India Rubber Ball

My friend was younger than I am now when she died. Which is an impossible statement, but a true one nonetheless.

I was 32 when she died nearly twenty years ago, a wife and a mother of 2 young kids. She was married with 2 kids, one my age and one about decade younger. I knew their loss was unimaginable, beyond compare; the loss of her knowledge, experience, and perspective shifted all of our lives in directions that altered time and space. We grew, aware of the now empty space, as best we could. 

What I didn't know then, however, was how young she was, in a not old sort of way. I know I'm no longer the young one around, but I still have much that I want to do, to see, to become. And it strikes me, again, what a tragic loss of someone who still had so much life to live.

We live to dance another day, indeed.

America I love you...

 ... but you're freakin' me out. I don't love this video, but the song is spot on.

I can't believe we have US governors who are actively engaging in behavior that, in some circles, is considered human trafficking. People who were not born in America and escaped to Florida were told, by officials, that there was housing and work for them at the other side of this plane flight. That sounds like force, fraud and coercion to me. Good golly, Miss Molly, indeed.

It's been a rough time to be a person who naturally questions authority. It's also been rough to know you've tried to help a generation of kids learn to fact check statements, analyze for motivations, and to add their voices to the cries of a nation. I suspect the 2020s will be taught to future generations (if we get ahold of our climate impact and continue to survive as a species, but I digress) in the same way we talk about the Roaring 20s now-- sex, drugs, rock and roll, and corruption.

The Dobbs case was shocking, but only in that it confirmed what we've known for awhile: American women are not treated with the same autonomy as men. I felt the same way learning George Floyd's murder and resulting trial of his murder as I did watching Rodney King become a token of the riots in Las Angeles. It's not news that racism is thriving in America, but watching the fallout makes me wonder how other intelligent, thoughtful (white) people can't see it. And don't get me started how any citizen who truly loves this country and values what it stands for can continue to align themselves with the Republican party, which is now overtly working to only allow rich, educated, white men at the table.

Some days are hard to accept. Some days I do want to leave and not look back. Most days, though, I know I have to stand up and fight for what I know to be true. We can't be "the great melting pot" if we don't allow others to join us in our pool. People who identify as BIPOC experience more disadvantages to reaching 'the pursuit of happiness' than people who are white. Women are entitled to control over their minds and bodies. 

America, it's time to look in the mirror. What we're saying doesn't line up with what we're doing. 

reference:

https://www.usatoday.com/story/news/nation/2022/09/17/desantis-migrants-marthas-vineyard-cape-cod/10410896002/

College Ready only works if you're actually ready

Unless you've lived under a rock, you're aware of Biden's push to reduce all existing student loans for borrowers making less that $150K per year by $10,000-- $20,000 for Pell Grant recipients. Many of my friends disagree with this policy, and I understand their reasoning. As someone who has worked in a public high school during the "College Ready" push, please allow me to express why this plan is what is right for America today.

Anyone who thinks things are the same today as they were when they graduated must have graduated this spring. College costs have skyrocketed in the last 30 years-- in fact, the tuition rate for my son's college has increased $12,000 since he entered in 2016. For perspective, my bill for 1988-1990 was $12000 TOTAL. Yea, we need to do something to change the narrative around student loans in America.

There is a lot of data that shows that college graduates make more money than those who don't earn a college degree. For the sake of this argument, I'm not going to touch the gender disparity shown here, which is it's own topic entirely. As someone who had Gear UP programming in her high school, I can ascertain that US public high schools have been pushing kids to go to college for at least the last 20 years-- even when they said they didn't want to go. We'd show them the data that said their life would be better if they went-- even showing the kids who weren't sure they would graduate from high school that they "should" go to college right away. Pre-pandemic, I watched kids agree to loans because they were told that's what they *should* be doing, even when their eyes betrayed some hesitation. You should go, we'd say. It'll be fine...

During the pandemic, I watched kids feel free to say no. I don't want to pay for remote classes. I don't want to go without knowing what's coming my way. I don't want to go. I watched kids regain their voice and choice about what was right for them. Hells to the yes!

Biden's plan is designed to eliminate the debt of the kids who went for a semester or a year, but never earned their degree. For the kids who have the debt because of our pressure, but without the degree to translate to the ability to pay it back. It cost me $40,000 to pay my 1/3 of my MSW; I was able to pay that off during the 0% interest phase of the pandemic because I have a job that pays me for having a Master's degree. I won't benefit from this new program, and frankly, I shouldn't. But, I have friends who graduated with me with $120,000 in debt. $10,000 won't eliminate theirs... but it will ease some of the burden. For students who have earned their bachelor's degree in the last 2 years and are carrying $80,000 in debt, this will help. For those who attended a semester or two of college and can't make ends meet with their minimum wage job-- this will right the wrong WE pushed on them. 

I know there are many who don't agree that we forced kids into a loan they didn't want. But...remember when you were 18 and a senior in high school. If your guidance counselor told you to go to college so you could make more money, and you could get help making that happen financially... would you have known to push back?

The pandemic has highlighted that college is not for every 18 year old high school graduate. It's also shown us that we need those "essential" workers for our economy to function. I see no problem helping those kids who were caught in the crossfire. $10k per loan is set to help those with the least amount of debt the most. And that helps our economy so we all benefit. That is win win for me.

History on repeat

 While I do not think of myself as a history teacher, I have taught history for the last 17 years.  During the 20-21 year, when the majority of my kids were remote, we took a springboard approach to class. We started with the 1918 pandemic, and then jumped around based on what questions the kids had about the causes or effects of said topic. This helped them care a *tiny* bit more because the links were obvious: for me, however, it helped calm my fears about the state of our country.

I never understood why everyone was so happy to get out during the Roaring Twenties-- I guess I just though the kids from the farms were happy to get to the city. After spending my 50th birthday and 25th wedding anniversary in lockdown, I viscerally understood. WW1 overlapped by a pandemic? Damn right I'm gonna party like it's 1920! But, it didn't take long for me to see that this party phase is a significant cause to the Great Depression and fascism... and here we are, today, in a country that is banning books to 'protect' children, hindering the rights of women to 'protect' unborn babies without ensuring that all babies are loved and cared for*, and blindly following a leader who has made it clear that he is trying only to 'protect' white men who have money. It doesn't take a student of history to see the pattern that is emerging. 

I feel a bit like Nemo, trying to convince the fish to SWIM DOWN and break the net. It's not a natural response for us, this fighting against the system. We're trained to follow the rules, listen to authority, and not make a scene. IMHO, the only way we're going to stop the anti-democracy-couched-as-pro-democracy movement is by saying No. We're done with hate, and elitism, and sacrificing the good of the many for the benefit of the few. 

This will take all of us to pull off. It won't be pretty, or necessarily fun. But history tells me it's really our only option.

Until then, I'll be hitting the bar with Frank. Feel free to join me.

*For the record, I am not pro abortion. But I am pro democracy, and pregnancy is not like anything else. I love the months I was pregnant, and am truly sad I wasn't able to do it again. But your body is truly no longer your own. For both first trimesters, I had to take medicine that made ME sick to protect the baby.  I vomited for months, no matter what I did (or didn't) eat. I couldn't have caffeine, or Advil, or too much fish, or, or, or... 

I was thrilled to be doing it, especially since we faced the possibility of not being able to conceive. I was 26, married, with a home and stable income, and more than ready to be a mom. I don't know what it's like to be 19 and desperately trying to get through college so I can get out of poverty. Or dating a violent person. Or pregnant with my rapist's child. Or being told if I conceive again I will die. Those decisions are not mine to make, nor are they that of the government. 

I would love to see access to birth control increase, more funding for social supports to help women keep their baby if they want, or give it to a family with fertility issues. I would love our culture to stop shaming women who get pregnant, or make it easier to become foster and adoptive parents, regardless of marital and housing status. But even then, pregnancy does not compare to any other thing, because there is nothing else a human being does that requires the complete sacrifice of her own body to support the growth of another. 

Who We Are

Last week, Dave and I watched Who We Are: A Chronicle of Racism in America on Netflix. I am strongly encouraging you to go watch it now, as in stop reading and go watch. I promise I'll be here when you're done, ready to debrief with you.

<waiting patiently>

Since you've all watched, I am free to talk about the specifics. Jeffery Robinson brilliantly lays out the case for the structural racism in our country. He uses direct quotes and specific examples, relating them to their place in history and our collective refusal to level this playing field. Let me be very clear: I'm using first person pronouns to refer to White America's attachment to the structures of racism against citizens who identify as part of BIPOC communities. I do not specifically mean people that I know, although part of the brilliance of this lecture is recognizing the part each of us who identify as caucasian (I struggle to call myself 'white', as that really isn't a race--I refuse to answer any demographics question if my only option is 'White'. Caucasian is a stretch, too, but it's the better alternative, for now anyway.) 

His examples are compelling, and in my humble opinion, irrefutable. Structural racism is not only real, but alive and well in 2022. I won't retell all of his evidence-- he does it so much better than I could (go watch if you ignored my earlier nudging)-- but suffice it to say I was left speechless. 

I can't remain speechless for any longer. I walk a line as a public employee, needing to remain apolitical personally, but to also speak up for those in my charge who come from marginalized communities. Which means, I can't fully do one or the other. Having watched this documentary, however, I can no longer comfortably choose my silence when it means those around me risk suffering. Maya Angelou and James 4:17 both remind us that when you know better you do better. Today, I know better, and I am promising to do better. For the last few years, I've made sure to include the BIPOC perspective in my history lessons, and made sure to apologize for the years I perpetuated the myth that the Civil War was NOT about racism. I am sorry it took me this long to correct that narrative, and many others I didn't even know about due to whitewashing.

If we are going to move on from this horrible part of our history, we need to do what the Germans do: acknowledge it, learn from it, and change our behavior. I am committing to doing that, and advocating for those who need my voice to stand up for their rights, regardless of the political consequences that befall me.

It's not easy, knowing who we are, but so very important to becoming who we are all meant to be.

17 Sunshiny Years

 I visited with a Sunshine this week. I had not seen her in person for a few years, mostly due to the pandemic, but also because of distance. I was able to see her interact with her spouse and their child, showering the toddler with love while also adequately conveying her needs to her partner. I am so happy she has found her person with whom to get through this thing called life-- where she can be her full self without fear, and have a different adult life than she saw most adults around her have. She loves big, which I am blessed to receive, and has a self-awareness that I don't often see in someone as young. She has grown so much since graduation-- she stands taller, and holds eye contact. And my goodness, she is a good mom: letting her child explore but making sure they can do so safely. I had to work to hold back tears a few times: of all the tests and other benchmarks we use in schools, the most important one to me is that my sunnies raise kids who struggle less than they did. She (and her spouse, while not a sunshine, fell in love with one, and so is now also mine by the transitive property of belonging) is exceeding this standard.

The pretense for this reunion is I had asked her to paint me something, and I went to pick it up. She's a very talented creator, and I wanted something of hers to hang in my space, partly as inspiration for kids, and partly (mostly?) as a reminder that she is who she is, and that I get to say I knew her when. I didn't have a clear design in mind-- I think said something about sunshine or rainbows-- and she took that and made me the most beautiful honorific to my 17 years as an alt ed teacher. I don't even have words for how perfect it is; it's made by her, for me, about my transition from teaching to social working, and she captured all of that, in a way words (my medium) just can't.

I don't really know what I'm trying to say. I'm so proud of her, but when she also shared the continued struggle before her, I knew it will take her a significant amount of effort to get where she wants to be. There's a lesson for me in this long lasting relationship, but for the life of me, I can't identify it. I love the kids (and adults) that cross my path unconditionally, and am happy to say that love is often the beginning of something else. Somehow, though, there's something here I'm missing-- something for me, to help me learn and grow to be better at my new role. Maybe that's what it is-- that I am back to being new at my job, and while I have learned a lot, the only way out is through. My best teachers may actually be the hundreds of students I taught over the last 17 years.

She agreed to a hug when I left, which felt important. Again, I had to work to not cry. So many people think I give so much of myself, and can't understand how I do what I do: the real truth is I don't know how to do it any other way: I gain so much more back that it's impossible to not go all in. I have learned appreciation for how blessed my life has been, of course, but also that I have made deliberate choices to amplify the good things and jettison the bad.  That I continually choose kindness and empathy when presented with heartbreaking, easily judged situations-- heals my humanity more than it impacts anyone else. I've provided an example for one way to live and parent and love a generation of kids-- those in my classes and the many others in the building-- and visits like this show that it has impacted future generations. It's humbling to say the least, and exceeds my wildest dreams of what I thought possible when I accepted the alternative ed teaching job all those years ago.

Long way round, this was a reminder that listening and loving are the best things that can happen in a school setting. That without truly meeting kids where they're at, their ability to interact with standards is significantly hindered. And, that graduation isn't the end of those relationships, not if you don't want it to be. 

Combat baby, come back.

 It's been awhile since my last post...

Writing, in many ways, is my internal therapy session. It forces me to slow down, and put my thoughts out there in a way that can be understood by those of you who don't live inside my head. I stopped blogging about the time I started my MSW-- I didn't have time, for sure, and Blogger had changed and I didn't want to take the time to learn the new system. I stopped doing a lot of the creative things I enjoy, because I just didn't have the emotional bandwidth. I kept cooking, because I like to eat, and taking pictures... although I didn't do much with them at all. The self-reflective writing that was embedded into the program was the outlet I used from Fall 2016-Summer 2019.

I continued my hiatus then-- I started working per diem as a Crisis Worker and Outpatient Clinician, which again, filled my brain with lots to consider. And then... well, we all know that 'normal' changed on 3/15/20, and I was too freaked out by living and working through a pandemic, both as a teacher and a mental health worker to return to my favorite creative outlets.

This spring, though, my mojo came back. I've been scrapping like a fool, finishing 4 years of pictures in the last 4 months. I've been thinking about my book too-- I've thought about it a lot over the last 5 years-- and how to get beyond the title. And while I am not the same person I was pre-pandemic, I've settled back into myself enough to be able to find my truth through my words again. 

If you've gotten to this point, then something likely resonates with you-- that, or you really like me and reading my blog is an act of love. Please remember: I write for me, to help make sense of all that goes on internally, and have chosen to share it with the world because enough people have said they appreciate what I write. It is highly probable I will write some things that offend certain people I know and love-- but this personal therapy session doesn't work if I'm holding back. However, if my words are helpful to you in your own journey, please come along for the ride. I am a Capital E Extrovert, and love having you here, even through the magic of the interwebs. If you no longer enjoy this ride, you can exit at any time. But,  just like (I hope) your adults taught you, if you can't say anything nice, please don't say anything at all. I welcome differing perspectives-- they help me figure out what I really do mean-- but hatred and unkindness will not be tolerated.

Oh-- there will also be pop culture references, because that's also how my brain works. Combat Baby is a song by Metric, which tells the story of people hitting the 'easy living' part of life, but missing their punk past. Um... yea. While I was never a punk in terms of behavior or clothing style, I have always resonated with punk ethos. I guess this resurgence of the blog is me trying to figure out how that part of me fits with my simple life 52 year old mother of 2 twenty-somethings (or 4, if I count the other 2 I helped raise and consider my own) self who has been married (to the same man, thankfully) for longer than I have not.

If you're STILL here, I'm really glad to have you. Let's go figure out this thing called life together.