Eulogy for my Father

Howard E. Bailey, Jr.

On Thursday, September 20^th, 2012, my father died of a sudden heart attack.  He was 78 years old and I had known him for 40 years.  He was an amazing father.  I know most of us want to say that about our fathers, and maybe it’s true, but my dad was awesome. 

He was the kind of man who was fortunate enough to have found both the love of his life—my mother—at the age of 19 and to have found his passion—building things out of wood—just a little bit before that.  He was married to my mother for nearly 60 and, with the exception of a brief stint in the U.S. Army, had made his living as an artist, making things out of wood.

He was civically minded.  He dutifully went off when he was drafted in the mid-1950’s and drove a tank around the southern part of the country.  He even dragged my mom down South with him after they married in 1955.  He was a part of the town’s Civil Defense organization, and a founding member of the town’s, then, volunteer ambulance corps.  He then spent over 30 years as a member of one of the local volunteer fire departments, filling such positions as engineer, lieutenant, and secretary.  He headed several committees during his tenure there, many of which revolved around honoring veterans around Memorial Day.  In recent years, when he could no longer fight fires, he became involved with the American Legion, bringing military honors to school assemblies, funerals and other events.  He was never once paid for his service; everything he did was done out of a desire to serve the community.

He was an active member of his church—which I honestly think stemmed more from an intrinsic need to be involved and useful than any religious leanings.   He volunteered once a week at one of the local hospitals.

He was a man on the go.  When he “officially” retired several years ago, he began volunteering at the hospital.  He devoted several hours a week to the maintenance of the church and to helping out with organizational stuff for the Legion.  He even maintained one or two customers.

This is nice stuff to know about him.  If you know me, you know that his civic mindedness is the main reason I’m a teacher today.  It is important for me to “help out” when I can.  It’s nice stuff to know, but it’s not the be-all-and-end-all of Howard Bailey.

He had a wicked sense of humor.  Highly sarcastic—thanks to his and my mother’s highly developed sense of sarcasm, my sisters and I are fluent in that language.  Highly irreverent.  He taught me the value of a good laugh and the most inappropriate times.  I did raise a few eyebrows when I went off to kindergarten and told a child to, “Get off the table, Mabel!  The two bits is for the beer!”  Highly animated.  He was the master of pulling you in for a serious story only to have you rolling on the floor with laughter a few moments later.  He was the king of the absurd.  There was always a ridiculous quote or quip or pun or song.

He always had a song to sing or a tune to whistle.  This was so prevalent, that  I could never understand why other dad’s didn’t do this.  Even though I haven’t lived at home for a million years, I still get “The shadow of your smiiiile is everrrrrrywheeeere” stuck in my head.  That and “Scooby dooooby dooooo, your mother’s pregnant…” (but only if I can do it like Frank Sinatra).

He believed in honor and duty and doing what was right even when doing what was wrong would have been so much easier.  He held doors open for women.  He took the Pledge of Allegiance and the National Anthem seriously.  He always did the things he was supposed to do when he was supposed to do them.  He held himself to a higher standard than most people seem to do.  He wanted to be a good person, a good citizen, a good man.

He was opinionated, but he was tolerant of others’ beliefs.  He and I argued politics, and even though he disagreed with me, he listened to me.  He forced me to defend my beliefs and then he respected them.  And he respected me for being able to do so.

He gave the best hugs.  I cannot tell you how many pairs of my glasses have been permanently bent due to a good bear hug.

He valued family.  And while my mom and sisters meant the world to him, it wasn’t just that kind of family.  He and my mother pulled people into the family, making them feel like they really were family—providing them with love, support, and (more often than not) a hot meal (or 12). 

He loved with his whole heart.  There has never been a day in the past 40 years that I have doubted his affection.  He made me feel loved, respected, and special.  He made me feel valued and important.  He made me feel that I could do anything.  And the best part was that he could do all that with a hug or a smile.  Even when he was angry with me or disappointed in me (which was worse), I knew that he loved me.

And because he loved me and because of how he loved my mother, I knew that I should (and did) find the same—someone who loves me and our children unconditionally; someone who listens to me, respects me, makes me laugh so hard my face and stomach hurt; someone who cries with me and supports me; someone who disagrees with me, but respects me anyway. 

He wasn’t a saint.  My best curse words come from my father.  The things that I shout (from the safety of my car) to other drivers come from my father (“You first, right after me, ace.”).  My periodic craving for cheap beer comes from my father.  He got angry.  He made mistakes.  He owned both of those things, though.  He admitted both were wrong and he worked to fix them.  The fixing sent a loud and clear message to me about responsibility and ownership.  He may have had his faults, but he knew them and tried to compensate.

To be absolutely honest, I miss him.  I didn’t talk to him every day—or even every week sometimes—but I really, really miss him.  And it hurts.  To paraphrase one of my sisters, I wasn’t quite done with him before he left us.

Racing Post

Trying to figure out what activities our kids should participate in was a difficult task for John and me.  We wanted to find activities that would help build their character, help develop skills, and address areas that need addressing.  Aside from a few problems over a year ago with Tae Kwon Do, we’ve been happy with that.  Anna started it a couple of weeks ago.  For Jack, we’re hoping it helps him stand up for himself.  And for Anna, we’re hoping it helps with focus.  But there were other things John and I were looking for in activities for our children.

John really has a problem with kids receiving awards merely for participating.  Also, John wants activities in which all parents can be involved, not a select few.  He wanted to avoid the gossip in the grandstands.  Being the subject of some gossip in the grandstands myself (a parent of a student actually told me that all the hockey parents talked about me), I appreciate that desire.  He didn’t want the kids to participate in a sport that perpetuates the stereotypes and popularity lines.  Also, he didn’t want to have to do the extra things that the parents of little league parents do—take turns bringing snack for the team, etc.

Also, perhaps more importantly, is the familial link to racing.  For a while, John hasn’t really raced himself.  He’s been too busy or too poor to race himself.  He missed it, so he started to research racing for Jack.  And, starting this spring, Jack has been racing quarter midgets at a track in Connecticut.  Honestly, the experience has been incredibly positive.

First of all, the program is well run (as well run as possible, I think) from an organizational standpoint.  They are very nurturing to the kids.   They do training for the rookies and are very good with them.  For example, yesterday, there was a car that got black flagged.  The flagman took time to talk to the driver and explain why she was black flagged.  

There is a sense of community because the track is open all the time so families go and camp out the night before a race.  The kids get practice time and play time, and once the kids have gone to bed, the parents hang out together.

There’s also a lot of fist pumping.  Dads fist pumping their sons.  Dads fist pumping other kids.  Competitors fist pumping each other.

Also, there is acceptance of differences.  There are a lot of girls driving.  Not as many as there are boys, but there are a lot of girls running around and generally kicking ass.  It’s mainly a white crowd, but there are people from a variety of backgrounds.  There are also kids with some serious disabilities. 

When kids break down on the track, a flock of parents dive in and help get the kid back on the track as soon as possible.  It’s been really good.

It’s not all smooth sailing, though.  Much to John’s chagrin, all the rookies received a trophy at the end of rookie training—a big, dust collecting trophy.  Also, parents are required to pitch in.  Parents are assigned four hour shifts in the snack shack, for example.  Fortunately, you can pay one of the older kids to do your time. 

The biggest thing for me, though, is the interaction with other people’s parenting skills.  John and I have high expectations for our children.  We expect good, polite, respectful behavior.  We expect good character and good sportsmanship.  We don’t yell at them in public (we wouldn’t be human if we didn’t yell).  We speak to them with respect and try to model the adult behavior we expect them to act on.  I think we have very good kids. 

I get uncomfortable when I am around yellers.  And there are a few at the track.  One guy yells at his daughter from the side of the track.  She’s a good driver, but he still screams.  There’s this other guy who yells, but not at his son.  His son was in one of the rookie groups, but was older than most of the other kids and was winning hands down.  So he would yell at the officials saying that his kid should be moved up.  The kid was moved up, which turned out well.  The third guy landed himself in trouble for saying the wrong thing to his kid in front of the wrong woman.

There are two rookie groups.  The first rookie group is the younger kids.  The second rookie group is older kids and the younger kids who can keep up.  Jack was recently moved up to this group.  The problem here is that by this point of the season, the group is comprised of kids ranging in age from about 7 to 12.  It’s not really a good mix.  The older kids tend to get more aggressive and have better motor skills.  Racing is not just a physical exercise; it’s a mental exercise.  And there is a big difference in both physical and mental abilities between a seven year old and a twelve year old.



Anna, Gram & Val watching the heat

So yesterday, was race day.  It was 800 degrees out and humid.  My parents and Val came, but Margie couldn’t last the day.  Fortunately they saw Jack’s heat race.  Fortunately they missed his feature.  Our friends Darryl, Mr. Shaw and Craig were there.  Craig comes to most of Jack’s races.  He’s not racing this year either, so he likes to come out and see Jack race.  Jack’s Uncle Steve came out as well.  It was the end of a long weekend.  Jack, John, Steve and Craig went down on Friday for practice.  On Saturday was a golf tournament to raise money for the track.  Racing was on Sunday.

sitting out the rain delay

Jack’s feature was close to the end of the day and there was rain.  So it got held up even more.  Then the race started up again.

Jack was in the lead for a while, but then hell broke loose.  Jack checked up a bit and the kid behind him wasn’t paying attention.  He went up and over Jack, rolling his car.  Jack spun out and stopped, the kid rolled once and was back on his wheels, never taking his foot out of it.  He wound up in a mess of other cars and then in the wall on the opposite side of the track.  The race was red flagged for fear the kid was hurt.  Everyone stopped.  Where the kid, one of the 12 year olds in this rookie group, landed happened to be right in front of where Anna and I were standing to watch the race. 

When races are red flagged, the handlers (mainly dads) go out and sit with their drivers and cars.  Craig was with Jack.  John was actually working one of the corners, so he was running around checking on drivers and stuff. 

The kid was crying.  He wasn’t hurt, he was frustrated.  He was throwing a little temper tantrum because he wanted the race to go on.  They had the nurse come out and check him.  There were other adults around, too.  Once the kid’s dad realized that he wasn’t hurt, he told his son, “The next time he does that, park him.”  For those of you who don’t speak racing, that translates to the father telling his son to crash my son.  I was pissed.

Jack and this kid were sent to the end of the line.  The kid did his best to crash Jack before he passed Jack.  Jack worked his way up to third, but there were a lot of other spin-outs.  Jack finished fifth, and the kid finished first.  Thanks to the spin-outs, the kid was able to weasel his way up to the front by beating the re-starts.  The dad was jumping up and down, fist pumping.  I was fuming.  There were a couple of the dads next to me who were yelling at the kid’s dad though.  Most notably was the second dad I mentioned earlier.  He was congratulating the man for teaching his son how to beat up on a little kid.

I went to find John, but I missed him.  He went to go get the track cart.  When I found him, I told him what had happened and he took off to get the race director.  John hadn’t heard the guy because he wasn’t near enough.  Only I and a few others had heard the comment.  Craig was with him, but he hadn’t heard me.  He noticed when John took off and asked me what was wrong.  So I told him.  Craig thought for about three seconds and then threw the handle of the cart down and went to yell at the dad.  He told the dad never to tell his son to do that.  The dad came back fighting, but Craig continued to tell him off.

Both men backed down, the dad saying that he got worried because his kid had been on his roof.   Craig reminded him that it was still poor form to say that since there was nothing wrong with his kid.  The guy apologized to Craig.  In hindsight I think the multiple apologies were not out of regret for his actions so much as the consequences.  Steve was paying attention to Jack and he was ready to go after the guy once he realized what had happened, too, but the guy was already apologizing and John had gone to speak to the race director.  Then Steve took Jack off for a post-race debriefing telling him how he can improve.  Craig, Anna, and I brought the cart back to the trailer and people were talking with us about it on our way back.  They felt sympathy for Jack.  They know him.  Their kids play with him and like him.

I had thought there would be fists flying, but no.  The second dad told Craig that he should have punched him. 

John, at first, felt good about going to the race director.  And this was definitely the higher road.  The race director told John that there had been some complaints about the dad and the kid before.  They would take some action.  If there was another complaint they would be asked to leave. 

At some point while we were all packing up the stuff, John met with the race director and the other dad.  The kid is going to be moved up to the next division.  They’re on limited time.  The dad apologized again.  John told him off.  The more John thinks about it, the less satisfied he is with it, though.  There’s not much more that can happen.  The kid is going to the next division with kids his own age and with more experience.  There will be no opportunity to bully little kids.  It will be tough for him.  But it will be better for him.  Otherwise he would have had to have gone from this rookie group to the senior division next year.  He’ll learn something now other than how to push little kids around.

I don’t understand parents.  Yes, Jack checked up.  But the kid didn’t respond appropriately and it was his own fault that he rolled and then crashed into the wall on the other side of the track.  As a parent, what do you teach your child in that situation?  My son was shown that he had made a mistake and in a calm and reasonable manner worked with his uncle and then his dad to figure out how to avoid the situation in the future.  That child was taught to go after a boy five years younger and possibly hurt him but definitely to purposely damage equipment.  That child was taught that over-reaction is appropriate and vengeance is acceptable. 

Rainbow we saw on the way home

Unfortunately, I think that many parents would prefer the latter lesson to the former.

I am proud of both of my boys though.  Jack remained unruffled and really had an excellent race.  And John followed the right channels and didn’t pummel the living shit out of the kid’s dad.

File Under Misc.

I haven’t blogged in a long time.  I’ve kind of felt bad about it, but obviously not enough to start writing in a decent amount of time.  Oh well. 

It’s an absolutely lovely day here in the hood.  Jack is looking for his other walkie talkie so that he can go on some high-fi spy adventure.  Anna and I are in the front yard.  I’m trying to keep her out of the dirt from where the kiddie pool usually is and she’s trying to pick as many flowers as she can.  We have mostly weeds here in our front yard, but fortunately for her, they’re purple weeds.  Purple is her favorite color.

We’re on school vacation.  We’ve had nothing planned except annoying doctors’ appointments.  Both children got clean bills of health from the pediatrician which is nice because the previous weekend had found Jack in the ER at Brockton Hospital with a rapidly moving strep throat.  The eye doctor was not so happy-go-lucky.  According to the good old eye doctor, Anna has shown no improvement in terms of her eyesight.  This is particularly frustrating as she’s been wearing her glasses more and has been wearing her eye patch for hours and hours at a time while she’s been at school.  The doc has asked if she can spend one hour a day in front of a screen while she’s wearing her patch.  This was kind of funny since just the day before I was able to say with some pride at the pediatrician that my children spent less than two hours in front of any screen most days.  Oh well.  Then the eye doctor said that he wondered if we weren’t getting an accurate indication of what’s going on because Anna has poor attention.  You think?  After waiting for well over an hour for him to tell me that there had been no improvement, I kept my mouth shut.  Had I opened it, I would have said something that would not have been unworthy of me.  I really wanted to say, “No shit, Sherlock” and “If you do not want to compete with her lack of attention, then perhaps you shouldn’t make her wait for over an hour and then try to get her to do something, you dickhead.”  Oh well.

So to rectify the screen time situation, I took her Target and bought her a LeapPad Explorer.  Yup.  And two ebooks to go with it.  And then, at tae kwon do that night, I bought Jack his sparring gear.  While I know that the best parents in the world do not use gifts as a means to make them feel like better parents, I fully engaged in a little retail therapy.  Made me feel better. 

Speaking of spoiled children…for my 40^th birthday, John bought me two nice Coach purses.  We got them at an outlet store in Georgia on our way back from Florida in February.  They were a bargain, but they weren’t cheap.  They’re nice and big meaning that I can carry my gradebook and planbook as well as my laptop in them.  This is nice because it means schlepping one less bag to and from school.  So a couple of weeks ago, John started to tease me, telling me he bought me a present and that I would love it.  On one day, he told me that it was a pair of quarter midget earrings (earrings shaped like the type of car Jack will be racing next month).  The next day, he told me it was two wallets to match my two new bags.  I kind of knew the present was the earrings, but I was hoping it was the wallets.  Well…it was the earrings.  Two gold toned quarter midget earrings.  Any woman would be jealous.  I think he felt guilty about setting me up, so he went ahead and ordered me a wallet.  He meant to order the two, but one was sold out.  I am truly spoiled.

So Jack wound up in the hospital the Saturday before Easter.  He woke with a strep throat at about 3 a.m. and wound up dehydrated.  We went to Brockton hospital because the copay was cheaper (about $500 cheaper) there than at South Shore Hospital.  Having brought Anna to South Shore’s ER a couple of times, I have to say that I enjoyed our Brockton Hospital experience so much better.  We were seen immediately upon arrival, didn’t even have time to get cozy in the waiting room.  When I commented that I had expected to wait a little longer, the triage nurse told me that we had come with an “expedite order.”  Funny.  We had those at South Shore, too, yet still waited and waited and waited.  When Jack was admitted, the doctor on call pretty much met us there in the room.  The nursing staff was attentive (I’m not sure how many kids there were on the floor) and on Sunday, our nurse brought in a basket from the Easter Bunny—a well thought out basket with play dough and a puzzle among other games and things to keep Jack occupied.  Very nice.  Discharge was a breeze, an hour earlier than we’d been told to expect.  Another thing is that they stayed in constant contact with the pediatrician from our practice who called in the order.  I’m not so sure I’d like to be in the ER at Brockton Hospital on one of their busy nights, but I am happy to say that it wasn’t a bad experience.  They also called and did a follow-up.  I thought that was nice. 

Jack is fine.  I probably should have led off with that.  He had some IV antibiotics and some fluids.  He stayed overnight mainly for precaution.  By the time he’d had a couple bags of fluid and two doses of antibiotics it was pretty late.  It just seemed better to everyone to have him stay.  By Sunday afternoon, he felt so much better that he was bouncing off the walls.  He’s been fine ever since.

Monday was pediatrician.  Tuesday was eye doctor.  Wednesday was fight with each other and be annoying.  So I decided to take them some place.  I wasn’t really sure where, but John suggested the swan boats.  I hadn’t thought they were open yet, but they are.  So I drove the kids to North Quincy and we hopped the Red Line to Park Street.  John met us there.  Then we walked through the Commons to the Public Garden.  There was a line for the Swan Boats, but it moved pretty quickly.  It was a cute ride.  Maybe this will become April vacation ritual from here on out.  We walked John back to work, then the kids and I walked the Harbor Walk all the way down to Christopher Columbus Park, making stops along the way.  I showed the kids where John and I got married and the Massachusetts was actually tied to the dock.  Then we walked down to the aquarium and then down to Long Wharf.  I showed the kids the marina where John used to work and the boathouse he lived in when I met him.  We took a ride on the merry-go-round on the Greenway and then played in Christopher Columbus Park at the playground for a long time.  This guy came along with a bunch of flowers made out of balloons and gave them to the kids.  Jack and I pretended his was a sword and not a flower.  Then we walked back to John’s work.  When he was finished, he brought us up to the 46^th floor to see the view.  That was pretty cool.  Then we walked the kids to Quincy Market for dinner.  Then we hopped the Green Line from Government Center to Park Street where we hopped the Red Line back to North Quincy, this time with John.

It was a great, spur of the moment day and relatively inexpensive.  I looked into doing a Duck Tour, but that was kind of expensive and the timing didn’t work out for us.  I had thought that it would be a good way to keep the kids amused and contained while we were waiting for John to get out of work, but as I said, the timing was off.  Christopher Columbus Park was a hit.  I’d forgotten about the playground at the end of it.  I had thought about bringing them to the aquarium for a bit, but ruled that out.  We only had a couple of hours tops and Jack is going there on his fieldtrip next month.  That’s really not that expensive a trip for us either because I get general admission for free.  I’d like to take the kids to the Science Museum this summer.  I know Jack would really like it.  That’s relatively cheap, too, because I either get reduced or free admission.  Whatever.  I guess the point is that the kids are so easy to cart around now.  Neither one complained about all the walking we did and they were both really good on the train.  It just gives me the idea that perhaps we should spend one day a week or one day every two weeks in the city this summer.  Something to do as we really don’t have any plans.

It’s much later now.  We’ve been to tae kwon do and have had dinner.  Jack is outside with the guys doing race car stuff and Anna is watching Tale of Despereaux for what I think may be the 800^th time since the original movie night showing last week.  

A former student of ours passed away the Saturday before Easter.  He had struggled a long time with leukemia and his heart gave out.  It was terribly sad because it’s always sad when someone dies, but mainly because I had seen this kid two days before he died.  I used to see him every morning.  I would pull into the parking lot at my school when he was leaving his apartment building which is right across the street.  Every day that he was well enough to go to school, I would get probably one of the best smiles ever to grace this planet.  It was always a brilliant way to start the day.  I won’t write much more about how sad it all is and how incredibly unfair, but I will say this:  Anna has had a hard time with this.    

Everyone from work went to the wake right at 4:00 on that Friday after Easter.  They went together and then many of them went out after.  I couldn’t go with them because I had to come home and get the kids.  Then, because I’m an absolute wimp, I made John drive me to the wake.  We figured that I would go to the wake and they would wait for me.  Then we would all go to dinner.  When I got back into the car from the wake, I cried.  Anna wanted to know why.  So I explained that I had been to a wake which was a time to say good-bye to someone who has died.  I told her about how this student had been very sick and he died because he had been sick.  And I told her that I was sad because I would never see him again.  She latched on to this and still hasn’t let it go.  When she is nervous about something, she’ll ask the same question over and over again.  So every day since then, she’s asked me why I was sad the other day.  She also asks me about this student.  She’s a little confused though because she keeps asking me I won’t let him smile anymore.  How do I explain that to her?  John and Jack get nervous when she asks because they know it makes me sad, but I have to answer the question.  That’s too important a question not to answer.

Jack starts racing next month.  He’s going to be racing pretty much every Sunday from the beginning of May all the way into November at Little T Speedway in Thompson, Connecticut.  I’m not that nervous about it.  I suppose I should be, but he’s got the fire suit, helmet, gloves, and restraining devices.  John seems to think that he’s relatively good-ish at it.  It’s going to turn into a camping trip every weekend that sometimes Anna and I will partake in.  And Jack is excited about it.  He’s as excited about this as he was about being moved into the Black Belt Club at tae kwon do.  There’s not much I wouldn’t do to see my kid this excited about something.

The guys are straightening out a race car by chaining it to the truck and moving the truck forward until it pulls against the race car.  It sounds like they’re crashing into something…I know:  You are all envious of my life.  (Insert the theme song to Sanford and Son right here)

On that note, I’ll leave you.  I have a daughter to cuddle with while my son is outside doing manly car things.

Everything Comes Back to The Hunger Games

March 26, 2012

This was started today while I was sitting at my desk while my student teacher taught.  It’s a little on the random side.

I am sitting at my desk at work.  My student teacher is beginning his instruction on The Hunger Games by Suzanne Collins.  I’m nervous about this for several reasons.  The first and foremost being the themes that I had developed and the ideas I had wanted brought up are not happening.  While I am not the queen who dictates exactly how every book in the world should be taught, but come on!  Throw me a bone here and do something thematically.

There is always a risk when you take on a student teacher.  I work with people who absolutely refuse to take one because of the damage that could be done.  Important things not covered or not covered well.  I always volunteer to take a student teacher because I feel obligated.  The only way to learn how to be a teacher is to actually do the job.  That’s how my student teaching was.  I was on my own in a ninth grade English class for twelve weeks at East Hartford High School.  I made tons of mistakes and bombed many lessons, but I think I’m a pretty good teacher now because of it.  Of course, doing student teaching in my current classroom is not necessarily an introduction to teaching reality.  I teach in a relatively separate program for students who have been identified as either gifted or talented.  This is teaching fairy-land.  I have nearly 90 students, all of them bright and (relatively) highly motivated.  This is not reality.  Perhaps I should not offer to take student teachers…

I call it teaching in fairy-land, but I work just as hard as I did when I taught in a mainstreamed classroom.  I just work on different things.  A majority of my time is spent on curriculum and instruction.  I bring the established standards up to the level of my students.  My classroom is full of students with varied abilities and interests.  I spend a lot of time dealing with parents who believe their children are smarter than I give them credit for.  When I taught in a mainstream classroom, I spent a lot of time on classroom management—not necessarily getting the kids to behave but to actually do the work.  I also spent a fair bit of time “mothering” students.  I’ve decided that I am much better at designing curriculum than mothering other people’s children.

Still trying to find the wisdom in what my student teacher is doing to scaffold the book.  I do love this book, but I think it needs a lot of support.  On the surface, it is a book about kids killing other kids in a televised knock-down-drag-out brawl to the death.  Just under the surface is a veritable bubbling cauldron of social and political commentary.  It’s a smart satire on our current love affair with reality TV.  It’s a startling snap shot of our current state of wealthy elite vs. the ever growing number of poor.  It’s about a government brutally exercising its control over its population using force and propaganda.  Unfortunately, while it’s a fun, fast read, most students will focus on the violence and the kissing (yes, there’s kissing), not the reasons for the violence and the kissing.  I’m afraid the kids aren’t getting enough scaffolding or enough of the right scaffolding.  But I have to let it go because he’s got to cope with this.  It’s his class.  (I’ll probably talk to him tomorrow about it).

John and I went to see the movie yesterday.  Craig watched the kids for us, and we caught the 11:30 a.m. showing.  It wasn’t crowded, which was good.  I liked the movie, but I’m trying to decide if I LOVED it.  There were things that translated well and things that didn’t.  There were things that were added that made sense and helped in telling the story, and there were things that were taken away that didn’t make sense. 

I do have a couple of Hunger Games movie wishes:

1.        I wish Katniss’s prep team was in the movie more.  They’re not really needed in the movie and would have added to the two hours and twenty minutes of the movie.  I just like them.  While they were written as stark, stereotypical characters, they amused me.  I think the movie needed some more (any) comic relief.

2.       I wish there had been more of Cinna.  He really is important to the plot of the whole series, and the movie marginalized him.  It needed him.  And besides which, what movie wouldn’t be vastly improved by more Lenny Kravitz with gold eyeliner?  Seriously.

John says he’d like to see the movie again, but not until it comes out on dvd.  I’d like to see it again sooner, but will probably end up waiting until then, too.

The question has come up as to whether or not to take our students to see the movie while it is in the theaters.  I had wanted to see it before I said yes or no.  Now I’ve seen it, I don’t know.  While you never actually see any physical blows during the movie, there is never any doubt that there is violence going on.  You don’t even really need to use your imagination to picture it.  It’s spelled out very carefully.  The kissing aspect is fine—not too much (not as much as was in the book).  It’s the violence that I would really need to think seriously about before I took students.

A friend and I were talking about this.  While neither one of us objects to our students seeing the movie, we felt that it would be better seen with parents.  Neither one of use wants to the be the person in charge of bringing the kids to see this movie.  And it’s not that these students have never seen violence; the video games they describe are frightening enough.  It’s that the violence is perpetrated by children against children, some of whom actually enjoy the games.  It’s easy to miss the point that the government is forcing the children to do so and that it has created a culture in which it is appropriate (even educational) fodder for public viewing. 

And that, my friends, is why the book needs to be scaffolded well.  J

March Madness, Indeed or What I Did on my February Vacation

From a professional perspective, March has always been a horrible month.  It is a long month with four full weeks of school with no time off.  Most months have a day here, a day there, a vacation.  Not March.  No.  March just runs on and on and on.  No one is happy.  No one is at their best.  The kids are fidgety.  The teachers are pressured.  Spring is on the way, but it’s just not here yet.  In Massachusetts, our first round of state testing is in March.  It’s just a horrible month.

From a personal perspective, it’s hectic.  Anna, Jack and I all have birthdays in March.  And so do a grandma, two uncles and five cousins.  Many of my friends have birthdays in March and my in-law’s anniversary is in March.  It just never seems to end.  It just keeps going on and on.

How many weeks left?

Part of where the in-laws live

We spent February vacation in Naples, Florida, with my in-laws.  They bought a house in a retirement community.  It’s a nice little place.  It’s got two bed, two bath, a large living area and three outdoor patio spaces.  They have a pool in the complex.  It was a nice trip. They’ve been going down there and renting a place for the past few winters, but they bought this place last year.  They just seem healthier after a winter in sunny warm Naples.

We had initially planned on flying, but had not acted promptly enough to find a decent flight.  We couldn’t find airfare for less than $1800.  Our first thought was to cancel the trip, but then decided that we would drive down.  My in-laws then bought us fare on the Auto Train.

We generally liked the experience of the Auto Train, but I’m not sure we would do it again.  Actually, that’s not true.  I KNOW I wouldn’t do it again. 

Anna playing at a park in Williamsburg

We left Massachusetts on that Friday night that the kids and I got out of school.  We drove to John’s sister’s house in Williamsburg, Virginia, arriving at about 7 a.m.  We spent a good day and evening there and then headed out the next day.

Jack and John ready to go!

The train left Lorton, Virginia, at about 3:30 on Sunday and arrived in Orlando around 8:30 the following morning.    The train, itself, was nice and for the most part, the experience was pleasant.  There was one family on board the train who was miserable, but everyone else was nice.  The crew was attentive.  The food was actually good.  We lucked out and got an early meal time.  Our seats were spacious and our kids were reasonably well behaved.  They weren’t bad at all.  The problem was that neither John nor I slept for more than 60 consecutive minutes on the train.  Jack passed right out at night.  It took Anna a while, but when she did fall asleep, she was out.  John and I just couldn’t do it.  We even swapped seats to try and see if we could get comfortable in the other’s spots.  By the time we got to Orlando, John and I were exhausted.



It was a four or so hour drive from there to Naples.  We made a pit stop at a Dunkin’ Donuts.  The kids changed from their sweatshirts into t-shirts in the parking lot.  And Dunks screwed up my coffee.  I guess that it was part of being so far from New England.  We were all excited about our trip.



Jack and Grandma on the porch

By the time we arrived in Naples, it was in the afternoon.  The kids had time to explore our new digs and the pool.  They were happy as clams.  Anna’s one and only meltdown came that night, but no one can really blame her.  She was in bed by six or so that night and I don’t think the rest of us were far behind.  The next day we just hung out.  We found Jack’s favorite restaurant in Naples, called the Clock.  We also visited the pool and then Naples Pier.

Anna @ Big Cypress

He wasn't the biggest we saw

Another of John’s sisters and her son arrived late that night and the following day, we went into the Everglades to Big Cypress National Park to check out some alligators.  The kids had a blast.  We stopped at this cute little restaurant right on the water in Everglades City.  The food was delicious, even the fried gator bites that Jack loved.

Jack eating 'gator after seeing 'gator

Anna, me and Jennie P.

That night, John, the kids and I went out to eat with a friend of mine.  This was a really special event because I hadn’t seen Jennie in nearly 20 years.  One of the reasons I’d like to go back next year is to see Jennie again.



our camel ride

On Thursday, John and I took the kids, including our nephew, to the Naples Zoo.  It’s a nice little zoo, but there were three highlights.  The zoo houses it’s primates on little islands in the center of a little pond.  You take a boat ride around the islands.  That was pretty cool.  There was also the opportunity to feed giraffes and to ride a camel.  That was pretty cool.  Then we went back to the pool because it was HOT!



On Friday, John and I brought all three kids to the beach.  It was a lot of fun.  First of all there was that novelty of going to the beach in February, but then there was joy in the fact that it was just a nice beach.  We built sand castles, played in the waves, and watched as Anna nearly got eaten by a pelican.  We ended our beach time by sitting around and collecting beach shells. 

On Saturday, we began the long drive home.  We made it to Georgia by about 5:30 that night.  We stopped to eat at Ruby Tuesday in Darien, Georgia.  If you ever find yourself in Darien, Georgia, I highly recommend not eating there.  The best part of Darien, Georgia, is the outlet mall.  It’s actually kind of sad, to be honest.  A lot of the stores were close.  But the Coach store was having an amazing sale.  John got me a couple of early birthday presents.  I’m a lucky girl.



Pit Stop on the way home

We ended up getting ice cream and going back to the hotel.  We were on the road the following morning around 8.  We drove straight through to home, getting here around 2:30 Monday morning.  It was a long drive, but the kids were wonderful.  They handled the trip so well, way better than John and I had thought. Kind of made the idea of road trips not so daunting.

We all came back tan…at least the kids and I did.  The kids were thrilled and loved just about every minute of the trip.  I loved it too and wouldn’t mind going back next year.  My in-laws were happy to see us and they were happy to have time with the kids.  And it was nice to be together as a family.  We all get so wrapped up in what we’re doing when we’re at home that we don’t really spend time together.  The time we do spend together isn’t really together because all four of us have our own agendas.  I like when we’re away from home together.  We just click.  We have so much fun with the four of us.  We all just go together.  I guess it’s a good thing we’re family.

We’re planning on going back next year.  If we do, this is what I would like to do:  spend more time at the beach (we had such a good time there); spend a little time on Fifth Avenue; and maybe go check out the new training facilities for the Red Sox in Fort Myers (or just go back to the beach).

I have had a lot of fun reliving my February vacation that I don’t want to spend any time documenting the long, drawn out shit that’s going on in March.   I think I’ll just end here on my own personal high note.

Check In

I am sitting in my classroom about 45 minutes before the students arrive.  Pandora is on the computer, through the big speakers I use for presentations in class…OK.  “Big” is a little bit of hyperbole, but whatever.  I’m trying to sort out all of the millions of things that are running around in my brain.  That’s why I created this blog, so bear with me here.

Yesterday was Anna’s IEP meeting.  It’s so hard to believe that she’s been in school for a year.  She’s no longer my baby; she’s officially a little girl.  The meeting was all about our plans for her for kindergarten.  It was an odd meeting to sit through.

This time last year, I was in a different place than I am now.  Anna was in a different place than she was now.  She was behind in her speech and with no means of communicating, she had no way to let out her fears, her frustrations, her wants, her needs, her joys.  There were days in the fall of 2010 when I would come home from school only to sit on the couch, holding her in my arms, while she would cry and scream and kick and push and bite.  She’d held herself together for the longest time and couldn’t do it any longer.  I was doing all I could to help her and love her, but it just wasn’t enough.  So with some help from Jack’s kindergarten teacher (to whom I shall forever be grateful), we got her tested and on the road to something we prayed was better.

The testing was heart-wrenching.  Watching her during the initial speech testing was torture.  Not only was she not answering questions, but she was also using hand gestures that are common with children who have severe learning disabilities.  The examiner was getting more and more obviously concerned and had pulled in another examiner to help and to observe.  And then, getting the actual testing back was absolutely horrific.  The psych evaluation came back labeling her as “borderline.”  My baby was “borderline”?  I knew she wasn’t.  I just knew it.

So last February, she started school receiving many services.  She received Adapted P.E., Occupational Therapy, and speech, both in the whole group setting and in one-on-one sessions.  She started going full time this fall.  Music therapy was added to that mix and there was a lot of individual instruction thrown in as the afternoon sessions she attended were smaller in size and there are several adults in the classroom.

Anna’s a changed child.  She’s not the same girl she was.  The change was almost immediate, too.  She was happier at school.  She developed some of those coping mechanisms that she had been lacking.  By June of 2011, I had a completely different little girl living in my house.  Not where she should be, not quite up to her peers, but so much better.

And now?  And now…She’ll receive no more A.P.E services unless it is as part of the whole class schedule.  When she starts kindergarten, she will be in a regular P.E. class.  Speech is being limited to a 15 minute/month consult.  While she’s still in pre-school, she’ll continue to receive whatever class-wide services are offered, but nothing above that.  She will still receive O.T. services, but they will be limited because the only continued fine motor issue is her pencil grasp.  She will also be receiving help with communicating her feelings and regulating them better.  The content of the curriculum will not be modified in anyway.  On the cognitive testing she hovered around average—right on the age target for most of the subtests.  One or two were just below and two were definitely above.

Yesterday, the team deleted whole chunks of her IEP.  It was liberating.  I sat there and just hoped that I wouldn’t cry because I was so relieved. 

The recommendation is that she go to kindergarten in an inclusion classroom.  This means that the class will have some regular education students and some special education students.  There will be more adults on hand, hopefully in the form of two special education teachers and at least one classroom aid, than in a mainstreamed classroom. 

The problem with this is that they generally do not offer an inclusion kindergarten classroom in all of the elementary schools in the city.  And there hasn’t been an inclusion class at Jack’s school.  Next year, unless we switch Jack’s school (which I’d rather not do for several reasons), the kids will be at different schools again.

I panicked when they told me that yesterday.  John told me to relax.  The point was that she is getting better.  We should concentrate on that and then deal with everything else when we have the information.  We won’t know what school Anna gets into until late in the school year or early in the summer.  We’ll deal with it when we can.  Let’s celebrate the success we’ve had.

So we did.  We took the kids to IHOP last night to celebrate Anna’s progress report and Jack’s absolutely stellar report card.   

On to bigger and better things, I guess.  I hope.