Social Studies

Middle school has a bad reputation. Among subsititute teachers, the word on the street is to avoid middle school at all costs.

And I am no expert after one and a half days at that level, but I gotta tell you, middle school is okay.

Today, the lesson was on Thomas Paine; it was fun to take Paine's concept of the "sunshine patriot" and attempt to make it a relevant concept for the students. Loved it - and they were old enough to hang in there with with me. The curriculim was challenging, and by and large the kids were well behaved - not necessarily engaged - but not bouncing off the walls either. Be not afraid of 6th - 8th graders!!

I am substituting in public school. Molly attended public school for grades 1-8 and attended private school for kindergarten and high school. I can't help but picture her in these classrooms. She always had excellent grades, and her teachers loved her for that, but was she involved? Would she have contributed to the discussion today on patriotism? Was she nice to the subs?

Molly is a part of everyday that I am in a classroom and I am helpless not to wonder if this teaching gig is moving me forward or if it is, instead, miring me in memories and imaginings that I have no way to verify. Perhaps a little bit of both.

My guess is that Molly wouldn't have cared one wit about Thomas Paine; she is the kid who resfused to say the pledge of allegiance at camp and never expressed a great sense of national pride. But - she would have gotten an A on the test.

For my part, even acknowledging the memories, I know that I loved the opportuinty to work with young teenagers on such an important topic.

Is teaching my next career? I'll keep you posted.

Building a New Life

Building a new life is a full time job and then some.

I suppose that most of us have had to re-evaluate our lives after a life-blow. And if you haven't, I imagine that you will.

And to be fair, I guess I have done this before: figuring out how to be a partner, a mother, an adult. But in each of those transitions I had youth on my side; I intuitively knew that part and parcel of relative youth is the the gift of second chances.

Maturity offers few second chances, and the sense of time infinitely opening up in front of me is GONE. If I am going to make a change, learn a new skill, find a new path, I have to do it now, and get it right in the process. I am in the midst of a once in a life time opportunity.

At least that's what my brain keeps telling me.

It is now or never this time, and I have never felt more responsible for who I am and what I create of my life.

So... whatever else this year "off" is, it is not stress free! I am busier than I have ever been, stetching to learn as many new things as I can and taking myself seriously.

Wonder how long this new engagement will last. I will keep you posted.

Thanksgiving

Yesterday, in the grocery store, I recognized within myself an overwhelming sense of contentment. I was fresh off of a flight into California that had been majestic - an incredible view of snow covered mountains peeking out from a brilliantly white cloud cover. It was a glmpse into eternity that convinces you that God is real and that our lives are sustained by a loving creator.

So as I was walking through the frozen foods, tyring to select a pie for dessert (bakers we are not!) my life just seemed right. The family was gathering; we are healthy; the weather was great.

And yet, within that contentment was a void - a space - that Molly should have been filling. Checking out the frozen dessert, I was overwhelmed with a sense that Molly would make the moment complete. And on the heels of that thought hovered the second one - unbidden - reminding my that I will never again feel the completeness that Molly made possible. She would have told us not to bother about dessert - I bought a pecan pie anyway.

And then the night. I am middle aged enough to have troubles sleeping on a somewhat cyclical basis. Ugh. The day had been wonderful; Thanksgiving was coming. But the sleep would not come, and all night Molly's death haunted me.

As much as I might try to leave her life in God's hands, I am still a mom with a hole in my very soul that will never again be filled.

The beauty of my flight into California could not help but remind me that life is more than we understand; that life beyond death is not as distant as we might imagine. And I may have felt Molly's presence primarily through her absence this holiday, but she has been here. She has been here.

Spending the Day Alone

Left to my own devices, I am a recluse. I don't know if it has to do with poor self esteem or just a general personality tendency, but the bottom line is that it is work for me to be with large groups of people and I crave time to myself.

And today, I am home alone. My partner has headed out to California ahead of me, and I am hanging around at home to go to class tomorrow night and to (hopefully) substitute teach during the day.

So, I have the house to myself and 100% freedom to do anything that I want to do. I'd like to think that I spent the day eating really healthy foods, exercising, reading significant litereature and doing my art class homework. After all, that's what I have been doing just about everyday since I quit my job.

I did do the art class homework.

But other than that, breakfast was a chai latte and a cranberry bliss bar from Starbucks; dinner was wine; and I spent some time on You Tube reliving the engagement of William and Kate and the antics of the Osmonds' careers.

Okay, okay, okay. I'll rephrase. It was a lot of time on You Tube.

Don't lose faith in me. Please. I may like spending time alone, but it's pretty clear to me that I am at with my best when I am with people!

Fixing Things...

We upgraded our master bathroom this summer from what I would call "dorm room chic" to something more along the lines of "grown up." No whirpool - no tub - no sauna - but the shower is new and modern and I like it.

This week, not 10 weeks since it was installed, the shower would only produce cold water. This brought to mind images of taking down the tile wall to get at the plumbing and paying thousands of dollars to re-do and/or repair the entire thing. Not great images.

Normally, even without discussing it, the understanding would be that the shower was my partner's to deal with. She is good with contractors, plumbers and electricians and I am perfectly happy to let her handle those "Ms. Fix It" items as they come up.

But this week, while I was standing near - but not quite in - the cold shower, I noticed that a valve cover was loose. This was new. With a bit of curiosity, I opened the cover, revealing a fairly straightforward screw.

Hmmm.... I was tempted. What would happen if I unscrewed the screw? Is their electricity invovlved with the shower pump? (yes, I asked myself this) Will I make everything worse? Will water come shooting out of the pipe?

In an unusual, and somewhat unfamiliar, boost of confidence I decided to unscrew the screw, separating some valve components and revealing some non-descript movable parts. So far, so good: no water was pouring from the pipe; I lived to tell the tale.

Now what? Figuring I had not much to lose, I moved some of those non-descript movable parts in no particular direction, screwed the thing back together and turned on the water. (I did all of this quickly, figuring I had about 30 seconds before the plumbing would all fall apart in some disastrous way that I wouldn't be abele to fix.)

And there was hot water. Yes, Hot water. I fixed the shower. The sense of accomplishment with this is overwhelming - not becuase it was hard to do (because it wasn't) but because I had the courage to try. I had an idea, and I acted on it. I was a willing to take a risk.

In some ways, its a tangible example of growth that I know I am experiencing, but can't quantify and have no good way of evaluating. I am doing okay as a substitute teacher, for example, but there are no road marks to let me know how well I am doing or what mistakes I am making. One does not get immediate results from substituting or exercising or anything that I am doing right now.

So when that shower poured out hot water and I had clearly succeeded in an unfamiliar task, I latched onto the feeling of success like an omen. I am learning. I am getting stronger. I am embracing new experiences. And it is good.

Vacation!

We are heading out to Palm Springs, California for Thanksgiving next week, and I am really looking forward to it. I know... I know... I quit my job and I am on a permanent vacation of sorts and I probably should not need a vacation. But I do.

I have crammed SO MUCH into this first month of "unemployment." My first gigs as a substitute teacher, doing some editing for my old job and doing some networking in case I need to get a new job. I've done my school homework, exercised and taken the time to actually cook some meals. A vacation sounds like a darn good idea!

In addition to a vacation, I really want to celebrate Thanksgiving. This will be our second holiday season without Molly. Last year, we celebrated Thanksgiving in California (we have family there), and it feels right to fly out there again.

When Molly was alive, we would often rent a condo in Florida for the Thanksgiving week; it was a way to get away, spend time as a family, and just recharge our batteries. They were some of my favorite holidays ever - laid back, comforting and familiar. My guess is that it would be almost impossible for my parnter and I to settle into Florida for the holiday week again - Molly's absence would overwhelm us.

On the other hand, if I take the extra weight of holiday memories off of a place, I have enjoyed re-visiting places that Molly loved. Molly visited California a lot and was very much a part of the family out there. It will be great to visit and celebrate Thanksgiving in a fresh way - in a place that Molly knew and with people that she loved.

Our holidays will never be the same - and I don't expect them to be. But we will still have holidays. It's time for new traditions that honor our past and celebrate today. And it is time for a vacation!

Exhaustion and Authenticity

I was really tired driving home from school tonight. I almost missed my exit, practically caused several accidents, and felt mysef getting too close to the cement lane dividers. In the past (yes, it has happened before) that type of drive home has been the result of emotional exhaustion.

Today, I can assure you, my bad drive was the result of physical exhaustion. After teaching 2nd grade all day, walking a 5K, and taking my evening art class, I am tired for all the right reasons: a day well spent, challenges met and new skills learned - if not mastered.

This new life, where I go to school and do hard work that doesn't pay much, is costing us about $50,000 a year. At least $50,000 a year. I was worth way more money sitting behind a desk that I am worth in a classroom.

But I was exhausted for all the wrong reasons when I was sitting at a desk. I used to end the day exhausted from office politics, worn out from an excessive commute and bored with the work that I was doing. My days lacked authenticity.

Authenticity may cost something - it may cost tens of thousands of dollars a year and a lot of exhausting effort. It is a price I am privliged to be able to pay.

A Thought for the Day

So... I stumbled across this quote today: "There is no greater agony than bearing an untold story inside you." Maya Angelou

Every cell of my body resonates to that sentiment. I know the agony, but I can't quite hear the story.

Yet.

Art and Thanksgiving

Well, my art class might actually be making a difference. I have got to believe that the average 5th grader could have produced the watercolor at the left, but for me it is a BREAKTHROUGH. I really can't believe I painted it.

The painitng is of Molly's teddy bear and a ceramic dog that she painted when we visited Busch gardens and didn't want to go on any more roller coasters. The dog's right ear broke off at some point, and somehow that makes me love it more than if it were perfect. We are all broken in some way.

Thanksgiving is right around the corner... and with it the realization that our holidays have been permanently and forever changed. But, that doesn't mean that we dread them; it just means that we are going in to them with no expectations. The holidays of the past are over, and we loved them. What great memories.

But we are still holiday people. We still believe that people need to celebrate new beginnings and that it is good to remember to be thankful. We still believe that turkey tastes good and that Christmas trees can inspire a sense of awe and gratitude. And we will always believe that our bonds with both the people on this earth and those gone before are worth celebrating.

So no, I don't dread the holidays. But I don't expect much of them either. I'm pretty sure that they will be as good as I decide to let them be.

Ah, yes. Not that long ago, the phone was a convenient way to talk with people. It was a miracle really; one could talk with just about anyone at any time. Distance was rendered irrelevant by a black box with a cord, a clever handset, and a dial.

I got a new miracle today. An android. It appears that this phone is capable of setting off World War III, and I am not that good with it. You have been warned.

Serioulsy, the android funcitons as a phone, but that is really not why it exists. The android exists to put the accumulated knowledge of all time (inlcuding every fast breaking Tweet) in my hand. I can do just about anything from this little device, and technically it could replace my Ipod, my Kindle, my camera and probably my computer if I could stand the small keypad. It is even its own Wi-Fi hot spot. There is a booklet and a DVD to tell you how to make a phone call. I will never figure it all out and I am pretty sure that I don't need to.

The android also replaces Molly's phone that I have been using since she died. Molly used it to text her therapist just minutes before her death. Her phone stores pictures that Molly had taken. When Molly was alive, it was a daily connection between us - she really loved that thing! - and after she died it was a comfort for me to be able to use it. But it doesn't ring anymore and its way beyond time for it to be upgraded.

She would have loved the android. She'd probably already have it programmed to do all sorts of things; all her friends would have their own ringtones. She'd skype with it and download apps and probably lose it more than once if I know her.

I have kept all of her picutres and copied her texts. But in retiring her phone, I am adding to my understanding - my deep understanding - that she is not here anymore. And I miss her.

Wait a Minute.....

The phone rang again at 6:15 AM for substitute teaching - elementary art classes this time. I went, and it was fun, and I learned a few things that will be helpful both for teaching and for the art class that I am taking this semester.

Now don't get me wrong. I am delighted to be a substitute teacher. But, I figured that if I said that I was available to work Monday - Friday, I might get called for 2 or 3 days a week. I never imagined that I would be called every day that school is open!

If I am not careful here, I am going to waste the gift of time off by working. And what that amounts to, for me, is avoiding the hard work of bringing my body in tune with my soul, being too busy to really live life from my heart as opposed to my head, and deliberately steering clear of thinking about my daughter's death.

So I've put myself on a do not call list for subbing tomorrow. I want to control my life and not have an automated call system control me. I'll work on Friday - something tells me they will need more subs on Friday than on Thursday anyway.

In a spirit of full disclosure, I am interviewing with Macy's tomorrow. It's just for a holiday job. Just for six weeks.

Oh, and old my job got in contact with me today. They need me to do some editing. Which is great.

So, I am trying to find a new balance between the quiet that I yearn for and the activity that I know I need. And I haven't quite found it yet.

I'll keep you posted.

A Day in 2nd Grade

To make a few things crystal clear: my feet hurt, my back hurts and substitute teaching is hard work. Period.

I got called this morning at dawn and found myself two hours later in front of a classoroom of eager second graders. This was the first day I was even eligible to be called, so I wasn't really expecting a call so soon. I enjoyed the day; it was tough, but it was satisfying and I felt like I made a difference in a way that I never felt from the distant seat of mid/upper nonprofit management. I have been hungry to get my hands dirty and really do something for a long time.

Within the first ten minutes I was fielding everything from " I have a tummy ache" to "Can I get a drink of water?" to "Can I share my new toy?" to "Here are the school supplies I was supposed to turn in...." Yikes! The class and I sort of made it up as we went along and I was asked to come back, so it can't have been all bad.

The confidence booster for me is that this whole thing is BRAND NEW. I have never been in front of a classroom before, and it is freeing to step out of my familiar world and try something radically new and different.

I look forward to getting better at teaching, but I will be just fine if they don't call me tomorrow - as long as they call me the next day!

I'll keep you posted.

Must See TV

I am going to put this plug in today so that you can set your DVR: Marie Osmond on Oprah. Thursday, November 11th. Must see TV. Marie and Oprah will be discussing teen suicide and the death of Marie's son, Michael.

Marie lost her son almost a year to the day that Molly died. We had just made it through the one year anniversary of Molly's death - a huge day of pain made liveable with the help of family and good friends - and ba-boom, Michael's death was all over the news. I know it is irrational, but as a long-time Osmond fan, I felt a bit of Marie's loss. I had been there.

In a display of further irrationality, I have been imagining Marie's interview with Oprah, and what I might say to the questions that are sure to come up. Do you feel like the suicide was your fault? Could you have done anything to prevent it?

I was not a perfect parent, but we are so lucky to have some of Molly's writings and comments from her friends. After Molly's death, several of her friends wrote to let us know how much Molly loved us and how freely she expressed that love. Her diary gives us more confirmation. Molly really does love us, and I am so grateful to be sure of that because she kept so many secrets.... she kept so much to herself... that sometimes I wonder if our lives together held any authenticity. I am grounded in the fact that the love that we feel for each other is very, very real. No, I don't feel like her suicide was my fault.

The notion of what might have been done to prevent Molly's suicide is more difficult for me. She had been seeing a psychiatrist for several years; the last person she spoke with before her death was her therapist. She had help. She was surrounded with adults who loved her and could help her - and she knew it. But she decided to lie to everybody about what she was feeling and experiencing. Her final text - to her therapist - apologized for so many lies.

Molly's death was her choice. And I believe it was inevitable. She had been thinking about suicide for years - at least since she was 13 years old. Her final attempt was not her first. Perhaps if we had more agressively played with her medications, we may have postponed her death. Try a little bit more of this and a little bit less of that. But I don't really believe that we could have prevented her suicide.

The hardest thing that I imagine Marie dealing with on Oprah is coming to terms with her son's death, and then being an advocate for not choosing suicide. I don't believe that suicide is always an irrational choice. There is a piece of me that "gets" why Molly made the choice that she did and if I am angry with her at all, it is not about the suicide, but rather because she did not feel comfortable - for whatever reason - to tell her truth to ANYBODY.

And therein lies the challenge. If it was me on Oprah, I would be advocating for a world where there is respect for a wide range of human difference. I would be asking people to refrain from bullying or ridiculing. And I would be asking that people take the time to really listen to each other. I don't believe that bullying or poor listening cause suicide, but I do believe that they contribute to a world where people are afraid to speak their own truth. And not living one's own truth does contribute to suicide if only becuase our mental heath care protocols all require honest participation from the patient.

So, I am setting my DVR for Thursday... let's see what Marie has to say.

Friends, Pain and Sabbath

After a weekend with friends - all of whom are facing a crisis of one sort or another - it felt good to experience Sabbath.

On Friday and Saturday we powered up the crock pot, pulled out the flannel sheets for the guest beds, poured some wine and some Chai Tea and settled in for a long fall weekend. And it was wonderful, except that within that LL Bean picture, our friends were crying - or taking up smoking again - or screaming at our walls becuase there was no one else to scream at.

Almost immediately after Molly's death, I sensed myself becoming increasingly open to the pain of others. Part of this had to do with the ever-so-public nature of teenage suicide. There was no way to avoid people - and I didn't really want to. So there I was, in the darkest days of my life, in a confusion of shock and sleeping pills, with a spotlight of sorts focused right on my heart. And having seen my heart, I sensed folks wanting to share their hearts with me.

Molly's death also humbled me in a way that has made me more available to others. I am really proud of Molly. She is amazing. And I thoroughly enjoyed her successes in horseback riding and acting and music and school and just about anything that she tried. She lived surrounded by love and she never questioned that love. And yet she died by suicide. The humility involved in living her death has given me a new compassion for the pain of others. My friendships have definitely deepened over the last year and a half.

So to get back to this weekend... friends are over... and they are all hurting... and then they leave. Sunday. I had to do two things. First - spend some time at the cathedral; and second - get on the treadmill. The cathedral is the place that - at least for now - calms my soul. The treadmill strengthens my body to hold the pain of others, to prepare for the discipline of listening, and to fight the uncertainties of middle age!

I am also working on my art homework, which is due tomorrow and is very hard and while I like it very much, drawing is one of the hardest classes I have ever taken.

I will keep you posted.

Substitute Teaching

Another crazy plan that I have for this period of "unemployment" is to substitute teach. The thought here, if there is one, is that maybe I would like to be a teacher and that this is a way to see if I like it. A teaching license is not required to sub, and it goes without saying that I have never taken even one education class.

So orientation was yeterday. Our local school district hires literally thousands of substitute teachers - which makes me wonder how many quit after their first assignment. The training was amazingly - amazingly - void of practical advice. The point WAS made that we should be walking around the classroom most of the time, with the thought that "you can't hit a moving target." I found that advice so encouraging.

It was also noted that radiating confidence was necessary as the students will move easily from assessing their substitue as a "sucker" to seeing him or her as a "target." Again. So very helpful.

I left with all of the respect in the world for teaching professionals and a bit terrified of what my first day might feel like.

Theoretically, I could start next week.

I'll keep you posted.

Looking for Temporary Jobs....

No worries. I am not already scurrying about trying to find full time employment. But. I think it might be fun to get a part-time holiday job in a department store.

After Molly's death, Christmas is surely a challenge, and I don't want to mope through the entire season. So... the thought is... I'll try something new and festive and different. And I'll make a few bucks while I am at it.

So... not having applied for jobs with a big company EVER, I presented myself (looking farily professional, I might add) at the mall to fill out applications. WRONG. Oh no, no, no, no. One can only apply online. Which I did. And I am exhaused.

After finding the on-line site, opening an account, filling out the personal information, answering all of the government-required questions, writing and uploading a cover letter, and taking a personality inventory, I had invested a good two hours. At least. For one six week job that pays just over minimum wage if I am lucky. And then I went on to another site to do it all over again for another store, but there site was down.

REALLY? Is this what we have come to? Makes me feel a bit bah humbug about the whole idea, but I would still really like the job. I'll keep you posted.

Catching Up

Brief recap: I am now officially done with work; I have been to visit my Dad and he is doing really well all things considered; I have received some nice parting gifts from my employer. And now I face the reality of this choice. Okay. What now.

Oddly enough my first concern was WARDROBE. I am not a clothes person - heck I shopped almost exclusively out of the Salvation Army for a full year not that long ago. And yet. I don't want to wear anything that I don't feel really good in. I don't want to wear anything that I might have worn to the office. And I also don't want to just slob around all day either. I'd sort of like to look like the model at the top of this post... but I don't.

In search for that middle ground of non-grungy comfort that is age appropriate and figure forginving, I hit a sale at J Jill and added a few new pieces to my casual/comfortable collection. This was in anticipation of being paid out for my unused vacation pay, but OF COURSE, the folks at the job "missed" adding that on to my check. I have reminded them. Very, very nicely.

And I went to the gym today. Years ago, I went regularly, but with two to three hours of commuting (on a good day!) I had basically given that up. The guy at the front desk remembered me though - and commented on how long it had been since I had been there. It was nice to be remembered... even if it was for being a lazy load.