My wise little sister helps me think deeply about what's going on with me now. I told her about the dream I had this morning. I woke at 6:20, refused to allow myself to be awake that early on Christmas, rolled over, put a pillow over my head, and went back to sleep. Normally that would have been a very good thing to do. The extra sleep puts me in a state of restedness that readies me for a busy day like today. However, what happened was that I had a dream about Bill. In this dream he was in some care facility, one that looked like a big comfortable home with several bedrooms that were used to care for the ill. He looked as handsome as he did when we first met. He was sweet and vulnerable. He was being released, and I was there to pick him up. But he wasn't going home with me. There was another woman there to get him. I chatted with her while he was being readied. She was prettier than I, she was perkier, she had more energy, and she had a better personality. She took Bill home. I understood. I had had a slight tinge of ambivalence about taking him home anyway. When I woke up at 7:45, I was sad and lonely. I felt rejected, unworthy, unattractive (on many levels), and isolated. Was that other woman a personification of gambling? Was that the one he had always preferred? The pretty, engaging, seductive addiction? The woman I thought he would never choose if I had forced him to make the choice? Was the house in the dream our home? After Bill left with the other woman in the dream, I saw my dad and Carmi there. I was left with them. Did this dream encapsulate those final weeks before he decided he wanted a divorce?
My sister told me to confront the lie this is. "This is not true about you. Tell yourself you are fun, funny, intelligent, pretty, and desirable. Write two entries in your blog. Call one 'The Lie' and the other 'The Truth'. Don't let this live in your mind. This dream is not the truth. This dream is the lie."
The lie of this dream is that I am deficient. The lie of this dream is that I am all of those things I felt when I awoke. They are not true. I cannot allow myself whether consciously or subconsciously to rewrite the end of this marriage as something that was a judgement of my qualities.
I rarely dream about Bill. I told my sister that there were good things about the marriage, and it's the missing them that causes the sadness and dreams like this: he was a great lover, he sought out my company and always wanted to be with me, would come home from gambling (whether or not I knew he was gambling) to be with me when he knew I was arriving home or when he knew I wanted to be with him, he usually valued my opinions, loved my cooking, wanted me to go everywhere with him (unless he was going gambling because I hated that and refused to go there), and when he got diagnosed with cancer he told the doctor he didn't want a support network; he had Cindy, he said. The change in attitude and the decision to get a divorce flew in the face of all of those things. The inconsistency of that is getting to me; I knew that in time it would. It is the basis for the lie. The inconsistency is what is making my mind wonder if there is something wrong with me. It's not about something being wrong with me; the inconsistency is about mental illness abducting someone's sensibility and ruining the marriage.
There ARE things wrong with me, and I will get to those in 'The Truth'.
Sunday, December 25, 2011
Christmas Day
This year was the year my family decided not to go to Idaho for the holidays. The sister who owns the property there went up with her husband and children. The rest of us were left to spend time with our 'other' families.
Kyle's grandmother passed away in May and this was the first Christmas his grandfather and autistic uncle were to spend without her. Kyle asked if we could have them here. He drove out to the desert, picked them up and drove back yesterday. It turns out that the grandfather also has type 2 diabetes. I wish I had known that before I bought food. But he is pleasant about it and is not a complainer. We spent a lot of time fixing up the garage for them. I hope they are comfortable and warm enough out there.
We had a dinner for seven and then had ten people for breakfast this morning. Before breakfast we opened gifts. Laura and Kyle were very generous with the uncle and grandfather. It was a pretty good Christmas that way.
In the afternoon we went out to the same aunt's house who had hosted Thanksgiving. She is cute, energetic and kind. Apparently in Jack's (Kyle's) family, everyone gives everybody a Christmas gift. That was rather daunting. We gave each of the 'families' a gift. We went with an 'alcohol' theme for everyone. It went okay. I hope to be more specific next year. The food was good, as always, and they were kind and warm to me. I appreciated it. It was a different and a bit of a strange Christmas for me. I missed my family so much I didn't even allow myself to think about it but I must find a way to spend my Christmases with them from now on. It means too much to me to be away from them.
The aunt's house was too crowded to have brought Dad. But he will meet all of them soon. It looks like there's going to be some kind of a wedding within the next couple of months.
Kyle's grandmother passed away in May and this was the first Christmas his grandfather and autistic uncle were to spend without her. Kyle asked if we could have them here. He drove out to the desert, picked them up and drove back yesterday. It turns out that the grandfather also has type 2 diabetes. I wish I had known that before I bought food. But he is pleasant about it and is not a complainer. We spent a lot of time fixing up the garage for them. I hope they are comfortable and warm enough out there.
We had a dinner for seven and then had ten people for breakfast this morning. Before breakfast we opened gifts. Laura and Kyle were very generous with the uncle and grandfather. It was a pretty good Christmas that way.
In the afternoon we went out to the same aunt's house who had hosted Thanksgiving. She is cute, energetic and kind. Apparently in Jack's (Kyle's) family, everyone gives everybody a Christmas gift. That was rather daunting. We gave each of the 'families' a gift. We went with an 'alcohol' theme for everyone. It went okay. I hope to be more specific next year. The food was good, as always, and they were kind and warm to me. I appreciated it. It was a different and a bit of a strange Christmas for me. I missed my family so much I didn't even allow myself to think about it but I must find a way to spend my Christmases with them from now on. It means too much to me to be away from them.
The aunt's house was too crowded to have brought Dad. But he will meet all of them soon. It looks like there's going to be some kind of a wedding within the next couple of months.
Retirement News
Since I am on vacation, I have used some of the time to make phone calls I generally find difficult to make while I'm working. One such call was to the retirement system's legal office. The woman with whom I spoke was very patient with me and explained some things that had been unclear. She said there are two options for giving my retirement to Bill. In one, the system pays him monthly in accord with the percentage of my pension to which he's entitled. In the other, I pay him a lump sum of that percentage. Then his access to my retirement is over and all I have to worry about is paying him his monthly spousal support. I know what the lump sum is, and it has seemed like an amount I can't access. For that reason, I had been thinking I would go with the monthly payment, and then when Bill dies, that payment would revert back to me. In fact, I had read that in the retirement handbook. Not so. The woman at the legal office explained that since Bill is entitled to a percentage of my total retirement, when he dies whoever his beneficiary is would receive Bill's portion until my death. In other words, if I don't buy Bill out of my retirement, I will end up paying his awful friend, David, for the rest of my life. What a horrible thought that is. I will somehow find a way to buy him out; I think that's what he wants anyway. DANG!
Tuesday, December 20, 2011
A Discovery on the Witness Stand
My court testimony, or cross-examination rather, lasted a very long time. I was on the stand for at least an hour. What was good was that I wasn't shaking and I didn't have a knot in my stomach. I want so much for this all to end, I was willing to do whatever I could that day to bring closure to any part of this divorce proceeding.
At one point we were discussing the cell phone fiasco of last summer. Bill's attorney asked me if I had called Bill when he ran up the cell phone bill. I said no, Kyle had, that at the time Kyle was acting as a liaison between us. He asked why I hadn't called Bill myself. I replied that we had restraining orders. He still asked why I hadn't called Bill about the cell phone problems. I said because I couldn't call him because of the restraining orders. Then he said that I wasn't restrained from calling Bill. I said the orders were mutual. He said they weren't. It was at this moment I looked down at my attorney and saw he was shaking his head 'no' to me. You're kidding, I thought. They aren't mutual? I could have called him? If Bill wasn't allowed to come near me, it doesn't make sense that I would be allowed to approach him. But I guess another type of logic is used here. It also makes sense. I'm not dangerous and pose no threat to Bill. So, for that reason, I can approach and contact him. But here's the practical part: it's not a good idea for Bill and me to be in touch at all. If I initiate a phone call, or an email, it would put me in a situation where I could get sucked back in to what I lived with for so long. It would seem that Bill could possibly start 'working' me, or just trying to lay guilt trips on me. He was always relentless in the pursuit of getting his way. And he was really good at breaking down my resolve. He sister says he thinks several steps ahead of the rest of us, and sets people up when they don't even realize what's going on. He has things planned so far in advance, you don't see it coming until it's too late and you're trapped. I don't want to open myself up to that again. It's best we leave things the way they are. The good news is that if I do inadvertently drive by him, or arrive at a place where he is, I won't be in any trouble. I'd probably leave the place anyway, but at least I wouldn't be violating any court orders. If I get fed up with taking care of his dog, I can just pick up the phone and tell him to come and get the dog NOW. I can if I want----and I am REAL tired of taking care of his dog-----but I don't want. It's better I just go ahead and treat these as mutual restraining orders.
Speaking of restraining orders, I might have to call my ex-husband. The other one. I'll know more after I talk to the retirement system's legal office. He said he was going to relinquish his entitlement to my retirement for the years we were married but I don't think he actually went through with it. It might be good to break the ice with him. But I don't want to see him again......
At one point we were discussing the cell phone fiasco of last summer. Bill's attorney asked me if I had called Bill when he ran up the cell phone bill. I said no, Kyle had, that at the time Kyle was acting as a liaison between us. He asked why I hadn't called Bill myself. I replied that we had restraining orders. He still asked why I hadn't called Bill about the cell phone problems. I said because I couldn't call him because of the restraining orders. Then he said that I wasn't restrained from calling Bill. I said the orders were mutual. He said they weren't. It was at this moment I looked down at my attorney and saw he was shaking his head 'no' to me. You're kidding, I thought. They aren't mutual? I could have called him? If Bill wasn't allowed to come near me, it doesn't make sense that I would be allowed to approach him. But I guess another type of logic is used here. It also makes sense. I'm not dangerous and pose no threat to Bill. So, for that reason, I can approach and contact him. But here's the practical part: it's not a good idea for Bill and me to be in touch at all. If I initiate a phone call, or an email, it would put me in a situation where I could get sucked back in to what I lived with for so long. It would seem that Bill could possibly start 'working' me, or just trying to lay guilt trips on me. He was always relentless in the pursuit of getting his way. And he was really good at breaking down my resolve. He sister says he thinks several steps ahead of the rest of us, and sets people up when they don't even realize what's going on. He has things planned so far in advance, you don't see it coming until it's too late and you're trapped. I don't want to open myself up to that again. It's best we leave things the way they are. The good news is that if I do inadvertently drive by him, or arrive at a place where he is, I won't be in any trouble. I'd probably leave the place anyway, but at least I wouldn't be violating any court orders. If I get fed up with taking care of his dog, I can just pick up the phone and tell him to come and get the dog NOW. I can if I want----and I am REAL tired of taking care of his dog-----but I don't want. It's better I just go ahead and treat these as mutual restraining orders.
Speaking of restraining orders, I might have to call my ex-husband. The other one. I'll know more after I talk to the retirement system's legal office. He said he was going to relinquish his entitlement to my retirement for the years we were married but I don't think he actually went through with it. It might be good to break the ice with him. But I don't want to see him again......
Sunday, December 18, 2011
The Trust Network
Last week my counselor starting talking about the 'trust network'. The 'trust network' is her description of the complex role trust plays in a union. This trust network goes very deep and spans all kinds of areas of a relationship. Once the trust gets broken, or the network is violated by one or more parties, it is damaged. It's like an electrical circuit with a kink in one of the wires. If it is not repaired, the circuit isn't able to function correctly. Left unrepaired that kink, however tiny it might be, is likely to turn into a break,and will destroy the system. And, as I learned when I was buying a car stereo, a system is only as good as its weakest link. When I think about it, I marvel at how complex this trust network is, and if one part of it isn't right, other parts won't work correctly either. In a relationship, the large issues are the more obvious: lying, stealing, cheating. They almost go without saying. They can put the 'trust network' completely out of order. It's the other, more subtle areas that can be harder to detect. In particular, I think about insults and criticisms. They damage the system; in time they can break down the network. I am just going to explore a couple of small things I can see eroded my relationship to Bill.
In our early years, Bill used to tell me I wasn't supportive. He was in law school, under a lot of academic pressure and studied non-stop. At that time I had a very poor self-image. I was so closely out of my first marriage and bewildered by what had made me want to end that, that in my very confused state I would believe anything Bill told me. Bill had been a shoulder to lean on, he was a good listener, a great conversationalist and he had won my confidence. He could get inside my head and, when he felt his own insecurities pop up, he would project those on me. Of course, I didn't know it at the time. I figured that out much later on. But in the beginning I trusted him. Since I trusted him, I felt he was being honest with me and I strove to improve myself based on what he said. If he said I wasn't supportive enough of him in his studying, I would feel bad and try to do more to 'be supportive'. If he told me I didn't take care of business, I would believe him and try to become more efficient. If he told me something I did annoyed him, I would try to stop doing that. But the point here is that the criticisms cut into what would become our trust network. In time I found myself being a little skittish, afraid of being criticized. Subconsciously I tried too hard to please. I didn't want the criticism so I avoided the behavior that might elicit it. As I look back, I see how that damaged the circuit. To shield myself from it, I was at times evasive, at times reluctant to share my vulnerabilities. I didn't share as openly with him as before because I couldn't trust I would be supported and I couldn't trust the information wouldn't be thrown in my face at some future point in time.
Years ago I heard someone refer to these small behaviors as 'little murders'. How powerful that description is! They are so small, so subtle, they go underground and into the subconscious so fast, that over a period of years, they slowly erode the network. They are insidious, so insidious, in fact, that I wonder what I would need to do in the future to stop them if I saw them coming in another relationship.
In our early years, Bill used to tell me I wasn't supportive. He was in law school, under a lot of academic pressure and studied non-stop. At that time I had a very poor self-image. I was so closely out of my first marriage and bewildered by what had made me want to end that, that in my very confused state I would believe anything Bill told me. Bill had been a shoulder to lean on, he was a good listener, a great conversationalist and he had won my confidence. He could get inside my head and, when he felt his own insecurities pop up, he would project those on me. Of course, I didn't know it at the time. I figured that out much later on. But in the beginning I trusted him. Since I trusted him, I felt he was being honest with me and I strove to improve myself based on what he said. If he said I wasn't supportive enough of him in his studying, I would feel bad and try to do more to 'be supportive'. If he told me I didn't take care of business, I would believe him and try to become more efficient. If he told me something I did annoyed him, I would try to stop doing that. But the point here is that the criticisms cut into what would become our trust network. In time I found myself being a little skittish, afraid of being criticized. Subconsciously I tried too hard to please. I didn't want the criticism so I avoided the behavior that might elicit it. As I look back, I see how that damaged the circuit. To shield myself from it, I was at times evasive, at times reluctant to share my vulnerabilities. I didn't share as openly with him as before because I couldn't trust I would be supported and I couldn't trust the information wouldn't be thrown in my face at some future point in time.
Years ago I heard someone refer to these small behaviors as 'little murders'. How powerful that description is! They are so small, so subtle, they go underground and into the subconscious so fast, that over a period of years, they slowly erode the network. They are insidious, so insidious, in fact, that I wonder what I would need to do in the future to stop them if I saw them coming in another relationship.
Saturday, December 17, 2011
What's Going Well
Today I woke up to a revelation: I have fallen into an undesirable pattern in these writings. In making this egregious mistake, I have put myself in a 'glass is half empty' position, and it doesn't sit well with me. Not only in my faith, but in secular life, not recognizing what's going well,--- no, not FOCUSING on what's going well, the blessings, the gifts, the great things that are there every day, those things I take for granted,--- can plop me into a malcontent state. So here I sit, with eroded gratitude and plummeted emotions. Time for a paradigm shift.
Yes, my interminable divorce is lousy. My finances are where I never planned them to be, I have tennis elbow I am continually icing and stuff in my bronchia for which I take a very slow-working inhaler twice a day, Kyle didn't breeze through EMT school and my dad is a pain. There is plenty of that in this blog. As I read through, it falls just short of being a diatribe. But enough of that already. Let's start looking closely at the good stuff.
I have been at my job since February 3, 1975, same district, same school, with a two-year break in the later 70's to move to NYC where I had the priceless opportunity to work in the private education sector and see a completely different side of teaching. Back at my school after NYC, I brought higher standards and greater expectations of what children can do in school as well as what parents can contribute to learning. I struggled my first several years as a teacher. But I worked incredibly hard. I have a tenacity for my job that has rarely allowed me to feel defeated in its continual challenges.
This year, maybe my 37th or so, has been as remarkably different on some levels than I could have ever imagined. As usual, I have some very needy students who require more than their share of attention, but no one is mean. Some are egocentric, but they all can be exceedingly kind. They get to work as a group far better than most classes I've had. They show effort, and some of them show caring and helpfulness that warm my heart. One little girl has a capacity to be sympathetic that is both appropriate and sincere. She also mimics my voice while we're singing, but adds in a vibrato that verges more on a wobble/tremulo you throw a cat through, delighting in her experience and her love for vocal music. Another little girl notices nuance like few kindergarteners I know and, although pretty wiggly, she has a burgeoning talent for art that will grow into something remarkable. She also likes to yell out, "Show us your bat wings!" when I'm wearing short sleeves. P is one of the brightest young men I have ever known, and possesses a maturity that is forever causing me to marvel. He's the go-to guy in whole-group lessons I know I can finally ask when no one else can answer a question. A quiet, sweet girl is the fourth I have had of a family of five. On the first day of school, her mother embraced me and remarked in Spanish how happy she was that all of her children have been in my class (there is still one at home). This little girl is hard-working, honest and conscientious in a way that tells me that no matter how hard it is for her to learn subject matter, she will work at it as diligently as any person possibly can, and she will persevere until she has met whatever standards we have for her. Another child, S, is simply an angel. When I think of 'still waters run deep', he is exactly that. Yesterday we were painting wood birdhouses with acrylic paint for holiday gifts. Kindergarteners and paint must always be done with great care but kindergarteners and ACRYLIC paint is not too unlike handling nuclear waste. There is garb to don and very distinct procedures you must follow. He had painted his birdhouse the day before, but came up to me yesterday and quietly said, "I want my mother and father to be proud of me. I want to do a better job. I want to paint my birdhouse again." I looked to the ledge where I had put the drying projects from the previous day. As I spotted his, it didn't seem to look poorly done. It looked like the typical work of a five-year-old, something a parent would rejoice in receiving and knew his parents would be thrilled with it. But apparently, he wasn't satisfied. I took it down and set him up again; he re-painted it with more care, this time following the grain of the wood in his brushstrokes and covering each little bit of wood with paint. I asked him if he was happier with it now and he said yes. Em's family works with a local Christian charitable organization and I can tell she has been taught to love all people. I doubt she would ever harm a friend let alone a bug. She has a sweetness that says 'I will accept you as you are'. A new student comes from a battered women's shelter. He is withdrawn, quiet. He has seen things done to his mother no child should ever have to see, not even in a horror flick. I know that as soon as he understands our room is a safe environment, he will come out of his shell, relaxing and maybe going to the other behavioral extreme. As annoying as that might be for the person who has to run the classroom, it will be a healthy sign. It will signal the beginning of him discovering who he really is and the departure from his past. I don't know how long he will be with us but the children immediately embraced him, shepherded him around the class, our yard, and the school, introducing him to new teachers when we first entered their rooms, and engaging him in activities. This is a good place for him, and his mother and I have conversations about the need to keep him here and not cause any huge school-related transitions for him as she reaches the end of her time in the shelter. I could spend weeks writing character profiles on my students. Looking closely at who they are is a very pleasant and satisfying experience.
One thing that is off-the-charts this year is the parents in my room. Cal it 'rising to the occasion' or 'stepping up to the plate', whatever it is has been a shocking delight. At Back to School Night two mothers approached me and said they wanted to share the job of room parent. They have worked hard. One of them meets with me once a month, I tell her what's going on in the room, what I need help with, anything I want parents to know, and then she goes home, writes it all up, and sends it out in a newsletter she emails to all the parents. I can then follow-up on a website another mother helped me design on Shutterfly, complete with calendar, announcements, homework assignments and sign-up sheets. The other room parent and the woman who set up the webpage post photos of all our class events. Two of them set up a 'co-op' in our school's parent room where parents agree to watch younger siblings for each other to free-up parents to help in their children's classrooms. I now have parents helping for at least one portion of every day. This means that some parents have seen the holiday cards and gifts we're making, so when they enter the room, I say, "You never saw this." They say, "OK," and we laugh. They have given gift cards I never dreamed I'd get, not for myself but to buy classroom supplies, from the local teacher's supply store, Staples, craft stores, and the supermarket. It is a teacher's dream.
I also have a cadre of 'legacy' students. These are children whose parents I had as kindergarteners. It is common to have siblings of former students, but not so common to have their progeny. One probably lives out of the district but uses his parents' address to get his son in the school. He seems to have wonderful memories of his year with me, which I think was about the time Laura was born, and begged to have his child in my class. He signs up to volunteer, paid the portion of our Adopt-A-Class that was not met by other parents, and donated all the food and supplies for our holiday gingerbread house party. He's also a plumber and when our annual Friendship Feast ended with the annual clogging up of my workroom sink, he went to his truck, got whatever was needed, and cleared the clog. He picks his child up at the boy's mother's every morning, feeds him breakfast (because apparently the mother doesn't), and brings his lunch back to eat with him almost every day. My 'legacy students' all come from a section of town that's nestled between the cemetery and the south end of the local freeway. In a town that's known usually for its celebrities and high-end lifestyle, few know there is poverty as well. When I started working here, this neighborhood had tremendous transiency. Children would be in school for mere weeks, possibly months, and then they would be gone. Their families lived in crowded substandard housing and even took shifts sleeping in the beds. During the two short years I lived in NYC, the city enacted a powerful, pro-tenant rent control program and the transiency came to a grinding halt. For this reason, generations of families now live in apartments and attend the same schools as their parents and grandparents did. Rents are fabulously low but so is upkeep and landlord maintenance. Selling buildings in that neighborhood is tantamount to 'unloading'. But for the families there, it ensures a security and sense of community for which they long and is reminiscent of their lives in Mexico and Central America. In many cases, the younger generations have succeeded, gone to college, gone into better professions than their parents and their own bought homes. In others, the children have not risen much beyond the levels of their parents.
All these children and their parents bless me, even the former students whose family lives are dysfunctional. I rejoice in seeing their faces after the intervening decades and feel a strong bond with them and their children. Sometimes I can look in a child's face and see their parents' faces when they were in my class and I get an inward smile. There is a joy in this connectedness I feel. They are blessings. These children and their parents, they bless me and enhance my life. The recent changes in my life has opened me up to an increased appreciation for the other lives that I touch and who in turn touch me, and I am extremely satisfied.
Yes, my interminable divorce is lousy. My finances are where I never planned them to be, I have tennis elbow I am continually icing and stuff in my bronchia for which I take a very slow-working inhaler twice a day, Kyle didn't breeze through EMT school and my dad is a pain. There is plenty of that in this blog. As I read through, it falls just short of being a diatribe. But enough of that already. Let's start looking closely at the good stuff.
I have been at my job since February 3, 1975, same district, same school, with a two-year break in the later 70's to move to NYC where I had the priceless opportunity to work in the private education sector and see a completely different side of teaching. Back at my school after NYC, I brought higher standards and greater expectations of what children can do in school as well as what parents can contribute to learning. I struggled my first several years as a teacher. But I worked incredibly hard. I have a tenacity for my job that has rarely allowed me to feel defeated in its continual challenges.
This year, maybe my 37th or so, has been as remarkably different on some levels than I could have ever imagined. As usual, I have some very needy students who require more than their share of attention, but no one is mean. Some are egocentric, but they all can be exceedingly kind. They get to work as a group far better than most classes I've had. They show effort, and some of them show caring and helpfulness that warm my heart. One little girl has a capacity to be sympathetic that is both appropriate and sincere. She also mimics my voice while we're singing, but adds in a vibrato that verges more on a wobble/tremulo you throw a cat through, delighting in her experience and her love for vocal music. Another little girl notices nuance like few kindergarteners I know and, although pretty wiggly, she has a burgeoning talent for art that will grow into something remarkable. She also likes to yell out, "Show us your bat wings!" when I'm wearing short sleeves. P is one of the brightest young men I have ever known, and possesses a maturity that is forever causing me to marvel. He's the go-to guy in whole-group lessons I know I can finally ask when no one else can answer a question. A quiet, sweet girl is the fourth I have had of a family of five. On the first day of school, her mother embraced me and remarked in Spanish how happy she was that all of her children have been in my class (there is still one at home). This little girl is hard-working, honest and conscientious in a way that tells me that no matter how hard it is for her to learn subject matter, she will work at it as diligently as any person possibly can, and she will persevere until she has met whatever standards we have for her. Another child, S, is simply an angel. When I think of 'still waters run deep', he is exactly that. Yesterday we were painting wood birdhouses with acrylic paint for holiday gifts. Kindergarteners and paint must always be done with great care but kindergarteners and ACRYLIC paint is not too unlike handling nuclear waste. There is garb to don and very distinct procedures you must follow. He had painted his birdhouse the day before, but came up to me yesterday and quietly said, "I want my mother and father to be proud of me. I want to do a better job. I want to paint my birdhouse again." I looked to the ledge where I had put the drying projects from the previous day. As I spotted his, it didn't seem to look poorly done. It looked like the typical work of a five-year-old, something a parent would rejoice in receiving and knew his parents would be thrilled with it. But apparently, he wasn't satisfied. I took it down and set him up again; he re-painted it with more care, this time following the grain of the wood in his brushstrokes and covering each little bit of wood with paint. I asked him if he was happier with it now and he said yes. Em's family works with a local Christian charitable organization and I can tell she has been taught to love all people. I doubt she would ever harm a friend let alone a bug. She has a sweetness that says 'I will accept you as you are'. A new student comes from a battered women's shelter. He is withdrawn, quiet. He has seen things done to his mother no child should ever have to see, not even in a horror flick. I know that as soon as he understands our room is a safe environment, he will come out of his shell, relaxing and maybe going to the other behavioral extreme. As annoying as that might be for the person who has to run the classroom, it will be a healthy sign. It will signal the beginning of him discovering who he really is and the departure from his past. I don't know how long he will be with us but the children immediately embraced him, shepherded him around the class, our yard, and the school, introducing him to new teachers when we first entered their rooms, and engaging him in activities. This is a good place for him, and his mother and I have conversations about the need to keep him here and not cause any huge school-related transitions for him as she reaches the end of her time in the shelter. I could spend weeks writing character profiles on my students. Looking closely at who they are is a very pleasant and satisfying experience.
One thing that is off-the-charts this year is the parents in my room. Cal it 'rising to the occasion' or 'stepping up to the plate', whatever it is has been a shocking delight. At Back to School Night two mothers approached me and said they wanted to share the job of room parent. They have worked hard. One of them meets with me once a month, I tell her what's going on in the room, what I need help with, anything I want parents to know, and then she goes home, writes it all up, and sends it out in a newsletter she emails to all the parents. I can then follow-up on a website another mother helped me design on Shutterfly, complete with calendar, announcements, homework assignments and sign-up sheets. The other room parent and the woman who set up the webpage post photos of all our class events. Two of them set up a 'co-op' in our school's parent room where parents agree to watch younger siblings for each other to free-up parents to help in their children's classrooms. I now have parents helping for at least one portion of every day. This means that some parents have seen the holiday cards and gifts we're making, so when they enter the room, I say, "You never saw this." They say, "OK," and we laugh. They have given gift cards I never dreamed I'd get, not for myself but to buy classroom supplies, from the local teacher's supply store, Staples, craft stores, and the supermarket. It is a teacher's dream.
I also have a cadre of 'legacy' students. These are children whose parents I had as kindergarteners. It is common to have siblings of former students, but not so common to have their progeny. One probably lives out of the district but uses his parents' address to get his son in the school. He seems to have wonderful memories of his year with me, which I think was about the time Laura was born, and begged to have his child in my class. He signs up to volunteer, paid the portion of our Adopt-A-Class that was not met by other parents, and donated all the food and supplies for our holiday gingerbread house party. He's also a plumber and when our annual Friendship Feast ended with the annual clogging up of my workroom sink, he went to his truck, got whatever was needed, and cleared the clog. He picks his child up at the boy's mother's every morning, feeds him breakfast (because apparently the mother doesn't), and brings his lunch back to eat with him almost every day. My 'legacy students' all come from a section of town that's nestled between the cemetery and the south end of the local freeway. In a town that's known usually for its celebrities and high-end lifestyle, few know there is poverty as well. When I started working here, this neighborhood had tremendous transiency. Children would be in school for mere weeks, possibly months, and then they would be gone. Their families lived in crowded substandard housing and even took shifts sleeping in the beds. During the two short years I lived in NYC, the city enacted a powerful, pro-tenant rent control program and the transiency came to a grinding halt. For this reason, generations of families now live in apartments and attend the same schools as their parents and grandparents did. Rents are fabulously low but so is upkeep and landlord maintenance. Selling buildings in that neighborhood is tantamount to 'unloading'. But for the families there, it ensures a security and sense of community for which they long and is reminiscent of their lives in Mexico and Central America. In many cases, the younger generations have succeeded, gone to college, gone into better professions than their parents and their own bought homes. In others, the children have not risen much beyond the levels of their parents.
All these children and their parents bless me, even the former students whose family lives are dysfunctional. I rejoice in seeing their faces after the intervening decades and feel a strong bond with them and their children. Sometimes I can look in a child's face and see their parents' faces when they were in my class and I get an inward smile. There is a joy in this connectedness I feel. They are blessings. These children and their parents, they bless me and enhance my life. The recent changes in my life has opened me up to an increased appreciation for the other lives that I touch and who in turn touch me, and I am extremely satisfied.
Friday, December 16, 2011
Towards a Future
Although they had my ring dipped in white gold several weeks ago, Kyle and Laura seemed to be stalled in moving forward with an engagement. He was in EMT school, she was working and trying to help him study. We hit a snag in the schooling. It turns out he is slightly dyslexic and the reading, studying and written work were overwhelming to him. He was going to class early every night and working with a study group, meeting with his teachers, etc. We made flash cards and I was helping him outline his textbook chapters but he was getting very low scores on his tests. As a 'family' project I thought the studying was great but he soon lost heart and, in time, became almost paralyzed. I know the feeling: you reach a point where you're so far behind, you're doing so poorly, you just stop. Why bother? Despite his great personality, his ability to talk to just about anybody, and his talents for what some might call 'B.S.', I could see he was defeated. I remember I had felt that way in algebra, and then again in geometry. When you don't get it, you don't get it. And when you feel that way, you give up. Laura, on the other hand, understood his predicament but didn't see how it connected to his proposal----or non-proposal, let's say. She started 'mentioning' it. She became sullen. He got annoyed and couldn't understand why she was being so bitchy, and he didn't want to propose to someone who was being so unpleasant, which made her more difficult. And so the cycle went. They were at an impasse and there was a point where I wondered if their relationship was going to splinter. Or, was this situation going to gnaw at the foundation of their trust network, maybe ruining the marriage before it even got started? I had begun to be concerned this was going on too long. After all, he had initially told me he wanted to propose on their trip to Yosemite in August.
Then there was an evening when they hashed it out. I'm not a big fan of the way they argue, but who am I to tell someone how to manage a relationship? Thankfully, they took care of it in their room. I think they both shared some very vulnerable parts of themselves and developed a new respect for one another's own struggles, and in the morning they were their old selves again. Whatever they did, they cleared the air.
The next two weeks went by and I could tell Laura was still hurt he still hadn't popped the question. Then he had a terrible absess and had to visit the emergency room a few times. She tended to him, changed the bandages, cleaned the injured site, and he was miserable with the accompanying infection. He was laid up for at least a week.
When he was well, he took her to dinner, then down to the beach with blankets, and did the deed. In the moonlight. On a clear and beautiful December evening.
We were all relieved.
Once he had made the commitment, he was happy. He was thinking of weddings and who would be the best man, where to have a ceremony, and whether or not to just go down to city hall or do the whole church thing. Life was normal again. EMT school didn't work out the way he had hoped, but they're still young. He was introduced to the staff at an office where some friends work, the owner took an immediate liking to him, and there is a possibility that for the time being, he will get to use his talents in another field. It has been hard for him not to work. It's been almost a year now. He's not the kind of guy who can sit around the house. He doesn't like not working. He has been restless and has spoken often of getting a job, but Laura has talked him out of it because his EMT school tuition wouldn't have been taken care of if he had been working. There is a baby on the way, there is a possibility of work, they are at peace. We are replacing the drop ceiling in the garage with drywall so they're staying in the house here for a while. In a couple of weeks, they'll move back out there and Laura will be able to continue her nesting. I think we might be calming down around here. It would be nice.
Then there was an evening when they hashed it out. I'm not a big fan of the way they argue, but who am I to tell someone how to manage a relationship? Thankfully, they took care of it in their room. I think they both shared some very vulnerable parts of themselves and developed a new respect for one another's own struggles, and in the morning they were their old selves again. Whatever they did, they cleared the air.
The next two weeks went by and I could tell Laura was still hurt he still hadn't popped the question. Then he had a terrible absess and had to visit the emergency room a few times. She tended to him, changed the bandages, cleaned the injured site, and he was miserable with the accompanying infection. He was laid up for at least a week.
When he was well, he took her to dinner, then down to the beach with blankets, and did the deed. In the moonlight. On a clear and beautiful December evening.
We were all relieved.
Once he had made the commitment, he was happy. He was thinking of weddings and who would be the best man, where to have a ceremony, and whether or not to just go down to city hall or do the whole church thing. Life was normal again. EMT school didn't work out the way he had hoped, but they're still young. He was introduced to the staff at an office where some friends work, the owner took an immediate liking to him, and there is a possibility that for the time being, he will get to use his talents in another field. It has been hard for him not to work. It's been almost a year now. He's not the kind of guy who can sit around the house. He doesn't like not working. He has been restless and has spoken often of getting a job, but Laura has talked him out of it because his EMT school tuition wouldn't have been taken care of if he had been working. There is a baby on the way, there is a possibility of work, they are at peace. We are replacing the drop ceiling in the garage with drywall so they're staying in the house here for a while. In a couple of weeks, they'll move back out there and Laura will be able to continue her nesting. I think we might be calming down around here. It would be nice.
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