Christmas Eve 2013

Let's see... This has been a year of more growing up. I imagine, that is what is supposed to happen as time passes.

Early in the year I was coming into my own as a teacher. I was having amazing results in the classroom, and for the first time in my career, I felt truly proud of myself.  Spring break was spent with some of my most favorite people in the world at the Oregon coast. I am so grateful for the people I work with, well most of them (haha). They support me and have my back, but challenge me to be my best person. We laugh and cry together, and I have never felt such love amongst co-workers.

While the school year came to a close, I was devastated to learn that my administrative team would no longer be part of the school I teach at. This weighed heavy on my heart and mind. I had come to respect and care for this team more than I ever thought I would - I mean, who loves their bosses? I did. They helped me in more ways then they will ever know. This change in leadership forced my own wings to open.

During the summer, I began volunteering as a "Comfort Companion" at a retirement community/nursing home. After my Grampa died on December 26th, I felt a strong calling to be a part of the dying journey. I felt in my heart that no one should ever die alone. Though I haven't been volunteering much since school started, knowing that I am a part of this team of caring and empathetic individuals makes me so proud.

While sitting with one man, his partner of many many years was there also. I was able to witness love  and life in its most pure form. In the end, only love matters.

I learned a lot about love this year... In order to have something that is strong and pure, honesty and trust is key. I learned that I needed to be more honest about myself. I also learned to be far more gentle and understanding. While I seek forgiveness and understanding, I still remain confused and humbled by many things ~ I suppose that is part of being human. Accepting that someone doesn't love you is one of the most difficult things I have ever done, and am still doing.

While I sit at my Grammas, the first Christmas without my Grampa, I ponder about what next year will bring. There are a variety of paths being illuminated, and choosing one will be difficult, though I am fairly certain that traveling will be happening, and I am very excited about that! The challenge this year is to accept the things I cannot change, focus on my own life goals, and love in ways bigger than I ever imagined.

I wish you a Merry Christmas and a New Year filled with hope, love, and grace.

Back-to-School Eve

So many emotions running through me. As teachers, I think we get just as nervous and excited as the kids do. We chose a profession that is relatively thankless as far a paycheck is concerned, but at the same time one of the most rewarding and fulfilling callings, in my opinion, of all time. Even though I have already spent my allotted $75 on supplies, been in more unpaid days than I can count, I still am so looking forward to tomorrow!

A whole new classroom! Full of possibilities & potential! Will they like me? Will I like them? (I joke, of course I will.) Will I be successful? Will I teach them to read and write, add and subtract? Will they fight? I can't wait to hear the hilarious musings of 6 year-olds. Or the first time one of them tells me that they miss their old teacher, because 1st Grade is hard! Or when we all just erupt in laughter. And when one of them, who just hasn't been getting reading, finally puts the pieces together, and we both smile proudly after they have just read their first book by themselves! These, and many more are the moments I live for!

And it must be mentioned that I work with the most incredible team of educators. These passionate individuals give teachers a good name - something that is so often lost in media portrayals of teachers. But these people are for real! The caring, compassion, and dedication to these little people astounds me every day! The amount of support they show me, is immeasurable!

So, here we are again. Another First-Day-of-School, and golly, I am I just so excited! Ready or not! I'll see you all in June!

Slut Shaming

I really wanted to stay out of and away from the "Miley" talks. I honestly did. But with so much being posted all around me, I feel a huge pull to respond. I am sure some of you will disagree with me, but so be it. I just hope, maybe I can give you something to think about.

I didn't watch the VMA's. In fact, I am not totally sure if I have ever actually watched the show. I'd like to think I was at some point that cool, but in reality, I have never been cool enough to care about the VMA's. Fine, I watch the talked about clips, but that is as far as my coolness factor goes. Yeah yeah, not cool at all, we've established that fact.

So all the "shocking" and "disturbing" pics and quotes came flying out into social media as if some major world news event had just happened - like "world hunger solved" or "global warming stopped", but no, this had to do with a young woman, Miley Cyrus, a pop princess and superstar. Still, I must admit, I was curious about what all the hoopla was about.

I watched the "shocking" performance. While watching, I kept waiting for what everyone was talking about. Waiting... waiting... and then the clip ended. I was left feeling sort of cheated, and not sure if I had missed something. I have been wondering what the hell everyone is freaking out about?! And I let it just be, until today.

I am just so annoyed at all the hate spewing about this woman, and the "feel sorry for her" crowd, either for her outfits or her choreographer, whatever excuse, is even more annoying. All this hating on a woman for a performance that was unapologetic. Sex aside, Ms Cyrus owned the night. She has power, and I think that is why everyone is pooping their pants. She had the power to make everyone stop and notice. She isn't a child. She can make choices, and she did, without apology. And for that, I commend her. How awesome it would be if we could all say, "fuck it, I do what I want! and fuck all you haters!"

She performed like a man! She owned her sex. She owned her body. She did what she wanted to do. And our american culture has such a disgusting reputation of shaming women who do such things, especially white women. Black women are just said to be "dangerous" while white women are noted to be sluts or whores - the Magdalene effect I will call it, or is it the Lolita effect? sigh - another blog. Did Ms Cyrus make you feel angry? Well, sweetheart, go out and get you some power!

And let's not forget, there was a man on that stage with her. A man 19 (?) years older than her - do whatever you want with that info, dear readers. I just want to point out that no one is talking about him. No one is discussing his role in that performance, and really, why would they in this culture of ours? He was probably just overcome by the Magdaline in Ms Cyrus  - can we say rape culture? (so many blogs need writing). He was perfectly "allowed" to be sexy and grind up on Ms Cyrus, but holy shit, stop the presses, she looked like she liked it!! (falls on fainting couch).

I think I should make my overall point now. Stop slut shaming. Stop shaming a woman who enjoys her sex. Stop telling women that they can't get down. (I have seen many of you get up on that, and damn, girl, you look hot!). You have every right not to be like Ms Cyrus, however, that gives you no right to tell other women that they are slutty for enjoying their sex. In closing, if you feel the need to slut shame, do yourself a favor, and go get you some power instead of attempting to take the power away from someone else.

Off to get my power... ie: vibrator. teehee.

Happy Marriage Wish

My very dear friend is getting married Saturday. I have a heavy heart because I am unable to attend.

When she first announced her engagement, my initial response was very inwardly selfish. I hated the idea of marriage, weddings, etc. Since divorce, I had become very bitter about the whole "happily ever after" concept, and now considered it foolishness. Naturally, my loud-mouthed self didn't hold back in this expression. I tend to express my "hurt" by joking around or being self deprecating, it is just one of many maladaptive coping skills.

I am not sure of the exact day, but I made some stupid and selfish comment, and I immediately saw the hurt in my friends eyes. And, not sure if this was the same time, or a few days after, but at some point, she told me she didn't want to talk about her wedding stuff with me because she didn't want to make me feel hurt or uncomfortable. What a realization that was! I needed to get my head right.

I really did reflect on what she said. I thought about how I really wanted to be her friend in this. I decided that I needed to put aside my own experience for a moment, and let her have her joy. My selfishness was stealing her joy, and I did not want to be that person. Certainly, I failed, and would make comments that I intended to be funny, but weren't. I tried to catch myself, and became more mindful of my interaction with her and her joy.

All that being said, I am so very very happy that I came to this conclusion - to let her have her joy. It helped heal me - sure, more selfishness, but whatever, cut me some slack, dear reader!

Over these past several months, I have seen my friend blossom into a beautiful bride! We have shared stories, laughed, and cried about the past and the future. We lamented about our insecurities, we held each other up while weak, and rejoiced in our success. I was honored to share in dress fittings and bridal discussions. This bride gave me a gift that I can never repay. The gift of experiencing my past and sharing my own wedding stories without the sting of sarcasm, only with the bitter-sweetness that comes from lost love. I write this letter in full knowledge that my marriage failed. Many things written in this letter I didn't do, I just didn't know any better. "I do" now...

My Dear Friend,
I wish you all the joy that comes with having a partner at your side. Wake up, look at him while he sleeps, and soak it in. Touch him gently, and remember his softness. Breathe him in, stroke his face and love him. Do not forget yourself. Remember to love yourself. Know that you are more beautiful that words can express. You are each a gift to the other.

You will certainly get upset and even angry. Know that you are human, that he is human, and that you are both fallible. Try and remember to be soft in these times. Do not let anger build walls. I do not believe in the "don't go to bed angry" rule - because sometimes, our partners can be real jerks! With that said, I also believe in not letting too much time pass, for it makes us bitter. Forgive, and move on.

Work on your marriage, everyday! Marriage is the hardest job you will ever have. Say "Thank you", even for the simplest of things, even after years and years, say "Thank you". Appreciate one another. Be grateful for the partnership you build, and express this gratitude - with words, songs, trinkets, and presence - also presents are good too.

Talk, and talk, and talk, and then talk some more. Know one another. Tell him your darkest and deepest fears, desires, hopes, and dreams, create safe space for him to express his - it will likely be more difficult for him, be patient. Breathe when it feels like he has nothing to say, for he does, please, just wait and hold space for him. He needs you to have faith in him.

Above all else, love fully and completely, foolishly and without abandon! Be silly and adore one another. Laugh, a lot. Hold hands and kiss in public. Be each others rock and cornerstone, but trust one another enough to call bullshit when it needs calling. Listen and hold one another, and remember your wedding day.

I love you and best wishes!
Amy Angell

Thank you, Friends.

Waking up this morning, I am choosing to feel mostly blessed.

Yesternight I had the joy of opening my home to my friends, something I have not been able to do for years now - with divorce and constantly moving, and general malaise of self, I just hadn't been in a space, physically or mentally, to throw a gathering.

In years past, get togethers, planned by ex-spouse and myself, always made me feel incredibly stressed out. I was a bitch the day of, I even warned him and any others close by, that I was a force to be reckoned with until the party started. It was bad. I remember the feeling in my stomach I would get, like someone was constantly punching me in the gut. Looking back, WHY?!? I guess I just remember wanting everything to be "perfect". Why? I don't know, this and many other things are why I am in therapy, so cut me some FRIGN SLACK!

This time, it was different. I woke up late, puttered around, lazily drank coffee, all things that were TOTALLY new in the realm of "it's get-together day!" Then, with Katy Perry (not my musical choice, FYI) blasting in the background, my roommate and I cleaned, tidied, organized, and prepped, for the first get together at the house, and we did so all while laughing. With all this smiling, I kept wondering to myself when Bitch-Self was going to be making her appearance. I had to run errands, go to the store, pick up friends... still waiting... And then people were here, but Bitch-Self never showed! In fact, I just felt happy and joyful that these special people chose to spend their time with me.

And how beautiful they were. The coming together, to share time, food, and stories. To see the wondrous smiles on their faces, to hear the giggles of their children. All shared with me. How am I worthy of such bounty?! That people will set aside all that is going on in their worlds, and choose to spend a few hours with me is an incredible blessing.

Thank you to all who joined me last night.

Save Me a Seat?

While enjoying the sunshine at a local restaurant this past week, I took notice of who was at the table: my previous principal, vice principal, and VP's partner (I am not exactly sure what she does, but she is super smart, in a doctoral program, and prinicpaly-like), and me. What was I doing there?! There were moments, in my crazy-brain, where I thought to myself, "At any moment, these women are going to wonder why I am sitting with them!" When we parted ways, my head swirled with possibilities. "Could I be one of these women someday?" "Could I be a leader?" "No, no, that is too scary and down-right, silly, I can't even imagine myself doing the things these women do!""Amy Angell" and "leader" sound ridiculous together.

This last week has been strange - on THREE occasions, someone different has proposed the idea that I am a leader and that I need to become a principal someday. These things are preposterous to me. But I am at least letting them bounce around in my head, like a toy - dreaming of the possibilities, what it would all mean. Seriously, every time I am alone with my thoughts these last few days, I discover that I am daydreaming about what it would look like.

I googled a book that was mentioned while chilling with my lady friends, "The Will to Lead, The Skill to Teach: Transforming Schools at Every Level". I then got sucked into the rabbit-hole of internet research. I eventually found myself looking at books on the topic, "Women in leadership", and found some interesting and thought provoking websites, books, articles, and workshops. One book that stood out to me was, "Lean In: Women, Work, and the Will to Lead". The author is a Facebook COO, has done a TEDtalk, and is Forbes #6 Most Powerful Women. I wanted this book, but thought I'll get it at Powell's when I am there next.

Then the day progressed, I ran errands (while continuing to daydream about being the "one in charge"), met my sister. We decided to go to a rummage sale at In Other Words. While wandering around picking up children's books for my classroom, Lean In, jumped right out at me! It was across the room, yet caught my attention, as if the book was yelling at me. Needless to say, despite the new release, hardcover sticker-price, I purchased it. I believe it was fate, and ignoring this kind of divive intervention would certainly come back to haunt me!

While in the car waiting for my sister, I opened the book, and was immediately drawn into it. Reading the introduction was a swift reminder of all the women's studies courses I took as an undergraduate. The waves of emotions I had during those classes swept over me again, as if I was right back there, learning about the reality of women here in the United States, and around the world. I couldn't wait to get home and read more (nerd alert!).

The 2nd chapter, Sit at the Table, is what has inspired me to write today, and dear reader, I promise we will get to the point soon!

A little background: I am a woman (I'd hoped this was obvious, but just so we are clear), I am a first generation student, I have a BS in Psychology, and a MS in Inclusive Education, and I have been a teacher for 6 years. I was asked in May of my senior year of high school, if I had thought about college (it should be known that most of my peers were being talked to by the "guidance counselor" in October about their college plans). I just assumed, and correctly so, that if I wanted to go to college, it would be up to me to figure it out. As a teen, my manners didn't find me, and I simply laughed at her when she asked me about my plans, and I told her I had figured it out. She then asked, "Oh, so where will you be working after high school?" "You must have misunderstood me," I told her, "I am going to college, and I will finish, and it will have had nothing to do with your guidance!"

Long story, short - I had completed my graduate course work, was part of the honor society for teachers, and now sat in a room getting ready to take a state exam for my teachers license. When the exams were passed out, I just lost it. I started crying, right there at my desk. I was so scared. We were given 4 hours to complete the exam (was it 6 hours? I don't know, it was an eternity). Between bouts of sobbing, thinking, and bubble filling-in, I completed the test. I was one of the last people in the room. As I left, I was sure that I had failed. I was certain that I would have to go through that grueling process again, like so many of my friends, like so many of my professors told me. Yes, they told me not to be surprised if I didn't pass my first try (even they assumed I wouldn't pass). Waiting over the next few weeks to find out was horrible. I kept looking at new test dates and times. I remember opening the email that contained the results, it said that I had passed!! What?! This had to be a mistake. I kept reading it over and over, certain that I had read it wrong, so certain in fact, that I even called to make sure that a mistake hadn't been made. There was no mistake, I passed, on my first try.

What is the point of all this? Well, in the 2nd chapter, Ms Sandberg, explains the "Imposter Syndrome". Reading these words struck me hard, "[I always feel like a fraud], instead of feeling worthy of recognition, [these women] feel undeserving and guilty, as if a mistake has been made, that someone soon is going to find out who they really are - imposters with limited skills or abilities." I cannot emphasize enough how I ALWAYS FEEL THIS WAY! Reading on, she explains that women explain away their own success by "insisting she did well because she "worked really hard," or "got lucky," or "had help from others". I have done this very thing, over and over and over again. It is IMPOSSIBLE for me to simply say "thank you", when someone compliments the work I have done in the classroom - I shrug it away politely saying that it "takes a village" or "we have all worked so hard", or "I could never have done it without the support of other teachers." And while ALL OF THESE THING are true, no where in the conversation, or even in my head do I acknowledge myself, moreover, I am wondering when they are all going to find out I truly don't know what I am doing?! I mean, did I even use the word "moreover" correctly?

To finally feel that I am not the only one who feels this way, is incredibly validating! I am surrounded by these amazing women, and I cannot imagine joining in their ranks. Perhaps, this is a very small step in the right direction? I don't know, I am just excited that these fabulous women wanna hang out with me! They make me feel smart, they make me use my voice, I feel that they care what I have to say. Even thinking those things, I am so unsure - do they really think this way about me? Do I really have important things to say? Do I really know what I am doing?

I want to sit at the table, I think, maybe, hopefully, I have a seat waiting for me. If not, ladies, will you save me one? I think I might need it.

My Privilege

Like many of you, I am disheartened by the Trayvon Martin case. It seemed pretty clear to me that George was guilty of at least manslaughter, given the "Stand Your Ground" (SYG) law. But to be acquitted on all charges, seems not only wrong in a legal sense, but more so a moral sense. Sure, our courts are made of laws, which is an important distinction to make. However, SYG as a defense in this case doesn't hold up. George pursued Trayvon, that was his choice. Even if Trayvon attacked him, because he likely was scared, George was a grown man, who made a choice to profile a black kid, and then shoot him when he supposedly felt his life was in danger, therefore George was protected by law. WHAT?! I call bullshit.

At that moment, the state of Florida made George Zimmerman: Judge, Jury, and Executioner. A grown man, packing a loaded gun, who was asked to "stand down" by 911 operators, took it upon himself to hunt Trayvon. Is this what America is? Have I turned a blind eye towards this virus of racism and hate? How can this still be happening?! And if anyone thinks this isn't about race, think again, and while you're at it, consider yourself infected with the virus.

Which brings me to my main point of acknowledging my own white privilege. Is is said privilege that made me think that George would be found guilty? I mean, I am so dumbfounded at this verdict! I think of the little black boys in my class, who grow up in a world, where a grown mad of lighter pigment may profile and hunt them down, and ultimately murder them. I am embarrassed to say, that I thought those days were over. How shameful for me to be so blind.

It agonizes me to think that my friends, colleagues, neighbors, all those with children whose flesh is darker than my own must tell their children to play in the backyard with their nerf guns out of fear of what the cops will think (yes, this is an actual friends story). That they must tell their children to stay inside after dark, because their mothers don't want them shot in the moonlight. How do we teach personal pride and safety at the same time?! How do we, as a nation, look into the eyes of our young black and brown children, and tell them that their country cares about them? What a joke! This ruling made it clear, that if you're black, and especially if you're black and young, you're disposable.

A sad day for America. We can do better. We must do better. If we want a better place for all our children, we must confront our privildge as white men and women - I don't have to worry about my babies playing the front yard. I don't have to be scared for my life and be taught the proper way to handle police, when I am pulled over. If a black man ever shot a white baby of mine, they would certainly be in jail. I or my white friends can have a gun if I choose, and no cop or court would find it suspicious. My white friends can smoke weed and be called hippies, while Trayvon was called a thug for the same thing. These are things I get simply for being of a paler complexion. There are many, many, more privileges I enjoy as a white person that would simply take too long to list. What is the point? The point is, that until white America faces its deep seeded racist virus that runs through her veins, nothing can get truly better. It is systematic, it is painful, but it must be done.

I pray for America, I pray for my white, brown, black, and everything in between friends. I pray for George Zimmerman, for I was taught to pray for my enemies. And I mostly pray for Trayvon Martin's Mother and Father, and for the rest of his family. I am sorry that America failed you. I am sorry you had to bury your child. I am sorry.