I couldn't sleep last night. I was making it worse for myself because I was getting stressed out about not being asleep which makes it harder to sleep in the first place.
I kept thinking about how I would feel by this point in the parent/teacher conference marathon: tired. I was right about that. Exhausted... I'm beyond that now.
I was so sad during my morning commute. I cried about B's funeral being today. Then, I walked into the building at 6:15am. It was like a big hug. I had to forget about my family troubles. I had a meeting in an hour. I had to teach and then I had an endless line of meetings. I walked out at 7:05pm.
I just feel tired and hollow. I never realized it until this week, but my happy family is my anchor. I can go about my life in this world, I can work thirteen hour days, I can do it because I know that all is happy and right in my family world.
When all is wrong, it is hard.
Wednesday, March 9, 2011
Tuesday, March 8, 2011
The Marathon Day 2
I'm just sad. The cloud of grief is hanging over me.
And the exhaustion is coming. I have eleven conferences tomorrow. I have to teach tomorrow.
Tomorrow is B's funeral.
I can fight the sad and keep on doing my job, but the sad will be there waiting for me tomorrow at seven when I finally get to go home.
Then, I'll close my eyes. It will be Thursday and I will work fourteen more hours.
Monday, March 7, 2011
The Marathon Begins
This morning I put my keys in the ignition when the first wave of sadness hit me. I just knew at the same time 24 hours earlier my cousin put the keys in the ignition to go to work and it was one of the last things he did. When the morning was peaceful and quiet, I thought of him.
As I pulled into the parking lot, I took a deep breath. As soon as I got out of the car, the day would be nonstop.
At seven fifteen, I was supposed to have the first parent teacher conference. I was supposed to meet with the parent who demanded a new teacher when she saw how young I am. She didn't show. I tried to pick up the debris left all over my classroom when I left early to go to the hospital on Friday. At seven forty-five, the kids shot into the room like out of a cannon. The parent who didn't show up sent a note requesting a reschedule for Wednesday. I took another deep breath as this was her third reschedule and sent after the scheduled meeting.
The day was both slow and fast. I thought the reading lesson with these kids would never end, but somehow it doesn't seem that long ago, now, when the sun is setting, that I put my keys in the ignition.
This week I have an additional 11.5 hours of parent/teacher conferences. That is twenty-three half hour meetings. I also have to teach all week. The kids all have spring fever.
If I make it til Friday, I'll turn twenty-six. The last four years have been the slowest and fastest of my life. Now, though, when it is quiet again for a little (very little) while, I feel another wave of sadness; but also a wave of gratitude. Every day is a gift.
Sunday, March 6, 2011
Goodbye B
The writer in me is a romantic. Maybe I'm a cynic, but at the end of the day, I want to write in a way that shows the rainbow at the end of the storm and the silver lining. Life just makes more sense when you see it that way.
Today, though, there is no silver lining. There's no rainbow. It's just a door slammed in your face. It's just a screen gone black in the middle of a movie. It's one shoe dropping when the other never will.
This morning at five o'clock in the morning my cousin was driving to work and was in a car accident. He was killed.
My heart can't fathom that. He was twenty-two. He'll never see twenty-three.
It's not like I see this cousin all the time. I see him maybe once or twice a year. It's just that the injustice of it is like a slap in the face. You shouldn't have a funeral where your grandparents and parents are there. You shouldn't miss your college graduation because you were killed. You shouldn't have your life ended before it begins.
Today, though, there is no silver lining. There's no rainbow. It's just a door slammed in your face. It's just a screen gone black in the middle of a movie. It's one shoe dropping when the other never will.
This morning at five o'clock in the morning my cousin was driving to work and was in a car accident. He was killed.
My heart can't fathom that. He was twenty-two. He'll never see twenty-three.
It's not like I see this cousin all the time. I see him maybe once or twice a year. It's just that the injustice of it is like a slap in the face. You shouldn't have a funeral where your grandparents and parents are there. You shouldn't miss your college graduation because you were killed. You shouldn't have your life ended before it begins.
Saturday, March 5, 2011
The Day You Were Born
Dear Nephew,
The day that you were born I was teaching a room full of 9 year olds. My phone rang and I thought you were here, but you weren't here yet. You and your mother were rushed to the hospital because your little heart was beating more and more slowly.
Your heart beat must have been faint in that hospital. I was in a school all the way across town, but somehow I could hear it. That's the way it is with family. Maybe someday if your sister, who's almost two now, has a child of her own you could understand why.
So, I left the school, in the middle of the day, to go and be with your sister and your Grammy while you were being born. We thought you would never get here! You did get here, though, and you were a big boy!
Everyone was so happy. Your Dad scared you with the flash on his camera and we all laughed. Your heart beat is still a little slow, but the doctor says he thinks you will be just fine in a few days.
So, nephew, I guess you didn't come into the world so easy. Literary experts tell us, though, that this is how heroes come into the world. So, if you ever feel like things are not going so well, just remember: you came into this world like a hero. So, whatever comes up, you can deal with it.
Love,
Aunt Understood=).
Thursday, March 3, 2011
Power Struggle
Disclaimer:
There are some things on this blog I have to really filter what I say. Oh, I'm an open book when it comes to what I really think about education, politics, and all things related to my work; but there are some things that I keep tight-lipped about.
One of the things that is tricky to address publicly without crossing a line are topics in Special Education. I can never mention something I've actually seen written in an IEP. I cannot talk directly about specific issues that could be traced back to specific kids. I can't talk about any legal issues, and in special education, any sizable public school district has legal issues in special education. It is a highly litigated field.
So, I am going to address some Special Education issues today, but in the interest of journalistic integrity; I am merging details, changing details, and making my real life experience murky and unrecognizable. That being said I will speak only based on things I have observed directly.
I also always refrain from talking about family secrets. By family secrets I mean those issues within the district that we all know are going on, but we are not allowed to discuss publicly. So, today I will talk about a problem many teachers in my district face with curriculums and accountability. Again, I am merging, changing, and obscuring.
My moral education is strongly based in Hollywood, so today please turn with me to the book of Spiderman. Peter Parker got it right, but incomplete when he learned that "with great power comes great responsibility." With great power does come great responsibility, but the reverse should also be true: with great responsibility should come great (or at least sufficient) power.
I think that a lot of my frustration with my field comes from the power struggle. No, I'm not talking about when you get annoyed with Johnny-Talksbackalot. No, I'm not talking about when you have an administrator who feels the need to correct the way you hand someone a stack of papers. I am talking about the BIG POWER STRUGGLE. The push for total, no-excuses, accountability with the simultaneous push for controlled classrooms and teaching practices. I am going to share two examples of this.
1.) In my district, we are required to use a Math curriculum that doesn't work, but we are totally responsible for the performance of our students in Math.
I saw this video on Joan Jacob's blog. It depicts a girl using strategies found in the required Math curriculum. I can hardly even do a lot of these strategies.
What do we do? A lot of us use the curriculum to subsidize and teach strategies that work, but in schools where it is a more micromanaged environment, their test scores suffer and teachers are directly accountable. We have the great responsibility to improve Math scores, but we don't have the power to do what works.
2.) Sometimes inclusion creates an unsafe and poor learning environment, but schools lack the power to rectify these situations.
Here's where I have to be careful what I say, but just know that I am changing details.
There is a student in another class at my school who has grown very violent. She punched the glasses off the face of the music teacher Monday. She punched the assistant principal in the nose. She tried to stab her teacher with a plastic knife from the cafeteria and has hit her third grade teacher and every other teacher she has had. I don't know how many students She has punched, kicked or hit. She does have a disability and she does these things with a smile on her face.
Today she punched my little nonreader in his face giving him a black eye. She did this with no warning and for no reason. She just walked across the playground and punched him in the face.
All of her teachers cry all the time. I think everyone in our school knows that this child belongs in a self-contained environment, but the parents believe general ed is the least restrictive environment. The laws make it so hard for us to force the issue. You really can't imagine how hard. We have great responsibility to provide a safe, positive learning environment, but we don't have power to put this child in a more appropriate setting.
There are some things on this blog I have to really filter what I say. Oh, I'm an open book when it comes to what I really think about education, politics, and all things related to my work; but there are some things that I keep tight-lipped about.
One of the things that is tricky to address publicly without crossing a line are topics in Special Education. I can never mention something I've actually seen written in an IEP. I cannot talk directly about specific issues that could be traced back to specific kids. I can't talk about any legal issues, and in special education, any sizable public school district has legal issues in special education. It is a highly litigated field.
So, I am going to address some Special Education issues today, but in the interest of journalistic integrity; I am merging details, changing details, and making my real life experience murky and unrecognizable. That being said I will speak only based on things I have observed directly.
I also always refrain from talking about family secrets. By family secrets I mean those issues within the district that we all know are going on, but we are not allowed to discuss publicly. So, today I will talk about a problem many teachers in my district face with curriculums and accountability. Again, I am merging, changing, and obscuring.
My moral education is strongly based in Hollywood, so today please turn with me to the book of Spiderman. Peter Parker got it right, but incomplete when he learned that "with great power comes great responsibility." With great power does come great responsibility, but the reverse should also be true: with great responsibility should come great (or at least sufficient) power.
I think that a lot of my frustration with my field comes from the power struggle. No, I'm not talking about when you get annoyed with Johnny-Talksbackalot. No, I'm not talking about when you have an administrator who feels the need to correct the way you hand someone a stack of papers. I am talking about the BIG POWER STRUGGLE. The push for total, no-excuses, accountability with the simultaneous push for controlled classrooms and teaching practices. I am going to share two examples of this.
1.) In my district, we are required to use a Math curriculum that doesn't work, but we are totally responsible for the performance of our students in Math.
I saw this video on Joan Jacob's blog. It depicts a girl using strategies found in the required Math curriculum. I can hardly even do a lot of these strategies.
What do we do? A lot of us use the curriculum to subsidize and teach strategies that work, but in schools where it is a more micromanaged environment, their test scores suffer and teachers are directly accountable. We have the great responsibility to improve Math scores, but we don't have the power to do what works.
2.) Sometimes inclusion creates an unsafe and poor learning environment, but schools lack the power to rectify these situations.
Here's where I have to be careful what I say, but just know that I am changing details.
There is a student in another class at my school who has grown very violent. She punched the glasses off the face of the music teacher Monday. She punched the assistant principal in the nose. She tried to stab her teacher with a plastic knife from the cafeteria and has hit her third grade teacher and every other teacher she has had. I don't know how many students She has punched, kicked or hit. She does have a disability and she does these things with a smile on her face.
Today she punched my little nonreader in his face giving him a black eye. She did this with no warning and for no reason. She just walked across the playground and punched him in the face.
All of her teachers cry all the time. I think everyone in our school knows that this child belongs in a self-contained environment, but the parents believe general ed is the least restrictive environment. The laws make it so hard for us to force the issue. You really can't imagine how hard. We have great responsibility to provide a safe, positive learning environment, but we don't have power to put this child in a more appropriate setting.
Tuesday, March 1, 2011
How Do You Fight Stress about Parent Issues???
I am sorry if I am annoying anyone who is used to my anecdotal writing, but lately I'm in a mood to get advice. My job is hard this year, and I am doing the best that I can, but I want to get better, truly, I do.
I spend a lot of time flirting with the idea of quitting teaching. My favorite analogy for teaching is that it is like a bad boyfriend. You can be in love with him, but he is always threatening to break up with you, mistreats you, and constantly tells you you're not good enough for him. You love him, but he's bad for you. It's breaks the hearts of your loved ones to see you in a long term relationship with teaching, but they're not quite sure how to talk to you about it because you love him.
Seriously, I could bitch about this all day, but it is not getting me anywhere. Either I want to continue teaching or I don't. So, recently, I am trying on the idea that I will keep teaching for my entire career.
That is a tough thing for me to believe. I worry, frankly, that teaching will just suck the life out of me and destroy who I am before I notice what it has done to me. I try to remember what my life was like before teaching was my full time job. It's only been four years, but I can barely remember. I liked to read a lot more. I was more social. Was I happier?
I sometimes wonder what would be different if I wasn't teaching. Would I be in a long-term relationship. Honestly, I am so tired that it makes me not want to meet new people. I think about work when I'm not at work. I don't know if I would still be like that without teaching or not.
One of the things that makes me think I don't want to keep teaching forever is my reaction to unreasonable adults. I get twisted up inside anytime a parent has an issue. I am jealous of people who shake it off and forget about it. I would enjoy my job more if I could not worry about parent issues. I know that they come up for everyone, but not everyone loses sleep over it.
So, I want to know, what do you do to let go of anxiety or never have anxiety about issues with parents? If you are like me and you can't figure it out, I'd like to know that too. Misery loves company. Seriously, though, a part of me wants to stick this gig out, but there are things that have to change about me before I will be able to sustain a long term teaching career. Help me change, blogging friends.
I spend a lot of time flirting with the idea of quitting teaching. My favorite analogy for teaching is that it is like a bad boyfriend. You can be in love with him, but he is always threatening to break up with you, mistreats you, and constantly tells you you're not good enough for him. You love him, but he's bad for you. It's breaks the hearts of your loved ones to see you in a long term relationship with teaching, but they're not quite sure how to talk to you about it because you love him.
Seriously, I could bitch about this all day, but it is not getting me anywhere. Either I want to continue teaching or I don't. So, recently, I am trying on the idea that I will keep teaching for my entire career.
That is a tough thing for me to believe. I worry, frankly, that teaching will just suck the life out of me and destroy who I am before I notice what it has done to me. I try to remember what my life was like before teaching was my full time job. It's only been four years, but I can barely remember. I liked to read a lot more. I was more social. Was I happier?
I sometimes wonder what would be different if I wasn't teaching. Would I be in a long-term relationship. Honestly, I am so tired that it makes me not want to meet new people. I think about work when I'm not at work. I don't know if I would still be like that without teaching or not.
One of the things that makes me think I don't want to keep teaching forever is my reaction to unreasonable adults. I get twisted up inside anytime a parent has an issue. I am jealous of people who shake it off and forget about it. I would enjoy my job more if I could not worry about parent issues. I know that they come up for everyone, but not everyone loses sleep over it.
So, I want to know, what do you do to let go of anxiety or never have anxiety about issues with parents? If you are like me and you can't figure it out, I'd like to know that too. Misery loves company. Seriously, though, a part of me wants to stick this gig out, but there are things that have to change about me before I will be able to sustain a long term teaching career. Help me change, blogging friends.
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