On change, loss, gain, and the here and now..

            Three years ago our district Language Arts Coordinator, Janet Tilley, sat us down at a back to school meeting to tell us she would be retiring at the end of the year.  As she finished up the announcement she shared, “All change involves loss.”  I wrote it down in a tiny notebook I was carrying around to get organized that year, and I have repeatedly stumbled across it since that day.  Each time I do I let it roll around my brain again.  When she said it, our district’s secondary reorganization which would eliminate junior highs and move us to the more standard configuration of  6^th-8^th middle schools followed by  9^th-12^th high schools was a distant reality.  Now, the official start is a mere 12 hours away.  Tomorrow I report to Oakland Middle School while over 25 of my respected colleagues will sit together as Battle Spartans for their first official back to school meeting, and I cannot get Janet’s words out of my mind. 

            I remember being in a psychology class during my sophomore year in college and reading that one of the wonderfully fascinating and frustrating things about being human is you can hold two completely contradictory thoughts in your head at once and vehemently agree with both of them.  I knew that there was a flipside to Janet’s words the first time I heard them.  If change involves loss, it must also involve gain.  And I am gaining so much this year.  I am insanely excited about what lies ahead.  We have amassed a dedicated OMS staff full of people who genuinely care about kids.  I am about to start my dream position.  I am department chair, which means I get to spend district money on books and cool pens while getting to be bossy in a sanctioned fashion J.  I am part of piloting the position of reading specialist which means that in addition to working with young readers, I get to serve as an instructional coach across all content areas in my building.  Repeatedly throughout my graduate program I have been asked what I want to do when I “grow up” and I always respond that I want to find a way to work simultaneously with students and adults learners, and this position creates the perfect opportunity for me to do so.  I am finally teaching a methods course at MU where I get to help future teachers discover how to best incorporate media literacy and talking to learn in the classroom – two of my favorite topics.  I was able to attend an OMS social tonight and see that though many friends moved on, many stayed behind, and we shared some hearty laughs today.  Plus, I can see the potential for so many new friendships and professionally fulfilling relationships. 

            See… so much to be so excited about… and yet as I drove home tonight, I could literally feel the choke in my throat that meant tears were threatening to spill.  It snuck up on me.  I was sad enough to cry before I even realized I was sad.  I drove home contemplating the truth in Janet’s words once again.  There was such a beautiful honesty in her willingness to lay the hard part of change out there for all of us to consider.  Being a teacher, you never get over the pang of the loss of summer and the changes it brings that we felt so prominently in childhood.  This summer it is hitting me especially hard as I am being inundated with change.  I am sending three ever-growing girls off to new schools/grades and day cares after long summer days together.  I am folding up tiny summer dresses for the last time.  I am months away from giving away all of our bottles.  And even though each age has brought more joy than the one before, a part of me will always long for those chubby thighs and toothy grins of an infant turning toddler. If all goes well, I am embarking on my last year as a PhD student.  I am figuring out how to work in a building without many of the people who gave me a reason to go to work each day.  All around me friends are experiencing new babies, new marriages, new jobs, new living situations and these big changes remind me we are on a fast train that doesn’t like to make exceptions for those of us who happen to drag our feet and pout whenever life threatens to become unrecognizable. 

These thoughts all ran through my head as I drove home with Tessa after our OMS back to school party.  She is four years old right now and is a perfect example of someone who embraces the joy (and perceived pain J) of life.  As we neared my neighborhood Right Here Right Now by Jesus Jones came on the radio.  She and I decided to turn off the air and roll down all the windows while we sang as loud as we could.  She asked if I would take the long way home so we could have a little more time together tonight.  I drove all through the streets of Vanderveen with little direction in mind.  I lived in the moment – “right here… right now.. there is no other place I’d rather be…”

All change does involve loss… and gain… it is our job to find ways to roll down the windows during that change and enjoy the here and now for all its scariness and glory.  I hope I can live that this year.  I hope I can grow while still respecting the past.  I hope I can watch my friends do the same. 

And to all my CPS friends who have played a large role in my ability to say I am happier now that I ever have been in my life – Happy first day tomorrow.  May we always find ways to enrich each other’s lives no matter where we are. 

On being married ten years...

                  “You take two bodies and you twirl them into one.  Their hearts and their bones.  And they won't come undone.”  Paul Simon, Hearts and Bones 

Sometime this past year, one of my good friends texted me and asked me why I never get mad at Sephus.  Never?  I responded.  I wanted to kill him twice yesterday and once since we woke up this morning.  (Okay – I was exaggerating, but marriage is HARD!  Wonderful… but hard.)  When I told her that, she wondered why I never complain or talk about it.  I guess I figured that getting frustrated was such a normal part of trying to navigate life as two that it hardly warranted mentioning. As I complete my tenth year of wonderfully hard commitment, I feel nostalgic and reflective. 

Sephus and I got engaged 11 short months after falling in love.  We were still in that goo goo, ga ga, stars in our eyes, drunk on love stage of our relationship.  We wanted to spend every minute together. We fell in that early version of love so fast; I think we mentioned marriage for the first time just two months in.  It was made of equal parts of these:

1)    Genuine connection through shared interests and values

2)    Overwhelming relief that someone had finally picked us (we were both known for being that good opposite-sex friend who would make someone so happy someday because we were so wonderful, blah blah blah so we were always crushing on someone who would not requite)

3)     Being hopeless romantics in love with being in love. 

 It felt amazing, but it was unrealistic.  You can’t maintain that for long.  Sometimes I miss it, or try to live vicariously through a friend on the cusp of it as she prepares for a first or second date, but I’m enough of a realist to know you can’t go back to that.  I have happily traded it in for something much more comfortable and boring.  Sometimes I tell people we were dumb to not wait it out a little longer, and really get to know each other, but really I think we were smart to jump in both feet first.  If you spend too much time getting to know someone, you will see the faults while you can still back out. I think the beauty of marriage is being forced to work through that hard stuff.  Running away is not a choice anymore. You can’t balk to avoid that hard conversation.  Despite the song, breaking up can actually be easy to do when you are dating.  I loved that marriage took away my permission to leave whenever a fight flared up. My mom once told me that you haven’t been married if you have never thought about divorce.  Growing up, one of my biggest fears was my parents splitting.  Mind you, I had no real reason to fear that, but I did.  So hearing her advice made me a little concerned.  Now I can relate to being so mad you take a moment to think what would life be like single.  Luckily, the daydream lasts about one second as I realize how absolutely crappy it would be! 

Life got hard after we got engaged.  We lost both of our grandmas in the months/days before our wedding.  His mom was first diagnosed with cancer the February before our wedding. In our first 18 months of marriage we lost his mother quickly and painfully.  Money was tight as Sephus completed his Master’s Degree during his first year of teaching. We survived an unplanned but much celebrated pregnancy that ended in miscarriage at 12 weeks.  Both of us lost relatives that we cared about. (I kept thinking we would attend a lot less funerals if we didn’t know each other.)   And just when we thought we were about maxed out on pain, we watched on as my little brother fought to heal from a house fire which resulted in a 45 plus day stay in the hospital.  Our personal emotional needs during these tough times took a toll on us.  I tried to repeat these sayings in my head “Marriage doubles your joys and divides your sorrows” and “We don’t know what we will face, but we know we will face it together.”  However, saying these greeting card clichés is easy, but truly forgiving and accepting each other’s inadequacies when we needed each other most was much harder. 

I have always loved the Paul Simon quote about marriage.  It sounds so romantic, especially sung by his soulful voice.  And I agree with the can’t be undone part, but the more I think about is as I celebrate ten years of togetherness, I think the first part of the quote speaks to the struggles many marriages face.  You can’t take two bodies and twirl them into one.  If you do, you will ultimately see yourself at the core of that one and assume the other one is being assimilated into your being.  When we get married, we are seeking another player in OUR lives.  Sometimes it is hard to remember that we are marrying someone who also has a life  - separate from ours…  with separate dreams and needs and preferences.  We need to appreciate each other’s separateness and work to bridge the understanding between our two minds, hearts and bodies.  That takes listening, and bending, and respecting, and loving. 

To me, marriage is about just making it work and agreeing to struggle through life together.  (Now I write all this with the caveat that some people are in truly damaging relationships.  And when they stop and ponder the divorce question they cannot say they are better off together.  I respect the courage it takes to admit that and do not write this as condemnation.)  The rewards are bountiless once you make that commitment.  It means having a co-coach to game plan your life with.  It means crawling into bed with someone each night so you can process your day in the quiet dark.  It means having a face to go with the pang in your heart brought on by every cheesy movie or love song.  It means sharing the load based on your strengths (read not having to pick lice out of hair because you don’t have the patience.)  It means someone to call you out.  It means surprise laughter as you get ready in the morning.  It means faith that someone else chose you once and would choose you over and over again given the choice. 

I think a more realistic quote on marriage is the Bible passage we had read at our wedding.  It appreciates the separate lives that join in one marriage in an attempt to make the journey of life more joyful and ultimately less challenging. 

Ecclesiastes 4:9

Two are better than one,

because they have a good return for their labor:

If either of them falls down,

one can help the other up.

But pity anyone who falls

and has no one to help them up.

Also, if two lie down together, they will keep warm.

But how can one keep warm alone?

How can one stay warm alone…

So Happy Anniversary Sephus! Here is to ten years of sharing labor, picking each other up and staying warm. 

On Mom Fails

Today I had a heart to heart with a good friend.  She and I lead relatively parallel lives and both take on way too much.  As a result, we often feel like we are doing much but little of it is done well.  I told her I sometimes feel like I am failing in every area of my life.  When I step back, I realize this isn’t true.  However, it made me realize we all fail on a regular basis.  Perhaps if we can commiserate together about these shortcomings and poke fun at our own faults, we can learn to live with them.  Hence, the top ten ways I routinely fail as a mom. 

1)    Sending Thank You Notes

Avery came home from school today with a Thank You card from a party she went to nine days ago.  Oh Crap, I thought – major fail.  I suck.  We didn’t even pretend we were going to write thank you notes this year.  Since I still have the blank Tiana cards from Avery’s Princess and the Frog birthday party (the year she turned four!), I decided to avoid the month of feeling guilty before too much time passed to make them relevant and decided to never even place them on my to do list.  When we got a thank you card from a girl who came to Avery’s party earlier this year I worried that we look ungrateful.  We aren’t – I promise!  We just decided to skip the formality.  I mean how sincere are thank you cards anyway.  Have you ever received one that said, “thanks for the PJs but my daughter actually has all the 24 months clothes she could use” or “I wish you would pick out toys that didn’t have so many little parts that get lost and/or become choking hazards for the baby.”  No – all thank you notes will assure you that your presence and gift were totally appreciated, so let’s all cut each other some slack and agree to skip this nicety – except for graduations, showers and weddings.  I’m not ready to let those go quite yet.   

2)    Breastfeeding

It happened again just this week…  While going over surgery instructions for Maggie’s tubes I had to publicly state that she is a formula fed baby.  “Does she nurse or take a bottle?”  FAIL!  It was an innocent question asked by a kind nurse, but I suddenly was filled with all the guilt and shame I have felt three babies in a row.  I feel this same shame when I shake up a bottle at the play place or the pediatrician’s waiting room.  I want to confess details that are nobody’s business to all moms in eyesight.  “Hi – you don’t know me, but I saw you eyeing my daughter’s formula.  Yes…  I know she is very young and this must look incredibly lazy to you.  It can actually be a lot of work - washing bottles, running to the store each week, comforting a baby when you forget her food source, apologizing constantly…  I actually wanted to breastfeed.  My daughters and I could never make it work.  My oldest lost 14% of her body weight because I refused to give her the rat poison known as formula.  She was eventually admitted to the pediatric unit for monitoring after I was convinced to feed her Enfamil from a finger feeder.  I still kept at it even after this.  One time a lactation consultant, my husband, and I all wrestled Avery for an hour and got her to take half an ounce.  And I STILL tried for the next two girls.  I pumped for 2.5 hours a day just to get 12 ounces.  Oh wait… you aren’t interested in this crazy rant from a stranger…”  I have the utmost respect for the sacrifice it takes to breastfeed, I just hope people try to understand why some of us can’t. 

3)    Recording Memories

I mean what is there to say here really.  This failure is pretty cliché.  I filled out the first 6 months of Avery’s five-year memory book.  I also wrote a weekly update in a journal about her.   This helps me remember her first steps, etc. I wrote in the first five pages of Tessa’s book and composed one weekly update.  I don’t even remember her first word.  I have not even opened Maggie’s book.  Today I realized she has been sitting really well for over a week now.  I suddenly wished I knew what day she mastered it so I could write in her book for the first time.  Then I realized that no one gives a crap about these things.  Barring physical disabilities, all babies learn to sit eventually.  Is anyone less fulfilled as an adult because they can’t tell you the exact date of this milestone?  Picture wise, I DO take them but never print them or pass them out.  Sometimes I feel bad about this.  Other times, I give myself a break.  Because of me, no one will have to deal with these printed pictures in days or years to come.  We have all experienced the moral dilemma that comes with recycling a birth announcement.  How can you put those little faces in the trash?  At the same time, what will you do with them years from now?  People will have no idea how this little darling is connected to our family.  Even pictures of your own family might overwhelm descendants.  For us, finding a picture of a great grandparent is such a rare joy and treat.  What will our future generations do with our abundant photos?  Sometimes we take ten pictures before we even leave for school!!! 

4)    Understanding PTA Politics

Oops!  I forgot the number one rule of being new to a group.  Lay low.  Figure out how it all works.  Learn the group dynamic.  Then you can infiltrate in year two.  I came on a little too strong with the PTA as of late and now I am seen by some as a complainer/griper/unwilling to help.  My suggestions came across as judgment.  That was never my intention.  Those of you who know me know this is not me.  Wish I could take this fail back! 

5)    Keeping up with Friday Folders/Homework

Last month, for three weeks in a row, I had to have Avery read her homework books to me on the way to school on Monday.  This is the ONLY homework she gets all week, and she gets in on Friday.  Therefore, we have ALL weekend to do it.  In the frantic morning rush I had to sign the homework sheet in the car and throw the books back at Avery in the car seat in hopes that the text was short enough to complete during the ten minute drive to day care.  I am a teacher (a READING teacher), so I don’t want to talk much more about this fail as it is pretty embarrassing.  God help us all in middle school. 

6)    Doing Recital Week Well

If you do not have girls, skip this section all together.  Thank your lucky stars that you can look like hell and still be a star on the baseball field, football field,  etc.  Some of the girls’ activities require massive amounts of primping before showing off your athletic prowess.  I grew up with brothers and quickly learned the power of being able to get ready in ten minutes.  It means you get to sleep more, read more, write more, etc.  I pity my friends who flat iron their hair for 30 minutes plus each morning.  Due to genetics, and a general unwillingness to care, I can walk out the door with wet hair and at least not look unkempt by the time school starts.  My daughters have the misfortune of being born into this general distaste for hair fixing.  As I watched all the pics show up on my facebook feed of perfectly curled hair for DRESS REHEARSAL!!!! I realized I was a failure once again.  I can master a ponytail IF the girls have wet hair, but that’s about it.  How am I now in charge of two heads of hair?  (Maggie is still bald thank goodness.) Please wish me luck in the weeks ahead for dance picture day AND dance recital day.  And if you really love me, maybe show up with a brush. 

7)             Keeping Track of Key Cards and the Like

Something I have been keenly aware of as of late is how incredibly physical parenting is.  In addition to being physically exhausting from lack of sleep, it also wears you out in the knees as you bend down to give baths, in your arms as you rock a baby who screams for three hours at a time, in our neck/back as you try not to move b/c said baby has finally stopped crying.  Another part of parenting that is physical/tangible is all the stuff that comes with it.  Being on my last baby, my eyes light up every time Maggie outgrows an outfit or device as I imagine these items leaving my home.  I can’t keep of my own stuff let alone all their stuff.  Just this past week we lost a tap shoe (note above fail and do the math), most of our hairbands and a library book.  This kind of losing is common in my cluttered life, but this issue has taken on a new urgency in the form of THE DAYCARE KEYCARD.  (Imagine dramatic sound effect in the background.)  After a year of promising, they finally installed the key system at daycare.  I should be glad for this safety measure.  Instead I am made to feel like an ass on a regular basis.  As I pull up to the building most mornings I am suddenly my high school self on the day I forgot my homework…  “How can I get around it this time?” I think.  I duck in my car until someone I know pulls in or rush out leaving the kids behind to offer to hold the door for someone with full hands.  They remind me that they aren’t supposed to let me in, but they will.  I suddenly feel like a mother begging for food in shame.  I am powerless to this possessor of the key.  This fail sucks because it is so public. 

8)    Laughing at the Wrong Times

My kids are funny.  They have these crazy personalities and are masters at language.  At least once a day I laugh when I should discipline.  Other times, I laugh when I should show sympathy.  Avery will be throwing her clothes around her room yelling that I just don’t understand her and I bust up.  I wish I had some really good gems to share, but my brain is starting to get fried and I imagine I have lost a few readers somewhere around page two anyway…

9)     Letting Children Chew on Things they Shouldn’t

Somehow I missed the mommy class telling me to live in constant fear for my child’s safety.  I am pretty hands off in this department.  I mean, we use car seats and all, but we don’t stay home from a party because a distant cousin of the host might have the stomach flu.  We let the kids explore outside with some freedom.  And…  when our babies are really fussy we let them chew on things near us.  Sometime this is the end of a bottle of lotion or our dirty fingers and one time, it was a chicken wing bone…         

            My worst mom fail ever probably came when Tessa was nine moths old.  Both Jon and my grandpa were in the ICU on New Year’s Day and the cousins decided to get away from it all for a bit and grab dinner.  Tessa was eagerly eyeing a chicken wing bone.  Avery used to love to chew on rib bones so it seemed harmless.  All of a sudden the bone was missing.  Tessa looked a little red in the face, and I lost it.  I screamed (apparently quite loudly) “she is choking on a chicken bone.”  If you are unaware of the multitude of sounds in a restaurant, you will realize them if you ever cause an entire establishment to go silent.  The clinking of glasses, dinging of silverware, scratching on an order pad and general conversation buzz all disappeared and were replaced by wide gaped mouths and fearful stares.  I threw Tessa to my friend Treena who is a doctor.  She tried to explain to me that Tessa was now crying which meant she could breathe, but I could not hear her through my terror and very public hysterics.   Luckily, I soon found the bone in the sleeve or her sweater and was able to announce to the entire room that she was okay, and they could get back to business.  At least we can laugh now… 

10)                        Evaluating Myself on a Regular Basis

And my number one fail (Drumroll please) is caring for more than two seconds about any of the items above.  I am going to excuse myself for all that listed and more.   I hope you will do the same and share some of your best fails with me! 

On living communally and sucking the marrow out of life

                When I decided to spend two years teaching only part-time at Oakland so I could finish up my PhD coursework and experience a graduate assistantship, it was Jayme Pingrey who helped make that possible.

                When I was too cheap to buy Tessa BPA free bottles and just wanted to use the ones that Avery thrived on, it was Jayme who organized my book club to chip in and keep those nasty chemicals away from Tess J. 

                When I had to work with an editor for the first time on a piece about Missouri Writing Project’s Youth Programs commissioned by the National Writing Project, it was Jayme who helped make it bearable  by rolling her eyes with me at having to change one more revised section back to the way we  had it written in the first place.

                When I was stupid enough to take a pregnancy test at work (long story) and was dying to tell someone and had no access to Sephus, it was Jayme who holed up with me in her office to decide if that faint line really meant I would be a mom for the third time. 

                And when I went to Orlando, Florida and checked into a crappy two bed hotel room with the Pingreys and Nick Kremer late at night and didn’t want to spend a restless night curled up next to a male co-worker… well that time it was Ryan Pingrey who helped me out by letting me sleep next to Jayme but you get the picture…

                So, when Jayme and Ryan sold their house after just over a week on the market, I didn’t have to think twice about offering our extra space in the basement up to them as they were displaced waiting for their new home to be built.  I ran it by Sephus, and he didn’t have to think long either.  This would make the fifth time we had someone live with us since getting married (Leia as she waited for her home to be built, Roger as he prepped for the Bar exam, Treena as she completed a rotation at University hospital and Jon as he completed his M.A. in teaching degree and his first year of teaching.)  Of course, this would be the first time that kids came along, but honestly, we still didn’t think long.  We have decided that thinking too hard about things can sometimes keep you from embracing life’s next adventure, but more about that later. 

                When people heard what we were doing they wavered between curious fascination, pure amusement, kind concern, and shocked judgment.  We heard things such as:

 “Better you than me!”

“How are things at the commune?” 

“I couldn’t do it…”

“You guys are good people!”

“What are you going to do about…?”

Each time I heard the last question I thought, “Oh… I really hadn’t thought about that…” and then quickly decided I was glad I hadn’t.  If I did, I might have said no.  Details work themselves   out.  Sixty days into it we are a well-oiled machine and have grown accustomed to each other’s presence.  I love to cook, so I handle most of the meals.  Jayme knows how to simplify and maintain sanity so she cleans up after me whispering and repeating, it’s okay to throw things away… it’s okay to say no…  The kids think it’s one big vacation and spend hours playing and laughing.  Dinners are noisy, “I want to sit by Weston or I want the Princess plate,” but they are so much fun.  Last night, Corinne turned to Avery and said, “Avery, would you like to say something?”  It made me think about how all five are growing together.  Months mean so much more the first five years of life.  I love watching our good friends’ children mature right in front of our eyes, and I love watching how our children adjust to and welcome these new players in our daily lives.   I think Americans are so into independent, we forget that life is meant to be communal.  Now I am not suggesting that we all turn into two family households, and I am sure there will be things we welcome about returning to our own separate addresses, but for now I am embracing this experience that others will never get to have and that we would never have had if we thought too much about how it would all work out before we jumped in. Each new person we have brought into our home has helped us reflect on our marriage, or our parenting style and therefore, make us better people.  Plus, we enjoy a lot more wine and Dairy Queen with built in friends.   

                I think that this life is about collecting as many experiences as you can before you pass on to something else, and I think those experiences are best when they let those around us get a little bit closer to who we are at our core.  Thoreau gets at this by telling us to suck the marrow out of life so that when it comes time to die we don’t discover that we never really lived.  We are meant to travel to as many places as we can, read as many books as we can, try as many foods as we can (or are willing to – I’m kind of picky), sing as many songs as we can and most importantly, let  many people  crawl deeply into our lives.  So don’t think of us as some sort of heroes; we are getting way more than we are giving as we are allowed to enact our life philosophy yet again.  And don’t say you could never do this; If you are kind enough to read my blog, you are the kind of person who lets people into your head (and hopefully heart) so your home is not too far of a stretch.

A challenge to anyone still reading along - Humor me; say yes to something that seems crazy or impractical or out of your interactive comfort zone, and let me know how it goes.  Consider it one more experience in this wonderful life. 

On the Decision to Teach

            When I graduated from college in 2000 with a degree to teach high school English I received a gift from a family friend who had been teaching math for many years.  I grew up baby-sitting her children in Bartlett and even continued heading back in the summers to care for her sons the week before school started so she could attend hours of PD and pour over endlessly new curriculum.  (This was the fate of math teachers in the early 90’s).  We had grown rather close from these experiences, so I was not surprised to receive an inspirational book with a carefully prepared personal message in the inside flap.  I was, however, very surprised to read her closing line.  “Just remember, even if you decide to leave the field of teaching, the world will still be better for the time you did teach.”  The message left me very confused.  Was this a secret warning from a veteran?  Should I expect to want to leave?  Was she unhappy?  I had been excited to embark on this career adventure, and her words left me nervous and contemplative.

            After thirteen years in, I find myself remembering these words and feeling kinship with this woman I have not spoken to in ages.  I have often wondered how much I would push my own children into teaching knowing what I now know about the field of education.  One of them will inevitably go into teaching.  Both their parents are teachers, two of their uncles are teachers, one surrogate aunt is a teacher…  Though my parents were not teachers, my dad was an avid baseball coach who challenged and supported his players in ways that makes him memorable to many still today.  My mom also coached, was my girl scout troop leader, and even taught some after school craft classes at my elementary school.  Her humor and way of making everyone feel like they were the most special child in the room caused many to tell me how lucky I was to call her mine.  Children of people who dedicate their lives in this way, often grow up wanting to do the same.  In fact, not too long ago, my friends and I had to break up a fight at our house as our children argued over who would be prinicipal as they played school.  We laughed that this would only happen at a gathering where all in attendance were teachers.   I wonder how many of them will choose teaching as a career.  Should they?

            Did you know that 50% of teachers leave the field after 5 years?  Imagine schools trying to seek significant improvement gains with constant turnover.  Why might they be leaving?  A quick answer could be because they could make a lot more money somewhere else.  It is strange to be only 34 years old and know that I will never make significantly more money than I do now.  I am about maxed out on the salary schedule, and there will be no bonus years for high sales.   However, that is not the reason.  It’s hard to complain about my salary when I work in a building where over 50% of the kids cannot afford lunch.  We are comfortable enough and income is steady.  I never will have to call the office the day of a school dance and ask the STUCO sponsor (read me) if she will waive the two dollar entrance fee because we have tried all week but could not gather the money.  For those who have never experienced it, that kind of poverty is real, and I cannot claim to be a pauper when faced with it on a daily basis.  Besides, how else could I really make money with my love of reading and writing.  (I do, however, sometimes dream of things Sephus could do with his crazy smart math skills besides teach 9^th graders how to do Algebra and Geometry and the salary that would result…)

            The real reason people leave is the emotional drain it takes to get through the average year, week or even day.  I can’t think of too many fields where you are required to pleasantly serve people who at times emotionally abuse you.  (No I will not walk out of this class with you!  Why don’t you go for a walk?  Looks like you could use a few walks around the block.)  Imagine planning a sales pitch and then walking in to be heckled for fifty minutes straight.  (This is BORING!!!!!!  We will never use this in REAL life!!!!! – by the way a dancing seal juggling 14 balls could be seen as boring by some junior high students)  Imagine taking time away from your family to plan a school dance only to have a sassy 9^th grade girl say, “I hope you know no one is going to that stupid dance.  Someone on facebook said it was going to be lame.”  Imagine caring so deeply about the well being of a child and having to know the terror they go home to at night and despite multiple attempts, no one at the state level being able to do anything about it.  Imagine having parents cuss you out, or in my worst parent moment ever, having a parent say she was glad your brother was in the hospital because you are bad person for making her daughter feel bad about herself just because she stole your cell phone.  Imagine trying to sleep at night as the mother of young daughters after reading a journal entry about a student losing her virginity at age thirteen.  Imagine having a kid yell that teaching isn’t a real job even after you asked your colleague to leave his conference hour to teach him math despite the fact that he was in the office awaiting officer referral sentencing.  Imagine having to read 150 of theses blogs in a row (I am impressed if you are still with this ONE J and then having to write feedback on each and every one paying attention to content, organization, usage, etc.)   Imagine never really knowing if you were accomplishing anything at all… 

            So why I am still here thirteen years later…  Why did I not run away when I was greeted by a supervising teacher during field work who said, “So you want to be a teacher huh?  Hope you’re ready for a life in hell!”  The truth is I love my job more today than I did thirteen years ago.  If you can find some way to love the quirks and challenges all children bring, you can find the joy and humor in a life of service to the young.  Educational Researcher, Marc Lemont Hill, talks about the culture of youth.  He explains that we have to realize that all adolescents have to reject adults.  It is part of youth culture to think anything the old do is totally uncool.  In the process you confirm what you value and who you are.  I also try to sympathize during emotional break downs by thinking, “Oh you poor thing trying to manage with all those hormones inside you right now.”  Adolescence is turmoil! 

            In teaching, we have to accept slow results.  I once told my students that I loved baking.  I could come home from a job where I was never really sure if I was getting through to anyone and where my plans sometimes failed, and I could follow a recipe and know that one hour later a perfect cake would be sitting in front of me to be enjoyed.  One of my supposedly at-risk students had the wisdom to turn to me and say, “We’re your cakes Mrs. Johnson.  Some of us just take a little longer to bake.”  My struggling readers often said things so intelligent that they would stop me in my tracks.  For every frustrating moment, there are equally powerful moments like this one that sustain you on the darkest of days. 

            Teaching allows me to explore so many passions.  When I was younger I wanted to be a child psychologist, lawyer or actress.  I get to do all three of those things every day.  Especially the acting…  I try to tell my students who escalate so easily that it is perfectly acceptable to smile, comply and proceed to cuss teachers out in their head.  That is acting my friends!  So is pretending like arrowheads are the most exciting thing you have ever seen in your life because that boy in third hour has finally accepted your attempts at a personal relationship and has brought in his entire collection to share with you. 

            Teaching is an act of power.  Some students complain about how much teachers like to be in control.  Of course we do, I responded.  The bossy kids on the playground who love school are the ones who end up in front of the classroom.  We get to make (suggest?) hundreds of people follow our rules every day.  We get a captive audience who must laugh at least some of our jokes on a regular basis.  We make comments in passing and don’t realize that those comments are sometimes the reason people choose the careers they do or develop the self-images that shape lives.  We must be careful with this power. 

            All of this has been on my mind this week because of a great honor I received.   I teach a class at MU preparing future middle school teachers to be ready for all that adolescents bring with them to the classroom.  One sudent of mine was chosen as part of the MU 39, an organization that honors 39 of the most outstanding seniors on campus.  As one of them, she was able to choose one mentor that inspired her to attend a banquet last night.  When asked why she chose me, she wrote, “Danielle challenged and inspired me and the whole class to take hold of the opportunity that being a teacher presents.”  I read that after an emotionally exhausting week where I missed my own children terribly, and I burst into tears.  She reminded me of something that I can sometimes forget.  Teaching is a wonderful opportunity.  If I should be lucky enough to have a child choose it, I will tell them how lucky they are to hang out with young people all day in moments that will forever impact who they are and likewise, what the world becomes. 

Imagine being able to say that….