Parenthood: Week 475 - The Joke Of Self-Care

In this new age of self-care, one metaphor commonly used is the oxygen mask. The idea is that they instruct you to put on your own oxygen mask on a plane before helping out someone near you. This applies to real life because you should take care of yourself before you take care of other people. In a time when teachers are overworked, stressed out, and on the borderline of being burned out, the idea of taking care of yourself first is about survival. It’s also helpful in refraining from what it means to take care of your students. If you don't take care of yourself and have a breakdown, you are incapable of taking care of your students.   

The issue is that this doesn’t always apply to parenting very well.  

The other night I decided to cook myself a healthy dinner instead of just grabbing whatever out of the refrigerator. Ethan really wanted something from me, so I told him that he had to wait. As I got my dinner ready and sat down to eat, Ethan asked for my attention. I told him that I would be with him as soon as I was done with my dinner.  

I finished my dinner, and then I couldn’t find Ethan. I looked all over the house. He wasn't responding to my voice, and I eventually found him hiding in our backyard on top of our play structure. Yes, Ethan made a terrible choice by hiding from us when he didn’t get what he wanted. And I made the wrong choice as well.  

I could have grabbed a banana, hung out with Ethan, and eaten dinner after he went to bed. Ethan would not have had a meltdown and had a much better night. Would I have been hungry? Yup, but I would have been fine. I don’t see it as a big sacrifice to put my children’s needs in front of my own because often, it will bring peace later, which genuinely does allow me some time for self-care.  

That’s why I cook breakfast for my children on weekends before I cook my own. They are hungry when they wake up, and so am I. However, I can manage my appetite better than my two-year-old and wait for later. If I make Lucas wait for me to eat before he eats, I will have a meltdown on my hands, and no one will enjoy breakfast.  

I’m not saying that all of your needs should come second to your children’s needs. I’m saying that often, delaying your needs and taking care of your children means that you will be able to have your needs met later with more peace and calm.  

Being a parent means that you have to put aside your needs. It’s not uncommon for parents of newborns to miss showers, eat poorly, and stop exercising. When you have a newborn, it is not the time to “put your oxygen mask on first.” Yes, you should find ways to “self-care,” but it looks different when you have children.  

One time, someone told me about an after-work self-care routine that took forty-five minutes. I wanted to laugh out loud. My after-work self-care routine is going to the bathroom and then changing into more comfortable clothes. If I really want to treat myself, I will sit in the car for two minutes and watch a silly youtube.com video before leaving my car.  

So yeah, self-care? With children, sometimes it’s best to wait and get their mask on first, you can hold breathe, but they can’t.

Year 12: Week 34 - The Moment When I Forget About COVID-19

Sometimes I forget. 

Today, I led one of my 4th graders in a dance they had learned, “I Want You Back.” I was in the stage of learning the choreography and teaching it to my students where I didn’t really have to think about the moves, and I could fully get into the dance. That moment when the dance clicks for me and I can be in the moment with my students thinking less about the choreography but more about my students, is pure joy.  

This is when we really start having fun. When you are in this moment, the whole world goes away, and all that I feel is the music and my students joining together in dance.  

We got to the end of the song. That’s when I started breathing harder, and at that moment, I felt the heat in my mask and remembered: I was wearing a mask because a student in this class earlier this week had tested positive for COVID-19.  

*****  

I was on a roll. I had a list of emails that I wanted to write, and I was getting through them. They are all positive things I wanted to tell people, ideas that I knew people would like, and confirmations that I knew would make people feel good.  

There was one email that I got stuck on. I knew what I wanted to express, but I couldn’t find the words. I love this kind of challenge in writing, that moment when you are trying to turn emotion into words, and it's not quite happening. Something is satisfying about facing this challenge and struggling to find the words. It’s like trying to find a treasure, and there are hints along the way, and when you see it, it feels great. I knew I was getting close to a method of explaining how I felt when I noticed that I had received a new email. A tiny number popped up next to the inbox icon.  

I thought about ignoring it. I was onto something good, but I didn’t. When I opened up my inbox. I saw in the subject matter an all too common occurrence. I had been exposed to a student who tested positive for COVID-19. These notifications of positive cases in our school remind us of the pandemic and create this low level of anxiety that never entirely goes away. While I can forget about COVID-19 for a moment, that anxiety never leaves.  

*** 

There are moments when school almost seems normal. There is more laughter than there was last school year. People are more relaxed, and people feel less anxious. Students move around the school instead of in one classroom, and social distancing is wholly gone. Events are occurring like they used, and we can see smiles.  

There are moments when I don’t think about the fact that we are in a pandemic. The joy of learning and working with students sometimes makes the pandemic leave my mind, but something happens, and I’m reminded of what we can’t do and what we are missing. I’m grateful for these moments and for my students. Education should make us face the day's challenges, but it should also help us leave the present.   

Just because the pandemic is still with us doesn’t mean it has to feel that way. That’s why every opportunity I get, I dance with my students.

Parenthood: Week 474 - Lucas 5/9/22: Talking About Diapers and Climbing Out Of His Crib

“Dye Puh!” 

I looked over at Lucas, and he was joyfully running up to me, holding a diaper. Then it hit me; he just said diaper! Lucas is at a wonderful age when he is starting to reveal all of the languages he has learned his whole life through talking. It seems odd at first to live with another human being who doesn’t know how to speak, but it becomes routine very quickly with children. Then as time goes on, communication starts happening through gestures, sounds, and finally, words.  

I was really excited. I ran upstairs and told Diana that he had said diaper. She was also excited. As I made my way back down the stairs, I realized that Lucas wasn’t saying diaper as a noun; he was saying diaper as a verb.  

Lucas was standing there with his pants down and a poopy diaper he had managed to take off in his hand, smiling up at me. “Dye puh,” he exclaimed at me.  

I called Diana down, and together we got him cleaned up. She asked me, “how did you not sense that he was trying to tell you to change his diaper?” I didn’t have a good answer; I should have checked his diaper when the kid was holding a diaper.  

I’ve been a parent for nine years. Lucas is my third child. I should have figured this one out. I’ll chalk this one up to being so proud of his use of words and his cuteness.  

*****

There are some milestones parents dread. Lucas hit one of the big ones last week: he figured out how to climb out of his crib.  

I started noticing in the morning that Lucas would come down and hang out with me as I was getting ready for work. I figured he must have cried, then Diana took him out of his crib and let him come downstairs. Nope, he was just jumping out of his crib, opening the door, and coming down.  

It can be pretty scary to see a  toddler climb out of a crib. The scale of it is pretty incredible. It’s like an adult dropping from the height of ten feet. Life-threatening? No, but you could hurt yourself depending on how you did it.  

Ollie never learned how to climb out of his crib. He loved his crib. Ollie would wake up from a nap and just want to hang out there. Ethan was the opposite. He would try to get out of the crib immediately after waking up. I’m pretty sure that Lucas learned how to get out of the crib by watching Ethan, who would sometimes climb into Lucas’ crib to play with him.  

Lucas’ new climbing skills mean that his crib is no longer a place where we can leave him and contain him. This has made some nap times and bedtimes more challenging, though he’s still doing a pretty good job of falling asleep.  

Before I go to bed, I checked on my sons, and three nights this week, I found Lucas sleeping on the floor of his room next to his crib. Instead of trying to find Diana and me, he climbed out and decided to just settle on the floor. I’m not sure what he was thinking, but it was cute to see him there cuddled up with a bit of pillow.  

Lucas is growing up, he’s no longer a baby, and the challenges are new every day, but make life different every day, and are oh so entertaining.

Year 12: Week 33 - What I Wish People Knew About Job

My job feels lonely sometimes. 

I am fortunate to have a team of music teachers that I work with. Many music teachers in schools are alone in their subject matter, but I am alone in my teaching role. For example, the three 3rd grade teachers all teach 3rd grade. No one else teaches 5th-grade music, and I am the only one. Also, my role as music department chair and DEI co-chair put me apart from others.  

No one can completely understand the stress and responsibilities of my work. While I do have people that I can talk to, I have to make decisions by myself many times. I am aware that my role as department chair creates a space between me and some of the people I work with. And while I participate in meetings and conversations, there are times that I don’t feel fully included.  

Surrounded by students, and teachers, at my desk or walking through the halls, sometimes I feel lonely.  

I feel deeply about my decisions. 

Whenever I decide a resume should not make it through the initial shift, tell a student they did something wrong, or have to say “no” to a teacher’s request, I feel the impact of my actions. Decision-making is usually not complex for me. I typically know the best way to proceed pretty quickly. What takes time is for me the process the emotional and interpersonal impact of my decision.  

What is best for my school is not always felt as best for individuals, and what is best for individuals is not always understood initially. In a job built on relationships, empathy is essential, but it also sometimes feels like a burden. There are times when people think that I don’t consider their feelings, but they are wrong. I always do. 

There is no recipe.

There is a song called “Orion” that I have taught to every 5th-grade class for the past dozen years. Every single time I teach it, I have to do it differently. The students are different every year, and they need other things from me. Yes, I have a general plan on how I’m going to teach this song, but it needs to be changed and modified for each year.  

My success as an educator is not based on how well I follow a plan. It’s based on how well I can adapt to my students’ needs. This extends to the curriculum that I teach, which is constantly evolving. The world is changing, and so should the curriculum. Without a recipe, it’s hard to know if something will turn out well. So you have to take chances as a teacher and try different things. Sometimes this leads to failure, but other times it leads to success. When things don’t work, we can’t blame a recipe. But when things work well, we’ve created something truly magical that can never be replicated exactly the same way because of the uniqueness of every student.  

I have to clean up the mess left behind by thoughtless adults.

When adults act thoughtlessly, carelessly, and in an unkind way, teachers often have to clean up the mess that children wade through. When people made jokes about Will Smith slapping Chris Rock, I had to explain to middle schools that there was nothing funny about the assault as they repeated jokes adults made about this situation. When twice-impeached, former president trump would say a racist or sexist comment, I often had to help students process his statement. And when a student repeated a misogynistic joke that a comedian said, I had to interrupt and unpack the harmful impact of those words.  

Many adults throw things out inside our society and culture with little to no regard for how young people will experience and process their actions. Children are watching, and those who act as if they are not are adding to the challenge of being a teacher.  

I don’t understand why people throw out so much negativity in the world, but I understand how it impacts young people, and it’s a lot to deal with. 

What I love.

I love talking about students with other teachers. I love working through a crisis with colleagues, and I love solving problems. I love dancing with my students. I love leading my students in song, and I love sitting back and doing nothing while they sing independently.   

I love telling students about the facets of my identity. I love showing the student the beauty in the diversity of the human experience, and I love excitement and amazement when a student sees themselves in a lesson that I teach. I love being an educator. I love building relationships through kindness, and I love knowing that I am valued by others in my community.

Parenthood: Week 473 - Meaning In Family Before Kids And After

Parenthood is not essential to living a meaningful life and having children is not necessary to have a great marriage.   

I recently saw a post on Facebook talking about how having children shouldn't be called “starting a family.” The post was making the point that two married people are a family and that family can exist amongst friends and doesn’t require marriage. I agree with this 100% as someone married and has three children.  

People need different things in life, and people’s families look different. I remember driving home after we got Buffy and feeling like we were more of a family. It’s not like Diana and I weren’t a family with just the two of us, but seeing Buffy asleep in Diana’s lap made our family feel more complete. It’s not like we weren’t happy before we had Buffy, but I think we both sensed that we were missing something and found that in Buffy.  

There was a process when we decided to have a child. It’s too private to share here, but I will say that it took time and a lot of conversations. We both were committed to having children. That is something that we had talked about before we had married, but the timing was the point of discussion.  

I clearly remember a moment in the first month of Ollie’s life when Diana, Ollie, and Buffy were all asleep, looking at the three and feeling that we were a family. I felt so content and so at peace. I was grateful and proud.  

I’ve felt these moments through the years when we are all together. Sometimes it’s in a car ride or at a park when I can feel everyone’s presence and energy together at the same time. I’ve looked for this in my family, and I have found this feeling in my children and my wife.

I don’t think I lived a life without meaning when I didn’t have children. I worked hard to help children as a teacher, I was kind and supportive to my friends, and I did the best I could to be a positive partner to my wife and a good son to my parents. It’s not that life’s meaning doesn’t exist when you don’t have children; it’s just different.  

There are things about life that you can only understand by having children, and there are things that you can only understand about life by doing other things, like playing sports, being a doctor, and other things that provide unique life experiences.  

I feel like people put too much emphasis on having children. This speaks to the very primitive part of our nature, but it also reflects patriarchal viewpoints about the centrality of having children that subjugate women. Religious dogma that placed value on women based on whether they have children is oppressive and wrong.    

I spend working days with children, and I come home to children, which is the life I chose. It’s a challenging life, an exhausting life, but it’s my life. I feel grateful to be part of such a wonderful family. My family is large than some and louder than many, and it’s just one example of many of what it means to be a family.

Year 12: Week 32 -...Used To Be Mine

It felt like almost every second, I was busy today at work. 

There were timely things that got in the way of things that I wanted to do. There was barely time to take a break or relax. Some of this was because of extra duties I chose, but things get complicated. When you choose to do extra, sometimes extra becomes what is expected.  

It wasn’t always this way.  

During my first teaching job, I felt overwhelmed by the basic duties of my job as a high school band director. I struggled to teach my classes and feel successful at this core part of my job. I wasn't on any committees, and I didn’t do any extra-curricular activities that weren’t directly part of my band teaching duties. I didn’t have the freedom to innovate, and it didn’t matter how hard I worked. I was a square peg trying to fit into a round hole, and there were no one invested in trying to make this work for me.  

My second teaching job as an elementary teaching assistant was a dramatic change for me. There were no extracurricular activities. I had no planning to do, as I followed a scripted curriculum, which was very effective for my students' needs. This was a really fun job. I learned a lot as a teacher, and I also had break time to chill and have fun with other teachers and assistants. My job ended when I left work, I never stayed late, and things felt balanced. There wasn’t space for me to innovate, but I didn’t mind because I felt successful and valued at my job.  

When I got into my current job, I quickly felt borderline overwhelmed. I was teaching grades I had never taught before and middle school band, which I had never taught before, besides student teaching. I didn’t have a lot of curriculum to use, so I came up with units and lessons. I could have just stayed with that level of work and gotten comfortable with it, but I didn’t. 

There were many opportunities for me to get involved in this school differently. There were committees, leadership roles, and many people interested in collaborating. So I took on more. I got on the committees, became music department chair, and later became a DEI co-chair. I worked on different projects with administrators, staff, and other faculty. And every year, I try something new and different. And every year, I had moments where I was at the edge of what I could handle.  

Why don’t I do less and relax in my job? Maybe it's my need to fulfill the model minority myth and be seen by others as perfect at doing everything. Perhaps it’s because I feel like it’s a way to prove that I am tough and hardworking as my parent. And maybe it’s an attempt to address my personal feelings of insecurities and imposter syndrome. The thing is that I enjoy the extra stuff I do, and I am good at it. I pushed myself and done more and done it well because that’s what I do.

I want to be that remarkable guy who can handle these things. If I’m not, I just a teacher, which should be enough. Maybe it’s not bad thing want to be more than that, but that leads to weeks like this.  

I love the work that I do, but something feels out of balance right now. I wonder what I'm trying to prove because here's the thing, the approval I'm looking for, may never come, so I got to find something else on the inside.

Parenthood: Week 472 - What I Learned From Men Of Color

Fathers have a powerful effect on their sons whether they want to or not. A father’s actions and inaction resonate in the soul of their sons. A father cannot escape the impact on his sons by leaving physically, as a son feels that one action their whole life. A father's accomplishments, regrets, glory, and shortcomings live forever in their sons. Fatherhood is a responsibility and a burden. More than that, fatherhood is an opportunity.

As I listened to nine brilliant educators talk about their fathers, these thoughts came to me. This past weekend I attended My Brother's Keeper: A Retreat for Men of Color in Education. At different times different parts of our identity brought us together, even though the intersectionality of different facets of our identity was undeniable. There were discussions about our schools where our work at independent schools came to the fore and other times when the race was an important topic. At that moment, when we talked about early examples in our lives about what it meant to be a man, our identity as sons of fathers brought us together.

All of our experiences with our fathers were different. There were similarities between some people’s stories that people connected over. The stories revealed pride, insecurities, frustrations, and pain. There were lessons learned from fathers and unresolved issues. There was a determination in the room to be better than their fathers. And here was also a struggle to understand and acknowledge the positives while being unable to forget the negatives.

The most important commonality is that we were all profoundly affected by our fathers. Some people stated that out loud, while others expressed this with the emotion in their voices and how they talked. It’s not a big surprise that fathers profoundly impact their sons, but it was different from being in the room and hearing these reflections. Behind these men's strength, talent, and accomplishments, I could see little boys, all wanting the same thing: to be loved by their fathers.

While I have had the privilege to be in affinity spaces with people of color, I am rarely in groups of men, socially or professionally. I went to this retreat to put myself in an area out of my comfort zone. Encouraged by the fact that two of the facilitators were incredible people I had worked with before and the advice of two work friends, I decided to go, and I’m happy that I did.

In addition to talking about our fathers, we spoke of challenges in being a man of color in independent schools, toxic masculinity, explored some current research about leadership, and had time to bond and get to know each other. The only other times I can remember that I felt included in a large group of men since my college fraternity days almost twenty years ago was when I worked with men of color who were facilitating a Young Men Of Color Conference.

There’s nothing wrong with the fact that I like hanging out with people in smaller groups and that most of my close friends are women. But I am starting to see how I can feel belonging in groups of men. While many of those barriers that make me feel awkward in groups of men are created by toxic masculinity and the patriarchy, some of these barriers are maintained by me.

I need to figure this out for myself and my sons. Because my issues with relating to men will become my sons’ issues. I know I can’t be perfect, but I want to be better. 

Fathers are up against a lot. The messages around masculinity are unclear, but our sons are even more confused than us. But we don’t have to know the answers; we just have to embrace these challenges with our sons. We may not be able to change our world, but if we are willing to do the work, we can give our sons the power to change their own world. It’s too great an opportunity to pass up, so let’s get to work.

 We are worth it, and our sons are worth it.