Monthly Archives: January 2007

The Power of Paper

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So it turns out that Pell Grants are a cause of divorce. I was filling out Sky’s paperwork for college next fall, and ran into some problems. When I called the support line, I was told that I had to put down Sky’s stepfather’s income on the form. I explained that we were separated. They said that unless the separation was legal, as in divorce, that I still had to report the income. However, doing so would increase our EFC, expected family contribution, and lessen the amount of the Pell Grant.

I called Husband, and explained the situation. He is not particularly interested in paying the difference in college costs, and perhaps not able to, so he told me to go ahead and file for divorce. I expressed concern that he would not be eligible for my insurance plan next year if we were divorced. He said he didn’t care. I suppose he doesn’t, since he didn’t get on my plan this year, since it costs an extra $250 for a spouse. Now he has this chronic fatigue thing going on and his parents are footing the bills. Sometimes.

I feel guilty about the whole “For better and for worse” thing. The “worse” part of it negatively affects my kids. Husband and I have been married for three and a half years. At this point, being separated anyway, I feel that I just need to get my own house in order. The banker who talked to me about a home loan recommended divorce. Husband will not go with me to foster care classes, which he would be required to do if we were still married, so in order to foster, I will have to get a divorce. My parents have been pushing for a divorce for months now. It seems that the whole world is yelling, “Divorce!”. Sigh.

He met me at my bank yesterday to sign the Waiver of Citation. The notary public, upon seeing him and the papers, shook her head sadly and nervously shifted in her chair. I felt stupid and awkward. Husband didn’t really say anything to me and looked like he was on heroin. Leaving, I shook off the weirdness, hightailed it to the courthouse and paid the $202 dollars it costs in Texas to get a no-fault, no children/no property divorce if you do it yourself. Divorce is the ultimate DIY. Typing divorce papers yourself really gets the point across, somehow. Did you know that there is a section that looks like this:

12. Prayer

Petitioner prays:

That the Court grant a divorce and decree such other relief as more specifically requested in this pleading.

It is odd–not only would this seemingly piss off individuals who are not religious–separation of church and state and all that, but it also may very well aggrevate people who do not want to “pray” to a court. It is interesting how our legal language is set up so that citizens address the capital letter Court as though it and the Judge are God. I digress.

I was happy with the status quo. Now that papers are filed, things feel weird. I don’t know what to do about it besides not get sucked into either my feelings or his and just go on about my business. I don’t think the status quo will continue–the occasional good times of Husband coming over to take Sage out to breakfast and Sky to my parent’s house so that I can have extra time to get ready. The meals that I cook for him. And what about Valentine’s Day? One day at a time…

Worthless

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I don’t know him. He has been to class three times and has done nothing but sleep each time. Today, I felt fed up with his refusal to do anything but warm the chair. The principal tried talking to him, but also got no response, and so she told him she would be calling his probation officer. He finally spoke and said, “Wake me up when he gets here.”

The end of the school day came, and he was asleep again. I asked the principal what to do, as the probation officer had never shown up, and he was completely out of compliance with the program. She told me about her efforts to contact his parent during the day, and how his mother had kicked him out and he was now living with an uncle who didn’t want him and was trying to get him out of the house. No one knew who would be picking him up. I woke him up and asked him. He said he was walking. He left.
This huge word, WORTHLESS, just slammed into my head as the kid walked past me. He looked so beat down, exhibiting an utter disregard for the world around him. Just existing. I felt his feeling of not being wanted, of being looked at as a slow learner, a troublemaker, a chairwarmer…. as being worthless. I felt like I was him for a few seconds and it nearly knocked me to the floor.

At that exact moment, I saw him as a completely different person. Instead of a surly gang member, I saw an unwanted child. I saw a sad teenager. A lost childhood. I saw a human being with so much worth, whose life is being wasted. I thought about the child soldiers in Liberia and Sierra Leone who we read about in the media and feel sorry for. Surely this kid is just as deserving of our compassion. I am sorry to say that I had not felt that compassion until that moment, at least not as much as he deserves. I am thankful to have had that moment.

I wish I could fix things.

The First Book

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Today, I had one of those moments that makes a teacher’s heart go pitter-patter. One of my students, who is about to be 18 and is in 10th grade, told me today that the book I gave him is the very first book he has ever sat down to read. It is about a boy whose brother gets killed in a drive-by shooting. This happened to my student this past summer. I hope the book helps him to see his life from a new perspective.

Cool that he is finally reading a book.

Cool that he told me.

Punishing the Different, etc.

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I got a call yesterday from a teacher at the high school. Seems they are going to expel a deaf kid who is in foster care. Lord knows what kind of hell this kid has went through and is continuing to go through. They are expelling him because they cannot handle his behavior. So, they are planning on sitting him in one of my cubicles all day. An interpreter will be nearby. Usually, he is in deaf-ed classes. He would get visits from a deaf-ed teacher.

Of course I told the person that the placement sounded completely inappropriate. What, we are going to punish a kid for having had a shitty childhood and being deaf? Being deaf, his reading level is not very high. Phonics don’t work too well for deaf folk.

I don’t know crap about deaf ed. Other than phonics not working, that is. I don’t know a scrap of sign language. This kiddo does not need to be in a cubicle in my classroom. I cannot think of how on earth I can help him. Surely there is something that we as a society need to be doing differently here?

I asked one of the AP’s how one of my former students, who is mentally retarded, is doing. I expressed concern that his teachers don’t modify his Integrated Physics and Chemistry assignments effectively. Like he needs that class. Hmmmph. The AP told me he had had “an incident”. He will be coming back to us. It will be his third six-week period in my classroom this school year.

I spent my lunchtime explaining to one of the upstairs teachers who does credit recovery why his mentally retarded student didn’t do so hot on the videotaped book review. The teacher said my inclusion student wasn’t prepared enough for the presentation. I said that I thought he did a pretty good job, considering that he couldn’t read the notes he had copied from the book.

We fail kids in so many ways. I am frustrated with the entire system, including families and screwy values. I’m getting a new kid who doesn’t speak English. Brand new to the country and already a cholo. Ai, Chihuahua.

Yesterday afternoon, I went upstair to talk to my neighbor about the fights between her and her babydaddy. I told her that she didn’t have any privacy, as I could hear every word that they said. I offered help if she wanted the guy out of her life. She doesn’t. She apologized, and I said that I didn’t come up there to preach, but I wanted to get some sleep and was worried about her. While we talked, I watched her four-year-old skate around on the floor with a book I had given her serving as the skate. It is the only book in the house, as far as I know. Future student? I dunno. These kids hear every M*****f***er uttered during these fights. The older boy came down later and said his mama wanted to know if I had another phone, as theirs had “went out”. Yeah, it went out all right. The night before, I heard this loud dial tone sound and then the sound of what was presumably the phone being thrown against the wall. I don’t have any extra phones.

I’m just venting. Life is good. Just wish I could make it better for some folks. I wish some of them could make it better for themselves as well.

We Are All Autistic

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Last year, I read The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Nightime, which was an astounding book. I have just finished reading The Speed of Dark by Elizabeth Moon, a biologist and the mother of a teenage autistic son. I cannot recommend this last book highly enough. Not only does Moon effectively show us the mind of a high-functioning autistic man, but she works in some disturbing themes about what, exactly, it means to be normal.

These books hit close to home for me. When I was a child, I refused to be touched, and was content to sit alone in my crib and playpen. Whenever anyone picked me up, I would cry. So says my mom. I was an enigma. I had to have speech therapy, and was taken to a child psychologist when I refused to interact with others in an age-appropriate manner. I remember being painfully shy. I remember my grandmother getting aggravated with me and teaching me how to give a hug by putting my arms around her, instead of standing there with my arms limp at my sides. When I hit puberty, magic happened for me. The shyness left, and words came. I cheerfully hug people now. I have to question the influence of hormones on brain function because of my own experience.

My older son flaps his hands when he gets excited. He is a brilliant kid, and sometimes his speech is a bit bookish. I can see shadows of it in him, although they are very vague. He has ADD. It all coorelates, according to the research.

My youngest screamed constantly. He was content only when staring at a fan, being held while I danced to Salsa music, or swinging in the hammock. He threw horrible screaming biting kicking fits, and could not be taken out in crowded public places once he could walk, as he would spin around in circles and bump into random people. Eventually, the fits would begin, so we limited our activities to calm environments as much as possible, although I can remember getting the evil eye in the supermarket more than once.

When he was three, I took him to be evaluated for Early Childhood Intervention. The assessment person told me that he qualified as we were walking down the hallway to the testing room. Most of what he said made no sense. He was in his own world, talking about things that interested him, and responded to questions such as “What is your name?” with ramblings about bats. I remember. The whole thing is in a transcript. Now it is funny. Thank God.

Teaching Sage idioms is a bit like teaching someone a foreign language though. He is almost eight now, and his speech has normalized to the point where anything out of the ordinary merely seems like a very slight developmental delay. Although there are days when he doesn’t remember what a “dishwasher” is. Then it will come to him, and he will slap his hand against his forhead and say, “I can’t believe I forgot that!”

He has been diagnosed with Sensory Integration Disorder, auditory processing difficulties and ADHD. The psychologist was reluctant to test him for Asperger’s initially because she was worried about him carrying the label. He turned out to have “soft Asperger’s features” but not the actual diagnosis. I didn’t want these diagnoses, necessarily, but I did want to know what exactly what was going on so I could help him the best that I can. It is good to know. When he doesn’t follow a directive, he is usually not being non-compliant–he is having difficulty processing the words. Things get better each and every day. He is on grade-level in reading, and was tested for gifted and talented in math. I don’t have the results back on that one yet.

He is so incredibly delightful. This kiddo and I have the same sense of humor and it is so fun to watch him fall out laughing on the floor. Today, we went to the creek and threw rocks. He skipped stones. I’ve never been able to do that. We watched the dog swim. He takes such joy in life. He inspires me.

Three years ago, I had a student with Asperger’s Syndrome. The other teachers absolutely hated him. They did not understand why he got special modifications. He looked normal. He usually acted normal. I can’t describe how abysmally his parents got treated in ARDs. I told them I would go with them to court anytime if they decided to. I couldn’t stand how the school treated this student and his parents. Thing is, a teenager is going to act like a butthead sometimes, whether they are autistic, have Aspergers, whatever. They couldn’t understand that he was dealing with the world feeling even more confusing to him than it is to most teenagers. It was frustrating.

I’m glad that I have been fortunate enough to work with students who have had autism and related disorders. If I hadn’t, would I understand about cutting tags out of shirts and replacing a blanket because it is “shocky”? Would I always be angry at Sage and punish him when he didn’t follow directions correctly?

Would I recognize my own experiences? The floor sometimes shifts when I am in a mall or other place where it is loud and the lights are artificial. My brain can’t process the experience. The same goes for the movie theater. I make myself go, but only to the kid’s movies or romances. The loud sounds and flashing images make me feel like running out of the theater. I never understood why until I started learning about sensory integration difficulties.

It is a difficult thing. I feel for parents who have kiddos with severe autism. That is a challenge to work with. However, some of us have glitches. Everyone in my family has autistic “glitches”, including myself. The thing I liked about the book was that it questioned what normal was, and that is something I have always done anyway. The ending surprised me, though. I won’t tell you why. You should read the book. It is soooo good. It is illuminating. It pulled things together for me that I hadn’t synthesized, even though it has all been laid out in front of me for years through experience and trainings.

Why are we different? What is normal? Is it okay to be different from the center? (Of course!) How much? How many standard deviations before we are not considered to be socially acceptable? If we could correct these disorders/differences, should we? So many questions….

Meme: Stuff About Me

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1) What’s the most fun work you’ve ever done, and why?

Without a doubt, it was teaching my adult ESL class in Austin. I would leave the public school for the day, feeling beat down and exhausted, not sure how I would even stay awake for another hour, much less teach my night class. Yet without fail, I would arrive home from that ESL class energized and in a fantastic mood. I loved it because I was given the freedom to teach as I saw fit, so we all had a blast singing and acting out words, playing games of all kinds and learning about one another as the language was learned. I loved it because it is the one thing in the world that I know without a doubt I am really good at. My students had the best attendance and gained the most levels out of all of the thirty classes in the school. It is rare as an educator to know that your methods are effective, and to be allowed to actually use them. Being recognized was cool too.

2) A. Name one thing you did in the past that you no longer do but wish you did?
I spent a fair amount of time volunteering with Catholic Social Services working in their refugee program while also mentoring at-risk kids. In other words, I did far more volunteer work. I would like to do work that is more meaningful to me personally–whether volunteer or paid. (Although it would be nice if my paid job was like that!!) More specifically, I’d like to teach ESL again.

B. Name one thing you’ve always wanted to do but keep putting it off?

I have always wanted to learn how to play blues guitar, so I could accompany my wailing with music. I know I don’t have an “ear”, so I put it off for that reason. I have also always wanted to become fluent in Spanish, but I don’t see the point unless I am in a situation where I can practice and grow in it daily. That is two things, but it’s my blog, so I don’t care. =P

3) A. What two things would you most like to learn or be better at, and why?

How about playing guitar and speaking Spanish? Actually, what I would LOVE to do is dance, and dance well. I don’t have a lot of hope for this one, as I have two left feet. I would also like to be a really good singer. I am so-so. It depends on what sort of range is required. My voice is expressive and resonant, but only has a range of about three notes…
B. If you could take a class/workshop/apprentice from anyone in the world living or dead, who would it be and what would you hope to learn?

Perhaps Lightnin’ Hopkins. I would learn how to be coooool, and while I was at it, I might pick up some of those blues.

4) A. What three words might your best friends or family use to describe you?


Creative, caring and open.

B. Now list two more words you wish described you…

Buff and self-disciplined.

5) What are your top three passions? (can be current or past, work, hobbies, or causes)


Working with the “underdogs” in life, reading, learning
6) Write–and answer–one more question that YOU would ask someone.

Do you consider yourself to be a city person or a country person?

I consider myself to be a country person. I had no idea how much the city stressed me out until I moved back to this small town that I grew up in. Sometimes, I crave even more isolation, even less traffic. Perhaps when I am old, it will just be me and a rooster.

Via http://thefarsideofthesea.blogspot.com>Kamsin. Tag yourself if you would like! I don’t want my feelings to be hurt if I tag someone and they don’t do it…Perhaps the fourth word that describes me should be “insecure”.

States of Mind

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Who is crazier, Bush or Chavez? What a crazy world of extremism we live in! Seriously, who do you think is worse? I’m having a hard time with this one… It’s sorta like the game I play with myself called “Which Is Scarier?”. The fact that 1000 kids are infected with AIDS everyday or the situation in Darfur? The war in Iraq or the worldwide poverty brought about by greedy globalized comglomerates?

I’m not in a bad mood. I do play these mind games with myself though. I dunno why. It certainly doesn’t accomplish anything!

Today was actually a great day. Texans DO NOT know how to drive in icy weather. Soooo, today, we started school two hours late because there were tiny bits of ice on some overpasses and bridges yesterday. This morning, while leisurely sipping a cup of coffee, I stepped out the door to see no ice on my car and dry streets. It was nice to go to work at ten o’clock. I could do this every day. The kids were happy, the teachers were happy, everyone was happy. Who thought up this seven-thirty to three-thirty crap anyway? I worked from ten until three, at which point we all cruised out of there earlier because the principal was at a workshop. I am so glad that I don’t work an eight to five job. I hate those. I love getting out of work before everyone else.

Today, I also showed our new intern my ability to read the paper while similtaniously supervising two kids. (The other four were doing community service or were in their science class.) Are you jealous yet?

I know, by making these statements I am just asking for the Powers That Expell to stack my classroom to the disintegrating ceiling tiles with oppositional-defiant kids. Tempting fate, perhaps. I don’t care.

I am still in that cocky mood I was in a couple of days ago. I’m lovin’ it.

A Career Highlight

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Today, all of the “discipline” team members were called into the principals office for a quick meeting. It concerned a student we are getting. The student has not been expelled to our program or anything like that, he is just crazy. Meaning, he just got out of residential placement because he is 18, and because he is special ed, mentally retarded, they are required to provide educational services.

Wisely, they have decided not to put this particular kid in with the general population at the high school. Apparently, if another kid makes a remark to him that he doesn’t like, he goes off like an suitcase bomb. At the residential treatment facility, it took seven team members, all men, to take him down during these episodes. He is 6’2″ and 240.

The powers that be decided that even in our more controlled facility, he would be in a room working one on one with a tutor for three hours a day, and that half an hour of that time would have to be with a certfied special education teacher.

There are two of us.

The only other woman on our team, a former career military person, looked at me. I looked at her. She positioned her arm on the table in an invitation to arm wrestle.

I said, “Are you serious?”

She nodded. I snickered inside. If there is one thing I am good at, it is arm wrestling. I love it. I have beat three of my partners and every boy I have ever taught (who was brave enough to try) except for two. Yes, perhaps this is a clue as to why my relationships don’t work out so well. Um, anyway.

Ex-Military Teacher and I commenced to wrestling while the rest of the team, including the principal, looked on. After a few minutes, I was getting tired. I feigned boredom, and sighed. Then I said, “Ok, enough of this,” like I had been just sitting there wasting my time, and slammed her arm down. I must have caught her at a good time, because she was tough.

Immediately after I won the inpromptu competition, the principal began to give her instructions as to what she would need to do. I told her she’d better listen up. I was feeling really cocky and obnoxious.

While the principal was giving instructions, I started to think that perhaps the person who won the arm wrestling contest should have been the person working with the large, explosive kid. I kept those thoughts to myself though. Sometimes it’s good to just keep your mouth shut.

I’m still feeling cocky.

Boold

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In spite of my constant discontent and scheming, I know I am right here, in this very apartment, for a reason. I think I have mentioned before that foster care is something that I am interested in. Interestingly, I am getting to experience it on a minature level of sorts.

My home has become the “after-school/weekend” hangout for the kiddos around here, three in particular. One of the kiddos is the stepchild of the man upstairs who beats the woman upstairs. Some of you may remember that story. Another child lives up the street. His parents don’t know me and I don’t know them. I have to practically kick the kiddo out of the house when it time for Sage to go to bed.

It doesn’t take a rocket scientist to know why the kids are here. It is simple–it is a better place than being at home. That makes me sad. These kids raise themselves, basically. Today, I took them with us to see Night in the Museum, which everyone thought was hilarious, even Sky, although he wouldn’t admit it. (I was watching him crack up in the dark.) One of the kids, Freddie, asked me what the movie ticket was. He is eight years old.

Last night, I was cleaning the house, and I picked up this paper, written in bright red marker, off of the couch. (I would scan it, but the scanner isn’t working. Also, does anyone know how to make the font red in WordPress?)

one

boold

boold

boold

boold

bboold

It turns out that J’Christopher, who is nine and should be able to spell this word, did it. When he realized that I knew it was gang-related, he apologized over and over. I didn’t make a big deal–it would have been too teacher-like, and I can’t be in teacher mode 24/7. I just explained that he would get in trouble if he did it at school. Who is schooling him in this? Step-father? Dad? Obviously, it is a shame that whoever it is spends more time making sure he “represents” than learning how to read or spell. He will come over and pick up a Dr. Suess book, and read it slowly and carefully, very proud to show me that he can read. Thing is, he should be reading chapter books by now. I had to resist the urge to teach him how to spell “blood” and to tell him that it should be capitalized in this instance.

The whole situation makes me sad and happy at the same time. Sad for the obvious reasons, but happy to have a purpose in living here. It is the most satisfying feeling in the world to make the kids cookies, take them to the park and generally give them a safe place to hang out.

Of course, you know me, always worrying about the future. What will the next three or four years bring to these children?

In tribute to this day, I offer you this quote:

Human salvation lies in the hands of the creatively maladjusted.
- Martin Luther King Jr.

I. Have. Been. So. Tired.

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Wow. Adjusting to being back on the school schedule took a bite out of me this week. I don’t know why it is so easy to adjust to staying up until two in the morning but so difficult to adjust to getting up at six, even though I have done this for years. Go figure.

After Monday, the week has been easy. I, now having new powers, suspended three who wanted to be suspended, and had a nice, relaxing week after that.

Sage cracks me up. One of the things I decided to do during the break was organize this minicule apartment and get rid of stuff. I am still going strong in this area. I was organizing my jewelry box, and lamenting how my necklaces were always getting tangled, when my little interior decorater had this fine idea:

He did it himself. I think it looks cool, and now I wear necklaces, having previously not been able to see or unravel them.

I ordered a Clare Weekes book, Agoraphobia, from half.com. It is no longer in print, but it should be. I think it will help a lot. The whole idea seems to be to accept that you will feel like shit while driving, etc., but do it anyway, knowing that the symptoms won’t hurt you. She described my nervous reactions perfectly, which was impressive. I have always known that “normal” people didn’t feel this way, but not exactly how.

Sky just told me a couple of days ago that the police paraded him through the crowded school cafeteria cuffed that day he was arrested. I am, of course, furious. The whole house arrest thing continues to be a pain in the ass. No court date has been set yet. Ack. To further punish my son, I am taking the family to see A Night in the Museum. He is not thrilled.

As you may have noticed, I ditched the whole “Younger Son”, “Older Son” thing. I realized that if anyone Googled their names, they would not get this blog. Not even if they searched for both of them at the same time. They will just end up here. Pretty nice yarn, eh?

I am trying to Decide What To Do With My Life. I am looking at two options right now. Try to fix the super-duper fixer upper and commit to working for the school district until I have a better idea, or apply with International School Services and land a job with them in a year or two. I looked at a position in Budapest at an American school that pays 40K USD, gives a $1000 housing/utlitities allowance (plus $300 extra per dependent!?!), pays all airfare, a relocation fee, benefits, summers off, etc. and free tuition for the dependent child. From what I hear, American schools overseas are pretty good, and I think it could be a good thing for both myself and Sage. Although I’m sure all of the jobs can’t be that good! Anyway, just thinking about stuff…As my mother so helpfully pointed out, it would be nice to feel comfortable driving to the lake first. I replied that I would rather go to Europe than the lake. So there.

The house I want to buy has totally intimidated my best supporter, a man at work who has built his own house, bit by bit, in order to stay out of debt. After looking at it, he thinks it will be “a lot of work, something that would make me think twice”. Sigh. I have to listen to him, as he totally knows what he is talking about. I am tossing about different options, such as buying a used trailer and living in that for a couple of years while rent-free, I pay others to fix the house. A thought. If it wasn’t for the problem of me having to have air-conditioning, I’d be willing to try living off-grid. But I am a wimp. I can’t hack it in this Texas heat.

I’m sure I’ll be able to post more coherently after about twelve hours of sleep. I’m off to visit folks now!

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