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.

Stars

Normally herding ten three year olds from one activity to another is about as much fun as trying to herd cats. A common situation is as follows. I announce it is time to clean up the toys on the table and go to circle time. Apparently those are fightin' words because chaos insues. Several children due remain at the table and assist in the cleaning process - major points to my sweet cleaners. One child promptly flees the area and finds something to hide under - generally the soft couch in the book corner. Another child watches the first child flee and hide and then decides it would be great fun to join him. Child number three wanders around the room, occasionally dumping a few odd toys on the floor. Child number four just starts to wander around the room. Children five and six rely upon us adults to assist them in getting to circle time, so they wait patiently for us to help them transition to the carpet. Children seven, eight, and nine generally do an excellent job of cleaning and then independently finding their chair on the carpet. Child ten will go sit in his chair at circle time but needs you to remind him several times along the way otherwise the lure of the toys he must pass is just...too..strong. Now that I write it out, herding cats is sounding easier. We are making steady improvements though, and the whole process only takes about 5 minutes now instead of the 10+ minute process this was at the beginning of the school year. I will not admit how many times I count to 3 in a day though (i.e. Do you need my help or can you do it yourself? 1, 2, 3. Okay, I will help you do it.). So on Thursday my assistant squashed her foot under the wheelchair lift of a schoolbus and so she needed to be out of the room for a while. I was faced with the above ritual without reinforcements or backup. Oh crap!! However it went nothing like the above play-by-play. Children one through three assisted in cleaning up and then promptly went and sat in their chairs at circle time. Children seven through ten helped clean and actually carried the containers of toys to the shelves to put them away before sitting in their chairs at circle time. Children five and six waited patiently until I assisted them to their chairs and setled into their chairs at circle time without protest. Child number four, who has never responded to our classroom routine without numerous prompts, walked over to the group at circle time and stood in front of a chair!! Yes, I have the world's best children!! They are amazing, wonderful, awesome little ones who knew that I desperately needed them to pull out their best of the best behavior because I had the odds so stacked against me. Just to continue to show off they sat at circle time without complaint and participated to the top of their performance for 20 minutes!!! WOW! After 20 minutes a relief pitcher came and we left circle time to make really cool scarecrows. I don't mind the little behavior stuff (although the running away when I make a request is getting some serious intervention) as long as I know that they can pull out the best behavior when I really need them to do so. It would be unreasonable to expect near-perfect behavior from three year olds on a daily basis - and it would be a little freaky too! I was amazed, thankful, and impressed but most of all so incredibly proud of my little ones. They are Stars!

Choices

I have never cared much for politics, which is ironic since I find myself far too close to the nation's capitol for my own comfort. While I fully understand and appreciate the incredible blessings of living in a country that is a democracy, the intricate workings of said government are as interesting to me as watching cogs spin endlessly on an antiquated piece of machinery in a museum. Perhaps it has to do with the fact that I have never been good at lying, and that my negotiating skills leave a lot to be desired (I am a horrid bluff and tend to throw all my cards on the table much to soon)and politics is lying, bluffing, negotiating, and fakery. However, having to face the grown up world without the cushion of mommy and daddy to catch me and without the relative innocence of self-imposed invincibility has knocked some politics into my cobwebbed head. One area is education, which is a debate that I will jump into another day when I have my boots on and see a nice mud puddle. Another is health care. I am used to being poor, with various levels of poor fluctuating as I grew up. I am used to working incredibly hard to succeed and to give everything I have to the things I hold dear. I am not used to having to choose between medication and groceries. I am not used to having to choose which of my medications to take for the next two weeks because I can not afford to pay for all of them. I am not used to deciding my medical care based not on my health and the incredible balancing act it takes to keep me alive and functioning, but based on access to the things that I need most. This is not an issue of having medical insurance because I have insurance from a "good company" and I work a full time, respectable job. It is an issue of what it means to have chronic, life threatening illnesses in a time and place where the cost of living is high and medical care higher. I prioritize my medications when I refill them - critical for life, critical for functioning, required, and not causing immediate danger if skipped. For example my heart medication is critical for life because if I slip into v-tach and fail to reconvert then there is no need to worry about paying for anything else. My thyroid medication is not immediately dangerous because, while life sucks when you are in a hypothyroid state, it is unlikely to kill me within a few weeks. My blood thinners are critical for life - I really do not want to repeat the stroke event - but I am creative with how I add up pills and portions of pills to get to the necessary dose. My medication for insulin resistance and polycystic ovarian syndrome is not critical for life because I have always had normal blood sugars and the symptoms of the POS are annoying but not fatal. I choose which doctors I see based on who can cover the most symptoms and what seems to be the area with the mst malfunctions. I am seriously overdue for cardiology and neurology, and if I confessed to my rheumatologist how long it has been since my last eye exam he would probably withhold my medication until I completed the exam or otherwise make the exam required. Yet I can only afford so many appointments each month and I have to be cost effective. These are the choices that I should not have to make living in America, working full time, with insurance. These are the choices that no one should ever have to make. I had better health coverage when I was on medicaid - why should I feel like I am gambling my health because I choose to work incredibly hard, to sacrifice so much in order to give instead of just take, to follow my dream instead of continuing to allow others to be responsible for me? I may not have the most eloquent words to express the desperation, but when did medical care become a privilege instead of a basic right of humanity? When did the worth of my life, as measured by the care given to sustain it, become equal to the worth of my checking account?

Happy Halloween!

I officially have the cutest kids in the world in my class! We had spiderman, superman, a witch, a purple people eater (the best costume ever) and a little mermaid as well as a firefighter and a cheerleader (who was also the witch - long story). The party was total chaos - partially because the kids were wild from the break in routine and the access to the ball pit (this is why it is only made available like three times a year) and partially because I felt like total crap. However, we still had a lot of fun! I think when you are three the combination of costumes, face painting, ball pit, cookie decorating, and cupcakes is pretty darn exciting! I then sent them on their merry little way home hopped up on sugar and way overstimulated from a day of "No Routine!!" and "Anything We Want TO Do!!". Oh yeah, tomorrow is back to schedules, schedules, schedules and rules. Sorry kids, party's over. :) Our November party is much tamer (think feast not party) and in December it is a "snow Ball" not an all out party. Still fun though. And so much easier to plan!! Oh, and I got many compliments on my funky looking Raggedy Ann self and a few laughs which is kind of what i was going for. And the best reactions were driving to and from work today in full costume - wig and all! Now I am hiding from the few trick-or-treaters where I live because I was too cheap to buy candy after putting together treat bags for 10 kids at school ... shame on me!! Good thing I don't have a pumpkin for them to smash! :) Happy Halloween!!

What Have I Done?

I have officially jumped off of the bridge of sanity and am falling head first into the abyss of the insane. Wednesday is Halloween, perhaps one of the most enjoyable not-really-a-holiday-holidays to celebrate with preschoolers. Nothing is cuter than three year olds dressed up in costumes and filled from toes to eye brows with excitement about the fact that, while they may not understand what on earth this is about, they know something fun is going to happen. However, nothing is more stressful than a classroom full of parents expecting you to not only show off your wonderful abilities as a teacher but to entertain them and their children for an hour with creative and enthralling activities. And what did I do for Halloween? I invited the parents of all 10 of my little ones to an hour long party! Oh what have I done! They are expecting crafts, games, activities, entertainment, fun and a demonstration of the wonderful world of preschool. Is it too late to hire a substitute? Anybody instersted? Don't all come running at once! So far I have suckered...um, convinced...um, my very nice friend and the parent of one of my little ones has volunteered (okay, so I asked politely but offerd plenty of opportunities for her to say no) to do face painting for the kids. We also have treats to decorate with frosting and Holloween candies/sprinkles. I plan on setting up our ball pit with its four bags of balls which means a lot of work (cleaning all of the balls before and afterwards - dratted MRSA infection marching through our district) but should be entertaining and I can set my assistant up to play referee to limit the injuries. If I am desperate I can set the swing up - but only BEFORE we eat our endless sweets that parents are providing (I am so not catching any vomit on Halloween - that's what the parents are there for!). I have some games we can play for prizes - toddler basketball, bowling for ghosts (pop cans covered with white tissue paper). That sounds like a party to me. Besides, they are three years old. I think a few balloons and the ball pit would be enough to entertain them. As for the parents - they are always welcome but in large numbers I still get nervous like I have to put on a song and dance or something. Maybe that will go away as I teach more years...or I will learn to sing and dance. :) And performing while in costume - bonus! Yes, I will be the dork dressed as Raggedy Ann! Try finding a costume that is preschool appropriate, not scary, not trampy, readily washable, and that will not become indecent while doing preschool acrobatics (i.e. chasing a child down the hall, helping a child on the playground, circle time). Its even harder when anything with a wig, mask, or face paint is scary as is anything too "not normal" (i.e. the teacher dressed as a cow is going to scare the crap out of my kids - should be fun!). I really enjoy having parents come in the classroom, and I enjoy our parties, but it stresses me out so much beforehand. Especially this year when I have taken on extra students, when my assistant leaves (a lot) to be desired, and I still feel like I am chasing myself in circles. I think it will be lots of fun, but right now I am wondering what on earth have I done????

Running of the Preschoolers

Forty days and forty nights has never seemed like quite such a torturous sentence until now. It has rained non-stop for most of this week which means that at school we have been inside almost all week. Three year olds are not generally happy with the notion of being confined, especially when there is an attractive playground visible from the classroom windows that beckons to them regardless of the sheets of rain pelting the windows relentlessly. So after days of entertaining them with other options - extra play time, bubbles, balls, and I can only imagine what the substitutes used yesterday (that was not covered in my lesson plans)- I finally relented to riding our tricycles in the hallway. This seems harmless as the hallway is a giant circle with only two points of escape (one door to the outside and one entrance point to the main hallway) but there are several classrooms along the hallway that are not selfcontained classrooms for children with special needs. And three year olds riding tricycles do not understand the concept of an indoor voice. Trust me on that one. We can keep our indoor voices up until the point that our feet hit the pedals and then it explodes no matter how hard we try. Also, our ability to steer is not fully developed and so we might occasionally ride into a classroom door or wall at full speed. I am quite sure that the other teachers just love me! It is a redeeming quality that we are rather cute and it is hard to resist a three year old on a tricycle laughing and waving (as they just miss the wall). So today we braved the tricycles and I am forever thankful there was no video camera available. The running of the preschoolers is not a moment of a teacher's life that she wants recorded for the world to see, especially when it involves dodging ankle crashes and rescuing wall smashers while pushing a rider in training on an adapted tricycle at full speed. Oh the glamour would be overwhelming and cause such weeping by jealous supermodels that it simply must remain a secret forever! It is fun, but there is no way to look anything but rediculous while dodging tricycles, rescuing stranded children who are flailing with no success trying to escape the clutches of a wall, and running circles around a hallway pushing a tricycle that looks like it could double as a torture device. But we had a good 20 minutes of fun, we worked on motor goals, and I got a free workout! Bonus points for that! I felt slightly like a NASCAR driver though only making left turns - next time we go right around the hall so I can unwind myself! And I need to invest in steel toed, high ankle boots... or learn to run faster.

Things I have Lost

I am used to being incredibly organized, or at least organized enough to know exactly where everything is in the piles. For some reason over the past few months I have become scatterbrained to a new extreme. It seems like my brain has become a sive and most things enter and then drip out before they can be officially processed. This is not good! Below is a short list of things I have managed to lose recently.

* a pack of gum
* a pair of shoes (they are here somewhere...)
* a stack of papers
* a CD
* my keys several times, but I have found them each time (Thank you God!!)
* picture symbols
* more pens than I could count
* notes to myself about things not to forget
* for a few weeks I lost my planner
* my mind

My Hands Are Overflowing

There are some times when your instincts kick in that you are very thankful - swerving to avoid an object in the road, ducking as a ball comes flying at your head. Then there are times when you act on instinct and then regret your actions. There is a short background necessary to this story to fully appreciate it. Apparently God has a wicked sense of humor. My greatest phobia in all of creation is vomiting. I would literally go to a hotel when my mother got the stomach flu. So God, in his infinite wisdom and with his sense of humor, has blessed me with beautiful children in my class who are proficient at what? Any guesses? Yep, vomiting. Last year it was such a common occurrence we had blue buckets stationed around the classroom to catch it. Nice. In summer school a child vomited on my feet. Thanks. So tonight I am babysitting for my blue eyed boy, who has done his share of vomiting at school. He has to keep up with his peers you know. He was complaining a bit this evening as we watched his choice of movies and so I was letting him sit on my lap. Any guesses what beautiful boy did? It is obvious. What is not obvious (or might be by the title of this post) is how I reacted. In an act of pure instinct, and in direct imitation of something that two days ago I swore I would never do, I stuck my hands under his mouth and caught it. Um, nasty does not even begin to cover it. He seemed satisfied with himself and I had a nice handful of his dinner. I deposited it on his sheet on the floor and positioned him so that any more returns would land on his sheet and not on me. After making sure that he was done with his review of dinner I cleaned him up (easy, I wiped his mouth), folded the sheet, and ran to wash my hands. I think after that I have earned some kind of bravery medal. Who would ever expect such cute creatures to be so disgusting? :) And who knew I could catch so well with my bare hands?

You Want Me To Put My Mouth Where?

There is nothing more fun to do on a Saturday morning than to kneel on a nasty gym mat in a high school at 8 am and perform CPR on an alien-looking dummy to the sounds of mild grunting from your classmated as they too pound the crap out of this half-bodied form. Well, perhaps sleeping would be more enjoyable. Or grocery shopping with a hyperactie toddler. But my certification had expired and I do need to have these skills, so I pulled my sorry self out of bed on a beautiful Saturday morning and sat in a high school classroom that brough back creepy half-memories (my high school was more modern, and just looked a little less dingy somehow). So my dummy had the nerve to lose his arms, legs, and mot of his torso but still want CPR performed on him. I had no problem crushing his chest with enough force to snap ribs, but staring at his alien silver face with odd orb eyes and a gaping hole of a mouth I knew that there was not a chance on earth my mouth was touching that creature. There is not enough alcohol in the world to make him clean enough, especially knowing that multiple high school students have potentially been "kissing" him and depositing their germs onto him. And kids are not generally very good at cleaning things - look at their bedrooms or lockers. And with this high school having had confirmed cases of MRSA, and me having mouth sores and a compromised immune system that sealed the deal. Luckily I had contacted the teacher before hand and notified her that I wanted to take the class, but becaue of immune system issues I was not going to put my mouth on anything. In the past I have taken multiple CPR classes and not had to do the breathing component (or for one class I had been given a mouth barrier). She was fine with that and so instead of doing breaths I just properly positioned the head and leaned down. I'm sorry but I don't put my mouth on things that get around more than an heiress in Hollywood. Lets just hope if I really need to do CPR I remember to do the breaths and not just lean down and pretend!

A Victory Dance

Yesterday I had a home visit with my blue eyed boy and I decided to really put him to the test. He is our mystery child, our little one who presents with so many delays but all of the testing the doctors have conducted have revealed no answers. To anyone who first meets him, he would probably be considered to have severe disabilities limiting all areas incuding language comprehension and cognition. Yet more and more as I work with him I am seeing him make incredible progress and demonstrate that he comprehends almost everything that is said to him, and that he is learning preschool skills that are pretty age appropriate. So I took two of our color sorting boxes to his home visit yesterday. In each colored box are four items that are the same color of the box. With some positioning and assistance from his awesome mom with holiding the items against the lids of the boxes, we asked him the colors of each item using yes/no format. I was so careful to keep my tone of voice neutral so that it would not be a clue to him. The only prompt he received was that when asked "Is the (object) red?" his mother would hold up the red lid behind the object and when asked "Is the (object) yellow?" his mother would hold up the yellow lid behind the object. My blue eyed boy correctly identified 7 of the 8 items!!!!! I was amazed and stunned, and thrilled!!! We cheered, clapped, sang, and little boy blue earned a special treat. In my heart, I did the biggest victory dance! He is learning, he is aware of everything around him, he has greater comprehension than I would have imagined when I first met him a litle over a year ago and was told that he sat in a beanbag and that was about it. Now my challenge is to figure out a way to pull his comprehension out of him, to establish a communication system for a child who is nonverbal, who does not functionally use his hands, and for whom vision is unreliable. Time to get creative!!! Victory is so sweet and he has earned this one! He has earned a gold medal for this victory, for coming so far and defying expectation. I am just glad I got to come along for the ride!

What We Eat

Sitting around the lunch table yesterday with my little ones I could not help but laugh at the interesting lunches being enjoyed. First, I would like to point out that a preschool lunch is a full contact sporting event and that it is not for the brave of heart of queasy of stomach. It is never pretty and quite often what enters the mouth comes back out partially chewed after the child decides it is too hot, too cold, too big of a bite, or too yucky, or just funny to spit it back out. We are so classy! So yesterday the lunches caught my attention, probably because half of my class was absent due to illness (the only things we share willingly are germs) and I could actually sit for a moment with the kids and notice what they were eating. My little ones range from a child who is completely dependent on a g-tube to a child who wll eat anything that is pureed or soft (including spinach!) to children who bring the stereotypical American School-kid lunch (sandwich, juice, fruit, snack). What made me smile yesterday was the lunch of my new little one who seems to have autism. Her lunch consisted of choclate milk, pudding, a few slices of a mandarin orange, potato chips, and cheetos. It was the first lunch she really ate all week, other than the chips she filched from the other kids who did not want then when the school lunch had chips and salsa as a side. Somethings are worth fighting, and some are not fights to battle. Right now, I am more worried about finding functional langugage for her than I am worried about if she eats enough variety of food. I am more worried that she not continue to try to drink our paint like prechool shots or walk off the edge of the playground equipment as if she can levitate than I am that she eat vegetables. Really, I am not even concerned if she keeps her shoes on in the classroom because I have greater plans for her and if she wants to learn barefoot while eating potato chips and oranges I am willing to go along for that ride. But her lunch - it still makes me smile.

Quick Pictures

I am once again running a bit late for work. technically i do not have to be there for another hour, but if I wait that long there is no time to get the classroom ready for my 9 little ones who seem to expect toys and art materials and lessons all planned. So demanding! :) So I am just putting a few recent pictures up here that I took at two different state parks. I am having so much fun exploring both the parks and my photography. It makes me wish I had a decent camera, better photoshop, and real talent! Oh well!

Welcome to Bedlam

I may not be a genius at classroom management, but I am able to have 9 three year olds, including 7 who have special needs, walk in a line down the hallway using a guide rope (ok, so two roll). I can have 8 of them sit at circle time for as long as I want to keep them there - 1 wanders away and 1 will wander but sits each time I request so he counts with the 8. I can have them all follow my directions to open the door to outside and sit on the stairs, within visual distance of the playground, until I have reached the bottom of the ramp and signal them to join me. So why oh why is my class a disaster of total chaos and destruction when I release them to center play? Because for center play I am not in control, that falls under the domain of my "assistant". I may end up getting myself fired before the school year is over. If there is one thing that tap dances on my nerves more than just about anything else on earth (besides the obvious ones of prejudice and discrimination and calling me honey/dear/sweetheart) it is complete incompetence. The assistant that the school in their infinite wisdom hired this year to work with two classes of preschoolers who have developmental delays and disabilities has apparently never before seen a child. She is not only lacking in the skills of an assistant - how to work with groups of children, how to do crowd control, how to engage children in play that is both fun and educational, how to redirect undesired behavior- but in basic survial skills. How many times does one need to be reminded not to leave a child unattended on a changing table? I mistakenly though that was a one shot lesson. And who on earth would put on gloves to change a diaper and then use those same gloved hands to touch a child's lunch? After I gagged I quickly removed that portion of the lunch for a better location - the trash can. Today one of my little ones was screaming for an extended period of time for an unknown reason, possibly because it was the child's third day of school and the room was in chaos and the child has no means of communicating anything to us. I found that after 45 minutes of screaming my assistant is ready to do anything to get rid of the child, includng insisting that a perfectly healthy child is sick and must be sent home. Um, anyone would be sweaty and red in the face after screaming for 45 minutes. Try it sometime and see for yourself. So I am beginning to wonder if children are just a little too complex for her and we need to back up and begin with something a little simpler. Perhaps we should start with a houseplant and work our way up. In all honesty I bite my tongue so many times a day and usually at least once a day something slides right on out that probably should not have because I am so frustrated. I want to be the absolute best teacher possible for my little ones and instead of having an assistant I feel like I have another child. At least I don't have to change her diaper. I guess I should be thankful for that! But otherwise, I am basically teaching 7 children with special needs and 2 (soon to be 3) inclusion peers solo. Welcome to Bedlam where we literally climb the walls!! Hell, soon I may surrender and join them as we climb the walls and paint the floor! Hee Hee, Haa Haa, Ho Ho, Hooo Hooo!

Almost a Two Horned Day

This title is explained n a previous entry - refers to a picture that reminds me that my worst days are probably not anywhere near as bad as other poeple's bad days.

Condensed version because I have to be at school early ths morning:
* Bumped a parked car - not my fault, police officer agreed, suggested I petition department of transportation to correct the dangerous situation of the road
* covered both preschool classes yesterday because pm teacher was sick, without any break, which wul dnot have been bad but I was frazzled before I ever got to school
* new little one in class screamed (not cried, screamed) for the first 90 minutes of school; the parents did not feed the child anything that morning and did not consider this important to tell me - I found out incidentally while answering a call from them about transportation
* new little one screams any time you try to put shoes on their feet. SCREAMS like you are trying to cause serious bodily harm. I am considering a new "shoes are optional" policy
* new little one likes to drink the containers of paint like preschool shots
* the children in the afternoon class can smell weakness and by then I was worn down by the day - they were wild children
* I had a list of things I needed to do yesterday, none of which got done because I was late to work because of the car incident and because my afternoon of prep time was squashed

Redemption however came in two huge gifts:
* the owner of the car I bumped called and asked what happened. He then told me not to worry about it because he was going to have it painted anyway and that it would take a lot to damage his car. I thanked him over and over. Poor guy not only had his car bumped but when he called had to listen to my little one screaming. Anonymous sir, you are my hero!

* diet cream soda!! I have been searching for diet cream soda for over a decade and the only version I found was Faygo diet cream soda in a 20oz bottle that you have to buy individually and that is carried only by select gas stations and party stores in Michigan. That does not help me much here in Virginia, and not even very much in Michigan because they tend to sell out quickly and there is no way of knowing when they will get a new order. Yesterday at the grocery store that I use I found cans of diet cream soda - Jones diet cream soda. I bought all that I could and now know that they will be stocking it! Life is sweet again!! I am so easily swayed! :)

Return to Spender

I often find myself wondering what I could do with all of the time I have wasted in my life. Like the hours I have wasted standing in the wrong line in stores – the line I choose confident it will move faster than the other lines only to have the person ahead of me pull out a check book or the cashier be unable to read the barcode on a pack of gum and be required to call for a price check in Tibet. Or perhaps the days wasted on hold calling doctors offices, companies, and other places that really should answer my telephone call crisply and cheerfully because I am paying them for their time. Then there are the useless months spent in classes through school that I have somehow erased from my entire memory system. Apparently I spent a semester in high school taking a course in communications and all I can remember is watching My So Called Life in class each week. I also spent three years taking German and the great extent of my vocabulary is the ability to sing My Hat Has Three Corners and to ask for a beer and a cheap prostitute. So if I am ever lost in Germany I can tell you how many corners are on your hat and spend the evening in interesting company. I can not ask for the bathroom, for help, for a taxi, or for the American Embassy but I can get beer and a prostitute. But not a high quality prostitute, because apparently that was above our standards, but a dirt cheap prostitute who is likely to leave you with a parting gift you will carry for the remainder of your life. Not that I need to worry, because were I to need a prostitute it would be only in the hopes that one would speak English and be able to translate for me so I could get back to whatever demented tour group had abandoned me. I find myself wishing that this time had been better directed – perhaps on learning things that actually pertain to my life. For example, no matter what we try to tell children I have yet to use the Pythagorean theorem outside of high school yet I could have really used some instructions on how to maintain a car – like opening the hood. Perhaps a peer tutoring system would have worked – you teach me to open the hood of my car, I teach you whatever academic skills you need that my nerd brain has made an abundance of connections for while skipping over things like gas is necessary to drive your vehicle. And those German months would have been better spent in Spanish or Sign Language or Farsi or Urdu or anything other than German. As I struggle to communicate with my families that do not speak English as a first language (or as a language) using translators and creativity, I wish that I had a brain for languages. Instead I have a brain for details and English, for memory and synthesis of information. However, I have a hard enough time retrieving the right English word in mid-conversation that trying to pull another language out of my over-packed mind is like trying to find a diamond lost in a desert at night. I want my time back to reuse – to learn functional topics rather than obscure mathematics and languages that will not help me unless I want a night in Berlin that I would rather forget, to make memories rather than to fidget way in lines and on hold, to live rather than to spend on pause.

Rambling in the first real Autumn Evening

This morning was blessedly, wonderfully, amazingly cold!! I was able to wear my favorite black zip up sweater that should be retired to the donation bag but is much too cuddly and beloved to be surrendered. It is so comforting and warm and easy to wash (hey, that is a way to score huge bonus points with me) that I really don't care if it makes me look slightly like a disheveled bag lady. :) Yes, I am that pathetic. My wardrobe 98% of the time is blue jeans, a basic shirt (polo shirts are common or a "nice" t-shirt in warm weather and I love sweaters and long sleeve t-shirts in cold weather), and whatever shoes I can find in the closet that match. I am teaching children who leak, who like to decorate the teacher as much as the art project, who love to dig in the dirt and crawl on the floor and I don't want to have to worry about my clothing being damaged. I want to be able to be a hands-on, full contact, in the trenches teacher not a pretty-in-a-dress teacher who never plays with the kids because they might get messy. I have taught my kids that everything in my classroom is washable - the tables, the toys, the floor, the kids, and yes - the teacher. Have fun!! Learn, discover, make a mess!! Follow the rules, listen when I ask you to do something but let's have fun!! Shaving cream on the table is great and if you want to get it up to your armpits that is wonderful. Fingerpainting is messy but awesome - if you want to try it on my table or the chairs I am not going to yell but please do not paint your friends. Digging in dirt is fun but we never throw what we find at others. Lets see what we can learn from painting different surfaces - the textures, what colors we make, requesting, exploring, participation. What can we learn from shaving cream - sensory fun, communication, participation, shapes (drawn in the cream), parts of a face (same), so much more. If you are afraid of a mess, you miss so much. Now today when my blue eyed boy somehow overflowed his diaper and soaked both of us as we were swinging in the awesome fall weather that was not a fun mess. Thankfully we are both washable. He found it hilarious and laughed when I complained about being wet. Boys! I laughed when I had to send him home in girls pants because all he had at school were shorts and it was too cold for them. He thought about it and then laughed too. Thankfully, washable me also keeps a change of clothes at school. My little ones also had a great time today wearing monster masks (Roar!), singing 10 little monsters and waiting for me to "scare" them by roaring, and playing a game that I loved as a kid - Don't Break the Ice. I managed to keep the attention of 4 three year olds for 20 minutes and convince them to take turns and share materials with this game!! Awesome!!!!! That is like convincing four countries who are all at war with each other to cease fire, meet together, declare peace, and trade their best resources for a century. I will most definitely remember that this game is valued more than gold in our room and will be used during desperate times and when we are working on our attention spans and our sharing abilities. Right now we are working on our "Hands are not for hitting" abilities. I love that book. I also find it intersting that one of my kids completely gets time out and hates it while my peer model, my typical peer who is supposed to demonstrate proper behavior but ends up hitting the other child back, does not care a bit if I resort to time out. I am sounding like my mother too - "I know he hit you but you can not hit him back. Tell a big person that he hit you. Go play with a different toy. Tell him no. But do NOT hit him." Gee, that sounds familiar. She cursed me when she told me that some day I would understand everything she said - I so understand it and now i am saying it not to a child of mine but to ten children that are "mine". But my brother still has the real payback in my spitfire of a niece. Little Bit is paybacks for anything either one of us ever did as a child and more. She is 30 pounds of solid attitude. I miss my Little Bit. And now that I have written a completely free flowing, good luck trying to connect the dots entry I am going to go enjoy the first real autumn evening with a cup of hot tea, my favorite fuzzy blanket, and an old favorite book. Autumn is my favorite season.

Two Horned Bad

I have a new frame of reference for a bad day. I was looking through a magazine that I picked up at the store recently because I have been too lazy (actually, too busy is a better description) to mail back my books to receive new ones. Inside was a picture of what I would describe as a true bad day. It involves the running of the bulls in Spain which has never made any sense to me, and I almost always cheer for the bulls to take out as many people as possible before they are brutally slaughtered. Anyway, this picture made me feel the pain of the stupid people that decide that running in front of an armed and angry animal might be a fun way to spend a morning. This awesome bull caught the best hit of his life and managed to stick two guys on his horns at the same time and got them both by ramming his horns up their rears. Now THAT is a bad day to be skewered onto a bulls horn by your rear end and then to look over and see that on his other horn, that's your brother. That is a two horned bad day. I may have to deal with the occasional rampaging preschooler or tempremental parent, but the odds are greatly in my favor that I am not going to end up with a horn in my rear. It will take a lot to make it a two horned bad day. For the bull, well it was the worst day of his poor cud chewing heart. I bet there was a great BBQ somewhere shortly afterwards and I wonder if those guys at least got a piece of him in return.....

Amidst the Storm

******* The Lumps, Bumps, Knots, Tumors, Whatever you call them do not appear to be cancerous!!*******

Nothing clearly showed up on the CT scans and the MRI so further testing was done. The bone scan did not show any significant abnormalities and the Chest X-ray done several months ago when my ribs started to really hurt was clear. At this point it is believed that the tumor clearly visible in my arm is an abnormal lipoma, the issue with my ribs is falling into the "we have no idea" category and we wll monitor and rescan as needed in 6 months, the issue on my hip is being ocnsidered an abnormal lipoma and will be followed up with my ribs, and the abnormality on my lungs is to be rescanned in 6 months to make sure it is stable and not growing. The sweet words that there are no signs of malignancy are precious indeed. For once, I don't mind falling into the odd category of not having answers. At some point I may push for a biopsy of my arm to guarantee that it is indeed a funky lipoma - especially if it grows any further. Right now, it is sweet and awesome to be released from that fear. This is a joy in the storm of my life. Last night I was in tears because it seemed like once again I had become a lightning rod for any and all things abnormal and freakish. First I had to spend a half hour sorting out the fact that my payment that I sent three weeks ago had never reached my credit crd company and thus they had added over $100 of late charges to my account. The hassle of canceling payment on the missing check, explaining that I had indeed made an effort to pay the account and that my check was out there somewhere, bouncing from department to department at the bank, finally having the late fees removed, then neogitiating payment of two months fees at once. Then I drove out to my awesome sign language class that I am taking and drove back, making it home just as the rain started. I pulled into my parking spot, put the car in park, turned off the ignition, put the keys in my pocket, exited the vehicle and discovered that MY CAR WAS STILL RUNNING! Um, crap! I got back in and retried the standard maneuvers. No success. My car was running without me. I called for assistance from my father and we discovered a few things: 1) it would not stall, 2) it would not turn off no matter what I tried and 3) I can not open the hood on my own car. I am ashamed of being the absolue female stereotype when it comes to cars. Finally after 30 minutes it sputtered to a stop and after kicking it for good measure I emptied it of anything that I liked in case it might explode during the night. So I had to arrange a ride to work this morning because I am so not geting back into a car that does not turn off before it is fixed. Then this morning I had to negotiate towing for my car and convince them that it is still under warranty for roadside assistance and please tow it even though I will be at work, I will leave the keys in the glove box and pray someone steals it. So all morning at work I was receiving calls about my car while teaching. Nice and professional. I have the best principal who not only understood about the cell phone calls but arranged to have someone give me a ride to my critical doctor's appointment this afternoon so I would not have to try t call a cab or cancel my appointment. My school - it is the best school on earth!! We may not have the newest building or the fanciest equipment but we have the best people. So in the midst of the car chaos and the stress over this doctor's appointment and issues with some of my kids that I can not discuss, I noticed that my kidneys are showing signs that perhaps they are tryng to rebel against the establishment. For example, yesterday I drank a glass of water before work. Then at lunch I had a large iced green tea at Panera Bread and refilled the cup with water which I also drank. Then I had a large (huge) iced coffee from McDonalds on my way to my class. I also drank a glass of apple cider while teaching. I came home and had some water. I went to the bathroom twice all day. From 5 am yesterday morning until 5 am this morning. Me thinks that is not normal. My legs are swelling and pitting - I had a nice pattern from the carpet at cirle time over an hour after circle time was over. Nice. Finally it is possible I may have been having pain in my right lower back that I have been ignoring. Maybe. So today the doctor was nice enough to run the kidney labs and have me donate a urine sample (the nly time I have gone today except for when I first woke up - I am sure you wanted to know all about my peeing). I will get the results tomorrow. So now I have to wonder a bit if the lupus has decided that remission is not qute its style and that my kidneys are tempting. This would suck because otherwise, I feel good. I am able t do more than I have done in years. I have been hiking, I have been playing with my kids on the playground more than ever, I am truly happy with my life even as all these things are thrown at me. I may owe credit card companies and incredible supporters more money than I think I can every repay, I may pay more for prescription medication a month than I pay for my car, I may have $600 in car repairs this month (which my awesome father is taking care of without me asking him - I am blessed), I may be damaged goods and I may take more detours than routes but I love my life. I have the best job on earth with some of the bravest, strongest, sweetest, most incredible children. I work at a school that appreciates my job and my children - my children are treated as individuals with value, not annoyances, not cute little pets, not "freaks". I am discovering more and more that I have people that I can consider friends and that find the good in me. I have things that I am passionate about that bring me great joy - writing, reading, photography, hiking and being outdoors, being with friends, exploring new ways to help my children meet their greatest potential. I have a newly growing understanding of what my beliefs are and where they are rooted. There may be a storm raging around me and life may seem to be really hard, but amidst the storm I am finding great treasures and moments of pure joy. It sounds pathetically sappy but I am convinced I am where I belong. There may be clouds and thunder, rain and lightning, but there are also times of such pristine beauty and incredible joy that I would not trade this detour for any straight and clear road on earth. I am finding that I love to dance amidst the storm.*

* I am so not Pollyanna, but I am also incredibly amazed at the way that in the midst of incredible stresses everything fell into place today. I had the support I needed from people who hardly know me but have decided I am a "good person", something I am only beginning to see in myself. My greatest stress of all was lifted not when I wanted but when it was the perfect time. This was not what I wanted at all, not what I had planned, but it led me to a different and almost better place. No one promised life would be fair but I am learning to laugh, to celebrate, and to dance anyway. I am learning so much from my little ones. It is an honor to be their teacher, even if I do end up sounding like Polyanna instead of the woman who stood outside in the rain yesterday cursing and kicking her car. :)

Clue Jr.

Yesterday one of my typical peers, Goldilocks, decided out of nowhere to hit another child upside the head. I know this because he was screaming and pointing to her. She was sitting there trying very hard to look innocent, but when I asked her if she hit Devon she answered very matter of factly "yeah". I informed her that hitting was a bad choice and that hands are not for hitting. Because she made a bad choice she would have to sit in the thinking chair to think of a better choice (for most of the remainder of my class it is simply the time out chair). When she was sitting in her thinking chair we had the following conversation:

Me:"Goldilocks, why did you hit Devon?"
G: "With a duck."
Me: "But WHY did you hit him?"
G: "On the head"
Me: "But what made you hit Devon with the duck?"
G: "By the doll house."
Me: Goldilocks, we are not playing clue here! I know Goldilocks did it with the duck by the dollhouse. I need to know WHY you did it, what did he do that made you hit him?"
G: "I'm very sorry."
Me: I'm glad you are sorry but you still have two minutes in the chair to think about why it is a bad choice to hit friends. I want you to tell me a better choice."

Two minutes later
Me: "Goldilocks, you can get up now"
G: "Ohhhh. Okay."
Me:" What is a better choice than hitting a friend?"
G: "No duck."

Okay, so round one we played the strangest version of Clue Jr I have ever played. Round two, apparently if you are going to hit someone just remember "No Duck". I then walked over to the toy shelves so she could nt see me laughing. She is my dreamy, quirky, funny, sweet, clever child. And No duck!

1000 Words

These are a few pictures from my last hiking trip. I thought they were interesting. That, and I wanted to add something else here and am running out of time. :)

Consider

Consider the fact that for three and a half hours a day I will have possession of your child. Consider that I will determine what they learn at school, what skills we focus on, what communication strategies we utelize, what materials they access, and what experiences they encounter. Consider that you have to trust me with your child for those three and a half hours with nothing more than my notes home to you and your non-verbal child to tell you how the day has gone. Consider the fact that there are eight children with special needs in my class competing for my attention and that I work extremely hard to make sure everyone's needs are met at all times. Consider that my telephone conversation with you, the child's parent, is taking place before I have even met the child and my brain is automatically forming opinions and conclusions based on our conversation whether I want it to or not because that is how we are hard wired as human beings. Consider the fact that I am going to be appearing in your home every other week for the remainder of the school year, either like a long lost friend or a thorn in your rear depending on how our relationship turns out. Consider all of this carefully before you start to insult me during our very first telephone conversation as I schedule a time to enroll your child in school. Consider that perhaps it might not be appropriate to question if I am "old enough to teach" or if I "will look older when we meet you" because those are not questions that are likely to win you a friend. Consider that informing me that I sound like I am fifteen on the telephone is not going to assist your cause any and might just cause you to sound like a creepy dirty man. Consider that no school district is going to hire "a teenager" to teach a class of beautiful, precious, adorable, and very intense children with special needs. Consider that in order to be a teacher you do indeed have to go to college ad have one of those nifty paper thingys they call a degree and yes, by gosh, I did get me one of them. Consider that it is also inappropriate and rude to ask me about my nationality, especially after I have just been interrogated about my age and education. Consider that perhaps, just perhaps, you could have waited until you saw me before deciding that I was "too young to be a teacher" and questioning me about it. Consider that now, I am leary of you and while I still look forward to teaching your child I dread having to deal with you in the future. Consider that you may have just earned your self the Creepy Parent of the Year award, and it is only October. Just Consider.

This Job, It Can Bite

Preschool kids look sweet and innocent. They are so cute that to anyone passing our mob in the hallway - because really, we are not likely going to achieve a line anytime soon - wants to sneak one into their classroom for a while. I agree that they are adorable, charming, engaging, precious, and the best part of my day but they are also far from the innocent little angels that many people want to make them out to be. We have our days when becoming a lion tamer at the circus seems like a safer and calmer job choice. My blue eyed boy started biting a few weeks ago and in spite of everything I had tried managed to take a front tooth sized piece out of me on Tuesday. He does make a very cute little vampire, but I prefer not to be his afternoon snack. So yesterday I worked with several wonderful experts to come up with a plan to avoid being taste tested and to reduce the biting. I still love him to pieces, as I love all my little ones, and I am sort of happy to see him doing this. He is tryng to express frustration at times by biting, which I hope to redirect to communication, and he is testing limits and being defiant at others which is nice to see in a child that many underestimate. The little vampire- he has attitude, he has spirit, he is a little bit punk and I love it. Just not so much when he shows it by chewing a hole into me. :)

FYI

If you are in any way trying to receive money from me do not call me "honey", do not call me "dear", do not call me "sweetheart" and do not call me "hun". If you call on the telephone, I seriously advise against asking if my mother is home. She is at home - in Michigan. I highly recommend that you avoid whatever evil urge drives you to talk to me like I am still in diapers and high chairs and instead use your "big boy/girl voice". Don't worry, I can take it. But if you call me "dear" one more time? I may just have to kick you in the knees.

24 Hours

It is amazing the differences that can develop in a 24 hour period. On Saturday I spent the day at a nearby state park hiking trails, enjoying the sweet sunshine and beautiful weather. I ended up hiking approximately 5 miles and the last 1.5 miles was done at an all-out push because I spooked myself. On Sunday I spent the entire day curled up on the couch unable to gather myself enough to do anything more than basic necessities, and even those were a challenge. A shower - forget about it, that was way beyond my capabilities. Microwaving food was a stretch, as was pulling words from some distant part of my brain all the way to my mouth and speaking them. The difference? Two little white pills that my insurance company decided would now require prior authorization before I would be given them. Did I receive any warning? Nope. I called the refill in on Saturday and was notified that my insurance would not cover it until they received prior authorization. Um, my doctor is closed until Monday and I am all out of those little white pills. After muttering a few words I would not use around my little ones I tried to call my insurance company, only to be told that they would open at 9am on Monday. Well, without these pills I cannot drive and it would not be wise for me to be responsible for other lives. Crap! I had to take a day off of work because my insurance company sucks!! So today once I could force my body out of bed I made a few phone calls. By 11:00am the prescription was filled. After making those phone calls I promptly fell back asleep on the couch until I used every effort to force myself awake at 2:00pm. Then I had to tackle the shower - I never knew a shower took so much energy. I will not reveal how the medicine got from the pharmacy to my house, only that it is here now and tomorrow morning I will blessedly return from the world of the sleepwalkers to a real live person. The reason I did not purchase the prescription out of pocket - those precious little white pills cost somewhere around $10 per pill and I take two a day. I don't happen to have that kind of money lying around. Right now I am functioning at a minimum because of the three pots of coffee (4 cup pots) that I have consumed since 2:00pm. Oh yeah, great for a heart that is prone to arrhythmias!! But its either that or I hibernate until morning. These pills are the only reason I can live anything like a normal life, and I am so appreicative to be living in a place where I have access to the "village" of medications that it takes to keep this damaged and dysfunctional body working. It is truly better living through science!! And I am sure that tomorrow morning when I am able to take my medication, the difference in the 24 hours between then and now will be just as amazing. what a difference a day makes...

Sweet Victory Lap

My blue eyed boy is the only student that I had last year who is also in my class this year. He is my "repeat offender". I adore all of my children and blue eyes is a terrific child to have as a repeat student. We recently changed which gait trainer he uses because the previous one needs to be converted to scrap metal and spare parts. The new one is an amazig upgrade, so much better, and because it is different it is like starting over again. So today I decided to run with the good mood he was in and into the gait trainer he went. Well by the time I have all of the straps in place the cutie looks a bit like Pinnochio before the strings are cut but he is standing very nicely. So then comes the time for my song and dance routine. Literally. In order to motivate him to take steps, and not scream like I am engaging in a secret ancient torture method, I jump around, clap my hands, cheer, dance, tickle, and sing. Yes, the other children back away slowly and give me the look that says perhaps they need to refer me for some services. But, today my little one with the blue eyes and stubborn temper took steps in the new gait trainer and laughed, smiled, and gave me his wicked sideways grin. So we took a well earned victory lap around the classroom with me as the clown leading the parade and sweet boy as the best, brightest attraction taking it step by step. Success one smile, one laugh, one step at a time. Sweet, sweet victory!!

Homesick

The end of September brings memories of high school football games starting, of leaves changing color, of crisp mornings and nice autmn afternoons. It does not bring to mind temeratures near 90 degrees, humdity, and the need to wear shorts. I am homesick for a true autumn - one where you sit bundled up in blankets and layers at a small town football game and the longest lines are the ones for hot chocolate and coffee. One where you taste a crisp bite in the air, smell leaves being burned, and feel snug inside a fuzzy sweatshirt. Instead, so far it is August repeated over and over. I am just a bit homesick. These pictures are of an awesome sunset I watched while "back home" in Michigan this summer. I also miss being in a town small enough that there are not always bright lights and crowded living to block your views.
I miss where and, a bit, what I used to be.

Winged Things

This afternoon I decided at the last minute to go to a state park that is not far from my house. It was a beautiful day, far to nice to just spend inside doing laundry and sitting around. So instead I hiked a trail that is around 1.5 miles, give or take for my wrong turn. Along the wrong turn was this bright yellow bush and sitting on it was this little prima donna of a butterfly. She posed for me for over ten minutes and allowed me to get so close I was almost touching her with the camera. It was awesome!! I have thirteen great pictures of her, some with other insects in the picture and some solo. On my return trip by the bush once I discovered I had made a wrong turn she had been joined by her entire family as a dozen or more butterflies filled the air. They were not divas or prima donnas and refused to stay put long enough for me to get anything resembing a decent picture. It was amazing though to be surrounded by so many butterflies going everywhich way! This little one - she is my new best friend!

False Advertising

It is not just incredibly rude but dangerous to tease an exhausted teacher in search of caffeine with a huge Starbucks sign only to have there be a tiny sign in the window of the store (not visible from the road) that says "coming soon". It is not wise to tease one with such a desperate need for both sugar and caffeine that arises from having spent hours trying to contain and then educate preschoolers who want nothing more than to escape whatever limits you provide. Even moreso when said teacher still has a two hour class to attend that requires participation and attention. Starbucks, you have disappointed me. I was willing to sacrifice my soul and more money than you are worth to partake in your over-caffeinated and super-sweet coffee but you were not there. You led me on like a bad date and then dumped me when I needed you the most. Shame on you! So I turned you your closest competition for a rebound and was satisfied with my ice cream based, still heavily caffeinated coffee beverage and drove off to my meeting knowing that I don't need you Starbucks. You are not the only coffee in the sea of caffeine. So there! (Oh, I will see you in two weeks on my way to class - do you think you will be open by then?)

Invisible

I am both incredibly blessed and incredibly cursed with the fact that even though millions of cells inside my body have decided to try to overthrow the establishment there are no outward signs of war. There is no way to look at me and tell that it quite literally takes a village to keep me alive - a village of doctors, nurses, phlebotomists and lab technicians, pharmacists, drug manufacturers, chemists, researchers, and of course family members and friends. It is an incredible blessing because I am allowed to enter into the world on the other side without notice, I am able to keep secret all that rages inside and create an illusion of normalicy. There is an opportunity for others to see me and know me before I reveal to them the rest of my life. I can be more than the quick label of "the sick girl" or "the girl with lupus". Sometimes that illusion is a wonderful blessing because it is an escape for me, a chance to let myself completely forget this reality and submerge myself in the world beyond, in a place where life is not such a balancing act and there can be an easiness. Yet sometimes the illusion is a burden and a weight. When I am having a hard time it is difficult for others to comprehend what is going on because on the outside I appear no different. I am able to "fake it" through the day so it is hard for others to understand why I then go home and collapse into exhaustion instead of going out, running here and there, and being social. Being a good actress and unblemished by the war within makes it confusing - I can chase after my little ones all day and dance with them at circle time but I can not manage to join in with something after work? How do I explain just how much it costs me to do my job, to do what I love and to give everything I have to those little ones every day? How do I decide where the balancing point is in revelation - how much do I share so that others understand who I am and where I am coming from and how much do I keep hidden so that I can have some pretense of normalicy, some refuge from the pity that I detest? Sometimes I think it would be easier if there were something visible that let people know what I have to throw into my bag and carry along each day. Not because I want them to treat me any different, but because then maybe they would understand why I am the way I am - why some days I have lots of energy and others I am just trying to make it through, why I don't always participate in events, why it seems like I sometimes keep to myself, why I am so determined to live here and now, why I can look so good and feel so bad. And then I am thankful for the fact that in spite of everything I do look so good and it is so invisible, for the fact that I can hide it and go out into the world and live at least part of my life as if there were not those issues, for the fact that what looks so horrible written on paper looks so much better in person. A curse can be a blessing, a blessing a curse, amd both a gift when they are invisible.

Free Piggies

Toddler sandals are extremely aerodynamic and fly pleasingly when tossed from a school bus window traveling at 45 mph. Or so I have been told through a series of nods, gestures, and excited squeals by one of the little ones at school this week. The bus driver filled in the gaps as best she could and amongst us all we created an interesting picture. Little boy is picked up first on that bus route and has a decent bus ride to school, so he was nestled all snug in his seat when visions of flying sandals danced in his head. Visions soon blossomed into a full-fledged plan and the bustle of traffic lured him into action. He quickly escaped from his sandals, a skill he has possessed since last school year when I cursed those shoes under my breath and imagined every scenario of destruction but this one. Then with a sudden burst of dexterity he tossed them out the window behind him and set them free to find their own way in the world. He watched them soar and then contentedly wiggled his free piggies, no longer stuck inside of any form of shoe. Some time after their liberation the bus attendant realized that little boy's toes were not in shoes and asked him where he had put his sandals. With great pride he pointed out the window and began to laugh. Thus he arrived at school barefoot and quite proud of himself. We did not know whether to laugh or to scold him and secretly we were celebrating the demise of those wretched sandals. I can only imagine what the driver of the car behind the bus saw because little boy is so small you can not see him in the seat - all they would have seen is an "empty" bus driving down the road and then suddenly two tiny shoes flying out the window. The story they were able to tell that evening at dinner must have been unbelievable!! Poor little boy thought he was going to be able to be barefoot all day at school - surprise! I have quite the stockpile of spare clothing this year and it includes shoes. His free piggies were very quickly strapped back inside of a pair of shoes. However, I made sure that the shoes were taken back one he got on the bus to go home just in case the sound of traffic seduced him again on the way home and he just had to set his piggies free!

Cheap and Easy

I discovered yesterday that while there are many things that can frustrate me during the course of the day, there are even more things that bring moments of joy. Most often these moments come not from big events but from the littlest things. It really does not take much to amuse me, to entertain me, and to bring a bit of joy to a day. Below is a small list of yesterday's moments that made me smile.

* No line at Chipotle when I finally had a chance to go get a meal after work (my first meal of the day at 4:30pm so is it breakfast, lunch or dinner? brunner?)

* making it to the gas station (and thank God for the bright red Idiot Light that reminds me that yes, genius, the car does indeed need gas)

* seeing one of my little ones from last year come to her first day of school this year

* being able to carry three lunch trays down the hall and not spilling a drop

* listening to an adult try in vain to correct the grammer of a three year old

* finishing a three step (over three days) art project with all of my little ones

* watching my little ones swing on their stomachs and "work up the courage" to lift up their legs

** seeing the other children at school say hi to my little ones and treat them not just with tolerance but acceptance and appreciation!!! This will make my day, week, month, and year!!

A Rose By Any Other Name...

Would a rose by any other name smell as sweet? Would it be as alluring if it was called stinkweed instead? What about if every time you smelled it you sneezed and coughed? How much of what we think "smells good" is cultural, how much is learned, and how much is hard-wired into everyone? I would hope that spoiled food smells bad to everyone, but for years my brother would eat things that had more hair on them than Robin Williams and claim that they were still good. My theory that dirty diapers smell bad to everyone is shot down by the kids who wear them in total oblivion to the fact that they can clear an entire room just by entering with that loaded weapon. Trash composting and turning nasty in the hot sun seems to smell bad to most people, but I am sure there are exceptions. Culturally I know that there are things that some of my friends thought smelled great that I did not like, usually related to foods although perfume choice was sometimes different too. I liked that what I thought smelled good sometimes smelled bad to them too. Personally, I hate the smell of banana. I like eating bananas, but a strong banana smell is enough to make my throat close up. Freaky until you realize that for almost a year I had to take a liquid medication three times a day that was flavord with a horrid banana flavoring to try to mask its undrelying nastiness. I also can not stand the smell of regular/vanilla pediasure, ensure, or slimfast (it smells too much like the first two). Odd until you consider the number of tube feedings I have run with those products, the number of times I have had a child later return them to me, and the fact that the last child I tube fed is no longer here. I like the smell of baby formula on a baby's breath when it is warm, sweet, and sometimes just a hint off of fresh. It reminds me of all of the times I would take care of Lil' Bit and how fast she is growing up (my niece), as well as all of the little ones I watched when in school. I like the smell of a car when it is extremely hot in the summer, so hot that you can hardly stand to be inside of the car and you want to blast the air conditioning higher than ever before. For some reason I can not explain, that heat combined with the rich warm smell reminds me that I am physically, in-my-body alive more than just about any other single, random experience. I know, I am odd. I also love the smells of fresh cut grass (in spite of allergies), fresh brewed coffee, baby powder, vanilla, and butterscotch candies as they melt on someone's breath. I strongly dislike the smell of bleach, the smell of rubbing alcohol, and the smell of muddy ground (it smells like worms). My favorite smell though is one that is hard to explain - it is the smell of a preschooler who has had a great day at school and is giving you a hug goodbye or cuddling with you to read a book or sitting on your lap to color a picture or swinging with you outside. Sometimes there is a bit of baby powder smell, often No More Tears shampoo, a hint of milk, some left over bits of whatever smells we used (i.e. fingerpaint, shaving cream), outdoors, and the final traces of those baby smells all combined. So would a rose by any other name smell as sweet? Do I really care? Smell it - if you like it call it whatever you want and enjoy. If not, well call it stinky and find something better to stick your nose into. :)

But I can't Juggle...

Tomorrow I have an appointment with a new hematologist (also an oncologist). My first reason for going is that my current primary care doctor has been unable to control the rat poison levels for the Lupus Anticoagulant and I am getting tired of changing doses so often. I am also tired of having to drive so far for a finger stick, especially when the level is never right. When I moved here my level was stable and had not needed to be adjusted in 6 months - it has not been stable in over a year. So task one is to get the PT/INR under control so that it is safer and I can stop spending half of the time hiding bruises. The second reason for going is that no one seems able to explain these lumps that continue to make their presence known and I would like a final answer. I am hoping that it will be easy to determine that they are benign and they can be dealt with without any major difficulty. I just need concrete answers. Especially with the lump on my ribs now sticking out close to an inch when I take a deep breath in (when my ribs are most prominent) and my ribs are aching more and more often. I am feeling like a broken record here - and if I could not actually see these lumps I would question my sanity. I am hesitant to say too much about them tomorrow because with the scans not showing enough to be helpful I am unsure what he is going to think, but I need someone to be willing to help, to find an answer, and to not be quick to dismiss things. With my history I am often a doctor's worst nightmare - just taking a history takes forever. Ugh! Sometimes I wish that I could just deal with "normal" things for a while - but then I realize that this is normal for me. Normal is juggling what you have been given and praying that whatever you drop is going to bounce instead of explode. So I am tossing things up into the air like mad, trying to catch them as they fall, and desperately praying that whatever I miss bounces instead of exploding into chaos all around me. Sounds normal to me! With that in mind I am going to throw tomorrow's appointment up into the air and we shall see if I catch it, if it bounces, or if it explodes. If you happen to see me running, try to keep up!! :)

Fringe Benefits

There are the typical things that go along with being a teacher, both positive and negative, that I think anyone can readily imagine. The smiles and hugs, the crayon drawings, the not-always-happy parents, the paperwork. Then there are the unexpected fringe benefits, the things that they never tell you about in college and that you never imagine but that you discover in the course of teaching. I have written down some of the most unexpected fringe benefits and, well, let's just say that no matter what happens at the end of the day I laugh, I smile, and I love my job more than any other on earth.

* little handprints in fingerpaint on your pants
* a free food taster to check your lunch for any potential dangers
* a wealth of information on head lice, ring worm, thrush, pink eye, chicken pox, and other contageous yuckies
* the ability to get lost even after consulting mapquest, google maps, and the stack of maps on my bookshelf - and to laugh at myself as I make my tenth u-turn
* an appreciation of the amazing joy of tiny things - the beauty of a single leaf, the excitement of making a toy light up, the thrill of swinging, the freedom of dancing with your arms out wide
* a collection of kleenex in your pocket and the excitment of "the luck of the draw" as you reach in to discover which are used and which are clean
* the ability to change a diaper in under 30 seconds while wearing gloves
* the rush of seeing a child accomplish a skill for the very first time - this is better than anything on earth!
* a guaranteed good night sleep - this is a hidden cure for insomnia!
* a reason to dress up for halloween
* an opportunity to celebrate every holiday big time - we party all month long. :)
* no need to wonder where that bruise came from
* an excuse for the stains on my clothes at the end of the day (what? I didn't spill lunch on my own shirt! :oP )
* a chance to see real change in a little life