Ethan was born a month ago. The most remarkable thing about this time is it has mostly felt unremarkable.
It’s not that the moments that’s I’ve shared with my family during Ethan’s first month after being born, haven’t been special or meaningful. It’s just that we’ve fallen into a groove of how to function as a family, and while Ethan has had moments when he has disrupted moments in our lives (e.g. staying up last night from 11:30pm-2:00am), he hasn’t disrupted our lives.
My life is focused on my role as being a parent more than anything else. While I do mourn the freedom that was lost when children entered my life at times, more than not the life I’m living in the one I chose. You can see it in our house. In every room, there are books and toys stored in different corners for Ollie and Ethan. There is no space in our house, like a formal living room, that the children aren’t allowed to play in. Our weekends are focused around doing things as a family, whether it’s going to a children’s museum, or children’s play. While there are things that I do by myself, like running, part of the motivation to do this is so that I can be in better physical and mental health as a parent.
As Ollie has gotten older, we started to feel some of the freedom come back that we lost when Ollie was a baby and a toddler. Around the house, he doesn't need our constant attention, and we are more comfortable with him spending time away from us because of his ability to advocate for his own needs. However, we still chose to spend most of our time focused on Ollie because we enjoyed sharing our livee with him.
Ethan coming into our lives hasn’t felt like it has dramatically changed our lives. Instead it’s like we are simply adjusting back to the way things were when Ollie was younger, except in many ways it feels easier. Yes, it’s really hard to get out of the house with a baby, but we know that, and we plan for it. While this is difficult, it’s not as frustrating as it was when Ollie was a baby, because we know that it’s not that big a deal if you are late carrying a baby in tow for the most part.
Ollie’s feeding schedule as a baby never bothered me. We chose to stick by it closely for Ollie’s own good and it meant that we didn’t do certain activities, or avoided certain places to make it easier for us to care for Ollie. I find myself in the same place with Ethan, scheduling what we do around Ethan’s needs. At this point, I don’t really mind it. One reason, I'm okay with this is because it was the adherence to a schedule that led him to having good sleep habits (which in my book, is totally worth leaving parties early, and going to events late).
There have been experiences in the past month that I never thought I would be a part of that Ethan’s needs have brought us to. There are emotions that this little one has stirred up in me that I have never felt before in the past month, and there are situations, that have challenged my creativity, endurance, and skill as parent.
In most ways, this has been every single month of my life for the past four years. If you choose to dive in and make parenting a central part of your life, you are choosing to be on that roller coaster, to experience new things all of the time, to feel things deeply, and to work hard for your child.
One more baby in the mix? It’s the same roller coaster ride, it’s just more of everything that makes that ride so much fun, so hard, so absurd, and so meaningful.
Monday, November 27, 2017
Friday, November 24, 2017
Year 8: Week 13 – Baby Pictures During Class
This was a short week, however there was a lot to do. My 3rd graders had one of their biggest performances of the year on Wednesday. We had Monday as a final rehearsal, Tuesday as a dress rehearsal and Wednesday was the final show.
I had pretty well dug myself out of all that I had to catch on from being away on paternity leave, but there was still some stuff to do. Also, I’m still dealing with the adjusting to being back at school, which while is not an unmanageable challenge, still has its difficulties.
I tried really hard to stay focused on my students, and the task of teaching. The busier I could keep myself, the easier it is to deal with the feelings of guilt and sadness from being away from my little baby. This is a hard thing to do, because as much as I can focus on tasks unrelated to parenting, my kids are always on your mind. What makes this even harder is the fact that students, others teachers, and other parents asked about Ethan, and want to talk to me about him constantly.
Teaching is an interesting job. As much as it is important to maintain some level of separation of personal life and professional life, a skillful blending of the two is necessary to create meaningful relationships with your students. No, you should never talk to your kids about your dating life, but talking to them about your family, as you ask them to do the same, is meaningful. No, you shouldn’t tell your third graders about how much you love Game Of Thrones, but it’s great to tell them how you waited in line for the release of a Harry Potter book.
Students need to be able to relate to you as a person, while maintaining a level of separation. Without connections, there isn’t trust, and without the students being able to see themselves in their teachers in some ways, they can’t become partners in education.
This is why my students know about Buffy, my dog, Ollie, whatever music I’m currently obsessed with, and my new son Ethan. As hard as it was for me to pivot from showing baby pictures to other parts of the lessons, the classes when I did this ran better, and the classes where I forgot to do this, or ran out of time, simply didn’t go as well. The classes where I didn’t mention Ethan at all were easier for me, but the ones in which I did, were better for the kids.
All of my students, 3rd, 5th, 6th & 8th graders were into the pictures of Ethan. I took time to explain the history of paternity leave and how my time off wasn’t a vacation. I didn’t do a great job at this, so I’m going to try this again later.
Earlier in my teaching carrier I did more sharing about my personal life with my students. This has become less over time, but in the last couple years I’ve been weaving my personal life back into my curriculum. But it’s different now.
When I talk about Ethan, I mention the history of miscegenation in America. I discuss the different terminology of mixed-raced, and multi-ethnic, and the problems with these terms. I talk about how paternity leave reflects changes in gender roles. After we watch a video of Buffy, I explain the problems with puppy mills, and why we got Buffy from a breeder, and not a shelter. As I’ve become fully awoken to social justice and the different facets of my identity, I realize that I’m living the challenges, the history, and values I’m trying to teach with my students.
There’s more to say to my students about my personal life, and so much they can learn from my experiences with Ethan. So I'll make it happen, let them in a little and we'll enjoy the cuteness and challenges together.
I had pretty well dug myself out of all that I had to catch on from being away on paternity leave, but there was still some stuff to do. Also, I’m still dealing with the adjusting to being back at school, which while is not an unmanageable challenge, still has its difficulties.
I tried really hard to stay focused on my students, and the task of teaching. The busier I could keep myself, the easier it is to deal with the feelings of guilt and sadness from being away from my little baby. This is a hard thing to do, because as much as I can focus on tasks unrelated to parenting, my kids are always on your mind. What makes this even harder is the fact that students, others teachers, and other parents asked about Ethan, and want to talk to me about him constantly.
Teaching is an interesting job. As much as it is important to maintain some level of separation of personal life and professional life, a skillful blending of the two is necessary to create meaningful relationships with your students. No, you should never talk to your kids about your dating life, but talking to them about your family, as you ask them to do the same, is meaningful. No, you shouldn’t tell your third graders about how much you love Game Of Thrones, but it’s great to tell them how you waited in line for the release of a Harry Potter book.
Students need to be able to relate to you as a person, while maintaining a level of separation. Without connections, there isn’t trust, and without the students being able to see themselves in their teachers in some ways, they can’t become partners in education.
This is why my students know about Buffy, my dog, Ollie, whatever music I’m currently obsessed with, and my new son Ethan. As hard as it was for me to pivot from showing baby pictures to other parts of the lessons, the classes when I did this ran better, and the classes where I forgot to do this, or ran out of time, simply didn’t go as well. The classes where I didn’t mention Ethan at all were easier for me, but the ones in which I did, were better for the kids.
All of my students, 3rd, 5th, 6th & 8th graders were into the pictures of Ethan. I took time to explain the history of paternity leave and how my time off wasn’t a vacation. I didn’t do a great job at this, so I’m going to try this again later.
Earlier in my teaching carrier I did more sharing about my personal life with my students. This has become less over time, but in the last couple years I’ve been weaving my personal life back into my curriculum. But it’s different now.
When I talk about Ethan, I mention the history of miscegenation in America. I discuss the different terminology of mixed-raced, and multi-ethnic, and the problems with these terms. I talk about how paternity leave reflects changes in gender roles. After we watch a video of Buffy, I explain the problems with puppy mills, and why we got Buffy from a breeder, and not a shelter. As I’ve become fully awoken to social justice and the different facets of my identity, I realize that I’m living the challenges, the history, and values I’m trying to teach with my students.
There’s more to say to my students about my personal life, and so much they can learn from my experiences with Ethan. So I'll make it happen, let them in a little and we'll enjoy the cuteness and challenges together.
Monday, November 20, 2017
Parenthood: Week 231 - Raising Men To Be Men
We are at a cultural tipping point with the issue of sexual harassment, and sexual assault. The mainstream seems to have evolved to a place where for the most part victims are believed more than doubted, and corporations see that acting to swiftly excommunicate those involved with this insidious behavior from their ranks is not only what is right, but also protects their bottom line.
The progress we have made as a culture is not a reason to rest, but this progress does engender hope, which we must keep alive to work through these challenging issues.
As a dad, the seeming daily revelations about crimes by men in our society tells me that in the same way that I need to deliberately help guide my son’s development of his racial identity (moving well-passed the idea of racial colorblindness), I need to proactively help my boys understand what it means to be a man, and how to act in an anti-sexist way to benefit the women in their lives and their own life experiences.
Masculinity in many ways is defined as not exhibiting feminine characteristics. This is problematic. In our progressive mindset when we think about feminine strength, we talk about things including, but beyond physical strength. This is great, but this should also apply to guys. If there is these positive ideas that define both men and women, then what is the difference between men and women. How do we help our boys understand what it means to be a man?
Diana and I are very interested in teaching our sons about empathy, emotions, and feelings. Women are traditionally thought of as being more empathetic and verbally expressive about emotion. Are we trying to make our sons more like women? Not really, we believe that by helping our boys develop their empathy, and being more in touch with their emotions, they will be happier. This isn’t so much about being a man, but a good human being.
Maybe that’s where we need to end up: a place where we focus less on masculinity and femininity, and more about being authentically who we are in that spectrum, and being good humans. At the same time, I do believe there is a primal need to feel like men that should be nurtured. There are activities that I do that make me feel like a man, like watching professional wrestling and drinking whiskey. Flexing this masculine muscle adds balance to my life in the same way that hanging out with my group of dad friends balances out the fact that all of my close friends are women.
Some of these men who have done awful things to women are simply horrible people. And maybe some of these men are a result of boys flailing about in a vain attempt to figure out what it means to be a man in a society that calls gender roles into question more and more. So instead of learning to express their masculinity through positive ways, they dealt with this insecurity by assaulting women. In no way am I trying come up with excuses, I'm simply positing an explanation. If we accept that a man can be man, and take on traditionally feminine characteristics, then we need to help our boys through the inevitable confusion this paradigm sets up so they don’t go astray.
I'm worried about how I'm going to help my boys become great men. I have a lot of questions about this process and a lot of concerns. But like I tell other parents who worry about issues. If you worry about a part of parenting, than you'll probably be okay. Being worried is a sign that you care and will do the work.
What I do know is that it starts with me. How I am a man, every day in every way.
The progress we have made as a culture is not a reason to rest, but this progress does engender hope, which we must keep alive to work through these challenging issues.
As a dad, the seeming daily revelations about crimes by men in our society tells me that in the same way that I need to deliberately help guide my son’s development of his racial identity (moving well-passed the idea of racial colorblindness), I need to proactively help my boys understand what it means to be a man, and how to act in an anti-sexist way to benefit the women in their lives and their own life experiences.
Masculinity in many ways is defined as not exhibiting feminine characteristics. This is problematic. In our progressive mindset when we think about feminine strength, we talk about things including, but beyond physical strength. This is great, but this should also apply to guys. If there is these positive ideas that define both men and women, then what is the difference between men and women. How do we help our boys understand what it means to be a man?
Diana and I are very interested in teaching our sons about empathy, emotions, and feelings. Women are traditionally thought of as being more empathetic and verbally expressive about emotion. Are we trying to make our sons more like women? Not really, we believe that by helping our boys develop their empathy, and being more in touch with their emotions, they will be happier. This isn’t so much about being a man, but a good human being.
Maybe that’s where we need to end up: a place where we focus less on masculinity and femininity, and more about being authentically who we are in that spectrum, and being good humans. At the same time, I do believe there is a primal need to feel like men that should be nurtured. There are activities that I do that make me feel like a man, like watching professional wrestling and drinking whiskey. Flexing this masculine muscle adds balance to my life in the same way that hanging out with my group of dad friends balances out the fact that all of my close friends are women.
Some of these men who have done awful things to women are simply horrible people. And maybe some of these men are a result of boys flailing about in a vain attempt to figure out what it means to be a man in a society that calls gender roles into question more and more. So instead of learning to express their masculinity through positive ways, they dealt with this insecurity by assaulting women. In no way am I trying come up with excuses, I'm simply positing an explanation. If we accept that a man can be man, and take on traditionally feminine characteristics, then we need to help our boys through the inevitable confusion this paradigm sets up so they don’t go astray.
I'm worried about how I'm going to help my boys become great men. I have a lot of questions about this process and a lot of concerns. But like I tell other parents who worry about issues. If you worry about a part of parenting, than you'll probably be okay. Being worried is a sign that you care and will do the work.
What I do know is that it starts with me. How I am a man, every day in every way.
Friday, November 17, 2017
Year 8: Week 12 – I’m Back
I was on paternity leave for the past three weeks, but I’m numbering these weeks by the weeks of the school year. Even though this is my 9th wßeek of teaching, it’s the 12th week of the school year, so I’m going with that.
The school was quiet, and very still as I stood in the hallway. The traffic on the way to school was abnormally light, so I had gotten to school earlier than most of the teachers and the students. The caffeine in my tea was starting to kick in bringing me more to normal, than energized, but it was helpful regardless.
It was different than coming back after summer break. I was away for fifteen working days when the rest of the school kept moving forward. The complex life of the school kept moving forward on without me. I fully committed to not be involved when I was away.
More often than not, especially this past summer, when I was away from school I’m working from home. For fourteen of the fifteen days I was on my paternity leave, I really didn’t do work. I’d be lying to say that I didn’t peak at my email once in a while, but with power of the email vacation message, I was free from emails.
It took me a couple hours to dig myself out of my inbox, the day before I was back in school, and once that was well in hand, I felt more or less ready to go.
There were moments today of great exhaustion (from living with a three week old), and moments of teaching that I was proud of (relating the story of Hanukkah to modern day systems of oppression for my third graders). I allowed myself to enjoy really awesome musical moments with my 8th graders, and I felt myself challenged by my students, forcing my brain into that higher teaching gear that pushes beyond following lesson plans.
The regular time crunches of trying to fit in too many tasks (and lunch) during my lunch break. As much as I tried to spend other times in my day focusing on my own tasks that had to get done, I ended up talking to other teachers catching up on how things were when I was gone and baby talk.
Through it all, it was a satisfying day. I worried about how Ollie would deal with me not being home. He had told me last night that he was sad thinking about me going back to work, and I told him that I was sad about it too. I wasn’t too concerned about Diana and Ethan. Diana was doing great with him, so I knew they would be fine. I also knew that I would miss Ethan more than he would miss me, which made me feeling slightly feel better about being away from him.
It was great to see my students. Some of these were apathetic that I was back, but many were excited beyond words. There were some hugs, cheers, smiles, and questions about Ethan.
Standing in the hallway at the end of school, I felt at peace watching kids get ready to go home. In that moment their presence was enough for me to be content.
The school was quiet, and very still as I stood in the hallway. The traffic on the way to school was abnormally light, so I had gotten to school earlier than most of the teachers and the students. The caffeine in my tea was starting to kick in bringing me more to normal, than energized, but it was helpful regardless.
It was different than coming back after summer break. I was away for fifteen working days when the rest of the school kept moving forward. The complex life of the school kept moving forward on without me. I fully committed to not be involved when I was away.
More often than not, especially this past summer, when I was away from school I’m working from home. For fourteen of the fifteen days I was on my paternity leave, I really didn’t do work. I’d be lying to say that I didn’t peak at my email once in a while, but with power of the email vacation message, I was free from emails.
It took me a couple hours to dig myself out of my inbox, the day before I was back in school, and once that was well in hand, I felt more or less ready to go.
There were moments today of great exhaustion (from living with a three week old), and moments of teaching that I was proud of (relating the story of Hanukkah to modern day systems of oppression for my third graders). I allowed myself to enjoy really awesome musical moments with my 8th graders, and I felt myself challenged by my students, forcing my brain into that higher teaching gear that pushes beyond following lesson plans.
The regular time crunches of trying to fit in too many tasks (and lunch) during my lunch break. As much as I tried to spend other times in my day focusing on my own tasks that had to get done, I ended up talking to other teachers catching up on how things were when I was gone and baby talk.
Through it all, it was a satisfying day. I worried about how Ollie would deal with me not being home. He had told me last night that he was sad thinking about me going back to work, and I told him that I was sad about it too. I wasn’t too concerned about Diana and Ethan. Diana was doing great with him, so I knew they would be fine. I also knew that I would miss Ethan more than he would miss me, which made me feeling slightly feel better about being away from him.
It was great to see my students. Some of these were apathetic that I was back, but many were excited beyond words. There were some hugs, cheers, smiles, and questions about Ethan.
Standing in the hallway at the end of school, I felt at peace watching kids get ready to go home. In that moment their presence was enough for me to be content.
Monday, November 13, 2017
Parenthood: Week 230 - The Drop-Off Revisited
I’ve written about the challenge of the drop-off in these previous posts (Week 119, Week 170). As with almost every part of parenting, this part of child-rearing has changed and evolved over the years. The first year that Ollie was in day-care, Diana did almost all of the drop-offs and pick-ups. This was difficult for Diana at times, not because the daycare was bad, or that Ollie or Diana had extraordinary separation issues. It was simply because it’s really hard to drop-off off young child sometimes, even in the best of situations.
When we enrolled Ollie in Chiaravalle three years ago, I took a more active role in the drop-off and pick-up. The school was on the way to my school, and this school had before and after care. Two days a week, I had prep time in the morning, so I did drop-off two days and most days I could do pick-up. So I had drop-off two days, Diana did two days and Diana’s dad did one drop-off.
There were tough drop-offs, but more than not, I really enjoyed this process. Because, I dropped him off for before care, there weren’t a lot of students, and it was really chill. I hated the days when I would have to literally pry him off him. I will never forget the sounds of him crying and being held back as a teacher, when I walked way, doing my best like Orpheus to not look back to Eurydice, knowing that it would only make things worse, if I made eye contact. On the best days, Ollie and I we would share twenty hugs, and he would give me a bonus hugs. He would run into his room smiling, and I would walk away knowing I had helped start his day off well.
This school year, we decided that Ollie would not do before care. It would make it easier on Ollie because he would not have to get up as early, and it would make my mornings less stressful. Diana has been doing drop-off, and it has been going well.
A couple weeks into the school year, me and Diana were talking after Ollie went to sleep, and I told her that while our drop-off situations was logical, I didn’t love it. Selfishly, I missed the good drop-offs and most days, instead of having quality time with Ollie before school, I left for work kissing him goodbye while he was still sleeping.
This is one of those things, that is better for our family, that has a negative side, that I just had to get over. So I was excited to do drop-off and pick-up again during my paternity leave.
Ollie’s school Chiaravalle, has a carpool system for drop-off and pick-up. There’s an alley behind the school, and at a certain time, cars go through the alley and there’s teachers who greet students once the cars reach the back door and help them inside. During pick-up, they coordinate numbers on the cars with students and bring students out to cars waiting in the alley. Carpool was set-up only during regular drop-off and pick-up, not for before or after care, so I had never done this during previous years.
Even though Diana said that carpool was really convenient, I wasn’t so sure about it. I liked walking into the school holding Ollie’s hand, helping him hang up his stuff, saying hi to his teachers and doing goodbye hugs.
After using carpool. I got to say that I really like it The not having to get out of your car part is really nice, but there’s something really special going on here. When the teachers open the car door, greet Ollie, and help him out, I can feel the positivity and inclusive community of the school coming into my car. The teachers happily greet Ollie, and he responds happy to see them. Ollie is eager to get out of the car, and every day I have had the joy of watching him happily walk into the school, all by himself.
Pick-up is even better. When the teacher walks Ollie out to the car, he is smiling, bouncing as he runs to me, and joyously exclaiming “daddy.” They say goodbye to Ollie, and he happily says goodbye back to me. There is very different than in previous years when Ollie would sometimes be exhausted from a long day ending with aftercare. There’s a difference between a child being happy because they dislike school and want to leave, and a child being happy because they had a great day in school and are excited for what’s next. I’m proud to say that I’ve seen the latter in Ollie for the past two weeks.
There's something magical, and so right about watching happy children come to school. It's inspiring as a teacher, and as a parent it's life-affirming, and beautiful. I never thought I'd be happy watching my child walk away from me, but now that I think about, he's not walking away from me, he's walking into a school he enjoys.
That's happiness.
When we enrolled Ollie in Chiaravalle three years ago, I took a more active role in the drop-off and pick-up. The school was on the way to my school, and this school had before and after care. Two days a week, I had prep time in the morning, so I did drop-off two days and most days I could do pick-up. So I had drop-off two days, Diana did two days and Diana’s dad did one drop-off.
There were tough drop-offs, but more than not, I really enjoyed this process. Because, I dropped him off for before care, there weren’t a lot of students, and it was really chill. I hated the days when I would have to literally pry him off him. I will never forget the sounds of him crying and being held back as a teacher, when I walked way, doing my best like Orpheus to not look back to Eurydice, knowing that it would only make things worse, if I made eye contact. On the best days, Ollie and I we would share twenty hugs, and he would give me a bonus hugs. He would run into his room smiling, and I would walk away knowing I had helped start his day off well.
This school year, we decided that Ollie would not do before care. It would make it easier on Ollie because he would not have to get up as early, and it would make my mornings less stressful. Diana has been doing drop-off, and it has been going well.
A couple weeks into the school year, me and Diana were talking after Ollie went to sleep, and I told her that while our drop-off situations was logical, I didn’t love it. Selfishly, I missed the good drop-offs and most days, instead of having quality time with Ollie before school, I left for work kissing him goodbye while he was still sleeping.
This is one of those things, that is better for our family, that has a negative side, that I just had to get over. So I was excited to do drop-off and pick-up again during my paternity leave.
Ollie’s school Chiaravalle, has a carpool system for drop-off and pick-up. There’s an alley behind the school, and at a certain time, cars go through the alley and there’s teachers who greet students once the cars reach the back door and help them inside. During pick-up, they coordinate numbers on the cars with students and bring students out to cars waiting in the alley. Carpool was set-up only during regular drop-off and pick-up, not for before or after care, so I had never done this during previous years.
Even though Diana said that carpool was really convenient, I wasn’t so sure about it. I liked walking into the school holding Ollie’s hand, helping him hang up his stuff, saying hi to his teachers and doing goodbye hugs.
After using carpool. I got to say that I really like it The not having to get out of your car part is really nice, but there’s something really special going on here. When the teachers open the car door, greet Ollie, and help him out, I can feel the positivity and inclusive community of the school coming into my car. The teachers happily greet Ollie, and he responds happy to see them. Ollie is eager to get out of the car, and every day I have had the joy of watching him happily walk into the school, all by himself.
Pick-up is even better. When the teacher walks Ollie out to the car, he is smiling, bouncing as he runs to me, and joyously exclaiming “daddy.” They say goodbye to Ollie, and he happily says goodbye back to me. There is very different than in previous years when Ollie would sometimes be exhausted from a long day ending with aftercare. There’s a difference between a child being happy because they dislike school and want to leave, and a child being happy because they had a great day in school and are excited for what’s next. I’m proud to say that I’ve seen the latter in Ollie for the past two weeks.
There's something magical, and so right about watching happy children come to school. It's inspiring as a teacher, and as a parent it's life-affirming, and beautiful. I never thought I'd be happy watching my child walk away from me, but now that I think about, he's not walking away from me, he's walking into a school he enjoys.
That's happiness.
Friday, November 10, 2017
The 45th: One Year Later
One year later.
Here’s the thing. I don’t think that I have anything new or amazingly insightful about the past year with the 45th as president. But I think it’s worth taking a moment to reflect for myself, for my future self, and for my sons my thoughts during this moment.
There are many great people who do amazing things because they are seeking approval from unaffectionate, emotionally closed off parents. Can great things be accomplished with supportive, emotionally available parents? Of course. I would argue that great parenting doesn’t hinder accomplishments but also more meaning, and life-long satisfaction.
Did we need the 45th to win last year, and create a massive deficit in leadership, and embolden the worst amongst us, in order for us to have the results we had during last Tuesday’s elections? Does it take an accused sexual predator as president to give people the strength for others to come out about the crimes they suffered? Did it take openly racist, bigoted language by the 45th and policy proposals to bring forth a new awareness of racial issues, white privilege, and a clear need for socially progressive work? Did Americans have to be terrorized by the 45th with tweets that threatened proposals that would call into question their earned, and deserved rights as Americans for groups to mobilize and support each other as allies?
Did we need this guy as the 45th to motivate me to inject social justice as DEI work into every class I teach and take on the role as my schools’ DEI co-chair? Could all of the positive stuff happen in our country if he was not elected? Do we need to suffer oppression, and pain to reach a higher level of citizenship?
I don’t believe we need to experience the bad to achieve greatness. We could have made great strides forward without the pain, the fear, the threats, the gas-lighting, and the division. I don’t believe my students need to be made to cry to succeed. I don’t believe my son needs to be thrown into the deep end by surprise to learn to swim, and I don’t believe that whatever positive things happened in the past year, required the suffering of so many of us.
There is a trauma that we as a country are collectively experiencing, and that will take time to heal from. For those of us who acknowledge it and talk about it, we are on the important process of self-care. Those who ignore the trauma will have an even more difficult road ahead of them, and then there are those who truly do not feel what is happening.
There are people in this world whose opinions and world view will never change. When schools desegregated, many people fought this change, they eventually made private their bigotry, and these feelings died with them, while new generations see the light of truth and justice. There are people who will never change their negative viewpoints on racial equity, LGBTQ rights, social justice and feminism. However, there are many people whose minds can, and have evolved around these issues. This is where our focus needs to lie, not with the trolls, but the souls who care about our shared humanity, but don’t lack the tools and awareness to do this beyond their own communities.
In many ways it’s been a wonderful past year, despite the 45th. As I write this, I see my baby boy sleeping next to me, and I smile when I think of my son at his wonderfully progressives, diverse, and inclusive school. My wife and I are closer then ever. I feel stronger, and more confident in who I and, more proud of the the different identities I embrace.
The biggest change for me in the past year is that everything that has happened in my life, and in this country has made me feel confident that I am an adult. I'm 35 years old, but for the past fifteen years, I've felt like I was a kid faking my way in the world of adults who somehow know better than me, and have life figured out. But now I know that I am right in my convictions. I can take care of my family, and I can positively contribute to the various communities I belong to as a citizen. I know this and I feel this because I'm know a better person, and a better leader, than the 45th. And I know that I could be a much better President then that guy. He may have the title, but we are the ones with the true power.
Here’s the thing. I don’t think that I have anything new or amazingly insightful about the past year with the 45th as president. But I think it’s worth taking a moment to reflect for myself, for my future self, and for my sons my thoughts during this moment.
There are many great people who do amazing things because they are seeking approval from unaffectionate, emotionally closed off parents. Can great things be accomplished with supportive, emotionally available parents? Of course. I would argue that great parenting doesn’t hinder accomplishments but also more meaning, and life-long satisfaction.
Did we need the 45th to win last year, and create a massive deficit in leadership, and embolden the worst amongst us, in order for us to have the results we had during last Tuesday’s elections? Does it take an accused sexual predator as president to give people the strength for others to come out about the crimes they suffered? Did it take openly racist, bigoted language by the 45th and policy proposals to bring forth a new awareness of racial issues, white privilege, and a clear need for socially progressive work? Did Americans have to be terrorized by the 45th with tweets that threatened proposals that would call into question their earned, and deserved rights as Americans for groups to mobilize and support each other as allies?
Did we need this guy as the 45th to motivate me to inject social justice as DEI work into every class I teach and take on the role as my schools’ DEI co-chair? Could all of the positive stuff happen in our country if he was not elected? Do we need to suffer oppression, and pain to reach a higher level of citizenship?
I don’t believe we need to experience the bad to achieve greatness. We could have made great strides forward without the pain, the fear, the threats, the gas-lighting, and the division. I don’t believe my students need to be made to cry to succeed. I don’t believe my son needs to be thrown into the deep end by surprise to learn to swim, and I don’t believe that whatever positive things happened in the past year, required the suffering of so many of us.
There is a trauma that we as a country are collectively experiencing, and that will take time to heal from. For those of us who acknowledge it and talk about it, we are on the important process of self-care. Those who ignore the trauma will have an even more difficult road ahead of them, and then there are those who truly do not feel what is happening.
There are people in this world whose opinions and world view will never change. When schools desegregated, many people fought this change, they eventually made private their bigotry, and these feelings died with them, while new generations see the light of truth and justice. There are people who will never change their negative viewpoints on racial equity, LGBTQ rights, social justice and feminism. However, there are many people whose minds can, and have evolved around these issues. This is where our focus needs to lie, not with the trolls, but the souls who care about our shared humanity, but don’t lack the tools and awareness to do this beyond their own communities.
In many ways it’s been a wonderful past year, despite the 45th. As I write this, I see my baby boy sleeping next to me, and I smile when I think of my son at his wonderfully progressives, diverse, and inclusive school. My wife and I are closer then ever. I feel stronger, and more confident in who I and, more proud of the the different identities I embrace.
The biggest change for me in the past year is that everything that has happened in my life, and in this country has made me feel confident that I am an adult. I'm 35 years old, but for the past fifteen years, I've felt like I was a kid faking my way in the world of adults who somehow know better than me, and have life figured out. But now I know that I am right in my convictions. I can take care of my family, and I can positively contribute to the various communities I belong to as a citizen. I know this and I feel this because I'm know a better person, and a better leader, than the 45th. And I know that I could be a much better President then that guy. He may have the title, but we are the ones with the true power.
You do the best that, do the best that you can do
Then you can look in the mirror
Proud of who's looking back at you
Define the life you're living
Not by what you take or what you're givin'
And if you bet on love there's no way you'll ever lose
Take a stand, make a stand for what's right
It's always worth, always worth the fight.
Wednesday, November 8, 2017
Monday, November 6, 2017
Parenthood: Week 229 - The Motivation & The Meaning
Everything feels right, but man, I am tired. This morning Ethan (our wonderful week and half year old), wanted to “party” at 4:30am, and by “party,” I mean, "did not want to go back to sleep after a feeding." During the day, I don’t expect that this little newborn will go back to sleep after every feeding, which he often does, but early in the morning, I’m determined to get this boy back down, for my sanity, and the sanity of everyone else in the house.
So I worked with him and finally got him to sleep around 5:20am. By then, it was too late for me to get any more sleep, seeing how Ollie, my 4 year old who is an early riser would probably be up around 6:20am. I did enjoy some moment in bed feeling my wife next to me and knowing that all of my kids, Ollie, Ethan, and Buffy (the dog), were sleeping soundly under the same roof.
My focus for the past week has been keeping the house running smoothly, and taking care of my family. The basics: laundry, food, cleaning, and trash has been cycling through my head the entire day. Being supportive of my wife’s needs is being proactive with this stuff, not waiting to be asked to do these things but rather getting them done before they become an issue.
This is challenging to balance out with what I’m trying to do for Ollie. My main goal is not for him to bond strongly with Ethan. I’m simply doing all I can to make sure that Ollie doesn’t see Ethan as having a negative effect on his life. In time the positive will come out, but it won’t if their relationship is built up on a feeling of resentment.
Since Ollie is four years old, Ethan doesn’t really effect most of what Ollie expects and wants. Ethan doesn’t mess up Ollie’s school schedule, he’s not into Ollie’s toys, and Ollie still gets to watch what he wants to watch on TV. I do feel bad at times that Ollie has to wait for me to finish a choir to play with him. For example, Ollie wanted to play hide and seek with me, but I was in the middle of doing the dishes, so I asked him to wait for me to be done. While I wish I could immediately give Ollie my attention, I do like the fact that Ollie is seeing me, as his man, being proactive about running the household. Ollie is picking up on this and joyfully helps me with things like laundry,
Buffy’s patience with her walks being delayed or forgotten has been great. However, even she has her limits. Ethan’s crib is currently in our bedroom, right next to Buffy’s bed. The other night, after he was being especially loud, Diana looked over and saw Buffy with her front paws up on the bed, whining as Ethan cried. We’ve left the door open, and told Buffy she can go downstairs and sleep on the couch, but she has stayed with us every night. If I was her, I’d leave, but she’s probably feeling like I do. Even though there is another room I could go to when Ethan cries in the middle of the night, I’d rather be there with him and Diana, and show support and help. That’s what it means to be a family.
Taking care of Ethan is a joy. The techniques of diaper changing, the process of getting him to sleep, which I learned from my mom, and different ways of holding him and calming him, all feel like second nature. I remember with Ollie, thinking about how to hold him as a newborn, and with Ethan, it’s all instinct. It feels great to use these skills again.
Diana and I have been watching the second season of Stranger Things. After all the kids are asleep and we get the house in order, often we barely have time to get through one episode, which is tough because we are both really enjoying this show.
A couple nights ago, even though we both wanted to watch this show, we ended up sitting at the kitchen table talking for an hour. We shared our feelings about Ethan, how we were enjoying this experience, and thoughts about the future. It was really wonderful. As tired as I am (oh man, was I tired today), I know that I have an amazing partner in Diana, who is on this journey with me. Yes, the squishy cute-ness of Ethan helps, Ollie’s wonderful giggles makes a difference, and Buffy’s quiet watchfulness is reassuring, but it’s Diana as my partner, that motivates me to be a better man, and brings meaning to this experience, as she does with every part of my life.
So I worked with him and finally got him to sleep around 5:20am. By then, it was too late for me to get any more sleep, seeing how Ollie, my 4 year old who is an early riser would probably be up around 6:20am. I did enjoy some moment in bed feeling my wife next to me and knowing that all of my kids, Ollie, Ethan, and Buffy (the dog), were sleeping soundly under the same roof.
My focus for the past week has been keeping the house running smoothly, and taking care of my family. The basics: laundry, food, cleaning, and trash has been cycling through my head the entire day. Being supportive of my wife’s needs is being proactive with this stuff, not waiting to be asked to do these things but rather getting them done before they become an issue.
This is challenging to balance out with what I’m trying to do for Ollie. My main goal is not for him to bond strongly with Ethan. I’m simply doing all I can to make sure that Ollie doesn’t see Ethan as having a negative effect on his life. In time the positive will come out, but it won’t if their relationship is built up on a feeling of resentment.
Since Ollie is four years old, Ethan doesn’t really effect most of what Ollie expects and wants. Ethan doesn’t mess up Ollie’s school schedule, he’s not into Ollie’s toys, and Ollie still gets to watch what he wants to watch on TV. I do feel bad at times that Ollie has to wait for me to finish a choir to play with him. For example, Ollie wanted to play hide and seek with me, but I was in the middle of doing the dishes, so I asked him to wait for me to be done. While I wish I could immediately give Ollie my attention, I do like the fact that Ollie is seeing me, as his man, being proactive about running the household. Ollie is picking up on this and joyfully helps me with things like laundry,
Buffy’s patience with her walks being delayed or forgotten has been great. However, even she has her limits. Ethan’s crib is currently in our bedroom, right next to Buffy’s bed. The other night, after he was being especially loud, Diana looked over and saw Buffy with her front paws up on the bed, whining as Ethan cried. We’ve left the door open, and told Buffy she can go downstairs and sleep on the couch, but she has stayed with us every night. If I was her, I’d leave, but she’s probably feeling like I do. Even though there is another room I could go to when Ethan cries in the middle of the night, I’d rather be there with him and Diana, and show support and help. That’s what it means to be a family.
Taking care of Ethan is a joy. The techniques of diaper changing, the process of getting him to sleep, which I learned from my mom, and different ways of holding him and calming him, all feel like second nature. I remember with Ollie, thinking about how to hold him as a newborn, and with Ethan, it’s all instinct. It feels great to use these skills again.
Diana and I have been watching the second season of Stranger Things. After all the kids are asleep and we get the house in order, often we barely have time to get through one episode, which is tough because we are both really enjoying this show.
A couple nights ago, even though we both wanted to watch this show, we ended up sitting at the kitchen table talking for an hour. We shared our feelings about Ethan, how we were enjoying this experience, and thoughts about the future. It was really wonderful. As tired as I am (oh man, was I tired today), I know that I have an amazing partner in Diana, who is on this journey with me. Yes, the squishy cute-ness of Ethan helps, Ollie’s wonderful giggles makes a difference, and Buffy’s quiet watchfulness is reassuring, but it’s Diana as my partner, that motivates me to be a better man, and brings meaning to this experience, as she does with every part of my life.
Friday, November 3, 2017
Frat Boy: The Museum - Part 2
I don’t remember all of the art that we saw that afternoon. I remember experiencing Monet’s “Water Lilies,” Zurbarna’s “The Crucifixion,” and Rothko’s beautiful untitled blocks of color, but that’s about it.
What I do remember more than the art was watching Debbie experiencing the art. Debbie danced with the works. She would move around the work, tracing the colors and shapes in the air with her hands. I could feel her mind and body settle when a painting pulled her in. Then she would refocus and quickly lead me into the next room, talking quickly in an attempt to capture what was incredible about what she had just experienced. While keeping up with Debbie was exhausting, I never got tired of watching her dance.
Even though Debbie talked a lot, she listened to everything I said with care and attention. She offered me space in the conversation. If I took it, she would listen, but if I didn’t, Debbie was happy to take that space and share her fascinating thoughts and perspectives.
When we got to campus, we walked over to Debbie’s room, and she asked casually, “Do you want to come up to my room?”
“What?” I replied in surprise.
“My room, c’mon, I’ll show you my drum.”
Before I could process what was going on, Debbie had opened the door and led me in her dorms lobby. I stood in her doorway awkwardly when she opened her dorm room's door. This was the first time I had ever seen the inside of a girl’s room. (And no, I had never been in a girl’s room either).
Debbie sitting in a chair looked up at me and coaxed me in like I was a puppy scared to come hither. I sat down on another chair and then Debbie did exactly what she said she was going to do. She pulled a conga drum out of the corner of the room and started playing it.
We talked for a bit, shared a pop tart, and then said goodnight. She gave me playful punch on the shoulder as she said goodbye. I thanked her for a great afternoon and before I left the room, Debbie leaned in and we shared a quick, but very cute hug.
I didn't follow up the museum trip by asking her out. I don't know if Debbie interpreted this as the fade away or was hurt that I didn't reciprocate. I didn't have the maturity to talk to her about our experience openly and I didn't have the confidence to put myself out there.
I don't know what she thought of that outing. Was it a date thing or a friend thing? I may have messed this up, and I hope that I didn’t hurt her feelings, because, I have always been grateful for her kindness and for reaching out to me. In no time, we fast became friends. We regularly saw each other in marching band practice and during meal times. As the years past, we continued to share good times.
Debbie was always the life of party, first to dance and never one to let me stand against the wall. She was never afraid to tell me I was being an idiot, and she always did this with a smile confirming that all her words were an expression of care.
Debbie still loves to dance. She works as a choreographer, fitness instructor, personal trainer, and a dance instructor in the Philadelphia area. She’s spreads her love for dance, and her amazing spirit to others.
When I’m throwing myself into a dance with my 5th graders and coaxing them to get into it, I’m channeling my best Debbie smile. When I see a “wall-flower” sitting alone during lunch or awkwardly standing by themselves before a faculty meeting, I push myself to go out of my comfort zone, draw on the kindness that Debbie shared with me and reach out to them. And when I’m feeling unsure, and not sure where to go or how to be, I feel the sense of adventure that Debbie sparked inside of me so many years ago, and I face this uncertainty with optimism.
What I do remember more than the art was watching Debbie experiencing the art. Debbie danced with the works. She would move around the work, tracing the colors and shapes in the air with her hands. I could feel her mind and body settle when a painting pulled her in. Then she would refocus and quickly lead me into the next room, talking quickly in an attempt to capture what was incredible about what she had just experienced. While keeping up with Debbie was exhausting, I never got tired of watching her dance.
Even though Debbie talked a lot, she listened to everything I said with care and attention. She offered me space in the conversation. If I took it, she would listen, but if I didn’t, Debbie was happy to take that space and share her fascinating thoughts and perspectives.
When we got to campus, we walked over to Debbie’s room, and she asked casually, “Do you want to come up to my room?”
“What?” I replied in surprise.
“My room, c’mon, I’ll show you my drum.”
Before I could process what was going on, Debbie had opened the door and led me in her dorms lobby. I stood in her doorway awkwardly when she opened her dorm room's door. This was the first time I had ever seen the inside of a girl’s room. (And no, I had never been in a girl’s room either).
Debbie sitting in a chair looked up at me and coaxed me in like I was a puppy scared to come hither. I sat down on another chair and then Debbie did exactly what she said she was going to do. She pulled a conga drum out of the corner of the room and started playing it.
We talked for a bit, shared a pop tart, and then said goodnight. She gave me playful punch on the shoulder as she said goodbye. I thanked her for a great afternoon and before I left the room, Debbie leaned in and we shared a quick, but very cute hug.
I didn't follow up the museum trip by asking her out. I don't know if Debbie interpreted this as the fade away or was hurt that I didn't reciprocate. I didn't have the maturity to talk to her about our experience openly and I didn't have the confidence to put myself out there.
I don't know what she thought of that outing. Was it a date thing or a friend thing? I may have messed this up, and I hope that I didn’t hurt her feelings, because, I have always been grateful for her kindness and for reaching out to me. In no time, we fast became friends. We regularly saw each other in marching band practice and during meal times. As the years past, we continued to share good times.
Debbie was always the life of party, first to dance and never one to let me stand against the wall. She was never afraid to tell me I was being an idiot, and she always did this with a smile confirming that all her words were an expression of care.
Debbie still loves to dance. She works as a choreographer, fitness instructor, personal trainer, and a dance instructor in the Philadelphia area. She’s spreads her love for dance, and her amazing spirit to others.
When I’m throwing myself into a dance with my 5th graders and coaxing them to get into it, I’m channeling my best Debbie smile. When I see a “wall-flower” sitting alone during lunch or awkwardly standing by themselves before a faculty meeting, I push myself to go out of my comfort zone, draw on the kindness that Debbie shared with me and reach out to them. And when I’m feeling unsure, and not sure where to go or how to be, I feel the sense of adventure that Debbie sparked inside of me so many years ago, and I face this uncertainty with optimism.
Wednesday, November 1, 2017
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)