tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9051244061349371902024-03-18T22:01:07.499-07:00Unbarbaric YawpChristine S.http://www.blogger.com/profile/01758979207025927374noreply@blogger.comBlogger118125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-905124406134937190.post-79229969002207868542020-03-31T21:16:00.001-07:002020-05-03T20:49:54.365-07:00Lily's Birth Story Why do our brains do this?<br />
Why, during intense moments or important events, do our brains remind fixate on something mundane or insignificant or inconsequential?<br />
<a href="https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poems/45703/i-heard-a-fly-buzz-when-i-died-591">Emily Dickinson's poem <i>I heard a Fly buzz--when I died</i> </a>is the perfect example of this phenomenon. The speaker of the poem is literally on their deathbed, the room still, the people gathered 'round to witness the event done crying-- and the speaker fixates on a fly. It's the last thing they see before death.<br />
<br />
My life-altering event wasn't death: it was my water breaking.<br />
And my brain didn't notice any flies in the room: it thought, <i>Don't get the couch wet. That would be a pain to clean up. </i><br />
<i><br /></i>
Why? Why, Brain? Why, at 3:11 a.m., after being awoken with the sensation of wetting myself, were you concerned about the couch staying clean? You were so determined to achieve this end you directed me to grab the closest blanket-- a hideous Redskins throw blanket-- and hold it between my legs to prevent any fluids from ruining the couch or rug.<br />
<br />
I thought that women's waters only broke and gushed in movies and sit coms. After all, with my first daughter, KO, my waters didn't break until well into labor.<br />
<br />
With this second baby, I had (like with my first) zero signs of labor. No backaches, no cramping, no nothing. Her due date of January 26th came and went, and if I'm being honest, I was a big disappointed. <a href="http://unbarbaricyawp.blogspot.com/2017/09/katherines-birth-abridged-version.html">Her big sister had arrived on her due date, </a>and I was certain I would go into labor earlier with my second baby. But I was wrong.<br />
<br />
I began to mentally prepare myself for being "overdue" (although I kind of bristle at that term-- estimated due dates are just that: estimates). For all the annoying questions from well-meaning folks, all the comments about how I looked "ready to pop."<br />
<br />
<b>I knew I shouldn't be TOO attached to my due date, but truth be told? I was.</b> I was still working (teaching part-time and writing part-time), and the LAST thing I wanted to do was waddle around a room of teenagers who asked questions like "does labor hurt worse than a migraine?" and "what do you mean you can feel the baby move?" and "how does the baby eat and breathe when it's inside of you?" and "who in this classroom would you trust to catch your baby if you had it right now?"<br />
<br />
This second pregnancy was physically very easy and similar to KO's: I had a little more nausea a little longer, and I had one random bout of spotting during the second trimester, but other than that, it was a piece of cake.<br />
<br />
But I'll admit that mentally, I wasn't in a good place. With the first baby, there was pure excitement: hypnobirthing and breastfeeding classes, decorating the nursery, buying frilly onesies and fluffy blankets, stocking up on lactation cookies.<br />
<br />
<b>With the second one, there was reality: the knowledge that I would love this little girl with all of my heart, yes, but also some fear. </b><br />
<br />
-Fear that my relationship with my oldest would change.<br />
-Fear that I would have a complicated birth (my first one was so straightforward and just dreamlike that there was no WAY I was going to get that again. I mean, what are the chances?).<br />
-Fear of the pain of childbirth because, yes, I had KO without pain medication... and yes, it hurt like crazy.<br />
-Fear of six weeks of unpaid maternity leave, and fear of leaving a newborn with a sitter, and fear of taking two kids out to run errands by myself.<br />
-Fear of breastfeeding again-- the first six weeks with KO were absolutely BRUTAL. My nipples cracked and bled, and I cried and even screamed sometimes when she latched. I often said that nursing hurt worse than labor because it was WEEKS of excruciating pain.<br />
-Fear of who was going to be able to come watch KO if I went into labor in the middle of the night.<br />
<br />
So truth be told, I was mentally overwhelmed by the time my due date rolled around. <b>I wanted my baby in my arms, but I didn't want to go through the process of getting her there. </b>When January 26th came and went with no baby, I resigned myself to the fact that I was just going to be pregnant for two more weeks. Mentally, I checked out. Do you ever do this? There is an inevitable impending unpleasant task or event, and instead of tackling it, you just ignore it or disassociate from it? That was me on January 26th.<br />
<br />
Then, at 3:11 a.m. on January 27th, everything changed. I awoke, alert, on the couch, where my whale-like self had been sleeping for months due to the close proximity to the kitchen and the distance from my loving but snoring husband.<br />
<br />
<i>Did I just pee myself? </i>I thought. <i>Man, that's going to be a pain to clean if it gets on this couch. </i><br />
<i><br /></i>
It didn't.<br />
<br />
I immediately called the midwife on call number at the hospital where I'd be delivering. After a few minutes, Holly called me back, and I told her my water had broken.<br />
<br />
"Any contractions?"<br />
"No," I answered.<br />
She explained that I was now "on the clock" and that I needed to deliver within 24 hours, which I knew. We talked about how I should go lie down and sleep, stay hydrated, and call if there was any bright red blood or if I started having contractions close together.<br />
"Call us back in twelve hours if nothing is happening or changing, and we'll talk about ways to try to get things moving," she said.<br />
<i>Great, </i>I thought to myself, biting my lip and eyes welling with tears. <i>I'm going to have to be induced, and that increases my chances of a c-section, and this labor is going to suck.</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
I then woke my husband up-- no easy feat-- and calmly informed him that my waters had broken but I wasn't having contractions and I was just going to curl up in bed next to him and get some sleep. I put down a waterproof mat on my side of the bed and laid down...<br />
<br />
... for literally like ten minutes.<br />
<br />
Then my body decided it was labor time. Contractions started. I felt annoyed: I didn't even get my nap. I took a shower-- the hot water running down my back eased the pain temporarily. I asked my husband to call our doula and let her know what was going on.<br />
<br />
I stumbled down the hall to get my labor ball to bounce on.<br />
Then I remembered: <i>Shoot. Final grades for report cards are due today. </i><br />
"Hey, babe, will you go downstairs and get my work computer?"<br />
I kid you not when I tell you that I graded electronic student assignments in between contractions, inputting scores and clicking on prewritten comments to go on their report cards.<br />
<br />
Eventually, the contractions were intense enough that I wanted to go the hospital. I didn't care that my water had only broken 90 minutes ago or that I wasn't timing my contractions and didn't know if they were 5-1-1 yet. I just knew I wanted to be at the hospital ASAP.<br />
<br />
So, I told hubby to call my mom, who lives about 45 minutes away and was going to come stay with our toddler. She didn't answer. I stepped out of the shower and dialed her on my phone at 4:49 a.m.<br />
<br />
My groggy mom answered: "Hello?"<br />
Me: "Can you come up?"<br />
Her, still disoriented: "Um... can you hold on a second?"<br />
*contraction hits*<br />
Me, in a fit of pain-induced rage: "NO I CANNOT HOLD ON A SECOND! I am literally in labor!" *screams for husband to come talk to my mom and to call the doula and midwife and our backup childcare and let everyone know it's go time*<br />
<br />
Thank goodness our backup childcare, Alison, literally lives in our neighborhood and answered her phone. She showed up, and I heard my husband giving her brief instructions as I was throwing on clothes and groaning through a contraction at the top of the stairs.<br />
<br />
We hopped in my husband's car, and he drove at a painstakingly slow pace down I-95. My Type A brain went through the checklist of all the things we needed for the hospital.<br />
<br />
"You grabbed my wallet right?"<br />
Him: ...<br />
Me: ...<br />
Him: "No...do you want to turn around and go get it?"<br />
<br />
Y'all, I'm not sure why I said yes. In that moment, I had visions of being turned away at Labor and Delivery because I didn't have my ID and insurance card, and I decided that yes, we should turn around and go get my wallet. I would worry about how to punish my husband for forgetting my wallet later.<br />
<br />
Here are some other things he did wrong. And before you think I'm "husband shaming" him, please understand that my primitive brain really did think he was doing everything wrong as I was laboring to get ready to birth his child:<br />
<br />
1) Forgot my wallet<br />
2) Didn't know where to park despite the VERY clear signs that said "Stork Parking" in the parking garage<br />
3) Pressed the button to the wrong floor on the elevator, despite the VERY clear signs that indicated the main floor was on level 8<br />
4) Offered me his jacket because I was shivering. I snapped at him that I wasn't cold; shaking is what my body does when I vomit (oh yeah, I apparently like to throw up during labor, so that's fun)<br />
5) Allowed people to offer me wheelchairs. NO I DO NOT WANT A WHEELCHAIR. Let me walk, people.<br />
<br />
Here is what he did right:<br />
He listened to me. In the car, I had told him that I wanted an epidural. I knew I COULD do a med free birth, and it was what I thought I wanted, but mentally, I was in a negative place. I wasn't confident like I was with my first baby-- I was fearful and felt unprepared and weak. I just didn't want to do it, even though I knew I could. And I told him as much.<br />
<br />
As soon as we got to the hospital, he talked to my doula and told her this update. She came and talked to me, and I assured her this was what I wanted.<br />
<br />
Then the midwife arrived. I remember the room was dark, and there were white Christmas lights hung on the wall above the bed. There was some sort of annoying pop music playing. I can't remember the song, but I remember feeling distinctly annoyed and wishing for some classical piano or calm spa music.<br />
<br />
Somehow I ended up on the bed and the midwife performed a cervical check. "Well, you're ten centimeters," she announced.<br />
<br />
I didn't have time for an epidural. Or to labor in the spacious tub.<br />
But looking back, I realize now I didn't need any of that. My body really did know what it was doing, and I listened to it. I had labored standing up, "dancing" with my husband while my doula provided counterpressure from behind. When it came time to push, I asked to push in a different position, and the nurse got a birthing bar for me to hold onto. As I was pushing, I remember pep talking myself: <i>Get.this.baby.out.of.you and the pain will be over. That's how this ends. </i><br />
<br />
I'm pretty sure Lillian was born within three or four pushes. I reached down and helped pull her up onto my chest: "We've been waiting for you," I exclaimed.<br />
<br />
And in that moment, all the fear I'd had, all the hesitations, all the uncertainties completely vanished. She was here, and she was perfect-- all 9 lb, 6 oz of her!<br />
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We could finally announce her name to the world: Lillian Rey. "Lillian" means "lily flower," and those are often symbols of beauty and purity. It is our prayer that her heart and spirit remain beautiful and pure always. "Rey" was tough-- we went back and forth about the spelling literally until we were in the hospital! We decided on "Rey" for two reasons (and yes, we know it's a Spanish word): 1) Star Wars, and 2) it means "king" in Spanish. </div>
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I kind of love giving a strong name to a little girl, and I kind of love that it's "king" and not "queen" because #genderequality-- the connotation of the word "king" is so much different than "queen"! </div>
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As I shared in <a href="http://unbarbaricyawp.blogspot.com/2017/09/katherines-birth-abridged-version.html">Katherine's birth story,</a> I always pick a life verse for our babies. Our angel baby in heaven, Lila Grace: 1 Samuel 1:27 "For this child I prayed; and the LORD hath given me my petition which I asked of him."<br />
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Katherine's: John 14:27 "Peace I leave with you; my peace I give you. I do not give to you as the world gives. Do not let your hearts be troubled and do not be afraid." John 14:27<br />
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Lillian's life verse: 1 Corinthians 16:13 "Be on your guard; stand firm in the faith; be courageous; be strong."<br />
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We adore you, sweet baby girl. We are so thankful God has given you to us!<br />
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<br />Christine S.http://www.blogger.com/profile/01758979207025927374noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-905124406134937190.post-83686732520883344732019-09-24T11:45:00.001-07:002019-09-24T11:45:17.531-07:00Four Reasons to Hold Your Tongue around New Moms Several months ago, I went to Chick-fil-a with my toddler and another adult. We were all finished eating, but we adults wanted to stay and chat. Of course, my toddler had other plans-- her chicken nuggets were gone, so she wanted down from her high chair. So, I walked her over to the enclosed playground area, opened the door, and went to follow her in. She pulled the door shut, waved "bye" to me, and went off to play on her own. I'm not exaggerating; she was ridiculously and painfully independent, even at 18 months old.<br />
<br />
I shrugged, sat back down a few feet away, and watched her through the floor-to-ceiling glass windows. There was one other child and his mother in there. My toddler played happily and independently for almost twenty minutes, with me watching her from a few feet away the entire time.<br />
<br />
I give kudos to that other mom. Because she saw my toddler. A look of alarm and confusion crossed her face as she started glancing around. I waved to her through the glass and smiled, and she didn't really react. When she exited a few minutes later, she didn't say anything to me. Maybe she wanted to. Maybe she thought I was a bad mom or that I was negligent and irresponsible. Maybe she didn't want to say anything and had no opinion of me.<br />
<br />
<b>But I give her kudos for not saying anything because many people in our society, especially those who are from older generations, just can't help themselves when it comes to judging moms (especially new moms) and offering their unsolicited opinions</b>.<br />
<br />
Here is why I don't think offering unsolicited advice to parents, especially new moms, is wise or helpful:<br />
<br />
<br />
<b>1) People often don't know the whole story. </b>I may share with you that I'm tired because my baby isn't sleeping, but that's not an invitation for you to tell me how you sleep trained your baby. I may divulge that my baby doesn't seem to like any solid foods, but that's not a green light for you to tell me to put cereal in my baby's bottle like you did with your kids.<br />
<br />
Just because I shared one tidbit of information with you doesn't mean you're fully equipped to offer advice because you don't have all the necessary information. So unless I specifically request advice or feedback, it's usually best if you smile and say, "That sounds really hard. You're doing a great job. You'll get through this." That makes new moms feel so loved and supported. And who knows? Maybe then we'll share some more details and ask you for advice. But until you know the whole story, it's usually best to keep your opinions to yourself, lest you leave a mom feeling frustrated and defeated.<br />
<br />
<b>2) Advice-givers make it about themselves.</b> Most of the time when a mom shares with you that she is tired, that she hasn't washed her hair in six days, that she hasn't made it out of the house in a week, it isn't to get advice about how to manage her time better. It's to vent. It's to get support and empathy.<br />
<br />
So when you chime in with advice, instead of being an active listener who reflects what the new parent is feeling, you invalidate the parent who's confiding in you. You also make the situation about YOU instead of about the mom, and that's just plain selfish.<br />
<br />
<b>3) People have lost perspective. </b>I know, I know-- the newborn stage is so sweet, the cuddles are amazing, the complete reliance this tiny human has on their parents is beautiful and pure. But when a parent is wading through the newborn fog, they don't need people who don't remember what that was like saying things like, "Cherish every moment. It goes so fast." I used to really struggle with that.<br />
<br />
Cherish EVERY moment? Even the two hours I'm holding a screaming newborn, noise canceling headphones on my ears, pacing up and down the hallway, counting my steps to make the time pass? Even the times when it takes my infant twenty minutes to latch on to my bleeding, cracked nipples, and she is screaming because she's hungry and frustrated, and I'm bawling because I'm in pain and haven't slept in 48 hours and am wearing an adult diaper and am dealing with family drama and am adjusting to changing hormones?<br />
<br />
<b>If it's been a few years since you've had an infant, try to remember you're looking back through rose-colored glasses. </b>Yes, the newborn months can be very sweet. They can also be hell on earth. They can test even the most saintly parent's patience and sanity. It's important to acknowledge that when you're talking to a parent who's in the weeds.<br />
<br />
4) <b>Every situation feels like a lose-lose. </b>I'm either too protective or not careful enough. If I ask someone to sanitize their hands before holding my newborn, I get an eye roll and a laugh: "Don't you know they need to be exposed to germs to build their immune systems? They're going to be exposed to germs at the sitter or church nursery anyway!" If I DON'T ask someone to sanitize their hands, I'm met with gasps: "You let your friend's filthy petri dish hands hold your baby? Don't you know it's flu season?"<br />
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If I put my baby in her crib to sleep, I'm not connected enough to her and I'm being cruel by making her sleep alone. If I let her sleep in bed with me (even while practicing Dr. James McKenna's safe bed-sharing practices), I'm endangering my baby and I might smother her to death accidentally and I'm a bad mom.<br />
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If I go back to work and leave her in daycare or with a sitter, I'm putting work first and letting someone else raise my child. If I stay home with her, I'm giving up my career and being too child-centered.<br />
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If I let her run up and down the aisles at the grocery store to get out energy, I'm permissive and don't know how to discipline her. If I expect her to sit quietly in the cart, I'm overbearing and have unrealistic expectations.<br />
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<b>Someone will always disagree with decisions I make as a mom.</b> And if you're one of those people, sometimes it really is wisest to just keep your mouth shut. Because trust me: I am probably stressing about every decision. I try to keep my cool, but in the back of my mind, I know that I am being judged by someone for every little decision I make. I try not to let it bother me. I try to have confidence. I try to go with my gut and do my research and project confidence. But the constant judgment and comments are really demoralizing. Don't be someone who adds to that noise.<br />
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<b>New moms are often seen as overprotective.</b> But if you read any news story EVER on social media about any sort of accident that happened to a child, people are quick to jump all over moms for being negligent: "Don't people supervise their kids anymore? This would never have happened to MY kid."<br />
<br />
Really, Nancy? You never took your eyes off your toddler to switch a load of laundry or unload the dishwasher? They never ate something they weren't supposed to, escaped from an area you thought you had child-proofed, stuck a toy up their nose, or got into something you thought was locked up? Ever?<br />
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I doubt it. Because you're human, and your child is human, and we do human things.<br />
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<b>If you think I'm overprotective, that's fine. But you don't need to tell me that. And you certainly don't have a right to argue with me when I'm protecting my child.</b> Let me put her in her car seat-- they've changed since you've had kids. Sanitize your hands-- have you ever seen photos or videos of infants with RSV or the flu? What I say goes because I am her mother.<br />
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<b>And if you think I'm being too lax with my kid, you don't need to say anything. Unless my kid is in immediate danger or it is truly a safety issue and not just a matter of preference.</b><br />
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But if you do decide to say something, make sure you are gracious and compassionate. Rearing a child in this day and age is hard. People are quick to put parents on blast, to judge them, to comment on their parenting techniques on social media.<br />
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That mom who is trying to strap her screaming child into the cart at Target is probably sleep deprived and stressed. It's none of your business that she didn't wipe the shopping cart handles down-- not your place to say anything. It's not your business to comment on my vaccination choices, the fact that my kid doesn't always eat organic grass-fed beef and everything non-GMO, the fact that my kid doesn't always wear a jacket or socks, how much screen time I give my kid, where my kid sleeps, etc.<br />
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Of course these are all important issues. Of course they're all somewhat controversial. And you and I might disagree about the choices I am making for my kid.<br />
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But please remember: it is not your child. So unless you are asked for advice, it is best to refrain.<br />
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<b>I'd love to see a society that was more respectful of new moms. More gracious. More compassionate. Less judgmental.</b>Christine S.http://www.blogger.com/profile/01758979207025927374noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-905124406134937190.post-86687511096781985232019-09-16T09:24:00.001-07:002019-09-22T15:51:56.261-07:00Ten Lessons I Will Teach My Daughters I have always been kind of a tomboy and possessed many stereotypically "male" traits. Growing up, I much preferred kicking a soccer ball around a muddy field to playing ponies and house with the girls in my grade. My closest friends in elementary school were definitely the boys, and I've never been great at figuring out how to socialize with females, especially in large groups.<br />
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I'm sarcastic, and I don't really mind conflict (though as I've matured, I've tried to be mindful of engaging in respectful and healthy conflict). I've taken unpopular stances on issues. Although I might be somewhat emotional compared to my stoic husband, I am definitely capable of logical thinking, separating my emotions from a situation, and not getting sucked into other people's big feelings.<br />
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Then, take into account the fact that the particular brand of Christianity with which I was raised taught that I had to submit to men, avoid being a leader in "mixed sex" settings, dress conservatively as to not cause men to stumble, and many more toxic and incorrect teachings. Things that directly violate not only a sound interpretation of the Word of God but also that contradict the very nature of who God created me to be: strong, independent, a leader, outspoken.<br />
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Given my personality and strengths/weaknesses,<b> I always just kind of assumed that when I became a mom, I'd be a boy mom. </b><br />
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But we have a little girl-- an amazing, funny, determined, kind, intelligent daughter. And just found out we have another little girl on the way!<br />
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After that ultrasound where we found out baby #2 is a little sister for our 2-year-old, I came to a realization: <b>God is trusting us with girls so we can raise them in His word in the way we are being led to parent. </b><br />
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This way of parenting includes<br />
- avoiding corporal punishment, which I believe to be unbiblical and flat out wrong,<br />
- teaching emotional intelligence, awareness, and health,<br />
- engaging in respectful and positive parenting that emphasizes choices, autonomy, and boundaries, and<br />
- deconstructing harmful human-created teachings of the evangelical church that are not at all what Jesus taught and that violate who Jesus is<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">We are also teaching our daughter other important things, like all the major Star Wars characters. </td></tr>
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To name a few.<br />
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So, with all of that in mind, here are ten lessons that I want to teach my daughters as we walk this path of raising them to be the women God created them to be:<br />
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<b>1. Your body is strong and beautiful, and you don't need to conform to society's standards of beauty. </b>If magazine articles or social media accounts you follow or even people you're around are sending messages that you're only beautiful if you are tan or thin or tall or have long legs or whatever, please feel free to avoid those.<br />
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God gave us our bodies, and we are to honor them and treat them well with good food and fresh air and exercise and proper sleep. But we are not to idolize them and work to create them into what society tells us is acceptable or attractive or sexy.<br />
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<b>2. You decide who touches your body. </b>Don't give hugs if you don't want to, to anyone, including Mommy, Daddy, grandparents, nice people at church, friends at school, aunts and uncles, and so forth. There will be some times for your health and safety that trusted adults will have to change your diaper, apply diaper cream to you, give you a vaccination, and so forth. Those tasks should be performed in an appropriate way.<br />
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<i>Predators will often start with a casual touch</i>-- on the arm, stroking hair, holding hands, etc.-- to desensitize their targets. And almost always, a person who sexually abuses a child is someone close: a trusted friend or a family member.<br />
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So I will ALWAYS support you when you do NOT want your body touched by someone. No matter who it is. I will stand up for you and tell an adult that you do not owe them a hug or a high five or anything. I will teach you to use your own voice to say "no" to any touch you don't want.<br />
(Unless it's a safety or health nonnegotiable).<br />
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<b>3. When people compliment you on your appearance, let them know you're more than your looks. </b>Because yes, your dress might be cute and your bow might be pretty, but you are more than what you wear and how you look. So if someone compliments you, it's okay to say, "Thank you! I like my boots too. I also really like reading books about science." People often don't realize that when they speak to boys, they ask about activities and when they talk to girls, they comment on appearance.<br />
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<b>4. You are not obligated to be nice to someone who makes your intuition or your gut uncomfortable. </b>Period. End of story.<br />
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<b>5. Never apologize for taking up space.</b> You are on this earth for a reason. You have a right to exist, to breathe, to stand, to walk. Women apologize for things that aren't their fault-- save your apologies for when you truly need them, when you need to say "sorry" for doing something wrong or hurting someone. But if someone bumps into YOU at Target, you don't need to say you're sorry.<br />
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<b>6. When people interrupt you, it's okay to firmly say, "Please let me finish speaking." </b>Unfortunately as you navigate life, you will sit in meetings and on committees and in class, and you'll muster up the courage to share something only to be cut off, many times by a male. I've seen it happen (and it's happened to me) even in circles where folks claim to be progressive and feminist and dedicated to eradicating patriarchy and sexism.<br />
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It is okay to say, "I wasn't done with my thought. Please let me finish." It's not rude of you. <i>It's not rude to be assertive. </i><br />
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<b>7. Getting angry doesn't make you overly emotional or irrational. </b>Our society seems to view anger as acceptable for males but unacceptable for females to display. It also discourages boys and men from crying so they don't appear "weak," failing to recognize that (as Brene Brown teaches) vulnerability is, in fact, a sign of strength.<br />
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<b>8. It is okay to refuse help when it is offered. </b>Especially by a male, when you didn't ask. Your safety is more important than his feelings.<br />
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In his book <i>The Gift of Fear </i>by Gavin De Becker, he says the following: <span style="background-color: white;">"'<span style="font-size: 16px; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">No' is a word that must never be negotiated, because the person who chooses not to hear it is trying to control you. If you let someone talk you out of the word 'no,' you might as well wear a sign that reads, 'You are in charge.'"</span></span></span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white; font-size: 16px; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">So if you're loading groceries into your car and someone approaches you and says, "Here, let me help you with that," and you get uncomfortable, say "No." If they insist, ask yourself WHY they are SO insistent on helping you-- it's probably not for you. It's probably for them, and unfortunately, they may have sinister intentions. </span></span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white;"><i>"No" is a complete sentence.</i> </span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white;"><b>9. Any person who asks you to send sexually explicit photos isn't worth your time and doesn't respect you. </b> And I can say this with the utmost confidence. I've known your father since I was 15, and no one respects me as much as he does. He respects my intellect, my opinions, my body, my heart, my emotions. And he has never ONCE asked me for anything I was uncomfortable with, including sending any kind of inappropriate picture. </span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white;">Also, they may use those photos later to blackmail you-- I've known young people whose inappropriate photos have been air dropped to an entire cafeteria full of kids. Or who've been told that if they don't do "x," then the person will post their photos on social media. </span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white;">And you don't need to ask anyone to send you inappropriate photos, either. </span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white;"><b>10. Standing up for what you believe in will cause conflict and cost you something. </b></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white;">In high school and college, it cost me friends and social status. </span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white;">In my adult life, it cost me job opportunities and letters of recommendation and potentially getting on the bad side of my bosses or authority figures. </span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white;">Call out a toxic work environment? Get told you can't work there in any capacity. </span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white;">Call out racism and sexism? Get scolded by your supervisor for rocking the boat. </span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white;">Stand up for someone who's being bullied? Get told you're "being too sensitive." </span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white;">But the truth is worth it. </span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white;">Doing what is RIGHT is worth it. </span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white;">So know that I will support you when you use your voice for what is right. It isn't easy. ESPECIALLY as a woman. We are expected to be gentle, docile creatures who never make waves, who are nice to everyone (which isn't the same as being kind, by the way), who just go with the flow and make everyone happy. </span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white;">Of course, there is so much more I'll teach my girls. But as I reflect on my journey to emotional and spiritual health, I realize that the ten lessons above have been monumental ones for me to learn (and, frankly, I'm still undoing some of the harmful teachings of my past and working on living out some of what I've written above). </span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white;"><i>But if there is ANYTHING that will motivate a mama to change, to grow, to be strong? It's her babies. </i></span></div>
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Christine S.http://www.blogger.com/profile/01758979207025927374noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-905124406134937190.post-78545147617964324422019-06-28T18:59:00.001-07:002019-06-28T19:15:07.737-07:00Being Proud of the Right Things In the past 22 months of being a mom, I've tried my hardest to refrain from telling others (or my daughter) that I'm proud of her. Especially for things like peeing on the toilet and crawling and other things she's supposed to learn to be a normal functioning human being.<br />
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But today, I am going to get a little braggy.<br />
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Because this incident that occurred and what my daughter did gave me hope that <i>maybe</i> I'm doing something right (as an Enneagram type 1, I both think that my way is the right way but also, paradoxically, think that I am a failure at everything and do everything wrong).<br />
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That maybe I am on my way to raising an empathetic daughter with a <a href="https://www.developgoodhabits.com/fixed-mindset-vs-growth-mindset/">growth mindset instead of a fixed mindset. </a> An emotionally healthy young woman who won't need to heal from and recover from her childhood. </div>
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<b>Emotional intelligence and awareness has been a huge focus of our parenting thus far</b>. We do our best to validate and reflect our daughter's big feelings. When she's having a tantrum, instead of telling her to be quiet and stop crying, we try to say, "Wow, you seem really upset right now. Do you need a hug?" or "You're really mad that I won't sing 'The Itsy Bitsy Spider' to you for the seven HUNDREDTH time. How can we help you feel better?" (TRUE STORY; she's obsessed with Itsy Bitsy Spider).<br />
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We especially love these two books: <a href="http://153 Pepperwood Place Portsmouth VA 23701">Little Monkey Calms Down</a> and <a href="https://www.amazon.com/Calm-Down-Toddler-Tools-Elizabeth-Verdick-ebook/dp/B00658PWSG/ref=sr_1_1?keywords=calm+down+time&qid=1561772610&s=digital-text&sr=1-1">Calm Down Time (English and Spanish in one book!)</a>, and it's SO neat to see our girl take deep breaths or reach for a blanket to cuddle with when she gets, to quote the book, "sad and mad and angry." </div>
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I am confident in our choice to talk her through her emotions and create safe spaces for her to feel big feelings because I've done so much reading and research on it and just feel in my gut it's the right choice. Still...I'm always a little bit nervous when KO starts having BIG FEELINGS and others are watching. </div>
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<b>Because y'all know how people are.</b> </div>
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They purse their lips, roll their eyes, sigh loudly, and generally disapprove of little people having any sort of feelings that aren't pure happiness. And some people see my reflecting feelings as "permissive" parenting (it's not, but that's a different discussion). As if I should spank them out of her (insert gigantic eye roll). </div>
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So recently, KO has really started to explore "happy" versus "sad" feelings. When she wakes up in the morning and I scoop her up from her crib, she often hugs me and smiles and says "happy! happy!" </div>
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And if a character in her book is frowning or crying, she has started furrowing her brows and saying, "Sad?" (Also, sometimes she thinks we are sad when we are laughing, so we are honestly still working on this one...she gets confused sometimes). </div>
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Hubby and I talk to her frequently about what to do if she feels sad or if someone else feels sad. "When you feel sad, you can ask for a hug or a blanket to cuddle with or take a deep breath or sing a song. When a friend feels sad, you can give a hug, if they want, or say something kind." Things like that. </div>
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I really didn't know she was picking up on it. <b>But what we say matters, what we teach our kids matters, and they are listening to us and watching our examples. </b></div>
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A couple weeks ago, hubby took KO to Chick-fil-a for dinner. She heard a baby crying across the restaurant, and her ears perked up. "Sad? Sad? Hug!" And she stretched out her arms and started walking towards the crying baby.<br />
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Be.still.my.heart. </div>
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But the most beautiful parenting moment I've had so far occurred at KO's cousin's birthday party. Her sweet cousin, who was turning three, for some reason decided that us singing "Happy Birthday" to her was very upsetting. I would say that it was our singing, but everyone in my family can sing in tune quite well ;) Our precious niece burst into tears and cried for the entire song. I felt awkward and didn't know what to do except try not to laugh and secretly hope that my sister would send me the video later. </div>
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But my little girl's eyebrows knit together with concern. "Sad? Sad?" </div>
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She marched over to her cousin and wrapped her adorably chubby arms around her. </div>
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And my eyes instantly welled up with tears.<br />
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She didn't care who was looking or what the occasion was. She saw someone who was upset and wanted to make them feel better. And I just thought, "Man, what if more of humanity had the pure innocence of children? No wonder Jesus says we must be like little children to inherit the kingdom of Heaven."<br />
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Do I want KO to be smart? Of course. </div>
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Do I want her to be good at sports? That'd be pretty cool. </div>
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Do I want her to go to college and get a good job? If I'm being honest, yes, I do, although that's her choice, of course. </div>
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But y'all, <b>what I really want more than that is for her to be a kind, loving, strong, compassionate person.</b><br />
Because what's a 4.0 GPA if you're a bully?<br />
What's an athletic scholarship if you treat others like garbage?<br />
What's being homecoming queen if you belittle others?<br />
What's winning the lead role in a school musical if you judge and exclude those who are different? </div>
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I'm ashamed it's taken me thirty years to TRULY grasp this concept, that it took me having a child to really set my priorities straight, to <i><u>really</u></i> understand what Jesus meant by loving your neighbors and being His hands and feet to the least of these. Having KO has made my heart both stronger and incredibly more tender. </div>
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There is nothing like realizing you are responsible for the moral and spiritual development of a human being to set your head straight.<br />
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And at the end of the day, not only am I trying to teach her, but I am also learning from this sweet little human. I'm reminded why we are encouraged to be like children. They are beautiful beings who can teach us much about the love of God. <br />
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<i>People were bringing little children to Jesus for him to place his hands on them, but the disciples rebuked them. When Jesus saw this, he was indignant. He said to them, “Let the little children come to me, and do not hinder them, for the kingdom of God belongs to such as these. Truly I tell you, anyone who will not receive the kingdom of God like a little child will never enter it.” And he took the children in his arms, placed his hands on them and blessed them.</i></div>
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<i>— Mark 10:13-16</i></div>
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Christine S.http://www.blogger.com/profile/01758979207025927374noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-905124406134937190.post-13220279120667949742019-04-15T21:05:00.001-07:002019-04-15T21:05:54.467-07:00Yes. We are still nursing. <span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">It's amazing how many people have opinions about my breasts.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">No, really.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Before I had a child, no one really commented on them because they knew (rightfully so) that my breasts are none of their business.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">But when it comes to how we should feed our babies, not only do many people have opinions, but they suddenly feel emboldened. They say things that truly aren't kind or sensitive or helpful or uplifting.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">I'm going to address some of them below.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><b>1) Don't let the baby use you as a human pacifier!</b> I have to be honest: this one literally makes me laugh aloud. Do you know what a pacifier is, you nosy person who said this to me in Target? It's a plastic nipple. The PACIFIER is the imposter here. My nipple is natural.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">I'm not saying anything is wrong with pacifiers. At all. I WISHED my daughter had taken a pacifier, and I tried to get her to take one.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">I'm simply saying that if I choose to nurse her instead of giving her a piece of plastic, let me be. Please don't imply that I shouldn't be a human pacifier. If I want to be, that's my choice. Some of us like nursing our babies to comfort them, and we should feel free to do so without the judgment or comments of others. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><b>2) If they're old enough to ask to nurse, they're too old to nurse. </b>This literally ignores what the World Health Organization has recommended: </span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #333333;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">"Review of evidence has shown that, on a population basis, exclusive breastfeeding for 6 months is the optimal way of feeding infants. Thereafter infants should receive complementary foods with continued breastfeeding up to 2 years of age or beyond."</span></span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #333333;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Most kids can talk before age two. But that doesn't mean we should stop nursing before age two if we don't want to or if our child doesn't want to. I'm not really sure why our society thinks it's "weird" for my toddler to say "milk?" and ask to nurse. She used to ask to nurse by just screaming. Why is it taboo now that she can say "milk" (which she learned to say pretty early on...). That's just illogical to me. </span></span><br />
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<b><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">3) Whipping your boobs out in public is offensive, and moms who do it are being exhibitionists. </span></b><br />
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The fact that breastfeeding is often referred to as "whipping out your boobs" is problematic. I've said it before, and I'll say it again: <b>words matter</b>. The phrase "whip out" is also used in reference to penises. "Whip out" implies frivolity and carelessness and sexuality and brazenness, and I assure you that breastfeeding my child is anything BUT those things.<br />
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Moms are literally just trying to feed their babies. I promise you. Moms DO NOT want you looking at their breasts while they're nursing. Look, y'all, if I wanted you to stare at my chest, I wouldn't cover it up with a squirmy stinky baby... I'd just flash you and call it a day.<br />
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And to Christians who think a nursing mom is a "stumbling block," I invite you to show me where in Scripture this is expressed. I think I've seen a verse or two about gouging out one's eye if it causes one to stumble, so... maybe that's an option?<br />
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<b>4) You're nursing her too often. She should be able to go longer without feeding! </b><br />
These comments made me shake my head with sadness. Nursing is supply and demand. <a href="https://kellymom.com/parenting/parenting-faq/fussy-evening/">Cluster feeding is real. </a> It didn't mean there was a problem with my supply (because you know how to make more milk? Nurse more often). It wasn't realistic to expect my infant to go for hours and hours without nursing.<br />
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Unless you are an International Board Certified Lactation Consultant, I really don't think it's appropriate for you to be giving me unsolicited nursing advice.<br />
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Here's the thing: I respect your right to have your opinions. I support your right to freedom of speech and expression.<br />
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<i>But it isn't always kind, helpful, or thoughtful for you to share all those thoughts and opinions with nursing moms. And if something isn't kind, helpful, or thoughtful... why share it at all? </i><br />
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If you think nursing past a certain age is weird, I encourage you to be open to learning about other cultures where this is the norm and consider researching the benefits of extended breastfeeding.<br />
If you're uncomfortable with a woman breastfeeding, you are welcome to avert your eyes.<br />
If you have certain beliefs about how breastfeeding works, check your information with a trusted source like <i>The Womanly Art of Breastfeeding</i> or <a href="http://www.kellymom.com/">Kelly Mom's Blog </a><br />
<br />
Examine why you hold the beliefs you do. I know I did-- and I did some research and changed my mind.<br />
<br />
So I'm going to keep nursing my toddler as long as we both want to and are comfortable with. When she climbs into my lap and asks for "milk" and I get to hold her there for a few minutes before she jumps off to embark on her next adventure, I'm going to be thankful. Thankful for the bonding and the snuggles and the health benefits and the emotional benefits and the blessing that nursing her has been in my life.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<b><br /></b>Christine S.http://www.blogger.com/profile/01758979207025927374noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-905124406134937190.post-10639117690149331412019-03-14T09:35:00.001-07:002019-03-14T10:01:12.312-07:00My Toddler Tells Me "No," and I am Here for ItShe's finally learned the "n-o" word.<br />
And I have to remind myself that THIS IS GOOD.<br />
She is learning autonomy. She is expressing boundaries. She is her own person.<br />
<br />
THESE ARE GOOD THINGS.<br />
<br />
This is a milestone in her development, a way for her to feel independent.<br />
<br />
THESE ARE NECESSARY THINGS.<br />
<br />
This is an opportunity for us as parents to practice listening to, validating, and acknowledging her opinions without giving in and caving to her.<br />
<br />
THESE ARE HEALTHY THINGS.<br />
<br />
"No" is a healthy, positive word. It's what I want her to say if someone tries to slide a hand up her shirt.<br />
Or offer her a drink.<br />
Or drive her home after they've been drinking.<br />
Or show her porn.<br />
Or ask her to send nudes.<br />
Or a million other less-than-desireable and potentially dangerous and deadly behaviors.<br />
<br />
No.<br />
NO.<br />
<b>NO. </b><br />
<b><br /></b>
She will not be able to say "no" to those big things if we don't let her practice saying "no" to the little things.<br />
<br />
No, you don't have to give hugs if you don't want to. I don't care if it's grandma or the nice old man at church or your cousin or your friend or even Mommy or Daddy. We respect your body, and you can say "no" if you feel uncomfortable.<br />
<br />
No, you don't have to wear that shirt I picked out. Pick out your own (weather-appropriate) shirt, even if it doesn't match. It's not the end of the world. It's a shirt.<br />
<br />
No, you don't have to eat any more if you aren't hungry. That doesn't mean you get a cookie or junk food. But it's your body. We offer you healthy food, and you decide how much you're going to eat.<br />
<br />
No, you don't have to be happy and agreeable all the time. We don't even expect that of adults! I will help you through your big feelings. I will parent you through your disappointment and anger and frustration and sadness. I will teach you emotional intelligence. Happy is not the only acceptable emotion. We'll work on processing your feelings together.<br />
<br />
I can hear some of y'all right now: "You're letting your kid run your life," and "You're the boss of her. The authority. This is why kids have no respect anymore-- they do whatever they want."<br />
<br />
That is absolutely not what I am saying.<br />
<br />
There are four types of parenting styles:<br />
1) <b>Authoritarian</b>: strict, controlling, rigid, demanding but not responsive<br />
2) <b>Permissive</b>: indulgent, lenient, accommodating, responsive but not demanding<br />
3) <b>Uninvolved</b>: neither responsive nor demanding<br />
4) <b>Authoritative</b> (the ideal): both demanding AND responsive, seeking to retain authority while also being responsive to kids' desires and needs<br />
<br />
<br />
Setting boundaries and having age-appropriate expectations and offering choice (when possible and appropriate) and respecting personhood is not permissive. It doesn't mean I'm not her God-given authority. It doesn't mean I am raising a rebellious hooligan who will be wreaking havoc on society (although eventually kids make their own choices and we can't control them, so talk to be again in 15 years).<br />
<br />
Respecting my daughter's "no" is me not wanting to raise a people pleaser.<br />
It's me wanting a child who thinks for herself.<br />
Who has a healthy respect for authority, NOT a blind allegiance to it (do you know how often an imbalance of power is present in abuse situations? Way too often)<br />
Who is confident in her convictions<br />
Who engages in healthy conflict instead of avoiding it at all costs.<br />
Who feels comfortable sharing her true, authentic self because she knows I will love and accept her for it, even if our opinions differ, because she is her own person.<br />
<br />
"No" is good. "No" is healthy. And it's my job to help my daughter develop her "no" by keeping the end game in sight. Parenting isn't about raising compliant, robotic little cherubs. It is about raising respectful, functional, capable adults.<br />
<br />Christine S.http://www.blogger.com/profile/01758979207025927374noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-905124406134937190.post-72613933918319161722019-02-26T07:39:00.001-08:002019-02-26T14:39:27.579-08:00Motherhood and Body Love <i>*Trigger warning: self-harm and eating disorder mentioned.* </i><br />
<br />
<br />
The year is 2006. I'm an honor roll student who's active in church, choir, volleyball, and various school clubs. I am an editor for my school newspaper, a go-to babysitter for neighbors, a regular fixture on my church's praise and worship team. To most of the adults in my life, I look like a responsible, accomplished young lady with a bright future.<br />
<br />
No matter what my day holds--driving thirty minutes away for a voice lesson, spending two hours at volleyball practice after school, meeting up with friends at the library to work on a project-- every morning begins with a ritual: <i>step on the scale.</i><br />
<br />
It ends the same way, too. Every night, I step on the scale to make sure I haven't gained any weight since 7 a.m. that day. If I haven't, then I reward myself with a spoonful of peanut butter. If I have, it's water only, or something that's zero calories, like a few pickles.<br />
<br />
<i>Looking back, my heart breaks for that teenage girl.</i> She was smart and beautiful and capable and talented, but she was insecure and hurting and self-conscious and paranoid.<br />
<br />
My journey from an anorexic self-harming teenager to a strong and confident 30-year-old woman has been one I've shared with many. But now that I have a daughter of my own, I want to revisit some of the highlights of my struggle and healing because I am seeing them in a whole new light.<br />
<br />
<b>Almost everyone, no matter how beautiful they are or how "perfect" (by society's definition) their body is, has insecurities. </b>Models will tell you this. Bodybuilders will tell you this. The people we look at and WISH we looked like also don't like things about their bodies.<br />
<br />
When I was 17 and 18 years old, I weighed 30 pounds less than I do right now, and I am currently at a healthy weight for my height and body type. I still thought I was fat and unattractive because I viewed myself through such a distorted lens. The emotional turmoil I felt inside spilled out in the form of self-loathing and self-harm.<br />
<br />
It is terrifying and devastating for me to look back and think about what I used to say to and about myself.<br />
<br />
I look back on my teenage self-- no cellulite, tanner, thinner, no gray hairs or wrinkles, super white teeth-- and realize that being happy with my body wasn't as much about my actual body as it was about my attitude and values. I possessed a lot of physical traits that society and the world told me were "attractive," and <b>I still hated my body. My attitude was wrong. My priorities were wrong. My values were off-base. </b><br />
<br />
I was starving myself; I was self-harming. I was going to Target to try on size 4 pants and still finding flaws with my body, peeling the pants off in disgust and determining to make myself throw up once I got home.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Hello, spray tan and 16-year-old self. </td></tr>
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<br />
<br />
Now I'm older. I'm paler. I have more gray hairs than any 30-year-old I know (it's genetic). I still get pimples. My stomach and thighs have stretch marks, my once-perky breasts aren't quite so perky anymore, and I have varicose veins on my legs. I definitely have cellulite, and my teeth aren't super white anymore.<br />
<br />
<b>But I am so happy with my body and so grateful for it.</b><br />
<br />
I'm thankful my body can play volleyball and work out and run, if I so choose.<br />
That my vocal cords can produce beautiful melodies.<br />
That my arms can carry 18 bags of groceries in one trip and rock my toddler to sleep.<br />
That my body has been able to create and sustain life.<br />
That my ears can hear music and then my fingers can go to the piano and replicate what I heard.<br />
That I can walk, talk, run, lift, and do so many things that many other people physically cannot do.<br />
We all have different things we can be thankful for when it comes to our bodies.<br />
<br />
<b>Why do we care so much about appearance, y'all? And why are we still passing down these messages to the younger generation of women coming up?</b><br />
<br />
It shouldn't matter that I'm not tan like society tells me I have to be.<br />
That I have curves that make it impossible to buy pants.<br />
That my stomach is soft and very "poke-able" (as my daughter, who pokes my bellybutton every day, can attest to)<br />
That my hair is fluffy and frizzy 99 percent of the time.<br />
<br />
<br />
Here's what I wish I could've told my teenage self:<br />
1) Appreciate what your body can do, and don't take any of its abilities for granted.<br />
2) Be more concerned about how you treat people than with how you look.<br />
3) Having a healthy body is more important than having a beautiful one.<br />
4) If other people start talking negatively about their looks, you don't have to listen to it. You also don't have to compliment them if they're fishing for compliments. You can reiterate to them that being healthy and kind are infinitely more important than living up to society's expectations.<br />
5) Don't comment on other people's bodies.<br />
<br />
Here's what I want to tell you, my dear readers:<br />
<br />
1) <b>What you might perceive as a compliment about someone's physical appearance might do more harm than good.</b> For example, when I was a senior in high school, I went and visited my potential college. I practiced with the volleyball team and ended up attending there. Six months later, I had dropped about twenty pounds, and everyone commented on how good I looked, how thin I'd gotten-- and <i>I know they meant it to be positive.</i><br />
<br />
What they didn't realize is that I got thin by starving myself. Literally. I went for ten days without eating a real meal one time. I used to eat pickles and banana peppers because they were low or zero calories. Every time I showered, I tried to make myself vomit. I weighed myself obsessively. I would say "no" to friends when they invited me places because I was afraid there might be food involved somehow. I was cold all the time, my breath smelled weird, my heartbeat was sluggish.<br />
<br />
But the well-intentioned comments about how thin I was getting fueled my fire, unfortunately.<br />
People telling me I was beautiful and attractive only made me feel worse.<br />
So now, I usually refrain from making comments about someone's weight loss or beauty. There are some exceptions to this-- I have friends who post their workouts on social media, so sometimes I'll tell them I can see their hard work paying off. I always try to tell pregnant women they look beautiful. And even in those situations, I'm really hesitant and paranoid I might be triggering someone.<br />
<br />
<b>2) It isn't helpful to tell someone to "eat a burger" if you think they're too thin. </b>I cannot emphasize enough how unhelpful and hurtful this is. Not every thin person isn't eating. The beauty of humanity is that God has created us all different, and that includes our bodies. It's rude and insulting to make comments telling people who you deem as "too skinny" to eat some sort of fattening food.<br />
<br />
More importantly, though, <b>you don't heal from an eating disorder by "just eating."</b> That's not how it works. <b>Eating disorders need to be addressed at their root causes through professional counseling.</b> "Just eat" isn't going to fix the problem if there is one.<br />
<br />
You know how I know?<br />
My eating disorder got WORSE after people knew about it. After I told a female youth group leader, who then told my parents, who then sat and talked with me about it. But I didn't get professional help and it actually became EASIER. Because I guess people thought that since I had admitted my behavior, I was going to stop. I didn't.<br />
<br />
I did get professional counseling in college, and that's when I started the healing process. I didn't start healing because people told me I needed to eat more. That wasn't helpful at.all.<br />
<br />
<b>3) Kids are listening to and watching us and how we treat our bodies. </b><br />
<br />
I decided when I was pregnant that my daughter's health and safety would always come before adult's feelings. I've tried to live by that rule (I'm still a work in progress).<br />
<br />
<i>So if someone starts to talk about dieting or losing weight in front of my daughter, I ask them to stop. Or I just walk away. </i>I am her protector and her advocate, and I refuse to subject her to those toxic conversations if there's anything I can do to avoid them.<br />
<i><br /></i>
I've also had to make changes in how I speak: Now, if I find myself wanting to criticize my body when I get out of the shower or try on clothes, I refrain.<br />
Instead, I point out to my daughter how amazing our bodies are:<br />
"These feet have run many miles. They even ran a 10K one time."<br />
"These thighs are strong from years of playing volleyball."<br />
"This stomach has expanded to carry life and birth it into the world."<br />
"We eat vegetables so our body feels good and healthy."<br />
<br />
It felt REALLY awkward to say those things aloud at first. I felt silly. I felt fake. I felt weird.<br />
After all, I was used to standing in front of the mirror and sucking in and poking and prodding, lips pursed and shaking my head.<br />
<br />
But now, my daughter is watching me. Listening to me. And I'll be damned if I don't do everything in my power to cultivate a positive body image that she can imitate.<br />
<br />
I also try not to talk negatively about food, although I admit I am still a work in progress. I try really hard not to say things like, "I'm going to be bad and eat this cupcake. It's going to go straight to my thighs!" And IT IS HARD because <b>I have been programmed to say those things </b>(haven't we all, ladies?). I try not to complain about how my clothes fit or don't fit or make me look "fat" in front of my daughter-- if something doesn't fit, I just get rid of it now; I don't hold on to hope that I'll squeeze back into it someday (thanks, Marie Kondo).<br />
<br />
How I talk about my body and her body and other people's bodies is so very important and will shape her mindset for years to come. I pray earnestly that I can help her cultivate a positive one.<br />
<br />
<b>4) It's easy to go all "Christian-ese" and throw out well-meaning cliches, but most of the time, they're not helpful. </b><br />
<br />
I grew up speaking Christian-ese. I'm as fluent in that language as English and sarcasm.<br />
<br />
As a teen, I knew that I should "find my worth in God" and that "He values inner beauty over outer beauty." But I didn't really understand HOW to find my worth in Him. I didn't know what inner beauty REALLY meant. Because even the Christian women I was around wore make-up and dressed fashionably and got their nails done and told their daughters they needed to "get some sun" if they were looking too pale. I was told that I shouldn't wear yoga pants around boys in case I "tempted them," as if they were animals with no self-control or accountability.<br />
<br />
How is <i>that</i> valuing inner beauty?<br />
<br />
<i>(Truthfully, I need a separate blog post to go into more detail about the damage that the messages I was hearing at church and from Christian leaders in my life did to me. But I suspect a lot of Christian women can relate to hearing toxic messages about their femininity and their bodies growing up)</i><br />
<br />
What is helpful, in my experience, is actively and consistently modeling God's love and grace. Treating all people, regardless of what they look like, with dignity and respect because they are God's children. Affirming people for the way they treat others and love others instead of how they look. I think those are some good places to start.<br />
<br />
<br />
<b>5) Men, there is a LOT you can do to help the women in your life out. </b>Speak positively about the strong, smart, creative women in your life. Avoid objectifying and sexualizing women. If you have a daughter, affirm her skills and talents and passions.<br />
<br />
When you offer praise or compliments, make sure they're not <i>primarily</i> about looks. Tell your sister she has awesome leadership skills. Tell your daughter you're proud of the way she stuck with her math homework, even though it was really hard. Tell your wife you love how creative she is, or how kind she is, or whatever.<br />
<br />
<i>And remember, men have body image issues, too. Because I'm not a man, I don't feel qualified to speak on them, but I don't want to ignore that fact. </i><br />
<br />
<b>6) Raising a daughter in today's society scares me sometimes. </b><br />
<b><br /></b>
Right now, my toddler will dance in her diaper in front of the mirror. She doesn't know or care that she is pale (an undesirable feature, by the world's standards-- trust me, people comment on my pasty skin color all.the.time and think it's okay to do so). She doesn't care that her tummy is protruding or that she has leg rolls. She looks at herself in the mirror and cracks up laughing and smiles. She loves herself. It is so pure, so innocent, and my heart breaks when I think about her ever looking at her body in any other way.<br />
<br />
<br />
There are media messages everywhere telling her she's not enough, both explicitly and implicitly.<br />
There are men who will try to grab her butt in public. Who will find her on social media and send her inappropriate messages. Who will catcall her and give her unwanted sexual attention and try to sexually violate her. I know because all of those things have happened to me.<br />
<br />
I can do two things:<br />
1) I can try to help change society, and<br />
2) I can raise her to be strong and confident.<br />
<br />
I'm trying to do both of those things. I'm trying to take my experience, my pain, my baggage and turn them into strengths and learning experiences.<br />
<br />
I hope you'll join me.<br />
<b><br /></b>
Christine S.http://www.blogger.com/profile/01758979207025927374noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-905124406134937190.post-68993277891002026902019-01-08T20:17:00.000-08:002019-01-08T20:17:02.373-08:00Four Types of Small Talk New Moms EndureI love almost everything about being a mom: the tiny fingers that entangle themselves in the hairs at the nape of my neck and pull like we're playing tug-o-war. The sharp teeth that rake themselves on my skin when a nursing session is coming to an end. Spending 90 percent of my waking moments literally trying to prevent Katherine from falling off the bed, choking on cat food, playing with cell phone chargers... <br />
<br />
But one thing I don't love? <br />
<br />
<b>The small talk. </b><br />
<br />
I used to be able to go to Target and NOT TALK TO ANYONE. Thank you, self checkout! I could run in, grab mascara and granola bars and a new scarf (ha, as if I ever only grabbed three things), use the self-checkout lane, and LEAVE. <br />
<br />
No awkward conversations. No forced smiles and courtesy laughs. <br />
<br />
<b>Not anymore, folks.</b> Something about having a baby just attracts strangers<br />
. Can they smell the sweet scent of an infant with their bloodhound noses? Can they spy Katherine from across the parking lot with their x-ray vision? I don't know... but I have spoken to more strangers in the past eight months than I ever thought possible or healthy. <br />
<br />
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</div>
It's not just that I am the worst small talker on earth. No. That's not the only reason I dread taking baby girl in public. <br />
<br />
It's the NATURE of the small talk. I feel like the conversations fall into one of the following categories: <br />
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<b>1) Increasingly Intrusive Interrogations</b>. This strange old lady--let's just call her "Nancy"-- starts off with the innocuous but predictable, "How old is she?" Safe territory. But undoubtedly, Nancy gets bold and <strike>tiptoes</strike> dives right in to dangerous territory: "Is she sleeping through the night yet? Is she still nursing? Has she started solids yet? When are you having another one?" <br />
<br />
No, Nancy. Those questions make me want to dodge, dip, dive, duck, and dodge. Not only are they not really of a stranger's business, but they also raise my hackles. Sleep is such a sensitive issue. We, for example, do not and will not cry it out or sleep train. And frankly, I don't want to get into a discussion with stranger Nancy about why that is. <br />
<br />
Same for nursing. I'm going to nurse for at least a year. Thanks, American Academy of Pediatrics, for the recommendation: "What we do know is that as your child moves from babyhood toward toddlerhood, breastfeeding continues to act as a source of profound comfort and security, laying the groundwork for a confident, happy, and healthy future. For this reason, as well as the continued nutritional and immunologic benefits of breastfeeding, <b>the AAP advises mothers to continue nursing beyond the first year for as long as mutually desired by mother and child</b>." <-- emphasis mine (https://www.healthychildren.org/English/ages-stages/baby/breastfeeding/Pages/Continuing-Breastfeeding-Beyond-the-First-Year.aspx) <br />
<br />
But this is SO looked down upon and judged in our society (I totally plan to blog about that later, by the way) and I don't feel like defending my choice to a stranger.<br />
<br />
<b>2)</b> <b>Uber-awkward Oversharing.</b> I'm relatively comfortable discussing topics that might make others squirm. But when Nosey Nancy starts sharing about her baby grandson's poopy diapers and her own birth experience? Well, that's when I have to call it quits. I don't know you like that. <br />
<br />
<b>3)</b> <b>Touching and Tickling. </b>I guess this isn't technically "small talk," but it's a behavior everyone engages in with the little munchkin. <br />
<br />
Honestly, I am generally okay with others holding and interacting with Katherine. At every school event I've attended, I've basically passed her around to my current high school students like a hot potato (if you've never seen a football player bounce a little baby, it's THE cutest thing EVER, y'all). I am totally fine leaving her with sitters and in church nursery. She does GREAT with other people. I don't think I'm overprotective (but even if it was, it's my kid, so *shrug*). <br />
<br />
But during flu season when strangers would come up and grab her hands (and she was teething)? I found myself exhausted trying to contain her hands and come up with scripts to keep them from touching her.<br />
<br />
Whyyyyyy are you touching her? <br />
<br />
But here's the other thing: we want to teach Katherine healthy body boundaries and body autonomy (hence why I just bought <a href="https://www.amazon.com/Gift-Fear-Survival-Signals-Violence/dp/0440226198">Gavin de Becker's </a><i><a href="https://www.amazon.com/Gift-Fear-Survival-Signals-Violence/dp/0440226198">The Gift of Fear</a></i>, which will be here Tuesday. So you'd better believe that if my toddler doesn't want you to touch her or hug her or high five her, I will be supporting that 100%-- I don't care if you're a stranger or her family member or my friend. <br />
<br />
<b>4) All the Advice.</b> I try to extend grace and understand that others are offering advice because they want to help. However, it gets exhausting when I'm just trying to pick up some groceries at Kroger and I'm getting advice that doesn't even jive with my parenting philosophies. <br />
<br />
It goes in one ear and out the other, but it does eat up time and we all know babies are basically ticking time bombs. <br />
<br />
<br />
I guess the positive aspect of taking Katherine in public, which I should probably focus on more, is that she allows me to connect with others. Babies draw people together. They make people smile and remind them of the joys of the simple things of life. <br />
<br />
People are nicer to me with Katherine is with me-- they let me cut them in line. They hold doors for me. They let me cross the street or park in the closest parking space. And for that, I am very grateful.<br />
<br />
And I'll try to get better at the small talk, y'all. Because I guess it just comes with the territory. <br />
<br />
<br />Christine S.http://www.blogger.com/profile/01758979207025927374noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-905124406134937190.post-36401166471285446462018-12-03T23:58:00.005-08:002019-01-08T10:44:12.047-08:00What I Say Matters <span style="font-family: inherit;">Words matter. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit;">As an English major and a writer, I know this. Words have the power to create marriages and peace treaties. They also have the power to destroy lives and start wars. They are nuanced and sometimes complicated and sometimes beautiful, and I've always known they were incredibly significant and powerful. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><b>Despite this knowledge, I'm sometimes quite careless with my words. </b>They tumble sarcastically out of my mouth. They build a mountain of gossip because I want to fit in. They attack the driver of the minivan who just cut me off on the interstate because DON'T YOU KNOW THAT BLINKERS ARE THERE FOR A REASON?</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit;">My mom used to tell me that it was never my actions that got me in trouble-- it was my words (and sometimes facial expressions; I could destroy nations with my eye roll). There's a reason that the Bible says we can't tame our tongues, and I used to use that as an excuse to say whatever I wanted. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><b>Then I had my daughter. </b></span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;">My fiercely independent little girl. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">With big blue eyes and a laugh that causes her whole body to convulse with joy and super sweet dance moves and the desire to wave at every.single.person we see in Target: "Hi! Hi! Hi!" and she will not stop, God love her, until the intended recipient of her overly enthusiastic salutation reciprocates. Bless her. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">This little girl understands <b>so much</b> of what I say. She's 16 months old, and I can tell her to put her books away, and she (usually) does it. If I say, "food," "snack," "hungry," "dinner," "breakfast," or "lunch," she immediately points to her mouth and starts violently signing "PLEASE!" in sign language. If I say, "Sit on your bottom so we can put on your shoes," she sits and sticks her foot up in the air.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">She may not be <i>saying</i> a whole lot right now, but she sure is listening. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">She understands words. </span><br />
<b><span style="font-family: inherit;">That means that what I say in front of her matters. </span><span style="font-family: inherit;">How I say it matters. Even more than ever. </span></b><br />
<b style="font-family: inherit;">Because my words will become her inner voice.</b><span style="font-family: inherit;"> </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">Those words will help shape how she views herself and the world. What an ENORMOUS, sobering responsibility; it makes me want to duct tape my mouth shut right now and seal it with super glue. Truly, it's intimidating to think that everything I say in front of her shapes her as a person. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: inherit;">Despite how hard I try to be cautious and thoughtful with what I say, I'm so far from perfect that it is painful and embarrassing. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;">I yell at her sometimes. I start sentences off with a sassy, "Girrrrrrrllll." I've let a not-so-savory word or two slip in front of her before. That's just the tip of the iceberg, y'all. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">But I am <i>conscious</i> of my words and tone around her, and that's a start. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">I try to tell her things I know will build her confidence and enhance her emotional health. Kids believe everything we tell them. Why not use that to our advantage by telling our kids they are kind, gentle, capable, good at solving problems, hardworking, funny people? They'll believe us and it will become a self-fulfilling prophesy. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">I believe this is especially important with girls, <a href="https://www.nytimes.com/1991/01/09/education/little-girls-lose-their-self-esteem-way-to-adolescence-study-finds.html">whose self-esteem peaks at nine years old. </a></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">These are some that I've told her recently: </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">When she brushed her own teeth: <i>"You did it!" <-- my go-to instead of saying "Good job" or "good girl" </i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;">When she finally figured out how to successfully buckle her carseat straps without my help: <i>"You are such a good problem solver. When you keep trying, there's nothing you can't figure out!"</i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;">When I told her to stop climbing the stairs and she listened: </span><i style="font-family: inherit;">"Thank you for being a good listener." </i><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;">When I was putting her down for naptime: <i>"I'm so glad God made me your mom."</i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;">When we were at the library and she was sharing toys with a little boy: <i>"You're such a good friend to others. You're so kind to people."</i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;">When she threw herself backwards screaming because I told her not to touch the stove: <i>"It's hard to be told no, isn't it? It really stinks."</i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;">When we were at swimming lessons and she did literally propel herself halfway across the pool to me with her chubby legs: <i>"Wow, look how far you swam! Your body is so strong!" </i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;">All the time:<i> "I love you and I like you." <-- the "I like you" portion is crucial. </i></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><b>I'm not going to lie-- sometimes it's hard to think of positive things to say.</b> I feel silly saying some of the things above. Or maybe it was a rough day and all I really want to do is just pee by myself and drink my coffee hot and maybe not deal with 17 different temper tantrums. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">To be fair, I also said some not-so-great things to her, too. </span><br />
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When that happens, I keep the following in mind:<br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333;">"</span><span style="background-color: white;">[T]</span><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333;">here is a ratio of <b>5:1 positive feelings and interactions for every one negative feeling and interaction.</b> If this ratio is closer to 1:1 or, worse, 1:5, then the relationship is likely will be unhealthy and even toxic. Researchers have found this same “magic ratio” present in other healthy, positive relationships as well such as teams at work, friendships, and classrooms" (<a href="https://www.apacenter.com/magic-ratio-positive-parenting/">APA Center</a></span></span>).<br />
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So, I force my pessimistic, snarky self to be verbalize positivity.<br />
And you know what?<br />
It doesn't just benefit my daughter. It benefits <i>me </i>to verbalize affirmations or reframe challenging moments in my own mind. I find myself talking more positively in my OWN mind because I think, <i>Would I want my daughter to talk to herself this way? To beat herself up for forgetting to pay a bill? To criticize her stretch marks? To lack confidence?</i><br />
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And of course, the answer is a resounding no.<br />
What I say matters-- to others, to myself, and most especially to my sweet girl.<br />
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<br />Christine S.http://www.blogger.com/profile/01758979207025927374noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-905124406134937190.post-60283036176146355862018-11-06T10:23:00.000-08:002018-11-18T20:09:42.475-08:00A Mom's Favorite Question "So what do you do?"<br />
The dreaded question.<br />
In the past, it was easy to answer: "I'm a teacher."<br />
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The inevitable follow-up questions would also be easy.<br />
"What do you teach?"<br />
"English."<br />
"What grade?"<br />
"Eleventh and twelfth."<br />
"What books do y'all read in class?"<br />
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You get the picture. It was simple to communicate because I had a career, and I could talk about that career.<br />
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Sure, I did a lot more than teach-- <b>but when people ask "what do you do?" what they are REALLY asking about is your occupation or career.</b><br />
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If someone asked me, "What do you do?" and I was honest, I could answer<br />
-wipe a toddler's butt five times a day<br />
-create piano mash-ups of songs I hear on the radio<br />
-crossword puzzles, and lots of them<br />
-play volleyball until my knees creak and pop in protest<br />
-use dry shampoo liberally<br />
-drool over Joanna Gaines' kitchen<br />
-eat Cheerios off the floor<br />
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I wonder how they would react. Disgust? Confusion? A polite laugh?<br />
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When I decided to leave the classroom and quit teaching, I wasn't the most stressed about losing that income. No. I was most anxious over how to answer this question, "What do you do?" Probably because so much of my self-worth was (and still is) tied up in my productivity, perceived work ethic, and contributions to society (I'm working on that, y'all. One thing at a time).<br />
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I dreaded this question also because the answer is a little complicated. <br />
1) I'm not technically just a stay-at-home mom. I make a tiny but of money writing and editing for a local magazine. I coach. I teach four-year-olds once per week. So, I'm working part-time, really.<br />
2) There is a stigma attached with being a stay-at-home mom. It's infuriating, but it exists.<br />
3) The potential retort, "I wish I could do that, but we can't afford it." Well, you might be able to afford it, but you wouldn't be able to have a lot of the things you want for your family, and that's okay.<br />
4) Another: "Wow, you're so lucky."<br />
5) Yet another: "I could never do that."<br />
6) And my favorite, which I've actually been asked multiple times: "So now that you're not teaching, what do you do all day?" One person even said, "So do you just chill all day?"<br />
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As someone who has always prided herself on being the busiest and doing the most, the thought of people perceiving me as a lazy mom who sat at home and did nothing was paralyzing. Utterly paralyzing. I'm working to free myself of others' opinions, but clearly, I have not yet arrived. I'm still a work in progress in that area.<br />
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So, what DO I do? Some of same things working moms and dads do. Some of same things stay-at-home dads and other stay-at-home moms do.<br />
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<b>Is staying home easier than when I was teaching? Honestly, so far, yes.</b> It is easier for me to have proper work-life balance, for me to have energy to give to my daughter each day, for me to have patience with her and time for my husband and friends. But so far, it's easier than teaching was. I know that's not always going to be true. I know this isn't true for every parent who stays home. I'm just sharing my experience.<br />
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<b>Have I regretted leaving teaching? </b>Yes and no. Deep down, no, I haven't. I have peace about leaving. But there have been a few moments I've second guessed myself, if I'm being honest. I'm super goal-oriented (fellow firstborns, raise your hands!), and I'm also incredibly altruistic; I have to be helping people to feel useful. So, yeah, a few times I've gotten to the end of a day, glanced around my littered house, caught a glimpse of my unwashed hair in the mirror, and thought, "I literally accomplished nothing today."<br />
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<b>Which, of course, isn't true. </b><br />
I sang hymns to my daughter before nap time and took her to the library after she woke up.<br />
I changed her diaper six times and applied diaper rash cream to her red bum, despite the fact that she was writhing like an eel and screaming like a banshee.<br />
I fed her three meals and cleaned up said three meals from the floor because she still doesn't understand how a freaking spoon works.<br />
I changed her outfit because she thinks her sippy cup is a water toy.<br />
I read <u>Don't Push the Button!</u> to her no fewer than 17 times, and I practiced reading with enthusiasm and a variety of accents. Then we read at least ten other books multiple times each.<br />
I hugged her when she bumped her head and played "catch" with her for thirty minutes and kept her from climbing up the stairs and pulling the cat's tail.<br />
Some days, I even manage to sweep, vacuum, wipe counters, do dishes, or fold laundry. Some days, not so much.<br />
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I pay someone $10+ an hour to do all that stuff I listed above; it's called babysitting. So even if all I did was keep her alive every single day, we parents LITERALLY pay someone to do that when we decide to go on a date or whatever.<br />
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<b>Being a working mom. Being a stay-at-home mom. One isn't necessarily superior to the other. One isn't harder than the other. </b><br />
It really all depends. It's situation. It depends upon you and your partner, if you have one, and your child(ren), and your personality, and so much more.<br />
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So, what do I do?<br />
A little bit of this, a little bit of that. Not as much as I used to do, that's for sure. But everything I do, I do with so much more peace, positive energy, and perspective than I did before. For that, I am thankful and blessed.<br />
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<br />Christine S.http://www.blogger.com/profile/01758979207025927374noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-905124406134937190.post-51357772485009867702018-10-16T20:39:00.003-07:002018-10-16T21:04:42.230-07:00When Former Teachers Make WavesIt's officially been six months since I decided to leave teaching, four months since I've left the classroom, and a month since a new school year started. So, I've had plenty of time to process my decision and a little time to live my new normal.<br />
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My plan last year was to not teach full time but still be involved in my old school by substitute teaching. It's really difficult to get qualified subs, especially ones who are willing to work on Fridays. As a licensed teacher who was familiar with the school and county, it would have been a benefit to the school to have me sub. It was a win-win: the school would get a qualified sub, and I would get to be around students and coworkers. Oh, and do you know who's negatively affected when there's a shortage of subs? The students, for one. And the teachers, who are required to give up their planning period to cover others' classes. So, having subs is crucial to everyone's success and sanity.<br />
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When I say I am highly qualified to be a substitute teacher, I'm not exaggerating. In order to sub, one must have two years of college. That's basically it. I have my master's in education, my teaching license, seven years of experience, nominations as my school's teacher of the year (and the t-shirt to prove it), three file folders full of letters and cards from former students, and several other teaching accolades and awards. So, like, I wasn't there to just collect a paycheck or let kids play on their phones all class. I LOVED teaching and the kids.<br />
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Y'all... there are substitute teachers out there who don't even show up for jobs, who don't follow lesson plans, who cancel at the last minute, who curse at students, and worse. So... yes, I really would've been an asset to the school.<br />
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Well, subbing didn't work out, and not because I didn't want it to.<br />
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At first, I was livid. I was hurt. I was in disbelief.<br />
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<b>But when you choose to write blog posts about some of the issues with the education system, including at the school level, there are consequences, and this turned out to be one of the consequences. </b><br />
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So, I did what I always do when I'm having a hard time processing: I prayed. <i>God, I do NOT get it. I listened to You when You told me to leave teaching. I felt like You were prompting me to speak out about the truth of my experience...Why am I being punished for speaking being bold and brave? </i><br />
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And I didn't get a clear answer for a while.<br />
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I avoided school events, despite former students asking me to attend, because I knew I was not welcome and that my presence might cause awkwardness. And, honestly, because I'm not used to <b>not</b> being held in high regards by places of employment or former places of employment. I'm a hardworking and competent employee.<br />
But I learned that there is more to doing a job than just being qualified or having satisfactory and exemplary job performance (as all my formal written reviews, observations, and feedback demonstrated)-- there are others' personal feelings to take into account. That's still a bit of a hard pill for me to swallow.<br />
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So, this has been a slow processing journey. It's been somewhat daunting thinking about cutting my ties with my former school and even with teaching altogether. As I have always said, I love the school and the people there and teaching in general.<br />
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But being bold is worth it.<br />
Doing the right thing is worth it.<br />
<b>Modeling that for my daughter is worth it. </b><br />
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When I was in the classroom, I didn't speak out or pushed back for fear of retaliation. I tried to ask questions anonymously or by submitting them to our teacher's advisory committee or faculty council. I tried to fly under the radar (unsuccessfully).<br />
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<b>This is why I think schools need to create ways for teachers to feel free to share concerns or constructive criticism. Here are just three idea I have, and teacher friends, I'll bet you have more:</b><br />
<i><u>1) When a teacher leaves, conduct an exit interview <b>not</b> with the building principal.</u></i> I actually was never given an exit interview. At all. I followed up and was told I should have received a link with questions to answer. I don't remember receiving such a link, so I asked for it to be sent to me again, and I am still waiting (a month later) for a response to that request.<br />
<i><u>2) Administer an anonymous staff survey, per the <a href="http://www.doe.virginia.gov/teaching/performance_evaluation/guidelines_ups_eval_criteria_principals.pdf">VDOE guidelines</a>, page 28, about principal performance.</u></i> This survey should not result in additional professional development for teachers, passive-aggressive comments towards teachers, or any other negative consequences for teachers. As a teacher, I was required to give a survey to my students every year and analyze the data and set goals for myself. Therefore, it seems logical to me that administrators should lead by example. And why stop there? What about central office personnel or school board members administering surveys to parents, teachers, students, and community members? Making a Google Form or Survey Monkey is super easy.<br />
<i><u>3) Give teachers a safe way to ask questions and inform them of the appropriate channels of communication should their first attempt at asking a question not be effective.</u> </i>Having served on the faculty council at my school for two years, I can tell you that we attempted to solve numerous problems, but I was sometimes unsure of how to move up the chain of command if a problem wasn't solved by the people on my campus. This is basically a nice way of saying that, to be honest, sometimes our valid concerns were flat out ignored, and we weren't always sure who to go to next.<br />
<br />
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<b>I was scared-- terrified, even-- to make waves for a few reasons: </b><br />
1) I have an unhealthy relationship with authority.<br />
2) My incessant need to be respected and liked.<br />
3) My fear of losing my job and not being able to get another one in teaching ever again.<br />
4) My fear of being treated poorly by those who disagreed with me.<br />
5) My fear of losing relationships with my colleagues and bosses.<br />
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As I've been ruminating on this entire situation, I've thought to myself, <i>What would I want my daughter to do? Would I want her to cave out of fear of others? Would I want her to be silent when she saw things that could be improved, when she witnessed verbal abuse and blatant disrespect, when she saw protocols not being followed? Or would I want her to have the courage to stand up for what she believed was right?</i><br />
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<b>The answer is easy, even if the act of doing it is hard. </b><br />
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If I want her to speak out, I have to model that. It's one thing to say, "Speak up! Speak out!" It's another to actually do it.<br />
Y'all, if I'm being honest, <b>I wish I'd had the courage to speak up when I was still teaching.</b> I wish I hadn't cared so much about not making waves-- someone's got to drop the first pebble in the pond.<br />
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There would have been ramifications, for sure. But I wish I'd had more courage, more fortitude, and a more healthy outlook on my job and my own self-worth. I wish I'd known what channels to go through to be heard and to induce potential change. I regret not doing more. Because if every single teacher spoke out about the things we witnessed, change would have to happen. All of us couldn't be ignored. We've seen this play out across the country in teacher strikes and walkouts and marches. But many of us are afraid to speak up, and rightfully so.<br />
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<b>Not being allowed/able/welcome to sub at my old school has turned out to be a huge blessing, </b>although it took me a while to see it that way. I'm teaching a homeschool co-op class where I get to use my reading specialist degree and expertise more than I did in the classroom. I now have set days where I can work solely on magazine interviews, phone calls, and writing. I'm more relaxed because I'm not preoccupied with school stress.<br />
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Tonight I attended a school event and had a fabulous time reconnecting with old coworkers and students. After next year, I won't know any kids at my former school, anyway, so it'll truly be time for me to move on. <b>But I realized tonight that I'm not going to let fear of someone else's reaction to my presence rob me of the opportunity to see people that I care about or to attend something I enjoy. </b><br />
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And there is GREAT freedom in that, in realizing I am not responsible for others' feelings. There is great freedom in knowing that my intentions in speaking out about the toxic environment of teaching were and still are pure-- not to slander, not to tear down, but to start conversations so that there can be improvements for the sakes of our teachers and students. If someone else can't see that, that is not my issue. I need to stop worrying about their reactions and their feelings.<br />
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So, I write to you tonight free, happy, at peace, and thrilled to spend tomorrow not in a classroom but at music class and then the swimming pool with my tiny human.<br />
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<br />Christine S.http://www.blogger.com/profile/01758979207025927374noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-905124406134937190.post-15596609710814582912018-09-15T18:48:00.001-07:002018-09-15T18:50:10.986-07:00All the LastsI was flipping through Katherine's baby book the other day-- well, let me be honest: she doesn't have a baby book. I knew I wouldn't be able to keep up with it. Instead, I bought a first-year calendar, complete with stickers like "First Steps" and "First Word." I then wrote in significant events like "First High School Basketball Game" or "First Poop-spolosion Diaper." You know, the important things.<br />
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The first year of your baby's life is full of tracking firsts. I was prepared for that.<br />
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<b><u>I wasn't prepared for the intense emotion of all the "lasts," though.</u></b><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgyTO6QRsCm7yC9kBOAVOVbJf-Vy0u2dWKf5jX4xBln81ugcAWbE_ufdL9SluX7ODSxmQl5XRQYf9UD71g2Sn9H8j3rLTE_aop1D8GcMNe_UE178KI9gQ243pOmvQ3Po9m0UfsAo6uR2W1i/s1600/Image%2528103of108%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1068" data-original-width="1600" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgyTO6QRsCm7yC9kBOAVOVbJf-Vy0u2dWKf5jX4xBln81ugcAWbE_ufdL9SluX7ODSxmQl5XRQYf9UD71g2Sn9H8j3rLTE_aop1D8GcMNe_UE178KI9gQ243pOmvQ3Po9m0UfsAo6uR2W1i/s320/Image%2528103of108%2529.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Photo by Lindsey Martin Photography </td></tr>
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Last time in newborn sized diapers.<br />
Last nap in her baby swing.<br />
Last night sleeping in our room in the Pack N' Play.<br />
Last nursing session with a burp cloth on my shoulder or the Boppy pillow supporting her weight.<br />
Last nap taken in mommy's bed with her.<br />
Last car ride in the infant car seat.<br />
Last time being able to sit through an entire church service.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqfrsmUeeoapYGPFFq4oROnMBwlChPCmPW0MVpt9SkXpC7tozOmpoChj0HQ-HDClsh5ZoGI0cmn6B9fRNVtKRshOGG01g38tDfIjO8PEbTcvGQCGf75cW-azUJC9llazhGfs2DuqJ7AB2R/s1600/Image%2528147of168%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1068" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqfrsmUeeoapYGPFFq4oROnMBwlChPCmPW0MVpt9SkXpC7tozOmpoChj0HQ-HDClsh5ZoGI0cmn6B9fRNVtKRshOGG01g38tDfIjO8PEbTcvGQCGf75cW-azUJC9llazhGfs2DuqJ7AB2R/s320/Image%2528147of168%2529.jpg" width="213" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Photo by Lindsey Martin Photography </td></tr>
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The thing about the "lasts" is that you don't always know they're "lasts." One minute you're sleeping downstairs in a recliner or on an air mattress with your baby in a bassinet so your husband can get a full night's sleep while you're on maternity leave. The next you're taking one-year cake smash pictures and trying to figure out HOW your baby is now so strong that it takes your entire body weight to smush them into their carseat and buckle them in.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCaZX0fcdiQM5QCREYfNVq6y8tJMZlRJBsaRSh5g6d9m8pCpLzqqTqBI3C8vVLgkIizauYyCKR6ahAED5WbEcg5gbA8xeKHKk9mYCpi6eMsg9oxePlZL1bE4gE6mcGapOWoq6CgZpO2BTY/s1600/Image%252829of168%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1068" data-original-width="1600" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCaZX0fcdiQM5QCREYfNVq6y8tJMZlRJBsaRSh5g6d9m8pCpLzqqTqBI3C8vVLgkIizauYyCKR6ahAED5WbEcg5gbA8xeKHKk9mYCpi6eMsg9oxePlZL1bE4gE6mcGapOWoq6CgZpO2BTY/s320/Image%252829of168%2529.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Photo by Lindsey Martin Photography</td></tr>
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The first year of motherhood, of course, flew by. Everyone said it would.<br />
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But, if I'm being honest, parts of it dragged. Like the times when I'd spend twenty minutes trying to get an angry, screaming, flailing baby to latch on to my bleeding nipples, tears streaming down both our faces. I totally understood why people gave up on breastfeeding in those moments.<br />
Or the nights when I would pace the room bouncing her, literally counting my steps-- up to 100, then starting over-- numerous times. I totally understood why people let their babies cry it out.<br />
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Mothering her through firsts and lasts has both made me so much more confident in the type of parenting we're doing and so doubtful of my abilities as a mom. It's this strange, confusing paradox. And every time I think I've conquered something, Katherine does something new, and we're back to square one.<br />
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<b>Realizing that the time flies and everything could be a "last" without me knowing it has helped me cherish the minutes, the events, and the mundane.</b><br />
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It's helped me find peace with letting her nap on my lap as I stare at the mountain of dirty dishes in the sink. I won't be able to hold her forever. Dishes will still be there.<br />
It's helped me not stress about the fact that she's not walking or talking as much as other kids her own age. I mean, it is kind of sweet that she still crawls up to me and holds her hands out so I'll pick her up. Before I know it, she'll be running out the door and not giving me a second thought.<br />
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And I want to make these precious, sweet moments we're having last.<br />
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<br />Christine S.http://www.blogger.com/profile/01758979207025927374noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-905124406134937190.post-54343650459834058882018-09-08T18:08:00.000-07:002019-01-07T19:37:54.967-08:00Toxic Teaching: Four Myths About Teaching <span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">There are a billion other things about teaching I want to address in my blog-- grading practices, teachers' mental health, monetary waste in the public school system.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">But I think it's time for my Toxic Teaching series to come to an end.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">I'm going to wrap up this series by reflecting on some of the myths that I've found myself addressing either during my seven years in the classroom or during these past few months since I resigned from teaching.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><b>Myth #1: Teachers shouldn't complain about their jobs. </b>This seems to be a common and pervasive thought. Teachers gets holidays and summers off (let's not even get into the fact that teachers are really 10-month contract employees #rabbittrail). Therefore, people think we (and I say "we" because I am still a licensed teacher in my state) think we shouldn't voice our opinions about our low salaries, ridiculous hours, lack of respect from society, time wasted doing menial and pointless tasks, hours spent preparing our students for insane standardized tests-- the list goes on. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Teachers complain because we want better. We know the system can be better. For us, for our kids, and for our communities. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><b>Myth #2: Bad teachers are impossible to get rid of. </b>People seem to think once teachers have "tenure" (w<a href="http://www.veanea.org/home/1681.htm">hich actually isn't a thing </a>in Virginia), they can never be fired. So, they complain about all these "bad" teachers who are "impossible to fire." </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">This is simply inaccurate. While the process may be a long one, teachers can absolutely be fired. "<span style="background-color: white; color: #3d3d3d;">Before being fired, teachers are provided with a notice of termination from the division superintendent, a hearing before an advisory fact-finding panel or the school board or both, and then a final decision by the school board. Virginia law says that teachers may be dismissed for incompetency, immorality, noncompliance with school laws and regulations, disability as shown by competent medical evidence, conviction of a felony or crime of moral turpitude, or other good and just cause." - Virginia Education Association</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #3d3d3d;"><b>Myth #3: Any time students are off from school, teachers are, too. </b>Let's talk about teacher "work days." Many times, teachers don't get to spend eight hours in their classrooms working-- you know, grading, lesson planning, collaborating with colleagues, contacting parents, organizing their rooms, rearranging their seating, looking at student' data and deciding what to reteach... </span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #3d3d3d;">Because of demands and pressures being placed on educational leaders, most of the days that my students were home, I was undergoing professional development. I was not getting work done. Some of the PD was helpful. Some of it was not. Sometimes I had to drive to another school. Sometimes I had homework from said professional development session. Sometimes it felt like it was merely an activity that was implemented in order to check a box, not something that was designed to be truly relevant or helpful. </span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #3d3d3d;"><i>Snow days?</i> Many teachers spend most of the day catching up on work. Yes, they're in their pajamas watching Netflix, too, but they're basically e-commuting and working from home. </span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #3d3d3d;"><i>Summer?</i> Y'all, last summer when I was 8-9 months pregnant, I was up at work every.single. week creating my maternity leave lesson plans. Or I was at a three-day conference at a college in the middle of nowhere. Or I was attending a training on trauma informed care. Or I was taking a college class in order to get points to renew my license. Or I was meeting with teacher friends and planning lessons. So yes, teachers get the summers "off" (even though technically we're not on contract during that time), but most of us aren't really "off." </span></span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #3d3d3d;"><b><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Myth #4: Criticizing the education system or aspects of it means the teacher is unsupportive or undedicated. </span></b></span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #3d3d3d;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">I don't know of any job, work environment, or employee who is perfect. As teachers, we are constantly asked to self-reflect. We are constantly evaluated, both formally and informally. Last year at my school, we had to videotape ourselves twice and reflect on our teaching. </span></span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #3d3d3d;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><i>So if teachers are open to growth and self-reflection and criticism from others, why are we not allowed to offer suggestions on how to make our schools better places? Why are we afraid to speak up and offer suggestions? </i></span></span><br />
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<span style="color: #3d3d3d; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="background-color: white;">From what I've heard in talking to other teachers from all around the country, it's hard to get people to take teachers' suggestions seriously. We're expected to just sit down, shut up, and do what we're told. Nevermind that WE are the people on the ground implementing everything that the higher ups want us to. </span></span><br />
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<span style="color: #3d3d3d; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="background-color: white;">Schedule changes? Run those by your teachers-- I'll bet we'll think of variables that weren't thought of by those not in the classroom, saving headaches the first few weeks of school. </span></span><br />
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<span style="color: #3d3d3d; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="background-color: white;">Budget decisions? Those in power should consider asking their teachers for feedback on what would really benefit the students (not just the latest bells and whistles, but actual meat and potatoes of teaching). </span></span><br />
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<span style="color: #3d3d3d; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="background-color: white;">Morale problems? Ask teachers what would help create a more positive work environment.</span></span><br />
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<span style="color: #3d3d3d; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="background-color: white;"><b>And then those listening have to be open to what the teachers say.</b> Listen with open ears and an open mind. Don't be immediately dismissive. Don't scoff at the teachers and say, "You don't understand what's going on at a higher level and why that's not possible" (even though that may be true). Reflect their thoughts and feelings, acknowledge that they make a good point, and say it will be considered. Make teachers feel heard. </span></span><br />
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<span style="color: #3d3d3d; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="background-color: white;"><b><u>The reason I'm writing about the toxic environment of our education system nowadays isn't because I hate teaching, or administrators, or central office, or public school. </u></b></span></span><br />
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<span style="color: #3d3d3d; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="background-color: white;"><b><u>It's because the opposite is true.</u></b></span></span><br />
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<span style="color: #3d3d3d; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="background-color: white;"><b><u>I love teaching so much.</u></b> </span></span><br />
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<span style="color: #3d3d3d; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="background-color: white;">I love the people I worked with, the students I was blessed to influence, the process of learning. The seven years I spent in the classroom were some of the most fulfilling and wonderful years of my life. </span></span><br />
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<span style="color: #3d3d3d; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="background-color: white;">I love it so much that I can't stay silent anymore out of fear (which is what I did for seven years because, let's be honest, there are consequences when you speak out). </span></span><br />
<span style="color: #3d3d3d; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="background-color: white;">I can't be complicit in a system that's harming our young people and the ones who instruct them through wasting resources, implementing harmful policies, reducing both teachers and students to test scores, failing to build positive school cultures, and more. </span></span><br />
<span style="color: #3d3d3d; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="background-color: white;">I can't, with a clean conscience, stand by and watch the state of education deteriorate year after year after year. </span></span><br />
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<span style="color: #3d3d3d; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="background-color: white;">So, this post wraps up my Toxic Teaching blog series. I'm sorry I didn't get to everything. But I did address</span></span><br />
<span style="color: #3d3d3d; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="background-color: white;">-<a href="http://unbarbaricyawp.blogspot.com/2018/08/toxic-teaching-truth-about-discipline.html">Discipline</a></span></span><br />
<span style="color: #3d3d3d; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="background-color: white;">-<a href="http://unbarbaricyawp.blogspot.com/2018/07/toxic-teaching-not-trusting-your_8.html">Students not trusting their teachers </a></span></span><br />
<span style="color: #3d3d3d; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="background-color: white;"><a href="http://unbarbaricyawp.blogspot.com/2018/07/toxic-teaching-not-trusting-your.html">-Parents not trusting teachers </a></span></span><br />
<span style="color: #3d3d3d; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><a href="http://unbarbaricyawp.blogspot.com/2018/06/toxic-teaching-not-trusting-your.html">-Society not trusting teachers</a> </span><br />
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<span style="color: #3d3d3d; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">And I may come back to this topic someday, because truth be told, there's a lot more to say. </span><br />
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<span style="color: #3d3d3d; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">But until then, just know that I believe in education. I believe in our students. I believe in the teachers who are the boots on the ground every.single.day, fighting for our kids, praying over them, hugging them, crying tears over them, losing sleep over them. </span><br />
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<span style="color: #3d3d3d; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Keep fighting the good fight. I may not be with you in the classroom anymore, but I'm always with you in spirit. You're the real MVPs. </span><br />
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<span style="color: #3d3d3d; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="background-color: white;"><br /></span></span>Christine S.http://www.blogger.com/profile/01758979207025927374noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-905124406134937190.post-29265001869325953672018-08-28T08:59:00.001-07:002018-08-28T08:59:19.694-07:00Toxic Teaching: The Truth About Discipline<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">This might be my most controversial post yet, which is why it's taken so long to compose. I have literally been working on this for a month. Here goes nothing... </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><b>Discussing discipline in schools is tricky nowadays.</b> I recognize that <a href="http://www.apa.org/news/press/releases/2006/08/zero-tolerance.aspx">zero tolerance policies are not as effective as some may think. </a>As this article by the APA states, many of these policies were developed in the 1980s and required harsh consequences for infractions. </span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 16px;">But, "schools are not any safer or more effective in disciplining children than before these zero tolerance policies were implemented in the mid 1980s. The research also shows that while school violence is a serious issue, violence in schools is "not out-of-control."</span></span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Furthermore, the evidence suggests that zero tolerance policies do not increase the consistency of discipline in schools" (Zero Tolerance Policies). </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">The APA recommended a number of changes to zero tolerance policies, including the following: </span></div>
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<li><span style="background-color: white; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Allow more flexibility with discipline and rely more on teachers' and administrators' expertise within their own school buildings.</span></li>
<li><span style="background-color: white; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Have teachers and other professional staff be the first point of contact regarding discipline incidents</span></li>
<li><span style="background-color: white; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Attempt to reconnect alienated youth or students who are at-risk for behavior problems or violence. Use threat assessment procedures to identify those at risk</span></li>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">So, as you can see, <i>the pendulum has started to swing in the other direction</i>, as it always does in our society. It feels and seems, to me, like we are swinging from authoritarian to full on permissive sometimes. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">This post is not going to debate the merits of different discipline policies or beliefs. </span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">I am not claiming to be an expert in classroom management and discipline. I'm also not arrogant enough to think that I didn't have room to grow in this area. <b>I am also not attacking or shaming teachers or administrators. We all do our best, y'all. </b>But I will be speaking from my own experiences, so here goes: </span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><b><u>1) Discipline takes time. </u></b>It takes time to address it in the moment. It takes time away from learning. It takes time (that frankly I don't always have) during my planning period or before/after school. </span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">I appreciate that experts, Central Office, administration, and parents want teachers to be the first point of contact for discipline issues. Teachers SHOULD be the first point of contact, for sure! Instead of immediately writing a student a referral to the administrator, teachers should have conversations with kids, come up with a behavior contract, assign a detention of their own, or do whatever other steps they deem appropriate. </span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><b>But in order to do that, teachers need TIME. </b>When I taught, I had one 90-minute planning period every other day. I often had meetings before school, during lunch, or after school (or I was a coach and had practice after school). </span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">I really didn't mind calling parents or writing up behavior contracts or having a kid in my room for detention. <b>But I needed time to do this.</b> A planning period every day would've been so helpful for discipline (and other things, of course). Or teacher workdays that are ACTUALLY teacher workdays (teachers nowadays have so much professional development and few actual workdays, which many who are not in education don't realize). </span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">And one reason that sometimes my discipline wasn't followed through, on MY part as the teacher, is because I simply did.not.have.time. I guess I could've made time-- at the expense of grading assessments, making copies, tutoring, sponsoring clubs, coaching... </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><u><b>2) Reducing suspensions and expulsions doesn't mean kids are behaving better. </b></u></span></span><br />
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This is a statistic people LOVE to point to: "We've reduced suspensions by ___ percent! Go us! Pat us on the back! Aren't we so awesome?"</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">But I want to emphasize: <b>this does not necessarily mean schools are safer or students are better behaved.</b> It does not necessarily mean teachers are more effectively disciplining students. It might. But it might not. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">It may mean that a) teachers aren't writing referrals and are perhaps being more permissive or b) administrators are assigning other consequences (such as a verbal warning or a lunch detention) instead of a suspension. <i>Please hear me when I say that those two things are not necessarily bad. </i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Also, please hear my when I say<b> I'm not saying we need to suspend kids more.</b></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">But I am saying that I've sat in community meetings and heard people rejoice over the fact that suspensions are down.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">My question is this: <b>is that really the ultimate goal? </b>Is the ultimate goal merely to reduce suspensions? Or is it to teach appropriate behavior and keep kids in class learning? </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">One reason people don't like when students are suspended is because it means they're missing instructional time. I agree with that. I can send the work home, but not having me there to teach the student is a huge detriment to them. I do want to clarify, though: just because the kid isn't suspended doesn't necessarily mean that kid is in class learning. The kid might be present at school but skipping. The kid might be present at school in class but sitting on his/her phone the whole time or not doing any work. So, we cannot make the assumption that JUST because a kid isn't suspended means he/she is sitting in class studiously completing assignments. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">So, don't be misled by statistics about expulsions and suspensions being reduced. I'm not saying suspending kids for every little infraction is a positive thing, by any means. <b>But the goal should not be to merely reduce suspensions and expulsions. </b></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">It should be to address the roots of the discipline issues. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">But that takes time. Resources. A cooperative parent/guardian. Oftentimes a counselor, who may or may not be readily available because of his or her own obligations (because I don't know if y'all realize, but school counselors nowadays do SO much more then just help kids pick classes <3). </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Overall, the education system is trying to do a better job of addressing root causes, and for that, I am excited. I received training in trauma informed care and being an inclusive educator, and those trainings were immensely helpful. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">But if we really want to make a difference, it's going to take more than a handful of teachers being trained. It's going to take time, patience, love, parental support, and teamwork. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><b>3) We are spending 80% of our time on 20% of our students. </b></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">And this is the most frustrating part of discipline issues for me: I literally spent the majority of my time addressing the same handful of students all year long. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">They have a right to an education, but at the expense of all of my other kids? I don't think so.</span><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">But as a teacher, sometimes my hands are tied. The system is flawed. The disruptive student who is making poor choices gets to stay in class, and no matter what I try or who talks to him or how many behavior plans we go over or how many times I call home, the student's behavior doesn't change, and class is ruined for 25 kids who actually want to learn. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><b>4) We are not making the student take responsibility for his or her actions. </b></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">I'll end with this one. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Too much of the responsibility for student behavior is put on everyone<i> except the student. </i></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><i>We excuse their behaviors. </i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><i>We have low expectations for them. </i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><i>We, as the adults, are permissive. </i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><i>We make empty threats and don't follow through. </i></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><i><b>I am guilty of all of the above.</b> </i>So what I'm about to say isn't pointing fingers at any other teacher out there. It is hard to have consistently high expectations every single day. It's exhausting. We just want to teach our content, and instead we spend a good chunk of time managing behavior. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">As the adults, we have allowed the kids to have too much power. I am ALL about respecting our students as people and allowing them choice, autonomy, and an appropriate amount of power. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">But we have given them too much power and not enough responsibility, and it has resulted in some students feeling entitled. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">This is not beneficial for our kids. And after all, didn't we all become educators for the kids' sakes? </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: arial, helvetica, sans-serif;">By failing to have high expectations, failing to follow through, failing to hold students accountable, we are failing them in the long run. There are consequences in real life. If we shelter them from all consequences in school, we aren't preparing them for life outside our classroom walls. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: arial, helvetica, sans-serif;">By failing to hold them responsible, we're also saying we don't believe in them. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: arial, helvetica, sans-serif;">We don't believe they can be better. Do better. Act better. Decide better. We're telling them they're incapable of better. And that is not true.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: arial, helvetica, sans-serif;">Teenagers are amazing, y'all. Kids are incredible. They are capable of a lot of we push them to be. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: arial, helvetica, sans-serif;">Unfortunately, overall, we have somehow created a system (that goes beyond a specific classroom, school building, or even county) that coddles kids. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: arial, helvetica, sans-serif;">We have to work to change the system so our students will learn to step up and become responsible students and, ultimately, citizens. </span><br />
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Christine S.http://www.blogger.com/profile/01758979207025927374noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-905124406134937190.post-76927682473203906032018-08-03T10:08:00.004-07:002018-08-03T10:08:36.383-07:00Eight Marriage Lessons People are sometimes surprised to learn that I've only ever dated one person. I won't bore you with the details of my high school social life, but let's just say that I was raised in the purity culture and read Josh Harris's <i>I Kissed Dating Goodbye, </i>and I was the oldest child, so... no way was I getting a boyfriend until I was 30, am I right? #courtingforthewin<br />
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Obviously, since you're all smart folks, you can do the math and figure out that if I've only ever dated one person, I ended up married to that person. He's my best friend, confidant, sounding board, and the most amazing father to our little girl.<br />
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<b>But it wasn't always that way. </b><br />
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I could (and really should) write a juicy book about all the relationship drama we had early on-- crushing on each other, going to homecoming together, ignoring each other for two months, reconnecting on a missions trip in Jamaica under the stars (yes, it was as romantic as it sounds), returning to the States just to ignore each other for five months...<br />
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I could go on.<br />
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Oftentimes anniversary posts are sappy and glamorize relationships.<br />
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<b>But what makes our marriage so incredible is that it was-- and is-- messy. It's real. </b><br />
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One quick story, and I don't know if you'll find this romantic or creepy, but here goes.<br />
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Randy and I officially met when I was a freshman in high school and he was a sophomore. I remember this detail because my hair was really poofy (I didn't need mousse or gel when I was homeschooled) and I had braces. The creepy part is that I knew exactly who Randy was before we even spoke. Fun fact: he played one season-- I think it was just one-- of volleyball, and I had seen him at the gym on my way to practice. I was like 12 when this happened. But I remember noticing him because he was competitive and mature on the court-- I look for the important things, folks.<br />
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Anyway, we officially met through a church Easter cantata. My piano teacher was also the music minister at Randy's dad's church, and my teacher asked me to sing in this church's production, and I said yes.<br />
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And our first conversation was AFTER the cantata was over at the cast party. I'm pretty sure it went something like this. It was truly riveting:<br />
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<i>Randy: So are you new to church?</i><br />
<i>Me: Oh, no, I just take piano lessons from Mr. McD.</i><br />
<i>And maybe something about how we would both be going to the same high school the next year.</i><br />
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So, as you can see, we established early on that we were really good at having in-person conversations.<br />
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Who knows when our next one was or what it entailed, but I actually started attending his dad's church. Randy and I were in youth group together, and on praise team together, and we were both in choir at the same high school. We had a lot of mutual friends, but if I'm being completely honest, we actually weren't really...friends.<br />
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If I'm being even MORE completely honest, in my head, we were in a secret competition for who was the smartest in Sunday School class. Sometimes I flipped my Bible to the necessary verse faster, so I won, but most of the time, he just knew exactly what to say (some things don't change).<br />
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And if I'm going to give you all this honesty, let me also confess that he was literally the first and ONLY guy who had ever intimidated me.<br />
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Since I knew I was never going to date in high school, I really didn't give guys much thought as dating material. Sometimes I flirted with them, or sometimes I had crushes on them, but it never went any further because I kissed dating goodbye, remember? So, guys never intimidated me.<br />
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But, y'all, this Randy kid... he was crazy smart. He was super athletic. He was definitely an introverted slightly socially awkward teenager (but so was I), but he was also incredibly funny and clever. He was respectful and mature.<br />
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The next in-person conversation I remember having with him is my junior year of high school. It must have been October of 2005. This conversation also occurred at church, and it went something like this (he may remember it differently):<br />
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Randy: Hey Christine, can I talk to you for a second?<br />
Me: Sure!<br />
Randy: So homecoming is approaching, and the football guys said that I have to go since I'm the quarterback. And I've really enjoyed the conversations we've had, and I'm hoping you reciprocate those feelings.<br />
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And then he asked me to homecoming.<br />
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A couple of highlights:<br />
1) I went to homecoming with the quarterback. Yup.<br />
2) He used "reciprocate"-- SWOON! Be still, my heart! Big vocabularies are uber attractive.<br />
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I can't even say, "and the rest is history," because our relationship went through many ups and downs. We didn't even start dating until over a year after that homecoming dance. We broke up twice in college--once was my doing and the other was his. I mean, y'all, we started dating when I was 17 and he was 18. We were BABIES.<br />
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But looking back, I now see how every single step those babies took, every mistake we made, every minute of uncertainty in our 17 and 18-year-old selves led us to the beautiful marriage we have today.<br />
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I've also learned a lot of lessons from our relationship:<br />
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<b>1) Teenagers and young people ARE capable of deep, serious love</b>. Don't minimize their high school relationships, something we adults so often do. Even if teens don't end up with that person, the love is still real. The pain of that breakup is still real. I mean, yes, I love Randy so much more deeply now than I did at 17 and 18 and 21, but that doesn't mean I didn't love him then <i>(oh.my.gosh, y'all, that reminds me-- should I do a blog post about how we didn't say "I love you" for like literally two years?! Aaaaaah I forgot about that). </i><br />
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<b>2) Young marriages aren't for everybody, but they can be amazing.</b> People say that you need to "become your own person" before you marry. I guess that's partially true. But it's also beautiful to grow up WITH a person. Do you know how cool it is that Randy and I have almost 13 years of shared history? That we were there to support each other through life's biggest changes, and we are STILL here for each other? It's pretty special.<br />
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<b>3) Humor diffuses tension like no other. </b>I learned this one from Randy. When I nag him about socks on the living room coffee table, he replies, "Yeah, I was leaving them there just for you" before picking them up. And then I laugh. And instead of being irritated or potentially fighting, we just move on with life. We laugh constantly when we're together, and I'm forever grateful to be married to one of the most hilarious people I've ever met. He's taught me not to take things too seriously and to not sweat the small stuff.<br />
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<b>4) Marriage isn't as much about finding the right person as it is about being the right person. </b>I feel like some marriage expert said that, and I don't mean to plagiarize them, but the sentiment is so accurate. Neither Randy nor I necessarily believe in soulmates (though I grow more convinced he's mine every year). The idea of a soulmate takes the responsibility off the parties involved. If I "fall out of love" or "decide he's not the one," I have an easy out. A love where you are actively, constantly CHOOSING someone over and over again is much more real and powerful, in my opinion.<br />
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<b>5) It's okay to marry someone who has terrible taste in football teams. </b>I didn't know a Redskins fan could marry a Cowboys fan and both could survive more than one football season, but we are proof.<br />
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<b>6) Marriages go through seasons, and that's okay. </b>In one season, I was working full-time while Randy was in school. In another season, he was working and I was going to school. It's okay for the norm to change.<br />
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<b>7) Don't get a cat. </b>It will disappoint you by loving your husband more than it loves you, even though you're the one who wanted it. Rude.<br />
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<b>8) Marry someone who was a cute baby. </b>Because even if you carry the child for nine months, endure morning sickness and sciatic nerve pain, withstand labor and delivery, and nurse the child from your own breast... the baby will probably look like your husband. Thanks, universe.<br />
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I've only ever dated and loved one person, and on July 31st, we celebrated eight years of marriage. We had pre-marriage years of late night AIM conversations when we weren't sure we were even going to date. Post-marriage years of sleeping on an air mattress because we had no money for furniture. Years of trying to have a baby, losing a baby, becoming parents to the world's most adorable baby. Years of supporting each other through school and career changes and injuries and illness. Years of falling asleep holding hands. Years of texting each other memes about Lavar Ball and The Office and Tony Romo.<br />
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I hope and pray for many, many more sweet years together. Because otherwise whose dirty socks will I pick up from the living room?<br />
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<h3 data-id="243" style="color: #38416f; font-family: Raleway, Helvetica, Arial, Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 20px; margin: 16px 8px; padding: 0px;">
<a href="https://www.documentsanddesigns.com/vows-and-verses/bible-verses-on-marriage/#song-of-solomon-86-7" id="song-of-solomon-86-7" style="color: inherit; text-decoration: none;">Song of Solomon 8:6-7</a>a</h3>
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Place me like a seal over your heart,<br />
like a seal on your arm;<br />
for love is as strong as death,<br />
its jealousy unyielding as the grave.<br />
It burns like blazing fire,<br />
like a mighty flame.<br />
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Many waters cannot quench love;<br />
rivers cannot wash it away.</div>
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<br />Christine S.http://www.blogger.com/profile/01758979207025927374noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-905124406134937190.post-41526938029014133152018-07-08T20:28:00.004-07:002018-07-08T20:28:42.999-07:00Toxic Teaching: Not Trusting Your Teachers, Part 3In this third and final post about not trusting your teachers, I'm going to address a third group of people that fail to have faith in educators.<br />
In <a href="http://unbarbaricyawp.blogspot.com/2018/06/toxic-teaching-not-trusting-your.html">post one, I talked about society</a> in general (and hinted at administration and the higher-ups). <a href="http://unbarbaricyawp.blogspot.com/2018/07/toxic-teaching-not-trusting-your.html">In post two, I discussed parents. </a><br />
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The third group? <b>Students</b>.<br />
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As usual, let me preface this by saying that in the seven years I taught, the students were the absolute <i>best</i> part of the job. So many of them were kind and funny and want to make the world a better place. Some of them have grown up to become my friends (because they're like almost 25 now), and we meet for lattes and talk about life. Some of them babysit my daughter. Some of them come to my house for dinner. Some of them text me or call me now that they've graduated to vent or ask advice or just catch up.<br />
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<b>The students are why I love teaching, why I will miss it so much, and I mean that sincerely with my whole heart. </b><br />
<br />
However, that doesn't mean they were perfect or that they weren't conditioned to behave a certain way. Yes, conditioned-- we as a society, as an education system, have conditioned our kids to be the way they are.<br />
<br />
Perhaps it was just the way I was raised, but growing up, I did not question authority figures unless they asked me to do something that violated my personal beliefs or something I thought was wrong. Even if I thought a lesson was stupid or a worksheet was pointless, I trusted that my teacher had a reason for me completing that task. I may have questioned it internally. A couple times, I questioned teachers privately after class (and always, I think, respectfully).<br />
<br />
But that was not my experience as a teacher.<br />
<br />
<b>I was questioned CONSTANTLY. Daily. Multiple times in every class. About my teaching tactics, about why something they were learning was important, about why they couldn't be on their phones or listen to music, about why they had to have assigned seats, why I didn't accept late work, why I marked them tardy if they walked in after the bell, why I expected them to write a research paper, why they had to learn MLA format... </b>you name it.<br />
<br />
<u>Let me also clarify: questions are GOOD</u>.<br />
Authority shouldn't be blindly followed in certain matters or certain arenas.<br />
<br />
I understand that giving student choice and collaborating with students is an excellent way to help them develop their own critical thinking skills, decision making skills, and sense of autonomy. VERY few times did I say, "Do this because I said so and I'm the boss." Usually the conversation was something more like, "I am telling you do to ____ because ___. It's okay if you don't agree or like it. I respect that. If you still have questions, please talk to me after class." I'm pretty sure most of my students would vouch for me in this area... at least, I tried very hard to reason with them and provide explanations for my decisions.<br />
<br />
<br />
But I truly believe that <b>we have created an environment in which students have too much power and freedom and not enough responsibility.</b> That is unhealthy. It is detrimental to them and their development, both as people and as learners.<br />
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Students, here's what I need you to know about trusting me: <br />
<br />
<b><u>1) I am a trained professional.</u> </b>In order to be a teacher, I had to jump through all sorts of hoops and pass all sorts of tests. I possess knowledge in pedagogy, in adolescent psychology, in my content area (English), in trauma informed care, in positive discipline, in teaching reading effectively, and in a multitude of other areas.<br />
<br />
If I am asking you to do something, it is best practice, or I have some research to back it up.<br />
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I'm not just a warm body in the room. I know how to teach, and I'm trying to use my expertise to help you learn.<br />
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<b><u>2) Your success and learning is more important than your comfort. </u></b>Y'all, it would be easier for me if I just let you have your phones out. If I just let you listen to music. If I just let you pick your seats. If I didn't mark you tardy and if I accepted all your late work.<br />
<br />
But based on research and based on my own experiences, I choose to fight those battles because <i>I believe they will help you be successful.</i><br />
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It's actually a lot more work for me to come take your phone, talk to you in the hallway when you refuse to give it up, give you a detention or referral when you have your phone out again, confiscate it, call your parent, etc. It takes mental energy to keep up with the number of tardies you have and follow through with consequences.<br />
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<b>But my job as the adult is <u>not</u> to take the easy way out. It is to ensure that you have all the tools necessary for success. </b>And if I kowtow to you...if I make choices about my classroom based on what you want to be more comfortable, then I don't really care about you.<br />
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Read that last line again.<br />
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It's true. You may not think it. But it's true.<br />
<br />
<b><u>3) You don't always know what you need.</u> </b>So often I hear, "Why am I learning this? I'm never going to need this."<br />
<i><br /></i>
<i>How do you know? </i><br />
<i>Do you have a crystal ball? </i><br />
<i>How do you know you'll never have to research something, create a presentation on it, and present it in front of an audience? </i>Because I live in the real world, and that's a skill I need.<br />
<i>How do you know you'll never have to suck it up and do some pointless assignment in the real world? </i>Because let me tell you I have had to do that at every job I've ever had (end of year poster: I'm not 12; why am I making a poster?)<br />
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I was an English major, but thank God I was competent in math, because my first year of marriage, I supplemented our income by tutoring a high school student in algebra. I also needed math in order to take the GRE to go to graduate school and get my master's degree. Not to mention, the year I cried my way through precalculus and emerged at the end with a "C" taught me so much about my inner strength and my resilience.<br />
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<b>You don't always know what you need in the moment. </b><br />
<b><br /></b>
Maybe you don't need to know how the difference between iambic pentameter and trochaic trimeter when you're reading poetry. BUT do you need to know how to problem solve? How to persevere? How to do something that makes you uncomfortable? YES. WITHOUT A DOUBT.<br />
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And THAT is what we can learn from "pointless" classes and "pointless" assignments.<br />
<br />
I'll concede that some of what we teach in school-- some would argue most of what we do-- is useless in the real world. But I also know that it's the process, the journey, that is infinitely more important. It's learning how to be disciplined. It's learning something just for the sake of having knowledge and being a well-rounded person. It's broadening your horizons to become a more educated, empathetic person.<br />
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You don't know what you need all the time. You're 16.<br />
<u><i><br /></i></u>
<u><i>It's not necessarily my job to tell you what you need-- I don't know for sure, either. But it is my job to expose you to everything that I can possibly think of that might help you someday. </i></u><br />
<br />
<br />
Again: I know that not all teachers have the same expectations or rules.<br />
But I do know that the vast majority are TRULY just doing what we believe is best for you, our students.<br />
<b>We may not see eye to eye. And if you don't trust a decision I made or a rule I enforced or whatever, that is something we can discuss respectfully in private. </b><br />
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That's <i>not</i> something for you to yell across the room during a lesson.<br />
That's <i>not</i> something for you to email to me from your iPhone in an email that looks like this: "why i got a zero on my paper i turned it in on google classroom and you aint put the grade in"<br />
That's <i>not</i> something for you to complain about on social media (fun story about that: one time a girl asked me for a letter of recommendation, but I had seen on Twitter earlier that year that she had put me on blast...so, I didn't write her the letter: don't bite the hand that feeds you).<br />
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Trust that sometimes adults are wiser than you are.<br />
That most of the time, we want you to be successful.<br />
That it's okay for you to be pushed outside of your comfort zone.<br />
That it's healthy for you to be held to high standards.<br />
<br />
Because if I didn't have high standards for you, it'd be because I didn't believe in you. I expect a lot from you because I think you're capable of a lot.<br />
<br />
Trust me.<br />
And trust yourself.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />Christine S.http://www.blogger.com/profile/01758979207025927374noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-905124406134937190.post-52747507685344337832018-07-06T09:52:00.003-07:002018-07-06T09:52:49.641-07:00Toxic Teaching: Not Trusting Your Teachers, Part 2Last week, I explained this blog series I'm doing and wrote part one of "Not Trusting Your Teachers," which you can read <a href="http://unbarbaricyawp.blogspot.com/2018/06/toxic-teaching-not-trusting-your.html">here</a>.<br />
<br />
Today I'm going to address another aspect of not being trusted. It's not just the general mistrust by society. Today I'm going to speak particularly to parents, the group that we are so afraid to call out. Because parents can go straight to the principal, Central Office, the media, heck, the School Board itself and get teachers and schools in more trouble than anyone. In the education system, we are scared of the parents.<br />
<br />
On the one hand, I respect that-- these are their kids we are educating, and they're our primary stakeholders. On the other hand, I have seen how detrimental this is-- parents are rarely questioned by higher-ups and therefore can claim anything, exaggerate ridiculously, and flat make stuff up, and their word is treated like gospel. At least, that's been my experience<br />
<i><br /></i>
<i>(I mean, I had a parent forward my emails with her to Central Office, and I thought I was following proper protocols [correction: I WAS following proper protocols because I went back and found said protocols in writing after the fact] and being professional, and the next thing I know, I'm called into the principal's office for a chastising session and told that I have to let this student retake a vocab quiz she knew about for six weeks and just didn't study for, among other things... I wonder what we're teaching our kids when we go fight their battles for them and refuse to put responsibility on them for the choices they make...). </i><br />
<br />
I'm convinced that if enough parents just complained, SOL testing would go away, cafeterias would all have Starbucks and Paneras inside of them, and students would sit in velvet thrones instead of plastic chairs in the classrooms.<br />
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Let me preface this by saying that overall, <b>I have had incredibly supportive parents</b>. Most of my parents were appreciative and quick to support me when I had to contact them about issues, positive or negative. They weren't helicopter parents, and they trusted me to do my job.<br />
<br />
In the seven years I taught, however, I unfortunately did deal with a few instances of parent mistrust and tense parent relationships. And, in talking with other friends, I think that parents at other schools or parents of younger students are perhaps more guilty of not trusting their teachers.<br />
<br />
So, I'd like to address that in this second "Not Trusting Your Teachers" post.<br />
<br />
<b><u>Parents</u></b>:<br />
<b>1) I am not out to "get" your student.</b> I have had some parents over the years question their students' grades, or the fact that they didn't get into National Honor Society, or the fact that they got cut from the volleyball team. Some of them have attributed that to the fact that I didn't like their student and I am engaging in personal warfare against them.<br />
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Let me acknowledge that I am human. I am biased. And I don't like every student I teach, advise, or coach. It's true. Some of the students I have taught have been nasty, rude, vindictive, violent, and disrespectful.<br />
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This is why I use rubrics-- for volleyball tryouts, for grades, for National Honor Society acceptance. For everything. It is a good "CYA" move on my part, but it also helps me keep my own feelings in check.<br />
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I am an adult professional. I try to put aside my personal feelings to teach, coach, or advise your student because your student is a human being, and as such, they deserve my professionalism. Please keep in mind that your teenager's perception of an event, a grade, or an encounter is just one side of the story.<br />
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No, I'm not out to "get" them. Frankly, I don't have time for that. If I'm gonna "get" anyone or start a personal battle with anyone, it's going to be with George R. R. Martin for killing off all my favorite <i>Game of Thrones </i>characters or with Steve Carell for leaving <i>The Office</i>.<br />
<br />
<b><br /></b>
<b>2) If I say your student is struggling, they're struggling. </b>One time, I was in a meeting with a parent who insisted that her son was smart and capable but he was just being lazy. In fact, the opposite was true. He worked hard in class. The truth was that he was reading well below grade level, which I attempted to communicate to her. She was having none of it. I offered tutoring, resources, and my expertise as a reading specialist. She didn't trust my evaluation and wasn't open to having him evaluated by the school. Well, this student failed the Reading SOL test (which in my opinion actually isn't a terrible indicator of reading abilities) multiple times and almost didn't graduate the next year. He literally passed the test, like, the day before graduation. I wish the mom had listened so that I could have gotten him some extra support and resources and so that he didn't have to take that SOL test ten times.<br />
<br />
I wasn't picking on this kid. I wanted him to succeed. But sometimes parents are afraid of a diagnosis or afraid of a label and refuse to get their kids the help they need. As my undergrad professor Lori Price told my class, "Labels are not boxes to put kids into. They're doors to open to get the kids the resources they need."<br />
<br />
Please trust me. I'm trained in this area. If I flag your student, it's because they're struggling, and I want them to succeed. I know we all want to think our kids are "smart," but we have to remember there are different kinds of intelligences, and unfortunately, only certain types are emphasized in school. We also have to remember that not every student can be average or above average-- some have to be below average. And that's ok! It just means they need a little something extra to be successful, and that's what I'm here to provide. But denying it doesn't make it any better for your child.<br />
<br />
<b>3) And if I say your student is capable, they're capable. </b>This past year, I had the most awkward parent conference of my entire life. A mother berated her daughter in front of me. Like, to the point that it was truly bordering on verbal abuse. I was so very uncomfortable-- I was shaking, and my heart was racing because I was SO angry the mom was speaking to her daughter that way. I spoke up and redirected the conversation because it was highly inappropriate, and frankly, her daughter absolutely did NOT deserve to be treated like that.<br />
<br />
Anyway, the mom turned to me and said, somewhat aggressively, "So why did you recommend her for Honors? She has a D in your class. That doesn't say 'honors kid' to me."<br />
<br />
Now, ultimately, what classes a kid wants to take is up to the parent because they have the ability to override my decision even when they sometimes shouldn't.<br />
<br />
But I knew this girl had a D in class because she was missing some work. I also knew she was a ridiculously fast reader, strong writer, and deep thinker. She was BORED in my regular class and needed a push, especially if she wants to go to college as she says she does.<br />
<br />
And I said all that to mom. I hope her mom trusted me and left her in honors.<br />
<br />
<b>4) "He/she never acts like this at home." </b>My <i>favorite</i> line. As if I have time to fabricate a story about your student cussing me out and then take twenty minutes out of my day to write the referral and call/email you about the incident.<br />
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Maybe your child doesn't act like this at home. Maybe that's because you can actually assign consequences to him or her (this is a topic for a different post and a whole 'nother can of worms). Maybe there are stimuli and situations that aren't present at home.<br />
<br />
And while there are two sides to every story, of course, if I take the time to write a referral and call you, something happened. I'm not making it up. I don't know why your kid acts like this at school or at home. But please trust me... your kid is not a perfect little angel, and it takes a pretty major event for me to take disciplinary action. And if you have questions or you want to get your child's side of the story, please do so. The truth always lies somewhere in the middle.<br />
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But please don't act like your child isn't capable of cursing or horseplay or skipping. We all have the capacity to make poor choices given the right circumstances and influences. Your teenager is no different.<br />
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<b>5) If your student doesn't have the grade they want, they're not doing the level of work necessary to <u>earn</u> that grade. </b>This year, I had an honors student who had a 78 the entire year. He begged me multiple times to give him two points so he could get a B. He harped on the fact that I was his ONLY class he had a C in, and it was keeping him from making Honor Roll.<br />
<br />
His mom contacted me about it. She was not happy, and I understood and reflected her concerns. I also broke down his entire grade, did the math on paper, took a picture, and sent said picture to her. I never heard from her about his grade again.<br />
<br />
Because what the breakdown showed is that yes, although he did well on tests and average on quizzes, he didn't complete his homework and hadn't completed several essays and projects.<br />
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It's really amazing to me that parents questioned me about their students' grades so frequently. I never remember my parents doing that. Ever. If I got a "C" on a test, it was because I didn't study. I didn't go to tutoring. Or the test was just really hard and I didn't grasp the material.<br />
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We have created a society in which parents and students think that merely DOING the work should earn them an A or B. We teachers keep trying to explain that we need QUALITY work to earn high grades. And sometimes, that falls on deaf ears.<br />
<br />
If you want your kid to have an A or a B, I am happy to tell you exactly what they need to do to earn that grade. I don't give grades. I don't curve. I don't give a lot of extra credit. I want your students grade to be an accurate reflection of his or her academic ability and work ethic. I don't want it to be inflated because your kid brought in five boxes of tissues and some hand sanitizer.<br />
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<br />
<br />
<br />
Now... I acknowledge there are some bad teachers out there who maybe do treat some kids unfairly. In my experience, they are very few and far between. Perhaps your experience is different. If it is, I am truly sorry. Your child deserves better.<br />
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I don't have TIME to make up stories about your kid, write them up, call you, and follow up. I just don't. I believe every kid, even the ones I don't particularly like, deserves to be respected and deserves an education.<br />
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<b>And most of all, I believe that parents and teachers have the same goal: they want the student to learn, to be a better person, and to be a better student.</b> If we can keep that in mind, we can have an amazing partnership.<br />
<br />
<br />Christine S.http://www.blogger.com/profile/01758979207025927374noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-905124406134937190.post-76865023589318484342018-06-28T13:20:00.001-07:002018-06-28T16:07:48.447-07:00Toxic Teaching: Not Trusting Your Teachers, Part 1 A few weeks ago, I solicited ideas for this series on Facebook, and boy, did I strike a nerve! I asked my friends what topics they'd want to see addressed in a series on the toxic environment of teaching. Y'all did not disappoint! I took your responses and grouped them together to create ten different topics (so far).<br />
<br />
<b>Today's topic: Not Trusting Your Teachers, Part 1 </b><br />
I'm going to eventually address specific groups not trusting us teachers- administration, parents, and students- but today, I'm just going to speak about<i> my experience in general </i>and the effect that seven years of teaching had on my self-esteem and belief about myself as a professional. If you are a teacher or parent or student or admin, your experience may be different , but it doesn't invalidate my personal experience.<br />
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Let's back up. <b>You need to know a bit about me as a person before you can fully understand today's post. </b><br />
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If I'm being truthful, I'm thrive on authority figures respecting me (not necessarily liking me; I'm too opinionated for that). I've always wanted my teachers, parents, coaches, youth pastors, bosses, and so forth to be proud of me and my work.<b> I truly would rather be respected than loved. </b><br />
<b><br /></b>
As far back as I can remember, I've been an intelligent, competent, hardworking overachiever. I think my parents can attest to that. I never had a teacher that didn't affirm my work ethic and efforts. I never had a boss who didn't respect me and value me as an employee whether it was at the local rec center refereeing volleyball in high school or Outback Steakhouse (where I was front house "Employee of the Month" after only two months of working there...not that that's something I put on my resume or anything, but it is a testament to my work ethic, I think).<br />
<br />
<br />
Even as a student teacher, my cooperating teachers appreciated my efforts and dedication. So did the administrators and other staff of the schools at which I student taught. Sure, teaching was incredibly hard, but when I started teaching full-time in 2011, I was confident in my training, my work ethic, my problem solving abilities, and my <a href="https://education.cu-portland.edu/blog/curriculum-teaching-strategies/improve-teacher-efficacy/">efficacy</a>.<br />
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All of that slowly began to change.<br />
<br />
I don't need to go into specifics here, because that's for a later post. However, over the years, I found myself constantly being questioned, and with increasing frequency and intensity. By the end of year seven, this past year, I was paranoid. I was <i>constantly</i> looking over my shoulder.<br />
<br />
<b>Because I had learned that making mistakes was unacceptable and instead of being supported and mentored, I would get berated, questioned, and even threatened. </b><br />
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I was not trusted as a professional. Never mind the fact that I was experienced, or that I had earned my Master's degree in education, or that I had been nominated for my school's teacher of the year a couple times times, or that my SOL scores were always solid, or that my students offered feedback on my end-of-year survey that indicated my effectiveness as a teacher.<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiuOGKm4tRGAg7S99G0LAljG_H1pm4wUUDYPOFV-B_mu1bHuSi9-44mee9LsO-OS3StuVknxH1Zwq8p6r5co4YMaGwvf-1HMj2MyV3TdrePlOpxPSvRS3MCmbbK27zQEPswAVRWjOtdnM0F/s1600/33106479_10211135517294776_4149480870895419392_o.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiuOGKm4tRGAg7S99G0LAljG_H1pm4wUUDYPOFV-B_mu1bHuSi9-44mee9LsO-OS3StuVknxH1Zwq8p6r5co4YMaGwvf-1HMj2MyV3TdrePlOpxPSvRS3MCmbbK27zQEPswAVRWjOtdnM0F/s400/33106479_10211135517294776_4149480870895419392_o.jpg" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Oh, look! I CAN plan collaborative creative lessons! <br />
You'd NEVER guess that based on the lesson plan feedback I used to get. </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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None of that mattered.<br />
<br />
I was not trusted to write lesson plans. I had to turn them in, get them critiqued (I got my lesson plans back with <b>only</b> negative feedback on them, something we as teachers KNOW you do NOT do to students-- you always write something positive on their work). Then, I had to rewrite my plans before I could teach them the next week. As if I had time for that.<br />
<br />
I was not trusted to teach my students. One year I had to keep ridiculous amounts of data to "prove" they were growing. I'm not talking basic useful data, and really, I should use that term loosely. I'm talking measures that weren't accurate and couldn't possibly be accurate because of how the assessments were designed. So I just played the game. <i>Aside: they really need to do a better job in undergrad teaching teachers how to collect and use data effectively. But I digress. </i><br />
<i><br /></i>
When I would talk to my friends who worked in the corporate world about the micromanagement, the absurd policies I had to follow, the constant looking over my shoulder, the way I was sometimes treated like a child or a student, the tone with which I was addressed, the things that were said to me... their eyes widened and their jaws hit the floor. Many of them laughed and shook their heads. "That would never fly where I work," they commented.<br />
<br />
Right.<br />
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Because you're trusted as an adult professional.<br />
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Honestly, thought? I have to take some of the responsibility myself. I lost my voice as a teacher. I should have stood up to the verbal abuse I endured. I should have pushed back against some of the rules we had to follow that were, in fact, not outlined in our contract.<br />
<br />
<b>But I was scared. </b><br />
<br />
Scared to lose my job.<br />
Scared to lose my license (yeah, that's a threat that people like to throw out: parents, some administrators, sometimes even the students)<br />
Scared to get on the wrong side of my colleagues and administrators, whom I only wanted to please and have positive relationships with (oh, and whom I will need to write me letters of reference when I return to the classroom someday...)<br />
<br />
<b><br /></b>
I want to take a minute to acknowledge that there were efforts made by some people to make me and other teachers feel supported and respected. I got some really nice feedback on lesson plans from one particular admin this year. My fellow teachers are always incredibly supportive of me. I'd say over half of my parents and students were generally respectful, too (but the ones that weren't were DOOZIES).<br />
<b><br /></b>
Still, by the end of my seven years at my school, I didn't know whom to trust. I didn't know what to believe.<br />
<br />
<b><u>I did know a few things:</u></b><br />
1) Some of the best teachers I'd EVER taught with had been pushed out of the school because of personal conflicts, NOT because of professional incompetence or indiscretion,<br />
2) Some of the most unethical, unprofessional teachers I had ever seen were engaging in behaviors that were being ignored,<br />
3) The general attitude towards teachers was either one of admiration and treating us like martyrs or one of disrespect and treating us like we are only teachers because we can't do anything else.<br />
<br />
I'd like to address that for a minute: that's pure, pardon my French, bullshit.<br />
<br />
We can do A LOT of other things. We CHOOSE to teach because we love the kids, we want to make a difference in the world, and we love creatively sharing our passion about our subject with our students.<br />
<br />
But we can't continue to teach in an environment that is toxic to our professional growth, our personal development, and our mental health.<br />
<br />
<b>And that's precisely why I left. I told all of y'all it was to stay home with my daughter. That's partially true. Now that my contract is up, I'm going to be more honest: I left because I know I was made for more. </b><br />
<b><br /></b>
I know I wasn't reaching my professional and personal potential as a teacher. <i>After all, how was I supposed to swim to bluer waters if I spent the entire time trying just to stay afloat? </i><br />
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I'll end with this thought from Morgan Knight Hermann, who wrote an article for National Educators Association <a href="http://neatoday.org/2017/10/25/why-i-quit-teaching/">about why she left teaching:</a><br />
<br />
<span style="color: #222222; font-family: "open sans" , sans-serif; font-size: 16px;">"When I tell others about my decision to leave, they assume it was because of the students, saying some variation of, 'I could never do that job!' However, the kids were the bright spot of teaching, as most teachers know. The reason I couldn’t stay in the only profession I ever wanted was the negative culture and lack of respect for teachers." </span><br />
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<br />
Teachers are leaving in droves, and it's mostly because we are not respected.<br />
<b>And, it seems like society just expects teachers to accept disrespect. We hear comments all the time: "Well, you knew you wouldn't make any money before you started, so don't complain," or "Well, you knew it'd be hard, so if you don't like it, you can just leave." </b>And the problem is now that so many of us ARE leaving, and we have a shortage in quality teachers in almost every state, i<a href="https://news.virginia.edu/content/virginias-teacher-shortage">ncluding Virginia.</a><br />
<a href="https://nypost.com/2018/02/14/why-americas-teacher-shortage-is-going-to-get-worse/">This is a problem, y'all. A massive problem. A crisis, even. </a>All you have to do is Google it: hundreds of news articles, opinion pieces, and videos addressing this topic will appear.<br />
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Now, how are we going to fix it?<br />
<br />
That's for a different post.<br />
<br />Christine S.http://www.blogger.com/profile/01758979207025927374noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-905124406134937190.post-51788752221611030512018-05-27T18:05:00.002-07:002018-05-27T18:11:35.711-07:00What I Want: Teacher Edition <br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 11px;">
<span style="font-family: "calibri";">When I was in college, a professor told my class of wanna-be
teachers, “You won’t be able to be everything to every student every day. But
you can try to be something to some students every day.” </span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 11px;">
<span style="font-family: "calibri";">Eight years ago, that maxim bored itself into my brain like
a worm into an apple. It haunts me. It implies—no, preaches—that accepting less
than perfection is acceptable. I still wrestle with its reality daily.</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 11px;">
<span style="font-family: "calibri";"><b>Because to the student who can’t currently read or write well: I want
to be your tutor.</b></span></div>
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 11px;">
<span style="font-family: "calibri";"><b>To the student who lacks confidence: I want to be your
cheerleader.</b></span></div>
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 11px;">
<span style="font-family: "calibri";"><b>To the student who lacks manners (and believe me, I've seen the emails you send to me): I want to be your Ann
Landers.</b></span></div>
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 11px;">
<span style="font-family: "calibri";"><b>To the student who needs validation: I want to be the writer
of positive sticky notes and giver of high fives.</b></span></div>
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 11px;">
<span style="font-family: "calibri";"><b>To the student who needs boundaries: I want to be your rule
maker and rule enforcer.</b></span></div>
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 11px;">
<span style="font-family: "calibri";"><b>To the student who needs someone to listen: I want to be
your sounding board. </b></span></div>
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 11px;">
<br /></div>
<span style="font-family: "calibri";">I’m equal parts drive, stubbornness, and perfectionism, so I
don’t give up easily and am very motivated.</span><br />
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 11px;">
<span style="font-family: "calibri";">And yet sometimes in teaching, I find myself <i>so utterly
exhausted</i>, so spent at the end of the day that I come home and half-joke to my
husband, “I’m not doing this anymore. This is ridiculous. These hours are
crazy. This paperwork is nuts. This is my last year.” Every single year, I have seriously considered throwing in the towel. </span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 11px;">
<span style="font-family: "calibri";">Honestly, if I am being transparent with you, I do lack
intrinsic motivation sometimes. I fantasize about my job at Barnes
and Noble where I made coffee for JMU students and only worked 8-10 hours at a
time and never brought work home with me. </span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 11px;">
<span style="font-family: "calibri";">And then, I go to school in the morning and stare at all the
faces on my “wall of fame” (where kids have given me their senior picture). And
on really rough mornings, I open my overflowing “smile file,” with student
drawings and thank you letters from the past six years. I look around my room at twenty-five kids who told me they "hate reading" invested in <i>The Crucible</i> and BEGGING me to keep reading so they can find out if Abigail gets her just reward. I linger for a few minutes after school to talk to the kids who swing by my room to get a hug, a snack, or a pep talk. </span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 11px;">
<span style="font-family: "calibri";">And that motivates me. </span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 11px;">
<span style="font-family: "calibri";">Because no…I can’t be the perfect teacher. I can’t be everything
to every student. </span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 11px;">
<span style="font-family: "calibri";">But maybe today, I can be something to someone. Maybe I can
teach someone something new, whether its to believe in himself or trust herself
or use a new reading strategy or use a new vocab word or speak in a more
respectful tone or whatever. Maybe I can listen to one of my students fret about her future or ask for advice on how to write his college application essay. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "calibri";"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "calibri";">And it's not just that my kids learn from me. I learn from them daily. Sometimes I look around the room and think, "Each one of these kids is someone's baby," and my eyes fill with tears. I have been entrusted with the most precious gifts in the world. Yes, some of them are smartphone-wielding, Jordan wearing, teeth sucking, eye rolling sassy pants. But they are still precious gifts. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "calibri";"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "calibri";">While I am excited to spend time with my own baby next year, leaving the classroom is going to hurt. I am going to miss it. I have burst into tears just thinking about it multiple times over the past few weeks. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "calibri";"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "calibri";"><b>What I really want for my profession: </b></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "calibri";">More respect from students, parents, administrators, community members, and society in general. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "calibri";">Acceptable pay (<a href="http://wtvr.com/2018/05/22/states-with-the-largest-teacher-pay-gap/">Virginia's teacher pay gap is insulting and appalling</a>)</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "calibri";">TIME to collaborate, plan, grade</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "calibri";">Freedom to actually teach </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "calibri";">...and so much more</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "calibri";"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "calibri";">Maybe when I return to teaching someday, the field will look different. Maybe we'll have progressed as a society. Or maybe I just want too much. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "calibri";"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "calibri";">Until June 15th, though, what I really want more than anything in the world is to savor these last few weeks with some of the best kids I've ever taught and the best people I've ever taught with. So, I plan to do just that. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "calibri";"><br /></span></div>
<b></b><i></i><u></u><sub></sub><sup></sup><strike></strike>Christine S.http://www.blogger.com/profile/01758979207025927374noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-905124406134937190.post-83121651734620864082018-04-18T20:18:00.001-07:002018-04-18T20:53:57.247-07:00Jen Hatmaker, It's Your Fault I've been telling people for years that I would probably die in my classroom. I've been teaching at VHS for all seven of my years as an educator, and in that time, I've been FCA sponsor, NHS sponsor, varsity volleyball coach, JV volleyball coach, a member of what seems like a thousand different committees, department chair, Reflective Friend participant, Forensics coach... I've been all in, y'all. <br />
<br />
All in. <br />
<br />
Like many of my colleagues, I've brought Pop Tarts for my hungry students and stayed at school until 7 p.m. grading essays. I'm not the only teacher who's stretched thin because of the unrealistic expectations placed on us, the piles of work we're given with little time to complete them, the students we teach who need more than we can give them sometimes...but I digress. <br />
<br />
When I got pregnant, I thought about giving up teaching. I prayed and read the Bible and discussed my feelings with my husband daily and prayed some more. In the end, I did not feel peace about quitting. <br />
<br />
I'm so glad I didn't. <br />
I'm so glad I returned to teach this year. I want to make that oh-so-crystal clear. Because (no shade) I know there were people who didn't think I would or should return to teaching. <br />
<br />
Over the summer, and I think when I was on maternity leave (I honestly don't remember-- all the days/nights blur together), I started reading Jen Hatmaker's book <i><a href="https://www.blogger.com/goog_129645638">For the Love: Fighting for Grace in a World of Impossible Standards</a></i><a href="http://jenhatmaker.com/forthelove">.</a> <br />
<br />
And folks, my world was shattered. <br />
<br />
Because she said things like, “The trouble is, we have up-close access to women who excel in each individual sphere. With social media and its carefully selected messaging, we see career women killing it, craft moms slaying it, chef moms nailing it, Christian leaders working it. We register their beautiful yards, homemade green chile enchiladas, themed birthday parties, eight-week Bible study series, chore charts, ab routines, '10 Tips for a Happy Marriage,' career best practices, volunteer work, and Family Fun Night ideas. <b>We make note of their achievements, cataloging their successes and observing their talents. Then we combine the best of everything we see, every woman we admire in every genre, and conclude: I should be all of that. It is certifiably insane</b>.” <br />
<br />
Excuse you, Jen. How dare you. <br />
But you're right. <br />
<br />
Our society <strike>glorifies </strike>idolizes women who do it all. And WE create these women in our minds (thanks, social media) and then think we have to be that fictional woman. <br />
<br />
I don't <b><i>want</i></b> to be that woman. I don't want to do it all. I want to do a few things really well. <br />
<br />
So, sure-- I can be a good teacher. And a good mom. And a good wife. I think I've mostly done that this year. <br />
But I <i><b>want</b></i> to do fewer things with more breathing room, more love, more passion, and more creativity. <br />
<br />
I promised Katherine from day one-- before day one, really-- that I would NEVER choose work over her. And I haven't. I haven't graded papers at home while she's still awake. I've barely done any work at home, if I am being honest. <br />
<br />
Tonight, for example, I strapped her into my Lillebaby carrier and walked to Starbucks and talked to her about the balmy breeze in her hair and the golden retriever that barked at her and the stench of fresh mulch in the air. I wrapped my arms around her and kissed her blond Randy-hair and looked down at her two-tooth smile as slobber rolled down her chin. She then farted on me, giggled, and said, "Da da da da daaaaaaa." We're still working on "mama," obviously. We checked the mail and witnessed an adult water fight, and I've never been so happy in my entire life. <br />
<br />
<b>Why would I choose to grade papers over that?</b> I can't get that moment back. Papers will still be there tomorrow. <br />
<br />
I've literally lived my ENTIRE life doing it all and admiring women who do it all. Even in high school. I was always busy. Being busy was...I don't know...a badge of honor. I think some of y'all know what I'm talking about. <br />
<br />
I'm done with that. It's not for me. Being busy doesn't mean I'm being productive. Or even successful. <br />
<br />
In the spirit of making more time to do things I enjoy, I'm also reading Rachel Hollis's book<a href="https://www.amazon.com/Girl-Wash-Your-Face-Believing/dp/1400201659/ref=as_li_ss_tl?ie=UTF8&linkCode=sl1&tag=jenhatm-20&linkId=e957929388bc232ddc03669e4278cac4"> </a><i><a href="https://www.amazon.com/Girl-Wash-Your-Face-Believing/dp/1400201659/ref=as_li_ss_tl?ie=UTF8&linkCode=sl1&tag=jenhatm-20&linkId=e957929388bc232ddc03669e4278cac4">Girl, Wash Your Face</a></i>. Jen Hatmaker interviewed Rachel on her <i><a href="http://jenhatmaker.com/episode-04-rachel-hollis">For the Love</a></i><a href="http://jenhatmaker.com/episode-04-rachel-hollis"> podcast</a> that I listen to when I can. Can you tell I'm really into powerful Christian women lately? <br />
<br />
Rachel writes in her book, "Maybe the hardest part of life is just having the courage to try." <br />
<br />
I may not die at my desk chair or retire from the school where I started teaching. I may not be doing a thousand things. <br />
<br />
But you'd better believe that I'm going to have the courage to try a billion new things. The courage to make myself just...be. Just relax. The courage to invite you into my home for dinner. The courage to finally take calculus and Zumba. <br />
<br />
Will I miss teaching? More than you know. It's like I'm leaving a piece of my soul behind at Varina. I'm tearing up just thinking about it. <br />
<br />
Will I regret leaving? <br />
<br />
Absolutely not.<br />
<br />
Thanks, Jen Hatmaker. <br />
<br />
<br />Christine S.http://www.blogger.com/profile/01758979207025927374noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-905124406134937190.post-37294226913247113992017-12-27T19:56:00.003-08:002017-12-27T19:58:13.113-08:00When Mama Bear Sees Red What do you get when you cross a crowded parking garage, a screaming infant, and cars who won't let the car with said screaming infant out?<br />
<br />
<b>A mama bear who sees red. </b><br />
<br />
Y'all, I have been processing a certain incident that happened last week. I alluded to it on Facebook. I've thought about it in the shower, muttering as I slammed my shampoo bottle on the ground. I've seethed about it as I've creamed eggs and sugar together to make cookies.<br />
<br />
I've tried to see it from the perspective of the three women who were in the car. I've failed.<br />
<br />
Here's a brief summary of the incident:<br />
Hubby and I (with our four-month-old) attended a basketball game last week. This basketball game was a BIG deal and had tons of attendees, so we had to park in a parking garage on the second level. After the game, of course, said garage was basically at a standstill as people tried to leave.<br />
<br />
Our four-month-old was doing okay, but after sitting in the car not moving at all for fifteen minutes, still stuck in our spot, she started SCREAMING. Like, choking on her saliva, sounding like she was going to spit up screaming. Not just crying. I can deal with her crying, people. It was a scream I had never heard before, and it shook me to my core.<br />
<br />
I sat there, thinking that SURELY we are going to escape our parking spot and be on our way home. "Should I just get out and stand in front of a car so they have to let us out of our spot?" I asked my husband multiple times. He didn't really reply. I was unsure of my other options, unsure of how long we were going to be stuck there, unsure of how to handle this situation. Meanwhile, the screaming continues and escalates until I.cannot.take.it.anymore. We have to get this baby home.<br />
<br />
So, I get out of my parked car and approach the car that could, if they so desired, let us out in front of them.<br />
<br />
In the front passenger seat is a former coworker. In the back is a current coworker. I don't know the driver. The passenger side window is cracked a couple of inches, so I smile: "Hey, I have a screaming infant in my back seat, so I was wondering if there's any chance y'all would let us out in front of you?"<br />
<br />
Eye contact with front seat passenger is made. She says not one word and looks back down at her phone. Back seat passenger and driver do not make eye contact with me.<br />
<br />
Me: *awkward pause* "Um okay thank you!"<br />
<br />
I get back in my car.<br />
<br />
And not only do they not let us out...they immediately pull up, making it very clear they're going to ensure we cannot get out. I was LIVID. Not because they wouldn't let us out. But because I felt betrayed. I KNEW these people and thought I had a positive relationship with one of them. I mean, I knew they weren't driving, but to not even be acknowledged? That STUNG, y'all.<br />
<br />
But...I'm not here to talk about them. Because I can't control them.<br />
<br />
<b><u>I'm here to talk about me.</u></b><br />
<br />
I have examined my motivation for asking them--was I trying to take advantage of them? Was I rude? Was I unreasonable? I didn't think so. Maybe from their perspective I was, though.<br />
<br />
I have examined my reaction to them which, admittedly, was NOT a positive one at first.<br />
<br />
But perhaps most importantly, <b>I have tried to consider what I would do in a similar situation.</b> Because I can be spiteful. I can hold grudges. I can refuse to do things just to show people they don't have power over me or just to prove that I do what I want. And maybe that's what this car did to us, I don't really know.<br />
<br />
What I DO know is that I want to model BETTER for my daughter. I want to go out of my way to be strong but not spiteful. To be kind but not be a doormat. To strike that balance. To teach her that YES, we can be kind to strangers (the Good Samaritan story comes to mind) and also have boundaries.<br />
<br />
So Katherine, someday if a desperate first-time mother asks you to stop your car and let her out in front of you because she has a screaming infant in the back seat, I hope you'll let her out. Not because you have to--you don't. It's not the law. <b>But because you WANT to because you are compassionate and loving. And I pray that you learn those traits from me and your dad.</b> I pray we do not fail to model those for you.<br />
<br />
In this world of tension and strife and defensiveness, I<b> pray that I can examine my own heart and actions and model for you kindness, goodness, courage, and love. And when I fail, I pray I can apologize and do better next time. </b><br />
<br />
Mama Bear saw red last week, it's true. But Mama Bear also knows that she is to love her enemies, pray for those who persecute her, and forgive seventy times seven.<br />
<br />
She's still working on all of that... :)Christine S.http://www.blogger.com/profile/01758979207025927374noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-905124406134937190.post-56344988949592895002017-12-11T20:33:00.001-08:002017-12-11T20:34:41.773-08:00The Post I've Been Sitting On For a Year... Honesty: I am scared to hit "publish" right now.<br />
<br />
I have wanted to address this issue for a year.<br />
<br />
But I didn't know if I should. If, as a white woman, my thoughts are even relevant. So, to anyone who's reading this, <i>please</i> hear my heart and know that this is written with the utmost thought, compassion, sympathy, and love. It is written with a burning desire for peace and unity. It is written with confusion about what to do, if anything, and how to help, if I can. It is written knowing that I am painfully ignorant and imperfect. I have so much growth still to do.<br />
<br />
I mean, what <i>right</i> do I as a white woman have to be sitting here at my laptop bawling over this issue, one that isn't even "mine" to be upset over? By writing this post, am I "making this about me"? But if I'm not writing about my own personal reaction, am I then trying to write about something I don't understand?<br />
<br />
Reading this poem gave me the final push to pen my thoughts and push "publish":<br />
<br />
<i style="line-height: 1; margin: 0px; padding: 0px;">First they came for the Socialists, and I did not speak out—</i><i style="line-height: 1; margin: 0px; padding: 0px;">Because I was not a Socialist.</i><i style="line-height: 1; margin: 0px; padding: 0px;">Then they came for the Trade Unionists, and I did not speak out—</i><br />
<i style="line-height: 1; margin: 0px; padding: 0px;">Because I was not a Trade Unionist.</i><i style="line-height: 1; margin: 0px; padding: 0px;">Then they came for the Jews, and I did not speak out—</i><br />
<i style="line-height: 1; margin: 0px; padding: 0px;">Because I was not a Jew.</i><i style="line-height: 1; margin: 0px; padding: 0px;">Then they came for me—and there was no one left to speak for me.</i><br />
<i style="line-height: 1; margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><br /></i>No, I'm not black. But I will speak up. So please hear my heart.<br />
<br />
I watched the (sensitive) <a href="https://www.washingtonpost.com/news/post-nation/wp/2016/09/22/tulsa-officer-who-fatally-shot-terrence-crutcher-charged-with-first-degree-manslaughter/?utm_term=.55e8866df793" target="_blank">video of Terrence Crutcher's death</a>. Someone's son. Someone's friend. A music student at a local college. A church goer who sang in the church choir. All I could think was, "My God, that could be one of my students."<br />
<br />
When I was watching the video just now, I was thinking of my kids...<br />
<br />
The ones who have accidentally called me "Mom."<br />
The one who wants to be a computer programmer and has started teaching himself how to write code.<br />
The one who told me, "When I grow up, I just want to be a better man someday. I want to have a wife and kids, and I just want my kids to be better than I am, because isn't that what every parent would want?" That kid is 16 years old.<br />
The ones who hug their teachers when they see we are having a bad day or who offer to help us carry supplies in from our cars or who help us pack up our classrooms.<br />
The one who told me he'd fight someone for me because another kid disrespected me.<br />
The one who held and bounced my infant daughter at a basketball game.<br />
<br />
<br />
...the list goes on. The majority of my students are people of color. Well over half. We have had some honest conversations about their truths and their experiences--the way society views them, the way they view the police, and so much more.<br />
<br />
So, society sees a black man. The media writes the story of a man who "was no angel" or who "was not compliant" as if those two things are death sentences. They're not.<br />
<br />
<br />
And damn it, watching videos of black men being shot dead by police makes me <b>terrified</b> for my students, and then it makes me feel pathetic for feeling scared, because I can't imagine how they must feel. How their parents must feel. While I can understand on a cognitive level, I can NEVER truly understand. I know that.<br />
<br />
<br />
I do want to express a few thoughts that some people think are contradictory:<br />
<br />
1) I am befuddled at the people who argue that "failure to comply" with a police officer's commands justifies killing them. I'm sorry, what?<br />
2) I am confused by people who equate every single police shooting of every black man. They are not all the same. Oversimplification of a complex issue is dangerous. The details of each case are different.<br />
3) I am dismayed by people who judge all police based on the ones who are racist or use excessive force. Police officers do so much good. Many of them do protect and serve. I am so thankful for them. I respect them, and I know they are valuable members of our community.<br />
4) I am confused as to why we as a society are creating false dichotomies- I can only be "pro-black lives matter" or "pro-blue lives matter" but not both. That's very untrue, but I guess humans are more comfortable with simple categories instead of wrestling with complex, nuanced, layered issues.<br />
<br />
So, I could blog about any of those points. But today, I want to focus on point number one: <b>people who don't seem bothered by these deaths because they're too busy justifying them.</b><br />
<br />
It disgusts, angers, outrages me when people, especially my fellow believers in Jesus, respond to the loss of life with excuses, justifications, and lack of empathy. "Oh, well he had a rap sheet." "Oh, well he didn't comply with officer's orders."<br />
<br />
<b>OK. Those things should still NOT be a death sentence.</b> Where is your compassion? Your sympathy? Oh you who are so "pro-life"- are you only pro-unborn life? Because that is sure how it seems sometimes, to be quite frank with you. And that is completely inconsistent with the Jesus we Christians claim to worship and follow.<br />
<br />
<b>The taking of a life should never be done lightly. </b>Ever. Life is sacred. We are made in God's image, each one of us, and the utter lack of sympathy is disturbing.<br />
<br />
I could ramble forever.<br />
I want to be an ally. A safe person. I don't know what to do or how to help. I don't even know if this post is "allowed" or "politically correct" in today's culture. But it's my raw, honest heart, and it's a part of my journey, and so I'm sharing it in faith that it will speak to someone, somewhere.<br />
<br />
<br />
Jesus,<br />
I am imperfect, but I long to be like You. Give me Your heart for people. Let me always see them through Your eyes.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />Christine S.http://www.blogger.com/profile/01758979207025927374noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-905124406134937190.post-59091480577262597632017-10-21T17:32:00.001-07:002017-10-21T17:35:50.698-07:00Mesh Underwear and Dirty DiapersMy husband has never been one for grand romantic gestures. I'm pretty sure he didn't buy me flowers until five years into marriage, and even then, I think I had to specifically tell him to do so explicitly. I used to get jealous of women whose Prince Charmings scattered rose petals all over their houses and drew candlelit bubble baths for them.<br />
<br />
Now? I don't give a rat's fart about flowers, bubbles, or candles.<br />
<br />
Want to know what's romantic?<br />
<br />
A husband who rubbed my sore, aching back every night during the third trimester of pregnancy. Even after he had worked a 12-hour shift. Without complaining.<br />
<br />
A husband who rubbed my back during labor, sprayed me with hot water during contractions to help relieve the pain, held up my Harry Potter Tervis cup between contractions so I could stay hydrated, and held up my leg as I pushed and pushed and pushed with all my body weight to bring our daughter into the world.<br />
<br />
A husband who held the barf bag while I bounced on a birthing ball during labor and had contractions and vomited.<br />
<br />
A husband who waited to eat his own dinner and fed my dinner to me in the hospital (and after) because I was CONSTANTLY nursing our baby girl. He only made airplane noises one time...<br />
<br />
A husband who helped me pull up my totally unsexy mesh underwear after my first shower so I wouldn't rip my stitches<br />
<br />
A husband who changed almost every diaper in the hospital. <br />
<br />
And perhaps most romantic of all, a husband who said "I'll take her for the night. You go get some sleep." Literally the most beautiful words I've ever heard uttered from his lips.<br />
<br />
It's incredible how our definition of "love" keeps growing and expanding. When we first started dating, it was long distance because he was off at college. I was 17 and in high school. So "love" was trusting each other, late night AIM conversations, and holding hands at church. Then it was saying "I do" and me giving him time to play computer games and him understanding my Starbucks addiction and us holding each other crying after the loss of a grandparent or a child.<br />
<br />
And now, he has seen me at my absolute most vulnerable. There is something so raw and primal about childbirth (or at least there was for me), and that's just the beginning of the painful vulnerability. The early newborn days brought out the worst in me. I basically went three days in a row with no sleep. As I've share before, breastfeeding was incredibly painful. And, of course, my hormones were wackadoodle.<br />
<br />
But this incredible man has loved me and our daughter with a tender, steadfast love. It's overwhelming. He is the perfect example of what Christ's love looks like in a marriage. He is the perfect example of what a respectful man looks like in a relationship, and he is going to show our daughter how a woman should be treated.<br />
<br />
Now...if only he didn't like the Redskins...<br />
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<br />Christine S.http://www.blogger.com/profile/01758979207025927374noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-905124406134937190.post-22942365679218019162017-10-03T15:47:00.000-07:002017-10-03T15:47:17.683-07:00Boobs Are Food, Not Friends I <i>cringe</i> when I see blogs titled something like "Ten Things No One Told Me About Breastfeeding." Girl, maybe no one told YOU...but maybe you didn't ask the right questions, talk to the right people, or read the right books.<br />
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I knew breastfeeding would be hella hard. Other people told me, and I did lots of reading and research. I took a class. And I'm so thankful for these many resources because without them, I feel certain I would've quit by now. I was mentally prepared, and it is STILL the hardest thing about being a mom so far.<br />
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I have always wanted to breastfeed. The research I've done is pretty clear about its benefits for baby and for mom. I'm not going to get into a "breast is best" or "fed is best" debate here, but for ME, breastfeeding was SO important. I did my very best to educate myself so our breastfeeding journey would be successful because I may be a lot of things, but I'm not a quitter.<br />
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<b><u>Well, the first five or six days of breastfeeding almost turned me into a quitter.</u> </b>And here at almost six weeks, there are still days I consider it, if I'm being perfectly honest.<br />
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When our little girl was born five and a half weeks ago, she breastfed pretty successfully from the beginning. On night two, she clusterfed like a boss (I literally fed her the entire night at the hospital). The next day, it looked-- and felt-- like I'd dragged my nipples through the Amazon River and let piranhas feast on them. Cracked, bleeding nipples that stung when they came into contact with cloth. Or water. Or air. </div>
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See, I knew how latching was <i>SUPPOSED</i> to work. I'd watched videos and practiced with a baby doll. But the baby doll didn't have hands that flung into its mouth or dragged razor sharp nails across an already bleeding nipples. I suspected something was wrong with Katherine latch, but when the hospital lactation consultant watched her, she commented that everything "looked good" and that I was likely just experiencing pain because Katherine's mouth was still small. </div>
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Maybe true... but by the time I got home, nursing was so painful that I found myself thinking I'd rather go through unmedicated labor again. Because at least with labor, the American Academy of Pediatrics doesn't recommend you stay in labor for a year.<br />
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Here's what I did on my own to try to relieve the pain: <br />
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-Ibuprofen every eight hours (and y'all know I HATE medicine. And swallowing pills)</div>
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-Watching tons of YouTube videos to correct her latch</div>
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-Lanolin</div>
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-Hydrogel pads (which I low key HATED because you have to rinse your boob off before you feed again, and that took time, and the water stung) </div>
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-Rubbing breastmilk on the nipples and air drying them<br />
-Reading kellymom.com (best breastfeeding resource I've found)<br />
-Begging Katherine to stop using my nipples as a chew toy...you're not a puppy, little girl. </div>
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But despite my best efforts, my snorting, starving newborn still managed to cause me immense pain every single time she latched. I cried--we're talking BAWLED-- at least 50% of the times I nursed- a mixture of pain, frustration, exhaustion, and hormones. </div>
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Finally, I decided to reach out and get some help. <b>Three things have salvaged our breastfeeding journey:</b> a lactation consultant, Newman's prescription nipple cream (which we had to get through a compounding pharmacy, and the chiropractor. </div>
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<b>1) Lactation consultant. </b>We met with a fabulous doula-recommended lactation consultant when Katherine was only a week old. I'm so glad I didn't wait any longer. She came to our house and helped me get our sweet pea to latch. </div>
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Admittedly, Katherine is a bit of a show off already and latched perfectly for the LC the first freaking time. Seriously, kiddo? It was a little harder to get her to latch deeply after the LC left. BUT having someone come in person and show me what to do was a thousand times more helpful than any YouTube video or book I'd read. The LC also followed up with me several times after her visit. Having some in-person support was so encouraging.<br />
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<b>2) Prescription nipple cream.</b> I wish I'd left the hospital with this prescription in hand. We had to have it called in to a compounding pharmacy, and it cost over fifty bucks, but it was so worth it. I don't know what's in this stuff, sometimes known as "Newman's Nipple Cream" or "APNO". Maybe it's unicorn dust or the tears of a leprechaun. Just kidding; <a href="https://www.breastfeedinginc.ca/informations/all-purpose-nipple-ointment-apno/" target="_blank">here's the list of ingredients</a>. I am CONVINCED using this stuff is the only reason we haven't had thrush or an infection, considering my boobs had open wounds on them for a week.<br />
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<b>3)</b> <b>Chiropractor</b>. The amazing chiro I saw throughout my pregnancy (who performed <a href="https://icpa4kids.com/training/webster-certification/webster-technique/" target="_blank">Webster's</a> technique on me and made sure my body was all aligned and ready to give birth) saw Katherine. She noticed a couple things that might be affecting her latch: Katherine's neck is a little tight, especially moving to one side in particular. Her neck is scrunched up and her shoulders are a little tense. And her occipital bone is slightly caved in. None of these things are irregular for a newborn- apparently they can happen in utero or during pushing.<br />
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Anyway, Dr. Anna gently adjusted Katherine (as much as she would let her) and her latch was immediately better. Not a 10/10 but like a 7/10. And we're going back in a few weeks. </div>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhSEPCff7S79nFyV5Xx-YAQfn97yS3kHyE7vucRXtGuyXcwRa4RpBEqg5YNpRzIbe7Gt2oToD5hyphenhyphenwBy6NA7UY9ZfN6Gb_NejCU3TG6QLSHqWEPpswu54cqTmgeJ1OYIYOuAicXJaGFrRLfA/s1600/FullSizeRender-1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="194" data-original-width="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhSEPCff7S79nFyV5Xx-YAQfn97yS3kHyE7vucRXtGuyXcwRa4RpBEqg5YNpRzIbe7Gt2oToD5hyphenhyphenwBy6NA7UY9ZfN6Gb_NejCU3TG6QLSHqWEPpswu54cqTmgeJ1OYIYOuAicXJaGFrRLfA/s1600/FullSizeRender-1.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Our chunky milk fiend shortly after her arrival. </td></tr>
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I'll be honest- her latch is still not <i>great</i>. Sometimes it's better than others. BUT it is INFINITELY better than it was when she was chewing on my nipples like they're Hubba Bubba bubblegum.<br />
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And me? I may not love breastfeeding the way a puppy loves his or her owner. I might not get excited when Katherine snorts and root and starts her heavy rapid breathing that says, "I'm hungry, Mom! I'm trying to gain five pounds a week so I can be a sumo wrestler someday!" I'm still having <a href="https://kellymom.com/bf/concerns/mother/nipple-blanching/" target="_blank">vasospasms</a>.<br />
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BUT... I am amazed that I have sustained this little girl the way God intended. I am in awe of how content and sweet she is when she's eating. I love when she latches on and sighs serenely, covering her chubby cheeks with her tiny hands and closing her eyes in bliss.<br />
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So if there are "things no one told you about breastfeeding," I'm sorry- but even knowing all the things like I feel I did, it was still SO hard. Kudos to you mamas who stick with it! I hope I can be one of you!<br />
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Christine S.http://www.blogger.com/profile/01758979207025927374noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-905124406134937190.post-61468254331742762402017-09-18T17:41:00.002-07:002017-09-18T17:43:57.943-07:00Dear Future Me: Remember the Newborn Days Dear Future Me,<br />
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I started writing this letter in the middle of pregnancy and slowly added to it. Now, at almost a month post birth, I'm publishing it. I didn't want to forget the important things, the annoying things, the trivial things. It's amazing how quickly we forget experiences and feelings.<br />
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So, future me, in the years to come when you encounter pregnant women and new moms, keep the following in mind:<br />
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<b>1) Don't touch pregnant bellies without permission. </b>Enough said. Some women (you) don't really mind it. But some do. You wouldn't randomly touch some dude's beer belly, would you? Okay then- don't touch that future mom, either, even if your hand gravitates towards her belly like a child's hand to a cookie jar. Leave her be.<br />
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<b>2) When you drop off a meal or visit, don't linger. </b>Every minute you are in the house is one that the exhausted mother isn't sleeping, showering, eating, or doing something for herself. As much as you want to snuggle and see that new precious baby, it is not about you or your feelings. Drop off the meal (in disposable containers you won't need back) and quickly slip out. If you know the mom well, maybe do a load of laundry or the dirty dishes in the sink. Visitors are emotionally exhausting, and Mom needs to protect her new family first and foremost.<br />
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Don't impose, don't be pushy, and respect her wishes. It's not personal, and it's not about you- you'll get to meet that sweet baby later. Remember that the baby isn't on a schedule, so Mama may need to nurse or diaper change, and the longer you're there, the more likely it is you're disrupting the new family's flow. So be respectful of their time.<br />
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And always text or call before coming over!<br />
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<b>3) Remember how hard nursing is. </b>Remember the cracked, bleeding nipples. Remember the stress of trying to get a baby to latch (especially with people around or noise in the background). Remember the tears of frustration when a crying, hungry baby just couldn't latch successfully. Be supportive of your breastfeeding mom friends. Kindly and humbly recommend a lactation consultant, if appropriate. Tip them off the Newman's prescription nipple cream (a lifesaver). Remember they have a right to feed their baby whenever, wherever. Don't stare. Don't talk to mom while she's focusing on getting baby to latch. Let her nurse in peace.<br />
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<b>4) Motherhood isn't a competition or pissing contest. </b>You're no better than anyone because of your experiences or choices. Having an easy pregnancy doesn't make you less of a mom. Having a natural, unmedicated birth doesn't make you any more of a mom. Being able to breastfeed doesn't make you better than anyone.<br />
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It's not a competition, and all of us moms are just trying to do what's best for our babies. Support and uplift Mama. Tell her she's doing amazing because she is.<br />
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<b>5) Getting Mom a gift card instead of a "real" gift is totally fine and probably very helpful. </b>And always give a gift receipt and tape it to the gift. And remember that not all babies will even wear "newborn" sized clothing. And if the baby was born in December, buying newborn sized summer onesies isn't really appropriate.<br />
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<b>6) Don't say, "Oh, you think you're tired now? Just wait."</b> She knows she's not going to sleep after the baby comes. She doesn't understand yet, but don't rain on her parade. That's not what she needs to hear right now.<br />
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<b>7) Don't forget about Dad. </b>This is a huge adjustment for him, too, and he is tired and frazzled and trying to care for a wife and new little one. Support him, too.<br />
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<b>8) Don't give unsolicited advice. </b>Ask first. Don't be a condescending know-it-all. And if mom wants to share about her desire to cloth diaper or co-sleep or something else you don't agree with, don't criticize her.<br />
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<b>9) Don't judge. </b>Her baby, her choices. You don't have to agree with her. She's doing the best she can, just like you are.<br />
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<b>10) Don't take what a new parent does personally. </b>It's not about you. They're just trying to do what's best for their newborn. They ask you to wash your hands? They don't think you're dirty. They're just trying to protect their little one. They don't let you hold the baby? There's a reason. Maybe baby is super fussy. Maybe they are being protective. Their baby, their choice. Don't disparage her for being a first time mom. You were once, too.<br />
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I know these all seem SO obvious right now, but someday, future Christine, you're going to forget this stuff. When you do, think back to the first few sleepless, painful, emotionally exhausting weeks and remember that what you needed most was a listening ear, food that could be eaten with one hand, pumpkin spice lattes, sleep, showers, and brief hugs.<br />
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Love,<br />
New Mommy Christine<br />
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<br />Christine S.http://www.blogger.com/profile/01758979207025927374noreply@blogger.com0