Back to school

 

My kids go back to school tomorrow. I’m not thrilled about it, tbh. There is still so much summer to be had! It won’t really start cooling off here until September, if even then, and I wish the kiddos all still had some time before they had to report back to school. Getting out at the end of May isn’t all it’s cracked up to be, you know. And as shocking as it may be, I'm rather fond of spending time with them. 

That aside, we have been trying to fit in as much fun and activity we can before school starts. Part of that fun was buying school supplies the other day. Let me tell you, it was a cart full of paper, pencils, binders, notebooks, pens, and markers. It took a lot of time to gather everything, and it wasn’t cheap.

The day was less fun when I got home and happened upon some strong opinions on social media about the amount of supplies requested for classrooms. People were commenting about the fact that they never had to buy so much for schools, and they were sick of sending in classroom supplies that other kids might use. Gasp! The horror of sharing school supplies!

Listen, I get it, but there is a lot happening behind the scenes that no one really knows about. Teachers are already buying their own supplies for their classrooms whether you realize it or not. They are spending hours in their classrooms preparing for your babies to come back and learn. They are spending hours upon hours reevaluating curriculum and changing it to meet new state standards or to meet the demands of parents who cry to the school board about “inappropriate material” even though the same parents have to sign off on the classes their kids are taking. And, of course, teachers are doing this all without pay.

(I’m going to take a quick pause here to tell my dear readers not to even consider coming at me about teacher pay because I will happily grind you into the ground. Cheers.)

I’m not telling you that you can’t be angry about having to buy school supplies or the amount; what I’m saying is not to be angry with the teachers because that’s the wrong audience. The teachers aren’t the people who are begging for more standardized testing and less actual teaching time. They aren’t the ones who are asking to give up teachable moments in the classroom because there are certain topics that certain people don’t want discussed. They aren’t posing with a happy thumbs-up at the thought of another year without a pay raise or the fact that it’s a thousand times easier to go to school sick than it is to prepare for or even find a substitute. The most maddening things about education are usually decided by people who have either never stood in front of a group of kids or someone who has chosen to forget that part of his life. 

Teachers are asking for supplies because the budgets are dwindling. Unfortunately, there are parents who are scrambling to get those supplies this year now that the free lunch funding has gone kaput. That might not be a big deal to some, but we live in a place where we pay book rental fees in the hundreds of dollars a year for our kids to go to public school. Add in the continuation of the global supply chain issues and inflation, and there are going to be some hungry kids in classrooms. In addition to buying chalk and tissues and lots of other things for their classrooms, teachers are also buying snacks so that their students don’t have to try to learn with grumbling stomachs. Yes, I know there are programs that help, but they don’t serve everyone and they’re simply not enough.

So maybe the teachers are asking for more supplies than usual, but they're doing it for our kids, the future adults in our communities. Teachers are doing everything they can to make a successful year for your kids, and they don’t need constant pushback on what they choose to do. They're all trying to help or they wouldn't be teaching: trust me. No one goes into education for money or fame or even recognition, but it sure doesn't feel bad to be supported. 

This is all a long-winded way to remind everyone to be patient and kind. If you can’t do that, at least keep your negativity to yourself. And if you can’t even manage that, go back to school, get your teaching license, and show us what you’ve got.

The banner

 Oh say can you see 

By the blast of the gun

What so proudly we hail'd 

As the Second Amendment

Whose closed eyes and red blood 

Through the discord and strife

O'er the schoolyards we watched 

As our children were cut down

And the rifle's red glare 

With shots bursting through air

Gave proof through each day

That our flag was failing

O say does that red splattered banner yet wave

O'er the land of the dead and all of their graves

You want to be a teacher?

 I could tell you how I always knew I wanted to be a teacher. My dad was a teacher, and I helped him grade papers when I was probably too young to be helping. As I marked multiple-choice questions, I tut-tutted the students who obviously hadn't studied for the test. My favorite author as a child, Laura Ingalls Wilder, was a teacher, and I had great visions of being just like her. By the time I was in second grade, I had taught three friends of mine who were immigrants from Czechoslovakia and Vietnam how to speak English. I don't remember ever being without a book in my hand, even at the end of the bench when I was part of the B basketball team in 7th grade. Let's be honest; I knew I wasn't going to play, so I thought I would read. Win-win if you ask me. Being a teacher has been a part of me for as long as I can remember. 

I could tell you how hard it was when I stopped teaching in the classroom. Trevor and I moved to Lexington after we got married, and I gave up a French program at BFMS that I had fought hard to save. Not only had I saved it, but the numbers were steadily growing. I had every intention of teaching in Lexington after taking some time to get to know my new home, and then two kids in two years happened and I was happy to be at home with them. Even though I was still teaching my children, I missed being in the hallways of a bustling school. 

I could tell you how excited I was to start a new chapter in education when I became a field supervisor for student teachers for Purdue University. Not only would I be in classrooms again, but I would be teaching teachers how to teach. I did that for five years until the pandemic made e-learning necessary, and I couldn't really visit schools anymore. I recently started working for Valparaiso University as a field supervisor, and walking into a school again made me feel like I was home. Sitting in classrooms for the first time and watching "my" student teachers work with middle and high school kids made my heart soar because I knew that there were good people who were still choosing to teach. 

I could tell you that I understand that parents want to know what is happening with their children's education, and well they should want to know. However, if parents think that HB1134 is the way to go, they're simply wrong. What this bill is going to do is cause teachers to quit in droves, and then the parents will complain when they're left up a creek. I can't think of another profession that would put up with being told to publicize a work plan months in advance. Let me tell you this: I'm a trained teacher, and I'm not arrogant enough to think that I know better than someone who has written curriculum for a modern literature class or someone who has a Master's degree in US History. I know a fair amount about education, but I sure don't know everything. I trust the people who know more than I do about their areas of expertise whether it be teachers, doctors, plumbers, lawyers, or mechanics. Anyone who doesn't know about state standards and curriculum doesn't need to be choosing what should or shouldn't be taught in a classroom. 

I could tell you that I have unwavering faith in our public schools and our teachers to do what is best for our students. If that means that they have to swerve away from a lesson plan to embrace a teachable moment, so be it. I have faith in my own children to take what they read, hear, and study and decide for themselves what is right. Trevor and I have worked hard to instill morals and values in both kids, and I trust them to stay true to who they are. Why bother doing all of the work just to shield your children from a world outside of your own home? I expect my kids to go out and make their own decisions and even their own mistakes. 

I could tell you that parents who oppose history curriculum or literature curriculum often have some issues of their own to work through that have nothing to do with what is actually being taught. One person or small group working to have a book removed from the curriculum that is allegedly offensive goes against everything we claim to have fought for as a country.  I remember my sixth grade teacher taking To Kill A Mockingbird from my hands and calling my mother to see if she knew I was reading it. (Apparently he had some strong feelings about me reading it at that age.) My mom just laughed and told him that she had given the book to me herself. If I had questions, I just asked her. She, you know, like, parented me. If more parents would sit down and have conversations with their children about certain topics or books, they might be less offended by something happening in a fictional world.

I could remind you that there are so many ways to be involved in your children's education. Look through their backpacks and ask them about their assignments. Become an observer on Canvas. Talk to their teachers. Watch their grades on Skyward. Volunteer in the classroom. Donate your time or money or baking abilities to the staff on special days. Vote for people who support public education. 

I will tell you that getting rid of HB1134 and any other bills that pop up like it is of the utmost importance to public education. The problem is that if you know, you know, and if you don't know, you're not likely to listen to me anyway. To the naysayers who think they deserve to see lesson plans months in advance, I issue you an invitation or a challenge: if you think you know so much about what should be happening in our schools, go teach. If you don't have a license, hit me up and I'll talk you through different transition to teaching programs. Not willing to do that? Take a good, hard look at yourself and leave education and policy to the experts. 

5,475 days

 

Photo credit: ATR Photos 

My Lottie,

And now you are 15. Not to be totally cliche, but I don't know how time has already brought us here. It truly feels like yesterday when you were born, and now you're begging to get your learner's permit. (And, by the way, that's not happening quite yet.) Now that you're heading into your middle-teens, I wanted to share some thoughts and advice with you. 

I love that you can laugh at yourself: I hope you never lose that.

Read as many books as you can. 

I will continue to ask if you just want to vent or if you want advice when you come to me with a problem. 

I promise that I will do my best to be patient when you're learning to drive. Try to be more cautious than you think you need to be. I trust you; it's other people that scare me. 

Have one outfit that makes you feel powerful and ready to take on the world. 

When you find a really good friend, hold on. True friends are very rare. On the flip side, it's okay to cut people out of your life who constantly bring you down when they should be lifting you up. Life is too short for liars, cheaters, and bullies. 

Keep your skin moisturized and wear sunscreen. 

Don't share all of your life on social media. Taking pictures helps you savor the memories, but that doesn't mean the world needs to see them. 

Travel as much as you can. I think that learning new things about other countries (or your own) can only help to enrich who you are. 

Be a good tipper. 

It's okay to say no if you don't want to do something. 

Learn to enjoy your own company. 

In the words of the fabulous Alexis Rose, "People aren't thinking about you the way you're thinking about you." 

Trust your instincts. If something feels wrong, it probably is. 

Don't be afraid to try new things or take risks because you're fearful of what Dad and I will think. You won't learn and grow without stepping out of your comfort zone. I promise that even though I will not always agree with your decisions, I will always, always love you.  

I may not know where you'll end up or what you'll be doing in the future, but I know who are you are now from the inside out. I am so deeply proud of you. 

All my love,

Mom

4,745 days

 My sweet son,

As I sit and write this, I'm thinking about this last year in the world and what a crazy ride it has been. I could have never predicted when the pandemic began that we would still be dealing with it 18 months later nor could I have guessed that the reason we're still in it is the inherent selfishness of a lot of people. Like, a surprising amount of people. A year and a half into a virus that has already mutated more than once, we're still arguing about vaccines and masks and the efficacy of physical distancing. It's a hot mess, m'boy. 

The one thing I haven't worried about, though, is whether or not the craziness of the world would change you. In my heart, I knew it wouldn't, and it hasn't. Well, maybe that isn't entirely true. I think it has changed you for the better. You seem more aware of other people and that your life isn't lived entirely independently of them. You have never once complained about wearing a mask, and you were first in line to get the vaccine as soon as it was available to you. Being selfless is a big part of who you are, and it makes me so incredibly proud. 

Pandemic aside, it has been a good year for you. You made it through your first year of middle school the last school year with little to no issues, and now you're on to seventh grade. I know you wish that you could have made it through the whole year in-person at school during sixth grade, but you made the best of remote learning Wednesdays and everything that went with it. Truth be told, I enjoyed having you and Lottie home once a week so we could get some time to chill and reconnect. Plus, sleeping in makes everyone happy. I know it's difficult to be one of two teens in the house, and sometimes, things can get dicey between you and your sibling. In the end, I know that you two will always have each other's backs when it matters the most. 

You have a knack of coming up with the best random facts to share with me. Most of our conversations start with you saying to me, "Did you know...?" and I usually didn't know. We end up having some wonderful and insightful discussions, and you always stun me with your intelligence and ability to see beyond the surface of a thing. Then again, sometimes you tell me statistics about butts, and then it's easy to remember that you're a teenaged boy. Overall, your sense of humor is pretty sophisticated, and I love when we catch something very subtle that makes us laugh and you give me the side eye to let me know you think it's funny, too. 

One thing that I love about you is your willingness to show your appreciation and gratitude. If it has been a bad day or even a bad week, you find something positive to be thankful for. It's a nice reminder of how truly lucky we are and that it's important to take a step back to recognize it. 

You were fortunate enough to take three vacations this year, and you had a ball on all of them. You got to drive down to Destin with a friend and his dad to stay in their condo. The weather wasn't super cooperative, but you braved the ocean and spent time at the pool. That was also the first big road trip that you have taken that you would remember, the first one being when you were six months old. It was bittersweet for me to watch you drive away on a vacation without us, but I was thrilled that you had a chance to go. Walt Disney World is one of our favorite places to visit,as a family, and you and Lottie got to explore some on your own in April. Riding Expedition Everest eight times in a row might have been your favorite part of that vacation. We also went to Tybee Island in Georgia and had a relaxing beach visit. During that trip, we spent some time in Savannah, and I love that you're as into the history of a place as Dad and I are. 

Thank you for staying true to yourself as you grow up. I know it won't always be an easy road, but I think you're up to the challenge. I love your tender heart, your love for all animals, and your ability to see the best in everything.  Don't ever let anyone tell you to toughen up: just be yourself. Be sure to always see the best in yourself, too, because you're a pretty incredible human being. I'm so proud to be your mom. Happy 13th birthday, Dallas Simon. 

Love you the mostest,

Ma 

Mowers and sweat and masks, oh my!

 So, it has been a hot minute since I have written anything on this blog. My hopes of 2021 being much easier than 2020 are long gone. My excuse is the same as everyone else's, I suppose: the never-ending pandemic has somewhat sucked the joi de vivre from the marrow of my bones. Sitting down to write hasn't been on the forefront of my mind, but it should be.

I thought about it today because it was one of those days where things sort of slowly fell apart. It was mowing day, and although I normally love mowing the grass, I knew today would be more difficult. You see, we had some sod installed in the backyard around our new pool (Trust me, the pool construction is a rollercoaster of a story in and of itself. Let's not focus on that now. You want a tiny tidbit? I will only communicate with the pool contractor in writing now because I don't trust anything he says, and I want written proof of his shenanigans.) If you know about sod, you know that a riding mower can't be used on it for a while because the roots still need to take hold and it can't handle the weight of a machine that big. No problem. I fired up our trusty electric push mower that we bought in Lexington 9+ years ago, and I hopped to it.

If you haven't been to our fair state during the summer, let me explain humidity to you. Walking out of the door in the morning is like walking smack into a huge, soaking wet washcloth that wraps itself around your body for the day. Being "fluffy" and the age I am doesn't help anything. I spend most of the summer, even when it's a balmy 70 degrees, sweating so much that strangers have actually stopped me to ask if I'm okay. Keep that in mind when I tell you that I started pushing the mower on the very long sod, and I realized that the mower wasn't self-propelled. Sweet JAYSUS. It took a stupidly long time for me to mow just the backyard with that thing, and I was thrilled when I wearily walked it back into the garage. The rest of the lawn could be done with my riding mower, so I put on some tunes and got ready to rock. Things were going along well, and as usual, I had forgotten that my yard is on a well-travelled corner of the neighborhood and I was singing some classic rock at the top of my lungs. As I made a turn, I noticed that the engine kind of hitched a little. I didn't think too much of it until it did it again and then simply stopped. I had gassed it up before I started, so I knew it wasn't that. I opened the hood and stared down at the mower innards. Other than the fact that it was filthy, I registered nothing. I sat, I waited a minute, and then I tried again. This time, it wouldn't even turn over. Donezo. I did the first thing that came to my mind, and I called my parents. My mom commiserated, and my dad came right over. He was pushing *their* electric mower that was, HALLELUJAH, self-propelled. He, too, stared at the mower innards and shrugged. He left me with the new mower, and all was right with the world. 

Until the battery died after about two swaths of the lawn. At that point, I had been doing this whole lawn nonsense for literal hours. Resigned, I pushed the mower into the garage, and I went inside to enjoy the AC and a big cup of water. I had been texting my brother and my BFF, and they both sort of thought maybe the Universe was telling me not to mow. I could get down with that. However, my dad is nothing if not persistent, and he brought over the OTHER battery and the charger. Neat. 

I finally finished mowing the lawn after four hours. Three mowers plus four hours equals me being even sweatier than normal and far dirtier. Most of my to-do list is being shunted to tomorrow because I don't wanna. 

The point of this story? I guess it's just to share the sort of things I have been up to in the last few months of not blogging. Some if it has been frustrating; some has been weird; some has been great fun. It's trending toward the unbelievable now as I watch the cases of Covid rise again, especially in our schools. The same people who complained about remote learning last year are the ones crying now about how masks hurt their children and impair their learning. I guarantee they don't see the irony of how wearing a mask would help kids remain in school without remote learning. My kids are both vaccinated, and they wear masks during the school day. They understand the importance of not only protecting themselves but of protecting others who are vulnerable in society. I wish the adults in the school system understood that or even acknowledged it, but I guess expecting the administration or the school board to listen to scientific reason is asking a bit too much. Pity. 

5,110 days

 My love,

I can hardly believe that you arrived in my life fourteen years ago. It feels like not too long ago that you were holding my hand in parking lots, sitting on my lap to hear a book, and falling asleep in the car with your thumb firmly tucked in your mouth. So many things have happened in the blink of an eye. 

This last year has been something for you and for everyone.  From the very beginning of the pandemic, you missed out on a lot. The day you all were sent home from school, you were supposed to do a performance of the variety show that you never got to do. You missed dances, sports, time with friends, and extra-curricular activities. There were no summer camps, no sleepovers, no vacations, no watching fireworks with pals. I know that you missed all of the socializing, and maybe school a teeny bit, but you were mature throughout all of the uncertainty. You very rarely complained, and when you did, it was only to blow off steam. You have always understood that Dad and I have been trying to keep our family as safe as possible, and you haven't held it against us. You have accepted what needs to be done better than many adults I know. 

Speaking of Dad and me, I know we drive you absolutely bananas sometimes most of the time. (I also know that it's mostly Dad, but I'll throw myself under the bus, too, so he doesn't feel so bad.) Despite how annoying we must be, you're pretty good about listening and letting us do our thing. Yes, there are eye rolls and stomping and door slamming from time to time, but even your teenaged behavior isn't terrible. You still make us laugh so much that it's difficult to stay mad at you. I don't know how Dad and I were so lucky to get such funny kids, but we're grateful for it every day. 

I have watched you grow an incredible amount in the last year. Physically, you're taller than I am now, and you get a disturbing sense of joy in reminding me how "low" I am. You'll be getting your braces off very soon, and what could have been a painful process has been smooth with you. On the rare occasions that you were in pain, you bore it with strength and the knowledge that it wouldn't last too long. You're working hard at school, and it shows. You're also always trying to get better organized. I know it isn't really your thing, but I appreciate the effort. The growth that has astonished me, though, is your emotional growth. I love how many new things you have tried: cross country, basketball, and even running for and winning president of Builders Club! Once you decide you're gong to do something, it's done. You have learned to stand up for what you feel is right even when it's a difficult or unpopular thing to do. I have seen you do this for your friends and for people you don't even particularly like: you always root for the underdog and for what is morally right. You have realized that having toxic people in your life isn't worth the pain they cause, and good friends are worth their weight in gold. I love that you still tell me every detail of your day; well, maybe not every detail but most of them. Every time you tell us a story about something that happened at school or on a Zoom with your friends, I feel like I know you a little better. For someone your age, you're not judgmental at all. You accept everyone for who and what they are, no matter what. You're kind, compassionate, forgiving, caring, and fierce: I can't think of a better combination. 

Everyone says how hard it is to watch your kids grow up. It's certainly bittersweet, but I'm having the best time watching who you are becoming. Keep fighting the good fight, even when you're tired or scared, and know we will always be right behind you. Continue to laugh as much as you can and stay close to your broham. I know you all like each other more than you're willing to admit. He'll forever be in your corner, too, just as I know you'll be in his. 

You are everything I never knew I longed for and exactly what I always wanted.  I am so damn proud of you, and I hope you never forget it. 

Love you the mostest,

Mom