years has taken away my innocence and belief that I can change the world. Therein lies the problem. As individuals, we cannot change the world.
I think part of my answer (to the "how did I end up this way? question) has come to me while sharing these thoughts. The blind faith gains sight - or insight - into particular situations when they cross my path. And I - I do the grown-up thing and allow these situations to change me in the way I think honors and protects the precious souls and feelings of the individuals in this world that receive hurt after hurt. Whether those individuals are children or adults, I think I owe them fairness. And kindness. And a listening ear and understanding heart. I owe them love. And if love has been what changed me, so be it.
Monday, March 25, 2013
You can try not to keep score - but SOMEBODY wins! 3/25/13
I watched "This is 40" last night. OK, I'm a little behind, because my husband and I could make "This is 50"! What really hit me when the movie was almost over was how everybody has problems. We are trained from an early age to make appearances be as perfect as possible. We should project that we have it all together - personally and as a family. I myself have always subscribed to this line of thinking. "Just don't embarrass me" has always been the bottom line for discipline. We should always seem successful. We should never admit that anything wrong or shameful has happened. The more I think about this, the more I am convinced that successful people and families in America are 50% exaggerators and 50% liars. I fall into both categories, thank you very much.
Sharing time at work: "My daughter is in Ireland on a school grant from Yale." "I have another grandchild on the way!" "My son made varsity baseball." "I finished my graduate work with a 4.0!"
All those comments - how many are 100% true? What can I raise my hand and say? I've got some successes - but there have been ventures that have not been as successful as well - I'm afraid I'll hear throat clearing from the back of the room if I only tell half the story!
Why do we feel the need to present ourselves as superior? I watched my first grade class line up to leave my room today. Almost every child walked as fast as they could to be in front of as many people as they could. In three separate instances, someone got pushed. Does it date back to the watering hole? Is our competitive nature the survival skill that has gotten the human race the furthest? I believe so. We like to win. We like to brag. It's in the nature of small children. So I guess the question is - "How do you balance winning and feeling superior without acting totally obnoxious?"
Taking away the win is not the answer. Oh, they are trying these days. What about those "fair, fun, positive" sports leagues where nobody keeps scores and nobody ever wins? Yeah, that doesn't work. They are just setting those kids up for emotional problems later. Know why? Someone usually wins! Let those kids grow up trying out for the school team, running for student council, auditioning for the musical, applying for the scholarships, going on the job interviews.......SOMEBODY WINS!
So how do we balance it? The lying, boasting human ego? I don't have the answer, in case you wondered. I taught my children not to brag, but then I had to re-teach them to be confident and "go for the goal". I listen to the sharing at work and just remind myself that I'm only hearing half the story; that those people probably have some life events that they would never share in a million years, just as I do.
The best advice I can give is to have a friend that knows the truth. A good friend that knows the warts along with the beauty. And when things get overwhelming, just have dinner with that friend and laugh at all the other people's warts, while knowing that your own are showing just as plainly.
Sharing time at work: "My daughter is in Ireland on a school grant from Yale." "I have another grandchild on the way!" "My son made varsity baseball." "I finished my graduate work with a 4.0!"
All those comments - how many are 100% true? What can I raise my hand and say? I've got some successes - but there have been ventures that have not been as successful as well - I'm afraid I'll hear throat clearing from the back of the room if I only tell half the story!
Why do we feel the need to present ourselves as superior? I watched my first grade class line up to leave my room today. Almost every child walked as fast as they could to be in front of as many people as they could. In three separate instances, someone got pushed. Does it date back to the watering hole? Is our competitive nature the survival skill that has gotten the human race the furthest? I believe so. We like to win. We like to brag. It's in the nature of small children. So I guess the question is - "How do you balance winning and feeling superior without acting totally obnoxious?"
Taking away the win is not the answer. Oh, they are trying these days. What about those "fair, fun, positive" sports leagues where nobody keeps scores and nobody ever wins? Yeah, that doesn't work. They are just setting those kids up for emotional problems later. Know why? Someone usually wins! Let those kids grow up trying out for the school team, running for student council, auditioning for the musical, applying for the scholarships, going on the job interviews.......SOMEBODY WINS!
So how do we balance it? The lying, boasting human ego? I don't have the answer, in case you wondered. I taught my children not to brag, but then I had to re-teach them to be confident and "go for the goal". I listen to the sharing at work and just remind myself that I'm only hearing half the story; that those people probably have some life events that they would never share in a million years, just as I do.
The best advice I can give is to have a friend that knows the truth. A good friend that knows the warts along with the beauty. And when things get overwhelming, just have dinner with that friend and laugh at all the other people's warts, while knowing that your own are showing just as plainly.
Saturday, March 23, 2013
But Peeps have always been yummy!! 3/23/13
Yummy - that's what I thought of Peeps. Yes, Peeps - the marshmallow treats, chicks and bunnies, pastel colors, most people only buy them for the Easter baskets because they're pretty. I even joined the "Peeps fan club" once upon a time. I've got the t-shirt, cap and member card to prove it! But I was crushed this week when I bought a box of Peeps and tried to eat a few on the way home (car calories don't count, right?) - they tasted like cardboard! How could this have happened? I was the Peep queen - my mom would mail them to me when I was in college! When I lived in England, I learned the term "gone off". It means you don't like something anymore. "I've gone off Chinese food since it made me sick..." I guess I've gone off Peeps. Have they changed? Is it my taste buds? Did I simply age out of the marshmallow/sugar taste? Why can't things stay yummy?
Yummy was Easter with little four and six-year-old girls. They had beautiful new dresses with white buckle shoes and lacy socks. They truly believed that the Easter bunny had eaten those carrots and left those dirt prints on the carpet. They went to church with me and listened and bowed their little heads to pray. They ran all over the back garden after church, hunting the eggs that Dad had hidden, the older sister helping the younger one, and even sharing with her. Those were yummy years.
I suppose I would have gone off the four and six-year-old age had we managed to get stuck there. Anything can grow old. As I write this, I'm thinking "What's yummy about the college age kid?" There are answers. True answers. The college age kid has to do their work on their own and make decent grades. That's happening. And it's yummy. It's just not as cute or frilly or fun. The college age kid has to decide what kind of adult they are going to be.....no small task in today's world. I find it extremely yummy that my 18 and 20-year-old girls always find themselves on the fair side of any issue. Right now, they are almost fair to the point of being liberal bleeding hearts, but that's college kids, eh? Those are the kind of people that can end up making a difference in this world, and I'm so pleased to see that little truths I taught them at ages four and six have matured into caring, sensitive attitudes-sometimes mixed with outspokenness and activism-at ages eighteen and twenty.
So, come to think of it, there is still some yummy around here - it's just a much more mature flavor of yummy that the child-like sweets. I've gone off a few more things besides Peeps in the past fifteen years, but I will never go off loving my children and the adults that they are becoming. I can only hope that they find their own yummy - in every stage of their lives. Happy Easter, everyone.
Yummy was Easter with little four and six-year-old girls. They had beautiful new dresses with white buckle shoes and lacy socks. They truly believed that the Easter bunny had eaten those carrots and left those dirt prints on the carpet. They went to church with me and listened and bowed their little heads to pray. They ran all over the back garden after church, hunting the eggs that Dad had hidden, the older sister helping the younger one, and even sharing with her. Those were yummy years.
I suppose I would have gone off the four and six-year-old age had we managed to get stuck there. Anything can grow old. As I write this, I'm thinking "What's yummy about the college age kid?" There are answers. True answers. The college age kid has to do their work on their own and make decent grades. That's happening. And it's yummy. It's just not as cute or frilly or fun. The college age kid has to decide what kind of adult they are going to be.....no small task in today's world. I find it extremely yummy that my 18 and 20-year-old girls always find themselves on the fair side of any issue. Right now, they are almost fair to the point of being liberal bleeding hearts, but that's college kids, eh? Those are the kind of people that can end up making a difference in this world, and I'm so pleased to see that little truths I taught them at ages four and six have matured into caring, sensitive attitudes-sometimes mixed with outspokenness and activism-at ages eighteen and twenty.
So, come to think of it, there is still some yummy around here - it's just a much more mature flavor of yummy that the child-like sweets. I've gone off a few more things besides Peeps in the past fifteen years, but I will never go off loving my children and the adults that they are becoming. I can only hope that they find their own yummy - in every stage of their lives. Happy Easter, everyone.
Sunday, March 17, 2013
Spring Break doesn't mean you have to break something! 3/17/13
I walked out this morning to warn the next-door kids to watch out. They were riding bikes and scooters in the cul-de-sac, swarming everywhere like bees. When I told them that a wrecker was bringing one of our cars to the house, the nine-year-old girls' face lit up with curiosity. "What happened?" "Why won't it go?" "What were they doing?" Evidently, my college-age daughter's experiences are like an episode of 'Gossip Girl' in her eyes.
You see, college-age kid (I'll call her '18') went to Galveston Beach with three other college-age kids. Spring Break. No "gone wild", but kids, probably some beer, cars, bikinis, sun, waves.....it's an eternal theme. So, 18 thought that since everyone was driving onto the sand, she could, too. She knew not to drive on loose sand, but somehow got stuck anyway. When you're a teenager and get stuck - and somebody offers to help, you say yes. Some big pickup truck tried to loosen the car from the rear - and the front bumper got caught on the sand and came off. Well, mostly off. It was hanging loose with a lot of broken plastic underneath.
18 was wise enough to call me at that point, when there is evidence, my kids always know to own up right away. What could I say, but "tie it back on and come home"? Unfortunately the car shut itself down - some electrical issue, no doubt - and they ended up stuck on the side of the road. We had roadside assistance tow it to a friend's house, because the 80 miles to home would have cost over $200. I drove the hour down there to pick up the crew and delivered them all safely home.
Hubby is always away when these things happen, so he sends decisive answers at 3 am by e-mail. "She takes your truck back to school. Pay to have car towed home. You drive other car." Short and sweet. I like it that way, because it makes me think that he took the news very calmly.
I sent her back to school in her sister's car, and found a tow for under 200. So when I saw the swarm of bikers, I knew I had to not only warn them to be careful, I had to get that little zinger in to their dad- "Enjoy the bike years, they're over before you know it!" Based on how interested his daughter was in the college kid's exploits, he had better stay on top of things - you keep looking out through the same old eyes, but life changes mighty fast.
You see, college-age kid (I'll call her '18') went to Galveston Beach with three other college-age kids. Spring Break. No "gone wild", but kids, probably some beer, cars, bikinis, sun, waves.....it's an eternal theme. So, 18 thought that since everyone was driving onto the sand, she could, too. She knew not to drive on loose sand, but somehow got stuck anyway. When you're a teenager and get stuck - and somebody offers to help, you say yes. Some big pickup truck tried to loosen the car from the rear - and the front bumper got caught on the sand and came off. Well, mostly off. It was hanging loose with a lot of broken plastic underneath.
18 was wise enough to call me at that point, when there is evidence, my kids always know to own up right away. What could I say, but "tie it back on and come home"? Unfortunately the car shut itself down - some electrical issue, no doubt - and they ended up stuck on the side of the road. We had roadside assistance tow it to a friend's house, because the 80 miles to home would have cost over $200. I drove the hour down there to pick up the crew and delivered them all safely home.
Hubby is always away when these things happen, so he sends decisive answers at 3 am by e-mail. "She takes your truck back to school. Pay to have car towed home. You drive other car." Short and sweet. I like it that way, because it makes me think that he took the news very calmly.
I sent her back to school in her sister's car, and found a tow for under 200. So when I saw the swarm of bikers, I knew I had to not only warn them to be careful, I had to get that little zinger in to their dad- "Enjoy the bike years, they're over before you know it!" Based on how interested his daughter was in the college kid's exploits, he had better stay on top of things - you keep looking out through the same old eyes, but life changes mighty fast.
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