Chomping at Bubbles

Snow has blanketed our neighborhood for two days now.  Two days snowed in...no school...no work.  There has been time spent building snow men with freezing hands, staring at the sky while making snow angels, having snowball (ice ball) fights, and sipping creamy hot chocolate by a roaring fire.  There has also been a sense of cabin fever.  We don't have a big house--I think the word cozy describes it well.  The truth is we live in absolutely every inch of our house and it just seems that we all always end up hanging out in the same room.  Family togetherness is fantastic but I will admit with all four of us crammed into one room with two 70+ pound dogs demanding attention it can be a tad overwhelming.

Well, it seems that this has really been getting to Eric.  He loves to play with the boys outside, garden, or do anything that has to do with chasing a ball.  I think all this time inside has really begun to take a toll.  We've had a really hard time getting in stride with each other the last couple days.  If you have been in a relationship for any length of time you know what I mean.  Everything seems to be said in a grumble and everything the kids seem to do is followed by a quick snap of caution.  It's very easy to be drawn into the downward spiral of frustration and grumpiness especially when even three rooms away you can hear what each other are thinking.  I was falling into this trap of negativity when I was saved by the power of bubbles!

Here we are...all crammed in one room...watching Eric do something.

Eric's claustrophobia was evident this morning when he almost became unhinged when both boys wanted to "help" him start the fire.  I smiled to myself knowing this feeling all to well both at home and at work.  I sort of revel in the feeling of everyone being interested in what I'm doing yet I know that it can become quite trying when you are focused on completing a task.

The boys and I gave him his space and started playing with some blocks.  Eric was trying to pull himself out of his funk by sneaking around the corner to begin a full-on Nerf-gun war when all of the sudden I herd a groan of frustration.  Apparently Jace (almost 2) had decided to stuff a few darts in the gun causing it to not work at all.  I, being the problem solver I am, spent the next hour attempting major surgury on the weapon, unscrewing all 15 screws and putting in back together only to completely render in useless promptly after unclogging it.  Aside from being completely in awe of the intricacy of a Nerf gun I was completely and utterly frustrated.

The boys had moved on to blowing bubbles in the living room, Eric was hiding under a blanket on the couch and I tried to sneak my defeated, dejected self to the bathroom to take a really, really, really long shower (this is about the only place you get peace and quiet with two young children).  I almost made it, I was in our bedroom at the threshold of the bathroom when I heard Connor, he's five, ask, "Teresa, will you please blow bubbles for us?"
"Not right now honey, I'm going to take a shower."  Surprised by a sudden commotion at my feet, I looked down to see Jace wearing only a Winnie the Pooh t-shirt and diaper on all fours trying to eat a bubble that had landed on the carpet but not yet popped.
"What is Jace doing?" I half asked and half laughed.
"Jace and I are trying to eat the bubbles!"  Connor promptly blew a half a dozen bubbles from the wand and the two commenced to making ridiculous chomping sounds as they ran wildly chasing the bubbles open-mouthed, tripping over each other.  Their giggles were absolutely contagious!

I caught their infectious laughter and tears began to gather in my eyes.  I grabbed the bubbles out of Connor's hand and ran around the room jumping up and down on the bed blowing as many bubbles as possible.  I made it my mission to fill the room with bubbles so the two could continue their game.  As the giggles continued I felt all of my frustration and self-pity melt away.  So, as I type this memory while the snow slowly melts into a slushy mess outside my window, I am reminded of time's promise to move forward and my constant choice to make this time beautiful.  I am eternally grateful for my two amazing boys whose very beings remind me to let my spirit dance and chomp at bubbles! 

The Help: I remain in awe...

My mom put this book in my hands on Christmas Day.  That night, I found myself snuggled in bed ready to read myself into a deep slumber when all of the sudden I blinked and found myself transformed...

  Kathryn Stockett grabbed me from my bed and shoved me into the body of a black maid in Mississippi during the 60s in all of it's racist splendor.  Anger heated my skin as the high society white women prattled about how they would ban together to protect society by demanding that a seperate maid's quarters be placed in every white home so that the diseased black bottoms would not infect the frail and vulnerable white tushes. 

Kathryn did not leave me there long; she played with my emotions like the metal sphere in a pinball machine as I was pulled from one deliciously crafted character to the next.  Thrust in and out of maids and their employers (more like masters) as they struggle with their insanely intimate, yet publicly separate, relationships each with her very own overflowing trunk-load of drama.  A partial hero emerges as a woman of society begins to consider what is going on...she falls upon an opportunity that could be something big...something that could change things...if she can only make it work...

I consumed this novel (or it consumed me) in two days.  Much of this time consisted of me chasing my 20 month old with my book-in-hand.  I fear there were times in which I regressed in my motherly duties and I allowed him to be babysat by the television (I am SO SORRY Jace).  This, I promise, is a rarity but it speaks volumes about the intensely gripping story of The Help.  I remain in awe of this book.  Not since reading Richard Wright's Native Son have I felt so delightfully, thoroughly enraged!   

My Feminist Rant

It is times like these, when I want to type a rant like this, that I am glad only a few people read this blog.  Someday I will have more courage to just slap in out for everyone to see like a bumper sticker (thanks Tim) but for right now I appreciate that those who read this are some of my closest and most accepting friends.

Thanks to many powerful and wonderful women who came before me I can vote, hold any job I desire, and I am entitled to equal pay; however, I still have to wait for a man to be ready and smart enough to save money for a ridiculous diamond (that frankly I am terrified will fall the way of all of my jewelry past...I'm not exactly sure where it all lives but it is definitely not with me).  I am stricken to a life in limbo constantly thinking...will today be the day?  Completely random surprizes or ones with a deadline I can handle.  I will know what is in that shiny, bright box under the tree by December 25th.  But waiting for a marriage proposal is archaic, rediculous, and NO FUN!


As a child, I viewed marriage as a Cinderella fairy tale--all glass slippers, horse drawn carriages, and a really huge glittery dress!  But now I realize what it truly is.  It is an absolutely brilliant and beautiful union of two people who have decided that no matter what they want to stay by each others side; all of the grandiose party decoration are hardly important. 

Looking into a person's eyes and hearing and knowing that when they say "I do" it is a commitment that they promise to love you...  The love may not always be pretty, there may be days when love feels a lot like it's counterpart and is surrounded by the smell of dirty diapers.  But you know that together you will work it out not because you have to....but because you want to...you already chose to...and; therefore, in a sense you already have. 


It just seems silly to have to wait until the man has decided.  I guess I reserve the right to say "yes" or "no" but it hardly feels like a very proactive role in the whole thing.  I would have no qualms about getting down on one knee myself if I didn't know that somehow it wouldn't be a story that my counterpart would feel very happy to tell.  In our society, this has become the man's right...to be the one to initiate the proposal of marriage...yet their name remains unchanged by the whole deal.  Shouldn't I get to be the one to say hey...I would like to take your name and slap a Mrs. in front of it...is that cool with you?

I will now step down from my soap box, curtsy, and practice being better at looking after my jewelry because who knows...maybe today will be the day...

The Important Lessons

What a powerful teachable moment!

Names have been changes to protect the innocent.  :)

"Okay friends" I began.  "We have two more things to do before we leave today.  First, we'll practice our readers theater, then a little word study."  All 21 kids are sitting cross legged on the floor in the dark classroom.  The only light comes from the SmartBoard that displays the readers theater we are about to begin.  Edward is placed in the middle of the crowd; he raises his hand.  "I'm sorry Ms. V.  but I can't really concentrate...Sarah and Joey are making fun of Zack for wearing a santa hat and I can't really pay attention with their talking.  I glance at Zack and his eyes are steadily focused on the wall behind me.  His eight-year old exterior shows nothing of the pain I am sure he is feeling inside at that very moment.  His large, blue, expressive eyes are glazed over.  Sarah's head is now tilted down and she is looking at me through the protection of her blonde hair.  Joey stares at me looking sheepish, braced for what is to come. 

I do my best to remain calm; however, bullying seems to do crazy things to me...a red tint seems to blanket the room.  "Sarah?  Joey?  what's up?"  I say not too kindly.  They continue in their same poses just staring at me, unblinking.  Nobody in the room makes a sound.  "That really hurts my heart that you would make fun of someone like that."  I took a deep breath and tried to calculate the best way to handle this...I was in need of more time to react calmly.  "I'm sorry but I'm very angry and hurt by your behavior...I just need you two to move away from us for a minute.  Please just go sit back there.  I took another deep breath  "I just don't understand why anyone would make fun of anyone...especially about wearing a santa hat" I remarked.
"I know, Santa hats are cool!" Edward said. 
"Guys, bullying makes people feel so small; I have a connection to this, let me tell you a story about when I was bullied once."  All eyes followed me as I paced back and forth across the room recounting the following story; although it seemed silly as I repeated it after so many years I still felt tears sting my eyes as I remembered how it felt happening to me.  I'm sure the kids noticed the crack in my voice.     

I was in middle school, in my P.E. class.  My friend and I were walking around the track, like we were supposed to.  My friend was overweight and some kids decided to be mean to us because of it.  This group of 4 or 5 kids were walking behind us and the next thing I know they began shouting things like "why don't you run?" and "hey, look at them go!"  My friend and I sped up to try to get away from them but all that did was encourage them.  "Ha ha!  look at them run!"  they ran up beside us and made faces, then let themselves fall behind and laugh.  P.E. seemed to last forever that day.  Finally, it was time to leave.  I dreaded going to P.E. from that day on, I never felt comfortable!  I always felt like someone was going to be mean to me and even though it never happened again I was always scared it would.  I hated felling so tiny; like I wanted to crawl into a corner and cry.

By the time my story was finished I looked up to see at least half the class with their hands up.  "I don't know why anyone would want to hurt someone like that,"  I said looking over the class, my gaze pausing on Sarah and Joey.  By this time the two offenders were all but crying themselves (this may seem harsh but I felt that they needed to feel and understand the weight of their choice).  I called on a few raised hands as kids began to share times of sadness when their feelings were trampled.  "We will not let anyone feel that way in this class," I matter-of-factly stated. 
"Yeah!  Plus it says that on our class promise," Troy exclaimed from the back of the gathering.  "Exactly!  I supported.  Now, I understand that mistakes happen.   You have seen me drop things."  "watch for falling objects" Carrie called out (a phrase I use all too often). 
"Do you still love me? I asked" 
"Yes!" They all shouted. 
"In this classroom we are a family, and even though we make mistakes...it's okay, we still love eachother!"  "Now, I know that Sarah and Joey would never really want to hurt anyones heart, and I'm sure it was just a big mistake.  We will always forgive mistakes.  "Sarah, Joey, come join us" I turned to them.  They slowly made there way back to their previous spots on the floor.  "We will certainly forgive you, but you have to make it better!  How can you make it better?"  I asked.  Sarah immediatly turned to Zach and gave a most heartfelt, tears-in-eyes apology.  Joey's followed quickly.

I let a few more kids share some of their stories of conflict and bullying--including Sarah--and I was about to finally get to that reader's theater, feeling like the situation was resolved, when I called on Trent.  "I think we should write a book," he said.  "We should write friend stories...like we are doing family stories now we should do friend ones next.  We could write two books in one like part could be fiction about our difficult times with friends and the other part could be non-fiction like how to deal with bullies and stuff."  "Amazing idea!" I said.  "I have a connection!" an unlikely participant Todd said.  "My Star Wars book has four books in one.  We would have like two books in one."  "Yeah, and it would have 22 chapters in it because that would be all of us and you Ms. V."  My heart is dancing at this point as I look at 21 eager and engaged faces contemplating the upcoming important work they will be doing as a writers.  "I like it!"  I beamed.  "We should start getting this together on Monday!"

To think I could have simply told the two kids to stop picking on the other and apologize and went on with the planned activities.  How much would we have lost out on!  Instead, we spent time discussing real life issues, building community, and planning curriculum together!  I do hope that the kids leave me with a strong understanding of the content we study; however, I need the kids to leave me understanding lessons like this one!    

Waiting for Superman

On a whim I bought the tickets. I was looking through my personal e-mail account (this only happens about once a week) and "accidentally" clicked on an e-mail. On my screen appeared an advertisement for the showing of Waiting for Superman at the Nickelodeon Theater. There was a convenient link that let me buy tickets. My eyes happened to fall upon information about a talk back session with Jim Rex following the Tuesday night showing. Why not? I thought to myself. Without pausing to think I grabbed my debit card and bought two tickets.

The school day rushed past on Tuesday with all of the nervous and excited energy of expectations for the upcoming Thanksgiving break. By 5:30 my dear friend and colleague and I found ourselves comfortably in our seats, popcorn and soda in hand, awaiting the start of the show. Voices around us mingled along with the clink of beer bottles and the rustling of buckets of ice. The manager announced the beginning and thanked us for our patronage. The lights turned low, and the harsh reality of the state of America's schools began to flash across the screen.

The documentary certainly has it's own motives as any work of art does. But as the camera panned across the faces of the unknowing children, getting up and going to school each day tears began to welled up in my eyes. These children, I realized, are under the assumption that their community and the adults in power know what they are doing. They assume we know what is best and that we are giving them our best--and if we aren't then there is some reason for that too. If we allow them to fail then they "realize" that since we know best, then they are in fact failures.

The film continues to follow these children and their families on their quest to get into the only shining beacons of light in their communities--the proven charter schools of their community. This is their big chance to escape the "failure factories" of the big box schools. They apply, wait, and pray to win the admission lottery that could promise them a future and gain them entrance into a successful life. Sometimes over 700 people vie for 40 or so spots. It's the experience of a lifetime if the student makes it in and tears of joy speckle their faces. Those who are not excepted have tears too. They have run into another brick wall...another failure.

The film ends with one of the little boys making into the boarding school that will most-likely change his life. He lays on the top-bunk of his new bed staring at a Polaroid he has just stuck to his wall...a trinket from home. It is a photo of his now-deceased father, dead from a drug overdose. His heart is full of hope for the future, a future that will escape the past of a community failing him and his family, a past of pain.

Jim Rex stood against the black screen, the white lights dancing on his face as the credits rolled on. He began explaining that as this was his first time seeing the film he was still "drying his eyes" along with us. He highlighted his attempt to pass the school choice bill, a bill that found its demise in 2007 when vetoed by Gov. Sanford because it did not include vouchers. Since that year it has been unable to get out of committee. Rex explained that we are making progress in our schools but it is "too slow and too little." He stated his fears about the stigma of teaching and that it will most likely deter many great professionals from our fields and as the baby boomers begin to retire we will have many necessary spots to fill. He called for a need for high expectations and support and also held that charter schools and magnet programs are important pieces to provide choice and push reform. Looping with kids, spending more then 9 months and then "passing them on" and working as "a team of teachers" were two key points in his discussion as needs for providing excellent education.

For America to remain the power it is and continue to uphold the principals that we were established upon we must give an equal and excellent education to ALL!  We must look to the charter schools, magnet schools, and public schools that work!  How do they get their learning community to thrive?  What do we need?  We must continue to build, grow, and foster these communities that do not allow any child fail!

Jace's First Haircut

My face flushed, my heart began pounding in my ears, and Earth itself split in two. I felt myself falling down into an endless pit--okay, maybe a tad dramatic.

I always imagined Jace with long blond curly locks that caused him to be mistaken for a girl. Don't get me wrong, I didn't want people to think he was a girl-I just wanted to enjoy his beautiful baby hair for a while. He grew it out to about "surfer dude" length but that is where it ended.

My visions of an abundance of pictures, prior to an unsure trip to my neighbor (a hairstylist), where I would wipe tears away as snippets of Jace's hair fell to the ground, were brought to a nails-on-a-chalkboard, needle-on-a-record, kind of screeching halt by a five-year-old with safety scissors.

I was being "professionally developed" so Eric was at home watching the kids. He decided to take a shower before work (probably a good thing). Little did he know, Connor had a plan...Connor decided Jace needed a haircut so he climbed up on the kitchen table to retrieve the necessary tool.

The scene ends with Eric getting out of the shower only to see a guilty five-year-old holding safety scissors. "What are you doing?" he questions with a tinge of "uh oh" in his voice.
"I was cutting paper" Connor unconvincingly replies. Just then, a smiling baby Jace waddles from behind him-his shoulders covered in the hair that once was on his head. Eric took a deep breath, let it out, and said "Connor, go to your room."

To My Mentors

As I readied this morning for my first official day back to work I had a thought that brought tears to my eyes. I immediately ran to my writers notebook and wrote this letter. This is to my mentors...

Dearest friend,

I consider the time you have given me a truly special gift; you have shared your true heart's passion with me and continue to help me by letting me learn along your side. Your constant patience and support has allowed me to grow into the teacher I now am and allows me to know that there is always room to grow by constantly wondering, questioning, learning, and discovering. I thank you. I would not be the person I am today without our crossing paths. You are truly instrumental in my life and thus the lives of many others.

My dear friend I hear your voice often, it comes to me in all that I do. I hear your calming words when things are tough, your questions when you are challenging me to think deeper, and your joy during both large and small celebrations. Most importantly there is love intertwined in all that you say.

As I ready myself for my second year of teaching I am overjoyed that the universe brought us together. I want you to know that I carry you in my heart wherever I go.

Love,
Teresa