This past weekend marked the two year anniversary of the Sandy Hook massacre. Shortly after it happened a Facebook friend, an old friend from high school who is now a writer, shared a blog entry she had composed. She made the remark that this wasn't her tragedy and didn't want to pretend that she was feeling what all those families had felt. Well, I don't agree with her. Sandy Hook was my tragedy. It was every parent's tragedy, every teacher's tragedy, every town's tragedy. It was an American tragedy and we all should own it. No, I don't know the grief they are feeling, but I can imagine it pretty damn near closely. I've said before that Sal was a first grader at the time of the shooting and for weeks after it happened I could not get out of my head it happening to his class. I couldn't get out of my head the terror those children must have felt. I could not get out of my head how frantic that faculty must have felt. I couldn't get out of my head, putting Sal's face and his classmates' faces to those faces. I couldn't get out of my head, seeing myself sitting at the local firehouse looking into the faces of the parents whose children were in Sal's class and knowing it was their room he came into. It was that image that we don't think a lot about, but I remember that's where the Sandy Hook parents went to wait for their children. They went to the firehouse and waited and probably one by one as the children came in and met their parents in tearful hugs, the others sat. There must have been a slow realization as those parents of the victims sat looking at each other the connection they shared. And somehow I put myself there in the firehouse and it was me. We all feel their pain in some way.
Distraction...distraction is what I need because if I allowed myself, I could drown in the remembrance of that day. And thankfully this season, Bell-Bell is providing a nice distraction. Yes, all you Elf on the Shelf haters, Bell-Bell is keeping me sane this year. Bell-Bell, the Elf, was given a very special task this year in my home and it was to distract...or maybe I should say the opposite; it was to focus. He directs our focus each day, and each day our focus is each other and sharing something simple of the Christmas spirit. And it's working! That little elf has given me back to my children and Christmas back to me.
So here is what Bell-Bell has been having us do since my last post:
December 9th: Make a cake for Milo's birthday. I swore I would never have a December baby, but you know, that's not exactly in your control and along came Milo, right in the middle of the Christmas festivities.
December 10: Have a movie night (on a school night!) and watch Rudolph and Frosty. We have these two on DVD. I kind of miss the waiting for the Christmas special to come onto TV, but this way is nice because we can watch them early and still get in bed before 8.
December 11: Decorate the Christmas tree! My goal since having Miles is to have my house decorated in time for Miles's birthday party. This was an easy one to work into the schedule.
December 12: Cut out paper snowflakes. Yes! I bought a stack of white coffee filters and after some arguing about scissors and cutting ability, Sal, Eli, and I settled into making a giant mess of paper in the kitchen. This one brought back so many memories. I taped the snowflakes to all of our windows.
December 13: Party! Enjoy Milo's birthday party. Christmas had to take a back seat to the birthday boy.
December 14: Bake cookies with mom. After Milo's party, our nephews stayed for a sleepover. Their mom doesn't bake, so last year I had them over to bake cookies and decided to continue the tradition this year. They each helped with one batch and then were off and playing, but it's a memory for them and it's fun for me. My boys wanted nothing to do with baking last year, but this year, maybe because of Bell-Bell, they were very excited to help. I'm not a Lego builder or a video game player, but this is something I can do with them. I can read with them. I can bake with them. I can do crafts (simple ones!) with them. This year when they were excited to bake with me, it made me feel...I can't even describe. Last year was a real downer when they really wanted nothing to do with the things I love. They're boys. We were touching on that "cool" factor and that it's not cool to bake with your mom. Thankfully, they've gotten past that...with a little help from Bell-Bell.
December 15: Watch Miracle on 34th Street. I can't really say this was an epic fail, but it was a fail nonetheless. They gave it a shot, but as I was watching it through their eyes, they really aren't at the age to appreciate it; after all, they believe...Maybe in ten years time if Bell-Bell is still making his appearances.
December 16: Bell-Bell brought us each a candy cane and I made crockpot hot chocolate. I was hoping for a cold, snowy day, but a somewhat chilly rainy afternoon would have to do. They loved it.
December 17: Today Bell-Bell has instructed Daddy and the boys to string up Christmas lights outside. We generally don't decorate the outside of our house because, well, here's my vanity (my house vanity) coming into play...our house is ugly. It's in desperate need of a new porch, new siding, new paint, etc., etc., all things we have no money to repair. I'd rather not draw any more attention to it by stringing lights and shining spotlights on it. The boys do not understand this, so with the help of Bell-Bell, I'm getting over my own insecurities and letting them have a decorated house.
And here's the special part about this whole Elf adventure...I truly believe there is some magic at work. Last night I went out to a chorus concert. The community chorus I sing with goes to a couple retirement homes and performs our concert for the elderly there. I had to leave early because this particular home has a strict 8 o'clock bedtime. While I was gone, completely unbeknownst to me, my Eli apparently went up to Bell-Bell and whispered a secret in his ear. He asked him to hide in the Christmas tree. I came home after they were in bed and it was my job to find a new spot and guess where I picked? Yup! The tree! My husband came up and told me after seeing where I put Bell-Bell what Eli had whispered. Somehow that whisper made it to my ear. Some Christmas magic and Divine coincidence at work, if you ask me.
Wednesday, December 17, 2014
Monday, December 8, 2014
I Didn't Get the Job
Well, the school day has come and gone with no phone call, so I guess that means I didn't get the job. No love lost, right? I mean it's not like I got this great vibe during the interview and really liked the people. They barely said two words to me outside of reading from a piece of paper. But it still sucks to be rejected. Let's face it, I'm a bit lost here in New Jersey and this rejection is one more chance gone by to find my place. I know, I know. If I didn't get the job, my place wasn't meant to be there. But where? I thought I had it at the adult high school and it was such a fleeting moment in a lifetime.
I hear my boys coming home now. At least I know my place with them.
I hear my boys coming home now. At least I know my place with them.
Bell-Bell
Three years ago I was nine months pregnant with a ten pound baby and wasn't thinking straight. I was in Target one day hobbling along and saw that damn Elf on the Shelf and thought Awwww, how cute! My boys will love having an elf!
This is ironic because at the time I was a miserable bitch who found no joy in life whatsoever. Nothing was even remotely cute to me. Nothing...except that creepy elf.
And once you're in, you're in. I got to pinning all the cute antics an elf can get into and my husband and I started out having a blast, but then what do you do when the elf is fishing in your toilet and you have to pee? You can't move him. The book says so! He'll lose his magic! We can't have Bell-Bell lose his magic! (That's our elf's name--Bell-Bell. Sal named him.)
Once he took a bath in marshmallows, only I forgot that the cat LOVES marshmallows and Bell-Bell was accosted and there were marshmallow paw prints all over my dining room table. The boys burst into tears because the cat had touched Bell-Bell and his magic was gone. No, animals have Christmas magic, too, so they can't hurt elf magic. Oh, the lies I've told in the last three years.
Now, compound the elf pressure with the fact that I haven't really gotten along with Christmas the last several years. Something always seems to happen that makes the holiday very difficult to enjoy. Our first Christmas with Sal we were battling some pretty serious ear infections that could not be cured. We were also facing him having surgery in the new year on his penis. His foreskin was slightly twisted, so he'd need to have a special circumcision to correct it. It's all fine now, but at the time, well, you can imagine. Two Christmases later we were at the emergency vet on Christmas Eve with our dog who somehow injured her back. The vet said she'd never walk or run again and we were faced with putting her down. (The vet was wrong and it turned out all right, but that Christmas was pretty awful.) The Christmas after that was following my unemployment. Then there was Sandy Hook. That was the worst. Sal was a first grader at the time, and well, that hit very close to home. I was ready to pack it all up, but you can't when you have kids. I think most of us went through the motions that year. Last year, the cat's tail got lopped off in the door.
Life doesn't stop for Christmas, or for that damn elf! But, this year I stumbled across advent activities to do with your kids each day leading up to Christmas, and I thought what better way to love that elf again and maybe to start enjoying Christmas again. This instantly became my December challenge. Twenty-four days of stopping and spending time with my boys care of Bell-Bell. You see, Bell-Bell brings us the activity each day. There are no antics this year. Each day he turns up in a different spot with a little note. Some are simple little crafts (I only do simple.) Some are activities we have to do anyway, so we just worked them into the schedule. Here is what he's had us do so far:
December 1st: Bell-Bell appeared with his book and movie and we read and watched the movie together.
December 2nd: Bell-Bell put out some paper and markers and the boys wrote their letters to Santa. (This was fun because it was the first year Eli was able to write his own letter.)
December 3rd: Bell-Bell brought out the manger and we set up the nativity together.
December 4th: Family game night!
December 5th: Bell-Bell built a pyramid out of some canned goods and instructed us to go to the grocery store and pick out a few more to drop off at the food pantry. (Took the bags to church with me yesterday!)
December 6th: Make reindeer food. I passed this one off to my husband as he hadn't done much with them and I was out of the house that morning. What's reindeer food? Oatmeal and sugar mixed together. We had some colored sugar so that made it festive looking.
December 7th: Bell-Bell told us that we were to go to the tree farm and pick out our tree. Our tree farm even has tractor rides.
December 8th: Today Bell-Bell brought decorated paper for us to make paper chains. (I bought these strips from Oriental Trading a few years ago for a couple bucks and never got around to doing them with the boys. They have sat at the bottom of a storage tub far too long. Bell-Bell is also helping us to clean out.)
There are the people that hate the elf and have banned him from their homes. Then there are the people that love the elf and the set-ups and the antics. And for the record, I don't feel these people are doing these elaborate set-ups to outdo the neighbor's elf. I think they do it because it's fun. I mean, it is fun. We made some pretty cool scenes, and the boys loved it. But, suddenly it became work. Suddenly, I hated Bell-Bell. I don't want to hate Bell-Bell. Bell-Bell is magic. Bell-Bell is love. He's our own special elf.
Bell-Bell, this year, is my therapist. He's still a little bit of work, but the end result of the work isn't a toilet I can't use for an entire day. The end result is a few minutes to sit down with my boys and forget about the checkbook or the interview or homework. So Bell-Bell is good this year.
This is ironic because at the time I was a miserable bitch who found no joy in life whatsoever. Nothing was even remotely cute to me. Nothing...except that creepy elf.
And once you're in, you're in. I got to pinning all the cute antics an elf can get into and my husband and I started out having a blast, but then what do you do when the elf is fishing in your toilet and you have to pee? You can't move him. The book says so! He'll lose his magic! We can't have Bell-Bell lose his magic! (That's our elf's name--Bell-Bell. Sal named him.)
Once he took a bath in marshmallows, only I forgot that the cat LOVES marshmallows and Bell-Bell was accosted and there were marshmallow paw prints all over my dining room table. The boys burst into tears because the cat had touched Bell-Bell and his magic was gone. No, animals have Christmas magic, too, so they can't hurt elf magic. Oh, the lies I've told in the last three years.
Now, compound the elf pressure with the fact that I haven't really gotten along with Christmas the last several years. Something always seems to happen that makes the holiday very difficult to enjoy. Our first Christmas with Sal we were battling some pretty serious ear infections that could not be cured. We were also facing him having surgery in the new year on his penis. His foreskin was slightly twisted, so he'd need to have a special circumcision to correct it. It's all fine now, but at the time, well, you can imagine. Two Christmases later we were at the emergency vet on Christmas Eve with our dog who somehow injured her back. The vet said she'd never walk or run again and we were faced with putting her down. (The vet was wrong and it turned out all right, but that Christmas was pretty awful.) The Christmas after that was following my unemployment. Then there was Sandy Hook. That was the worst. Sal was a first grader at the time, and well, that hit very close to home. I was ready to pack it all up, but you can't when you have kids. I think most of us went through the motions that year. Last year, the cat's tail got lopped off in the door.
Life doesn't stop for Christmas, or for that damn elf! But, this year I stumbled across advent activities to do with your kids each day leading up to Christmas, and I thought what better way to love that elf again and maybe to start enjoying Christmas again. This instantly became my December challenge. Twenty-four days of stopping and spending time with my boys care of Bell-Bell. You see, Bell-Bell brings us the activity each day. There are no antics this year. Each day he turns up in a different spot with a little note. Some are simple little crafts (I only do simple.) Some are activities we have to do anyway, so we just worked them into the schedule. Here is what he's had us do so far:
December 1st: Bell-Bell appeared with his book and movie and we read and watched the movie together.
December 2nd: Bell-Bell put out some paper and markers and the boys wrote their letters to Santa. (This was fun because it was the first year Eli was able to write his own letter.)
December 3rd: Bell-Bell brought out the manger and we set up the nativity together.
December 4th: Family game night!
December 5th: Bell-Bell built a pyramid out of some canned goods and instructed us to go to the grocery store and pick out a few more to drop off at the food pantry. (Took the bags to church with me yesterday!)
December 6th: Make reindeer food. I passed this one off to my husband as he hadn't done much with them and I was out of the house that morning. What's reindeer food? Oatmeal and sugar mixed together. We had some colored sugar so that made it festive looking.
December 7th: Bell-Bell told us that we were to go to the tree farm and pick out our tree. Our tree farm even has tractor rides.
December 8th: Today Bell-Bell brought decorated paper for us to make paper chains. (I bought these strips from Oriental Trading a few years ago for a couple bucks and never got around to doing them with the boys. They have sat at the bottom of a storage tub far too long. Bell-Bell is also helping us to clean out.)
There are the people that hate the elf and have banned him from their homes. Then there are the people that love the elf and the set-ups and the antics. And for the record, I don't feel these people are doing these elaborate set-ups to outdo the neighbor's elf. I think they do it because it's fun. I mean, it is fun. We made some pretty cool scenes, and the boys loved it. But, suddenly it became work. Suddenly, I hated Bell-Bell. I don't want to hate Bell-Bell. Bell-Bell is magic. Bell-Bell is love. He's our own special elf.
Bell-Bell, this year, is my therapist. He's still a little bit of work, but the end result of the work isn't a toilet I can't use for an entire day. The end result is a few minutes to sit down with my boys and forget about the checkbook or the interview or homework. So Bell-Bell is good this year.
Saturday, December 6, 2014
To Call or Not to Call
It has been a very interesting week. Was Thanksgiving really just a week ago? I'm having a hard time trying to wrap my brain around that. First, I'm somewhat happy to announce that I somewhat completed my November challenge of thirty scrapbook pages in thirty days. I completed the layouts for all thirty pages. Sadly, I did not complete all of the embellishments. I got about six pages completed before I had to pack it all up in preparation for Christmas. But, thirty pages! Thirty new pages are sitting there just waiting for a few stickers and stamps, and considering how the second half of November treated me, I'll consider that a success.
Monday morning rolled around with me keeping Eli home due to the fact that he was without teacher. I called the school and left a message for the principal to return my call with news of his new teacher. I then called the superintendent and had a lengthy discussion with him about our situation. He was very accommodating to our circumstances and informed me that I'd be hearing that day from the principal. I did not hear and had to call after school hours. Finally, he called me and after a curt conversation (on his part), Eli had a new teacher. We met with her the following morning "supervised" by the principal, yet another act on his part to show off his so-called power. She requires all of her students to go to the bathroom at the designated times and has a very clear discipline policy. This week Eli has had no accidents and we've had communication from her every day reporting on his behavior. One day he even made his way back up from a warning to being "ready to learn."
Generally speaking I am a quiet, introverted person, and as most introverts, I am observant, taking in my surroundings, and waiting for the right moment, the right time to speak my mind and only speak it when needed. I do not generally spout off my opinions at will for any or all to hear. And that is why I have absolutely no use for the principal of my children's school. I am appalled at his behavior towards me and my family and his misuse of his position to give himself a sense of power or self-worth or whatever he feels he is lacking in his life. Everyone is so focused on the parents' role in the school, the teachers' role in the school, the students' role in the school. What about the administrators? The leaders? The people who set the tone? The people who set the example?
And with that, I will now share where I was yesterday...a job interview. Two English teacher positions were posted before Thanksgiving. I applied to both and got a call Monday from the one district. This district neighbors our small town and it's a very nice suburban, middle-class demographic. They also offer employee discounts for sending their own children to their schools. It's the "perfect" place for me to be. It's also a long-term substitute position that could potentially lead to nothing permanent. Or, it could be a foot in the door. And ever since I scheduled the interview, I've had severe anxiety. The "what-ifs" abounded, still do, but I carried on and prepared for the interview.
It was terrible! It was completely robotic, with the three administrators taking turns asking me questions and writing my answers down, no response, no dialogue. I have some pretty unique experiences in the field of education, and you'd expect people who have not shared those experiences to maybe want to learn a little about them. I talked about them as much as the pre-planned questions allowed, but that was it. And then it was my turn to ask the questions. This is not my forte in the interview process, but I had some planned. Here's how it went:
Principal: So, do you have any questions for us?
Me: What do you expect of me in terms of classroom management and routines? Do you want me to follow the established routine, or do you want me to create something of my own? (The teacher is not coming back this year, so these will be my students for the remainder of the year.)
Principal: Well, I would only expect you to create your own plan if you found serious fault with what was in place, but I can assure you that this is a very beloved, accomplished teacher who you'll be filling in for and she is very well like and respected by all of her students with virtually no discipline issues. The system she has works, so I don't think it would benefit you to walk into her room on the first day and rip down her list of rules (and he actually put his hands up and acted out ripping something off the walls.)
Me: Okay.
Principal: Do you have any more questions?
Me: Nope, I'm good.
And then I went and wrote a two paragraph essay on the scope of language arts as it pertains to the Common Core Standards, and if you are not familiar with Common Core, you should know that the scope of language arts could fill pages upon pages of books.
Yeah, I'm really starting to question if I want my foot in the door. I will either get a phone call Monday or I won't. I can't really go into all the fears and questions I have going in my mind right now. My mind is far too manic on that subject to put my thoughts into words. I just pray that the way will somehow reveal itself to me. And in the meantime, there is my December challenge...it's been a fun one!
Monday morning rolled around with me keeping Eli home due to the fact that he was without teacher. I called the school and left a message for the principal to return my call with news of his new teacher. I then called the superintendent and had a lengthy discussion with him about our situation. He was very accommodating to our circumstances and informed me that I'd be hearing that day from the principal. I did not hear and had to call after school hours. Finally, he called me and after a curt conversation (on his part), Eli had a new teacher. We met with her the following morning "supervised" by the principal, yet another act on his part to show off his so-called power. She requires all of her students to go to the bathroom at the designated times and has a very clear discipline policy. This week Eli has had no accidents and we've had communication from her every day reporting on his behavior. One day he even made his way back up from a warning to being "ready to learn."
Generally speaking I am a quiet, introverted person, and as most introverts, I am observant, taking in my surroundings, and waiting for the right moment, the right time to speak my mind and only speak it when needed. I do not generally spout off my opinions at will for any or all to hear. And that is why I have absolutely no use for the principal of my children's school. I am appalled at his behavior towards me and my family and his misuse of his position to give himself a sense of power or self-worth or whatever he feels he is lacking in his life. Everyone is so focused on the parents' role in the school, the teachers' role in the school, the students' role in the school. What about the administrators? The leaders? The people who set the tone? The people who set the example?
And with that, I will now share where I was yesterday...a job interview. Two English teacher positions were posted before Thanksgiving. I applied to both and got a call Monday from the one district. This district neighbors our small town and it's a very nice suburban, middle-class demographic. They also offer employee discounts for sending their own children to their schools. It's the "perfect" place for me to be. It's also a long-term substitute position that could potentially lead to nothing permanent. Or, it could be a foot in the door. And ever since I scheduled the interview, I've had severe anxiety. The "what-ifs" abounded, still do, but I carried on and prepared for the interview.
It was terrible! It was completely robotic, with the three administrators taking turns asking me questions and writing my answers down, no response, no dialogue. I have some pretty unique experiences in the field of education, and you'd expect people who have not shared those experiences to maybe want to learn a little about them. I talked about them as much as the pre-planned questions allowed, but that was it. And then it was my turn to ask the questions. This is not my forte in the interview process, but I had some planned. Here's how it went:
Principal: So, do you have any questions for us?
Me: What do you expect of me in terms of classroom management and routines? Do you want me to follow the established routine, or do you want me to create something of my own? (The teacher is not coming back this year, so these will be my students for the remainder of the year.)
Principal: Well, I would only expect you to create your own plan if you found serious fault with what was in place, but I can assure you that this is a very beloved, accomplished teacher who you'll be filling in for and she is very well like and respected by all of her students with virtually no discipline issues. The system she has works, so I don't think it would benefit you to walk into her room on the first day and rip down her list of rules (and he actually put his hands up and acted out ripping something off the walls.)
Me: Okay.
Principal: Do you have any more questions?
Me: Nope, I'm good.
And then I went and wrote a two paragraph essay on the scope of language arts as it pertains to the Common Core Standards, and if you are not familiar with Common Core, you should know that the scope of language arts could fill pages upon pages of books.
Yeah, I'm really starting to question if I want my foot in the door. I will either get a phone call Monday or I won't. I can't really go into all the fears and questions I have going in my mind right now. My mind is far too manic on that subject to put my thoughts into words. I just pray that the way will somehow reveal itself to me. And in the meantime, there is my December challenge...it's been a fun one!
Friday, November 28, 2014
Happy Thanksgiving!
This Thanksgiving I am thankful that this week is Thanksgiving and I have the perfect excuse to say to the outside world a big EFF YOU. I don't know what went wrong these last few weeks other than I stopped scrapbooking and everything else went to hell. But if there was ever a time for me to escape from reality and celebrate my family, now is the time to resume it.
We met with the principal of the elementary school who was in no way helpful nor sympathetic to our situation. What was suppose to be a meeting about this teacher's negligence, turned into a full on argument about one homework assignment that we as a family chose not to do because there was alternate material that would be more meaningful. One assignment. Do you really want to open a discussion as to the shortcomings of the district's homework policies and lack of differentiated instruction? This is about my child's teacher refusing to comply with a simple request to make sure he goes to the bathroom twice a day. Now he is on a power trip and had us wait until Wednesday for him to make his decision, which he didn't do. He refused to return my call Wednesday morning and when my husband went in for answers, he said, "What can I do for you?" Like all had been forgotten. Supposedly the switch will occur Monday and go into effect Tuesday. Thank you, dear Mr. Principal, for fucking with my son's education.
Then there is my work. I have been under ridicule from my boss for the past few weeks because apparently I have had inappropriate communication with a couple of my students' guidance counselors. What was so inappropriate? One of my students is recuperating from a serious back injury and is going through pretty intensive physical therapy. I wanted to know from the counselor if he was physically capable of meeting the weekly required hours and how much I should push him. I know! Isn't that an awful thing to communicate as one professional to another? Apparently, it's not my job to ask those questions. The second one was because through a dialogue with one of the counselors, I replied to a message of his without a formal address, such as "Dear Mr. Counselor" and didn't follow the script in our handbook. We were having a discussion about the ongoing progress of a shared student, a student who suffers from bipolar disorder. My boss actually rewrote the email for me highlighting the greeting and closing. Once again it comes down to a matter of control. We must micromanage every little insignificant detail, once again at the expense of the student, in order to feel important, in control, and God forbid not to possibly have me look more competent than you.
For the next four days, my goal is to not stew, as best I can. My work is just that, work, so if they want me to play the game, then I'll play the game. And as for Eli and the school situation, my fears are that the principal will continue to play games and not make the switch on Monday. I wanted Eli to go back to school Monday with a fresh start, but that's not happening. Hopefully, we can actually start back on Tuesday. That is what I will be praying for this weekend so we can settle back in and resume some sort of normalcy for him.
Can I take a minute and just let you know the kind of kid Eli is? I think that's what makes this all so painful. Eli can make friends with anyone, and usually does. He has a very encompassing energy that just draws other kids into whatever is playing out in his imagination. All are welcome. Eli is the kid that hovers over me making his lunch because he cannot go to school with a peanut butter sandwich. He loves peanut butter, but one of his best friends is allergic to peanuts, so he goes without. The other day he was at his soccer banquet and was eating some Doritoes. His teammate was sitting next to him and somehow Eli learned he was allergic to Doritoes, so Eli got up and threw away his plate and wouldn't eat them either. That's the kind of kid Eli is, and he doesn't deserve this.
I have seven page layouts to go. The plan is to finish them Friday and then Saturday and Sunday work on the embellishments. I'm behind in my plan, but maybe being behind at this point is a good thing..more to do to occupy my mind.
I'm also reading Bridget Jones's Diary. There are about four, maybe five books, that have caused me to literally laugh out loud. Tina Fey's Bossypants is one, and that one had me laughing the entire time. My husband thought I was seriously losing it. There was also a Sophie Kinsella book, not the any of the Shopaholics, but the one about the girl who loses her memory. That had a funny part in it that had me laughing for awhile. And both Bridget Jones books (haven't seen the third one yet). And there might have been a few others, but these are the ones that stick out in my memory. I had thought when I initially picked it up again that it would lighten my mood, but reading Bridget as a happily married 38 year old, versus reading it as a single 21 year old certainly had a different effect. God, she's annoying and really and truly messed up. I also cannot get the image of Renee Zellwiger out of my head, with her weird, fake pouty lips and screwy British accent. There had to have been a better choice. But, it's a fast read, so I'm almost through and then can jump into something more my 30-something speed.
So that's my Thanksgiving holiday. I pray that soon a door opens for me that will allow me to make some changes for myself and my family, and in the meantime I pray that life settles a bit. Have a blessed holiday!
For the next four days, my goal is to not stew, as best I can. My work is just that, work, so if they want me to play the game, then I'll play the game. And as for Eli and the school situation, my fears are that the principal will continue to play games and not make the switch on Monday. I wanted Eli to go back to school Monday with a fresh start, but that's not happening. Hopefully, we can actually start back on Tuesday. That is what I will be praying for this weekend so we can settle back in and resume some sort of normalcy for him.
Can I take a minute and just let you know the kind of kid Eli is? I think that's what makes this all so painful. Eli can make friends with anyone, and usually does. He has a very encompassing energy that just draws other kids into whatever is playing out in his imagination. All are welcome. Eli is the kid that hovers over me making his lunch because he cannot go to school with a peanut butter sandwich. He loves peanut butter, but one of his best friends is allergic to peanuts, so he goes without. The other day he was at his soccer banquet and was eating some Doritoes. His teammate was sitting next to him and somehow Eli learned he was allergic to Doritoes, so Eli got up and threw away his plate and wouldn't eat them either. That's the kind of kid Eli is, and he doesn't deserve this.
I have seven page layouts to go. The plan is to finish them Friday and then Saturday and Sunday work on the embellishments. I'm behind in my plan, but maybe being behind at this point is a good thing..more to do to occupy my mind.
I'm also reading Bridget Jones's Diary. There are about four, maybe five books, that have caused me to literally laugh out loud. Tina Fey's Bossypants is one, and that one had me laughing the entire time. My husband thought I was seriously losing it. There was also a Sophie Kinsella book, not the any of the Shopaholics, but the one about the girl who loses her memory. That had a funny part in it that had me laughing for awhile. And both Bridget Jones books (haven't seen the third one yet). And there might have been a few others, but these are the ones that stick out in my memory. I had thought when I initially picked it up again that it would lighten my mood, but reading Bridget as a happily married 38 year old, versus reading it as a single 21 year old certainly had a different effect. God, she's annoying and really and truly messed up. I also cannot get the image of Renee Zellwiger out of my head, with her weird, fake pouty lips and screwy British accent. There had to have been a better choice. But, it's a fast read, so I'm almost through and then can jump into something more my 30-something speed.
So that's my Thanksgiving holiday. I pray that soon a door opens for me that will allow me to make some changes for myself and my family, and in the meantime I pray that life settles a bit. Have a blessed holiday!
Saturday, November 22, 2014
Where the F**K is my bathing suit??
I thought that maybe the spring, summer, and beautiful fall we had might have helped my body to make a full recuperation after the bitterly cold winter we had last year, but this week temperatures dipped below freezing and I immediately went into full on hibernation/depression mode, donned my stained sweatpants, ordered Taco Bell, and began ranting about how much I hate living where I do and searching for houses in much warmer climates. I'm pretty sure last winter did permanent damage to my body. Just like my butterfly bush almost died, as did many of them around us, and no hydrangeas bloomed this year, I think something inside my bones will never be the same again.
And guess where I get to go tonight? An indoor water park for a kid's birthday party. Have you ever been to an indoor water park? I had my first experience last year at my niece's. It is sickeningly warm and humid. It's like the hottest day in July but you're surrounded by hundreds of strangers. Yes, strangers. In a confined space. The floors are slimy. Everything you touch is slimy. And people brush their wet, sticky bodies up against you because there is no room to move.
I was at first questioning if I needed to stay. But, yes, I need to stay. It's a freaking water park! I'm not leaving my eight year old to fend for himself at a water park. Then I thought maybe I don't need to wear a swimsuit. What am I thinking??? Of course I need to wear a swimsuit. My kid is a selective mute. He has severe anxiety in crowds. There's no way in hell he's going to go off with his friends without me. Nope! There I'll be sitting in a 100 degree room with 90 percent humidity with a lanky, gangly eight year old strewn across me refusing to leave my lap. Damn, where the fuck did I put my bathing suit?
[SKIP AHEAD TO MIDDLE OF THE NIGHT, CAN'T SLEEP, EMOTIONALLY WRECKED]
I began this post early on Friday, November 21st and at that time my biggest worry was that frickin' waterpark and finding my bathing suit. It turns out that waterpark was the best part of my day, after the horrendous drive there. This place, traffic-free, is probably no more than ten or fifteen minutes from my house, but an hour later fighting with Turnpike and 295 traffic and the DAMN NEW JERSEY JUGHANDLES (I made so many loops, cursing Friday nights and New Jersey and my husband for not cleaning his windshield and I'm sure adding to my son's anxiety which will probably tack on a few extra therapy sessions) we finally made it.
Before I recount the night's events, let's back up a bit to parent conferences. Report cards came out last Friday. Wednesday I took the boys for their flu shots and happened to mention to the office staff there that Eli was having bathroom issues at school and despite my efforts, i.e. pleading with the teacher to ensure his use of the bathroom, he was still not going. He was embarrassed and afraid to ask her or say that he had to go. They said they'd have the doctor write a note and it'd be ready the next day. That night I get a call from the doctor himself telling me to get the kid in the office to be tested for a urinary tract infection because, you know, he's got that alien kidney and all. My husband and I joked that if she didn't start making sure he went to the bathroom, we'd pull the kidney card, but we never actually thought it'd hurt him. I don't know why I didn't think the situation would hurt him. His kidney has never been a serious threat and we've finally gotten to the point of putting it out of our minds and moving past it. Thanks to this teacher who refused to say, "You must go and try to use the bathroom," my son who has made it this far with no problems is at risk.
OK, so we meet with the principal before our conference with her about that issue first and foremost, but also because the child continues to have behavior issues and we continue to get no communication from her aside from a bunch of stars on a piece of paper, or no stars, given the day, and the kid is thoroughly confused because she also has a behavior ladder and some days when he gets no stars he's at the middle of the ladder on "blue" and other days he gets a whole bunch of stars and will be low on the ladder on "yellow" or "orange". And not only is he publicly ridiculed on this ladder, but she decided to mark down his participation grade in all subjects because of this so-called behavior and it actually prevented him from getting an "Outstanding" in reading.
The meeting with the principal went well and we thought maybe there could be some progress made...AND then we met with her. She, who had told me Eli was reading at an advanced level and would bring in chapter books and enrichment material for him, turned around and said she doesn't see that he's reading above grade level. She's the one who told me! She condescendingly praised his behavior that day, but couldn't tell us what color he was on. We turned around to find him on "yellow" because she failed to move him up the ladder as his behavior improved. She said she was inconsistent because the half days were throwing her off. This isn't the first time she's made an excuse for her inconsistency with the chart.
As the conference continued, we were upset but really holding it together and she suddenly makes the statement that she wants to help and support our child but she can't do that when she feels under "attack." Uh-huh? OK...I'm trying to support these multiple behavior charts. I hadn't yet presented her with the doctor's note about him using the bathroom. How am I attacking her? Homework. That was it. Homework. Every Monday night every teacher in grades K through second grade gives the spelling words to copy over two or three times each. Eli knows all of the spelling words every week, first night. He does not need to rote memorize words he already knows. I politely wrote her a note saying that I reviewed the words with him, he knew them all, and had him do some more challenging work in a phonics workbook. I had told her previously that I work with him in these workbooks because they really help bolster his skills and confidence. I explained to her that I did it last year when he was struggling with paragraph writing. He was being pushed too hard and didn't have the skills to be confident in attempting to write paragraphs. He was only five. His kindergarten teacher at first was skeptical, but she was supportive of it. By the end of the year, she even said that Eli had made great progress and that backing off was just the thing he needed. I told ALL of this to his teacher this year. She initially seemed impressed by it, so I was clearly surprised when she referred to it as an attack. Seriously, if I wanted to be insubordinate, I would have written a note saying "Homework sucks and is pointless. We're not doing it!" (By the way, that's how I feel as an educator and rarely gave homework. Practice what you preach, right?)
The conversation moved onto him doing the new "challenge" that comes with copying out the words twice: students can write a story using the spelling words. I love it! It's meaningful, creative, and appropriately challenging. The first night it came home, Eli jumped on it. The second week, he was completely frustrated. Tears were streaming down his face. I stopped him, and said it was OK. We did four workbook pages in its place. I wrote a note to her saying he was frustrated and we did extra work in its place and if she wanted to see the workbook, I'd be happy to bring it in for her. At the conference, she questioned why I wouldn't force him to do the challenge which is an optional challenge for all the students. I told her--again--that he easily gets frustrated with writing and pushing him just makes it worse. She said that he's going to continue to struggle if he's not pushed into doing it. Say what?!?! Yeah, and then he's going to be sitting in ninth grade hating his teacher before he already knows her because she's going to make him write and then she's left with the task of undoing all the damage you caused at six years old. Been there! I told her I refused, REFUSED, to have tears over writing in my house. He will NOT have negative feelings towards the task.
She said more stuff after that, but I was done. I stopped listening and then I realized, so had he. He was tuning her out. He was tuning out her inconsistencies, her condescension, her ridicule. He was going into his little world inside that with Eli always plays itself out in the real world and there was the behavior. He doesn't have ADD. He's surviving in a hostile environment. I walked up to the office and said he will NOT be setting foot in her class again...ever.
So yeah, yada yada yada, the principal couldn't see me then and I'm to meet with him on Monday first thing. But, there's no other option and he knows it.
I was left feeling wrecked. I was completely "that parent" who every teacher dreads. Being a mom is ten times harder than teaching ever was, because no matter how much you want to support educators, your child, your baby, comes first. And then it was time for me to face the waterpark.
We get to the waterpark and there was no. one. there. The party-goers were there, but other than that the place was relatively empty. Sal's friends came running up to him and suddenly my kid had friends. Lots of friends and he ran off and I didn't see him the rest of the night. Do you know how monumental that is? I'm sitting here in tears as I type. He was a normal little boy with all these nice little friends. Yeah, he was the quiet one, but he talked to them. He played with them. It was everything I have always hoped for him. I have never felt such joy.
While I sat there taking in my little boy's accomplishments, I sat with a mom who was at a funeral today. The town over lost a fireman. He was thirty-eight with an eight year old little boy and a four year old little girl. Sal's baseball team played this guy's son's team a couple years ago. He was their coach. He had gone off duty and a few hours later his wife found him dead. Aneurism? Probably a heart attack? At thirty eight. We're thirty eight. I think of my husband, overweight, over-stressed, a wife that makes him go out for Taco Bell. None of that other stuff matters. All the anxiety my kids feel at school shouldn't be because all that stuff, yeah, it's good to know, but it doesn't matter. Their friends matter. Family matters. Fun matters. Taking it all in before it's all gone. That's what matters.
So, yeah, that's why I'm up in the middle of the night.
[SKIP AHEAD TO MIDDLE OF THE NIGHT, CAN'T SLEEP, EMOTIONALLY WRECKED]
I began this post early on Friday, November 21st and at that time my biggest worry was that frickin' waterpark and finding my bathing suit. It turns out that waterpark was the best part of my day, after the horrendous drive there. This place, traffic-free, is probably no more than ten or fifteen minutes from my house, but an hour later fighting with Turnpike and 295 traffic and the DAMN NEW JERSEY JUGHANDLES (I made so many loops, cursing Friday nights and New Jersey and my husband for not cleaning his windshield and I'm sure adding to my son's anxiety which will probably tack on a few extra therapy sessions) we finally made it.
Before I recount the night's events, let's back up a bit to parent conferences. Report cards came out last Friday. Wednesday I took the boys for their flu shots and happened to mention to the office staff there that Eli was having bathroom issues at school and despite my efforts, i.e. pleading with the teacher to ensure his use of the bathroom, he was still not going. He was embarrassed and afraid to ask her or say that he had to go. They said they'd have the doctor write a note and it'd be ready the next day. That night I get a call from the doctor himself telling me to get the kid in the office to be tested for a urinary tract infection because, you know, he's got that alien kidney and all. My husband and I joked that if she didn't start making sure he went to the bathroom, we'd pull the kidney card, but we never actually thought it'd hurt him. I don't know why I didn't think the situation would hurt him. His kidney has never been a serious threat and we've finally gotten to the point of putting it out of our minds and moving past it. Thanks to this teacher who refused to say, "You must go and try to use the bathroom," my son who has made it this far with no problems is at risk.
OK, so we meet with the principal before our conference with her about that issue first and foremost, but also because the child continues to have behavior issues and we continue to get no communication from her aside from a bunch of stars on a piece of paper, or no stars, given the day, and the kid is thoroughly confused because she also has a behavior ladder and some days when he gets no stars he's at the middle of the ladder on "blue" and other days he gets a whole bunch of stars and will be low on the ladder on "yellow" or "orange". And not only is he publicly ridiculed on this ladder, but she decided to mark down his participation grade in all subjects because of this so-called behavior and it actually prevented him from getting an "Outstanding" in reading.
The meeting with the principal went well and we thought maybe there could be some progress made...AND then we met with her. She, who had told me Eli was reading at an advanced level and would bring in chapter books and enrichment material for him, turned around and said she doesn't see that he's reading above grade level. She's the one who told me! She condescendingly praised his behavior that day, but couldn't tell us what color he was on. We turned around to find him on "yellow" because she failed to move him up the ladder as his behavior improved. She said she was inconsistent because the half days were throwing her off. This isn't the first time she's made an excuse for her inconsistency with the chart.
As the conference continued, we were upset but really holding it together and she suddenly makes the statement that she wants to help and support our child but she can't do that when she feels under "attack." Uh-huh? OK...I'm trying to support these multiple behavior charts. I hadn't yet presented her with the doctor's note about him using the bathroom. How am I attacking her? Homework. That was it. Homework. Every Monday night every teacher in grades K through second grade gives the spelling words to copy over two or three times each. Eli knows all of the spelling words every week, first night. He does not need to rote memorize words he already knows. I politely wrote her a note saying that I reviewed the words with him, he knew them all, and had him do some more challenging work in a phonics workbook. I had told her previously that I work with him in these workbooks because they really help bolster his skills and confidence. I explained to her that I did it last year when he was struggling with paragraph writing. He was being pushed too hard and didn't have the skills to be confident in attempting to write paragraphs. He was only five. His kindergarten teacher at first was skeptical, but she was supportive of it. By the end of the year, she even said that Eli had made great progress and that backing off was just the thing he needed. I told ALL of this to his teacher this year. She initially seemed impressed by it, so I was clearly surprised when she referred to it as an attack. Seriously, if I wanted to be insubordinate, I would have written a note saying "Homework sucks and is pointless. We're not doing it!" (By the way, that's how I feel as an educator and rarely gave homework. Practice what you preach, right?)
The conversation moved onto him doing the new "challenge" that comes with copying out the words twice: students can write a story using the spelling words. I love it! It's meaningful, creative, and appropriately challenging. The first night it came home, Eli jumped on it. The second week, he was completely frustrated. Tears were streaming down his face. I stopped him, and said it was OK. We did four workbook pages in its place. I wrote a note to her saying he was frustrated and we did extra work in its place and if she wanted to see the workbook, I'd be happy to bring it in for her. At the conference, she questioned why I wouldn't force him to do the challenge which is an optional challenge for all the students. I told her--again--that he easily gets frustrated with writing and pushing him just makes it worse. She said that he's going to continue to struggle if he's not pushed into doing it. Say what?!?! Yeah, and then he's going to be sitting in ninth grade hating his teacher before he already knows her because she's going to make him write and then she's left with the task of undoing all the damage you caused at six years old. Been there! I told her I refused, REFUSED, to have tears over writing in my house. He will NOT have negative feelings towards the task.
She said more stuff after that, but I was done. I stopped listening and then I realized, so had he. He was tuning her out. He was tuning out her inconsistencies, her condescension, her ridicule. He was going into his little world inside that with Eli always plays itself out in the real world and there was the behavior. He doesn't have ADD. He's surviving in a hostile environment. I walked up to the office and said he will NOT be setting foot in her class again...ever.
So yeah, yada yada yada, the principal couldn't see me then and I'm to meet with him on Monday first thing. But, there's no other option and he knows it.
I was left feeling wrecked. I was completely "that parent" who every teacher dreads. Being a mom is ten times harder than teaching ever was, because no matter how much you want to support educators, your child, your baby, comes first. And then it was time for me to face the waterpark.
We get to the waterpark and there was no. one. there. The party-goers were there, but other than that the place was relatively empty. Sal's friends came running up to him and suddenly my kid had friends. Lots of friends and he ran off and I didn't see him the rest of the night. Do you know how monumental that is? I'm sitting here in tears as I type. He was a normal little boy with all these nice little friends. Yeah, he was the quiet one, but he talked to them. He played with them. It was everything I have always hoped for him. I have never felt such joy.
While I sat there taking in my little boy's accomplishments, I sat with a mom who was at a funeral today. The town over lost a fireman. He was thirty-eight with an eight year old little boy and a four year old little girl. Sal's baseball team played this guy's son's team a couple years ago. He was their coach. He had gone off duty and a few hours later his wife found him dead. Aneurism? Probably a heart attack? At thirty eight. We're thirty eight. I think of my husband, overweight, over-stressed, a wife that makes him go out for Taco Bell. None of that other stuff matters. All the anxiety my kids feel at school shouldn't be because all that stuff, yeah, it's good to know, but it doesn't matter. Their friends matter. Family matters. Fun matters. Taking it all in before it's all gone. That's what matters.
So, yeah, that's why I'm up in the middle of the night.
Friday, November 14, 2014
Reality Bites
Now, I'm not saying scrapbooking has magical powers or anything, but this past week I haven't been able to sit and work on pages at all and let's just say I've been hit hard with that awful thing called reality. Nothing particularly bad happened; it's just that I've been faced quite glaringly with our circumstances and I don't like them. It's hard to remain positive and remember your blessings, and I do have many, when life is right there smacking you in the face.
The week began with me chaperoning Sal's field trip to the zoo. It was a beautiful day. I had four great kids in my group who I immensely enjoyed spending the day with. They were vibrant and inquisitive and they asked questioned and listened to everything that was said. But through all of this, I was faced with the painful disorder that is called selective mutism. Sal has made leaps and bounds in the past few months with his speaking, but here he was in a small group with his mom and barely spoke ten words the entire day. You see, we had a little girl in our group who is pretty much the polar opposite of Sal. She's loud and peppy and outgoing and touchy-feely and at one point I thought Sal was going to implode from all that is her. He has a rating system through the SMart Center to chart his level of anxiety, 0 being no anxiety and 3 being very, very hard. He gave spending the day with this girl a 10. And she doesn't deserve a 10. She's a sweet, caring little girl. But, I was struck by how out of place he is at this school. Aside from his interaction with her, I was able to observe him for about an hour in the classroom while waiting for the buses to arrive. There are so many distractions this teacher must deal with on a daily basis. Sal has one of the nicer groups of kids in his school, and his class in particular this year, is quite nice, but there are still behaviors that I'm sure simply set him on edge and are out of the teacher's power to stop and consume a lot of her energy to keep in check. She's been amazing at helping him, but I can imagine that the help is limited. Sal isn't even aware of it, but I see a little boy with "friends" that aren't truly friends, but rather kids that are nice and he likes.
On top of that, Eli is continuing to struggle behaviorally in school. He has "good" days and "bad" days and had another accident again this week. I'm getting the little sheet of paper with some stars on it here and there, but no real feedback as to his actions. His group of kids is more questionable. They have a much darker side, some just because they are more imaginative, but others because of their lack of preservation of innocence in their upbringing. My husband is concerned the child has ADHD, but I'm convinced his lack of attention is the lack of the teacher's ability to engage him. Plus, how can she compete with the stories the other kids are telling?
It's a terrible feeling to have that sense of not belonging. We have all experienced it, and it's not a new feeling for me in any way. I remember sitting for years at dance class, friendless and awkward, and clearly not "a dancer". I didn't belong, but stayed because despite all of that, I enjoyed the dancing. But it was a temporary feeling. For a few hours each week I sat awkward and alone, but the rest of life seemed to fall into place. I had belonging in school activities and a strong little group of friends. In this little town, I'm constantly on the outskirts of community, as is my entire family. I can see relationships being formed and a strong sense of community, but not one that I am truly apart of. And it's clearly affecting my boys, Sal especially. Everyone is busy and play dates are difficult to arrange, but I see the other boys striking up friendships that will last a long time. I see families hanging out together and kids having sleepovers and after school video game fests. And no matter how many times I open my doors to them, they never open their doors to me. Now at the age of eight, there are no such things as "play dates". They are too contrived. The kids go to friends' houses to hang out, but for us, we're still arranging and planning and scheduling.
[A little side story here. I had a couple brothers over this summer to play with Sal and Eli. I really like their mom. She's a lot like me and our younger boys are like kindred spirits. Anyway, she invited us to their block party. Here was an opportunity for us to be social, and I completely forgot about it. She said she'd send me an Evite, but I'm pretty sure she forgot. My mother raked me over the coals for forgetting, admonishing me for all my "whining and complaining" about not having any friends and then forgetting to go. Feeling guilty and a social reject, I get on Facebook and see that at said block party there was a drunk guy there who has some sexual predator issues and was following the kids around and making lewd comments to them. This mom I like told him he needed to leave so he came back with a gun (a pellet gun that he made over to look like a real gun, but still) and pointed it at her head. Maybe there was a reason I forgot this party. Maybe I was never meant to be there in the first place. I know after I told my mom that she got off me for not going.]
But maybe that's just it. Maybe I was never meant to be apart of this community in the first place. Maybe I'm meant to be in my home and with my neighbors, but not really apart of this little town. Maybe there is something different for us. And that brings me to our evening last night. I signed up to go to an open house at a Friends school just ten minutes up the road from us. A Friends school is based on the Quaker religion. They cherish peace and simplicity.
Here is also a little bit of reality hitting me as I make arrangements to visit a school with a $11,000 per year tuition: we hit such a financial crisis this fall what with the dog's vet bills, accruing credit debt, and a depletion of both our paychecks that we have tapped into our boys' savings what little there was. I swore I never would touch their savings, but at one point we needed to pay our mortgage and at another point, it seemed ridiculous to be spending thousands of dollars in interest on our credit cards when there was this money sitting there that could potentially save us. We made the decision to use their savings to help us get out of credit debt. I'm hoping that in a few years time, it will have been the right decision and have the outcome of helping our overall circumstances and enrich their experiences. But still....
So we visit this school. When I made the appointment, my husband said he wouldn't be going and would stay home with all the boys. He said there didn't seem to be any point in visiting a school that wasn't an option for us. But, I needed to see it. I'm sick of feeling resigned, settling for mediocre. Both older boys were very excited to attend, and surprisingly as 5 o'clock rolled around there was my husband ready to go without a single snarky comment to be made.
Sending my children had never been even a consideration when we became parents. I'm sorry to say it, but I stereotyped private school kids and families: rich snobs. How could I not being a strong proponent of a public school education when I was a public school educator? But, here we were last night at this school and guess what? There were a lot of rich people there. Our tour guide was a parent of two boys at the school. She was Indian and didn't work, so I can only assume what her husband did for a living. I mean, let's just jump right into the stereotypes, right? When you expect to find something, you often do, but as we toured from classroom to classroom, it suddenly struck me that what I initially read as her being fake and trying to make a sale, was complete sincerity of her love for this school. It wasn't until we went into the fourth grade classroom (potentially Sal's classroom next year) and met the fourth grade teacher that suddenly I, too, found myself falling in love with this place. The teacher who was in her late 60's, maybe early 70's, was animatedly talking about her freedom to explore the world around them. No burn out. Just a love, a genuine love, for this school. She had been a student there, a teacher there, and a parent there. And as my two little ones started getting antsy and running around, she put her hand on my arm and said to just let them be and explore, there was nothing they could hurt in her room. And I believed her!
And here's the truly miraculous part! By the end of the night, Sal was freely talking in front of our tour guide and our two student guides. He willingly said good-bye and thank you upon leaving and expressed how much he liked the school. Turns out he was listening the entire time and easily picked up on the small class sizes and all the extras the school had to offer. Not only did I see Sal reach a comfort level in less than two hours with complete strangers, but my Mr. Negative husband said how calm the school made him feel. He said that it was so warm and inviting and everyone there seemed to have open arms.
Could this be the answer? I realize no place is perfect, but... How could this be the answer when we have no way to pay for tuition? Did I make a mistake in visiting? In seeing something I have no hopes of having? Is there a hope? Do I have the energy to make it happen? Will the fates be in my favor of rewarding my energy when it seems so much of my already spent energy has been in vain?
And that's where I am this Friday morning, faced with these realities and not really sure about how to handle them. I'm trying to figure out a way to blend my fantasy life (which is really just a slightly more comfortable life than I have right now, not with private jets or mansions, but the ability to send my kids to a school that could allow them to blossom and maybe a new pair of boots every now and then) and my real life of living paycheck to paycheck and coming up short every now and then on the mortgage or groceries.
The week began with me chaperoning Sal's field trip to the zoo. It was a beautiful day. I had four great kids in my group who I immensely enjoyed spending the day with. They were vibrant and inquisitive and they asked questioned and listened to everything that was said. But through all of this, I was faced with the painful disorder that is called selective mutism. Sal has made leaps and bounds in the past few months with his speaking, but here he was in a small group with his mom and barely spoke ten words the entire day. You see, we had a little girl in our group who is pretty much the polar opposite of Sal. She's loud and peppy and outgoing and touchy-feely and at one point I thought Sal was going to implode from all that is her. He has a rating system through the SMart Center to chart his level of anxiety, 0 being no anxiety and 3 being very, very hard. He gave spending the day with this girl a 10. And she doesn't deserve a 10. She's a sweet, caring little girl. But, I was struck by how out of place he is at this school. Aside from his interaction with her, I was able to observe him for about an hour in the classroom while waiting for the buses to arrive. There are so many distractions this teacher must deal with on a daily basis. Sal has one of the nicer groups of kids in his school, and his class in particular this year, is quite nice, but there are still behaviors that I'm sure simply set him on edge and are out of the teacher's power to stop and consume a lot of her energy to keep in check. She's been amazing at helping him, but I can imagine that the help is limited. Sal isn't even aware of it, but I see a little boy with "friends" that aren't truly friends, but rather kids that are nice and he likes.
On top of that, Eli is continuing to struggle behaviorally in school. He has "good" days and "bad" days and had another accident again this week. I'm getting the little sheet of paper with some stars on it here and there, but no real feedback as to his actions. His group of kids is more questionable. They have a much darker side, some just because they are more imaginative, but others because of their lack of preservation of innocence in their upbringing. My husband is concerned the child has ADHD, but I'm convinced his lack of attention is the lack of the teacher's ability to engage him. Plus, how can she compete with the stories the other kids are telling?
It's a terrible feeling to have that sense of not belonging. We have all experienced it, and it's not a new feeling for me in any way. I remember sitting for years at dance class, friendless and awkward, and clearly not "a dancer". I didn't belong, but stayed because despite all of that, I enjoyed the dancing. But it was a temporary feeling. For a few hours each week I sat awkward and alone, but the rest of life seemed to fall into place. I had belonging in school activities and a strong little group of friends. In this little town, I'm constantly on the outskirts of community, as is my entire family. I can see relationships being formed and a strong sense of community, but not one that I am truly apart of. And it's clearly affecting my boys, Sal especially. Everyone is busy and play dates are difficult to arrange, but I see the other boys striking up friendships that will last a long time. I see families hanging out together and kids having sleepovers and after school video game fests. And no matter how many times I open my doors to them, they never open their doors to me. Now at the age of eight, there are no such things as "play dates". They are too contrived. The kids go to friends' houses to hang out, but for us, we're still arranging and planning and scheduling.
[A little side story here. I had a couple brothers over this summer to play with Sal and Eli. I really like their mom. She's a lot like me and our younger boys are like kindred spirits. Anyway, she invited us to their block party. Here was an opportunity for us to be social, and I completely forgot about it. She said she'd send me an Evite, but I'm pretty sure she forgot. My mother raked me over the coals for forgetting, admonishing me for all my "whining and complaining" about not having any friends and then forgetting to go. Feeling guilty and a social reject, I get on Facebook and see that at said block party there was a drunk guy there who has some sexual predator issues and was following the kids around and making lewd comments to them. This mom I like told him he needed to leave so he came back with a gun (a pellet gun that he made over to look like a real gun, but still) and pointed it at her head. Maybe there was a reason I forgot this party. Maybe I was never meant to be there in the first place. I know after I told my mom that she got off me for not going.]
But maybe that's just it. Maybe I was never meant to be apart of this community in the first place. Maybe I'm meant to be in my home and with my neighbors, but not really apart of this little town. Maybe there is something different for us. And that brings me to our evening last night. I signed up to go to an open house at a Friends school just ten minutes up the road from us. A Friends school is based on the Quaker religion. They cherish peace and simplicity.
Here is also a little bit of reality hitting me as I make arrangements to visit a school with a $11,000 per year tuition: we hit such a financial crisis this fall what with the dog's vet bills, accruing credit debt, and a depletion of both our paychecks that we have tapped into our boys' savings what little there was. I swore I never would touch their savings, but at one point we needed to pay our mortgage and at another point, it seemed ridiculous to be spending thousands of dollars in interest on our credit cards when there was this money sitting there that could potentially save us. We made the decision to use their savings to help us get out of credit debt. I'm hoping that in a few years time, it will have been the right decision and have the outcome of helping our overall circumstances and enrich their experiences. But still....
So we visit this school. When I made the appointment, my husband said he wouldn't be going and would stay home with all the boys. He said there didn't seem to be any point in visiting a school that wasn't an option for us. But, I needed to see it. I'm sick of feeling resigned, settling for mediocre. Both older boys were very excited to attend, and surprisingly as 5 o'clock rolled around there was my husband ready to go without a single snarky comment to be made.
Sending my children had never been even a consideration when we became parents. I'm sorry to say it, but I stereotyped private school kids and families: rich snobs. How could I not being a strong proponent of a public school education when I was a public school educator? But, here we were last night at this school and guess what? There were a lot of rich people there. Our tour guide was a parent of two boys at the school. She was Indian and didn't work, so I can only assume what her husband did for a living. I mean, let's just jump right into the stereotypes, right? When you expect to find something, you often do, but as we toured from classroom to classroom, it suddenly struck me that what I initially read as her being fake and trying to make a sale, was complete sincerity of her love for this school. It wasn't until we went into the fourth grade classroom (potentially Sal's classroom next year) and met the fourth grade teacher that suddenly I, too, found myself falling in love with this place. The teacher who was in her late 60's, maybe early 70's, was animatedly talking about her freedom to explore the world around them. No burn out. Just a love, a genuine love, for this school. She had been a student there, a teacher there, and a parent there. And as my two little ones started getting antsy and running around, she put her hand on my arm and said to just let them be and explore, there was nothing they could hurt in her room. And I believed her!
And here's the truly miraculous part! By the end of the night, Sal was freely talking in front of our tour guide and our two student guides. He willingly said good-bye and thank you upon leaving and expressed how much he liked the school. Turns out he was listening the entire time and easily picked up on the small class sizes and all the extras the school had to offer. Not only did I see Sal reach a comfort level in less than two hours with complete strangers, but my Mr. Negative husband said how calm the school made him feel. He said that it was so warm and inviting and everyone there seemed to have open arms.
Could this be the answer? I realize no place is perfect, but... How could this be the answer when we have no way to pay for tuition? Did I make a mistake in visiting? In seeing something I have no hopes of having? Is there a hope? Do I have the energy to make it happen? Will the fates be in my favor of rewarding my energy when it seems so much of my already spent energy has been in vain?
And that's where I am this Friday morning, faced with these realities and not really sure about how to handle them. I'm trying to figure out a way to blend my fantasy life (which is really just a slightly more comfortable life than I have right now, not with private jets or mansions, but the ability to send my kids to a school that could allow them to blossom and maybe a new pair of boots every now and then) and my real life of living paycheck to paycheck and coming up short every now and then on the mortgage or groceries.
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