I Am a Teacher

There is a lot of unrest in the schools in Washington State right now. The demands of teaching are increasing while the resources are dwindling. Every year we hear promises of things the State is going to do to make our jobs easier. And yet every year there seems to be more added to the pile that makes our jobs harder.

After many years of festering anger and frustration, the pot is starting to come to a boil. Teachers and school staff and parents are done. Fed up. We can't handle one more thing. 

There are several issues that have been brought into the discussion. Pay is one. The people of the State is Washington asked that teachers get a Cost of Living Adjustment every year. And every year we hear how there's no funding. Another issue is class size. The people of the State of Washington asked that class sizes in schools be lowered so that teachers don't have unbelievable amounts of children in their classrooms and so that they can give the children the individualized attention that so many of them need and crave. We are also fed up with Common Core and testing and the new difficulties that these assessments have brought to educators and students alike. Did you know that the state wants to tie the scores that my students receive on these standard tests to my teacher evaluation?  27% of my evaluation would be tied to how well my students perform on one high-stakes assessment.  We are also hoping that the state leaves our health insurance alone and that we have the ability within our district to choose the health plan that we want. I think those are the main points. There are probably more I am not remembering. And as teachers in the state of Washington, we are upset. 

So, we voted to strike. A one-day walkout within our district in a sea of rolling walkouts across the state to show the State Legislature that we are serious and need to be listened to. That they need to start funding education. That they need to start treating the teachers and staff and our children like investments into the future of this great state and not afterthoughts in the great juggling of the budget.

So, May 7th was our day. Our day to walkout and take action. And as I fretted and thought about the activities of the day and the time leading up to the vote even, and what was planned, I began to think. And I began to pray. And I may be putting myself out there in a negative light and may be looked down upon by my peers, but the day we sat in that gym and voted to walkout, I voted NO! Selfishly, I thought of my own children at home. I thought of how I am a widowed mom of two little girls that depend on me for their needs and wants. And I thought about the paycheck that I get, and how desperately I need that paycheck, no matter what the amount is. I have bills and a mortgage and debt that my husband left me with and I panicked. And I voted NO. Not because I don't agree that we need change of some kind because we desperately do. But because I need to be paid. I need that job. I need MY job. 

So then schedules started coming out about what we were going to do for our walkout. What activities we had planned. And I ignored them...selfishly. I had other plans. 

I had plans to take my kids to school. You see, I am a public school teacher. But my children are enrolled in private school. Why? Is it because I don't trust our teachers in CK School District? Not at all! Every year I contemplate bringing the girls to the school where I teach. But I don't. I choose to not only pay my taxes but also to pay tuition for private school. Why? Because I get to drop my girls off at a school that does not strictly follow Common Core. They don't give the kids the Smarter Balance Assessment. They don't do Standards Based Grading. They teach the kids what they want to teach them! They get to teach to their interests and passions, not to a high stakes test! Another reason? Amelia is in a second grade class with 14 students. 14! If she were in public school she would most likely be one of 25!  I would drop off my student with a teacher who was underpaid and overworked and most likely pushed to her maximum.  So, I choose to drop her off in a classroom with 14 students, where she gets individualized attention, and can grow and thrive in her environment.

I had plans to take my kids to school and pick them up from school. This was more important to me than participating in the walkout. Why? Because I am a teacher. And as a teacher, I am out of the house every morning by 7:30 a.m., when their babysitter arrives to take them to school.  Being a teacher, my girls start school around the same time I do, so I don't get to be a mom to my kids and take them to school.  And, I also do not get to be a mom and pick them up from school either, so my babysitter picks them up from school, and takes them to dance, and has relationships with the other moms in their classroom.  While I am at my school, making relationships with the parents of my students.  Do I regret my job choice?  No, I am glad that I am a speech-language pathologist and I enjoy getting to know my families.  But, when presented with a day that I might get to take my children to school and pick my children up from school, I will always choose them, over walkout activities any day.  I am a teacher, but I am also a mom.  Being a teacher makes being a mom difficult.  And for those that would jump in and say "Well, you shouldn't have had children if you can't take care of them." I say back that I didn't really have a choice.  When my husband died, our plans to have a parent at home with them changed, and now I work to make ends meet.

I also had plans to go and see my doctor on the day of the walkout.  You see, I have neglected going to the doctor for some time now.  It's cheaper if I don't go in and pay copays and deductibles.  I also don't have much sick leave accrued so it's hard for me to justify taking sick days when I have to save them "just in case."  When you have kids at home, there are a lot of "just in case" things that come up.  So, when I heard that we weren't working on the walkout day, I scheduled an appointment to see my doctor, so that it wouldn't impact my time at work.

And about making those ends meet, there have been numerous articles in the newspapers about the teacher strikes throughout the state, and one of the first comments on these articles is always a link to teacher salaries.  Being that we are state workers, our salaries are public record.  So anyone has the right to be able to look at see what I make.  But, before you go and look at those sites, I think there is something you should know.  I clicked on the site.  I looked up my salary.  Did you know that the website says that I make $77,000 per year?  Wow!  I've only been teaching for thirteen years, so that is a very impressive salary for being just a teacher.  But do you know what else that salary is for?  That salary is before taxes.  That salary includes all of my benefits.  That salary does not tell the entire story.  Like I said, I get benefits.  Did you know that some of our pay goes to paying the premiums for our benefits?  Did you know that my copay goes up every year?  Did you know my deductible goes up every year?  Did you know that our district tries hard to give us pay increases because they value us as teachers, but that those pay increases typically don't cover the increase in our benefits?  Did you know that for the last four years, my pay has gone DOWN?  Did you know that I have stopped going to regular doctor appointments for myself in an attempt to save money for myself?  Did you know that after taxes and all of the deductions from my paycheck that my take-home pay is $3000 per month?  And for those that are not great at math my take home salary for a year is around $36,000.  Which is almost exactly the amount that I have lost out on over the last six years from not getting my cost of living adjustment.  $36,000!  A whole year's worth of pay that I have lost out on because when the legistlature is looking for cuts to the budget, they deny us our voter-mandated COLA, and yet can always find the money to give themselves an 11.2% COLA, like the COLA they are getting this year.

But, what about being paid all summer?  I don't even work all summer!  I'm getting paid for the months that I have off!  That is correct.  I am.  They take my salary and thankfully divide it over twelve months so that I don't have to go all summer without getting paid.

And seriously, you only teach from 8:20-2:35.  That's not a full day.  You're right!  It's not.  But I get to school around 8:00.  And I typically leave work around 5:00 on a good day.  And then I take work home with me.  Often, I try hard to be a mom when I get home so we do the regular dinner, bath, bed routine and then I'm up sometimes two, three, four hours working on reports, or IEPs, or evaluations, or planning for therapy for the week.  But I only get paid for 7.5 hours a day.  I don't get overtime.  Or comp pay.  So the four hours sitting at home on my computer is my donation to my job, because I love the kids that I work with, and I love being a professional for my bosses so I always make sure that my paperwork is completed.

And don't even get me started on Common Core.  The concepts of common core in itself are not bad.  Having a common teaching tool to work with across the nation is a fantastic idea.  Knowing that the Navy babies that I work with can leave Washington State and move across the nation and see the same standards is fabulous.  But, did you know they ruined these concepts by restricting teachers' freedoms to teach what they want?  They added in Standards Based Assessments (SBAs) in order to determine if students were learning the Common Core Standards.  This assessment is so hard, and so time consuming that many teachers can't pass it, let alone the students that we work with.  We have practice SBAs, and pre-SBAs, and run-through SBAs, and we are testing and testing and testing until we can't test our kids anymore.  And they are stressed.  And teachers are stressed.  And the good teaching that has happened in our schools for years and years is out the window because they are so uptight that they are not hitting all of the teaching points of the assessment, that they forget that they are amazing teachers.  

And now, 27% (I believe) of our teacher evaluations are going to be tied to the SBAs and how our students perform on this assessment.  And for me, who doesn't have a classroom that I teach out of?  My evaluations appears to be based off of  a building average of how our students do.  So, my teacher evaluation will be based off of how well my colleagues prepare their students for the SBA.  How is that fair?  And just as a sampling, we have been working on various grade levels of SBAs for some time now, since at least the beginning of April.  And what stories are coming out of the SBAs?  There are stories of how whole classes have persevered and done their very best on the assessments.  There are stories of kids who are in tears because they are so stressed about taking this test.  I work in special education.  My students have a whole range of learning and behavioral and sensory and communication deficits.  There's the story from one of my students how he couldn't answer his writing question because it asked him to play out a social scenario.  He has Aspergers and didn't know how to answer the questions.  There was the student who was so stressed by the question he was given that he clicked on the "end test" button and it finished his test and he could no longer continue with the assessment.  All because he was angry and the teacher couldn't help him or she might "breach assessment security."  There was the student who got into a fight with his brother on the playground the morning that he took the assessment and he also his the "end test" button and his test was locked out.  There was the student who finished his reading assessment in 14 minutes because he randomly clicked answers on the test and didn't read any part of it.  But guess what?  My ability to continue teaching in this district, and the ability of my peers and colleagues may be impacted by these test scores, because they want to tie these test results to my evaluation.  Is that fair?  I don't think so.

So, I did not participate in the walkout last week.  And I will admit that since that time I have thought and prayed a lot about it and I am ashamed that I did not.  I am hurt and angry just like my fellow teachers, but I took the coward's way out and did not participate.  I dropped my kids off that morning at school.  I went to the doctor.  I picked my kids up from school.  And I did not participate with my colleagues.  And I am sorry to them if I did not show support to them in their time of need.  But, I can tell you that I will be there for the next one, because I worry that there will be a next one.  The state legislature needs to listen to us!  We are losing a battle in the field of education.  We are losing children to testing, but we are also losing teachers.  Good teachers!  Excellent teachers, who can no longer handle the stress of the job.  Teachers who cannot passively sit back anymore and watch as our education system crumbles.  No Child Left Behind is slowly turning into every child left behind, and their teachers being left behind too!

Many people will read this and be upset or angry, on both sides of the fence.  Many of my colleagues will be disappointed in my decisions that day.  Many people in the public will think that I am whining and that I am spoiled for wanting these things to happen.  And, it is not about the pay for me.  It is about the health and well-being of my students, of my peers, and of the educational system in this great State of Washington!


I am a teacher.  I did not get into this profession for the pay.  I did not get into this profession for the glitz and glamour.  I did not get into the profession for glory or honor.  I got into this profession to help my students, to teach the kids that are entrusted to me to the best of my abilities, and to carry my students from the point they come to me to being successful in their next point of life.  I am a teacher, and I am proud to be a teacher, and I will always be a teacher no matter what my pay is, or what my benefits are, or how much money I lose every year.  Unless my evaluation says that I didn't have enough kids pass the SBA in my school.  Or unless parents get so fed up with this system that they homeschool their children.  I am thrilled and honored that God has chosen me to be called to work in the capacity that I work, but I am quickly seeing that His plan for me may change, and my heart breaks for my students who do not get to opt out of this education system.  It is broken, and it is time for change, and I will fight for my students to get what they need to be successful, even if it means someone else picking my own kids up at school those days.

It takes a village...and that village is rallying around it's children!  It is time!  And I hope you'll join us in educating the public and getting the word out about the misconceptions in education.  Teachers are not greedy.  We are not lazy.  We are not just in this for the pay. We are kind, caring, compassionate, and passionate about our jobs.  And we are looking for change for our students!  It's time!

Welcome to the Club

There's an unspoken club within the walls of Hawk Elementary School. There isn't a secret handshake. There are no formal meetings. There isn't a clubhouse. There are no dues. And it's a club that no one wants to be a member of, and the current members forever pray that no one else joins our club. It's a club of grieving people. People who have lost loved ones over the years. And the number keeps growing. 

It started with me, I suppose. Brian died in October of 2010. I remember Tess, our principal calling a "stand up meeting" as she calls them to let the staff know. I was thankful to be elsewhere and not present at the meeting. The support from the people in my building and in the speech department was amazing. I was and am truly blessed to have them in my life. And life goes on. 

But then, the next one to join the club...Katy miscarried her twin babies. Our hearts as a staff were broken again. Another stand up meeting. Another round of meals. Another staff member going through so much pain and heartache. 

Wendy lost her husband almost two years ago. I remember walking into school that day, and my assistant standing in my office with such a sad look on her face. When I asked her what was wrong and she told me what happened, I had to sit down. It was like someone grabbing the scab over the wound on my heart and ripping it right back open. I sobbed. For Wendy. For her husband. For her loss. Another unwelcome member...

A new building and a new start was exactly what we all thought we needed. Our brand new building would start new and fresh and we would all be ok! Free from gathering any new members. We hadn't even moved in yet when we got the email from Tess that sweet Liza had lost her teenaged boy Jackson. No stand up meeting since it was over the summer. But sign ups to make meals. Sending love and prayers. I didn't know Liza very well, but I made her family shredded chicken and took her dinner. I sobbed to whole time I was making her dinner. Like ugly cry sobbed for three hours solid. Another unwelcome member into the most horrifying club ever. School started back up in the fall and life carried on, with oh so heavy hearts. I couldn't even look at Liza without wanting to sob. So I sent her love and hugs and prayers through email, until the day she got brave and stopped me in the hallway and we hugged. I have loved getting to know Liza. And although our grief is oh so different, it's not so different all at the same time. 

We marched through the fall, and celebrated a staff member with a new baby on the way. And then...another email. Our friend and colleague Jennifer has lost her precious baby. And we cried. And I made pulled pork sandwiches and delivered them to her and sobbed into her arms as we held each other and loved each other and welcomed another unwelcome member into the club. 

And then it seemed things were ok. We marched on, hiding our grief in front of our kiddos, leaning on the individual coworkers we all run to, sending a knowing glance as we pass in the hall, sharing gentle smiles and quick cries and bonding together as unwanted members in our awful club. 

Then, cancer took Joni's husband too soon. Another email. And I just couldn't make anymore casseroles or crock pot dishes. I just couldn't. I hated that! I know people feel like they want to help but I hated people bringing me food. I didn't want to eat. I didn't want to see people. I didn't want to have to smile and try not to cry and be thankful. And when it came time for Joni I was relieved that the food chart filled up quickly. Because I just couldn't. Another member in our group. My heart was broken. 

This past weekend, Tess sent an email. Calling for another "stand up meeting" on Monday morning. My heart was sick. I texted a few coworkers and found out what happened. Another coworker lost her husband. My first thoughts were with Joni and Wendy. I remember walking into the school when Wendy lost her husband. I knew how hard that hits and how sad it is. And then my thoughts turned to our other members. Because grief and loss, no matter how different, is still grief and loss. It rips all those wounds open, no matter how long ago it has been. And I wept. For all of them. For all of us. Another name on the roster of the worst club ever. 

  

We went to school Monday morning. I got there just in time for the stand up meeting. Walking up the stairs I met Wendy, who had already found out and was crying. I took her hand and took a deep breath and walked into the library. Tess made the announcement and told us we could stick around for a prayer if we wanted to. After a few left the rest of us got up and formed a circle. I tried to avoid eye contact around the circle but I slowly started to look. Liza. Jennifer. Katy. Wendy. And then I stopped because it was tears. One of our teachers said a prayer. I hugged Wendy. And I went to duty on the playground and tried to push it out of my head. 

When duty was over, I had this feeling I needed to check on Wendy. As I was walking back to Wendy's classroom, Katy was coming out of her classroom. Jennifer and Wendy were coming down the stairs together. Liza was coming out of her classroom. We all stopped for a second and looked at each other. I smiled and said, "How did we all find each other?" Then we shared a lot of tears, and quick and quiet words, and hugs. And then did what we needed to to greet our kids at the door. That moment though...the moment when we all just happened to be there, in that moment, was so important and so powerful to me. An unwelcome club. But an amazing group of strong, supportive women. Women who have been through hell and back. Who have experienced different losses, but losses just the same. 

When Brian died, I went to work the next day. I needed to be there. I needed my friends and I needed my coworkers and I needed my kids. Thinking back, I am so thankful to the people that have supported me and carried me through and been there for me. I never would have been able to make it without Melody and Kim and Tess and so many others that helped me out in those days.  And now I wouldn't make it without the addition of Liza and Wendy and Jennifer and the other members of this club. For they know. They understand. They can see my face and know about the weariness and exhaustion and pain and depression and sadness. And I see it with them too. 

It's a club that I never wanted to be a member of. And it's a club that I say is full and no more members are allowed. But, if it happens that we need to make space, we will. Because there is no other place I would want to be if I need support than within the walls of Hawk Elementary. We are a sad school. But more than that? We are a school full of strength and love and support. Beautiful, strong, grieving women who cling to each other and hold our breath everytime there's a stand up meeting. 

Here's to no more of those meetings!

What Becomes of the Broken Hearted

Tears welled up in her little eyes. She told me it was the worst day ever. She got into a fight with one of her friends at pre-kindergarten. Her best friend. I laid on the ground next to her and held her and asked her how I could help. She wrapped her arms around my neck and whispered "Mommy, I'm sad we won't be friends anymore. Please fix my broken heart." Tears then welled in my eyes. You never like to see your kids suffering. And as a mommy you want to do your best to fix their brokenness, especially if it's their heart. 

But then I paused and thought of the Ash Wednesday sermon that my pastor gave at our church. All about broken hearts. I remember listening intently after seeing the sermon topic. For, although I have come a long way in the last few years, my heart is still broken...still being mended as time passes. He spoke about wanting to fix things. He spoke about how people are always looking for the fix. We are always trying to fix things on our own. But that we need to go to God with our brokenness. That He wants to be the fixer. He wants to be he one to make it all better, just like a mommy fixing something for our children. God is the Father, wanting to fix our brokenness and take away our pain and suffering. 

I am the first to admit that I am terrible at this. I fret and worry and feel and hurt and all of those things on my own. I try and figure out how I'm going to fix things. I am constantly striving for the solution and how I am going to make everything better. And not only do I do it for myself, but I also tend to want to do it for everyone else also. I get very anxious when I cannot fix my own problems, but I also get anxious when I can't fix everyone else's problems too. When really, all I need to do is turn it over to God to fix it and make it all better. He is the one that is omniscient and omnipotent and can take care of everything. And yet, I struggle through on my own and get scared and mad and frustrated when I can't find the solution on my own. Or I can't mend my broken heart. 

Our pastor used the analogy of us fixing our own brokenness to be the same as giving your spouse a gift of a broken vase that you glued the pieces together yourself. God doesn't want that as a gift! He doesn't want a half-heartedly repaired heart bound together with tape and twine. He wants the broken pieces. He wants to see the sharp edges and the teeny broken bits and the cracks. He wants to be the one to sweep up the pieces and make you whole again. In His love and in His light. 

I am guilty of not letting this happen. I have a lot of shame for the things that have happened. I am ashamed that I am not strong enough to hold all of my pieces together. I pick up the shards and push them together and hold still and pray they don't crumble. And the temporary fix that I am capable of looks good to others. I smile and say I'm fine and press forward. I hide my tiredness behind makeup. I shove my fears to the side. I weep quickly and quietly and hide my tears. And soon something happens and I crack. The tape pulls away, the pieces crumble under the pressure and I am a broken mess once again. Because I tried to make it better for myself. That just doesn't work. 

As I sat in the pew on Ash Wednesday, did I listen? Absolutely! I was enthralled with the message that was given that night. There was a moment where everything stood still and it was the voice of God speaking directly to my heart. Listen, my child! This message is for you and only you! I try to hard to fix everything when really I should be falling at the feet of God, crying out to Jesus to fix my brokenness, begging Him to cradle me safely in His arms and fix me! Heal my wounds. Take away my pain! Wipe away my tears! Have I followed through? Nope! I still try to do everything on my own. I still think that I can fix everything. That I can right this sinking ship on my own. 

But I can't. And that is true even as I listen to Emerson ask me to fix her broken heart. I held her close that night and told her I could not fix her broken heart. That I could hold her and love her and pray with her. Pray to God for Him to heal her broken heart. Give it to God. Lay it at His feet and ask Him to make you whole again. So, she and I prayed. I prayed for little hearts to be healed and fixed by the goodness of God. And I prayed for big hearts to be healed and fixed by the goodness of God. 

So, to everyone who is broken. Or suffering. Or going through hard times. Don't fix your brokenness! Give it to God! Give Him all of your broken pieces to heal and mend and put together in the way only He knows how! He is the Master, the Creator, our Father. He knows where all if the pieces go, and exactly how they for together. So there no better one to fix us!

Prayers for healing and love and light to many! There are so many that I want to fix right now...but I will lay it at God's feet and have faith that he will fix all the broken pieces. 

My Funny Valentine

Valentine's Day...I feel like you either love it or you hate it. And scrolling through Facebook posts throughout the day, this was even more obvious. There was the love it camp posting pictures of flowers and chocolates, pictures of date night attire, check-ins at fancy restaurants and selfies with champagne glasses and kissing your lover. Then, there was the hate it camp: diatribes against this stupid commercial holiday, rants against the millions spent on roses that will be dead and gone in a few weeks, and even a picture of a dead Cupid with an arrow in his back. 

I don't think that I fit into either of these camps! I don't love it, but I don't hate it. I enjoy seeing what everyone else is doing on this special day! I love the pictures of my friends enjoying each other and having fun! I celebrate with them as they proclaim their love for one another. Many of the friends on my Facebook page I have watched through the years blossom and grow into adults in love. And it warms my heart. But I will admit that there were several times throughout the day that I maybe hated it for a few seconds. Thinking about how angry I would get at Brian as I walked through our house and collected the Valentine's gifts he had purchased, after I had told him we weren't doing gifts. Flowers. Balloons. Jewelry. Stuffed animals. Ugh! Money down the drain...or so I'd pretend. As I was cursing him a bit, my heart would soar knowing that he had gone to all that trouble for me. And I will admit that as today passed, there were moments that I would look to my counter, hoping to see flowers. Daisies...never roses...and he always knew that. 

But, those moments were fleeting. Brief. Enough to take my breath away, or send and twinge of pain to my heart, but my day was so full of joy and happiness and love I couldn't help but move on! Starting with good morning texts from my sissy and a special Valentine text from her. Manicures and pedicures with my girls and my momma. Dinner with my parents and girls and my other mom and dad, Sherri and Tom...and Rachel, who is one of my other sisters. Texting my bestie off and on throughout the day. A quick phone call and an "I love you" to my other bestie. It was a good day! A day filled with love! It was a good day!

I think I have mentioned before that I am an admin of a grief group on Facebook...a young widow group. All week I have watched as they have posted memories of their Valentines, their husbands that have passed. I have messaged these women privately to check on them. They have messaged me with sadness and fear and emptiness. They have posted similar memories of mine with Brian. A holiday filled with flowers and jewelry, fancy dinners, hugs and kisses...no more. This holiday for many of them is filled with sadness and fear, a gaping hole left in their hearts. And my heart aches for them because I know that pain. I know that sadness. And I feel for them. But I also share my thoughts and feelings on it. I have sadness. I have fear. I have a gaping hole in my heart. But I am healing. I am finding myself and who I am in this world as a widow, but also as a person, and more importantly as a Christian. For I have found someone who can heal all those wounds and loves me more than Brian or any earthly man ever could!

My Jesus! My Savior! His love is so great He died to save me! He died so that I may live! And as I learn more about my faith and my place in this crazy world, I learn exactly how much He loves me. And I learn that it's ok to breathe again. 

 

And as I see His love in my life, it connects me to the people in my life more deeply. Today was amazing! And I looked at the people in my life through eyes of intense love.  My momma. My girls. Tom and Sherri and Rachel. My sister. All of my friends. All of my family. Such intense love! Such intense feelings of love and gratefulness and peace and joy! I love, because He first loved us. And feeling His love intensify in my life, has only given me the ability to love even more!

I don't need a holiday to love others. And I don't need flowers and chocolate and jewelry to know I'm loved and to love others. I just need to pause long enough to feel His love shower down on me. And to also pause long enough to share that love with others! With you all!

Valentine's Day...a day for love. But I think everyday should be set aside for love! So, my challenge to you is to make everyday about love! Send a card to someone who you love and let them know! Hug someone! Grab their hand and tell them you love them! Stick a post it note on someone's car window reminding them how much they mean to you! Smile at a stranger! Love! And be loved! For God so loved the world...and forever set the bar for how we are to love! So love! And be loved!

Happy Valentine's Day! To all the people that I love... ❤️

Catch Me I'm Falling

"You can’t keep picking people up; you have to stop them from falling."  -Robin Williams

There have been a million topics in the last few weeks that I have felt compelled to blog about. So many things have spun around in my head. Amelia and I have had some amazing heart-to-hearts. Emerson and I have spent a lot of time together lately so she and I are also talking and I'm getting some good stuff from her too. The Seahawks have had us on an emotional roller coaster of a ride. My heart and mind have been on the students and staff at Olympic High School as Amelia and I coordinate the bracelet-making, and make bracelets into the night for the students that were tragically lost in a car accident. And through all of it, my blog has been silent. There are so many things to write about. So many story lines that roll around in my head. So many ideas from my children. And yet no words come out. 

I have written before about the difficulty of blogging. That difficulty isn't about how hard it is to come up with topics, but rather how to weed through topics. How to consider my emotions, my readers' emotions, my children's emotions. There are so many things tied into the blog.  And then, there is also my personal journey and where I am on my path. The progress or lack of progress I feel I am making has a definite impact on what I want to write, or even IF I want to write. Today? I want to write. 

A few nights ago, Amelia and I were laying in bed together talking. It's our few precious moments of talking and prayer and just being together before I tuck her in and then turn out the light. Our "one more thing mommy" moments. We were talking about her day and she suddenly said, "I love our house! I'm so happy here!"

I smiled at her and told her I was so happy that she was happy and asked her what made her happy about our house. She said she loved it because it was big and safe and warm and because Emerson and I were here. And then, her little face got very serious and she said "And yet our house is also the most terrifying place in the world!" I try really hard to remain stoic when these conversations happen, and over the years I feel like I have gotten pretty good at keeping neutral facial expressions. My close friends will probably tell you how very wrong I am because I kind of tend to show a lot of emotion in my face. So I blankly stared back at my little seven-year-old as I worried about where this conversation was going to turn. 

"What do you mean, Amelia?"

"Well, I love our house. But it's a scary place also."

"Why is our house scary, Amelia?"

She paused for a moment before she carried on. "Well, we have a lot of hard conversations together here. We talk a lot about bad things that have happened. We have bad dreams and my room turns into a horrible place at night. But the worst? Walking down the hallway at night."

"Why is that the worst?" I muttered as I was wracking my brain trying to figure out what she was going to say."

"Well, I think it's because at night when it's dark, I don't like to be without you in the back of the house. So I run super fast to try and get what I need quick before I really freak out. And then, when I'm doing that, I panic that I will trip and fall and hurt myself. And if I'm all alone, who will catch me?"

I paused for a moment to let this sink in. I smiled and told her that I thought I could fix that. "How about when you go down the hallway at night, I turn the light on and we walk down the hallway together?"

She smiled and said, "Well, that would make it better. Because the hallway might not be as scary. But it would be even better if you would walk with me and hold my hand. That way, if I trip, you can stop me from falling."

The very next morning, I saw the quote at the top of this blog from Robin Williams. He was a huge advocate for the homeless and insisted that extras in most of his movies were cast by people who were homeless or struggling. It was written into his contracts for most of his movies. When I read this I immediately thought of the conversation I had just had with Amelia. It's amazing sometimes how things just happen and how I can tie things together for a blog post. 

Something else that has happened to tie this together is a shift for me at work. My babies at work need to have their hands held. They need someone to stop them from falling. I watch every day as kids pass through my office, or walk past me in the hallways. Kids who walk through life terrified, unsure of their steps, and just waiting to fall. Wanting so desperately to hold someone's hand so that they don't fall. And each day our jobs as educators get more and more difficult. We are supposed to teach. We are supposed to worry about Smarter Balance and test scores and intervention groups and meeting IEP goals. I read pages and pages of assessment data and therapy data. I plan activities and rework programming to make sure my paperwork is lined up and everything is exactly the way the state and the federal government want it to look. And in the meantime, my kids are stumbling, and I'm too busy with other pieces sometimes to notice that they are falling flat on their faces. And it's not because their paperwork is out of compliance. Or because I didn't write the correct goal for them. Their home lives are chaotic. They are coming to school hungry and tired. Moms and dads work overtime and are never home. They don't have jobs. They may not have homes. The kids are worried their parents are splitting up. Or their baby brother just died. Dad has cancer. They live in a two bedroom house with three families total. Mom expects the kids to take care of her. Dad is out to sea for most of the school year. And they are sent to us everyday to fix them. Teach them to read. Help them learn social skills. Push them to learn math when they cannot even focus on the paper in front of them. But make sure that they are not singled out. Ensure that a college won't find out that their kid had speech services. Don't give them headphones if they ask because we don't want them to look different. And they are falling. They are stumbling. Crashing and burning. 

So, since reading that quote I have tried to apply it to my time at work. To know that I need to bolster these babies up and help them before it gets to the point where they stumble and fall. So Rice Krispie treats for the baby who never gets breakfast. Shampoo and lotion for the girl who is turning into a lady and needs to know how to take of herself. Cradling the little second grader as she cried because her mom and dad are fighting, and just spending her time with me talking and crying and trying to figure out what to do to help her. Taking a little extra time with a mom because she is scared and just wants to be listened to also! 

It is so important to help others! And to help them before they get to the point of falling. Because it is so much easier to stop someone from falling than have to pick them up off the ground. Taking a little extra time to make sure they are solid and stable so that they can run the race themselves, confident in who they are and where they are headed. It's not easy. And it's exhausting. And you can't stop everyone from falling. But I try and think about my own girls and what they have been through. And as I send them to school, I try and think what is the important lesson here? Is it two digit addition? Or knowing that they are in a safe environment? Is it spelling lists and memory work? Or is it the comfort of having an adult in union with myself that will grab Amelia by the hand and tell her it's ok! Or having someone tell Emerson it's ok to be sad and things will get better. 

Human connection is so important. And so many of the babies that come through my office door don't care that I'm teaching them expected behaviors, or the correct way to say their R sound. They care that I listened to them cry. They care that I handed them a tissue as they sobbed to me about their momma being sick. They care that they know they can run to me if they need me. And that is so much more important to me than progress on their IEP or what their score is on their evaluation. 

So, be that person for someone! Be the one that holds them up in their time of need! Be the one that keeps them from falling. But, if they happen to fall, be there to pick them up and dust them off. Just try to open your eyes and see what happened, see why they fell. Because you don't know how many chances you'll have to help them up before it's too late! 

Will the Last One Out Please Shut the Door?

The day after the Super Bowl is always a difficult day for me. You see, I love football. And most of you know that I love Seahawks football. I grew up watching football with my grandfather, so I have so many wonderful memories with him, and even though he has been gone way too many years, every game he crosses my mind. So when I had the chance to buy season tickets for my husband that first Christmas we were together, I jumped at the chance. So back in 2006 I got our name on the wait list. Back then it was a two-year wait for tickets. I remember crossing our fingers that first year hoping for a miracle and that we would finally get our tickets. We didn't...so the next year was the same thing. Crossing our fingers and hoping it would be the year we would get our tickets. It was! And Then I found out I was pregnant with Amelia. The last thing I wanted to do was haul my pregnant self up all those flights of stairs. So Brian took friends. And I watched from home.

The next season came around. I had a baby. I just couldn't leave her. So again Brian took friends. And I watched from home. And this continued for a few years where I would make excuses to not go and let my husband take friends. One game, Brian couldn't go. I sold them to this girl named Kristi. She took a friend. Then, the next season, Brian had a game he couldn't go to. And I decided I was finally going...with Kristi. We had a blast!! 

In 2010, Brian and I went to the first two games of the season, and we had the best time! It was the best date days we had had for a long time with now TWO babies in our home. The first times we left the girls. We laughed. We talked. They were amazing days! And then October happened and just like that he was gone and my world was rocked. Panicking that I was down to one income with two children I didn't know what to do. So, sadly, I posted my tickets for sale on Facebook. They were gone in less than 20 minutes. To people that I deeply loved. That girl Kristi bought a pair. And then messaged me and told me she was taking me for my birthday. And we had a blast! A couple other people that had bought my tickets ended up taking me also. I have amazing people in my life. 

The next season Kristi and went to every game together, except one when I was super sick. Then a complete season together and our boys made it to the Super Bowl. And then a complete season this year and another Super Bowl appearance. We just might be lucky. 

The conclusion of yesterday's Super Bowl game was heart-breaking for me, for more reasons that the loss. The end of football season is a hard thing for me. The Seahawks losing was tough, but I rejoice in the fact that we were still playing in February. And how amazing that first home game next season will be when they unveil the NFC Champions banner at the Clink. But the ending of the game yesterday was also the ending of built in hang out time with my bestie. The end of the game yesterday was an end to weekly walks down memory lane thinking about my grandpa. So much emotion tied to just a game!?

In fact, someone said that to me today: "What wrong with you? It's just a game!" And they are right. It is just a game. But, it's not just a game to me!  It's watching a team of outstanding young men pull together in some super tough moments. It's being inspired by a group of men that strive to do their best. It's watching these men pray together and offer thanks to God and bring Him to light in a very public way, and me wanting to follow their example and give praise to Him in all that I do. It's, again, built in bestie time with Kristi and all of the tradition and happiness and strength that she gives me in our ferry chats and Fireball toasts and screaming embraces during the game. It's talking plays and knowing calls before the ref signals, and knowing that I'm a girl who knows a lot about football because of my grandpa. It's the fun of getting to know the people in Row E and having a built-in football family. It's hearing the national anthem and watching the perfectly orchestrated fireworks go off and having shivers of goosebumps rise up my spine. It's anxiously waiting to see who will be raising the 12th man flag, and then sobbing thinking of how much my grandpa admired "insert flag-raisers name here" and how cool it would be if he knew I had season tickets. It's following Blue Thunder drumline out of the stadium after a win. It's all those things, and so much more!

So, yes, I am heartbroken after the loss yesterday. But my disappointment doesn't come from lamenting whether Wilson should have passed, or handed it off to Lynch. I don't question Pete Carroll's, or even Darrell Bevell's play-calling. Our boys fought hard, to the bitter end and as cheesy as this will sound? They are all winners! They have brought our city, our state, the joy of a Super Bowl win. Two appearances in two years! Not many teams can say that. Their individual back stories are amazing - the adversities they have overcome, the trials they have faced, the pain and obstacles they have overcome. They are amazing, whether they're bringing a trophy home or not. 

I will always be a 12...I will remain loyal no matter what, win, lose or tie. I wore my Seahawks gear today, and cried a little inside. Sure, it's just a game. For some. For me, it is my happy place. The place where the outside world is shut behind the gates of a football field. Where trouble and adversity stops being at the forefront of my brain and I can sit back and revel in the joy of football. Where I mourn the loss of my grandfather and find my smile in knowing that he has the best seats in the house. Where I accidentally found my lifelong best friend and get to share so much of my life with her. These things don't stop just because the game is over. But it sure is a lot more fun from our seats in Section 305!

So, to Pete, Russell, Doug, Kam, Richard, Earl, Jermaine, Marshawn, Bruce, Steve, Jon, and all the other amazing Seahawks: THANK YOU! Thank you for an amazing season, an incredible playoff run, and a bright future! I'll be counting down the days until our first pre-season game in August on my green and blue paper chain! Go Hawks!

Rememberlutions

What's your resolution for 2015? I read an article once that the most common resolutions were to lose weight, exercise more, and quit smoking. I have always come up with resolutions. I've always come up with things I want to improve on. Things I want to change. I've been overweight my whole life. That almost always makes the list. Getting my house more organized is another one that I would love to get a handle on. Figuring out how to keep my house and yard and everything maintained as a single working mom is often at the top for me also. 

The afternoon of New Year's Eve, Amelia, Emerson, and I started talking about resolutions. 

"What are resolutions, mommy?"

"Well, they are things in your life that you would like to fix or change in the new year."

"What does THAT mean?"

"Well, like my resolution for this year would be to lose weight and eat healthier. Or maybe I would resolve to exercise more."

"Why do you do that?"

"Well, it's kind of like a goal that you want to set for the new year."

"I think that is the dumbest thing that I've heard."

"Amelia! Why do you say that?"

"Well, you're telling me that we are going to reflect on the way that we failed in this year, think about how we are going to change who we are, and start a new year already thinking negative about ourselves and not liking who we are?"

When it was explained to me by a seven-year-old, I realized how ridiculous resolutions seem. It was then that I decided we were going to follow through with my rememberlutions project. I had seen the project on a buzzfeed article. Decorate a jar any way you want, and throughout the year you write down memories, accomplishments, important things that happened on a piece of paper and put it in the jar. Then, on December 31st of 2015, you pull the papers out and reflect on your most amazing year. I loved it when I saw it, but my conversation about resolutions with Amelia sealed the deal. We went to Michaels and loaded up on stickers, glitter glue, ribbon, foam pieces, and other embellishments. We came home and got to work, putting our jars together. We made them our own. We laughed and talked about our hopes and dreams for the new year. We talked about what we wanted to leave behind in the old year. And we decided what we were going to do with our jars. Emerson was adamant that her jar stay in her room. Amelia wanted to make sure that we didn't forget and end up with an empty jar in December 2015. I asked if we should write down something every day so it becomes a habit. I know in my stressful, busy life that I would forget. So making it a habit, but also working to find a positive about every day we encounter seems important also!

When we were finished with our jars, we took pictures of them to share on Facebook and then we sat back together. 

"Mommy, this was great!" Amelia let me know that she approved, and so did Emerson!

"I agree. MUCH better than a resolution!"

Amelia is right. Every year we pick something that we don't like about ourselves and choose a goal based on that. We strive towards something that changes us. Most of the time it's for the better. But it doesn't seem like the best way to bring in the new year. Picking yourself apart to come up with something that you'll just end up beating yourself up over when you are not successful. And be honest...how many resolutions have actually come to fruition for you? I have chosen to lose weight and eat better as my resolution for the last, oh, probably at least 20 years!! Guess what? I'm still fat! I still eat more Big Macs than I should. And typically, my resolution IS a reminder of my failures in life, and my failures with resolutions. 

This year? Peace! Happiness! Excitement about my New Years rememberlution! I get 365 days of good stuff to think about!! We had a blast already predicting things we might write for certain days! Aunt Julie coming to visit. Baby Edie's baptism. The Seahawks winning the Super Bowl. Fun, exciting things are coming! And in that list for me? Starting a new weight loss challenge. Maying losing twenty pounds. Maybe just folding the laundry as it comes right out of the dryer rather than letting it pile up on the bedroom floor. A whole year of excitement! A whole year of little victories. A tiny shift in perspective: from resolutions to rememberlutions, but a profound difference in how I ended 2014 and rang in 2015. 

Try it! Toss out your resolutions and sit down as a family, with friends, with loved ones and create! A jar, a box, a can...anything! What could you put in your jar? Bought a new house? Retired? Traveled to see family? It puts a smile on my face just thinking of all the possibilities for your jar! And then think about New Years  Eve...pulling strip by strip out of the jar and thinking about all the good that happened in a year. 

So many of my blog posts have to do with heartache and sadness, for me and for friends. This, for me, is a game-changer in that I get 365 days of seeking out the good!! So, join me! Do it! Find your happy this year! For many, and for me at times, my happy has been missing. And now, I get to see it, even the little tiny moments, filling a jar as we turn each page of 2015!

Happy New Year, my friends and family! I hope that the coming year brings you peace, joy, and a whole year of rememberlutions!