Story Time, or what I've been up to.

Once upon a time, there was a young woman who wasn't sure what to do with her life. She loved reading and writing, but she knew writing jobs were difficult to come by and jobs that paid one to read are even more rare. It occurred to her that she loved English and it made particular sense to her, so she decided to become a teacher.

After a year in a master's in teaching program, she got her first job teaching high school freshmen. As is typical, her first year was not the easiest but she had a great time and felt affirmed in her career choice. She had a supportive team of teachers helping her along and giving her advice. But then she had to move across the country and she could not find another school that had the same environment. She taught 8th grade for a year in a very cold and unsupportive environment (everyone was "on their own" with no help from the front office). She taught 7th grade in an amazing school with a wonderful team and terrific parents, but then was restructured out of the job and ended up taking another 7th grade job in a much more rural district with fewer resources.

When these three years had passed, her husband had finished his training in law and they moved to Chicago, where she stayed home to care for first one, then two young sons. Those five years were precious and amazing times in which she was able to slow down and really enjoy the time she had with her little ones.

Financial circumstances changed suddenly after this, and she found herself scrabbling to try to find another job. She found one as a part time teacher of middle and high schoolers at a very rural school, and her children were able to attend preschool at the same site, which made the separation easier.

The following year, she found what she thought would be her dream job: teaching high school English at a school devoted to the performing arts. She loved the students and the other teachers, but for some reason unknown to her, administration was not satisfied with her best efforts and she was not invited back for the following year. While she would have missed the first few months anyway (she was having her third baby over the summer), she was initially heartbroken to have to leave her students. They were invested in their art and motivated (for the most part) to do well in the rest of their classes so they could continue to attend the school. Before the end of the school year, however, it became evident that many teachers were unhappy with how the school was run and chose to leave it and teach elsewhere. She then realized that even if she had stayed, the school would have been very different with such high teacher turnover.

Now, the girl is at a crossroads. She has determined she will stay home probably for at least a few years while the newest baby is small, but she is uncertain whether she has enough courage to put herself out there to teach in a high school context again or if she will figure out a new line of employment. It was extremely discouraging to put her whole self into a job and still be told it was not good enough.

The girl knows she wants to be a writer, but it will be awhile before she will have consistent time to carve out a writing schedule. Until then it will be piecemeal at best since small babies do not follow a set schedule. So for now, she will do her best to give her new son the best start she can and shower her children with love and support.

Two-Minute Personality Test: My Answers

I realize that it has been inexcusably long since my last post, and for this I apologize and can only chalk it up to crazy life events. For any reader’s amusement, I was inspired at dinner tonight to answer the questions on my soda cup from Chipotle. Jonathan Safran Foer is the author of Everything is Illuminated and Extremely Loud and Incredibly Close.

Two-Minute Personality Test by Jonathan Safran Foer

What’s the kindest thing you almost did?

I’m not sure if this applies, but when I lived in Chicago I saw a man a few blocks from my house sitting against a tree near the street. He didn’t look like he felt particularly well. I tried to assess the situation by talking to him, but he did not speak very good English and was out of it enough to be slurring his speech. He asked for help, so I called the police non-emergency line on my cell phone and waited there until they arrived. When they did, they seemed rather rough in getting him to his feet, but it also seemed like they had seen him before so maybe it was more of an act or he was drunk. I felt at the time like this was the best I could do since I was very pregnant and was walking my older son in his stroller.

Is your fear of insomnia stronger than your fear of what awoke you?

This gets an “it depends” from me. Sometimes I wake up from a nightmare that seemed terrifying until I regain consciousness, and then I realize whatever seemed scary in the dream is now ridiculous. Like the dream I had last week when I had a high school friend living below me and she came up to tell me that I was watching TV too much and proceeded to try to stab me with a five-bladed Samurai sword. Luckily it was a retractable sword like they use in stage shows. In these sorts of cases I have no problem going back to sleep. Now if I have a real nightmare about something that could actually happen, sometimes it keeps me up for awhile, but usually I can overcome it and eventually go back to sleep.

Are bonsai cruel?

I hadn’t considered this before. I would have to do some research into how much we know about whether plants feel pain from being growth restricted. I used to have one for a time, but it died when I went on a long vacation once. It was beautiful. I have always loved tiny things, and this one had delicate jade green leaves and dainty pink flowers. I was very sad to see it had perished.

Do you love what you love, or just the feeling?

I believe I love what (and who) I love, not just the feeling. I am a thoughtful person and I enjoy putting as much of myself as possible into everything I do and everyone I care about. If I don’t feel like I am getting much out of an activity, I will move on and find something else on which to be spending my time.

Your earliest memories: do you look through your young eyes, or look at your young self?

Again, this depends. If it is a painful memory (an embarrassing or sad event), it’s hard for me to look at it as my grown-up self; I tend to revert back to the feelings as they were when they were more fresh. If it is just a run-of-the-mill sort of memory, I am much more likely to view it impartially through my current viewpoint.

Which feels worse: to know that there are people who do more with less talent, or that there are people with more talent?

I think the former is much worse than the latter. I am OK with people naturally possessing more talent in things than I do. That does not determine that they will be more successful than I will and I am not jealous of that. Now, that there are people with a higher drive that helps them to achieve more than I do, that grates on me. While I like to think I work hard, I always feel like I could work harder, particularly at my writing.

Do you walk on moving walkways? Should it make any difference that you knew it was wrong as you were doing it?

Yes. I actually went and looked up the rules on moving walkways at my local airport because I was fairly certain it was completely fine to walk on half of the moving walkway. Sure enough, the sign says “Walk on the left, stand on the right.” As far as I am aware, all other airports I’ve been in have followed this protocol and I follow the rules and walk on the left. Unless I have to go around someone who is directionally challenged and is standing on the left.

Would you trade actual intelligence for the perception of being smarter?

No. I would rather legitimately be smarter than to have other people see me as smarter. Public perception is less important to me than actual reality.

Why does it bother you when someone at the next table is having a conversation on a cell phone?

This is much easier to answer as “when does it bother you.” It bothers me when people are obviously ignoring whoever is joining them for a meal in favor of a caller or a text message or Facebook. Granted, I’ve been guilty of this in the past, but I have made a point in the past year or so to try and curb that habit. The reason it would bother me in general would be if they were having some sort of heated argument that they should probably be having in person and in private.

How many years of your life would you trade for the greatest month of your life?

This is tough. I’m not sure if I would knowingly sacrifice years with some moments/days of joy in favor of 30 consecutive happy days. I am a fairly happy person most of the time, so this doesn’t seem like a good trade to me.

What would you tell your father, if it were possible?

I would tell him I love him and I miss him, and if he needed it I would reassure him that I wasn’t angry that he had to leave me so early in my life. I feel like I absorbed his love and encouragement from the brief time we had together, and hopefully I have and will make him proud.

Which is changing faster, your body or your mind?

At the moment, I’d say my body is changing much faster than my mind. I’m still fairly young in the grand scheme of things, and in my ninth month of pregnancy the belly literally takes precedence in everything I do. When this child arrives I hope the body will still be changing faster than my mind until I regain some shape other than completely round.

Is it cruel to tell an old person his prognosis?

I feel that it is probably crueler to keep it from him. There are obviously ways to tell him that would be very cruel indeed, but I believe most people would probably rather know. I would, and I am not old yet. Once someone has reached older ages, he has probably already come to the realization that someday he may get a dire prognosis, and will hopefully take it well.

Are you in any way angry at your phone?

Actually, yes. My phone has had some issues with battery life over the last few months and will sometimes decide to turn off due to low battery when minutes before it registered 75% charged. That, to me, is not low battery. If I am not near a charger, it will not turn back on until I get to one and plug it in, reminding it that it has lost whatever a cell phone has instead of a mind.

When you pass a storefront, do you look at what’s inside, look at your reflection, or neither?

This depends on what kind of store it is and what I’m wearing. If it’s a store I like, I’m more likely to be looking at what’s in the store. If I’m wearing a new outfit, I may want to sneak a look at my reflection to see that I didn’t leave a tag on it and it looks OK.

Is there anything you would die for if no one could ever know you died for it?

Probably the same thing I’d die for for any reason, which is my family. I would protect them at any cost. I couldn’t live with myself if I didn’t do everything possible to keep my children and husband safe.

If you could be assured that money wouldn’t make you any small bit happier, would you still want more money?

No, I wouldn’t. Money is not something I’m particularly obsessed with; I feel like if I had more than I needed I’d be pretty generous with charities and such since I don’t see the value in being ostentatious.

What has been irrevocably spoiled for you?

This is a tough one. I guess the pure joy you have as a child eating junk food. I now am fully aware of what I’m doing when I indulge at a drive thru or with a bag of some fat-laden snack, and I can’t really escape the guilt for my poor choice. Not to mention the indigestion.

If your deepest secret became public, would you be forgiven?

I’d like to think so. I’ve been thinking about this, and I’m not even sure what I would classify as this secret, so I am not sure how to answer it. Perhaps whatever it is is so dark to me that I have repressed it.

Is your best friend your kindest friend?

Yes, he is. My husband is one of the kindest people I’ve ever known. He is supremely patient and understanding when I’m being moody and unreasonable, and will tell me the truth in a way that doesn’t often make me defensive. Even if it does, I realize even at that moment that while it is bothering me, he’s right. He is a treasure and I’m very lucky to have him.

Is it in any way cruel to give a dog a name?

I think this is only cruel if you give them a terrible name, like Stinky or Loser McAssnugget. Even then, the dog doesn’t understand what it means and will probably still come running with the same joy as if its name was Max or Lulu.

Is there anything you feel a need to confess?

Um. I’m a procrastinator, particularly on things I am insecure about. This is probably why I have several WIPs I’m studiously ignoring in favor of blog posts, knitting, and sleeping.

You know it’s a “murder of crows” and a “wake of buzzards,” but it’s a what of ravens, again?

I would have probably cheated and looked this up, but it is answered in a few more questions. I couldn’t remember if I had ever heard that one before.

What is it about death that you’re afraid of?

It’s probably a combination of a slight fear of the unknown and not knowing when it will happen. I just hope I have a chance to make a mark on the world, or at least my family, before my time is up.

How does it make you feel to know that it’s an “unkindness of ravens”?

I feel that this is unkind to ravens. They are beautiful birds and regardless of their reputations, this is an unfair categorization. Even a “cacophony of ravens” would be better, in my opinion.

Mr. Safran Foer, if you are searching people who answered these questions you asked on Chipotle cups nationwide, what are my results on your quiz?

At the bitter end of winter...

Winter seems to be taking a cue from Dylan Thomas and is raging against the dying of the light this year. Despite the first day of spring approaching, my town was under a blizzard warning this morning, mostly due to high winds rather than a lot of additional snow. While I enjoy snow, I do not enjoy dangerous snow-related conditions, so despite my school district not even delaying school today (they later released them early, though), I chose to burn a sick day rather than risk traveling against the recommendation of The Weather Channel. Needless to say, I am about done with the icky weather this year. I'm also done with the illness our little family has been struggling with over the winter. Everyone is well just now, but I'm not loving the clinic bills coming in. Sigh.

December/ March
I.
Gossamer flakes dance
drifting gracefully as swans
creating a fairyland
of ice and frost.

Transforming barren trees
to otherworldly creatures,
softening hard edges
to velvet marshmallows.

Once the alabaster blanket nestles,
a deep, peaceful stillness descends,
muffling once-harsh sounds,
soothing and refreshing the spirit.

When at last the clouds part,
the diamond-encrusted landscape
is too much to take in,
so much light overwhelms the senses.

II.
Globs of wadded tissue
dribble from the sky.
Clumsily splattering to earth,
the frozen slush conspires.

Unsuspecting feet
make unscheduled express routes,
leading to wet posteriors
and strings of expletives.

The joyless gray sky
yields nothing but jagged glass,
tearing at tender cheeks
and obscuring vision.

When at last clumps cease descending,
the wicked wind kicks up,
throwing Mother Nature's vomit
at unlucky travelers again.

Woman, love thyself!

Love After Love

The time will come
when, with elation
you will greet yourself arriving
at your own door, in your own mirror
and each will smile at the other's welcome,

and say, sit here. Eat.
You will love again the stranger who was your self.
Give wine. Give bread. Give back your heart
to itself, to the stranger who has loved you

all your life, whom you ignored
for another, who knows you by heart.
Take down the love letters from the bookshelf,

the photographs, the desperate notes,
peel your own image from the mirror.
Sit. Feast on your life. 

Derek Walcott

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
I was fortunate enough to introduce the above poem by the Nobel Prize-winning Caribbean poet Derek Walcott to my junior and senior high school students a few weeks ago, and I was struck by the tenderness of the poem.

He is not suggesting the kind of self-absorption that becomes destructive or all-encompassing; he merely exhorts people to stop rushing around for a moment and take the time to notice and appreciate how far they have come, how they have changed, and who they are becoming.

This particularly needs to be heard, in my opinion, by women. As mothers, wives, sisters and daughters, we are often tempted to ignore personal needs or wants in favor of a family member, a spouse, a child, or even a friend or co-worker. We sometimes lose ourselves in the various roles we play in our daily lives. I have seen too many times the woman who, once her children are grown and her husband has passed on, realizes she has completely lost her own sense of self-identity.

This is precisely the type of thing Walcott is pressing for us to prevent. It may not be original, but nevertheless it is true: it is impossible to truly love others before you love yourself.  Go back and find who you are, what you want out of your life, what you want to become. Define your own inner beauty. Then figure out how you can get it. Become the woman you want to be, and your happiness will spill over to all of the people around you--husband, wife, children, parents, co-workers, friends... Your self-confidence will be contagious and those around you will wonder what you have done.

It's so simple, really. Why is it so relatively rare for women to take time for themselves? Perhaps we feel guilty spending time on something we see as purely "selfish." But if we never take time for ourselves, we really diminish our capacity to give to others. We shrink and become a little more bitter with each request made of our limited resources. It may not become evident right away, but eventually the day comes where we feel hollowed out, with nothing more to give. We need to replenish the well by filling ourselves with love. Find your joy and do what gives you a sense of accomplishment and fun regularly. Our children will see us treating ourselves with love and respect and will model their own self-treatment on our behavior. It could be writing, exercise, visual art, music, or even something as simple as a few minutes of daily meditation or a bubble bath. Just take the time for YOU. Make an appointment with yourself. Write it in pen on your calendar and refuse to reschedule. You deserve it. You are beautiful.

This post was written in conjunction with the marvelous author August McLaughlin's Beauty of a Woman BlogFest. To read more posts from the Fest, click here. 

Lyric Christmas

After a tough year, and especially after the terrible events at Sandy Hook Elementary School, I wanted to write some lyrics for an eventual Christmas song. I have always wanted to write a song, and I love Christmas music. The odd combination of all the negatives recently somehow allowed me to get into the right frame of mind to write what I had in mind. As I was preparing to write, I realized that I don't recall ever hearing a Christmas song that was a lullaby sung by Mary to her newborn. There are songs Mary sings (Breath of Heaven) and there are lullabies (the rocking carol), but I don't know of someone combining these ideas. So I wrote this.

Mary's Lullaby

Heart of my heart
Love of my life
Sleep with the peace
Of heaven tonight.

Sent as a miracle
Of God's selfless love,
You give us a glimpse
Of life up above.

I don't understand
Why I am the one
Who was entrusted
With God's only son,

But I'll give my heart
And soul to the cause
To nurture this spirit
Despite all my flaws.

Remember, my baby,
Though long be the night,
Though cold may be gripping,
God always shines light.

When it snows, it pours...

Yes, I know that's not really the old adage. But it is accurate for my day. Today is one of those days that, looking back, I realize it would have been better to spend it in bed. Perhaps the best way to describe it is to list all the things that went wrong.

1. It snowed quite a bit where I live over the last few days, and then turned bitterly cold and blizzardlike, preventing me from returning to my house from my in-laws' like I usually would on a Sunday night.
2. While most of the schools surrounding the one I work in called for a 2 hour late start sometime last night, mine didn't until 7:30 this morning (or at least, that's when they notified the teachers), making me stress out about not making it in for the beginning of school.
3. It took me 3 hours to make the usually-2 hour drive from my in-laws' house to my school this morning. This was probably equally due to the icy road conditions and people who were at times driving too slowly.
4. Nearly all the way to school, after I realized I would still be significantly late, I accidentally slid into the person in front of me at a red light. Luckily, she got out and inspected her car and couldn't find anything on it, so she told me to go on.
5. When I got into the child care center to drop off the boys, I heard the bell ring for the first of the classes I hadn't sent lesson plans in for, so I had to run with no supplies on hand to get to the classroom for that class. Needless to say not much got done that period.
6. My 6th hour freshmen were in rare form today, loud and complaining about everything, even after I told them I was having a crappy day and it'd be nice if I didn't have to yell at them, too. Sigh.
7. Just after school got out, I checked a message on my phone saying that my older son had woken up from his nap at preschool with really goopy eyes and they hurt and itched. Great.
8. I called to get him a doctor's appointment, but all the appointments were gone; I'd have to go to the walk-in clinic.
9. I drove nearly the whole way home before I realized I forgot my purse at school and had to go all the way back to get it.
10. By the time I got back from that, I had to go straight to the doctor's office to go to the walk-in clinic.
11. The doctor confirmed that my son had pinkeye and he couldn't go to preschool tomorrow.
12. At the pharmacy, they tell me that the kids' insurance wasn't working and that they were out of the eyedrops.
13. At pharmacy #2, the kids are running everywhere (literally!) while I'm trying to find cotton balls to wash the gunk out of my kid's eyes.

Needless to say, I am DONE with this day. Hence, we stopped one more time after all of that running, to get McDonald's for dinner. Once I hit "publish" on this bad boy, I'm going to have a beer and watch silly TV shows and then go to bed.

In Limbo.

Hello out there,

I am OK. Just trying to get my bearings now that life is on plan H right now (if Plan A was how life was pre-May of this year).

Quick summary: After my husband was let go by his company, we both scrambled to find a job. I am a teacher by profession, but had not planned to go back until all of our children were in school, and I was hoping to have another in the near future. So now, child #3 is on hold and I have to put the kids in daycare so I can teach. I only managed to find a part time job, which is maddening because a part-time teacher puts in nearly the same hours as a full time teacher, but is paid less. I teach four different classes, two of which are not English, so I am trying not to show my students that I am not an expert in those fields.

Then, my husband got a new job, which is fabulous, only it's 2 hours away from our home. So now he is staying at his parents' house for most of the work week to commute to work and coming home on the weekends and Wednesday nights. My job is about 20 minutes from our home, so at least the kids and I can stay here and have some semblance of normalcy, minus having Daddy home all the time. We all miss him tons and he misses us too, but what can we do? My school will finish in May and then we will look at renting something much closer to the big city he works in, and I will look for a job more in that vicinity if we decide I still need to work.

While I hate having to leave the boys for the majority of their waking hours, my older boy loves going to "school" for nearly the whole day (they do incorporate a preschool curriculum in the morning at least), and his brother, while usually a bit sad when I have to leave, is always happy and running up with a hug when I come back to pick him up in the afternoon. He talks so well all of the staff there can't stop raving about it every time I talk to them. Yeah, he is pretty brilliant, if you ask his heavily biased mother. :)

So now I'm trying to reconfigure my schedule to allow adequate time for cleaning the house and exercising, and I haven't really figured out time for writing my blog either. Hopefully I'll be back to regular posting in the next few months, but that remains to be seen. Know that I would love to be writing poetry here every day, I just have a ton of things to figure out how to juggle right now...