This New Year's Eve

Previously published on www.yellowbrick.me

This New Year's Eve, you are six and your brother is 3 1/2.  Your mom is 39 and your dad is 47.  We will all be here together tonight , but unlike last year and the year before, we've decided to celebrate this one without any hoopla.  This year will be just us.  Our family, in our house.  I may do some clean up of toys and perhaps even some vacuuming, but there will not be the chaotic straightening up that comes when people are coming over.  I have done the dishes, so that we can begin defiling them again when your father gets home from work.  I have warmed the extra room, so that we can all be together on the same floor as your dad and I cook, and that is probably all I will do right now.  I have thought about putting up decorations, and perhaps we will do that in a bit, but right now, I am enjoying the quiet.  The end of this year deserves quiet.
It has been a tumultuous year in some ways, and yet, looking back, I cannot put my finger on any one thing that happened.  We were in many ways, just us, a family, firmly ensconced in the middle class of a wealthy state in a relatively well off nation.  We hit some financial bumps, where we questioned the way we were choosing to live, and while your dad and I got a bit snarky with one and other, we did not let it rock us.  I have faith that your father will keep my accounts balanced in all ways figuratively and literally, and I reminded him of that when he needed it.  I have faith in him.  I have faith in us.  There were days when I worried about you as you passed milestone after milestone.  But, while relishing in each new success, your first soccer trophy, your first lost tooth, chapter books begun, and math equations finished, you didn't let a single disappointment mar your day.  You have found your stride, and I am in awe of your pace as you wind your way through this life.  I could spend time worrying about your brother's smash 'em bash 'em lifestyle, but I have chosen to seek comfort in his morning and evening snuggles, and his silliness.  He is quick like his big sister, learning his ABC song, and recognizing more numbers and letters every day.  He is very much three years old with his temper and his attempts to control the world around him aggressively, but he is also filled top to bottom with love for his family, and hugs and kisses, and quick "I love you" check ins, when he can't find one of us.  As they were and are for you, his transgressions are easy to forgive.  He would follow you anywhere, and you must remember this as you and he will be each other's touchstones throughout your lives.  You will always be his first idol.  Be careful with him.  He is more fragile than he appears.  We all are.
Outside of our family, things were more driven by confusion and chaos.  This is one of the reasons I am happy to put up our family shield, enclose us in our bubble and ignore the rest.  There has been unrest everywhere I looked this year, and while I can't and won't shield you from it, we have kept it from you for now.  Friends have gotten sick, and gotten better.  Families have dissolved, and ties have weakened.  My understanding of our small and larger world seems to grown foggier.  There is so little clarity in the violence of our cities and suburbs.  I pose question after question, and find no answers. But if there is any lesson I can take away from this year, is that it all comes down to where you choose to lay your faith.  It seems to me the safest place to put it, is in the people you hold close, but never all in one person's hands.  Because some will misuse it.  Some will get greedy with it, assuming it can not be destroyed.  But faith is tenuous at best.  It must be cradled, and often rocked.  It must be soothed when need be.  It must be reminded that the one who holds it is deserving.  It is a precious gift.
So my beautiful daughter, this New Year's Eve, place your faith in me, and your father, but not only in us.  Give some to the magic of your world.  I am jealous of your forceful belief in the tooth fairy and Santa, but I am also jealous of your passionate faith in the adults of your world.  You have given your teachers, and your parents and your grandparents the gift of being superheroes in your life.  So, here's to your faith in all those around you.  May we all regain a bit of it just by being near you this year, and may we all remain deserving of it always.

Have I destroyed parenting for my younger friends?

Previously published on www.yellowbrick.me

Don't get me wrong.  I don't believe that I am so important in the lives of my millennial friends that I am the deciding factor in whether or not they have kids.  But I have been watching them, and I am wondering.
My generation, those of us born in the '70s, seem to have the loosest lips when it comes to parenting. Some time in the last decade, people started telling the truth.  We started talking about the sleeplessness, the frustrations and the reality that sometimes, even though, we love our children (and we do...we really really do), we don't like them at every moment of every day.  Because frankly, they can drive us to the brink of insanity, and pull us back a moment later.
But I worry.  Because at work, my younger friends see my exhaustion.  When they ask me about it, I tell them that Josh threw tantrums for an hour before bed, again...that Abby is 6 going on 14 and fights me with every ounce of her being, about nothing and everything.  That every morning, just getting them dressed and out the door is a feat of extraordinary heroism.  That Josh clings to me, as his nose runs, and he coughs his craggy cough, and I just want two minutes of me time to do a push up (just one) or read a sentence from my book or stare blankly at the television screen, but if I do leave him alone, even with his sister, within minutes (sometimes seconds) there will be screaming and the sound of something (someone?) falling. And most of the time I just want to scream. I tell them these things, and maybe I shouldn't.
But it's not just me.  I don't believe that I am that powerful.  But there are blogs, and essays ad infinitum from moms and dads, preaching to the world about just how hard this job is...and strangely enough, these young 30 year-olds smile at my tired eyes, give me a hug, and put off having babies for another year, maybe two.
Would I have done it, had I known?  Would I have read all of these blogs, and still had my two monsters?  I think I would have.  But then, I even refused to read What to Expect When You're Expecting, because it was too honest for me.  I didn't want to know what could happen.  I figured I'd learn about it when it did happen.  Now, the truth is so much harder to avoid.  As a mom, I love that the truth is out there.  I love that I can read about others going through what I am, and feel less isolated.  I love that I can speak to my mom friends and hear about the horrors of their mornings, and somehow feel like I can make it through the day now, too.  I especially love that when I did a search on the internet about why my three year old was refusing to swallow his food, leaving it clumped and chewed in his cheek for later investigation, I found story after story from parents experiencing the same thing.  No one had an answer, but I no longer felt like my child was a complete freak.  It was a phase, and he would get over it (which, thank goodness, he has).
But are we giving these millennials too much information, or is it just enough for Darwin to do his thing?  Maybe we need a bit more survival of the fittest when it comes to parenting?  I don't know, but for now, I like that we're all talking.

Perfection VS Goodness

Previously published on www.yellowbrick.me

I was thinking today about stress and anxiety and our never ending search for perfection from ourselves and those around us and came across this quote by John Steinbeck: “And now that you don’t have to be perfect, you can be good” (East of Eden). Steinbeck’s words stopped me in my tracks, as they usually do.  But I am an English teacher and a writer and I am often left speechless by the language of the greats.  What if we taught our kids not to be perfect, but to be good?  What if we could somehow got away from the competition, from the endless hunt for excellence, and could teach them that being good was more important than being better?  How might that look?  I think the world would look as it does through the eyes of a first grader.  I think it would be beautiful. 

I was watching television with my daughter the other night and she asked why one of the characters was having nightmares about school.  I said that she was worried about not doing well on a test.  Abby looked at me as though I was crazy.  “But she can just do better the next time.  The teacher will give her lots of chances.  They always do.  They want her to do better.”  I hugged her tightly and said that she was right, of course she was right.  Every day is a new chance to do better. 

Abby has not realized, yet, that she is already being set against her classmates in competition.  Her teacher sends home a weekly math sheet filled with addition practice and asks parents to time their kids and mark down how many they did in 5 minutes.  Abby has not thought to check herself against her classmates, to see if she got as far as, or farther than her friends.  It would never cross her mind.  But soon enough it will.  Soon enough a friend will ask to see her work.  They will start comparing, and Abby will want to be better, or will get frustrated that her friend completed more than three rows or five rows or however many rows.  Soon enough, doing the work for the sake of understanding will no longer be acceptable.  She will begin to seek perfection. 

And really, I am torn.  I want her to be her best.  I want her to strive for better from herself always, because that will be her true education.  But I don’t want her to lose the joy of learning to the competition, because it is the rare soul who has both.  Once in a while I meet a student who still just loves to learn.  I have one in mind now.  I taught him for two years and always felt that he was not entirely of our world.  He finds joy in everything, and the more he knows, the more his curiosity grows.  He is so very present in all aspects of his life, and I am utterly in awe of this young man.  But I think he has managed this love of life and learning in spite of, not because of school.  He spent many of his school years in another country, and came here for high school only.  Maybe this is why he does not have that edge, that sharpness, that ache to be better than the rest.  Maybe this is why he is able to always float above the fray.  He has not been taught to compete with anyone but himself.  At his very center is tranquility.  And most of us, who can not claim this same serenity, are drawn to the few who can.  It is so foreign, so mysterious.

Because at my center is a nervous ball of energy.  It radiates chaos that I must control and keep in check, but it also gives me strength to keep moving, keep striving, keep working, keep competing.  I can sense that Abby’s center is my own, that she will have to search for peace to balance out her chaos. As long as she knows she only has to best herself, that perfection ends the journey, and goodness is the goal, then I will feel as though I too have done my best for her.

Don't Quit

It is time to lift each other up.  No one else will do it.  If we do not praise each other, if we do not remember that we are a community stronger in our numbers than alone, than we lose.  Our numbers are beginning to fall as it is.  All over the country the numbers of people entering teacher preparatory programs are diminishing. You can see it here.  Those in the profession warn others away, and even our most well known and well respected educator, Nancy Atwell, told her audience that they should not become teachers (here).  It is too hard, too unforgiving, too under-compensating.  There is reason in all of this.  But those of us who are already teachers, are in it.  We are here, and more than ever, we need to remember why.  So let me remind you.

Teachers are the absolute best people I know.  They are generous, giving up free time to talk to any student at any time.  They will answer phone calls, respond to emails, edit student work, cover classes, and make copies for absent teachers, even when they know there are a million other things that need doing at that exact moment, all equally urgent.  They will do it all for no extra compensation.  They will do it all knowing full well that they make the same salary 15 years into their job, as many professionals do just starting out. You would be lucky to meet one person who is as good, as understanding, or as open in any other job.  I know this to be true.

Perhaps they are crazy.  Perhaps they should be fighting and refusing to do the extra pieces that those above them keep demanding.  Perhaps they should teach their classes, close their doors, and watch the clock.  Isn't that the perception anyway? 

But the teachers I know, and I consider myself blessed to know so many, live and breathe their jobs.  We raise other people’s children along with our own, and know that each one of them carries a piece of us wherever they go.  That’s our compensation.  We know that we are creating and molding and changing and developing the people who will lead our country, as well as those who will be its backbone and brain in our own lifetime.  We are exposing them to ideas and dreams and characters and passions they might not find if not for us.  That’s our compensation.  We are fighting for them when others will not.  We are fighting their apathy, their anger, and their ignorance, and replacing it with energy, hope and knowledge, and we are doing it even when we are at our lowest.  Because we know that when we are not here, there is no substitute for us.  There may be a body in our chair, but that body is not the one whom our kids rely on.  We know that, and we worry about it every moment that we are not present.  Because this job allows for no true days off.   
This does not mean that we should not fight.  This does not mean that we should not demand, loudly, that we deserve more because we have earned it.  We should yell at the top of our voices, united in our volume, that test scores are numbers, and numbers are not the faces we teach, or the imaginations we spur, or the hope we inspire.  They are only numbers and they change with the day.  We should question.  All the time.  We should question the evaluators who have not stood in our shoes.  We should question the ratings based on seven minutes of an evaluation that someday may determine our pay, or our "worth."  We should remember that every day we tell our students to question the world around them, and we should do no less.

So, teachers, feel free to get angry at the changes coming our way.  Rage at the initiatives, and the meetings, and the lack of understanding of all you do, which comes at you from all sides.  But know that your colleagues all over the country stand with you as you push and pull and work those students.  We are here too.  Let us fuel your imagination when you feel empty, as my colleagues do every day for me.  Let us be your backbone when you don’t feel like you have the strength to stand up to one more parent, or one more principal.  Reach out to us.

But don’t you quit.

Insomnia and the Stay at Home Mother

Published @ www.yellowbrick.me  December, 2015

I told a friend of mine the other day, that just as the saying goes, “You don’t know what you can do until you try,” there should also be one that says “You don’t know what you CAN’T do until you try.”  This summer, I learned what I can’t do.  I can’t be a stay at home mother to my two children.  Physically, I can, but mentally, not so much.  I can stay at home with one child.  I could do that for a while (and did this summer, much to my surprise, succeed in staying home with my 3 year old with no mental detriment to either of us).  But staying home with both of my children was altogether too difficult a thing for me to master.
I have mentioned this to other mothers my age, with kids of similar ages, and gotten lots of different responses, but without a doubt, it is always the mother who hasn't done it, who sighs and says "But that's the holy grail!"  I smile and say that I guess it isn't for me.

The funny thing about all of this, is that this shouldn't have come as a surprise. I have always loved working, and have never been great with needy people.  This is not the best of all possible combinations for a stay at home mother.
And yet, when I couldn't do it, and up until very recently, I viewed it as a massive failure.  Deep in my mind, where my nagging insecurities hold sway over all else, I couldn't help but hear the chant of "bad mother...bad mother."  Did it mean that I didn't love them enough?  That they were somehow getting the shortest end of the stick by being my children?  I have wanted to be a mother for my whole life, waited, getting more and more frustrated to meet the man who would be the father of my children, and here I was.  I had achieved the dream!  I had the husband and the son and the daughter.  I had the house in the town where I grew up, near parks and playgrounds.  But it somehow wasn't enough for me. Or maybe it was too much.   

This whole issue came as a surprise to me.  I am a person who believes that she can do everything.  With a little practice, I feel that I can be at least average at anything I set my mind to.  When the daycare called and said that we could take my son out for the summer, with his place for the fall intact, I jumped at the chance.  I don’t often get to be the one bringing money-saving news to my husband.  There was a tiny seed of doubt digging itself in in that aforementioned part of my brain, but I easily ignored it, as summer was months away, and I am his mother, after all.  This should come naturally.  We went ahead and signed my daughter up for camp for the month of July, leaving me with both children for two weeks (yes, only two weeks…how could I fail at that?), before we took a family vacation, and then we all went back to school and work. 

After a few weeks of summer passed, and Josh and I fell into an easy routine of lazy mornings, and swimming afternoons, I was feeling pretty good.  I could do this.  I was doing it!  But in the evenings, that tiny seed of doubt began to grow.  I would pick Abby up from camp, and the fighting would begin.  But, I rationalized, camp was tiring.  She has always been difficult when tired.  This did not foreshadow anything.  I stomped on that larger shoot of doubt.  We would be fine.

As the impending weeks grew closer, I tried to plan a couple of day trips.  But if the whole point of this exercise was to save money, I couldn’t justify more than a couple.  Okay.  We would all just go to the pool in the afternoons.  We could continue the schedule Josh and I had already grown used to.  But Abby did not want to go to the pool. When I took her, she got cold too easily and too quickly.  She wanted to do indoor things.  She wanted to stay home.  She wanted the iPad.  Josh wanted to go to the pool.  He wanted to blow bubbles.  He wanted the iPad.  It got to the point that the night before, with no activities planned, I would start to get anxious.  I would lie in bed, awake, so awake.  I am an insomniac by nature, but never to this extent.  Once a year, I go through a three-day streak of sleeplessness.  But this was ridiculous.  Every night, the same thing.  Even when a doctor prescribed sleeping medication, I couldn’t sleep.  This was unheard of!  What’s odd is that I wasn’t lying there thinking about, or worrying about my kids.  One night I just couldn’t get “The Golden Girls” theme song out of my head.  Other nights I grew angry listening to my husband snore.  I moved to the couch, but there were so many sounds, and there was light everywhere.  But most nights it was just blankness, and no sleep.  I knew it was anxiety when my heart started speeding up the minute I lay down.  But I still didn’t tie it to my children.  And, rapidly, things got worse.  Because now, I wasn’t just trying to entertain my children for 12 hours a day, but I was doing it on one or two hours of sleep.  I was shaky, and short tempered.  I felt sick much of the day.  Everything made me angry.  Sounds and smells were intensified.  I screamed at Abby for dragging her feet in the grocery store.  The scraping sound was making me crazy.  It filled my brain.  She seemed confused.  I can’t blame her. 

Finally I went to a sleep specialist. 

He made me cry.  I hadn’t really done that yet.  He made me talk.  I hadn’t done that either.  He asked me to point to the emotion I felt most often, and I pointed, shakily, to scared.  My finger seemed drawn there of its own accord.  And I finally admitted, “I am scared…all of the time.”  He asked about my schedule.  I went through each day since I had stopped sleeping.  It was not until that moment that I realized that the insomnia started when I became a temporary stay at home mother to my two children.  He sat with me for 2 hours.  I had expected him to tell me to try yoga, to cut out caffeine and alcohol, and to breathe deeply.  He told me to go back to work.  He told me to find me time.  He told me it was okay not to be everybody’s everything all of the time. 

I didn’t sleep better that night.  I wish it were that simple.  But a couple of nights later, when we were on vacation, and the kids were not falling asleep, I broke down crying, and really talked to my husband.  He listened, dealt with the kids, as he had been doing each and every night since this began, and finally, that night I slept. 

I cannot be a stay at home mother to my two children.  I can be a working mom (I do that pretty well), and a wife, and a teacher, and a daughter, and a person I am proud of in most respects. 

But for me, the holy grail is balance, and I'm still trying to learn that lesson.

Battle Wounds

Published @ www.yellowbrick.me
Before I had kids, I made all sorts of judgments about the parents I saw around me.  I am a teacher, so I was always conferencing with and questioning the motives of my students’ parents.  It seemed inevitable.  I couldn’t believe the choices they seemed to knowingly be making.  How could they let their kids talk to them that way?  Why couldn’t they control them?  Why were they over-programming their kids?  Why were they under-programming their kids?  I imagined all of the things I would do differently.  Couldn’t they see that they weren’t doing things right?

I am now a parent.  I have two young children.  I am still a teacher, but parenting has changed the way I look at not only the other parents I see, but also at the kids I teach.  There are so many choices we all make each day, but trying to understand each other should be the first one.

Probably the most important thing that I have learned through this exhausting, yet wonderful process of motherhood, is that support from my community is sometimes the only thing that makes a difference.  I cannot do this job without other parents.  I cannot get through a day without asking questions and telling stories, and laughing and swearing and just drawing in and drawing from my community of parents. 

This summer, I sat at the baby pool with my 3-year-old son and watched a young mother with her toddler.  I knew the anxious look on her face.  I recognized my own expression from 5 years ago as I sat alone at the same baby pool hoping someone would welcome me into the fold.  I didn’t know how to ask to be included.  I didn’t know how to ask for help.  Was this all supposed to just come naturally, as it seemed to for others?  How would I know if I was doing it wrong?  It turned out to be a very lonely summer.  So, when I saw this young mom, I moved closer to her in the pool.  I smiled.  I asked her questions.  She was new to town, and I gave her my number.  I texted her when I got home and told her that she could ask me any question about the town or the schools or anything at all.  I would help her any way I could.  Though I wasn’t new to town when I sat in that baby pool 5 years ago, I was new to mommyhood, and I wish someone had done the same for me.

We need to remember that parenthood can feel like a minefield.  And no one should be left to figure it out by him/herself.  I have developed my community, but it took time.  I have found the other parents in my sphere with whom I can laugh as we all just barely survive, but not everyone has, and when they do what they must, and cast into the void that is the internet, they do so at their own risk.  There is so much criticism, so much negativity. 

So let’s all use www.yellowbrick.me to make the choice to extend the support I did to my young friend at the baby pool.  Let us truly be a community of peers.  Let us remember that parenthood is the hardest and most important job of them all, and that we have all stepped on a mine at one time or another.  I’ll show you my scars, if you show me yours!

One High School Teacher's Top Ten List for Success in High School

Published on www.grownandflown.com 7/31/15

After reading a professor's top 10 list for kids going to college, I decided to write my top ten list for those of you going into high school (or getting ready to go back).  Think of this list as some words of wisdom from a teacher who has seen it all!  These rules work.  To boil it down even more succinctly for you: Build relationships from the very beginning, and be honest.  Everything else will fall into place!
  
1.  Know what is expected of you over the summer. Many of your classes (not just English) now require summer reading, or some sort of summer work in preparation for the class.  Coming into class unprepared on day one sends a clear message to the teacher.

• However, if you haven't done the work, cop to it right away.  I would always rather a student come up to me on day one, and say I didn't do the summer reading, what can I do so that I am prepared?  This shows maturity and ambition.  Both of which are necessary to do well in any class.

    2.  Work hard on the first assignment.  This is your chance to show your teacher what you can do, and what he/she can expect from you.  Read thoroughly, write as well as you can, and participate fully in the activities of the first week.

• It is hard to change someone's impression of you, and you want the person grading your work to feel that you are trying from the very beginning.  He or she will be more accepting of slip ups later in the year, if you have shown that you are willing to work in the beginning.

    3.  Participate.  Participate.  Participate.  This is the way your teacher will get to know you.  Your teacher doesn't care particularly that you are 100% correct in your answer, but that you are putting effort forth and paying attention to what has already been said.  Remember that putting your hand up shouldn't result in your ears shutting down.  Listen to what your classmates are saying and respond appropriately: "I agree with Caitlyn, but think..." One of the most frustrating things for teachers and classmates, is when someone repeats a comment that has just been spoken.

• Don't speak just to speak, speak to add to the discussion.

    4.  Ask questions when you don't understand something.  Generally, if you have a question, someone else has the same one.  Probably many people have the same question, but are too shy to ask.  If the question doesn't get asked, it probably won't get answered.  Don't be left wondering.

• Ask the question.  This is the only way I know what you understand, and what you don't.

    5.  Be honest in all areas of your work.  I have forgiven many transgressions on the basis of honesty.   No matter how close you think you are to your classmates, 9 times out of 10 they will throw you under the bus to save themselves.  The truth will come out.  Mistakes are made. We all make bad choices when under stress or overwhelmed.  It is the way you deal with the choice and the consequence that tells me who you are.

• If you cheat in my class, I will be upset.  But if you are honest about it when caught, or (better yet) before being caught, I will more than likely either give you another assignment to make up for part of the grade, or help you to find a way to strengthen your grade after the fact.  I want you to understand that what you did was wrong, but I don't ever want you to fail because of it.  No teacher wants that.  Your honesty will help me help you.  

   6.  If the class is a reach for you (an honors class, or A.P. class you wanted to try), be prepared to ask for help.  You can not grow on your own.  Advocate for yourself.  Help can come from any number of places, but should always start with the teacher.  She knows that you are struggling, but wants to know that care about your own success.  If you find that you don't get the help you're looking for from your teacher, find another resource.  But always let your teacher know you are working hard. Mention that you purchased (or got from the library) an A.P. practice book.  Tell her that you've been getting tutored by an older student or an adult.

• If your teacher knows you are trying to grow, he or she will be more likely to help you achieve your goal.

    7.  If you don't do an assignment, or had trouble with an assignment, or even if you were just overloaded and couldn't get to an assignment, do not wait until class time to tell your teacher.  Seek him/her out before period 1, and, once again, be honest.

• Your teacher knows how stressful each year can be, and may be more understanding than you think about the pressures of extracurriculars, and/or family stress.  

    8.  Develop a relationship with at least three teachers by the middle of Junior year.  You will need at least two teachers to write a college recommendation, or to be a job reference, and you don't want to put yourself in a precarious position when the time comes to ask.

• Know who will be your best advocate, and talk to that teacher face to face.  The worst thing that can happen is that the teacher says no.  That's why you want to have that third teacher in your back pocket.

   9.  Get to know your guidance counselor.  It's easy to forget that each guidance counselor has hundreds of students for which he/she is responsible.  Don't wait until you are in crisis to seek her out.  The better she knows you at your best, the better she can help you at your worst.  Make appointments to check in, see that you're on the right track, and ask questions about what is missing in your high school schedule.

• They are experts in their areas, but it's hard for them to guide you if they don't know you.  

10.  Join something.  Find a club or an activity that suits you.  At my high school kids have created robotics clubs, anime clubs, rugby clubs, movie clubs....any type of club that you can imagine.  There is something for everyone.  Not only will you find your "people" through this club, but you will find ways to stretch yourself, your creativity, and your intellect in completely new and different ways.

• If you find a way to connect to the school community, you will be more likely to keep yourself on track for success in general.