Long Time No Post...

This poor blog has been languishing, so much so that I even failed to marked its 10th anniversary back on October 12.  I gave it to myself as a birthday present a decade ago.  Although I have been largely absent the last couple of months I am still grateful for all the remarkable people I've had a chance to meet as a result and for the countless ideas I've been exposed to and creative opportunities It has brought.

Now, what has been keeping me so insanely busy?  the start of the school year has been horrendous.  Basically, I walked in the first day of school to find the 10,000 volume library had been packed up over the summer and unceremoniously dumped on the stage for me to put in order....with no help.  Oh, and the stage still had all the curricular materials from two past reading programs on it as well.  And it was filthy.  And my desk had been thrown away.  And my book carts had been given away.  My computer and printer were missing.  And the locked closet of my book repair supplies had been pillaged.  I was, to understate it in the most extreme way, not pleased.  To put it bluntly, I told the principal in so many words that this was the third library in two years I was told to reassemble from scratch by myself and to date this was the biggest damn clusterfuck I had been handed yet, so congratulations on attaining that distinction.  Yes, I actually looked him in the eye and said those words.  There were other words after that wherein I went on the detail the level of clusterfuckedness and what was necessary to uncluster the massive fuckedness of the situation.  This all fell on deaf ears.  It was a time of unparalleled joy and delight if you enjoy being subjected to the whims of incompetent leadership. 

Since that time I have put to order the utter chaos that was over 200 boxes of books plus shelves.  I tracked down and reclaimed my carts, computer, and printer.  In order to get through the weeks of heavy lifting I took my yoga mat to school.  I lifted boxes and books until my back said enough for one day then I rolled out my mat and did yoga until it felt better and the homicidal urges passed....since zero assistance in the process was provided.

We have resumed circulation which means I finally have the chance to enjoy the kids again and all the hilarious conversations they provide.  Here then are some of the early conversations this year, which have amused me and reminded me why exactly I endure the stupidity of this school district.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

2nd grader: Miz Lime, are you gonna dye your hair?
Me: Nope, I like it the way it is.

2nd grader: Did you dye it to get it all grey and white?
Me:(laughing) No, I let time do it for me.
2nd grader: That's a lot of work?
Me: Indeed it is.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

When checking out books I ask for a student's last name so I can find them in the system. For kindergarteners it's a crapshoot as to whether or not they know their last name. When one wee one told me her first name I asked, "what is your last name?" She stared at me blankly so I rephrased my question, " What comes after Agatha*?" She brightened and announced proudly, "Sleepyhead!"

And then there was the boy who answered my question of what comes after Hobart* with, "Hey, white boy."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Fridays with kindergarten are telling...

Conversation #1

Librarian: What month is it?
Kindergartener: TUESDAY!!!

Sweet mother of Bill Murray, if it were Tuesday all month I would drive a truck with a groundhog in it over a cliff!

Conversation #2

Girl comes up to my desk with no book. I ask where her book is and the librarian says no books for her because she was throwing them.
Me: uh-oh, was that a good choice?
Her: (shrugging)
Me: Are you learning to make good choices in kindergarten?
Her: (with great sincerity) Nooooo....
Me:(stifling giggles) You're not?
Her: No
Me: Do you think you will be able to learn to make good choices?
Her: (enthusiastically) Yes!
Me: Oh good! What's one good choice you think you could learn to make?
Her: 7? 8?
Me: (confused puppy head cock)


Conversation #3

Boy comes to me crying that someone hurt his feelings.
Me: what did he say that hurt your feelings?
Him: He said I was stupid.
Me: Well I can understand that doesn't feel good. Let me ask you, do YOU think you are stupid?
Him: (shaking head no)
Me: Do you think you are a smart boy?
Him: (nodding yes)
Me: Good. I think you're a smart boy too. (He smiles) Do you know what smart boys do?
Him: No
Me: They remember that they are smart and let comments about being stupid fly away from them. Do you think you can do that, smart boy?
Him: (big grin) Yes!

Conversation #4

Me:(as little dude steps up to check his book out) What's your name, friend?
Him:(using his fingers to pinch his mouth into fish lips) mmffmm fffmmmp...
Me: (chuckling) Can we try that again without fish lips?
Him: (still pinching and now shaking head no)
Me:(mumbling as I'm making fish lips) Can you understand ME now?
Him:(grinning ear to ear and nodding emphatically)
Me: (laughing because OF COURSE this backfired ) Well, fish can't have library books because they get the books all wet.
Kid behind fish lips boy: His name is Charlie!*

~~~~~~~~~~

And then there are the parents...

I had a young teacher tell me a student's parents inform her she needs to be patient with their kid because...wait for it......they aren't.
Idiots: holding teachers to higher expectations of self-control than they hold themselves.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

If you want to feel like a rock star push a cart full of books into kindergarten.
If you want to feel like a priest hand out the little paper positive behavior reward to 1st grade. As they sat along the wall while I handed them out a few kids reverentially placed one hand palm up inside the other as if they were ready to receive Eucharist while I went down the line . I thought a couple would cross themselves.

Is library a religious experience? I think so and I try to make it a sanctuary. Does that make me the Priestess of the Library?

~~~~~~~~~~~

I love it when the tough guys love books.

Tough guy Fifth grader: Miz Lime, where's the poetry books?
Me: These three shelves.

Friend of tough guy: Where's the good books, Miz Lime?
Me:(opening my mouth to speak my standard response)
Tough guy: (totally stealing my line) Man, they're ALL good books in here!
Me: Amen, brother! You beat me to it. Rock on!

~~~~~~~~~~~

And there's always the challenge of figuring out which book a kid wants...

2nd grader: Can I have the book with the little white guy? My classmate had it last time.
Me: Tell me more about the book so I can figure out which one you mean.
Him: He has yellow on him and goes up to the sky.

He wanted......


The Lorax by Dr. Seuss.  Proud to say I nailed it.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

And finally, there was the administrator who studied the posters I put up on the backs of the bookshelves facing out into the gym from the stagebrary (that's what I call it now that it's located on the stage at one end of the gymnasium...because OF COURSE that's where the library belongs.

Her: (with great irritation) Who put up those posters?
Me: (with pride) I did!
Her: (chagrined) Oh.

*names changed to protect student privacy

What a Difference a Year Makes

No, I haven't fallen off the face of the Earth of even a zipline.  It's been a wild ride the last couple of weeks closing up two libraries and having a yoga teacher training weekend.

Today, however, is noteworthy.  A year ago today I was having a cancer riddled thyroid removed from my body after several months of medical testing and arguing with incompetent doctors before finding some excellent ones.  All this began shortly after I started my then new job as a Library Paraprofessional.  It was a job in which I was unclear about what latitude I did or didn't have.  I was afraid to overstep my boundaries.  I was also trying to keep my head above water. I spent the two weeks before surgery on medical leave from my job so I didn't have to sit in a moldy basement at one school while I was trying to prepare mentally and physically for surgery. Those two weeks were spent at home in the embrace of my family and attending as many yoga classes as I could handle, roughly ten classes in two weeks, in order to keep myself calm.

It worked.  I went into surgery physically strong and mentally calm.  I didn't panic until about five or ten minutes before they came for me to give me the pre-surgical sedative.  The sedative took care of the panic.  As soon as I was awake in recovery I began doing deep yogic breathing to begin helping my body get rid of the anesthesia since I knew the respiratory therapists would be telling me to do that anyway.  Apparently, what I considered mindful breathing in a still groggy state, looked labored to the recovery nurses.  They asked if I was having trouble.  When I told them what I was doing they commended me.  Later when I used my foot to pull the bedside table nearer so I could help myself to ice chips they scolded me with the warning that too much too quickly would make me vomit.

The last two weeks of this school year were spent exercising the full latitude of my authority in the library.  In one I was well caught up with the mundane aspects of shelving and repairs and record keeping.  I rewarded myself by reading to the classes with the best library usage of the year in between processing new books.  It's something I enjoy doing a great deal but it's not part of the scope of my job description or even something I ever have time for anyway.  It was a lot of fun to hold the kids' attention and even that of the teachers who opted to take some time away from pressing duties.  Even their faces expressed rapt attention and each of them expressed surprise at how I engrossed their students.  Yes, I can do more than just shelve books.

In my other school it was a flurry of activity trying to catch up with things left undone all year.  I had new books to finish processing and repairs of old books. I also did a major weeding (nearly 500) of the picture books, deleting them from the catalog and removing identifying tags and marks. Then I shifted all those which remained to make room for new subsections for holiday books and books for beginning readers so it's easier for those kids to find something they are able to read independently.  That also meant updating the catalog as to a new subsection and the books located therein.  Oh, yeah, and I inventoried nearly 11,000 books.  Nothing like setting the bar ridiculously high but I really wanted to properly whip this library into shape because it's been so neglected for so long, like years before I arrived kind of neglect.  Thanks to Calypso who came into work for one day and my dear friend and fellow Para, Big Mama, I was able to accomplish almost everything.  I left the repairs for next year and I have to make new shelf labels after having shifted roughly 5000 books.  Otherwise, I finished it all and accounted for all but about 30 books in inventory.  I could not have done so without Calypso and Big Mama, who even dragged a substitute teacher in to help one day as well.  Big Mama is a compelling person.

In looking back over the last year, there's been a lot of change.  A cancer has been excised from me literally.  I think in some ways one has been removed figuratively, though treatment for that is ongoing.  Although one could argue I am a risk taker as evidenced by incidents involving ziplines, I never was in the work world.  This year I have grown in confidence about what I have to offer and I have struck out in an unusual new direction of signing up for teacher training in yoga.  I've also decided to actively look for new employment elsewhere this summer, which is part of why I worked so hard at one library.  I want to turn it over in the best possible shape.  A year or two ago I doubted my professional skills and I NEVER would have considered I could possibly teach anything that could be remotely considered athletic.  I've asked for references from people I respect and they have responded with great encouragement.  I have had two trainings in the yoga program and I have received wonderful feedback for my participation there as well.  Oh, and I even was bold enough to actually SELL some of my tie dye creations instead of giving them away.

It's been quite a year, one with lots of growth...the kind indicative of life rather than the kind leading to death.

Da Count-Da Love

Friday was my last day at school before taking leave in order to deal with my health (hoping to have a date for surgery finally scheduled within the next couple of days).  The school year was already well under way when I began there and I was shared between two buildings.  Wherever I was, I was off in the library generally working alone, except the last few weeks when the librarians who circulated to four schools for a mere nine weeks at each one.  Those circumstances made building rapport a challenge. 

Ending my year before everyone else made me feel like I was playing hooky.  I've been a little concerned how that might be perceived.  Fortunately, one of  my principals seemed very supportive and the other, though hard to read, was not making things difficult.  I worked hard the last couple of weeks to get loose ends tied up and set some things up for next year.  And then Friday arrived...

It was strange enough jumping in the deep end five months ago and trying to catch up with everyone else.  It was weirder to be ending my year a couple of weeks before everyone else.  I felt like I was cheating on a test.  I love what I do.  I wish I could actually make a living wage at it and  not have a ridiculous commute to get there but once I am there I do love what I am doing.  In spite of the challenges of the urban setting and an appalling lack of resources I even like where I am doing it.  There will always be people clamoring to work in cushy suburban school districts where there are resources and well behaved kids with involved parents.  There are fewer folks excited about our setting, understandably so.  That doesn't reduce the need for capable, motivated people to work there.

I have been so blessed to work alongside some amazing people.  Some have helped me navigate, others have inspired me, still others have made me feel like I am part of the team.  I wrote some notes to some of the people who meant the most.  It's an urban district where we all are just trying to get through the day.  There aren't many pats on the back being passed around.  There is a lot of weariness.  There is also fear since the district has decided to furlough nearly 150 teachers without a corresponding drop in enrollment.  For whatever it's worth I want the people I respect and appreciate to know so.

The most hard-boiled teacher in the building, the one who is cowed by no one and will not suffer fools at all, let alone gladly, came up to me and whispered my name quietly with tears in her eyes.  She told me to keep fighting, I'm going to be fine, she's going to call me....and I better stop making her cry.

The two paras who have been there longer than almost anyone else in the building told me I better come back next year.  One couldn't stop giving me hugs. She said I kept her calm and the kids better look out because how was she going to find her chill now.  The other one who takes the most pride in what she does and who has helped me sort out some administrative complexities beamed when I assured her I like this school.  That I prefer it to the other school I am at, that I am anxious to come back next year.  Usually she hears that people hate being in this school.

When I spoke to my principal to make sure we had things settled for the end of the year and so I could offer some ideas for next year she listened intently and gave me encouraging feedback.  Then she looked me in the eye, smiled warmly, and told me she felt the school was lucky to have me.  I was just plain stunned by that.  I've never been observed and I am not supervised so I wasn't sure I was even on her radar.

I went to say goodbye to my favorite class, the English as a Second Language group.  When their teacher said it was my last day they had looks of horror.  When I assured them I would be back next year they cheered.  Then they started pulling candy out of their bags from a birthday party for a classmate so they could give me pieces.

Going in to the day my goal was to make sure I had things as organized and as complete as possible with some key things set in motion for next year and to make sure the people who meant something to me knew what I thought of them.  I had no expectation of anything in return or even that my absence would register.  Part of that is my wiring.  Part of it is conditioning from childhood events.  Part of it comes from the nasty way I was let go at my last job.  I found out that a number of people had things they wanted to say to me as well and that I will be missed even if it's just for the last two weeks of the year.  Laughter may be good medicine but feeling the love was quite a nice dose of something to do me good as well.

I'm grateful.

How to Start the School Year

5:45am: Wake in panic because after spouse's alarm went on AN HOUR AGO he reset mine for an hour later rather than 30 minutes later.

5:50am: Drag self from bed. Do the various stretches necessary to lubricate the joints of a body that has been through 4 car accidents and one zipline incident.

6:00am: Enter living room where spouse is watching reruns of "Married With Children."  Roll your eyes over the programming choice and consider banging your head on the wall because you've had the argument for the last 7 years about the generally distracting nature of the TV being on when certain offspring are getting ready for school.  Since last year it's been specifically about the wonderfully edifying nature of this particular program and the merits of beginning one's day with the image of Al Bundy's hand down his pants.

6:15am: Bid adieu to spouse and offspring as they depart for the bus stop and work.

6:23 am: Listen to the sound of a bus pulling away as you pour yourself some cereal.

6:30am: Receive the first text of the year informing you of forgotten papers/lunches and requesting delivery.  Curse a blue streak because there is no one in your house you need to censor yourself for.  (This is where I should have stood my ground and simply refused to acknowledge the text or respond with something akin to, "Tough luck.  Have a great day."  In my weakened state I did not do so. Damn fool that I am.)

6:45am: Finish breakfast and peruse email a few minutes. Amuse yourself with thoughts of delivering the forgotten items in your ratty bathrobe and with your hair standing on end as a deterrent to future requests.  Opt for a 100% rate hike in delivery charges to offspring because you don't have time to run there and come back to dress for work. (Yes, I really do charge them for forgotten items.  The first year I made enough to pay for a one hour full body Swedish massage at the end of the year.  I sent the kids a thank you note afterward.  They had conniptions.)

7:00am: Take a tepid shower because the water heater is still not fully rewarmed since the children drained it.  Dress, gather lunch for work, make bed, gather forgotten kid crap.

7:45am: Depart for school.  Dodge deer, squirrels, dogs, students & parents, school buses, construction vehicles, potholes, tourists, and one impossibly slow delivery truck on the way to school and proceeding on to work.


8:15am: Arrive at work.  Survey the fallout from missing all but one day last week due to hospitalized child.  Give thanks for an understanding boss.  Apologize to coworkers.  Listen to the insanity that was work last week.

8:30am: Breathe deeply, smile, and greet the first patient who shows up 30 minutes before we are technically even open.


9:00am-Noon: Work.


Noon to 12:30pm: Wonder how long the last patient will linger before you can have the weekly staff  meeting before you can have lunch.


12:30-1:00pm: Staff meeting where the doc's make note of the highly entertaining new patient who followed you from your former office because she got wise to their dubious practices and went looking for you specifically.  Laugh at Dr. Hubba Hubba because said new patient is now trying to play matchmaker for him after taking pictures of him with her phone to text around to all the available laydeez.

1:00pm-1:45pm: Lunch.


1:45pm-3ish: Work while trying not to be completely skeeved out by a coworker who got a rather realistic looking fake moustache out of a bubble gum machine and who is now sporting it while calling herself "Bruce" and conducting herself in a manner which makes Al Bundy look like the epitome of a gentleman.  It's like a car wreck....extremely disturbing but impossible to look away.  When the topic turns to other areas where people may sport fake hair and whether or not anyone would wear a wig down there define the word "merkin" for you coworkers. Astonishingly, they will not marvel at your vocabulary or breadth of knowledge but will insist your awareness of such things indicates great unwellness.

3ish-5ish pm: Work. Take a call from Calypso announcing she made it through the entire day but isn't sure she can do the same tomorrow.  Listen to the list of roadblocks she encountered while trying to get her medical excuse accepted and the further documentation she needs to be allowed to carry a fricken water bottle from class to class.

5ish-7:00pm: Continue with normal duties and prepare for the next day.  When Milton comes in for his appointment thank him again for the conversation of a week ago and let him know how timely a thing it was.  Bask in the big smile that crosses his face when he realizes the impact he had.

7:00-7:30pm.: Discover your numbers are off when balancing the drawer.  Rectify that.  Complete office cleaning.  Lock the door behind you and depart for home.

7:50pm:  Arrive at home and realize you forgot to leave a note for anyone to put the frozen lasagna in the oven earlier.  Pour yourself a bowl of cereal because that's all you have time for before taking the kids out to dump $98 on binders, folders, notebooks, pens, pencils, highlighters, jump drives, etc because each teacher has his or her own idea about the supplies required for respective classes and woe to the student who has a folder rather than a binder or vice versa but no one can let you know until the first day of school what their particular preferences are.

8:00pm: Depart for aforementioned shopping expedition.

9:15pm: Return home. Have what looks like the amount of paper responsible for the deforestation of Brazil handed over for parental signatures and information to be filled out. 

9:30pm: Threaten to take off at the knees, by way of a million paper cuts performed with this ream, the son who is harping over the speed at which you are filling out papers...because so help me God this day started with you forgetting your crap which meant I forgot to leave a note asking for some food to be heated up so I inhaled cold cereal in order to have time to drag us all to the store and pick over the remnants of school supplies and stand in line with a zillion other frazzled parents.  And WHYYYYY did I do this????  Because I am a human mother who is following the meaning of life, which is to love, rather than adhering to the hamster way and eating my young because they are annoying me!

The Tale of Two Teachers

Yeah, yeah yeah, I know it's summer and no one wants to think about school. The other day I ran into the wonderful woman who was the kindergarten teacher for each of my children. To say this lady was made to be a kindergarten teacher doesn't quite do justice to her. She truly regarded it as a calling and approached her job and each student with enthusiasm, energy, compassion, and concern for the children as unique individuals. She told me during our brief meeting that she has decided this coming school year will be her last before she retires. I admit I welled up a little as we reminisced over the time she spent with my kids and as I considered the loss it will be to a special little school not to have her there any more. I decided after we parted that I was going to print out this story and have it waiting for her in her school mailbox for the first day of her last year of school. Since I posted it four years ago I figure it's safe to rerun it as few of you will have ever read it before.


The Tale of Two Teachers.

Once upon a time there was a little girl, named Lime who was ready for kindergarten. She was very excited and when the big yellow bus picked her up she gabbled all the way to school. Who would the teacher be? Who would her classmates be? What was the bus passing? Who would she sit with? What would the room look like? Would she get lost?

When the bus arrived a lady with pointy glasses, a wildly colored dress and a very tall bee-hive hairdo came to the bus and said she was their teacher (Years later when the girl was grown she would know all the bee-hived women in pointy glasses depicted in Far Side cartoons were modeled on her kindergarten teacher). She led the children to their new classroom. "Here are your cubbies and here are your tables. Please put your things away and come sit down on the rug. The principal will be here in a minute to welcome you." The children did as they were asked and in came a short man in a baggy suit.

The man in the baggy suit said,"Good afternoon." Some children repeated his words, some looked out the window, some picked fluff off the rug, some picked their noses. He repeated himself more loudly. Some more children repeated his words, some giggled because he sounded like their whiny little brother and he was repeating himself insistently, just like the whiny little brother.

The man in the baggy suit started to say more words. He was using the grown up tone that says, "I am very important and you are small so you must listen very carefully," but his voice was still whiny and monotonous. And there was a whole shelf of interesting looking books, and stacks of colorful paper, and pretty fall leaves on the bulletin board, and that girl has pretty pigtails, and that boy has a lot of freckles, and how does the teacher get her hair to stay like that, and the man in the baggy suit kept talking and talking and talking and whining and whining and whining.

Little Lime noticed the girl on her left was talking to the other girl next to her. The boy on her right was still picking his nose and he was wiping it on the rug next to her. She leaned over and said, "That's yucky, you better not get boogers on me." The man in the baggy suit noticed that the children were paying more attention to everything but his whiny words and said, "One of the things we will learn in kindergarten is how to keep our mouths shut when it is time to learn because some of us have very big mouths." Now Little Lime came from a family where personal opinions were uncensored and offered freely and where astute observations were commended. So she waved her hand enthusiastically in the air (having listened to the man in the baggy suit explain that this was the expected manner for taking turns speaking) to share her great insight. The man in the baggy suit pointed to her and she proudly exclaimed, "We know who has the biggest mouth of all! You do!" Thus it came to pass that Little Lime had a note home to her poor mortified mother on the first day of kindergarten.

Lime grew and she grew and she grew. She married Mr. Lime and they had 3 lovely Limelets of their own. It came about that it was time for the first Limelette to go to kindergarten. Lime remembered her somewhat bumpy introduction to kindergarten. Knowing that Diana is even more inclined to freely offer her unvarnished opinion than Lime herself, Lime was a bit concerned about Diana's introduction to kindergarten. When the day arrived Lime walked Diana to school. All the other children lined up with their bright new clothes and shiny bags and happy faces. Diana marched up the steps to join them confidently. Out came a smiling woman with gentle eyes and a gentle voice and and gentle, happy greeting, "Welcome to kindergarten, boys and girls. We have so many wonderful things to learn together." As Diana marched in Lime had an odd sort of realization that Another Woman would now help mold and shape her precious Limelette. She didn't know if she liked that idea or not. Her concerns were soon put to rest as the gentle teacher embraced Diana's fierce little personality and found opportunities for her to use her boldness for good.

When Calypso turned 4 she knew her turn with the teacher with the gentle eyes, voice, and smile would come soon. She asked her mother every day for a year, "How many days until I turn 5 and can go to kindergarten?" Every time she saw the gentle teacher she asked, "How many more days until I can be in your class?" The gentle teacher always said, "Soon my dear, and I can't wait either." Eventually after many days and many repetitions of the question and answer, Calypso lined up with all the other children in front of the school and wiggled excitedly. The smiling teacher with the gentle eyes, and gentle voice came out to meet the class. She leaned down to Calypso and said, "Guess what?" Calypso looked up with shining eyes and asked, "What?" The gentle teacher smiled wide, her own eyes shining with joy and answered, "TODAY IS FINALLY HERE! And I am soooo glad to have you in my class!" As the class followed the gentle teacher in Lime smiled knowing Calypso was in caring hands. This would be proven over and over when the Lime family suffered 2 deaths in the first part of the school year. The gentle teacher never failed to offer hugs, tissues, and kind words on the days when Calypso had the hardest times.

Finally, the day came when Isaac was ready for kindergarten. Since Lime had helped so often in the gentle teacher's class and the teacher had always said Isaac should come along, Isaac knew the gentle teacher very well. He knew where to find the room in the school. He knew where to find everything in the room when he got there. The first day of kindergarten was a mere technicality to him. But the gentle teacher was also wise and wanted it to be a special day for all her students. Isaac lined up with all the other new kindergartners. The gentle teacher came out to meet the class and she exclaimed to Isaac, "Welcome to kindergarten, my dear! Today, you don't just get to visit my class. Today you get to stay and today you get your very own spot in my class!" The gentle teacher celebrated Isaac's achievements with him just as enthusiastically as she did with his sisters because even though she had guided so many children it was always new for each child. Isaac and the gentle teacher also enjoyed sharing their little secret of having been "long-time friends" before he ever came to school.

At the end of Isaac's kindergarten year Lime felt a bit sad knowing it was the end of an era with the gentle teacher. She told the gentle teacher how she had wondered about her on the first day Diana went to kindergarten. Then Lime said, "I am so glad each of my children got to start their school career with you. In all my imagination there does not exist a more wonderful kindergarten teacher than you." The gentle teacher shed a little tear and cried, "Thank you, I needed to hear that."

And now, may all the gentleness, love, and joy the gentle teacher has given over the years be returned to her many times over in her retirement.

First Days

Many moons ago it was time for Diana's first day of kindergarten. I walked her to the school with her sister and brother. I was not given to tears when Diana climbed the steps of the school to disappear inside. I had been looking forward to giving Calypso more one on one time since her sister would be in school during the afternoon while her brother would be taking a nap.

As soon as the school doors swallowed her sister Calypso became weepy. She trudged home dejectedly. I put Isaac down for his nap and returned to Calypso who was still looking more than a bit glum. I tried to perk her up by pointing out how we could have special time when she didn't have to share me with her siblings. I asked if she wanted to play games, read stories, draw pictures, get out dolls. Every suggestion was met with an utter lack of enthusiasm. Finally I asked if she had some other suggestion. She wailed miserably, "I miss my sister! I just want to watch TV and cry!" It was not exactly the afternoon of bonding I had envisioned.

A couple of weeks later she demonstrated the realization of the new potentials in her sister's daily absence. She tiptoed to me one afternoon and asked me to lean down to her as she looked over her shoulder to make sure there were no spies listening in (even though her brother was sound asleep and her sister was in school). She whispered, "I'd like to go play with all the toys Diana never shares. Is that ok?" I smiled as I whispered back, "Great idea. Have fun!" She skipped off very happily before bringing a few toys to share with me.

Until that point Calypso had been a very shy little girl. During the two years her sister went off to school before her she began to bloom into a more confident and outgoing kid. As much as she idolized her sister it was nice to see her have the chance to become her own person.

Flash forward to last week when we dropped Diana off at college. Again, I was not given to tears at the time (though I will admit to a lump in my throat two nights later when I set the dinner table with one less place). Calypso, however, began to well up as soon as the last unpacked item was put away. The tears flowed freely when she hugged her sister goodbye. She wept almost all the way home in the car and wailed once inside the house. She spent the next day curled up in Diana's bed, crying still. At one point after affirming her right to have any feelings she wanted, I also encouraged a bit of perspective by reminding her Diana was only at school, not dead.

The last couple of years in school for Calypso have been a bit trying. Part of that is related to her own personality and choices. I believe part of it is also due to living in her older sister's shadow. This year Calypso is in a new school where no one has ever known Diana. I'm hoping it gives her another opportunity to grow and develop a bit more of herself in the light and soil of new opportunities...even if it started out being watered by tears.

Slice of Lime-On the Road Again

School is back in session so I am back to the ghastly early mornings. (click through to a shocking scene of early morning horror) It also means the Mom Taxi gets fired up and has many miles logged on it. I've tweaked Willie Nelson's On the Road Again lyrics to fit my situation a bit more.




On the road again
Just can't wait to get on the road again
The life I live is drivin' kids to see their friends
And I can't wait to get on the road again
On the road again
Goin' places that I've been
Seein' things that I will often see again,
And I can't wait to get on the road again.

On the road again
Like a band of gypsies we go down the highway
We're the best of friends
Insisting that the world be turnin' our way
And our way
Is on the road again

(What's going on back there? Don't make me pull this car over!)


*There seems to be some confusion regarding when this picture was taken. The car pics were taken yesterday at roughly 4 PM meaning I had plenty of time to wake up and be a presentable and functioning person. The link in the first sentence of this post takes you to the image of the horror that is me at 5:30 AM.

Back to School

It is 6:21am and Diana and Calypso are already on the bus. How obscene. We are back to school today. My children are less than thrilled for not only the traditional reasons. Diana is a senior this year and is particularly unhappy because our public school has opted to start requiring uniforms. They didn't notify retailers early enough to insure a decent stock available for purchase. It's been less than fun trying to even find stores carrying the required garb. Isaac, doesn't much care about the policy. Calypso is horrified about the lack of trendiness but sees the lack of time she'll need deciding what to wear as more time she can spend either in bed or fussing over hair and makeup. Diana is in a fury.

Since she is a senior there is some sense of pressure about her future career plans for the sake of declaring a major when she applies to various colleges and universities. She is struggling to decide between nursing and education. I think there is a very natural third option, which she is overlooking. Tell me if you disagree.

Shortly after the uniform code was announced she told me. "I have read the policy front to back. There is nothing in it that specifically prohibits me from wearing my uniform inside out. I'll be doing that in protest of this idiocy."

I'm a bit shocked that she has never considered the legal profession.

Friday 55 & Da Count-Sweet Release

FRIDAY 55


So many days have passed in this cell. I've scratched my name where I've been shackled. When I'm gone the next condemned soul will know someone else once felt the same burden in this hole. At first the sentence didn't seem so bad. It became interminable. Now my release date has come.

School's out!

(This is a rerun since it's been such a long, horrid school year for all three kids and yesterday was the last day.)




DA COUNT

Ok, so a great number of you have told me I need to come visit you and barring that I just need to escape from time to time. Wednesday night there was more strife and bad attitude from all three kids. I meted out consequences to all of them and they were protesting and telling me to go away when their dad came home. I informed him of the respective consequences for each child and that I;d been told to depart and was going to oblige everyone right now. I said goodbye very sweetly but gave no indication of where I was going or when I'd be coming home

Then I went to the library's used book sale which was having half-price day. I picked up 13 books for $7.50. BARGAIN! It was quite lovely to spend a couple of hours pouring over the huge meeting room of books. Among my finds are a giant book of snarky cartoons related to marriage, a copy of Elements of Style, a bunch of biographies, a book of quilt patterns, Whitman's "Leaves of Grass," ooohh...and a copy of The Pearl: A Journal of Voluptuous Reading: The Underground Magazine of Victorian England Apparently that last one is Victorian erotica. For 25 cents how could I resist?

After the book sale I took myself out for a very lovely dinner and enjoyed not listening to the argument of where everyone was willing to eat. I went where I wanted and enjoyed my own company. I returned home relaxed and calm and offered no explanation except to Isaac when he humbly apologized for his part in the evening and asked why I left. I have informed folks that I will happily oblige any time they tell me to go away. There seems to have been a shift in attitudes since then. Ahhh, sweet release in any form, escape or shift, is such a good thing.

Thanks once again for the expressions of support.

Da Count-A for Effort

Report cards came home this week. One was quite good and two were not at all. I was less than pleased by the less than stellar grades earned by kids who are more than capable of wowing me. There was a certain amount of drama associated with the revealing of the grades and the application of consequences that are intended more as a removal of distraction than as outright punishment. After the epic freak out over the unfairness of life at House of Lime calm was eventually restored. The lead player in the tragedy approached me calmly and we had a rational discussion about expectations, next steps, and how she feels as if the efforts that have been made since the previous marking period (when the first dismal set of marks came home) are consistently unrecognized. Then she said the words that hit me hard, "I don't feel like what I do is ever good enough for you and it hurts."

I mulled it over, considered some of the other points she made and realized that though she is prone to exageration and though the grades were really not acceptable at all, she did have some reason to be feeling the way she did. The truth of her words (as they related in a sense broader than a couple of report cards...we covered a lot more ground), more than the words themselves are what pierced me. It reminded me of all the times I brought home straight As and heard my father growl, "That will suffice." I thought about getting nearly a 1300 on my SATs and being told I should have done better. I remembered graduating magna cum laude from college and hearing there was no reason why someone who had chosen the easy way (a degree in special education) shouldn't be graduating summa cum laude. I remembered swearing I would never make my kids feel that way when they had given their best effort. I remembered being a mother of three and my father starting in on one of my kids about some perceived shortcoming before I told him I didn't like that he had criticized me my entire life and I sure as hell was not going to let him do that to my kids.

So, while I am not happy about truly bad grades from bright and capable kids, after a little more examination I can see where some effort was made and I can see where there were things that should have been positively noted. I don't think people need to be patted on the head and have their egos pumped up even when they have done poorly but neither should they be denied praise when it is due. So for this week I'm going to count that Calypso was able to tell me calmly and rationally how she felt about several areas so we can both make the necessary adjustments for better results in the future. It's not something I felt able to do at her age so I'll also count it a small victory that she feels secure enough to do.

Trini Tuesday-Gyul, Yuh Have Real Belly

The lady on the right is Hazel Manning, first lady of Trinidad & Tobago. The primary school we worked with was having a graduation ceremony and the director had arranged for Mrs. Manning to participate. The school was a private school that made special effort to work not only with able students but also those with handicaps or disadvantages. Mr. Lime and I worked in a squatter's village and had managed to make arrangements for 4 students from the village to attend the school while we continued tutoring others at home.

Mrs. Manning gave a short address and passed out diplomas to the students. After the ceremony the school director wanted me to meet Mrs. Manning. So introductions were made, the director explains about the students from the squatter village and our work there. Now, it is important to note that while the squatters don't own the land they live on, nor do they pay any kind of rent, they've been there in peace for a very long time. Squatter villages generally spring up on land no one cares about, property that has passed down through a few generations of titled foreign owners who aren't even aware they own something or just some empty, lonely chunk of land no one has touched for decades. The government was looking to resettle the squatters from the homes they had built, with planted gardens and fruit trees, to some barren chunk of rock with barely a green thing to be seen (keep in mind this is a tropical island...lush...green....you have to WORK to find a place that isn't green). The government was also going to build permanent housing, which sounds generous and I guess it is, until you realize it was going to be block houses with concrete ceilings under metal rooves, row upon attached row. I've been in houses like that in Trinidad...here's the scenario....tropical sun beating down on the nice concrete house with little ventilation and no trees to shade anything....BONUS! You can fry your roti on the walls! People, it's UNBEARABLY hot.

Mrs. Manning shook my hand and said, 'On behalf of my husband, the Prime Minister, I'd like to ask you to deliver a message to the people of the village. Please tell them to accept our offer of relocation, in their own best interest.' I paused for a second and responded, 'Mrs. Manning, I can't do that. The people there have pride in what they've been able to build with their own two hands and while their homes are not secure, they maintaining them and they have a tight knit community there. Whatever money your husband would spend to build human ovens on a rock would be better spent improving the homes that already exist, helping folks find jobs (which is what most of them want more than they want handouts), and making sure the children can get to school. I suggest you and the Prime Minister go spend time in the village and talk to the people there.' Mrs. Manning gulped and then took on the somewhat strained expression as the camera clicked to take the picture above. She left and the school director laughed, 'Gyul, yuh have real belly talking to the PM's wife so.'

First Day

Dear God in Heaven, what sadist decided 10 year olds who live 2 miles from their school should be at the bus stop at 6:15 am for a school day that commences an hour later? Whoever the hell it was should be the one personally waking said ten year olds, getting them ready for school, driving the whole busload of them to school, and then inspiring them to learn in the classroom. Either that or the aforementioned sadist ought to be shot at dawn which, when the time changes, will not arrive for quite a long time AFTER 6:15 am. Did I mention we live in an area with no streetlights or sidewalks? Shooting at dawn is too good. Let me think on it a while, I'm a creative person, I am sure I can come up with a better form of revenge. In the meantime, your suggestions are welcome. Ok, I will calm down now....


Now children, come over to the story corner and sit down. It's sharing time.

The Tale of Two Teachers.

Once upon a time there was a little girl, named Lime who was ready for kindergarten. She was very excited and when the big yellow bus picked her up she gabbled all the way to school. Who would the teacher be? Who would her classmates be? What was the bus passing? Who would she sit with? What would the room look like? Would she get lost?

When the bus arrived a lady with pointy glasses, a wildly colored dress and a very tall beehive hairdo came to the bus and said she was their teacher (Years later when the girl was grown she would know all the beehived women in pointy glasses depicted in Far Side cartoons were modelled on her kindergarten teacher). She led the children to their new classroom. 'Here are your cubbies and here are your tables. Please put your things away and come sit down on the rug. The principal will be here in a minute to welcome you.' The children did as they were asked and in came a short man in a baggy suit.

The man in the baggy suit said,'Good afternoon.' Some children repeated his words, some looked out the window, some picked fluff off the rug, some picked their noses. He repeated himself more loudly. Some more children repeated his words, some giggled because he sounded like their whiny little brother and he was repeating himself insistently, just like the whiny little brother.

The man in the baggy suit started to say more words. He was using the grown up tone that says, 'I am very important and you are small so you must listen very carefully' but his voice was still whiny and monotonous. And there was a whole shelf of interesting looking books, and stacks of colorful paper, and pretty fall leaves on the bulletin board, and that girl has pretty pigtails, and that boy has a lot of freckles, and how does the teacher get her hair to stay like that, and the man in the baggy suit kept talking and talking and talking and whining and whining and whining.

Little Lime noticed the girl on her left was talking to the other girl next to her,and the boy on her right was still picking his nose and he was wiping it on the rug next to her. She leaned over and said, 'That's yucky, you better not get boogers on me.' The man in the baggy suit noticed that the children were paying more attention to everything but his whiny words and said, 'One of the things we will learn in kindergarten is how to keep our mouths shut when it is time to learn because some of us have very big mouths.' Now Little Lime came from a family where personal opinions were uncensored and offered freely and where astute observations were commended. So she waved her hand enthusiastically in the air (having listened to the man in the baggy suit explain that this was the expected manner for taking turns speaking) to share her great insight. The man in the baggy suit pointed to her and she proudly exclaimed, 'We know who has the biggest mouth of all! You do!' Thus it came to pass that Little Lime had a note home to her poor mortified mother on the first day of kindergarten.

Lime grew and she grew and she grew. She married Mr. Lime and they had 3 lovely Limelets of their own. It came about that it was time for the first Limelette to go to kindergarten. Knowing that Limelette #1 is even more inclined to freely offer her unvarnished opinion than Lime herself, Lime was a bit concerned about this first day of school. When the day arrived Lime walked her own dear Limelette #1 to school. All the other children lined up with their bright new clothes and shiny bags and happy faces. Limelette #1 marched up the steps to join them confidently. Out came a smiling woman with gentle eyes and a gentle voice and and gentle, happy greeting, 'Welcome to kindergarten my dear children. We have so many wonderful things to learn together.' Limelette #1 marched in as Lime felt an odd sort of realization that 'Another Woman' would now help mold and shape her precious Limelette. 'We shall see...,' she thought to herself.

When Limelette #2 turned 4 she knew her turn with the teacher with the gentle eyes, voice, and smile would come soon. She asked her mother every day for a year, 'How many days until I turn 5 and can go to kindergarten?' Every time she saw the gentle teacher she asked, 'How many more days until I can be in your class?' The gentle teacher always said, 'Soon my dear, and I can't wait either.' Eventually after many days and many repetitions of the question and answer, Limelette #2 was lined up with all the other children in front of the school and wiggling excitedly. The smiling teacher with the gentle eyes, and gentle voice came out to meet the class. She leaned over to Limelette#2 and said, 'My dear, guess what?' Limelette #2 looked up with shining eyes and asked, 'What?' The gentle teacher smiled wide, her own eyes shining with joy and answered, 'TODAY IS FINALLY HERE! And I am soooo glad to have you in my class!' As the class followed the gentle teacher in Lime smiled knowing Limelette #2 was in caring hands.

Finally, the day came when Limelet #3 was ready for kindergarten. Since Lime had helped so often in the gentle teacher's class and the teacher had often said Limelet #3 should come along, Limelet #3 knew the gentle teacher very well. He knew where to find the room. He knew where everything in the room was. The first day of kindergarten was a mere technicality to him. But the gentle teacher was also wise and wanted it to be a special day for all her students. Limelet #3 lined up with all the other new kindergarteners and the gentle teacher came out to meet the class and she said to Limelet #3, 'Welcome to kindergarten, my dear! Today, you don't just get to visit my class. Today you get have your very own spot in it and today you get to stay. I am so very glad.'

At the end of Limelet #3's kindergarten year Lime felt a bit sad knowing it was the end of an era with the gentle teacher. She told the gentle teacher how she had wondered about her on the first day Limelette #1 went to kindergarten. Then Lime said, 'I am so glad each of my children got to start their school career with you. In all my imagination there does not exist a more wonderful kindergarten teacher than you.' The gentle teacher shed a little tear and siad, 'Thank you, I needed to hear that.'

May all the gentle teachers and precious children have a wonderful start to the year.

And may the sadists taste justice......(Bad Lime! Naughty Lime, go sit in the corner! There will be a note going home today! Some of us just never learn do we??)