18 Years of Teaching

And just like that... my 18th year of teaching is complete! That is bonkers to me. I feel like my life is divided into Before Teaching and After Teaching, because that shift also coincided with the end of my first marriage and the beginning of my relationship with Bryce. LOTS of change, all at once. It was terrifying back when everything was a jumble of uncertainty and upheaval, but wow am I glad at how everything turned out. 

I met Bryce while I was finishing up my field work, and we were seriously dating while I was student teaching. We got married the year I had my first probationary position, and started infertility treatments that same year. 

I spent a lot of my early teaching days wondering what it would look like if I did get pregnant, and being a little nervous about it. How much leave could I take while not tenured? How could I balance motherhood and my burgeoning teaching career? That quickly turned to questions of how I could balance teaching and IVF treatments -- scheduling around the school calendar to try to minimize how much time I took off, knowing that I'd need sick time to get full pay during a 6 week maternity leave. 

All of this proved moot, of course.

I remember my first year split between my current middle school and the 9th grade building, and having to start a week into the year due to my ectopic pregnancy and surgical recovery (and boatloads of grief). I remember being nervous about that falling on my tenure year, until my principal at the middle school shared that he and his wife had endured an ectopic pregnancy as well once upon a time, and he understood. 

I remember years and years of painful beginning-of-the-year slideshows with everyone's family pictures and baby pictures and the feeling that we had a big hole where that should be for us. 

I also remember starting to make sure that my slideshow picture was silly, funny, and otherwise ridiculous to make up for that feeling of being less-than. 

One of my favorites

Thankfully, current administration doesn't do that godawful slideshow. Although, I feel like I no longer feel like there's a hole in my existence. Progress! 

I remember my school baby shower. I remember getting phone calls about adoption opportunities and being declined at school, and trying real hard to pretend to be a normal humanlike substance while feeling like this process was a vampire, sucking the life from me and leaving me a husk of myself. 

I remember telling everyone we were done. 

And now, I work with a whole lot of people who have NO IDEA that this was so entwined with my teaching existence. There are so many newer teachers (or new to our building) who don't at all know that I survived all that while being a new teacher, and as my teaching experience grew, so did my infertility and adoption trauma. 

I am immensely proud of my teaching career. I love my students, and I love finding ways to make learning challenging AND fun. I enjoy very much being the weird teacher. 

T-shirt to prove it!

I love that I can put my mothering energy into helping young humans become critical thinkers and better humans than when they first came through my door (most of the time). I also love that I can come home and recuperate from the stresses of the day, from the vicarious trauma that is a solid part of teaching (special education in particular), from the exhaustion of being "on" all day long. I have no one who depends on me for homework help, or who needs me to drive them to sports or dance. I also don't have the positives of raising my own children, but good gracious I am grateful that I can give everything in my school day and then come home to the couch, a book, a glass of wine, and decompress. 

I love that every school year is a little microcosm and I get to start over and do it again year after year after year. 

I love summers and having time to wind down and then gear up for that new year (and that, since I don't have children, summers are entirely for me and Bryce).

I have 12 more years of teaching ahead of me. I have more years in than I have left, which is a weird feeling. But also, I love that I've grown along with my teaching career. 18 years is a long time, and my life has changed significantly since the beginning. I love what I do. I love where my life has taken me so far, even if it is completely different than what I thought it was going to be at the very beginning of all the change.

Vacation Anxiety

Bryce and I were late planning our vacation this year. As in, we booked our August trip this past weekend. 

We are such creatures of habit. We are going to Maine, but this time we were like, "let's try something different!" 

We searched tiny houses and cottages. We looked at cabins on lakes. The things we saw that we liked were mostly, so shocking, booked up. The cabins looked fun but the words "family friendly" came up A LOT and that isn't really what we want out of a vacation. 

Then Bryce found a cottage that's on its own tiny island in a lake. The cottage looked lovely and it definitely hit the "rustic" and "quiet" buttons. However...
   - you have to paddle your things in on a canoe for 5 minutes to get there

   - there is no electricity, just a small generator to run a small refrigerator

   - you are on an island in the middle of the lake with no electricity and YOU HAVE TO PADDLE IN ON A CANOE. 

To Bryce, this sounded amazing. To me, it sounded absolutely BONKERS. I wanted to be adventurous, really I did. But this, given that I am accident prone and tend to be in the worst kind of 1 percent, sounded like a very, very bad idea. 

I tried to imagine it. All I saw was blood poisoning and serial killers. I tried to say why it was scary, but it sounded so silly as the words left my mouth. I was getting more and more worked up and started crying and then said/yelled "I NEED AN INTERMEDIARY STEP BEFORE THIS LEVEL OF ADVENTURE! THIS IS LIKE ME SAYING 'LET'S GO CAMPING IN THE SUBWAY IN BROOKLYN' TO YOU!" (Bryce grew up in the wilds of Maine, I grew up with streetlights and public transit and sidewalks. Our comfort levels tend to be...different.)

So, needless to say, we didn't book that one. Instead, we are going back to the inn in Boothbay Harbor that we have thoroughly enjoyed, and stayed at last summer for a few nights. It is familiar. There are no kids in the inn. We can avoid "family friendly" places and find a deserted spot on the rocks at Ocean Point to read and sit and enjoy. We know where the gluten free options are (and there are a zillion!). We can walk into town. We can walk to a park with a little cove that we found on our last day last year. 

It is familiar. It feels safe. Maybe it's the way the world is right now, or the stress of figuring out safe food (even if a cabin has cookware, I have to bring my own, thank you Celiac), or the need for some things to be predictable because so much in our life has been so uncertain. I feel so lame saying that I would love to do an adventure (albeit with plumbing and at least some electricity and the ability to be in civilization if needed), but I would need time to plan it properly. Which sort of takes "adventure" out of it. 

Or, we can just embrace that we love to find cozy home-away-from-homes and once we find a spot we like, we go back and explore but ultimately feel like we're in a familiar place, with familiar faces, and a certain level of predictability. I guess I'm more of a "dip my toes into adventure" person.

What do you like? Adventure, or familiarity? 

Urgent Care vs Specialist

Early in May, I had that "severely abnormal" mole and surrounding area cut out with a dermatological excision. Next to and sort of in my bellybutton. Why my body is making these crazy, homicidal cells is beyond me, but what my body did with the wound is really annoying. 

My bellybutton is not an area where I care about cosmetic concerns. It is, however, always in the dark. Always a bit of a cave situation. And so, it's not an ideal place to have a wound with internal and external stitches (ouch). 

Week before last, I decided to put a hydrocolloid Band-Aid on the wound because a) it was just NOT healing and I thought it would help, and b) I needed a barrier because wearing adulting clothes was irritating it. Going back to work has been challenging from a comfort perspective! 

Well, that was a mistake. You leave hydrocolloid bandages on for a couple of days, because they are supposed to be breathable. I took the Band-Aid off after school on Tuesday. I was assaulted with an absolutely HORRIFIC stench. Like, demons from hell were streaming out from my navel. It looked gross. It smelled gross. It hurt. I went to Urgent Care. 

They were like, "oh yeah, that's definitely infected. And it looks like a stitch popped at some point, it's a little open. (ew) You need to go on antibiotics, and we're doing a wound culture. Keep it covered but change the bandage frequently to keep it dry and keep an eye on it." I left, started the antibiotics that night, and the next day called my dermatologist's office to let them know it was funky. They could see me later that day, so I went to get checked out. 

My derm said, "nope, that's not infected. It's regular pus. Regular pus doesn't smell so good either. You have a spitting/spinning (not sure which) stitch, and your internal stitches are trying to come out. Don't cover it, and stop those antibiotics. They're a rough one that kills your gut biome and leaves you with horrible diarrhea. You're good." 

Bryce was like, "WHO DO WE TRUST?" And my answer was, the specialist. The person who sees excisions all day long. 

Whelp, I should have said URGENT CARE. 

We went on an impromptu overnight to Vermont weekend before last, and it was lovely. We went to a kickass bookstore (The Northshire), we ate yummy food, and we walked around. We read in our room. It was a good reset after our loss of Lucky. Sunday morning though, I got a call from "HEALTHCARE." I answered. 

IT WAS A DOCTOR FROM URGENT CARE. He was like, "your wound culture came back positive for staph lugdenensis." WHAT THE FUCK? He said I could stop the other antibiotic because it WASN'T STRONG ENOUGH, and go on a 7 day course of doxycycline. 

Of course. My body is tricksy, and often not in a good way. I took the antibiotics, and it's no longer tender or goopy (although to me, it still looks gross), but HOW FRUSTRATING? I called my dermatologist on Monday to tell her all about this development, and her office was a bit concerningly blasé about the whole thing. Said, "everyone has a tiny amount of staph on their skin, it's probably not a big deal." Argh. I just wanted them to say they were wrong (famously not a strength of most doctors). 

So, the lesson is... the specialist is not always right. The thing that doesn't make a mistake? DATA. Microscope slides full of goo revealing gross infections that could also turn homicidal (but thankfully didn't). 

On a good note, while in Vermont my new knee walked 8.5 miles IN ONE DAY! I hiked! I walked on hard sidewalks! It was amazing. So, at least one part of my body was doing right by me. 

Hiking at the Equinox Preserve

Not gonna lie, I'm a little nervous about having the second excision done where the other dangerous mole was on my back done in June. Although that area is not a cave of doom, so maybe it will be okay? 

Saying Goodbye to Our Lucky Buddy

On Friday, we said goodbye to our cat, Lucky. Lucky was just shy of 19, so he was definitely elderly, and he'd been struggling a bit more in the past month. We noticed some muscle atrophy, boniness, but he was still eating, jumping up on things, playing, and coming to sit on our blanketed laps. We figured if he couldn't do those things anymore, we'd take him in, because if it was more than old age chances are there wasn't much we could do. 

It was more than old age. He had liver cancer, and the day before we took him in to the vet he went to jump up on a stool in the kitchen, and missed entirely. He stopped eating his food (but we bought a rotisserie chicken and chopped it up for him, which he gobbled right up). He started finding places to hide. I was terrified I was going to come down to go to school and find him, curled up and cold, in an odd hiding place. 

But Friday I was at school, in the library for a social studies research project, and the librarian brought me the phone. Bryce had called the office to let me know that he was taking Lucky in at 11:30, that he was completely lethargic and acting weird and it was time. I left to meet him, thinking maybe it would be okay, but more realistically thinking I HAD to be there because it could be the end. 

The vet was amazing. She did a full exam, even an ultrasound (which he didn't need to be sedated for since he was so lethargic), and let us know that he had cancer in his liver and possibly elsewhere in his belly, that that kind of cancer accelerates like mad, and that if we weren't ready they could push fluids but it would gain us maybe a few days. That didn't seem fair to Lucky, to pump him full of things so we could spend more time with him even though he was miserable and things were shutting down. So, we made the decision. 

He was already mostly asleep when the process began, and we pet him and told him how much we loved him and thanked him for being a part of our lives for 13-14 years. And he fell asleep, and then he was gone. It was the most peaceful passing I've ever been a part of. 

We are a mess. He was so special, and there is such a hole where he was. I keep thinking I hear him meowing. People on meetings with Bryce used to think he was a baby because he was so loud. It was sad to open the fridge and see the chopped chicken, and to open the freezer and see the cubes of "jiggly" Bryce made for him (seriously reduced onion-free chicken stock that he'd microwave for him). Having just one station for cat food for Eggi. Having a lap that is bereft, as he was the ultimate lap cat and now I put a blanket on me and...that cozy weight on my thighs just doesn't come. Giving treats to Eggi and realizing I don't have to turn in a different direction to throw Lucky his so he didn't pig out and knock Eggi out of the way (he was kind of an asshole about food). 

Lucky was the last of our Infertility/Adoption Cats. We got him after my buddy Rocky passed in the least peaceful way ever (never went back to THAT vet again), in the 2 week wait for a frozen cycle after our ectopic, right around Christmas. I cried so hard when I lost Rocky that I was sure I dislodged our little embryos (I know better now). It didn't work, so there was extra sadness. We went relatively quickly to the ASPCA shelter and looked at a few cats, but none seemed right. Then they brought us Lucky, a five year old black cat they'd gotten around Halloween with a shortened tail who they'd kept in a different room with other cats and we hadn't seen. They told us he was their favorite. He immediately climbed into Bryce's lap and fell asleep. We were the lucky ones, so we kept his name. 

The shelter gave us a picture of Lucky with Santa, which was our first picture of him: 

He really was so special. He let me hold him like a baby. He let me smother him with love when our world was falling spectacularly apart: cycle after cycle not working, our summer miscarriage, deciding to stop treatment, starting the adoption process, time after time of not being chosen...and the end of our pursuit of parenthood in general. He lay on the floor next to me. He was my only baby to ever grace our crib: 

He loved sitting on top of whatever it was we were doing: 

On coloring books.

On books (guess which is Bryce's)

On grading.

On puzzles.

On things being assembled.

On prep for September.

On me trying to do schoolwork.

On professional development reading.

On my desk, asleep.

On my lap as I read a really good book days before surgery.

He also loved to be ON things:

On the stairs

On my office bookshelf

ON TOP OF THE FRIDGE, totally busted eating cornsilk, his weird favorite

On an herb planter

On the kitchen stools (which are counter height), with Miss Eggi

ON ME

On a giant box of mailorder bamboo toilet paper, living up to the slogan

He wanted to be wherever his people were. He wasn't shy around new people. He let you know when he wanted pets. He made sure to roll belly-up and make his front paws all cute if you had the audacity to ignore him (or just not snap to it right away). He would eat literally anything that fell on the floor, like a dog. Most recent weird item: a chickpea. Bryce's lap was his special lap. Until his last couple of weeks, given the choice between my blanketed lap and Bryce's crossed 4 legs, he picked the hole in Bryce's leg bend. Lucky is the cat who made Bryce a cat person. 

We didn't want to ever say goodbye, but we knew we'd have to, someday. 19 years is pretty old for a cat, but we were hoping for a crazy 20 or 22. 25! We loved Lucky so much, and he loved us back just as much. He was snuggly, and playful, and nimble up until maybe two weeks before he passed. He could jump 4 feet to the top of a tall bookcase. He regularly jumped up on the 3 foot stools. He was naughty with food and we had to make sure everything was put away before eating in another room, because he'd get up there and eat or lick just about anything that was in the kitchen where he could reach it. 

I had to take a break from writing this post because it made me so sad. But also, it makes me happy to remember him. Lucky was a hugely special part of our life. He was there for most of our marriage to date. To find that I had 526 photos of Lucky in my Google Photos made me happy. 

Rest in peace, Lucky. We miss you so much. 

Sunshine was his favorite. Sunpuddles, the deck, and here...in a raised planter like a wild beastie

Just Another Day

Yesterday was the first Mother's Day where I really didn't think about it. I stayed off social media. I had dinner with my mom, sister, and assorted husbands on Saturday. We went to see a movie at noon, Sinners. If you haven't seen it, and you can handle supernatural horror (and historical horror), it is well worth it! No one at the movies wished me a Happy Mother's Day, which was lovely. I was wearing my Mother Of Cats shirt, but I didn't hear it offered to anyone. I did leave the movies with a raging migraine, which put a damper on the rest of the day. I still managed to suit up against the blackflies and plant some Snow In Summer and put half of a border fence up in my birdbath/Jizo garden. Always feels good to nurture the nature on this particular day. 

No blackflies shall pass!!!

Two more arches to go... MAYBE it will deter the deer from what I plant next?

The upper part of the garden, through the screen of my office window. Bluebells, lungwort, daffodils, Japanese Forest Grass, and other fun things

Bleeding heart and brunnera (different garden but so pretty)

Same different garden, creeping phlox

It is delightful to have this day be...just another day. Admittedly, we stacked the deck -- celebrations on another day, no restaurants, and the like. Just blueberry pancakes, movie, gardening, and quality time with my migraine ice hat. 

I hope your Mother's Day was what you needed it to be. 

Magical Mystery Birthday Bookshop Tour

Today, I am 49. A perfect square. I'm out for the gold in these here hills -- I'm a 49er! It's the last year of my 40s... and I'm okay with that. My birthday used to be such a difficult day because it was tied to my biological expiration date, and then my attractiveness as an adoptive parent. Now, it's tied to none of that, and it's celebrating another trip around the sun, without strings. 

Bryce did an AMAZING job with my birthday this year. He asked me what I wanted, and I said, "I don't really want any things, I would love something related to an experience." 

Oh no. I set myself up for surprises! I hate surprises, they stress me out. But, Bryce knows this, and so he made sure that I knew I wasn't going to suddenly be suited up for skydiving. 

On Thursday, we did Part One: 

A few birthdays ago, he got me this Thule bike rack and a trailer hitch for my beautiful pumpkin orange car. Thankfully, the bike rack wasn't attached when I was rearended and my pretty pumpkin was totaled. When I got the new bluebird (which is okay but I loved the orange SO MUCH MORE), I had the trailer hitch installed from the get-go. Our bikes have languished in the garage though. Because... knees. 

BUT, we installed the rack and then loaded our cobwebby bikes up onto it (weirdly because mine is a "girl bike" and so the cross bar is lower, and it didn't fit right, but flipped it was fine). Then we drove to a pro bike shop nearby, and both bikes have an extended stay for service and tune-up, and then we will be able to go for bike rides! And bring our bikes to Vermont! And take interesting trails we drive to! So amazing. 

Saturday was a magical mystery tour. Bryce originally said we'd want to leave at 9 or 10, and we wouldn't be back until 9 or 10. We probably would have made one more destination had we actually left the house "on time," but we had a very lazy morning with delicious cheesy waffle breakfast sandwiches, and left at 11ish. Whoops. 

I am so sad that I forgot to take a picture at our first stop, The Dog Eared Book in Palmyra, NY. Bryce had to use GPS to get there, which threw me off (I could get there in my sleep, but also I go a LOT more frequently than he does!). Then we went in, and he got me three books that he'd ordered ahead, and I got one book that was highly recommended by the bookseller. 

All 3 of Bryce's books have red (all spines are red too), and mine was a tomato orange-red. weird!

Bryce handed me a $20 bill that I could spend at the store, but alas, hardcovers are closer to $25-30, so I used a card and pocketed the cash, ha. 

We hopped in the car and headed further east, landing in the picturesque town of Clifton Springs. Fun fact: we walked a little first, and went over a creek/culvert/aqueduct thing of running water, and immediately our noses were assaulted with the smell of sewage, of rotting eggs, of sulfur. GOOD GOD WHAT IS THAT SMELL??? We said, and then realized upon reading the sign by the old sanitarium that this was a well-marketed boon as a doctor advertised a "sulfur cure" using the sulfur water from the spring to help people somehow. The spa/sanitarium is now apartments and parts of a hospital. 

But, we ended up here: 

 I really wish I had taken a photo of the inside. It had recently moved and was GORGEOUS, with floating shelves (the bookseller built them with her husband, she hated the shelves that went to the floor because you basically had to be on your hands and knees to look through things) and a mix of new and used books. Actually, all three bookshops had a mix of new and used, which was lovely. Bryce handed me another $20, and I got these three: 

Kid Activists is for school, and that was the new one. The other two are used -- All the Little Liars I'd never heard of before but it looked fun and twisty, and Migrations came highly recommended from the bookseller. It's by the same author as Wild Dark Shore, which was amazing. That one took place on a fictional island called Shearwater, between Australia and Antarctica, and Migrations takes place in Greenland. So exciting! 

We then headed further east, to have our picnic lunch. Bryce's original plan was to go to a park in Geneva at the top of Seneca Lake, but GPS did us dirty and sent us on a wild goose chase that ended with us partway down the lake and parking on the side of the driveway to a church camp. It was raining, so we ate in the car, but we were right by the lake, it was quiet, and an oriole ate his lunch on the tree next to our car! 

We went to the actual park at the top of the lake, and unfortunately missed the bookstore in Geneva because it closed at 3:00, on a Saturday. Bryce was worried we wouldn't make the next store, but he called and the bookseller there said she'd stay open if we got there close to 5, so we took a quick walk at the park. 

From there, we headed a bit north and east, and landed in the small town of Marcellus. There we visited That's What She Read, a delightfully shabby chic new and used bookshop in a Victorian house. Each room was a different genre. It was FLOOR TO CEILING books, very overwhelming! But great for the hunt. 

She also let us use her bathroom to change for dinner. I got quite a lot of books for a very reasonable price, however I did exceed my $20 bill. BUT, what bargains! Also, she gave me a discount for my birthday and wrapped up my books, which she does for every first timer: 

I bought 6 books there, one of which I'd had before and put on my Special Shelf, but then it was a casualty of lending it out. Tell the Wolves I'm Home is a beautiful book and super nostalgic for me because it's set where I grew up, at around the same time. The rest are new to me:

They range from hilarious (oddly, I'm Glad My Mom Died is that one) to books I've meant to read/pick up but haven't, to two nonfiction books to aide in happiness and badassery. 

We headed out for dinner, which was 15 minutes away in Skaneateles, pronounced bizarrely close to "skinny atlas", another finger lake. We went to Mirbeau, a spa, hotel, and bistro that I have never been to before, but is VERY fancypants. They have a very Monet courtyard, very "you are not in Central New York, non! You are in FRRRAAHNCE!": 

They were, however, EXCELLENT with celiac. I had insanely good, hot, gluten free bread (almost like a flaky, soft biscuit!), and when I couldn't have the steak frites with the truffle parmesan fries (shared fryer, boooo), they made me fingerling potatoes with the truffle parmesan treatment! It was very yummy. 

Why oh why do we keep forgetting to take pictures of us, TOGETHER? 

It was a lovely, lovely day. Adventure, a little bit of surprise (I really didn't know where we were going), tons of books, new places, and delicious food and wine. It was absolutely delightful. 

Sunday I got my hair done, blending the silver and making it work a little less two-tone as I grow it out with the purple (there will always be purple): 

Before haha

After!

            

Then today, my actual birthday, I opened my presents in the afternoon (from others, not Bryce, as he outdid himself in experiences), and we had pizza and cupcakes with my dad. I am beat, fighting a migraine and allergies all at once. 

But, I am also happy. And loved. And grateful. I absolutely love my life. Here's to the last 364 days of my 40s! 

Because I'm NOT a Parent

I had a realization the other day. 

I was talking with my sub, who was venting about a particularly difficult case. The student has many mental health difficulties, and is on the autism spectrum. The student's mom loves her child very much but can be an, um, aggressive and blunt communicator. 

My sub was upset because this student is doing nothing, pretty much refusing to turn in any work. Their grades are slipping. He'd contacted the student's mom with his concerns, and was very frustrated with the response. She basically said she wasn't going to force the student to do anything, that when she talked with the student at home, the explanation was that so far their grades were good enough that the student felt they could just "coast" for a while. The mom was like, "well, the grades are good right now, and maybe they need to see the grades dip. We'll revisit when that happens." 

My sub was beside himself. Why would she not care about motivating her child? Why would she let him fail like this? He was gobsmacked by the mom's response when he (the sub) clarified that he spends extra time with all his students to help them succeed, she said: "that's nice, but I only care about my child." 

Then he said to me... "As a parent, I just don't understand how she can do this to her child." 

Ah. 

I explained my thoughts on the situation:  

• Natural consequences, a real life if...then, are actually probably the best way to show this student what happens when you just quit the game. It's concrete. 
  
  
• It is actually pretty impossible to "make" someone do something that they are determined not to do. Sometimes they have to eff around and find out, for themselves. 
  
  
• What better time to learn the lesson of failing due to inaction than in middle school, when there's no credit? Better now than next year when it goes on a transcript.
  
  
• Most parents only care about their own children's success when it comes down to it. She's just being brutally honest and saying it out loud. 
  
  
• She has known her child the longest. She is the parent. It is not our job to tell her how to parent (unless it is something harmful/illegal). We can disagree, we can offer alternate thoughts, but ultimately you'll drive yourself crazy thinking you can "fix" someone else's parenting, because a) you can't and b) it's not up to you, as a teacher. 

Then, I had an epiphany -- maybe one reason why I am somewhat of a "tough parent whisperer" is because I am not a parent myself. I do not have my own frame of reference to put on someone else, for better or for worse. I am not thinking through the lens of what would work (or not) for MY child. I am a fairly neutral player in this game. I mean, I like to think I know what I would have done, if I'd had kids, but I'll never really know what that would have looked like, so I can't speculate TOO much.

Of course, I have opinions, but I feel very strongly that in most situations, abuse aside, parents want what's best for their kids. There are different ways of handling different situations. I can offer facts, such as: We cannot grade what we do not receive. We can give the opportunities, we can extend deadlines to a point, but there is a line where it is what it is. Students get the grade they earn. If they do nothing, they earn...nothing. That's sort of how life works. We can encourage, parents can encourage, but ultimately there is no "making" the child do something they don't want to do. My job, as an educator, is to work with the parent and partner home and school together to help a student be as successful as possible. 

I would imagine, as a teacher who IS a parent, that it would be hard not to see through your own lens (at least at first). That it might be harder not to judge based on what you would do in the situation, even though likely your situation is very different from their situation. 

It gave me a little bit of a flip side to the dreaded "as a parent..." comments that get thrown around school (and life) all the time -- maybe it's actually an asset to be an educational, developmental expert and NOT a parent. 

An ADHD Book Recommendation

It's been such an adventure being a late-diagnosed woman with ADHD. I get to learn new skills and discover that I, in fact, am less a hot mess than I thought (or at least there are reasons for it), and I get to look back on my ENTIRE life and realize just how much this neurodivergence has impacted me. I was always weird. Mostly lovably so, but there were and are definitely periods where "annoyingly" would be a better adverb. I was always a mess. But now I can see it through a different lens. 

I love when there's a good book about ADHD. I am still reading How to ADHD by Jessica McCabe (whose YouTube channel is absolutely amazing), because it is...rather large. And I lent it to my dad. Before I finished it for some reason. I did just get it back and I am making my way through it. It's great stuff...but very long.  

I read Kat Brown's It's Not a Bloody Trend: Understanding Life as an ADHD Adult and loved it. It was her story, combined with stories of lots of other people living with ADHD as adults, many late-diagnosed like her (and like me). She is so witty, and engaging, and I can't help but feel that we could be friends when I read her work.

I started reading a book recommended by a coworker, but I didn't finish that book, which shall remain nameless, on purpose. This is because it filled me with the fury of a thousand murder hornets (remember murder hornets?). It was just so...clinical. Pathological. Negative. Deficit-based. It did not speak to me, AT ALL. Or rather, it said "You are defective and it is hard to be around you, and look at these cool images of brains and where they don't fire as much in these areas, but yeah, your life is going to be difficult." So I chose not to listen so much to what it had to say. Maybe it gets better. It made me feel shitty enough while reading it that I didn't care to find out.

But, I did find this one, which is the exact opposite of that Negative Nancy book: ADHD Is Awesome: A Guide to (mostly) Thriving With ADHD by Penn and Kim Holderness. Yes, the couple of the crazy videos and songs and current series on Perry, Perimenopause. I felt like, OK, it's a celebrity book, but I'll give it a try. I am SO glad I did. It is so much more than a "celebrity book." 

The book is mostly written by Penn, who has ADHD. He was diagnosed in college, so relatively late for a boy. It also features "Notes from Kim" that are peppered throughout -- she does not have ADHD, but gives excellent perspective as someone who lives with a person with ADHD, for better and for worse. 

The text is nicely broken up, it's not too long, the pacing is swift, and the formatting of the pages...it's the most ADHD-friendly setup ever: 

Each chapter is assigned its own color, so you can set mini-goals while reading. "I'm going to finish this orange section! Oh look, I'm in the green, I may as well finish that too..." It is VERY motivating. I do not need motivation to read most fiction books, or memoirs. But nonfiction books? It can feel a bit like a slog. Even when it's very, very useful information. Nonfiction books are the ones I most frequently do not finish. THIS format? I flew through it. It was beautifully, visually chunked. 

What I love about this book is that it's practical. It focuses on not just "this is how your brain works" but also "this is how your brain is an asset, and this is how you can manage the dingdong things your brain does to get in your way, and by the way, just because you do dingdong things doesn't mean YOU are a dingdong." I felt very, very seen. 

I also felt very, very sad for the young me who was not given a whole lot of grace for ADHD-related behaviors that no one recognized as ADHD. Because I was a girl, because I did well in school (although if you look at my transcripts you can totally see where it was motivation-driven), because there was a lot going on in my family and I felt an insane pressure to "be normal, be good." This book actually prompted me to make a list of things throughout my life, starting in childhood, that I thought were me just being a weird, irresponsible hot mess, but are actually part of my differently-wired brain. Not an excuse, but wow is it freeing to realize that there are things that ARE definitely harder for me, but it's not a character flaw. I can develop skills to manage them. My list became so numerous that it quickly turned into its own dedicated post. 

I love ADHD Is Awesome so much for that grace, and for the information both on ADHD and living with someone with ADHD, and looking at challenges through a positive lens. I love it so much I want to do a professional development on Neurodivergence, and the novel idea that not all brains are wired in the same way and that's actually a GOOD thing. That even though there are challenges and difficulties, there are strengths -- creativity, thinking outside the box, being good in constantly changing/high-stress situations, having lots of energy (until you don't), and hyperfocus. Apparently teaching is a common profession for female ADHDers, go figure, which makes sense because everything is chunked in increments, you're constantly solving the puzzle of how to get students to "get it" and think critically, and it is NEVER the same. On the flip side, I see students with ADHD get labeled as noncompliant, lazy, unmotivated, blurty, and distracting. And while they (and me) can be all of those things, imagine what would happen if there was grace given. If deficits were looked at as "skills not developed yet" and not willful disobedience or sluggery. 

Imagine if there was a greater understanding of different brains, and it led to working on skills while celebrating successes, and above all, giving people the benefit of the doubt. I did not enjoy feeling like I was inherently a hot mess express. I do not enjoy when I feel like a failure or do something real dumb. It is amazingly freeing to realize that there are reasons why some things are particularly difficult, and I am not a lost cause -- I can learn strategies to help me capitalize on my strengths and accommodate my areas of need. Which obviously goes for students, too. 

I really think this book can help, as so many books do, build some empathy and be a toolbox for helping people of all ages strive to be their best selves, despite and maybe even because of the challenges. 

Skin Check

I am fairly religious about sunscreen, but I lapsed a bit in getting skin checks from a dermatologist. Last year was my first one in a while, and she didn't like a spot on my face. It turned out to be just a weird sunspot and nothing nefarious, so the worst part of it was the lidocaine injection (zero flesh on your temple, ow ow ow). 

I went for another skin check about a week or so ago, and didn't really have anything I was super nervous about. She looked all over, used her magnifying thingie (is it a loupe if it's not gemstones she's looking at?) and then spent an inordinate amount of time on my back. Never a good sign. 

She ended up taking two moles -- one on my back, and one next to my bellybutton, that she thought looked darker than before. The lidocaine hurt not at all at the bellybutton, but the back... ouch. But now, the one on my back is healing decently well from the "shave biopsy," but the bellybutton one is a pain. When they went to take it, they were like, "oh, you can sit up!" I just laughed and said I'd like to see them try to make that work, as my PCOS belly creases right there and it truly is a spot where the sun don't shine. So I lay down and they numbed me and left me with two holes. 

I assumed it would be like my face, funky looking moles, no biggie. 

Well, apparently, they both came back "severely abnormal," and have to be cut more thoroughly to ensure all the evil cells are gone, and then I get stitches. I was assured it wasn't cancer, not yet. Of course Dr. Google informed me that they are vigilant about removing "severely abnormal" moles because they most often turn into melanoma, which is freaking terrifying.

I am grateful for my dermatologist, who took two moles not even on my radar and had a good eye for what she called "the ugly ducklings." Less grateful for more cutting and stitching, but I think I actually prefer that to the hole type wound, which is supposed to leave less scar but even after the week of Vaseline and band-aid (try sticking a Band-Aid across your bellybutton and see how that works...spoiler alert, it doesn't). I am grateful that I started getting regular skin checks again. 

On a lighter note, I am also grateful for her wordsmithing... I asked about a spot on my face where I seem to have a splotch of even whiter skin, and I wondered if it was something weird. She just said it was due to sun damage (for the love I wear SPF 50 ALL THE TIME), and that losing pigment can happen "as time passes." What a lovely sentiment. I laughed and said, "that sounds just so much kinder and poetic than 'as you age,' haha, very diplomatic!" 

My first procedure is a couple days after my birthday (they were going to do my actual birthday, and then said, "oh goodness no, let's not do that to you!"), and insurance says they have to be done separately and two weeks apart at least, so my back one isn't leaving until June. I just couldn't take time when I have so little left when I get back to work. And, I am doing quite the number on my sick time being out for 12 weeks, so I'd rather not use any in the weeks I have remaining! 

I'm glad I can make use of this time to get some of these appointments done, hopefully they don't all result in more of them. 

A Special Spoon

I was not able to have children. My best friend was able to have three. I love her children, and while I don't see them that often (she prefers to come up here, because it is quiet and she can read in bed and no one needs anything from her...), but when I do it's like no time has passed. Even though they are all TEENAGERS now. 

Her oldest son is turning 18 this May. How is this possible? Look how cute he was as a (not so) tiny baby: 

I believe that's a car in his hand. He used to put them in order and name them, with the most special being "Fire Truck" -- which was whispered. So freaking adorable.

And now... he's going off to college. My best friend is beside herself. 

But, a few weeks ago we had a visit from the boy and his dad, because he was touring his top 3 colleges that he got into and one of those is SUNY Geneseo. (SUNY = State University of New York). SUNY Geneseo is where I went, and where my best friend's husband went, and it was my graduation party from Geneseo that resulted in my best friend and my college friend meeting and...the rest is history. 

Here is the boy now: 

Much bigger, loving on Eggi. 

A slight attempt at stacking the deck, we said if he went to Geneseo, he'd be 25 minutes from me and Bryce, quality kitty time (he's going to miss his soooo much), and the occasional Annie's Mac & Cheese. And to top it off, I said I would get him a grapefruit spoon. 

Why a grapefruit spoon? Because to the boy, it is the perfect utensil. Like a spork but with better cutting ability. Perfect for Ramen and any kind of noodles. 

So, when I got the very cute decision reveal video from my best friend (they waited at the bottom of the stairs and he came out of his room wearing a Geneseo sweatshirt), I put in an Etsy order. And it came today! 

Needless to say, my best friend is considerably less nervous (but no less distraught) about him going off to college because we'll be nearby. With a special spoon just for him. 

This post in part inspired by Mali's post on friends and family. Go read it! 

Positive Brain Dump

I have a bunch of posts percolating, but today I just feel... demoralized. I am so disheartened by what's happening in the United States, by the stripping of freedoms, the LITERAL rewriting of history, the cuts to funding in all the areas that make a place desirable to live (medical research, education, libraries, vaccine development, stuff that means you CARE ABOUT OTHER PEOPLE)... I am taking advantage of my time to go to 5calls.org and call my Congressional representatives daily, but the active topics page has reached FIFTY things. FIFTY. It feels awful trying to pick which one or two I'll call about today. I could keep going on and on, but instead... 

I'd like to do a brain dump of 20 positive things or things that bring me joy that I can think of in a short period of time (but not timed, because timers stress me out): 

1. The spring peepers are out

2.  I have a snuggly cat purring next to me

3.  I went for a drive for the first time tonight

4.  The Surgeon was really happy with my knee healing and progress

5.  It was (briefly) warmer today

6.  The daffodils on the hill on the side of my house are blooming

7. I didn't know that Van Gogh painted more than one Starry Night painting, and there are others in the series that are just as beautiful if not more in my opinion

8. I love the puzzle I'm working on ("Midnight Moths" by Elena Essex)

9.  I can go up stairs pretty normally now

10.   There's a gluten free almond ring coffee cake on the table, and gluten free double stuf Oreos in the pantry

11.  I love the new cooling sheets I got recently, they are cozy and airy all at once

12.   Bryce is going to help me set up and stain my new window box planters for the deck

13.  The planters are going to make a "deck meadow" along the periphery of our deck with pollinator friendly plants

14.   The idea of sitting in an Adirondack chair, surrounded by meadow flowers, is highly appealing right now

15.  The orchid I was given for my birthday in 2021 is reblooming multiple times a year thanks to Bryce's attention

16.  It's been blooming for months straight

17.  The sliding glass door off our living room makes a perfect place for plants and it looks sort of like a botanical garden wall which is delightful

18.  I love my house, it is so cozy

19. When Eggi gets ahold of her catnip fish pillow, she hugs it to her and rubs it all over her face like it's her baby

20. Making this list actually has made me feel appreciably happier and lighter. 

Huh, interesting! Go make your own if you so choose! 

Thinking Ahead to the Future

The future is an uncertain place...but lately it seems even more uncertain than ever. Things that I thought I could count on (democracy, social security, my job's long-term reliability) are looking more ephemeral by the day. 

So, reading Mali's post "Ageing Without Children: Self-Motivation Needed" made me think about our own situation. 

Thinking about future planning for aging seemed pretty far away. Bryce just turned 51 and I am turning 49 in May, and we realized it's actually not as far in the future as it seems. So, here are my musings:

- As a teacher, technically I can retire at 55. which is only 6 years away (what the hell!). For perspective, 6 years ago I was already 2 years out of childless-not-by-choice resolution. Now, this is a bit more complicated because I didn't become a full-fledged teacher until my early 30s. For retirement, you can retire at 55, but you get full benefits with 30 years of service. Before that, it's prorated. I am in one of the only remaining professions with a pension, and I eked in at Tier 4, which is the most beneficial NYS retirement tier. I am super lucky for that. To get 30 years of service, I have to teach until my 60s.  That wasn't something that bothered me at all, until everything about teaching became uncertain with attempts to shutter the Department of Education and concerns about funding (especially for special ed) and school budgets facing shortfalls and a teacher contract that is up for renegotiation in 2027. I have hit eligibility for healthcare upon retirement, so I could do that without penalty at 55. So now we weigh the risks of retiring before 30 years to secure healthcare, or taking the risk that that goes away if I wait to have full benefits at 30 years. Sigh. 

- The rest of our retirements is investments, 401(k), my 403(b), and rollover IRAs. So... currently we just don't look at those statements because it's all awful from the turmoil of current events. Hopefully it recovers. 

- We have started going through the house and reducing "things." Streamlining what comes into the house to what is necessary, what will help us be organized, and what is aligned with our values. We've been in our home since December 2018, and we absolutely love it. It has seen me through two total knee replacements, and while it is a "treehouse" and is taller than it is wide, the (very bougie sounding) elevator has saved my ass multiple times. The fact that the downstairs bedroom is entirely accessible helps a lot. But, eventually, we will also want to move to something with fewer stairs, something a bit smaller. Maybe an end unit of a side-by-side condo where we can have some gardening, but we don't have to worry about mowing or shoveling or any of that. Maybe a tiny house (or small compound of themed tiny homes) in a meadow somewhere where we live with our books and music and cats and get chickens and goats or something. 

- We have been watching "Man on the Inside" on Netflix. It's about an older widower (the wonderful Ted Danson) who is in a lonely rut after the death of his wife, and answers an ad to be a spy on the inside of a retirement community to help a private investigator solve a string of thefts. It's funny, and heartwarming, and yesterday it made me cry. It's not an assisted living place per se, everyone has their own apartment, but there's a dining hall and activities and nursing care, as well as a memory care wing that looms like a door you go into and never go out. Yesterday, I felt like...maybe that's not such a bad thing for when you are older and living alone is isolating. You have less care to worry about, and you have social connections that keep you going. Of course, it also tends to cost thousands of dollars per month, and you own nothing. But, it seems like perhaps it's not the worst thing if you find a nice place for active older adults. Having children doesn't guarantee that you'll have people visiting. But NOT having children definitely makes the prospect of aging feel scarier, lonelier, more isolating. Maybe a place like that would ease those worries. 

Of course, we are nowhere near those kinds of decisions. We need to figure out how we can make the most of the years of our lives where we're active, and independent, and have the ability to do fun things. I have two new knees for a reason! It's always a good idea to have those thoughts and plans in the corners of the mind though -- time marches on and it stops for nobody. 

We're not promised that we'll get to those "golden years," so we have to live it up in the moment. If we are fortunate enough to have a comfortable old age together, it would be nice to know that we prepared and planned for it. 

Where My Mothering Energy Goes

Wednesday marks Five Weeks since my knee replacement. FIVE! It is insane that it has both been that long and that short. My leave from work is 12 weeks long. Which means, next week is the halfway point. That is absolutely incomprehensible to me. 

I have turned a corner, which means I am not in constant pain anymore and my meds schedule has become much more streamlined and manageable (Tylenol, ibuprofen starting tomorrow, and oxy only at night when the bones, they make me cry). I am far more independent and mobile -- I don't need my cane in the house anymore, and I use it on the not-so-frequent-occasion that I am out of the house (which has been a total of 3 times -- once for my post-op appointment, once to go out to dinner with my dad, and once to go to our Friday night Maria's in person for the first time this past weekend). I use it on non-rainy-day walks to the mailbox, too. What a wildwoman I am. I am able to cook dinner, and do laundry, and do very exciting things like clean out the bathroom cabinets, organize toiletries, and switch my clothes over from winter to spring. Again, someone rein me in! I'm ca-raaay-zzzyyyy! 

The biggest challenge currently is that I am going freaking stir crazy from not being at school. It's been interesting, because not having that all-consuming piece of my life has freed up a ton of time and mental space. It has made me actually organize things, because other things can take priority. But good god do I miss my kids. 

I used to hate it, absolutely go beserker, when people said "well, your students are your children" as we were struggling to expand our family beyond the two of us and cats. I felt like, HOW DARE YOU insinuate that my job can take the place of my own children! I used to say very snarky things like, "Oh yes, everyone dreams to have a group of 13-14 year olds at the same time with hormones flaring, neurodivergent quirks, and behavior challenges. THE DREAM!" And other times I would say, "yes, well, I love them while I have them, but they don't go home with me and I don't get them for the duration. It is NOT the same." 

I still maintain that it is not the same as having my own children. However, I concede that my students are the recipients of most of my mothering energy. I put just shy of everything I have into my groups each year, whether they are "easier" or "very challenging." I (appropriately) love on my kids every year. I will advocate fiercely for them. I will do my best to have them be better humans when they leave me than when they came in, to varying degrees of success. I hold them to high expectations but also want them to have fun, to be kids, and to grow into the young adults they resemble when they head off to high school. My nurturing energy just flows from me to them, and I am very very proud of knowing my kids, fighting for my kids, and supporting my kids towards greater independence. I partner with families and feel insanely proud when I'm considered part of their "village." 

I also am very grateful that I can come home and have quiet time with Bryce and our cats and not have to split my energy between my students and my own children. I would have been loathe to admit that when deep in the struggle, but I truly believe that I can give so much to my learning community BECAUSE I don't have children of my own. 

So you can imagine, it's been very, VERY hard to be away from all that. It's like a major piece of my identity is on hold. 

But, I am so very lucky that I have the best long term sub in the universe. He is working so hard to keep that connection going, to give me updates, to relay messages from my kids to me so I don't feel like I'm out in the cold. When I'm there, we spend a small chunk of time every Monday 1st period doing "Weekend News." I borrowed this idea from another educator, and it is worth every single minute of the time it takes from direct instruction. Everyone, kids and adults in the room alike, gets 1-2 minutes to share something about their weekend. It can be literally ANYTHING. For one student, it is almost always "Friday I had pepperoni pizza. I watched the football game. I hung out at my grandma's house. And...yeah." Which I love. Over time, the students learn about each other and learn that the adults are humans too. It encourages active listening. And, it is always okay to pass if you're not feeling it. It is also okay to rescind your pass at the end if you decide you DO want to share something after all. I asked the kids once if they thought it was worth the time, and it was a resounding YES. They like that they can share about their lives. Sometimes my students are very very honest and are like "I like that it slow rolls Monday and we have less time for class stuff." Ha! It is so important for connection, and will always be a priority for me. 

So.... starting the first Monday of my leave, I do a Weekend News video Monday morning! I actually set an alarm for it so it comes in during homeroom. I share a little about what's going on, and the kitties, and ups and downs. And then they share right back, which fills my bucket. 

I have nefarious plans to work around the policy that you cannot "step foot on school property" while on leave. When it is nicer out, I am going to have Bryce take me to the driveway outside my classroom door so that I can briefly visit without stepping out of the car, so that I am following the rules (I haven't stepped foot, haha) but can say hi in person. May 19th is just so far away. 

This continued connection is such a gift, and not one every sub would be willing to entertain. It gives that mothering energy a place to go while I'm out recuperating.