Ruby is finally feeling better. She had a fever for three days, but it went away with antibiotics, so it wasn't mono like the doctor thought at first it might be. She's chipper and full of energy now.
Adrienne tired out for her school's production of a radio play of It's a Wonderful Life. So it's an anxious wait for morning to see if she'll get a part.
We went to Las Vegas over the weekend and I'm officially glad I don't live there anymore. It's smelly. It's dirty. There are too many people, too many cars. I hate Wal-Mart with a passion. I do miss Target, but you can't have it all, right?
And the big news. I'm going to start homeschooling Nick right away. Last night I enrolled him in Clonlara, which is a homeschool program that's very free and open to interpretation. Not free-free of course. Oh no. But considerably less than a private school. And worth it. Just to see his face when I told him he didn't have to go to school anymore was worth every penny and more. Today he stayed home sick from school and I told him he could do a trial run of homeschooling. Here's what he did today:
1. Watched one show on Discovery Channel closely enough to discuss it with me when I got home. (He watched myth busters and was able to tell me that the myth about people dying if they are completely covered with paint is a plausibility, not a proven fact.)
2. Went out and collected five very different rocks and made a list of their characteristics.
3. Gathered the items he needs to make a machine that will: push a toy car at least four inches, break an empty egg shell, pop a balloon and blow out a candle.
4. Brainstormed a name for his school and designed a logo. So far he's considering the following two names: The Congress Middle School and Nick's Ninja Academy.
5. Designed a menu for this weekend. Chicken chili, salad, crackers, hot chocolate and ice cream. Tomorrow he'll find recipes and start building a shopping list.
I already feel a thousand times more relaxed. I am done sending him to public school. I never have to deal with it ever, ever again. Never. Inside, I'm doing the Mexican hat dance. Inside I'm collapsing with relief. The struggle is over.
This is my last week as a teacher's aide. I have a bunch of sick leave that I'll lose if I don't use it, so I'm taking tomorrow off since all of my kids have been sick. It's a half-day at school and I'll be glad not to have to do the tutoring thing for hours after school. I'm incredibly excited about being a substitute. I'm going to work full-time until my next semester starts to pay off the Clonlara tuition. On Thursday I have to go and get registered into the sub system so that I can take jobs.
I think I'm going to dis-enroll Nick from school tomorrow. Let freedom ring.
Tuesday, November 27, 2007
Friday, November 23, 2007
*sniff*
Ruby is sssssiiiiiicccccck. I mean really sick. Poor kid. Night before last she woke up at 2:30 a.m. crying like her heart was broken. She wouldn't let me touch her, and she was burning up. By the morning her fever had broken, but she was sick off and on all day. She didn't really have any symptoms except swollen glands in her neck and a fever, plus being real tired and very whiney and cry-y. Yesterday afternoon she asked for a band-babe and when I gave her one she put it on her neck. Poor girl has a sore throat. Anyway, last night she did the same crying in her sleep thing and this morning I took her to the doctor.
The culture for strep came back negative, which you would think is a good thing. Except that if it wasn't strep then the doctor thinks she might have mono. I Googled it and the main symptoms of mono are: fever, severe sore throat and fatigue. Those are also pretty close to the symptoms for a run-of-the-mill throat infection as well, so he prescribed antibiotics. It'll take two days for the mono culture to come back. Antibiotics don't do anything for mono.
We're supposed to go to Las Vegas tomorrow. The doctor said Ruby could travel, but she's still contagious so we should be careful. Children's Motrin is working really well for the pain and fever, but when it wears off (six hours on the dot) she's miserable. If she's no better tomorrow, we'll probably cancel. Poor chickie...keep her in your prayers, huh?
The culture for strep came back negative, which you would think is a good thing. Except that if it wasn't strep then the doctor thinks she might have mono. I Googled it and the main symptoms of mono are: fever, severe sore throat and fatigue. Those are also pretty close to the symptoms for a run-of-the-mill throat infection as well, so he prescribed antibiotics. It'll take two days for the mono culture to come back. Antibiotics don't do anything for mono.
We're supposed to go to Las Vegas tomorrow. The doctor said Ruby could travel, but she's still contagious so we should be careful. Children's Motrin is working really well for the pain and fever, but when it wears off (six hours on the dot) she's miserable. If she's no better tomorrow, we'll probably cancel. Poor chickie...keep her in your prayers, huh?
Wednesday, November 21, 2007
Happy Thanksgiving, and my favorite side dish recipe
Just in case I don't get the chance tomorrow, I wanted to take a minute to wish you all a very happy Thanksgiving!
We're eating at home tomorrow, then Kevin is going to work and the kids and I are going to Adrienne and Nick's grandparents house for the evening.
Here's our menu:
Turkey
Apple and pecan cornbread stuffing
Sweet potato casserole
Mashed potatoes and gravy
Roasted Brussel's sprouts
Gulliver's corn
Rolls
And my favorite. I make it every year, even though I'm the only one who eats it. Luckily it's pickled so it lasts a while in the fridge and it ages well.
Red Sauerkraut Salad
1/2 head of red cabbage, cored and julienned
1/2 onion chopped fine
1 jalapeno chopped fine
1 cup cider vinegar
1/2 cup sugar
generous pinch cinnamon
2 t. salt
1 t. horseradish
1 T. whole grain mustard
1/2 cup water
Blue cheese (the cheese, not the dressing)
Walnuts, chopped
Put everything in a heavy pot. Bring to a boil. Reduce to simmer, cover and cook for an hour. Let cool completely and then drain. Mix in walnuts and crumbled blue cheese to your liking. I like a lot of both!
It might sound weird, but I swear it's addictive! It's fabulous with left overs, too.
We're eating at home tomorrow, then Kevin is going to work and the kids and I are going to Adrienne and Nick's grandparents house for the evening.
Here's our menu:
Turkey
Apple and pecan cornbread stuffing
Sweet potato casserole
Mashed potatoes and gravy
Roasted Brussel's sprouts
Gulliver's corn
Rolls
And my favorite. I make it every year, even though I'm the only one who eats it. Luckily it's pickled so it lasts a while in the fridge and it ages well.
Red Sauerkraut Salad
1/2 head of red cabbage, cored and julienned
1/2 onion chopped fine
1 jalapeno chopped fine
1 cup cider vinegar
1/2 cup sugar
generous pinch cinnamon
2 t. salt
1 t. horseradish
1 T. whole grain mustard
1/2 cup water
Blue cheese (the cheese, not the dressing)
Walnuts, chopped
Put everything in a heavy pot. Bring to a boil. Reduce to simmer, cover and cook for an hour. Let cool completely and then drain. Mix in walnuts and crumbled blue cheese to your liking. I like a lot of both!
It might sound weird, but I swear it's addictive! It's fabulous with left overs, too.
Sunday, November 18, 2007
More about teaching
I had my last "strategies for substitute teaching" class yesterday afternoon. I signed up for this two-weekend, one-credit class before I knew that I was going to be a sub. Turned out to be excellent timing.
I'd like to share with you an example of why I'm having a hard time to committing to being a teacher. Today we got copies of two actual sub plans from two high school teachers in Elko. One of them had an entire paragraph about "if the student asks to go to the nurse, the bathroom, or the their locker the answer is NO" and "don't be afraid to be mean." The other wasn't much better, with explicit directions not to lend out pencils or pens (so I guess a kid who forgot just gets to sit there for almost two hours??) and against the ban against bathroom use.
I learned a lot of good information in that class about graphic organizers and how to engage students in learning. But for Jesus. The teacher's are talking about kids who are at least 14 and some 18 or even 19. They can't go to the bathroom? Why are teachers so obsessed with student's bodily functions?
I don't want to be that teacher. I promised myself yesterday that if I ever become a teacher, I will not ever deny a kid access to the damn bathroom.
I'm still reading that book by John Taylor Gatto. He has an essay in there where he talks about the difference between school and libraries. In libraries every one has equal access to resources, the librarian never dumbs anyone down or makes decisions about what they can and can't read certain books or learn certain things. Librarians make no judgment calls about a person or their abilities based on what they read. Libraries are completely free, equally to all people. Librarians are available and usually eager to help when asked, but don't force help on a person unsolicited. People of varying ages and abilities can all use the library at the same time with great success. Library's have bathrooms available with no restriction on them what so ever. As a result, even "bad" kids respect the library. You never hear about escalating library violence or library shootings. Vandalism in libraries is very rare.
One of the reasons Gatto points to, to explain the differences between school and library behavior, is that librarians dispense real books and schools dispense textbooks. He calls textbooks pre-thought thoughts. The questions in them have the adverse consequence of making sure that kids don't learn much more than what the questions are asking.
On another note, Adrienne found the website for Phillips Exeter Academy yesterday. Exeter is an exclusive, top-level boarding school in New Hampshire. And they offer free tuition and room and board to students who are accepted and have a family income of less than $75,000. She got excited and spent the whole afternoon talking about what it would be like to go to boarding school, and to take really hard classes that challenged her.
I told her she could apply after her sophomore year if she still wants to. She'll have to study over the next year because her PSAT scores will play a huge part. And also work on building a resume of extracurriculars and community service. But when she goes into the eleventh grade she'll be 17, less than six months younger than I was when I graduated from high school. If she wants to go to a school on the East Coast and can make it happen she'll be old enough to do it then.
There's a book called Guerrilla Learning by Amy Silver and Grace Llewellyn that talks about how important it is for families to not think of school as the kids only, or even main, source of learning. And it talks about giving kids freedom to do what is important to them. Something that is important to Adrienne is good teachers. Exeter teachers are passionate about their work because they are teaching what they love. Mathematicians teach math, scientists teach science. There will be no teachers at Exeter who are there because they couldn't find a job in the subject they were trained to teach. That's exciting.
Adrienne might not get into Exeter. The competition is stiff. But she's excited about the work that will go into trying.
I'd like to share with you an example of why I'm having a hard time to committing to being a teacher. Today we got copies of two actual sub plans from two high school teachers in Elko. One of them had an entire paragraph about "if the student asks to go to the nurse, the bathroom, or the their locker the answer is NO" and "don't be afraid to be mean." The other wasn't much better, with explicit directions not to lend out pencils or pens (so I guess a kid who forgot just gets to sit there for almost two hours??) and against the ban against bathroom use.
I learned a lot of good information in that class about graphic organizers and how to engage students in learning. But for Jesus. The teacher's are talking about kids who are at least 14 and some 18 or even 19. They can't go to the bathroom? Why are teachers so obsessed with student's bodily functions?
I don't want to be that teacher. I promised myself yesterday that if I ever become a teacher, I will not ever deny a kid access to the damn bathroom.
I'm still reading that book by John Taylor Gatto. He has an essay in there where he talks about the difference between school and libraries. In libraries every one has equal access to resources, the librarian never dumbs anyone down or makes decisions about what they can and can't read certain books or learn certain things. Librarians make no judgment calls about a person or their abilities based on what they read. Libraries are completely free, equally to all people. Librarians are available and usually eager to help when asked, but don't force help on a person unsolicited. People of varying ages and abilities can all use the library at the same time with great success. Library's have bathrooms available with no restriction on them what so ever. As a result, even "bad" kids respect the library. You never hear about escalating library violence or library shootings. Vandalism in libraries is very rare.
One of the reasons Gatto points to, to explain the differences between school and library behavior, is that librarians dispense real books and schools dispense textbooks. He calls textbooks pre-thought thoughts. The questions in them have the adverse consequence of making sure that kids don't learn much more than what the questions are asking.
On another note, Adrienne found the website for Phillips Exeter Academy yesterday. Exeter is an exclusive, top-level boarding school in New Hampshire. And they offer free tuition and room and board to students who are accepted and have a family income of less than $75,000. She got excited and spent the whole afternoon talking about what it would be like to go to boarding school, and to take really hard classes that challenged her.
I told her she could apply after her sophomore year if she still wants to. She'll have to study over the next year because her PSAT scores will play a huge part. And also work on building a resume of extracurriculars and community service. But when she goes into the eleventh grade she'll be 17, less than six months younger than I was when I graduated from high school. If she wants to go to a school on the East Coast and can make it happen she'll be old enough to do it then.
There's a book called Guerrilla Learning by Amy Silver and Grace Llewellyn that talks about how important it is for families to not think of school as the kids only, or even main, source of learning. And it talks about giving kids freedom to do what is important to them. Something that is important to Adrienne is good teachers. Exeter teachers are passionate about their work because they are teaching what they love. Mathematicians teach math, scientists teach science. There will be no teachers at Exeter who are there because they couldn't find a job in the subject they were trained to teach. That's exciting.
Adrienne might not get into Exeter. The competition is stiff. But she's excited about the work that will go into trying.
Friday, November 16, 2007
It's Morning Now
I've been thinking about why Adrienne seems to be able to take what works for her about high school and leave the rest behind. I really believe it is because school isn't compulsory for her. She knows that if it ever stops working for her, she can leave. She changed classes five times in the first week of school, because she wasn't willing to settle for classes that didn't work for her. She's learning French, because she wants to and would not be persuaded to study Spanish. She's learning woodworking because it's a skill she wanted to have. She's learning the drums because she's willing to wake up early and go to school for an hour before the other kids and study it.
She's there, literally, because she wants to be. I would be surprised if any of her peers at this school can say the same thing.
I have talked to a ton of students whose opinion of school is "I hate it, it sucks, it's a waste of my time." They're marking time until they graduate or are old enough to drop out. They aren't there because they want to be, they're there because they're parents say they have to be.
Maybe if the compulsory part of education were dropped, more kids would want to be there. If they knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that they could leave if school ever really did become useless, or too miserable of an experience to deal with, then maybe they'd be more open minded about learning.
My goal with all my kids is to raise learners. Not regurgitators of information that's been doctored to be essentially American propaganda. I want my kids to be questioners. I want them to be critical thinkers to whom the Triple A Approach (Ask questions, Assess the data, Assert an opinion) is second nature. I don't want them to take anyone's word for things, but to have a desire to form their own informed opinions.
I want them to say screw you to someone who tries to tell them they can't take a piss because they don't have the right piece of paper in their pocket.
She's there, literally, because she wants to be. I would be surprised if any of her peers at this school can say the same thing.
I have talked to a ton of students whose opinion of school is "I hate it, it sucks, it's a waste of my time." They're marking time until they graduate or are old enough to drop out. They aren't there because they want to be, they're there because they're parents say they have to be.
Maybe if the compulsory part of education were dropped, more kids would want to be there. If they knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that they could leave if school ever really did become useless, or too miserable of an experience to deal with, then maybe they'd be more open minded about learning.
My goal with all my kids is to raise learners. Not regurgitators of information that's been doctored to be essentially American propaganda. I want my kids to be questioners. I want them to be critical thinkers to whom the Triple A Approach (Ask questions, Assess the data, Assert an opinion) is second nature. I don't want them to take anyone's word for things, but to have a desire to form their own informed opinions.
I want them to say screw you to someone who tries to tell them they can't take a piss because they don't have the right piece of paper in their pocket.
Thursday, November 15, 2007
It's Midnight. I'm Taking Tomorrow Off.
I'm reading a book called A Different Kind of Teacher by John Taylor Gatto.
I'm basically a teacher at the high school. A teacher of one. I have to make lesson plans and design a curriculum for my student. I have to teach her every academic subject. We do not have a classroom teacher. They did promote one of the aides to be the teacher for the class, but she has only been at school two weeks this year due to surgery.
I've struggled to warm up to this new teacher. I realized today that a lot of that is jealousy. She gets to just be a teacher. I have to do four years of college first. She has a thirty-year-old degree in sociology. I have to choose education and study it. She isn't the low-man on the totem pole anymore. I am.
Working at the high school has been an eye-opening and exhausting experience. I have heard teachers say things about students that they should be ashamed of. I have had administration seemed shocked when I praised a student they consider a slaker. I have a student who is struggling to pass English because he can't connect with the Reader's Digest edition of Great Expectations, but he's reading a huge volume of Greek Mythology on his own time. English teachers have refused to try to help me get their students excited about writing short stories, because they don't believe their students are capable--because they aren't connecting with the Reader's Digest edition of Great Expectations.
Nick had a lunch detention on Tuesday. Because he had to pee. The kids have (I swear to you, this is what they're called) potty passes. They're supposed to carry them and give them to the teacher if they have to pee. That way the teacher doesn't have to write one out. (Or have a rubber chicken handy like my 12th grade English teacher did.) Nick never remembers to take his out of his homeroom class, which is his resource room. So he got to computer class on Monday and near the end he asked to go to the bathroom. The teacher said no, because Nick didn't have his pass.
Imagine, just for one minute, if you had to ask permission to pee. Imagine that you were told know, that you could hold it until your regular break time, now sit down and get back to work. How humiliating would that be? How demeaning? How quickly would you say, "screw you, I'll be right back?" What would you say to your spouse when you got home?
Nick left class, took a piss, came back and was ready to work. Instead of letting him, the teacher said he was going to write Nick up for insubordination. Nick got pissed off and when the bell rang thirty seconds later, pushed past another kid who was "lucky he didn't fall" (which means he didn't fall) on his way out the door. Hence the detention for "escalating violence."
Sigh. What am I supposed to do? Sit the kid down and give him a lecture about holding it if he has to go and doesn't have the prerequisite piece of paper in his pocket? Teach him how to take demeaning behavior from an adult with a smile, because he's 13? Tell him that those last ten minutes of computer class were more important than his bodily functions?
I think I'm going to home school Nick next year. I'm about 90 percent sure. I'm am so tired to trying to whittle my square-peg son to fit a round hole. I'm afraid of what I see already happening to him. He hides from learning, because his learning experiences hurt so much. He clearly isn't learning social skills in school. I'm afraid he won't ever be able to in a school setting. Three hundred kids and fifty adults is daunting for the most typical child, imagine dealing with that as an autistic kid.
He will never take someone else trying to set limitations on how often he's allowed to piss in 7 hours like a good boy.
I'm not sure I want him to.
I don't know what to do. Calling children our most precious resource sounds sort of silly. But think of it this way. I learned in my social work class that when my generation retires, there will only be 2.8 workers paying for our social security. Precious? Those kids turn into adults who will one day be running this country. We are already leaving them with an unmanageable mountain of debt and pollution. Can't we at least give them the creativity and initiative to figure out a way to fix those problems when they become theirs?
I don't want to be a smooth, oiled gear in the system churning out worker bees. I want to be a wrench in the machine. This is why I keep going back and forth between education and social work. I see so little of value in public education for so many kids.
It's funny, because I happened to give birth both to a kid who can only be dragged kicking and screaming through the school system, and one who thrives in that environment. Adrienne has somehow managed to find a way to bridge the gap between school and education (they are so not the same.) She's managed to hold on to her individuality, take everything she wants out of school and dump the rest. She's also an auditory learner. She learns best by listening to someone explain something to her and then doing it. She's naturally well-behaved.
I think I need to sleep. I almost feel high. Like I want to take on the world.
Yes. I really think I'm going to home school Nick next year. He deserves better than what he's getting. And not just because he's going to struggle hard with 80 minute classes.
I'm basically a teacher at the high school. A teacher of one. I have to make lesson plans and design a curriculum for my student. I have to teach her every academic subject. We do not have a classroom teacher. They did promote one of the aides to be the teacher for the class, but she has only been at school two weeks this year due to surgery.
I've struggled to warm up to this new teacher. I realized today that a lot of that is jealousy. She gets to just be a teacher. I have to do four years of college first. She has a thirty-year-old degree in sociology. I have to choose education and study it. She isn't the low-man on the totem pole anymore. I am.
Working at the high school has been an eye-opening and exhausting experience. I have heard teachers say things about students that they should be ashamed of. I have had administration seemed shocked when I praised a student they consider a slaker. I have a student who is struggling to pass English because he can't connect with the Reader's Digest edition of Great Expectations, but he's reading a huge volume of Greek Mythology on his own time. English teachers have refused to try to help me get their students excited about writing short stories, because they don't believe their students are capable--because they aren't connecting with the Reader's Digest edition of Great Expectations.
Nick had a lunch detention on Tuesday. Because he had to pee. The kids have (I swear to you, this is what they're called) potty passes. They're supposed to carry them and give them to the teacher if they have to pee. That way the teacher doesn't have to write one out. (Or have a rubber chicken handy like my 12th grade English teacher did.) Nick never remembers to take his out of his homeroom class, which is his resource room. So he got to computer class on Monday and near the end he asked to go to the bathroom. The teacher said no, because Nick didn't have his pass.
Imagine, just for one minute, if you had to ask permission to pee. Imagine that you were told know, that you could hold it until your regular break time, now sit down and get back to work. How humiliating would that be? How demeaning? How quickly would you say, "screw you, I'll be right back?" What would you say to your spouse when you got home?
Nick left class, took a piss, came back and was ready to work. Instead of letting him, the teacher said he was going to write Nick up for insubordination. Nick got pissed off and when the bell rang thirty seconds later, pushed past another kid who was "lucky he didn't fall" (which means he didn't fall) on his way out the door. Hence the detention for "escalating violence."
Sigh. What am I supposed to do? Sit the kid down and give him a lecture about holding it if he has to go and doesn't have the prerequisite piece of paper in his pocket? Teach him how to take demeaning behavior from an adult with a smile, because he's 13? Tell him that those last ten minutes of computer class were more important than his bodily functions?
I think I'm going to home school Nick next year. I'm about 90 percent sure. I'm am so tired to trying to whittle my square-peg son to fit a round hole. I'm afraid of what I see already happening to him. He hides from learning, because his learning experiences hurt so much. He clearly isn't learning social skills in school. I'm afraid he won't ever be able to in a school setting. Three hundred kids and fifty adults is daunting for the most typical child, imagine dealing with that as an autistic kid.
He will never take someone else trying to set limitations on how often he's allowed to piss in 7 hours like a good boy.
I'm not sure I want him to.
I don't know what to do. Calling children our most precious resource sounds sort of silly. But think of it this way. I learned in my social work class that when my generation retires, there will only be 2.8 workers paying for our social security. Precious? Those kids turn into adults who will one day be running this country. We are already leaving them with an unmanageable mountain of debt and pollution. Can't we at least give them the creativity and initiative to figure out a way to fix those problems when they become theirs?
I don't want to be a smooth, oiled gear in the system churning out worker bees. I want to be a wrench in the machine. This is why I keep going back and forth between education and social work. I see so little of value in public education for so many kids.
It's funny, because I happened to give birth both to a kid who can only be dragged kicking and screaming through the school system, and one who thrives in that environment. Adrienne has somehow managed to find a way to bridge the gap between school and education (they are so not the same.) She's managed to hold on to her individuality, take everything she wants out of school and dump the rest. She's also an auditory learner. She learns best by listening to someone explain something to her and then doing it. She's naturally well-behaved.
I think I need to sleep. I almost feel high. Like I want to take on the world.
Yes. I really think I'm going to home school Nick next year. He deserves better than what he's getting. And not just because he's going to struggle hard with 80 minute classes.
Wednesday, November 14, 2007
All About Nick
I've had a few sort of epiphanies about Nick in the last couple of weeks. One is that, whatever his difficulties, he's basically a really good kid. The other day he was supposed to go to the after school program, but when he got there a kid who (for very very good reason) he doesn't trust was there, so he left. I got three immediate, frantic calls from three different people. The other teachers in my classroom were all "leave, you have to go find him!" I was utterly calm. I knew Nick wouldn't run off and wander the streets, and that Kevin would track him down in a few minutes. He'd either gone to his grandparents house, the library, or he was still at school somewhere. I was right, he was in the resource room hanging with his teacher.
It's so easy for me to blame myself and buy into the idea that he's the way he is because I've done something wrong as a parent. An almost unbearable amount of guilt goes along with being the parent of a difficult child. But I can trust him, and that's saying something. I've seen enough kids his age roaming the town, unsupervised and doing shit they know better than to do, to know that it's something to be proud of that Nick isn't one of them.
Something else I've realized is that I'm so concerned about what other people think about him, how they perceive him, that I'm forgetting to help him be just who he is. So he's not a typical kid. Who cares? And even if they do care, what good will it do? This is a hard one for me to face. It's hard to give up that wish that he were normal. Fact is, he's never going to blend. But with some help, he can learn how to be who he is and still live with the rest of us.
I'm about half done with a six-session, thirty-hour long ordeal called the Positive Behavior Seminar. I'm there officially as Nick's mom. I'm also there as a school district employee, and I'm really grateful for the opportunity. I'm gaining an exciting insight into human behavior.
I've actually managed myself very professionally through the first two sessions. At this third session I was an emotional train wreck. I broke down in hiccuping tears twice, and was generally irritated for a good portion of the afternoon.
I get to this place where every instinct I have as a mother tells me that the only way to protect my son is to stop sending him to school. Screw socialization. He's miserable. I'm sending him everyday into the trenches where he feels like he's at war. Why, oh why, is trying to force him into being able to socialize in a group of 300 snotty middle school nightmares so fucking important anyway? What if sending him there is actually impeding his socialization? What if it's making him worse?
That's the place I was in today.
After doing some data collecting I felt this "Ah-ha" moment that Oprah would have been proud of. For thirteen years I've been positive that what Nick is ultimately seeking with his behavior is attention. The data was perfectly, undeniably clear that I was wrong. That every teacher, every adult he's ever been in contact with, was wrong. Nick isn't seeking attention. He's seeking self-stimulation, and he's seeking to be left alone.
The woman running the seminar was talking to us (Team Nicholas!) about trying to figure out strategies for preempting the "staging events" (in Nick's case, transitions during class) that set off a particular behavior (grabbing his aide's arm when his aide tries to walk away from him.) The woman asked me why Nick was doing it and I said "because he's autistic." She said no. He's autistic, but ultimately he's trying to get something out of the behavior, autistic or not. He's trying to get his safety-net to stay near him.
I'm still struggling with this, because I keep thinking that I could go to a million seminars, a zillion doctors, and I just can't use some sort of strategy to wash the autism out of Nick. It doesn't work that way.
And then the woman said that all we're trying to do is help Nick get what he needs in a way that makes people want to give it to him.
Oh. Yeah. That makes so much sense. We aren't trying to get Nick not to need a safety-net person. We're trying to get him to ask for one in some way that doesn't involve grabbing at his safety net physically when he feels insecure.
Nick has never been in regular classrooms before. Not even in elementary school. He's never been expected to do the same work as his peers, to do homework, to be held to the same standard as everyone else. He's used to classrooms with less than ten kids, now he's in classrooms with 20 to 30. He's overwhelmed and literally latching on to his aide as a port in the storm. His aide is only five years older then him, young enough to relate to Nick on his level. He's a friend that Nick can trust won't be an enemy tomorrow. He's a friend who, because he's being paid, is always there. Having someone in authority stand up there and say that it was okay for him to need that was incredibly gratifying.
I still feel the fairly intense desire to just remove him from the incredible stress on our whole family of him going to school. I'm a little calmer about it right this minute. The program ends in January, about the time the semester at school ends. We'll see what happens then.
It's so easy for me to blame myself and buy into the idea that he's the way he is because I've done something wrong as a parent. An almost unbearable amount of guilt goes along with being the parent of a difficult child. But I can trust him, and that's saying something. I've seen enough kids his age roaming the town, unsupervised and doing shit they know better than to do, to know that it's something to be proud of that Nick isn't one of them.
Something else I've realized is that I'm so concerned about what other people think about him, how they perceive him, that I'm forgetting to help him be just who he is. So he's not a typical kid. Who cares? And even if they do care, what good will it do? This is a hard one for me to face. It's hard to give up that wish that he were normal. Fact is, he's never going to blend. But with some help, he can learn how to be who he is and still live with the rest of us.
I'm about half done with a six-session, thirty-hour long ordeal called the Positive Behavior Seminar. I'm there officially as Nick's mom. I'm also there as a school district employee, and I'm really grateful for the opportunity. I'm gaining an exciting insight into human behavior.
I've actually managed myself very professionally through the first two sessions. At this third session I was an emotional train wreck. I broke down in hiccuping tears twice, and was generally irritated for a good portion of the afternoon.
I get to this place where every instinct I have as a mother tells me that the only way to protect my son is to stop sending him to school. Screw socialization. He's miserable. I'm sending him everyday into the trenches where he feels like he's at war. Why, oh why, is trying to force him into being able to socialize in a group of 300 snotty middle school nightmares so fucking important anyway? What if sending him there is actually impeding his socialization? What if it's making him worse?
That's the place I was in today.
After doing some data collecting I felt this "Ah-ha" moment that Oprah would have been proud of. For thirteen years I've been positive that what Nick is ultimately seeking with his behavior is attention. The data was perfectly, undeniably clear that I was wrong. That every teacher, every adult he's ever been in contact with, was wrong. Nick isn't seeking attention. He's seeking self-stimulation, and he's seeking to be left alone.
The woman running the seminar was talking to us (Team Nicholas!) about trying to figure out strategies for preempting the "staging events" (in Nick's case, transitions during class) that set off a particular behavior (grabbing his aide's arm when his aide tries to walk away from him.) The woman asked me why Nick was doing it and I said "because he's autistic." She said no. He's autistic, but ultimately he's trying to get something out of the behavior, autistic or not. He's trying to get his safety-net to stay near him.
I'm still struggling with this, because I keep thinking that I could go to a million seminars, a zillion doctors, and I just can't use some sort of strategy to wash the autism out of Nick. It doesn't work that way.
And then the woman said that all we're trying to do is help Nick get what he needs in a way that makes people want to give it to him.
Oh. Yeah. That makes so much sense. We aren't trying to get Nick not to need a safety-net person. We're trying to get him to ask for one in some way that doesn't involve grabbing at his safety net physically when he feels insecure.
Nick has never been in regular classrooms before. Not even in elementary school. He's never been expected to do the same work as his peers, to do homework, to be held to the same standard as everyone else. He's used to classrooms with less than ten kids, now he's in classrooms with 20 to 30. He's overwhelmed and literally latching on to his aide as a port in the storm. His aide is only five years older then him, young enough to relate to Nick on his level. He's a friend that Nick can trust won't be an enemy tomorrow. He's a friend who, because he's being paid, is always there. Having someone in authority stand up there and say that it was okay for him to need that was incredibly gratifying.
I still feel the fairly intense desire to just remove him from the incredible stress on our whole family of him going to school. I'm a little calmer about it right this minute. The program ends in January, about the time the semester at school ends. We'll see what happens then.
Monday, November 12, 2007
A Short Picture Story, Dedicated to Kevin Who Says I Never Put Pictures On My Blog
My Dad and his wife, Nancy are up visiting for the weekend.
Yesterday we took a lovely walk
and bike ride
in the fabulous downtown McGill, Nevada.
The end.
Yesterday we took a lovely walk
and bike ride
in the fabulous downtown McGill, Nevada.
The end.
Saturday, November 10, 2007
Oh God, My Head
My dad is coming to visit this weekend. I'm so excited! The only thing I miss about living in Las Vegas is being close to my family. I'm not all that far now, but trust me when I tell you that four hours of driving in the dead of the desert without even a curve in the road to break it up is mind-numbing work.
I'm excited to see his wife, Nancy, too. They'll be married a year this December. She's a special needs teacher and I'm looking forward to talking to her and trying to get a good grip on whether to choose teaching or social work as my focus at school.
I was talking to my best friend Carol last night about this very topic. She has a way of really focusing me and pointing out the obvious that I'm missing. Her first reaction was to say "be a social worker" without even thinking it over. I already am a social worker, she said. My need to help people, to help them find solutions or better ways to do something, is compulsive. She should know. Her kids go to a fabulous charter school because I went out and found one when Adrienne was miserable in sixth grade and then I spent an entire year convincing her to put her kids there too because I knew they'd love it. They do.
Then I told her that I'd have to do six months of internship for the Department of Children and Family Services, and she changed her mind. She knows that I can't handle confrontation. I actually get sick to my stomach thinking about having to confront people about their maltreatment of their children. When I think about knocking on a door, clipboard in hand, anxiety kicks up and I immediately decide that I REALLY want to be a teacher. There are other jobs for a social worker, of course. I can work as a school social worker, at a hospital or prison, in juvenile justice, as a counselor or therapist. But to get my degree I need to give six months to DCFS, and I'm not sure I can. Also, none of those jobs are available in my tiny town.
I have until this summer to decide. I need to take a biology class, and there are different requirements for each major. The next social work class is only offered in fall and the biology class is a prerequisite. That biology class won't count toward an education degree and I'll have to take a different one if I go that route. I can't apply to the teacher program without having already taken that biology class.
I'm fine with being a teacher right up until I think about not being able to take the next social work class. I want to.
I'm fine with being a social worker, right up until I think about how much I'd enjoy actually teaching. I want to.
I'm reading this book about alternative education settings, and how to set up a charter school. May I'll start my own school that focuses on the things that are red-taped out of public schools. Like teaching children to love learning. Like appreciating that children will love learning if they are free to choose what they learn. Like treating all children, even those with special needs, with respect.
I think what I might end up doing is taking the social-work biology class so that I can take the next social work class--but continuing with my degree in education. I have the time to pursue the education I want, instead of rushing through taking as few classes as possible. My goal is to graduate by the time Nick does, which gives me four years plus a semester.
I'm excited to see his wife, Nancy, too. They'll be married a year this December. She's a special needs teacher and I'm looking forward to talking to her and trying to get a good grip on whether to choose teaching or social work as my focus at school.
I was talking to my best friend Carol last night about this very topic. She has a way of really focusing me and pointing out the obvious that I'm missing. Her first reaction was to say "be a social worker" without even thinking it over. I already am a social worker, she said. My need to help people, to help them find solutions or better ways to do something, is compulsive. She should know. Her kids go to a fabulous charter school because I went out and found one when Adrienne was miserable in sixth grade and then I spent an entire year convincing her to put her kids there too because I knew they'd love it. They do.
Then I told her that I'd have to do six months of internship for the Department of Children and Family Services, and she changed her mind. She knows that I can't handle confrontation. I actually get sick to my stomach thinking about having to confront people about their maltreatment of their children. When I think about knocking on a door, clipboard in hand, anxiety kicks up and I immediately decide that I REALLY want to be a teacher. There are other jobs for a social worker, of course. I can work as a school social worker, at a hospital or prison, in juvenile justice, as a counselor or therapist. But to get my degree I need to give six months to DCFS, and I'm not sure I can. Also, none of those jobs are available in my tiny town.
I have until this summer to decide. I need to take a biology class, and there are different requirements for each major. The next social work class is only offered in fall and the biology class is a prerequisite. That biology class won't count toward an education degree and I'll have to take a different one if I go that route. I can't apply to the teacher program without having already taken that biology class.
I'm fine with being a teacher right up until I think about not being able to take the next social work class. I want to.
I'm fine with being a social worker, right up until I think about how much I'd enjoy actually teaching. I want to.
I'm reading this book about alternative education settings, and how to set up a charter school. May I'll start my own school that focuses on the things that are red-taped out of public schools. Like teaching children to love learning. Like appreciating that children will love learning if they are free to choose what they learn. Like treating all children, even those with special needs, with respect.
I think what I might end up doing is taking the social-work biology class so that I can take the next social work class--but continuing with my degree in education. I have the time to pursue the education I want, instead of rushing through taking as few classes as possible. My goal is to graduate by the time Nick does, which gives me four years plus a semester.
Thursday, November 8, 2007
Ah...to be so easily pleased
Ruby loves bandages. She calls them "band babes" and if she gets the teeniest, tinest scrape her face lights up, her hands go up in the air and she announces "oh goodness! Need a band babe!" She absolutely will not EVER allow ANYONE to open the band babe for her. She carefully, as though savoring every decadent second of band babe usage, opens it herself. If she happens to have gotten her hand on a Sponge Bob band babe, she'll squeal in delight, but a regular old flesh-colored is cause for celebration, too.
Currently she has a Sponge Bob band babe smack in the middle of her forehead. She scratched herself overnight and has a quarter-inch mark above her eyebrow. She's looking at herself in the mirror, making funny faces. And just now she turned to me and said, "I'm so cute, Mommy."
Yeah, band babe, you are.
Currently she has a Sponge Bob band babe smack in the middle of her forehead. She scratched herself overnight and has a quarter-inch mark above her eyebrow. She's looking at herself in the mirror, making funny faces. And just now she turned to me and said, "I'm so cute, Mommy."
Yeah, band babe, you are.
Wednesday, November 7, 2007
Delicious, and Frugal, Too
I gave myself this book for my birthday. I was delighted to find a recipe inside that I ate often the summer I spent in Costa Rica.
I met Belerma in the first grade and we were inseparable through elementary and middle school. The summer that we were thirteen, Bele was going to visit her mother, who still lived in Costa Rica. Amazingly, when we asked my dad if I could go with her he said yes. I spent the whole summer there and it changed my life.
A staple food that I came to really love was Pintos Gallo, or Painted Rooster. A simple black beans and rice dish that Bele's mother made several times a week.
I found the recipe in The Extended Table, and even though it said it came from Nicaragua, I knew it was the same food I ate in Costa Rica. I made it my own and have been making it for my vegetarian daughter the last couple of weeks. Enjoy!
Pintos Gallo
One 15 ounce can black beans, drained and rinsed
One 15 ounce can corn, drained
One medium white onion, chopped
Two tablespoons olive or canola oil
One cup white rice
Two cups water
One cup prepared salsa
Prepare the rice in the water. (I've been using white rice because it's what I have, but I'm going to try brown rice soon.)
While the rice is steaming, heat the oil in a large pan and add the onions. Cook until the onions are soft and translucent. Add the beans and the corn and saute until the pan drys out a little. The beans will break down some and turn nice and soft. I usually season the beans and corn and onions with a little garlic, salt, pepper and chili powder.
When the rice is cooked, add to the pan with the beans. Combine throughly.
Minus the corn, this is traditional Pintos Gallos. We like to stir in a cup of salsa to give it a moister texture and a more "Spanish rice" taste.
Serve in bowls topped with shredded cheese, shredded cabbage and sour cream. Adrienne makes burritos out of hers, but I don't need the extra calories from the tortillas.
This dish reheats really well. Moisture from the salsa keeps the rice from drying out while stored in the fridge. It almost tastes better for lunch the next day.
I met Belerma in the first grade and we were inseparable through elementary and middle school. The summer that we were thirteen, Bele was going to visit her mother, who still lived in Costa Rica. Amazingly, when we asked my dad if I could go with her he said yes. I spent the whole summer there and it changed my life.
A staple food that I came to really love was Pintos Gallo, or Painted Rooster. A simple black beans and rice dish that Bele's mother made several times a week.
I found the recipe in The Extended Table, and even though it said it came from Nicaragua, I knew it was the same food I ate in Costa Rica. I made it my own and have been making it for my vegetarian daughter the last couple of weeks. Enjoy!
Pintos Gallo
One 15 ounce can black beans, drained and rinsed
One 15 ounce can corn, drained
One medium white onion, chopped
Two tablespoons olive or canola oil
One cup white rice
Two cups water
One cup prepared salsa
Prepare the rice in the water. (I've been using white rice because it's what I have, but I'm going to try brown rice soon.)
While the rice is steaming, heat the oil in a large pan and add the onions. Cook until the onions are soft and translucent. Add the beans and the corn and saute until the pan drys out a little. The beans will break down some and turn nice and soft. I usually season the beans and corn and onions with a little garlic, salt, pepper and chili powder.
When the rice is cooked, add to the pan with the beans. Combine throughly.
Minus the corn, this is traditional Pintos Gallos. We like to stir in a cup of salsa to give it a moister texture and a more "Spanish rice" taste.
Serve in bowls topped with shredded cheese, shredded cabbage and sour cream. Adrienne makes burritos out of hers, but I don't need the extra calories from the tortillas.
This dish reheats really well. Moisture from the salsa keeps the rice from drying out while stored in the fridge. It almost tastes better for lunch the next day.
Tuesday, November 6, 2007
On Misbehaving
I used to say that when my kids had the day off of school for teacher in-service day that it was actually "teacher party day."
Yeah. Not so much.
I had to sit through a hideously boring, demeaning seven hour long in service today. In case you didn't know this, and if the subject ever comes up for you, grown people do not like when someone counts them down (four, three, two, one) to silence like a bunch of first graders. It's ridiculous. Also, don't talk in the same sing-songy voice you used when you used to teach second grade if you now teach teachers. Your regular grown-up voice is just fine, thanks.
I left the meeting irritated, which isn't probably a good thing. I also left with even less faith that I'll be able to send Nick to the high school next year then I had when I came in. Blank stares when I brought up the fact that my resource students have to stop working to perform janitorial duty every day just before lunch. Pats on the shoulder when I discussed how disappointed I was in losing my job because my student is moving. A complete lack of understanding about the fact that our class HAS NO TEACHER. And the woman they've hired to be the teacher? She DOESN'T HAVE A DEGREE IN EDUCATION. How is it possible that I'm the only one that's bothered by that???
Oh yeah. I'm the only one with a special needs child about to finish up the eighth grade.
See. I was perfectly fine this morning. Now I'm all riled up.
At lunch I saw a bookmark with the title of Laurel Thatcher Ulrich's book, Well Behaved Women Seldom Make History. Ulrich also wrote the book A Midewife's Tale, the diary of Martha Ballard (a colonial midwife), which I read for my history class. For some reason I connected with that bookmark, even though I haven't read the book. I haven't stood up for my students regarding their forced labor because I don't want the principal to think I'm a trouble maker. That I'm not well-behaved.
I don't want to be well-behaved. I want to be the woman who stands up for what is right. I want to be a boat-rocking trouble maker, damn it!
So, while I've been thinking about Ulrich's slogan (a sentence she wrote in graduate school in the 70s), I realized the irony between my newfound desire to misbehave and my intended job as a school teacher. I want to be the kind of teacher that encourages students to not take things lying down. I do NOT want to be the kind of teacher that says "four, three, two, one" and flashes the lights just when the conversation is getting good.
Monday, November 5, 2007
Decisions
I spent the weekend participating in a Strategies for Substitute Teaching class. I also did some reading about Marva Collins.
Sometimes I think I'm like a raccoon who can't help but be hypnotized by shiny things. As soon as someone presents something to me in a way that connects, I want to do it. So now I'm sure I want to be a teacher. Tonight I have my social work class, during which I'll probably switch back to being just as sure that I want to be a social worker. And then sometime tonight, when I'm too tired to do anything about it, I'll remember that what I really want is to be a writer.
I've written a paper for my social work class about Jane Addams and the Hull House.
I would love to be Jane Addams when I grow up. She was the first woman to win the Nobel Peace Prize, which she was awarded for her work with the poor in Chicago. Hull House, where she lived and worked until she died at a ripe old age, was a settlement house in a poor, immigrant-filled Chicago neighborhood. In the late 1880s Jane and her friend Ellen Starr leased an old abandoned mansion built by Charles Hull. They lived there, along with a rotating selection of students and people in helping careers. Jane and Ellen wanted to share their love of art and literature with the poor and believed that everyone deserved culture. Hull House had a kindergarten, day care for working mothers, job training, adult school, an art gallery, a book bindery, the first Little Theater in America, a residence for single mothers and a zillion other resources. It was flexible and changing.
The Hull House still helps tens of thousands of Chicago people every year, even though the mansion is now a museum. Every town should have a Hull House. A place where the poor are empowered instead of kicked when they're down.
See, now I want to be a social worker again. I'm so glad I have some time to decide. I know that I feel a strong pull toward working with people in poverty. I feel almost no desire to work at an upscale school full of middle-class kids. I'd much rather work in a school that really needs dedicated teachers. When we lived in Las Vegas, my kids teachers almost never stayed at the school more than a year because they constantly were moving into rich new schools in swanky neighborhoods. I don't want to be that teacher.
I'm also about 80 percent sure that I do not want to work for DCFS as a social worker. I get anxiety just thinking about knocking on someone's door with the purpose of investigating child abuse or neglect. I know it's a vital, necessary job. I'm so glad I'm not the one who has to do it. I will be though, when I do my internship, so I suppose we'll find out if I'm cut out for it. Maybe I'll love it.
Sometimes I think I'm like a raccoon who can't help but be hypnotized by shiny things. As soon as someone presents something to me in a way that connects, I want to do it. So now I'm sure I want to be a teacher. Tonight I have my social work class, during which I'll probably switch back to being just as sure that I want to be a social worker. And then sometime tonight, when I'm too tired to do anything about it, I'll remember that what I really want is to be a writer.
I've written a paper for my social work class about Jane Addams and the Hull House.
I would love to be Jane Addams when I grow up. She was the first woman to win the Nobel Peace Prize, which she was awarded for her work with the poor in Chicago. Hull House, where she lived and worked until she died at a ripe old age, was a settlement house in a poor, immigrant-filled Chicago neighborhood. In the late 1880s Jane and her friend Ellen Starr leased an old abandoned mansion built by Charles Hull. They lived there, along with a rotating selection of students and people in helping careers. Jane and Ellen wanted to share their love of art and literature with the poor and believed that everyone deserved culture. Hull House had a kindergarten, day care for working mothers, job training, adult school, an art gallery, a book bindery, the first Little Theater in America, a residence for single mothers and a zillion other resources. It was flexible and changing.
The Hull House still helps tens of thousands of Chicago people every year, even though the mansion is now a museum. Every town should have a Hull House. A place where the poor are empowered instead of kicked when they're down.
See, now I want to be a social worker again. I'm so glad I have some time to decide. I know that I feel a strong pull toward working with people in poverty. I feel almost no desire to work at an upscale school full of middle-class kids. I'd much rather work in a school that really needs dedicated teachers. When we lived in Las Vegas, my kids teachers almost never stayed at the school more than a year because they constantly were moving into rich new schools in swanky neighborhoods. I don't want to be that teacher.
I'm also about 80 percent sure that I do not want to work for DCFS as a social worker. I get anxiety just thinking about knocking on someone's door with the purpose of investigating child abuse or neglect. I know it's a vital, necessary job. I'm so glad I'm not the one who has to do it. I will be though, when I do my internship, so I suppose we'll find out if I'm cut out for it. Maybe I'll love it.
Friday, November 2, 2007
Even writing it down makes me tired
I'm pretty sure that when I graduate and get a "real job," it's going to feel like a vacation.
Here was my day today:
Wake up at 5:45 a.m. Spend half an hour trying to become human. Get Adrienne up at 6:15, then spend the next 45 minutes running around like maniacs getting ready for school. Nick stayed home today.
Head over to the sheriff's office to be fingerprinted for my substitute license.
Get to school by 8 a.m. Tell the vice principal that I have to leave a little early to get Nick to the doctor for his sports physical. Take my student to her work study for an hour, come back and teach second hour. Talk to Kevin during lunch and realize that he can't come bring Nick to town for his appointment because the Dish Network dude is coming this afternoon. He's supposed to be there by noon, but has to come from Vegas and has called to say it'll be three before he gets to us. Tell my vice-principal that I have to leave earlier than I thought, all the while repressing some serious anxiety about sitting in her office in the first place. Since I'm there anyway, give my December 1 notice. (I'm afraid my student might not actually move, and I'm not spending $250 for a license that I'm not going to use.) Teach third period.
Leave school at 2:10 and drive home to get Nick. Kiss my baby and my husband, then head back to town. Spend at least 30 minutes getting Nick signed in, cursing under my breath about inter mural basketball and how is that different from PE anyway...mumble mumble grumble.
Meet Kevin in the parking lot of the clinic after he's picked up Adrienne who has had to wait for half an hour at school and is grumpy as all hell. Seems the boy she likes, whose mother is the school secretary, wasn't hanging around this afternoon. Boo. Kevin takes all three kids home.
Run like hell to my class at the college. Get there fifteen minutes late. I'm the only Ely student, the class is broadcast via internet. So I'm coming in late on live TV in classrooms in Elko and Pahrump and Winnamucca. Apologize profusely. Enjoy the class, it's one of the best I've taken (it's a short, four session course on substitute teaching strategies.)
Drive home, talking on the phone to Kevin most of the way about how Nick isn't cooperating with him and how Adrienne is still pissy and the baby is screaming in the background about something or the other.
Get home at about 7, make dinner. Talk to my dad about him and his wife coming to visit for Veteran's Day (his wife is a teacher.) Make arrangements for Adrienne to stay in town tomorrow morning, because her drama rehearsal runs from 10 a.m. to noon and my class goes from 10 to 2.
Eat dinner and get Ruby to sleep. Promise myself to spend all day Sunday with her. Swear to take her to the park if it's warm enough. Finally relax and watch Mr. Holland's Opus with Adrienne, which makes me bawl like a baby and decide I DEFINITELY want to be a teacher. (Until tomorrow, when something is likely to make me decide to be a social worker.)
I wanted to write today. I wanted to exercise. There just aren't enough hours. Never mind the beating myself up over my daily contribution to Global Warming and the fact that I need to read a novel for my history class by Sunday and I haven't even cracked the book.
I guess I can't do much about being busy. But I can write. Right now.
Here was my day today:
Wake up at 5:45 a.m. Spend half an hour trying to become human. Get Adrienne up at 6:15, then spend the next 45 minutes running around like maniacs getting ready for school. Nick stayed home today.
Head over to the sheriff's office to be fingerprinted for my substitute license.
Get to school by 8 a.m. Tell the vice principal that I have to leave a little early to get Nick to the doctor for his sports physical. Take my student to her work study for an hour, come back and teach second hour. Talk to Kevin during lunch and realize that he can't come bring Nick to town for his appointment because the Dish Network dude is coming this afternoon. He's supposed to be there by noon, but has to come from Vegas and has called to say it'll be three before he gets to us. Tell my vice-principal that I have to leave earlier than I thought, all the while repressing some serious anxiety about sitting in her office in the first place. Since I'm there anyway, give my December 1 notice. (I'm afraid my student might not actually move, and I'm not spending $250 for a license that I'm not going to use.) Teach third period.
Leave school at 2:10 and drive home to get Nick. Kiss my baby and my husband, then head back to town. Spend at least 30 minutes getting Nick signed in, cursing under my breath about inter mural basketball and how is that different from PE anyway...mumble mumble grumble.
Meet Kevin in the parking lot of the clinic after he's picked up Adrienne who has had to wait for half an hour at school and is grumpy as all hell. Seems the boy she likes, whose mother is the school secretary, wasn't hanging around this afternoon. Boo. Kevin takes all three kids home.
Run like hell to my class at the college. Get there fifteen minutes late. I'm the only Ely student, the class is broadcast via internet. So I'm coming in late on live TV in classrooms in Elko and Pahrump and Winnamucca. Apologize profusely. Enjoy the class, it's one of the best I've taken (it's a short, four session course on substitute teaching strategies.)
Drive home, talking on the phone to Kevin most of the way about how Nick isn't cooperating with him and how Adrienne is still pissy and the baby is screaming in the background about something or the other.
Get home at about 7, make dinner. Talk to my dad about him and his wife coming to visit for Veteran's Day (his wife is a teacher.) Make arrangements for Adrienne to stay in town tomorrow morning, because her drama rehearsal runs from 10 a.m. to noon and my class goes from 10 to 2.
Eat dinner and get Ruby to sleep. Promise myself to spend all day Sunday with her. Swear to take her to the park if it's warm enough. Finally relax and watch Mr. Holland's Opus with Adrienne, which makes me bawl like a baby and decide I DEFINITELY want to be a teacher. (Until tomorrow, when something is likely to make me decide to be a social worker.)
I wanted to write today. I wanted to exercise. There just aren't enough hours. Never mind the beating myself up over my daily contribution to Global Warming and the fact that I need to read a novel for my history class by Sunday and I haven't even cracked the book.
I guess I can't do much about being busy. But I can write. Right now.
Thursday, November 1, 2007
Spark People
I came within inches of spending $52 to sign-up Jillian Michaels' online weight-loss thingy tonight. Honestly, I was searching the house for the credit card.
And then I decided to Google for comments or whatever, to see if I could find someone who had used the service. And I kept running across this site. I spent a little time trying to figure it out and setting up a page. Turns out I love it AND it's totally free. One thing I especially love is that it has a journal/blog attached to it. I want to keep this blog from turning into a weight-loss (or lack thereof) whinefest. I have more important things to talk about, I think (I hope.) So I'm linking my Spark People page over to the left.
Yes, by the way. I am brave. My weight (scary as it is) is posted over there. My struggles and whining will be posted on the blog. Seems I don't learn or do anything much without writing it down. It's just the way I roll.
P.S. If you happen to click on my food log--I ate the Ben and Jerry's BEFORE I signed up. Also...notice that I did CRUNCHES today. Oh yeah.
P.P.S. Just for posterity...here is me at my highest weight. With my incredibly gorgeous brother and sister.
And then I decided to Google for comments or whatever, to see if I could find someone who had used the service. And I kept running across this site. I spent a little time trying to figure it out and setting up a page. Turns out I love it AND it's totally free. One thing I especially love is that it has a journal/blog attached to it. I want to keep this blog from turning into a weight-loss (or lack thereof) whinefest. I have more important things to talk about, I think (I hope.) So I'm linking my Spark People page over to the left.
Yes, by the way. I am brave. My weight (scary as it is) is posted over there. My struggles and whining will be posted on the blog. Seems I don't learn or do anything much without writing it down. It's just the way I roll.
P.S. If you happen to click on my food log--I ate the Ben and Jerry's BEFORE I signed up. Also...notice that I did CRUNCHES today. Oh yeah.
P.P.S. Just for posterity...here is me at my highest weight. With my incredibly gorgeous brother and sister.
The Math Queen, She Has Arrived
I took my math placement test at the college yesterday afternoon.
I tested into Math 096. That's Intermediate Algebra, thank you very much. To you, that might not seem like a big thing. To me, it's amazing. Two months ago I tested into Math 091, which meant I would have to take three math classes before I could take the math class I need to graduate. Testing into Math 096 means I only need that class, and then I can take Math 120, which is the class I need. I am SO excited.
I also talked to the--I don't know her title. Adviser? Anyway, I talked to her about my major. I'm studying Social Work, but I keep feeling a pull toward special education. There is this certificate my school offers for people who have a bachelor's degree already and want to teach. There's about 30 credits, plus student teaching. I need 35 elective credits for my BSW, so I asked if I could use 30 of them for the required classes for that certificate. Turns out I can. The school doesn't have a set program for getting a special education certificate, but she's going to look into that for me. If the answer is yes, then I can take the 30 credits with my BSW, and after I graduate I'll only need to do my student teaching.
Did you all have a wonderful Halloween? We took the kids out to their grandparents house. Boy is trick-or-treating ever a different experience in a small town. Everyone knows everyone, there were zillions of kids out, every house was lit up. Ruby was dressed like a little dinosaur. I'll try to post pictures tonight.
I tested into Math 096. That's Intermediate Algebra, thank you very much. To you, that might not seem like a big thing. To me, it's amazing. Two months ago I tested into Math 091, which meant I would have to take three math classes before I could take the math class I need to graduate. Testing into Math 096 means I only need that class, and then I can take Math 120, which is the class I need. I am SO excited.
I also talked to the--I don't know her title. Adviser? Anyway, I talked to her about my major. I'm studying Social Work, but I keep feeling a pull toward special education. There is this certificate my school offers for people who have a bachelor's degree already and want to teach. There's about 30 credits, plus student teaching. I need 35 elective credits for my BSW, so I asked if I could use 30 of them for the required classes for that certificate. Turns out I can. The school doesn't have a set program for getting a special education certificate, but she's going to look into that for me. If the answer is yes, then I can take the 30 credits with my BSW, and after I graduate I'll only need to do my student teaching.
Did you all have a wonderful Halloween? We took the kids out to their grandparents house. Boy is trick-or-treating ever a different experience in a small town. Everyone knows everyone, there were zillions of kids out, every house was lit up. Ruby was dressed like a little dinosaur. I'll try to post pictures tonight.
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