One of the many gifts I have been given as an educator and edu-carer for other peoples children is the gift of perspective. There is very little about child development and the educational process which I believe is set in stone. Furthermore, when you toss family dynamics and cultural, religious or moral values into the mix - Well. You have a billion right ways to raise a child.
One of the gifts I have been given as a Researcher and Academic is skepticism. Not disbelief, but skepticism. Until I have done my own research, I rarely assume what someone else has done meets my standards of academic rigor. That doesn't mean that I have to re-do Piaget's conservation experiments to believe his results. (Although, as an aside, these are Fascinating things to do with your own child - like a living textbook in action) Furthermore as a researcher, I have been taught to Look at any data or study and SEE if the data stands up. Who paid for the study? Was it purely an academic study or grant-funded by a specific group? Is the Primary Researcher a true "expert" in his/her field? And most importantly - Who will gain and who will lose with this study?
In every research project lies the very real possibility that harm can come from your results. Intentional or not. The researcher should be vetted and held accountable for the results of the data AND the interpretation of the data.
This is why - as a whole - Ethical, conscientious researchers are careful...very,very careful about making broad statements. If I say, for instance, that car seats Kill infants and every parent who places their baby in a car seat is taking a 50-50% chance with the life of their child - you would assume that I had a whole hell of a lot of data from which to extrapolate these claims, right?
What if I failed to mention - or failed to highlight - that the data I collected was of infants whose parents were drunk at the time of the accident? That My data Set was of 10 babies...5 of whom died in the crashes, and five of whom did not.
In truth, it IS 50%. And In truth, all babies were in Car seats when they died.
Now, what if I failed to mention that I did this research after getting a grant by the anti-car seat lobby? People who were trying to get laws passed, or repealed so that they would monetarily benefit from babies not being in car seats? Perhaps they are auto makers and the harnesses cost an extra 10 dollars per car to install. If you project to manufacture a million cars at 10 dollars saving per car ... Well, it is cost effective for me to give you 4 Million dollars for a study to save a net gain of 6 Million for Myself, isn't it?
But of course, the news that CAR SEATS KILL BABIES is sexy. Sexy in that news business kind of way. Sexy in that "I bet we can really crank up our viewer or readership by printing/reporting this" kind of way. And really sexy in that "We can prey on the deep fears of every parent that they are doing it WRONG" kind of way. Sexy in the "Maybe we can even try to tie it into the unease of a post-Watergate and Vietnam generation that corporations lie and governments and authority are not to be trusted" kind of way.
Oh, yeah. This becomes big news. People split on this issue. Friends split into car seat versus non-car seat people. Mothers have out and out arguments with other mothers. Parental Judgments reign supreme. Maybe even Oprah does a whole Show about the dangers of car seats!
But I - the researcher - knew that this was all bullshit. I knew how to conduct a proper experiment. I knew I was being paid and continued to be paid to be the front line Expert for a specific point of view. I knew my study could not be replicated because the results were...well, kind of made Up or at the very least Badly mangled as to skew them. However, for 12 years, parents held up my study as the reason - the EVIDENCE for why they didn't use car seats. In those 12 years, the rates of children dying in car crashes has indeed risen, but I mean - who is to say that this wasn't just an unfortunate side effect? In fact, I bet the government and manufacturers of car seats manipulate the data to make it seem more than it really is.... And anyway, my lawyers have told me not to comment, and my bank account is safe - so really, what is to be done?
***********************************************************************************
I knew that this MMR link to autism study had been discredited ages ago. I mentioned the flaws in the data methodology and design to hard core true believers who preached to me about the chances I took with Emily. I also pointed out that the reason vaccinations had been discovered was because Millions of children DIED from these diseases. Walk into any old Boston cemetery and find the gravestone of a mother - now find how many of her children lived Past the age of 5. Odds weren't good.
I explained the concept of "herd immunity" - how these diseases were now re-emerging and were becoming more dangerous to the people least able to manage the disease - Pregnant women, Infants too young to be immunized, elderly and immuno-suppressed people (Why yes, children on chronic asthma medication, I am talking about you!).
Did it matter? Did logic and common sense and the history or human kind mean anything to the true believers? Hell No. Did the fact that their decision was putting MY child and the general population that much more at risk mean anything? Nah. They had their parental rights and they were doing what THEY thought was best.
But now? The research is False. The doctor Lied. For his own personal profit and gain. Not because he cared so deeply about children with autism or any link between a vaccine and the (most likely genetically based) disorder. He - and the others who have profited by propagating a lie ( Um, Jenny McCarthy? Totally looking at You) - are going to defend themselves with silence. After preying on ANY parents worst fears - the ones around taking care of our children , of doing the best for them - and perverting them into profit while both actively selling a lie - Or not being intelligent enough to educate yourself about the philosophy you espouse?
My contempt is not great enough.
Where I was
Monday, January 25, 2010
Dashing into the Blog room to say - Hi there.
No, I haven't forgotten you all. Yes, there is more to tell of the teacher battle stories. Some of it will even end up over at Canada Mom Blogs, where I wrote a little piece (Jury of Peers) about more recent events.
Tomorrow we have a meeting with the Principal, the teacher, the Special Ed coordinator and Terrance and I. I am going to try to behave myself. Honestly.
Terrance was in New York for a week, which meant that every possible thing that could be thrown at me in fact DID get thrown at me including my car deciding to not start at the gas station. There was a fairly funny moment with me having my hood up and jumper cables in hand having an African Man speaking at me in Very rapid French asking me to move my car. You know, cause I was blocking other people.
Really? Well, no shit. Ergo the hood up and cables in my hand. No, don't offer to help me or anything, just make me aware of how I am inconveniencing You.
This was followed by Emily developing some hellacious vomiting virus. Like the puke your guts up every 40 minutes, regardless of if your guts have anything in them to puke, kind. Like the "I'm sick, so I need to lay next to you after you have stupidly taken your sleeping meds because you had no idea I was about to unleash this viral destruction upon your household" Sick. Coupled with the "I am too sick to move to the toilet, so I will puke into a bucket which you will need to hold and rinse and return to me every 45 minutes...Then I will lay there moaning and breathing my puke breath onto you as you wiggle around trying to get out of the way of my viral laden breath while both fighting the sleeping meds and trying to maintain enough coordination to manage the puke bucket...."
Fun times.
And when I had stabilized her to the point where I could run out and get her some Gatorade ( and lets be honest, I needed coffee. Like Junkie need for coffee) the car wouldn't start again. With Terrance micro-managing me on the phone from New York as to how to possibly get the car started and should I take Em to the hospital and did I try this....
The fact that I didn't curl into a ball and weep can only be attributed to my extreme exhaustion and post-vomitfest induced shock.
So, that's where I was.
Tomorrow, the school meeting. I'll let you know how it goes.
No, I haven't forgotten you all. Yes, there is more to tell of the teacher battle stories. Some of it will even end up over at Canada Mom Blogs, where I wrote a little piece (Jury of Peers) about more recent events.
Tomorrow we have a meeting with the Principal, the teacher, the Special Ed coordinator and Terrance and I. I am going to try to behave myself. Honestly.
Terrance was in New York for a week, which meant that every possible thing that could be thrown at me in fact DID get thrown at me including my car deciding to not start at the gas station. There was a fairly funny moment with me having my hood up and jumper cables in hand having an African Man speaking at me in Very rapid French asking me to move my car. You know, cause I was blocking other people.
Really? Well, no shit. Ergo the hood up and cables in my hand. No, don't offer to help me or anything, just make me aware of how I am inconveniencing You.
This was followed by Emily developing some hellacious vomiting virus. Like the puke your guts up every 40 minutes, regardless of if your guts have anything in them to puke, kind. Like the "I'm sick, so I need to lay next to you after you have stupidly taken your sleeping meds because you had no idea I was about to unleash this viral destruction upon your household" Sick. Coupled with the "I am too sick to move to the toilet, so I will puke into a bucket which you will need to hold and rinse and return to me every 45 minutes...Then I will lay there moaning and breathing my puke breath onto you as you wiggle around trying to get out of the way of my viral laden breath while both fighting the sleeping meds and trying to maintain enough coordination to manage the puke bucket...."
Fun times.
And when I had stabilized her to the point where I could run out and get her some Gatorade ( and lets be honest, I needed coffee. Like Junkie need for coffee) the car wouldn't start again. With Terrance micro-managing me on the phone from New York as to how to possibly get the car started and should I take Em to the hospital and did I try this....
The fact that I didn't curl into a ball and weep can only be attributed to my extreme exhaustion and post-vomitfest induced shock.
So, that's where I was.
Tomorrow, the school meeting. I'll let you know how it goes.
Fatty Owls
Monday, January 11, 2010
There are things that you hope for your child, when you are in that dreamy stage of the last trimester...or even when you are laughing at the beginnings of their attempts at humor. Things that you want to give them, things which were important to you.
Of course, you can't be sure that your child will like the things that you treasure, be that Winnie the Pooh, or The Red Sox. Sure, you can surround the baby with those items. You can show them your enthusiasm, sharing your love and excitement for the idea with them.
BUT...You can never be really sure if the child is merely going along with it, trying to keep their poor pitiful parent happy under whatever delusion they may be suffering, or if the kernel of the love is truly in there.
Over the past Christmas holiday break, I did a little experiment. I borrowed the Fawlty Towers series from a friend with the idea of watching them with Emily.
It will shock none of you that Terrance dislikes British humor, particularly that related to Python or offshoot projects. Vehemently dislikes it. I - in the long standing traditions of spouses who are diametrically opposed to their partners tastes - LOVE British Humor. Monty Python, in particular, was formative in my humor development and I have gone on to love everything up to the delicious absurdity of "The IT Crowd".
But would Emily like it? Would she latch onto the absurdity of the situation? The facial expressions? The wordplay? Would the physical comedy prove too dated for her?
She loved them. While she didn't entirely understand some of the references ( I had to do a lot of explaining about the Second World War and any "adult" humor flew right over her head), she really enjoyed them.
I was tickled. I was beyond tickled. I was glowing with pride. I had done that most mysterious of things - passed on a love of British Comedy to my child. I had done this directly in the face of a Non-believer with a gene pool of which 50% did not understand or enjoy Monty Python AT ALL.
Which leads me to my next project:
After the first disk last night, I am pleased to report that her favorite bits have been the Funniest Joke in the World and the Famous Deaths. Dirty Fork also produced some hearty guffaws, as did the Musical Mice.
I am so proud.
Of course, you can't be sure that your child will like the things that you treasure, be that Winnie the Pooh, or The Red Sox. Sure, you can surround the baby with those items. You can show them your enthusiasm, sharing your love and excitement for the idea with them.
BUT...You can never be really sure if the child is merely going along with it, trying to keep their poor pitiful parent happy under whatever delusion they may be suffering, or if the kernel of the love is truly in there.
Over the past Christmas holiday break, I did a little experiment. I borrowed the Fawlty Towers series from a friend with the idea of watching them with Emily.
It will shock none of you that Terrance dislikes British humor, particularly that related to Python or offshoot projects. Vehemently dislikes it. I - in the long standing traditions of spouses who are diametrically opposed to their partners tastes - LOVE British Humor. Monty Python, in particular, was formative in my humor development and I have gone on to love everything up to the delicious absurdity of "The IT Crowd".
But would Emily like it? Would she latch onto the absurdity of the situation? The facial expressions? The wordplay? Would the physical comedy prove too dated for her?
She loved them. While she didn't entirely understand some of the references ( I had to do a lot of explaining about the Second World War and any "adult" humor flew right over her head), she really enjoyed them.
I was tickled. I was beyond tickled. I was glowing with pride. I had done that most mysterious of things - passed on a love of British Comedy to my child. I had done this directly in the face of a Non-believer with a gene pool of which 50% did not understand or enjoy Monty Python AT ALL.
Which leads me to my next project:
After the first disk last night, I am pleased to report that her favorite bits have been the Funniest Joke in the World and the Famous Deaths. Dirty Fork also produced some hearty guffaws, as did the Musical Mice.
I am so proud.
My Weeping Heart
Friday, January 08, 2010
For all my bluster and bravado, at the end of the day, I am still Emily's Mom.
Part of the contract that I seem to have signed when she was born was that she would exist as my Achilles heel in the world at large. If you want to put an arrow directly into my soul, wound her.
While I have well established and heavily fortified defenses around my own persona, when it comes to Emily there is a decided wide open space with a large bulls eye painted directly in the middle.
Now, this isn't meant to paint Emily as an Innocent living in a world of wolves, in perpetual danger of being eaten alive. I think more highly of my daughter than that. She is a typical 11 year old girl. She knows how to work her father and I like the Parental Meat Puppets we can be. For her father, it is a specific tone of voice that she takes. She can get him to move through the house at light speed with a tone. For me, its tears. Not the normal "I don't want to do my homework/clean my room/eat my salad" tears...I am immune to those tears. No. It's the "My soul hurts" tears. The "I am bewildered as to why people are being unfair/unkind" tears.
THOSE tears get me. As in "I want to immediately and unthinkingly go out and hurt the person who has caused my daughter to have these feelings - even if it is another child, adult or inanimate object. It does not matter - they must be stopped."
That feeling arose in me last night.
Now, I can't speak for every parent, but I try to not get to that place terribly frequently. It does not show my best, most rational side to my child. It does not make me feel comfortable to be in that place. As such, I will weigh the other facts that I know :
Emily has been tired this week. It is the first week back to school after a 2 week vacation and her sleeping patterns are out of whack.
It has been very cold and snowing every day. That is enough to make anyone feel rotten.
While I have not discussed the specifics in front of her, Emily knows I don't love her teacher.
Again I say, My daughter is not stupid. She knows that the way to get her mother to become an unholy angel of revenge and fury is to plead injustice at my breast while crying, deep mournful sobs. I, in turn, will morph, black wings unfurling from my scapula, eyes beginning to glow with righteous fury. I will soothe her as I summon her father to the room, and when he arrives, I will have her lay out the case and stare at him, waiting for affirmation and permission to seek the vengeance which now rightfully belongs to me.
Last night, however, he stopped me.
"I'm going in to speak with the teacher in the morning", he says.
Part of the contract that I seem to have signed when she was born was that she would exist as my Achilles heel in the world at large. If you want to put an arrow directly into my soul, wound her.
While I have well established and heavily fortified defenses around my own persona, when it comes to Emily there is a decided wide open space with a large bulls eye painted directly in the middle.
Now, this isn't meant to paint Emily as an Innocent living in a world of wolves, in perpetual danger of being eaten alive. I think more highly of my daughter than that. She is a typical 11 year old girl. She knows how to work her father and I like the Parental Meat Puppets we can be. For her father, it is a specific tone of voice that she takes. She can get him to move through the house at light speed with a tone. For me, its tears. Not the normal "I don't want to do my homework/clean my room/eat my salad" tears...I am immune to those tears. No. It's the "My soul hurts" tears. The "I am bewildered as to why people are being unfair/unkind" tears.
THOSE tears get me. As in "I want to immediately and unthinkingly go out and hurt the person who has caused my daughter to have these feelings - even if it is another child, adult or inanimate object. It does not matter - they must be stopped."
That feeling arose in me last night.
Now, I can't speak for every parent, but I try to not get to that place terribly frequently. It does not show my best, most rational side to my child. It does not make me feel comfortable to be in that place. As such, I will weigh the other facts that I know :
Emily has been tired this week. It is the first week back to school after a 2 week vacation and her sleeping patterns are out of whack.
It has been very cold and snowing every day. That is enough to make anyone feel rotten.
While I have not discussed the specifics in front of her, Emily knows I don't love her teacher.
Again I say, My daughter is not stupid. She knows that the way to get her mother to become an unholy angel of revenge and fury is to plead injustice at my breast while crying, deep mournful sobs. I, in turn, will morph, black wings unfurling from my scapula, eyes beginning to glow with righteous fury. I will soothe her as I summon her father to the room, and when he arrives, I will have her lay out the case and stare at him, waiting for affirmation and permission to seek the vengeance which now rightfully belongs to me.
Last night, however, he stopped me.
"I'm going in to speak with the teacher in the morning", he says.
Troll Opinion
Wednesday, December 30, 2009
This is a little Trollish Gem I very recently recieved:
You are so obviously a superior educator to anything else that exists in the school system. Have you given any consideration to home schooling? It is not a great idea to continue to antagonize your kids teachers as human nature will ensure that a negative attitude will impact on your child’s education. She already has learning problems and these are unlikely to be lovingly catered to by an antagonized teacher.
You suggest that you could sit in as an observer? Please, go and ruin your own kids life by yourself. I predict that whichever route you chose, your kid will end up as a educational basket case. Despite your many qualifications, you are a very stupid and self centered woman and you deserve all the misery coming your way.
Mikeave you considered home schooling?
First I am going to assume the last sentance is "Have I considered homeschooling?" I know your name is Mike, as you sent the email with your full business contact info. I wonder if your Boss at Gemini Structured Carbon knows you are using the company email to jot off hate mail to Bloggers...
It is however a fair question when stripped away from your personal feelings about me, my professional expertise and the quality of my mothering.
No Mike, I haven't. While I do indeed have superior qualifications to many teachers currently serving in the school systems, I also BELIEVE in the school system. I believe that there are dedicated, wonderful teachers who serve in the public school systems in spite of rotten funding. I believe that there are families who deserve excellence in their public school systems and as such should be involved and active in the decisions about their childs schooling as PARTNERS with the school system. Education is never a spectator sport.
Part of what I do is train those teachers in University, talk with them about what children deserve, what families deserve and impress upon them that when they dismiss a parent and her concerns because "They" know better because "They" have the teaching certificate that it is a very very bad choice. And was my child ever lovingly attended to by this teacher? The first words out of her mouth to us were "Emily has a MULTITUDE of ISSUES - Emily has trouble paying attention and asks me to repeat things over and over..."
Look, I don't believe that every teacher and every child have a deep connection. I, and every other teacher on earth will tell you there are some kids we like more than others. Some we click with, others ...not so much. However, in my dream world of "competant" teaching, I expect that my child will be known as a learner by her teacher. Part of that is knowing her IEP information and making specific changes to the way some information is delivered.
I also believe in accountability, Mike. Teachers don't get to become teachers and then sit on their collective asses for the next 25 years resting on what they learned in 1973. They progress in the field, or should be counseled out. The reason teachers like the gem my daughter currently is encountering is that Parents never SPOKE UP. Or they were silenced because they were afraid of what the teacher might do to their child. Or Principals who Should have counseled these types of teachers out years ago just never wanted to rock the boat. So we all have to suffer - but mostly the children who are stuck with these teachers most of all, because you know what happens in teachers rooms with the door shut? Whatever the teacher wants.
In one of my lectures, I tell my students that I have observed there are two types of people who are drawn to the teaching profession - Those who really love children and teaching....and those who like to exert control over people they know can't really do anything about it.
Well, I am not a fan of people who like to decide when a child can pee because they CAN. Those people are bullies, and I do not suffer bullies well.
I am sorry, Mike, that your parent or parents pissed off your teacher and you were some how penalized for it. That comes over loud and clear in your note. It wasn't right. Someone should have protected you. Had you been my child, I would have protected you. Shit, if I you were in my kids class and I SAW it, I would protect you. The bullies credo doesn't just work with my child. I tend to be that person who speaks up about everything. I am also the parent who will discipline other peoples kids on the playground if needed. But I bet you already guessed that about me.
As to my suggestion that I sit in the classroom, I have sat in on MANY of Emilys classrooms. In fact, if a teacher resists that suggestion I get nervous. What do they Not want me to see? If they are secure in their teaching it shouldn't matter if I am sitting in or not. Did you see the part about Ms Deb? I did my Masters Thesis work in her room with her reviewing the information I gathered. She was Em's teacher for 2 years. I knew that she was the same teacher regardless of if the parents were in the room. I TRUSTED her.
I do not trust this current teacher. I have been given no reason to trust her and she has certainly not shown the depth of her profesional knowledge by ignoring me, failing to read my childs IEP or not responding to notes I have placed in the agenda.
Finally, the reason we keep Em in public school? Because it is important to both her father and I that she experience all types of people - Kids, Families and yep, even Teachers. Private schools tend to be limited to those who can afford it, thereby canceling out some families by virtue of economic situation. Educational elitism (and I am SO not talking about what Neo-Cons like to pretend is some evil force) is probably one of the deepest divides in North American Society. No child left behind, my ass. How about every child who can't afford to get the hell out of the public schools left behind?
While it remains to be seen if my daughter ends up the "educational basket case" you predicted
[For the record, I am pretty sure she will be fine], your final wish for all the "misery coming my way" is sweet. Not unlike the person who wished I would just kill myself now so my daughter won't grow up to be the same shallow bitch her mother has become.
A very happy new year to YOU Mike.
You are so obviously a superior educator to anything else that exists in the school system. Have you given any consideration to home schooling? It is not a great idea to continue to antagonize your kids teachers as human nature will ensure that a negative attitude will impact on your child’s education. She already has learning problems and these are unlikely to be lovingly catered to by an antagonized teacher.
You suggest that you could sit in as an observer? Please, go and ruin your own kids life by yourself. I predict that whichever route you chose, your kid will end up as a educational basket case. Despite your many qualifications, you are a very stupid and self centered woman and you deserve all the misery coming your way.
Mikeave you considered home schooling?
First I am going to assume the last sentance is "Have I considered homeschooling?" I know your name is Mike, as you sent the email with your full business contact info. I wonder if your Boss at Gemini Structured Carbon knows you are using the company email to jot off hate mail to Bloggers...
It is however a fair question when stripped away from your personal feelings about me, my professional expertise and the quality of my mothering.
No Mike, I haven't. While I do indeed have superior qualifications to many teachers currently serving in the school systems, I also BELIEVE in the school system. I believe that there are dedicated, wonderful teachers who serve in the public school systems in spite of rotten funding. I believe that there are families who deserve excellence in their public school systems and as such should be involved and active in the decisions about their childs schooling as PARTNERS with the school system. Education is never a spectator sport.
Part of what I do is train those teachers in University, talk with them about what children deserve, what families deserve and impress upon them that when they dismiss a parent and her concerns because "They" know better because "They" have the teaching certificate that it is a very very bad choice. And was my child ever lovingly attended to by this teacher? The first words out of her mouth to us were "Emily has a MULTITUDE of ISSUES - Emily has trouble paying attention and asks me to repeat things over and over..."
Look, I don't believe that every teacher and every child have a deep connection. I, and every other teacher on earth will tell you there are some kids we like more than others. Some we click with, others ...not so much. However, in my dream world of "competant" teaching, I expect that my child will be known as a learner by her teacher. Part of that is knowing her IEP information and making specific changes to the way some information is delivered.
I also believe in accountability, Mike. Teachers don't get to become teachers and then sit on their collective asses for the next 25 years resting on what they learned in 1973. They progress in the field, or should be counseled out. The reason teachers like the gem my daughter currently is encountering is that Parents never SPOKE UP. Or they were silenced because they were afraid of what the teacher might do to their child. Or Principals who Should have counseled these types of teachers out years ago just never wanted to rock the boat. So we all have to suffer - but mostly the children who are stuck with these teachers most of all, because you know what happens in teachers rooms with the door shut? Whatever the teacher wants.
In one of my lectures, I tell my students that I have observed there are two types of people who are drawn to the teaching profession - Those who really love children and teaching....and those who like to exert control over people they know can't really do anything about it.
Well, I am not a fan of people who like to decide when a child can pee because they CAN. Those people are bullies, and I do not suffer bullies well.
I am sorry, Mike, that your parent or parents pissed off your teacher and you were some how penalized for it. That comes over loud and clear in your note. It wasn't right. Someone should have protected you. Had you been my child, I would have protected you. Shit, if I you were in my kids class and I SAW it, I would protect you. The bullies credo doesn't just work with my child. I tend to be that person who speaks up about everything. I am also the parent who will discipline other peoples kids on the playground if needed. But I bet you already guessed that about me.
As to my suggestion that I sit in the classroom, I have sat in on MANY of Emilys classrooms. In fact, if a teacher resists that suggestion I get nervous. What do they Not want me to see? If they are secure in their teaching it shouldn't matter if I am sitting in or not. Did you see the part about Ms Deb? I did my Masters Thesis work in her room with her reviewing the information I gathered. She was Em's teacher for 2 years. I knew that she was the same teacher regardless of if the parents were in the room. I TRUSTED her.
I do not trust this current teacher. I have been given no reason to trust her and she has certainly not shown the depth of her profesional knowledge by ignoring me, failing to read my childs IEP or not responding to notes I have placed in the agenda.
Finally, the reason we keep Em in public school? Because it is important to both her father and I that she experience all types of people - Kids, Families and yep, even Teachers. Private schools tend to be limited to those who can afford it, thereby canceling out some families by virtue of economic situation. Educational elitism (and I am SO not talking about what Neo-Cons like to pretend is some evil force) is probably one of the deepest divides in North American Society. No child left behind, my ass. How about every child who can't afford to get the hell out of the public schools left behind?
While it remains to be seen if my daughter ends up the "educational basket case" you predicted
[For the record, I am pretty sure she will be fine], your final wish for all the "misery coming my way" is sweet. Not unlike the person who wished I would just kill myself now so my daughter won't grow up to be the same shallow bitch her mother has become.
A very happy new year to YOU Mike.
Fear of Family
Tuesday, December 29, 2009
I woke up last night in what is the closest I have come to a panic attack in a long time. Of course, being awake was a bit shocking as I had taken a muscle relaxant, melatonin, rescue remedy sleep and a strong hit of ibuprofen. By rights, I should have been firmly out until at least 10 a.m., coasting into 11 a.m. some mornings if I can ride the sleep wave.
I dreamt of my grandfathers funeral. In fact, I was so sure he had died that I was reluctant to open my email this morning since I knew that the message would have come. While his death would be sad , he is an elderly man and is in increasingly fragile health. His wife, my grandmother, died last February. They had been married for over 60 years and I have read the statistics on how long one spouse lives after the death of the other after that length of marriage.
It was at her funeral, or the propect of her funeral last Febraury that the last real panic attack struck. I started to write about it then - detailing how I was laughing as the plane bounced in increasingly bad turbulance. Another plane would crash later in the same day under the same conditions, and as I flew back towards the place of my birth I was less scared of going down in flames as I was of facing my family. Imagine yourself on my flight - looking at me as I giggled and chortled louder with each bump and jostle. The rationale in my mind was that it was all right if I died, at least I would get credit for trying. And that this could be my epitaph.
"She tried"
I loved my grandmother. It was she who cared for the infant Dawn while my mom was in nursing school and father was in marine corp basic training during the Vietnam war. I was the best beloved. It was at her knee that I watched my first gardening occur, running through the orchard behind their house. It is the spearmint hedge in her yard that I remember running through. She was a reader and books littered the house. Music too. I used to dance with her to the Lawrence Welk show, during when the bubbles would blow around the set.
So back I went - twenty five full years since I last step foot in the Ohio Valley. Terrified of everything. Daring some god to knock me out of the sky...wishing for it.
[Interlude]
I dreamt of my grandfathers funeral. In fact, I was so sure he had died that I was reluctant to open my email this morning since I knew that the message would have come. While his death would be sad , he is an elderly man and is in increasingly fragile health. His wife, my grandmother, died last February. They had been married for over 60 years and I have read the statistics on how long one spouse lives after the death of the other after that length of marriage.
It was at her funeral, or the propect of her funeral last Febraury that the last real panic attack struck. I started to write about it then - detailing how I was laughing as the plane bounced in increasingly bad turbulance. Another plane would crash later in the same day under the same conditions, and as I flew back towards the place of my birth I was less scared of going down in flames as I was of facing my family. Imagine yourself on my flight - looking at me as I giggled and chortled louder with each bump and jostle. The rationale in my mind was that it was all right if I died, at least I would get credit for trying. And that this could be my epitaph.
"She tried"
I loved my grandmother. It was she who cared for the infant Dawn while my mom was in nursing school and father was in marine corp basic training during the Vietnam war. I was the best beloved. It was at her knee that I watched my first gardening occur, running through the orchard behind their house. It is the spearmint hedge in her yard that I remember running through. She was a reader and books littered the house. Music too. I used to dance with her to the Lawrence Welk show, during when the bubbles would blow around the set.
So back I went - twenty five full years since I last step foot in the Ohio Valley. Terrified of everything. Daring some god to knock me out of the sky...wishing for it.
[Interlude]
The Unwatched Pot
Thursday, December 17, 2009
I feel like I owe you all an update, but sadly there has been nothing.
No response letter. No phone call, no Anything.
Which seems to me to be an odd tactic. Generally, the parents who were willing to write letters and send them with copies to everyone in their own individual envelopes? Those weren't the ones you wanted to ignore. Those were the MOTIVATED parents. You know, the ones that you should have been taught in Teacher Education can be your best allies - or worst nightmares, depending on your overall teaching skill.
As I do drop off during the week and Terrance does pick up, he reports that he has gotten many odd and inquisitive looks from various staff who were CC'ed. No one has talked to him, but he gets the distinct feeling that the message was received loud and clear. Emily reports that people are allowed to go to the Bathroom now - or even drink water in class. Revolutionary! Of course, she also reported that Mrs. XXX had announced that she wouldn't be teaching them anything new until the New Year so that made our hackles go up a bit.
I go in tomorrow for my volunteer Library stint, so I will be better able to gauge the fall out by the way the other teachers approach me. Terrance suggested I go in today to help serve at the "Taste of the Nations" potluck that the kids are having. I suggested that he didn't want to send me in there with a pan of macaroni and cheese and a knife while I was still feeling ignored and aggrieved. The great "Taste of the Nations" food fight and massacre averted.
Add into this general miasma that both my husband AND daughter asked me on Monday if I was close to my period. Separately and unbeknownst to one another.
I am not. I have a good almost three weeks before my period, which made me snarl at both of them that my bitchiness couldn't be put down to hormones. So maybe instead of trying to blame my hormones, the world should just straighten the fuck up and fly right.
In hindsight, that does sound hormonal. But I dare you to say it to my face.
Yeah, I thought not.
No response letter. No phone call, no Anything.
Which seems to me to be an odd tactic. Generally, the parents who were willing to write letters and send them with copies to everyone in their own individual envelopes? Those weren't the ones you wanted to ignore. Those were the MOTIVATED parents. You know, the ones that you should have been taught in Teacher Education can be your best allies - or worst nightmares, depending on your overall teaching skill.
As I do drop off during the week and Terrance does pick up, he reports that he has gotten many odd and inquisitive looks from various staff who were CC'ed. No one has talked to him, but he gets the distinct feeling that the message was received loud and clear. Emily reports that people are allowed to go to the Bathroom now - or even drink water in class. Revolutionary! Of course, she also reported that Mrs. XXX had announced that she wouldn't be teaching them anything new until the New Year so that made our hackles go up a bit.
I go in tomorrow for my volunteer Library stint, so I will be better able to gauge the fall out by the way the other teachers approach me. Terrance suggested I go in today to help serve at the "Taste of the Nations" potluck that the kids are having. I suggested that he didn't want to send me in there with a pan of macaroni and cheese and a knife while I was still feeling ignored and aggrieved. The great "Taste of the Nations" food fight and massacre averted.
Add into this general miasma that both my husband AND daughter asked me on Monday if I was close to my period. Separately and unbeknownst to one another.
I am not. I have a good almost three weeks before my period, which made me snarl at both of them that my bitchiness couldn't be put down to hormones. So maybe instead of trying to blame my hormones, the world should just straighten the fuck up and fly right.
In hindsight, that does sound hormonal. But I dare you to say it to my face.
Yeah, I thought not.
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