Friend #54

I have a new friend named Julie. She will be my new hair stylist now that my former one, Matthew, moved to California. But maybe not for long.

Julie tried unloading her Chihuahua's four new puppies on me during the entire visit. There are few things that annoy me more than chihuahuas. For one, the think they are bigger than they actually are, therefore acting like a Grizzly Bear with PMS is more than an attitude for them -it's a lifestyle. Another thing - their owners allll think they're soooo ceee-uuuute! They shed, they jump, they beg for attention, and that annoying bark!

Needless to say, Julie pointed out all of the wonderful things about chihuahuas (she has four of her own, plus the new babies. Gag.) "Right now they are the size of hamsters!" I thought dogs were created to hunt birds and coons and such...not run on a little wheel in a cage. I told Julie that if I wanted a hamster, I'd get a hamster and that by the way, hamsters don't bark or shed.

Then she informed me that these "little guys" are so portable, you can bring them anywhere. I already have the world's most grocery-store-shopping-challenged child, WHY would I add a barking hamster with the ego of a grizzly bear to the mix?

Luckily, Julie's last point of argument came during the blow dry part of my time in her chair. I heard waves of things like, "tiny, tiny widdle cwothes" and "celebrities..." and "couture collars."

For the fifth time, I reminded Julie that I have three wonderful, perfect fur balls of my own at home. None of which I clothe, talk to in baby talk, or buy gerbil wheels for.

The good news is that Julie's hamsters, er, dogs are up for "re-homing" (the new euphemism for adoption, puh-lease) in four weeks. I don't need a new haircut for at least three months.

Actually, now that I think about it and do the math, she could have a whole new damn litter of those gremlins by then. I think I'd better find a new salon.

Friend #53

Her name is Maggie. I met her today at our first teacher and staff meeting of the 2010-2011 school year.
Maggie is one of those people who look totally normal at work, but probably dress and accessorize like a club kid once they get home. She will be the receptionist at our new online school next door to the existing traditional school. I love meeting people that take me aback after I get to know them. I like to think I am like that: I am addicted to nice, high heels and dress rather conservatively at work but am a true hippy at heart and at home.
This is what I found out about Maggie: Her maiden name was Maggie Garcia. Her married name was Maggie Nunez. While going through her divorce, her lawyer instructed her that she had the option of changing her name (her lawyer actually meant, change her name back to Garcia.) Maggie jumped on the opportunity to let her 30-year-old self expression shine. She thought. She quizzed friends. She debated. Then she went to the courthouse.
She asked to be called Maggie Shinesbrightly. The judge gave her a look that asked, "Are you serious?" and then approved her name change.
So she is officially Maggie Shinesbrightly - Maggie Shines for short. I love that. I love that this woman wanted to give herself a name that shows the world how she sees herself.
In her personal life, Maggie is an artist. She plays numerous instruments, has a turn table, and her own studio in her home. But at work, she sits behind a grey metal desk and answers the phone.
How great would it be if we all re-named ourselves in our 30's? I'd be Claudia Wishingwell. Or maybe Serena Brasilia.

Friend #52

It's always interesting to see the world as a child sees it. Notice I said "interesting", not "cool" or "amazing."
Because Jackson's dad is an award-winning swim coach, Jackson has joined the swim team at the tiny age of five. And he's a tiny five, even though he'll be six in five days. That's something I need to remember in my next life: If you want tall children, breed with a tall man. I digress. Because he is so small, he is reluctant to go to team practice twice a week, since it is a team for ages 7-10. Getting him in the pool usually ends up in a bribe, or a consequence to be doled out later depending on our moods.
Jack has one "buddy" (5-year-old boy code word for "that kid I always play with and don't know his name") on the swim team - Aiden. I got to meet Aiden's slim, bubbly, smiling mom, Carol also. Carol is one of those moms who has it all pulled together - the job, the family, the body, all at the age of about 40.
Carol and I sat together at practice and I learned that she is a business owner and creates some sort of hair bow thingy for babies that she sells online. Oh, and did I mention that she has a slammin body??? She works out every day. Every day. And then there's the little job of raising four kids and supporting her husband who is getting his PhD.
I had to remind myself of all that I do: teacher, partner, mom, daughter, sister, aunt, volunteer, pet owner. Some how, it still seemed inadequate.
To top it all off, on the drive home Jackson pointed out - with NO prompting or discussion from me - that my tummy goes out ("Like this" he said as he made a round Santa belly gesture) and Aiden's mom's tummy is straight ("Like this" as his little hands went straight down his tummy." I asked him how I can fix that. "You have to exercise, Mom" and I reminded him that I use the treadmill nightly, but he interrupted, "No, you have to do this..." and made a weightlifting gesture. He was serious.
Am I doomed to have to hang out with larger moms just so my child will see me as healthier than others? How much does Jackson see weight in society? And where did he learn all of this???

Friend #51

I originally began this journey of blogging by searching out prospective friends in strangers - those people I'd normally never speak to. Well, I seem to have had new people thrust upon me without having to do any searching, and where's the fun in that? So today I decided to seek out a nameless person I'd heard a lot about but hadn't met yet.
His name turned out to be Richard. He owns the carpet and tile store which resides right next door to our school. Sucks to be him, but we were there first. I mean, his business isn't just in the same block as our school...it's connected in the Utopian strip mall that also houses the Department of Economic Security, a bar, a church, a restaurant, and a temp agency for the unemployed. Oh, and that damn Water and Ice store that beckons my students away from class when they're bored and hungry. Bathroom passes should be called "Water and Ice passes."
My boss told me yesterday that Richard, who has the pompous epithet, "Richard who hates teenagers", installed the tile in our new online school. "Wow" I thought. I wonder if he really needed the money, or if he just wanted some sort of claim to our school.
Richard's aura has always struck me as one that screams, "Get off my damn lawn!" when approached by children. He calls to complain about noise, loitering, littering, basically all the things that at-risk teens, or teens in general, do. I'm absolutely not defending the poor judgement of my students but I know their thought-process: "If you don't show us respect, we'll show you what disrespect looks like."
Being impressed with Richard's offer to tile the online school space, I decided to walk over and thank him. I waited for him to complete his phone call and introduced myself. Our conversation was one sentence long:
Grumble, grunt. "Yeah, well control your kids better this year!"
Peace out, Richard.

Friend #50

With the school year gearing up in two weeks - which is always too early for this Minnesota girl - I'm in a work mindset lately. This year our school is making some big transformations. Our middle school is no longer. This space has been turned into a grade 7-12 online school - the first (and sort of pilot program) for our charter company. This was an excellent move, since teachers cringed when asked to step in and sub for a sick middle school teacher. At-risk middle schoolers. Really? It was a recipe for disaster.
In addition, our high school has lost four teachers and so far hired one really good one (I hope.) I get to return to teaching English instead of ELL (English Language Learners.) I loved ELL, but was not formally trained to teach it and felt I was doing a disservice to the kids.
So today I met Linda, our new ELL teacher. I have to admit, when I found out that she'd never taught ELL before, I was nervous. Still am. People tend to believe that ELL is the easiest thing to teach, but it's very complex and individualized.
Linda hails from Gary, Indiana. She has two daughters, 21 and 16 who are very smart, according to Mom. Linda taught Special Education for 12 years in Indiana. Think about it - Special education and the rough gang-ridden area of Gary, Ind. Linda's school was across the street from the Projects, and the Project gang "claimed" her school. One day one of her gang-leader students was shot in the head on that street during school. Students evacuated the school, fearing retaliation and seeking safety. Linda was expected to continue teaching the two students who had stayed at school and was told that since the SWAT team showed up, she was safe to teach. Twelve years of that, Linda endured.
After Gary, Linda moved to Arizona and taught at one of our Indian Reservations for two years. This, she says, was almost worst than in Gary. In Gary, students didn't have the resources to get out of the gangs and the Projects. On the reservation, students and their families were given thousands of dollars each month. They had no food on their tables, but plenty of beer and drugs. Students were very silent in the classroom, as culture dictates, so it was very difficult to gauge their understanding of the lessons. Most days, Linda shared her lunch with her students, as they had no money for lunch. They'd leave school and drink themselves to sleep, then arrive back at school the next day hung over. Being hungover was a constant state of mind for many students. And Linda couldn't help them. Linda, being Black, did not have the moral right to give advice to her Native students. And after two depressing years on the Reservation, Linda resigned.
Understanding my student population would not be an issue for Linda. We hire many teachers who just cannot and do not understand at-risk people. They run from the school after Day 1. But my students are teachable, loving, successful, and helpful if you can reach them.
We went through the curriculum and discussed teaching strategies (using pictures, rather than teaching English by translating from Spanish, for example.) I told her that these students are my babies. She assured me that if they have problems, she'll send them to me. She gets it.
I'm looking forward to this school year. I get to train in a new teacher and see the fruits of my labor (I love teaching teachers!) I get to teach my favorite subject: English, specifically remedial English and 11th grade English. I get to observe and help the other teachers become better teachers by engaging students by using creative hands-on activities.
And even though later blogs may hint of my stress and anxiety during the school year, know this: I love my job. I love my job. I love my job.

Friend #49

There are times, as kids grow older, that we parents realize that we never covered the newest chapter of the Parenting Book with our kids. If you can't cover that chapter in time, panic ensues as it is up to the child to make a snap judgement call.
At the cabin I met Mike. Mike is Justin's new friend. Mike knows nothing of Justin's past or how he's related to his step-sisters, he just knows that they're at an awesome lake and there's beer and boats and fireworks. At the age of 21 Mike is content working at Subway, going to college and drinking beer.
I saw in Mike a 9-year-old boy. He was just so excited to be at the cabin. He met Justin through some mutual friends at college and like the bro-code must dictate, they know very little personal information about each other.
As the beers flowed on the 4th of July, Mike told me and a table of neighbors that he will never own a motorcycle or a gun. He went on to recite stories of a few family members who died around motorcycles and guns. Mike and Justin both took to my 12-year-old son, Isaiah. They took on the role of big brother for the week and showed Isaiah how to kneeboard, ski on one ski, and wakeboard (unsuccessfully.) It was fun for Isaiah because older guys thought he was cool.
The next afternoon, four after happy hour had started on the beach, some friends asked me if I wanted to go on a boat ride. I brought my 5-year-old but Isaiah wanted to stay behind with his new "bros."
We were on the lake for 15 minutes when I saw Mike and Isaiah on Justin's jetski, doing crazy jumps and screaming with laughter. My heart raced. I was fuming at Mike and terrified for my innocent baby. I knew what Isaiah apparently didn't: Mike and Justin had been drinking (as we all do) for four hours and should NOT have been boating. Lucky for me, Mike saw our boat and drove over to ask if anyone else wanted to jetski with him. My neighbor saw that Mike was tipsy and asked if he could "Try it out." Mike and Isaiah climbed into the boat and the neighbor took the jetski to safety.
I have no issue with people drinking. I DO have issues with people drinking and driving or boating. When we were all on shore, I got angry with Isaiah and told him that he should have known better than to get on a jetski with someone who was drinking. But I had never reviewed that with him before. Who knew I'd be tutoring my 12-year-old on drinking??? He also didn't think to notice that the guys were drinking; hell, he doesn't even know what drinking does to a person, so I cut him some slack.
Later that night I told Isaiah about the effects of alcohol to our bodies, and what can happen if you drink and boat. He apologized with a voice filled with that "I-could-have-died" fear.
The next morning, I told Mike (in my teacher voice) that he should never drink and boat, especially with a child. Mike apologized profusely and I reminded him of the motorcycle accidents he told me about earlier, and that he needs to be more careful and responsible.
I learned very quickly that even if we think we have years to teach our kids about dangers, it comes sooner than we think.
I am now preparing my parenting speeches on sex, drugs, binge drinking, and driving dangers. Pray for me.

Friend #48

My time at the cabin brought to me lots of new faces and friends. I practically grew up at the cabin, so I assumed I knew everyone there. But children often introduce us to new people we might have never met otherwise.
One day, while looking for frogs and turtles in the swampy pond, Jackson yelled, "Mom! There's another boy about my age over there!" I told him to introduce himself and ask the boy his name. He seemed to do just that and returned. "Mom! He's 7 years old and his cabin is over there!" I asked, "What's his name?" "Uhhhh, he's my buddy! I'm gonna go play with him!" was all Jackson said. "But what's his NAME?" I repeated, but Jackson was gone.
Ten minutes later I went to check on him (I'm so blessed to have a place where my kids can roam for hours and I never have to think about kidnappers!) and he and his buddy had caught four bright green frogs. I did Jack's dirty work for him: "What's your name?" "DJ" he replied.
DJ's mom came over and we chatted. Her name is Shannie and we became buddies over the next few days just as our boys did.
Shannie recently graduated from nursing school. As she puts it, she "sucked" in high school because she didn't see any meaning to learning about things she'll never think about again. When she decided to be a nurse was when she had DJ. She wanted to be that nurse who was comforting and understanding. She wanted to have all of the answers her patients had.
Because of this passion, Shannie graduated at the top of her class with her nursing degree. And because of THAT, she was immediately offered two positions in her local hospital: an E.R. nurse, or in the operating room. She had four more days to decide, as of the day we talked about this.
I love it when people find their passion. Being passionate about your job makes those 40+ hours per week enjoyable and rewarding.
I often talk to my fiancee Mike about this. He is not passionate about his job. To him, his job is a way to earn money; a place to do his time 40 hours per week. I am VERY passionate about my job. Although I may dread going to work some days, I love feeling needed and useful to kids' lives. I love teaching them something new and cool.
And though that I hope I can help my students discover their passion.

Friend #47

I'm finally back from the cabin. I tried keeping up with my computer needs, but my dad's annoyingly flat keyboard drove me to the point of "no internet"! Can you believe that?!?
Justin is Matt's (friend #46) step-son. I have met Justin a few times in his childhood and knew of his life stories, but had not met him as an adult until the 4th of July weekend.
Justin's father killed himself when Justin was just 2 years old. Since then, he was raised by his mother until she met Matt and they got married. As one may assume, Justin has some skeletons sue to his father's death. Justin graduated in 2008 and went to college in Montana to "find himself." As he explained to me, he wanted to create "The Perfect Justin." Great idea, I thought. And there's no better way to do that then go away to college, learn about new subjects and ideas, meet new groups of people, and grow. Justin soon found out that he is who he always was: a boy from Grand Forks, ND with a scarred childhood. He returned home after his Freshman year feeling like a failure in his quest to reinvent his persona. He decided to stay home. Between Justin and his mom, they decided that a college two hours from Mom would be a happy medium. Sophomore year was no luckier in finding a new personality, lifestyle or interests. Justin just no longer wanted to be the kid whose dad killed himself 18 years ago. He wanted to rid his life of antidepressants and negative thoughts.
As we chatted and Justin opened up to me and a few close friends. He is now 21 years old and a nice young man who wants to be a nurse. I told him that this was a step in the right direction. He wants to help people who are lost like his dad once was.
The first four nursing classes Justin had last year helped him to see that he can use the life experience he was trying to repress to help others. This was not something his mom ever thought of. She was trying to help her son move on and forget his father.
Now that he's on the right track, I can't wait to see how he turns his thought-process around regarding his "troubled history."

Friend #46

Vacation brings a whole group of new friends for me to learn about. Being at our cabin in Northern Minnesota for the 4th of July is amazing. The whole lake horizon explodes with fireworks. When I was a kid, the city's fireworks were in my front yard, so we never ventured to the cabin, as we assumed it'd be way too quiet and dull. When we arrived on Friday, each cabin had at least four carloads of visitors. One of these visitors, however, was not supposed to be here.
Matt is married to my childhood friend, D'Lisa. They were both widowed in their 30s and left with a combination of four children. Because of the timing of my yearly cabin visits, I'd only met Matt twice before this year. Two summers ago brought news that Matt had developed a brain tumor and had three months to live. With twin daughters just starting college and one finishing up high school, this was not a good time to die and he knew this. Obviously and amazingly, Matt's diagnosis of three months to live sparked his drive to fight.
Two years later, Matt is here. He has visual reminders of his on-going struggles. The left side of his once-handsome face is now drooped down so much that he cannot open his left eye. But he's here. He has a ten-inch scar on his head that resembles Frankenstein's monster. But he's here. His younger daughter had a friend with her at the cabin, and she fought with her father over her vacation curfew (which later turned into a grounding), and as she stomped off in a fashion only a teenaged girl can, I'm sure she was reminded that although she was pissed, her dad was still here.
Matt still has battles to fight. The latest being his social security and disability being rejected. Really? This man who once supported his family (and entered two daughters into college) on a six-figure income, has been denied. His wife is a full-time teacher and has been lucky enough to keep her job through the two years of emergency hospitalizations and doctor's visits, college move-ins, her son returning to MN after realizing he hated his college choice, teenage tantrums, and her own parents' ailing health.
All I can hope is that the government decides to give this guy a break. Not even a break; Matt deserves what is rightfully his. I'll be following Matt and his wife more closely now that I had a weekend to learn their story first-hand.
Let's just hope Matt is around to watch the fireworks with us next summer.