Parenthood: Week 477 - Holding Out for Hero - Part 2

The human imagination is incredible. 

Without sensory information, we can feel and understand things. I can now experience the scent of the incense at my grandmother’s funeral, the sound of my father’s voice, the feeling of my nine-year-old son's newborn hair, and the taste of split pea soup on the deck of a ship in Alaska without any stimuli from my senses. 

Our imagination is also one of the most potent tools of empathy. We can sense how someone feels about something without actually experiencing it ourselves. For example, I have never won a championship on a sports team. Still, I can imagine how great it would feel to experience these emotions by watching sports documentaries and films. So when I watch a team win a championship, I can get emotionally involved because my imagination informs my empathy. 

When you take that step of imagination and actually know firsthand experience, empathy comes quickly and more profoundly. Because all of my grandparents have passed away, when someone I know loses a grandparent, I have real experience to draw from to empathize with them. I don’t need t to imagine how it feels. Experience is a powerful and essential part of empathy and allows us to make deeper connections with others, but it can bring us to dark places when the unimaginable happens. 

The shooting in Uvalde hit me on two levels. The teachers and students who died were in a 4th-grade classroom. I teach fourth grade. I know what those students are like, and I know what it means to teach that age. And what hit me Wednesday night is the fact that my oldest son, Ollie, is the same age as some of these students who died. I’m looking at parents describing the worst times of their lives, and we are connected. This tragedy happened to someone who has my job in a school with students the same age as the students I teach and also happened to parents who have children the same age as me. 

I didn’t have to imagine much to see myself in this situation, and it doesn’t take a lot for me to imagine this happening in my school and to my child.  

As a teacher, I couldn’t help but imagine what it would be like to have a shooter come into my school Wednesday morning on the way to work. I almost had to pull over. It was overwhelming, and as tears came to me, I didn’t fight them and let the emotions come over me like a wave. It was a hard experience, but it felt necessary and important. 

I’ll be honest, I haven’t let myself imagine what it would be like to lose my son to a school shooting. It may hit me at a moment when I don’t expect it, or it might trigger the upcoming funerals of the children who died in Uvalde last week. When it comes, it will be rough, but it will be vital for me to feel for myself and to further empathize with others. 

Maybe by strengthening empathy muscles through imagination, we can imagine something better for our children. 

Let us be motivated by sorrow and pain to bring light to our world.

Year 12: Week 36 - Holding Our For Hero - Part 1

"So, is Thursday happening?” 

 "Um…[silence]...?” 

“Kingsley?....” 

My co-worker was asking me on Wednesday morning whether we were going forward with interviewing someone for a job opening at my school on Thursday. However, when asked me what I thought in my head, “No, Thursday isn’t happening for those children.”  

I didn’t feel much of a reaction when I heard the news about the shooting in Uvalde Tuesday afternoon. I was in the middle of the meeting. I wasn't surprised or shocked. I didn’t know what to think or feel; I just knew that there was something dark that had happened.  

I usually have no problem falling asleep. Having young children has helped me fall to sleep without issues, as I rarely get enough sleep. But Tuesday night, I couldn’t sleep. The world felt quiet and unreal. I was brought back to myself hearing Buffy gently breathing in her bed, which was the last thing I remember before going to sleep.  

I woke up slowly and pushed myself to get going in the early morning of Wednesday. Needing some strength and inspiration, I chose to wear a Bruce Springsteen t-shirt. I needed to be joyful like he could be in front of his audience in front of my students. His songs, speeches, and writings have helped me process what it meant to be American in the worst of times. I thought, "maybe you could help me today." I needed something, someone, somewhere to help me with this tragedy. 

The feeling of going to a school as a teacher the day after a school shooting is hard to describe. It’s not about fear. It’s more a sense of sadness and absurdity. Driving to school Tuesday morning, I cried thinking about the fourth graders who had been killed, and I couldn’t help but picture my own fourth graders and what it would mean to my world, their family’s world, if they were no longer alive.  

It feels absurd because what I’m doing feels pointless. I am working so hard to enrich my students’ lives while others do nothing to protect them. One of the most complex parts of being a parent is realizing that your child's safety is reliant on the goodwill of others. You can’t protect them their whole lives. You have to put their safety in the hands of others. While I am doing everything to keep my students safe, it feels absurd and infuriating that others are not.  

I felt a chill as I walked into my school, so I tried to zip my hoodie up. I was wearing one of my favorite hoodies, a red one. I liked this hoodie so much that I didn’t mind that the zipper was broken. At that moment, trying to zip up my hoodie and not being able to, I felt uncomfortable and unprotected. It was broken, but I was still trying to use it. 

When I greeted my first 4th-grade class at the moment, I chose to show them that I was happy to see them. We quickly got to work. I started teaching them to dance to “Holding Out For A Hero.” It was fun time teaching, my students enjoyed this dance, and it was nice to just share space with them. As we danced, I took off my hoodie because I didn’t need this feeling of warmth or protection; I had my students to make me feel whole. This song was what I needed to be in the moment for my students, but it also reminded me of what we all needed, what I needed: a hero.   

 

We sang “Crowded Table,” and I talked about how the words and how to represent how we feel about each other and ourselves. It was a good day with my fourth graders. I felt really fortunate to have had time with them. Part of me didn’t want to come to school on Wednesday, but I’m glad I did. Helping them have a moment of fun was something they needed, and I needed it. Wednesday was a reminder that I could do something for these students.

As a teacher, school shootings feel different when they involve students who are the same age as the ones you teach, and as a parent, they feel different when they include children who are the same age as your own. It wasn't until Wednesday afternoon that I realized that the children who died in Uvalde were the same age as my Ollie...

Parenthood: Week 476 - Happy Birthday Buffy: The First Night

We stopped at the Oasis, a kind of rest stop with restaurants and gas built over the freeway. I needed to get gas for the car. After getting the gas pump going, I went back into the car and looked over at Diana. She was sitting quietly, looking down at Buffy, our new puppy sitting on her lap on a towel. I reached over and touched Buffy’s soft fur. It felt like nothing I have ever felt before in my life. It was velvety smooth and light. Her fur wasn’t very thick, so I could feel her warm skin as I pet her. Her head tucked in against her body. She was just a tiny ball of fluff. 

Diana looked up at me and smiled. She looked tired but had a proud look of happiness. This was the end of a journey for us. There had been a lot of research, phone calls, and trips before we found Buffy, and this day was finally with us. There were no words. I saw all I needed to know in Diana’s face. This was a dream come true for Diana, and I loved how this moment, this journey made Diana feel. Even at that moment, with Buffy in our lives for such a short amount of time, I felt grateful for the joy Buffy had brought into our lives.  

Diana wanted to get a puppy, and I wasn’t convinced that this was a good idea for our family. I didn’t grow up with a dog, unlike Diana, and I wanted to do this right. I felt a deep level of responsibility, and I didn’t want to mess up having a dog. I read books and researched what it meant to be a dog online. I learned that “walking a dog” was code for letting the dog go to the bathroom. I discovered different breeds, priorities when training a dog, and how to take care of a puppy. All of this information was helpful and made me feel more comfortable with having a dog, but something was missing.  

Diana found out that a family friend needed someone to dog-sit their dog when they went on a trip. So we brought this dog Wrigley to live with us for a couple of days. Wrigley was a well-trained dog and wasn’t very difficult to take care of. While we were taking care of the dog, there were times that I was alone with Wrigley, and I wasn’t always sure what to do with him. I’d look at him, and he’d look back at me. I talked to him, but it felt weird, and we did go on walks which felt nice. The experience of having Wrigley with us initially didn’t feel that meaningful.  

When Wrigley returned to his owners, he ran right up to them. I didn’t even have a chance to take off his lead as he ran into his house. At that moment, I felt happy for Wrigley and his family, and I thought, “what about me?” That’s when I realized there is something different and magical about the relationship between a dog and a human. And I had felt that for a small amount of time, and I knew I wanted this in my life.  

It was late when we got home on that first night with Buffy. We had set up a play area and a crate for Buffy in our living room. We tried to feed her, but she wasn’t too interested, so we got her settled in her crate. 

I remember lying in bed, wondering if Buffy was okay. Then we heard her softly whining. Diana took her out to the potty, stayed with her for a bit, and got Buffy settled back in her crate. As Buffy slept through the rest of the night, I was very aware that there was another member of our family. Our condo felt different with her in it, our lives felt different, and our family felt different. So much changed that evening, and my life has never been the same.  

Buffy has been with me through great times and hard times. She has seen me through career changes, our move to our current house, and the birth of our three sons. With Buffy, I don’t have to be anything or be anyone; I can just be with her. 

Buffy has seen it all, and with her knowing eyes, I know that it’s all okay and that we’re going to be fine.  

Happy Birthday, Buffy! You are a wonderful dog. Bringing you into our lives was one of the best decisions in my life. I have always been proud of you, and I love you with all my heart.

Year 12: Week 35 - The Mask Come Back On

I shouldn’t have been surprised. 

I was sitting in a meeting after school on Monday, and I had my laptop open, taking notes, and I saw a number pop up on my browser tab, showing me that I got a new email. I clicked over and saw the announcement: my school was going full indoor masking for the remainder of the school year.  

I didn’t really have a response when I saw that email. My brain was still focused on the meeting. It felt like just another change around masks we were going through. We started the year with a mask mandate, then we went mask optional, then we went masks required for two weeks, and then back to mask optional, then to masks recommended, and now we were back to mask required. Throughout the masks optional phase, exposed classes and teachers had to wear masks for two weeks.  

As I drove home, I started becoming more stressed and anxious. What did this new mask mandate mean to my teaching and upcoming performances? Could my band students still rehearse in class? Would all of the remaining performances in the school year require students to be masked? How was I again going to have to adjust my instruction and teaching to mask-wearing?  

My 5th graders have a culminating performance next Thursday. They were making great progress, then we had that two-week mask mandate about a month ago, and after that, we started picking up steam. Now a week to prepare, the brakes were put back on. Singing with a mask on is like playing basketball with one arm. You can do all the same things, but you are very limited and cannot perform to your full potential.  

Tuesday morning, it seemed likely that my students could perform without their masks, but they couldn’t rehearse with the masks off. To use the basketball metaphor again, you have to practice only using one hand; some people can use both arms during the game, but others don’t. You can get through the game, but it’s less than optimal. My students will get through their performance, but it’s a compromised experience.  

I also found out Tuesday that my 6th graders, who we had planned to do band instrument trials and choral singing for their music class placement in 7th grade, couldn’t happen because students have to share instruments for this experience. The curriculum had to be scrapped. So weeks of planning for that unit went to nothing. And my 7th graders could play their instruments and were recommended to play outside, which I couldn’t do for these students, so I put aside their recording project.  

So, with my 7th graders, we started watching Hamilton. For my 6th graders, I was determined to make my time with them as meaningful as possible, so I did a presentation on the origins of the “High Five” along with this excellent documentary and a feminist rewriting of a country music song.   

 

When mitigations change and COVID-19 numbers go up I’ve had to cancel concerts, adjust or throw out curriculum, change lesson plans, and make mental adjustments to my teaching. This has happened multiple times this school year. I’m not going to get into my opinion about COVID-19 mitigations, but what I will say is that this is exhausting and a lot of extra work.   

I considered going “nuclear” and telling my administration that these new mitigations meant we wouldn’t have music for the end of the year ceremonies like graduation. I calmed down, and realized that approach didn’t help the situation. A compromised performance that requires more out of me is better than no performance if I decide to make it a positive experience for my students, and I will. They deserve it. The changes I’ve had to make for my other classes? I’ll make the best out of it. As frustrating and stressful as this new mask mandate, I still have time with my students. As the year closes, I remind myself that time with my students is one of the most essential parts of teaching and one of the greatest blessings in my life.  

So, I’ll keep doing what I do: teach. A lot has changed throughout this school year and this pandemic, but I am still a teacher, which means something.

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.