8/365: Dance Like Nobody's Watching

"Dance like nobody's watching; love like you've never been hurt. Sing like nobody's listening; live like it's heaven on earth."

Aren't those words to live by? I have to wonder when I stopped dancing like nobody was watching. As a parent, I love to watch my kids explore, learn and discover. It's so incredible to watch the world unfold through their eyes. But I also worry about the beauty of childhood wearing off. Right now, for both of them, life is an adventure a minute. They are eager and enthusiastic. They're not afraid to try new things or to laugh at themselves. And when we play together, I can do those things as well.

I don't want to see the jadedness of cynicism of life kick in for them. I dread the day a friend betrays them or someone breaks their heart. I know, sooner than I'd like, a furry purry kiss or cuddle won't solve the all the problems in the world for them. And that breaks my heart. Being a parent is the best part of my life, yet the very hardest. I second guess decisions and I worry. I dream of how my babies will be when they grow up and I hate watching it happen because it means the frivolity of childhood is slowly slipping away.

Placing Blame

http://news.yahoo.com/s/ap/20101008/ap_on_re_us/us_bullying_one_town

I saw this story linked in someone's Facebook status and the headline caught my eye, "1Ohio school, 4 bullied teens dead at own hand." That's pretty emotion evoking. I then read the poster's editorial which stated, "This is the school district from hell. How many more children must die before the administration takes steps to halt the bullying? Read this article: these bullies actually laughed and ridiculed one of thier victim's appearance when she was DEAD and in her coffin!"

Someone else then responded, "I can't even begin to make myself click on that article. It is so disgusting that our society has become so self-absorbed that we can't consider how our words and actions may affect those around us. I hate this bullying epidemic that is happening."

Before I go any farther, I need to specifically state my heartfelt sadness for the families and friends of these teens. I can't imagine the grief and pain they feel. I am in no way belittling their loss or suffering.

Now I have been trying to censor myself as of late after twice being admonished by a peer for my words. Believe it or not, I am a pleaser by nature and it tears at me when I am corrected. In this case, however, the article and subsequent commentary cuts too close to home on so many levels that I posted my own response. And being as those little boxes aren't that big, I had to limit my rant. And, frankly, I have more to say on this subject.

Bullying is nothing new. It has been an epidemic forever. People are mean, people are cruel. It's not excuseable. It's not acceptable. And I look at the situations described in this story from several points of view, as a victim, as an educator, and as a parent.

I was called fat, told my legs look like tree trunks, was pushed down the stairs, stopped on the street while I was riding my bike and threatened, and called countless names while I was growing up. Did it hurt my feelings? Yes. Did it damage my self-confidence? Absolutely. Did I cry sometimes? A lot. Did I tell anyone at school? No. Did I tell my parents? No. It's not that I didn't trust the school. It's not that I "couldn't" tell my dad. It's just that I figured that there was nothing they could do about it. What was the school going to do, tell them to stop? Oh, then the targeting really begins. What would my parents do? Call their parents? Again, when the adults aren't around, the hazing would get even worse. So what did I do about it? I developed a thick skin. I became determined that I would live the kind of life that would prove the insensitive kids wrong. I worked on a quick wit and a great sense of sarcasm to have snappy come backs. I also knew when and I where I was likely to see those people and avoided them. Now, that wasn't always possible as was the case when they stopped me on a public street, but overall I managed pretty well.

More than managing pretty well, those experiences prepared me for life in some respects. Bullying doesn't stop at the schoolhouse doors. There are cliques and cool kids in the grown up world as well. And there really isn't anyone to run to when your boss happens to be the bully. I've seen people excluded from work situations because of who they are and how they dress. I've heard them gossiped about because of comments they made in meetings. And I'm savvy enough to know that I've probably been the topic of conversations by those same people as well. It doesn't make it right, but it does happen.

As an educator, a former teacher and principal, I want to scream over this story. First, I would be distraught if any student of mine died, much less if they took their own life. Trust me, these "school officials" have asked themselves a thousand times over what they could have done to prevent the deaths. I have implemented anti-bullying programs. I have worked with kids on how to not allow themselves to become victims. I have spoken to bullies, disciplined them, brought their parents in for conferences. Do I think it made a difference? I think working with kids to stand up for themselves helped, but the rest was like a garden hose on a forest fire. I don't think schools should stop their efforts or ignore the problem, but when do we stop expecting schools to be everything for everyone? Schools, in their purest form, are education institutions. They have morphed in to restaurants (2 meals/day), social service recource center, daycares, mental health agency, and in some cases, medical facilities and correctional institution. And by the way, make sure all of your kids, even those who access every service you provide, can read and write on grade level on a specific day in April. (I'm not the slightest bit bitter.) It is ridiculous to think that a school, even the most caring and proactive one, can eliminate poor human nature. And it's preposterous to place blame on the school. Would we even begin to do that to the parents, who are ultimately the ones responsible for the raising of a child?

As a parent, my heart aches. I don't want to imagine the pain and suffering of losing a child. I also know that I've started working with my own children on self-advocating and how to avoid falling victim to bullies. Boo and Bella have both come home from pre-school talking about name calling and pushing and hitting. We talk about the situation and how to react when it happens. We talk about avoiding the aggressor. We talk about staying near adults so there is always a watchful eye. And I'm sure it will only become more prevelant the older they get. I try to build their self-confidence as well, setting them up to learn how to deal with difficult situations at home so they can handle what life throw at them. More than that, however, I talk to them about how to not be a bully--how to be a nice kid. We talk about mean behavior and work on empathy.

I want to believe that the media thinks it is doing a service for kids by calling attention to the situation. But sometimes a spotlight is a bad thing. Teens see suicide as glamorous, an easy way to escape the demands of life. Schools often see strings of suicides because it tends to gain momentum because the victim is glorified after their death. It shouldn't be hidden, but tantalizing headlines and memorializing tragic, needless deaths only serves to perpetuate the problem.

I trust that the school in Ohio is working with students on dealing with grief and learning empathy. I hope that parents are stepping up and partnering with the school and not bashing it. But most of all, I pray that the troubled souls of the students who took their own life are at peace and remembered lovingly by all.

Boo's Big Day

You always know this day will come--the first day of kindergarten. It's a rite of passage for all of us, starting school. I still remember my first day. At that time, we only had half day kindergarten and our orientation was the first day of school, so my mom was there the whole time. I did fine without her on day two and the rest of the year, but I was "that kid" that generally liked school--heck well enough that I haven't really left it. But the first day of school as a mom, that's something different.

If you know me well, it shouldn't surprise you that as soon as I got the supply list, it went in my purse with a highlighter. As things went on sale at Target, I picked up what he needed. I felt a little guilt that I didn't make the big deal of taking my boy to get his supplies, but the practical side of me usually overtakes the sentimental side. Boo is so used to me being that way he honestly thinks he picked out his own backpack and told his dad he got yellow because they were all out of orange.

Monday night was Orientation. Sissies weren't allowed so Sam and I packed him up and headed to the school. We got there and I had forgotten the backpack so home we went and back again. There were no cars in the parking lot when we left. It was almost full in the 10 minutes our side trip took! We walk into the newly renovated gym and took a seat near the front. (yes, I was that kid.) As we walked through Boo saw lots of friends and I saw lots of former classmates. Memories flooded back because this was the building I was in for first through eighth grade. It's definitely a lot nicer now! It was interesting to watch another principal in action. I've had to do the same schtick for sixth grade parents and it was fascinating that it's much the same for the little ones. The mass meeting was done and it was time to go to the classroom. Just like a good kindergarten teacher should, the room was decorated, labeled and organized. And Boo's desk is front and center...did someone warn her about my clown? Klucker put away the supplies while I made the rounds signing up for conferences, room parties, and email lists. (I'm avoiding PTA right now, although I feel guilt for that as well.) We chatted with parents of other kids from pre-school and headed home.

Wednesday came quickly. The plan was for Klucker to take Bell to school and I would drive Boo. He had a half day so I would pick both of them up from the pre-school when he got off the bus. (Another tinge of Mommy-guilt was there when I saw other parents listing that Mom or Dad would be picking up daily....is it bad my kindergartner is a bus rider?) Sissie wasn't happy with the whole situation. She hadn't slept well the night before and now was in a tizzy over it all. Things were calm once they were out of the house.

7:45AM--time to go. We grabbed the backpack and headed outside. I had to take the requisite photos in front of the house. Into the car and to the school we went. There were already lots of parents and kids there. Time for more photos and we began the walk to the door. One more shot by the school sign before going inside the building. Boo remembered where his room was and we walked outside. Mrs. S gave directions on what they should do if they were early. He sat in the hall and I stood across taking photos. Finally time to go in the room. I hesitated. Should I go with him? Should I just wave? I went in the room and helped him unpack. He put his backpack in his locker (little shorty has to have it moved because he can barely open the ones on the top row!). He came back and I took a few more pics. Mrs. S told the kids they could open their Playdoh while they waited for the bell. I took the seal off the can and that's when it began--the hot burning sensation just below my eyes. The tears were forming. I was going to leave my boy there, in a big kid school. I know what goes on in schools, I see it all the time. Today I was beginning to lose a part of him. Eventually I will no longer be the most important person in his life and this is when that process starts.

I hadn't expected these feelings. Where was this coming from? I knew I needed to get out of there before he saw my tears. It would upset my sensitive one and ruin his day. I quickly hugged him and told him to have a good day and started out the door. "Mommy, can you open the lid? I can't get it." Damn it, I didn't know how long I could hold it back. I popped off the lid and took another hug and kiss. "Mommy loves you. Have a great day." And out I scurried, quickly down the hall, avoiding eye contact. I was on the sidewalk and to the car. Once inside I let go. The tears rolled. I got them stopped by the time I got home. I seriously wondered if I should call or email to check on him and then realized how ridiculous I was.

I kept myself busy through the morning, handling details of my Tuesday evening bike mishap. I headed to pre-school to pick up Sis and wait for the bus. Those 2o minutes took forever, and it didn't help that we saw three other busses pass by. Finally, around the corner it came. I had to laugh when the door open. Boo had been telling me Ms. A (a part time teacher at the preschool)was going to drive him to and from school. I kept telling him he was mistaken, she would probably be putting him on and getting him off the bus. The doors opened and there was Ms. A, she's also a bus driver. The kids poured off. Where was he? Certainly he didn't get on the wrong bus? I was getting a little anxious. No, the little snot, just like his dad, sat in the back of the bus. I barely had time to snap a picture as he jumped out and ran towards us.

We had a special McD's lunch to celebrate. He was full of conversation, but short on details. I knew he had a great day, didn't lose recess time, and saw his cousin in the hall. By the end of the evening, we learned that Olivia got a time out, he went to PE, and colored. I'm sure we'll eventually get other pieces.

Today was the first full day, he rode the bus and all. I'm anxious to get home and see how this went as well. I want him to love school. I want things to be easy for him. I want this transition to get easier for me as well. While I'm excited for him to grow up, I'm scared of him pulling away. There are so many variables out there I can't control for him and now that he's starting school, they will grow exponentially. I guess that's the heartache of being a parent. At sometime you have to let go and trust they are prepared. I'll get there.

Stolen Moments

I get up most weekdays at 4AM. This is when I workout. Typically I run outside, ride my bike on the Columbia Circuit or on the Road to Nowhere. When the weather is really bad, I delay it till 5 and head to the gym. I don't get up at that because I'm a freaky exercise addict (I am that but that's not the reason I get up that early!) I get up at that time because I'm a mom and a wife. See, racing and working out are my outlet, they're my hobby, my expression of self. I do my best to have them not interfere with my real job in life, my family. As a result of my workout schedule, work schedule, and family, I don't have a lot of just plain quiet time. I rectify that during my "stolen moments."

Most Saturdays and Sundays when I'm not racing I have a long ride. I purposely set my alarm extra early so that I can get up and quietly have a cup of coffee, watch the news, or catch up on Facebook. It's a treat for me to hear the quietness of the early morning, no one asking for anything, nothing but what I want to demand my time. Some mornings, like this one, I get about 20 minutes. It's my time to clear my head, energize and reflect. As I sit here typing, I know my quiet is almost over. I hear the thud of little feet and the banging of the potty lid. In a minute Andy will realize Mommy is awake and have to come down. While I value my stolen moments alone, the first few minutes when one of the kids is awake and we're alone together is my greatest pleasure. Callie and Andy both are their most loving during this time. Whichever one is up first, will crawl up in my lap and just let me hold and cuddle them. I'll smell their sweet little heads, and for just a few moments, share the a special mother/child time. No time demands, attention demands, pressures for anything else--just a few heartbeats of perfection.