How Fragile, How Valiant

One of the things about Facebook that I love is that I can keep up with former students who friend me. This is also the reason I don't post anything seemingly humorous with profanity in it...I have kids on my page and it has to be appropriate for them to see. So if I hid your post sometime it's not that I don't love you or maybe even agree...it's that those kids, those ten and eleven and even fifteen year olds do not need to see that from me.


And what I see from them is so bold, so raw most of the time. Some of them are poseurs. They quote hip hop and call each other rude names and talk about weed and how the establishment is out to get them. These try to look big and tough and it breaks my heart because what i read is "like me, i'm alone" and "please validate me because I am unsure who i am".

Others are more straightforward..."i quit cutting but tonight I wish i could"...."why date a girl if you're not going to call/just going to cheat on her?" ...."just wish there was someone i could call"... "so alone right now".


I try not to comment too much. If i think one of them is in trouble, I comment, I even pm sometimes. Usually I just watch, faintly heartbroken. This is something parents feel, but more intensely because they are closer. I spent seven hours a day with these little one a handful of years ago and they're still in my heart. I tell them that by accepting their friend requests, clicking like on their pictures of new haircuts and graduations, even pm'ing them to say 'you may be grown up but you are still my kid if you need to talk, talk'.

Childhood is so short and adolescence so long, such and ineffably difficult climb. I remember the sting of rumors, the embarrassment, the crippling shyness. Others had shimmering teen years with ball games and goofy photos. Those kids are alien creatures to me.

I read their posts and make sure no one is cyberbullying them...I'm a freak that way. But it's a danger, one of so so many.

If I can help one, just one.

Giving Lunatics My Cell Number

In the litany of bad ideas to which Diva must lay claim, putting my number on the house for sale sign may bump some significant foul-ups lower on the list.

It is currently ranked ABOVE "dying hair purple on accident at age 18" and "getting back together with a jerk who cheated on me twice in college" and just BELOW "getting pregnant in January means that you're in the 3rd trimester during the heat of July/August," in case y'all are keeping score.

A sampling of the kooks who have called me (during work, at 5am, at 11pm...): These are actual calls made by adults who were mentally capable of reading and dialing my number, I kid you not.


Caller: So, your house is for sale?
Diva: Yes it is. Would you like to walk through it sometime?
Caller: So, are you selling the one you moved out of or the new one you built? Cause the sign's on the one you moved out of.
Diva: /incoherent groaning/


Caller:  How much is your house gonna cost me?
Diva: We're asking 125,000.
Caller:  Oh that's way too much I thought it would be around 30.
Diva:  /incoherent groaning/

Caller:  You got a house for sale?
Diva: Yes. It has three bedrooms and---
Caller: I just want to know what it costs. I don't wanna hear about it.
Diva: Do you want to see it?
Caller: Just tell me how much it is.
Diva:  125.
Caller:  Thousand?
Diva:  No. just 125 dollars. That's all. In fact I'll give you twenty bucks to take it.
Caller: You're bullshittin me now.
Diva: Yes. Yes I am.


Caller:  How big's the yard on your house for sale?
Diva: Part of it is fenced but it extends back to the bean field behind it.
Caller: So the fence is part of it?
Diva: Yes. The fence and patio attached to the house are part of the property. It has three bedrooms--
Caller:  What about the bean field?
Diva: What about it? It isn't included. This is residential. It isn't farm ground.
Caller:  So is the bean field in the fence?
Diva:  No. Part of the yard is in the fence, part of the yard is behind the fence but the bean field is not inside the fence.


Caller:  Hi.
Diva:  Hi.
Caller:  Hello?
Diva:  Hi. I have a house for sale. Were you calling about that?
Caller: Yeah. I want to know how many bedrooms.
Diva:  Three. And two full baths and the master has a walk-in--
Caller: We need four bedrooms.
Diva: It only has three.
Caller:  Oh. Three?
Diva: Yes. Three. And two baths.
Caller: Oh. Not four?
Diva:  I'm afraid not. Sorry.


Caller:  You interested in renting that house?
Diva:  No. We are selling.
Caller: Just for a couple months?
Diva: No. We're trying to sell it.
Caller: Well I ain't got that kind of money. In six months maybe...
Diva: Hopefully it'll be sold by then but you're welcome to call back.
Caller:  Huh? I can call back and you'll rent it?
Diva:  No. Sorry.

Caller:  Do I gotta go to the bank to buy that house or do I just tell you I want it?
Diva:  Well, you should look at it first and decide if it's what you want..
Caller: I don't need to look. I want it. Do I gotta go to the bank or will you take a check?
Diva: It's 125 thousand dollars, sir.
Caller: Oh. So how would I get that?
Diva: You apply for a loan at the bank, you go inside and talk to a loan officer and they'll help you fill out the Universal Application for Residential Home Mortgage and run a credit check and see how much you can afford. Then they'd need to see an appraisal of the property and go put down earnest money and--
Caller: Oh. I don't wanna do that.

Caller: You got the house for sale?
Diva:  Yes. It has three bedrooms, two bathrooms, a fenced yard and the dishwasher and disposal are included.
Caller: Is this like a TV?
Diva:  Excuse me?
Caller: Like a TV like I rent it for a while and then it's mine. Is this like that?
Diva: No this is like you have to buy it and a pay a mortgage.
Caller: This isn't rent to own?
Diva:  No. It is not.

Vocabulary

I wanted her to speak.

I was ecstatic if mystified when she came out with "kitty cat" as her first word.

Mama and dada and doddies (doggies) and baffy (bath) came fast and soon she repeated everything and labelled a lot of things as she encountered them. Book. Tub. Cup. Pad (ipad, yes, I know). Towel. I should have known about the time she announced her name was Seepea and also Isbeff that we were in for it.

This child would not be ignored. She was talking and the world would listen, dammit.

Her vocabulary has exploded and I anticipated with fascination how she would tell me her observations about our world, her thoughts concerning our life and meaning.

I envisioned her wonder at a dandelion, a butterfly, rainclouds.


Instead, she learned all those words so she can complain about the food.

No. Want cheese.

Pop. I been good. Get pop. (one time ONE TIME her gammy told her she got a popsicle for being such a good girl and now she's like Al Capone extorting from us)

Duice. Milk. No meat!

While it would be a gross understatement to say I was a picky eater, I would like to imagine I was somewhat less rude in my commentary.

One of her favorite words is Gucky which is not a criticism a la yucky but her rendering of Tucker, our feistiest poodle.

It entertains me greatly when she counts. See, we don't drill or flash card or anything but we have read a lot of books some of which necessarily include numbers. So she was all about Two for a while. One-two, one-two like a drill sergeant.

Then, seemingly overnight. she picked up free, foh-wah and FIEVE the latter being announced at high pitch shriek every freaking time. one two free, foh-wah, FIEVE, six, sebn, AYT, ten.

Why does she even know how to count, I wonder. We count objects and she does touch count as she recites the numbers indicating some emergent numeracy concepts. This impresses me.

But not as much as her sheer volume impresses me. The child could shatter glass if I ever got it unpacked.

Sweet & Suck

I'm stealing the title from a game in Colleen Hoover's Point of Retreat (sequel to the adored Slammed). The main characters name their sweet and suck every night at dinner, saying which good and bad things happened to them that day.

My Sweet:

After a particularly thorny RTI (special ed) meeting, a new administrator asked to speak with me privately.
Administrator praised me in glowing terms for--actual quote--"brilliance, openness and candor" and further said that seeing that meeting was "a blessing to his soul".

My inner diva was snoopy dancing with squee because how nice was that to hear!

Later, I texted my dh the happy flattering terms exactly. The text was to the effect of "After sitting in on a meeting, new admin praised me for brilliance and candor, said I was a blessing on his soul!"


And now, my Suck.


DH replies--actual quote--"You?"


(imagine screech of a needle on a record)

I replied huffily that I in fact am capable of such at times and that his you-with-a-question-mark actually hurt my feelings.

The response was "that's not how I meant it"

Question, is my suck merely another example of self being dramatic and feeling put-upon or was it actually somewhat rude?

Clouding Up

One of my year-end rituals in class is the personalized word cloud.

I do one for my class list by the door because it's pretty and the cupcakes love seeking out their own names and finding each other's names as well. Like a very simple puzzle, but it reinforces team loyalty and is meaningful to us.

My classroom adaptation for the individual project is:

each kid has a piece of blank paper with his/her name written in the middle

one adjective is provided by me. This is a word I contemplate long and hard before attaching it to the child as my key descriptor for that person. Sometimes it's resilient or artistic or mathematical or determined. This year I had an "empathetic" and a "caring" and an "original" and an "intense".

I bring the kid up to conference and I explain the word I chose and why I chose it. Then I ask very frankly, does this sound like you? If I'm wrong we'll choose a new word together. (Let me say I've never been wrong. )

kids pass the paper around and choose one word that hasn't been used yet to describe the person

they have a list of 300 adjectives we've discussed and they know to refer to me if they're confused about a meaning or can't find just the right descriptor

I type the word lists onto wordle.net and tinker around till I have a pretty shape in the kid's favorite color scheme

print


laminate (learned this the hard way...i've seen several of these brought back to me years later with creases and tears and eraser marks by kids who said they read them all the time in jr high when they were bullied or when they were cutting or starving themselves to remember who they really are)

or

Frame
this year the laminator's out of film so the kids are bringing in dollar store frames to put the clouds in. I want them to have armor for their hearts, to remember who they are.

Here's one of this year's clouds. Resilient was my word, fyi. His classmates chose the rest of the words... and if you only knew the background you would add miraculous and heartbreaking to the list.