Out of the Nest

This was my 6th year as a teacher. In those 6 years, getting along with and having a positive rapport with my administrators was nothing to make note of. It is different now.

The school year 2011-2012, was by far, the worst year of my career. I was going through a divorce, and was basically absent. Not only in body (I missed an embarrassingly high number of days), but even when I was technically present, my head and heart were somewhere else. It didn't help matters that this was my first experience in a general education classroom. While I had been a special education teacher for 4 years prior, I discovered how naive I was about what goes on in a general classroom. To say I was overwhelmed, would be a significant understatement. While this was all happening, my principal was calm and relaxed with me. I remember her having a short, frank, conversation towards the end of that school year with me about how absent I was. I remember feeling incredibly embarrassed, and told her I would try my best to improve, and that I was going through a lot, and I knew that the kids deserved more. This was the only conversation we ever had about it.

I thought about not returning to the same school. I was offered a position in Hawaii, Maui to be exact. I know what you're thinking - "What the hell is wrong with her!?" Trust me, when the winter rains have been going for 6 months, I ask myself the same thing. However, the conversation I had with that principal was so cold, so unwelcoming, and I had such icky feelings from her, that I turned it down. I thought back to my principal... I remember something my cohort leader told us in graduate school, "The principal sets the tone for the building. Find someone you respect and that respects you." My current principal was this person.

That entire shitty year, she had supported me. She wasn't up in my face, she wasn't sending me angry emails. She quietly let me have my shitty year. I respected her, and I wanted her to be proud of me. This sounds silly and juvenile for a professional to say, but it is the truth. I respected her because she was up front, she didn't keep secrets from staff, she trusted us, she valued our opinions, she was a strong leader and didn't back down when faced with difficult decisions. When a parent was unreasonable, she fully supported the teacher. This is the kind of principal you want, the kind a teacher dreams of. Perhaps it is because someone with my background was never supposed to finish high school, certainly not go to college, and the thought that I would have a masters degree was well, insane. I think I don't believe it myself sometimes. I see this woman as a strong, independent, educated, leader! She is my role model. I am sure it is still the scared child that seeks validation, but there it is. Hopefully someday, I can validate myself, but for now, I rely on my leaders.

But, she is moving to a new school. Just as I feel comfortable with her. Just as I completed, what I think to be, my most successful, happy, and productive school year thus far, she is transferring to another school. When she told me, I was stunned. I thought she was joking around. I felt a rush of fear take over, and sadness fill me up from my heart outward. Then the tears came. And the thoughts, "How can I do this without her?" "How can our school survive without this woman?" "Dammit, I am so out of here!""I don't want to be here without her!" I was honestly surprised at my reaction. I didn't realize how much she meant to me. I have never had feelings like this for an administrator.

Thankfully, I have also developed close friends/colleagues also, and we have talked a bit since about this situation. I have realized I feel like a baby bird being kicked out its nest. I don't feel ready. I am terrified of having another shitty year. I am terrified of not continuing the greatness of this past year. I guess, when it comes down to it, I am terrified of disappointing people. I am terrified that a new principal will come in and be the worst. I am terrified I don't have the skills to do this. I am just scared. Change is hard. I wish her the very best. But I selfishly wish she would stay. I need her. Our school needs her. Can we continue this positive energy without her? Only time will tell.

Dance Class

Finally I decided to go. What was it that led me to this decision? I am not really sure, but I think it is as simple as feeling like I finally had "the time" to go. During the school year, I am so bogged down with work and exhausted, that I rarely go out during the week, and as I have gotten older, my weekend ventures have become less and less. This week is the first week off from school, and I decided I better give this PulsePDX place a try.

A dear friend has raved about this place for months, stating that it's the best, and it is so much fun, etc. I had my doubts, obviously, since it took me like a year to decide to check it out. The website is very flashy and cool looking - both attributes I do not have. I expressed my nerves to him, but he assured me I would be fine.

In classic "me" form, I started to get a headache about an hour and a half before class was supposed to start. "Perfect", I thought, "I don't have to go now!" But there was a slightly stronger voice that said, "No, you're going." Fine. I swallowed 3 advils and went on my way.

I pulled up and parked, my heart racing and I observed several beautiful women walking into class. Their tiny little asses perkily bouncing as they entered the building. Shit. More breathing, texted with my sister about what I was going to do, and how I hated being the fat kid in class. Breathe. Let me assure you, big women want to work out, but, at least in my experience, feel so out of place, that running and hiding is far easier. I felt the urge to run, but then I saw a few more people enter, and I just had to give it a go.

The greeting at the door was friendly and felt very genuine and welcoming. I was just so nervous. The dance room was cold, uncomfortable, but I knew it would warm up, so I tried to enjoy it. I watched the instructor close the curtains, which made the room really dark. The disco ball turning, club-like lighting, no mirrors. Dark & no mirrors, this made the space feel very safe. The music (being provided by a live DJ, by the way) started playing and we were on our way.

After a couple songs, I grabbed my water and checked the time, dammit, only 15 minutes in! How was I ever going to make it?! I felt kind of panicked, but continued trying my best to follow the steps. I was getting into it. I have taken Zumba before, and hated it, so the fact that I was enjoying this is note worthy.  Then, however, I hit a wall. The pace was picking up, the moves were getting trickier, I think we were about halfway through. I could feel myself getting more and more frustrated. I kind of stopped and just walked in place, thoughts racing through my mind: "I knew this was going to suck!" "You're going to be fat forever!" "You can't do this!" over and over and over again. But, I remembered what I would tell the women in my dance studio - "Get the fuck out of your head!" Slowly, I breathed, I let the music and rhythm wash over me. Walking in place I felt my heart pumping in my chest, just like the base pumping up against the walls. I opened my eyes to a room full of glorious energy. My body can move!

I stopped thinking so much about the steps, I tried as best I could, and when I couldn't do the moves exactly, I just danced and enjoyed where I was. I could see smiling faces, bodies moving this way and that, we were all here together, sharing an experience.  The music began to slow slightly. We began to slow our pace, our arms and chest open. I had a very chakra like opening. Tears began to rise. I had an overwhelming sense of gratitude.

I was thankful for the darkness, as it allowed me to be in my body. I was thankful for the lack of mirrors, for when I see my body now, it brings me nothing but grief. I was thankful for the music being loud and pulsating to bring me back into my body and out of my head. I am thankful for giving myself this gift.

I can't wait to go back.

End of the School Year

This time, it was different. This time, I felt something deep in my heart. This time, they moved me to tears.

It all came flooding over me at about 2:55pm, 5 minutes before the bell was going to ring, signalling the end of another school year. 6 years, I have been doing this, and the previous 5 had never brought me to tears. Year 6 changed that. Year 6 was the year I finally felt like I knew what I was doing in the classroom. This was the year that I finally felt like a teacher.

Thinking back on what the classroom was like at the beginning of the year: kids that knew their letters, but not how to blend them into words. Kids that could write their name, but not their thoughts. Kids that had basic math skills ready to build their foundation of knowledge. I was scared. The year before, I was so absent. Absent in body and mind. I failed before. This time, we succeeded. And "we" is the word so needed in this business of teaching.

I came to realize, on the last day of school, that this was the first year that I taught and I wasn't married. I didn't have a partner at home. I was on my own this year. With that said, over these last 10 months, I have built the most special, rewarding, exciting, and loving relationships that I have ever had in my life. I feel honored and blessed to call so many of my colleagues friends. We can laugh at ourselves and each other without fear. We can critique one another and grow together without guilt or shame. These friendships have changed me and helped me grow professionally as well as personally.

I can confidently say, that I taught these children how to read. I gave them a gift that no one can take away. I gave them freedom. I gave them hope. Don't misunderstand me, it has taken a village of teachers, counselors, principals, and parents to do this. I do not get all the credit. But I do get to stand proud as one of the contributors of this success.

So, at 2:55pm, I looked over the sea of little faces. I told them I loved them. Many of my kids come from rough homes and backgrounds. I worry that many of them are not told they are loved nearly as often as they should. I wanted them to know that someone loves them, I love them. We don't often talk this way as teachers, but maybe we should. Maybe the world needs us to state our truth of love. I love these children. I want the very best for them. Most importantly, these kids need to hear and know that someone in this world loves them.

With that sentiment being poured out, I saw one of my little ones crying, and then I lost it. Tears flowing down my face, my heart breaking, knowing that after the bell rings, things would never be the same. Sure, they will say "Hi, Ms Amy!" to me in the hallway, or smile and wave, but it will never ever be the same. They will have a new "Best Teacher Ever", and I will receive a new classroom to love. I savored their spirits, we hugged and cried together. And with that, I let them go.

This year, I became a teacher.

Mother's Day 2013

This last year was different. This year, I saw my Mom in a way I had never seen her before. I finally saw her as a totally separate being from myself. Seeing her life at the moment of my Grandfather's death, is one of the biggest "growing up" moments I have experienced.

Of course, our Mother's will forever be a part of us. We shared their bodies for a time, and when we finally emerged into this world, we maintain a part of them inside us. What does that all mean? I am still unsure. But this past December, I think I learned something.

My Mom had parents, obviously, but I never really saw that. Seeing my Mom care for my Grampa, showed me how deep familial connection is. Family. As she sat at his bedside, holding this old man, I saw her youth, I saw that despite our complicated relationships with each other, all that is put aside, to do what is necessary. I saw my Mom as a child, sitting with her Dad. I listened intensely to her words. I watched them closely. I saw my Mother's faith as a Christian, something that I had always known about, but never really seen. I saw my Mom as a raw human. She showed me her humanness. And I am changed, because of it. I grew up a little, well, maybe a lot.

When one of us is hurting, she has taught me that nothing else matters. That is the biggest strength of my family. My mother has taught me this over and over again. My family continues to rise up for one another, in spite of all the other demands of the world, and it always works out - no one gets fired from their job, the house eventually gets clean, the groceries are eventually bought... She has shown me time and time again, that love conquers all, even death...

So on this Mother's Day, I love my Mom because she has shown me what it is like to be human. She has shown me how to let a parent go, how to let them die. I love my Mom because she gets passionate about things that matter to her. I love my Mom because she loves animals. I love my Mom because she gives me snacks and treats. I love my Mom because she let us eat in the car ~ a luxury she was not allowed. I love my Mom because she raises chickens. I love my Mom because she is relatively spontaneous. I love my Mom because she let me play dress up for far longer than I probably "should" have. I love my Mom for always coming to my play performances. I love my Mom because she always stood up for me (even when I likely didn't deserve it). I love my Mom because she gave me two wonderful and adorable little sisters. I love my Mom because she got divorced, and can relate to my pain.  I love my Mom for showing me how to be with the dying. I love my Mom because she has shown me life and death. I love my Mom, I'll love you forever, my baby you'll be.

What Makes a Woman

What makes a woman?
Her hatred of her body, no matter the size?
The way she looks at herself with disdain?
She runs her hands over her skin, and feel this sinking ick feeling.
No matter the size, she still should lose some weight.

What makes a woman?
The products on her face?
The way she carefully creates a masterpiece every morning.
The burning of her hair for the perfect curl.
The tweezing, plucking, popping, blocking, shaving, waxing, unending work of it all.

What makes a woman?
Is it the sexual assault she has endured?
Knowing her screaming wasn't enough to stir the neighbors into helping her.
Knowing that even the words "sexual assault" covers up the reality of her rape.
The continual shame she carries when even thinking about men & sex. Every time.

What makes a woman?
Is it her ability to marry? Birth?
Keep a man, and settle down. Keep the perfect home. Cook the perfect meals.
Smile politely as he tells her he loves another.
Keep the betrayal inside.

What makes a woman?
The man that she will never have?
The way she yearns to be with him?
Is it the catching of his eye, maybe this time, will make him fall in love with her?
She knows she isn't good enough.

What makes a woman?
All these make this woman.
All these things break this woman.
All these things weigh on this woman, daily, every moment.
I am this woman.

Agressive Breed? More Like, Stupid People.

Today I was told I could not adopt a dog because she is an "aggressive breed". I met her at the Oregon Humane Society, where she has been since Christmas eve. Her description states that she has lived with cats and children, and I found out the only reason she was brought in was that the family couldn't afford her "medical" expenses, which were a simple flea/skin irritation. I met her, and she was hilarious and friendly. I was told that since she is a "power breed" they would have to verify that I could take her home. Sadly, I found out, my property has a policy against "aggressive breeds".

I will admit, I was once nervous about pit-bulls. Furthermore, I was nervous about any big dog. Nothing has ever happened to me, these are just big, strong, animals. However, over the past few years, I have met several pit-bulls, and have come to realize that they are really sweet and loving dogs.

It breaks my heart that these dogs are being discriminated against. The discrimination comes from a fear-powered media and a misinformed public.  Breed discrimination is linked to dog popularity, hence the more dogs of a certain breed are owned, the more incidents occur. Think about it, "In the 1970's Dobermans were very popular, hence a higher number of attacks by Dobermans in the '70's. Pit Bulls started rising in popularity in the 80's, Rottweiler;s in the the 90's" All these dogs have been thought to be "aggressive". But here is a surprising discovery I made today, google a breed of dog with "kill" or something similar, and you will find a story linked to that breed of dog.

Example (warning: these may be hard to read)
Golden Retriever
Labrador
Pomeranian


"A study performed by the American Veterinary Medical Association, the CDC, and the Humane Society of the United States, analyzed dog bite statistics from the last 20 years and found that the statistics don’t show that any breeds are inherently more dangerous than others."

People are the problem here. If you spay/neuter, train, love, and exercise your animal, you'll have a happy loving and loyal companion. Sure, accidents and tragic things will happen in life, however, linking these tragic events to a specific breed of animal is not only cruel, but wrong. Please, if you are still afraid of pit-bulls, read a bit about how they are loving and loyal. Find a friend with one and go play. I hope your heart will be changed. I am super bummed that I didn't get to take a home a new friend today, but hopefully I can start being a small voice of change.

Fulfilled and Unfulfilled

I had a realization today that I am becoming more and more fulfilled with my career. Two years ago, I never would have thought I'd have that feeling! But, here I am, really really happy at work! I adore the people I work with. They are smart, savvy, respectful, and overall loving people. They are nice to me, they think my ideas are good, they think I am funny. I find that I am now my happiest while I am at work.

While this is not the worst thing in the world, I mean, most people, I assume, would like to have a job they love and work with people they adore. So, I am not complaining about all that. I am however, noticing that I really am, only happy, when I am at my job. I am, truly grateful for this fact, but I just want more. Is it wrong to want more?

I noticed tonight, as I pulled into my driveway, that I started to cry. I feel super sad and bummed out. All my colleagues are busy tonight... with their family, friends, lovers, etc... So I sit at home, night after night, alone, and am extremely sad.

I am so far off balance, which for a Libra, is a HUGE deal. My only real piece of identity now is my job. I am so disconnected from love, sex, activities, hobbies, anything. All I do is work. Work, home, cry, repeat.

This sucks. This is depression.