After doubting my love of teaching and contemplating my future, I was reminded in two very simple ways by two very different student interactions why I can’t imagine doing anything else.

1.  To prep for my trip out west, I have begun fake baking to get my skin prepared for the Nevada and Arizona heat and sun.  As a result, my skin is very dry.  A parent several years back bought me the most fabulous smelling coconut body lotion that makes me think of spring break, so I dug it out this morning and put it on.  A student told me today that I smelled like Florida.  What a great analogy, I did smell like Florida and I put it on to remind me of going to Florida.  She understood implicitly, amazing.

2.  I have a first grade boy in my class who is one of the neatest kids I’ve ever had.  He is a very, very intelligent kid who is so motivated to learn and push himself–he gets giddy about it!  To boot, he is a very kind kid with a good sense of humor–he’s not obnoxious about any of his talents, just very accepting of himself.  At any rate, as he was heading out of class to get his backpack and snowclothes to go home, he stopped and told me, “I can’t believe it’s Friday already.  It seems like it was just Monday.  I just had so much fun this week, I can’t believe it’s the weekend!”  Kids rarely admit that school was fun or that they enjoyed themselves, yet he did.  A very rewarding moment for a teacher doubting her talents.

Another very powerful, simple reminder: I only have 16 school days before Spring Break.  I quote a fellow teacher when I say, “I think I can, I think I can…”

I am tired of being a teacher.  I never thought I’d say it, but this year has put my love of learning and children in a direct contest with politics, gossip, meddling, and drama.  Above all else, I am tired of the drama.  I am a very honest person by nature–blunt is a word that people have used to describe me as of late, and I can’t argue.  I don’t like secrets, faux-friendships, or being put in the middle of impossible situations.  Being a teacher this year has done nothing but bring on the drama, from little things in the classroom to entire district and union issues that I want no part of, but obligation dictates otherwise.  I don’t want to be obliged–I want to bow out gracefully and hand the torch to another runner.

The lack of funding in education right now has made work stressful.  Hate it.  I have always looked at teaching as my safe-haven of sorts.  Despite how out of control other parts of my life feel, I can go into that classroom, shut the door, and teach America’s future how to read a pictograph and write a simple persuasive essay about the best holiday in the world.  Maybe it’s a control issue, but I’ve always considered the classroom as a place where I’ve yet to truly fail.  So many other important areas of my life are riddled with failure, I’ve always been able to pride myself on my ability to compartmentalize my life for 7 hours and just be a teacher.

This year, everytime I shut my door, someone opens it and dumps something else in my lap I don’t want.  I’ve been told union secrets and vowed secrecy, asked to give my professional opinion on building cuts but to keep quiet about what I know, told stories about fellow co-workers and families in the strictest of confidences.  I haven’t asked for any of this information; to the contrary, much of this has been shared with me without my consent–only after “the secret’s out” am I asked to keep mum.  Co-workers have done much of the same–gossip about this one or that, rumors about cuts and who will be where, caddy stuff I hate.  All of it is dragging me down.

To add insult to injury, I took on the task of taking 5 graduate courses in the course of the past year.  This is a decision I will not make again, but I’m way past that.  I’ve spent countless hours reading about how schools are failing, that we place too much emphasis on high-stakes testing, we are disciplining our students in a completely backward way, our writing curriculum is not up to par, I do not give enough time to my special needs students, I need to consider the needs of my impoverished students more carefully…the thoughts swirling in my head are endless.  So now, I’m not only burdened with secrets I didn’t want to know in the first place, but I feel like I’m failing all the groups of students I service in most areas of the curriculum.

I haven’t even touched the needs of my students and their families.  I have 5 students with special needs of one sort or another and 20 more students who vary from extremely needy to caddy to ultra-competitive.  And the parents–it seems that the more students they put in my classroom, the more parents feel like they should expect of me.  I have parents who’d like a daily email of how their child did that day to parents who think I’m pushing their child too hard to parents who think their child isn’t being challenged enough to parents who would like their child’s red words tested on the same day each week, “if that’s okay”…the list is far longer than this.  It’s almost as if I am no longer a professional with research and years of experience to back up how my classroom operates, I’m a glorified babysitting service that will hand you a note at the end of the day letting you know when Joey ate, pooped, and passed his spelling test.

As judgmental as this statement sounds, the breakdown of the American family and our economy is what I believe has directly affected my experiences in the classroom.  Parents don’t have time between working 3 jobs or running the siblings to every little skill class they can enroll their children in to read with their kids at night or study math flash cards–it’s now my job, and they want a weekly report proving that I’ve done it.  They don’t have time to challenge their intelligent children or help their struggling kid with math–also my job, and have I individualized the curriculum to meet the needs of their child?  Better question yet–have you individualized your family life style to accommodate YOUR child?

I have been praised by several parents who acknowledge how hard I work and I do feel that my best efforts are appreciated and in most cases, respected.  I’m just fried, I know me and I know I can’t do this year over and over again the next 20 years.  This post returns to where it began–I’m tired.  Tired of second guessing myself, parents, co-workers, and administration.  It was reported to me in high school that by the time I was 60, it was predicted that I would change professional careers 3 times.  I am 32, and for the first time in my life, I believe that prediction could come true.

It has been months since I cared about blogging and I was honestly ready to tell Ben to bury this thing, but I have had a sudden renewed interest in blogging.  It’s like edited journal writing and since I can type faster than I can write, it is a perfect medium.

After my less-than-inspiring post earlier this week, I can say that the week did not end as bleak as it was Wednesday night.  Today, I was able to savor a small victory at work.  A student who joined my class this year as a second year student will be repeating the year with me again next year.  The little guy is a sweet kid, but he needs another year academically, socially, and emotionally.  Parents really freak when you talk about holding kids back, so it is a very touchy subject to approach parents with, but his parents took it in stride and we are all in agreement about his plans for next year.  One less kid I have to lie in bed at night and worry about whether or not I am doing the right thing with.

Now, if I could only wave a magic wand and have my grad classes suddenly appear done, I could be more enthusiastic about the next several weeks.  For whatever reason, my grad classes are like an albatross around my neck this time.  The elephant in the room.  I really underestimated the toll of taking 6 credit hours in the next 8 weeks would have on my existance.  It is a more massive, time-consuming undertaking than I realized.  I’m in it now and have no choice but to get it done, but I resent that all of my “free time” (when I’m not working, sleeping, or doing chores) is spent typing on this laptop on topics I already know more about that the text I’m forced to read and reference.  Insert large sigh here.

And I’d like a piece of the massive snowstorm bombarding my sister and sister-in-law in VA.  I could really use a snow day.  I’m done whining now! 

It has been a long time since I’ve written.  No real excuse besides being busy and uninspired.  Recent events have gotten me inspired.

It has been a very sad week for me–everything around me seems seeped in sadness.  It’s like a thick fog that is all encompassing and while only some of it involves me directly, it is draining. I have to spill it so I can sleep tonight, my brain is full and there’s no where else to stash the despair.

First, a good friend’s husband lost his job this past week.  Not totally remarkable here in Michigan, but she is a stay at home mom and two of her three kids are in my class this year.  I feel for her in a tremendous way–I cannot IMAGINE the impact of an event like that.  I would be rocking in a corner, especially with three kids to worry about in addition to myself and my husband.  I am helping in any way I can, but the real help she needs is peace of mind and resolution–how does one give that?

Next, I found out that one of my very best friend’s spouse is heading for an interview in Las Vegas in two weeks.  If the mountain (aka work) won’t come to Mohammad, Mohammad must go to the mountain.  I can’t imagine not having her around on a daily basis, it makes me incredibly lonely just to think about it.  She is a great listener, loyal, honest, trustworthy, and funny–you know, basically all the things girls look for in a friend but often have a hard time finding?  Yeah, she may soon be a Nevadian (is that what they’re called?).

Work is no better.  I absolutely LOVE my job, I cannot imagine a more rewarding career that teaching children, but the politics of teaching in a nearly bankrupt state are overwhelming.  Proposed cuts that I am aware of currently leave me making $5K less next year with less insurance, no tuition reimbursement (I have to keep educating myself though), mandated hikes on contributions to my state pension, reduced Title I aide time, and more students in my classroom as a reward.  I feel like I give 110% to my students and their families, my superiors and the district itself, and the thanks I get for a job well done are significantly less pay, reduced benefits, and even more children to educate.  I am only one person, how anyone in their right mind believes I can teach 30 six, seven, and eight year olds in my tiny classroom how to read, write, and do basic math has not set foot in a classroom recently.  It is damn near impossible and the stress of that task has made me contemplate my future in education for the first time in my nine year career.  I couldn’t live with giving 30 kids a mediocre start to their educational career–they need to know how to read and I don’t know how to be responsible for ensuring that 30 kids will do just that.  There’s just not enough of me to go around.  I have to teach at least one more year to get back the money I’ve paid into my pension–after that, for the first time ever, I just don’t know.

Then there’s the news.  Haiti either makes me want to scream with rage or accept that an apocalypse is eminent.  All those orphans that need loving homes–families like my own who would give their right arm for a child, will waste away and die in that country because politics and red tape is in the way.  Not to mention all the dismal reports about unemployment, new home sales, faulty cars, faulty mortgages, faulty health care legislation, the list goes on and on.

Finally, I truly committed to losing weight this year.  To my credit, I’ve lost 10 pounds in the last month between dieting and a steady ritual of exercise and running.  This week, I have been overtaken by my addiction to food and depressed eating.  I will run tomorrow morning, but I’m sure I’ll find something sinful and undiet-like to shove in my face through the course of the day.  You’d think I’d embrace my chance here to control what little of my life I feel like I can at this moment–all the other sadnesses are really out of my reach, and yet this one, I just can’t muster up the strength to care.  Hopefully it will kick me in the ass on the treadmill at 6am.

Anyone who knows me acknowledges that I’ve never been a glass half-full type of gal.  I tend to look toward pessimism to ensure that there are no surprises, I’ve looked at all the possibilities and I’m ready to accept whatever happens–good, bad, or indifferent.  In my life, I’ve had my share of letdowns and hard times and I think I’ve endured relatively well.  But as I look at all the sadness right now, all I see is more sadness.  None of my stresses appear to be leaning toward a positive result.  At what point is a ray of sunlight going to disperse some of the fog?  I have much to be thankful for, I realize this.  I just feel totally powerless when it comes to my future.

I completed my first 5K run yesterday as I ran in  GVSU’s Homecoming 5K run/walk.  I knew that I would run and finish the race just based on pure determination and all my training, but I was very doubtful of how much time that would actually take.  I talked with several runners who thought I would drastically improve on my average 14 minute training mile; I was just hoping adrenaline would push me to finish the 3.1 miles in 40 minutes or slightly less.  Ben and my parents were both at the finish line and they told me my time was 36:30!  I averaged a 12:10 mile, which is much faster than I had ever run during training!  Needless to say, I was quite impressed with my time.

I have no idea how I placed in my age group or against the other runners.  We went to the pancake breakfast and I didn’t hang around for the results because we froze our butts off eating in 35-40 degree weather.  I’m pretty sure I was at the tail end of the determined individuals who were going to run the entire route because a golf cart followed me most of the course, kind-of like they were monitoring the walk/run line.  I’m just pleased I finished and I didn’t walk; I acheived my personal goals.

I plan to keep up on my running and keep running between 2-3 miles 3 days a week, basically what I have been doing since the school year has started.  Many people have asked if I plan to run in more 5K races.  I’m not sure if I am or not–my whole goal in completing a 5k was two-fold.  One, I wanted to see if I could actually do it.  Two, I wanted to try to get into running to see if I liked it.  So many women my age talk about running as part of their fitness routine, I thought I should try it out and really give it a shot.  I have found that I do enjoy it and I enjoy the challenge it often poses to me, especially when I am tired or sick.  I’m not sure I need to run more races to keep it up or to prove to others that I’m serious about keeping up with my running–all of this was to prove something to myself and rise to a challenge I wasn’t sure I could acheive.  Saturday was a huge personal victory for me–despite many events in my life that seem so out of my control, I found that I still can set goals and feel as if I have some say in how my life unfolds.

Thought I’d update my loyal readers on my progress toward my 5K. I began the training regiment for week 7 today with a slight alteration; I am actually now running 28 minutes, 3x/wk, which equates to two miles for me. I am running a slow 14 minute mile, but I am running so that is how I am looking at it. I’m not interested in racing, just finishing! I did not think I would even get to this point, but I am very impressed with myself that I can now say I have run two miles without stopping–I’ve never done that before. I am over the halfway running point for a 5K and I have almost four more weeks to work in the extra mile.

As for school, the new year has begun. I have a nice group of students again this year, they are working on coming together as a team and getting along. We have a way to go, but they are doing a good job to begin. My first graders are incredibly smart and my second graders are also doing very well academically; once we gel as a group, they will be a fun group to teach and watch learn!

Well, devout readers, I am on a new quest…running a 5k. I told myself that one of my resolutions for this year would be to train and run a 5k run. I have finally exhausted my fertility schedule and can now begin to train to run in a 5k race. As a GVSU alum, I chose to run in Grand Valley’s Homecoming 5k race on October 17, 2009. I paid my money and was the first to register for the event (how do I know this? Oh yeah, Ben’s office wrote the app and I was the test case!)–do I sound committed?

To get prepped for the event, I googled couch to 5k and came across Suz. Suz created podcasts for a full nine week training schedule that you can download free to your iPod. Each week, she used different music and recorded prompts over the tunes to tell you when it’s time to walk and run. You build up gradually over 9 weeks to running an entire 5k. I am almost done with the Week 2 schedule and I have discovered muscles I did not know I had! It has been a good workout and I have not struggled as I thought I might–I feel good thus far.

I will keep you updated with my progress, especially once school gets going and I need to juggle life, working, and this training. I am most concerned with an injury that might sideline my quest to finally fulfill a new year’s resolution–it seems most people I know begin to have injuries once they begin a running regiment. I am optimistic and careful when I run, but anyone who knows me knows that if it can happen to anyone…it’s me!

Well, the inevitable happened. Ben and I decided we needed to lose weight, and here I am, on day 7 or so and I am craving sugar like nobody’s business. I feel like one of the individuals being chronicled on Intervention. I swear if I thought I could stick my fingers down my throat and force myself to throw up, I’d eat an entire bag of Oreos right now. I’m not implying that Bulimia is a joke–it’s not–I can understand the want for that kind of sugar pumping through my sugar-deprived veins.

Ben is such a champ about all this, he gets excited talking about his broccoli soup and Special K with blueberries. I would just rather not talk about food at all since I am not able to eat the things I really enjoy, I just shovel in the stuff I should be eating while secretly hoping an Arnie’s chocolate swirl cake rolled in chocolate sprinkles will just land on my counter, calorie-free of course! Ben believes my lack of sweets makes me “feisty”. Sometimes it just makes me crabby, but I know I need to do it and live a healthier lifestyle. I just wish it included pasta and a cookie once in a while. C’est la vie!

As I mentioned previously, Ben and I bought four acres of land recently in a rural area outside of Grand Rapids.  While we are not planning to build soon due to the poor housing market, we have begun to do a bit of research and see what is “out there” as far as house plans, builders, etc.  A good friend is a Realtor and has suggested a local builder, so we are planning to go see one of their properties this weekend (open house) along with another suggested builder, who coincidentally also has an open house this weekend.

On Monday night, we went to the Macaroni Grill for Ben’s birthday.  They have the butcher paper tablecloths covering the tables, and needless to say, Ben and I began sketching our respective dream homes on the tablecloth.  We made lists of our wants, needs, and the like.  Then, we came home and I began to explore the internet…famous last words, eh?

Found my dream house, folks!  It’s pie in the sky, I realize, especially without having kids to fill 4 bedrooms…but here is a link if you are interested….

http://www.homeplans.com/exec/action/plans/browsemode/details/filter/plnid.27919/hspos/hsnet/page/1/planid/27919/section/homeplans

Long live the Blaine!

It has been a pretty monumental week or two as far as celebrity deaths go–we’ve got Billy Mays, Ed McMahon, Farrah Fawcett, Steve McNair…and unless you live on Mars, Michael Jackson.  While I am sad about MJ’s death (my first ever album was Thriller), I think the most understated death was that of Farrah Fawcett.  I really did not know much about her illness other than she was fighting with Enquirer about posting death pictures of her…until I watched her documentary Farrah’s Story.

She was a strong woman with limitless courage.  This was in spite of being surrounded by spineless men, particularly her son and husband who were caught doing drugs together.  Her son’s parting gift?  He was incarcerated when she passed away, her only child.  Dispicible.  I was inspired by her will to live–she went to Germany for all kinds of alternative treatments and never gave up, even when her cancer came back again and again.  It was quite a moving documentary; if you have not seen it, I recommend it.