Bad Santa

Christmas is one of my favorite holidays because I love to watch it through the eyes of children. I hate shopping, I refuse to go near a store on any Friday near Thanskgiving, and I really am not a fan of the mass commercialization of the holiday. What I love is watching a child wiggle with excitement as you make ornaments for a tree, or as you count the number of days until Christmas, or as you decorate a gingerbread house. I am fascinated to watch and listen as children discover the sights, tastes, smells, textures, and sounds that seem to exist only during Christmas. The magic that remains alive in children is the reason I love Christmas, with all of its trappings and foibles. The innocence, the wonder, the magic, the excitement, the purity of it from little eyes. So when I read that there is a growing pressure for Santa Claus to lose weight I didn't know whether to laugh or shout in frustration. Um, have we as adults lost our minds here? We are now policing the weight of a mytical being? What's next, the Teletubbies on a diet? After all, they are rather round and pudgy...and they carry televisions with them in their stomachs! I figure if Santa can still manage to fit down every chimney without getting stuck we can leave him alone. When he gets stuck, then we have an issue. But what really made me mad was the fact that we can not possibly have any "role models" for children who are anything other than incredibly skinny. Has anyone looked at society lately? More than 50% of the population is considered overweight. Statistically, that makes it normal to be pudgy, chubby, whaterve adjective you prefer. So lay off of Santa. Let him have his milk and cookies in peace. And for that matter, if him saying "Ho, Ho, Ho" offends you, you are most likely on the naughty list anyway because thou protesteth too much. Just because the world can be a cold-hard-truth place, don't ruin the magic of Christmas for those who truly celebrate it with wonder and innocence. And really, don't they have anything better to worry about? It's not like there is a war anywhere, or poverty, or anything serious happening in the world.

The Freak in the Mirror

Sometimes the entire world can see something before you ever open your eyes and see it yourself. Sometimes even with your eyes open you are absolutely blind. I am able to convince the world that I am no different from them, I am able to blend in unnoticed, and I am treated no differently by my friends who know about my undercover life as a medical superhero than by those who only see my alter-ego. Yet when I look in the mirror all I see is a freak. I can not look past what I perceive to be huge imperfections to see the beautiful person that everyone else keeps telling me that I am, the person that I have become. Instead I see the freak that doesn't belong anywhere and that is different in all ways bad and no ways good. Self esteem issues....no, not much. But that freak in the mirror - she is no more the definition of me than an old photograph. It is an illusion, one that I have bought into for far too long. I may never see myself the way that those around me see me, but now when I see the freak in the mirror I am learning to just laugh at her instead of believe the things she tells me.

Traditional Like Tofurky

Thanksgiving - families gathering from near and far to share a perfect meal and all that they are so tahnkful for having in their lives, most importantly each other. Someone break the smelling salts because Normal Rockwell apparently never visited a real family at Thanksgiving. Those paintings, those images we all cling to are about as traditional as Tofurky. To those who celebrate a Thanksgiving that comes to life out of a painting, full of Martha Stewart cheer, congratulations. To the rest of us - to us who have celebrated late because the bird was still frozen, who have eaten Thanksgiving dinner at a restaurant because circumstances did not allow for a family dinner at home, who have been hundreds of miles from every other family member, who have dropped the turkey, who eat chicken or ham or nothing at all this is our holiday. To those of us who are damaged goods, who have taken more detours than main roads, who know more about the medical system than most medical students, who have entered parallel worlds we never knew existed (illness, disability, poverty, etc.), who have loved a child in our lives and returned them to God, who have fallen more than we have walked this is our holiday. We are most likely very different from the traditional image of a perfect family, but we also have the opportunity to understand better than those that never enter these other worlds just how precious and precarious each moment in life really is and how much we can savor each one. Often we learn the lessons of thankfulness and appreciation earlier, deeper, and truer than the world around us. We are a rag-tag family, a club no one wants to join, but we "get" this holiday like no other family. Even if we are traditional like tofurky. So happy Thanksgiving - I am thankful for every detour I have ever taken that brought me to right where I am and to who I am right now.

Stone Soup for the Teacher's Soul

Imagine having nine three year olds wiggling in their little plastic chairs in front of you after you have cajoled and herded them over to the "magic carpet" (oh if only that darn carpet were magic). Explain to them that which we call a Pilgrim. As you ponder that one has just tipped his plastic chair over while two others are poking each other in a contest that is guaranteed to end up with tears and a faint echo of "you'll poke your eye out with that thing!". Too hard? Try explaining what a turkey has to do with Thanksgiving without converting them to vegetarianism. Oops, you just lost one and he is now rounding the table and headed for the sink where the water is dripping so temptingly. Yes, this is why I refuse to teach Thanksgiving. Instead I teach what I consider the critical concepts behind the entire holiday, leaving the historical confusion and political dilemmas out - sharing and working together. Besides, any time I can get in a lesson on sharing that does not involve separating two children clinging esperately to opposing sides of a toy is a bonus. So we read the book Stone Soup and then make our own Stone Soup by working together and sharing what we each have. On the day before Thanksgiving break we then have a feast where we eat our soup (or dump it on the floor depending on your preferred method of consumption), share different foods to try, and celebrate working together. Last year this was a disaster because our soup caught fire and so we had Campbells' Vegetable Soup to share. This year was precious. Each child worked hard to cut up vegetables, with assistance and the dullest plastic knives manufactured and tested repeatedly on my own flesh. Then I cooked them up into a turkey soup, a miracle of miracles considering I have never made soup before that did not start and end with the can opener. For our feast they worked together to decorate table cloths and to set the table with our little plastic dishes. I am saving the fine china for the day when it snows in Death Valley. Then they shared a feast of their soup (which they actually ate - well, one ate by osmosis through their clothing), chalah bread, strawberries, apples, and juice. No one ran around the table, no one dumped their drinks (and drinks in open cups!!),no one borrowed from someone else's plate, no one crawled onto the floor to reclaim that dropped bite, and no one poked-hit-kicked-argued-yelled-slapped-bit-spit-scratched-punched-hit-with-a-utensil their neighbor. I may have cursed their families for Thanksgiving by having them behave so perfectly during our test run! Oops!! They were proud of their soup and really seemed to understand sharing. Now by Monday sharing will have vanshed like that last piece of Pumpkin Pie and we will be back to ripping the limbs off of Elmo before we let a friend have a turn, but at that moment all was peaceful in our little world. Best of all, everyone at that table was equal. Everyone had contributed in their way and everyone was recognized for their contribution - everyone was an equal member of our class. At least with three year olds it really seems like you can quickly create a community where differences disappear and children are just children. They understand that some children use words to communicate, some use sign language, some use pictures, and some use their bodies and hearts. They don't question that some children walk and other's use really cool wheels; some children have mastered the big potty and some need more time; some children can build masterpieces out of Legos and other children play with cool toys connected to switches. They just see their friends, other cool kids who like the movie Cars and strawberry ice cream and to swing up into the sky and to laugh until they fall down and to listen to the same silly songs. If a friend needs help they provide it without me asking them - they help push a friend's wheel chair or hold on to it as they walk alongside just as they hold hands and walk with other friends, they run over to offer comfort when someone is upset, they help their friends to follow directions, they make sure everyone has a toy. So will they remain this way if we never teach them prejudice? For now I will treasure my sweet Stone Soup making, sharing, unjudging, wise little ones. For them I am truly thankful.

Hazmat Suit Optional

Children defy laws of nature. They can boune when every law of gravity states they should shatter into a million pieces, or at least crack a bone or two. They can eat an entire bowl of spaghetti and not get an single drop of sauce inside of their mouth. They can clear a classroom of every toy on every shelf in under three minutes when both teachers are taking care of critical situations and then look innocent when you arrive on the scene. Then there are the great diaper mysteries that I will never understand, the ones that defy all comprehension. How does a child soak through their clothing while the diaper remains just lightly damp? Why do parents put a child in pull-ups who is no closer to potty training than I am to winning the lottery, especially considering I never buy a ticket? And how can a child be completely clean when checked and ten minutes, TEN MINUTES, later be covered up to their armpits and down into their shoes? That is not natural. That is not covered by any laws or rules of how things work in this world, therefore making that steaming mess of stink an alien life form. In brief summary - 6 pairs of gloves, one complete box of diaper wipes, one complete change of clothing incuding socks and shoes, 25 minutes, and 1/2 a can of air freshner to create the new aroma of oozing alien life form and floral boquet. We need an emergency shower in the corner of our classroom for times like this so I can save the time and absolute futilty of diaper wipes and just hold the child under running water for a few minutes until skin begins to appear again. Diaper wipes are man-made and thus have no power over alien life forms that erupt into a diaper and then over the entire body. It was a battle, a war really, to reclaim the child from the alien slime but in the end I was victorious. I was also creative and stuffed said child into two pull-ups before putting nice clean clothes back over the bottom from which said alien slime originated. If one layer of protection failed, we need a double barrier!! Then I scrubbed, scrubbed, scrubbed my hands and tied up the nice little present of alien encrusted clothing to send home to mommy to be washed or thrown away. Sometimes being the teacher beats being the mommy!

Lemons

You're Invited To: A Pathetic Pity Party
When: Now
Where: Here
RSVP Not Required
Comments kicking me in the butt are more than welcome

I am by no means Pollyanna and I am quite thankful for that because really, when I watched that movie even as a child I wanted nothing more than to find a well to push her into over and over again until she muttered a bad word. No one can possibly be so freakin' happy and cheerful about every single thing in their life all the time and be sane. Or at least survive long without someone finding the above mentioned well and dunking them. But I don't think I fall on the opposite end of the spectrum either where I let every issue and difference be a giant weight that I carry around with me and announce to the world as the town crier, bemoaning the injustices of life. I am somewhere in the middle, most of the time able to just take up whatever has been given to me and go forth into life annoyingly thankful to have been given another day that defies all statistics. However, there are days like today where I become overwhelmingly frustrated with the little things. Rarely is it the big things that cause me to hang up the decorations for an all out pity party (those mental decorations by the way are some black crepe paper, some wilted flowers, and chipped china place settings that don't match). Instead is is the little things that add up and cause an overwhelming sense of frustration. I can deal with the fact that I have a malfunction in my immune system that causes my blood to clot improperly and thus led to my oh-so-fun blood clots in my arm and stroke experience. What is driving me nuts is the inability of any doctor to get the level of my rat poison - err coumadin correct and the weekly scheduling negoation required to get my blood drawn. Unfortunately since I work full time I can not come in at 11:45 am or 1:10pm to get my blood drawn, instead it needs to be at the end of the work day when I can scoot in after home visits or slide out just before the busses show up. How many other 26 year olds have a steady date with the phlebotomist and no dates with guys? I can handle the fact that it takes a small village of chemists to keep me alive, and I don't mind too much swallowing more pills than an gereatric wing of a hospital each day. The issue is watching my hard earned money be eaten up to buy those chemical concoctions and to find out that even tough my insurance has a cap on out of pocket expenses, medication copays do not count. So even though I have way surpassed that cap with copays it is meaningless because they don't count towards that limit. To the CEO of the insurance company I would like to extend an invitation to spend a month in my shoes, in the shoes of any individual with chronic serious illnesses who are working incredibly hard and barely making it because you refuse to cover necessary services or place such high copays on items that we can not afford to get the care we need. I have insurance, and without it I would be screwed, but with it I am just making it. Frustrated. And then there is the mourning of things lost to these dratted illnesses. I hate losing at anything - board games, bets, competitions of any shape and size. I detest losing to these malfunctions of my body and having to surrender even an inch. So having to let go of things that I once loved is a very sore point and a huge frustration. Music is my escape, my haven, my strength and my joy in so many ways. There is one country band - Sugarland- that is my absolute favorite music ever. I have worn out CDs listening to their music. Theirs is the only CD I have in my car and I can sing ever word to every song on their two CDs. They will be in concert about 1 hours from my house next month and I can not go. Money is not the issue (well money is always an issue but it would be pair for if I could go). The issue is that the dysautonomia has stoled this from me. I can not go to concerts, to the theater to see musicals, or to any setting that is likely to be loud, crowded, have lights that flash on and off, that may be off from standard temperature (colder or warmer than normal), or that uses bright lights in a dark setting. I will "crash" - my blood pressure will drop, I will experience what can only be described as a migraine to the third power, I will become incredibly dizzy and light-headed, I will become indescribably nauseaous, I will often have difficulty with vision and balance and the ability to coordinate my own movement, and I will experience changes in my heart rate and rhythm. Fun! Movies viewed in movie theaters are starting to have the same effect and I predict that soon they too will be surrendered. Family gatherings where there is a lot of noise, it is crowded, there is louder music playing, it is warm, people are constantly moving around, there are bright lights, and it is stressful (families are stressful) also cause the same reactions. I am oh so popular with my family for this. I no longer attend most family events, and not just because for years I was the family failure. I have never been inside of a bar or club of any sort because the loud music, lights, crowded atmosphere seems like a recipe for disaster. Even if I were willing to brave the crash, there is the issue of the narcolepsy. My medication allows me to experience life somewhere in the realm of normal living-and-breathing humanity but it has a time limit. Usually by about 8:00pm I am starting to wear down. Yes, my social life is nearly invisible because I have the same sleep schedule as my three year olds. I can push and stay awake later but then I pay for it. Repeat the crash scene above, either after pushing it for a while or in a milder form the entire next day. So I have surrendered my ability to enjoy concerts and movies, family gatherings, my social life, money, and endless time to these malfunctions that I have no control over and that pisses me off. I hate losing. I hate giving in. I hate surrendering. I hate being different. Well, if that isn't something straight out of my middle school journal! Wow, I sure have come a long way in 13 years (rolling eyes). Okay, so now that I have ranted, raved and had a pity party (anyone want another cup of lemon juice? Sorry I didn't make it into lemonade this time.) it is time to kick myself in the pants and snap out of it. I have ten little ones that are expecting a teacher with a wide open heart and excitement about life tomorrow, and I can not give them anything less. I thank God for them, because they truly are my joy and my grace. And I promise that the next time the lemons won't be so bitter - I may suck at making lemonade but perhaps I will make lemon poppy seed muffins or something else. Lemonade is so overrated anyway.

* It is very hard to remain frustrated and upset when your iTunes player randomly starts playing Put Your Finger In The Air (folk music style) because you forgot to separate the music for the Circle Time CD from your own music. And to follow it? Little Bunny Foo Foo. :)

Inclusion Works

Inclusion works and is a benefit for every preschool child. I am not convinced that it should only be offered to the children who are considered highest functioning because they are the children that will benefit from it and I am not going to change my mind any time in the forseeable future. Yesterday was total chaos as we tried to get nine little ones into coats, hats, gloves, and backpacks. I'm sorry but I am a Yankee. It was in the mid-upper 40s - why were the kids wearing winter coats and hats and gloves anyway??? Good grief, it is going to be a long winter!! Being a friday, they were staging a miniature revolt and I am convinced that I put the same coat on the same child at least three different times because houdini kept slipping back out of it when I turned to put a coat on another child. Oh the fun of wrangling preschoolers! So my little blue eyed boy was sitting ever so patiently in his chair watching this theatrical production. When I finally had wrestled most of the masses into coats I dashed over to wriggle him into his and discovered that one of my "inclusion peers" had lovingly placed a toy on his lap and helped him play with it. His peer thought it was no big deal and gave me a funny look when I asked him if he gave him the toy and thanked him for it (the "you adults are so weird" look). I wanted to jump up and down, laugh, hug both little ones, and yell "Yes!". My class is not one that would normally have any inclusion peers in it and the only reason there are any is because I really believe in inclusion for all children. I believe with all of my heart that every child can benefit from being in a setting that has children of all ablity levels - every child, whether or not the have special needs, benefits from the experience. In this instance, my little one who is my inclusion peer demonstrated an incredible level of compassion and understading of differences. He not only is "tolerant" of different ability levels but he is acceptant of them and appreciative of the fact that everyone in our room is a kid who may not be able to do all of the same things he can do right now but still likes a lot of the same things he does and loves to play just like he does. My little blue eyed boy had the experience of a child recognizing that he was probably bored sitting there as we adults ran around like crazy, finding a toy for him, and helpign him to play - in other words he played with a friend without any adults setting it up. Awesome beyond words! And me - I was reminded that even when other people might tell me I am crazy for adding more children to my classroom when it is not required and for doing more work than is necessary that it is absolutely, positively, without any doubt worth it!! I love the fact that in my classroom we are creating an environment where my little ones are not children with special needs and children who are typically developing - we are just children, a class of amazing and wonderful children. Lets leave the labels at the door.