Parenthood: Week 299 – Christmases (plural)

It started with Christmas #1, which was a family gathering with Diana’s paternal extended family the weekend before Christmas. Christmas #2 was a dinner gathering with Diana’s immediate family on Christmas Eve. Christmas #3 was Christmas morning spent with us and our two sons, and then Christmas #4 was that evening spent with Diana’s maternal extended family. Even though #3 and #4 were on the same day the feeling of that day really made it feel like two.

All of these events felt different for our family. Christmas #1 had a lot of children. Ollie was one of almost half a dozen children around his age. Many of Diana’s cousins have children and there’s a desire by many of the people there to play with and hang out with the kids, probably because many of the adult at the gathering are adult or grandparents themselves. This makes it an event where Ollie can have quality time with kids his own age. Because there’s so many children around, this is an early afternoon event.

Christmas #2 is a shorter drive and was at Diana’s mother’s house (the drive to Christmas #1 and #3 was almost an hour). This was a much smaller crowd compared to the almost forty people at Christmas #1. It was just eight people: Diana’s parents, her two brothers, me and her and our boys. This is when we did a lot of the gift giving and had more intimate time as a smaller family unit. As the grandchildren and nephews to my brothers-in-law, our children got a lot of attention. The smaller crowd made the event more intimate, and quieter.

Christmas #3 started with thunder of Ollie’s feet in the morning. The night before Diana and I had set out a stack of presents and I rushed down ahead of Ollie in the morning to turn on the Christmas tree lights for full effect. Ollie could barely contain his excitement as he went down the stairs. We had a relaxed morning in our pajamas slowly unwrapping presents. Ollie likes to take his time with presents. He will open a present, and then want to open and play with it until he opens another gift.

Then we had Christmas #4 which was the during the evening. Ollie and Ethan were the only kids at this part so the design of it, food, time, and set-up was more adult-orientated. This was logical as this side of the family had not been inundated with grandchildren and nieces and nephews. At this point, Ollie was pretty tired, exhausted from the excitement from the previous Christmases and getting up early every day for the past month to open the door on his Lego Advent Calendar. At least half-way through December he stopped getting up before 6:00 AM to open the little next door, or at least getting me up before 6:00 AM.

It’s not always going to be like this. Like most families at some point, the extended family Christmases may get dropped off and as immediately families become extended families themselves the number of Christmases may become fewer or are replaced with others. All of this is exciting but confusing for Ollie, and Ethan doesn’t have a concept of what is going on, so it’s all a bit much for him. However, it’s meaningful for people to spend time with him, so I’m willing to put in the effort. Holiday with children is like how trips with children aren’t vacations. It’s a lot of work, much of it Diana takes the lead with. Now that Ollie is old enough to show appreciation for all of the work it is more rewarding, and even though I was exhausted and sick on Christmas morning, it was magical and wonderful to see Ollie’s reaction when he saw the Christmas tree lit up with presents underneath.

I’m still trying to figure out what I want Christmas to be for myself and for my children. A lot of my work now is supporting Diana’s vision, which is fine, since I don’t have one myself. I feel like I’m still recovering from the multiple Christmases, thankful the for the times, and the respite before school gets back in session to get healthy, catch up on sleep and focus on time with my family.

Multiple Christmases are a reality for many people, and there’s no instruction manual or guidelines about how to handle all of this. Because of the size of some of these events and all of the other things swirling around this time of year, and for us the fact that we have little ones to watch over, sometimes it’s hard to connect with other family members during these events. This is hard to accept because we put pressure on ourselves to make these moments meaningful and that can’t always happen.

Sometimes I leave these Christmases with the feeling that I should make an effort to spend more time with these people during other times of the year, and not just wait for these multiple Christmases to nurture these relationships.  Part of the reality that I'm struggling with is that lately I've noticed that I'm struggling more and more handling social situations with large groups of people.  This may have to do with parenting or some other things going on in my life...hmm...something to unpack later.     

Top 10 of 2018: Part 1 - SuperHERoes

Ok, here we go the Top 10 of 2018.  This included people, events, and art.  The things that stuck with me through 2018 and will carryon in my memory and my heart.  

10. The Rowdy One



I enjoy a good technical wrestling match, or an epic brawl, but what I love the most in a professional wrestling match, in the square circle, is seeing a superhero. When Ronda Rousey in her first professional wrestling match at WrestleMania 31 rolled over Triple H and somehow hoisted him up on his shoulders, it felt like seeing Superman lift up a plane. Yes, I knew in the back of the mind that he helped her pick him up, and yes I know that this match was meticulously choreographed and rehearsed, but it didn’t matter. In that moment, in that moment, I believed, and what a great feeling.



I got back into professional wrestling about two years ago, and with the guidance of Dave Meltzer and Bryan Alvarez of the Wrestling Observer/Figure Four Weekly Online community, I got pulled right back in to this wonderful world. Meltzer is an encyclopedic genius, historian, and an incredible writer. Bryans is a hilarious personality and also great critic, and at the center of the “empire.” They sees the professional wrestling sins, shortcomings, and failings. However, they also see the beauty, genius, drama and art in this form of entertainment. More a feminist than not, and with a fierce anti-racist view on the world, these great men makes me proud to be a wrestling fan.

Ronda Rousey’s made the past year of professional wrestling fun, exciting, and energizing. In a time when many of wrestlers billed to be “the guy” failed to truly get over, it was Rousey, and other women wrestlers who made the shows on the main rosters more than something to talk about.  They made wrestling something to cheer about.

The Rock was the first wrestler who made me believe, and it’s Ronda who in the past year has reignited and confirmed this faith.

 


9. By The Way, Brandi is Back

Like many people I first came to Brandi Carlile as that person who did that song on Grey’s Anatomy.



Then a couple years ago I decided to analyze the media and art I was consuming. Looking at this list of authors, musicians, actors and writers, I noticed they were almost all, white, cis-gendered, straight white men. If I was to become a more accepting and inclusive person, it needed to start with what I was consuming so I deliberately sought out diversity, and this led me to Brandi Carlile.

Along with her “Tragedy”-like ballads, her albums are full of a wonderful mix of genres and themes. Her unmistakable voice is intimate, gentle, and powerful. Oh, and her lyrics, they are everything. She was the soundtrack of 2016 for me, and in every difficult moment of that year, there was Brandi’s voice bringing me hope, comfort, and validation.

This past year, she released her most recent album By The Way, I Forgive You. I preordered this album and I was looking forward to this new work. This album all about the concept of forgiveness was one of her best albums, mature, venerable, honest, and relevant. It’s about so much: her coming out as lesbian and being turned away from her church, how much parenthood sucks, protests, understanding your parents, knowing through forgiveness what is love. This album mattered, it’s song were really, and I wasn’t the only one who noticed.



This album appeared on many of the best album lists recently and has gotten nominated for many awards. The world is coming around and seeing what I’ve been discovering: Brandi Carlile is one of the greatest singers and songwriters in her generation.

President Obama also featured this song on his list of favorite songs this year:


Sometimes when musicians take the stage they seem taller, extraordinary, with power beyond mortal men.  Watching Brandi lead the crowd in the video to "Hold Out Your Hand" in Seattle's  "March For Our Lives" protest she was every bit a SuperHERo.  Through her art, and the power of her voice Brandi Carlile help us all lift ourselves all out of the tragedy in our lives.    

Parenthood: Week 298 - All I Want For Christmas?

Christmas is confusing.

Well, honestly all American holidays are confusing (and problematic). Most of them have been infused with enough capitalistic influence to cloud the origins and original meanings to the point where, people often don’t understand the “point.” Every American holiday has issues. Halloween continues to be celebrated with racist stereotypes, Thanksgiving romanticizes colonization, Columbus Day (oh boy) honors Columbus as “discovering” America, Valentine’s Day propagates heteronormative ideas about romance, 4th Of July takes pride in America romanticizing the violence of our country, and St. Patrick’s Day, well, I don’t understand how turning Chicago into a sea of throw-up, and making police officers waste their time dealing with drunk partiers honors the Irish.

Then there’s Christmas. A holiday to celebrate the birth of Jesus Christ, timed near the winter solstice, (not Christ’s actually birthdate), full of appropriations of pagan traditions, influenced heavily by advertisers (e.g. modern mythology of Santa Claus that  is 100% secular). It’s the one “religious” holiday that is a federal holiday (separation of church vs. state anyone?), and even within single Christian denominations the way to celebrate this holiday varies greatly.

This makes it even more confusing as parents trying to figure out what to do with this holiday. Take the mythology of Santa Claus. If you want to keep the myth of Santa going for your kids, that’s fine. But if you live in a diverse community like we do, where there are many kids who are Christians who do not believe in Santa Claus, it’s much harder to keep this going. Ollie already asked me about another kid who told him that Santa wasn’t real, and somehow, I explained to him plurality. Being in pluralistic society makes a lot of thing about Christmas difficult as a parent.

From what I gather (keep in mind that my families first Christmas traditions were created by my parents), the way that families celebrate Christmas is largely based on family traditions more than anything else. We kind of got that going with Diana’s experiences growing up, but she like myself constantly reexamines traditions and is mindful of having an experience around this holiday that works for me and our kids, all of us who are not baptized and do not go to church regularly.

We’ve created some of our own traditions around this holiday and of course, like Christmas itself, borrowed many things from the various traditions we see in our own history and of others. We get a tree, we do presents, we read some Christmas books, watch Christmas movies and see family. I see through Ollie’s excitement that this is working for him, and that he is getting the right kind of joy out of these experiences.

Diana asks me every year what I want out of the Christmas Holiday seasons, and with great patience she has dealt with my non-specific answers. But I think I finally have an answer. Gifts are fun, and family time together is important. More than that I want Christmas to be a time that as family we stop and think about what the Christmas story tells us about ourselves and our own family. The women in our family like Mary who prove the strength of women, the history on both sides of our family on fleeing from countries for something better, and in Diana’s father’s side, not being able to get away from danger in Poland during WWII.  And knowing that the Christmas story is about people who in our modern-day society would be grouped with my son as people of color. This is a story about others as much as it is about ourselves.

I'm not quite sure how we're going to get there, and that's okay.  There's more good in Christmas than bad and like the way we define our marriage we have the freedom to define this holiday in a way that works for us. I'm not sure what that means, but it's a journey, one more thing to figure out as parents.

At least there's cute pajamas to keep us smiling along the way.

Year 9: Week 16 – Matter Of Time

I’ve had great highs in my teaching career. I’ve been a part of phenomenal concerts, I’ve facilitated amazing discussions, I’ve organized really great assemblies, and I’ve had great accomplishments as a department chair. In the moments of these things happenings, I intellectually know that they are great, and meaningful, but they don’t always feel that way. Sometimes it’s because I’m too concerned about making something work in the moment or skipping ahead to thinking how it can better in the future even before it’s done.

When things go well, it sets a higher standard, a way of working and a new norm. The reality is that not everything I do, can hit those highs. When things don’t repeat at that level as they didn’t for me this week, even though things can go very well, they don’t always feel that way. This is difficult for me to fully understand about my work as a teacher.

My 3rd graders and 5th graders performed this week at our Winter Program. Was it a bad performance? Not by any means. However, there were things that I could have done to better prepare them which would have raised it the level of past performance I’ve had with children of these age groups. This isn’t really about the children’s efforts, talent or dedication. This is about me. One of the major limits of students’ musical performance is the teacher’s ability to teach, and their practice as a teacher.

I’ll get specific. Usually for the rehearsals for this performance I have a seating chart and for how they stand on stage and how they sit in their auditorium seats. I didn’t have one ready for their first rehearsal. This meant that I had to do some of this arranging during the rehearsal, which meant that there was less time to work on musical factors. Why didn’t I have a seating chart done? Because my weekend before full of taking care of my children (actually biological kids, not my students), and family obligations. Once upon a time, like most teachers I’d spend a couple hours a weekend doing prep work for school. That’s not something that is as realistic for me at this point, and that’s really hard to accept.

Being a teacher means accepting that you will never be as prepared as you would like for your students, and that your to do list will never be done. Being a parent means that you can’t get all of the stuff done that you want in life, and you will always feel behind and ill-prepared for being an adult. Combine being a teacher and a parent, and it can be really a tough pill to swallow. 

This is really hard, especially when I know how I was able to work before and how that got me to these highs. I can’t do it the same way right now. I have to figure out another way.

At some point this will change. My two sons will need less intense supervision. I’ll have more time to my own and for my work as teacher. Even with the limitations I have in my life, I will hit some highs this year, I already have, but it’s hard to process times when I can’t do what I wish, and I can’t be the teacher fully that I see in myself.

I knew that this was part of being a parent, but I didn't know how all of this would feel.  As much as the smiles of my baby makes me happy, seeing my students perform lacking some things because of choices I made creates complicated feelings.  I don't regret my decisions, but it doesn't feel like that all of the time.

This is what makes teaching and parenting so hard.  Teachers success relies so much on outside time to work made available by the support of friends, partners and spouses.  Parenting success relies heavily on dedicating all non-working time on children.  These roles are at odds.  They are on two sides of a scale and all you can do it stand in the middle as it tips back and forth trying to keep it balanced.

Winter break came just at the right time.  I've got some processing to do.  I don't think I've let anyone down, it just feels that way.  I'm proud of how my students performed this past week.  Some really amazing things happened, and I know I did the best I could for them with the time that I had, I just wish I had more time.

It's just a matter of time.

Parenthood: Week 297 - 12/17/18

Ethan is falling asleep as I type this, his body nestled in the baby carrier. Firmly pressed against my chest, his head is leaning to the side on the shoulder strap. His left hand is curled underneath his head like a pillow while his right hand clutches onto the string of my necklace. Ethan doesn’t have a security blanket or a lovee, he has this necklace, or my shirt collar. In the nighttime when I wear tank tops he grip the shoulder strap firmly as he sleeps and sometimes pulls it to himself.

The scratches on my chest are finally healing. Two weeks ago, as he walked towards me he fell and two of his fingers scratched my upper chest as he lunged forward. Ethan has scratched me many times before in an effort to find my collar, but these scratches were the worst he has ever given me. I was worried they would get infected as they hurt a lot and were not healing, but this injury is finally fading. It’s amazing how something that can make you feel so much, so intensely, can leave your memory so quickly.

Diana is away at her exercise class. She is recovering from being sick, and is now going back to class. Some kind of sick bug has been traveling through my family, and it has manifested different in all of us. This is an inconvenience, but none of us have had any symptoms that were that serious. Also, none of us have suffered significantly for more than a day. While being sick is an inconvenience and having sick children is sad, the kind of sick we are dealing with is no big deal, and not worth really complaining about. So many, too many children are in the hospital right now. With this knowledge I can’t feel too sad about what we are have gone through in the last week. It’s really not that bad.

Ollie is really into a collection of nursery rhymes and fairy tales as his bedtime story with me. It’s an improvement from his desire for me to read pop-up books to him, that really didn’t have anything meaningful to read. I’ve been jealous of the fact that Diana has been reading Roald Dahl’s books with him and that Ollie simply doesn’t seem to be into me reading these types of books to him. Ollie has been studying fairy tales at school, so when I suggested this book on a whim, he was really into it. It’s been fun reading him real stories, but I’m worried. These stories reinforce gender stereotypes. While I want him to be exposed to these stories, I want him to not just accept them as representations of what is, and what should be.

At school, Ollie has a spirit week. The practice of dressing up in certain clothing never made much sense to me as somehow expressing “spirit,” but whatever. Today’s theme was “sports.” Diana and I have always found it annoying that boy’s clothing from birth mostly has graphics are car or sport related. We have been very deliberate to have Ollie’s clothing not be these things. He has shirts that have science related image, animals, robots, and one that has a Hamilton quote. We did in fact do a good job with this because the only two options for sports related clothing for Ollie was a Northwestern University shirt, and a shirt that featured a turkey attempting to play football.

I think we are doing alright.

Year 9: Week 15 - Taking A Day

About halfway through the day on Tuesday, I wasn’t feeling very well. I figured maybe it was because I hadn’t eaten lunch or drunk enough fluids, which sometimes happens at work. I get into the swing of things and if I don’t deliberately set time for me to eat or drink, I can go through a whole day without eating or drinking enough. It’s not good at all, I know, but it happens and it’s one of those things I need to work on self-care wise.

Anyways, so I’m feeling horrible, it’s a struggle to stay awake, and then I made the call at the end of the school day to go home.  I had an afternoon meeting followed by an orchestra concert I was helping out with, but it just wasn’t happening. And while I figured in my head I could power through feeling the way I did, I’m glad I didn’t. Because when I got home and immediately fell asleep with the feeling of a severe hang-over, it was clear that there was no way that I could have made it through the evening.

Teachers sometimes develop a hero-complex: we are essential to our students’ learning, the school is not going to survive without us, and because we are working with children, if we don’t sacrifice our time, energy, resources, and health then we aren’t doing our all for our students. It’s a nice feeling knowing that we are heroes, that we are important and that we can have a life-changing impact of the people and influence the course of history. That last part is not an overstatement. Teachers are that powerful.

It is not illogical with the importance of what we are doing to want to give it our all and make the moments, each class, each interaction, as meaningful as possible. The start of this is simply by being there.

The fundamental flaw is that teachers are more often limited not by their efforts and sacrifices, they should never be asked or pressured to make, but by systemic structures that exploit the good intentions of teachers. When teachers have to fight for their kids it feels like a war, and being involved in a fight is satisfying.  It's appealing to the activists in many teachers, but if we are doing this right, teachers should not have to be advocates at all. 

Add in the fact that music teachers unlike other teachers have less access to substitutes who can teach their subject, and the fact that often our work is publicly displayed in concerts unlike most other subjects, and you have a very stressful situation.

I had all of this in my head through a decade of being a teacher in America as I’m trying to figure out whether I should go home when I’m sick. And I’m in a uniquely privileged positions as teacher with plenty of resources and administrative support to go home sick, but it’s still a difficult decision.

To do the best for our children, we need to do the best for those charged to serve them. No one should consider putting their health second for their students, but it happens, and far too often. Some of it is a need for perspective on teachers’ part but more of it is how teachers are under paid, not-supported and put out there to solve problems the rest of society fails to address and sometimes even recognize.

I'm glad I went home sick.  It was the right thing to do, and it's a sad state of affairs when so many teachers are pressured to do what's wrong. 

Parenthood: Week 296 - Two dads?

Before Ollie was born, I told myself that I would nurture his natural childhood curiosity and foster his communication skills by always finding time to answer his questions thoughtfully and thoroughly. This was clearly the thinking of someone who has never lived with a five-year old.

The questions are non-stop. Part of the issues is that Ollie doesn’t have a fully developed internal dialog so he will think out loud. This combined with the fact that he doesn’t know the difference between declarative and interrogative statements leads to many statements framed as questions that aren’t actually meant to be questions. For example, he might say “why is Batman’s cape black?” when he is simply making an observation about the color of Batman’s costume.

Then there’s questions I can't answer clearly. The reality, I don’t always time to answer his questions thoughtfully, and many of his questions don’t have meaningful answer. There’s not always a reason that someone does something, and many stories don’t have explanations for plot devices or events besides “magic.” This is frustrating for Ollie to understand, but I don’t hide the fact that I don’t always have the answers, because I don’t feel a need to be an all-knowing dad.  Sometimes there are things in life that we simply don’t know, and that’s okay.

Ollie's timing isn’t great. He’ll ask me a question while I’m trying to cook dinner or in the bathroom, so I will not answer his questions. Part of learning how to talk is also learning when it’s okay to ask question. There’s definitely work to be done in this arena. And I don’t like telling him that I don’t have time to answer his question, but it’s life. While I want Ollie to know that I will always have time for him, it may not be during the moment he wants it. That can be frustrated for him to deal with, and frustrating for me as the pressures of life pulls me away from my son.

Then there’s the questions that matter. I’m not talking about the color of lightsabers, or the how a Transformer talks. It’s like earlier tonight when Ollie, after brushing his teeth, asked me “how do two dads have a baby?” I explained to him that there are different ways that people can have babies, sometimes friends help, and I introduced the word and concept of adoption to him. Then he asked “how do two moms have a baby?” I answered it in a similar way that I did the previous questions and I also told him that sometimes a mom or a dad, have a baby by themselves.

Then Ollie asked, “if two moms have a baby, don’t they need the dad to get the baby’s name? Doesn’t the dad need to help with the baby?” I’m carefully explained that no, you don’t need a dad for the baby’s name and no, the dad doesn’t always help, sometimes two moms don’t need a dad to help. Ollie seemed satisfied with the answer and we continued our bedtime routine.

Ollie asks a lot of questions. There are times when it gets annoying. And no, I don’t always find the time to answer his questions fully and thoughtfully. But for the questions that matter, I’m always going to try my best. That I can promise to Ollie.

Year 9: Week 14 - "Tala al Badru Alayna"

An idea: include music from Muslim culture in our Winter Jk-5 Presentation.

This was not a new idea, but one that we had not figured out how to do, until this year. We strive to make our Winter Program be inclusive of different cultures and traditions to provide mirrors for students to see themselves in our curriculum and windows for students to learn about others’ traditions. With seven grades, there was limits to what we can include, and while it was important to be mindful it have a variety of music, it was never including culture. That’s just no going to happen. Add in the priority of students performing appropriate music skill-wise and it can be hard to be Inclusive of some cultures, but that’s not an excuse.

I’ve always been interested in including music from Muslim culture in this presentation. Americans who identify as Muslim continue to face oppression and prejudice. In addition, non-Muslim Americans’ ignorance of Muslims’ role in the modern world and the history of this culture are important reasons for us to do the essential work of bringing knowledge of Islam to all.

Cultural authenticity is essential and it is better to not include a culture in a presentation than to do it without respect. I’ve asked around and researched Muslim music, but never found anything that would work, until two weeks ago. The other general music teacher had asked one of our 3rd grade teachers who is Muslim about song ideas, and she forwarded me her response.

In the email was a link to Yusuf Islam’s version of "Tala al Badru Alayna."



The melody is wonderful, and musically appropriate for my 3rd graders. When I talked about it the 3rd grade teacher she told me the story of the song in which children sing to welcome the Prophet Muhammad. It’s a beautiful story and my brain already was figuring out to teach this song. The problem was I didn’t feel comfortable teaching this story, and I had already started teaching my 3rd graders “Ma’oz Tzur,” a Hebrew song.

The 3rd grade teacher agreed to help me teach the cultural information of the song, so it was up to me to figure out the music part. Two weeks to teach a song to perform in three different languages, Arabic, English and Hebrew? Connect themes between a Jewish song and a Muslim song?

I could have chosen to wait until next year, but this work was so needed for all of us that I decided to push myself to teach material with little prep, and to push my students to learn music faster with the same amount of care so that we could bring "Tala al Badru Alayna” to our community.

In the past week I’ve had a lot of new experiences teaching this song. I’ve taught about how Muslim live all over the world and that there is no language that is called, “Muslim.” I’ve talked about some of the incredible Muslims in our America culture and beyond, and I’ve taught my students how to sing in Arabic.

I told my students that learning this song would make them feel uncomfortable because most of them would not understand this song because of the Arabic and the style of the music. This is a feeling that would go away, but it was important they remember this feeling. These are feelings that others who come to America who aren’t familiar with our culture and language feel and we need to remember this, so we can help these people feel more comfortable and welcome.

I'm feeling pressure to get these songs prepared in time, and a responsibility to teach this song well, but that's okay.  I can handle it for my students.  Understanding Islam through music is a lesson that is too important to not teach.  And I can't wait any longer because my students are too important to not learn this song and Muslim culture.

Parenthood: Week 295 - The Sounds Of Steps

In a house, the sound of footsteps is a tell, like a set of fingerprints. Growing up I knew from the sound of footsteps who was walking down the hall and approaching my bedroom. My dad walked slower than my mom, and my brother had a heavier step.

In our house, Diana has a calmer sound to her steps, deliberate but not ever running. Buffy moves with a soft pitter-patter, with the slight clicking of her toenails (especially if we are behind in her grooming routine). Ollie on the other hand, especially first thing in the morning, moves with the sound of thunder. It’s an energetic spurt of pounding that echoes through the house, sometimes accompanied by the slamming of a door. The funny thing is that usually when I see him walking around the house, he is doing just that, walking. However, for some reason, when I listen for his steps when he is in other places of the house, there’s thunder.

The sound of Ethan crawling changes. If he has nothing in his hand, you can hear the slaps of his palms on the floor. If he has something he is carrying (which he often does in one hand), like a peg-leg pirate, there can be the clicking of a wooden block hitting the floor followed by his palm. More than anything else, the sound of his locomotion is produced by his mouth. Sometimes it’s him blowing raspberries while he moves. Other times, he’s vocalizing gentle signs, and other times it’s high-pitched excited screams. The worst times are when it’s a panicked cry, and the urgency of his crawl creates a tragic duet with his cries.

The newest sound of steps in our house is Ethan walking. In the past week he has started walking. The sound of his steps is usually covered by his own squeals of excitement, and our encouragement. However when you do listen for his steps, it’s really special. He wears these soft leather shoes called Robeez (they are wonderful, I highly recommend them). The sound of the leather on the hardwood floor is gentle, slow, and uneven. Sometimes barely audible, and at other times they speed up almost becoming a steady rhythm until he falls forward or back, with a soft “plop” coming to rest on his bottom.

Only in the quiet moments do you hear these movements around the house. It’s when the technology is quiet, the chores are done, and the mind is calm that the movements around the house are noticed. Like feeling the breath of Ethan in his crib, or feeling Buffy’s presence in the corner of the room, these movements and these steps are a reminder of the love in my life, and family.

I share these celebration of knowing acknowledging the privilege my whole family shares of being able to move freely around the house. To walk, to step, and to run, is not something everyone shares. And this depth of knowing is not limited to how we move through space, and for one who does not in the ways describe, is no less valued or able to be known. A sound of steps is just one way to be feel home, but not more important.  It’s important to think about this privilege because it helps us think deeper, appreciate further, and understand our responsibility and our relationship to others.

Theses sounds will change and evolve leaving impressions and feelings.  They are a reminder of presence, and our own existence.  It is a unique feelings of something so close to our heart moving towards us in space, closing the gap between those we love and ourselves. 

Year 9: Week 13 – Insecurity

The teachers I have looked up to and find the most inspiration from have all shared a level of humility when talking about their craft. There’s generally an expression of “I still don’t know what I’m doing,” and “the longer I teach, the more I realize I how much I have to learn about being a teacher,” that all of these educators share.

There are moments when I feel this more than other times. And there are times, when this feeling is comforting and others when its more discombobulating. I enjoy and revel in students asking questions that I’m not sure how to answer. However, there are other times when the excitement of trying to figure a way to help a student learn turns into frustration.

I find myself asking more people these past couple weeks for their advice and perspective on things that I’m doing in the classroom. It’s not that I feel that I lack confidence, but it’s just that…well…ok, this is getting a little raw, but let’s go there.

One of my teacher friends at school, who is very perceptive, very real, noted in a supportive way that I come to her seeking approval and praise for things that I do, and it’s true. In many ways I don’t feel like I’ve evolved past that little boy getting on stage during piano recitals trying to do something to get approval, to get applause. I had issues connecting with people my age as peers and friends, so I tried through individual time practicing to do something that could make me connect. I chased this as a musical composition major in college, and I’m still doing this as a teacher.

It's weird. It’s not that I feel unsupportive, or that I lack confidence, but sometimes I’m just not sure what I’m doing. I move through the day rounding up being pretty sure, to be being 100% confident, and well, what seems like a façade, feels more like the reality of how we have to work as teachers. We do what we can to get as close to possible to presenting as 100% confidence, but you never get there all the way. In this way, the process of being a teacher mirrors the process of being a human, a human being, existing not in a space of what is sure, but rather taking chances, growing through the insecurity, trying to find our way through the darkness.

That’s why we need so badly as teachers a space that we can be “raggedy,” a place that we can be real and genuine about our insecurity and be ourselves. We couldn’t make it any other way. I don’t know if I’m more insecure than other people. Maybe being raised the child of immigrants, never feeling like I fit in growing up has led me to an adult self that never feels settled, never feels fully secure. Maybe everyone feels this way and most are too afraid to admit these feelings of insecurity that reveal vulnerability more than strength.

Or maybe it’s like “love.” That it’s more about how much support I take being equal to how much I make.

If that’s the case, I’ve got a lot that I need to make.

Parenthood: Week 294 - Body Back

“You can do anything for a minute.”

During the first year of Ollie’s life I was working through some physical therapy. I had developed sesamoiditis (basically my foot hurt). It had developed during my 5th grade camping trip, and after seeing various doctors, I found a specialist that offered me more than pain killers, a prescription for physical therapy.

Physical therapy was two or three times a week for an hour in the evening. In our first year of Ollie’s life we were still very much figuring out how to do this parenting thing, so having to take care of Ollie without the other parents was challenging.

Diana was always 100% support of me taking this time for myself, and my self care. Even at the times when Ollie was crying, the house was a mess, and we were both exhausted, Diana shooed me out the door to make my physical therapy appointment.

So when Diana asked me what I thought about her doing an exercise class after Ethan was born, I was in full support. Even though I knew it was a challenge, I knew it was important that I have some times with my children by myself. It’s great to be a parenting partner with Diana, but you learn a lot about yourself and your kids when you are on your own (and it makes you more grateful for your partners work and support).

The organization was Fit4Mom. First Diana did Stroller Strides a class which included Ethan…in a stroller as the name suggests, and then Diana started doing Body Back. These experiences were as much a workout classes as they were an affinity group. I enjoyed hearing Diana tell me about new friends she was making and new exercises she was learning. Honestly though, I didn’t have a clear idea what she was doing in these classes, and I didn’t mind not knowing. She was coming back from these classes happy and she kept going.

Last weekend they had a special “invite a friend” class, and I figured why not? First off, I think it’s important that as a man, that I purposely put myself in spaces when I’m in the gender minority. Women are in the minority all of the time, and for my own growth, and to show support of Diana, I feel like it was important for me to show up. Also, a free work out class? All good.

We dropped off the kids with Diana’s dad Saturday morning and we headed to the Body Back class. There was a teacher and eight other women there to work out. The workout consisted of cycles: one minute cadio, one minute strength, and one minute. Each cycle repeated twice, and we got through a total of five cycles in that hour, along with a warm-up and cool down activity.

This was a tough class. I’m still feeling it three days later. There were some people there who were better than me, and some who weren’t, but they were all there, they all had showed up, and for that they had my respect. The teacher created a great positive vibe in the room giving encouragement without being distracting. She was positive without be disingenuous, and was happy to share this time with all of us.

The teacher drew on struggles of parenting and could authentically related to all of us. One of her mantras was, “You can do anything for a minute,” and as time expired, pushed us with “You can do anything ten seconds.” And as I stood there giving up on the wall-sit minute, I dove back in for those ten seconds and dealt with the pain, because she was right, for myself and my children, I could do anything for ten seconds.

As I lay there on the mat in the dark during the cool down, I understood why people I had seen in videos flop down on the floor of a gym at the end of workout.  We had just finished stretching and this song “Slow Down” started playing over the speakers.


I listened to the breathing of these women around me as they accompanied this song, acutely aware that I was a visitor, but also grateful to have the opportunity to share this special space. Part of me was jealous that I hadn’t found this space for myself, but more I was so happy that Diana had found this for herself.

We live in a culture where the patriarchy controls almost every facet of life. Men are in charge of almost every industry, event, experience and institution. The sexism women face every day is real, unending, and unjust. Add in all of the horrible things that mothers have to deal with and you have a perfect storm to tear down the spirit and test the strength of women. To get through this, men have to stand up and show support, for organizations like Fit 4 Mom in which women support women and give a sense of community and understanding that men cannot.

We do what we can as men. Sometimes it’s watching the kids, taking out the trash, and other times it’s showing up to an exclusively women fitness class, and working until you are out of breath, with no intention or attempt to be “the man” in the room, and honoring these women with respect.

Year 9: Week 12 – Being A Better Educator Over Being A Better Music Teacher?

The quality of students’ performances especially with my 3rd and 5th graders has a ceiling. That’s the reality of the situation. They can only be so good on an objective musical level. This is a group of students with a wide range of musical ability, that meets twice a week for music class for 40 minutes. It’s never going to sound as good as an auditioned children’s choir. That’s an objective fact. This doesn’t mean that I don’t strive to raise my students to an ever-higher level, however it does mean I’m have to have realistic expectations.

One of the limitations, that is very real is my ability and skill as a music teacher. One of my professors at college once told me that the musical achievement of children is often more limited by the teacher than the students’ themselves. After being at this game for more than a decade. I know that to be a fact. My students sound better and perform better than they did eight years ago when I first started at this school. Maybe it’s because some of the students’ musical aptitude is higher but it probably more has to do with the fact that I’m a better teacher. But I’m not a master teacher, not by a long shot.

I see other teachers teach, and I read about things that other music programs are doing, and I’m not there. Yes, it’s possible for me to continue to improve my craft as a music teacher, but there’s only so much time for professional development and I’ve chosen much of the time not on the musical instruction part of my craft as a teacher. Instead I’ve focused most of time working addressing issues related to diversity, equity and inclusion in my development as an educator.

What does this mean for my students? Well, last week, we had a frank and open discussion about religious diversity in 3rd grade. After talking about a Hanukkah song, a girl asked me about some of her friends who told her she wasn’t Jewish because she didn’t go to Hebrew school, but she felt that she was Jewish. In 5th grade, while studying “Auld Lang Syne,” we explore the diversity of “whiteness” and discussed how people in America who identify as “white,” sometimes have other identities like Scottish, Irish, German and French which fly in the face of a monolithic idea of what it means to be Caucasian.

Do these discussions mean I spend less time in class teaching about singing technique, notation systems, and songs? Oh yeah. I struggle with this sometimes, but when I see how kids light up, and think when we have good discussions, and when I show videos that provide important mirrors and windows, I feel fine with the choices I’ve made.

When I saw my kids perform last week, there were musical things I wish were better, but the investment I saw in my students, and their passion and effort made the performances great. They knew the music but they also knew the cultural context of the music, the various identities of the artists who wrote and performed these songs.

So, I sit here frustrated that I wasn’t able to provide the time that my kids needed to rehearse on stage, and that will motivate me to plan better, and speak up louder for their needs. But more than frustrated, I’m proud of my students for their great work, and their exploration of this music.

Now onto prep for the Winter performance.  Some songs I've done before and a crazy idea that might just work. 

Parenthood: Week 293 – Lego Land

Ollie’s been really into Legos lately. Like most parents we got him blocks as an early present. Theses included a set of wooden blocks, then Mega Bloks instead of Duplos (they are easier to put together), and now we’ve entered Lego land.

It has been fascinating to watch him from balancing wooden blocks together, struggle to put together Mega Bloks and now be able to manipulate small blocks. He still struggles at times to put some pieces together, but works at it, and I’ve seen great improvement in his fine motor skills.

I wrote off The Lego Movie and The Lego Batman Movie. I didn’t really think much of these films when they came out. I figured they were just a glorified toy commercial. On a whim, enjoying a rare plane flight when I was without children, I watched The Lego Batman Movie and was instantly surprised at the quality of a film, the wonderful way it addressed Batman’s convoluted continuity, and it’s message of teamwork and family.

When I had the opportunity, I watched The Lego Batman Movie with Ollie and he was entranced. After the first ten minutes, I looked over at him, and he looked hypnotized. I asked, “Ollie, do you want to keep watching?” “Yes,” he muttered softly.

Later, we dived into The Lego Movie, and I was surprised and really happy about the message. Lego lately have steered hard into licensed franchises like Star Wars. As someone who is proud of his love of geek culture, I love it, but as someone who wants Legos to be more than simply following directions, I worried about the lack of creativity of this type of experience. Yes, children learn important skills following the directions on a Lego sets, but the exploration of imaginative creation, I fear may be lost.

What I loved about The Lego Movie was that it was about celebrating building without directions, collaborating, and being a proud master-builder. Ever since we’ve watched the film, Ollie proclaims that he is a master builder.

If you go to our basement, the floor is covered in Legos (we are working on some storage). What I love about what I see down there is that while there are specific sets that he has put together like a floatplane and firetruck there’s a whole zoo full of animals he has made. He has modeled them after the “abstract thought” representations from the deconstruction scene from Inside Out.



While he enjoys playing with his mini-figures as action figures, Ollie is just as proud of the animals he has created.

We are worried because Legos are choking hazards for Ethan, and the storage issue is significant. Diana didn’t want to get Legos for the longest time for fear of stepping on them with bare feet. However, we’ve realized how much he gets out of this activity, and we are glad that he is having fun and engaging in such great imaginative play.

Year 9: Week 11 - Taft Memories 2018

Overall this was a nice trip to Lorado Taft with my 5th graders. This outdoor education retreat is one of the most meaningful and important experiences at my school. It’s the first overnight trip that students go on. Every following year, students go on other trips. Each trip has different goals, and different activities. The uniqueness of this experiences of this trip, and the fact that it’s the first overnight school trip makes it feel special.

There’s a group of teachers who go year after year, however there are always at least two or three new teachers who come on this trip. This time that I have during trip to get to know these new teachers have created foundations of relationships that have continues to grow. After this trip, it’s like we see each other in a different way, and have a shared experiences that brings us closer together.

One of the unique things about this trip is that high school seniors have a chance to go on it. All of the seniors are assigned different classrooms as part of a “Big Brother and Big Sisters” program. The seniors who are assigned to 5th grade have the chance to go on the Lorado Taft retreat along with the 5th graders. This is a great opportunity for leadership, revisiting this past experience, and reconnecting with the 5th grade teachers in a different context. I’ve really valued the time with seniors is past years on this trip, but this year was special. The seniors this year that came were the first seniors who had me as their 5th grade music teacher to go revisit this trip with me.

Instead of telling me recollections of their past music teachers, they were telling me stories about times they had me as a music teacher in the music classroom and on the 5th grade trip.

I remember them as 5th graders better than they do, and they remember times with me as their 5th grade music teacher better than I do. Some of their fond memories they share with me, I clearly remember but others that feel familiar I can’t bring to mind. It’s a reminder how impressionable how even though specific memories are lost, impressions and feelings remain.

One senior who came reminded me of the speech I gave during the campfire sing-along. I hadn’t really thought about it until she brought it up. She told me it was the best speech she had ever heard (I wrote it down on this post). It’s a great feeling knowing that my efforts have meant something.

Every year this trip is a challenge. There’s struggles that I don’t look forward to, but the good moments keep coming.  With seniors coming from now on that I’ve taught, I’ll be reminded that all of the work, and the time away from my family means something to them, as it means something to me.

Parenthood: Week 292 – AM

This is an amalgamation of night time adventures that have happened with my one-year old Ethan, as he continues to prefer to sleep in our bed over his crib.  While not every one of these things happened on the same night, the description here is not unrealistic or misrepresentative of the challenges of getting a baby back to bed.   

7:40 PM

Diana walked into Ollie’s bedroom, as I was finishing up my bedtime reading to him. We had gotten into the groove of Diana nursing and putting Ethan to sleep as I read a story to Ollie. Then I would say goodnight to Ollie and and tag out. Without much effort Diana had put him into his crib and he slept comfortably as Diana read to Ollie and I went downstairs to take care of evening chores. I hadn’t had chance to say goodnight to Ethan yet, but I wasn’t too worried about missing out.

9:40 PM

I turned down the volume on the television, and my suspicions were correct, Ethan was crying. I ran up the stairs and found him sitting up in his crib, crying sadly. I reached down to pick him up and carried him over to the rocking chair. He settled down quickly in my arms, grabbed a handful of my shirt, and closed his eyes.

10:00 PM

Ethan’s arm slipped out of his mouth and fell to his side. I felt his weight relax into my arms. I stood up, and carried him over to his crib. With great care, I leaned over and tried and placed him in the crib. As soon as his body weight fell onto the surface of the crib, he started crying again. I placed my hand on his chest in an attempt to comfort him, but it didn’t seem to help. At this point, Diana walked into the room, tapped me on the shoulder, and relieved me.

10:45 PM

Finally ready for bed after getting some work emails done, brushing Buffy’s teeth, and taking care of my bedtime routine. I looked down in my side of the bed and there was Ethan curled up on my side of the bed. I carefully picked him up, and managed to transfer him to his crib. As I got into bed, Diana sleepily said, “thank you” and I settled in for the night.

1:39 AM

I woke up to the sound of Ethan crying. I picked him up out of bed, and paced around the room trying to get him to calm down. After he settled down, I went to the rocking chair and we rocked together.

2:20 AM

I woke up from a light sleep realizing I had dozed off. Assuming that Ethan was ready for a transfer, I picked him up, and placed him gently in his crib. He exhaled with a gentle sigh, rolled over...and then started crying. I picked him up...again.

3:00 AM

After another failed attempt to transfer Ethan to his crib, I stood there at the edge of the crib at a loss of what to do. He pulled himself up on the railing of the crib and leaned his head into my stomach, attempting to cuddle with me standing up.

3:30 AM

As I lay in Ethan’s crib, I’m considered the weight limit of this thing, and whether it’s was worth taking the chance that I would break this thing. At the time it the risk felt worth it, as Ethan peacefully slept on my chest. Now I just need to figure out how to climb out of this thing without waking him up.

3:45 AM

“Well, at least he’s not crying,” I’m thinking as I stand on my tiptoes (the only way I can reach into the crib, yes I’m short), bent at the waist with my arm underneath Ethan’s neck. I’ve been this way for at least five minutes. I didn’t quite get climb out of the crib without stirring him, and the physical contact of my arm seemed to pacify him. I slowly pulled my arm out from under his neck, he rolled over, and continued to sleep.

5:30 AM

Time to get up for work.

Year 9: Week 10 – ...of Color

“Yes, of course you can come. You are a person and color, AND there’s free food. C’mon!”

Maybe it was because she was my department chair, or maybe because my lunch that day didn’t seem that appetizing, but that day I took a chance and went to my first faculty and staff of color luncheon.

Like many people I thought that the term “people of color,” didn’t apply to me. I knew that I was a racial minority in the United States. I was a “person of color by definition and in theory, but in practice it felt different. “Person of color,” felt like more of a term used to refer to people who identified as Black and/or African-American. Much like how the term “diversity,” is often meant to refer to issues around race, even though the definition in theory is far wider.

When I saw the email about the first faculty and staff of color luncheon, I didn’t really think to go. It was my first year at this school, my prep time was always full, and my teaching philosophy had not evolved with the focus on diversity, equity, and inclusion which would later become the foundation for my teaching philosophy.

It was what I expected. Almost everyone in the room was Black or African-American, with a few Latinx and Asian people. I grabbed some food and looked for a place to sit down. Then something happened that would become the norm when I entered affinity group spaces. I was welcomed with open arms literally, and otherwise.

People were excited to see me. They came up and shook my hand, I received hugs from some who I was meeting for the first time. All of the people in the room welcomed me not as a person who was new and had to earn his place, but as a person, they had been waiting for, finally home after a long journey.

As I settled down, I noticed that people were talking in Spanish, and others teachers were speaking in relaxed accents and expressions. It was clear that no one in that space was trying to “talk white.” I was surprised how different some teachers’ sounded in this space which helped me begin to understand why affinity spaces were so important. They didn’t feel a need to code-switch in my presence. I was one of them, and in their expression of their authentic selves, I felt their acceptance of me.

I was keenly aware that I was a minority in a room full of minorities, an outsider by appearance, and on the surface, this didn’t seem any different than the rest of my life. I’ve spent my entire life in spaces when I was a racial minority. In every single classroom, except for Asian-American history in college, I was a minority in a group of Caucasians. Every social and work space and all of the family occasions on my wife’s side, I carry that feeling of not fully being a member even though I am welcomed in every other way. The vast majority of the time, I experienced the kindness of inclusion in my life. However even in the best of times, I always knew I was one who didn’t really fit in with the others

In this space full of black and brown people, I did feel a level of discomfort, but it was balanced with something I had never experienced before.

I was raised in the “colorblind,” world, where the best way to deal with racial identity was to pretend that you “didn’t see race.” This erasure attitude about the racial identity asked people to look beyond race to the person on the inside. While this seemed like a good idea at the time, the feeling of people hiding their thoughts about racial identity, created an atmosphere, and feeling that there weren’t problems with race in America. I grew up feeling that people didn’t want to acknowledge my race, and they would value me despite my race, as if this part of my identity was something that was not considered, and that I shouldn’t value myself.

In that room with those faculty and staff of color full of people who came together because of their racial identity. I felt that my racial identity, my heritage, and my experiences were truly acknowledged, and that my whole self was valued.  The only way this could happen was for my racial identity to not be looked beyond but rather acknowledged and honored.

I get that it may sound “racist,” that people accepted me because of my race, so I’ll try to unpack this here, and why this isn’t “racist” at all.

How often are you reminded of you racial identity? Ten times a day? Twenty times a day? Zero? People of color are made to to think about about their race all of the time. The reality is that the vast majority of time when people of color are reminded of their racial identity, are not positive experiences. These are times when people make racist innuendos, have thoughtless conversations, participate in racist acts that are not intended to be racist. It’s in the moments when people ask me “what are you?” or expect me to be an expert in all Asian cultures. For serious, I’ve had people assume I’m an expert on the Vietnam War, my family is from Taiwan.

 They are different countries.  SIGH.

When someone reminds me of being Asian by saying something offensive, it becomes a moment of burden. This reminder is not meant to serve me.  It's a moments when I am made to think of my identity for someone else’s curiosity and puts me in a place where I sometimes feel obligated to do the work of helping them understand their own racist action.

On the rare occasion, when I’m reminded of race in a positive way, it can feel initially jarring, but more than that it is relaxing and a feeling of validation. Their acknowledgment of my race is not for their benefit, but for my own. In that room, they validated my racial identity so that I could feel the support of this part of our school’s community and support me in my own process of racial development.

After that initial luncheon, people started involving me in side-conversations in the hall and reaching out to me to provide support, and for my counsel. They felt my support and camaraderie through my presence and what they returned back was welcoming me, all of me, into the community and the work to make the school a more equitable and inclusive space.

Parenthood: Week 291 - The Things I Don't Share

There are facets of my identity that I share with Ollie and Ethan, my sons. We are all American, our biological sex is male, and we both share parts of our DNA. All of these things are categorized as vertical identities, things that I shared with my children.

Horizontal identities are identities that my children do not share with me, but they will likely find with people in their own generation. For example, they are mixed race, I am not. Ethan has a disability, and I do not. My children may not share the same sexual identity and/or the same gender expression as me.

Add all of this on top of the normal generation gap issues like music, and movies, along with the dramatically different way technology is integrated into their lives than during my generation, contribute to a very different experience my children will have growing up from my own. If you take this a step further, Ethan and Ollie grandparents and them have even more than a generation gap, they have a chasm of differences in their identities and their life experiences.

It is not uncommon children who do have horizontal identities have challenges with their parents. For example, straight parents with a Gay child, hearing parents with a deaf child, cis-gender parents with a transgender child. All of these situations are difficult in the best of the situations, and traumatic and scarring in the worst of situations.

When you don’t share life experience, and more importantly don’t share identities with your children, you as a parent need to extra work around gender. You will never know what it’s like as a father to be a girl, so if you’ve got daughters you have to work extra-hard to be feminist and do right by your daughters. I don’t know what it’s like to be mixed-race, so I’ve got work to do.

The reality is that if you create a family where children feel free to explore the many facets of their identity it is more likely than not that your children will differ than you in some way, and it’s incumbent on you as the parent to try understand this identity and support it. It may be something like sexual identity, or it may be the fact that your child identifies as a comic book geek, and you don’t.

Cultural plurality is not really a choice, or a novelty. It’s my family. My side of the family is mostly Asian but also has white women, and mixed raced children. There was a time that almost everyone spoke and understood Mandarin Chinese as an extended family. This is no longer the case anymore. Diana’s side is not all Caucasian, and they are not all the same religion. We can’t take for granted that just because we are a family, that these differences will somehow work themselves out. They will not unless we as the older generation make the effort to build bridges, cross them ourselves, and challenge ourselves to support parts of our children, which we don’t completely understand.

I know that there are things that my children will go through that I will be limited in my ability to help them work through. There will times that I will need to rely on someone else who is mixed-race to support them because I don’t really get the issues they are working through.  This is the job for progressive parents.  It's transforming parenting from guiding children through their own paths of life into learning experience as parent help their children fine a new journey, unfamiliar but right.

Year 9: Week 9 – The Trip And The Election

Next week I’m off to the 5th grade outdoor education trip. This has been one of the most rewarding experiences I’ve had as a teacher at this school. It puts me out of my comfort zone, allows me to get to know my students in a different way, and has challenged me to contribute to a trip experience in ways that I had never done previously (e.g. leading a campfire sing along for the first time). It has been a part of my school year every year I’ve been here, except for last year. A week before the trip last year my second son, Ethan was born so I was on paternity leave during the trip and did not go. Two years ago, the last time I went, was over the Tuesday of the 2016 election.

I’ll never forget sitting with all of my wonderful teaching colleagues on our phones and laptops watching the news and feeling hope leave us. Calling and texting my wife as the night went on and the results that were once unimaginable became clear.  And I hope I never forget following morning watching one of my colleagues announce to the students the results, and seeing the two Black girls in the grade holding hands and crying silently as they realized that Senator Clinton had lost and he had somehow won.

All of this has been coming back to me in the past couple days as I prepare for the trip next week, and the coming election. Going on this trip, this will be my eighth time going.  Going on this trip always feels a little like going back to Neverland. It’s a place that feel so far away from reality, a place where we can focus on the students, and nature, and a place that two years ago was invaded by the parts of our society who could not see past the fear to work towards hope. And now going back, my feelings and my memories of this place are no longer as pure as they were before that night two years ago.

Like being 8 years old, it makes sense that my innocence with this place has been lost. And next week, I go there again, with an election that in some ways is as consequential if not more consequential than the last. I’ll enter that room where the two Black girls cried, and the lounge where the teachers met, and like seeing rain on a sunny day, my emotions will mix, good and bad, joyous and painful. Dark and light.

While I would have rather spent that election day two years ago with my family, and while I am not looking forward to being far from them next Tuesday, I was comforted, as I am now knowing that the work I am doing means something. That day two years ago, late at night I decided to get to work. It was that moment which crystalize a feeling that led to me becoming one of our schools’ Diversity, Equity and Inclusion co-chair. All the work I’ve done with that centralizing DEI work in my curriculum has proven as the most relevant, and important work I’ve done in my teaching career.

No matter what happens Tuesday, I know that my work is fighting the tide of ignorance and hate. It’s educating students to go beyond fear, through the discomfort of difficulty conversations to the joy of embracing differences, and the enriching work of becoming a Beloved Community.

Parenthood: Week 290 - Bear Down

I was getting annoyed at all of those Bears’ fans and the concept of football as a whole.

I love being a parent. I love my boys, and I love my life. Nothing I do for my family I define as a sacrifice. I chose to get married, I chose to have kids, and I chose Sunday morning to drive my family to the Shedd Aquarium in Chicago to celebrate Ethan’s first birthday, which was a couple days earlier. No one forced me into any of this, which is why I’ve very careful about how I vent my frustrations related to being a dad.

There are countless frustrations that come along with being a parent in modern-day American society. While we enjoy plenty of lip-service when it comes to the importance of families and children, little economic and political work has happened by those currently in power at the federal level to actually help kids (e.g. public-school funding, gun-control). The fact that there are children in our country who do not have enough to eat, while there is plenty of resources to make sure not one child ever goes hungry in America ever again, is a clear sign that there are in fact many people who don’t actually care about children and families.

As a parent you move through society, and life, dealing with all of this in stride because for many parents, like me, this was all a choice. Now it’s important that I pause and state that having a child when you want to have to child and felt “ready,” is a privilege that I have enjoyed that many parents do not have.

I’m going to give you a peak in on some of my frustration, and well, rage because, it’s a part of parenting, and it needs to be acknowledged. I was really angry that after driving down to the Shedd Aquarium, on a Sunday which should have taken 45 minutes took an hour and a half. Then there was another hour of driving around, realizing there was no parking and getting out of that area because there was a Bears game.

It is frustrating that my families plans to go to the aquarium was a lesser priority than a football. Our needs were superseded. I’ve spent my entire life being made fun of for what I enjoyed as entertainment: comic books, sci-fi movies, geek culture, action figures, and professional wrestling. These are things that have and continue to bring me joy, and I was and still am to some extent still are made to feel less then because of my fandom. It’s not fair that my families desires for an outing were put aside for someone else’s.

When was the last time a person couldn’t go to a professional sports game because the parking was closed down for children’s concert? Yeah, that sounds preposterous, but so is spending millions of dollars on a league which still has an openly racist mascot, and fails to use its power and influences to fight for the rights of the Black players who make the owners (many of whom are white) millions.

We drove another forty-give minutes and eventually got to the Museum of Science and Industry, and we have a great time there. But it took a very frustrating two-hour car ride to get to the point in which I was laying back in the Giant Dome Theater with Ollie on top of me enjoying a half an hour film about the ocean. Even though the film was mediocre, sharing that moment with Ollie on top of me, and Diana and Ethan sitting next to me was wonderful. Ethan looking up at the screen with wonder and awe was magical. The hour car ride home wasn’t, but I don’t regret my choices.

Part of what bugged me about the Bears’ game was seeing all of those guys tailgating, spending hours together when I didn’t have that kind of time for myself.  Yes, I chose to spend time with my family but this doesn’t mean though that part of me isn’t jealous of what those guys have. I wish that I could find a space and talk about what I love in open and know that others will accept my interests. I wish I had more time for myself, and I wish on some level that I could care less about my family, and be satisfied with being less of a father.

 But I can’t, it's just who I am.

 I’d rather be myself and be lonely, than be something I’m not and be accepted by others.

Being a parent is hard, and being your genuine self is also really hard, but both of these things bring meaning to life like nothing else.  And that feeling laying in bed at night knowing that you did right by your family and yourself, that makes everything worth it.   

Year 9: Week 8 - Pride

“My father is Gay.”

There was no shame in her voice, or embarrassment. The 3rd graders statement was not frivolous or boastful. She wasn’t sharing this fact about her life to get a reaction from her peers or draw undue attention to herself. “My father is Gay” was a statement of pride.

In our study of “Simple Gifts” in 3rd grade music, I want to show them how this song was meaningful to our school, American culture, and themselves. I teach them about the tradition of performing this song at our Thanksgiving Assembly every year by the 3rd grade, and show them some artwork in our school that referred to the song.

The way I showed them that this song had meaning outside of our school was by sharing with them different performances of this song. There was a performance by Blast, I showed them the arrangement that was performed at President Obama’s first inauguration, and we watch wonderful performance by the Gay Men’s Chorus of Los Angeles.



I wrote the words “Gay Men’s Chorus of Los Angeles” on the board and meticulously explained each word in that title. I saw some furrowed brows as I explained what affinity meant and why it was important at times to be with people you share a connection. I talked about how sometimes I feel comforted being around people of color, and that was an important space for me. Also, I talked about being around other dads. I explained that this was a good thing as long as it wasn’t what you did all of the time socially because being around people who are different than you is awesome, and very important.

After I unpacked what it meant to be “Gay,” she raised her hand and shared with the class how the her dads were also Gay with a smile. The pride in her voice was noticeable, and made the other students lean in with interests.

I thanked her for sharing and that I’m glad that she saw a connection between the men in this video and her own parents. In this lesson, she saw her family, and her parents. She received the message that her family was valued, seen and honored. And in that space the other students were reminded that this pride was not just something seen in a video, but part of their own classroom community. 

There are challenges ahead, and many examples of ignorance and hate, but the progress is undeniable. Twenty years ago, a teacher may not even share this video, let alone have a student talk about her Gay dads with this same pride and feel support for a teacher and her peers.

This is not how it is all across our country, but it is present for some and it can be the future for all.

Parenthood: Week 289 – Sick Day

Hard times come and hard time go, and one of the hardest times as a parent is when your kids are sick.

There’s a lot of moments and situations in which parents prove that they have “it.” Changing a poopy diaper with one wipe, nursing a kid in challenging situations, taking a baby on a plane, getting two kids ready for school in the morning (seriously this can take super-human efforts and abilities to accomplish) are all really difficult at times. The sick thing, ugh, is just the worst.

You know that it's inevitable. At some point, probably a couple times a year, your kids will get sick. Sometimes it’s minor, a stuffy nose, that is gross but doesn’t amount to anything serious or even a missed day at school. Or it can be life-threatening, an allergic reaction that triggers an asthma attack. Some of the treatments are candy-flavored medicine, but some of the treatments them can seem as traumatic as the sickness itself.

There are times when you are told to simply do nothing besides some over-the-counter drugs. It’s a virus the doctor says, which means that you have to let it work its course. Other times you get antibiotics, which feels slightly better than nothing because, there’s an action that is being taken that should show improvement pretty soon.

It’s hard to know when to call the doctor. You don’t want to feel like you are overreacting, and being that parent, but at the same time, you don’t to have things spiral out of control. You search on the internet for some guidance, deal with that new forehead thermometer, which is more comfortable for the child, but gives an annoying wide-variety of results.  You have to make decisions. Sometimes you are alone in these moments of crisis, but other times your partner is there, and the dynamics of your relationship, the true feelings you have for each other are revealed.

If you are parents as true partners you will lean into the one who is most worried and do what makes them feel best, not because it’s logical, but because it’s not worth being right if someone feels gaslighted. When you have a sick kid, it’s not about which parent is right or wrong. There’s no winning in these discussions, two parents are on the same team. If there’s a issue between the two parents, well, it’s going to get rough.

In the night, when the coughing won’t subside, and the fever is too high, but not high enough to take the child into the emergency room, you hope that something will change. You wish that you could somehow absorb the sickness from your child into your own body, or you wish that somehow your child could absorb your life energy from your sheer will and love and just get better.

You know that your child is contagious, and you’re not sure whether you had what they had when you were a kid, but you hug them anyways. You let them sleep in your bed,  knowing that you will probably catch what they have, but you don’t care about becoming sick, because you care too much about the child suffering in your arms.

When the morning comes and the fever breaks, when the cough subsides, and the lungs are clear, your shoulders relax knowing that after many restless nights, you will finally be able to sleep peacefully tonight. You know that there will be more moments your child is sick and these hard times will come again. Even with this knowledge you don’t give up, you get busy.  You get up, you make breakfast, and you do the endless number of tasks it takes to care for your child.

Because that’s what it means to be a parent.

Year 9: Week 7 – The Space For Feelings

It was a challenging concept for my 5th graders, the idea that one could experience different emotions co-currently was a major theme in the “Have You Ever Seen The Rain?” We had learned how to sing the song and when I asked the students to describe the emotions in the song, and the vast majority of said that the emotion was, “happy” and no one wrote multiple emotions.



We worked through explicating the lyrics of this song, and thinking about how weather typically is associated with certain emotions (e.g. sunny day-happy, rain-sadness). I asked the students to think about a moment in their lives when the “have seen rain on a sunny day,” a moment when they feel happiness and sadness. As I felt the activity of writing settle down, I stared framing our sharing.

Okay y’all. I’d like to invite people to share their memories and experiences. Bear in mind that what we are doing here is not only sharing events, but also sharing emotions. So please be conscientious about your reactions and make sure that you show support with your posture, your silence, and your reactions.

Students began sharing. One student talked about attending to a going away party, being happy that the party was fun but also sad that her friend was moving away. Another students talked about going to sleep-away camp, enjoying the experience, but missing home. At the beginning of the sharing period, I noticed that a girl had raised her hand but quickly lowered it. After the third or fourth person shared and the other students had listened respectfully she raised her hand again.

I called on her, as she shared, “I had a playdate with my BFF, and I had a really great time, but when I got home, my other BFF, my dog, had passed away.” As she talked, I turned my chair to face her and looked at her directly, trying to give her support through eye contact. Part of me knew that I probably should be checking in with other students around me to make sure that other students were being respectful, but I decided to take a chance, trust that they were feeling the moment, and maintain my focus on her.

After she was done, there was a silence in the room, she looked up at me, and forced a small smile.  I told her that I appreciated that she shared and that that she this a great example of the what we were talking about, and the meaning of the song.  The class gave her space to share, and gave me the space to be there for her.

When I asked the class to reflect about a positive thing about the class at the end of class, one student said that she we had done a good job being supportive of each other. I agreed and thanked them for their efforts and the empathy that they showed each other.

I ended the class affirming this feeling.

When you give each other space to share our thoughts and feelings, it makes them feel comfortable in the same way that we feel more comfortable when people respect our physical space. Providing this feeling of comfort in this way makes people feel important, and valued. When you listen with care, you are saying that you care about what they say, and who they are as people. You are expressing to them that you see them and see them as an important part of our classroom community.    

Parenthood: Week 288 – Failing To Explain...

Dan Savage, author, journalist and advocate, likes to demonstrate empathy with other parents who are facing the challenging of talking to their children about sex, by talking about the failing in his own talk with his son. He describes about how he forgot to tell his son one of the most important things about sex, that it should be for pleasure.

I felt the similar failing last night with my son.

Diana, my wife, has been reading Roald Dahl’s masterpiece, Matilda to Ollie, my five-year old. After reading the descriptions of Miss Honey and The Trunchbull, she talked about how the Trunchbull mows over everyone in her path. Ollie responded, “She sounds kind of like a Republican.”

While this was funny, and one of those, “kids say the darndest things,” moments, but it also made me sad. Earlier in the day, Ollie sat on my lap as I filled out my mail-in ballot for the upcoming primary election. Like two years ago, I am going on a fifth-grade outdoor retreat during the election, and like two year ago, I let Ollie help me with the ballot.

I don’t remember talking to Ollie about this two years ago, but I do remember feeling hopeful, and proud. This time was different. As Ollie sat on my lap, asking me about why I was selecting certain people, I felt determined but also concerned.

I think it’s important that I understand and process own feelings before I share them with Ollie, but that’s not always possible, and that’s okay. However, these moments are really hard. For anyone to say they have fully processed, and fully understood what has been happening in our country in the past two years, is not being honest with themselves.

I am a Democrat, and my liberal views have only become stronger in the past two years. I admit that my thoughts and language about Republicans, have not always been elevated. At times, I feel this darkness is an important part of dealing with words and policies that are objectively some of the worst in American history. This isn’t hyperbole, this is factual. For example, offensive racist and sexist comments continue to come from the 45th and his administration's treatment of children who have illegally crossed into America is right up there with the treatment of Native Americans.

Evenly though the current administration continues work that compromises the rights of Americans, there are those in the Republican party who do not see it this way. Where I believe the deliberate action needs to be taken to combat racism and sexism, many Republicans feel that focusing on the economy is more important. This is how I explained the difference between the parties to Ollie, a difference in priorities.

I also explained to Ollie that the Democrats were fighting harder to have people that looked like mommy and himself as leaders in our government and that this was really important. All types of people should be leaders, not just white men. I don’t think I said anything overtly negative about Republicans to Ollie, but the feeling may have come across.

I tried.  Ollie saw me vote, we talked, he doesn't completely get it, but honestly, neither do I.  What I do understand is that we got to do better for our kids, and create a world where people can debate issues with more civility, and a place where leaders actively work to protect people's rights and fight oppression. 

I hope that the story takes a different turn in November.  We need this as a country, my boys deserve this. 

Year 9: Week 6 - BORING?

I’ve been asked if my job ever gets boring, teaching the same grades every year. I usually explain that it’s different all the time. I talk about how teaching “Hot Cross Buns,” on the recorder to students is different and a challenge every year because each student is a unique human being. The different dynamics of the classroom community make every year a different challenge, and this is what makes each day of teaching exciting, challenging, and definitely not boring.

Another reason that my job isn’t boring is that my work as a teacher in this school is charged with the mission of responding to current events, and society as a whole. When David Bowie passed away, I taught my students about him, and when the film Selma came out, my 8th graders performed “Glory,” a song from the soundtrack. Part of my job is to help my students better understand the culture that surrounds them. While a lot of what I weave into my classroom is positive, and explicit reflections of events and people in pop culture (e.g. listening to Aretha Franklin sing, to understand her impact), more and more of what I’ve been weaving into my work reflects a need to address problems in our society that we can no longer ignore as teachers.

The events of the past two years have made it clear that our society needs education to specifically teach about anti-racism, social justice, anti-colonialism, how to be a productive and active citizen, and with recent events consent, and destructive expressions of masculinity. One of the factors that has led to the issues, and much of the strife in our country is flaws in our education system. In no way am I saying that this is the most important, or primary reason there are people who claim to be patriots but lack the basic mission of our constitution to ensure rights to citizens, is because of teachers, but it’s an important factor to consider. Keeping in mind that teachers are often hindered by out of date text books, and a lack of sufficient funding for professional development, and y’know…pencils.

I’ve heard music teachers say that they don’t teach about certain these kinds of topics because they are “music” teachers. When we think this way, we miss an opportunity to teach about these topics that music can help students understand. Every single thing we do, from how we sit students, assign instruments, and present music without thought communicates our own bias. However, keeping the topics in the previous paragraph in mind as essential makes the music classroom become a place where learning is relevant, important, and essential.

The fact that I can go to work responding to the darkness and negativity in the world, by teaching my students to embrace diversity, fight for equity, and work for inclusion nurtures my soul.

As President Obama said, “The best way to not feel hopeless is to get up and do something. Don't wait for good things to happen to you. If you go out and make some good things happen, you will fill the world with hope, you will fill yourself with hope.”

Making good in the world, and nurturing hope in myself and my students is never boring.

Parenthood: Week 287 – Co-sleeping

Ethan totally co-sleeps more than Ollie did when he was his age. With Ollie we more determined that our bed would be “our” space, and that Ollie wouldn’t spend a lot of time in the bed. We did a pretty good job with this. The process we most often used to get him to sleep was rocking him to sleep or pacing around the room. If there was any co-sleeping going on it would be in Ollie’s crib. At least with me, I don’t think Diana was every that into climbing into Ollie’s crib.

We did nap with Ollie in our bed, but for the most part, he stayed out of our bed, especially for long periods of time. When Ollie moved out of his crib into a bed, he didn’t even realize that he could crawl out of his bed, go to our room, and climb into our bed. We literally had him practice climbing out of bed and come into our room. We totally regretted that a couple weeks later when he did that every single night for a couple weeks.

There are mornings when he climbs into cuddle, but this doesn’t happen very often anymore. It used to happen every morning. And there are times when I wake up in the middle of the night and realize he’s sleeping in my arms, seeking comfort from a nightmare.

I don’t regret at all, how we managed Ollie as a baby, toddler, and now as a five-year-old when it comes to sharing our bed. He knows that if he needs this space with us, it’s there. We were able to maintain this space for us in a way that worked for him. I feel that Ollie has always had plenty of physical affection, which is a priority for us.

Ethan pretty much slept all night in our bed last night, and for a good chunk of the night before, and the night before that. Maybe it’s because I’m five years older, but I don’t have it in me to pace around the room, or rock to get him back to sleep. These processes work pretty well because the transfer from the rocking chair to the crib is a lot smoother than from the bed to the crib. Why bring him into bed instead of the rocking chair, or walk around the room pacing? Because it’s more comfortable for me, I can sleep better, and it works to get Ethan back to bed.

The only problem is I end up with Ethan perpendicular to me between me and Diana. If it’s a good night, I have Ethan’s face close to mine, if I get the short end, I have these little feet, mind you very cute little feet, kicking me in the face. While this may work for Ethan, his movements and the knowledge that he is in bed makes me not sleep as well. I’m not so much worried that I will roll over on top of him, I’m more concerned that he will roll out of bed. He’s right at that age when he crawls right off of things, with no sense of danger. 

It seems like he’s a more natural co-sleeper than Ollie. I’m not sure if this is true, but it seems like this is the case. Do I sometimes wish he wasn’t in our bed? Of course, especially when I downgrade from his feet in my face to his butt in my face. Last week around 3am, I was laying in bed, with Ethan held in my left arm. Sleeping on the left side of the bed, my arm kept catching him as he tried to roll of the bed, and then would eventually settle back down. I looked at the clock, and tried to do the math of how much time I had to sleep, and then I told myself to relax, and enjoy the moment. Yes, Ethan in my arms meant that I would be tired…most of the day, but I also knew that there would only be a finite amount of times this would happen, so I turned to him, held him closely, and felt his soft breath on my cheek, and smiled.

Year 9: Week 5 - Lessons In Consent

She didn’t say a thing.

She just looked forward. She didn’t spin around and give the boys around her a look or tell them that what they did wasn’t okay. She just stood there quietly facing forward.

This class of 3rd graders were waiting to be invited into the music room before class, and as I was explaining to them what we were going to do today, one boy shoved another boy into that girl. His body pushed against hers, and the boys giggled, as she stood their quietly.

As I explained their error, their intrusion on her space, and on her body, they didn’t really seem to get it. It just didn’t seem like a big deal to them. They were focused on the fact that there was no ill will between the two boys for the push. They clearly had some agreement between them that this kind of physical play was consensual.  Their intrusion on her, seemed inconsequential. So, we talked some more right then, and when one of those boys poked a girl with a xylophone mallet, he was done with that activity, so we could talk some more. We ended the class talking about respecting people’s bodies, and consent.

****

I could clearly hear her say “no,” when she walked to her seat. He thought it was funny to accuse her of touching the iPad I use for music class. When he told her that she had done this she said “no,” and then he said it again, moving into her space and getting closer physically to her. By the time I had moved to that part of the room, she had said “no,” five times, and only after I gave him my most severe “teacher look,” and told him “stop talking, and sit down,” in my angriest, quietist and most intense Edward James Olmos Commander Adama voice, did he stop.

I knew that this boy had a lot going on and that he didn’t fully understand the nuances of his error, so I simply told him after class that if anyone tells him “no,” even if you think they are joking, which she clearly wasn’t, that he had to stop what he was doing. Period. "No" meant to stop immediately. and that response to other’s objections had to be honored immediately. I was conscious that I was standing looking down at him and in that moment, he needed authority, and feel the strength of my words.

I found her about to go to lunch and asked her for a moment. Even though she was short, when I sat down in that little 3rd grade chair, I was looking up at her. I told her that it was not okay that he didn’t stop when she said “no.” I explained to her that I had a talk with him and I had seen what she did: the right thing. I told her that it was important that she stand up for herself, and that she should never stop expressing her feelings even though it may feel like people aren’t listening. “Someone will hear you voice, and today that person was me.I” I said goodbye telling her how much I enjoyed having her as a student and that she was important to the class and our community.

******

Every single class this week, I taught about consent. I discussed how interrupting people when they were performing or participating in a discussion was an invasion of space akin to standing too close to someone and making them feel uncomfortable.  I explained that it was essential in our music classroom that people feel safe, and comfortable. And I talked about  how we would continue community building work in the context of learning about consent, to create make a space where all student feel, seen, valued, and respected.

That’s more than a goal, that’s a promise.