Matricide

I'm going to admit something pretty horrible here. Sometimes I'd really love to just, at least, pop my mom one. You know?

Every time I think I've reached her. Every time I think maybe I get her, she turns around and makes me wrong. It hurts in ways I can't begin to describe. I wrote to a friend today:

Oh, the overwhelming desire to have the mom we dreamed of. The supportive, honest, wholesome mom who makes us feel good about ourselves and lifts us up before God. The Mom who other girls want for their mom's, but who is both a mom and a friend. The mom with morals and a sense of humor and perspective. It's hard, because she does exist. They are out there, right? I've met them. Only when I talk to their real daughters it's never that simple... but their moms are still better than mine... I think. Why can't my mom be like my Dad? He's so perfect at this... Now. But then that's good because for all my mom's faults and problems, when I sit down and "chronicle" the destruction of my self esteem as a child, Dad is just as big a factor as mom, sometimes bigger... So even his current "perfection" came at a terrible price.

So maybe all moms are awful. No, they can't be, because as I said, I've met the good ones. They are still human, still flawed, but they are good. They are a blessing to watch. I'd like to believe that my Nana was too. A good mom. Can't tell by her children though. How is that fair?

It really is a toss-up between being angry at her for making me feel like this and angry at myself for letting her make me feel this way. Every time I think I've got this nonsense licked... Here we go again.

This is why I am not married. This is why I won't have children. What if I'm just like her. Even if I'm not, why would I bring some one else (And then children) into this mess! Mental illness is really and truly the gift that keeps on giving...

Obviously I would be sad, hurt, devastated if my mom was gone and yet I've started dreaming about what my life would be like without her. Then I feel awful for the thought. I actually dared her to go ahead and kill herself once. I was so tired of the threats and the manipulation. Her therapist called me and asked that I not help like that in the future. I was 24 at the time. It was my first year teaching. I was wearing a heart monitor because we were trying to figure out if I had MVP and mom was more interested in having the world focused on her... I guess I lost my temper.

When I was in high school I wrote a poem about mom. When I read it you could have heard a pin drop. There were jaws open all over the room.

But the word truth has no meaning.
Past her lips the promise dies,
leaving me alone in heartache
because I believed her lies.

It's the most depressing and dark poetry I've ever written.

The worst part about this is that I love my mom so much. More than anything I wanted us to be close. When I was little, my Dad was my hero, but my mom was my example, my template and my best friend. She could build, fix or make anything. She tiled floors, painted the house, made crepes and home made pasta, created paper mache' works of art, knew where the best flowers were, could make dresses and dolls, she went to nursing school, grade school, nurse practitioner at one of the best medical schools in the nation. Who wouldn't want to be like her?

So tonight, I'm just angry and hurting and maybe even a bit broken.

I'll be fine tomorrow. I always am. I am my mother's daughter and I'll live. I just wish I could be more my father's daughter and learn to quit this.

Hubris and Hospitality

We are studying the Odyssey in class. Odysseus' journey home after the Trojan war. As a big classical mythology buff, it is always fun to teach. Additionally I do a Greek Culture Day and bring hummus, lahbni, muhanna, tabouli, pita, feta and other stuff like it to school. Most of my kids would not be exposed to some of this otherwise and many like it and go looking for cultural experiences afterward on their own because of it. That is not the point of this post, though, by the way...

The two major issues in the Odyssey are Hospitality and Hubris.

Hubris is a form of arrogance, usually against the gods, though for this class I extend that definition to any kind of arrogance where someone thinks they know better than everyone else. Hospitality is a code of conduct in Greek tradition, where there are rules about how to treat guests. Most of the problems or trials in the Odyssey come down to an issue of either Hubris or Hospitality.

Yet, I was thinking that most of the problems/situations/issues in my life come down to an issue of Hubris or Hospitality. Let me show you.

Parents refuse to believe that their children are not perfect or that they as parents may not be doing the best job. This is Hubris.

Parent's feel that I should do more work than they do on their children. This is an issue with Hospitality.

My mother thinks I should trust her, even though she has hurt me, lied to me and attempted numerous times to manipulate me. Her bad behavior is a lack of hospitality, her assumption is Hubris.

Nana needed help, needed someone to take care of her, so I did. I showed Hospitality. When I get snappish with her I am showing a lack of Hospitality.

When I don't take care of my body, eat too much, not exercise enough, that is a lack of hospitality for my body and when I get angry because my body doesn't do what I want or look the way I want because of that lack, that is Hubris...

I'm sure you can see the pattern here, so I'll stop before I start splattering the blood of the dead horse all over the place.

It is just so interesting to me that the issues of life really haven't changed all that much. We are all living in the same house, only the paint on the walls has changed. The structure of life hasn't. For whatever reason, today I find that oddly comforting.

Other people may simply find me odd... Is that Hubris or a Hospitality issue? (giggle)

Being a case example

Poor Daddy. I called him up to vent today. It was a good day, but there was this one niggling issue at the base of my brain and I needed to talk to someone who understood. For the most part, on this issue, only Dad fits the bill.

See, my mom makes me crazy. I think I've mentioned that before, but maybe not. For the most part I don't talk lots about her and my issues with her because my biggest goal with Mom is to simply love her, not let her issues be my issues or let them get to me and to do that I feel like I need to just let stuff go. Blogging is dealing with, but not always letting it go, so I haven't, mostly. Though I know I can.

The details on this particular escapade I'll leave out. They are irrelevant anyway. The point was, it happened again. Even on a great day. Lots of pie, some good flirtation, good lesson in class, and I'm ticked at mom.

So I called Dad. Poor Daddy... But he listened, he understood and he let me vent. Then he laughed with me (not at me, big difference) at the absurdity and we talked about other stuff and then we came back to the point. This is what he said.

Say there is a movie theatre, and the movies there are great, the ones you really enjoy, but the air conditioner is on overdrive and it's freezing. You have three choices, stop going to the movie, go and freeze, which effects the enjoyment or accept the temperature, start taking a jacket and enjoy the movie.

The funny part is that Dad is teaching divorce recovery workshop tonight and the lesson is about relationships with ex-spouses. Dad and I were laughing because this is case in point. My parents aren't married anymore, they don't even talk (his choice and I am thankful for it) and yet because of their children they still have a relationship.

Thanks, Dad. Glad I could be your example this week. Glad you are my friend and my father every week.

Over it and Through it.

So yesterday I was a bit pouty, and today I am taking the day off, but I'm over my temper tantrum, Thanks.

Last night I talked for an hour with a dear friend. She's over something too. She is at that critical time where she decides what she will accept, not accept and put up with in her life.

There are things we accept from other people. We may not agree with them, or like it, but in the grand scheme of things we simply accept it and don't worry about it.

There are things we put up with. These are things that do bother us and we disagree with and we are honest and up front about that, but we put up with it anyway.

Then there are the things we do not accept. These are defining issues in relationships. When we make these decisions, they should not be taken lightly.

It would be so easy to tell my friend what I think she should do, but these are her decisions. So today all I can offer her is my shoulder, my heart and my prayers, and my faith in her as a good person who is doing the best she can. She will get through it.

Frustration Station

OK, now I’m getting mad.

The weight around my middle is not coming off particularly fast, particularly at all. Thighs, great, I could rival a horse for muscle mass. Arms, ugly, flesh hanging, but tightening up underneath. Great! Middle? Flabby awful gross! Scale, no change I can see...

Granted my diet hasn’t been perfect this past two weeks, but much, much better over all, not that it was bad to begin with. Then when I was talking to one of the new trainers at my gym about it, and how I was concerned that maybe I had a problem with inflammation, she pointed out that maybe I wasn’t eating enough (not enough, too much, not enough, too much, dwarf planet, dwarf, planet, daughter, sister, daughter, sister... I may be sick!) and my body was in starvation. She said that considering the calorie burn I was accomplishing on my workouts (1000-2000 calories 3 to 5 times a week) that was a real possibility.

Then there is the whole sleep thing. Apparently I’m not getting enough and that is making me fat.

I’m willing to take time, but not forever. Why can’t this be simple?

Then I have these doctors who hold up a chart and say I should weight “this” to be healthy. These people are nuts. I am not now, nor have I ever been a chart. There are not enough women my size and dimensions for these people to have enough data to chart.

Mostly, I’d like this to be simple, straightforward and, I don’t know, possible. Today it seems impossible.

Maybe I’m just meant to be fat.

This is too hard.

Overheard... As in heard overly much...

On Friday I was walking down the middle school portion of our building. Five girls were in a giggling gaggle behind me and I overheard one of them whisper to the other, very loudly I might add, "She's a GIANT!"

For whatever reason, I'd had enough so I spun around and answered, "No she's not, but she is a TEACHER!" Then I explained to the girls that their behavior was very rude and unbecoming of ladies. Then I left them in the hallway, speechless.

I actually feel a little guilty about the whole mess. They were rude, but I doubt they understand why I got mad at them or if they do, I doubt they care. Girls really are brutal and that's just all there is to it. There is no doubt in my mind they knew I could hear them.

Here we go again

Last night I was on the phone with Mark, the Dining Hall Director from Camp, for an hour and a half. Here we go again.

This past weekend was an Order of the Arrow function. This is an honor society group associated with Boy Scouts. It's a smaller more dedicated group, and there are as many adult members as boys. Bunch of gossipy old women if you ask me. Goodness Gracious! Mark called full of all sorts of stories about backstabbing, conspiracies, coups and rumors. The stuff these people come up with. Also the way things get spread out over time. Problems that were in effect all summer are just now being discussed. Who will be in charge and how it's going to be next summer are all big topics of conversation. This is funny to me as we are nearly eight months away from camp. I mean I'm all for planning, but a lot changes for a lot of these boys around X-mas time and then we have to rework the whole system over again anyway.

Further, the different perspectives on the same issue are always amusing. It ranges from "These boys are examples and should be held to the highest standards" to "Boys will be boys" to "That's what we did when we were in camp" to "That's just camp..." Everyone's got an opinion and a "solution."

Like I said, here we go again.

Mostly I guess I find it disheartening that so little actually changes because of these discussions. Mostly it's just wind. And a lot of posturing.

Mark often tells me about how he's quit or so and so has said that they aren't gonna take this anymore or (and this is my favorite) how so and so put so and so in his place. High Drama!

Then there are also the complaints, "Sandy made medlodge a social hang-out!" "Mark is not customer friendly!" "There were too many people in this area and not enough in this one." "This department was run poorly!" "We should have had this instead of this..." Nothing in terms of constructive mind you, just putting down, insulting complaints.

Sometimes I wish I was in OA. I do a lot of work for the scouts and would like the recognition, but after just an hour of Mark's summary I'm pretty sick of the whole group, I can't imagine a whole weekend. I'm not clear what this whole process has to do with service anyway...

Here we go again.

Horse and Pie

Things are getting a bit wacky at school this week. We are raising money for The United Way. Teachers are involved in donation drives and such, but the students are as well. This year for the ninth grade we are having a penny war to determine two teachers who will get a pie in the face at the 9th Grade Pep-Rally next week. The teacher with the most money get's pie-d as does the teacher with the least. The Assistant Principal is one of the 14 staff who threw her name into the hat as those willing to be part of the competition. So am I. I am also running the drive.

The problem is one teacher (not me) has kidnapped the Assistant Principal's stuff horse and is holding it for ransom. The ransom, once paid will be put in the kidnappers can toward their total. The Assistant Principal thinks I did it. This is a problem as she keeps randomly searching my room to see if she can find the little bound and blind-folded horse. Now the kidnapper is sending her pictures of the horse with a pair of scissors pointed at it.

All of this is in good fun and thankfully The Assistant Principal has a sense of humor. Everyone here has a sense of humor and the jokes are starting to get slightly wild and crazy. I just wish I could convince this woman that it wasn't me!

Let's get ready to rumble!

Five fights have broken out at school today and it isn't even noon yet and it's only Thursday and they were all UNRELATED!

Yikes! What did these children eat for breakfast!?!?!?

Seriously, I've never gotten the whole fighting thing, especially at school. Boys I don't mind breaking up so much, they tend to be pretty peaceful about it. As long as everyone got in one swing for their "street cred" they are amicable about being broken up, thankful even. Girls on the other hand... Anyone who thinks they are the weaker sex should watch two teenage girls fight. Lord have mercy. Boys have rules, a code of ethics in fighting. Girls, not so much. They bite, scratch, slap, tear, pull. Talk about blood shed.

There is more drama in our hallways today than a Grey's Anatomy episode (though I am anxiously awaiting that premiere tonight.... McDreamy is too wishy washy for my taste for all that he's cute. I'd take McVet!... or even McSteamy... over him in a heart beat. )

Happy Thursday!

My own age

So this past month I am making a real effort to hang out with people my own age. This month I realized (sitting at home on a Friday Night) that most people I spend time with are either under 20 or over 80. This is not good. Not to say that those people are not good, just that it is easy to lose perspective on my life when it is always prismed through other generations.

Part of the issue is camp, I imagine. At camp we are all friends, and ageless. While I never lose sight of the maturity/age difference, I don't really think about it, notice it, etc. Then I come to school/work and kids in the same age bracket as my summer friends are now my inferiors, charges, students. This is a paradigm shift. Additionally I have Nana. Nana is not my sister, my husband or my child. This creates an interesting age relationship as our roles are kind of unique.

Now I have Robin, at work, and she is a good friend, but with three children under four, we don't have lots of time to "hang-out" and/or call and gab. LeeAnne, Bea, Jasmine are all in other states, which means I can gab, if I can catch them, but again, can't hang out. I noticed that with the exception of Lindsey, who helps me with Nana, I don't hang out with people, socially my age. Hanging out usually has to do with camp functions during the year, advising Explorers for my school or well, that's about it. I did/do have some friends my age in the area, but we all got so busy I lost touch.

So now I am reconnecting. In the process I'm also making new friends too, which is kind of interesting. I feel a little like a middle schooler ("Oh, do you think they like me?") but it's also kind of a new challenge. It goes well with the whole trying to get out and date thing too...

Here is the funny part. Last night I was getting ready to go to a "Trivia Night" I had been invited to at a local downtown establishment and Nana says to me,

"Don't do anything tonight you are going to regret in the morning."

"Nana, where do you think I'm going tonight?"

"On a date with a much younger man."

"Ah, well, I'm not. I'm just going to a restaurant to meet up with some friends for dinner."

"As long as that's all you are doing."

"Nana, I don't date the boys from camp."

"But that one came to dinner, wasn't that a date?"

"No, I was giving him advice about the girl he likes and he's my friend, so he came over."

"But you went on a date with him out a while ago."

"No, we carpooled to a meeting for camp. He's in college and couldn't afford the gas for the 60 miles round trip."

"Oh. Well have a good time tonight."

"Thanks, I'll try."

This is the other reason I need to get more friends my age. My grandmother thinks I am using the boyscouts as a dating service. While I am a little desperate for a date, I'm not that desperate. (Any of you who are from camp that are reading this, consider that your official notice... if you hadn't already recieved it... that I will not, no matter how much you beg, go out with you! Quit telling my Nana that we are! Actually quit talking to my Nana all together as you are giving her strange ideas!)

Also, while I wouldn't consider dating children "interesting" aparently my Nana thinks my life is a lot less boring than it really is. I'm not exactly flattered though.

Tagged

Dreaming Again tagged me. I have to tell you seven songs that have been in my head lately.


1. Invincible by Pat Benetar
~I use it in a class exercise, but it's a neat song.

2. We Didn't Start the Fire by Billy Joel
~ Again, part of classes, but still a cool song.

3. Albany by Roger Whitaker
~ This is a song about Norton Mackenzie and the story of the Eagle and the Raven in the tower over Norton's Green. Neat bit of history. Cool song.

4. One Girl Revolution by Superchick
~ My theme song. I listen to it whenever I need a pick me up.

5. Dancing When the Stars go Blue by Time McGraw
~ There is just something about this song that gets to me.

6. Old Rugged Cross
~ Still my favorite hymn.

7. Alabaster Box by Cece Winnans
~ This song is still my testimony...

As to tagging seven others, I've never been real big on that kind of thing, so... The first seven people that comment, "Got it" are the seven tagged. I'll look forward to seeing it on your blogs.

EEP! Must be Monday

Oh My!

So I brought my Mickey D coffee into class, put cream in my mug, grabbed a couple of Sweet and Lows from my stash and dumped those into the mug too. There seemed to be a lump of sweetness in one of the packages that just wouldn't let go so I flicked it, quickly and it went in.

Luckily I glanced in the mug before I dumped in the coffee.

A Cockroach was doing the back stroke in the cream.

I think it came out of the sweet n low. Not that it matters.

Must be Monday.

Yeah.

Asian/Oriental Coleslaw/Salad

The thing is, recipes are more like general ideas to me than directions, but with that in mind, the salad is very simple and the recipe is easy.

Mix one bag shredded cabbage with one bag of broccoli slaw. Then coat with dressing and serve. The trick is the dressing.

Dressing (I have no idea on amounts, so taste as you go.)

Vinegar (Rice Wine is best, just white if not, Balsamic is too strong)
Corn Oil (Not a lot or salad is greasy!)
Soy Sauce
Sugar
1/4 Bottle sesame Seeds (Toasted in pan first... Cover bottom of dry fry pan with black and white seeds and swirl until they begin to toast/pop/brown then add to dressing right before serving)
1 Vidalia/Sweet/Red Onion sliced thinly
2 Packets Top Ramen Oriental Seasoning Packets

Mix it up (except the sesame seeds) and let sit overnight.

Right before serving, toss it all together (also can break up noodles from Ramen and toss those in too, but I didn't at Bea's party) (If the dressing pools in bottom of bowl, pour out excess and save for another time rather than letting the stuff sit in it and get too soggy)

Rarely have any leftovers.

Good Stuff

You cannot be serious...

Last night I found out something that absolutely dropped my jaw.

My mother is "online dating." She talks to lots of men and even goes out with several of them, for coffee, window shopping at the mall, talking online and on the phone. She is quite the social butterfly. Now, she explained to me that she is not looking for a "physical relationship" with anyone, not even marriage, but just companionship and friends and that she is up front with these men about that. So apparently she then also helps these men, counsels them on their dates with other women as well. One gentleman, she helped him shop for a bit more stylish clothing and he often web cams with mom before he goes on other dates so that mom can help him makes sure he looks okay before he goes.

As my mother was explaining all this to me I was struck by an awful thought. Bear with me, and I hope you all understand, but...

My mother is a 55 year old, severely obese, mentally ill, unemployed, bitter woman, who makes it clear from the get go that she will not sleep with anyone, or even "neck" and yet...

She has more dates than I do!!!!!!!!

I'm not sure if I should laugh or cry. When I pointed this out to her, she laughed and said that it was because she answered everyone, and because I had standards I was looking for the real thing and therefore our "performance" could not be compared...

Intellectually, I understand that she's right, and that's fine, but the juvenile part of me is having a major temper tantrum this morning. If you know me, my mother or our history I imagine this is hysterical, if not, I hope I have conveyed just a little of the absurdity of this whole thing, but either way...

*** For the record, I am an overly tall, somewhat chunky/chubby 30 year old who carries loaded opinions with her at all times. I am by no means a man magnet nor would I ever expect to be, but I thought I at least had it over my mom!

Accidents, Mistakes and Bad Choices

It amazes me the way we categorize things that we do in our lives. I've really been laughing to myself lately as I read the news. Maybe you've seen some of the articles too?

Mom rewards son with Pot

Sex with Pupil "Bad Choice."

I wonder if these people know who they are kidding? There things were not accidents and they weren't bad choices, they were mistakes, as in error, as in wrong!

So often we call bad choices, accidents, and mistakes, bad choices. But do we really believe that?

Let me explain.

A student takes four Prozac, that were not his, and when we catch him he says, "It was an accident." OK. So these four pills happened to be rolling along the floor and you just happened to trip and fall and your moth landed on the pills and they shot up into your throat and you had taken them by accident? Then the boy adds, "It was the wrong choice." Well, yes it was, but his tone implies that he was "confronted" with two options, take Prozac not prescribed to me or don't take Prozac not prescribed to me. However, as he went looking for the first option, there was no sign in the hallway advertising it, he only had the choice because he created it. That was a mistake. Except even the word mistake seems like a cop out these days.

"I just made a mistake." they say. Like mistakes are no big deal. Well sometimes they aren't. But sometimes they are. Also, I tend to think of mistake as more like, "I meant to write the word grass, but wrote gass instead." That's a mistake. "I meant to say 'Why thank you, Mr. Red Convertible for cutting me off,' but instead it came out, '***#$%$*%!$*#*!!!!'" That's not so much a "mistake," in my mind. Now, having been cut off by people in red convertibles, I'm not sure it's uncommon or uncalled for...

The point is, when people have accidents, make mistakes and/or make bad decisions, why do we always try to make it sound less than it is? Is that for everyone else's benefit? "They won't think this is as stupid if I down play it?" Or, are we lying to ourselves, "If I use words indicating this was really not a big deal than it isn't?" Does that really work?

Something tells me we're going to regret this...

That's what the poster on my wall says. It's from Harry Potter Chamber of Secrets. Most teachers I know all want it, and it has even on occasion disappeared from my wall to be ransomed. I've ordered several of them to give as gifts this week.

I got the poster my first summer at camp for my wall there. It just seemed to sneak into my school stuff after and end up over my computer in class.

Today, when the grading program that the school is starting for the first time this year, with the thumb-print check in machine at both doors of the school being installed this week, the amount of children who are now failing my class, the amount of snot that is still packed into my head (Did I mention what a good time I had in Miami? This is apparently the price.) and the amount of children that were just pulled from my classes to be searched, I think this poster is particularly prophetic about my choice to get out of bed and come to work this morning.

the only thing I don't regret is the Egg McMuffin I had for breakfast this morning. Did you know that the real kind, the first kind, the kind with the ham are only 7 WW points? (Yes, I can make a better breakfast with fewer points, but not faster than drive through and hot and McDonald's!) That the apple Walnut Salad (with the Candied Walnuts and Yogurt!) is only 4 and that a whole container of Chicken soup from Campbell's is only 3? It is a sad testament to my day when the biggest thrill is the food and I'm on a diet!

Oh bother!

Full Head

Today my head is full of a lot of things.

I was teaching on a Tuesday, second period and the students were getting ready for a test in American Literature. Another teacher stuck her head in the door and told me to turn on CNN. Then the principal made the announcement. As soon as there was a break, I called my father. While he was no longer at the Pentagon (he retired sometime before) I had to know he was OK. Nothing much else was taught that day and I remember spending most of the day wiping the tears from my cheeks. There were heroes that day and there are villains. It is the single most devastating image of my life, replacing the day the Challenger exploded before my eyes in fourth grade. It is also I think one of the most defining event in modern American history. Today my head is full of that.

This weekend I made a new friend (doesn't that make me sound nine?). Actually I made several, but this lady was a real treasure. Her husband is a Army Chaplin in Iraq. Oddly she has been on my mind much today as I think of all the people in my life that I know and have yet to know, and because of 9/11 will never get to know. Today my head is full of that.

I am still sick. My sinuses are packed, my nose is running, my throat is sore and I have miles to go before I sleep. There is a ringing in my ears that will not stop and my head hurts. Yet I am so lucky and grateful to be alive, to live in this country, to have a job and a purpose, to have loved ones who love me back and to be whole. Today my head is full of that.

The only thing more full than my head, today, is my heart. How could it be otherwise? And on this day, a five year anniversary, I remember, and promise to never forget why.

Wake Up Call

One of my blog pals, methatiam, sent me an article and asked my opinion. Considering my growing frustration this past month with my students' lack of critical thinking skills, self discipline and motivation, not to mention my continuing frustration with an educational system that (because of "well meaning parents") continues to put more and more responsibility on teachers for a child's "success" which means A's, not actual learning, this article was a battle cry, a comforting voice (it's not just me!) and a well thought out picture of a big part of the problem. Read it yourself. But it's not short, just so you know. It was also odd to me that he asked me this on the same day that I read this post from another blog friend, Mel.

There is one other part to this issue that I think needs to be mentioned. Many students I deal with don't seem to suffer the anxiety this article mentioned, so much as an entitlement attitude. They can't fail, they are too protected, therefore I shouldn't put them in a position where they could fail and therefore it is not fair for me to make them work for it.

Maybe if Psychology Today is taking note of this the trend may swing back in the other direction. Eventually the issue will reach mainstream. Or at least that is my hope. As of today, parents still seem to think I work for them (because they pay taxes, and therefore they should get what they want... An A for their child), that it is parents and children against the teachers (I remember when I was in school and the parents sided with the teachers), and most importantly parents today (and yes I am speaking in generalities) seem to think that their children are extensions of themselves, possessions to augment their lives and an opportunity to relive their lives they way they think they should have gone.

The best gift my parents ever gave me, even in the midst of their divorce while I was in high school, was allowing me to fail in school and holding me accountable for it. Wasn't fun, wasn't easy and yes it made some things difficult for me to achieve as I moved through school, but, I still went to college (and even with a significant change of majors was done in four years) and grad school and am now a productive adult who pays her own bills. Heck, I even have a good relationship with my folks for the most part and my Dad and I are friends. When I messed up they corrected me, loved me, disciplined me if necessary and sent me on my way. My cousin, only two weeks younger than I, because his mother felt guilty that his father died when he was only 9 (and that he found his father's body) spent the rest of his childhood coddling him, making excuses for him and letting him have whatever he wanted and needed... Or said he did. His older brothers both finished college, have good jobs, got married, have children and are great guys to know. The youngest, the one my age (30) took several extra years to actually graduate from high school, has a child, but doesn't live with it, nor was he ever married to it's mother, and still lives at home with his mom. He tends to float from job to job, though I think he is almost finished with Fire-fighter school, so maybe he has finally found a place and thing important enough for him to buckle down. The thing of it is, the rest of the family seems to feel he is not very smart or talented. I think the opposite is true. There is a real possibility that he is smarter than I am. His mother is a great lady, really, but her choices seriously crippled his chances in life.

The other issue, to me, in all of this is a great conversation that went down on Mommy Life, Barbara Curtis' blog. Are the Children of Large Families Disadvantaged? My team teacher and I were discussing this issue in view of the article (I have no children, she has three under the age of four). One thing that big families have going for them is that with so many children, parents only have the time for the real parenting, not this over protection nonsense that seems to be the root of the problem with kids today. Until she and I read this article and discussed it, while I always felt there was something special about kids from large families, the connection wasn't made. Now I get it. That's not to say that large families are the only way to go or the best, just that this may be why so often I find kids and parents from large families more successful in school and what I prefer to deal with as a teacher. The comments on the post were also insightful, though a couple of people got some ruffled feathers. The post was not exactly about the same issue, but I think it strikes at the heart of the problem. There are two other articles that I think are an interesting compliment to this issue, in terms of the role of children and their purpose and therefore inversely how that must effect parenting. In a great editorial about demography it was pointed out why the nation was in jeopardy. I think it goes further than that when you also consider the issues of education raised in the article in Psychology today. Another terrific editorial in response to the one on demography, is, I think one of the real definitive issue here on why parents are the way they are with the kids. Children have become commodities. Under those conditions it makes sense that parents would want to "protect" their investment and not see it fail.

All of these pieces together just kind of clicked for me today.

The question is, what can any of us do about any of it, beyond how we raise our own kids. My team teacher feels, and I see her point, that people from my generation will raise their children differently because of what we are witnessing now from kids today. Maybe. Personally I think it is going to take another generation on top of this one to also deal with problems created by divorce, lack of male role models in the home because of divorce and more children outside of marital relationships, and just a general breakdown of American families. (Another issue for another post...)

I guess the point I wanted to make was that this article is amazing. I think it hits the nail on the head and I was thrilled to see it. I have already sent it to many teachers, friends and colleagues as I think it is very spot on for our kids. Unfortunately, no single article can begin to cover all of the problem. The fact that in my opinion, none of my students could be involved in a discussion on this topic, because none of them could make this many connections between different things they had read (ie critical thinking skills), is the illustration of the problem.

Killer puppets from outer space...

I hate being sick. Yesterday I stayed home I felt so awful and I didn't work out with my trainer Wednesday or Thursday. I don't feel great today either, but I'm at school, and I will work out if it kills me. I'll try to make up for lost time this weekend as well. Did I mention I hate being sick?

So while I was in bed yesterday I had the strangest dream involving a squeaking puppet bothering me and following me everywhere. I opened my eyes and realized I could still hear the puppet. I looked around for what was making the squeaking noise.

Then I realized it was me. Breathing. Even after I stopped the physical act of breathing air was still escaping my lungs and in rhythm with my pulse (I imagine, but who knows) was making little squeaking noises from both my mouth and nose. It was rather odd.

My kids are testing today. It's very quiet in here. I'm praying the squeaking thing doesn't happen again here. Can you imagine?

Invincible, Marigolds, Hamsters and Irwin

There are actually some singular points to this and it is for the most part connected. Forgive me, however if I take a while. To begin with, I'm sick.

Wet Miami weather (for all that I had a wonderful trip and look forward to the next one...) and 4 hours on a plane in less than four days have conspired to make my brain swim in snot and my throat drown in it. (Yes, I know what a pretty picture that is. Sorry.)

On Tuesday my students read the story "Marigolds," about a young African American girl growing up in rural Maryland during the depression. Great story. The crux of which is that innocence and compassion cannot co-exist, as innocence is the ignorance of others and compassion is being able to put yourself in their place. Beautiful story. I spent 20 minutes before the story telling the class about personal experiences I had had that this story made me think of. Then for fifteen minutes after they read the story (listened to it on CD while reading along actually) I made more comparisons in life, literature, movies and my life. Then I asked the class what they thought about the story.

Dumb looks ran rampant for almost 8 minutes. Then one brave child stood up and said, "it's about this girl." OK. Next child said, "It's about racism." Here I thought might be a spark. "How is that?" I ask. "Um... I don't know." Two strikes. OK. Another child says, "It's about growing up, changing the way we look at things." Yes, Good! Then "Growing up." They just said that. Next, "Growing up." Yeah, we got that. Middle child got lucky, the other two after tried to ride that train. Thirty students per period, three periods. Not an original thought in the bunch. This is why I became a teacher?

Today I played them Pat Benitar's "Invincible." It's about child abuse and has the line, "We cannot afford to be innocent." Innocent again means ignorant. It took the class over thirty minutes to begin to come close enough to what the song is about on it's own so I could hint to the point that they got it. Then they had to figure out how the story and song were connected. Another thirty minutes.

I've often joked that inside our heads are hamster wheels and that is what powers our brain. Difficult days in class just about "Kill the hamster." Let me tell you, there were dead hamsters all over my class today. The sad part is that many died in vain. I do not believe that the kids made a connection of any significance either day.

A week ago when I was explaining what I thought about something, one of the students whistled and said, "Ms. X, you think way too much!" The class laughed a bit. I did too. But in light of the dead hamsters I'm not so sure it's funny.

These kids want it all explained for them, so they don't have to try much less pay attention. I'd even consider telling them if I thought they listened. They can't even master, "Don't talk" and "Do your work" for more than three minutes at a time. This absolutely terrifies me in terms of out nation and planet's future. Kids don't know how to think and I'm not sure they even want to learn how.

One child, a gifted child at that, told me, "This is too hard." when I asked him to write down all the things he thought about when he read the story. He had written one line. "This story was good." That's all he turned in, as a matter of fact. "That's all I could think of."

What happened to Steve Irwin was a tragedy and a real shame. However, when you think of how he spent his time, all the things he had to have learned and known and how aware he had to be of his surroundings it is amazing to me that he was in such good health for as long as he was. (Not to mean he "had it coming" or any other such rubbish, just that accidents happen and you have to keep your brain working...) My students, even with training wouldn't last a month. They can't and won't concentrate, won't focus and don't pay attention. This is a dangerous thing. These are people we are about to let drive.

Oh, they tell me, "We like driving." So you mean to say you can focus on what you care about? Hope you get the dream job that involves nothing you don't enjoy when you grow up. Be a bummer to lose a job you like and can do because of that one small part you don't like, didn't pay attention to and therefore messed up.

Why should I be surprised though, when they where shirts to school that say, "My worst day anywhere is still better than my best day of school." and "Wake me up when class is over."

Pardon me, I have to go shovel the bodies of the fat, lazy, bloated, dead hamsters off the floor before the next group gets here.

Moons over Miami

This weekend I am going to Miami to help one of my dearest friends celebrate her birthday. There will be much laughing, talking, goofing off, cooking and eating. There may even be a little sleeping. There will be total relaxation.

Hope everyone has a terrific Labor Day weekend. See you next week.