Bringing in the New Year

Okay, so here's the rundown on the last year for me, personally:

*Went to Paris and London for the very first time.

*Got pregnant for the very first time.

*Discovered the school that everyone loves to work in, including me. Apparently I was just teaching the wrong grade and hadn't really gotten to know the people.

*Became closer with B's family.

*Gained a new appreciation for my old body.

In a nutshell, that has been my year.

The past decade sucked in so many ways. Shall we count them? No, because that's what the news is for. We all know how terrible this past decade has been in terms of world events. For me, personally, it was mostly good, with a touch of bad, and here's how it went:

*Met and began dating my husband in 2000.

*2001: Had to discover what it's like to pick up the pieces of a man, my dad, who fell apart and into the hospital for 6 months, which changed his life forever.

*2002: determined to have my own life and make my own way after going through hell with my dad's illness, I decided to go to grad school to become a teacher. I had this realization while visiting my sister in CA, after the birth of her first daughter in 2002. Inspiration can come in tiny packages.

*2003: finally broke free from my roommate and moved out on my own. It was awesome, and with the thanks of B, I found an apartment that was perfect for me as I went through grad school. I recommend to anyone living on your own for a little while before settling down with anyone. It is truly liberating and empowering.

*2004: one of my best years in Charlottesville.

*2005: finally finished my Master's and began teaching in the fall of 2005. Also moved in with B in a place we still talk about to this day. It was so tiny and had its problems (heating unit freezing over in the middle of the night, so we had to go out and chip away the ice to warm up our house, noxious smell came from the washing machine, and the master bathroom had no door), but we loved it for its gorgeous views, the hot tub, deck off to the side, where we had many a dinner and spent many hours playing cards and drinking wine, big snowstorms that came and painted our world in pristine white....it was perfect for us.

*2006: Picked up and moved to Virginia Beach.

*2007: got married!

*2008: that's a blur, mostly. Went to Disney World with B for his first trip there.

*2009...up above.

So yes, aside from 2001, I really can't complain. As for the rest of the world, may we have a more peaceful decade ahead of us.

In a Constant Work of Progress

It never ceases to amaze me that no matter how long you are in a relationship with someone, that relationship is a constant work in progress. Perhaps this is because people always change, or maybe it's because we're exposed to new situations which reveal particular nuances of the person you're with. Nevertheless, it's always an interesting ride.

Over the past few days, B and I have been dealing with a faulty refrigerator. Yesterday I spent my morning e-mailing our landlord and calling various repair places to get here ASAP. Although it was only 42 degrees out and we had our food on the balcony, time was of the essence. My pulse started racing and the tension within my body was palpable. As I'd been sitting there making calls and trying to get it fixed, he was sitting there playing a game on his X-Box (I swear there should be a phenomenon called X-Box Dads and Husbands). As he tapped the controller buttons and twisted his body while he tried to control his CGI race car, I stared at him.

At the end of his race, "Yes?" he asked. "Well, I'd like you to call M. I've sent him e-mails, but haven't gotten a response," I said. He sits there and continues to play on into his next race. "I heard you," he assures me. More minutes pass and I feel the pressure grow from within, and no, this isn't the baby moving downward. I continue, "I feel stressed. I feel like this is all falling onto me, and last night I was in a lot of pain, I think from stress from the week."

So he pauses his game and sends a text message to our landlord. (It's a good thing having a landlord who is our age.)

While we wait for the landlord's response, he continues on and says, "Why don't WE look for repair places." In this case, WE means YOU. Pressure rises, and I walk away. I go online and find places who can come on a Saturday afternoon, and relay the information back to him. He continues to play.

Over the course of the next few hours, we find a repair place and set up an appointment. In that time, he cleaned underneath the fridge, which was quite helpful, since I can't get down there in my current state. The night before, he had taken out all of the frozen items and put them in boxes to go outside, since it was 18 degrees that night. I should also mention that in that hour or two, I also let him know that I felt like he was perfectly content to let me sit and make the calls while he busily plays away. He agreed and said he'd rather not call anyone because he doesn't want to talk to people. Once the repair men came, he handled the visit from start to finish. Immediately my pulse rate lessened and the pressure I felt disappeared as quickly as it came.

Later on, B and I were talking as we drove back from a cousin's house. He said, "I'm a worker bee. I'd rather get into things and do things. I don't want to call people, but I don't mind getting dirty to fix things." He had also bought a saw to trim our new Christmas tree, and I could tell he really enjoyed it. Later that night, he also cleaned the freezer before putting any food back into it. I sat and thought about that and told him that I was a thinker, a planner. So for us, I'm the planner, and he's the doer. Plan it out, and then just tell him what to do, and he will do it, albeit in his own way. I'd say that's a pretty balanced pair.

In the future, I need to do a better job of remembering what our strengths are, so they fit in better with our roles within our house and life. Also, I need to remember this so when I feel my blood pressure rising, I can calm myself down more quickly. Perhaps it's hormonal, but I have felt this pressure rise ever since we began our journey together ten years ago.

Our big test and journey through self-discovery will come when the baby arrives. Remember: I'm the planner, he's the doer. Not to say that I don't do things to, but still, this it what it all boils down to. Also remember: breathe.

Fighting the Good Fight

When I began my studies in education seven years ago, I entered the field not with the intention of maintaining status quo, but with the intention of changing education in small and incremental ways. I know, I was delusional to think that I could have made any difference whatsoever in a system that is so archaic and myopic, but nonetheless, I joined the ranks of thousands of teachers and every day I try to make a difference to children. Some days I fail miserably, and some days I am almost in tears when I see the progress of some children. Usually that does not come until the middle to end of the year.

Then there are some children who, despite every attempt to intervene on their behalf, do not progress as adequately as they should. This year I have a student who is currently TWO years below grade level in reading. He has learned to compensate for his reading deficiencies by learning how to take tests very well, such that he is able to reason through tests and correctly identify answers. Despite his average achievement, I brought his case to a child study meeting. To me, failing to address a child's obvious disability in reading is negligent; and as his teacher it is my job to try and do whatever I can to help him.

So today we sat in the meeting about this child, and the school psychiatrist acknowledged that there was a problem, but wanted to "wait and see" how he does. They have been waiting to see how he does since he was in the first grade. He has been consistently well below grade level for years, and yet they refuse to test him for a disability. Having knowledge of the system and its shortcomings, his mother and I have already initiated testing from an outside source, because I knew that the school would choose to do nothing.

As I sat there and listened to the psychiatrist and the other special education teacher, the word negligence continued to go through my mind.

Tonight I just looked up what educational negligence is, and according to public education laws, it exists within the realm of physical harm to a student, but the definition does not include academic harm to a student. In my opinion, if a school or school district acknowledges that there is a problem with a student such as the case is with my student, to choose to do nothing is negligent. For teachers to continuously bring a student up for study, and for the teachers to be denied the right to proceed with testing is negligent. In my mind, it is unlawful and it is NOT acceptable.

When I started grad school, I had the intention of going into education policy. But once I entered the classroom and saw all that administration had to deal with, I decided against going into administration. Now, I am reconsidering the notion of going into education policy, only this time, I am looking at it from a prosecutorial standpoint, rather than a defensive standpoint.

Usually I think schools get a bad reputation unnecessarily, but in this case, I believe the blame for an adult becoming functionally illiterate falls squarely on the shoulders of the system. The system has failed that child, and I wonder if I am on the right side of things. Sure, I can teach a child to read, and I can do as much as I can, but when I am part of a system that chooses not to help a child, am I really on the right side? And, what is the right side?

The answer I continuously arrive at is that if I don't like the system, then I need to try and change the system. How can I affect change? I wish I really knew the answer. Part of me thinks I need to pursue education law, but then part of me thinks I need to keep trying with what I'm doing. On the flip side of that, I recognize a perilous pursuit when I see one.

At the end of the meeting today, the child's mom praised me for my efforts and how "awesome" I have been for her son. I smiled, but I couldn't appreciate what she said, because ultimately I am still failing him. I never went into this field for myself. I went into this field because of the kids, because I wanted to do something good for others, and in so doing, to feel fulfilled. I know I am not failing him, but it's hard to not feel that way when you keep running up against a brick wall.

When I came home tonight, I thought of whether or not I really have the energy to fight the good fight. And then I thought of people like Teddy Kennedy, who fought for most of his life for equality. After having seen his old speeches made to Congress, I understood why he was called the Lion. He had a platform to speak out, and maybe I am just not at the right place to speak out and make a difference. Maybe one day I'll figure out the answers.

There's ambition, and then there's reality.

On Sunday night, I felt what I thought were remnants of my cold dissipating of into the vastness of the past. I stayed up until 10:30 preparing lessons for the weeks ahead, fully motivated to end my last three weeks with a bang. Then Monday morning came. I told B I thought I was worse than the day before, but I went in to work anyway.

The trouble with working up until the very end of pregnancy isn't the lack of sleep, at least for me. I have been fairly lucky to get sleep, up until this point. The main problem is that my body is in no way prepared to deal with teaching 40 kids all day long, and so my adrenaline kicks in to help me endure the day's progression. So although I may feel fine during the day, 2:30 usually signals my decline, and by 3:00, the adrenaline wears off and I am exhausted. Last night, I was beyond exhausted, and by 1am, I threw in the towel and put in for a sub. Another week damaged.

The rest of the week won't be any better. Tomorrow I have an appointment with my OB, and because I have to get a sub, I can't just step out for an hour and then return. I can't call in for a sub for just an hour, so I have to take the afternoon off. This may sound good, but when you have a deadline approaching, essentially you have to pull and pray: put out the plans, hope the kids do it, and when they take their test, they do well while I'm gone.

The following morning I have two child study meetings, neither of which do I expect any tangible long-term results; which is why a parent and I have initiated testing outside of the district because my faith in the system is perhaps not at its highest. So, again, I will have someone in the room covering for me while I am in those meetings. And then, on Friday, we have a field trip. I will honestly be amazed if the kids are successful this week, as I believe they do not perform as well when I am gone. I suppose they had better get used to it though.

Mentally, I have thrown in the towel. Physically, I know just to try and survive. Whatever I can accomplish between now and the 22nd will be a bonus, and as for everything else, I will just do the best I can. More and more, emphasis is placed on my home life anyway.

Perhaps this is a sign of things to come. I think it is. Perhaps this is my new reality: one with grand ambitions and disappointing realities. I know moms always have to contend with these conflicting issues, and I will join the ranks soon enough. I suppose that right now, along with Braxton-Hicks, the interrupted sleep (I do get up, but then fall back asleep), I am just practicing for the real thing. Thank goodness my profession is one that requires flexibility at all times. My ligaments are still stretching, so I am flexing in more ways than one!

Help me.