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

Please Tell Me They Didn't Let Her Procreate...

There is logic, there are job related skills, and then there is knowledge that is so fundamental and basic to species survival that one would think that anyone reaching adulthood with the capacity to hold down a job would possess it. This is the kind of knowledge that I tend to expect from those around me. I will roll my eyes at the lack of logic - you mean you didn't expect him to wipe the fingerpaint on your clothes? I will try my best to teach you job or context related skills if you stumble into my world and lack them. But if you are responsible for taking care of one of my little ones and you fail to possess that fundamental survival knowledge, please do not look at me in surprise when I am not quite so patient. For example, if you place a three year old on a changing table to change their diaper and then walk across the room to throw their diaper away LEAVING THEM on the changing table? I am going to react a bit. I might ask you what you are doing and before allowing you to answer prompt you to get back over by the child. I might even raise my voice as I try to emphatically tell you that you can not EVER leave a child alone on a changing table because children - they move...they wiggle...they fall...they smack their heads open on the floor...they need stiches and CT scans and Lord only knows what else. How does a seemingly functional adult not realize that leaving a wiggly kid on a high surface is a really bad idea? And please tell me she did not ever receive a child of her own to take home to test these theories on!

Breathe, Breathe

In just about two hours the bell at school will ring and hundreds of children will come pouring through the doors whether we are ready or not. I have a sinking feeling that I am going to be leaning more towards the "not" section of that last statement. There are still boxes in the classroom that I need to unpack or at leat shove somewhere this morning to give the illusion that we are organized and unpacked. There are no pictures on any of the bulletin boards, there is no picture schedule unless I find last years and fudge it with that one for the first few days, there are few pictre symbols, and I will be scrambling to label cubbies this morning. I am not yet familiar with the kids IEPs and will be doing good if I can keep their name's straight. Have I mentioned that I am a perfectionist and that I need to be in total control at all times? I have no words to explain how much this is bothering me, the lack of organization, the fact that so much is unfinished, and the fact that today is going to be so much more than organized chaos and there is not a single darn thing I can do about it. Perhaps if I had not had to unpack an entire classroom wile attending so many meetings while trying to orient the new afternoon teacher while working with an assistant who seems nice enough but most likely does not know on which end of a child to put a diaper let alone how to owkr with children who ahve special needs while trying to organize my files and information while trying to contact parents while schedling and doing home visits everything would have gotten done. This is just my second year ever teaching and last year, well that was trial by fire. Yet no one remembers this except me and now not only am I treading water alone I am supposed to teach everyone I work with how to swim. Has anyone seen my floaties? I am sure once I can fall into a routine and get organized I will feel much better but right now, when my little ones cry for their mommy this morning, inside I will be doing the same thing. :o) My goal for today is to breathe and to enjoy whatever happens and to get to know these beautiful, wonderful, one-of-a-kind children that have been entrusted to me. When I focus on them, the other stuff does not seem very important at all.

Suck It Up And Deal

Have you ever seen a dog that has been chasing its own tail around and around in a circle and suddenly discovers that it has managed to catch it? That look of confusion and shock and total bewilderment as to what has happened? And you know the dog is wondering how the heck it ended up with a nasty hunk of fur in its mouth when it was chasing this wonderful glimpse of utopia just a moment before. Right now I am spitting fur and turning slowly in circles trying to make sense of everything. This week has been the standard chaos of getting ready for the return of school, only with the added enjoyment of having to unpack an entire preschool classroom inbetween meetings and home visits and more meetings and calling parents and reviewing files and more meetings. Unpacking a standard elementary school classroom inolves probably a dozen boxes, a few tables, some files, and desks. Preschool, we are like your grandmother who comes to visit for a week but brings enough crap to stay until the end of the decade. We had literally over fifty boxes not to mention all of the equipment and oversized items that would nto fit into boxes. Imagine trying to keep up to 12 young preschoolers entertained for 4 hours a day five days a week for 9 months out of the year in a single room without television, without DVDs, and while instructing them in meeting a whole laundry list of goals. It takes a LOT of stuff. Our art supplies alone fill two cupboards and three drawers and we have more somewhere. I also had the pleasure of assembling several items, and let's just say that when they fall apart I pray no children are in the area. My building skills are relegated to towers of wooden blocks that teeter and fall when a child breathes on them. School starts Tuesday morning and our classroom is not ready. It will be in "fake it" ready mode by the time the bell rings, after I arrive at 6:30am and work my butt off, but it will not be anywhere near where it should be. At this point it is the best we can do and any complaints can be directed to anyone but me. I worked my butt off and endured two autonomic crashes to get the room even functional. Besides, the first week is chaos no matter how well you plan and how perfectly every toy is on every shelf and every picture on every wall. It is about getting to know the children, establishing a routine, and calming down the incredibly protective and concerned parents (I understand that they are giving me their children for 4 hours a day and I really am honored, I take my responsibility very seriously, and I will do almost anything to make the transition easier but hovering in the room the entire first week - so not helping here!). I do need to find or create our picture schedule as soon as possible and get some picture symbols out for children to use. Fine details, like labeling the centers and toy shelves, can be done during the first few weeks. I am working with a new teacher and a new assistant who have not done this before - I am only one woman! :) Besides, I really want to get to know my little ones more than I want to worry about having the pictures on the shelves or the schedule just right. I would rather establish a great relationship with them from the beginning than have an immaculate and exactly organized room. I can organize, label, and "pretty up" the room anytime but I can only form that inital bond with them once. I have a great group of kids this year and I am so excited. I do wish I had taken Spanish in school instead of German because I don't forsee needing to order a beer or a prostitute anytime soon (the extend of my German - bad teacher!) but I could really use the ability to talk with my little ones!
Along the lines of having to just suck it up and deal I finally made an appointment with a hem./onc. The first reason is because my current primary doctor is holding my rat poison (coumadin) hostage until I have a PT/INR done because I am slightly (two months) overdue. Details, details. It is just too inconvenient to drive 45 minutes each way for a fingerstick, especially when he can not get the blasted level stable anyway. This doctor is ten minutes way from where I live and hopefully can get things balanced. Second reason is the fact that no matter how hard I use my magical thinking I cannot make the lumps and bumps disappear. My ribs hurting is getting a little annoying when I am trying to work in the classroom and I need to know that it will not progress to the point where it makes it too hard to lift children. I also would really like an answer as to what these things are, but that might be like asking for the winning lotto ticket at this point. So as much as I want to just ignore them and pretend they are not there I need to address the issue. Summer break was nice but it is time to get back into life.

On Paper I Should Be Dead

Earlier this week I called in one batch of my prescriptions to be refilled at the local pharmacy and after work on Thursday I decided to make a quick trip through the drive through to pick them up. There's nothing like taking the last dose of your anti-narcolepsy medication to encourage you to get your butt to the pharmacy. So I pulled up to the window and was greeted by someone I had never seen before. Ahhh, the innocence of fresh meat. I provided her with my name, spelling it out carefully to avoid the issue of "we don't have anyone by that name in the computer". She then asked me how many prescriptions I was picking up. With an evil glint in my eye I told her that there shoudl be somewhere around eight or nine but that when you are calling in that many prescriptions late at night you tend to lose count. Blinking she backed away from the window and headed off to find my stockpile. Returning she held up the bags and informed me that there were seven (my doctor is holding one hostage until I show up for labwork - go figure, two months late and he becomes a little testy). The price seemed to send her pretty brown eyes spinning just a bit and I asked her if they ever had a buy one get one free sale. It was when she ran my debit card, with my picture and name on it, that she made the connection that all of the medications were mine. I could see the exact minute because those brown eyes just about smacked into my car windshield. She gasped and stuttered out "Are all these medications for you?!?". I nodded and with a wicked grin replied "that's not all of them either." I then calmly returned her eyes to her so she could print the receipt. I used the standard line to reassure her, "I lost the genetic lottery" and then left her wondering with the parting line "Don't worry, on paper I should be dead". Something tells me that the next time I need to pick up a batch of medication, I will not need to spell my name for her. :)

Magical Thinking

Yesterday I ate dinner at 8:30pm because I had been working at school all day and managed to trigger a decent autonomic crash by the afternoon. Normally that would have meant that the rest of the day was spent lying either in bed or on the couch semi-conscious but yesterday that was not an option. Instead I chugged an incredible amount of caffeine to try and force my blood pressure and heartrate back up towards normal, took a dose of pain medication to try to combat the incredible headache, and laid flat just long enough for everythng to balance again (i.e. vision to return to normal from headache, shaking to stop, headache to settle to a dull background noise). Then it was back to work. I love my job and would never want to do anything other than teach/work with children but this is a job that has no set hours and that you almost always bring home with you. I finally stopped working around 11:00 pm and crawled into bed. I was awake at 5:30 am. I predict that my body has at least one attempt at a temper tantrum today because against my will it demands a lot more sleep than it got last night. Today I will be prepared with caffeine and tylenol in my bag (tylenol is kind of a joke but I refuse to take anything stronger at work). This week before school starts is spent chasing yourself - a meetinghere and here and here, a parent visit there, an entire classroom to unpack, an assistant who has never worked with preschool before and has no idea what she is in for this year. I am really regreting the three years I wasted takig German in high school and wishing that I had been smart enough to realize that I would need Spanish a great deal more here in America than I would need to be able to order a beer an a prostitute in Berlin (my German teacher is a whole other long story).
So amidst all of this chaos I am working hard at the magical powers of my mind. As long as I do not accept that my body is revolting against me then there is nothing wrong. I do not have time to be sick, I do not have time to deal with these tumors growing, and therefore it is not occurring. As long as I believe that there is nothing wrong then there is nothing wrong. Sounds good to me. Besides, I have no idea how I could afford more doctors appointments and tests and medications. I am blessed to have decent insurance but the copays are breaking me. Teaching is one of the greatest professions with the greatest rewards, but they are never monitary. Maybe I will stick a toe back into reality once the school year has started. Once the kids are in class, the parents are comfortable with the class, and I have a schedule down. Maybe then I can add one more thing to my juggling routine. Until then I will practice the great powers of my mind...and maybe just a hint of denial?

Catch Up

There is so much to write and yet I can not figure out how to get it all out. Words are usually so easy for me. Poetry is my favorite way to explore my world, to sculpt and paint. Yet my poems are also sacred to me because they contain so much of my own soul and thus I rarely let anyone read them. Strange that I would create something but not share it. Prose is not as much fun for me because there is less lyric to it, less bending and curving of the words and more restraint on how the art can be formed. Because it is more restrained, it has less of myself in it and thus I am more willing to share it. This type of random writing about my life would seem most personal and yet it is the easiest for me to share. However, it is also the least skilled of my writing and the least artistic. When writing in other ways I can bend words and find a rhythm and harmony but when just writing free about my own life the flow and music is difficult to discern. That is why I keep this mostly as a record for myself. My journal writing is not an art for me. It is simple, it is plain, and often I struggle to find the words where in other writing they would fall so easly and curve perfectly beneath my fingers.
This past month has been one of chaos, feigned ignorance, and tremendous growth. Summer school ended as chaotically as it began and we had a bumper crop of chicken pox, thrush, pink eye, and vomit. My sandal will never be the same. Yet we also had sweet children who worked hard, stole hearts, and had fun. My two day tour of DC was painful (never wear new shoes when walking in a city - I am indeed that stupid and earned the blisters to prove it), hot (over 100 degrees) and intriguing. I can not wait for another opportunity to return so I can explore more museums and history. Being here in Michigan has been precious. My Little Bit is growing up far too fast, my family is able to see just how different I am after this year of trial and forging, and I have exploded into a self I never imagined. I have been living with a desire to not miss a moment that has formed inside my soul and I do not want to lose that passion because I have discovered how much joy can come from simple things and how much you can get from an ordinary day. I also claimed my body as my own, as more than damaged goods and broken parts, and has the most gorgeous image tattooed onto the back of my shoulder. This runs contrary to the "little miss perfect" image that I have worn all of my life. :) It is also most likely in violation to every rule ever given to me by every doctor I have ever seen but I am now 26 years old and I am tired of living in fear of my own body. I needed to claim it as mine, to take back some control over it, and risks are a part of really being alive. I love it and would nto change my decision. I also cut my hair significantly so that my little ones can stop using it as a convenient pull toy when I teach. I have been ignoring the fact that my lumps and bumps are steadily getting bigger and my ribs hurt more frequently. I will deal with it once school has started and I can get in to one of the new doctors my rheumatologist recommended. Unfortunately the scans were not worth crap and so we are stuck back at the beginning with the knowledge that there is something there but unsure what they are or why they are there. So I ignore them and live in the moment.
Right now it is raining outside, a perfect soft and steady summer rain. It has been a long time since it has rained like this and I am ready to go outside and enjoy it. However, I most definitely will not be singing in the rain - I am not so delusional as to think I can hit a single note!