>And so it goes.

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>Once upon a time, a teenage boy got sick. Influenza followed by infection followed by different infection all led to chronic stomach pain that just wouldn’t end. Gastro-intestinal distress continued with no obvious source and no end in sight.

Weight loss. Teen boys are supposed to grow. This one shrunk. He got a little taller, but lost forty pounds over the course of six months.

Medicines changed. Subtracted antibiotics that might irritate, added probiotics that might soothe. Added expensive antacid that insurance willingly covered — after the doctor called them and told them how much more costly the alternative would be.

Diet changed. No milk. No dairy at all. Low fat, bland, and very careful monitoring of anything that increased pain and other symptoms.

No pizza. No ice cream. An entire summer without Dairy Queen. The start of football season without calling for pizza. Carefully perusing the hot lunch menu each day to make educated decisions about what might be ‘safe’ for the hungry boy’s tender tummy.

He didn’t touch his Easter basket for fear the chocolate would worsen the stomach ache. He who used to down four frozen waffles in a sitting had trouble finishing one. He cut out his favorite refreshing beverages, afraid that carbonation and/or caffeine would activate the pain all over again.

The kid who loved school, zipped through the hallways with energy and excitement, had trouble getting out of bed in the morning. He needed more and more sleep but had less and less energy.

Tests galore. He had blood drawn, peed in a cup, pooped in a box. All looked normal. Eventually he submitted to general anesthesia, took a scope down his throat and into his colon, and waited for results.

Waited. Waited. Waited. And waited, and waited, and waited.

After the promised seven to ten days and a long week of phone tag that did no good for said teen’s father’s blood pressure, specialist finally called.

IBS. Irritable Bowel Syndrome. Essentially, it’s what they call it when all else is ruled out.

So on we go. No celiac disease, no milk allergy. It’s time to readjust the meds, gradually weaning him from the strongest and then the weakest of the cocktails until he’s on his own, in a manner of speaking.

We could celebrate. It’s not celiac disease, not a milk allergy, not diabetes. Stress adds to the pain, although it doesn’t cause it. The worst possibilities have been ruled out.

But somehow, this doesn’t seem like cause for celebration. It’s more of an ongoing puzzle: what will hurt? What won’t? How far can he go before it all starts again?

There are no answers. From now on, he’ll question what he eats and how much he eats. Maybe eventually he’ll stop worrying about food, and that will lessen the stress, which will lessen the additional pain.

And so it goes.

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>Crock Pot Potato Soup with or without Ham

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>Today’s recipe is simple because my life has been chaotic recently. When I have meetings after school and little time to cook, my crock pot is my friend. This was an experiment, since I’ve never been able to make a potato soup that satisfied me. Can I replicate it the next time I want to? As with most of my kitchen experiments, only time will tell.

4-6 medium russet potatoes, washed and sliced thin (peeling optional)
3-4 cups water or chicken stock
(From my garden, a few leaves of spinach, this summer’s add-in)
a sprig of fresh thyme
green onion, chives
lemon pepper to taste
1-2 cups diced ham
potato buds (for thickening)

Place potatoes and spinach and thyme in chicken stock or water.
Let cook on low for 6-8 hours.
Mash potatoes, but leave enough small chunks to be satisfying.
(Alternative: Use an immersion blender.)
Add 1/2 cup potato buds.
Add ham.
Turn crock pot to high for one half to one hour.

Serve with grated cheese and a delicious homemade bread on the side.

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>NaBloPoMoPhoBia: overwork

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>I can say I’m happy to be overworked because it means I have a job, but that gratitude doesn’t create more hours in the day.

Class sizes get bigger, my clerical needs get greater, but clerical services (already slim to none) dry up like a puddle in the sun. Perhaps a more appropriate simile in this Northern climate would be to say that support services melt like a snowball in the sun.

So…I spend more hours at my desk doing paperwork. My pay doesn’t increase. My benefits don’t increase. Expectations, however, keep growing.

Special needs, medical and academic, increase. My expertise needs to grow to keep up. But training in ADHD, child and adolescent mental illnesses, specific learning disabilities, serving gifted students, differentiation, and more… well, training isn’t readily available unless I give up more of my own time and (you guessed it) money. The aforementioned money that didn’t increase with my growing workload.

So instead of blogging, despite the deep satisfaction of ranting through my laptop, I’ll log off for now and work on more of my own homework. Today it’s preparing a seating chart that takes into consideration state testing, pullout for English Language Learners, Learning Disabilities, students who are easily distracted (some medicated, some not), and more.

I enjoy the rewards of my career, both the tangible and the intangible. But I wish, really wish, that the general public would understand the challenges we teachers face each and every day.

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>Green up your Act!

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>

I’d like to convince Husband that we need to invest in some additional greening for our house. I don’t mean landscaping, although that would be fun; I mean a few simple additions to our yard and home that will save energy, water, or otherwise help us Green up our Acts.

  • Already in place:
    programmable thermostat
    small kitchen, concentrates heat in one place
    old chest freezer replaced with smaller, energy efficient unit
  • Could have an impact:
    thermal drapes on the french doors: would keep the sun out in the summer, heat in through the winter
    solar panels on roof
    water barrel in or near garden
    additional compost bin

What?! Another compost bin? Why? Isn’t the one you have doing the job?
Well, (as I told my nearest and dearest) yes and no. Yes, it’s doing the job. We create significantly less garbage when we’re composting. The fully decomposed matter makes the garden soil more fertile and easier to till. If we had two…well, if we had a second bin, I’d let one settle for a full year before spreading it in the garden. In the meantime, I’d fill the other with all the grass clippings and kitchen garbage and leaves and other organic materials that we generate in a spring-summer-fall season. We do look for places to toss the grass clippings in July and the garden waste in October because the bin is full to the top. A second bin would be useful, no doubt about it.

The water barrel? Our water bills are predicted to go up dramatically due to expensive repairs on our community’s out-of-warranty treatment plant. A rain barrel (or two or three) could save us money as well as use water more efficiently. Thinking back to recent history, there were weeks in June when there were floods all over the state. A week later, the weather was so hot the lawn and garden dried out. The sprinkler got a workout. That water could have come from the previous week’s rainstorms if we’d been ready.

I could go on and on. Husband is willing to go Green — to a point. I’d like to convince him to try the simple pieces and move from there. If the rain barrel works well, we could get a second one. If we generate too much compost (if there is such a thing!), we could build the berm we’ve been considering for the back of the yard.

For now, I think I’d better put the hoses and sprinkler away for the winter. And rake leaves. they won’t all fit into the compost bin, so I’ll spread them on the garden. But if we had a second bin…

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>NaBloPoMoPhoBia: Germs.

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>(with credit going to Minnesota Matron for the creative phrase in the post title)

Teachers Fear Germs. Illnesses. Sick days. Whenever I’m sick, I have to leave sub plans. Writing lesson plans for a substitute is twice as much work as writing my own plans. Writing sub plans while ill….agony. Simply agony. Catching up when I get back? I don’t even like to think about it. It’s sufficient to say that illness weighs on my mind a lot more than it does for the average middle class working citizen.

Influenza. Training as a Public Health volunteer made me realize that we’re closer to a pandemic flu than I thought. I’ve posted about my training and fears, thoughts for family preparation, and more. Immediate action? Flu shot. Clinic coming up soon!

Cold viruses, bacteria, pink-eye, and other lovely micro-organisms. 1. I wash my hands and teach the class to do the same. 2. Keep tissue boxes scattered throughout the classroom. 3. I don’t touch the doorknob unless I have to! 4. (see #3) Hand sanitizer on desk and at entrance to room.

Head lice. Yes, the unspeakable. I haven’t seen many cases this year, but in other years the need for nit-picking has been outrageous. Prevention: avoid touching children’s heads. If children hug me, avoid bringing hands to head until washed/sanitized.

Oh, yes, I have my share of phobias that are intensified by my line of work. So excuse me if this post is a little short: I need to check my stock of Airborne and echinacea and vitamin C.

Are you sneezing? Does your head itch? You’re welcome.

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>The Fabled Fairies of Thanksgiving

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>Thanksgiving Dinner? No problem! I’ll call in the fairies. They’ll do everything.

The laundry fairy washes, dries, and presses the table linens, including the cloth napkins. If she’s feeling generous, the sheets and towels might get folded, too.
The turkey fairy will practice her specialty and make sure the bird is cooked and carved just in time for dinner. White meat and dark, it’ll all be moist and savory and leave just enough leftovers for sandwiches and a turkey noodle soup.
The baker fairy will take care of pies, pumpkin and otherwise. He’s an expert on flaky crust, selected spices, and the perfect portion of whipped cream. Don’t let that Simple Simon guy get in the way; the kitchen’s too small for anyone who begs to taste the wares.
The brownie — the cunning little house elf — will clean the home thoroughly, put the leaf in the big table, and get the extra chairs out of the basement.
I wouldn’t dream of neglecting the wine fairy: the sommelier so tiny she only recommends, never lifts, a bottle. Her taste is impeccable. Now if we could stop her before she over-imbibes and falls asleep on top of the piano…
Did I mention the decorator fairy? She’ll fix the fireplace mantel with something tasteful and seasonal before she makes sure the couch and rocker are properly arranged for the annual holiday gladiator contests known as NFL football.
The ambiance fairy keeps the wood fire crackling in the fireplace, the aromas wafting deliciously through the home, and the family discussions neutral.
The kitchen fairies: really, there must be a whole crew of these talented sprites. One to do the shopping early and avoid the crowds, another to make sure the cranberries are perfect (and local, of course), and a magical maestro with the potato masher. Then we’ll need a feisty fairy, one with attitude — yes, you, Tinkerbell, you can make the coffees.

Mom, you can send the fairies over to my house now that we’re hosting the annual family Thanksgiving dinner. Let them know that I’ll have their room ready and their favorite cookies baked. If they arrive on Sunday there should be enough time to get everything done.

Wait. What do you mean…they’re…not….real?

This post was written for Parent Bloggers Network as part of a sweepstakes sponsored by Butterball.
On the holiday theme as well is Scribbit’s November Write-Away Contest, brought to you by the letter F.

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>I just can’t hide it!

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>It seemed no one was blogging. My online friends were all on Twitter or Plurk. Husband was at work (when you’re in the media, election night is a worknight), Amigo was doing homework, and La Petite was also working. We text messaged through the main events. As one state after another turned to blue on the map and the electoral vote total grew on Obama’s side, we sent each other texts that grew shorter and more and more exciting. When it was all over and she had finished putting the school newspaper into print and online, she emailed me and called the whole experience “… amazing. It’s going to be one of those ‘I remember where I was, who I was with, and what I was doing when I found out that Obama was elected as our 44th president’ type moments.” But will she remember that she was part of the process? Attending a rally in June, talking to her friends, providing pictures of Senator Obama to the paper (and to her mother’s blog!) and talking to her friends about campaign issues made a difference, as did her vote.

Voters of all ages and all political stripes cared enough to volunteer, to operate the phones, to write checks, to put signs in their yards. Poll lines were long. I was #21 in my ward, in line when it opened. Husband was #121 less than forty minutes later. The passion of this election grew and grew and grew until it became more than a million people in Grant Park, others in the streets outside the White House and in storefronts turned Party Headquarters across the country.

I don’t remember ever seeing this much excitement around an election. It isn’t a Super Bowl, a Stanley Cup, a World Series or a Madison Halloween party. It’s a Presidential Election! And from now on, that sentence will never be the same.

It’s a Presidential Election that made history. Best voter turnout in forty years of a century, depending on your source. Record money raised and spent, although that can be taken as a positive or a negative. Record number of early voters by absentee ballot.

And the most important record of all: the American electorate finally crossed the racial line and elected a young, intelligent, articulate, and forward thinking man. And in the process, America elected Barack Obama the first African-American President of the United States.

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>Election Day Memories

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>Favorite bumper stickers:
“I’m pro-accordion and I vote.”
“Republicans for Voldemort”
“A Child is more than a Test Score”

The last one isn’t precisely election related, but it does make a strong statement on current policy.

Best sights to see:
Long lines at the polls (Active participation in Democracy! w00t!!
Campaign signs
“I Voted” stickers on multiple lapels
A thriving and busy campaign office

And this:


Update: Memories? This was the most amazing election day ever. I am so, so proud today.

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