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The SeasonAs the first half(ish) of the school year is wrapping up, my mind turns backwards in reflection of all that has been. Truthfully, if you've talked to me in the last few months, you'll know that this season of my life has not been easy. In this season, I've struggled greatly with my new job. There have been conflicts, and gads of "learning moments" and more mistakes made then I think I've ever known I could be capable of making. There have been staffing issues and more work than typical first year sped teachers are given to bear. This new teaching position has also meant significantly less time at home, less time running the household, less time caring for & loving my husband. It has meant that there are parts of myself that I feel that I have lost and I have been continually mourning. And to add to all of that, there is the guilt that I know that I am not living as I should. Seeing my friends making marriage vows to one another or get engaged is a constant reminder of how I am falling short within my own marriage. I haven't done anything awful, I just have been absent: physically, mentally. Sam has been so gracious with me, but I fail to carry a lot of that grace over to myself. Things are getting better, both in the situational sense & just in how I am choosing to deal with my circumstances. I don't just say that to give a happy ending to this post, because this has been a very hard fall; I say that because I am finally through the storm far enough to take a breath and reflect. The BeautyTo get to the point of this post... there have been some really beautiful things these past 4 months. Here they are...
...walking to work most mornings before it got #wintersolstice dark. ...working out on Monday & Thursday evenings and literally seeing my muscles get bigger! ...eating steel cut oats & drinking black coffee each & every morning. ...my almost-daily routine of yoga & meditation. ...hosting ALLL of the parties in our home. It's been one a month so far and each one has been such a joy. ...rereading the twilight series was one of the highlights of September/October. ...quiet evenings at home watching Netflix shows that make me cry while Sam works night shifts. ...going to eat Sam's french fries when he works night shifts. ...trainings/conferences for work where I feel like I am a sponge soaking up relevant information. (#notcollege) ...my terrific co-workers who bring power saws to work for me, buy me combos, and dress up on twin day with me. ...having Sam doing the cooking & grocery shopping and sharing some of the "emotional labor" of the household. ...homemade lattes, eggnog, and hot chocolate. ...seeing family often & friends more than I could have ever hoped with all of these weddings! Why?As I head into my third (can that be real?) year of teaching, I've come to realize how important self-care is. And, how unpopular it is to actually practice. It is not uncommon at a school to hear people complain-bragging about how they were there until 8 or 9 the night before. It is not uncommon to feel guilty about leaving at 4:00... when we are contracted to leave. It is not uncommon to feel like less of a "super teacher" if you don't spend the time having matching bulletin boards and name tags and a themed room. I'm sure these same feelings of comparison are similar in many other fields as well. I don't doubt that teachers are the only ones out there who are overworked and who have to stay well past 40 hours/week to actually do the job that is expected of them. But here's the thing about self care: it should be our number one priority. (Cue gasping. But what about the children!?!) I mean it though, I really do! During the past few weeks of inservice, we've had people come in to tell us how important curriculum is. How important diversified instruction is. How important collaboration is. Integrating the arts. Writing good IEPs. Behavior interventions. And it goes on and on and on. Even the speakers telling us about "mindfulness" and "wellness" who claimed to be for us, even they instructed us on how we should be teaching social and emotional learning. No one will be looking out primarily for your OWN self care. That is why YOU need to! (This is as much a reminder to myself as it is to others. I forget this on the daily.) [Insert corny picture of person sitting next to a child putting their own oxygen mask on first.] How?As much as self-care is important, learning how to do your OWN self care is also crucial. For me, it means meditation in the mornings, regular exercise, eating healthy foods, and walking to and from work each day. It means talking to good friends, practicing hobbies in the evenings, and getting enough sleep each night. It also means boundaries. Meaning, I'll take a lunch break each day unless there are dire circumstances. I will leave work to be home in time to make and eat dinner with my husband. I will chose not to check work emails at home. And, when I inevitably think about work (okay, stress about work) at home, I will gently remind myself, without self-judgement, "This can wait until tomorrow. I do not need to worry about this right now. I am not working now." A Final ThoughtIf you chose self-care, you may not be the "super teacher" who has a beautiful insta feed and wins annual awards. You may not be the super accountant or super programmer or super fill-in-the-blank.
But you will have something better. A whole, balanced, and satisfying life that is not based solely on the work you preform. As I heard in a great sermon this weekend "Why sacrifice what only you can do, for something somebody else can do?" meaning, I am the only one who can be a wife to Sam. I am not compromising that for the role of SPED teacher, a job many other people can & will do. My life is not my job. I chose a full life. I chose self care. I always want to remember my first "real" job as a teacher. "Real" meaning: I teach & get paid for it. Each day is a little different, as it always is in Special Ed.
The mornings are slow, as I answer emails and prep for the day. I cherish these times and they aren't rushed, but they do seem to pass quickly. I always try to remember to put away my lunch, sign in, and fill up my water bottle in one run, but I think I've only remembered to do all 3 at once maybe a handful of times. At first, emailing someone was so intimidating, but now it is the easiest & most effective way to communicate. It definitely isn't as enjoyable as face-to-face. 8:45 is when my day really begins. That's when she comes. My full-time student. We'll call her Kari, because it almost conveys the spunk/sass packed into this tiny little child. I set timers to keep her on task and usually loom in the back of the cafeteria to make sure that she is behaving correctly at breakfast. 9:10-9:25 is our time, which can somedays be very rough, but is generally quite enjoyable. I like to be with her when she can be herself, and not when she is being forced to work. Math with the boys is like trying to get a bunch of dogs to pay attention in a park. There are too many squirrels to keep them on track. I love this group of three though. They are sweet to me and sweet to each other. Math with the girls is more like social hour, but I try to remind them why they're here and motivate them by giving them time for their homework. #bestteacherever Reading with Kari does something to the clock. The hands speed by while time actually moves at a snails pace. I have yet to understand this. This time ends in one of two ways: a singing performance, or a temper tantrum. There is no middle. Math with 4th grade is usually the time of day when I'm ready to pull my hair out. (See: temper tantrum at the end of reading.) Also, one of my students sometimes needs to be bribed with one piece of dark chocolate per math problem that he completes. One day, I gave him half of a Trader Joes dark chocolate truffle bar. I almost cried. But he got his whole math sheet done for the first time since I've been here! Then it's lunch/prep. Insert sigh of relief and happy dancing. Also, recess duty in the cold. SOS I hate this April. If I sit in the teacher's lounge, it's at the edge of my seat, waiting for a banging on the door from Kari. Girl has spunk I tell ya. Then is my favorite lesson of the day. Kari is at lunch and I get small group reading time with the two sweetest fourth grade boys in the world. It is peaceful and I am happy during this time. It's followed with my "prep period" which is more of a hilarious joke than anything. It consists of reteaching Kari how to blow her nose, taking her to the bathroom, coaxing her to write, and maybe successfully sending 1 email. Afternoon reading is usually quite enjoyable, but apparently if I make them read on their own, I am immediate the worst teacher ever in their eyes. They still get jolly ranchers every 3 days so I think they should quit their whining. I am clearly the best. Math with Kari and another 2nd grader is one of the hardest parts of the day. Kari is fighting for attention while the other student is trying to actually learn. She is DONE with Kari. I don't even need to remind her to ignore Kari's attention-seeking behavior. She just does. It makes me sad. Reading at the end of the day is with my math boys again. It's almost schools-out time in their minds, so getting them to focus is somehow WORSE than it is in the morning. We use a lot of bribery. We do vocabulary each day and they crack me up with what they think some words mean. "What does the word fuss mean?" (after studying the meaning for 4 days) "It means that a baby is hungry." Well, close enough. And that's pretty much a wrap. After school is usually spent getting Kari out the door and in her car. Sometimes I get to chat with Heidi (another SPED teacher) after school & those days are my favorite. I mean, right after the days when I get to actually leave at 3:30 and go home. :) So grateful to have such and incredibly stretching experience right after graduation. I've been told that Kari is one of the toughest students many of the SPED teachers have ever seen. Gotta start somewhere, right? Last week, following the events in San Bernardino, I read this article called "When did it become a teacher's job to stop a bullet for your child?" I have been calling the same question to mind since being in the schools full-time starting this August. From several hours of ALICE training to all-school practice evacuations, districts are stressing the importance of safety on school grounds. For teachers, these threats became a part of our daily reality. At the school I currently teach at, the district is still deciding whether or not we will hold school on Wednesday after a threat was made at our high school. While some parents are choosing to keep their children home, many of us teachers are aware that although this threat may be a reminder, the danger is always there. From the article: Every time incidents of school-related violence occur, my colleagues and I think of the numerous ways we might one day have to use our bodies as barricades to protect the students whom we love dearly from potential other students whom we also love so dearly. [...] First of all, I want to state that I absolutely am of the opinion that gun violence is related to the legality of carrying and owning a firearm. I do still believe that there are factors, such as mental health, that play an important and significant role in the mass shootings I am talking about, but the fact that guns are still finding their way into the hands of so many people is alarming. The number of firearm deaths is astonishing - in 2013 the total of motor vehicle traffic deaths was 33,804 and the total of firearm deaths was 33,636. It needs to end. But really, this isn't the point I am trying to make. This isn't what brought me to post about school shootings today.
When I first knew, deep-down-in-my-soul truly knew, that teaching was my calling, was when I first met a student I only remember as "Rachel" (a fake name I used on a paper a few years ago). Rachel came from a home where each day was different, each day was potentially unsafe. Each day gave her the opportunity to feel unloved and uncared for. So I decided that although I couldn't fix everything Rachel experienced at home (but as a teacher I'd do my damnedest to try), I could be someone who cared for her for 8 hours a day. And that is what I have chosen and what I have committed to as a teacher. Every day, that looks like letting my students know they are loved, valued, and respected as human beings. Most days, that looks like making sure they get the best possible education they can. Some days, that means sending them home with food, or letting them nap in my room because they were up late picking up mom from work. And maybe one day, that will mean putting my own life at risk for one of theirs. I pray that will never happen, but I know what I have committed to.
Today was one of those doing-everything-wrong kind of days. I tried to use a non research-based assessment & got told not to. I didn't get a group of students to finish their math homework. I'm pretty sure I may have taught dependent clauses wrong. I got an email about how I should have spoken up earlier about what I said during collaboration. One of the students in my RtI group didn't finish his workbook page and I just let him go. I said teachers first name's in front of students... again. No one on the list showed up to intervention and I didn't even go look for them. I gave the directions wrong in English class. And I didn't even go to Math class because I was bothering other teachers all day to try to get baseline data for a student and finally just did it myself. There are several times I ask myself in a day, Why am I even here? But today, I followed it with, Am I going to get back up from this? And I decided yes. Yes, because Emily said I was her favorite teacher ever.
(I don't care if she tells every teacher that.) Yes, because I found fun math games that got Mike into ratios. Yes, because Brittany asked me if I was coming to watch her play volleyball again. Yes, because students are now occasionally calling out "Mrs. Weaver" and asking me questions. Yes, because David, who "hates" working with me, asked if I could read his journal today. Yes, because I talked to Tim and he finally wrote notes in class, for the first time. Yes, because one of my students wrote a story about someone named Hyper B. Ole who exaggerated everything, and that is just hilarious. Yes, because Lily drew me a picture that said "Mrs. Weaver" "Teacher" & "Fun." Little Emily giggled as she erased her math mistake, saying "Mrs. M always makes mistakes when she teaches math!" The same girl who used to erase a whole page because of one wrong number. Yes, because if I can't make mistakes, what does that show my students? *All student's names were changed because it's the twenty-first century, people. Written for my math methods class; the prompt was to write about myself, my background, and math education, as well as my direction for the future as an educator. This cottage
I’ve been coming since before I can remember My German grandfather helped his father build this place The week was a reprieve from the summer boredom And the math worksheets my mother would make us do Not that I really minded them, math was better than language arts Math was always my best subject Except for the test in fourth grade when I got a D; I cried I’ve never handled failure well; I’m learning Edna Ferber Elementary It has been more meaningful since I stopped attending Senior year of high school, 26 little cherubs and my old first grade teacher Every afternoon, they left me with a smile and confidence in this profession Some days I would have to skip this practicum To spend 2 hours making up homework with my AP Calculus teacher She understood how to teach calc to high school seniors, creating an open environment Using visuals, posting notes to review, giving endless one-on-one help She also understood what it was like to lose a dad at the age of 18 I somehow managed a 4.0 that semester And got 4’s and 5’s on all of my AP tests I’ve always been an achiever, but I was blessed with good genes A redheaded mother and a black-haired father, who was more salt and pepper at the end My brother is a physics genius, playing games with the stock market My sister has her doctorate, from Marquette University I went to a state school to become a low-paid special education teacher Sometimes I wonder if my dad would be proud of me I never wonder if my Father is He knows that I am doing this to love and serve Him I was unsure what exactly I would be doing Until I returned to Edna Ferber Elementary, my second year in college It is there that I met her, the sixth grade girl She loved dogs and One Direction and reading; the school called her “EBD” But she had no interest in math, I coaxed her to try She had no motivation, no engagement, no personal connections Each day she left yet another worksheet undone, They say poor participation, I saw poor instruction Where is the collaboration? Where is the inclusion? Where are the visuals and activities? Who is showing her why math matters? Who is telling her they care about her interests? Appleton, Wisconsin A sixth grade girl, no interest in math Labeled by the school, but loved by none Pine Ridge, South Dakota Hugs and kisses from children that I do not deserve It pains me to know that I am the one who oppresses them China A minority group torn down for their culture and religion Oppression that this time is not mine, but hurts and angers me deeply Bloomer, Wisconsin A small girl, labeled as Autistic, unable to speak Unable to tell us that her dad is abusing her, but we know It is for them that I hope It is for them that I dream It is for them that I attend these courses, to learn to be an effective educator To learn how to fail, so that they can succeed To achieve for more than myself To give Him all of the glory It is for them that I strive to become an educator, so that I can change the world.
China is sending students with disabilities to separate schools.
Away from their families. Unable to re-enter the mainstream system. Low government funding and under-qualified teachers. The fourth grade boy is in a wheelchair, so they just put him in the back. Away from his classmates. Unable to participate in almost any part of the 50 minutes of kid church. Can't throw the balls, toot the horns, dance to the songs, or open the snake cans. There is so little I know, even less that I know how to do to help. I just see the injustices - the little ones, the big ones - each day and I don't want it anymore. |
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December 2022
I'm guessing I'll have it all figured out by the time I turn 30.
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