Posted on November 29, 2020November 29, 2020 in life

Its Exhausting Being Me

Epilepsy is the one modern mystery left to man and an exhausting condition on its best days. Please note this author ain’t complaining. Not my style. And I know I am lucky. I have it all advanced degrees, career, driver’s license, and one kid. That was all we were granted and probably the reason I teach and have unnatural desire to organize toys, anyone’s toys. Its not you or your skills it is my own inner need. My mothering was done before my time. I was always meant for more. So if you got toys, give me a call. Or if you need additional mothering as I am sure my kid would like a break. He is a good sport.

My story like others begins out of true fear. No one teaches epilepsy in school. Diabetes, yes. Epilepsy, no. My first experience was riding on a city bus to my figure skating lesson, oh yes. I was sporty too. A woman burst on the bus and screamed, “I am epileptic move.” Now, I was eleven and currently experiencing auras on a daily basis in quiet fear. While I thought the declaration was over-the-top, she scared me for many reasons so I moved the hell away. I got off the bus and walked the rest of the way to the rink in tears. I knew I would be that woman. Better dressed, less vulgar. But that was me. With every step towards the rink and a coach who had already called my grandfather for my being tardy I had apologies coming to many but mostly to myself for my living in fear.

As the story goes my boughts of no speech continued. Each getting longer and longer but my fear and lies covered them up. Not well. But my ability to focus on the world around me caught everyone off guard as once it passed no one could tell the difference. Silent periods continued to grow longer with each passing episode but my odd ability to jump back into the conversation, with increased slurred speech, worked. I chalked everything off to fatigue and exhaustive days between school and the rink. Others, just shook their heads and labeled me as a rebellious teen. The game was exhausting as was the daily fear of what was around the corner and who would see it and when would my academy award winning acting breakthrough to the obvious secrets I was keeping. I was scared.

My first big seizure was in a bathroom. I just fell, seized alone, and bit off my tongue. Just clumsy right? Yup. Got a week off of school, lots of rest, ice cream, and my game was extended. Not even EMTs felt I needed hospitalization. My grandparents became like hawks circling their prey and waiting for a misstep. They knew. I knew. We all buried the truth as who doesn’t want a perfect kid. And it was such a heavy badge to wear and at that time late 70’s not one with honor.

A week later. The curtain came down on my show. The seizure was witnessed and hospitalization followed. Now, I knew what the tests would show. My grandparents kept talking in hushed tones of C words but I told them they had nothing like that to worry about. I was right but the doctors made my diagnosis like a death sentence, meds, no driving ever, no kids, university too taxing and on and on and on. My grandparents listened with tears streaming down their faces. As soon as the doctor left I looked at them and said. “Whatever he said, we are not doing.” Let’s get these meds and get the fuck out of here.” I got a life to live, and I am gonna live! My grandfather laughed and my grandmother almost scolded me but beating the big C was good enough for her. I promised to take my meds, stop driving for a year, but I would go to college and I was going to stage a sit- in hospital style until they agreed. They did. I was sprung and my first course of treatment began.

My story starts there, fourty-seven years ago. Today is a bad day. My mind scrambles into a million pieces trying to find the calm my brain needs to slow it down and focus on anything that is not repetitive in sound or feeling. On days like this I write. I listen to music, I do yoga, I watch movies. Anything to remove my brains overdrive and fixations. My sensory overload is at its max. Thus, hearing daily sound in stereo. The toaster, the baggies opening for breakfast goodies, the refrigerator door, the butter opening and closing…the insanity is my sanity on bad days and the view of life it brings me is priceless. Loud, priceless, and a gift that took me years to embrace and overcome the looks from an uneducated public not understanding that it is not a sentence of death or oddity but one of heightened life.

Posted on November 25, 2020November 25, 2020 in life

Let’s Celebrate

As a writer we celebrate the small moments. Making it through the night without a toss and turn of a story or a stream of words floating through my mind is a celebration. Whereas, so is the tossing and turning with creative thoughts that give me a hopeful creation. These thoughts are the lifeblood of my existence that not all of us are lucky enough to have in the middle of any normal evening. Most of you are consumed and kept awake with the traditional stressors, not me. I can sleep through anything. I just am not a sleep worrier unless it is a possible topic for a blog that I lost or worse yet hits the screen and with the obvious direction of failure. It is exhausting being me. Just exhausting.

In recent years under former blog directions my view count was higher, becoming recognized by the blog geeks and brought me to writing my first book. I wrote it and I deleted it. Yes, how many can say that. It lives in a fluffy cloud far away from human contact or my ever reading my first attempt again. I am not sad. It was my choice. It is actually my celebration to have lived the journey.

My blogs have never hit my sweet spot. I have had focuses all over the place all parts of my life and enjoyed the ride but not one that I owned with my heart and soul that sits directly in front of me and longs to be shared. My story, my life, my journey. All of which have been checkered with a decent measure of all the qualities of any life well lived. So while, my education focus may take a bit of a snooze, and I will give up on writing on the (well never say never) the qualities of drugstore mascara. The rest should be of interest. The rest is real. That is the making of a quality blog.

But for today I celebrate for I have earned a whopping amount of .43 cents for my words. To a writer this is gold and a direction that I hope is on upward trajectory.

Posted on November 15, 2020 in education

Feeling Liberated

Our freedoms and personal liberties are what makes this country great. When taken away it leads to chaos, depression, and sheer madness with the countless petty rules that do not make sense. If we as a country are continuing on this path of “masking up” we need to have common sense rules that are inherent to our freedoms that we are granted by our constitution. With that said, yes Covid-19 is real but we can each make decisions that are practical and safe for our own health. We need to drop the heard mentality. It is not healthy and we will see long term issues for years to come.

The little big-town of Prescott does it right. The schools are open, safe, and working with their parents. While many families have chosen a virtual method, it is by choice not force. You can walk into a business without a mask and restaurants are booming with all the safety protection in place. It is a happy town filled with people living life by their own rules with most abiding by the choice mask for themselves or using the six foot rule. I felt safe, happy, and for the first time in almost a year I forgot about our personal liberties being robbed on a daily basis.

Yesterday, was the first day I strolled a store, outside of a market without gasping on my own recycled air in the mask of the day. It was fantastic and reminded be what life was like long ago. With the holidays around the corner we are being told not to gather, keep the elderly in their nursing homes, and are again stocking up for another shutdown. I think our founding fathers would be livid that we need to be told, forced, fined, and curfewed into personal responsibility. I argue that we do not. We need facts, high-risk groups need to hunker down, and we need to have respect not judgement for those that do not need to live in a bubble. Let them live. Let businesses thrive and not fade away.

While I will bubble up in the big city for my own safety. I will be heading out to my favorite escape more and more for a dose of everyday life and a reminder of the American spirit and personal freedoms.

May God Bless America!

Posted on November 2, 2020November 2, 2020 in education

All My Circles…

My traditional art wall lives via links and padlet…

Daily, I greet my sweet circles, AKA my “shy” virtual 8th grade Social Studies students. My love for them is overwhelming and my reason to get up and go down my hall, into my den, begin my classes, create new curriculum, record video and audio, track down missing students, daily grading and more. The work is the same as in person, but different, difficult, demanding, challenging, fascinating, heartwarming, and heartbreaking. My emotions fluctuate daily and the shortened commute (2 minutes flat) plus my absence from the stress that surrounds our ever bouncing educational system is a huge plus for my health and sanity. As the days pass I still long for small humans. Or do I? Are my growing feelings and pride over my little circles natural or unnatural. Whatever it is, it is virtual education, and I am at the helm. Now, I chose this life for my own personal health reasons, that was my decision for me, not for all in the education world, and not for all kids. My current circles are not going back to traditional. Their zipcode is at risk and many of their homeschools are still closed. These are my 8th graders, my future promoters, and they push me to make this year the best that it can be in this wild educational video game. Where kids are still kids and teachers are the daily video game. While not as popular as COD (Call of Duty) but a definite bitmoji style of fabulous.

As the days turn into weeks and the weeks into our second quarter my world is beginning to feel natural. Oddly so, to the point of my thinking that I might not ever enter the traditional environment again and finish out bitmoji style.

At the time of this blog. I can be whisked back into real-world teaching tomorrow or never. I do not know. None of us know. Some of my sweet circles are cracking at the edges and some are crazy confident in their new world. But when a teacher switch happens they all crack…I see it. They tell me. We work through it with words that I find, sometimes out of thin air, to patch the hurt. Most of the time I patch up pretty well and when it is too big, I call for backup fast. My sweet circles have a hold on me and at the end of the day, I am grateful for them as they make me be the best teacher I can be, no matter the environment.

Posted on October 11, 2020October 11, 2020 in education

Camp

I hate the outdoors, I cry upon seeing bugs, and water below 85 degrees is considered freezing in my book. My two experiences with camping came at a young age. The first was a true campout on Redondo Beach with my Girl Scout Troop. One night of absolute disgust and soggy clothes mixed with sand made me quit the next day. Good-bye troop. The second, was a forced campout with my parental unit, and their friends. It snowed in the California Redwoods, in July. I headed into my tent and would not come out due to the bitter cold. At all. I was in true protest mode that was so obviously terrifying that all the ladies of the group went to a hotel. It was then that hotels are a girls true guide to camping. Let the men have the tents and the earthly experience. Not for me. Hotels or the later resorts in wooded areas with a casual hike and good wine were my forever fuure camping experiences, in fact I made it known to my then fiancé and thus we created the no camping pact shortly before we walked down the aisle with the caveat that I had to get acquainted with Neebish Island and eventually, someday in the far future go to the magical camp which my hubs painted like a Norman Rockwell meets Indian Tribe in the forest moment coupled with fantastic outdoor extravaganzas for all. Camp, here I come. Someday.

In the beginning, it was easy as a married couple to not visit. We were busy in our very exciting SF city lives. My camp was Napa. Enough said. His camp would wait. He was patient. I was stalling and panicked that any summer our camp trip conversation would not end with the sounds of corks or clinging glasses.

Soon after our bundle of joy came along, camp was calling but still not for me. Between moving and settling in our new home in the sunny and mosquitoe free state of Arizona but it was coming and I knew there was no turning back…

Our first trip was directly after our sons first birthday. It was a difficult year filled with specialists, hospitals, and tears. Camp was supposed to lessen the stressors. It did. Not in the way of an average vacation filled with umbrella drinks and sandy beaches, but it did. Maybe it was the water or the freighters rolling by one after another with the sounds of the salutes hanging in the summer air, or perhaps none of this. The memories made that year and beyond in our small island life are memories I will cherish.

Years later, our camp still has bugs and leaky things, no quick access to anything but it is now my adopted home. Year after year along with my original little Neebish yoopers plus our newest member of the yooper club we always make the trip…

Posted on July 26, 2020October 11, 2020 in education

The Blame Game

We are in a situation where everyone wants to blame another for the mess we are in created by a crazy virus that came without a road map. It just hit. Created mayhem and death. The nation shutdown. We have reacted, over-reacted, under-reacted or something in between based on your political spectrum, age group, or if loved ones were involved. Now, six months later, we are still in this reactionary mode but we are no longer “in this together.” In fact we are a society at war with itself. The masks are an issue, the opening or closing of anything is an issue, and a society on a brink of economic collapse using monopoly money to survive is an issues but not the biggest. The largest divide is the daily spinning of the wheel education plan of the moment. There are no answers for anyone so the randomness of a game show spin is a method I could get behind at this point and can be done multiple times a day just to continue to confuse parents, teachers, and the kids playing along.

On the wheel, we have many options all supposedly scientifically backed by either the CDC, WHO, or any alphabet soup education group which bases its data on some factor other than the reality of kids don’t get this crap. Now, they can carry. Ah, the true problem, the adults. Ok, I am one and in the classroom, so I get it, but we have had six months and now more federal dollars for a variety of PPE, technology, and other stuffs to sanitize at a hospital level on a daily basis. So, what is the issue? The answer is quite simple, it is the gut reactions felt by humans in crisis and the politics and red tape churning and throwing up additional barriers along the way. Simple but complicated on many levels. So we keep spinning, creating, and finding winning modes of education that will ease the fear, fit political agendas, and have shears big enough to cut through the tape.

The wheel itself is divided into many parts. I will now take you through the popular spinning wins so the parent in you can see that the teacher in me is just as frustrated and hopefully we can form an alliance instead of a divide.

Posted on July 25, 2020July 25, 2020 in education

Dad is Life and Life is Dad…

Our kid has gone through a medical struggle (back) and heartbreak due to the outcome. The kid we raised is smart, stubborn, athletic, artistic, and brave. It has been a haul but that is life and we are a tough family. His recent two year battle came with a miracle that has come full circle and resulted in a new career of sorts, one with no pay, gratitude and frankly the best type of life, full-time dad. DJL now a two year old mini-KWL. He is a single dad and does it all. He is super-dad and his mini-him is attached at the hip and the big guy is just as attached. It is something to see and it is especially poignant from the eyes of a grandparent.

In the midst of raising littles you often miss their favorite show and their intense understanding of character and plot. The mimicked behaviors that are character requested during the developmental shows for little people learning, and the delight in their eyes when they hit perfection of the character moves. Now, I see it all and always tell my son, to slow down and watch it all. It goes fast. So fast. I see his side also, I have done all of it, as my hubs was and is a workaholic who has slowed a bit to cherish the grandfather role, and for that I am grateful.

Long ago, KWL was my mini-me and I see the same in their relationship that we had long ago. Insert Hugs. My former mini-me, at two went to grad school with me, literally walked ASU and went to classes, held the door for the students, and ate Cheerios, colored and practiced sounds and letters. At two and a half we had all letters and numbers through ten mastered, an obvious result of ASU. Insert Laugh. I knew he needed pre-school but neither of us were ready and besides after class there was a happy meal at the Memorial Union. By day I took notes, by night I studied. In between I clipped fingernails, wiped faces, cut up food, played, and prayed my picky eater would eat. Our relationship was tight. In fact, so strong that pre-school was a tough separation for us but we both survived and both flourished. He with his Montessori buddies and me with student teaching and a diploma. The night I walked Gammage for my masters he literally waited in the wings of to see me get what we both earned. As I walked off the stage, I got a hug, and I am sure we all had a McDonald’s dinner. I am sure of that. That is our past, but those times along with many more days like it created the adult he is today.

As parents, we constantly question ourselves, I no longer question. Nope. I am good. I did my best and now I cherish the moments of watching their practical daily life. I find odd joy in the nail clipping, face wiping, consistent feeding (no prayers needed), playing, reading, counting, and constant exploration with high doses of love. I get odd joy in seeing that my former mini-me picked up some skills along the way and is tirelessly using them on his best little person. Now, I sit back and enjoy all the moments, the ones I lived and the ones I missed. As a grandparent I am especially good at the Blues Clues movements and Tea Time, even when it is poured from our tummy as we are into the letter T right now, pretend play, counting, Little Tykes basketball and hugs. I like my hugs the best and look forward to watching my mini-child grow into his own adult and if blessed watch him with his child as they navigate the waters between the constant work and joy our children bring.

I love you KWL.

Posted on July 22, 2020July 22, 2020 in education

The Unknown

Every year teachers start in the same manner. Potlucks, back to school meetings, district cheer sessions, more meetings, and time spent readying our rooms for the year ahead. It is a special time and a highlight of mine, as it marks the dreams I shape for the year ahead, and the next students that cross my path. This year will be a tad different as most teachers, parents and kids are living in the harsh realities outside the classroom doors. I want to escape from all of this as often as possible, for my kids and myself, and bring my students into the world of creative writing and the bravery of colonists that wanted a new life, as I teach writing and history, and these scenarios fit my yearly curriculum. Our escape will allow us to travel to a different time and place, and for a moment or two the heaviness of life will be taken away. I long for this, but I still do not know how or when any of this will take place.

The struggle with all the logistics of the school year, aka the unknown, and the waiting pattern that leaders are painfully putting us through, make my mind race through the various possibilities of the year to come. The questions always outweigh the known at this time leading me back to the same questions. Online or off-line? Six-feet apart (ha) or in our former reality mode armed only with a facial shield for the protection of a virus that can simply go right through my colored choice of the day? Do I wear gloves, or leave my pretty fingers www.dashingdiva.com to chance?

With nine days and counting to my technical start date, I have no answers. None. I wait, knowing that this year there will be no potlucks or in-person meetings and the decoration of our rooms will come in slow stages, with time limits and less “fun” in our rooms for hands to touch. This, however is our moment, our year, and I am ready to shine for my kids, and elbow bump each and everyday. If I only knew when and how. My wait continues and I look forward to its end.

Posted on July 21, 2020July 21, 2020 in education

School Attire 2020-2021

Does My Mask Match?

I love shopping the sales for my look of the new school year. It has changed over the years but my staple has been a comfortable preppy mix. In higher financial years. I wore cashmere cardigans with my loafers and khakis. Now, as I am in the prepping stages for retirement, I have learned to dress up but down on a budget.

This year, teachers will be wearing everything from hazmat suits to scrubs and everything in between as we trudge back to our unknown CDC guidelines. If that is your look, fine but it not for me. First of all, I would sweat to a size not seen since my own youth, perhaps not a terrible idea, but not healthy. Nor, did I get a degree in medicine. So probably sticking to my usual school friendly attire. It works, it is comfy, and no dry-cleaning needed. In the old days (before teaching and parenthood) I was fancy, living in my prior chic retail management attire. To afford luxury in San Francisco, I hid clothes in cubbies, drawers and back rooms, waiting for the ultimate sale. Looking like one of our patrons, was a must in our handbook, but not on my manager salary with so many other winery and foodie needs to be met along with the mundane bills.

My days of fancy suits, heels, and chic black dresses are out of the picture as I wore them to their magnificent death, and mourned their passing to a new state of pinterest musings. So where did I turn to look teacher stylish and machine washer friendly in the sanitizing year(s) ahead? My look will no longer be cocktail party ready or even business happy hour ready, for that matter, but I it want to be a step above the “let me cut your meat or tie your shoes fashion.” I no longer teach primary and have given up the the many pocket apron for the multitude of passes, stickers, stamps, pencils, erasers, whistles, keys, and of course kleenex. No, my kids are in the 8th grade and while their maturity is debatable, this year all of their materials must be in a plastic baggie, for only their use. None of us can share anything. I can’t give to them or them to me, odd but true. Nonetheless, no extra pockets needed. Good-bye apron. Good-bye. It was never me.

My journey, this year, begins with face masks and chains, of course. The face mask will be a staple in my district. I have two. Both fit like crap, so I am still searching for the perfect fit, breathability, and ones to coordinate or at least not look to surgical for the school setting and my 8th graders standards. One has to try to be cool. It helps with the building of relationships and the establishment of community.

Mask making is not my thing so I will go to etsy. I will buy seven and launder weekly. While there I plan on buying a couple of mask chains as I will need to remove my protective shield, often, when no one is looking so that kids can actually hear clearly. Other than that you sound like a bad order on a drive-thru microphone. Education, unlike your favorite fast food establishment, can’t afford to get the order wrong nor can it be returned. This is (insert grade) your students only shot at this year. We must get it right even with some oddities.

Fresh and friendly and covers all the colors of the masks you own and want to show off this school year.

Next up, define your current style and remember your sanitizing routine. I live a preppy comfy life-style but I like to have a little flair to my outfits. Think Paris on a budget and an easy washing instructions. My go-to items this year are:

1. Cigarette pants. www.chicos.com

2. Colored denim, as blue denim is a district no-no. So, I will hunt Chico’s denim all year and stock up, especially on black denim. I buy all year long as the sales hit the stores or online.

3. Blazers and cardigans www.nordstrom.com (last chance) or www.target.com

4. Button down solid shirts, especially white. www.chicos.com They never wrinkle. My lifelong goal is one in every color. But they also never go on sale. Ever.

5. My favorite tee’s are from Old Navy as they are soft, forgiving and long. I also hit this big box store for below the knee summer dresses for our 110 degree starting days. Since our weather and room temperature is high they only make it a season but they are cheap and establish a little more on trend feeling for the beginning of the year which makes me feel pretty in 110 degrees, which is not an easy task. www.oldnavy.com

6. Tennis shoes, or loafers daily. Sandals are forbidden in our district and frankly not a fan. Everything from adidas to cole hahn, puma to sketchers. I don’t have time to run around afterschool so I buy everything on Amazon and shop the sales. I recently updated my closet and stored my heels, so I will be shopping throughout the year for a couple more looks, colors, and fashion statements. My kids love my kicks. Again, it is an odd bonding moment which I treasure. www.amazon.com

7. I try to accessorize daily with scarves collected from travels, which this year can double in my mask forgetting days. a couple simple pieces of jewelry and a multitude of Oprah and Dorinda approved reading glasses (shoutout to RHONY). www.peepers.com. I like to standout just enough but be able to get as dirty as needed because teaching, at any grade level, is not a clean business.

8. Makeup. I am one of those simple freckle faced gals but I love lashes, lips and nails. My new fascination is Dashing Diva nail wraps. If coordinated ten minutes and out the door, I swear. Since I am not. Fourty-five minutes for at home salon experience at a fraction of a fraction of the cost and they look great. www.dashingdiva.com

Colored denim and fun kicks puts all teachers in the cool category.

So, wherever your journey for prepping your look for the year begins. Perhaps, it is hair, nails etc. Or perhaps you are teaching from home. Or just revising last years staples, remember this is the first year the kids will see you, so make it special and wear lip gloss under your mask and a new lengthening mascara or just do your nails. Confinement and our beauty goals have not always connected. If anything this little touches to new outfits will make you feel loads better as you brave the unknown.

Dashing Diva Nails under those gloves will make you smile.

Posted on July 19, 2020July 19, 2020 in education

Summer Countdown

July 19th. There is no true answer for our state (Arizona) in sight but many options that boggle the mind and put constraints on the families we serve.

The dawn of a new era of education is around the corner. Teachers wait, parents wait, kids wait. In the beginning, long, long ago (March) I did feel the lockdown and online education was about safety with a mix of true panic. The schools, to their own admission, did not handle true valid education well, we were more like the Titanic, just trying to survive with few getting to shore. While teachers spent hours a day attempting to teach, it was utter chaos on many levels due to the newness of the word lockdown, fear, frustration, no internet for many families coupled with language barriers. My Spanish improved, but not by much.

I still miss my kids I stopped seeing in March. They lost out on their 8th grade year but as they march onto 9th grade their memories of 8th grade losses will fade as their new lives begin. As a teacher, these losses are engrained in my soul with the only bright spot on my horizon my next classroom and my new beginnings. To me, every year is a fresh start, from decor to lessons. I love change and frankly, no class has ever been the same in eighteen years. The art of lesson creation and relationships with my students are my strengths. Both may be lost, as we still wait for our final orders from the talking heads that truly run education with money and politics at the forefront. Kids seem to be lost in the shuffle and this is more apparent this year.

In Arizona, many districts have pushed back real in-person learning until October. What will they gain, what will they lose? That is the question? We are now prepared with fancy platforms and bitmojis, but we are forgetting the parents needs and the social aspect of learning. For what? Safety, money, fear? Other districts, depending on your view, are either brave or crazy, will go forward with in-person learning with choices. My school falls into that category. Frankly, I feel the choice is empowering for all involved, as just forcing parents into another three months of homeschool light sentence is one that teachers are beating the drum for but parents have not seemed to weigh in yet, we will see their reaction come fall, through the registration numbers. Parents will march or stay put based on the obvious economic constraints, the difficulty of online education and true grasping of the material and the social nature of the classroom. Or they will stay due to loyalty to the school and fear of the disease. We do not know.

So, this blog has found a purpose. My writing will take you on my 2020-2021 journey filled with the realities of the continued saga of Covid-19 and the educational disaster we are facing in the coming years if we continue to be hold kids and parents hostage

Eventually, my musings will morph into an ebook based on true stories that share a glimpse into the real world of public education in a time where flexibility will be key.

Silver With Stories

Embracing the Silver Life