Open Book

     This is not about testing, although I think that open book tests are pretty awesome.  This also isn't about the latest book that I have read, even though reading is one of my favorite things.  This is about me.  For the most part, I am an open book.  If it's happening in my life, I share it with people.  Sometimes with friends, sometimes with strangers, but I share my stories....even if they are lame. I always have.  I share about what is going on in my life because it's what I know.   

     When Jim was going through his cancer treatments and recovery, I was the one who gave updates.  He wasn't comfortable giving the information, but he was okay with me sharing the joys and concerns.  I am the one who is more vocal about the ups and downs of living as part of a three generation home.  I am also pretty vocal about the teen that living in our home. I tend to talk about her on a regular basis, sharing the parenting struggles that I have.  I share what is going on with me and my life because I don't want to keep things bottled up inside. 

     I don't know if being an open book is good or bad.  I guess that it would depend on your perspective.  I don't tend to keep things inside.  I don't want to keep my life secret, I believe in sharing.  I don't think that I have anything to say that hasn't already been said, but maybe I say it in a different way.  Maybe something that I share will help someone else who is on a similar path.  All the little things that I talk about are part of my story and who I am as a person.

     However, I have been told that I am guilty of over sharing.  D has asked that I not share so much about her and her activities.  That's going to be hard for me.  I love to talk about her accomplishments in life.  She feels that I am bragging.  I use my parenting struggles to encourage others along the way.  She feels that I am telling negative things about here.  I get it, being a teenager is tough enough.  without your mom telling everything there is to tell.  So I am going to attempt to stop over sharing stories about D.  If I write about her, I will make sure that she approves what I am going to say.  I think that is fair, not easy, but fair!

     Now I need to keep my book closed just a little bit more on certain parts of the story.  I have promised to keep D out of the spotlight a little more in sharing.  I haven't given Jim that same option though!  If you want to know what's going on, ask.  More than likely, I will share, but I might have to think about my audience first!

    

A Mom's Touch

     I know that I am not the only one...I posted on Facebook and several people agreed with me.  When we are sick, most of us want our moms.  Moms don't cure our sickness, but they provide the comfort that we all want when we are sick.  They have familiar remedies and routines for us when we are sick.  These remedies might not cure anything, but in most cases they provide a measure of comfort to us!

     Growing up, my mom made me drink hot tea, no matter what was wrong with me.  I still associate tea with being sick.  I can't stand regular tea, hot or cold.  I can drink herbal teas or specialty teas, but plain old Lipton tea, no thank you!  She also served me toast when I was sick, with butter, cinnamon, and sugar, cut into thirds.  I still love my toast that way, but I no longer need it in thirds, even when I am sick.  When I would vomit, she held my hair back so that I didn't get anything in it.  Mostly, it was just the thought that someone was near by in case I needed them.

     I spent two days last week sick in bed.  I had some sort of stomach virus that came on suddenly.  Luckily, Jim took over all my normal tasks and gave me the opportunity to stay in bed and recover. However, Jim is not the type who will hold my hair back when I puke.  He knows how I feel about plain tea, so he's never tried to bring me any.  Instead, he just quietly took over getting D to and from school, homework and bed time, along with dinner for the family.   He brought home Sprite and orange juice so that I can make my sick drink, nothing fancy, part Sprite, part orange juice.  I call it a shandy, not sure why, but that's what I call it.

     D has been battling allergies for over a week now.  Her seasonal allergies go crazy when the weather goes from cold to warm, but never really gets a good freeze.  Her issues are mostly just a low fever, coughing, and mucus...lots of mucus.  When she gets sick, I am pretty sure that she also wants her mom near.  I don't do much, hold her hair when she vomits, make her a shandy to drink, tuck her in bed, and listen to hear if she has any issues.  You know, the typical stuff that moms do when the kids are sick.  

     I don't wish sickness of any kind on anyone.  But if you are sick, I hope that you have someone who can provide that mother's comfort that we all want when we are sick.  Stay well!

Name One

     I am a product of the public school system, kindergarten through twelfth grade.  I have experienced public school as a student, as a classroom teacher, as a substitute teacher, and now as a parent and volunteer.  I believe in public schools and the people who dedicate themselves to working in the schools.  Most teachers, the really good ones, teach because it is their calling.  Teaching isn't just a job for them, they love what they do, or at least what they thought they would be doing.  They love seeing a student learn to read or write their name for the first time, they are excited when a student finally understands a new concept.  Teachers cry when they feel that they aren't reaching a student, they spend time trying to reach all their students in some way.  

    I remember my first grade teacher who didn't yell at me when I jumped up and shouted because I finished reading.  My second grade teacher started each day with a song played on her record player. My fourth grade teacher encouraged my class to write stories, make covers for them with construction paper, and keep them in our class library.  In middle school, my language arts teacher taught me to diagram sentences and to disco dance, while my social studies teacher talked about faraway places on his globe.  My high school English teacher encouraged me to write, my Home Ec teacher wanted me to be fully rounded and prepared for life, my science and math teachers were always ready to help me with homework if I didn't understand.  Yes, these teachers worked for their paychecks, but they were invested in my future.

     While I was teaching, I worked long hours to provide activities that would engage my class in ways that a text book couldn't.  I read literature to them, we did projects based the literature.  Because I taught in a rural school corporation, I taught Art to my class every other week since the teacher had to cover two elementary schools. We had no gym teacher, so I also taught gym to my students.  I had very little background in these areas, just one college class for each, so I had to learn how to teach these subjects on my own, using my own resources.  I spent weekends and evenings at school planning lessons, grading papers, decorating my classroom, and doing my best to make my students successful.  I didn't have an instructional assistant, it was just me and my kiddos for most of the day.  

     As a parent, I have watched D's teachers work long hours to provide her with a good education.  They make themselves available for conferences, phone calls, and emails.  I have seen her teachers cry (or come close) when talking about some of the obstacles that they are facing right now.  When I was in kindergarten, we did lots of playing and moving around.  Now teachers are teaching these kids how to fill in a circle on a test.  Teachers are losing class time so that the students can practice for a test, but the teachers keep showing up, doing what they love, just to make my child successful.  They aren't doing this because they like my child the best, they are doing the exact same thing for all the children in their classroom.  They are doing this because they are called to teach.  

     Take a minute and close your eyes.  Think about your school years.  Name one teacher who inspired you. Hopefully there was more than one teacher who inspired you, who showed kindness to you, who loved you.  I know that there a bad teachers out there, most of us have had at least one.  I also know that there are far more good teachers than bad teachers.  The good teachers are tired.  They are spending their own money, their time off, to become better teachers, to reach every child they encounter.  Tell a teacher that you appreciate them, what they are doing, and that you support them.   Name one teacher that has had a positive impact on your life...tell them if you can.  It's the best gift that you could give a teacher.

Red for Ed

     On November 19, I took Delainey to Indianapolis to participate in the Red for Ed rally at the Indiana Statehouse.  Since then, I have been trying to put why I felt it necessary, yes necessary,  to attend.  I have been asked several times and I haven't been able to clarify my thoughts.  I am still not sure that I have the words to fully explain why this event was important to me.  It was important enough that I took a precious PTO day from work.  It was important enough that I was going to take Delainey out of school to attend.  Thankfully her school felt that it was important enough that school was canceled so that teachers could attend.

     I am a former public school teacher, years ago when things were much different.  I wasn't evaluated on how my students did on a test.  I received a pay raise based on my abilities as a teacher.  I taught at a small school system with support from my other teachers, administration, and parents.  I didn't have stacks of red tape and meetings to sit through on a regular basis.  Delainey is thirteen, so she doesn't have a firm career path chosen, but she is leaning towards education...music education.  I wanted her to see other people advocating for themselves and their careers.  I want her to learn that she must have a voice for herself in her career.

     This rally was not about teacher pay.  Teachers know that they won't become wealthy in this career.  However, they expect, as we all do, that they will get raises based on their performance.  Indiana ranks last in teacher salary raises over the last fifteen years.  Last...that is something that we should be ashamed of in our state.  Housing prices go up, gas prices go up, food, clothing, everything goes up.  Teachers salaries should be going up as well, but in some cases, teachers are being expected to do more for the same wage. We should be appalled at the thought of not taking care of our teachers.

     I don't know what kind of testing is done in other states.  I don't live in other states, I live in Indiana.  My daughter goes to school in Indiana.  Last year she spent an entire school day taking a state mandated test.  She had to be told to take bathroom breaks and to go to lunch.  D is a good student.  She doesn't have big anxiety issues.  She doesn't have ADD/ADHD that is undiagnosed.  She is a typical middle school student who spent an entire day taking a test that didn't teach her anything.  She missed classroom time when she could have been learning new material rather than being tested.  Her math teacher can tell you more about her ability than the test did, but she had to take the test.

     In our home, we really don't put much emphasis on standardized testing.  We know D's abilities, as do her teachers.  We communicate when there are problems.  We can't communicate with a test...it's black and white.  But is it really?  What if she had gone to school with a headache?  Would that be her best work?  What if we didn't have the means to feed her well at home?  It's hard to think about a test when you are hungry.  What if someone in her family were battling a terminal illness?   It's hard to focus on anything when there are big things going on in life.  But now in Indiana, our schools and teachers are evaluated on how students perform on those tests.  I struggle to see how that is a fair way to evaluate anyone.  I don't have a solution, but I know that more testing is not the answer, but that seems to be what gets thrown at schools.

     This is getting to be rather long, so I am going to wrap this up.  I don't have solutions, but we need to start finding them or our children will be the ones who suffer.  I know that Dr. Sues wasn't talking about teachers, education, pay, testing, and everything else that Red for Ed means, but this sums up why I went to Indianapolis with Delainey and 15,000 (or more) other people.

Dr. Sues, The Lorax

 

3:00 am

     3:00 am...middle of the night, early morning, or late night, which is it?  It's all a matter of perspective here.

     There was a time in college that 3:00am was late night.  I spent many days taking naps during the middle of the day in order to be up late at night.  Midnight was a good time for me to study, which put bedtime a few hours later.  I certainly wasn't a morning person when I fianlly had to wake up for classes the next day, and those naps kept me going!   I know that phase didn't last long in life, but man, I still love my naps!

     For the five and a half years that I worked in Louisville, 3:00am was my wake-up time.  I got up as soon as my alarm went off so that I didn't wake up Jim.  I had an hour to get ready for work, then an hour drive to work.  Luckily, I had people also up at that time of day...a friend who worked a similar shift, my younger brother who works third shift.  I miss chatting with them during my early morning drive to work.   I learned that once again, naps were my friend, those "power naps" for fifteen minutes became part of my daily life.

     Now 3:00am is the time of the coulda, woulda, shoulda for me.  It's the time that I randomly wake up and replay events over in my head.  There's nothing that I can do about those events any more, but my 3:00am mind still wants to show me how I could have handled something better.  My 3:00am mind wants to show my how my choices should have been different, more appropriate, more kind, more loving.  My 3:00am mind wants to show me all of my fears for the future.  Some nights (or mornings), I am able to quiet my 3:00am mind.  Other times, I lay in bed and watch the thoughts that are pulled out of left field.  Logic doesn't always work with a my 3:00am mind, so sometimes I give in.  I get up to read, write, or try to sleep in a different room of the house.  I use that time as a quiet time, a window of calm in my busyness.  Usually I am able to defeat my 3:00am mind and go back to sleep for a couple of precious hours of sleep.  That last hour of two of sleep is the difference between being up for the entire day or a nap at some point!
   
     My 4:30am bladder is another matter completely....

   

Embarrassing D...the first of many...

     It's official, my teenager has told me that I am embarrassing.  I knew that this was coming.  Some days I do silly things knowing that I am going to hear those words.  When we are grocery shopping and I dance to the music in the store...I know that I will hear it.  When we are in the car and I am singing off key...the way that I usually sing...I hear it.  There are times that she will join in with my singing and dancing, but they are not as often, so I treasure them.

     The newest embarrassing thing that I do is...are you ready for this...I speak to her friends whenever and wherever I see them.  I call them by name.  I speak to her classmates that I know, even the ones that she doesn't socialize with on a regular basis.  Chances are that if a kid has ever been in a class with D, I remember them.  And I speak their name when I see them.  Sometimes they remember me, other times they don't.  At an event the other day, a young man held the door for me.  I thanked him by name.  I got an eyeroll from my child.  At an event Jim and I attended a young man was our server.  I chatted with him, reminded him how I knew him, and I spoke his name.

     I want these young people to know that they matter, that someone knows who they are, that they are remembered.  They might not remember me, but I remember them, I know their name.  I remember them from kindergarden as we went on a field trip in the fall.  I remember them as a first grader singing "Tutti-Ta".  I remember them from reading to the class in third grade.  I remember riding the bus with them going on a fifth grade field trip.  I remember them from swimming club, band, fifth grade choir, hand chimes....I want them to know that someone remembers them.

     D is going to have to deal with the embarrassment because I won't stop doing this.  I won't stop sharing memories of these kids on Facebook.  I won't stop chatting with them when I see them at the local store.  It might be a small thing, but I want these kids to know that I remember them.  I want them to know that I know their name.  I want them to know that they are special, that they are unique, that they are fearfully and wonderfully made.  I will continue to use their names when I see them.

It's just a season...

     Seasons typically only last for a few months each year.  Seasons in our life can be much longer.  Right now, I seem to be a long lasting season of things that are hard...mentally, emotionally, and sometimes physically.  There are bright spots in this season, times when I forget the hard stuff, but it's always there, effecting my life and that of my family in ways that we don't always realize.

     The health of Jim's parents continue to decline.  His mom has forgotten how to do so many things now.  She isn't able to do much more than prepare a bowl of cereal or get a breakfast bar.  She can make sandwiches some days.  She is still able to make instant coffee and tea thanks to a one touch tea pot that we have at the house.  She almost always has a smile on her face and wants to be helpful.  She is the only other one in our house that can make the slipcovers look good each day!  Jim's dad continues to have issues with his legs and mobility issues.  His diabetes is under control, but there are other issues that are not.  They continue to depend on each other for help throughout the day.

     Jim is doing well.  His job is going great, it allows for more family time and he is able to be home so much more. Being home more means that he is able to take on more things around the house. Delainey is also doing well.  She makes me proud every day with the decisions and choices that she makes.  She's a teenager, so there are days, but this is part of the season she is in.  We have a new addition to the southern part of our family.  Dylan has moved in with us.  We are happy that he is here...he has helped out with Jim's parents and it's good to spend time with him.  The downside to this is that he has no privacy...we are a three bedroom house that is full.  He has moved into the dining room and we are making it work.

     I am struggling.  My house is a loud house and I am not a loud person.  I haven't taken time to write, craft, or create.  This season has opened my eyes to people around me.  I have a few people who check on me...and many others who don't at all.  I know that everyone is going through things that we don't know about, but it has hurt to see how few friends check on me.  Maybe I need to reach out to people more, but I don't want to be a burden on others.  Maybe I am being judgmental, I don't know, but it's hard when friends have no clue what I am going through because they haven't taken the time to ask.  I am sure that I have been guilty of doing the same thing in my relationships with people.  This season has made me want to reach out to people more, but right now, it's a struggle.  Hopefully as this season passes through my life, I will become more of a person to reach out to others...just to check in on them.

     I know that this is just a season.  I don't know how long it will last...I just know that it will pass. Until then, I need to enjoy the moments that bring me peace, the times that fill me with joy, and the laughter that is around.