Two nights ago, I dreamed that my cat, Mackie, had died. It was such an intense dream that I was genuinely surprised she stayed alive that day. But my heart is so heavy, because I know it's time for her to go. She is skin and bones, eating and drinking ravenously but losing weight all the same. Now, she wakes up enough to puke, pee and poop, usually in all the wrong places.
She's alive today mainly by my own fear and selfishness. Mackie found me when I was 20 years old, and in the final throws of active alcoholism. I was wearing my black leather jacket, and my "badass" dagger earrings, when I spotted a tiny kitten on the side of the road. I stuck her in my pocket, and hid her away in my dormroom until the spring term ended and I moved to an apartment. She's been with me ever since... as I got sober, finished college, engaged, engagement broken off, moved back home and back out again. Then marriage, three children, an out of state move... All with Mackie.
But this is the end, even thought I hardly remember the beginning anymore, since it was a lifetime ago. I will miss her deperately, my constant companion.
Sunday, April 24, 2011
Tuesday, April 12, 2011
psychic temper tantrum
I am having a psychic temper tantrum today. Taking a detour from issues of race, there are many kinds of statistics kids face in life. Despite being born into a white, upper middle class family, I still managed to run headlong into many of these bad odds of survival. I've overcome a lot, a LOT, of stuff. And now, here's me, a mom of three healthy kids, a treasured employee, and in an Ivy League PhD program. And I'm grateful and blessed and all that good stuff. I truly am. But sometimes, I don't want to be "the girl who lived." Sometimes, it's too much pressure. A friend, who knows my struggles well, called me her hero today. Please, please don't do that. Please. I don't want to be a hero. I'm still sure someone's going to find me out tomorrow, and when my cover's blown, I don't want to let y'all down.
Days like this, I close my eyes walking down an alley, and run my hand along the brick wall to feel the comforting textures and rhythms when nobody's looking. Days like this, I want to break beer bottles in the playground and terrify strangers just for sport, then curl up in a fetal position and be spoon fed hot chocolate. With marshmallows.
Days like this, I close my eyes walking down an alley, and run my hand along the brick wall to feel the comforting textures and rhythms when nobody's looking. Days like this, I want to break beer bottles in the playground and terrify strangers just for sport, then curl up in a fetal position and be spoon fed hot chocolate. With marshmallows.
Tuesday, April 5, 2011
Sick of it.
Sorry, this isn't witty. It isn't especially intelligent, and may not even be intelligible. It's just shit I need to say.
In the course of three weeks, whe my husband started a new job with a less predictable schedule, the school bus forgot my kids twice. Completely forgot them. Apparently a teacher saw them but she didn't call me. No admin *ever* called me. My babysitter found them and called me. Both times I waited until evening to contact the school, *assuming* they would contact me since they knew.
Finally, after escalating this to the Superintendent, I got enough pressure to revise the dismissal procedures in a way that will make it harder to lose my children. We're talking every so *slight* revision, no great hardship to the almighty Walkers of Fall Creek. Apparently, this new plan was presented to the PTA last night, and got "much discussion." I wonder what there was to discuss??? Use the other fucking door so the bused kids don't get lost in the stampede.
Anyway... we didn't go to that PTA meeting. We went to hear the Super talk at a different meeting a few blocks away. We left our kids at the school's childcare, in the guardianship of our sitter who is also the caregiver and who assured us that kids bring friends to the child care all the time. Apparently not *bused* kids.
I just got an irate email from the PTA pres expressing her indignation that we should leave our kids in the PTA childcare, which is for PTA attendees only. Yeah, ok... sorry... didn't know. We asked several people if it was ok, we filled out the forms so that it would be totally clear, but apparently we can't do this. My bad. That said, you and I and trees all know *neighborhood* families do this all the time.
No, what I'm *pissed* about is that, in this ream-out, she talks about how obnoxious that was of us considering "the lengths that have been taken to secure [our kids'] safety and transportation stability." The lengths they've taken??? You mean, like, the absolute legal minimum, on a good day?? No way. Taking extremely *minor* steps in order to fix a school fuckup is not a favor to me or my children. It is mediation for a pretty significant screwup on the schools' part. And am *appalled* that there was even need for "discussion" about this! What's to fucking discuss?? The school lost my kids. Twice. Didn't deliver them home, and nobody apparently was going to tell me that. (Like I said, a teacher knew it, but just left it in our *off duty* sitter's hands) *That* is what should be getting discussion, because it could happen to any bused child. These people who are supposed to be our friends and allies should be getting irate about the dangerous conditions for bused kids, *not* about having to use the other door. This is typical, uncontroversial *procedure* at any other school.
And you know why I don't go to PTA meetings, anymore? Because of this. Because I'm sick of being the official poster child for the good little Southsider, showing how it *is* possible for bused kids to be full members of the community. I'm sick of pleasantly and politely asking people to please give me a way to sign up for conferences, to sign up for activities. Please, try not to lose my kids this week. It is *not* possible for a Southside family to join the community. The "allies" want a project, a nice, easy one, and if you're not there to make them feel good about All They Do for You, then apparently you weren't really worth it and all bets are off. Seriously, some days... I'm thinking, you know what? Have your little cliquey school. Go ahead. Live on your little island. The kids I know deserve better aren't showing anyway. The neighborhood folk don't want to budge. I think I'm the only one who thinks this isn't right, so maybe I'm wrong? I don't know. But I'm just over. it. today.
In the course of three weeks, whe my husband started a new job with a less predictable schedule, the school bus forgot my kids twice. Completely forgot them. Apparently a teacher saw them but she didn't call me. No admin *ever* called me. My babysitter found them and called me. Both times I waited until evening to contact the school, *assuming* they would contact me since they knew.
Finally, after escalating this to the Superintendent, I got enough pressure to revise the dismissal procedures in a way that will make it harder to lose my children. We're talking every so *slight* revision, no great hardship to the almighty Walkers of Fall Creek. Apparently, this new plan was presented to the PTA last night, and got "much discussion." I wonder what there was to discuss??? Use the other fucking door so the bused kids don't get lost in the stampede.
Anyway... we didn't go to that PTA meeting. We went to hear the Super talk at a different meeting a few blocks away. We left our kids at the school's childcare, in the guardianship of our sitter who is also the caregiver and who assured us that kids bring friends to the child care all the time. Apparently not *bused* kids.
I just got an irate email from the PTA pres expressing her indignation that we should leave our kids in the PTA childcare, which is for PTA attendees only. Yeah, ok... sorry... didn't know. We asked several people if it was ok, we filled out the forms so that it would be totally clear, but apparently we can't do this. My bad. That said, you and I and trees all know *neighborhood* families do this all the time.
No, what I'm *pissed* about is that, in this ream-out, she talks about how obnoxious that was of us considering "the lengths that have been taken to secure [our kids'] safety and transportation stability." The lengths they've taken??? You mean, like, the absolute legal minimum, on a good day?? No way. Taking extremely *minor* steps in order to fix a school fuckup is not a favor to me or my children. It is mediation for a pretty significant screwup on the schools' part. And am *appalled* that there was even need for "discussion" about this! What's to fucking discuss?? The school lost my kids. Twice. Didn't deliver them home, and nobody apparently was going to tell me that. (Like I said, a teacher knew it, but just left it in our *off duty* sitter's hands) *That* is what should be getting discussion, because it could happen to any bused child. These people who are supposed to be our friends and allies should be getting irate about the dangerous conditions for bused kids, *not* about having to use the other door. This is typical, uncontroversial *procedure* at any other school.
And you know why I don't go to PTA meetings, anymore? Because of this. Because I'm sick of being the official poster child for the good little Southsider, showing how it *is* possible for bused kids to be full members of the community. I'm sick of pleasantly and politely asking people to please give me a way to sign up for conferences, to sign up for activities. Please, try not to lose my kids this week. It is *not* possible for a Southside family to join the community. The "allies" want a project, a nice, easy one, and if you're not there to make them feel good about All They Do for You, then apparently you weren't really worth it and all bets are off. Seriously, some days... I'm thinking, you know what? Have your little cliquey school. Go ahead. Live on your little island. The kids I know deserve better aren't showing anyway. The neighborhood folk don't want to budge. I think I'm the only one who thinks this isn't right, so maybe I'm wrong? I don't know. But I'm just over. it. today.
Redistricting roosters
I'm going to tell you a story. A few years ago, before moving here, we tried our hand at homesteading. You know, grow your own produce, laundry lines all over the place, bulk foods in salvaged containers, and some random "beginners'" animals. We chose chickens.
We chose to get our baby chicks in the mail. Don't laugh... it's actually really common! The only catch is that chicks have to be packaged by 2 dozens in order to survive. There have to be that many in the box to keep the temperatures up, and to keep the chicks packed tightly enough not to get slid around to death. So, here's what you do. You can order as many hens as you want, 3 or 23, whatever. Everyone wants hens, only. The shippers make up the difference in roosters, to bring the total to 24. The roosters are free, you don't pay for them. They're basically packing material. The shipment arrives, and the roosters are typically allowed to live with the hens until they start to actually consume valuable resources (eat food) or behave in a way that is a threat to the valuable hens (behave territorially.) At the first sign of aggression, or when the farmer wants to cut down on the food bill, the roosters are promptly "culled." (killed.)
Funny, this seems an awful lot like school redistricting! A school functions best with a certain number of students. This makes the bottom lines work out in terms of teacher: student: space ratios. Of course, not every neighborhood has the perfect number of students to meet this ratio internally. Thankfully, there are always these conveniently transient areas, typically areas which have already lost their own neighborhood schools making them a) less desirable for homebuyers and b) more likely to be populated by transient and/or marginalized groups who won't fight back. Need 40 more bodies? Take a corner of one of these neighborhoods. As long as they don't start getting... needy.
So what will get a rooster child "culled?" Not that different from the bird variety. Remember that the resources are really for the hens, and that anything you get is a favor. Show deference at all times, and accept your limitations. Remember, the hen house is called a hen house for a good reason, just like a "neighborhood school." It's there *for* the neighborhood. You may also attend. The rooster should learn to blend. Be involved in the school, but only as involved as you can be on your own. Ideally, get driven to school. When we first had struggles with the bus, authorities strongly suggested we drive our kids, since the "bus is a problem." I've since learned that almost all the other families with "good" kids (white, dual parent, middle class) from our area do drive their kids. Playtime is for the neighborhood kids, because if bused kids don't board immediately they'll get left, while the neighborhood kids can stay and play. Many activities are only announced or signed-up-for on site, so those are de facto also for the neighborhood kids. Know your place. If you have money, you can pay for entry to some of these, even from outside the neighborhood (pay for enrichment classes or aftercare, to keep your child at the school playground to improve their odds of breaking in, socially.) This is also strongly encouraged for those who may pass as hen-like.
Do not call attention to where you're from. Do not mention Southside events or multicultural events in the same vein as the neighborhood families mention Fall Creek events. It's not the same. You're not the same kind of member. To call attention to being from the Southside is "pushy." Most importantly, whatever you do, behave *perfectly!* Everyone knows, as a teacher told me, that "the bused kids are almost always the problem kids." Stay off the radar.
If you follow these rules, it can bide you time. Of course, in the end the roosters who do survive will become big enough that they simply need to eat more and developed enough that they will crow and move *big.* Eventually, if they live, they'll become too hungry and loud to blend. It will become apparent that they really just aren't hens. If they're cute and harmless, they may reach maturity, but that's as far as it goes. Nothing can help, then.
So, put like this, the farmer seems really callous, or even cruel, right? We can blame the farmer for doing this to the roosters, who did nothing to choose to be roosters. They just are who they are, and are slaughtered for it. It's easy to hate the farmer. Even easier to hate the "society" that supports the farmer. Let's all bash the mean old farmer! (Go ahead... I'll wait.)
My kids aren't born roosters, they really are hens (humor me now, I'm going to stretch this... lol.) I have made a decision to link their fate to that of the roosters, to be raised together, ride the bus together, etc. I can't put the same stigma on them and I can't change their inherent traits, but I have chosen to link my hen chicks to the roosters to the extent possible, to make the point that they have equal *inherent* worth. I have placed my hens in front of the roosters. The roosters didn't ask me to, so they aren't culpable for what happens to my hens. The farmer (the principal, the PTA, etc.) has advised me repeatedly to pull the sweet hens out of the way. So, if the hens - my children - are harmed, *I* did it.
We chose to get our baby chicks in the mail. Don't laugh... it's actually really common! The only catch is that chicks have to be packaged by 2 dozens in order to survive. There have to be that many in the box to keep the temperatures up, and to keep the chicks packed tightly enough not to get slid around to death. So, here's what you do. You can order as many hens as you want, 3 or 23, whatever. Everyone wants hens, only. The shippers make up the difference in roosters, to bring the total to 24. The roosters are free, you don't pay for them. They're basically packing material. The shipment arrives, and the roosters are typically allowed to live with the hens until they start to actually consume valuable resources (eat food) or behave in a way that is a threat to the valuable hens (behave territorially.) At the first sign of aggression, or when the farmer wants to cut down on the food bill, the roosters are promptly "culled." (killed.)
Funny, this seems an awful lot like school redistricting! A school functions best with a certain number of students. This makes the bottom lines work out in terms of teacher: student: space ratios. Of course, not every neighborhood has the perfect number of students to meet this ratio internally. Thankfully, there are always these conveniently transient areas, typically areas which have already lost their own neighborhood schools making them a) less desirable for homebuyers and b) more likely to be populated by transient and/or marginalized groups who won't fight back. Need 40 more bodies? Take a corner of one of these neighborhoods. As long as they don't start getting... needy.
So what will get a rooster child "culled?" Not that different from the bird variety. Remember that the resources are really for the hens, and that anything you get is a favor. Show deference at all times, and accept your limitations. Remember, the hen house is called a hen house for a good reason, just like a "neighborhood school." It's there *for* the neighborhood. You may also attend. The rooster should learn to blend. Be involved in the school, but only as involved as you can be on your own. Ideally, get driven to school. When we first had struggles with the bus, authorities strongly suggested we drive our kids, since the "bus is a problem." I've since learned that almost all the other families with "good" kids (white, dual parent, middle class) from our area do drive their kids. Playtime is for the neighborhood kids, because if bused kids don't board immediately they'll get left, while the neighborhood kids can stay and play. Many activities are only announced or signed-up-for on site, so those are de facto also for the neighborhood kids. Know your place. If you have money, you can pay for entry to some of these, even from outside the neighborhood (pay for enrichment classes or aftercare, to keep your child at the school playground to improve their odds of breaking in, socially.) This is also strongly encouraged for those who may pass as hen-like.
Do not call attention to where you're from. Do not mention Southside events or multicultural events in the same vein as the neighborhood families mention Fall Creek events. It's not the same. You're not the same kind of member. To call attention to being from the Southside is "pushy." Most importantly, whatever you do, behave *perfectly!* Everyone knows, as a teacher told me, that "the bused kids are almost always the problem kids." Stay off the radar.
If you follow these rules, it can bide you time. Of course, in the end the roosters who do survive will become big enough that they simply need to eat more and developed enough that they will crow and move *big.* Eventually, if they live, they'll become too hungry and loud to blend. It will become apparent that they really just aren't hens. If they're cute and harmless, they may reach maturity, but that's as far as it goes. Nothing can help, then.
So, put like this, the farmer seems really callous, or even cruel, right? We can blame the farmer for doing this to the roosters, who did nothing to choose to be roosters. They just are who they are, and are slaughtered for it. It's easy to hate the farmer. Even easier to hate the "society" that supports the farmer. Let's all bash the mean old farmer! (Go ahead... I'll wait.)
My kids aren't born roosters, they really are hens (humor me now, I'm going to stretch this... lol.) I have made a decision to link their fate to that of the roosters, to be raised together, ride the bus together, etc. I can't put the same stigma on them and I can't change their inherent traits, but I have chosen to link my hen chicks to the roosters to the extent possible, to make the point that they have equal *inherent* worth. I have placed my hens in front of the roosters. The roosters didn't ask me to, so they aren't culpable for what happens to my hens. The farmer (the principal, the PTA, etc.) has advised me repeatedly to pull the sweet hens out of the way. So, if the hens - my children - are harmed, *I* did it.
Monday, April 4, 2011
Relative budgets
I'm just back from another school budget meeting. I've been following the budget, mainly just out of curiosity... trying to better understand what some of the pieces of running a school system are before I complain too quickly. The whole "walk a mile" thing...
What I've noticed, tho, is that I think my "normal" is vastly different from the normal where I now live. I went to a city elementary school of 500 students, some walkers plus kids bused in from 3-4 adjacent neighborhoods. Each classroom had one teacher, and there were a handful of aides in the school, who came and went from different classrooms. There were counselors in the district, and they came and went from the various schools.
Now, one of the things on the potential chopping block for the district budget is having a *third* adult in pre-K classrooms. Three adults? A case was made that this third person is necessary because there are any number of reasons why one of the two mandated adults may be out of the classroom over the course of the day. Um.... so?? Are you telling me one teacher can't hold down a pre-K classroom for 10 minutes while another gets the lunch trays? With dozens of other teachers in hollering distance if there is a serious, bloodspilling crisis? I totally get wanting that aide. No doubt, it is very helpful. But...
Budgets are in the red, or they are in the black. This is true for homes. This is true for schools. Wanting something unaffordable to be affordable has nothing to do with anything. I wanted a second pair of stinkin' shoes (or not stinkin'... either way) for most of a year before I could afford them. Tough luck. There's red and there's black. No. new. shoes.
I love this town. I really, really do. But sometimes I just don't get it. This district is cushy, at least if you're in the cushy demographic overall. If it has to be a little less cushy, particularly in the interest of maintaining basic programming for the most at-risk kids, we'll live! Suck it up. There. Carry on.
What I've noticed, tho, is that I think my "normal" is vastly different from the normal where I now live. I went to a city elementary school of 500 students, some walkers plus kids bused in from 3-4 adjacent neighborhoods. Each classroom had one teacher, and there were a handful of aides in the school, who came and went from different classrooms. There were counselors in the district, and they came and went from the various schools.
Now, one of the things on the potential chopping block for the district budget is having a *third* adult in pre-K classrooms. Three adults? A case was made that this third person is necessary because there are any number of reasons why one of the two mandated adults may be out of the classroom over the course of the day. Um.... so?? Are you telling me one teacher can't hold down a pre-K classroom for 10 minutes while another gets the lunch trays? With dozens of other teachers in hollering distance if there is a serious, bloodspilling crisis? I totally get wanting that aide. No doubt, it is very helpful. But...
Budgets are in the red, or they are in the black. This is true for homes. This is true for schools. Wanting something unaffordable to be affordable has nothing to do with anything. I wanted a second pair of stinkin' shoes (or not stinkin'... either way) for most of a year before I could afford them. Tough luck. There's red and there's black. No. new. shoes.
I love this town. I really, really do. But sometimes I just don't get it. This district is cushy, at least if you're in the cushy demographic overall. If it has to be a little less cushy, particularly in the interest of maintaining basic programming for the most at-risk kids, we'll live! Suck it up. There. Carry on.
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