And a Struggle Never Wins

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100 days, administration, bully, feminist, Jackson Browne, Merle Haggard, middle school, power struggle, special education, Stevie Wonder, teaching, The Grateful Dead, Tom Petty and the Heartbreakers, tug of war, women's march

I woke up early this morning thinking about Tug of War. Yes, the game with two teams of people, sometimes person against person, where the objective is to pull the rope from a ribboned center to a team’s specific side. Then you win.

Tug of War is interesting. Perhaps you sign up for it on Field Day, or it’s the way to award a winner, like arm wrestling. Fairly barbaric and out of date, I presume. I’ve seen it in movies done on a muddy field, which with deep consideration, feels pretty dirty. No pun intended.

Now, I am one to always take on a challenge–any challenge–and meet it face on. I’m not

Half of the Time We’re Gone, but we Don’t Know Where

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15, end of the year, mean girls, teaching

When I was 15, I experienced Mean Girls. Ok, we know that’s not true–I definitely experienced Mean Girls way before I was 15, but they didn’t associate with me. They were usually the cool kids, and I wasn’t. But when I was 15, that changed. My circle of friends branched off, and the newly cooler half tormented the rest of us. Maybe they didn’t, maybe that’s just how it felt.

The closest thing I have felt to that since was a few years ago, when a grown up Mean Girl, a co-worker, belittled me frequently, often in front of her students. Behind closed doors, she told me that the reason my students (who were one of those groups that simply complained about everything, and never turned in any work) didn’t turn things in was because of me–that I was a bad teacher. I was back to 15 years old again, when someone–my peer, made me feel inferior. And I was so overwhelmed, and stressed, and baffled that I began to believe it. 

Roll, Muddy River, Roll Muddy River, Black Muddy River, Roll

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analogies, Autism Spectrum, harried, I love my job, muscle fatigue, new experiences, new job, postaday, special education, teaching, The Grateful Dead

Let’s say I was a marathon runner. We’re playing hypothetically, just so you know. I don’t run. So let’s say suddenly, I decided to quit training for my marathons and become a rower. Although I am an athlete and I am very strong (we’re still in the hypothetical), my arms aren’t used to the muscle strain. Suddenly, I experience muscle fatigue unlike anything else, but it’s a familiar feeling that I recognize and welcome. This is how I describe my new role as a special education teacher. I don’t have the muscle memory, but I know that the old adage no pain, no gain rings true.

This might be a ridiculous analogy for some, but after 12 years of teaching English, I am using a very new set of muscles. I’m a little sore, and my reflexes are slowly returning to those when I taught English, but IT’S DIFFERENT. I wish I could explain it better.

I’ve been asked to dive head-first into a pool of unknowing, blindfolded. And here’s the kicker: there are butterflies, but I am not afraid to let my feet leave the diving board.

When I began teaching in 2001, I had left finance and found myself in the unchartered waters of teaching. Talk about a fish out of water. I was told by the very wise Victor:  go with the flow, ask when unsure, voice concern and frustration before you really feel this way.

I hold on to these sage florets of advice.

So the past five days have been trial and error. There are so many variables outside my control, and thank God I realize this. I haven’t even given these variables a second thought. My students run the gamut of Cancer support, Autism Spectrum Disorders, your classic “learning disabilities” like dyslexia and spacial issues, if those are considered classic. And then there are those that fall into no category, something that more and more teachers, both mainstream and special ed are experiencing. It’s not cut and dry (although, let’s be honest. No PERSON is cut and dry).

Today I had an out-of-body experience. I asked a student to step outside to congratulate him for an amazing goal he reached yesterday in another class. He was still focused on a negative situation from earlier in the day, and suddenly, out of nowhere, I said, “We need to put that thought into a box temporarily, and take a look at the thought I am handing to you right now”. Oddly, I remember using the analogy of a box for thoughts with one of my kids over a decade ago in Connecticut. It came naturally. And today, when I pulled it out of nowhere, it worked.

After a harried day of no preps, teaching through lunch, meetings before and after school, and putting out fires every class period with a very struggling student, it hit me. I know more than I think I do. Like riding a bike, I remember how to do things.

This realization kept me going all day, even past my grad school classes that finished after 9pm tonight.

Yeah, keep rolling, muddy river. I got you.

It’s going to be a mostly bumpy ride, but thank God I love roller coasters. And that I LOVE my job.

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Is She Really Going Out With Him–Joe Jackson

We Can Touch the Stars–The Jayhawks

Misty Mountain Hop–Led Zeppelin

Black Muddy River–The Grateful Dead

Freedom–Blues Traveler

The Boat That I Row–Neil Diamond

I Could Try to be Big in the Eyes of the World

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English, For those who cannot out, gratitude, last day of school, middle school, Sandra Cisneros, special education, teaching, The Beach Boys, The House on Mango Street

I feel like I can finally exhale. It’s been a whirlwind of a past month, and I feel like I have returned from vacation to a goldfish that’s swimming with only one fin. I feel like I have let this blog die, and for that, I feel terrible. So I hope to make up for it.

Joni’s song is one of my favorite, regardless of the season. Yes, it’s  a Christmas song, but not really. I think she wrote and sang about being confused and tired, and even a little melancholy. I would say I am all of those, perhaps excluding the melancholy.

School is out, so no melancholy, right? I finished teaching English Friday for good–maybe not for good, but for at least a while. And I am thrilled and terrified and perhaps grieving a little for my first passion. But then again, I realize that another stronger passion of mine is working one-on-one with kids. And that’s just what I am going to do.

I requested a transfer–a long shot–to move to special education at my current site, something that is also one of my first passions. And low and behold, my amazing principal seconded the motion, and here I am.

Graduation was a complete trip. 8th graders. One of the best group of 8th graders ever. I could not be more pleased to end my final literature chapter with such an amazing bunch. Many of my colleagues asked me after wiping my tears away if I

Until the Rainbow Burns the Stars Out of the Sky

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change, happiness, job, rainbows, spring, teaching

I love when change is in the air. Last week, we had on-again, off-again rain, and this week, the blossoms are starting to pop out. I drove to Santa Barbara Friday to stay with my cousin and her husband and precious 6-month old daughter. Snow was falling on the foothills, but the flash of mustard greens and beginning pops of daffodils contrasted the road. And it hailed.

After driving through a rainbow (I really mean it), the weather perked up, and I pulled into Santa Barbara. And fortunately, driving home today, I could have the roof open.

I have spent the past 26 of my 35 years in school. People don’t get this. Of course, it was full time until I was 22. Then it was on and off. And I don’t want to jinx it, but it looks like I am going back part time again in August. If someone asked me the minute I finished my teaching job in Connecticut if I would consider a career in special ed, I would have laughed at them. My job was intense. Don’t get me wrong–that was the job that