children

We’ll all float on Ok.

/ Cassie / Leave a comment

I don’t seem to know who I am anymore.

Not so long ago I felt like I had it all figured out.  I’m a mom.  I’m a runner.  I’m a teacher.  I’m a friend.  Things were going well.  I had a wonderful new daughter, two amazing boys, and a fantastic support system of friends and family.  I literally had no complaints and was perfectly content any happy.

And then I broke…again.

This wasn’t like the first time I felt that I had broke, when my dad had died.  When that happened I feel apart all at once so it was almost easier to out myself back together.  The pieces were right there and easier to find, not scattered over space and time.

I wish I could say I knew the exact moment that it happened, but really it was a series of events that started small, each one separately almost microscopic in size, but together crumbled my world into a million pieces.

I cut back on my running and dropped out of the NYC marathon.

An old friend came back into my life just when I thought I was finally over our past.

I lost a person in my life who I thought was a good friend.

The separation began…and ended…and began…and changed so much that I don’t even know where we are at this point.

Most recently I’ve done things I probably shouldn’t have.  I’ve eaten things I probably shouldn’t have.  I’ve stopped running altogether.  With each passing day, the numbers on the scale keep inching closer to where I said I never wanted to be again.  And the worst part of it all is that I just don’t seem to care.  Not about being a bad person, or losing certain people from my life, or even losing everything I worked for.  None of it.

I feel like I’m on the roundabout on the playground spinning more and more out of control each day.  The sad part is that I know I’m the one that’s pushing it to go faster and faster.  I am in complete and utter control of this and I can’t seem to jump off and just stop. Because I know that when I do I’m going to break even more from the impact.  I know that I’m really going to have to work to find all the pieces and put myself back together again.  Not only in the “now” but in the past too.  The task seems daunting and so impossible that 99% of the time I don’t even have the desire to try.

But then, out of the blue, today happened.  The 1%.  The one glimmer of hope I had been hoping for.

We’re driving to the park and the library and all three kids are squeezed into the back seat.  Charlotte is singing along to Modest Mouse playing in the background while Oliver and Max argued about how many sheep are in an adjoining field.  The sun was shining in the blue sky as wispy clouds float by, my hand out the window rising and falling in the warm air.  I finally felt it.  What I had been longing to feel for so long lately.  A sense of peace and contentment.   A sense of placement.

This is where I was supposed to be.  Maybe not forever, but at least for right now.

And with that tiny feeling of hope, I know that pretty soon I’ll have enough courage to make the leap off the roundabout.  And maybe, just maybe, my feet will actually hit the ground and I’ll be able to pick myself up and begin to collect all the pieces.

Abandon all hope, ye who enter the teaching profession

/ Cassie / Leave a comment

“In the middle of the journey of our life I found myself within a dark woods where the straight way was lost.” ~Dante Alighieri – Inferno

Most teachers I know believe that this was their calling.  They wanted to work with society’s youngest and most impressionable.  They wanted to “make a difference” and “change the world”.  The wanted to inspire and mold the next generation; the generation that would undoubtedly take over when they eventually perspired.

This was not me.  I never wanted to be a teacher.

I started college as a pre-med student, wanting to be a surgeon first, then a medical research scientist.  Once I discovered that chemistry and I would never be friends, I changed my major (to be honest, there were about 50 in-between) and picked up a dual degree in psychology and sociology.  I was going to go to graduate school and do research about the world; why it was broken, and what I could do to fix it.  Or I’d work at a non-profit.  Or join the Peace Corps.  Eventually I would probably teach, but to the “big kids” and the grown-ups who had a choice about taking my class.

But, as life has a way of showing us, it didn’t work out that way.  My senior year of college brought forth: a disastrous internship at the Baltimore ACLU, the GRE’s, 9 grad school applications sent out (1 acceptance), and a part time job working at the pre-school on campus.  It was there, working in the pre-K/kindergarten class, where I discovered my love of the little people; the tiny scholars who would one day change the world.  I discovered beginning writing, circle time, centers, recess and story time. I discovered a lovely world full of hope and amazingness.

And I also discovered something I was actually good at.  I remember the exact day, sitting on the carpet with my “friends” and realizing that this is what I wanted to do…forever.  I immediately found graduate schools education, got my M.Ed. in early childhood education, got certified, and embarked on my life path. I was ready to change the world, one five year old at a time.

Fast forward to 6 years post grad school.  I am no longer a teacher.  Yes, I work at a public school in Baltimore.  Yes, I am in a classroom. But I am no longer a teacher.

I am a data analyst.

I am a paper pusher.

I am a photo copier.

I am a lesson planner.

But I am not a teacher.

I was hired to be a teacher, but I very rarely get to do my job.

Beginning writing is now forced handwriting.  Circle time and morning meeting (character and community building parts of the day) only happen if we can keep it under 10 minutes.  Centers are nonexistent because I’m usually either still teaching my pre-prescribed scripted lessons from the district (yet still have to write multi-page lesson plans) or I am testing and the rest of the class has to do busy work.  Recess?  What’s that?  We barely have time to look out the window to check the weather for our weather graph let alone go outside and PLAY.

The other part of my day I get to be a bouncer and break up fights, stomp on sassy attitudes, and continually call and text parents of disrespectful students.  Why?  Because their ENTIRE day is one big structured minute after another and they get NO time to act their age.  We can barely take a bathroom break without it interrupting too much instruction.  And even then I could bet you that most of them don’t actually have to use it: they simply just want to get up and walk around for a minute and just be.  But I have to get through it all.  Whether they can do it or not.  Whether we’re ready or not.  Because if not, I’m the failure.  Not them.  Not the system.  Not the district.  Me.

If I’m going to be completely honest, I think this may be the year I decide to not be a “teacher” anymore.  It’s just too much and I can’t keep up with all the “extra” non-teaching things I have to do on a daily basis.  I’ve said before that there is no way I can be an effective parent and an effective teacher and I whole heartedly believe that because by the time I get home after working a 8+ hour day I still have to make dinner, pack lunches, and spend quality time with three of my own little people.  By the time I finally sit down at 9 pm to do the 2-3 hours of nightly work that I have before going back to school tomorrow, I AM DONE.

So something gets dropped.  We eat pizza instead of a healthy meal.  I put on a movie so I can work.  I just don’t get the school stuff done and I look bad.  And once I’m caught up, the vicious cycle starts over and over and over again.

There are lovely moments, don’t get me wrong.  But that’s what they are – moments.  Fleeting glimpses of what teaching used to be.  Smiles and math manipulatives and bright-eyed understanding.  And it’s always just enough to get me to think maybe it’s not so bad.  Maybe I can keep doing this.  Maybe I’m over reacting.

But then I check my email.  Or get a text from an administrator about something I forgot to do.  And I realize there is no winning.  Not for me, or my colleagues, or the students.  There’s simply getting by.  And I know this isn’t enough.

Are we ever going to be able to just TEACH?

teacher humor

 

Today was a good day

/ Cassie / Leave a comment

Today was actually a good day.  It’s hard to pinpoint what made it a good day, it just was.  And the funniest part?  School actually contributed to my good mood (somewhat).

The morning started out like any other with the millions of children (I have 34) coming into the classroom for breakfast.  We did our thing like always; we ate breakfast, changed to our leveled reading classes and continued about our morning.  Nothing remarkable, nothing mood altering, just typical Wednesday.  For the most part, everyone worked hard, everyone was respectful, and everyone walked out with a little bit more understanding of why character traits are important in a narrative.

Then it was time to change back to our homeroom classes.  This is usually a busy and loud time of day where I just feel like screaming “SIT DOWN AND BE QUIET FOR 5 MINUTES!” I stepped in the hall to talk to another teacher about a student when I slipped on something and went down hard.  There were a quite a few students in the hall, but it was pretty anticlimactic.   It didn’t hurt (though I have a giant bruise now).  But what happened next did.

Someone laughed.  And not just someone.  A child.  An 8 year old laughed at me.  And then I cried.  I wasn’t crying because I fell, I was crying because an 8 year old was mean to me.  Yes.  I am 34 years old.  Yes, this kind of disrespect happens at my school daily.  Yes, I realize that kid’s opinion of me means nothing, but in that moment, my feelings were hurt.  By a child.

But then a funny thing happened.  My entire class crowded around me.  Through the chorus of “what’s wrong” and the many, many hugs I was able to tell them I fell and that while I wasn’t hurt, my feelings were hurt by another student.  And they were upset.  They were upset that someone would hurt me, even if it was just my feelings.

And in that moment I felt truly loved by these little people, in a way I don’t think most teachers get to feel, at least not in my school.  In the 11 weeks that I’ve been with my 35 little friends I’ve questioned how much of a difference I’ve actually made in their lives.  Some days I feel like we’re getting somewhere, but most days I want to throw up my hands and walk out.  The fights, petty bickering, and whining and arguing get to me on a daily basis (Seriously, why can’t you just keep your hands to yourself?!?!?!  How is that so hard?????)

But not today.  I heard their concern.  I saw their love.  And for the first time I thought maybe I can do this for the next 100 days.  Maybe we actually are getting somewhere.  Maybe we actually are going to be OK.

From Where I Sit.

/ Cassie / Leave a comment

“Your life is your message to the world.  Make sure it’s inspiring.”

I sometimes forget people are watching.  I sometimes get so wrapped up in myself that I forget there are other people in the world.  Not only do I forget that I’m being watched, but I forget that people in my life are watching me critically, with eyes open wide to take it all in.  The things I do on an everyday basis are being scooped up by the people, both big and small, and I’m making lasting impressions.

This morning I came downstairs in my ratty running clothes.   The beauty of being on maternity leave is that I don’t ever really have to look nice, especially if I’m not going anywhere during the day. But after I got the kids some breakfast and settled with a short (educational, I promise!) show I walked over the the bookshelf and grabbed my headphones.

“Oh!  Are you going for your run, mom?”

It hit me, just from that one little sentence, how many things in our life just get NOTICED.  Just from that sentence I learned that my 4 year old notices my running and he realizes that it’s a habit (grabbing headphones  = running).  In his own way I think he also realizes how important it is to me (your run).

I was thinking about this as I left the house and started on my way.  A few houses down I saw a neighbor walking his dog.  He’s the kind of neighbor that we’ve said say hi in passing, but we’ve never really spoken.  As I passed him he says. “I was wondering when you were going to get back to running!  I had noticed you stopped and didn’t know why until I saw you out with the baby the other day.  It’s great that you’re getting back to it.  I used to enjoy watching you pass.  You were doing a great job.”

While my son noticed every time I was headed out for a run, other people who I had no real connection to were also noticing when I wasn’t running.  Impressions are made in the big moments, but also in the small moments too.  It can be in the grabbing of head phones, the handing handing of a book, a quick hello or nod as you pass by.

And with these little moments I begin to realize that maybe others are noticing me too.  As much as I look to others for inspiration, I hope that I am inspiring others as well.  I hope that my son who sees how much my runs mean to me finds something in his life that gives him that much joy and pleasure.  I know I don’t look like a “typical” runner, but I hope that inspires those that are too scared to run because of fear of judgement.   I hope that I can show others that if I can do it, they can do it.

It’s not necessarily about running, but really just getting out there and doing that thing you’re scared to do.  Fear of doing something is usually manifested simply by fear of judgment from others.  I was always scared that people would judge me as a runner simply because I was slow or didn’t look the part.  But If I never would have gotten out there, I wouldn’t be where I am now…completely in love with this “thing”.  It’s made me push myself and challenge myself in ways I never thought I could.

I hope that people look at me and my journey and realize there’s nothing to fear except fear.  That sometimes you have to jump.  That if you’re willing to take the leap of faith when everything tells you you shouldn’t you might just find something amazing.  You might just find yourself.

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Tomorrow is a good day.

/ Cassie / 1 Comment

Some days are for living. Others are for getting through.

I had a whole post written.  I was about to hit publish.  And then I deleted it all.

This morning I woke up from a bad dream and my day got worse from there.

I stressed.  I cried.  I yelled.  I threw a fit.

I wish I could keep myself together better when I get like this.  I get so worked up when I can’t have control over every situation.  When I can’t solve problems that pop up in my life, I seem to lose it.

Today I wasn’t the best mom.  I was a bad wife.  I was a bad me.

Tomorrow I need to do better.

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To my darling daughter on departure day

/ Cassie / 1 Comment

“…you are my rainbow to keep. My eyes will always be watching you; never will I lose sight of you.” ~Vesna Bailey

Yesterday is the day they found the Boston Marathon bomber guilty of all 30 counts.  Yesterday was also the day that another African American man was shot and killed by an on duty police officer.  And today is the day I brought my tiny, newborn daughter home from the hospital.  While these events don’t seem connected in any way they most certainly are because I am bringing a new life into a world where people bomb other people or simply hurt other people on purpose…and that scares the ever living daylights out of me.

I used to joke, after repeatedly watching the movie Baby Boom (I just KNOW Diane Keaton and I could be BFF), that all I wanted to do is buy a giant house in the country, homeschool my kids, and become a blueberry farmer.  And with each passing day this urge continues to grow and get stronger and stronger. Because all I want to do is keep my kids safe, and whole, and seemingly pure and these days  it feels like an exceedingly daunting and impossible task.  But as I sit here and lament over the fact I can’t keep them safe from everyone else in the world, I know that what I can do is TEACH them and be the most positive role model I can be.

So, to my darling daughter, on the day I bring you home from the hospital, and into the “big, bad world” what I want to tell you is this:

The world is scary, I’m not going to lie.  There are people in it who live just to hurt others.  Some of them do it physically.  Some mentally.  Some in other ways.  There is no doubt in my mind that you will encounter someone like these people at one point or another.  It may be in the mean girl who pushes you off the monkey bars when you’re four.  Or in the boy that starts a rumor about you in high school.  Or in the friend that constantly puts you down to make herself feel better.  There are times you will get hurt for no reason at all, simply because you are in the wrong place at the wrong time.

But listen closely, dear one, for this is important.  None of these instances are who you are.  None of theses people will define your character.  You are better than that.  I’ve only know you for two days (or 10 months and 2 days) and I already know how smart, amazing, sweet, loving, and happy you are.  And I hope you never let anyone make you feel less than that.

I hope that in our time together I am able to teach you not only how to stand up for others, but also how to stand up for yourself. That you never DESERVE to be treated with anything other than dignity and respect from anyone.  I hope I am able to instill in you an idealism that no matter how small, you are still able to change the world and I hope you are able to hold on to that idealism even on the worst days.  I hope I am able to teach you to see and appreciate the tiny joys in life: a ladybug, a sunny day, a favorite book, a tender moment.  I hope that even though the world can be dark and scary, you can learn to see the light and joy in some aspect of it every day.

And no matter what, I hope you know that things may get bad and things may get dark, but there will always be one person in this world who loves you more than anything else, more than anyone else and sometimes that’s really all you need to keep going.

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Through different eyes

/ Cassie / 1 Comment

“The greatest gift that you can give to others is the gift of unconditional love and acceptance.” ~Brian Tracey

As the impending due date approaches (it’s actually today) both little ones have been fascinated with baby pictures of themselves.  They’re constantly asking me to look through the old photos I have stored on my computer and happily I oblige, loving the trip down memory lane as much as they do.  Looking at the old photos convinces me that once this new baby comes into our lives, everything will be ok.  The pain and annoyance of pregnancy will have been worth it and while three kids seems daunting, so did 2 under 2 at the time.  We all managed those first moments and years relatively unscathed even though we had no real idea what we were doing.

But, as usual, I digress.  This post is about one particular picture.  While scrolling through the photos, Max made me stop at this one:

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I immediately grimace. Four months post-baby and I still looked like I had been hit by a truck.  Overweight, unhealthy, unkept.  I was probably 60-70 pounds heavier than I am now (at 40 weeks pregnant).  My idea of exercise was walking to the car to drive to the grocery store a half a mile away.  My idea of a good meal was multiple menu items at 5 Guys.    As I focus on everything I hate about this picture, Max looks at me and says

“I love this picture mom.  Can we print it?”

“Why do you like it so much?”

“Because it’s me and you together.”

And just like that, my 5 year old has proved he is wise beyond his years, that he is, in fact, smarter than me.  Because as I focused on all the things I hate about this picture, all the things that were WRONG with ME, I missed the most important part.  The picture captures a moment in time that he and I spent together.  While I focused on imperfections, he sees how much I loved him from the beginning.

And with that comment, I see how much he loves me too.

Maybe I’ve been doing it all wrong

/ Cassie / 1 Comment

““It is always important to know when something has reached its end. Closing circles, shutting doors, finishing chapters, it doesn’t matter what we call it; what matters is to leave in the past those moments in life that are over.” ~Paulo Coelho

As much as I complain about being a public school teacher, there are some wonderful perks, such as my 12 days of winter break.  The first two days were very busy with last minute Christmas shopping, food shopping, house cleaning, getting ready for relatives and trying to give the little ones a semblance of calm in our chaotic days.

We always celebrate with our family during Christmas morning.  It starts at 7 and we gather for presents and breakfast.  It may seem early, but the benefit is that it is over by 10:30 leaving us the rest of the day to lounge in our pajamas, enjoy our new gadgets, and otherwise veg about.

Usually the days running together with no set schedule and nowhere to be cause me a great deal of anxiety.  When my days are less busy, my mind tends to wander and worry, reexamine and remember and these things are never a good combination.

What I found this year is that instead of he foreboding and anxiety I was greeted by an eerie feeling.  I felt calm and at peace almost as if so many of the weights I have been carrying around with me were lifted off and simply floated away.  I know that not having to go to work definitely made me happier, but it was more than this and I really wish I could do a better job of explaining it.

I feel as if the impending-ness of 2015 made me shed my 2014 skin.  Ill feelings I had were erased.  Worries that constantly plagued me, while still there, seemed less overwhelming and important.  For the first time in a long time, or maybe even in forever, I felt like everything was going to be ok; like everything is exactly as it should be.  I feel like I’ve truly let go of all of the baggage that has accumulated in the past few years.  I feel like these moments, regrets, fears, mistakes, will no longer rule my life and be a constant influence on the future decisions I make.

I’ve mentioned before how much I love New Years (http://hereswhatimtryingtosay.wordpress.com/2013/12/27/the-time-has-come-the-walrus-said-to-talk-of-many-things/) It’s this wonderfully magical time when you can just start over.  I’m not naive enough to think that the world actually resets itself or that you can’t simply start over any other day of the year, but something happens when you get close to a new year.  You can feel the difference, the change in the air, the realization that hope is on its way.

I am no longer the person I was when 2014 began, and I really couldn’t be happier with the changes that have occurred, but I think there’s more.  I’d like to keep this feeling of peace and calm.  I’d like to do better.  I’d like to be better.  The changes I’ve made to myself are indisputable, but with baby #3 on the way, there is no doubt that I can still grow, I can still change, I can still become a better person, a person that all my children can be proud of.

A person that I can be proud of.

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