There are a lot of good teachers out there; hell, there are a lot of great teachers out there. I've had some and so have my siblings, friends and neighbors. And now, my own children are experiencing the ups and downs of the educational system and those who stand in front of the class. I've been teaching for 20 years and I've worked hard to be a good teacher and, don't let anyone tell you differently; it takes work and a constant desire to improve. Some have it and some don't. Some get by and some absolutely excel in this profession. Every once in awhile, you get to see that excellence first hand; maybe it was when you were a student or maybe, like it has been for me, you get to witness it through the eyes of your own child.
I guess I knew from the second year of preschool that Ty needed Preppie Kindergarten, that he wasn't ready yet for the demands that the standards place on children entering school at age 5. At one point I was actually encouraging the decision based on what I had seen my other two children experience, Jake in particular. He certainly could have benefitted from "the gift of time." Really, what child wouldn't? So, when Ty was evaluated and the teacher said, "He needs Preppie K," I gladly agreed. Fortunately for Ty and for our family, that teacher turned out to be his teacher, for the next two years... Tomorrow will mark the 180th day of Kindergarten and the end of the second year that has made up the course of Ty's entrance into public school and, sadly, it marks his departure from Room 1, his little school family and his teacher, Laura Giannecchini...
I was thinking about all of the teachers that my boys have had over the last years and there have been many. Jake just finished 10th grade and Nick just finished 7th grade and while I can recall many instances and memories that were filled with wonder, joy and great moments, none of them has had a teacher like Mrs. G. I suppose it would be very simple to say that she is great or that she is creative or that the kids love her and while all of those things are true, there are other qualities that she has and a manner in which she presents herself, that make her the best teacher that I've ever seen, bar none, at any grade level. And while some will say, well, it depends on the grade level, I would argue that by saying that greatness comes from the person and not the position. In this case, a teacher of exception could teach any grade level and still excel and while Kindergarten is her passion and where she belongs, she could teach any class and the students would thrive.
She and Mrs. Newell, a colleague, collaborated to create the Preppie K program and it is clear that so many of the activities and assignments and the language that they use demonstrate the knowledge and preparation that comes from really understanding your subject matter; in this case, the children. I have come into the classroom to find the children discussing the mechanics of a catapult and then practicing with one that was made by a parent of a child in the class. I have seen the students sewing, using real needles, concentrating, listening, focusing on the task at hand. I've witnessed them hammering real nails into real boards and then measuring those boards using different measurements and tools. I've seen the children remind one another of what is acceptable and what isn't and I have seen them respond in an instant when Laura asks them to. The expectation is that although they are young, they are capable and she treats them that way; she never doubts their capacity to learn and understand. She doesn't ask why they can't comprehend what a parallelogram is, but instead, she shows them and knows that one day, they will remember it and they will look for those shapes in the world around them. I've seen the children do lesson after lesson that teaches them about the real world and their role in it and she always emphasizes the importance of their individual role. She treats them as though what they say and do and feel matter and in turn, they know that they do matter.
So many metaphors are used to describe the "blossoming" relationship between a quality teacher and her students and I wish that I could think of something that would do justice to the wonderful work that Mrs. G. does will all of her students, but there just aren't enough metaphors.
Ty did not like preschool. He did not want to go to Preppie K either and there were days this year that he did not want to go to Kindergarten. At school, he tends to worry and to not be as self confident as he is in other parts of his life and there were days when he would cry and when she would have to take him from me. On those days, I knew that he'd be fine. From the beginning I knew that he'd be fine because no matter what happened during school on those days or how tired or cranky he was when I picked him up, he always said the same thing, that he loves Mrs. Giannecchini. Maybe that is the real difference between a good teacher and a great one; it is simply that everything that they do or say comes from a genuine place of care for each child in the room. And with 30 in the room, that is no small feat. I have been in the classroom many times these past two years and I have never seen Laura different on any given day. She is ever smiling, kindness in her voice, consistent in her assertions, in her explanations, in her discipline. She does everything that all of the best parenting books tell us to do, but most of us don't, either that or we do a few things and then fail to do the others. I noticed that no matter how hectic things were or how much was going on, she never failed to act with care in each instance. A child running to her with an injury, a parent walking into the room to ask a questions, two children arguing over some markers. She just "took care of it" and moved on to the next thing as if it were the most ordinary thing in the world to have to multi-task your way through a 5 hour day, 5 days a week with such importance placed on each and every thing that you do and every word that you say...
One of the most difficult things that I've encountered in being a parent is sending my child off to school, at the mercy of a stranger. Yeah, they have to have a teaching credential and be certified, but I'm not going to lie; my kids have still had some very poor quality teachers. That is not easy for me to say, but in looking back and evaluating their attitudes, performance and student reactions to their methods and personalities, yes, they were definitely below par. Some should consider retirement, even in their forties... But the easiest thing to do, something that most of us never consider until that day comes when we pack up the back pack for the first time and make the lunch, is to send your child off to a place that is warm and safe and to a teacher who you know truly loves your kid.
That is the real difference. Mrs. Giannecchini loves our kids. She would do anything to help them and she has. Ty has blossomed these past two years and my only regret after tomorrow will be knowing that every teacher that he has from next year on, will never be as good as she is. Maybe that is unfair and I'm sure he will have many good teachers, but for him, this first experience has made him love school and has made him want to go and want to learn. Can there be anything better?
I once told Laura that she should be teaching teachers and while she said that she had thought about that and how much she would love to share ideas with colleagues, ultimately, she is right where she belongs. The kindergarteners, the seedlings, the little ones need her, more than anything and more than anyone else. They are loved and Mrs. G. so are you. We will miss you every single day and our hearts are filled with gratitude for the experience that you've given Ty these past two years. I hope that it all comes back to you many times over. You are, without a doubt, the Best Teacher ever. Thank you!
The Hawleys
Wednesday, June 19, 2013
Friday, June 14, 2013
Avoid the jab...
If you know me, you probably wouldn't think that I like to avoid conflict; the thing is, I do like to avoid it. I will engage if necessary or if provoked, but I do not seek it out nor do I enjoy the battle or the aftermath. I think maybe it is because I take things very personally and I feel things very deeply. I have a difficult time just letting things "roll off my back" because I tend to analyze the hell out of them. Certainly this can be a helpful trait when preparing for a lawsuit or purchasing a home, but insofar as relationships go, extreme analysis can often be the kiss of death. Combine that with my acute lack of attention to detail and my inability to sometimes pay attention at all and well, let's just say, I never had too many BFF's. I'm better one on one and although I have many friends; I try hard to maintain a quality relationship with each of them. I feel like I am failing miserably in this arena, especially as of late, but I do try. When they are important to me, I try. I just wish that I could let more things go as quickly as some people can.
As an intuitive person, and I am, combined with being sensitive, I find it interesting when people say, "Oh you don't let anything bother you" or "I wish I could let things go that fast." Ironically, I must put up a pretty good front, but, if I were to analyze my own actions, what I'd truthfully say is, I really don't give a shit about what people think of me UNLESS they are someone whose opinions and beliefs I value and then of course, it hurts. Constructive criticism is misleading I think, well, let's just agree that it can be. It's like a backhanded compliment. Oh your hair looks really nice, BUT and all we hear is what follows the "but." To be effectively constructively critical, damn that was a mouthful, I think that you must understand the role that the person plays in your life and how that person's criticism is a direct reflection of the role that they play. Once you understand it, then you are less likely to judge them for evaluating your words or actions or your life. By examining the individual roles that each of my friends play in my life, I can understand where the criticism comes from and because I value their perspective I can then listen objectively. At least that is what I think. But, when someone offers up criticism, even if you think that person is close to you, sometimes it is an insult bound by bubble wrap. And, if you are anything like me, you whip out a knife, pop that mother fucking bubble wrap and go straight to the heart of the matter. Being impulsive, this certainly has its drawbacks as I have jumped to conclusions in which I was completely wrong. When that happens, I try to rectify the problem. But when it happens and I realize that it was not constructive nor even criticism, but a blatant attack or a jab, then, I shift into warrior mode and, I take no prisoners.
Part of the reason why I despise self help books and I have discussed this before, is the notion that there are blanket solutions to problems. And while I realize that Psychology is a science, I also realize that it is a buffet and there are bits and pieces that compliment my particular personality, my learning style, my needs and my perception about people and life. Self help books independently speak to certain issues, one at a time, but that doesn't help me because my brain is a tornado of issues all the time, sprinkled with half truths, splintered analysis, emotional distress and a mind that never seems to shut down. I will admit, it is hard to be objective when you lost the objectivity playing piece in the game. It's there, but it's hiding, amidst the rubble, the problems, the feelings, the other friends' opinions and my own impetus for wanting to "live in the moment." That in itself creates issues. Self help books speak to the masses but not to the individual, at least that is how I see it. There is no end all to life's problems and whenever I pass that aisle in the bookstore I think I'd like to sit down and cut and paste pieces from several books to get the "right" answer to whatever question brought me over there in the first place.
The thing is, I don't aim for inner peace. I think that pain, sorrow, disappointment and suffering bond us together as human beings just as much as, if not more, love, growth, joy and celebration. When I empathize with the deep sorrow that another human being is experiencing, I feel myself grow as a person and my empathy for others deepens through that exchange. When I celebrate a friend's birthday or anniversary or the birth of a child, those events too shape me in a way that allows me to feel joy for others. Ultimately though, we work through life as we move toward death and because we don't know when that is coming, well, certainly some do unfortunately, we hold on to and strive for the moments of peace. But in the end, when we all suffer loss and we face death, even before our own, we are bound together in a way that celebratory events don't provide. At the most basic level, we are nothing more than the worst moments that we all share. When a child is taken or a woman is raped or a family is killed in an accident, it reaches into the depth of what makes us human. And I don't feel any stronger connection to people than I do when I offer my love and service and care in their darkest moments. Anyone can be happy for a moment, but it takes a person a lifetime to really, truly understand why a person is afraid or lonely or sad. It takes wisdom and time and an experience that most of us, myself included, will never understand. It's why we cry when we watch the stories on CNN or we see the devastation that is wrought by a young man in a small town and the endless despair that follows it. Life is beautiful, yes, it can be, but life is ugly and painful and isolating and I think that it is when we recognize those moments and face them head on, with the help of other people, that we begin to form a human bond that nothing can break. When I turn to you and say, I know what you are going through and I mean it then, I can say that I am at peace.
I'm not a jealous person, never have been. I don't wonder whether or not my husband is looking at other women or, by virtue of that, off in a hotel room fucking one. I don't wish I lived in someone else's house with someone else's life. I don't covet other people's cars or money or vacation homes. Sure, I'd like to have some things that I don't have, but I don't think by taking something from you that it gives me more and so I am not jealous. I get better by learning from and by watching others get better. Good begets good in this case. So when someone tells me that they are jealous of something that I am doing or the way I am through their petty words and bubble wrapped intention, I whip out my knife and start popping... People who say they have a thick skin probably do, but they also probably got that thickness through years of piled up scar tissue. The jabs, insults or careless remarks hurt the worst when they were first hurled and then, after time, they began to seem less harmful, innocuous even as the tissue built up. So, by the time that they tell you that they have thick skin, it's from years of practice. Little jabs hurt the most, at least to me, when they come out of context. If my brother makes some little comment, I may let it go because he is my brother and he always makes little comments. So in a way, I expect that and I'm ready for it. But when someone says something that is intended to cause insult or harm and it is out of context, clearly it is because they are working through their own issues. Remember that saying, well, I'm not going to say it exactly right, but something like, "The worst cooks always yell the loudest that their food isn't done right..." that is my point today. Those who would hurl a stone without provocation, without context and with mal intent, well, they are not friends of mine, no matter the history. And while there may be moments of regret later on, I will hold fast to the notion that I wish them no harm or ill will and that I will always hope the best for them. I will no longer speak of them, but if I do, it will not be with malice. I just wish, deep down, that either I didn't take things so personally or that more people, again ironically, because I don't follow my own advice, would sincerely think before they speak.
Having rambled incoherently, I will say that the last few years have brought more love and friendship into my life than I had ever expected. I have become part of a society of people that push forward the causes that matter in life and I am eternally grateful for the inclusion. I wish more people would take the opportunities as they come instead of waiting until there is no time left to consider them. And to the friends who have taken the time to support my endeavors, without prejudice or judgment, may I say, from the depths of this conflicted heart, that you have my endless gratitude and loyalty. Surely, if there was ever a moment when you felt that I overstepped the boundaries of our relationship, I would welcome your comments openly and I would try hard not to over-analyze. I said try, no one is perfect.
Lastly, sometimes it takes a lifetime to realize that some relationships are not what they once were and while that is fine, that it is not acceptable to hold on to something that no longer works if I myself am not willing to put in the time to make it work. If my sensitivity to someone's words seems excessive, it is probably because I should have distanced myself long before it got to that point, either that, or I should have addressed the issues sooner. Mountain out of a molehill or just a long goodbye, either way, I should probably lessen my cold medication intake... goodnight.
As an intuitive person, and I am, combined with being sensitive, I find it interesting when people say, "Oh you don't let anything bother you" or "I wish I could let things go that fast." Ironically, I must put up a pretty good front, but, if I were to analyze my own actions, what I'd truthfully say is, I really don't give a shit about what people think of me UNLESS they are someone whose opinions and beliefs I value and then of course, it hurts. Constructive criticism is misleading I think, well, let's just agree that it can be. It's like a backhanded compliment. Oh your hair looks really nice, BUT and all we hear is what follows the "but." To be effectively constructively critical, damn that was a mouthful, I think that you must understand the role that the person plays in your life and how that person's criticism is a direct reflection of the role that they play. Once you understand it, then you are less likely to judge them for evaluating your words or actions or your life. By examining the individual roles that each of my friends play in my life, I can understand where the criticism comes from and because I value their perspective I can then listen objectively. At least that is what I think. But, when someone offers up criticism, even if you think that person is close to you, sometimes it is an insult bound by bubble wrap. And, if you are anything like me, you whip out a knife, pop that mother fucking bubble wrap and go straight to the heart of the matter. Being impulsive, this certainly has its drawbacks as I have jumped to conclusions in which I was completely wrong. When that happens, I try to rectify the problem. But when it happens and I realize that it was not constructive nor even criticism, but a blatant attack or a jab, then, I shift into warrior mode and, I take no prisoners.
Part of the reason why I despise self help books and I have discussed this before, is the notion that there are blanket solutions to problems. And while I realize that Psychology is a science, I also realize that it is a buffet and there are bits and pieces that compliment my particular personality, my learning style, my needs and my perception about people and life. Self help books independently speak to certain issues, one at a time, but that doesn't help me because my brain is a tornado of issues all the time, sprinkled with half truths, splintered analysis, emotional distress and a mind that never seems to shut down. I will admit, it is hard to be objective when you lost the objectivity playing piece in the game. It's there, but it's hiding, amidst the rubble, the problems, the feelings, the other friends' opinions and my own impetus for wanting to "live in the moment." That in itself creates issues. Self help books speak to the masses but not to the individual, at least that is how I see it. There is no end all to life's problems and whenever I pass that aisle in the bookstore I think I'd like to sit down and cut and paste pieces from several books to get the "right" answer to whatever question brought me over there in the first place.
The thing is, I don't aim for inner peace. I think that pain, sorrow, disappointment and suffering bond us together as human beings just as much as, if not more, love, growth, joy and celebration. When I empathize with the deep sorrow that another human being is experiencing, I feel myself grow as a person and my empathy for others deepens through that exchange. When I celebrate a friend's birthday or anniversary or the birth of a child, those events too shape me in a way that allows me to feel joy for others. Ultimately though, we work through life as we move toward death and because we don't know when that is coming, well, certainly some do unfortunately, we hold on to and strive for the moments of peace. But in the end, when we all suffer loss and we face death, even before our own, we are bound together in a way that celebratory events don't provide. At the most basic level, we are nothing more than the worst moments that we all share. When a child is taken or a woman is raped or a family is killed in an accident, it reaches into the depth of what makes us human. And I don't feel any stronger connection to people than I do when I offer my love and service and care in their darkest moments. Anyone can be happy for a moment, but it takes a person a lifetime to really, truly understand why a person is afraid or lonely or sad. It takes wisdom and time and an experience that most of us, myself included, will never understand. It's why we cry when we watch the stories on CNN or we see the devastation that is wrought by a young man in a small town and the endless despair that follows it. Life is beautiful, yes, it can be, but life is ugly and painful and isolating and I think that it is when we recognize those moments and face them head on, with the help of other people, that we begin to form a human bond that nothing can break. When I turn to you and say, I know what you are going through and I mean it then, I can say that I am at peace.
I'm not a jealous person, never have been. I don't wonder whether or not my husband is looking at other women or, by virtue of that, off in a hotel room fucking one. I don't wish I lived in someone else's house with someone else's life. I don't covet other people's cars or money or vacation homes. Sure, I'd like to have some things that I don't have, but I don't think by taking something from you that it gives me more and so I am not jealous. I get better by learning from and by watching others get better. Good begets good in this case. So when someone tells me that they are jealous of something that I am doing or the way I am through their petty words and bubble wrapped intention, I whip out my knife and start popping... People who say they have a thick skin probably do, but they also probably got that thickness through years of piled up scar tissue. The jabs, insults or careless remarks hurt the worst when they were first hurled and then, after time, they began to seem less harmful, innocuous even as the tissue built up. So, by the time that they tell you that they have thick skin, it's from years of practice. Little jabs hurt the most, at least to me, when they come out of context. If my brother makes some little comment, I may let it go because he is my brother and he always makes little comments. So in a way, I expect that and I'm ready for it. But when someone says something that is intended to cause insult or harm and it is out of context, clearly it is because they are working through their own issues. Remember that saying, well, I'm not going to say it exactly right, but something like, "The worst cooks always yell the loudest that their food isn't done right..." that is my point today. Those who would hurl a stone without provocation, without context and with mal intent, well, they are not friends of mine, no matter the history. And while there may be moments of regret later on, I will hold fast to the notion that I wish them no harm or ill will and that I will always hope the best for them. I will no longer speak of them, but if I do, it will not be with malice. I just wish, deep down, that either I didn't take things so personally or that more people, again ironically, because I don't follow my own advice, would sincerely think before they speak.
Having rambled incoherently, I will say that the last few years have brought more love and friendship into my life than I had ever expected. I have become part of a society of people that push forward the causes that matter in life and I am eternally grateful for the inclusion. I wish more people would take the opportunities as they come instead of waiting until there is no time left to consider them. And to the friends who have taken the time to support my endeavors, without prejudice or judgment, may I say, from the depths of this conflicted heart, that you have my endless gratitude and loyalty. Surely, if there was ever a moment when you felt that I overstepped the boundaries of our relationship, I would welcome your comments openly and I would try hard not to over-analyze. I said try, no one is perfect.
Lastly, sometimes it takes a lifetime to realize that some relationships are not what they once were and while that is fine, that it is not acceptable to hold on to something that no longer works if I myself am not willing to put in the time to make it work. If my sensitivity to someone's words seems excessive, it is probably because I should have distanced myself long before it got to that point, either that, or I should have addressed the issues sooner. Mountain out of a molehill or just a long goodbye, either way, I should probably lessen my cold medication intake... goodnight.
Tuesday, June 4, 2013
Not qualified...
I am in the swirling mist of a job search and don't think for ONE second that it doesn't bother me that my kid found a part time job with his very first application. I could qualify that by saying, "Oh, it's a little part time job and I wouldn't want to do that anyway" but, that's not my point. In the past two weeks I have filled out 56 applications. Now, many of you already know that I am a teacher, but apparently, that is all I am qualified to do and even then, even now, when the city in which I live and in which I used to teach full time is hiring, I cannot even APPLY because I need a certification that is required that was not previously required when I was teaching full time in the district. So, in case you aren't following... I am not qualified to work at JCPenny's nor am I qualified to teach where I used to teach. Under/Over/Sideways qualified, doesn't matter. One of my only options is to fill out one of those annoying forms that pop up on my computer from an online university that will graciously allow me to earn another degree while racking up more debt. My only real option would be to collect Unemployment, but here's the thing, I WANT a full time job, I am able, I can work, I've been applying and while I will continue to teach at El Camino part time because I love it and I wish I could get a full time job there, I will work anywhere. I've applied to all different kinds of customer service jobs: the airport, hotels, telecommunications, service representatives, secretarial... Let me say, there is nothing quite as frustrating, at least not any more than in this moment, to realize that you aren't cyber qualified to fold clothes, answer phones or greet people... even with a Master's degree.
Next term, I am going to tell my students that they had better starting working backwards, forget what they love, forget their hopes and dreams and all that mattered to them as a child. Pick a career based on incremental raises, good health insurance and availability. I mean seriously, who would want to be an English teacher right? Yeah okay, remember that the next time you are filling out an application and you have to write a cover letter. Better fold your hands together and say a prayer for that educator who is currently waiting for her unemployment benefits in the mail. I remember thinking when I resigned from my full time position, one that I loved, that there would always be jobs for teachers and, in a way there are, but there are not enough to accommodate all of us who thought similarly to how I thought then. And, because I am now 44, I have become THAT teacher who the youngsters are looking at going why doesn't she move the hell over and let me have that job. I am much newer, much shinier, much more qualified than she is. Well, let me tell you something honey...
I was not a good teacher when I began. I had a Bachelor's degree, a much smaller ass, a good work ethic and an even better attitude. I was smart, willing to work hard and even more willing to learn, but, I didn't know what the hell I was doing. Traditional student teaching prepared me for the day to day, "What if's" and, I had excellent master teachers, but, and this is a big but, no pun intended, one of my mentors flat out told me not to expect any sort of mastery or consistency in my teaching until I had taught the same subject for a good 5 years in a row. She told me to really work on varying my lessons, my instructional techniques and she encouraged me to get my Master's degree right away. In those first three years, I learned so much, maybe more than I've learned in the last 17 all together. When I wasn't granted tenure after the third year and I was told that I was a "B" teacher and the school was looking for an "A" teacher, I took it hard. I'm not going to lie, it was a real blow to my ego and to my self confidence. I thought long and hard about teaching and about what had been asked of me those past three years and then I found another job. For the next 5 years, my expectations about teaching and the love that I saw from many of my own teachers over the years, came to fruition. I learned to love my job. Those 5 years gave me a sense of fulfillment and growth, in ways that are hard for me to articulate. I flourished during that time and I also had my first child.
I thought at several times during my career that I would go back to graduate school once more and pursue a Ph.d in English. I still think about it sometimes, but now it is in more of an abstract kind of way. With our oldest considering college in 2 years and two more to get through the day to day trials of school and life, I need to focus on maintaining a consistent income. Hence, the full time job search. While I know that a Ph.d will only mean something personal to me at this point, I also know that my priorities since having Jake have obviously shifted, as well they should. I'd rather send Ty to private school than go back to school myself. I'd rather do both, but that's wishful thinking. For now, I have to work with what I have and what I have is a work ethic and a quick learning curve. Now I just need a chance...
At 44, I have a limited scope of years left in which to begin a new career, but I also know that experience is equivalent to education in my field, seemingly, certainly one has to have a degree to teach. Honestly, it is a combination of the two and while I know that many schools are looking for a workhorse, I also know that there are schools out there who are looking for me. El Camino has been so good to me and I hold it and my colleagues in the highest of esteem. I hope that things will work out for me there and in the mean time, I will continue to push forward, filling out online applications and being rejected. At this point, it would be nice and gentler on my self confidence if I could just get an interview. Me and thousands of other people in this country.
I still pray for patience and I pray for a better life for all children in this country and in the world and I know, somehow that I am being tested and that I am being shown how to fight for my family, how to care for it and that I can take care of them all if I have to. I just haven't been shown the direct route to do that. I picture God somewhere whispering to me, Yvette just press Ctrl + Alt + Ineedajob.com, but not in so many words. The message is there; I just need to decipher it. I hope he's smiling as he is whispering it and not pointing at the screen laughing at my folly.
Jake just walked in, handed me his birth certificate and said, "Hey Mom, is this my birth certificate?" Holy hell... maybe I should go back to school and forget about paying for college. Maybe we'll be competing for the same job soon... let me know if you hear of anything will you?
Next term, I am going to tell my students that they had better starting working backwards, forget what they love, forget their hopes and dreams and all that mattered to them as a child. Pick a career based on incremental raises, good health insurance and availability. I mean seriously, who would want to be an English teacher right? Yeah okay, remember that the next time you are filling out an application and you have to write a cover letter. Better fold your hands together and say a prayer for that educator who is currently waiting for her unemployment benefits in the mail. I remember thinking when I resigned from my full time position, one that I loved, that there would always be jobs for teachers and, in a way there are, but there are not enough to accommodate all of us who thought similarly to how I thought then. And, because I am now 44, I have become THAT teacher who the youngsters are looking at going why doesn't she move the hell over and let me have that job. I am much newer, much shinier, much more qualified than she is. Well, let me tell you something honey...
I was not a good teacher when I began. I had a Bachelor's degree, a much smaller ass, a good work ethic and an even better attitude. I was smart, willing to work hard and even more willing to learn, but, I didn't know what the hell I was doing. Traditional student teaching prepared me for the day to day, "What if's" and, I had excellent master teachers, but, and this is a big but, no pun intended, one of my mentors flat out told me not to expect any sort of mastery or consistency in my teaching until I had taught the same subject for a good 5 years in a row. She told me to really work on varying my lessons, my instructional techniques and she encouraged me to get my Master's degree right away. In those first three years, I learned so much, maybe more than I've learned in the last 17 all together. When I wasn't granted tenure after the third year and I was told that I was a "B" teacher and the school was looking for an "A" teacher, I took it hard. I'm not going to lie, it was a real blow to my ego and to my self confidence. I thought long and hard about teaching and about what had been asked of me those past three years and then I found another job. For the next 5 years, my expectations about teaching and the love that I saw from many of my own teachers over the years, came to fruition. I learned to love my job. Those 5 years gave me a sense of fulfillment and growth, in ways that are hard for me to articulate. I flourished during that time and I also had my first child.
I thought at several times during my career that I would go back to graduate school once more and pursue a Ph.d in English. I still think about it sometimes, but now it is in more of an abstract kind of way. With our oldest considering college in 2 years and two more to get through the day to day trials of school and life, I need to focus on maintaining a consistent income. Hence, the full time job search. While I know that a Ph.d will only mean something personal to me at this point, I also know that my priorities since having Jake have obviously shifted, as well they should. I'd rather send Ty to private school than go back to school myself. I'd rather do both, but that's wishful thinking. For now, I have to work with what I have and what I have is a work ethic and a quick learning curve. Now I just need a chance...
At 44, I have a limited scope of years left in which to begin a new career, but I also know that experience is equivalent to education in my field, seemingly, certainly one has to have a degree to teach. Honestly, it is a combination of the two and while I know that many schools are looking for a workhorse, I also know that there are schools out there who are looking for me. El Camino has been so good to me and I hold it and my colleagues in the highest of esteem. I hope that things will work out for me there and in the mean time, I will continue to push forward, filling out online applications and being rejected. At this point, it would be nice and gentler on my self confidence if I could just get an interview. Me and thousands of other people in this country.
I still pray for patience and I pray for a better life for all children in this country and in the world and I know, somehow that I am being tested and that I am being shown how to fight for my family, how to care for it and that I can take care of them all if I have to. I just haven't been shown the direct route to do that. I picture God somewhere whispering to me, Yvette just press Ctrl + Alt + Ineedajob.com, but not in so many words. The message is there; I just need to decipher it. I hope he's smiling as he is whispering it and not pointing at the screen laughing at my folly.
Jake just walked in, handed me his birth certificate and said, "Hey Mom, is this my birth certificate?" Holy hell... maybe I should go back to school and forget about paying for college. Maybe we'll be competing for the same job soon... let me know if you hear of anything will you?
Monday, June 3, 2013
Happiness is overrated...
so is optimism, looking forward to things, seeing the glass as half full, looking at life through rose colored glasses and all of that other shit that keeps people floating down a river of flotsam dreams and teal colored hopes. If happiness were a beautiful, spotless, perfectly formed bubble that a child had formed, I would pop that mother fucker and walk away laughing... does this even require an explanation? Am I the only person who puts her Ipod on, looks the bathroom door and dances for 30 minutes until I'm sweating just so I can drone out the laughter and joy that my family is experiencing without me? I mean, I do that, but usually it is to drown out the sounds of those little bastards fighting one another. By the way, someone told me that if I want to write a book that I have to blog a whole lot more. It's hard when you have nothing to say but bad things or even just good things for that matter. Who wants to read that shit? But, Ty is watching Madagascar 3 right now and there is about 10 minutes left so that leaves me about 10 minutes, 30 seconds before my second shift begins. Ty wants to play Battleship but there is only one cartridge thing or whatever the hell you call it so we made a makeshift one out of a little box with holes... never mind, Jake called it "ghetto" which I don't like but he also constantly describes things as "Gucci" so what the hell does he know. Ty is naked too which is standard fare around our house in the summer. Not for me, God forbid, but for the little one. The other two were like that when they were little too, but that habit tends to fall by the wayside, for obvious reasons. Although Ty is constantly telling me, habits aside, that his penis is sticking straight up. I have written about that before; I just continue to tell him that it is supposed to do that; it means that it is working. He accepts this as reasonable and he lets it go at that.
I don't generally think of myself as an unhappy person but there are times when I am happy in my unhappiness, in my misery. There are times when it feels good to feel bad. Know what I mean? In this instance, it is not a release of stress or anything like that. I mean, who doesn't love a good cry now and then. No, I mean, it feels good to honk at someone on the road or kick the leg of the couch or scream into a pillow or make fun of some stupid character on television. It feels good to not feel good. And, I don't know if I am the only one who feels that way. I doubt that many people like to admit that or I wonder even if that feel that way at all. Like yesterday for example, we went out to lunch as a family and the meal was great and the server was very good, efficient, friendly, the food came out on time, but, about halfway through the meal, she did it, she went WAY overboard with the friendly. It began to ooze from her pores and at one point I looked at Tim and winced when she started to talk about the different types of chicken in the kitchen. Now, I will be the first to admit, I am not the friendliest of people and I often have a bad attitude, but, conversely, the opposite of that is the Uberhappy, life is wonderful and everything is so beautiful and I love everyone and... Oh God, I can feel my temples begin to pound. I mean, happiness has its place, just like sadness and anger and irritation, but just like some people hate it when I am angry or extremely sad, I hate it when people have sunshine shooting out of their asses. If this is their nature, I would never say anything directly to them or embarrass them, like the server yesterday, I smiled at her, asked her questions about the chickens; she was really impressed by those cooks I guess and then we tipped her 20%. She was a good server, but she didn't know when too much of a good thing is clearly too damn much. By the time the meal ended, I was in a worse mood than before, all because of her extreme happiness. Clearly this is a reflection on me, but I cannot be the only one who feels that way.
I flip people off when I'm driving and if someone cuts me off, I yell, whether they can hear me or not. If someone cuts in front of me in line, I politely say something or if I am shortchanged, I tell the cashier. I don't have to be mean about it, but this whole forced happy thing is starting to really chap my ass. I don't need 6 people behind the counter screaming "WELCOME TO PANDA" every time I go in the fucking door or, if it is obvious that I don't want to join the "club" or get a free "club" card because I've said "No thank you, I don't want a club card" and it is repeated, "but it's free" then please respect that. I don't want someone to ask me three times if they can help me find something when it is obvious that I am looking and browsing and I don't need assistance. I now say, "Thank you, but if I need something, I'll ask." I mean for crying out loud, do I have the word NEEDY tattooed on my forehead. It's like sex I suppose. The therapist told me, if Tim wants to have sex and you don't, try to think about how it will make him happy or make his day or how it will put him in a better mood and because you love him, then it will put you in a better mood. I tried to look at it like that and that works sometimes. I mean I do love Tim and I love sex so there you go, but the thing is, sometimes I just don't want to. I just don't want to go through the motions. Maybe it is because I'm a woman or a psycho or both, but sometimes I just can't. That's just not me; I don't fake it... har har.
I gave a final exam today and it was clear that several students are not going to pass the class, yet there they were, staring at me, hoping through some sort of scientific process that the grade will automatically get transferred from their hopes into the computer. I remember thinking once that the process of grading someone's work is infinitely unfair, even when you have criteria, even when that criteria is objective; there is a supposed amount of power that comes with telling someone that they are or aren't "good" enough based on a curriculum or a class that you helped design. It is a huge responsibility. I know deep down that I am a fair person and that the standards are fair and that, if they fail, it is most likely due to some lapse on their part. However, there is still that moment when I am entering grades and I think about what each of their faces looked like and I realize that I can change the course of their future, even if it is just slight. I have the power to alter the trajectory and I can, in essence, make them happy. And then I sit back and evaluate the situation, the work, the student, the whole process and I know that I can't do that if it isn't warranted and so, I try to soften the blow. Sometimes it works and sometimes it doesn't. But as the years have gone on, I have gotten much more efficient at delivering the news so that it is not unexpected or really, all that painful. At least it seems that way to me; the students may tell you otherwise.
I told them today, before class ended, that all I ever wanted to do, besides when I was 8 or 9 for a brief stint and I considered being a brain surgeon, a hairdresser and a flight attendant, was be a teacher. I wanted my life to be about sharing information that I love and that my enthusiasm for that subject matter would somehow seep into their collective consciousness. I also love that I get to start over every term too; it is exciting and new and always a challenge. So, happiness in a nutshell. Maybe not totally overrated, but in tandem with sadness, anger and a need for swift justice, especially when someone tailgates you on the freeway... I'm done. Fuck off.
I don't generally think of myself as an unhappy person but there are times when I am happy in my unhappiness, in my misery. There are times when it feels good to feel bad. Know what I mean? In this instance, it is not a release of stress or anything like that. I mean, who doesn't love a good cry now and then. No, I mean, it feels good to honk at someone on the road or kick the leg of the couch or scream into a pillow or make fun of some stupid character on television. It feels good to not feel good. And, I don't know if I am the only one who feels that way. I doubt that many people like to admit that or I wonder even if that feel that way at all. Like yesterday for example, we went out to lunch as a family and the meal was great and the server was very good, efficient, friendly, the food came out on time, but, about halfway through the meal, she did it, she went WAY overboard with the friendly. It began to ooze from her pores and at one point I looked at Tim and winced when she started to talk about the different types of chicken in the kitchen. Now, I will be the first to admit, I am not the friendliest of people and I often have a bad attitude, but, conversely, the opposite of that is the Uberhappy, life is wonderful and everything is so beautiful and I love everyone and... Oh God, I can feel my temples begin to pound. I mean, happiness has its place, just like sadness and anger and irritation, but just like some people hate it when I am angry or extremely sad, I hate it when people have sunshine shooting out of their asses. If this is their nature, I would never say anything directly to them or embarrass them, like the server yesterday, I smiled at her, asked her questions about the chickens; she was really impressed by those cooks I guess and then we tipped her 20%. She was a good server, but she didn't know when too much of a good thing is clearly too damn much. By the time the meal ended, I was in a worse mood than before, all because of her extreme happiness. Clearly this is a reflection on me, but I cannot be the only one who feels that way.
I flip people off when I'm driving and if someone cuts me off, I yell, whether they can hear me or not. If someone cuts in front of me in line, I politely say something or if I am shortchanged, I tell the cashier. I don't have to be mean about it, but this whole forced happy thing is starting to really chap my ass. I don't need 6 people behind the counter screaming "WELCOME TO PANDA" every time I go in the fucking door or, if it is obvious that I don't want to join the "club" or get a free "club" card because I've said "No thank you, I don't want a club card" and it is repeated, "but it's free" then please respect that. I don't want someone to ask me three times if they can help me find something when it is obvious that I am looking and browsing and I don't need assistance. I now say, "Thank you, but if I need something, I'll ask." I mean for crying out loud, do I have the word NEEDY tattooed on my forehead. It's like sex I suppose. The therapist told me, if Tim wants to have sex and you don't, try to think about how it will make him happy or make his day or how it will put him in a better mood and because you love him, then it will put you in a better mood. I tried to look at it like that and that works sometimes. I mean I do love Tim and I love sex so there you go, but the thing is, sometimes I just don't want to. I just don't want to go through the motions. Maybe it is because I'm a woman or a psycho or both, but sometimes I just can't. That's just not me; I don't fake it... har har.
I gave a final exam today and it was clear that several students are not going to pass the class, yet there they were, staring at me, hoping through some sort of scientific process that the grade will automatically get transferred from their hopes into the computer. I remember thinking once that the process of grading someone's work is infinitely unfair, even when you have criteria, even when that criteria is objective; there is a supposed amount of power that comes with telling someone that they are or aren't "good" enough based on a curriculum or a class that you helped design. It is a huge responsibility. I know deep down that I am a fair person and that the standards are fair and that, if they fail, it is most likely due to some lapse on their part. However, there is still that moment when I am entering grades and I think about what each of their faces looked like and I realize that I can change the course of their future, even if it is just slight. I have the power to alter the trajectory and I can, in essence, make them happy. And then I sit back and evaluate the situation, the work, the student, the whole process and I know that I can't do that if it isn't warranted and so, I try to soften the blow. Sometimes it works and sometimes it doesn't. But as the years have gone on, I have gotten much more efficient at delivering the news so that it is not unexpected or really, all that painful. At least it seems that way to me; the students may tell you otherwise.
I told them today, before class ended, that all I ever wanted to do, besides when I was 8 or 9 for a brief stint and I considered being a brain surgeon, a hairdresser and a flight attendant, was be a teacher. I wanted my life to be about sharing information that I love and that my enthusiasm for that subject matter would somehow seep into their collective consciousness. I also love that I get to start over every term too; it is exciting and new and always a challenge. So, happiness in a nutshell. Maybe not totally overrated, but in tandem with sadness, anger and a need for swift justice, especially when someone tailgates you on the freeway... I'm done. Fuck off.
Parenting 101 x WTF
I often feel as though I am sitting in the middle of a human tornado, body parts flying, noises emitting from every possible surface in the house and a constant hum in my ears that tells me it may be time to hop in the car and get the hell out. More often than not though, I don't do that, because by the time I get back to the house, more chaos has ensued and, secretly, although I will never verbally confirm this, I really enjoy the chaos.
The boys and Tim think I'm in a bad mood and while that may be true some of the time, most of the time, I am internally relishing the arguments, the wrestling, the beach ball making its way through mid air toward the television. I love the smell of pasta cooking and fresh laundry on my bed, even if the pug is rolling around in it, having just emerged from the shower soaking wet. I anticipate the sounds of the kids getting into the car after school and the few minutes that I get them alone without the intrusion of electronics on their brains, when we can actually have a conversation on the way home. I swear, Jake is getting a permanent hunch in his shoulders from staring into his cell phone for long periods of time. But I'm told, this is the new "hunchback" of the electronic generation: Iphones, Ipads, Ipods, I need to read a damn book every once in awhile.
I knew it was coming; I used to teach high school so I knew it, but I still wasn't ready for it. I have a full blown teenage boy in the house. Attitude, "swag," lack of interest that isn't anything "girlfriend, soccer or friend" related, again, I knew it was coming, but it has not been what I expected. Jake is a good hearted and kind boy and I see that in him still, but what I don't like, what I abhor to tell you the God's honest truth is the constant verbal sparring in which he engages me on a daily basis. And the interesting thing is, it doesn't matter WHAT we are discussing, there are moments when he disagrees with me just so he can. Even when his argument is riddled with inconsistencies or is just downright incoherent; he will hold to that argument as if it were a liferaft and he was one word away from drowning. Then again, he'd probably rather drown than admit that he was mistaken. The other funny thing is, sometimes I think he just doesn't realize the stupidity of what he is trying to say; I say trying only because often, it makes no sense. That isn't easy for me to write because Jake is extremely verbal and very bright. He uses vocabulary in a meaningful way in appropriate contexts more often than I would expect a 16 year old to do. However, what doesn't fit is his inability to comprehend the other side of the argument. He just argues his point and flat out disagrees with me, no matter what I say, how I say it or how loud I scream at him while wagging my finger in his face. He doesn't comprehend it because he chooses NOT to and while deep down I realize that this confrontation stage is the beginning of his major PULL toward the independence that he is convinced he will have at 18, I also realize that it is the beginning of the end of my journey of parenting him. And, frankly, it saddens me. I know that I will always be his mother, but the relationship has and will continue to change and, as hard as it is, I cannot fight that, for his sake. I have been the most important female figure in his life and on some level, I'm sure that he will see me as a semblance of that person who once "knew" what the hell she was talking about, but, more than that, I have to accept that that role is limited in scope and that now, soon, in the future, someone will usurp my role. I know that and on some level, I do accept that. I guess what I will have a difficult time with, is letting go of the fact that I won't be the person that Jake comes to when he needs something; that is a role that I have enjoyed. He trusts me and I believe, despite his snarky remarks, that he trusts my judgment, but, let's face it, he is still my son and I am still his mother and that in and of itself leads to conflict. Parenting a budding man, well, physically anyway, emotionally and psychologically he's still 3... sorry Jake, is not easy, but I cannot begin to compare it to the emotional roller coaster that I would be experiencing if there were a teenage girl in the house.
Having grown up with my brothers, Rich and Steve, I was well prepared for what was in store for having teenage boys in the house, but the relationship is clearly different. Having to discipline a teenage boy for not following the rules is very different than drinking beers as a teenager with your dopey brothers. What I have a hard time with is how Jake will turn to the "men" in his life often, now, before he comes to me. I understand it and it makes sense, but, I don't like it. It hurts on a level that only a woman, a mother can understand. He is my little boy and deep down, he is the same as he was when he was on all fours, ten months old, crawling all over the floor, laughing, drooling, looking to me for guidance and more laughter. Maybe we are supposed to have our children when we are young because as we grow and mature, we find it more difficult to let go and start over. I think about a few years from now when I am in my GASP fifties and the kind of transition that will begin to take place as the kids move toward their own lives, their own homes, careers, potential spouses and I suddenly can't breathe. I can't remember those days of holding Jake in my arms and dressing him for Halloween and waving to him as he ran off to baseball practice. Suddenly I've become obsolete. I lay in bed at night thinking these thoughts and they make me very sad sometimes. But you know, I think it is a good thing. Parenting is not all roses and lollipops. It is painful and hard, brutally honest and heartbreaking; parenting is putting all of your love and hope and dreams into these little people who grow as they will, forming their own opinions, having their own experiences and that moment, that one second that you know is coming, when you have to unclasp your hand, reminds you that parenting really isn't forever. They will always be our children, but they will not always need us as parents. As they change, so does the relationship. I am learning to accept that. Maybe by the time Ty is 18, I will have conquered these mixed emotions. But for now, I will look forward to Jake's hugs and his telling me goodnight, I will look forward to Nick still asking me to "tuck him in" and I will cherish the fleeting moments that I have left when Ty lets me put my arms around him and kiss his cheeks. But I know that the day is coming when he will wipe those kisses away...
I can honestly say that if I knew then what I know now, that I would never have opted not to have children. Yeah, it's easy to say that now, because I love them and all that, but what I mean is, if I had any idea what kind of daily challenges were in store for me, the love, the tears, the boredom, the chaos, I DEFINITELY would have had 2 or 3 more. Now if you'll excuse me, I hear the sound of dissent in the bedroom...
The boys and Tim think I'm in a bad mood and while that may be true some of the time, most of the time, I am internally relishing the arguments, the wrestling, the beach ball making its way through mid air toward the television. I love the smell of pasta cooking and fresh laundry on my bed, even if the pug is rolling around in it, having just emerged from the shower soaking wet. I anticipate the sounds of the kids getting into the car after school and the few minutes that I get them alone without the intrusion of electronics on their brains, when we can actually have a conversation on the way home. I swear, Jake is getting a permanent hunch in his shoulders from staring into his cell phone for long periods of time. But I'm told, this is the new "hunchback" of the electronic generation: Iphones, Ipads, Ipods, I need to read a damn book every once in awhile.
I knew it was coming; I used to teach high school so I knew it, but I still wasn't ready for it. I have a full blown teenage boy in the house. Attitude, "swag," lack of interest that isn't anything "girlfriend, soccer or friend" related, again, I knew it was coming, but it has not been what I expected. Jake is a good hearted and kind boy and I see that in him still, but what I don't like, what I abhor to tell you the God's honest truth is the constant verbal sparring in which he engages me on a daily basis. And the interesting thing is, it doesn't matter WHAT we are discussing, there are moments when he disagrees with me just so he can. Even when his argument is riddled with inconsistencies or is just downright incoherent; he will hold to that argument as if it were a liferaft and he was one word away from drowning. Then again, he'd probably rather drown than admit that he was mistaken. The other funny thing is, sometimes I think he just doesn't realize the stupidity of what he is trying to say; I say trying only because often, it makes no sense. That isn't easy for me to write because Jake is extremely verbal and very bright. He uses vocabulary in a meaningful way in appropriate contexts more often than I would expect a 16 year old to do. However, what doesn't fit is his inability to comprehend the other side of the argument. He just argues his point and flat out disagrees with me, no matter what I say, how I say it or how loud I scream at him while wagging my finger in his face. He doesn't comprehend it because he chooses NOT to and while deep down I realize that this confrontation stage is the beginning of his major PULL toward the independence that he is convinced he will have at 18, I also realize that it is the beginning of the end of my journey of parenting him. And, frankly, it saddens me. I know that I will always be his mother, but the relationship has and will continue to change and, as hard as it is, I cannot fight that, for his sake. I have been the most important female figure in his life and on some level, I'm sure that he will see me as a semblance of that person who once "knew" what the hell she was talking about, but, more than that, I have to accept that that role is limited in scope and that now, soon, in the future, someone will usurp my role. I know that and on some level, I do accept that. I guess what I will have a difficult time with, is letting go of the fact that I won't be the person that Jake comes to when he needs something; that is a role that I have enjoyed. He trusts me and I believe, despite his snarky remarks, that he trusts my judgment, but, let's face it, he is still my son and I am still his mother and that in and of itself leads to conflict. Parenting a budding man, well, physically anyway, emotionally and psychologically he's still 3... sorry Jake, is not easy, but I cannot begin to compare it to the emotional roller coaster that I would be experiencing if there were a teenage girl in the house.
Having grown up with my brothers, Rich and Steve, I was well prepared for what was in store for having teenage boys in the house, but the relationship is clearly different. Having to discipline a teenage boy for not following the rules is very different than drinking beers as a teenager with your dopey brothers. What I have a hard time with is how Jake will turn to the "men" in his life often, now, before he comes to me. I understand it and it makes sense, but, I don't like it. It hurts on a level that only a woman, a mother can understand. He is my little boy and deep down, he is the same as he was when he was on all fours, ten months old, crawling all over the floor, laughing, drooling, looking to me for guidance and more laughter. Maybe we are supposed to have our children when we are young because as we grow and mature, we find it more difficult to let go and start over. I think about a few years from now when I am in my GASP fifties and the kind of transition that will begin to take place as the kids move toward their own lives, their own homes, careers, potential spouses and I suddenly can't breathe. I can't remember those days of holding Jake in my arms and dressing him for Halloween and waving to him as he ran off to baseball practice. Suddenly I've become obsolete. I lay in bed at night thinking these thoughts and they make me very sad sometimes. But you know, I think it is a good thing. Parenting is not all roses and lollipops. It is painful and hard, brutally honest and heartbreaking; parenting is putting all of your love and hope and dreams into these little people who grow as they will, forming their own opinions, having their own experiences and that moment, that one second that you know is coming, when you have to unclasp your hand, reminds you that parenting really isn't forever. They will always be our children, but they will not always need us as parents. As they change, so does the relationship. I am learning to accept that. Maybe by the time Ty is 18, I will have conquered these mixed emotions. But for now, I will look forward to Jake's hugs and his telling me goodnight, I will look forward to Nick still asking me to "tuck him in" and I will cherish the fleeting moments that I have left when Ty lets me put my arms around him and kiss his cheeks. But I know that the day is coming when he will wipe those kisses away...
I can honestly say that if I knew then what I know now, that I would never have opted not to have children. Yeah, it's easy to say that now, because I love them and all that, but what I mean is, if I had any idea what kind of daily challenges were in store for me, the love, the tears, the boredom, the chaos, I DEFINITELY would have had 2 or 3 more. Now if you'll excuse me, I hear the sound of dissent in the bedroom...
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