April Moms@Work & Women@Work catch-up

My byline snap

Notice I said catch-up instead of catsup or ketchup.  We all (or those of us who hang on every word of dialogue in Mad Men at least) know there’s only 1 ketchup.

I digress – anyway, here are some blog posts from my other spot out here on the internet, Moms@Work.

• Would you do it all again?  (“Probably not” was the impression I apparently conveyed in this one.)
• Travels in parenthood (Includes a nifty picture of me doing a ringer of  Molly Ringwald impersonation.)
• Tests of spring  (Where I talk about the NYS math assessments, but don’t acknowledge that I can’t do 8th grade math.  I saved that for FB and Twitter.)
• What do you think about a “good enough life?” (Even if you don’t read my post, read the one which inspired it.  Please.)

Also, excitedly enough for me, the print edition of the May/June issue of Women@Work is now available in all sorts of lobbies and waiting rooms around town.  Grab one, why don’t you and read my piece on page 59.  Don’t forget to linger over my name on the page listing of contributing writers!

Nit picky

Let’s talk about something typically verboten, ok? I’m not asking you to out yourselves or throw your own children under the proverbial bus, but I did want to start a conversation about a topic generally not discussed in a volume above a whisper….shhhh….lice!

About 2 months ago, I noticed that my youngest (fortunately the child with the least emotional attachment to his shiny, straight hair), was scratching at his scalp. Immediately, I recalled the note I had recently received from his school about unnamed classmates being treated for the annoying little critters. Great, guess who had climbed into my very own bed just last night? I took action…

After a quick trip to the pharmacy, armed with RID treatment, I went to work. I washed his hair and got to business looking for something(s). Despite the results from my Google image search to guide me, I wasn’t really confident that I even knew what I was seeking. I couldn’t find anything though – no crawlers (lice don’t have wings), no eggs (gross), no evidence of anything other than a dry scalp. To be cautious, I went ahead and did two weeks worth of laundry in a single day washing sheets and towels and coats and everything else I could fit into my front loader. We moved on feeling lucky.

Last week, our luck ran out. As Quinn and I sat at the table Friday morning, something literally fell out of his hair and landed on his spelling homework. This time, though,  there was no doubt. Horrifyingly enough, the poor boog was just loaded with them – live bugs and the promise of more to come. Yuck. I began the process from the last time, but this time I had the added satisfaction (?) of knowing that there was, in fact, a real problem to treat. Without a doubt, my boy had bugs.

Recognizing that the nit-picking process would be simplified if there were less hair with which to contend, I decided (after consulting with his dad, a master nit picker, as it turns out) a semi-dramatic haircut would lighten the burden. Since the barber shop refused to accommodate my little pariah, I took matters into my own hands and, with a friend’s hair clipper set, buzzed my boy within an inch of his life. Or maybe it was the 5/8″ attachment we used? Whatever, the end result was a boy with a charmingly uneven buzz cut and a winning attitude. He really rocked the whole process without complaint and made me seriously proud.

Now, here’s the thing, the stigma of lice is HUGE. I remember my own childhood experience, I believe it was 3rd grade. I sat between twin brothers who lived in an area we called the Club Car. This was not a compliment. As a 9 y/o I knew that I was getting lice from them because they were dirty. From my current vantage point, I know that is not necessarily the case and I sincerely regret any meanness I showed the Edwards boys.

And a final observation, thoroughly eliminating lice and their remarkably sticky and minuscule eggs is a tremendous amount of tedious work. I think I’ve done 7 or 8 loads of laundry and the time involved with combing and picking the nits out is ridiculous. I really think there is opportunity for an entrepreneurial type to develop a service to address some of these challenges. Maybe a discreet van that could pull up in front of the house and whisk the infested child away, returning them deloused and perhaps even fed? Seeing that lice are kind of a nightmare, it only seems reasonable to counter that reality with a dream, right?

When a house is a home

image: newyorkschools.com

The other night I attended my oldest son’s annual Open House at Albany High School.  He’s a sophomore this year so I didn’t have the same sense of urgency to go as I did last fall when he was a mere freshman.  Despite my strong desire to stay at home to watch the Yankees play, missing it was not an option.  I wanted to meet his teachers and make sure his year was off to a good start.  Plus, I hadn’t been able to attend my youngest boy’s open house due to work and it was my turn.  Off I went.

The back parking lot when I arrived was about two-thirds full – an occurrence you wouldn’t experience in the suburban district where I teach unless you arrived 30 minutes early instead of the 20 minutes late I showed up.  You should know I am generally pretty prompt to events.  In this instance, however, I intentionally timed myself to get there to “walk” Liam’s schedule but avoid any of the organized administrative presentations in the gym.  The fates cooperated and I arrived at the perfect time to pick up a copy of my child’s schedule and get to first period.

The halls were crowded with parents, students, siblings and faculty members as I found my way to math class, figuring out the north/south configuration of the classrooms.  The geometry teacher presented the course material, using a smart board as well as handouts and cool models and manipulatives.  We were off to a good start.  And then…

Things just got better!  As I walked back and forth, and up and down the stairs, I encountered familiar faces everywhere.  There were two families from the Bradley birthing classes I took during my pregnancy with this now 10th grade man-child,  women I have worked with over the years on Lark Street, old buddies from my college hangout, The Griffin… Nearly everywhere I turned there was someone I knew.  I had such a sense of community with these other parents who have made the decision to provide their children with a diverse, public education complete with the opportunities and imagined perils which come with an urban school district.

The parents I bumped into are,  without exception, educated professionals – a doctor, a financial analyst, a teacher, a nurse practitioner, a librarian.  I am certain we’ve each considered the challenges presented by a population of students with truly diverse economic, ethnic and educational backgrounds.  We’re not sheltered people.  As I walked through the hallways of a school which receives an inordinate amount of negative attention, I was struck by the positives – the teachers availing themselves of current technologies and methodologies, the students enthusiastically showcasing their talents, the parents proudly sharing information about their children with some of the other adults in their lives.   While it isn’t the suburbs, it is no less a community.  As a matter of fact, maybe it is more, because that Open House felt, to me,  quite a bit like home.

Commencement – a beginning or start

So, that’s my natural hair color!

The word commencement is an odd one. While it is defined as a beginning or start, it clearly is most often used to describe a ceremony which acknowledges the end of something.  Seems that endings and beginnings can get all sorts of mixed up, huh?

Almost exactly  20 years ago, I received my college diploma. The path I took to that mass commencement ceremony was circuitous and prolonged. Or so it seemed to my-then-25- year-old self.  I remember that the morning was beautiful; a perfect May Day with blue skies and fluffy white clouds. The graduation was my first since my 8th grade commencement in 1980  - they didn’t give GEDs with an iota of pomp, regardless of circumstance.

I wished I was feeling a bit more triumphant about my achievement, but I was nursing a broken heart and was just desperate to get the whole thing over with.   My plan had been to avoid the entire day by going to Syracuse for my brother’s awe inspiring graduation from medical school, an event which naturally was scheduled for precisely the same day.  One of my best friends, though, had timed a trip to New York from Australia  to witness my achievement (with binoculars in the vast feeling Knickerbocker Arena) and so, there I was in a sea of fellow B.A., English, recipients.

Honestly, the entire thing is a blur now.  I don’t recall who was the speaker or what the message conveyed was.  I just remember itching to get out of there.  Now.  I needed to go home, to Greenwood Lake.  I needed to get out of Dodge and see something new.  I needed what was NEXT.  I wanted to commence already, dammit.   I had a sense of freedom similar to possessing a passport and a credit card.  I could go anywhere.  And, unlike my bruised heart, no one was ever going to take that away from me.

The following month, my brother and I traveled to Europe for 3 weeks of debauchery family visits and sightseeing. We hitchhiked, staying with family, friends and in hostels, both of us smart enough to recognize that this opportunity to travel together would probably not present itself ever again. I returned to Albany with an increased awareness of where my family was from, and a pocketful of fresh memories to cherish as I began the next chapter in my life. 

In the two decades since graduation, there have been other heartbreaks survived, additional diplomas bestowed and numerous European adventures.  And, of course, countless endings and beginnings. I’ve come to learn that, unlike my sheepskin, some things just aren’t meant to last forever.  Some courses are finite, pass or fail.

Reading between the (budget) lines

A number of years ago, then Attorney General Andrew Cuomo conducted a press conference in the library where I have worked for the past 8 years. The topic was predatory lending to college students and the media was there with notepads and cameras. This may have been the first time I became aware of Cuomo’s self proclaimed assertion that he was to be a voice for the students, their powerful ally in a world looking to take advantage of them. We spoke briefly. I earned his laughter when I responded to his question regarding why the librarian field was so dominated by women with a cheeky, “because the job requires a lot of multitasking,” letting the reply lie there for the moment it took for him to get the joke. His aide said it was the best answer to a question he had received all day.

But maybe my answer was incomplete. Maybe it’s time to consider some additional factors that might make the position more appealing to woman than to men. Because, while dividing my attention, sometimes in 200 ways when “my” library approaches capacity is something I do every single day, there are some other aspects of the role of school library media specialist to consider. And, no, they’re not on the evaluation form Mr. Cuomo has strong armed districts around the state to adopt. I have a facility with more than 40,000 items – books, movies, audio books, electronic items such as databases and e-books, equipment, newspapers, 60 computers stations… There is a budget to be supervised and staff as well, but these items will prove to require less attention as money and staff are further eliminated each year, I suppose.

Another reason females may be more prevalent in the librarian field is the fact that women are typically more accustomed to being marginalized. Year after year librarians are made to justify their contributions to the academic success of students. Elementary librarians are continually being replaced by untrained clerks and parents because the state does not mandate trained professionals fill a position that is often perceived as one where reading and shelving books are the primary focus. And we all know anyone can do that.

My library is anticipating a reduction in our staff by nearly 50% for next year. People, just so you know, the fat is gone – we’re cutting through muscle and bone at this point. I’m disturbed, dismayed and disappointed by the decisions which have been made regarding which positions to eliminate, but I can’t be angry with my district. Not to the degree that people seem to be angry with teachers, that is. Can we clarify a couple of things here? Thanks, I’ve got a couple of points to make…

For the last three years my union has voluntarily given our salary increases back to the district to preserve programs. We were under no legal obligation to defer our raises, but it was the right thing to do in these economic times (for which we, as a profession, are completely devoid of responsibility) and it was done with very little grumbling. I haven’t ever noticed a professional athlete returning their salary due to their having a less than stellar season, but teachers, who will never make in a lifetime what an exceptional baseball player makes in a single season, allowed their anticipated income to be redistributed for the benefit of the students. And I don’t ever hear anyone complain about how few days a year a professional athlete works either.

The salary and benefits package a teacher earns are negotiated and agreed upon. For teachers to be vilified for coming to an agreement with the representatives the residents have freely elected, is unfair and small minded. Health insurance premiums continue to increase, yet, I don’t recall demands for fiscal conservatism or retention of current rates, being made of these corporations. We all recognize that our economic situation as a nation has suffered in the last decade and future contracts will certainly reflect these conditions, but please, can we stop blaming teachers for the current fiscal state of affairs?

My district is moving ahead with an action to challenge the governor’s 2% tax cap. I was proud of the leader of my district for taking this stand, yet found it more than a little bit ironic that the news conference to discuss this legal action was held, again, in my library. I couldn’t help but consider why the library media center is perceived as such an ideal location for news conferences, yet is held in such low regard educationally. I have to wonder if future news conferences might be just as convincingly conducted with the backdrop of a magical green screen and an lcd projector. It seems that the library media center after all is merely the setting for a story which I’d rather not have to read.

Unassured

Last week I got a postcard in the mail touting a program my insurance company, I mean Health Plan, offers. There’s some sort of rewards program that I can opt into earning points towards gift cards and other discounts if I register and then log my healthy choices. I went on line and registered already imagining how I would spend my “money” buying more running clothes. After I selected my user name and password, I prepared to begin logging all those runs and sculpting classes. Except…my brand new login and password didn’t work. Hmmm. So I requested a new one. Which also didn’t work. At this point, the process was proving to be more detrimental than beneficial to my health so I abandoned the task, for now.

Two days later I received a letter from CDPHP thanking me for enrolling in the program. Or, to be accurate, I received THREE identical letters all dated 2/9/12 saying exactly the same thing. Really??? I couldn’t help but recall that each time my union made concessions to the contract we had agreed to, I watched my health insurance premiums continue to increase. I understand that companies are people and all, but why aren’t these businesses being asked to toe the fiscal line? Is the company that is sending out an identical letter 3 times to me doing more effective, important work than the professionals teaching our children? I don’t mind doing my part and I’m a practical person. I get it. My problem is that I’m sick of having to justify my existence professionally annually. As if being a librarian didn’t already come with its own lack of educational street cred.

The governor has demanded a change to teacher evaluations and I’m now supposed to be rated on the same rubric as a classroom teacher. Which means that 40% of my annual performance should be based upon standardized tests. Thinking back on your time as a student (or what you have observed) do you recall taking any exams or filling in bubble sheets in the LMC? How about during your time in the guidance office or while in P.E.? Exactly.

From what I understand, folks are upset about the benefits teachers now possess, things like our “part time” status, excessive retirements and practically free insurance premiums. For the record, I didn’t ask to discontinue contributing a mandatory percentage of my salary to my retirement. That decision was made by someone else, probably a financial expert. And, incidentally, I opened a 403B immediately after becoming “vested,” to continue saving for my retirement, because I’m not, nor have I ever, asked for something for nothing.

I’ve invested – in my education, my profession and my future. Guess I’ll just continue making healthy choices for myself and not count on my health insurance plan or my government to reward me for my efforts.

Commencing…

Yes, Q, I feel the same way.

I’m not gifted when it comes to mathematics, (unless you need to know what 20% of a check is), but, for what I believe to be the only time ever, all three Lilly boys celebrated commencement milestones this month.  First up was Q as he made the big leap from Kindergarten to grade 1.  Naturally, the ceremony was adorable and the kids were so excited to sing their little hearts out.  I was relieved that it wasn’t a full out cap and gown extravaganza, and there was a bitter sweetness to the ceremony knowing that my little man was on his way to the numbered grades after his years of classrooms identified by mere letters.  He made some buddies this year and I love having him within walking distance of his school, because in the fall, G, his walking partner, will be making the longer walk to middle school.  Yes, middle school.  

G. Love

Those  of you whom know G, know that he is more than ready socially for college middle school.  The jury is still out to determine if he is going to completely follow in my uneven footsteps academically, or if he will benefit from the wisdom and experience of two parents who want him to use his talents for good rather than mischief.  The middle school years are pretty critical for setting a kid up for high school and further educational endeavors.  I hope that those honors courses he is registered for will hold his attention, and keep him hanging with the right crowd. I am confident that ultimately he will do well, and that undoubtedly he will always look good even if his behavior is less than perfect.

An excited L.

And, my L, off to Albany High in the fall.  It is nearly unbelievable that the boy who didn’t walk until he was 17 months old and who has required assistance his entire academic career, is heading to high school where he will be in the Innovation Academy.  Bravo, L.  We’re all so very proud of you!  He will continue with his honors level social studies coursework and is ridiculously excited to navigate his way to school using public transportation.  We’ll see how that’s going in the dark days of January…

Life is a series of beginnings and endings.  It is  wonderful to have three reminders that the celebration of  a chapter’s conclusion  is often the best way to prepare for what comes next. Because after all, while commencement generally describes an event acknowledging the completion of a life chapter, commence does, after all, mean to begin.  Perhaps this year, we’ve all graduated.