If I say too much then I will crack and fall apart like I always do when I say too much. So I won’t say too much. Except that you are excellent readers between the lines and it saves me the trouble of saying too much. Most days I want to write and some days I actually start to do so and then I get all cautious and remember that lots of people who know me but don’t call me on a regular basis are reading this here little bloggy and it irks me that they do it to just know things. They do it because they are looking for me to crack or because they just want to know. But not because they truly care. I never thought I’d be at that place where I’m withholding in writing just to keep things to myself but that’s where I am right now.
On the corner of I’m In A Weird Frame of Mind and Fuck You For Spying.
I don’t think you can find it on Google maps, though.
And I’ve made some decisions.
And I’ve drawn some lines in the sand.
And I’m not going to step over them even though most days I want to hop over it.
And I resolved to be a better version of myself this year.
And that’s a tall order.
And it’s annoyingly vague at the same time.
So I will write solely about things that mean much and also don’t mean very much in the large scheme of things.
*******
My work is hard and I want to quit nearly every day that I don’t feel like I’m doing anything important. Today I had to return a phone call that came in while I had stepped out of my office for a moment. I let it sit and each time I returned to my desk I looked at it and, because I didn’t recognize the name, I put it off. It took the back seat to students who came in a day early (they don’t return to school until tomorrow) to take their final exams that they missed from before Christmas break. It took a back seat to my volunteering to go pick up lunch. It took a back seat to the millions of little details to schedules and meetings and paperwork I had piling up on my desk. When I finally called the woman back she said that her niece, my student, had lost her mother the day after Christmas.
That didn’t feel like being a better version of myself in that moment.
So I gave her the rest of my day which was about an hour. I let her tell me the story of how this girl, her niece by marriage (I learned this within the hour) is in a weird stage. How she is immature and continues to ask for her mother. I learned (within the space of that 60 minutes) that she is trying to figure out how this girl and her siblings won’t lose their house because they don’t know where, if any, insurance papers were. They don’t know where the father is and they’re all just pulling together to cling to the planet that continues to spin even though they would beg it to stop. Please. Just let it stop. I learned that she didn’t know what to do now, that she knows all the details and medical jargon that accompanies an ugly word like “aneurysm”.
She wanted to know if her niece could make up her final exams. That was a reason why she called. We talked and I was calmly explaining the policies of semester grading and how taking these tests could improve only two of the final grades I saw on my computer screen as I spoke with her. I frantically and, possibly, compulsively clicked around the screen as she talked with little emotion about the details. The mundane and required details of dealing with a death. My eyes scanned the large screen in front of me and I was grateful that, while sharing all this girl’s grades and information, this person was listed as an emergency contact so I was legally able to speak about her with this person on the phone.
I don’t know why I mentioned that to her. It seemed a silly detail at the time.
I can tell you this information, by the way, because her mother listed you as an emergency contact.
Then I kept talking and as I continued she stopped to cry.
What is it? I’m sorry. I know this is hard. I know you’re just trying to survive here.
She kept crying. Actually, she was cracking. She was falling apart to a stranger. Her breathing was silent, but not so silent. I could hear it like she was holding her breath with her lips as close to my ears as they might ever physically be capable of being. It just made me want to apologize again.
She didn’t know she was listed as a contact. This was, incredibly, news to her that somehow made her excited and happy and sad. Her apologies for crying kept coming.
I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I’m sorry for crying like this to you. This isn’t why I called. This isn’t what you do.
It sort of is. I do this sometimes.
When we ended our conversation I was exhausted. What’s another word for that? Yes. I was consumed. I was enervated by this phone call. It’s makes me want to quit.
But I know I won’t.
I do this sometimes.
{ 33 comments… read them below or add one }
The weird part is that you do not recognize how hard you rock sometimes. You are amazing.
I usually get stuck with fake-grief in my line of work. People who are in complete break-down mode over stupid, inconsequential, and universally irrelevant crap. I know this probably sounds horrible, but I would rather deal with actual grief that’s based on something real. It would be so much easier if my sympathy could be genuine for once, instead of some kind of elaborate performance that has no meaning. Because every time I have to deal with such foolishness, I’m left feeling a little more hollow inside. I worry that one day somebody will need my sympathy for a legitimate reason, but my ability to empathize will have long-since worn away and I won’t be able to feel anything. Then what do I do?
I’m with Suebob. Anyone who’s ever raised kids and dealt with schools and teachers and systems knows what a gift you are to every family that comes in contact with you. Please keep writing when you’re not sure that’s true so we can remind you. You know my circumstances and how MUCH I needed the support of teachers and special ed folks and principals and tutors. So I’m not just doing my usual “Oh Kelly you are so wonderful.” thingy. I’m telling you with absolute certainty that you are a gift to that school and those kids and when you forget, just show up here and let us tell you again. Happy New Year.
Ditto to what they said–I’m too busy wiping away the tears to leave a real comment. Geez, you bring out the sap in me!
This is proof that you shouldn’t quit! If you are looking for “something important” you found it here. You were there right when your student’s aunt needed you.
Maybe if you had talked to her earlier, she would have remained composed as she started working through her list, but by being available JUST AT THE RIGHT TIME, you provided a relief valve for someone who probably didn’t know where to turn at the moment.
You did good!
The first part…..It’s why I changed things up; was so tired of having spontaneous conversations with a family memeber that resembled my posts…..it’s sneaky and untruthful~
Second part~The mother left the Aunt a piece of her trust….and that’s overwhelming sometimes. To know that someone KNEW they could count on you the Auntie), even though they have died.
You? Well, I think you know you are in the right place……even if you have days you want to leave~I think you handled it perfectly. Having an ear to listen, is sometimes ALL a person needs.
(Now, please move your life and replace the principle at my children’s school….)
whenever i find myself stuck and a little tender, i always turn to david lee roth for encouragement…
“Alright
We’re gettin’ funny in the back of my car
I’m sorry honey if I took you just a little too far, yes
Uh too too far
Uh so I, I told the fellas out behind the bar ”
hmm, that really didn’t apply, but still, the thought is there… sort of
The universe/God/fate/ whoever or whatever anyone believes, has a reason for everything that happens. You delayed returning the call. Because you delayed returning the call, it sounds like you had more time to spend with the aunt. You helped her. By helping her you also helped the children.
I was all set to talk about how I love this part: “On the corner of I’m In A Weird Frame of Mind and Fuck You For Spying. I don’t think you can find it on Google maps, though.” but then I kept reading. And well, shit.
You gave that woman something to hold onto during a time when she probably doesn’t feel like she has a grasp on anything. That’s a gift.
You are a blessing to many, Kelly. You are a woman of strength, grace, and beauty. The world needs more people like you.
These emotional heart-wrenching posts really ruin the fantasy I have in my head of you as some hot dominatrix vice principal. Stop doing that!
Evaluations performed during WWII found that after about 30 days of combat, most infantrymen had become ‘ineffective’. They had used up all their gumption, grit, bravery, and loyalty. After 30 days, they no longer cared about anyone or anything and they just wanted to survive.
In everyday life, I think the same thing can happen to us. It takes longer and isn’t as dramatic, but we exhaust our idealism and our optimism.
I think this happens becuase we have an innate desire to strive and succeed, but modern life doesn’t really fulfill that need. Dealing with someone’s problems over the phone in exchange for a paycheck doesn’t really compare to going out and hunting for that evening’s meal.
Personally, I’ve found that exercise helps, but not going to the gym. For me, productive labor does it (and I ain’t talking about child birth). In most of our professional lives, there isn’t much “accomplishment.” At the end of the day most of us can’t see the result of our effort.
Walking or bicycling to work, chopping wood, working in the garden, shoveling snow, feeding the horses and cows. Those activities give me an outlet and a tiny sense of accomplishment that just can’t be found elsewhere in my life.
Jesus, you do this really, really well.
this is exactly how I’ve been feeling as of late. there are people I know but don’t speak with very often, but they read my blog and never comment. I feel like I’m being spied on, yet I’m the one who puts my words out there, so is it really spying?
but like you said…they want to know things. they don’t want to be part of a friendship or be a confidant, they want to keep tabs on my life because they are bored, or nosy, or think they have the one up because my life is an open book…or an open blog?
And so I censor myself, because I gain control by not putting all of myself out there.
did that make sense, or am I looney?
Sizzle shared this on her Google Reader. I’m glad she did.
a:
“On the corner of I’m In A Weird Frame of Mind and Fuck You For Spying.
I don’t think you can find it on Google maps, though.”
While it sucks to have to write them, those may be the best words committed to a blog.
b:
I’ve found that people who are incredibly strong – or are put in situations where they feel they have to be – sometimes feel they can only break down in front of strangers. Thankfully, strangers are sometimes kind. You probably helped her more than you know. I think that happens more than sometimes.
You are something, girl. This was insightful and sad and deeply moving, and you are always, always rising to be the best person you can be; everybody needs a bit of information sometimes.
Wow, just wow. I want to say something but I don’t know what because this story is so humbling and sad.
This education job? WAY hard. And I understand.
I am sorry you can’t write everything you would like to/ need too.
Your blogs read like books, have you ever thought of writing one?
You made me ache for everyone in the “story”.
I can totally relate to this post. This is what I do sometimes too, and I know the emotional toll it takes on you. You carry it home, it sits on your heart and in your head, for days sometimes. It changes how you view everything around you, it reminds you to be grateful for what you have, but it takes a peice of you, and you aren’t sure how many peices you can give. but you show up for work the next time, and you just do it, and hope and try to do your best. You are doing your best, and the people you touch are better for it.
You are there for a reason, because you are able to make a difference in the lives of people. It doesn’t take much physically to make a difference, but I agree that it definitely does take a toll on a person mentally and emotionally. All I can say is try to hang as long as you can because although it may not seem like it, you are a great asset to those that you serve and they do appreciate you for it. Hell, “I” appreciate you for it.
I am saddened and sorry about your student losing her mother. I can definitely relate because I too lost my mother when I was a young student… and then lost another mother as a college student. Its not an easy thing for any family member, especially a child. But when there is someone like you, someone that people at least feel that are on their side for at least a moment they can seek refuge and just release.
You, my dear are a very sweet compassionate soul with a strong hint of strength..
Wow. That puts so many things in perspective … in so many ways.
Don’t quit. Not everybody can do what YOU do.
You are one of few people whose stories of doing good work inspire me to be better. Hugs.
Exhausted, consumed. Yes. I completely get that. But you were there for someone you didn’t expect to be there for, and it may have taken a lot out of you, but I think you might also get something back.
You did exactly what she needed at that point in time. And you do rock.
Also? That’s how my mom died. I was with her too when it happened.
And I know you feel like you’re not really helping, but you are. Hence the exhaustion.
Sometimes just saying that it’s ok to cry and listening without judgement is all someone needs to make it through one more day. It sucks, but you do it very well.
They are all right. You do that all the time. I wish you were my Principal.
She needed to cry, and to a stranger is perfect, I spilled my whole life story to a bill collector once waiting for the call to let me know that my 8 year old niece had died, imagine how that woman felt, but she nurtutred me, listened to me, and let me grieve, tears are coming to think of it…There should be some mention in ed classes that death and dying are a part of teaching, some prep….the worst part of education is parents and children dying (sp) thinking of you
Sometimes, the timing of things is just what-it-is. Maybe there was a reason for you to have “put off” calling her; by calling when you did, there may have been a part of you available to her that had not been there earlier in the day. It sounds like grace was coming & going over that phone line. Bless you for what you do, & may you be renewed many times over today and every day for all that you give your students & your family (& us, too).
Kelly,
I can always count on you to step up. Way to go. Ask me sometime about a similar situation I had walking to the train a few weeks ago with a man who’s motorized scooter (think Rascal) had run out of batteries and he was pushing it along with his one good leg. Imagine someone kicking like they are using one leg like they are on a skateboard.
I was catching up on your blog and just had to tell you that I’m blown away by your writing ability. I am commenting on this post because it particularly impressed and touched me. Your writing is powerful.