Severance Made Me Feel Seen

 I just finished watching the widely acclaimed, Severance, on Apple TV.  It is trippy and dystopian and weirdly reminds me of being a teacher. This is especially true of the ludicrous incentives for a job well done.

    Let me be clear, I am not hating on the incentives that we get at work.  I appreciate every single one of them.  I appreciate the time it takes faculty, staff, students, or even parents to get these things together for us.  This does not come form a place of ingratitude or even complaining. It's just an observation that when seen in terms of other professions it is considered trippy and dystopian.  A sure sign that we are in a crazy, cooky world.  In education, however, it is the norm. 

      In the show, Dylan G. talks dead-seriously about how hard he is working to get his prizes.  We see him playing with finger traps, and hear him talking about earning the big prize, a waffle party! At one point, for a morale boost, Mr. Milchick comes in with a 5 minute dance party. As viewers, we are confused as to what kind of world this is where those childish incentives are the rewards for good work.  As a teacher, I felt seen. Some of the incentives that we have gotten over my years at 4 different schools are jeans day, a drink from Sonic, an orange snack cart with all orange treats, a smore's bar, a taco party, a pizza party, free school supplies, and a free school T shirt.  Again, I will gladly take that over nothing.  I just wish we received things like money and promotions.  

To be fair, for the first time we are getting Christmas bonuses this year!  Like actual money, not just hot cocoa or a staff Christmas party. "The Board" approved it.  How do you like me now, Dylan G,?

To Be Called Mom

As a little girl I knew that someday I wanted 

to be called Mom. 

I couldn't wait to have kids.

A few, at least.

And then I got a little knowledge, and a little fear. 

So as young woman I still wanted to be a mother, but someday... down the road... after... 

As a young wife I got pregnant. 

Unexpectedly. 

And I cried. 

I felt still so young myself.

And it would be a Y2K baby which was a stressful anticipation.  

Computers and equipment potentially crashing as the ball dropped. 

Due 1/2/00. 

 I called my mom to tell her. I think my exact words were, “This is going to ruin Christmas.” 

And then I got sick. So, so, sick.  

Couldn’t drink, or eat, or swallow my own saliva without vomiting, sick. 

I lost 30 lbs in 30 days. 

I passed out in the shower. 

Just once. 

Mostly I didn’t take a shower. 

I thought I might die, and I made peace with it. 

I got a PICC line which gave me nourishment. 

And a pump that kept my body full of anti nausea meds.

I still had to spit in a cup.

But I heard the most amazing sound. 

A heartbeat. 

And that made it all worthwhile. 

Until the heartbeat wasn’t there anymore. 

Surely it was a mistake. 

Could we check again.

Suddenly just gone.

When it had been beating so strong.

I couldn’t believe it.  

After that, my heart beat a little differently too- 

because a piece of it was missing. 

Not just that day but every day since.

The hole is still there, but then so is the compassion. 

And the gratitude.

And the certainty. 

And the strength. 

And the love. 

And the empathy. 

And the grief. That never fully goes away. 

That baby, the one that I never held, changed my world.

Made me a mom- 

even just for 13 weeks. 

Taught me that motherhood is joy, 

and love, 

and uncertainty, 

and bravery, 

and fear,

and sacrifice.

And that there is beauty in all of it.

That even with no guarantee as to how it all turns out, that it’s an incredible journey to be on.

I’m grateful that my story didn’t end with that first baby. Almost 9 years later I got to hold our beautiful little baby girl in my arms, and the grief I had felt for all those years was redeemed in a moment.

Then two years later still, 

we were blessed with the son that made our family complete.

The peaceful, 

happy, 

super baby. 

The sweetest boy ever to meet my gaze.

I'm his forever, and he's mine, at least for now. 

Motherhood is a beautiful, creative partnership with God, 

And I'm truly so grateful for all of it.

For the three pregnancies, 

and for the 2 babies I held in my arms,  

plus one forever held in my heart. 

That's the one that helped to make me ready. 

Really truly ready, and oh so thankful 

to be called Mom.

Happy Mother’s Day. 

For a Moment

For a moment we were heroes.

In the midst of a global pandemic, teachers were hailed as beyond essential. Parents, politicians, and celebrities were declaring that we should be paid “a million dollars a day, and it still wouldn’t be enough”, or some similar hyperbolic declaration of our worth. With no warning, very little leadership from the federal, state, or even local government in many cases, teachers revamped curriculum and learned how to facilitate distance learning. More importantly, we let kids know that during this crazy, scary, uncertain time, when everything has changed, there is one thing that hasn’t changed. We are still your teachers, and we are still right here for you.

I want to let you in on a little secret. We weren’t being called heroes because we started doing things differently, but rather because the public caught a glimpse of what we do inside the walls of our classrooms every day. We love children. We teach them. With little to no warning we change the way we teach them because what we were doing before isn’t working for them. We evaluate their needs, and sometimes they need a heart to heart talk more than a lesson, so we stop what we are doing and listen to them. We see that they don’t have food, so we feed them. We see that they look sad, so we pull them aside in class to let them know that even though they seem to be going through a really tough time, we are here for them.

The moment has passed. The words of affirmation are gone, and not backed up by any sort of action. Teachers across the board are facing pay cuts, lack of normal step increases, and job insecurity. Some of us are facing technology challenges as we know that we will likely have some form of hybrid between distance teaching and face to face instruction when school opens back up. And it's ok. We never signed up for this to be heroes, or even to be fairly paid, but would help if people would stop sending us mixed messages.

For a moment, it felt good to be a hero. :)

Vikings and Bruins for Life

I have a 5th grader and 8th grader not getting to go back to their schools again, as students, ever. And guys. Hear me. They will be fine. This is hard. Life is hard. And amid this disappointment, they are going to see that they are still fine.

Thank you Prospect and LFMS. We miss you already! You took good care of my babies,
and I’m sorry our time with you was cut short. But don’t worry about us, or feel bad. Know this. The comfort, caring, guidance, and leadership that your teachers provided (and are still providing) my kids during this Covid 19 separation will never be forgotten. The way you reached out to help them feel safe, loved, and to help make sure they had academics to do, and food to eat has meant more than any class party ever could. You taught them more about life during this last month than you could have done in a thousand classes. You modeled the importance of showing up for people, of good communication, putting things in priority, and self discipline, laughter, and finding the familiar even when everything changes . We have felt your love. We have seen it on every zoom call and read it on every post card. We wouldn’t have chosen this as the ending for their middle and elementary school careers, but they are better for it. We will keep showing up for you too, for as long as you ask us to because we want to be your students for as long as possible.

Later, who knows how much later, we will celebrate their accomplishments and get those goodbye hugs. Until then, we are proud to be Vikings and Bruins for Life.

Happy Place

Sometimes they sell your happy place.

My childhood home is about to be for sale. The photo shoot is done. The listing will go live soon. All that’s left is to sit back and wait, and to reflect on what Miranda Lambert would say is “the house that built me”.

Val Terrace has been our family home since 1986. I was 10 when we moved in. It’s wasn’t our first house, but it was the first house I ever loved. I got my own room for the first time on Val Terrace. I got to pick out the yellow wallpaper with pink hearts, and pink wall to wall carpeting. I got a phone in my bedroom. It was lavender, and had call waiting, and I loved it! I got to live in a neighborhood for the first time on Val Terrace, with a cul de sac at the end of the street! I always felt safe there, and it was around that cul de sac that I learned that I could ride a ten speed bike in circles for hours. It was big, in fact it held 7 people in two slightly separate houses, my grandparents lived in the in-law apartment. Now I know that it’s bigness would be its downfall because 33 years later, what do two people need such a big house for? But back then, it was perfect! Safe, and welcoming, and the center for all of the major events of my life.

It’s not just my happy place from my childhood though. Even as an adult who has had 3 homes of her own, when I say I’m going home I always picture mom and dad’s house. Mom and dad standing in the driveway waving us in, or coming out from the back porch with big smiles. I always comment on how pretty mom’s gardens look, and not just because I know she’s been sprucing them up for company, but also because it’s true. That first hug in the driveway and I can literally feel all the stress of the long drive, or the current life messes melt away. It is the place where everything will be ok.

Val Terrace is special to my kids too! They have grown up vacationing there every summer. They love climbing the trees in the front yard, and playing hide and seek in the basement. I remember when we planted those trees. The back porch is one of my favorite places. With all the windows open you can enjoy the New England summer, without the mosquitos that lurk just outside. To me, it is the perfect place for a nice cup of coffee with breakfast, as I listen to the leaves blow on the trees and feel the cool ocean breeze. To my kids, it is the perfect place for hatching wild and crazy plans. There have been sword fights on that porch between kids in Viking helmets, and plays put on there. Oh, and I hope I never forget the summer of the chipmunk! The porch played a big role in that too! The chipmunks were everywhere, gorging themselves on the birdseed that fell from my parent’s bird feeders, so my sister’s kids and mine decided only one thing could be done. They must be caught! They used a clear bin, a stick, and a long rope, all of which they contrived into a makeshift trap that they thoughtfully set up right under the feeder. They would all sit and watch from their chairs on the porch. For fun there were binoculars involved, even though they were in no way needed. When a chipmunk came for his snack, zip, they’d give the rope a tug and catch him. Then they would all run out and get a good close look at him in his trap before lifting it up and setting up the whole game again. The next morning, Trevor came down for breakfast and said in his squeekly little boy voice, “It feels like a great day for catching chipmunks”. A line that is now part of the family.

I could go on probably forever, recalling weddings, graduation parties, family reunions, anniversary parties, vacations with family, and then with different friends joining in the fun. I could recall people dropping in for a visit because they always knew where to find you. I could recall snowmen in the front yard, and watching snow flakes fall in the light form the little lamp posts by the front walk. With a big smile I could tell of how my mom makes snow angel videos for the southern grandchildren in the yard after every big storm. I could tell you of the basketball hoop in the driveway, and of the driveway championships that were held there. And I’m not gonna say none of it would have been possible without that house, but I will say that none of it happened without the house. That house played a big part in my life over the past 33 years. It could have all happened somewhere else. I know that. But the fact is that it didn’t. It happened there on Val Terrace in Scarborough, Maine where my parents have had the same phone number since I was born.

Change is hard for people like me. I guess I could take the last half of that sentence off; change is hard. I’m thankful for the past that we have had there in our family home. I’m excited for my parents, and what lies ahead for them. It’s going to be all good things, happening in a much smaller, more appropriate setting for two people. What will become of my house on Val Terrace? I don’t know, but I hope the next little girl that lives there knows what a blessed little girl she is.

An Ode to Us

An Ode to Us

College kids.
Fun, friendships, freedom.
Falling in love.
Basketball, softball and soccer games. Street Fighter.
Bible studies. Dinners out.
Thinking we were all grown up.
Being so wrong.
Just kids.

Newlyweds.
Together. Stars in our eyes. Totally in love.
Dreams of the future. Not even sure what to dream.
One cold Maine winter, ice storms, radiator heat.
Money earned. Money spent. Laundromat, pizza place.
Thinking love was all we needed.
Being completely right.
Being completely wrong
Being completely in love.

Growing up.
First baby. Shock & excitement. Loss & heartache.
Innocence lost. Crying, Sadness. Solitude.
Leaning on each other. Loving each other.
Trusting. Doubting.
Too young for broken hearts,
but that didn't matter.
Believing "it is well" though it didn't feel well.
Being right.

Parenthood.
Completely worth the risks.
Definitely worth the wait.
Two perfect blessings.
Love like we have never known.
Worry, joy, laughter, pain...all magnified.
Juggling new hats. Daddy, Mommy.
Thinking we should have been required to take a test.
Knowing we would have never passed. :)
Learning day by day.
Smiling at them- at just the thought of them.
Smiling at seeing each other in their eyes.

Growing older.
Long in the tooth. :) Gray hair.
Aches, pains, sun damage.
Happy Birthdays for us...for them.
Finding our love has grown comforting.
Not thinking there is anything wrong with that.
Knowing our love is true. Still laughing, still happy.
More beautiful than ever.
Like good wine.
One Heart. Two bodies. 100 directions.
Always coming home to the same place.

Our Future.
Quickly becoming the past.
Wide open. Full of potential.
Uncertain. Unknown. Unlimited.
Planning.
Thinking we have time.
Being so wrong.
The future is not now.
The future was yesterday.

Together, we two.
In love. Happy. Side by side. Step by step.
Thinking we are blessed.
Being so right!

Jayme, I love the memory of falling in love with you, and the reality of staying in love with you. For the notes on my car, and the poems that you wrote. For the dinners you made, and the flowers. For when you get up with the kids, and when you chase them all around the house and make them laugh. For the smiles, laughter, and maybe even more, for the tears. Thank you. What we have done together, we never could have done apart. "...all because two people fell in love".

Being Ten is Tough

My ten year old did not miss a single math question on the Tennessee state assessment (TCAP) in 2nd grade. Not one. He scored in the 100th percentile. Who does that? Not me. (Not my students, that's for sure.) I am sure there are others. But he is one of probably not too many. Last year he missed one, but in his defense he had nowhere to go but down after he peaked in second grade. :) I don't say that to brag, but rather to give background knowledge for the next sentence that I am about to write.

Today, as fourth graders were packing up their things to go home, four of my son's classmates were voting on whether or not he was stupid. The ringleader would ask, "Who think's Trevor's retarded?" and the other three would raise their hands. "Who thinks Trevor's stupid?", all the hands go up. "Who thinks Trevor's dumb?", three out of three of the followers voted that he for sure is.

So my ten year old came home from school today with puffy eyes, and pink cheeks because of the words of these kids. Three kids voting against him. Three kids siding with the mean girl, and agreeing that he was dumb.

As he told me the story on the way home from school, so quietly I could barely hear him, my eyes filled with tears. I wasn't angry, I was just wounded. Wounded because I could tell that this one hurt him.
"Mom, you can tell me if something is wrong with me you know. I mean is it? Do I have something like how some kids have ADHD or things? Did a doctor ever say anything is wrong with me?"
More tears running down my cheeks. More broken heart forcing itself to beat as I listen to my son try to fit the words of his classmates into his view of himself. A view that now feels like maybe he is broken.

I told him, most assuredly, that he is not broken in any way. And that in some small way those kids must feel broken to be hurting him like that. Kids who are confident, strong, and kind don't seek to hurt others. That we may never know what is in them that feels fixed when they pick on him, but that it certainly isn't about him. It is about them.

Then we talked about how it would have felt if someone hadn't raised their hand. If someone had voted for him instead of against him. The relief he would have felt if just one person had his back. That was the word he used. Relieved. And I told him to always be that person.

And now, as he sits reading Harry Potter I am still teary. I don't want to send him back to the wolves tomorrow. I don't want them to hurt him anymore, just because they can. Just because there are four of them and one of him, and because he is too sweet to beat the crap out of them like I want him to. And I am teary because I feel like I have let him be too soft. I have let him be too into books, and I have let him love too much... animals, and bugs, and me. I have let him be too kind. I should have tried to change him.

But that is never true.

God made my son smart. He made him kind, empathetic, hilarious, and so exceedingly loving. I hope that the words from today don't scar him, but rather stay with him as a reminder to be the one person who provides another child the relief of just not being alone. The world is a tough place. Even when you're just ten.