Why I don't understand New Year's resolutions

I don't dislike the new year; I just don't care about the new year.

If other people want to celebrate it, then good for them, although I have to make a small little snarky remark about its arbitrariness and the fact that most people set ridiculous goals for themselves that they will almost immediately decide are too difficult to actually attain.

It's not that I don't like goal-setting.
I actually do like to set goals, but I think it is better to set goals for things I actually enjoy doing and want to do.
Like reading and traveling.

I've also learned that setting goals sometimes has adverse effects.

A couple of years ago, I set a goal to read 50 books during the year, which sounds like a great "make yourself a better/smarter/more well-rounded person" goal.

The problem was that by September, I was reading books, not for the sheer joy of reading books, but
with the "50 BOOK GOAL" hanging over my head every second.

I did make my goal but it kinda sucked, which I hadn't anticipated.

That was the first and last time I set a quantitative goal for myself related to reading.
Since then, I've set a 1-book goal, selecting a book I haven't read but think would be good for me to read.
Last year was Robert Penn Warren's All the King's Men.
This year, it's another Pulitzer Prize-winner: Gone With the Wind.
I'd like to finish it by spring break, but I've got the entire year.

I don't set lofty goals to do things I don't want to do, like go to the gym.

My goal is to make it to the gym one-time per month since I would be willing to shell out $15 for an hour at the gym if I could just show up and pay-as-I-go. If I end up making it to the gym twice in a month, I've reduced my cost for that hour to $7.50.

I do need to take the Praxis to finish up my high school certification, so I've set a deadline of March. I guess that is a goal, but I've given myself three months to get it done because I'm not eager to do it.

What I don't understand about New Year's resolving is that people seem to forget that THEY ARE STILL THE SAME PERSON with all the idiosyncrasies and oddities and quirks and hangups they had at 11:59 pm.

None of that changes in one minute.

It often feels boring and like I'm downer Debbie being a realist, but there are times, and New Year's is one of them when I'm really rather glad I don't look at the coming 12 months as something amazing and wonderful and dream-fulfilling.

There will almost certainly be moments when it feels like that, and those moments will be surrounded by chores and bullshit and aggravations and boredom and worry. 

It is finished....what to do

I completed what I consider a very successful long-term sub job on Friday.

The kids learned.
I learned.

My classes also ended up coming in 2nd place for can collection and 3rd place for cash collection for a major school service project for the community.
I had to go up during the school assembly and collect the prizes, while my junior students screamed and cheered, which was pretty stinking awesome.

N said she even cheered, "THAT'S MY MOM!!!"

(You might be a rock star if you're own kid gladly and loudly identifies you as his/her parent in front of the entire student body.)

While I'm not a sentimental person by nature, my heart does squeeze a little having to say goodbye to these kids. (Some of them are actually truly sad to see me go.)

Yesterday, I happened to run into a former teaching colleague who I was on a team with 15 years ago. I see her when I sub at my former middle school, but we got to catch up more than you do in the brief hallway flybys.

She is one of the folks who regularly asks, "When are you going back full-time."

I explained that if I went back full-time, I'd have to give up my freelance writing, which I enjoy and do well.
I tutor, which I'd have to give up.
I teach at the cottage school, which I'd have to give up.

I'm also investigating (with a book club friend) developing a podcast, and if I was full-time, I wouldn't have the time or energy for that.

Next month, I've promised a 2nd-grade teacher at my kids' school that I will come in to teach some writing lessons to her students, and full-time would mean I couldn't do some of the neat volunteer things I enjoy.

I've got plenty "to do."

My thoughts on late work in school, teenage brains, and wholeness

Up until recently, I had never turned in a freelance assignment late.

If I even suspect I might need a few extra days, which is mostly because I frequently having trouble getting sources to schedule an interview, I always request an extension. I end up turning in the assignments by or before the deadline, but I figure it's better to state my issues up front than be begging or apologizing on the backend.

This semester, however, with my subbing and cottage school and graduate class, I completely missed the deadline for an assignment.

By a week.

The only reason it didn't blow up in my face is that my editor also completely forgot she had assigned me the article.

When I realized my mistake, I emailed her, apologized profusely, and told her I would get it done that day. (And I did).

I have been thinking a lot about my experience during this long-term sub job.

Different teachers have different late-work policies for various reasons, and I understand and appreciate the reasoning behind these.

Teachers have so much grading to do anyway that to allow late work means they are in a constant state of adding grades. It makes it hard for a teacher to put any assignment "to bed" if they are constantly having to go back in and add grades that were turned in late. Accepting late work also makes the students who do turn work in on-time feel like they are working hard for nothing: Why am I busting my butt to turn things in on time?

Especially in high school, having a no late work policy makes sense for students who will be heading to college. I don't remember a single college professor who allowed late work (although I always turned things in on-time, so maybe they did, and I just never knew).

I think when I taught full-time I had a late work policy whereby I would deduct a certain amount of points for a certain number of days. After 2-3 days late, I didn't accept it.

Even if a teacher doesn't accept late work, he/she almost certainly has students with 504 plans or IEPs who, at the end of the semester, are playing catch-up. And if a teacher has a 3-page list of students with failing grades at the end of the semester, he/she will likely allow some work to be submitted late to appease parents or administrators (to check the box that they are "intervening" on behalf of the students).

Ultimately, even if you have a zero late work policy, in some form or fashion, you are dealing with late work. Students who have an excused absence are allowed the number of days they missed plus one to submit late work. Late work is simply the nature of the beast in education.

The other night, while attending N's orchestra concert at her school where I have been subbing, I noticed a kid in one of my AP classes who performs in the "top" orchestra group. This kid is a polite, nice kid who also happens to struggle with turning things in one time (I don't know him well enough or long enough to know if this is a normal thing or what). His mom introduced herself to me (since I had made contact with her via email).

I could look at this kid as "lazy" or "irresponsible" or "scatter-brained," but seeing him perform in the top orchestra group (for which students have to audition), reminded me that seeing him for 50 minutes each day doesn't sum up his entire personhood.

It reminded me of the fullness of these teenagers. They aren't just one class or one grade. Even if their grade is garbage in one class, they have other classes and other responsibilities. Many have jobs (where I'm pretty certain they are learning the value of doing things on-time) or sports teams (where showing up on-time is also critical and where there is a penalty for not being on-time).

I have noticed the danger of zero tolerance late-work policies, which is that students may just stop trying, or they may cheat in order to turn work in on-time.

I have caught at least 6 students cheating because they forgot an assignment and were given the answers by a friend. I didn't give them zeroes, but I made them do the assignment again on their own.

No late work also makes kids give up if they even think they are going to be late. It encourages them to take the path of least resistance, which is not to do the work at all. If they think they'll be late, what incentive is there to do the work if it isn't going to count for anything?

So I have had to think to myself, "What is my goal in the classroom with them?" and my goal is for them to 1. Learn and 2. Do the Work On Their Own.

The truth is that I don't actually begin grading their work the day it is assigned, so why should I be a hard-ass about a due date when it may take me an additional 3 days or 5 days or 7 days to even find the time to look at the assignment?

It is probably too loosey-goosey, but I figure if it is turned in by the time I grade it, then it is on-time.

The benefit of extending grace to these kids is that on the occasions when I might need to be a hard-ass, they might be more willing to remember the grace I extended to them and think, "Ms. ___ was flexible with me so I am going to be flexible with her."

As the parent of a fairly responsible gifted-and-talented teenager in a stable, upper-middle class, high parent-involvement home, I am well aware that even the most responsible kids forget or get distracted or have a week in which they have just.too.much going on.

This necessitates I think about the non-G&T kids who are more irresponsible in unstable, non-upper middle class, low-parent involvement homes.

I also have to remember that these kids' pre-frontal cortexes aren't fully formed yet and won't stop forming until they are around 24 years old. The PFC controls executive function---including decision-making, working towards defined goals, determining consequences, and predicting outcomes.

Sometimes I think what we ask of these kids is nearly impossible given what their brains are actually capable of.

I'm still alive (Day "I don't even know" of the long-term sub stint)

This long-term sub position has been a great learning experience.

I have learned so much about rhetorical analysis from throwing myself into it and finding ways to explore and explain it to my students.

See, I even call them "my students."

I really, really, REALLY enjoy working with them. Even the turds (who usually only seem like turds because they need more hand-holding than what can realistically be given to them in a class with 28 or 31 students.)

I really, really, REALLY hate grading 150 papers a week (assuming I've only assigned them one thing to write, which is a joke. English teachers assign many more writing activities).

I might actually be drowning in papers as I type this.

I've had two in-person parent conferences.
More parent emails than I can count.
Emails to and from counselors and ECE coordinators.
Times when I've let kids come to the classroom to work on stuff during lunch.
Times when I've let kids come to the classroom after school.

I've written tests.
I've planned finals.
I've created lessons.
I've produced my own examples for kids to use as models.

The other English teachers tell me I'm a great teacher.

I know.
This long-term job has helped me realize that I am choosing to be a part-time teacher, but just because I'm part-time doesn't mean I don't kick ass.

Don't send nudie pictures and other advice I'd give

Once upon a time, I put mothers on a pedestal, which means I put myself on a pedestal of perfection when I had N.

I could not stay on that pedestal.
Having a first baby after 6+ years of marriage and leaving behind my career and being a perfectionist with extraordinarily high expectations of motherhood was a recipe for emotional disaster.
I am not perfect, and I cannot achieve the extremely high expectations I put on myself.
Every day, I am still learning how to live with not always being able to live up to the goals I put on myself.

So my expectations have modulated, but I still think parents should walk the walk.
If they expect their children to behave in certain ways, they should model that.

If you don't want your children to drink to excess, YOU do not drink to excess.
If you want your children to take their education seriously, YOU take your and their education seriously.
If you don't want your children to be chronic complainers, YOU should not be a chronic complainer.
If you don't want your kids to be slobs, YOU should not be a slob.

I hold these same expectations for church ministers and teachers because their entire existence is working with others to strive for betterment.

Perhaps that is unfair; they are human after all.

I had a bit of an embarrassing situation this semester during my grad class when a teacher inadvertently showed me a picture of herself in a bra when she was swiping on her phone to show me something that was not herself in a bra. This would have been weird enough but she then told me it was a picture she'd texted her boyfriend.

Now, I am not much of a selfie taker ever, and I'm definitely not a nudie or half-nudie selfie taker. If D ever took such a picture of me, he'd have to dig his testicles from his esophagus.
But that's me.
Consenting adults can do as they want.
(I'd just prefer not to accidentally be a part of what other consenting adults do.)

What I would recommend, though, is the following:
1. delete these pictures so you don't unintentionally share them with more-or-less strangers.
2. be very careful of the advice you give young people or children about what to do because you could, like the pictures, unintentionally give them advice that you yourself do not follow. And if they find out, they will lose all respect for you (if they haven't already because kids are exceptionally good at deciphering bullshit and/or hypocrisy).

On the plus side of this weird situation, it did provide me an opening to discuss nudie photos and the aftermath with my teenage daughter.
It was nice to have an anecdote to tell her before I launched into a lecture.

Like full-time

I have worked 5 days of the long-term subbing job.
I have access to the grades.
I am planning the lessons.
I am giving feedback.
I am having students ask for my help.

I am also having conversations like this:
Student: "Why did you give me a zero for independent reading?"
Me: "Because you were sleeping."
Student: "But only for a minute."
Me: "Imagine how long you would have slept if I hadn't woken you up. You have to read, or pretend to read, for ten minutes."
What I did not say: "If you can't stay awake and/or pretend to read for ten minutes, you deserve a zero."

I have told myself that this job will be a good reminder for me of what it was like back when I worked full-time, as well as what it might be like if I worked full-time now with kids.

The principal introduced herself to me today and asked if I would be coming back full-time.
I wanted to answer: "Only if you'll hire me to work here."
But my response was, "Not for a while because we don't have transportation here, and my daughter is a freshman, and I can't work across the county and get her here and home each day."

What I'm remembering is that I am not good at turning OFF the teaching.
I keep looking for rubrics or lessons or activity ideas.
I keep writing myself notes of what I need to do tomorrow or the next day.
I'm thinking about the job when I'm not at the job.
My dining room table is filled with papers to be graded.
Such is full-time teaching.

What has felt hard is trying to schedule life around teaching, like getting M to his post-op ENT appointment.
Racing out the school door, dropping kids off at my house to be picked up by their parents, racing to M's school for pick-up, racing to the ENT.

I haven't been anything like full-time in nearly 15 years.

When I was explaining that this feels hard for me, someone replied, "Well, that's what every working parent experiences."

This person is right, except for the fact that this person is a man, and I'm 95% certain he hasn't made a habit of taking off work to take his child to the doctor or get her to afternoon/evening activities.
I assume he did do these things with his older children, but that is because he was divorced from their mother. I think had he been married to her, the bulk of the post-school child wrangling would have fallen to her (maybe it did anyway).

There is a part of me that asks myself if I'm crazy for actively trying to have a busy professional life that does not involve working full-time.
Full-time work would feel easier in a lot of ways.
I wouldn't have to ask "Where am I today?" and "What am I working on today? Subbing, cottage school, freelancing? Do I tutor tonight?"
Puzzling together part-time jobs is difficult in a weird way. It pays little considering how much time I give to it, but it gives me flexibility, which full-time employment does not.

What crazy things I will do in the name of "flexibility."

I often have to remind myself that non-full-time work also gives me a certain benefit called "active enjoyment of living" for both me and my family.

Me taking care of the bulk of home and kid stuff means D doesn't have to after work.
It adds to his active enjoyment of his non-work hours.
I have the energy to go to book club and occasionally make it to the gym and volunteer at the kids' schools and go to lunch with my parents.
I have a certain amount of "availability" that is valuable in and of itself.

And that's not nothing.

There are probably a lot of people who could work part-time and who would work part-time, but it isn't an option.
Or they have gotten used to their lifestyle and activities and costs and think they can't change anything.
Or they have taken on expenses that require them to work full-time.

And there are those families in which both parents have to work. But I think many of the people I know are people who think they have to, but they don't. They have confused their wants and their needs, as a lot of middle-class families seem to.
Private school, in most cases, is a want, not a need.
Having a newer car is a want, not a need.
Going on vacation every year is a want.
Remodeling the basement is a want.
Having a house at the lake is a want.
Having a boat is a want.

Teaching an economics class at the cottage school this year has forced me to delve back into opportunity costs and the truth that "there is no such thing as a free lunch."

The book nerd version of "Show us your t*ts"

The other day I wondered to myself how many books we have in our house.

Given that I've been writing about heavy topics of late, I thought I'd indulge my lighter side and pay homage to books.

I decided to go through my house and snap a photo of every place I find a book.

I started with the main floor:

 The dining room table (also my makeshift office)

The other side of the dining room table 

 My purse

 My desk in the kitchen

(Actually, there is a Jodi Picoult novel on my desk, too.)

 The living room

The bookcase by the front door

The upper floor where our bedrooms are:

 N's bookcase

N's bedside table

The boys' bookcase

Books in bins on the floor in the boys' room.

Book on boys' dresser.

Table in my bedroom

D's bedside table

 Book on a desk in my bedroom (I work in a lot of rooms in the house)

My bedside table

The basement:

 My bookcase

 D's sci-fi/fantasy books

Under the steps closet for miscellaneous books

A few years ago I actually got rid of a lot of books from college because I decided to only keep books I love.  I have sold or given away many children's books as the kids have outgrown them because there is only so much room in our house. D actually reads mostly ebooks, so we would have more if he didn't do that. I'm also a big library user, so I borrow regularly, which also cuts down on the books we own. 

See, I feel like I'm offering excuses for why my book hoarding behavior could be worse. 

Still, if there is any truth to articles like this, I think we're setting our kids up well.