Category: education

Posted on in education

Drapes that Bind

I am supposed to name my depression. To me, it has no name, just the symbol of opening and closing like fancy brocade drapes from long ago. The feel of a castle window design with the fancy tiebacks and the heaviness of the huge amounts of fabric matches my inner feeling of weight upon my body and being trapped inside darkness.  During these times, I wander the castle and clean without ever tending the outside gardens, as inside is my protection during these times. No harm. Just tending to my castle and an inner rest and reset, that will allow me to the opening and allow the light to come back into my life. I wish this was easy or had a handbook for those who love me, but thirty-two years ago, this began, and it is a life sentence with much reprieve and abundance of joy. Usually.

Most see happiness, a smile, life well lived, and not a care. I am blessed. Depression does not care. It picked me. The why is a very long list of situations I have coped with proudly and do not carry grudges or a why me attitudes. I am stronger than that and have, as needed, great care in my life. This time, my curtains are closed tight. So, I go back to my lists, activities, eating better, just checking off every box to make sure what I can control is at peace as the tightness of the darkness has nothing to do with my daily life. It hits. A million of my past moments could have triggered it but nothing rings true, nor would it matter as having an answer to the why does not let the light in…you would think it would, but no.

As for the naming. It is a drape. That is all I am giving it. Not a full name or cutsey code. A drape. An ugly brocade drape with dust and cobwebs hidden in the folds. To me, the color varies, but a faded burgandy is what usually pops into my head. Now, the hard stuff. I must open the drape and allow myself to feel and do what I enjoy on great days. It is under my control. Most days, the drape is open, and I am accepting of joy, but when I am entwined in a battle, the heaviness of the material is like a weight that just lies atop of me stopping my every desire. I hate these days. On these days, I pull back the drape and stay busy inside my castle. I clean. Workout. Clean. Take a break. Etc. My habits form around what I can control during times of chaos. It works. The drapes fight closure, and then I insert other activities outside of cleaning frenzy. I am not there. Not today. Nothing could get me to leave. Nothing. I know I am not alone. I continue to march on until going out and being with others sounds tolerable, and eventually, it will be great again. But not now. I have floors to clean.

Posted on in education

Back to School

This is the time of the year when parents rejoice and teachers fall into a deep short-term depression. Each summer gets shorter, or so it feels for educators, and that is due not to days but the pressure cooker of the nine months we are gearing up for, like soldiers in a battle against all the outside opportunities children have in their lives. Phones, a battle. Vacations, a silly but real battle. And my favorite, the mental health days parents give their children. It is amazing if we get some students in a focused manner at all throughout the week.  If we actually could just teach and not consistently re-teach due to absences or lack of focus, we would be ahead of the game.  But while I start out with that hope. It sadly ends by week two.  We are in a society where many put all other things over school but have the expectation of us to fix/teach/parent all the missing pieces so their working life can come first without a thought about the child’s day.  In my twenty-nine years and twenty-one in public schools, it just gets worse. It’s not a parent thing. It’s society and their fight to stay afloat in our economy.

Phones: Ugh. They are every teachers nightmare. Why we have not imposed real restrictions on them is absolutely crazy. If you look at any adult in a lecture…are they riveted or scrolling. Your child is the same way. Teachers can’t compete with these pocket pieces of terror. No way, and our scores show it, but parents only you can impose the rules as our hands are tied.

Vacations: Why? We have plenty of breaks. Don’t do it, and if you do, make sure your child does the work we spend time gathering or recreating for their needs. I am weary of these trips during the year because no one does the work while they are away. It is crazy. Once they return, you guessed it, it has to be re-taught.

Mental health breaks: This is when a child is overwhelmed by school or plainly does not want to come. No, this has no alignment with mental health issues. They just want a day or two or three off. I am serious. These are real.

So, let’s get back at it without the sad memes. Funny are fabulous, but not dreadful and morose about a profession we love. Starting with welcome arms on day 1 because the more we welcome, the fewer days will be lost to other days off from our students, who I am excited to meet.

Posted on in education

Midwest Tough

I am going to say it… the Midwest breeds tough folk. The hubs and I are out of our league. They cook, bake, sew, chop wood, and build homes or at least understand how to fix a problem, all before noon. We can manage people and situations, but doing the manual part is out of league and desire. We went to a horticulture meeting, and while most were discussing plants and such with big names with flair, we wanted to ask what grass we should plant. We didn’t ask, out of fear that we would outed as absolute idiots in a land that growing anything came from generational knowledge from the time they were in the womb. The horticulture group is not my jam, but the people were so nice and a breed of Midwest tough that put me in a state of awe. I just enjoyed our vast differences and the pretty pictures of the plants. The rest was over my little Arizona head filled with rocks and cactus and the ability to call anyone to fix anything without worrying about a ferry schedule.

Horticulture ain’t my thing, obviously, but I appreciate everyones knowledge and abilities. One of the leaders of the group just finished the first wall in their home and was starting another one. Yup. All before dinner. The group taught me who to go to learn what kind of grass grows in this absolute land of wonders on the St. Mary’s River and truly understand that both coasts are absolutely spoiled with enormous amounts of everything, but we all have  skills. However, to be considered Midwest tough, you must grow up with a lack of things and the abundance of land that makes you land smart and talented with what you have in a way I will never become but appreciate. For me I will marvel in their talents and kind ways, but still cater  parties we throw due to my Westerners’ weakness and inability to cook for a crew.

It’s OK.

Please note: the picture is of a real bear 100 feet from where we are staying. Ah, what do you do? Put your arms up and scream while standing dead (hopefully a figure of speech) in your tracks. Again, Midwest tough, I hid in the house for three hours after this sighting, but I told the story all day long.

Posted on in anxiety, education, fitness, goals, Peloton, sixty, weight loss

Just One

Sweat is dripping onto my eyelids and into my eyes, causing blurred vision. I wipe away my fluids only to have buckets seemingly fall from the sky. This was my longest ride, best PR, and mileage pee minute did not suck. I am breathless, but the type you want again, and my mind is clear. Yesterday, I took a cheat day in my 21-day habit forming exercise. I needed it and while my calendar notes a blank hole,  my guilt got the best of me and I did yoga for fifteen minutes after midnight. To me I am still on track, neurotic, but now understand a day off of exercise is not an option.

However, last night was pure perfection for this calorie counting, protein shoving, and daily spinning grandma. A burger and a glass of champs! Absolute heaven. I have been so great in the numbers and workout department, but I knew I needed a bit of a treat. I did not work out. Horror, and I ate food with saturated fat. It was yummy. Was it necessary? Yes. It delighted my taste buds and caused me to miss working out and feeling the after-effects of too much of a good thing. It was a testament to my newly built strength, habits that are forming, and the realization that this will take a year of my life, but a life filled with the new real focus of the mayo way health. Count calories and protein. Period, and move daily beyond from couch to kitchen.

While strides are happening, the food, drink, and workout break were fabulous. However, the guilt felt was and is miserable, and it is my job on my long-term lifestyle change to fully enbrace that guilt has no place in this scenario. So, today, I pushed, excelled, and realized that while I still love a culinary delight. I love the person I am becoming more!

Posted on in education

This Teacher Could Do More…It Was A Choice

At large gatherings of movers and shakers, I receive repeated questions, and I am fine with my answers to the questions and comments towards my choices. “So what are you up to now?  “Thank you for what you do.” Plus the follow-up.”What are you running for next?” But last night it hit wrong as my answers and overt gestures were once again teacher, eye-roll, and NO. It hit as if I had settled. I didn’t. I fulfilled my campaign promise. I would go back into the classroom, win or lose, for kids. I should have mentioned I am teaching summer school, just to eek out a tad over 60k. Just a tad and attending another teacher certification for an additional 5k on my contract. People, that’s big bucks in my world. Insert pity, look, and  commentary of how we miss you politically. Blah, blah, blah. You would have been great. Yadda, yadda, yadda.

It is a sad state when the classroom teacher is pitied. It actually hurts as I love my daily life and the lives I touch, and while I could have gone to law school or stayed in broadcasting, or not veered from my path as a retail buyer. I wanted more. My desire to make a difference not with wins or story segments or even a new line of clothing that sells as soon as it hits the floor. My desire was to teach and have a family and a career that fit our lifestyle. 

So today, I am pitied by others as my profession has gone through more unnecessary changes and hoops that scare off the newly minted college graduate. I agree that my world will never be the same but as I roll with the punches, I still see the same light in the eyes of students from time to time, and that is why I put in the work, year in and year out. Don’t pity me or any teacher. Please applaud.

Posted on in education

Spring Break=Recovery

Let’s face it, a teachers’ spring break is different. Not because we are teachers with less spending ability, anyone can save, but because we are exhausted. Let me rephrase, teachers who have taught over twenty years have different looking spring breaks. We are in recovery from the sights, sounds, and smells of school. Not the work, just the chaos of kids. No matter their behavior, they are still busy. 

I had the best break. I listened to my body and slept. Now, don’t get me wrong, I did clean, organize a bit, watch way too much nonsense television, wrote, and played with my dogs. But I slept so much that I finally felt normal six days later. I’m not sad or in hiding, just doing that self-care bit. I actually had some excitement planned, all canceled due to the need for rest. My body gave out, and I did not feel robbed or have feelings of FOMO as my friends traveled because I slept.

Today, on the last weekend of break. I will do laundry, set up my clothes for the week, organize my meal delivery, and watch some basketball to ease back into life, but probably throw in a nap because after twenty years I have earned it!

For those with far fewer years. You are recovering from a trip and throwing life together, enjoy the crazy years, and look forward to your naps.

Posted on in #teacher, education, essay

Columbus Day = A Week

Sorry Columbus, but our week off (Fall Break) has nothing to do with you finding the New World. In fact some no longer celebrate your deeds. That is another story. Today, my writing celebrates my confusion of a week off in the middle of a school year. We just started! I have never understood this week off for teachers. Never. I gladly participate in this new age holiday of sorts. But why do we have four weeks off before the beginning of our third quarter? There are no answers as we have only been in school nine weeks. But we gladly take it. Does this impede family vacations and day care? Probably. Does this hurt the educational dynamic of our students? Eh. No data to tell. So we carry on.

So, what do teachers do with their time. Well, those with little ones, they enjoy, and I am constantly jealous, as I loved any time off with my kid, now adult. For those in the latter part of our careers we probably don’t do big travels if we are prepping for retirement. We organize, sleep, workout, etc. We stay busy and enjoy the solitude and ability to go to the bathroom on command. We recharge. If you are over fifty teaching becomes increasingly demanding and we need to reset the batteries, that are so badly drained, from their constant powering level of being ON, ON, ON for everyone at all times. While, I am still on empty, I am at least to the stage that only one nap is needed a day. My first day home, I woke up at 4:00pm and went to bed by 9:00pm.

Today, I am wearing make-up, a chic all black lululemon dupe, and checking off my lists and creating Christmas lists. This teacher budgets and shops from October onward. I am just getting things done for a happy organized home ready for fall, without having to leave the house. I am not ready for the real world, perhaps tomorrow. Maybe. I have time.

Posted on in anxiety, education, family, health, life, sixty

Subtract Not Add

I went through one of the best first weeks of school purely absorbed by outlying tasks, chores, stuff. Some money-making opportunities others just life. My mind not on the focus of kids but a running to-do list that gave me an inner click when every task was complete. I was miserable and less accomplished, as I was worried about tommorow, the next schedule, how I could get home quicker to review turtoring lessons before I zoomed away. I can’t. Literally can’t. With every tick off the list, another appeared with the only loss column items becoming my family.

My need to add is a stuffing mechanism to keep busy, not focus on the reality of a painful past, and so I do not look at the alternative. Retirement. Creepy. An elderly life, and the unknown. But the more I stuff into the hours of the day and night, the more I lose out in life.

So I am going to keep subtracting and focusing on my present, my daily blessings of students, and my family before I blink and it becomes a memory of long ago. Will I retire. No. Stop trying to do everything for the sake of a couple bucks. Yes.

Posted on in education, essay, humor

Dripping With Kids

The advantages to starting school on the first week of August in Arizona are non-existent. Zero. Zilch. Nada. I have done this for twenty-eight years. While my first year picture (cover shot) looks cool and comfy, that is due to a bundle of makeup, and washing my face fifteen minutes before the photo shoot, of sorts. Or the stand, turn to the left. No too much, to the right. Perfect. Smile. Next, nightmare. It is hot, humid, and we drip in sweat as most of air conditioning in our building is a tad on the older side. In every building. If you want me I am in the hot room.

So I melt. I am assigned to little to no makeup with a cute dress, preferably with pockets, and practical shoes. It’s a messy look. But I can spot an August teacher out in the wild in seconds. We all look the same as we toss real fashion out the window to survive the mileage we walk combined with our consistent state of heat. August stinks. Literally.

So, the pre-fall attire is best found in the cheapest stores. I consider it more disposable fashion. Now, a few of my pieces I love and are keepers, due to style, price, and quality. But bring on the big box stores and dupe fashion. If a piece is cool enough to get me through this period of time and has enough copy of fashion sense. I have bought it, in triplicate. This year very into the flowy dress, dignified menswear, and linen galore. Also, stepped up my shoe game with retro sneakers. All the rage and at sixty cool shoes are a must.

As we head into the starting gates. I am already wishing for October, for overall comfort and the ability to wear pieces that won’t target me as a teacher the moment I step outside of the classroom and allow me to wear makeup that won’t drip down my face, and to the release of the holiday trio of delights. The cardigan, the light turtleneck, and sometimes a coat. Well, more of a jacket. This is Arizona.

Posted on in #teacher, education, junior high

The End of the End

This last week, I have been grumpy. One could blame the early hours, with our new pups. Nope, they are saving me by forcing a couple of miles in the wee hours of the morning, without coffee. All healthy and a true distraction from my grumpy self. I know I used grumpy twice, now three times. But it is my blog so grumpy, grumpy, grumpy.

I hate feeling off without reason. Menopause is a big umbrella excuse but often a cop-out, even though I fight the symptoms. This was a different feeling and one I have not had in a while. As a teacher, we do not miss the group we teach with weepy passion every school year, as one may wish we do. We don’t. I have danced a year or two (after dismissal) and have witnessed a variety of celebratory moves from others during my twenty-eight years. Not this year.

I rolled up with this class and with all their moments, I would do it again. This is the group that comes along every lifetime that is mixed together with societal oddness and obviously full moons, that needs to be separated from each other but individually they are amazing. This group is needy. They will be forever until they see the light. Currently, they are in complete darkness with tremendous academic growth to brag a bit about. They need love and patience and teachers with passion. Most of all patience. But as they rise through the grades, the patience falters as students should be peeking into the light and keeping up with expectations. I worry.

The end of the end of this fabulous ride is in thirteen days. I will be grumpy. Yes, that word. Until I know how to say goodbye. Right now it just hurts.