"Just when normal life felt almost possible- when the world held some kind of order, meaning, even loveliness... Some small thing would go awry and the veil of optimism was torn away, the barren world revealed. They learned somehow, to wait those times out. There was no cure, no answer, no reparation."
Pecking Hen ~Pecking since 1982~
Wednesday, May 29, 2013
Monday, May 6, 2013
We'll take our raise now...
I will spare you the cliched rant from a disgruntled teacher. But it's true when they say we "don't get no respect." [Insert Rodney Dangerfiled clip here].
But I could write for hours on how we are underpaid and overworked. How we are expected to raise other people's children. How schools have become a dumping ground for negligent parents- a glorified daycare, if you will. How we are expected to teach kids who think they don't have to DO anything. But I digress... it would be a waste of my time and energy to write about all this.
What the real shame is that those of us who are brave enough to work in underprivileged schools- the ones who are storming the educational beaches of Normandy- truly the ones on the front lines, are also the teachers who never get the perks of Teacher Appreciation Week. You see, all across America, in affluent communities, teachers are getting gifts, are getting spoiled, are getting appreciated. They work in schools where parents will send their kids to school with elaborate gift baskets, notes, cards filled with love, even gift cards to fancy spas or retreats. All in the name of National Teacher Appreciation Week.
Yeah...not happening everywhere. For those teachers brave enough- or care enough- to work in a school in an underprivileged community- we are getting....nothing. Teacher Appreciation Week isn't even a blip on the radar. We still do our job, every day, under harder conditions and dealing with kids who are bringing in more "baggage" and we are doing it because we care. We are not receiving expensive gifts or sweet cards. Our gift is that we are truly making a difference (although it doesn't feel like it some days.) But we are, in the long run.
I know this because I was surprised this morning with an email from a former student. In my rush to get to work and get things going this morning, even I, the teacher, had forgotten it was Teacher Appreciation Week. And you know what, after reading what she wrote to me, I didn't care that I wasn't receiving gift cards to get hour-long massages and pedicures from my students. Because what I do each day is worth more than that and can only be expressed in moments like below:
My email read:
"Tomorrow which is probably today when you open it is the first day of teacher appreciation week. Since it is teacher appreciation week I couldn't allow your inbox to be empty of appreciation. I am filled with appreciation for you, you saved my life you changed life. I am forever in debt to you forever and I know the best possible way to repay you is to pay it forward so I do. I greatly appreciate you and I am here today stronger than ever because of you. You have No idea how much pain I was in when I came to you all the fear inside me but you put me at ease. You told me "Let the pieces fall where they may" and worry about myself and I held that advice all throughout my recovery and treatment. I nearly killed myself I was in a dark place and I was so far gone ending it seemed to be the only answer. That day shoveled out the first big heap of gravel that was covering the light from coming into my tunnel. And in that day I saw the first gorgeous rays of sunlight on the other side past all that was in my way. You were a light in my dark world your class a safe haven and your compassion the thing that got me through. Thank you so much for being there for saving my life. Only a teacher could have done this teachers are a special kind of person that can connect with children and change lives. Thank you so much enjoy your week and keep on keeping on! Keep shining your light and being a role model :)"
So, yeah. You can keep the fancy gift baskets and the chocolate covered strawberries. I have just what I need in moments like that.
Teaching may have it's downfalls, and it sure could pay more...but sometimes I am reminded that in my line of work, I change lives. And sometimes, even save them. I am right where I am supposed to be and I am not going anywhere.
But I could write for hours on how we are underpaid and overworked. How we are expected to raise other people's children. How schools have become a dumping ground for negligent parents- a glorified daycare, if you will. How we are expected to teach kids who think they don't have to DO anything. But I digress... it would be a waste of my time and energy to write about all this.
What the real shame is that those of us who are brave enough to work in underprivileged schools- the ones who are storming the educational beaches of Normandy- truly the ones on the front lines, are also the teachers who never get the perks of Teacher Appreciation Week. You see, all across America, in affluent communities, teachers are getting gifts, are getting spoiled, are getting appreciated. They work in schools where parents will send their kids to school with elaborate gift baskets, notes, cards filled with love, even gift cards to fancy spas or retreats. All in the name of National Teacher Appreciation Week.
Yeah...not happening everywhere. For those teachers brave enough- or care enough- to work in a school in an underprivileged community- we are getting....nothing. Teacher Appreciation Week isn't even a blip on the radar. We still do our job, every day, under harder conditions and dealing with kids who are bringing in more "baggage" and we are doing it because we care. We are not receiving expensive gifts or sweet cards. Our gift is that we are truly making a difference (although it doesn't feel like it some days.) But we are, in the long run.
I know this because I was surprised this morning with an email from a former student. In my rush to get to work and get things going this morning, even I, the teacher, had forgotten it was Teacher Appreciation Week. And you know what, after reading what she wrote to me, I didn't care that I wasn't receiving gift cards to get hour-long massages and pedicures from my students. Because what I do each day is worth more than that and can only be expressed in moments like below:
My email read:
"Tomorrow which is probably today when you open it is the first day of teacher appreciation week. Since it is teacher appreciation week I couldn't allow your inbox to be empty of appreciation. I am filled with appreciation for you, you saved my life you changed life. I am forever in debt to you forever and I know the best possible way to repay you is to pay it forward so I do. I greatly appreciate you and I am here today stronger than ever because of you. You have No idea how much pain I was in when I came to you all the fear inside me but you put me at ease. You told me "Let the pieces fall where they may" and worry about myself and I held that advice all throughout my recovery and treatment. I nearly killed myself I was in a dark place and I was so far gone ending it seemed to be the only answer. That day shoveled out the first big heap of gravel that was covering the light from coming into my tunnel. And in that day I saw the first gorgeous rays of sunlight on the other side past all that was in my way. You were a light in my dark world your class a safe haven and your compassion the thing that got me through. Thank you so much for being there for saving my life. Only a teacher could have done this teachers are a special kind of person that can connect with children and change lives. Thank you so much enjoy your week and keep on keeping on! Keep shining your light and being a role model :)"
So, yeah. You can keep the fancy gift baskets and the chocolate covered strawberries. I have just what I need in moments like that.
Teaching may have it's downfalls, and it sure could pay more...but sometimes I am reminded that in my line of work, I change lives. And sometimes, even save them. I am right where I am supposed to be and I am not going anywhere.
Saturday, May 4, 2013
I've Got You Now
For those of you that don't know, I am a huge "Glee" fan. Corny, but true. Inside of me, locked deep deep away, is a secret musical theater geek. And if we're being honest, it's more than just musical theater, it's all things performance. I think starting the Marley Middle School Drama Club 3 years ago was the first time I had let this side of me slip out since high school. Watching Glee faithfully, however, has let this side of me resurface in ways I hadn't expected. Usually I secretly savor in the shameless outbursts of song and dance in the show as I secretly wish life was like a Glee episode. Sometimes I even cry as a song or a scene touches a heart string and I wonder why this show has such a huge effect on me.
In a recent episode, I figured it out. The character Santana, takes a ballet class for the first time in a long time in an attempt to reconnect with the part of herself that is an "artist." She admits to having "lost" that part of herself for quite some time. Immediately, I was entranced. Did someone write this episode for me? After all, I spent my entire childhood dancing, singing, performing, and acting and one day it all just stopped. Lacrosse took over. Being cool took over. I mindlessly let the part of me that had brought me so much joy go. Overnight I had replaced her with practice and running and militaristic training for a goal that wasn't even mine. Where had that little performer gone?
In Santana's dance class, a "dream sequence" began, as it so often does on Glee, much to my chagrin, and she sees a tiny little ballerina in the corner. As you can guess, that Ballerina is supposed to be Santana's younger self. Her "artist" self. She walks over to the child and the child says something along the lines of "you forgot about me." At which point I start to bawl uncontrollably on the couch. Santana then embraces her younger self and says something like "never again. I've got you now." More tears.
I related. Perhaps a little too much. My late high school and college years were so focused on pleasing others, a coach, my Dad, the image that the world had of me, that I forgot all about the part of me that truly made me, "me." That little girl who took such joy in performing had been abandoned in my attempt to fit the mold that the world had created for me. I had known this all along throughout my adult life and had verbalized it often. "If I could go back and change one thing..." had often been the sentence starter when I began to reflect on my negligence of that important piece of myself. Yet, I did nothing to change it. I continued to walk down a path that the world had set for me instead of the one that was in my heart.
When Santana admitted to losing that piece of herself I watched and inwardly admitted the same thing. Something had been missing for so long and I just couldn't admit that it was my fault. In my attempt to please others I had stopped pleasing myself. I had stopped doing the things that truly resonated in my heart and therefore, forgotten the little girl who was so in touch with herself. In my attempt to be a "good daughter" and a "good wife" and a "good teacher" I had stopped being good to ME.
Perhaps someone upstairs had been aware of this all along because just last night, a door opened. In the door I could see that little girl standing there, just like Santana saw her "younger self" in that dance studio. I got an offer to reconnect with that little girl again. She was standing on the other side of that door with her hand out to me. I may have forgotten about her but she hadn't forgotten about me. In that moment I was scared to walk towards her but I knew that she wouldn't be ignored anymore. So I took her hand.
In the literal sense this offer may not come to anything in the "real world." But what it will do is remind me that I have neglected myself. I have neglected such an integral part of myself for so long and I have suffered because of it. The MMS Drama Club was my conscience way of awakening the "performer" in my students- a way I had described as "living vicariously through them." But last night, and today, when I watched the Glee episode, I realized I had been living too much through them. Was I dead? Who said that just because I hadn't connected with my inner performer in so long that she wasn't in there anymore? Why live vicariously through others when I can still live through myself?
It is time to stop living to fit a mold...stifling the person that has lain dormant for so long. Perhaps the things in my life that have been denied to me recently were meant to happen so I can reconnect with who I really am and honor the person I have neglected for so long. Perhaps it's time to stop sending my energy into a template that I don't squeeze into at this time in my life and let myself fall easily into the one that I do.
Last night I smiled genuinely for the first time in about a year. It was because I had received an invite from that little girl I had abandoned so long ago. And just like Santana said as she embraced that little Ballerina, I accepted the invitation and said, "I've got you now."
In a recent episode, I figured it out. The character Santana, takes a ballet class for the first time in a long time in an attempt to reconnect with the part of herself that is an "artist." She admits to having "lost" that part of herself for quite some time. Immediately, I was entranced. Did someone write this episode for me? After all, I spent my entire childhood dancing, singing, performing, and acting and one day it all just stopped. Lacrosse took over. Being cool took over. I mindlessly let the part of me that had brought me so much joy go. Overnight I had replaced her with practice and running and militaristic training for a goal that wasn't even mine. Where had that little performer gone?
In Santana's dance class, a "dream sequence" began, as it so often does on Glee, much to my chagrin, and she sees a tiny little ballerina in the corner. As you can guess, that Ballerina is supposed to be Santana's younger self. Her "artist" self. She walks over to the child and the child says something along the lines of "you forgot about me." At which point I start to bawl uncontrollably on the couch. Santana then embraces her younger self and says something like "never again. I've got you now." More tears.
I related. Perhaps a little too much. My late high school and college years were so focused on pleasing others, a coach, my Dad, the image that the world had of me, that I forgot all about the part of me that truly made me, "me." That little girl who took such joy in performing had been abandoned in my attempt to fit the mold that the world had created for me. I had known this all along throughout my adult life and had verbalized it often. "If I could go back and change one thing..." had often been the sentence starter when I began to reflect on my negligence of that important piece of myself. Yet, I did nothing to change it. I continued to walk down a path that the world had set for me instead of the one that was in my heart.
When Santana admitted to losing that piece of herself I watched and inwardly admitted the same thing. Something had been missing for so long and I just couldn't admit that it was my fault. In my attempt to please others I had stopped pleasing myself. I had stopped doing the things that truly resonated in my heart and therefore, forgotten the little girl who was so in touch with herself. In my attempt to be a "good daughter" and a "good wife" and a "good teacher" I had stopped being good to ME.
Perhaps someone upstairs had been aware of this all along because just last night, a door opened. In the door I could see that little girl standing there, just like Santana saw her "younger self" in that dance studio. I got an offer to reconnect with that little girl again. She was standing on the other side of that door with her hand out to me. I may have forgotten about her but she hadn't forgotten about me. In that moment I was scared to walk towards her but I knew that she wouldn't be ignored anymore. So I took her hand.
In the literal sense this offer may not come to anything in the "real world." But what it will do is remind me that I have neglected myself. I have neglected such an integral part of myself for so long and I have suffered because of it. The MMS Drama Club was my conscience way of awakening the "performer" in my students- a way I had described as "living vicariously through them." But last night, and today, when I watched the Glee episode, I realized I had been living too much through them. Was I dead? Who said that just because I hadn't connected with my inner performer in so long that she wasn't in there anymore? Why live vicariously through others when I can still live through myself?
It is time to stop living to fit a mold...stifling the person that has lain dormant for so long. Perhaps the things in my life that have been denied to me recently were meant to happen so I can reconnect with who I really am and honor the person I have neglected for so long. Perhaps it's time to stop sending my energy into a template that I don't squeeze into at this time in my life and let myself fall easily into the one that I do.
Last night I smiled genuinely for the first time in about a year. It was because I had received an invite from that little girl I had abandoned so long ago. And just like Santana said as she embraced that little Ballerina, I accepted the invitation and said, "I've got you now."
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