Haven’t Had a Dream in a Long Time

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Badass, Colorado, Deep Blue Something, Elvis Costello, Friends, Josh Ritter, mom, New School Year, Paris, Summer Vacation, teaching, The Kinks, The Smiths, Wilco

I just realized that I began this blog on Friday the 13th, in April of 2012. More than 5 years ago. In the past 10 months, I, my friends, have discovered Spotify. So no longer is my iTunes the place where I search my music. Because iTunes is out of date. How I will reconcile this on my blog, 6 Songs a Day, I am not sure. But it’s here, and I am embracing it. Plus, I don’t think I have purchased a new song on iTunes in about 3 years. Spoify is my new Oyster, Here we go, 6 Songs a Day. It’s a new year.

So is this school year. We are more than a full week in, and my last post painted things a bit desperate. It didn’t come even remotely close to reality. We FINALLY, after a lot of work on our part, received a new principal. And in the “transition”, I lost my department position, was forced to move rooms at he last minute, and my schedule for this new year was jacked. But, honestly, I wouldn’t change it. I am overwhelmed by my true happiness. And at work, I have not been able to say this for 4 years. So here’s to great starts and new school years!

News on me–I celebrated turning 40 multiple times, despite D-Day being mid-September. But I spent a weekend in Colorado on a dude ranch with my sorority sisters, for all of our 40ths, and while I might have not been in my pique condition, I got there. Followed by the most amazing 12 days in France with my amazing mom. Trip. Of. A. Lifetime. My summer ended with a week camping trip with family, a big reunion, a few goodbyes from SF, and a lot of time soaking up sun, being able to read whatever I want, and not giving a damn about my job. For once in what–24 years of having a job? It was worth it. I did. Nothing.

What I learned: That my mom and I have the relationship I always hoped for. I just needed to let her in. That 5 nephews, 1 niece, 1 god-daughter, and 1 niece-once-removed are hilarious, and that I still, despite objections, will always be the biggest badass of an Auntie Mo on the planet. That my colleagues were successful in what we wanted, asked for it. and gracefully moved forward. That Willie Nelson still is a God. That pink wine is crucial in summer. That weight gain sucks, but exercise, even if it doesn’t cause immediate results, feels good. That time to write a novel is, in fact, available. That shit, my life is Badass.

When I went to Colorado, I brought the gift of copper bracelets stamped with the word Badass. I forgot this year what being a Badass felt like. And it took all the days of my summer to find this feeling, to bring this mantra back again.

Sorry friends. I am back. I have less than a month to said D-Day, and I intend to embrace it. My kids, who are not strangers to me as a resource teacher, pretended they didn’t miss me, but each told me how happy they are to work with me again this year, their final year. Yes, many came back taller than me, and I, at 5’9, am no slouch. But I am grateful that they like my new room, think 8th grade is awesome, and still stomach me 🙂 God, kids are great. If they only knew what we went to fight for them…But they never will. That’s not my way.

As a September baby, the first day of school typically was after Labor Day, a week before my birthday, and I usually received a new set of clothes, backpack and lunchbox. These were replicated by me for the first 16 years of my teaching career. This year, I shifted. I didn’t buy much of anything, with the exception of 2 new pairs of pants. I think this was for 2 reasons: I am so grateful for the changes in my new administration, that because it is all so fresh and new, why replace the trivial things? Also, shit. I am so broke from France, what’s a girl to do? French orange leather loafers, or a new lunchbox? Shoes, please.

So away we go. New songs. New administration. New year. New playlist. New decade for me. New outlook on life, even in those dark moments when I might not be as optimistic as I hope. Dude. It’s gonna be a great year. A Badass year.

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Here Comes a New Day–The Kinks

Please, Please, Me, Let Me Get What What I Want–The Smiths

Breakfast at Tiffany’s–Deep Blue Something

Josh Ritter–Showboat

You and I–Wilco

Allison–Elvis Costello

 

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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

Tags

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