SUPER RE-TARDO

Growing up, we weren’t allowed to say the word “retard” or even “shut up”. Repressive Catholic parenting did that to me but we also never talked about sex and we all know where that lead. In any case, the other day I was at the store and these two brothers were fighting and arguing and punching each other in the side of the head and one of them called the other a “Super Retardo” and then the mom laughed and stopped scolding them and they pretended to wear capes and become some strange sort of super hero and then I laughed along with them and the mom gave me this warm smile that said, “Aren’t they cute? And don’t you kind of want to take them home with YOU instead so that I don’t have to wonder about what kind of missile range it would take to pick them off from afar?”

At least that’s how I interpreted it. In my own superheroiness (Jaysus! That’s not a word AT ALL and my English Lit. degree betrays me more and more!) this week I’ve made some observations:

1. I had to kill a mouse with my bare hands. By “bare hands” I mean wearing gloves and putting it in a plastic bag and slamming it on the ground to put it out of its misery. This was enough scarring to my soul that I went and put a ten dollar bill in a jar that I use for therapy.

2. The guy at the front desk at my work sounds just like Matthew McConaughey every time he answers the phone. It’s bizarre and wildly entertaining to call him to for ridiculous things like, “Did I leave my pen at your desk?” or “Are you Team Jacob or Team Edward or Team Shirtless?” You know who else does a mean impersonation of Matthew McConaughey? Matt Damon.  

3. My Christmas shopping was finished in two days. I’m online-shopper-ninja-like that way. But I did have to go to Target for some things and realized that I couldn’t pay my $300 bill because I hit my limit for debit that day so I left the store, went to the bank to get cash, and returned where I decided to park right in front of the store because, yes, sometimes I am that jerk and I had my limit with stupid people that day anyway. It’s possible and even probable that I stuck out my tongue at a few drivers when I did it, too. Yes. Totally probable. Also probable: excessive use of the eff word.

4. You know what doesn’t get old? Ross the Intern. Who is no longer Ross the Fat Intern, but Ross the Skinny Guy With His Own Show. Also? This doesn’t get old. It’s my favorite video of him. All day now I’ll be saying, “Pineapple! Pineapple! I’m not kidding!”

5. My Christmas present wrapping is the shit. No lie. So long as you don’t worry about how crooked the lines are underneath all that stuff. The more bows on a present the more I am trying to distract you from my wrapping skills. 

BONUS: There is a Christmas song on the radio that uses the words “baby momma” in it. If there were a Super Re-Tardo award I would bestow it on that idiot. CHRIST, PEOPLE. Ok, so admittedly, Joseph had a baby momma but it came after the birth of Jesus. You know why he weeps? He weeps for horrid Christmas songs that glorify the ghetto, folks.

If I were a dog I would be running in a circle, chewing my own tail, and then looking around the room for a chew toy. This is just the way today is going. Scoring a tranquilizer or going on a kennel run should be high on my priority list. What does that make me? A golden retriever? A miniature poodle? A Jack Russell terrier? You’d think I was beyond the idea of writing my blog in bullet form or numbering, but today I am not. Today, I am a hyper dog.

1. Working in a school will ensure that you hear the same phrases over and over again. I’d list them all but if you work in a school you could probably come up with the same ones I have experienced. It’s a universal problem and I could spend a week in a school in Australia and recognize the language as being similar to what we hear in North America (see that, Canada? WE’RE TOGETHER IN THIS!). 

What I keep learning is that it all comes down to beliefs. Teachers don’t want to enforce certain rules because they don’t believe in them. We end up projecting our values and norms onto students in our schools. I see it in our government right now when determining how we’re going to handle the proposal of health care. I’m not sure everyone in this country believes that we all deserve health care. Until that belief is there, we’re going to stop the work that is happening to get. (I do NOT want to start an entire discussion with the interwebs about health care in the United States. Dear sweet Jesus knows I don’t. Even dear sweet Buddha knows it. So does Confucius. Especially Confucius.)

2. One of my sons has a teacher who is giving extra credit for bringing in tissues and colored markers and canned food. I have so much of an issue with that right now and it’s not because we’re in a recession. Of course, we’re “in a recession” because I still have a job. If I were jobless then I’d say we’re “in a depression”. Anyway, I had to re-evaluate whether I did this as a teacher or not and I can’t remember. I probably did. What’s the statute of limitations on apologizing to my former students? SORRY, KIDS AND YOUR PARENTS. THAT WAS CARELESS OF ME.

3. Speaking of former students, one of them invited me to her pinning ceremony because she is getting her degree in nursing. Unfortunately, I can’t attend. Jamie is one of the students I had in 6th, 7th, and 8th grade (that was back when I looped with my kids and it was pretty amazing to see them grow in that amount of time) and she knows all about my friendship with Allen. 

4. Shorty needs to just go ahead and call 911. He’s on fire on the dance floor. This is a constant concern of mine when I hear that song.

5. I have a LOFT giveaway going on in the review section of my blog which can be found here. Go and vote on your favorite outfit I created with the help of a stylist and you could win a $200 gift card from LOFT. That’s TWO HUNDRED DOLLARS. What dog gives away that kind of gift, huh?

This post is one of those that I probably won’t ever go back and read through again. Unless there’s lots of comments that make me ask, “What the hell did I write about that made them say that in the comments?”

Hyper dog, people. I can’t help it. I feel safe here so I know you’ll be okay with all this. CIRCLE OF TRUST.

Over the last few months my blog has been “discovered” by the locals. And boy, are they restless. By that I mean that they mention reading my blog when I see them. Some are old friends, acquaintances, co-workers, and parents of my students. Ever since our local newspaper mentioned my writing there are some new readers here. WELCOME. I SEE YOU ON MY SITE METER. But this isn’t about the technology I use to see who reads me and where they are from in the world. That is, I suppose, the funny part to me. I have readers in New Zealand, Australia, England, and even the island of Hawaii (Hi, Kate!) who have been with me for years and watched the process of growing and changing and sometimes being a complete dolt who is hard-headed and can’t learn a lesson the first time it’s presented to me. For those faithful readers I am eternally humbled and grateful. You’re with me and I can’t quite express how much that means.

Since local folks have started reading me, however, I get some questions that I’ve never gotten before. “Don’t you get in trouble for writing a blog?” and “How are you able to write about your work in a public school without getting shut down?” and “How do you get away with that?” Even when a local reporter found me and started reading back through my archives (yeah, I saw you spend an entire weekend checking out my writing and I’m impressed because even I don’t go back and read stuff I’ve written for over 30 hours! But really! I’m honored!) he offered his opinion on my writing. I quote: “She’s also about as honest as one can get about one’s life and job without crossing the line and getting fired.” Sure, I know I’m “edgy” as a new, local reader just pointed out to me in an email. In fact, I’m having this pissing contest going on right now in the comment section of someone else’s blog on an issue and I’m certain the blog writer will ask me to stop commenting because I can’t hide the snark. The comebacks come too easily at times and that is, I have learned, very hard for some people to take. But again, I’m toeing the line and trying to be respectful of his space. 

My students are reading me more frequently, too. They tell me this at school. Some of them wonder why I even like to write. Mostly, I respond to them that they hate writing right now in school because it’s required and getting feedback in the comment section is FAR BETTER THAN THE WRATH OF A TEACHER’S RED PEN. I’ll bet if they got responses to their thoughts the way a blog offers they’d be more likely to open up and find their voice. It took years to find mine. What I learned was that I like the short, choppy sentences. I enjoy leaving a one-sentence paragraph to complete a thought. And I realized that it’s actually OKAY to begin a sentence with the word “and”. It’s also true that I like to use the caps lock when I’m pushing a point heavily across the page. 

What if I stopped writing about the anecdotes on my blog? Would you stop reading? I certainly don’t discuss too much of my personal life online that I can’t put out there for criticism. Does that mean I’ll never discuss my adopted daughter again? I know from hearing from people that it’s healing and refreshing to listen to someone honestly say, hey, this is my life and I’m learning lessons here and I’m screwing it up and making big mistakes but I’M LEARNING. I KEEP LEARNING. To my close friends I say that they know 100% of me and writing about your life and getting to the heart of the matter is sometimes not for public consumption. My guess is that I put about 10% of my life “out there” but that 90% of it is for me and my family and friends. You don’t get to comment on everything. That’s the beauty of this. Lots of blogging friends write far more personal stuff that, yes, I’m grateful for but, no, I wouldn’t share about myself unless it felt right and no one would get hurt in the process. That lesson? Already learned years ago. 

If I stopped sharing about my work in education then you might never know an update to one of the stories I shared about a student that I called “Anna”. In February of this year I wrote about her here. Since that time I haven’t heard anything from her. I ask some of my other students and no one seems to know anything. I checked up on her at the alternative school she ended up attending, but her attendance didn’t last very long. The day before Thanksgiving, Anna showed up in my office. She stopped by on her way out to get a copy of her transcripts so that she could go back and finish her GED. She said, “It’s the best I can do right now.” and I accepted that. She hugged me and said she missed seeing me. We exchanged phone numbers and poof! She was gone again. 

Should I stop writing about that? Those are the experiences that change me as an educator. I am ever a teacher. Most days, however, I am the student. Even you, sometimes, are the student and we learn together through writing. You’re with me and I don’t know if I could stop even if I were forced to do so. This writing? It won’t stop. Not even now that I’m at the end of the month of November and I signed up to do the NaBloPoMo deal of posting every day. No. I won’t stop.

I write to learn.

1. How do you define happiness? (from Beth)

Happiness is ever changing, so the definition I’m giving now is different than if you asked me that question a year ago or five years ago and I’ll probably give another definition a year from now. The 2009 November edition answer is thus: happiness is when you see where you’ve been and can guess where you’re going and you’re actually ok with it. It’s sprinkled with the very joy you bring to it, but make no mistake: YOU BRING IT. If you don’t, then happiness will elude you until you make a choice. 

2. How do you survive the ever changing face of education? It seems to change almost hourly lately. (from Amanda)

I don’t think it’s possible to go into the field of education and believe that it won’t change. Everything changes and if we don’t keep up with it then we’re useless to our students. Lately, I’ve been talking to teachers and friends about how we must meet kids where they’re at if we’re to make an impact into their learning. They use texting and MySpace and Facebook. Unless we start to communicate with them on those terms, we are lost and powerless. Surviving ever-changing education means being willing to take risks in how you present information that you want students to grasp. Surviving education means taking a chance and doing your own action research and then reflecting on how that worked or didn’t work. When it doesn’t work, try something else. But I also heavily advocate that teachers teach the way they liked to learn. If I see History teachers failing to use the biographies they love, the Discovery channel programs they watch, and the joy they feel when discovering history then I can’t imagine a student will fall in love with what’s already come to life for the teacher. 

3. What coffees are you drinking these days? You once wrote each day what coffee you had and that always put a smile on my face. (from KC)

KC remembers me from the old days when I did a Cuppa the Day. Ah. The good old blog days. These days I’m in a Peet’s fix that has me in a grip that won’t lighten anytime soon. That’s because a new bakery opened up in my town that serves it and my cuppa is overflowing with that goodness. Since I’m now lactose intolerant (Heh. God has SUCH a sense of humor!) I use soy milk and I’ve finally given up Splenda. So it’s a very lightly sprinkled cup of coffee that helps me start my day.

4. What is the worst part about being an assistant principal? (from Jenni)

The worst part is taking blame for things beyond my control. Listening to angry parents is never fun especially when they are blaming me for their child’s behavior (this happens to EVERY administrator) but I’ve learned not to take it personally. When I became a parent at the age of 15 I knew that my child would be responsible for her choices so I’ve never really understood parents who are in their 30s and beyond who don’t do that same thing. It’s mind boggling to me.

5. Can you defend your support of the horribly mundane and boring NPR station in less than fifty words, using the words “culture”, “stimulating”, or “the”? (from Avitable)

Avitable is a very good friend of mine who is all pisspants because I called him uncultured for not liking NPR. If he would just listen to the stimulating Ira Glass or the hilarity of “Wait, Wait! Don’t Tell Me!” with Carl Kasell and Paula Poundstone then maybe he could remove that stick from his butt that renders him incapable of knowing good stuff when he hears it.

6. What do you see happening in today’s school system that makes you happy? We always hear the negatives (budget cuts, test score declies) – is there anything happening that you like? (from Serena)

There are actually things I like about No Child Left Behind that make me happy – teacher accountability and student data. But the system things I like are allowing for teachers to be the respected professionals that they are because there is a wealth of knowledge there and you can see that in every single school across the country. The trick is to learn how to bring it out in people who haven’t been respected in their positions. 

7. What do I have to do to get your mother to adopt me? (from Tanis, the Redneck Mommy)

Tanis, dear? I think all it will take is one visit from you and then mom will get the paperwork started and I’ll have to share my room with you so do me a favor and don’t choose pink as your room color and never get into my makeup and earrings and we’ll get along just fine as sisters. Also? Bring the kids. She’s a sucker for grandkids. OH! And bring some of that Canadian beef. You keep talking about it and she grew up on a farm so I’m sure you’ll have meaty conversations about that. 

8. Why is it that when someone is referred to as a ’scrooge,’ the implication is that the person is greedy and heartless? Didn’t Scrooge in fact find redemption at the end of A Christmas Carol and become a person committed to helping others and celebrating the holiday? What does that mean regarding societal attitudes towards forgiveness and redemption? (from Brandon)

Brandon reminded me that I taught “A Christmas Carol” for several years to my 7th graders and that it’s not written in chapters but staves. I know, right? It’s not a well-known fact. To answer his question I just have to refer back to it – Scrooge did indeed get redeemed and changed his ways and became a community member that I’d be proud to live with and from which I could learn.

9. What’s the one thing that you would most like to accomplish in your lifetime? (from Average Jane)

The only thing I want to accomplish (now) is getting that doctoral degree. I honestly want to tackle that beast because school has always scared me (or made my self-esteem plummet)  and going from the feeling that I wasn’t smart enough to actually doing it gave me more confidence than I ever thought possible. I want to experience that high once again.

10. It’s often the littlest things – like having the right sized purse for school – that can give us the happiest moments. Can you talk about some little things – small favors or kind remarks or anay such thing – that have given you some of your happiest moments? (from Rodd)

When I was in college and was raising two kids by that time (Mason came along when I was a mere 20 years old) there was a woman at church who asked me about my Christmas plans that year. Let’s face it – I was a 21-year old with two kids and was on welfare and gifts were out of the question. I joked that “We’d focus on the REAL reason for Christmas and just do it with a cup of hot cocoa” and she took that to heart. She had her entire women’s group buy gifts for my kids and they delivered them WITH A FULLY DECORATED CHRISTMAS TREE on Christmas Eve. It was little for them to do it for me, but huge in my mind. I vowed to always find someone that I can give back to when I was financially able. Those happy moments are insanely important in my life.

BONUS questions from the Caffeinated Librarian:

What first draws you to a book? A character that I instantly love so authors have to work hard to do that quickly. 

When where you last surprised by a book and why? [Spoiler alert!] I think it was a few years ago when I read “The Lovely Bones” and it was the girl that she brushed by as she left the earth after being murdered (and hey, the book begins with her saying that she’d just been murdered so I’m not giving anything away there). It surprised me that we can have such a powerful moment in which we touch someone else and become connected in a powerful way. I also just love the first line of that book.

Almost all families have recipes that have special meaning to them. What one dish/recipe/story is one of your family favorites? My dad makes incredibly good spaghetti in his own Creole way (with sausage and green peppers and a sprinkle of voodoo magic) and my mom makes the very best deviled eggs that I’ve ever had. Oh, and her fried chicken is amazing. There’s really no story to this, except that when I graduated from college and was having my own party my parents (then divorced) said that they each made the best spaghetti and deviled eggs (better than the other parent) and brought them to the party. I refused to offer up a winner.

What’s on your current 10 song desert island list and why?

Can I save this one, Libby? I have to think too hard  for that right now and it’s time to publish!

Thanks for playing and letting me force you to ask questions!

Many years ago when I was still teaching in the classroom I found my people. My people came to me. I didn’t have to go looking for them because tra-la-laaaa I am just that ridiculously lazy. For some reason, a bunch of young teachers and I all seemed to click together one year. We were teaching at a middle school and everyone seemed fantastically awesome. Like I had fallen into the land of Oz of teaching where we ate flower cups and swam in a lake of chocolate. Hold on. That’s Willy Wonka. I’m actually going to just leave that analogy because it still fits. Except there was no Violet turning Violet, Violet nor was there a fat kid getting sucked up by a tube. There might have been a golden goose who was behind the curtain with a robot chicken.

My God. My childhood movie watching has morphed into my adult late night television watching and mixed itself a cocktail. Somebody either hold me or get me a bowl of Fruity Pebbles. Because I can tell this story is going to take a left turn at Albuquerque. 

LEFT.

Before I mention My People I have to mention running into some idiots this past week who were so far removed from My People that I had to wonder if they were people themselves. It was a group of people at the mall (the mall, y’all) where I had to run in to get my tights for the season. That sounds like a weird thing, but I love tights and wear them throughout the fall months because I enjoy keeping all my goodies intact even though sometimes I’m sure they’re trying to strangle me and sell my body parts to the Mattel Corporation for use in the mocha-colored Barbie dolls. There is such a thing, isn’t there? So, while I’m power walking through the mall to get said tights I see a gaggle of students whom I am trying to avoid because the administrator in me wants to yell, ‘PULL UP YOUR PANTS’ even though I know I shouldn’t do that when they’re just trying to get a warm pretzel but still. It almost comes out of my mouth but I sidestep them and they don’t really notice that it’s me which is a really good thing because I tire of the whole “What are YOU doing here?” question I always get because apparently I am an android who doesn’t require groceries or clothing or furniture polish. Then, I happen upon these people who are taking pictures of their socks. SOCKS. Socks that are not at all interesting. There are no sparkles or Santa wearing underwear or anything and I’m seriously starting to wonder if I shouldn’t do my tight shopping online. Socks. WTF, sock fetishists? 

My People like socks, but they don’t need to take pictures of them. My People were enthusiastic, creative, helpful teachers. We didn’t all teach the same curriculum either. Math, science, language arts. But something about this group of seven women clicked and we stuck with it. In the time since I started teaching with them we’ve seen marriage, divorce, house-building, pregnancy, miscarriage, hospital stays, autism, ADHD, and parties. There’s something I can say for that group: they know how to party. It was an anything goes time for us and someday I might tell you about the time we crashed a Halloween party when I was dressed as a pregnant nun and handed out communion (Hello, Hell. Are you ready for me yet?) and then later had to use the restroom so badly but didn’t feel like heading back into the house because it was constantly In Use so I just relieved myself outside. On the lawn. Of a stranger’s house. Dressed as a nun. 

These are the stories I can’t wait to tell the grandkids.

These gals helped me find myself and have fun doing it. They cried with me and laughed at me and we cooked together and I got my nickname of “Mocha” from one of them. It’s a beautiful thing when we can watch each other crash and burn and then pick up the pieces while each of us moves through the maze to find ourselves. It’s not always pretty, but it is what it is. But the really beautiful thing is that they also taught me to be vulnerable and allow myself to be taken care of and to always speak my mind because I might just have something interesting to say. Ok, so not like right now or anything. But sometimes. And when I get my lips to flapping I don’t always remember that it may be not-so-much-PC or that I let fly an opinion about a topic without wondering what the other person’s experiences have taught them about the topic and let loose a firestorm.

Last year I was talking with another former colleague and friend who told me that she won a $500 library for her classroom because of something I said. I was horrified that I might have said something rather stupid and I asked what thing could have possibly fallen out of my mouth to make her win books. One time in her classroom and we were talking about a myriad of things related to race and education and I told her that I started reading adolescent fiction and began to feel sorry for Black girls because they don’t often get to see a true reflection of themselves in literature. “Black girls don’t want to read ONLY about white girls and their experiences. They want to see themselves in books. Do you always assume that a character is white when you read a novel? Is that because the cover shows a white girl? Black girls want to read about themselves, too.” Without telling me about it, she responded to my comment by purchasing more adolescent fiction about Black girls and has continued to add them to her classroom collection until she started taking classes to get her Master’s degree and then mentioned this to someone who mentioned it to someone else and…well, the story goes that she wrote about it in a contest and won the money to put toward more books to help her students of all colors see themselves in what they read. She said to me, “If I made a difference it’s because someone opened my eyes. That was you.” Then, of course, I wept myself into a little puddle and felt so proud of my big mouth because, in a strange turn of events, it led to making a change in her that led to making a change in her classroom with her students and the students to come.

I might have made the youthful mistake of urinating outside one time while dressed as a nun, but sometimes my stupidity actually has some nice, unintended consequences. Willy Wonka would be smug about this whole thing.