Pussy Willows and Police Cars

It's been a fairly normal week in the department of "busy" but blogging between Valentine's Day and today wasn't part of it.  I looked for my inspiration everyday just as I had promised myself a week ago that I would, but time to write?

Thursday I had one of those IPod moments right at the start of my day again.  I loaded myself into the car and the IPod shuffled to the Beatles singing P.S. I Love You.  The first thing on my to do list for the day was to mail the valentines to the grandkids . . . . two days late.   And the first words I heard after I got into the car were "As I write this letter, Send my love to you."  Seriously . . . I have been toying with the idea for the last week that IPods have brains or something but I've now decided they are like that dog statement.  You know, the one that says people start looking like their dogs after a while  . . . I think it's the same thing with IPods.  You and your IPod become this new being that is so interconnected that the IPod knows exactly what you are thinking or experiencing and provides exactly the right music for the moment.

Well this was the calmest moment of my day.  If you have been listening to the news, you know that the words Wisconsin, education, and chaos are all being linked together in the same sentences this week.  On Thursday, over 400 teachers in my school district called in sick to protest the agenda of the new governor toward teachers.  But everyone in my school was present and we had a "normal" day.

The bulk of my "normal" day was spent the way I spend every Thursday . . . in problem solving meetings with parents and teachers.  That day I held 7 hours of meetings for 7 sets of parents.  These meetings are always draining because we focus on the academic or behavioral issues that the student is having, try to get down to the core of why those problems are happening and then come up with a plan that the school and the parents can implement.  A lot of parent education goes on during these meetings and I am constantly reminded that you don't get an instruction manual nor do you have to have a parenting license to have a child.  Some of the plans we come up with during these meetings - like go to bed earlier, get up earlier, say no and follow through - may seem like no brainers to middle class parents, but these meetings become AHA moments to our parents.  That's not to say that really big problems like learning disabilities, emotional disorders, poverty issues, abuse and other dysfunction in families, aren't confronted too.  But regardless of the subject, our parents generally walk out feeling a little more empowered and not so alone in the daunting task of parenting.  These meetings are vital to the education of my kids even though they are mentally exhausting to me.

But that wasn't all of my day . . . betwixt and between these meetings, I worked with an elementary student who had tried to commit suicide; called in an abuse report on a student who was beaten by a sibling; counseled a cutter with over 40 cuts both forearms and ankles; and helped three middle school girls fill out and file financial aid applications for a private high school because their parents don't speak or read English. I scarfed down some lunch at 3:30; helped conduct a requirement meeting for our 5th and 6th grade parents from 5:30 - 7:30; and then worked in my office until 9:30 to catch up on paperwork and listen to my voice mail.

I finally walked out of school to my car that was parked on the street because our school can't afford a parking lot and just as I stepped on top of a mound of icy snow to get to the driver's side door, my foot broke through the snow and I fell down onto the street - - just as a police car was driving by.  How many people think that the police car stopped to see if I was ok?  A great end to a 14-hour work day.  Well in any event, I drove home, limped into my house, cleaned myself up and sat down to read the news of the day.  This is the headline I read:

Walker to gut MPS, break up UW, education leaders say
http://www.jsonline.com/news/statepolitics/116339939.html

And these were some of the comments attached to the article:

"Great job Scott Walker. Stick it to those lazy union entitlist thugs. They had an easy ride for too long. I don't feel sorry for teachers when the average pay in WI for them is $107,000 a year and they get to retire at 55 with multi million dollar pensions."

(Note to my reader . . . I don't make $107,000.  Long story on how people get this number.
And note to my children: I guess I was supposed to retire last year so I'm gonna do that now and with my multi million dollar pension, I am buying you all houses and Lamborginis!)


"Teachers get full time pay for part time work. The tax payers cannot afford their lavish benefits for the minimal work they do." 

(Note to my reader:  HUH?  I missed another memo I guess!)

Kind of discouraging to read after one of my pretty typical days.  Inspiration?  Reaching deep right now.

I started writing this blog because I realized that I needed to start seeking out the inspiration that is surely there in each day that I "get up and go" . . . because I am starting to feel discouraged with life.  I've been doing this job for 10 years now and while the day that I described may sound very unusual and "out there," my husband heard the chain of events and said, "Oh so it was just a normal day (except for falling onto the street while the police car passed by!) My brother said he didn't know whether to laugh or cry but added "blog it!:   But I didn't start this blog to complain about my life......I started it because of my AHA moment that the things that caused my heart to leap when I was 20, still do.  So......

Flashback to 1975 when I was working in a day care center and getting my degree which has led to those big bucks and the multi-million dollar pension that people seem to believe I get.  A little 4-year-old boy by the name of Algernon Iran Harris was in my class.  I loved this little guy.  He had an afro so big that there is no way he should have been able to walk upright. One day, I did a very politically incorrect lesson by today's standards on Indians and their headdresses. Al stuck about 15 feathers right into his afro rather than gluing them on the headband like he was suppose to.  He grinned from ear to ear and told me he was so smart . . .I think he was.  Another time, I brought a pussy willow to school to go along with a book we were reading.  One of Al's little friends stuck the pussy willow up his nose and then tried to dig it out with his finger but instead, pushed it farther up inside his nose. This resulted in Al telling me that his friend's nose "ATE" the pussy willow and a quick trip to the emergency room ensued.  I remember when I got back to the classroom with Al's friend, pussy willowless......Al threw his arms around me and said, "I love you Miss Melinda cause you a helpin' ma friend."

Helping children must still inspire me as much as it did then or I wouldn't keep doing it.  My dad always told me "to whom much is given, much is required."  I've never been able to get away from those words which I heard at least once a week growing up.  My siblings and I were given so much growing up.  How can you not give back to families who aren't as fortunate and why are some people so unappreciative and downright mean-spirited toward the people who are doing that work?  Would they really want my job?  It's sometimes hard to stay encouraged.  

I drove to the airport last night and anticipated a beautiful flight because the full  moon was glowing.  I stopped and mailed the Valentines first . . .three days late.  Now I'm looking out the window of our LA apartment, soaking up the sunshine, listening to chirping birds, and enjoying the sight of another tree against a beautiful blue sky.  Some days inspiration is just a glance away and easy to find.  Other days, you really have to search for it. 

How blessed are we?  The view from El Cerrito Place in Hollywood, CA.