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Monday, December 24, 2012

I Like Purple and Orange Santas

So, I have been substitute teaching.  There’s a lot I could (and probably will) say about this experience.  But for today, I’ll say this: Let’s allow our children to be the creative, curious individuals they instinctively are.

Last week I subbed in a large class with another long-term sub.  For part of the day we also had an aide (what a blessing, most classes I’m in do not have this).  I was thrilled to have the extra hands, although part-way through the day I started to witness little moments that were bothering me: condescending remarks to the kids, chastising the wrong kid when a few weren’t getting along, etc. 

But this moment stuck the longest: The kids were given a color-by-number Santa head to color.  It was boring.  There were only three colors involved, one of them being white (and might I add, the largest portion of the picture).  First off, most of the kids couldn’t read, so didn’t get the color-by-number concept anyways.  Secondly, there were only two colors for the kids to use.  Again, boring.  Not to mention there weren’t enough of these particular two colors (red and “peach”… when have you seen a peach crayon?) for each child.

So most of them began doing their own thing, coloring Santa how they saw fit.  Fair enough.  And might I add, the results were fascinating.  I didn’t interrupt the kids.  It was nearing the end of the day, they were happy and engaged… good enough for me.  I could care less if they didn’t color Santa the “right” way. 

I was alone in this opinion.  The long-term sub and aide both began to get after the kids about using the correct colors.  And when several of the kids began asking what color “peach” was, both the aide and sub would answer, “You know, skin color.”  I won’t even get started right now on that comment.

I’m torn in these areas.  I understand wanting kids to grasp a concept, to follow instructions, blah, blah, blah.  I’m just not sure how insisting that each kid color Santa the exact same way (and inside the lines, mind you) is serving a benefit.  To watch these kids color the way they want to when given the freedom is a gift itself.  So much of their young personalities spill out onto the page when given free rein.  They are all so particular in their coloring technique, their style, their strategy.  Shouldn’t this tell us something? 

What are we doing to these young imaginations by insisting they all color the exact same way?  Who wants to hang the exact same 30+ Santas on the wall outside the classroom?  Isn’t it much more interesting to have them all start from the same point and see where they end up?  Don’t you think they have much more pride and a feeling of ownership when they can quickly point out and identify, “Hey, that’s my Santa!”

It seems like a small point to fixate on, but I came home that day so discouraged.  We are so groomed to fit in, to conform, to do the “right” thing for most of our lives, and it starts young.  But let’s not take away the joy of coloring freely on a page from these abundantly creative minds.  We should all want to see what they come up with.  It’s stunning.

*  *  *  *  *

P.S.  I wanted to write a holiday-themed post, and this wasn’t my initial intention, but since this experience stuck with me (and at least had a Santa angle), I decided to share it.

That being said, I wanted to wish you all a warm Christmas with family and friends.  When the little ones you cross paths with break into those fresh boxes of crayons (as Eli and Sophie have already done) give them encouragement to express themselves however they see fit.  Don’t worry about the lines, the right colors.  I can guarantee they will show you a new way of seeing things.  One of the many gifts kids give us each and every day, if we’re paying attention.

Monday, December 17, 2012

We Don't Want to Know, News

I almost never watch the news.  As a rule. 

When I do, I am always repulsed, disturbed, or traumatized in some way.  It’s like hearing the digest version of the worst things to happen—in our city, state, country, world—in the last 24 hours.  Sure, there is the occasional lighthearted piece, the weather, sports, but… none of that outweighs the constant onslaught of terrible news.

This means I miss lots of “news.”  But there was no way to miss what happened this past Friday at Sandy Hook Elementary School.  I am grateful this news did not make itself known to me until after I was done substitute teaching in a K-2 classroom for the day.  In fact, there wasn’t a whisper of what had transpired anywhere in the teacher’s lounge, hallways, or office.  Sometimes ignorance is bliss.

But now… I can’t stop thinking about what happened.  I’ve cried a bucket of tears in the last three days.  I had a ridiculously hard time dropping Eli off at preschool today, lingering on the playground, hugging him too many times, zipping his coat a little higher, messing with his hat, asking him if he was okay (he was, of course), just not wanting to step away.

Because once again the blind faith we put out into the world when we leave our children behind has been rattled, to the core.  Because we all know what happened could happen anywhere, anytime.  Because we all know that losing a child is our worst nightmare, period. 

This tragedy brings up all manner of difficult, complex, and emotionally-charged discussions.  I could write for days about gun control.  About the need for readily available mental health care.  About the fact that we as a society are failing our children.

These are all important discussions, and they are happening all around us.  This is a start.

But I have to go back to where I started.  I don’t watch the news.  This means I gather my news from the internet.  Not that it’s any more reliable or less sensational, but at least I have some control over what I choose to read and can avoid the visual aspect traditional news brings along with it (in my mind, an added layer of trauma). 

I have been careful not to read too much about this tragedy, as it only serves to overwhelm me further.  Saturday morning as we sat around the table eating breakfast as a family, I couldn’t stop tearing up, was repeatedly overtaken by a suffocating mix of emotions: grief, anger, sadness, relief, helplessness, despair, all-encompassing love.

Still, I have been following this story, part of the incessant need to “understand” how someone could do something so unimaginable to any reasonable mind.  It’s foolish, because there is nothing that could be revealed to help me understand anything about this.

So when I clicked on the latest story I wasn’t expecting (why, I don’t know) to be met with specifics detailing how the children were killed.  And these nightmare-inducing details were just simply released out to the public, as though we are somehow owed this information.  As though we somehow want to know this information.

Another layer of trauma. 

Can we have a discussion about the role of media?  About their duty to the public and the instances where discretion might be in the best interests of the public?  I don’t care how many CSI-type shows you watch or how desensitized people have become to violence, what good is going to come of describing in great detail how these children were gunned down?

It’s not about me, though I would certainly prefer not to know these things.  I am an adult, long out of my youthful school days (though my current job finds me back in that setting).  I have accrued the wisdom, maturity and emotional strength to handle most of what the media decides to throw at me.  Children, however, are infinitely more sensitive to details such as these.  And guess what?  They’re on the internet, too. 

I can’t speak to what is being shown / talked about on television since I have avoided it, though I imagine these grim details are being played out there as well. 

What are we doing to our children?  How do we expect them to feel safe, to want to go to school, when we are so thoughtlessly painting a terrifying picture for them?  I don’t think we need to keep children in the dark, but no child needs to hear these kinds of details.  In fact, no one needs to hear these details.  It certainly brings no comfort to the poor families who have lost their children. 

No, all it does is underscore the depth of this young man’s diseased mind (I refuse to type his name—we need to stop giving these monsters their celebrity).  And the callousness of the media. 

Like I said, there are any number of difficult discussions happening around us.  In many instances I feel helpless, the what-can-I-do-to-make-it-better quandary I often find myself in.  Here’s a start:  Turn off your TV.  Stop clicking on every story about the tragedy.  I know it’s hard.  There’s an allure to this shared experience, a reassurance that you’re not the only one crying buckets of tears, not the only one who is heartbroken, or furious, or sad.  Let’s do this: Turn to your friends, neighbors and loved ones and start talking.  Start noticing the children in your life that may need a little extra love and help.  As hard as this is for us as adults, we need to make sure that our children are doing okay, too. 

I, for one, do not have the first clue how to talk to kids when it comes to tragedies like this.  But I’m (reluctantly) learning.  One of my friends posted a link if you need some help in this area, developed after the Virginia Tech shooting (thanks, Shane).  Go here for more information.  Let’s be there for each other right now, friends.      

Monday, December 10, 2012

Who Needs Balance?

Ahh, balance.  I’ve come back to this confounding word, often, as though if I think about it long and hard enough, somehow my life will follow.  I knew becoming a mother would throw my familiar, comfortable, stable life out the window.  And it did.  I knew carving out free time would become a challenge, that I would have to sacrifice certain parts of my life so I would have adequate time to be the kind of mom I knew I wanted to be.

Of course you have high hopes of doing it all after you have kids.  I remember my resistance when people would say to me:  “Oh, you won’t have time for _________ after you have kids” (and then they would let loose a cruel laugh).   Jeez, thanks.

Part of my struggle is my incessant need to create.  This isn’t complicated.  I need to put my ass in the chair and write.  Sure, there are other creative things I like to do, but none of them keeps me up at night the way writing does. 

This sounds simple enough.  If I want to write, then write.  And some days, I do.

Most days I don’t.  And I don’t exercise enough (this is something I like doing).  I don’t give myself a mental break.  I don’t get to spend enough time with Vinny, doing any of the things we love to do.  I don’t.  I don’t.  I don’t.

As a result I find myself hating time because there isn’t enough of it in a day to do all the things not only that I need to do, but that I would really love to do as well.

Then that damn word balance crops up.  Balance.  How do parents balance it all?  Parenting, relationship with partner, household duties, work, friends, hobbies, self-care (I’m sure I’m forgetting other critical things, but you get idea).  Is there a way to do it all? 

I have moments when I tell myself I am being selfish for needing time to write, time to have my creative outlets, time to sit in a quiet room for ten minutes and do nothing.  I can do those things later, right?  I look to the future when the kids will be in school all day and say, “Yes, that is when I will do things.”  I think about how quickly time is passing already and know that I need to have these moments with the kids now, because before I know it they will be in school all day and I won’t get to share so much time with them (this is heartbreaking to me on many levels).

But then I have to stop myself, because I know I am only doing myself a disservice in the long run to deny parts of my life from existence for several more years. 

So, what then?

This parenting thing… it’s a tough gig.  It’s by far the best gig I’ve ever had.  By far.  So there’s that.  But it’s also the hardest thing I have ever done in my life.  It amazes me how in the span of a day you can have so many highs and lows.  So many tiny joys and so many amazingly frustrating moments… sometimes in the span of a minute.

And then there’s me.  Where do I fit in in all of this?  Will the Stacy I have been survive all this and come out the other side?  I want to be the best parent I can be, but I also don’t want to lose myself in the process.

Balance.  It crops up again.  And again.  And again. 

I haven’t figured it out yet.  It’s like trying to keep ten balls in the air at the same time without one hitting the ground.  How long can you keep that up?

Here’s one thing I’ve started doing: I’ve lowered my expectations.  This sounds easy in theory, but in practice… this one is tough for me.  I expect a lot of myself.  And I’m hard on myself when I’m not, for lack of a better phrase, getting shit done.

Here’s another thing I’ve started doing: I’ve stopped comparing myself to others.  It’s so easy to do.  We all know a parent that makes it look so damn easy.  You know, their house is spotless, you would never know from looking at them that they’ve given birth (usually to at least three kids), they somehow manage to keep up with current affairs, books, the latest restaurant openings, and somehow find time to comb their hair.  Not only have I stopped comparing myself to others, I’ve stopped trying to figure out how those parents juggle all those hats and still manage to be lovely people to be around.  It’s exhausting. 

So in the midst of all this contemplation on balance and my struggle to carve out time to do the things I love, I have given the future of this blog some serious thought.  When things get hectic, it’s often the first thing to fall to the wayside.  This drives me crazy, but it’s not like I have to do this blog.  I’ve thought a lot about not doing it.

The thought of not continuing this little pocket ‘o internet makes me sad.  In fact, in mulling over whether or not to continue on, I’ve come up with some other, exciting-to-me things I would like to add to the site.  This blog is here for others.  Sure, it’s a way for me to put words down, to feel my way through this whole parenting fiasco, to share my frustrations and high-five moments. 

But when I hear from my readers?  Those are the days that stay with me.  For me, it’s all about the connection.  My goal is always to make someone else feel less alone in their journey.  To know they have company through it all.

So, stay tuned readers.  I’m currently scheming up ways to turn this corner of the world into more of a community, because if anything, I would love to hear more from YOU.  To invite more participation, to help each other out not only in our parenting lives, but in our creative lives as well.  To offer more in the way of advice, services, links, etc. 

What would you like to see more of?  Feel free to share your ideas; I’d love to hear them.

Balance?  Who needs it.