Almost There!

It's not time to pop the cork yet but the glasses are chilling and the ice is in the freezer.

I'm O N E day away from finishing up the two grad papers I put off until summer.

O N E day.

That day is for the final re-reading to a make sure no gross errors exist and that I covered most of the topics demanded by the rubric.

On Friday I expect I'll deliver the papers to the college center, pop the cork on the carbonated grape juice and collapse in a heap with doggies frolicking in glee that no more curse words and ugly voices are hollering from the computer room.

Change

Each new e-mail brings more news of change and I'm beginning to really get stressed out. I wasn't thrilled about the ending of this school year -- in fact, I began to feel so overwhelmed by my professional community, English, that I chose to withdraw from it and join the social studies community for next year.

After all, my three year collaboration with the social studies teacher was the longest and strongest one in the building. We had actually reached a true c0-teaching status that included daily planning and actually working as professional equals inside the classroom. So it just seemed to make sense, even if I'm not nearly as strong academically in World and American History as I am with literature. I thought this was a very balanced, well-thought out decision and my administration agreed to the change. The vice-principal in charge of the inner-school social studies group was thrilled I was joining her group.

I also knew that my collaborative English partner was resigning, She had twins at the end of the school year and she now has four children under five at home. Of course she needed to resign! She and I hadn't gotten along very well -- she wasn't an easy person to communicate with, though I thought she was a fine teacher. However, the second semester, we really hit divergent paths and our collaboration was actually pretty much non-existent. I hated nearly every English lesson she introduced, most of which I had no idea were coming my way. Her resignation, though, puts me at a distinct disadvantage for English collaboration for the fall semester -- another reason why I though switching professional learning communities was a very good idea.

On my third floor the other SPED teacher finally decided to retire after 47 years in the district -- she's actually a year younger than I am. Sometimes our relationship involved butting heads but I really liked her and respected her commitment to the job. And I could always count on her for the inside "dope" around the school and the district. I will miss our working relationship very much. I hear that the person replacing her, only one year with our district, brings quite a reputation for absence, being difficult to work with, and late to nearly every class / meeting.

At the end of the year, our district SPED head announced she was resigning to take a new job. Frankly, this woman had been a thorn in every side and I think nearly the entire district heaved a sigh of relief to know she was leaving. Of course, it's always out of the frying pan and into the fire, because the next thing we knew, the dreaded functional district SPED head had simply absorbed the collaborative teachers. The district was on a "cost cutting spree." It's the functional curriculum that has been laying me low for the past semester -- I am NOT at all a person cut out to teach life skill classes. And this new woman has a rep that is far worse than the one leaving us.

Then Friday I got the e-mail that my three year collaborative social studies teacher was resigning to take an ESL position with the district. Our three years of working closely and successfully together is over. Also I will not know any of the staff I am supposed to co-teach with next year. Every co-teaching class I'm with will have a "new" teacher, probably new to the district and no idea that they are walking into a classroom that has been designated at "collaborative." Dear god!

Finally, today came the e-mail today that our lead English teacher had resigned to accept a new position -- lead English teacher for the entire district.

Hubby and I have just had the retirement talk, yet again. I look at the economy and I cower with fear. I worry that we simply won't have enough money to make it through another 30 years. If I could just make it five more years, I could nearly double our retirement funds (we're socking it away hard and fast but the stock market and economy is doing us no favors here). It's just that physically and mentally I don't think I can take much more of these changes.

Hopefully every problem I'm envisioning for the upcoming fall will not be nearly as bad as I fear. I know that as we age we accept change less gracefully and with more trepidation. I know I have resilience. I know I love the kids. I know that Hubby will be supportive -- if his health holds. I know that my friends will continue to support my efforts in the classroom. Now I just have to find a place of serenity to get me through the unknowns of this summer . . . and I've got finish writing these two god-awful papers. Heaven help me!

So Much Harder than Even I Expected

Friday was the first day of summer vacation -- meaning the first day away from the dreaded 5 a.m. "grumbling out of bed" routine and putting on "business casual clothing" and combing my hair. Instead I stayed up Thursday night until 3 a.m. -- and got out of bed at 8 a.m., lolled around without my underwear, and ate when the mood struck me. I designated myself a three day weekend before I even began to tackled the "paper writing hell" that awaited me on Monday.

I must admit though, if I thought about the papers ahead of me, my stomach churned and my heart raced and my brain said, "Ho! Ho! You KNEW it would catch up to you!"


This morning I stumbled out of bed at 9 a.m. after finishing a Kindle novel and reading the KC Star on the Kindle. I swallowed the blood pressure meds and two strong aspirin "just in case" and opened the file for the most challenging of the papers. And . . . promptly realized I was in deep dodo. I honestly don't know how to do this stuff. I know I sat through an entire semester doing all these webinars about functional learners and strategies for them -- and gagged through almost all of it, swearing I'd never do this stuff.


Here's how bad are the case files for the students I have to write inclusion plans for: one 15 year old (in the 6th grade) had to have eye drops at 7 a.m. 11 a.m. and 2 p.m. The only way to get him to lie still and take the eye drops was to pretend the drops were a train and go "choo choo choo" as you put them in. That was just one of his problems. Another uses picture language to communicate because she's bi-lingual at home and her teachers claim they can't understand her.


How in the world do parents, clinicians, teachers, paraprofessionals, home care providers cope with all this?


I could not. Ever. I know that's probably a deficit in me. But I was never cut out to do this kind of work and I don't want to waste my time at this stage in my life pretending that I can / could / or even know how.


So . . . since I had already chatted with the prof for permission to elevate the students I had to plan for to high school level -- I put them all in MY high school, explained the building and our scheduling in an introduction -- and dropped the poor "choo choo" kid from the program, even though that was discrimination. Poor kid couldn't cope with our five story building with no elevators under any circumstances and I didn't want to figure out how to make it happen. I decided to let the chips fall where they may.


This means I only have four students to schedule and write lesson plans for. It's cheating, I know. But at least I'm recognizing the limitations facing some kids -- and where they should not be placed. Maybe I'll get some credit for that. And maybe not.


I'm studying the rubric for the paper closely -- if I can pull a B on the paper, I'm just fine with that. I'm actually figuring out what portions of the paper I can either avoid or skim over. I've got two weeks to figure this plan out (internal schedule that I set). The one after this one is not nearly so hard (fingers crossed) and I've given myself a week for that one.

If Rumpelstiltskin showed up about now, I'd have to think hard about trading something dear for two completed papers.

Goodbye

1883 - 2011

Word came this week that the only church I've ever given my heart to will be closing its doors on June 19.

Hubby and I haven't attended the church for the past year and half -- a new minister, a new church direction, a congregation that no longer spoke to our spiritual needs caused us . . . and clearly many others . . . to leave.

Since 1883 this church has dutifully and prayerfully served that northeast section of Kansas City. The last two years of its life, the United Methodist ministry stole the heart from it -- but that can only happen if the congregants allow it to happen.

Two years ago my heart would have been breaking. Today I'm just sad that one more piece of Kansas City history has fallen away.

And so the time has come . . .

You know the Beatles song. We've all sung it. And laughed.

Now, of course, some of us are actually living it. Living past it, in fact. It happened to me this week. I'm now officially older than the John Lennon / Paul McCartney "When I'm Sixty-Four."

This week I turned sixty-five years old. Sixty-five. Official retirement age. No longer older middle aged. I've officially moved into "old."

Old. O L D. Hard to wrap one's head around that concept. O L D.

I remember quite clearly in 1968 when I first signed on for a tax shelter -- to come due in the very distant future of 2011, when I would turn the ancient age of -- dear lord -- 65. I simply couldn't fathom just how far away 2011 actually was.

The 40+ years since I first thought about turning 65 have simply flown by in a nanosecond. Once I was 21 and thinking I'd never actually see the year 2011 -- and suddenly this week, I turned 65 years old. How did that happen to me?


Shocking. Utterly shocking that I could live to be THIS old.

Hubby, thankfully, was willing to feed me for at least another year. I got this for my birthday.

A Wonderful Afternoon at the Theater

See the serious look on Mr. Ibsen's face over there on the left? That's about how Hubby looked when the UMKC production of Peer Gynt started Sunday afternoon. Twenty minutes later Hubby's head was tilted back and his mouth was wide open -- the only good thing was that he wasn't snoring. A couple of well-placed pokes were called for periodically to keep him from embarrassing the family during the production.

It was a glorious play, not-withstanding Hubby's sleeping during the first act. The Repertory Theater at UMKC (University of Missouri at Kansas City) had updated and scaled down the original Ibsen work that during Ibsen's lifetime was deemed unstageable. Instead of producing all five acts with 50+ actors and the entire play spoken in verse and five hours in running time, UMKC had the foresight to use only five actors -- and Peer Gynt himself was a rotating role -- with only two acts and a two+ hour running time. We had been advised from the beginning not to try and make symbolic sense of the action but just enjoy the ribald beauty and sly use of humor for the play. Updates included modern language and topical humor. Half the audience was in bewilderment while the other half was in heaven. About half the audience left at intermission. The other half gave a standing ovation at the end of the play. I was part of the ovation crowd -- Hubby kind of just coasted along. During the second act he got more into the humor of the play.

Give Hubby credit. He knew what he was in for before we went to the show, he knew he was attending with a lover of symbolism and irony and he came along for the ride. It may have been a modernized version of the 1850's play but I can now count myself one of the few people who has actually seen a production of Peer Gynt. And I loved it!

Finals Finally

I dragged into the last of the first of my grad classes last night.

Confused? I've been that way all semester. Let me see if I can straighten out that sentence.

My Thursday class held its final session last night. I have one more last class to attend on Saturday morning - the other three hour class of the semester. The assignment for last evening was to present a part of our big project to the class. Except, of course, I have taken an incomplete in the course so I can start, write, and complete the project in June once teaching is over for the year. The prof asked me present information on co-teaching (for which I won the award way back in December). I presented, it went well, and at the end of the class, the professor announced that anyone carrying an A in the class would not need to take the final exam. I sighed and waited to be told that because I hadn't done any of the major project, I must take the exam (I do have a mid-level A for the work I've completed -- 94.75% of the grade). Patting me on the shoulder, the professor said to me, "You're currently carrying an A. No need to take the final."

Imagine me running through the hallowed halls of the office building that houses the Pitt State metro campus pumping my fist wildly in the air and singing "DO-DA, DO-DA! Of course I didn't do that, but I did create the scene in my brain. I hugged the woman! "Thank you for your patience! And thank you for NOT making me take the dreaded final. I'm forever grateful!" I exclaimed as I dashed out of the class -- just in case she was about to change her mind.

For the first time since February of this year, I didn't carry a dreaded weight right in the pit of my stomach. Oh, that's a lie. The weight is still there because two projects have to be completed in June -- but it's a lighter weight and I could sleep the night through with this one, not wake up and worry and plan how to survive another test and another weekly assignment.

For the Saturday class, I did complete the Intervention notebook -- one of the two big projects for that class (the other one is waiting until June). On Saturday we present lessons from the notebook but I've already been graded on the book -- got 100% on it. My lessons have been copied and stapled since the start of May so I'm ready to go for Saturday morning.

To celebrate, Hubby has arranged for his family's house on Chesapeake Bay to be ours for the middle of July. All I have to do to be ready to go is complete two large projects in June. One will go easy -- but the other one is a huge sink hole of misery. Still once teaching is over, I can write at midnight and sleep at noon -- and that always makes me a better student.