Graduation letter

Dear N,

Tomorrow is your commencement. I think it is kind of interesting that we call them that because so often people get weighed down by the ending of things when it comes to high school graduation. Parents, especially, feel sad and sentimental seeing their children reach this milestone. But to commence is to begin, and in all the important ways, your life is just now beginning. 

My memory is pretty poor in general, but I remember feeling excited and terrified when I graduated from high school. There were so many decisions before me: What was I going to be? What was I going to do? So many big potential life events on the horizon---Maybe marriage one day? Maybe kids one day? Gainful employment? A house and furniture and adulting?

You are embarking on a time of figuring stuff out, and you will be doing that for the rest of your life. It is a long lifetime road of not knowing what the fuck you're doing, but that is ok because no one else knows what the fuck they're doing either. Your dad and I certainly don't know what we're doing as we navigate having a legal adult in the house who is also our child. Some people hide their not knowing better than others but, trust me, this is the human condition. 

For about the next ten years, you're going to be in a state of confusion and discomfort if you're anything like most people (or maybe just me). As a new 18-year-old, you are really in the wormy stage of adulthood babyhood; you've barely got your eyes open and you haven't figured out what your hands are for. Your twenties are exciting and new and mind-blowing and weird; it's like the later babyhood and toddlerhood of adulthood. You learn to belly-scoot, then crawl, then Frankenstein-monster walk. In your thirties, you'll run. In your forties, you'll run and give the finger to anyone who looks at your cross-eyed because you don't care what they think anymore. I'll update you on the fifties once I get there. 

All commencements come with advice so here is some of mine:

1--Go to therapy sooner rather than later should you ever feel you need it. It can be extremely helpful to have a totally objective person help you deal with things without the baggage that friends and family bring. A strong person knows when they need help and seeks it out. 

2--Don't assume you know the answer; instead ask questions. Your brilliant mom made some big assumptions in college without seeking answers from people who knew more than I did. While I am happy with the life I have, I often wonder if my trajectory would have been different had I not assumed but asked. 

3--Don't worry about people who peak now or in college or at anytime that is different than you. And truly, what does peaking mean anyway? A girl you were in playgroup with as a toddler is the youngest American woman to climb Mount Everest which is amazing, but do you want to climb mountains? Some people do big, huge things in the world, like Alexander the Great, and are remembered in history books. The rest, the other 99.9%, live their lives quietly. Henry David Thoreau said "the mass of men lead lives of quiet desperation," and I think that is probably true. The goal, I suppose, is to avoid a life of desperation but quiet isn't so bad. 

4--Henry David Thoreau also said, "I have lived some thirty years on this planet, and I have yet to hear the first syllable of valuable or even earnest advice from my seniors." And that is another piece of my advice to you: Ignore my advice if it seems irrelevant or like bullshit. Do what you want and don't worry too much about what anyone else thinks.  I can't live your life. I'm not you. You have an entirely different experience from me so be truest to yourself and live by your values. Do no harm to yourself or others if you can help it. 

5--DO NOT throw away your retainer. Seriously, despite what Henry David said, this advice should be heeded. Your middle-aged mouth will be glad you listened to your mom. 

Tomorrow you'll wear your cords and your stole and it will feel like the most important thing you've done. And it is. For now. But this, my dear, is truly only the beginning.

Love,

Mom

Multifarious: working with seniors, the a-word, boiling rage

I. Working with seniors

Since mid-April I have been working at a local high school two days a week to help seniors who need course recovery in order to meet graduation requirements. 

I have been, more or less, their mom on these days. When they are with me, they work. If they don't work, I nudge and harass and cheerlead and tell them to NOT SCROLL DOWN on the course recovery work because they will get overwhelmed. Or I explain things to them. Or I help pace them if they lose focus and have them check in with me. 

It has been mostly rewarding work, especially when a kid who has been coming to work with me finishes up her/his assignments, and we know they'll be able to cross the stage later this month. 

There are some, though, who won't walk the stage. They may not be able to finish course recovery this summer. Some of them will be back for another senior year. Or they will drop out. 

I think seniors overestimate their "adultness" once they hit that magical 18 on the birthday cake. I think sometimes teachers overestimate it, too, although I suspect this has more to do with teacher burnout than the kids to be honest. A lot of the kids are mature and responsible, but there are some who need a lot of hand-holding for a variety of reasons. And there are a lot of adults who would do a hell of a lot better with some more hand-holding. 

Even kids who are mature and responsible, who can keep track of their homework and club meetings and sports/work schedules, make bone-headed decisions. Or don't think of all the ramifications of a decision, and it's because their brains aren't done cooking yet. 

N is a bright kid whom I trust with a lot of things, but there are times I legit think to myself, "What is wrong with your brain?"

And the answer is: nothing. It is just an 18-year-old brain.

II. The a-word

The Roe v. Wade leak was all over the news last week, and I've spent a lot of time thinking about the prospect of things changing. How would that affect my daughter? How would that affect by sons?

I could be wrong, but I don't think I've ever seen anyone say they are pro-abortion. I don't think anyone likes abortion. I don't like abortion. In a perfect world, no woman would ever feel she needed an abortion. But we don't live in a perfect world. 

We live in a world where we give a shit ton of lip service to the notion that we value life. We do nothing of the sort. One million lives lost to COVID is proof of that. Our systems have not, as a general rule, valued poor life. Or black life. Or immigrant life. They do not right now. We do not value infant life because if we did we would make childcare leave more feasible and for longer. We would have ENOUGH FORMULA. We would fund universal preschool to help all children start out more closely to a level playing field. We wouldn't have such ridiculous drug laws that have put so many men in prison away from their families. 

I have never had an abortion, but I have had an unplanned pregnancy (while on birth control). All things were "right" for me. I was in my mid-30s, had been in a long and healthy marriage, had no debts or drug addiction or anything that would endanger my security and ability to pay the bills. I had two children and could afford them so there wasn't a concern that I couldn't afford another one. Despite these things, my unplanned pregnancy was scary and overwhelming AND I WAS IN THE BEST POSSIBLE CIRCUMSTANCES. 

So I will not pass judgment on any woman who is in different or worse circumstances who cannot, whatever her reason, sustain a pregnancy. And I think it is absolutely wrong for any government entity at any level to tell a person what she can or can't do with her body. We didn't mandate vaccines; we do not take organs from dead bodies that did not, prior to death, give permission. We need to keep our laws off women's bodies as well.

III. Boiling rage

Maybe the rage relates to what I just wrote about, or maybe it is perimenopausal hormone stuff? Or maybe it is the ceaseless exhaustion that comes with being a mom to three and a wife to one and none of them seem able at times to do much of anything for themselves, without me specifically directing them on what.to.do. They rely on me because I made it my priority for so long to be relied upon (the downside of the SAHM thing). 

Or maybe it is the confluence, the place where all these intersect. The place where I would like to just run away and be responsible only for myself and my wants and needs and not have to have others in my brain.

Maybe it is that our tax people told us we had to pay something like $7,000 in taxes, which we paid, but we only owed $900, which is great, except now we are waiting for the government to return out money and it is freaking me out because we had termites ($800) and the boys keep getting ingrown toenails which means $200 surgeries all the damn time. Maybe it is that I have been so busy since I got home from Ecuador that I haven't had a minute to collect my thoughts and just be. Maybe I miss quarantine just a little bit when life was a fuck-ton slower. 

Maybe I need to take another half-dose of Lexapro. 

As we approach graduation

We have several weeks until N graduates from high school. While she may be counting down, I am neither counting down nor wishing time to stop and keep us frozen in amber to avoid seeing her move onto the next stage of her life. I am going about the days as I always have.

In general, I have a difficult time stomaching sentimentalism and cliches. I have a difficult time with the public proclaiming of how wonderful kids are and how proud we are of them. Primarily, this is because it is all curated. It is all, in its own way, lies. Or if not lies, then abstentions. 

But this is the season of that sort of thing, I guess. 

People have begun asking me "How are you?" in relation to having a senior so close to graduation, and I emphatically say, "I am fine."

Because I am.

Maybe I would be a little sad if I didn't have six more years of middle and high school with her two younger brothers, but by the time they get through, I will be oh-so-ready to be the fuck done with all this. 

Maybe I would be a little sad if I hadn't savored the time with her when she was young. 

But I blogged about it and I journaled about it and I took photos of it and I took videos of it, and I was there for all of it. 

Why would I need or want to stay there forever?

If I put on the rose-colored glasses of sentimentality, I would forget that those times when she was young were not all wonderful.

The times of having to help do projects in elementary school. Ugh.

The times of being woken up in the middle of the night. 

The times I got puked on.

The times I had to go to so many freaking preschool birthday parties. Geez Louise.

The times I played Barbies until I thought my brain would pop out of my ears from sheer boredom. 

Maybe I've read too many Buddhism books, but all, including my children's childhoods and teenage years, is impermanence. 

And I am far more comfortable embracing this fact than feeling the sticky fingers of sentimentalism encroach on me. 

I think for many parents their overwhelming feelings about watching their child graduate have almost nothing to do with the child; it is about the parent. About losing control (as if they had it to begin with). It is about their own death looking them in the face for a moment. They are often sandwiched, as I am now, between parents who are aging, either planting feet into their 80s or already knee-deep, and children who are no longer under our thumbs. 

It is a strange and uncomfortable place.

Well, this got dark.

But that darkness is why sentimentality is allowed to swoop in. It feels better, I suppose. It is warm and fuzzy and maybe makes people feel better temporarily. 

I don't like its texture, though, any more than I like the uncomfortable of knowing the circle of life keeps turning. The clock hands have moved me to a position I remember my parents being at when I was 18. The hands for them are closer to midnight. The seconds continue to tick by.

The most comfortable place is the here and now. This day. This moment. Not the countdown of days until graduation. Not the wallow of time gone past. 

A teacher drama that has lasted all year

I think the vast majority of teachers do great work--they are dedicated and committed and possibly even a little bit crazy to put so much of themselves into their profession. 

(I say this as someone who, 18 years after leaving the classroom full-time, has not gotten to a point where I feel I can dedicate myself to it in any way, shape, or form the way I did before my children entered my life). 

And perhaps, like so many teachers, this particular teacher who is driving me nuts has just had a fucked up last two years, and his motivation has tanked. Who could blame him?

But for the sake of argument, let's assume I have a case for really not thinking this teacher knows what's up. 

The first time I emailed this teacher was on August 25 when both boys had him for related arts. This was approximately 10 days after school began and both boys had a slew of zeroes. 

I'm like, "How can they possibly be fucking up this badly this soon?

So I emailed the teacher to see what was going on. 

He replied that he had just entered asignments into IC. Unfortunately, he entered in zeroes for everything instead of just entering assignments (which you can totally do; you don't have to put a score at all to hold places for assignments. The kids' other teachers do it all the time without entering any score). 

The second time I emailed this teacher was in late September when M got COVID. 

M got a 25/50 on an assignment. Here is what I emailed the teacher:

I saw that M got a 25/50 on a resume assignment. Since he has COVID and had to quarantine 4 days last week (and won't be back until October 4), I wanted to ask what he misunderstood about the assignment. I looked at the instructions on Google Classroom and didn't see where it said he needed to do two resumes. 

The teacher said he had reviewed the requirements in class and that he could go over it again with M when he returned.

I had issues with this because 

1. M had missed 4 days of school that week and was going to be out for another week (at least) due to being positive for COVID. I didn't know what day the teacher went over this in class; if it was Tuesday-Friday, M wasn't there. Also, by the time M got back to school, this assignment was going to feel like ancient history.

2. The teacher said, ""I wrote a list out of requirements and told students to write something in each category, " but the teacher didn't post this on Google Classroom (or even take a picture of what he wrote on the board). This was early in the year when every kid was missing days for quarantining/contract tracing. I couldn't help but think that not only was M missing stuff; so was every kid who was out. 

October was quiet, but I emailed the teacher again in November when M was given a "C" for a final grade. 

My problem wasn't that he got a C; my problem was that his grades were an 83.33 and a 99.07 (for mastery and progression). There was no conceivable way those averaged together would end up as a C. 

When I emailed the teacher and asked him why M got a C, the teacher replied "You're right; M didn't deserve that." 

I didn't like this language. M should get what he earned. The teacher using that phrasing made me wonder if he was just handing out arbitrary grades. (This came after this teacher was suddenly gone from the school and didn't return until like 3 weeks ago. I assume some kind of internal investigation of some kind happened.)

And then G, whose grades were a 100% and a 99.07%, was given a B by this teacher. 

It was at this point that I emailed the counselors and said something along the lines of WTF?

Unfortunately, G was placed in this teacher's class again this grading period, even though he already took this related arts class earlier this year. He didn't like this teacher before because of all the grading stuff (and he just thinks the teacher is a jerk), and having him again is not a good thing.

G took a test in the class and didn't finish it. Because the test was on Google Forms, if you haven't answered all the required questions you can't submit it. G didn't submit it which was stupid, and he has been informed in a gentle way that it was stupid. When I asked G why he didn't tell the teacher that he wasn't finished, he said, "It wouldn't have mattered." 

Did I mention G thinks the teacher is a jerk and is really over being in this class?

(Having spoken with this teacher in person this week, I can attest that he totally threw shade on G. This is the first time ever that a teacher has thrown shade on G. I'm not saying it isn't deserved. What I'm saying is that G may take after his mother and not suffer bullshit without letting someone know that they don't have a lot of patience with it. G isn't an outright dick; he's just not being especially friendly.)

Then G was doing some online assignments and was scoring 50s and 70s on things. He says the teacher told students if they get a green check, they get a 100 percent. The teacher told me something different when I went in for a conference this week. I watched G do two of the modules to see if there is a quiz of some kind and shows them exactly what they scored on it. For these two modules at least, there was NOTHING of the kind. I have no idea why he got a ten points higher on one than the other, nor does he. 

It was already established in November that I couldn't trust this teacher, but I can't trust G because he has a jaded attitude. 

G has gotten "the lecture" that he has to do everything to the absolute best of his ability because if G screws up, the teacher can say it is G's fault. And based on my experience with this teacher this year, I'm not 100 percent sure that it is. 

Apparently, I am intimidating (according to my family)

It has come to my attention that I am intimidating. 

While I don't know that this is a fact, it is an opinion that several members of my family---like all of them who live with me---agree on.

And it took me by surprise. 

I guess if I get out of my own head for a minute, I can see how they might be right. 

I am not intimidating to myself. And I don't think I'm intimidating to people once they talk to me a little bit, although maybe that's entirely wrong. I hope that my humor breaks any ice.

But I can see how a person who doesn't know me might be a little taken aback by my inability to not express an opinion. I'm very "out there" with what I think. As a general rule, I'm not going to just sit back and take it from anyone. 

I usually think I'm pretty self-aware, but my family's recent discussion of my intimidating personality threw me for a loop. How much else do I not perceive about myself?

I suppose that my ability to be intimidating (or to come off that way) is something I need to be a little more aware of, although I think my family gets the "unabridged version" of me that other people don't get. 

Do most people who meet me cower in fear or feel threatened by me? I don't think so.

Does my husband? Yes, that might be accurate. 

Does he expect me to bend him to my will? Of course. He's been letting me do that for almost 25 married years. 

And my two oldest kids have been scared to tell me they have boyfriends/girlfriends when I have been pretty open about "I don't care who you date. Race, religion, gender, whatever. As long as the person treats you with respect, I'm good." 

I think my family's view of me being intimidating is because I lose my absolute shit when they don't do something I've asked them to do 800 times. 

And what woman out there doesn't know EXACTLY what I'm talking about. 

Like all people who need outside input, I called on the hive mind of Facebook to ask people who know me. Some know me only online or knew me way back when or work with me or still talk to me every week or month. 

And I think the general consensus is that MY FAMILY IS WRONG.

Really, that's all I needed confirmation of. 

In all seriousness, it did do me good to step outside of what I thought I knew about myself and actually try to be objective. And getting feedback from others was helpful in that it helps me understand what aspects of who I am may come off as intimidating. 

I have always taken pride in being smart. Making sure I know what I'm talking about. Being well-read and prepared. I have always had high expectations of myself but this can, I'm sure, make others feel a little uncertain about what I will be like. Will I be judgmental? Am I exacting to the point of being unbearable?

I do have high expectations, but I have also learned to be much less judgmental over the years. I strive to put myself in other people's shoes and see the other side. 

Expect my family's side. They don't know what they're talking about.

Just kidding.

Firsts and lasts in 18 years (Happy Birthday)

Dear N,

We are right on the cusp of your 18th birthday; a little under 24 hours to be exact. This time 18 years ago, I was hoping to have a natural birth. I was also so in need of medication for anxiety that I was pretty certain I would not actually bring home a live baby. 

Did I ever tell you the story of how I asked, when your dad and I bought your crib furniture, if I could return the items if the baby....you....died?

Thank your lucky stars I got medicated some 7 months after your birth.

My life changed in so many ways when you were born.

It was the last time I worked full-time.

It was the first time I felt completely unable to cope with the responsibility set before me (you did not come with a manual or a lifetime supply of "chill pills for mom.").

It was the first event that sparked a series of other events that led me to understand I had long had mental health issues.

You, however, were an easy baby, and thank goodness, because I doubt I could have handled anything else.

When I look at you now, I remember conversations I had with Daddy about what you might look like or be like when you "grew up," and now here you are....actually all the fuck grown up. (Sorry for the cussing, but, my god, HOW DID THIS HAPPEN?)

I could not be more proud of the young woman you are, and it has nothing to do with your smarts or your grades or your accomplishments. 

It has everything to do with your genuine niceness. You are simply a good person. You've never been a "mean" girl. You've not isolated others with snobbery. You've taken the lead on the high road more times than I can count. 

You are trustworthy and honest. You are reliable. People know you will do what you say you will do. 

When Daddy and I brought you home that first night, a night I remember distinctly because I DID NOT KNOW WHAT THE FUCK TO DO, I could not imagine that I would be typing this 18 years later. I could not imagine that you would be as awesome as you are. I hoped you would be awesome, but I didn't know what you might become. 

Did.not.know.what.the.fuck.I.was.doing.

I don't say it anywhere near often enough, but I am so proud of you. Not for what you've done, but for who you are. 

Your birthday always reminds me of firsts and lasts that I experienced around your birth. It was a big transitional period for me, and it took me years to adjust. Fortunately, you're not the worse for it. 

Since you didn't get a Sweet 16 due to COVID, and you didn't get a 17th party also due to COVID, I hope you have a fun time this weekend thoroughly enjoying yourself. 

You will always, always, always be my most favorite daughter and the first of my three greatest life blessings.

I love you,

Mom

So much upper middle class complaining

Complaining is the human condition. I, myself, could win an Olympic gold medal in complaining. 

But even when I complain, I am almost always well aware that I have it far, far better than lots of other people. I make an intentional point to remind myself of this as soon as I notice myself complaining. 

I think part of this is because I read widely, and that helps put me in other people's shoes. I also think being a substitute teacher and working with every kind of kid in this city--the riches, the poorest, the smartest, the dumbest, the most motivated and the least--helps keep it real. 

When I complained today to a friend because I had an interview scheduled for a magazine article and the person didn't answer when I called at our scheduled time, I said while complaining, "And I know this is minor because I can clean my bathrooms while I wait for this person to return my call. This is a cushy job I can do from home that pays well." 

Social media is the worst when it comes to complaining, and I admit I'm just as bad as anyone else about using it as my personal venting arena. When I do complain, I try to at least make it funny and acknowledge my own bullshit ridiculousness. 

Like how I hate it when people complain about teachers and act like kids are teachers' problems from 9-3 but then when I have to take my cats to the vet for their shots, I'm all, "THESE FUCKING CATS ARE YA'LLS PROBLEM NOW."

What sticks in my craw is when people, mostly in my neighborhood, use our neighborhood FB page to bitch about the dumbest stuff. While I can see their point, it just gets excessive and makes me think some of these people need to get hobbies.

Like the older gentleman who updates regularly on how late the mail is. One week, I think he posted every day about the mail not coming. This was a couple weeks ago when everyone and their grandma was sick with Omicron. On about day 4, he said he had finally gotten through to someone at the local PO and that our periodicals wouldn't be delivered for awhile.

And my response to this is YOU ARE BITCHING EVERY DAY BECAUSE YOU DON'T HAVE YOUR TIME MAGAZINE????

I mean, I get it. Yes, it is lowercase frustrating. And it would be uppercase frustrating if you are waiting on a Social Security check or medication. But a magazine? 

C'mon, man. 

I went to our HOA meeting on Monday that lasted from 6:30-9:00 (which is bullshit), and lots of people were complaining about their water and sewer bill. 

Our family's most recent bill was $222. This is for two months and covers WATER and SEWER. If I divide this amount by 60 days, it comes to $3.74 per day to have clean water and no raw sewage in our house or yard. Per person that is 75 cents a day.

I AM FUCKING THRILLED TO PAY UNDER $4 A DAY FOR CLEAN WATER AND NO POOP OR URINE IN MY HOUSE, thank you very much. 

For $4 a day, my family is avoiding cholera and dysentery and typhoid and god knows what else. 

That is a freaking bargain in my book. 

And the thing about people in my neighborhood complaining is that some of them spend more than $4 a day on coffee. (Or their Time magazine)

They live in houses that cost upwards of $350,000. 

And they are complaining about spending 75 cents a day for clean running water and no raw sewage. 

I'm reading a book right now about a boy and his brother who spent something like 15 years living in a refugee camp in Kenya because of nonstop war in their home of Somalia. 

And that is all I need to do to thank heavens that I am able to pay under $4 a day for clean running water and no raw sewage.