I've Got a Blank Space Baby....

Here I sit with this blank space looming. Sometimes (many times) I just start typing in almost a gibberish style, whatever floats in. Just to get rid of the blank space. Then the "real writing" starts at some point after that. I saw a picture on social media that said, "If you are good at art, you are an artist! If you are not good at art, you are an artist!" That is sort of how I feel about writing. I don't know if I am a good writer. But I am writer. Writing is cathartic. It lets me use that vocabulary that I can't use in everyday conversation (who says cathartic anyway?). Writing brings peace. Writing brings clarity. It clears my mind, which is often filled with the fog and smoke of too many things on my mind to think clearly. Those are few of the things I love about writing. I love the sound of my voice when I write. And yes, I love that opportunity to "use big words" but I also love that I write like I speak. A direct contradiction? Maybe. Because my writing sometimes uses too many "Ands..." "alsos" "buts" and that is because I type it like I say it. I so often just add on to the end of the sentence with an and, or a but, and I write in a way I encourage students not to. My writer voice is not always grammatically correct. But neither is my speaking voice. So I woke up this morning and realized that I did not slice yesterday, I wanted to jump in and get started today, and then that blank space was looming. Today my writing epiphany is this: When I write really well, I am a writer. When I write poorly, I am a writer.

I heart writing.

This is my slice of life for the Slice of Life 30 day challenge. Read about it and join the fun.

Socks? Responsibility? Poverty? Weight of the world....

Slice of Life, day number 5.

Today's slice is brought to you by the queen of burn out. Yep. I think it's burn out. Or it could be depression. Or maybe just exhaustion. Then again, it could be some sort of deficiency. *sigh* I am feeling fatigued. Like yesterday. Today I feel fuzzy-brained. It's hard to get a clear line to my thoughts, which tends to give me the sensation that I am less-than. Less than human. Less than enough. Less than you, my peers. Less sane. Less capable. Less. I hate this feeling. I feel robbed.

Today I was conflicted about student needs. My student didn't come to school prepared to learn. For one thing, she didn't wear any socks. Then she asked the office to provide some for her. The thing is, I actually had extra socks here for a center activity (Fox in Socks math). But the student didn't actually ask me, she asked the school secretary. Sometimes for this particular student, the choice to go to someone other than the teacher is an indication that it is not an actual need. Then the thought occurs to me, "What if she just needs to be loved? What if she will feel loved by wearing my socks?" Well, What if? I had a hard time weighing it out today. I left her sock-less. I chose to go with the "she has to learn to be responsible for her own life (and socks)" idea. Third graders are more capable than I sometimes give them credit. Third graders in survival mode might just need to know their teacher doesn't want their feet to be cold so they can learn.

The thing is, as someone who is only sort of on the fringes of poverty, and not deeply immersed in it, I am able to be sympathetic (on some level), but I am still so often unable to really grasp the difference in the way poverty skews these little citizens' view of the world. I know enough to know that we as a nation shame poverty stricken people for something we perpetuate, and that we act as if it is something they choose.

People can work their way out of poverty. Both in a mental sense and in the physical act of finding ways to provide that don't leave us wondering where our next meal, paycheck, fill-in-the-blank is coming from. But poverty is more than just not enough money to take care of what is needed today. It is a way of life and in order to change it, we on the other side of it, need to be understanding, and we need to empower people to change.

This is where I go when I think about my student who did not come to school wearing socks today. Is it as simple as, "You need to make the choice to get up earlier and put on socks next time."? And can I let her know I care just by offering her my socks for a day? Deep thoughts with no easy answers. No wonder I am so tired.

I was going to go back and take that first part out after I got a flow going, but really (seriously?), it may just part of the whole thing. Weighing all the options and responsibilities of being a teacher is exhausting and I wear this badge with pride. Because it is my ticket out of the "I have no security in my finances at all" world I have lived in for so long. Never fear, I am not disillusioned about the riches I will incur teaching. I am aware. But I know that teachers have a more steady/stable income than when I was working for minimum wage, not knowing how we were going to pay our bills. Do we still have to be careful. Absolutely. But it is different now. I am climbing the ladder out of poverty.

Joy in the ordinary

Today's slice of life...

Today was somewhat of an ordinary day. This detracts from grandiosity and breath-taking moments in all their splendor. Today wasn't full of "Wow" moments or miracles. Today was full enough with ordinary moments.... a student who succeeded by finding that missing assignment, celebrating a friend as she muddles through her pain, snow.... but not enough for a snow day, staying late for an iep meeting, meeting up with a friend, and striving to protect my children from themselves (they are their own worst enemies, as well as each other's worst enemy). This was my day. I had zero moments that screamed at me, good or bad. I have no moments that say I was a hero today. But I also had no moments where I was a zero today. I drove on snow-packed roads, but not scary-bad roads. I hugged some kids, but not in a creepy way. I pushed some students today (not physically, no worries), but not to their breaking point. I was stern, I cajoled, I encouraged. This is ordinary life. This is real. It keeps me busy, it makes me tired. Day after day after day.

Tomorrow I will do it again. I'll love some kids, mine and yours. I'll push through my pain. I'll smile and laugh and forget that pain. I'll embrace joy. This is a reward in itself. And today, this is enough.

Empathy, the two-edged sword...

The ability to feel another's pain is... well, painful. And more often than I can say, it is awkward. Awkward that I am in tears when someone else tells me their pain.

Today, someone else's pain was unbearably too much. I think that is weird and ironic. I should be there for them. Not broke down in tears. But today I wonder.... what is wrong in the world today? Why do so many people feel the need to end their own lives? Why is the pain so great? When did it happen that fifth grade girls considered suicide? How do parents cope?

I know how we cope. Truth. My 10 year old daughter told me not too long ago that she thinks about suicide. So I know how I cope. I talk to her, I call the mental health center, I make sure there's a plan in place. Then I put one foot in front of the other. But so so so many youngsters are thinking like this. And today I heard of just one more person who's inner pain was so great that she didn't want to face another beautiful sunrise. Today the dam is breaking and I am not strong. I am not a good friend. I am in pain. And I feel so guilty because for now, I am the lucky one whose child just thought about it, no harmful action was taken. Today my river of denial is breaking the dam and tears are flooding down my cheeks.

My focus

What I focus on increases. *sigh* What? Goodness and light will not somehow flood my thoughts while I wallow in pity and gloom and doom? Truth. Every day when I talk with my child I think of this and every day when I interact with students I am reminded of this. I cannot overcome and improve and be the best me that I can be if I continue to focus on my shortcomings or on circumstances outside of my control.

Today I will....

• Live my best life
• give all I have to give
• be responsible for my actions
• be responsible for my emotions 
• focus on the good 
• overcome the bad, sad and negative
• remember that it is a practice to have joy, not a feeling

Okay. I'll stop there. Already it is a tall order. I am a worrier by nature. I am one who frets. Look up fret in the dictionary and there could easily be a photo of me. But today I choose to focus on the good things in this day. The joy in the ordinary. 

Today's Musings

My mind is a jumble this morning. I could write about the snow.... I could write a gratitude list.... I could write about my grumpy cat named Sam.... I could write about my unusual and interesting daughter. 

This year I have a commute to work, it is about a 50 minute commute. My 10 year old accompanies me. She goes the the school where I work. The commute has become our time to discuss deep subjects. There is a girl in her class that she has almost constant conflict with and she often dwells on this and talks about it over and over again. So this week she said to me, "how do I stop being mad at her all the time?!" I love teaching moments. So.... here we go. I said, "Stop talking about her. Focus on something else beside the conflict with your friend." "How do I do that?" she asks. "Good question" I think to myself. I say to her, "Your brain can only think about one thing at a time, so think about something else and focus on that." Her response is, "How do I do that?" "It is easier said than done," I think to myself.  I think to myself, "Now what? She is still at that impressionable age. She still thinks I really know what to do. What am I going to do now?!" But what I say is, "I am not sure. But one thing is to stop talking about it. No more negative comments about this girl." She says, "Okay, I'll try." 

Driving home I say, "So how was your day?" She is really quiet. I say, "Any drama with (her)?" She says that there was not. I make a little bit of a smart remark. Something to the effect of "Kind of surprising that she didn't cause drama today." My girl looks over at me and says, "Mom.... stop. If I can't do it, you can't either." 

Lesson learned. Practice what you preach. You live what you focus on and talk about. So who learned a lesson this day? The pupil or the teacher? How often do I learn from my child? More than you know.

Join the slice of life challenge at Two Writing Teachers. 

The black depression cloud and some realizations

I've been struggling with my depression lately. Not so much of a struggle really, it is overwhelming to me. I have become aware that I've been depressed for as long as I can remember. I was depressed in elementary school. Who's depressed when they are 8? I guess the answer is me. Maybe before that. I was seven in the Second grade and I remember that was year that I started to realize that nobody liked me. The popular churchy kids didn't like me, the teachers didn't like me, school administration didn't like and well, my parents didn't like me either. If I gauge according to how I felt as a kid, then I probably don't like my kids either. I feel so terribly guilty about how I just check out and don't really focus on them. Which leads me to my next thought... my parents probably had their own depression or otherwise known as sleep-around-and-blame-each-other-for-their-indescretions that they didn't know how to deal with. How do I break this cycle. Obsessing over it my whole life has not made it happen. Having great things happen hasn't freed me. I look at the miracle of my Habitat home and I know it is a gift, not something I "deserve" and I feel so undeserving. Some days I want the black cloud to open up and rain down hell upon me. Many days. Today I feel unsuccessful because I can't beat back this feeling anymore. I don't know how to beat it.