Measuring Your Worth

I am happy to report that I was just hired for the position I spoke about in my last entry. I'm actually pretty excited about it. I've missed teaching. Not just the actual teaching aspect of the classroom, but the children and families I worked with. I miss seeing my preschoolers, experiencing life with them, exploring new concepts and learning ideas. I miss my school.

Now I'll have a new classroom, with new students and families, and an assistant. I'll be responsible for planning and implementing my own curriculum. I won't have to share space or time with other teachers. I've always told my preschoolers that I have to practice sharing too--and truthfully, I'm not always very good at it. So I'm kind of looking forward to not having to share as much for awhile.

I know, going in to this job, there will be two things that will be challenging for me. The first will be to table my analyses of other people's work with children. I've spent the last ten years helping beginning teachers analyze their work. That's a skill that can be very useful when it's welcomed but pretty destructive when it's not. Learning to table it will be an important lesson.

More importantly will be my ability to measure my own worth in something other than dollar signs. So often our culture focuses on the bottom line--the almighty dollar--as a measure of how valuable we are. We look at our net worth, our 401k's, our annual income (gross or net) to determine our contributions and how much we should value one another. After all, you don't generally look for a doctor or dentist in a dirty, rundown medical practice, do you? You look for the professional whose surroundings communicate wealth. That signifies cutting edge resources and success.

Measuring my own self-worth is important to me. It's important to feel like I'm achieving goals and taking care of my family. Just as important, though, is the ability to contribute to the greater good, to know that something I have done has affected somebody else in a positive way. Given someone something they wouldn't have had otherwise. Those measures--ones that are more abstract--are life altering and powerfully defining.

Going into this position, I hope that I'll be able to remember that. Keeping in mind the reasons I took this job that didn't have to do with money is going to be important. Figuring out how I'm worth something that doesn't have a dollar attached to it.

I'm keeping it in mind.

How much does an education really cost?

I interviewed for a job today. I was excited for the interview because it's with a company I've worked with before. In fact, I've held this same position before (a teacher with at-risk kids) and I absolutely loved it. It was, in my opinion, one of the best jobs I've ever had. I loved every minute of it and found it to be quite rewarding. The only drawback, of course, is the pay.

Nobody goes into education to get rich. If they do, they're highly misinformed. Teachers as a group across this country are underpaid and underappreciated, yet held to continually higher standards each year. Given that many standards are simply developmentally inappropriate and for some children just downright unattainable, it's ridiculous to punish teachers for what children do or don't learn.

The push for accountability in education has caused a wide array of problems that the average adult may not even be familiar with. Schools lose or gain money based on their test scores. Teachers are forced to forego teaching certain subjects or interest-based learning to cover material that will appear on standardized tests. Gone are the days of exploring children's natural curiosities--there's a test that has to be taken, one that will determine how much money the school system receives. Most children in elementary school spend the majority of their days focusing on reading and writing. If you're asking what's missing from that equation, let me tell you: creative writing, art, music, science, social studies, and opportunities for social skill building and critical thinking.

We want our children to be critical thinkers, to be able to solve the problems of tomorrow, yet we give them very little time to build and practice those skills. The majority of material young children are bombarded with is the type of knowledge that requires rote memorization. In other words, don't think about it, Johnny--just tell me what I told you, in time for the test.

In areas where there are socioeconomic concerns, these problems are intensified. Factors such as hunger and poverty strongly affect school outcomes. If you didn't eat or you don't have a place to live, it's a lot harder to focus on learning your ABC's. What a surprise that schools with higher levels of poverty score lower on standardized testing! And the answer? Punish those schools! Take away their money! They're not using it correctly anyway or those kids would be learning!

The reality of the situation is that some schools do misuse funds. Many kids go to school hungry or dirty or for whatever reason, not ready to learn. Our social policies meant to address these problems have instead blamed an already burdened school system rather than proactively addressed the needs of people who cannot adequately provide for their families. We are a nation that insists on throwing bandaids on gunshot wounds instead of taking steps to ensure nobody gets shot to begin with.

So back to my interview. In my heart, I have always loved working with kids from at-risk environments. The pay is terrible. Often the materials in these programs are limited, the support is limited, there can be cultural misunderstandings and political and social issues that arise. After doing the math, I've figured that if I take the job I interviewed for today, I'll be able to pay for my family's medical and dental insurance with a little left over each month--possibly enough to pay the rent.

Like I said, nobody ever gets rich in education. For people like me, you walk a fine line between discerning what you need to provide for your family and what you need to do your calling. I have long believed that my students are also my teachers. And despite my concerns about financial savviness, I can say one thing for sure. I'm ready, once again, to learn.

Church of the Poison Mind

Tonight I helped my mom prepare a meal for Vacation Bible School.

When I was a kid, I loved VBS. It was a highlight of my summer. I loved learning about Jesus and the culture of the middle east at that time. I enjoyed the games and most of all the crafts that we would make. The snacks weren't half bad either. All in all, it was a fun way to spend a morning--or several mornings--for a week.

My kids have attended VBS for a few years at different churches. My favorite, of course, is my home church in the city we just moved from. That particular church shared my values more closely than any church congregation I've ever known. This year there was the option for the kids to attend VBS at my parents' church. I thought it might be a fun time. The theme had something to do with traveling around the world and the teacher in me was intrigued. What an opportunity, I thought.

Unfortunately, my kids thought otherwise. Neither was thrilled at the prospect of going, and the more I thought about it, the more I thought that maybe it wasn't such a hot idea either. You see, currently there are several individuals in my parents' church that can't seem to get along. Most of these individuals head different committees. One sent an ugly email last week that literally called others names.

It has always been a puzzle to me the things that people do in the name of God. The most horrific wars, torturous acts, and painful moments can almost all be attributed to being committed in the name of religion. For this very reason I avoided church for years. I consider myself a loving, spiritual human being and I believe fully in God and His word. I know He has acted in my life in multiple ways and has a guiding hand on me. But for some people, religion seems to poison their thinking. It seems to cloud their judgment to the point that the most important messages get lost and control takes over.

Control and submission. For so many people, that's the name of the game when it comes to religion--where you fall in the pecking order. Some religions even have pecking orders in relation to who gets into heaven and how. It never ceases to amaze me the million different interpretations to the Bible, and how the more into control and submission a person seems to be, the more into the belief that there is only ONE way to interpret the bible one seems to be.

Tonight the children were learning about the middle east, and we prepared food that was somewhat representative of the region--flatbread, tzatziki sauce, hummus, veggies, figs. It saddened me to see that a large portion of the lesson this evening focused on bibles being illegal in the middle east. It saddens me to think that these children, who had the potential to learn about the native homeland of Christ, to learn about cultural differences and diversity, will walk away with their primary focus being possession of a bible equates to prison.

I choose to attempt to live by Jesus' message. I choose to try to love others, to live a life of compassion and morality and making ethical choices. I don't choose that life because I fear an eternity in Hell, and I don't choose it because I think it makes me better than someone who lives in Jordan or Pakistan. I choose it because in my culture, in my own life, it is what I know to be true. That's all any human being can do.

I often look at our world today and wonder what God is thinking about it...if it weren't so completely sad I'm sure he'd be having a good laugh at our expense. But I cannot wrap my mind around the idea of a God who would support the idea of one culture controlling another, of a person submitting to something against his or her belief system. Because ultimately, the only one who knows what is right is God himself.

So VBS this year? No thanks. I'll take my church with a cup of love and support, thanks.

Aches and Pains

Today I was witness to something that most people will never see. I was present when a suicide note was read.

My mother is a therapist, and has worked with many clients over the years. I distinctly remember the first time one of her clients committed suicide. It was early in her career and very, very painful for her. As with most people, she blamed herself to some degree for not being able to stop the attempt, for not seeing it coming, and probably for a myriad of other things. That was several years ago, and fortunately my mother hasn't had a client commit suicide since.

A few days before we moved out here, my mom told me that one of her former clients who had chronic pain and had suffered tremendous physical and psychological damage, had committed suicide. My mom had maintained contact with this client over the years, even though they were no longer in a therapeutic relationship. She considered herself to be a support system to this person who had very little emotional support in her life. Upon this person's death, her family informed my mother that the former client had left a letter addressed to her and they would send it, along with a momento.

The momento arrived a couple of weeks ago, but not the letter. It appeared the letter had been misplaced after the funeral, and the family was looking for it but hadn't been able to locate it yet. Today, as she was sifting through the mail that arrived over the week, my mom gasped and said, "This is it...it's from (-)." She opened the envelope and found two pieces of paper inside. The outer piece was blank. The inner piece had only two lines written on it. For the sake of confidentiality, I'll paraphrase: We've known each other long enough that you know why. Please pray I rest peacefully.

For most of my life I have struggled with depression. I think many people do, far more than talk about it. It's still highly stigmatized. Mine can be traced genetically through one side of my family. One of my parents has struggled with it; one of my grandparents struggled with it; a great grandparent committed suicide. There is a definite genetic component to this illness that I deal with. I have to manage it the same way a diabetic manages blood sugar or someone with high blood pressure manages that. I take medication, practice stress relief techniques, engage in talk therapy as needed. Yoga is a great tool, as is writing. Different people practice and find success with different treatment options.

I was eleven when my parents first noted concerns about depression, and rightfully so. I suffered from childhood depression. I had intense fears, as young as four or five, of being left without my parents. I remember long crying spells and feeling sad and scared. Most people don't become depressed until adolescence or adulthood, and most will experience shorter bouts or even situational bouts with depression. Mine has been long lasting; I do not know what it is like to live without it. It's a disease I manage on a daily basis.

I understand the risks of writing about this on a blog. If you're unfamiliar with what depression is; if you have fears of mental illness or its stigma, then this is for you. Because I'm just your everyday person--I work, I have a family, I live and I love and most days I do an okay job of it all. It's a risky proposition to discuss something so personal because of the stigma and the misconceptions people have of the disease. I can assure you though, that I'm absolutely the same person I was before you read the above information and I'll be the same person when you're done reading this entry. I'm a good person and live a good life.

Those misconceptions are not only held by your average Joe. As my mother read the letter she had anticipated receiving, I couldn't help but note it was only two sentences long. Two sentences to say all you had to say to someone who loved you? I tried to imagine, and couldn't, what I would write in two sentences to sum up my feelings for any of the people that I love in this world. And yet, in those two sentences, there was such intense pain and emotion communicated. Those sentences were about what had already been said. What these two people already knew about each other.

I have long held the belief that people who suffer from depression make a choice each day to live or to die, and it is one of the most basic choices we make. On this particular day, this person could no longer do it. My mother understood why, even if you or I don't. It's not up to us to say. This person's pain--both physical and psychological--was real and intense and raw. And there was no escape. No hand holding, no talking, no amount of anything would take that pain away in that moment. People say suicide is a selfish act, and perhaps it is; but to those who take their own life, it is often viewed as the ultimate act of self-sacrifice, to no longer be a burden on those whom they love.

Those two sentences have stuck with me today and I have shed more than a few tears over them, not for my mother, but for this person who could no longer find the strength to hold on any more, to live and love and breathe and do the things that most of us take for granted each day.

And I pray for anyone who may read this and is having trouble breathing and living and loving that you are able to hold on until you can catch another breath, for one is always coming after the last one, even if you fear it won't.

Bobby, Bobby, where are you?

I'm in mourning for a person who isn't even real.

Yes, I'm mourning the passing of my beloved Bobby Goren.

Tonight my family betrayed me and my vow to be true to my favorite detective. I had fallen asleep on the couch for just a bit, and I woke up to a horrific sound. Could it be, or was it just a dream? No, it was real!!! Jeff Goldblum was on my screen, playing Zach Nichols! In an episode from THIS SEASON!

I tried, God help me, I tried. I tried to find something interesting in the new CI. I made myself watch for fifteen torturous minutes. It turned my stomach. Now I know the feeling I would have if I ever tried to cheat on my husband. Like I need a good, hot shower.

USA, does us all a favor and bury that show. NBC/Universal cancelled the original Law and Order just weeks ago. Fortunately for Sam Waterston, he gets to ride out on his white horse, maintaining his role as DA (and former ADA) Jack McCoy. How could anyone not love Jack? My God he was amazing. Less amazing were the string of assistants he went through. Everyone had their favorites, but geez, some were bad enough to make you want to stab your eyes out with your dinner fork and plug your ears with some sort of cotton balls (remember Serena Southerlyn and her famous line--her last line handed out as she's been fired--"Is this because I'm a lesbian?"@@ No honey, it's just because you're a terrible actress.) I have to admit I loved Jill Hennessey and Angie Harmon. Alana de la Garza has been okay, from what I've seen, but I kind of gave up on the show a couple years ago. So to the cable graveyard it goes. If only Universal had the same sense when it came to my beloved Bobby. But no! Certainly we can revive Criminal Intent by breathing life into it with a new set of detectives. Somebody OTHER than the two who built it, who saw it to its crescendo.

If Universal wants to know what went wrong, look at your writers. Look at your scripts. Look at what you replaced--the quirkiness, the fun, the integrity--with as one writer put it, a "let's beat Goren down for an hour each week" (I paraphrase). Seriously, by the end of the series could it really go anywhere else? Who else could live through child abuse, a schizophrenic mother, a dead alcoholic and gambling father, a drugged out brother, the death of mother and brother, (one murdered, the other dying a long and painful death due to cancer and the inability of her cop son to afford new treatments), finding out the alcoholic gambler is NOT the father, finding out a serial killer not only IS your father but beat and raped your mother within an inch of her life, the death of the serial killer father, and if that all isn't enough, a crazed mentor who shows up, kills two people (one being said druggie brother) and pins the murders on you to "get your mind back in the game". Well shit. Don't those people usually end up in long term therapy, if not mental institutions or committing suicide? If you write a storyline like that and we're supposed to believe any of it, you've got to take the guy's gun away at some point. And detectives don't do well without a gun.

I miss you, Bobby. I wonder what you did after Eames was forced to fire you and you wandered off in the sunset. Did you go join the FBI? Did you move to your rediscovered family in Minnesota? Did you quit and buy a bookstore? Are you selling Eames books right now? Did you ever ask her out...we all know you wanted to!

Anyway, sometimes I miss that guy. I'm sure Vincent D'Onofrio was more than happy to let him go, and I certainly can understand how after eight years you can be ready for a change. But I miss him.

Me to Bobby! Shine your flashlight this way if you get this!

Who wants to pay for me?

I'm looking for a job.

Like millions of Americans, I'm currently unemployed. When my husband and I made the decision to move back east, we knew we'd be giving up our jobs and the security that goes along with them. I was okay with that for a lot of reasons (see previous posts that I'm sure outline said reasons ad nauseum). But now it's been a month since the Great Job Search began (or what I not-so-lovingly refer to as God It Hurts). And I'm not getting the bites I had anticipated. Hell, I'm not even getting friendly little nibbles.

Maybe I have an overinflated sense of myself and my job skills. That's always possible. And in this market, goodness knows it's super competitive. But I like to think I'm fairly employable. I've got an advanced degree and lots of experience. I'm not too old. I'm fun and smart and gosh darn it, people like me! So what's the deal? Why isn't my cell phone ringing?

The reality is that I haven't exhausted all my resources; instead, I've been mentally exhausting myself. I've been knocking myself out just making mental lists of everything needing to be done and letting my fear get in the way of my future. If that sounds all cliche, it probably is. But it's true. I'm fantastically skilled at talking myself in and out of things, and putting an intense amount of mental and emotional energy into all sorts of things that don't necessarily bode well for me. It's something I need to work on.

This summer hasn't exactly gone how I had planned. Lack of finances, living with my extended family, having the kids around full time, caring for my aging parents has all been more difficult at times than I had anticipated in my rosy dreams. But every time I take my father to another doctor's appointment or one of his ongoing lab tests, or hear of more potential illnesses my mother may have, I know in my soul we made the right choice.

I have always believed that a job doesn't define a person, even though many people choose to let that happen. My job has always been an important part of who I was, or at least I thought so. Now, I'm beginning to ponder the idea that the skills I have developed are who I am, and I take them with me, wherever I go. My abilities to think critically, to analyze information, to relate to many different people with kindness and tact and honesty are who I am. My job is just an outlet that allows those traits to shine. Thinking like this allows me to feel more empowered and to remember that a job, while important, isn't all encompassing. At the end of the day, I'm still myself and everything really important comes home with me.

That being said, I'll be very happy when I find someone who's willing to pay for me....and if they're willing to pay what I think I'm worth, even better.

Moves and moving on

It's funny how you can get motivated to write a new blog entry. I actually have thought about it several times over the last few weeks, and even visited my blog site yesterday, but didn't write anything. Today, one of my friends said, "YOU HAVE A BLOG AND NEVER TOLD ME???" So now I feel the need to write something for her to READ, should she actually visit!

There's so much I could write about to catch up on our lives in the last month, but instead, I want to write about the life I've left behind. Facebook has been an amazing tool for me. It's enabled me to stay in contact with many people that I otherwise would have left behind. Our move to Virginia has had its moments, but it's so wonderful to know I can keep up with my friends and former students in Oklahoma.

As an undergraduate instructor, one of my hard and fast rules has been to have clear boundaries with my students. I don't drink with them, go out to dinner with them, have friendships with them. I always saw my role as a facilitator in their learning and not as a buddy. Most students are respectful of this (in fact, I'm quite sure many of them never had any interest in me farther than a grade! I know I never did with my instructors!). But sometimes, some students did have trouble understanding why I couldn't do these things. College campuses are places where there is a lot of free exchange of ideas between adults, which often leads to friendships, and boundaries can get crossed very easily. Over the years there have been many, many students I've met that I just absolutely loved as people. These people were smart, talented, and gifted in their fields. They were often hard workers and shared the same values and ideals as I did. Getting to be their instructor was such a gift for me. I got to share their journey, if even for only a semester, and watch as they were growing and developing into someone even more gifted, more talented.

The great thing about being a college instructor is that eventually everyone leaves your course. You're no longer bound by the rules that you felt were important to encourage student success at the time. And then you get to move out of the role of instructor and into the role of, sometimes mentor, and if you're really lucky, friend.

I've been really lucky. Some of my absolute favorite people in the world are my former students. I've seen them go through so many life changes--graduation, moves, relationships, marriages, and children--and feel so fortunate to know them. What so many of them don't realize is the effect they have had on my life. How they have encouraged me to continue to learn, to want to be a better teacher and person. How they continually inspire me to live a better life.

Leaving Oklahoma was a hard decision. The easy part was knowing I would be with family in Virginia, that we had a life waiting here for us if we wanted it. I miss my friends and I know in a few weeks I will desperately miss my role of teacher in a classroom, with a group of young adults looking at me as though I hold some sort of answers they're seeking. I always knew the truth--that I didn't know the answers but we would learn them together. And eventually they know that as well.

So as much as people complain about Facebook, I'll say this: I feel incredibly blessed to be able to keep up with the people who have energized me, challenged me, and changed my life forever. And yes, Erin, that includes you. :-)