School Isn't Out - Yet!

The final highlight of 2013 is the fact that my school has not yet been shut down by the anti-public education privatization pirates.

This is a minor miracle, though it may have to do with a lack of process as opposed to a lack of desire on the pirates behalf.

The Koch/DeVos backed right-wingers/tea baggers had hoped to push through a last minute bill that would have expanded the powers and scope of a state-wide "turn around" district, or the EAA.  Please do not be fooled by the pretty charts.  How can any statistician claim those numbers are valid when the "district" has lost 24 percent of its student population since last year?

A bill passed the state Senate but could not muster enough votes in the House.  The bill would have given the EAA authority to take over an unlimited amount of "low performing" schools (like mine), denied workers the right to collective bargaining, stripped teachers of the ability to pay into the state pension fund, and never let a school leave the EAA's control.  Sound great, doesn't it?

Would it surprise you to find out that, when pressed for information, the EAA was a little reticent to comply?  Nah, because this venture has nothing to do with helping schools.

My school has terrible test scores.  I won't even go into the myriad of reasons for our scores.  Some tea bagging troll will come in here and call me a union thug who should be fired.  Of course, my 20 years of experience means nothing and I won't get into an intellectual, factual, and philosophical battle with an unarmed opponent.    We are, however, still an official public school .  We are not out of the woods yet.

The state superintendent Mike Flanagan promised to move more schools under the EAA's authority.  Those schools will be announced in January and I suppose we could be one of them.  For now, we wait.  Also, the EAA bill will come back for a vote.  The wealthy and the powerful will not be satiated until it has been fed with more profits from the public trust.   

Take That Cancer

This will be brief because regular readers and friends already know this story.

For a while this summer, I worried that I might have cancer.  Colon cancer.  I didn't.  It was a pre-cancerous polyp.
 

While that notion still worries me a bit, it wasn't cancerous now. That was a huge worry that hung over my head at the end of the school year until the end of July.

Whew!

Mommy's Little Helper

Another positive that came out of 2013 was letting go of a stigma and helping myself out of a dangerous hole.

I've already said several times that taking medication for my depression was a good decision.  I cannot believe how much it has helped me.  I can get out of negative circular thinking more quickly than without it.  I don't burst into tears nearly as often as I was before I started the meds. My house is a little neater.  I have more energy and am not just going to bed regularly at 9:00 to escape dark thoughts.

I had been worried that my emotions would flatten out completely.  That hasn't been the case; I can still feel joy and sadness. 

I had been worried that my libido would be crushed.  That hasn't been the case, thankfully.

Things aren't perfect.  I'm still crabby at work, but there are complicated dynamics in place which cause me to shield myself.  I feel a little better able to handle those issues than I did before taking an anti-depressant, though.

Most importantly, I no longer want to kill myself. 

For that, I will live to see 2014.

Musical Magic

I did not attend as many concerts as I would have liked.  Oh well, that's the cost of austerity.  I did get to travel to see my friends Glenn Tilbrook and Simon Hanson for two concerts this fall.  That opportunity will always make my highlight reel.

Why?  Music has always been where I go to escape the world. We all need to escape from time to time.  Music moves our feet and our souls. 

My travels this fall took me to the Beachland Ballroom (where I first met Glenn) in Cleveland and to the Space in Evanston (Illionois).  I attended both shows with my friend Kriss and became friends with a couple of her friends.  That's another wonderful thing about music, it brings people together.

Hopefully, 2014 offers me a few more musical moments.

I Get By With a Little Help From My Friends

This post could go negative as I bemoan friendships that were lost in 2013 and the subsequent bridges I burned in an attempt to stop anyone else from hurting me.  I want, instead, to focus on the kernels of good I found in 2013, so I'd rather remember the people who unexpectedly came through and offered their love and support when I was in an emotional free fall.

I won't name anyone specifically because I don't want to put anyone on the spot. 

In May and June, I was having a nervous break down.  I was still reeling from the pain of the love affair gone bad and a good dear friend had just abandoned me after a disagreement.  I felt alone and betrayed.  Why give my heart to anyone?  Why check on someone in physical pain when that person is going to ignore my emotional distress?

Basically, I said fuck it. I entered the school year with dynamite in my soul and blew up as many bridges as I could.  If I could confirm that somebody was a weasel who ran and told administration everything -BOOM!  If you spewed the kool-aid of "reform" - BOOM! Everywhere around me - BOOM! BOOM! BOOM!  I believed I was worthless and no one cared one iota for me.

Then, I started taking medication and the fog lifted from my eyes.  I looked around me with clarity and I could see the people who supported me - even in subtle ways.  As silly as this sounds, I truly appreciate those handful of people who like every Facebook status I post.  When I closed myself inside of myself, inside of my house and kept the world at bay, they showed me that someone was listening.  You saved my life.

I truly love my friends who pulled me out of my house and invited me to their place or those friends who actually came to my house.  You spent time with me, even though you knew where I was emotionally. You saved my life.

I see now how self-destructive I had become.  I couldn't stop myself, I was too sick.  I can't repair those damaged relationships and I don't want to fix some them - they were toxic.    I have a plan to be more accessible, but on my terms.  My terms will protect me and yet allow people a little access. My terms allow me to do a little good in the world.

I'm putting away the dynamite - the only person it damaged was me.  I see that now.  As odd as it seems, that lesson is one of the best things that happened to me in 2013.

You win some, you lose some.

The end of this year cannot come quickly enough.  I made too many stupid mistakes (which I am too old to make) and was hurt by people from whom I never expected it. I don't want, however, to dismiss it outright.  I have been trying to think of this year's big highlights.  Until New Year's Eve, I will try to post something positive about 2013 and not dwell in the negative.  For today's highlight:

LOVED AND LOST

Fifteen years is a big age gap. I should have known better.  Let's face it, a younger, good-looking, virile man turned his gaze to me and I melted.  Red flags were everywhere, but I didn't care. The passion was hot and mind-blowing. I walked with confidence and a secret smile. I had never experienced anything like it.

The end of this tryst was as fiery as the relationship was hot.  I don't regret for one minute that it happened, even with all the pain I felt in the end.  For those few months, I felt beautiful and sexy.  I'd like to feel that way again, this time without so much pain.

I'm still tired, but a whole lot better.

I've now been on an anti-depressant for about three weeks and I figure it's time for a brief up-date.

On the negative side, my sleep is still a bit erratic and I tire out pretty quickly.  That has interfered with my plans to exercise more, but I'll figure it out.

On the plus, I feel calmer.  I am not having enormous mood swings. I am not dwelling on negative thoughts and feelings.  My body and brain have been able to let them go.

I find this to be amazing because the events in my world have been a mixed bag of crappy and good.  The district wants teachers to take a 10 percent pay cut.  The polyp that was removed during the colonoscopy  was pre-cancerous.  Before this medicine, I would have been mired in those two bad bits of news and been distraught beyond reason.  I am still worried about them. I am furious at the thought of yet another pay cut, but I'm not dwelling on it and simmering in my anger.

I am glad to be taking this medicine.

After a week and a half

I have now been taking an ssri (fancy letters for a serotonin booster) for a week and a half.  Thankfully, the effects on my sleep seem to be winding down, though I didn't get much sleep last night.  Once my sleep regularly returns to something that resembles normal, I hope to begin to feel a change in my mood.

I can say that I haven't burst into tears since the night before taking the medicine.  For quite some time, I had cried every night.  I am very thankful for no tears.  I did get a little teary when people privately sent me kind and supportive notes of encouragement.  Those are tears I can handle.

Overall, I think I am pleased so far.  I am looking forward to taking more positive steps and will, from time to time, keep everyone up-dated on my progress.

 

Don't Worry Be Happy My Ass

I have tried every positive affirmation out there.   I have read hundreds of inspirational quotes.  I have tried to find the silver linings to all of my clouds.

I was not successful.  The fact of the matter is, I'm not sure most people can just will themselves out of a deep clinical depression.  I couldn't.  I couldn't stop the tears that visited me daily.  I couldn't stop the thoughts of wanting to disappear.  I couldn't stop the self-loathing. Since March, I have been barely hanging on.

I've taken the plunge and have started taking an anti-depressant called Cipralex. For a long time, I hesitated to take this path.  I felt ashamed that I couldn't talk myself out of the blues. So much "advice" out there seems suggest that if a person isn't happy, it's because he or she isn't trying hard enough.  That she is clinging to the past.  I did not want to cling to the past, it clung to me.

I want to share my experience with a serotonin booster for two reasons.  The first is that I want to track my own progress to wellness.  The second is to shake the negative views that others may have, the way I did.  After a final emotional outburst over nothing this past Tuesday, I decided to take the medicine that had been in my house for two weeks.  I need to view this medicine as nothing  different than, let's say, high blood pressure medicine.  I currently need it to survive.


I am not going to rely on the medicine alone.  I am going to make a concerted effort to increase my physical activity.  That is a natural anti-depressant.  I will always have papers to grade. I cannot afford to lose my mental stability to those papers, so to the gym and yoga I shall go.  I am also going to make a concerted effort to eat healthier.  Healthy eating often goes by the wayside during the school year, but too much is on the line.

Tonight will be the fifth night of Cipralex.  Let me just tell you that psychotropic drugs are no joke.  The first night, my stomach was very upset, I felt completely drained within two hours, and then woke up an hour early with the worst cotton mouth I have ever had.  The next three nights saw me wake up at either two or three in the morning and not go back to sleep.  I don't know how this will help my mood, but I have to give it some time.

I've learned much on this journey so far.  I appreciate those who have stuck with me and those who have re-entered my life.  I am more glad to be a mother than I have ever been because my son has been my reason to stay alive and my motivation to get healthy.  Like so many before me and many more to follow, I will lower my umbrella and once again find the sunshine.

The $10,000 question

I have started the process of looking to self-publish my highly anticipated debut novel.  I have spoken with one firm, which is trying to sell me on the idea of a run of 1500 copies at around $10,000. The representative told me that a smaller run would not make any financial sense. I will check with other organizations to see if I am hearing the same thing.

I am also going to consider going the Kindle route.  What I need to know there is do I still retain 100 percent of my rights to the work.  If not, that is an issue for me as I still want to publish this novel in old-fashion book form.

My big dilemma comes if I am looking at an investment of $10,000 - which I do not have.  Kickstarter appears to be the way to go.  If I don't raise the funds, than Kindle would be my back up plan.

The big question - can I convince 500 people to give me $20?  I need to meditate a little more on the answer. 

Self-exile

I made three promises to myself this summer.  They are simple: organize the visual chaos and clutter in my house, improve both my mental and physical health, and meditate on what is important to me and take action on what is important. In order to accomplish all of this, or even an acceptable portion of this, I have, in large part,exiled myself from social functions.


As I look back on the past seven or eight months, I am struck by how little I was living for myself.  Instead, I had become focused on pleasing specific others in my life. I ceded power to those individuals and lost me.  Those individuals did not appreciate that I had temporarily obliterated myself, indeed the opposite occurred.  They took me for granted.  I could see plainly what was happening, but my desire to please consumed me.  Ultimately, loneliness won the day. I let it.

This affected every part of my life.  I was so emotionally drained at the end of the day, it was everything I could do to clean the dishes.  The rest of my house soon resembled the aftermath of a tornado.  While I do not believe that "cleanliness is next to godliness," I can plainly see that this house was not a healthy environment for my son, or for me.  Since the end of summer school, I have started to go through each piece of paper laying around, each container that needs recycling and clear the space.  My house does not look like an episode of Hoarders, but I was clearly on the path to that type of misery.  My exile feeds my desire to expedite this process so I can once again have people to my house for laughter, food, and drinks. As if anyone is going to visit me in Canada, but that is another issue.

Thomas Merton once said, "It is in deep solitude that I find the gentleness with which I can truly love my brothers.  The more solitary I am the more affection I have for them....Solitude and silence teach me to love my brothers for what they are, not for what they say." These profoundly sage words strike at my core.  When the school year ended, I was rarely leaving my classroom.  If I could have installed a small private bathroom, I would have done so and never left. I felt under siege from many sides: a son whose ways of dealing with stress and anxiety were more and more unhealthy, the politicians who are looking to destroy public education, the corporate reforms already underway in my own school, the Kool-Aid drinkers who jockeyed for positions of false authority, people who I thought I could trust, but could not, and finally my own inability to control the mental debris in my head.  The way I chose to react to all the other forces led me to withdraw from nearly all contact with colleagues. A friend had noticed and even gently chided me.  I have been thinking about her words and she is right and wrong.  I do need people, but I need the right people.  People who think about me when they are making plans, as in, "Hey let's call Toni." People who will recognize when I am in pain and reach out at that moment and not hold back.  I'm not sure that I have those people in my life right now.

This, however, is how Merton's words affect me.  Perhaps those people are there, but I cannot see them.  I need to be alone, in solitude in order to pay close attention to what my instinct tells me.  I need the solitude to let go of the hurt that I felt towards those who let me down and to forgive them and accept them for who they are.   I need the solitude to determine who is worthy of staying in my orbit.  I cannot do that in the middle of a crowd.

Solitude will be additionally useful as I try to make my body a little healthier.  I won't drink as much alcohol if I'm not going out.  I won't eat as poorly.  I'll have more time for exercise, like my early morning walks.  If I'm out late, drinking, I won't want to wake up at five in the morning so I can walk by six.  I would also miss my after dinner workouts.  The exercise is good for my body and brain.  I clear a lot of mental debris when I exercise.

Finally, it didn't take long for me for me to identify what is important to me.  My child is number one and he has many issues that need addressing.  I won't go into those here; some things need to stay private.  He needs my full attention though.  He has it. I am making one small road trip, a day trip, and that is it.  No London - though I do miss it.  I must make him the center of my world or things will get much worse.

I'm not refusing any social invites, but I am also not desperately chasing after any.  I feel good about the physical and emotional work I have already done.  I fully anticipate that, in the end, my solitude will lead to less loneliness.







 

More from my setlist

Rock n' roll! It's time to turn this blog back up to 11 and add to the set list that my imaginary band would play, if I had any musical ability at all.

For a quick review, here are the first five songs my band would play:  Heartbreaker, Dreaming, Alive, This Must be the Place, and It's Too Late.

For the next five songs, my band (with me as the sexy, lead singing, guitar goddess momma) shall play:

"William, It Was Really Nothing (by The Smiths): I know, I know, Mozz is annoying, even to this vegetarian. But the guitar work (Mr. Johnny Marr) is brilliant and I quite like the lyrics.  They aren't too ponderous or over the top.  It might be the most perfect song ever by The Smiths.

"Is That Love" (by Squeeze) -Of course, I would have to do a song from my favorite band. Great lines like "My assets froze and yours have dropped" and "Legs up with a book and a drink/Now is that love makin' you think" are just too amazing to not want to sing.  Plus, there is a smashing guitar solo for me to play.

"I'm Not Down" (by The Clash) - It might seem like a weird segue way, but that's okay.  As an emotionally overwrought teenager, this was my favorite song off of London Calling, if not my favorite song period. I figure that should count for something and I get to sing this one.


"32 Flavors" (by Ani DiFranco) - I really prefer Alana Davis' cover, but no matter.  I love this song and would do it an acoustic cover of it.

"Wonderwall" (by Oasis) - I cannot get enough of this song, period.  I might even keep the acoustic guitar out to play this song that way.  This truly is a piece of genius.  Considering what a mess they are, I can't, for the life of me, fathom how the Gallagher brothers wrote a song this good.  It doesn't matter, it's on my set list.

Phooey

I thought my summer was going to be clear. My doctor me that the test results were good and that there was no rush for a colonoscopy. Her office would still make arrangements, but the appointment would likely be a couple of months down the road.

The specialist left a message on Wednesday, which I didn't get until too late. Then, yesterday I just forgot to call. I mean, my doctor told me there was no hurry. I called the specialist this morning only to find out that he wanted to fast track me. But, because I waited one day too long, I can't get an appointment until the third week in July. If I had called yesterday, I would be going in for a scope next week. 

Now I am back to being worried. Now, that worry has three weeks to stew and ferment. Perfect. All my plans are again on hold.

If only...

I have long fantasized about being in a rock band. I always envision myself the lead singer, seducing throngs of mesmerized fans. This little daydream plays itself every time I take one of my long walks or go to the gym, neither of which happens without my iPod. Sometimes at the gym, particularly when I am using the treadmill, I have to stop myself from launching into full-on rock star mode. You know the one: leaning forward on one, slightly bent leg, microphone in hand, mouth wide open. Okay, I'm not standing still on the treadmill, but the leaning forward, silently singing into my invisible mic might happen.

So, what is on my set list?  I'm so glad you asked. I kind of imagine myself as a sexy guitar playing babe, so my songs are heavy on guitar solos, along with some songs that offer opportunities for me to step away from the guitar to shake and shimmy on the stage.  I also imagine that my band has a male who sings when I'm too busy being Hendrix with boobs. Here are the first five on the list of songs my band would cover.

Song #1 - "Heartbreaker" (by Pat Benatar) - Pat Benatar is not my cup of tea.  I mean, have you ever seen the video for "Love is a Battlefield"?  This song, "Heartbreaker," however, is smoking hot.  It has big vocals and a cool guitar solo (played by moi) at the end. If I had any musical talent, my band would so cover this song.

Song #2 - Dreaming (by Blondie) - I would spread the love around in my band and this song has two great drum solos.  Plus, I would be prancing about stage singing, being sexy and all.

Song #3 - "Alive" (by Pearl Jam) - It's time for me to pick up my guitar again and let my band mate do a little singing.  I always imagine myself crowd surfing during this song, even during the amazing solo at the end.  I close my eyes and someone in the crowd has me standing on his shoulders while I play away.  Of course, at the end of the song, the crowd gently returns me to the stage.

Song #4 - "This Must Be The Place" (The Talking Heads)- By this point in the show, the crowd is in a wild frenzy, so it's time to slow it down. No guitar solo, we might even do this song acoustically.   I just want to sing the lines "Out of all those kind of people/You got a face with a view." God, I love that line.

Song #5 - "It's Too Late" (Bob Mould) - I want to keep the pace still a little slow, with a hint that we're about to speed up again quite soon. I might sing, or cede the mic to my partner, but, either way, the guitar parts are all mine.

I need to think about the pace I want to set for the next five songs.  In the meantime, what are a few songs your band would cover.

I'm sure it's nothing

Within the last week, I have experienced blood with bowel movements five times. After the first time, I immediately made an appointment with my doctor.

She poked and peeked and could determine nothing that could easily explain the blood.  Frankly, I was really pulling for a broken blood vessel or a pimple, but no. So, she ordered two tests for me.  She warned me that for one test, I couldn't have vitamin C.  I'm a vegetarian, so this was a daunting task, but like a trooper, I ate not much all weekend and produced a sample for the two bottles the lab had given me on Friday.

Sadly, there was blood on these samples and I worried.  Okay, honestly, I cried.

I took those samples to a different lab, where I learned that there was one more test required - this one was the no vitamin C test.  I did not cry.  I mumbled to myself and went home to read the instructions for the three-day test.  I could eat vegetables, so that was a plus. 

I called my doctor's office and asked if we could just go ahead a schedule a colonoscopy.  There was blood in the samples I turned in and there was blood on the sample I took when I got home, so why not?  The receptionist was quite willing to to do so, but warned me that it could take two months to get an appointment.  Of course, I could play the system and go to emergency. I've already spent time in emergency this year, so that idea doesn't thrill me.

My next option is to find a doctor, in the Detroit area who will take me on and refer me for a colonoscopy, more quickly than two months.  I haven't been to an American doctor in at least six years.  So, I turn to you, my readers, for referrals.  If you really like your family doctor, please feel free to share the doctor's name, phone, and address.

I was not going to share this with anyone.  Frustratingly, I need to formulate a Plan B and I need a little help to do that. I am sure that this is not a big deal, but I'd like eliminate all the concern that is creeping into my head.

To you

Hi,

I wanted to write this note to tell you that there is not a day that goes by that I don't think about you. I can't help myself; every time I look around at my life, I see you. 

Every day, I spend a couple of minutes reflecting on the tremendous sacrifice you made in your life.  And how I benefited from that sacrifice.  And I cry a little each time. I cry out of joy, out of heartache, and out of fear that I am not worthy of all that you gave up.

I'll never know what your circumstances were.  Perhaps you were a frightened teenage girl.  Perhaps a rape victim.  Perhaps you already had one child and could not keep another.  All I know is that on August 5, 2004, you laid a small, beautiful baby boy on the floor of a bus station in Changzhou and left him there.  I don't know how long you lingered.  I cannot imagine the ache you felt in your soul as you eventually turned from your...our son.  All I do know is this act saved my life.

His name is Andrew and without him, I would have withered away.  Without a doubt, I would have become an embittered, lonely English teacher who drank herself to sleep every night. Instead, I am smothered in hugs and kisses and peppered with questions.  I receive sullen answers and the the stink eye. My hand is tugged by a smaller hand to view the wonders the world offers. Thanks to you, I'm a mom.

On occasion, Andrew asks about you; he wonders if you loved him. I look into his eyes, his face - reflections of yours - and tell him of course. I tell him that you loved him enough to make sure he would go some place safe until we (his parents) could come get him.

I hope that you find peace.  I have never, for a moment, judged you by the decision you made.  Your government gave you few choices. I do envy that you were able to carry him with you for nine months.  But, because of you, I am his mom.  For that, I am forever grateful.

Thank you.

Teacher Evaluations

There are approximately 30 days left in the school year.  Of those, we have a half-day just before the Memorial Day weekend and three half-days for final exams. I'm thrilled and nervous all at once.  You see, I have not yet been evaluated.

In years past, I wouldn't worry about an issue like this.  Last year, I was one of the highest rated teachers in the building, for what it's worth.  But, thanks to the new tenure law in Michigan, I must worry. Even though I have been unable to locate the exact wording, I do know that the law states that if a teacher is NOT evaluated, the rating for that teacher defaults to an ineffective rating.  That's right, if my boss does not evaluate me, I will be automatically deemed ineffective. Three ineffective ratings in a row and a teacher can lose her license.  It boggles my mind. 

Does this make any sense to anyone?  Are there any other professions that have been hounded like teachers? Please contact your people in Lansing and tell them that this situation is deplorable.

In the meantime, I will sit back and see what happens with my situation.  If I am not evaluated, I will contact my union and see what my rights are to fight back. 

Curves and all

I believe that winter's grip on Michigan has finally been broken and spring is finally here to heat things up a bit. I've been able to get out and walk and it's nice to see the world after spending too many days inside, snarling at the snow.

Like so many others, I am looking to shed a few pounds before I pull out my more revealing clothes. As I take my walks, I see all types of body types wearing skimpy clothes and I wonder, "Why don't I feel more comfortable in teeny clothes?" I have seen some big girls in daisy dukes or skirts up to here. I kind of envy that comfort they seem to possess.  I even worry about wearing sleeveless tops because I can't stand how my arm flab shakes. However, this is part of what happens when we age.

It's not that I don't work out, I do.  I get to the gym once or twice a week and I try to exercise at home.  I have seen first hand the end results of a life too sedentary. I don't want that.  I also, like a well-programmed sheep, want to be a little thinner, so I appeal more to the opposite sex.  I'm not sure that I will ever be thin enough to feel secure in a bathing suit. Just the thought fills me with dread.

On the other hand, I saw a woman at the gym today who was in terrific shape.  I usually see her on Saturday and Sunday mornings. This woman has not one ounce of fat on her and her muscles are clearly defined.  The picture of health.  She had no boobs, but could probably kick my ass with one hand tied behind her back. She is clearly disciplined and has the utmost in will-power.  I fail miserably in both categories.  I also don't want to look as angular as she did.  I like my curves, or at least most of them. So, if I like them, and can even honestly say I think I am pretty, why the reticence to show off the curves in warm weather?  Have I truly been so programed by society's take on beauty that I can't let myself go?  I thought I was better than that.

Out of Whack

Yesterday, the Senate refused to pass a law that would have required a background check for anyone looking to purchase a gun at a gun show or over the internet.  There are many ways to purchase a gun without being checked.  Before anyone screams second amendment at me, the law in question did NOT propose to take any guns away.  It simply sought to close some loopholes in the background checking system.

Let me put this in perspective.  Let's pretend I have a boyfriend.  Let's say my pretend boyfriend is my age, his mid 40s. Let's say we get a little amorous in his mini-van, in a park at night, and the police knock on the window.  Stupid on our part, right?  We should know better and we promise the police that we are going to head straight home, just as soon as we can pull our pants up from around our ankles.

This situation could actually turn out quite bad, for me. You see, if the police really want to pursue this, we could be charged with indecent exposure.  We could have to go to court.  If found guilty, I could lose my teaching license, even though I was with a consenting adult. You see, a conviction like this puts me on the sex offenders list.

If, let's say, I have been convicted of a felony, let's say a domestic assault charge; I can go to an unlicensed dealer, at a gun show, and purchase a gun, without a background check.

Does this make sense to anyone?

Music

I read an article from the Guardian this morning about how powerful music is in our lives. The author talks about the tears that flow every time she hears a song that reminds her of her grandmother's death.

I get this. There are a number of songs that trigger strong emotional reactions in me.  Sometimes, a song can transport me to a time long ago.  Sometimes, there are words or lines in a song that reminds me of someone or an event.

For example, I get very emotional every time I hear Stevie Wonder's "As" It stirs my deep love for my son, especially the line "I'll be loving you always."  It makes my eyes watery because I frankly never believed that I could feel unconditional love for anyone.

On a happier note, "Labelled With Love"  will forever remind me a magical night at the Pelton Arms during the summer of 2011, a trip that started my love affair with London.

More recently, I've been a obsessed with Adele's "Turning Tables" because it reminds me of someone who hurt me in a way that resulted in the end of a relationship that I didn't want to end.

What song or songs trigger that emotional response in you?  Feel free to leave a link to a video.

A crazy law for no reason

Somehow, this slipped under my radar when it first passed the Michigan legislative body.  Under our teachers' contract, a teacher may opt out of the district health insurance plan and receive a stipend.  This move saves the district probably $8,000 per person who opts out.  Under the new law, the stipend  must be divided up among all members of the union and paid by them.

This is not educational reform.  This strips away local control and will ultimately cost districts more money.  So, why does it exist?

Union busting in the form of divide and conquer.

I cannot, in good conscience, encourage anyone to go into teaching.   Find something where at least politicians will basically leave you alone.

Opt out!

This post is for parents of high school juniors in the state of Michigan. Of course, others are more than welcome to stick around for my plea.

On March 5, 6, and 7, high school juniors in Michigan will endure state mandated testing. Day one will be the ACT, day two will be the Work Keys (by the ACT people), and day three will be the Michigan MME. These tests determine a school's grade and rank in the state. Eventually, they will also determine if individual teachers keep their jobs. If you read my blog regularly, you know that I will likely lose my job because of these tests. You also know that I work in an impoverished area with an extraordinarily. high number of non-English speaking students.

The state spends a ton of money on these tests. If my laptop were not in the shop, I would provide links galore to show you. I'm on my phone, so this will have to do. I am asking parents of high school juniors to keep your kid home on those days. Tell the school that you do not want your child participating in the state testing. Do it especially if your child attends a primarily white district. Then tell your representation in Lansing what you've done and that you're disgusted by the waste of taxpayers money.

This is the only way to stop the madness. If teachers in primarily minority schools refuse to test, we will be viciously attacked. Called parasites and lazy. Someone will demand that we all lose our jobs. But, if you,the parents, refuse to play the game, the game will have to change.

What's the worse that can happen? The district tells your child he/she can't walk the stage on graduation day? That's not exactly like voluntarily walking over a bridge in Selma, knowing full well you were going to take a beating to the head.

I already know what my fate has in store for me. I know that my school will be taken over and that I will be fired for organizing the staff when the for-profit company tries to prevent a union. That is my Selma Bridge. I want to urge you just to keep your kids home, and take a very small stand. You won't lose your job for it.

Keep your high school juniors home on March 5, 6, and 7. It's a small act that could ripple into real change.

Empathy

Yesterday, Andrew and I went to the Art Gallery of Windsor to make visual poetry. He was unenthusiastic, declaring, "I hate poetry!" Undaunted, I cajoled the boy into giving it a try.

When we got there, he was his usual ray of sunshine, asking the people in charge thoughtful questions. We gathered out materials and went to work. The idea was to take a copy if what appeared to be an old advertisement and add words. Andrew found an airplane and had a blast. As we were finishing, a young man around 12 and his mom entered the studio. The boy was rocking and whining and crying. He did not want to be there.

The mom spent a few minutes consoling the boy and he agreed to sit with here while she made a visual poem. They sat next to us, about two seats away. The young man held on for as long as he could, but set to whining and crying again. This caught Andrew's attention. My beamish boy walked over to console the boy. He leaned in and said, "It's okay. This is really fun." He then patted the boy on the shoulder. That was not a good idea as the boy nearly elbowed Andrew in the chest. The mom thanked Andrew and I urged him to come back and help clean up.

He was a little shaken up that he had been nearly hit. I was, too. We talked very briefly about it and determined that even if people are uber-crabby to you, you should still be as nice as you can. Perhaps, you can put something into their empty bucket.

Watching that mom and her son, I realized just how lucky I am. My boy is not as severe as that young man. Gone, for the most part, are the days when I think Andrew is going to end up in a group home as an adult. Anyone who can show such kindness to a total stranger is going to do alright and make to world a better place.

Sigh...

I have been in a sighs-able funk lately.  I can only pinpoint it on the fact that I haven't had much of a social life lately.  This past week has been demonstrably worse and I blame Valentine's Day.

I have always tried to tell myself that this holiday is meaningless.  I pride myself on being a no-fuss, low-maintenance type of gal.  I don't wear much jewelry. I often shop re-sale. I was a tom boy growing up.  But every time I really try to convince myself that I don't need flowers on February 14, I am telling myself a lie.  I have always been secretly envious of the women at work who get flowers.  The most romantic Valentine's gift I have ever gotten was an enormous heart-shaped chocolate chip cookie that my then boyfriend made for me.  He piped on frosting that spelled out "Happy Valentine's Day" but ran out of room.  He also gave me flowers and made dinner for me.  We had been dating for about three months and he was still trying to woo me. No other Valentine's gift sticks out in my memory.

I don't want to feel blue about any media-hyped gift giving event. I'm not particularly materialistic and living without a television, I'm not under a media assault to buy junk. These facts do not alleviate my sadness.

For the first time in a long time, I am in the position of kind-of-seeing someone on Valentine's.  I have no idea what to expect.  I could take the step of out and out saying I expect something. I have never done that because I can't get over the fact that it was my idea and not his. If I like a man and we are dating around a holiday, I agonize over a gift that sets the right tone.  I almost never ask a man what he wants as a gift.  Perhaps it is unfair for me to expect the same in return.  Or is it?

I can't help but feel that buying a Valentine's gift for a woman is not a daunting task. All a man has to do is buy the greatest cliche ever: flowers.  This gift requires no thought at all.  Unless a woman is a radical enviro-anarchist, we all love flowers.  I don't mean flowers for the dining room table or fireplace mantle, I mean flowers that are specifically for her.  Delivered, with a card.  In my case, delivered to work, as a sign that someone is publicly declaring he likes me. It's not that difficult. 

Snow Day - a haiku

Treacherous driving
Leave trucks to clear ice away
Most precious found time.