Part of Slice of Life Tuesday Slices on Two Writing Teachers! Join in and write on Tuesdays!
Today, I was, as the kids say, yelled at. but it wasn’t a yell really – that would be loud, right? it was a quiet aggression dismissive condescending belittling
I actually couldn’t believe it
It’s unbelievable to be spoken to like that It feels like yelled at is the only way to convey the experience
I wanted help I got a biting tone
I took a deep breath I said, “I know you might be upset, but the way you are talking to me is not helpful.”
Now, hours later I wonder about the young people who are yelled at like this —
Part of Slice of Life Tuesday Slices on Two Writing Teachers! Join in and write on Tuesdays!
This morning I mentioned to my student teacher that I slept weird on my pillow, but luckily I already had a chiropractor appointment for after school. (I’m super exciting, I know.)
She said, and I am not exaggerating, “You take such good care of yourself!”
I laughed, and told her I would have to tell my therapist about this.
The truth is that last year I realized it takes a lot to regulate this life of mine: Almost 50, betrayal trauma, I’m a teacher, and of course, I’m a single mama!
It could be a song, but this is serious stuff, nothing I could try to set to We Didn’t Start the Fire or something. But, it could be done, I’m sure. Even if just about a day at school…
All day I am trying to help a classroom full of amazing small humans regulate themselves… and friends… I don’t know if you’ve heard, but —
You need to co-regulate to regulate a child.
Today I regulated through someone or another:
screaming in the hallway, crawling in the library corner, hiding behind my table to read, dropping water bottles, cleaning up water with paper towels for what must have been the first time in their life, water dripping back to the floor, crying, falling, complaining that their scratch really really hurt and yes they would like a bandaid but that bandaid is too small for their scratch, dropping a chair, sneaking reading, swinging a necklace, chewing a necklace, saying someone was stupid for chewing a necklace, book borrowing, book not-giving-back, more crying, saying someone was stupid for needing their book back, saying they were allowed to call someone stupid since they are stupid, missing an invisible pen and not enjoying my joke “I haven’t seen it, but if it’s invisible, how could I?” stealing someone’s invisible pen —-
(and then it was morning recess)
The day continued while I regulated through someone or another:
— wanting a community snack after snack time, telling me someone was crying, telling me that someone shook their fist at them, talking, talking, talking, talking, talking, talking instead of listening, finishing their work before we started, missing directions, wandering the room, flying their painted pollinators into the paper garden over and over, saying “What answers? There’s no answers…” over and over because they thought I was talking to them about the pollinator garden when I was actually talking to the other kids who were done and were supposed to be reading the riddles on the whiteboard, fiddling through my things, pressing our doorbell multiple times, ignoring, ignoring, ignoring, talking back, crying about a consequence, not caring about a consequence, giving up, sliding down the railing, climbing up the railing, resting on the railing, saying, “I’m not climbing,” digging at an anthill instead of lining up…
And those are just the things I can remember. From today.
So, that’s why I have to “take care of myself…” because it takes a lot of therapy, meditation, tapping, affirmations, chiropractic care, massage, salt spas, acupuncture and walks in the sunshine to do this job that I absolutely love.
Part of Slice of Life Tuesday Slices on Two Writing Teachers! Join in and write on Tuesdays!
My story is going to bore you. Who wants to hear that someone is STILL COUGHING? Who wants to hear that someone has gone to the doctor’s THREE TIMES? Who wants to hear that someone does’t have pneumonia, but is STILL COUGHING?
I used to have a real doctor. He wasn’t perfect no, not by any means. But his name was Dr. Baker, Same as the doctor on Little House on the Prairie and he was older than me. He knew me, and listened to me – and then he retired
The bastard. Just like my dentist I loved too.
I finally chose a new doctor at the office to be our designated doctor. He was wasn’t perfect – but he listened and then suddenly he wasn’t working there anymore, but nobody told me I needed to stop listing Dr. Miller as my primary care Just one day they said, “Oh, yea. That report was sent to Dr. Miller, but actually, he doesn’t work here anymore. So that’s why nobody read it.”
Cool. Cool. Cool.
So now I just see whoever they can give me. 0/10 Don’t recommend.
I swear I’m trying to make this long boring story a short boring story.
So, anyway, as I’m sure you have gathered, (or heard,) I have this COUGH.
And I see a doctor. He’s nice even though he’s like 12 years old. He wants to give me the magic cough pearls. I say “No, thank you. Those don’t work for me.” He gives me some other medicine. Yay! It helps! Medicine is finished, the COUGH comes back. I see another doctor. He’s nice, actually board certified this time. So that’s good. He wants to give me the magic cough pearls. I say “No, thank you. Those don’t work for me.” He gives me some more medicine. Yay! It helps! Again! Medicine is finished, the COUGH comes back. I see another doctor. She’s nice, I guess. She wants to give me the magic cough pearls. I say “No, thank you. Those don’t work for me.” She gives me another medicine Makes me promise to take it all Even if the x-ray comes back clear. I promise. She promises to message me right away with the x-ray results. Spoiler alert: x-ray is clear, I keep my promise, she does not.
The story is almost over, I promise.
My cough gets worse, so I message the doctor. She responds hours and hours later with a prescription for The magic pearls. She notes that if my cough isn’t better in 1-2 weeks, I should make an appointment. 1-2 weeks? I’ve been coughing for over a month!
Now I’m annoyed. Does nobody listen? I message back “No, thank you. Those don’t work for me.” I give her some other options, as you know, a person who has had my lungs for almost half a century.
She responds hours and hours later telling me I should make an appointment with Dr. Miller to re-evaluate my cough.
Remember Dr. Miller? He doesn’t practice there anymore.
I tell her as much, but I’m proud to say, I don’t tell her all the things I want to say.
Part of Slice of Life Tuesday Slices on Two Writing Teachers! Join in and write on Tuesdays!
I carried some carts into school today. They needed to be built, and there were people ready to build them. So I piled one box onto the other and walked to the door.
A kindergarten teacher yelled my name from the playground and asked me if I was going to be able to get the door.
See, earlier we had walked into school together. We had remarked, as I could remark every day, about how fast you have to go from unlocking the door over to the door before it locks again. It can be really tricky if you are holding a lot of things.
Of course, the only sane response to her inquiry from the playground was for me to lift the boxes higher, tell her I am, in fact, going to be able to get the door… and then sing, “I am woman! Hear me roar!” So, that’s what I did. Then, I leaned the boxes so one hand was free, unlocked the door and got in before it locked again. I’m a strong, capable single mom. I can do anything!
(Inside, I wanted to tell someone, “I carried the boxes.” But Patrick Swayze wasn’t around, and really. who else would I need to tell?)
Hours later, at home, I went into my powder room, looked up at the ceiling and saw one of those creepy crawly bazillion leg critters on the top of the wall.
I did not sing any songs. I did not feel strong or capable (although I did feel single!)
I left the room, closed the door, and wondered if I should vacuum it up. I didn’t want to do that for a couple of reasons. One, I think those bugs are actually good for the house. I just really don’t want to see them. (I definitely don’t want them crawling out of my laundry ever again either, just saying.) Secondly, if I vacuum it up, then it will just get stuck in the vacuum. I’ll have to put the vacuum outside, or maybe throw it away . . .
I don’t want to have to get a new vacuum.
So I decided I am just not going to use that bathroom, maybe ever again. That should be fine. The bug probably never wants to see me again either.
I can do hard things and all, but I’ve already done enough hard things this week. And, it’s only Tuesday. Plus, you know, win some, lose some.
This slice is part of the March Slice of Life Challenge on Two Writing Teachers! #sol26. I’m slicing every day in March. Thanks for stopping by!
The kids were playing highly supervised basketball. Supervised because ball-playing at recess has had to be paused often due to conflicts. Basketball I guess because it’s March?
We had to keep a close eye on the kids. It’s hard to be kind the whole game I guess. At least when you are 7 or 8, and the basket is so high, and you want all the turns, or at least one.
It looked like two boys were tackling each other and I told them, “That’s not how we play basketball.”
“Yes it is,” one of them said to me.
“We don’t tackle in basketball,” I explained. He told me of course that they weren’t tackling, it’s just that he had fallen and was trying to get up.
I told him that I’d make the calls, then whispered to my partner teacher, “It’s a referee in basketball, right?” to make sure I was right before saying, “I’m the referee, for this game. And the referee is always right.”
They shrugged their agreement and went back to playing.
I noticed that the kind words weren’t exactly flowing on the court, and talked with a player who was accused of calling another player a liar.
“Well, he was lying,” he said, “and I didn’t call him a liar, I told him he was lying. He just wants us to get the ball banned again.”
I told him that I understood why he was upset, but that we needed to spread positivity during this game. I sent him off with a call to action that sounded, I think, like, “Go spread joy in that basketball game, buddy!”
This is maybe when you are shaking your head, laughing at me reffing with joy proclamations.
It’s also when I started realizing I was going to need a whole two-team second-grade huddle.
I called the kids over, and they ran in like serious ball players do.
I said, “Little known fact, but I am actually somewhat of a basketball expert.”
I did not tell them how well my March Madness bracket is doing. (It is doing very well, and even if I don’t get any closer to the top, I will be taking all bragging rights, as is my due.)
I said, “I have a professional basketball player, basically in my family.”
They all stared at me, wide-eyed.
I said, “His name is Yuuki Okubo. You may have heard of him, or even heard the song that someone made about him.”
“It goes like this, Yuuki, Yuuki, Yuuki Okubooooo.” I sang.
One of my kids nodded his head, kinda jutted out his chin and said, “Yea. I know him.”
I told them, “He plays for the Fukushima Firebonds.”
They were all listening very intently.
“And do you know what I see the Fukushima Firebonds do when I watch them?” I asked them.
That same kid said, without a pause, “Win.”
I smiled. “Well, they do win a lot,” I agreed. “But even when they don’t win, do you know what they do? What do you think they do when one of the players misses a shot?”
The kids said, “They say ‘good try!”
I told them yes (although maybe I should learn what good try is in Japanese…) and that I see professional players give high fives and encouragement for missed baskets, and scored points.
“That’s what I want to see from all of you!” I said, in my best coach from a movie giving a passionate speech voice. “Now go play some joyful ball!”
The kids ran off, and I’m not going to say it was a complete turn around or anything, but I did hear some nice “It’s okay!” And “Good try!” exclamations coming from the players.
One of them jogged over to me and asked “Are we playing 1-2 or 2-3?”
I shrugged and said, “I don’t know. What did the players decide? Ask an expert.”
When he jogged away, I looked at my partner teacher, “What does that mean 1-2, 2-3?”
She thought probably points, and I agreed.
Just then someone came over, crying that their team hadn’t passed them the ball yet. As I was counseling them in what I would like to think was the perfect blend of empathy and grit, another player was coming over with his hand on his head. He had been hit by a basketball.
As we walked to the nurse I said, “It’s okay! It happens to the best players. Did you know that the Duke Point Guard was out for the start of March Madness? You’ll be back for the next game!”
I know this because I’m somewhat of a basketball expert.
This slice is part of the March Slice of Life Challenge on Two Writing Teachers! #sol26. I’m slicing every day in March. Thanks for stopping by!
I want to be one of those chill people, who just go along with all the things even when they are sick. But I can’t do it. My cough is annoying me.
I need it to stop. I’m so tired of cough medicine and cough drops but in between those, I’m coughing so hard it shakes my whole body.
I don’t want to write about coughing. I mean, how boring.
When I was growing up, my cough would get so bad that my mom would have to sit up with me in bed all night, propping me up. I had to take NyQuil (mixed with 7-up!) when I was like 6 years old. Luckily, these days, (knock on wood) I don’t get this awful cough as often. Also, I can prop myself up with pillows. And cough drops. Did I mention I am so tired of cough drops?
But when this cough comes, it sticks around and really stands its ground.
Today I tried. I took the dog on a walk. I worked a little. I read a little. I did adulting things like paying bills. And I wrote this. But that’s all the chill I can can do. I need my pajamas, some more tea, and please, some easy breaths. Just a few!
This slice is part of the March Slice of Life Challenge on Two Writing Teachers! #sol26. I’m slicing every day in March. Thanks for stopping by!
Everyone wants an answer key You might be surprised, I don’t know if it will be pleasantly…
False. I was up by 5 something, of course. True. Heavy work … When it works, it works. True. I needed to clean my clothes. False. But I did sit on the rug down low. False. That will start this week, every day, all the days. False. It was 10. Seems way less than most days. True. I’m vegan but I use honey if I’m desperate True. She said “Oh my,” but accepted it. False. It’s my dog who needs all the meds. True. Pajamas… not just for going to bed! True. Bananas are a popular snack. True. But he had a different walk, and I had a cough attack True. We had to stay in until outside was cleared. True. We can talk now. Isn’t that weird? False. It was the kids’ lie detector project that was broken. True. I wish this was something misspoken.
This slice is part of the March Slice of Life Challenge on Two Writing Teachers! #sol26. I’m slicing every day in March. Thanks for stopping by!
What makes a team a TEAM? You know what I mean! Like capital C Collaboration Where work’s not just an occupation but a favorite destination? Is it understanding? Intentional planning? Grace expanding? A safe place for landing? Or is it a magic personality match Type As and Bs attach Balance your energy with theirs, a synergy almost wizardly— you know when to give when to take and for heaven’s sake how to share a mistake Or is it not that deep? Is a team just the company you keep? You take turns bringing coffee -but, randomly You know how to share a Google Doc You’re each others’ rock? Whatever a Team is supposed to Mean You know, the dream? I’ve seen a theme – There has got to be laughter on your team! (and coffee doesn’t hurt either, so it would seem…)
On a Thought 