Tag Archives: teachers live at school

>Mrs. Lerner’s Afterlife – a story worth rereading

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>Since the Rapture was (ahem) yesterday, I thought it was a good time to bring out this story once again.

Let’s call her Mrs. Lerner, the teacher in this story. Mrs. Lerner passed away, and continued on her peaceful way toward the pearly gates. St. Peter met her with, “Welcome, Mrs. Lerner. Here in Heaven, we all make contributions. What would you like to do?” Mrs. Lerner responded, “I’m a teacher, so I’ll teach.”

Peter called over St. John-Baptiste de la Salle, the patron saint of teachers, and had him escort Mrs. Lerner to her new classroom. When she got there, she was was shocked to see the conditions. 40 desks. 35 textbooks, all outdated. Pencils, pens, and paper were sufficient to supply the class for perhaps one day, no computers existed, and a cracked chalkboard hung on the front wall.
“Oh, my God!” she exclaimed, “this is horrible!”
Boom! Suddenly, Mrs. Lerner was in an entirely different locale, escorted by a devilishly handsome young man. With a fiendish smile, he brought her to a very different classroom. 15 desks well-equipped with supplies, books of all reading levels and interests, an interactive whiteboard, and behind each student, supportive parents. On her desk lay a contract offering the opportunity to bargain for decent working conditions as long as she continued to teach.
“I don’t understand,” she murmured, shaking her head. “Why the advantages here, of all places?”
The devilishly handsome escort slyly reminded the dedicated educator, “Mrs. Lerner, when you asked the governor for this, where did he tell you to go?”

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>Not everyone loves the rising phoenix

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God help you if you are a phoenix
and you dare to rise up from the ash
a thousand eyes will smolder with jealousy
while you are just flying past
–Ani DiFranco, “32 Flavors”

The quote from “32 Flavors” resonates with me, and not necessarily the way DiFranco intended when she wrote the song. Recently I told my family that I am tired of being a trailblazer. I’m hearing impaired. I teach, I write, and no one in the school district seems to know what to do with me. They’re accustomed to shuttling their disabled students off to special classes, but a disabled, capable, professional? They’re stumped.

Maybe the image from DiFranco’s song is what I need. If I can re-imagine my role not as the one out front stepping in front of the crowd, leading the way through the mud and getting slashed with low-hanging branches, if I can envision instead the phoenix rising from the ashes, it might give me the strength to fight my battles and leave a good, clear path for those who follow.

It’s not easy being – well, it’s like Kermit the Frog. It’s not easy being different. I wonder if some perceive my success as somehow easier, rather than harder, than theirs. Do they think I got a break because I don’t hear well? I have a hearing aid compatible phone. I.T. provided me with a longer cord so the computer monitor doesn’t interfere with my telecoil setting. Those reasonable accommodations, however, didn’t make teaching easier than it is for other, non-disabled teachers. These accommodations merely leveled the playing field.

Now I’m moving to a new position, one that I feel will be a better fit for my abilities than attempting to hear and react to a large, noisy classroom. I applied for and got this job through seniority, not through disability. I hope no one thinks I’ve jumped the line by virtue of my hearing loss. Then again, who cares? Anyone who thinks so is wrong. I know what the truth is, and if I rise from the ashes on my own, it’s a gain for all around me.

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>The Depression roller coaster

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>Some days. I mean it. Some days my anxiety level goes up and down like a roller coaster, and my stomach feels like it rode one, too. Yesterday, for example:

Woke late, with sinus headache, after nightmares: high
I know better than to go back to bed when I wake near my regular time. I don’t know what possessed me to go back to bed, but I paid dearly for it.
Drank coffee, concentrated on data entry for local politicos: med. high
Sinus headache started easing, but still painful; entering data is a tedious job, but it feels good to make a contribution. I kept thinking, though, about how I wouldn’t be able to keep up the volunteer work when school starts. School – now that’s another nightmare.

Showered, employed Neti Pot (apologies for that image): improvement. Lowered pain & anxiety
Between Neti and the steam from the shower, sinus headache finally eased significantly.

Lunch, noon news: low, somewhat relaxed
No news may be good news, but I still like to check in mid-day for the Ag Report. Just kidding. My favorite segment is really the PetSaver.

Ran errands to pharmacy & credit union: anxiety rising
Staff meeting looming at my new school; almost forgot to use my own bag at the pharmacy, I was that distracted.

Sent daughter to vet with rabbit: medium anxiety (routine visit)
But she was driving my minivan with the rabbit cage in the backseat, and paying with my debit card. Okay, I shouldn’t worry. So I didn’t. Much.

Killed time before staff meeting: anxiety rising higher and higher
This was my first staff meeting at my new school, my first staff meeting since going on medical leave. I was manufacturing stomach acid by the quart, if not the gallon.

Attended staff meeting: anxiety high, but stable
Introduced myself to new principal, participated in reconfiguration routine (don’t ask, it’s a routine procedure, but wickedly stressful for those changing grade levels).

The roller coaster analogy came to me as I put up my umbrella and walked the short distance home. My heart was still pounding, but my mind was listing all the reasons this was a good move for me. Good coworkers, escaping the bullies at my previous school, heading into a positive change. Maybe. Hopefully. Stomach acid subsided, and I went to meet a friend for soup and salad at our favorite family restaurant.
Then the anxiety level went up suddenly as I plugged in my laptop and the cord began sparking and smoking at a spot that had been spliced. Aargh!

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>Strategies: Building consensus or conflict

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>I’m a mediator by nature. I keep plugging on, working for solutions. I’d rather look for commonalities than differences, and I’d rather build consensus than conflict.

That’s why I’m so frustrated by my current state leadership. Wisconsin’s state senate and assembly are not just dominated by one party, they’re ruled and controlled by the majority. Amendments suggested by the minority party are automatically rejected, discussion ignored, and the constituents of those districts end up unrepresented. Demonstrators are taking to the streets because they’re feeling unrepresented and they’re not feeling heard.
I’m a problem-solver. I want to see issues resolved and compromises reached. I know budget cuts are inevitable; we teachers have been working under budget cuts for years. We, like the teachers on Jeopardy, are fiscally as conservative as we can be.
Chuck and I noticed that the teachers on Jeopardy’s Teacher Tournament always bet conservatively in Final Jeopardy. Chuck suggested it’s because teachers are so accustomed to not spending money that given a chance, they’ll keep what little they have. In a Jeopardy tournament, that is a losing strategy.
If I keep teaching, I’ll continue doing more and more with less and less. I’ll keep writing grants, I’ll keep getting as much as I can for as little as possible. It gets harder and harder to educate children well while doing more with less while our schools are funded by people who believe in conflict, not consensus. And that, good people, is a losing strategy, too.

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Fit in or stand out?

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“Why do you try so hard to fit in when you were made to stand out?”

This quote turned up again, this time in my Plurk network. It strikes me in a sensitive place, as always.
I am different.
I have a hearing loss.

I wear two hearing aids.
And…

I teach.
I am educated.
I am articulate.
So which is it? In education we claim to value differences. However, I see more pressure to conform, pressure to follow the same path and be just like the others. We differentiate and adapt for our students, but not for each other.
Being a teacher and being different do not mesh well.
I may not always hear you perfectly, but when I know what you’ve said, I can address it and answer you in complete sentences. My hearing loss didn’t stop me from earning an undergraduate degree from a Conservatory of Music and a graduate degree in Curriculum and Instruction. I can write a research paper and quote the studies that support each point I make. I can write a letter that’s short and succinct and yet complete enough for the newspaper to publish. I can write a grant application that brings my class and my school much-needed money.
So which is it? Square peg or round hole? Fit in or stand out?
I still don’t know.

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>Light a Single Candle

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>It is better to light a single candle than to sit and curse the darkness.

Attributed to Confucious, Eleanor Roosevelt, Old English Proverbs, no one really knows where the phrase began. Some insert a word, slightly changing its tone by saying “…sit and curse in the darkness.” Most are clear, however, as to its meaning.
To me, lighting a single candle means focusing on a goal, one goal, rather than giving up in an overwhelming world. In my world of clinical depression (and a sinus infection on top of it all), I feel like too many decisions are looming. I have too many candles. Can I cut down to one?
There’s school. I’m preparing for a new position next year. This is still uncertain; I’m working on Plan B while Plan A simmers.
There’s the book project. There’s resting, gathering energy, building strength.
The single candle doesn’t last if I burn it on both ends. Pushing too hard just gets me sicker and slows my recovery. Some days I don’t have a choice; I need to take a deep breath and go out in public to get the details of my job in place for next year. As long as I plan to rest the next day (or two), I can make it through an occasional tough day like that.
So really, what’s my single candle? Recovery? Recovering and taking care of myself is number one. When I’m ready for the next step, I’ll light the candle of Educating Amigo, our book project. While I’m working, the bunnies might just have to feed themselves. I’ll be very focused on my single flame.

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>Monday, Monday – a Historic Monday

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>Tomorrow is election day.

Today is activist day. Notice I did not put the words activist day in capital letters; nothing formal or official comes with the title. Looking around my simple and limited life, however, I noticed there’s a lot going on.
I had two emails from our local OFA (Organizing for America) group – one with a calendar of events, one with information on how to help with recall efforts. There are a lot of angry voters in Wisconsin – on both red and blue sides.
I checked my school email. Yesterday was a Grade-In at the mall (I missed it – maybe I can make the next one). Today is a huge rally in honor of Martin Luther King, Jr., and his tireless support for workers’ rights. Here’s a little information from an organizer.

On April 4, 1968, Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr., was assassinated in Memphis as he labored to bring economic justice and respect for 1,300 city sanitation workers.

On Monday — the anniversary of Dr. King’s death – the National Education Association and other labor unions, civil rights organizations, and religious leaders will stand together across this country for the same human rights and human dignity for working men and women.

On Monday, we will remind our elected officials that workers’ rights are human rights. These groups will host a range of community and workplace-focused actions across the country starting this weekend.

On Monday, remembering the courage and determination of Dr. King and those Memphis sanitation workers who endured assault and arrest as they walked a picket line for two months, we will stand together with public workers across this country whose bargaining rights are under attack, with private workers who can’t get bargaining rights, and against those politicians and their allies who want to silence our political voice.

On Monday, we will fight back against those who are trying to silence the voices of workers and the middle class in Wisconsin, Ohio, Idaho, Florida, Tennessee and countless other states. How will you stand up for workers on April 4?


Well, I’m blogging. And I’m Tweeting, and Plurking, and I might even post a notice on Facebook. I’ll continue to post worker history, both national and local, and I’ll get ready to vote. It’s an Activist Day – official or not, I think it’s earned its capitals.

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>Ducks in a row, ducks in a row!

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I just finished the workload for my graduate class. Did you hear the cheers? The class meant a lot of work, and it took a lot of energy that I didn’t have (darn clinical depression and anemia), but the total time and energy (and monetary) investment was worth it. I learned many fabulous new teaching tools, and I am now certified to teach online. That’s the biggest part: I have another option in my future. Just knowing that I might not have to endure another year as damaging as this one – well, knowledge is power.
I know which coffee mug will be my favorite now.
I changed the art on the wall, too.

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>The world spins out of control

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>Recovering from depression isn’t easy when the news is bad. It doesn’t help that I’m a news junkie, one who reads the print newspaper from cover to cover before turning on CNN. How can I feel like the glass is half full in a bad news world?

I’m starting week 7 of an 8 week online course. I’m feeling positive. My course work is going well, my grades are good, and I’m keeping up with the interim deadlines for the final work.
Good news: this course will certify me to teach online.
No longer good news: These credits would have been enough to allow me a lane change, a move on the pay scale.
Bad news: As soon as the current contract expires (in June), we no longer have steps and lanes on our salary scale. Spending my money in this way no longer has a financial incentive.
Glass half full philosophy: This opens up a new avenue for me, that of teaching online.
Glass half empty philosophy: what a waste! All this money! All this time! All this work!
Glass half full: At least work-related tuition is tax deductible.
Glass half empty: in 2012. And who knows what kind of changes may take place in the tax code?
Glass half full: I’m passing. Heck, I’m doing a stellar job! My grades are great!
Glass half empty: Who cares? Thanks to our governor, my time, money, and work are worthless.
Well, this is not working. I’ll never finish weeks 7 and 8 if I focus on the negative, the glass half empty ideal.
Maybe it’s as my engineer husband says. It’s not that the glass is half full or half empty; the glass is simply twice as large as it needs to be.
Rats. That didn’t help my spirits at all.

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>Mrs. Lerner’s Afterlife

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>Let’s call her Mrs. Lerner, the teacher in this story. Mrs. Lerner passed away, and continued on her peaceful way toward the pearly gates. St. Peter met her with, “Welcome, Mrs. Lerner. Here in Heaven, we all make contributions. What would you like to do?” Mrs. Lerner responded, “I’m a teacher, so I’ll teach.”

Peter called over St. John-Baptiste de la Salle, the patron saint of teachers, and had him escort Mrs. Lerner to her new classroom. When she got there, she was was shocked to see the conditions. 40 desks. 35 textbooks, all outdated. Pencils, pens, and paper were sufficient to supply the class for perhaps one day, no computers existed, and a cracked chalkboard hung on the front wall.
“Oh, my God!” she exclaimed, “this is horrible!”
Boom! Suddenly, Mrs. Lerner was in an entirely different locale, escorted by a devilishly handsome young man. With a fiendish smile, he brought her to a very different classroom. 15 desks, well-equipped with supplies, books of all reading levels and interests, an interactive whiteboard, and behind each student, supportive parents. On her desk lay a contract offering the opportunity to bargain for decent working conditions as long as she continued to teach.
“I don’t understand,” she murmured, shaking her head. “Why the advantages here, of all places?”
The devilishly handsome escort slyly reminded the dedicated educator, “Mrs. Lerner, when you asked the governor for this, where did he tell you to go?”

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