Reflections on Turning 25

As a five-year-old, I remember imagining myself at 16; thinking, "wow, I'll be driving, hanging out with cool friends, carrying around a lot of heavy books and hanging out at my locker a ton." When 16 came, those ideas became sorta realities, with some obvious twists.

Now that I'm four days away from turning a quarter century old, I'm remembering what I thought of 25 when I was five years old.

By 25, I thought I'd be wise, mature, accomplished. I thought I would've owned a house, that I cooked in all the time and drove a car to fancy meetings every day and discussed important business things, using big business words. I can confidently say, most of those things haven't happened. And I can also confidently say, I am thankful that they haven't.

I am silly and giggly and I act much like a five-year-old still. I know I can have a serious conversation or laugh at some fart joke. So I guess the maturity thing might reach me by the time I reach 1/2 a century old. As for the rest, I can't imagine being that person right now. My life has had many twists and turns, more ups than downs and I wouldn't have it any other way.

I have had the privilege to meet many people from coast to coast who inspire me to be a better version of myself and remind me of what truly matters. I have traveled to places I never thought imaginable. I have a loving and semi-strange family and a caring and humorous roommate. As well as some loyal and amazing friends from Washington (the state) to PA, to CT, to DC to NOLA. And I have found my calling within my vocation. I am blessed. I guess if these past 25 years have taught me anything, it's that blessings come in many forms and there are too many to count, if we choose to open our eyes to see them.

Some Thoughts/Words of Wisdom to my 5-Year-Old Self:
1) Never Stop Smiling
2) Love the ones You are With
3) When in Doubt, Wear the Onsie
4) Never Shy Away From an Adventure or a Chance to Learn
5) Be Kind to Your Siblings
6) Be Kind to Yourself
7) Never Let Anyone Cheapen You
8) Color Outside of the Lines Once in a While
9) Have Dance Parties as Often as Possible
10) Never Lose Sight of Your 5-Year-Old Self

My birthday party on Saturday is Kindergarten themed. I had the choice between doing a "Senior Citizen" party or a "Kindergarten" party and I think it's obvious why I chose the theme I did...I hope to never lose sight of my five-year-old self and I am excited to see what this new quarter century brings me.

For Your Viewing Pleasure:

(First Day of Kindergarten) 

The Slugs of Life

Let me paint you a picture: I am sitting in my sweats, on my living room couch, drinking a "naughty milk" as Mama Conway calls it (Bailey's and hot cocoa) and thinking about the craziness of this past week.

Leading up to Friday, I was busy planning and stressing about my classroom's first field trip ever. Figuring out chaperones, transportation, lunch, permission slips, fares, times, exhibits to see, etc. occupied my mind for four solid days. Then, the day finally came, and I was petrified my "Anti-Christ" kid would jump into the lion's den or I'd lose a kid or one of my nut allergy kids would touch something contaminated. But alas, we set out for the National Zoo.

My kids were adorable, yet scared, to ride the Metro. They held on to our hands tightly and proceeded to fit three to a seat because they all wanted to talk to us. Slight side note, the National Zoo is a bit of a walk from the Metro stop (a fact I didn't know so my kids were grumpy about it). We saw Cheetahs, baby Cheetahs, Gazelles, wolves, red pandas, giant pandas, elephants, all the monkeys in world, the reptile house and a SLUG (something we're learning about it science right now).

My chaperones were great and lunch eventually got figured out but the return trip was rough. My kids were exhausted and very grouchy about walking so far...it was not pleasant and I was also exhausted. BUT they seemed to enjoy themselves a lot and they talked about the slug the most (so funny that we go to the zoo and the animal they love the most is a slug). They talked about how big it was and used the vocab words we learned to describe the slug and they made predictions about whether the slug had a family and most importantly, they asked to return to the zoo so they could see the slug again.

From that point until now, I have been on the go...living out my elongated "weekend zoo", if you will. I went to my friend's all-female arm wrestling competition, helped a friend move on Saturday, toured the monuments at night on Saturday and then ran in the Color Run (5K race) today. It's been non-stop but when I think about the fun moments I shared with the amazing people I am blessed to know, I don't think of those moments on a grand scale.

They usually involve 20 minute conversations about the term, "turn your head and cough" or having dance parties while waiting to have our group called to begin the Color Run or trying to fix my friend's toilet or shooting Nerf guns at each other in my friend's apartment...it's the small things...it's the "slugs" that have me excited and leave me happy that I experienced it all.

As I think about the many ways I over plan my life and try to micro manage the big projects, I think about my kids. I think about their ability to find joy in the smallest and unexpected. I think about the silly little moments I've shared with them and with my friends that I cherish. Sure, the big things were fun too but it's the down time, the side conversations, the unplanned slugs that pop up when you're expecting to see an Orangutang that fills your soul and warms your heart. This weekend, within the craziness of life, I am most grateful for the unexpected slugs that came my way and my kids for reminding me the importance of those slugs.

Eros: I Will Give Myself to You

Brittney visited today. I hadn't realized how much I missed her and her supportive spirit. It brought back such wonderful memories and feelings. Colleen, Britt and I went to breakfast together and then Mass; it was kind of a JVC 2011-2012 reunion for us. I haven't been to Mass since August 5th, which was the last time Britt was in DC, so entering those giant wooden church doors with her by my side was even more meaningful.

When Britt, Colleen and I selected our pew and finished our prayers, we looked up to see the one and only, Fr. Paul Dressler (a Franciscan Friar). He began his "term" with St. Augustine's the same time we moved to DC and we bonded with him because of his warmth, authenticity and amazing homilies. During our JV year in DC, we invited him over to our place and got to know him fairly well.

It seemed as though the planets aligned to have us all there, under God's roof, to celebrate kinship, family and love.

As Fr. Paul read the Gospel and we all sat down to hear his words of wisdom in the homily, he quoted the opening line to the movie, "Mystic River":

“Brendan Harris loved Katie Marcus like crazy, loved her like movie love, with an orchestra booming through his blood and flooding his ears.  He loved her waking up, going to bed, loved her all day and every second in between.  Brendan Harris would love Katie Marcus fat and ugly.  He’d love her with bad skin and thick fuzz on her upper lip.  He’d love her toothless.  He’d love her bald.

Katie.  The trill of her name sliding through his brain was enough to make Brendan feel like he could walk on water and bench-press an eighteen-wheeler, toss it across the street when he was finished with it.

Brendan Harris loved everyone now because he loved Katie and Katie loved him.  Brendan loved traffic and smog and the sound of jackhammers. He loved Monday mornings and standing in line at the DMV.  Everything was sweeter because he loved Katie and Katie loved him."

Fr. Paul later related Brendan's love, his crazy movie love, a desirable love; Eros (as the Greek call it). A love that we all thirst for, a love that makes life sweeter and the DMV less painful. Fr. Paul explained that God's love for us is in fact Eros, it is movie love...his love is crazy, mad, stupid love because he loves us even when we are toothless, fat and ugly and even on Mondays. God has a thirst, a burning desire to love us and that is Eros. 

As the choir began to softly transition the church into preparing for communion; they sang, "I Will Give Myself to You." As I sat between two women who saw me change and grow during my second JV year and presently, keep my heart in check, I realized that as long as God keeps sending me beautiful people like them to help live out His Eros love for me, the task of "giving myself to Him" becomes a little less scary and less challenging. 

Home

Over the past week I have become obsessed with this song called "Are We There Yet?" by Ingrid Michaelson. Lyrics: http://www.azlyrics.com/lyrics/ingridmichaelson/arewethereyet.html

This song has interesting lyrics and keeps popping up in my day-to-day adventures and outings. In it, she describes the hope, the confusion, the unsteady wondering of whether the place she is at right now is where she belongs. In the song, her evolution comes full circle and she changes from looking outward to inward. She asks herself, "do I make someone else feel like they're home? What am I doing?"

I think this song keeps popping up in my life for multiple reasons. In the past month I have wondered if DC and teaching here is where I belong. I have felt a little doubt; especially as I dive deeper into this transition into adulthood. I keep wondering how different my life would be if I were back on the west coast. I keep wondering how my family, my friends, my "home" are doing. I think of them and the roles they would play in my life, if I lived there. As I ponder these things and try to distract myself with work and with apple picking or Back to School Night or some fall activity, I realize, God has me here because He wants me to be here.

It isn't my job to ask if I am there yet...it's my job to ask if I am giving my gifts to the fullest or if I am helping someone else feel at home here.

As this song kept popping up, one of my students on Friday personified the song. My precious, little sweetheart of a Kindergarten girl who is a ward of the District and lives with her grandmother and little brother, put my life into perspective. On Friday, at around 2:30pm, she became very upset. Now, Debra* is usually upbeat, smiley, loving and giving to other classmates so this sudden attitude change alarmed me. Debra was crying and couldn't tell me why.

At around 3:30pm, the after-school-care people came to pick her, and a few other students of mine, up. Debra became frantic. I got down to her level, looked her in the eyes and said, "I need you you to tell me why you're crying. I don't like to see you cry and I want to help; it hurts me to not be able to help you."

She looked up and said, "I want my Grandma. I don't want to go home with my mom today." And she lost it. She lost every ounce of composure she was trying to maintain. In that second, my kids from Bridgeport came back to mind, the kids who were afraid to go home, the kids who would stall or run away from mom, dad, brother, uncle, grandma or auntie. I was reminded of the pure terror some of my kids felt at the mere sight of their guardians coming to pick them up and then looked at Debra, my bubbly, giggly, little girl.

I hugged her tightly, not wanting to let her go and I whispered to her, "You will be home tonight, with Grandma. She will be there. And remember that even when Grandma or I are not around, we are always thinking of you. I am always thinking of you, Debra. I am always here so if you need to cry, I will be right here, OK?"

And there I squatted and she collapsed into the crease of my neck and cried; we both cried. Are we there yet? I have no idea. I don't think I know what home looks like for me yet. But I know what it feels like and in those short moments that help remind me of those feelings, I know that I am right where I need to be.

*Names have been changed

I Get Knocked Down...

Adventures from my Kindergarten classroom continue.

As I head into week six of school, it has become increasingly obvious that I should point out something very big that I've been pushing under the rug for a while about my classroom.

Throughout these past five weeks I have had to wrestle with many changes, but the biggest thing I have had to wrestle with is a five-year-old boy I will call lovingly, AC (or "Anti-Christ"). He is a terror. I have dealt with mean or "bad" kids before but he takes the cake. He has made me realize that not all children are deep down, great kids...some of them are just rotten deep down, no matter how far down you dig.

Let me enlighten you...AC is smart...he is very clever and reads at level. BUT he has major behavioral issues. I first saw this when he climbed on our tables and counters day one of school and thought it was funny to leave the classroom whenever he liked. This behavior has since escalated into leaving the classroom at least six times a day, throwing objects, screaming, making noises, throwing chairs, climbing on tables, bookshelves and chairs, playing with scissors, slamming doors repeatedly and my favorite, hitting/punching/kicking teachers.

I have had to put AC in a bear hug hold at least twice a day (something I am not trained to do) and have come home with multiple bruises, scraps and scratches. But Friday took the cake...Friday, he showed his truest colors and it's fair to say that I really dislike this boy.

On Friday morning, he came in as he usually does, sweet as pie, smiling and saying, "good morning, Ms. Katie." And then around 9:30am (every day its around the same time) he got up and started playing around on our bean bag chairs. At break, he sat on two of our girls on purpose and after I told him that he wasn't being safe with his body on the carpet during shared reading, he ran to the scissors bin. As he wrestled through the scissors bin, I pulled his hand out and put the bin out of his reach. He then rammed his head into my stomach and grunted loudly at me in anger.

I squatted down to his level and asked him to use his words because I couldn't help him if he couldn't use his words and he yelled, "get away from me."

I said, "OK. But we need to be safe with our bodies, OK? When you're ready, I'd love a partner on the carpet."

He screamed, "no! I don't want to." Then he proceeded to look me dead in the eyes, pull back his head and ram it into my nose. Yes, boys and girls, I was head-butted by a five-year-old; something I never thought would happen to me.

As my eyes welled up, I grabbed his arm and took him straight to the office so the Special Ed. Coordinator could take him off my hands while I iced my nose.

This is my life. This is around 65% of what I do 40 hours a week. I told my roommate that I feel like I am caught in an abusive relationship because he beats me up, does whatever he wants to me and I keep smiling and coming back to him the next day as if nothing happened.

He has been kicked out of almost every school he's been at because of this behavior. I am too stubborn to let him get kicked out BUT at what point do we start drawing the line? Does he need to take the scissors and cut me with them to have something radical done? I love where I am and I love my kids; but this is week six. If this is what's happening at week six, I fear a roundhouse kick to my face might be just around the bend at week 16. What's next?

So I am left, with this sinking feeling as I head into school tomorrow morning because my abuser will be there and no matter how hard he knocks me down, gosh darn it, the only thing I can do is get back up again.

Go Forward, Don't Look Back

What a whirlwind week and weekend it has been! The new moon must've set people off this week because my bus rides, my students (my students' parents) and random people I ran into this week were all a little batty.

My lead teacher and I have been doing assessments on our kids since the beginning of the year...so around a month or so. And my kids run the gambit of reading levels and math levels. I have only one kid who can read at his appropriate level and one who is almost there and the rest are all reading below level. Two of my kids can't even tell me the letters in their names.

Instead of dwelling in the fact that my lead teacher and I have a lot of work to do, I am trying to keep the words my mom sent me yesterday in mind: "Go forward, don't look back."

I know where these kids are at; now it's time to push them to greatness. It's time to set the bar high and have them rise to it. It's so important that we get them all up to level now or it'll only become more difficult for them later in life. I'm not saying all my four-year olds need to write a novel by the end of the year, but having them gain the ability to recognize all 26 letters and write their first and last names isn't a crazy goal. I need to keep looking forward to what I hope they can accomplish.

Likewise, I went to the DMV yesterday. After sitting in line for an hour and a half, I walked up to the DMV worker (very nice, younger lady) and told her what I had to do. I had to switch my WA state license over to a DC one. She took my paperwork and my WA state license and went straight to work. As she was wrapping up I asked, "you think I could keep my old license? Ya know, for sentimental reasons."

She looked at me and said, "no, we have to shred them."

I guess I wasn't pathetic enough so I replied, "how about you don't tell anyone? I mean, I feel like a traitor, switching licenses and abandoning my home."

She said, "no, I have to shred it...it's our policy."

Not moments later the nice, young lady plopped my old license in the shredder right in front of me. She didn't even wait for me to leave. And with that, I knew I had started a new chapter in my life. I walked back to the car and my mom texted me, "go forward, don't look back." She must've felt like a broken record at this point. She's right though, she's always right! I need to look forward with my life like I am looking forward
 in my students' lives. Looking back is OK from time to time, but dwelling in the change and not moving forward only hurts me more, instead of help me.

I guess this jumbled thought pattern comes down to this, although my license may reflect my immediate future, I don't think I could ever neglect my past. I still love you like the dickens, Washington state!

Gettin' Political About Government Aide

Alrighty, so I hate to use this as a platform for talking politics because I like to use my blog as self-preservation and exploration more than political commentary; BUT I was just watching the news and I heard about a two-minute clip of Paul Ryan (Republican VP hopeful) and his views on government aide.

In the clip, he states that "too many people feel entitled to government aide like SSI." He goes on to say that he believes the government aide programs need to be re-vamped and re-evaluated (which I agree with, but his re-vamping and my re-vamping would look very, very different).

I got a little heated when I this clip because of what I know and what I've seen. In DC, I worked for eight months as a case manager, trying to find housing, trying to gain citizenship, trying to find jobs and trying to apply for government aide like SSI with many, many homeless men and women. In that time, I sat through enough SSI applications and phone interviews with different guest, so needless to say, I know the process.

For example, picking just one man experiencing homelessness out of a hat, there's Gilbert. Now Gilbert has been applying for SSI and SSDI (disability) for at least nine months now. In that time he has suffered a heart attack and has had to re-learn some of his speech because his heart attack messed with his memory and speech a little. When I started working with Gilbert in July, he showed me his disabilities...yes, it's plural.

He showed me his right hand (which had about a six inch long bubble on it that he's had for 30 years). He injured his hand working at age 23 and hasn't been able to hold a pen since. He showed me his ankles and feet (really gross, I'll spare you the details) and explained what the heart attack, he suffered from just months prior, had done to his daily routine.

Gilbert has been denied SSI and SSDI a few times...DENIED. Yes, boys and girls, denied and I'll say it one more time for good measure, DENIED. He has never approached me with a sense of entitlement and he has never asked for more than he needed. Gilbert is just one man out of the countless others I could share about.

So now I bring it back to where it began...Paul Ryan. Mr. Ryan, if "too many people felt entitled to SSI and were abusing government aide" than how come people who truly need it, like my friend Gilbert, can't even get approved for it? Why does it take over nine months to get approved for it (if you ever do) or go through the process?  Wouldn't those who truly need it fight for it as long as they had to? They would stick with it because their livelihood depended on it. So maybe by the time it's finally awarded to them...hmmm...they might feel entitled to it or worse, earned it.

My over-all questions for all political figures are these: when have you ever stepped into a government aide office? When have you ever attempted to ask for help, when you desperately needed it and were denied three times? When have you waited in line for three hours to even submit your food stamps application, only to be talked down to, told you wrote something incorrectly so your application was denied, verbally abused or neglected entirely? When has that ever been part of your life experience? When has that ever been your reality? I know it was never a part of my reality until eight months ago.

I didn't fully understand government aide until I started helping people apply for it. And now I know how tedious and embarrassing and hopeless the process is. If the many people I assisted in applying for government aide is who Mr. Ryan believes feels "entitled" than I would challenge him spend a day, nothing more, just a day, applying for these "oh-so-wonderful" government programs he is referring to.