Got your attention right? I know, I know ... it's dramatic. Feels that way though. The past three months have been rough for so many reasons. You know those actions movies where the hero is dashing through what basically looks like the apocalypse and stuff is coming at them from all directions? Kind of like that, except that instead of the hero, I am probably the road kill off to the side of the frame.
Number one - health problems with my mom. She had what was originally thought to be heart issues (turns out her blood pressure is very erratic), so we have been dealing with that. Lots of visits to the ER, doctor appointments, and now we are finally working with home health. They come in to monitor her blood pressure and are doing physical therapy with her to improve her balance and help her deal with her osteoporosis. Folks, this woman is the poster child for osteoporosis. Honest. She is seriously a nightmare when it comes to bone density. Our neighbor read a set of her x-rays and seriously freaked out. Yup, it's that good. So we've been really busy with her health issues and Medicare.
This was also the time that my computer decided it was time to have health issues of its own. It started by doing weird little things, then moved on to major freezes and issues that had me screaming. I have a kid whose textbooks are online, which was maddening for her. I talked to a computer geek friend of mine about taking it in and basically had my face laughed in. "Babe, it's five years old! It's operating system can't handle what's out there anymore. Why throw good money after bad? Buy a new computer and send that old relic to Valhalla." Am I the only person who sometimes wants to smack their computer geek friends? So, sniffing and crying over my check book (not to mention feeling betrayed by my little green Dell ... something that may require therapy in future), I drug myself into Staples and threw myself on the mercy of my C.G.s (computer geek ... yup, I do acronyms) there. They commiserated (at least on the surface) with my trauma over being betrayed by my Dell's operating system etc., then led me by the hand to the display area. Knowing me as they do (she's a teacher guys, don't take her over to the BMW section), I was led to the sale area. "It's the last Lenovo Ultrabook of this model. They've got a new one coming out, so we've marked them down 50% to clear them out. This is the last one. You're going to save about 70% if you take this floor model though." Luckily, I'd done my homework and knew this to be a highly rated computer. So, I clapped my little hands and did the dance of joy. Gotta tell you, they love me at Staples. I think I amuse them because I like them so much. I like them so much because they take such good care of me. Always.
So, I went home with my new laptop loaded with Windows 8. I was busy with all the things you need to do when you get a new computer of course. I also had lots of end-of-the-year school assignments to do, plus several writing assignments. Suddenly, I found myself fighting over the computer with the other members of the family. No actual battles or preemptive strikes, but we did do our share of glaring over our own personal DMZ, accompanied by growls of "I need the computer now. Are you done? Yet?" That's when my daughter who is going into high school next year signed up for the school's Fast Track system. She can take online college courses (eight) the school will pay for, and get a leg up on her general education requirements etc. Okay. I went online to see if Dell had any promotions going and found a laptop for 50% off. Yup, I was feeling totally golden. So, the new baby arrived and there was peace in the land once more.
My school year ended, mercifully. This has been one of the hardest years ever. So much ugliness went on. I may post about that later, but not on this day. Our school district, like every other school district in our state, is being seriously underfunded by our state legislators. Therefore, we went to our patrons with a levy to help get us through. It was crushingly defeated by our patrons. Many of those who voted no did so because they are unhappy with our superintendent, administrators, and school board. They wanted to "send them a message." I don't know if they got any "message," but the ones left to bear the brunt of the massive cuts that had to be made were the kids and the teachers. One of the things they did was fire all the school librarians. So ... the year didn't end well at all. We keep hearing about more cuts as the summer is going on.
I made the decision that I would stay through the 2013-2014 school year (unlike many of our other teachers, who pulled up stakes and left for greener pastures), because I felt I needed to stay there for my team and finish our transition to teaching Common Core standards. I'm the curriculum member of the team, so it's pretty much my baby. It seemed cruel to walk out the door right now. So, I'll see the transition through. But, like many other savvy rats, if this ship continues to sink I am out the door.
June is ballet summer intensive month, which means driving a van load of ballerinas to Pocatello every day, My daughter got her phone stolen the second week (we got it back), which made for three very bad days. However, she loved the actual classes and she did a wonderful job in their presentation of "La Fille Mal Gardee." Can't believe they actually pull together a full scale ballet in that amount of time, but they do and it is incredible.
Said dancer then had the toenails on her little toes partially removed. Very long story involving a three year-old, jumping on a couch, springs, and nastiness. Her toenails have been deformed ever since, and we'd reached the time where they needed to be dealt with. Having dealt with them, we are now doing wound care and putting up with a dancer who is sure she is going to die because she isn't dancing.
So, that's where I've been. I still have a great deal to say about these past 3 months ... but that will come later.
Right now, I am just thankful for the AC unit we bought yesterday. When your house is 90 degrees inside, life becomes pretty grim and depressing. Everyone devolves into whiny slugs. Not pretty. Today the household climate is much better. Only the injured dancer continued to sigh deeply while lolling about. Please insert a deep sigh of my own here.
Adventurous April
Tuesday, July 2, 2013
Sunday, March 10, 2013
Returning to Sandy Hook
My thoughts have often returned to the events of Sandy Hook over the past two months. It is something I know I will never forget. It has touched me and changed me.
On Friday, we were in the middle of a teacher workday at our school. The children had the day off so teachers could finish entering trimester grades into the computer and then export them to the server to be printed. It's the type of "catch-up day" we treasure as elementary teachers.
This normal day suddenly became anything but normal when our principal came on the loudspeaker shouting "Code Red! Code Red! Code Red!" This is our lock down signal, so we immediately sprang into action. Our doors are always locked now, but we had to make sure they were tightly closed, turn off all lights, and go to our safe places in the classroom. Then silence. For twenty long minutes there was not a sound. We didn't know what was going on. Had an irate parent arrived at the school and caused a scene? Was there a felon in the area? What was going on?
Then we heard the running of feet on the second floor. This is not an area we are used to hearing noise from. It is our main storage area and the location of all the "mechanical" devices keeping our school going. But now we heard the sound of running feet ... and then shouting. Angry shouting. Obviously there was an intruder in our building!
More minutes passed, and then the sound of keys opening my door. My heart froze. Okay, they tell us that only the police will have the keys to our room. Only they will be able to unlock our doors. They tell us this ... but we know that sometimes the "bad guys" are able to do what they shouldn't be able to do. Suddenly, my door was thrown open and two men stormed inside, each with an assault rifle held at the ready. Each screaming. One turned on me and started shouting - "Hands up! Hands up! Don't move! Police!" Your mind registers the uniform, but your heart quails - are you really who you say you are?" The assault rifle was a foot from my chest. The man continued to scream at me not to move. The other officer was searching every nook and cranny of my room before yelling "All clear!" They then turned and exited the room, going to the room next door where my 67 year-old teaching partner was. "Oh God, please don't let her have a heart attack!" I thought. Once her room was cleared, she tried to come to my room and was screamed at and forced back into her room by an officer.
At this point, the thought hit me. This is what the teachers and students at Sandy Hook faced. They didn't know what was going on. They were frightened. Their last moments were lived facing down an assault rifle. I thought of my family, my daughter, all I wanted to accomplish in my life. There was no gunfire, but I was unsure what was going on. My thought was that a felon had come into our school and they were searching for him. What if he came into my now unlocked room? (I was unaware that there were policemen securing the hallways to prevent this.) I was afraid, as I knew they had been afraid. That's when the silent sobs started. My heart swelled and broke for the horror those teachers and children endured on that day. I prayed that angels were there to comfort them and hold them through this. Oh God, please tell me that You were there, holding them and loving them. Slowly, my tears eased and a feeling of calm returned. A sweet assurance came to me. He was there. Even in all that madness, He was there. Love was there ... and in the face of all that horror, love won that day. It continues to win each and every battle, for God is stronger than hate, and His love cannot be defeated.
This trial ended for us when our principal finally came on the loudspeaker and announced that we were to report to the library for a debriefing on the drill. I'm not going to go into my feelings regarding this "over-the-top" drill we experienced. That's for another day. Today I am thankful to be here and to be surrounded by my family, to sing praises to a God who loves us at our most unlovable, and to breathe the sweet, if tentative, air of springtime. I am thankful for another day ... and I am thankful for the unconquerable power of love. Even in the face of death, love remains.
On Friday, we were in the middle of a teacher workday at our school. The children had the day off so teachers could finish entering trimester grades into the computer and then export them to the server to be printed. It's the type of "catch-up day" we treasure as elementary teachers.
This normal day suddenly became anything but normal when our principal came on the loudspeaker shouting "Code Red! Code Red! Code Red!" This is our lock down signal, so we immediately sprang into action. Our doors are always locked now, but we had to make sure they were tightly closed, turn off all lights, and go to our safe places in the classroom. Then silence. For twenty long minutes there was not a sound. We didn't know what was going on. Had an irate parent arrived at the school and caused a scene? Was there a felon in the area? What was going on?
Then we heard the running of feet on the second floor. This is not an area we are used to hearing noise from. It is our main storage area and the location of all the "mechanical" devices keeping our school going. But now we heard the sound of running feet ... and then shouting. Angry shouting. Obviously there was an intruder in our building!
More minutes passed, and then the sound of keys opening my door. My heart froze. Okay, they tell us that only the police will have the keys to our room. Only they will be able to unlock our doors. They tell us this ... but we know that sometimes the "bad guys" are able to do what they shouldn't be able to do. Suddenly, my door was thrown open and two men stormed inside, each with an assault rifle held at the ready. Each screaming. One turned on me and started shouting - "Hands up! Hands up! Don't move! Police!" Your mind registers the uniform, but your heart quails - are you really who you say you are?" The assault rifle was a foot from my chest. The man continued to scream at me not to move. The other officer was searching every nook and cranny of my room before yelling "All clear!" They then turned and exited the room, going to the room next door where my 67 year-old teaching partner was. "Oh God, please don't let her have a heart attack!" I thought. Once her room was cleared, she tried to come to my room and was screamed at and forced back into her room by an officer.
At this point, the thought hit me. This is what the teachers and students at Sandy Hook faced. They didn't know what was going on. They were frightened. Their last moments were lived facing down an assault rifle. I thought of my family, my daughter, all I wanted to accomplish in my life. There was no gunfire, but I was unsure what was going on. My thought was that a felon had come into our school and they were searching for him. What if he came into my now unlocked room? (I was unaware that there were policemen securing the hallways to prevent this.) I was afraid, as I knew they had been afraid. That's when the silent sobs started. My heart swelled and broke for the horror those teachers and children endured on that day. I prayed that angels were there to comfort them and hold them through this. Oh God, please tell me that You were there, holding them and loving them. Slowly, my tears eased and a feeling of calm returned. A sweet assurance came to me. He was there. Even in all that madness, He was there. Love was there ... and in the face of all that horror, love won that day. It continues to win each and every battle, for God is stronger than hate, and His love cannot be defeated.
This trial ended for us when our principal finally came on the loudspeaker and announced that we were to report to the library for a debriefing on the drill. I'm not going to go into my feelings regarding this "over-the-top" drill we experienced. That's for another day. Today I am thankful to be here and to be surrounded by my family, to sing praises to a God who loves us at our most unlovable, and to breathe the sweet, if tentative, air of springtime. I am thankful for another day ... and I am thankful for the unconquerable power of love. Even in the face of death, love remains.
Tuesday, March 5, 2013
Special Needs
As a teacher, I hear this term every day. Often many times a day. Today, it means something so much more than just a child who needs a great deal of help and a different approach in order to be successful.
Today I had a conversation with a dear friend of mine. Four years ago, she and her husband adopted a special needs child. They have become tireless advocates for their son. It breaks my heart that they have to be. They constantly have to fight with their local school to get him the help and care he needs. Frankly, as an educator, I can tell you that they have the makings for the mother of all lawsuits. Their child has been referred to as "a pain in the butt," "difficult to work with," and "a behavior problem" on documentation. Yes, you may now reel in disbelief.
They are something that this particular district hates - informed parents. They know their rights. They know their child's rights. They try to work within the system, but the system in this district has failed them. The special education staff has not only treated them with disrespect, they have determined to make it nearly impossible for this child and his family to be successful. They call meetings and testing times with little to no warning and at ridiculous times. Quite frankly, they do whatever they can to make things as hard as they can ... all the while denying this child the services he needs.
All this makes me sick. I find it offensive and horrible and just plain nasty. It has made me ashamed of the educators involved, for I know they know better.
Today, the story took on another turn. This time involving a situation at church. Their son has been ignored during the children's classes on Sunday. He is allowed to do whatever he wants, so long as he is not disruptive. He is not included in the lessons or activities. This has weighed heavily on my friend's heart. She knows that her son is capable of learning, and feels that he needs to learn about God and his Savior. Toward that end, she and her husband requested that a helper be arranged to work with their son during class ... to help him to be more involved. This request was granted, and the helper is excited about working with their son. Wonderful, right? Happy ending.
Unfortunately, it didn't end there. Since their request, they have ostracized by many members of their congregation AND their church leadership. What a blow! For now, they are determined to stick things out, praying that this situation will improve and that people will come to accept their son. For now. If this does not occur, they are facing the prospect of leaving their church and finding somewhere else to worship. They have been talking to other parents, and have found that this is not an isolated occurrence.
As a Christian, this has broken my heart. How sad when we become hearers of the word, but not followers of the word. This has helped me to see that my faith must be more than skin deep. It must penetrate to the very center of my heart ... I cannot be satisfied to be a hearer, or a follower. I must live the gospel with every breath I take.
This has also gotten me thinking about special needs. So often we merely concentrate on the educational needs of the child. It is really so much more. A special needs child has needs on many levels ... acceptance, respect, the chance to be all that they can be in every facet of their life, including their spiritual life. Plus, we must never forget that a special needs child has a family with special needs as well. They are weary with the daily fight they must wage for their little one. They need support, understanding, respect, and compassion.
I want to remember all this and engrave it on my heart
Today I had a conversation with a dear friend of mine. Four years ago, she and her husband adopted a special needs child. They have become tireless advocates for their son. It breaks my heart that they have to be. They constantly have to fight with their local school to get him the help and care he needs. Frankly, as an educator, I can tell you that they have the makings for the mother of all lawsuits. Their child has been referred to as "a pain in the butt," "difficult to work with," and "a behavior problem" on documentation. Yes, you may now reel in disbelief.
They are something that this particular district hates - informed parents. They know their rights. They know their child's rights. They try to work within the system, but the system in this district has failed them. The special education staff has not only treated them with disrespect, they have determined to make it nearly impossible for this child and his family to be successful. They call meetings and testing times with little to no warning and at ridiculous times. Quite frankly, they do whatever they can to make things as hard as they can ... all the while denying this child the services he needs.
All this makes me sick. I find it offensive and horrible and just plain nasty. It has made me ashamed of the educators involved, for I know they know better.
Today, the story took on another turn. This time involving a situation at church. Their son has been ignored during the children's classes on Sunday. He is allowed to do whatever he wants, so long as he is not disruptive. He is not included in the lessons or activities. This has weighed heavily on my friend's heart. She knows that her son is capable of learning, and feels that he needs to learn about God and his Savior. Toward that end, she and her husband requested that a helper be arranged to work with their son during class ... to help him to be more involved. This request was granted, and the helper is excited about working with their son. Wonderful, right? Happy ending.
Unfortunately, it didn't end there. Since their request, they have ostracized by many members of their congregation AND their church leadership. What a blow! For now, they are determined to stick things out, praying that this situation will improve and that people will come to accept their son. For now. If this does not occur, they are facing the prospect of leaving their church and finding somewhere else to worship. They have been talking to other parents, and have found that this is not an isolated occurrence.
As a Christian, this has broken my heart. How sad when we become hearers of the word, but not followers of the word. This has helped me to see that my faith must be more than skin deep. It must penetrate to the very center of my heart ... I cannot be satisfied to be a hearer, or a follower. I must live the gospel with every breath I take.
This has also gotten me thinking about special needs. So often we merely concentrate on the educational needs of the child. It is really so much more. A special needs child has needs on many levels ... acceptance, respect, the chance to be all that they can be in every facet of their life, including their spiritual life. Plus, we must never forget that a special needs child has a family with special needs as well. They are weary with the daily fight they must wage for their little one. They need support, understanding, respect, and compassion.
I want to remember all this and engrave it on my heart
Monday, February 18, 2013
Getting Schooled by My Child
I am the mother of ballerina. The last ten+ years of my life have been spent as a "Ballet Mom," which is a pretty far cry from a "Dance Mom" in my opinion. Ballet is my daughter's passion.
This month she tried out for the summer intensive at Ballet West in Salt Lake City with two of her best friends from the studio. The intensive is MUCH more popular this year due to the CW reality television show, "Breaking Pointe," which features the dancers of Ballet West. The parents were concerned going in that it was going to be much harder to land a spot this year, but you support your children's dreams and hope for the best.
We braved winter weather and roads to get to the audition. One of the girls, Mary, was suffering with tendinitis. My daughter was sick with a nasty cold. We worried. Would they do well? The auditions are closed, so we had no idea how things went. All three girls felt they did well, their abilities falling in the middle of the pack. They critiqued one another, and felt good about their chances. We braved the roads a second time to go home, and then the waiting began.
On the 15th I received a phone call at the dance shop from one of the other moms. I could barely hear her over the heartbroken sobbing of her daughter in the background. Then I finally made out what she was saying - "The other girls made it, but Bailee didn't." Punch in the gut. Tears came to my eyes. Mary was crying in sympathy for her best friend. It touched my heart, and I felt felt terrible. I knew how much Mary was depending on rooming with Bailee. They'd made so many plans together! I didn't want Mary's joy turned to sorrow this way. Then a text came from Aleks - "I feel like a jerk!" Their love for my daughter had trumped their success. Not much like what you see on "Dance Moms" according to what I've been told.
My thoughts turned to my daughter, too far away to gather into my arms and comfort. Was she in tears? She had class in less than an hour. Could she face that? My inner mama bear roared to the surface. I don't have any illusions about my daughter's skills when it comes to ballet. I've spent too many years working at the studio and seen too many dancers. She was as good as Mary and Aleks. What the heck?! Even the studio owner was stunned. She'd thought Bailee would be certain to get in. Why had she been cut? Size? She's only 5'2" ... but Aleks is the same size. Skill? Mary swears she nailed every combination thrown at her immediately. She danced as well as Mary had ever seen her dance. Age? She's 4 months older than Mary. Then the ugly demon rears his head ... was it because she was Asian? Man, I hate that mama bear! She was so angry, so irrational! My hands were shaking as I dialed our home phone number (raging about why my family had not IMMEDIATELY called me when the e-mail arrived). And I found ...
Total acceptance. My daughter was fine. Happy for her friends, no bitterness, no tears, no drama. Mama bear was at a loss. "Are you okay baby?" Her answer blew me away: "I'm fine with it. God just decided that the answer was no. There has to be a good reason, and I'm okay with that." She bounced off to dance like it was any other day, determined to share her friends' success and let them know it was okay to be happy about making it, even if she didn't. Um, how did I manage to raise a kid with faith like that? Especially when I was struggling with accepting this verdict and tears were streaming down my face?
Later that night, we talked about it. She admitted to having a bad, dark feeling after she got home from the audition. It just didn't feel right anymore. She hadn't wanted to say anything because we'd sacrificed so much to get her to the audition (including driving through a blizzard). Now I wonder if the rejection didn't verify those feelings as coming from her Father. "Not now little one. You won't know why, but I know best. For now, the answer is no. I love you, and I'm guiding your life and protecting you."
She's still fine. Still happy. Still supporting her friends as they prepare for their great adventure. My inner mama bear still growls from time to time. I want all her dreams to come true, but I also want the Lord to watch over her and keep her safe. This time, mama bear can't have it both ways. My daughter is schooling me about acceptance. The lesson isn't coming easily, but I'm hoping that eventually I'll be able to just drive that bear away, dry the tears that still fall sometimes, and accept what my daughter already knows - God knows best, even when He says no.
She'll go to her usual summer intensive in Pocatello, and she'll have an opportunity to work with teachers from around the U.S. She'll love every second of it, and love sharing the experience with Mary and Aleks. When they head off to Salt Lake in July, we'll pursue something else for Bailee. She'll still be dancing ... or at least will be when she isn't texting her best buddies in Salt Lake and cheering them on. Maybe next year it will be an experience they'll be able to share. God willing ...
This month she tried out for the summer intensive at Ballet West in Salt Lake City with two of her best friends from the studio. The intensive is MUCH more popular this year due to the CW reality television show, "Breaking Pointe," which features the dancers of Ballet West. The parents were concerned going in that it was going to be much harder to land a spot this year, but you support your children's dreams and hope for the best.
We braved winter weather and roads to get to the audition. One of the girls, Mary, was suffering with tendinitis. My daughter was sick with a nasty cold. We worried. Would they do well? The auditions are closed, so we had no idea how things went. All three girls felt they did well, their abilities falling in the middle of the pack. They critiqued one another, and felt good about their chances. We braved the roads a second time to go home, and then the waiting began.
On the 15th I received a phone call at the dance shop from one of the other moms. I could barely hear her over the heartbroken sobbing of her daughter in the background. Then I finally made out what she was saying - "The other girls made it, but Bailee didn't." Punch in the gut. Tears came to my eyes. Mary was crying in sympathy for her best friend. It touched my heart, and I felt felt terrible. I knew how much Mary was depending on rooming with Bailee. They'd made so many plans together! I didn't want Mary's joy turned to sorrow this way. Then a text came from Aleks - "I feel like a jerk!" Their love for my daughter had trumped their success. Not much like what you see on "Dance Moms" according to what I've been told.
My thoughts turned to my daughter, too far away to gather into my arms and comfort. Was she in tears? She had class in less than an hour. Could she face that? My inner mama bear roared to the surface. I don't have any illusions about my daughter's skills when it comes to ballet. I've spent too many years working at the studio and seen too many dancers. She was as good as Mary and Aleks. What the heck?! Even the studio owner was stunned. She'd thought Bailee would be certain to get in. Why had she been cut? Size? She's only 5'2" ... but Aleks is the same size. Skill? Mary swears she nailed every combination thrown at her immediately. She danced as well as Mary had ever seen her dance. Age? She's 4 months older than Mary. Then the ugly demon rears his head ... was it because she was Asian? Man, I hate that mama bear! She was so angry, so irrational! My hands were shaking as I dialed our home phone number (raging about why my family had not IMMEDIATELY called me when the e-mail arrived). And I found ...
Total acceptance. My daughter was fine. Happy for her friends, no bitterness, no tears, no drama. Mama bear was at a loss. "Are you okay baby?" Her answer blew me away: "I'm fine with it. God just decided that the answer was no. There has to be a good reason, and I'm okay with that." She bounced off to dance like it was any other day, determined to share her friends' success and let them know it was okay to be happy about making it, even if she didn't. Um, how did I manage to raise a kid with faith like that? Especially when I was struggling with accepting this verdict and tears were streaming down my face?
Later that night, we talked about it. She admitted to having a bad, dark feeling after she got home from the audition. It just didn't feel right anymore. She hadn't wanted to say anything because we'd sacrificed so much to get her to the audition (including driving through a blizzard). Now I wonder if the rejection didn't verify those feelings as coming from her Father. "Not now little one. You won't know why, but I know best. For now, the answer is no. I love you, and I'm guiding your life and protecting you."
She's still fine. Still happy. Still supporting her friends as they prepare for their great adventure. My inner mama bear still growls from time to time. I want all her dreams to come true, but I also want the Lord to watch over her and keep her safe. This time, mama bear can't have it both ways. My daughter is schooling me about acceptance. The lesson isn't coming easily, but I'm hoping that eventually I'll be able to just drive that bear away, dry the tears that still fall sometimes, and accept what my daughter already knows - God knows best, even when He says no.
She'll go to her usual summer intensive in Pocatello, and she'll have an opportunity to work with teachers from around the U.S. She'll love every second of it, and love sharing the experience with Mary and Aleks. When they head off to Salt Lake in July, we'll pursue something else for Bailee. She'll still be dancing ... or at least will be when she isn't texting her best buddies in Salt Lake and cheering them on. Maybe next year it will be an experience they'll be able to share. God willing ...
Friday, January 18, 2013
Oh my ...
We're finding out just how nasty and contaigious norovirus is. It's made it's way from one family member to another, and has even done some repeat business. No fun!
Sunday, December 30, 2012
New Year's Resolutions? Get Real!
Over the past couple of weeks I have found myself possessed by a growing spirit of rebellion. I'm finding myself willing to throw several things "under the bus" so to speak. For some reason, they do not seem to matter so much anymore.
So, here comes the New Year and the resolutions everyone seems to assume that you will make (and eventually break, given human nature). People inquire, as a matter of general conversation, "What are YOUR resolutions this year?"
"Nothing."
Stunned silence. Lifted eyebrows. A disbelieving, "Nothing?"
Yuppers. Nothing. No resolutions here. No lofty goals. No magnificent aspirations. Zip. Nada. Zero.
Oh, the horror! No goals? Inconceivable! (Don't you just LOVE The Princess Bride? I do.)
Am I committing to accomplishing nothing? To making no growth? To making no changes? Apparently this is what many believe. I may as well announce myself as a sluggard and bum in the eyes of some of my friends. I seriously think one in particular thinks I am just short of joining the forces of Satan. Doesn't matter. No resolutions for me! No goals. No aspirations.
I should probably insert dramatic and ominous music here, as that's the response my admission is getting from my very goal oriented friends and acquaintances. Sorry, my resolve (ironic ... isn't it) is firm. I resolve not to resolve.
For once I don't want to begin a new year with a check list in hand - a check list that will define me and control me, and eventually condemn me. Don't wanna do it, so I am not. I'm just going to move into 2013 a rudderless craft sure to end up broken on the threatening shores (according to my buds). That's okay. I don't need that list. I know where I'm going and I know what I want. This year I'm going to move ahead without that checklist. I'm going to concentrate more on living my life than fulfilling a list of goals. I came to the conclusion that checking things (and people) off on a list of goals and projects is NOT how I want to live my life. I want to move forward this year choosing to do what is right because it is right. I want to be consumed heart and soul by the choices I make regarding what I do and what I devote my time to. Life isn't a checklist, and I don't want to be defined by one.
So, here comes the New Year and the resolutions everyone seems to assume that you will make (and eventually break, given human nature). People inquire, as a matter of general conversation, "What are YOUR resolutions this year?"
"Nothing."
Stunned silence. Lifted eyebrows. A disbelieving, "Nothing?"
Yuppers. Nothing. No resolutions here. No lofty goals. No magnificent aspirations. Zip. Nada. Zero.
Oh, the horror! No goals? Inconceivable! (Don't you just LOVE The Princess Bride? I do.)
Am I committing to accomplishing nothing? To making no growth? To making no changes? Apparently this is what many believe. I may as well announce myself as a sluggard and bum in the eyes of some of my friends. I seriously think one in particular thinks I am just short of joining the forces of Satan. Doesn't matter. No resolutions for me! No goals. No aspirations.
I should probably insert dramatic and ominous music here, as that's the response my admission is getting from my very goal oriented friends and acquaintances. Sorry, my resolve (ironic ... isn't it) is firm. I resolve not to resolve.
For once I don't want to begin a new year with a check list in hand - a check list that will define me and control me, and eventually condemn me. Don't wanna do it, so I am not. I'm just going to move into 2013 a rudderless craft sure to end up broken on the threatening shores (according to my buds). That's okay. I don't need that list. I know where I'm going and I know what I want. This year I'm going to move ahead without that checklist. I'm going to concentrate more on living my life than fulfilling a list of goals. I came to the conclusion that checking things (and people) off on a list of goals and projects is NOT how I want to live my life. I want to move forward this year choosing to do what is right because it is right. I want to be consumed heart and soul by the choices I make regarding what I do and what I devote my time to. Life isn't a checklist, and I don't want to be defined by one.
Happy New Year!
Wednesday, December 26, 2012
Sandy Hook Broke My Heart
I couldn't post before. I just couldn't. I have cried more in the last week than I have in the last five years. My heart was absolutely ripped to pieces over this atrocity.
As a teacher, this has been especially hard for me. It hits close to home. Way too close. When I was driving to school on the 17th (with a great deal of trepidation - I admit), the radio station I was listening to dedicated Kurt Bestor's "Prayer of the Children" to the victims. I sobbed. This was especially powerful, because my daughter's dance group danced to this song when she was close to the age of those sweet babies who were gunned down. I was a mess when I got to work.
We met as a faculty before school started to discuss new safety procedures we would institute immediately ... classroom doors locked 24/7, ID checks for anyone wishing access to the school, forbidding parents from trying to get students off the buses while they were being loaded, etc. Our school is one of the safest in the district, with controlled access and fire doors that can section off (and lock off) parts of our very large school. However, facing the type of military grade firearms people have access to these days, you feel totally vulnerable. As one teacher said, "Given the right weapon, they could blow out a wall."
When I walked into my classroom I was hit again. Looking around my classroom, I immediately visualized how we hide during a lockdown. My imagination took over and played out our own version of Sandy Hook. I nearly threw up, visualizing my own students in danger. I thought about those teachers and administrators who lost their lives. I hope that those teachers felt valued by their community before they were called upon to make that ultimate sacrifice. I thought about how the teachers in our state have been villified, demonized, and degraded. Yet, the parents writing letters to the editor or commenting on the internet felt that it was the teachers' duty to keep the children safe and that they should be expected to die defending them. I sincerely pray that those six teachers felt they were appreciated and respected for the job they did everyday.
I worried as the time ticked by for the children's arrival. Would they be afraid? How could I reassure them? There were no ready answers, but I found I didn't need any. When the children arrived at school, their faces were not marked by fear. They were filled with the same youthful exuberance and anticipation of Christmas which they'd left with the previous Friday. I saw trust in those eyes. But most importantly, I saw hope. Instead of helping my children, they ended up helping me. I had lost a great deal of hope for this world of ours ... they reminded me that where there is life, there is hope. They also reminded me that, while evil may have its day, good will win out in the end.
Now the debate rages about how to protect our schools and our children. It will cost money, and no one want to hear that. Should we arm teachers? I don't see myself as Rambo, and I am not arrogant enough to believe that I could handle a situation that trained professionals find difficult. So far, the only "solution" voiced that really struck any kind of chord with me was to have National Guardsmen or veterans stationed in our schools. These are people who are trained to deal with high risk, life-or-death situations. We don't have enough policemen to cover every school in America, but we do have enough members of our armed forces. Frankly, I think protecting our schools is far more important than maintaining a presence in Afghanistan, Pakistan, Iraq, etc. If Americans truly value their children, it's time for them to prove it.
As a teacher, this has been especially hard for me. It hits close to home. Way too close. When I was driving to school on the 17th (with a great deal of trepidation - I admit), the radio station I was listening to dedicated Kurt Bestor's "Prayer of the Children" to the victims. I sobbed. This was especially powerful, because my daughter's dance group danced to this song when she was close to the age of those sweet babies who were gunned down. I was a mess when I got to work.
We met as a faculty before school started to discuss new safety procedures we would institute immediately ... classroom doors locked 24/7, ID checks for anyone wishing access to the school, forbidding parents from trying to get students off the buses while they were being loaded, etc. Our school is one of the safest in the district, with controlled access and fire doors that can section off (and lock off) parts of our very large school. However, facing the type of military grade firearms people have access to these days, you feel totally vulnerable. As one teacher said, "Given the right weapon, they could blow out a wall."
When I walked into my classroom I was hit again. Looking around my classroom, I immediately visualized how we hide during a lockdown. My imagination took over and played out our own version of Sandy Hook. I nearly threw up, visualizing my own students in danger. I thought about those teachers and administrators who lost their lives. I hope that those teachers felt valued by their community before they were called upon to make that ultimate sacrifice. I thought about how the teachers in our state have been villified, demonized, and degraded. Yet, the parents writing letters to the editor or commenting on the internet felt that it was the teachers' duty to keep the children safe and that they should be expected to die defending them. I sincerely pray that those six teachers felt they were appreciated and respected for the job they did everyday.
I worried as the time ticked by for the children's arrival. Would they be afraid? How could I reassure them? There were no ready answers, but I found I didn't need any. When the children arrived at school, their faces were not marked by fear. They were filled with the same youthful exuberance and anticipation of Christmas which they'd left with the previous Friday. I saw trust in those eyes. But most importantly, I saw hope. Instead of helping my children, they ended up helping me. I had lost a great deal of hope for this world of ours ... they reminded me that where there is life, there is hope. They also reminded me that, while evil may have its day, good will win out in the end.
Now the debate rages about how to protect our schools and our children. It will cost money, and no one want to hear that. Should we arm teachers? I don't see myself as Rambo, and I am not arrogant enough to believe that I could handle a situation that trained professionals find difficult. So far, the only "solution" voiced that really struck any kind of chord with me was to have National Guardsmen or veterans stationed in our schools. These are people who are trained to deal with high risk, life-or-death situations. We don't have enough policemen to cover every school in America, but we do have enough members of our armed forces. Frankly, I think protecting our schools is far more important than maintaining a presence in Afghanistan, Pakistan, Iraq, etc. If Americans truly value their children, it's time for them to prove it.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)