Many people refer to our jobs in teaching as our “calling.” I reckon they think this is a compliment.  Usually it’s prefaced or surrounded by such talk as “You’re so good with kids.”; “I could never do what you do.”; or “I can’t even get him to pick up his toys.”  Well, those people are right. I am good with kids, you probably can’t (although won’t is more like it) do what I do, and you’ve got a problem if your kid doesn’t follow your directions.

I HATE, HATE, HATE, HATE it when people refer to teaching as a calling.  Doing so implies some pretty awful things.  Consider that a calling is something you’re divinely inspired to do.  Save for some mega churches, most clergy aren’t rocking the high-income brackets either.  I see this as a way to justify our long hours, lack of real support, public flogging (read the papers for accountability and really think of what that says about those of us in teaching) and poor pay.  It’s as if our schools are our mission projects, and, since we’re called to this, we would do it for free. It takes away the hard work, experience, and education it took to get us here.

It also implies that we will accept any job under any circumstances because to teach is what “fills our life cup.” Are you kidding?  First, WHITE WOMAN.  Second: WHITE WOMAN WITH SOME REALLY WIDE HIPS.  Third: UPPITY WHITE WOMAN. I DO NOT LOOK LIKE JESUS.

Sure, I love what I do.  I feel that it’s socially important.  I can be very good at it. However, my name is not now, nor will it ever be, Saint Suzanne.  I am not willing to push this boulder up a hill alone or accept being thwarted, endure hardship and despair, or suffer insults about my teaching all for the “privilege” of being there.  I cannot perform miracles.  I am one person.

By referring to what teachers do as a calling, it is easy to keep expecting more with less. It is EXPECTED that teachers will step in to do more — with their own money, their own time, and their own energy. There is the expectation that we will sacrifice our lunches, afternoons, evenings, and weekends to do more for the kids and the community.  I say this again with great sincerity, I am not Jesus.  I have a family.  I have other desires. I am not willing to martyr myself for the cause. Furthermore, I am not Anne Sullivan.  I cannot be writing water into every Helen Keller’s hand to “make that connection” while 30 other kids run in circles until it’s their turn.  It’s IMPOSSIBLE.

By calling it a calling, you assume I can do the impossible.  I can’t…

And that kills a small part of me every day. One day I will QUIT  because I can’t do everything, or be everything, and I feel guilty for it.  Who, then, will take my place?  Who then will take on this hair shirt and wear it with pride?  Will you?

or how one person with disordered eating found another.  Circa 1990.

When I moved to Madison, WI with Igor after grad school, I had no idea of what to do for a job.  Suffice to say I didn’t have what it took at that time to have a career.  Therefore, I did what most liberal arts majors without clues (or master’s degrees in library science) do — I got a job in retail.  That lasted for a short time until I saw that a local bakery/restaurant chain needed help.  Yep, I applied, WROTE AN ESSAY FOR, and got a job selling pastries.  The essay part should have been my clue as to the pretentiousness of the establishment.  Nope.  I was either desperate, clueless, or oblivious.  Actually, all three.

Initially I started working the 6 am opening shift.  There was an hour of things to do to get the place ready to open.  I worked the bakery side.  The other side was the restaurant.  We sold normal morning breads and then pastries — bars, cookies, and cakes.  After a month, I was asked to come bake.  God knows why I said yes (probably more money and longer hours) because I had to be at work at 4.  Not fun.

Let’s just be clear.  As an adult female with a history of completely disordered binge eating, working around carbohydrates was just another one of those ignorant plans.  I had previously lost about 30 pounds before moving.  Now it was coming on FAST.  There is nothing so depressing as gaining weight, being lonely in a new town, not connecting with your live-in boyfriend, and busting out of your clothes.  Yep, I had baked goods and pastries EVERY SINGLE HOUR OF WORK.

Which brings me to my flip side, Julie.  Julie was six feet tall, was ADHD, weighed maybe 115, talked a mile a minute, and seemed dumb as a box of hammers.  Naturally she gravitated towards me.  She had recently decided she was a lesbian.  I can’t say why she wrote her essay to work there, but I have to think it had something to do with being around food.  She was, and may still be, an anorexic.  This she was clear about.  Jack Spratt had found his wife.

Julie was obsessed with food, and she was obsessed with my desire to eat food. Famously she once asked me why customers asked me what was good to buy.  I looked at her, stunned, and blurted out, “Because I look like I eat the product!”  It was true.  I knew what had good mouth feel, what was deliciously crunchy, and what had been in the case too long.  I could say which muffins were most tender and whether the buns were in good shape.  I was never a croissant eater and still am not to this day.  I hated making them, I don’t eat them.  A cheese danish, however…

The interesting thing about Julie was how she interacted with people and food.  She would watch you eat.  It felt…dirty.  I’m serious.  It was just that uncomfortable. She wanted to know every detail of how the food tasted.  Food was her pornography, and she was abstaining.  I didn’t know this, of course, from working with her.  I learned it when she asked me over to have dinner with her.  I arrived to find a fridge filled with… mostly nothing.  She had a gallon of wine, mayonnaise, ketchup, and maybe some limp lettuce.  That’s it.  When I asked her what she was going to make, she was surprised.  She had forgotten that people invited to dinner expect to eat dinner.

That’s when she offered to take me out.  I was naive and went.  WRONG.  It was the first and last experience I had with being stared at while eating. It was creepy.  To make matters worse, her lesbian girlfriend was jealous.  Apparently Julie had been taking home goodies from work and feeding her.  She’d gained 30 pounds and was not happy that Julie was feeding another.  I just was uncomfortable with how it was all playing out.  Was she dating me?  I mean she knew about Igor.

Luckily one of my other co-workers managed to get me an interview at a state agency in Madison.  Had I known at the time how hard it was for people to find well-paying jobs with benefits (NO ONE ever seemed to leave which is why people with BAs, BSs and Master’s Degrees were working retail all over the place), I would have kissed her feet.  I would have been a better employee (another story for another time).  However, it got me away from my disordered eating friend (who encouraged my binge eating) for a while.

I’d like to say that Julie got over being an anorexic, but during my time with her that was a big no.  I’d like to say that I became a normal eater and stopped having binge episodes.  That’s a huge no too.  I still struggle with it.  What I did learn though is telling someone you love food doesn’t mean you do.  I think it just means you have an addiction to it that’s not normal — whether you’re eating or not.

Last night Keb’s breathing was rough.  Same tonight.  Thank every entity that can be thanked for modern medicine, especially albuterol.  While we’re being vigilant, we are confident his symptoms can be controlled by meds.  That said, it’s very hard to be an asthmatic’s parent.

BTW, play date in a house with a dog.  Strangely, no ill-effects until HOURS later.  What’s that all about?

I’ve come to realize that all entries are prefaced with background knowledge.

Admission: I was never into weddings.  I can honestly say that I felt funerals were easier because they were done in a couple of hours and you didn’t have to take sides when they were over.  As a child I never fantasized about being married.  I never wanted the big white dress, a fancy wedding with flowers and favors, the dance and the rest of the crap that comes with it.  First, I hate the profane exhibits that come with weddings.  Something as personal as making life-long promises should not be viewed by someone who “happens” to know you.  Second, the money spent is often some obscene amount with very little return.  Then there are the demands and hostage situations that occur.  Better to just get married and avoid weddings at all cost.

That said, not everyone is me.  Therefore, I’ve spent the better part of 25 years hearing about women’s weddings.  By the way, it’s ALWAYS the woman’s wedding.  With metrosexuality, it’s become slightly less so, but let’s be honest.  Those men make us uncomfortable.  We’re never surprised when those marriages fail.

Women, however, LOVE to talk about their weddings.  They wax poetic about the cost of the dress, the flowers, who made the cake (wedding cake usually always tastes like dirt with that crappy fondant on it. YUCK!), how many attendants, and yes, the presents.  They complain about presents that can’t be returned for money (yes, it’s about the love between a man and a woman…), the hideous relatives (who had to pay to come) and their MIL who are out to RUIN their perfect days.  Given how wacked out our “wedding” was, I can usually shut down such conversations in a short period of time.  But not always.  Bragging rights rein (plus I don’t have a gumball sized diamond  that isn’t paid for to show my husband’s love.  Instead, I have no debt or outstanding student loans.  Take that pretentious twit!) especially when it comes to superfluous shows of conspicuous consumption.

What I’ve come to realize, however, is that the more important the wedding, the less important the marriage.  Women who have gone on at LENGTH about their weddings will turn around to tell me they are divorcing –often within 5 years.  When I express any sympathy, I’m always met with things like, “It wasn’t mean to be.” or “It’s for the best.”  Really?  All that fuss for what?  Your day in the limelight princess?

I think it’s sad that the princess fantasy of being the belle of the ball takes precedence over the actual life together.  It’s almost like compromise, growing together, forsaking others, and honoring each other is a distant memory.  While it takes two to tank a marriage, I think placing the ceremony over the institution should be allowed into court as entering into a fraudulent marriage.

I recently dropped an activity which I have been part of since I started teaching — being a union rep.  It is something I used to feel passionate about.  I loved advocating for others, the social justice of it all, and making sure that there was equity in the workplace. With few exceptions, I really don’t believe that management is the “enemy”.  That said, I think that Robert Frost was brilliant when he wrote, “Good fences make good neighbors.” Amen to that brother.

The fact is boundaries set the relationship.  It is as Ann Landers said, “You teach others how to treat you.”  Contracts are like fences. They outline the boundaries between two distinct properties, allowing the owners to feel secure in knowing when and where a breach occurs.  This is why there are teaching contracts.  With them we are constantly being asked what more we can do to make sure kids are “making it.” Without them, our lives would be micromanaged 24/7.  I find it fascinating that the general public feels no qualms about wanting students in school from 8-4.  Then tutoring or after school care should be provided — by teachers.  When, however, are we to spend time recharging our batteries, being with our families and friends, or taking care of other school or life business?

This decision was not an easy one.  It was a mixture of feeling very under-appreciated in my current situation and the realization that I can’t do everything I might want to do without sacrificing the ones I love.  I want our K-8 program to succeed.  I don’t feel we have all the resources to do it given the current political and economic environment.  New programs need a lot of love, attention, analysis, and revision.  To see the fruits of our labors, we will have to wait until our 2nd or 3rd generation graduate.  That’s hard.

However, I was reassured when I read a post from Choice Literacy about knowing when to say yes, when to say no, and when to say not yet.  It was empowering to know that things I’m not yet ready to do for our program are not defeated goals, but merely deferred ones.  However, in order to give them due justice, I have to say no to something.

For now it is the one area when I feel completely out of sync and unsuccessful — that of being a rep.  While I may return to it, I have to say for now, not yet.

Somehow, either in the budget crunch or the race to the top stuff, teachers became the MOST IMPORTANT THING at schools.  As such, anyone who is NOT a classroom teacher started to be treated as expendable.  After all, as long as the students have “a good classroom teacher” nothing else matters at the school.  Uh huh.  Seriously?

Now I’m sure that this statement boosts the egos of a good many teacher.  After all, we spend most of our time with students.  We’ve all seen the movies where teachers sacrifice themselves for their students (Idiots or martyrs; can’t figure out which.).  It’s affirming to think you’re the only one who holds the key to knowledge — the ONE person who makes ALL the difference.  I also think it’s arrogant, counterproductive, and harmful.

For the past decade my mantra has been “People, not programs.”  In fact, we need A LOT OF PEOPLE.   It’s unrealistic to expect one person to fulfill the needs of 30 very diverse individuals.  Hell, spouses in a one-on-one situations often can’t everything to their better half.  You expect one lone teacher to?  Schools need good administrators, deans of students and discipline, office staff (Seriously, they RUN the school and are the first “school people” parents usually see.  They are invaluable), instructional associates, and special teachers (not just special education, but resource, art, music, computer, library, counselors),etc.

Not only do these additional school staff help students, they help teachers and parents.  They can take over classes, mentor, grab a needy child for a conversation, contact and educate parents, and teach classes.  They can offer interventions when the classroom teacher knows he or she is not making a dent with a student.   They are sounding boards.  They give ideas.  They help with planning curriculum or putting together a scope and sequence of a new topic.  Administrators interact with parents and can ease a hiccup between teacher and parent.  There are so many valuable people at a school that it HURTS everyone to assume that only the teachers are important.

Kids need to make connections.  They need to know they are valued.  Whether anyone wants to admit it or not, some don’t bond with their classroom or homeroom teacher.  Should those students really be denied the chance to bond with another caring adult at school simply because we think it’s our God-given right NOT to pay taxes?  Those other teachers are not just collecting paychecks.  They work just as hard as classroom teachers, putting in more than their x-many minutes of contact time as well.

Stop the platitudes about how teachers are a valuable resource, and the only thing teachers need to be happier in their jobs is more money.  Pay alone is not enough.  I deserve the support of other caring adults on campus to allow me to be my best in the classroom.  My students deserve it.  Anything less is handing our students a sub-par educational experience.  All in the name of the almighty dollar.

Can I get an “Amen”?

One thing about education is that it has more sacred cows than McDonald’s can slaughter and serve in a week.  One of them is this card system to control, monitor, maintain, measure, I don’t know, MANAGE class behavior.  If you’re not acquainted (live under a rock), it goes like this: Students start on GREEN (for good and go).  The first infraction has them move to ORANGE (WARNING! Danger Will Robinson), then they usually go to RED (You’re in BIG trouble, MISTER!).  Some have included YELLOW (SLOW DOWN BEFORE SOMEONE GETS HURT!).  You get the idea.  By red, the child has a consequence of some variety.  Needless to say, I HATE this system.  OK, hate is probably too strong of a word.  I just dislike it a lot, can’t seem to get behind it, and find it unnatural.

Thing is, a management system like this DEMANDS consistency.  You have to turn cards  at the first infraction.  Kids can’t regain status back most of the time.  There’s no saving face. And honestly, everyone does something annoying or stupid on daily basis, do you need to be reprimanded on the first one?  Probably.I just think it’s too much.

As a rule, I stick to the friendly warning, give the student a chance to do what’s right, and then punish them as needed.  Generally I don’t wait out 3 warnings if it’s warranted, and I don’t punish at 3 warnings if it’s not.  Annoying is not bad.  Annoying needs to be fixed.  I’m more of a post-it queen.  I start noting annoying habits and force the student too as well.  If we can’t fix it, well, then your parents need to come discuss it with me.  However, some crimes involve do not pass go, do not collect $100, and go directly to jail.  Life is like that.  Life is not a turn at bat — 3 chances and you’re out.

I know this is blasphemy in the teaching world.  Apparently I’m all for slaughtering the sacred cows.

This goes out to Ms. Vicki.

I woke this morning to read that Ms. Vicki had sent me a note through Facebook.  I was intrigued, but at 5:20 you don’t think much.I was so THRILLED when I read her message.  The subject line: PYREX

Hey
I went the The Great Mall tonight and went to the Pyrex store. They had the Pyrex 8 cup measuring bowls on sale buy 1 get one free. Of course they only had 2. I got both and 4 high temp spatulas.
Hellooo peanut brittle.
Ms. V

You see, yesterday I was discussing that there were supplies I need for my mad science/cooking class.  Of course, I needed them last semester, but sometimes a teacher is slow on the draw.  I noted that I really love the 8-cup Pyrex bowls and wanted to make microwave peanut brittle.  Vicki said she had a great recipe and totally understood why I wanted the 8-cup “measuring cups”.  Ms. Jeanette, Ms. Vicki and Ms. Janie all clued me in on how to best ASK for supplies.  They really do run our school.

However, to put that into action was a pure  act of selfless love.  If you ever wondered why anyone would work at a school for low pay, I want you to remember this:  What Ms. Vicki did was for the students — to bring them joy and experience.  She’s not there for the pay.  Which is good, ’cause it’s pretty low.

Ask any teacher how things are going, and you’ll usually hear the worst.  We suffer the slings and arrows of outrageous fortune daily, and we take is personally when we aren’t able to deflect or defeat every one. Most teachers are pretty convinced that if they just taught better, rearranged their room, cleaned up, was prepped a month ahead, and could make a connection with that one kid, we would actually be pretty good teachers.  Not great, not fabulous, not the best, but pretty good. Not reaching goals or being successful KILLS us.

This week, for its 4 days, was indeed both trying and terrific (not in a terrific way, but in an accomplished way.  I really just like alliteration).  First, my students are STILL struggling with fractions.  Both making equivalent fractions as well as simplifying fractions is HARD for most.  I have very few successful students.  We need to move onto ratios.  They noticed that ratios are like fractions.  FRICK!  You could hear a cold, joy-sucking wind come through the room.

On top of that, my newest student is not behaving in the most positive manner.  He skirts the line between good and bad.  He’s not bad, but he’s not good either.  Sitting here writing this and reflecting, I FINALLY get what his mother meant when she told me to contact them for any little thing at all. FRICK!  I dropped the ball. SIGH.

However, I had THREE excellent conversations with kids yesterday and two with adults.  The kids are always more powerful, because that’s why you’re there.  One poor bunny is depressed — really depressed.  He’s got a row to hoe that I wouldn’t hand to my worst enemy.  Truly.  Here he is 11, maybe 12 feeling the weight of the world.  He has very few people who are dependable in his life.  He’s a good kid, really.  He’s smart too.  He just can’t see it for all the stuff going on.  At first, I was concerned because, as a K-8, we don’t have the normal resources that other middle schools have (DON’T GET ME STARTED!).  However, when push came to shove, he didn’t want those resources.  He feels that it’s “just talking” and “nothing gets done.”  He never felt better in the past (obviously this is not a new issue).  That said, we figured out a way to move forward, the two of us.  I’m checking in with him on Monday, and I’ll follow up as best I can with his adults.  For right now, I’ll ease my demand and see if I can’t just get the poor bunny to check back in.

Another “newer” student came in with her family (she arrived in our class in late October, early November).  I wasn’t sure about her at first, nor was she about me.  She has been working to get her “sea legs” and hasn’t always been successful.  However, I’ve noticed positive changes in her since we started in January.  She plays around a little less.  She asks for help me.  She is really, really trying to improve. She is completely likable, and so are her parents.  We had a positive conversation, and I feel we can move forward in a good light.  We have a plan for her.  It’s good, because she really is a sweet, sweet girl.

The last boy, I don’t know.  I was doing lunch supervision and he was removed from class because he was on red (card system).  He was explaining to me that he did what was asked.  I listened, but I have no clue.  I wasn’t present.  However, I read his story plan.  I didn’t agree with it.  So we talked about it.  Low and behold he made inferences, made different choices about how to move the story along, and added to his plan.  When I left, he was actually smiling.  In detention from his class and smiling, weird but,  I guess, preferable.

I shan’t go into more detail about the tragedies, because they weren’t really tragic — just annoying.  Seeing the good makes me realize that if I wasn’t accomplished in the day to day operations, I made a difference to 3 people yesterday.  I guess that’s all you can do sometimes.

I’m sure this is another thing that, if I had NORMAL sized feet, would be something I “understand”.  However, I have clown feet so I don’t.

What is it, really, with wearing flip flops all the damned time? Hell, people who won’t even consider a “rubber” for their nether regions slap them on their feet 24/7.   Thing is, they really are ugly, more-so than Birkenstocks.  In order to try to make them appear office ready, there’s the new “pimping” of them to make them more attractive.  There are interchangeable straps, rhinestones, and high-end producers, all aimed at making something disposable more expensive and, seemingly, higher quality .

Thing is, they’re flip flops.  They, along with generic Keds (maybe even real ones) are bad for your feet.  How bad?  In one of those butt-ugly boots you keep seeing women in bad.  Surgery bad.  Messed up your feet for life bad.  Worse?  These people KNOW that and wear them anyway (I suspect they think they’re living life on the edge like smokers, tanning booth addicts, and alcoholics).  That, my friends, is just ignorant.  Go out and get some real shoes, G*d-damned hippies.