Surviving Single

Being a 33 year old single woman is no joking matter.  In my 20s being single wasn’t something I spent all that much time thinking about.  Plenty of my friends were still single.  Dating was a regular topic for discussion, and we all enjoyed passing time swapping sweet stories (and laughing over our horror stories).  But I never felt weird about being single.  I took pride in being picky, and didn’t worry about not finding someone to spend my life with.

Now, those same friends who I laughed with (and on a lesser occasion cried with) are married, many with children, and they are more interested in discussing lactation and baby poop than dating.  To be fair, this is their life now, but more and more often I wonder where our friendship fits.

So as I sat at the dinner table in my friend’s house on New Years Eve, feeling like the awkward fifth wheel as the two married couples dominated at Card Against Humanity, I began to think about my place in these wonderful people’s lives.  When I brought up my disastrous dating life, and my most recent goodbye (because after a guy reveals serious mental illness diagnoses I always say goodbye), the conversation quickly changed to some new development one of the babies had made (for the record there were 3 babies collectively).  I love these women; we just don’t have that much in common any more.

So what’s a single girl in her 30s to do?  Well first, I will hang on to my baby crazy friends.  I love them (and their babies) to death, and with any hope, someday I will get to ramble on about my baby…and I will be sure to tell them all the gross blown out diaper stories, and describe nasty rashes, and share all the disturbing facts about breast feeding I can come up with (because sometimes payback is fun).  These women have been there for me for many years, some since childhood, so I can look past their disinterest in my life for this exciting time in theirs.

I need to accept that many of my friends have taken the next few steps in life without me, and that’s okay.  After all, there is no man that I am wishing I never said goodbye to.  I haven’t met someone worth spending a lifetime with.  Maybe I never will.  So I’m going to work on making sure I like myself, because that’s the bitch I’m stuck with.  My pastimes may look different from my married friends’ (because I hope to God they are not getting bored and scrolling judgmentally through Tinder on week nights), but there will always be a place in my life for them.  They may have limited interest in my dating stories, but there’s always the internet to share those.  I may be taking the road less traveled, so to speak, but it’s the right one for me at the moment.  So yes, I may be 33 and single, but I’m also a homeowner and have a job I love.  It’s not always easy going it alone, but who said it was supposed to be?

Cooking in a Closet

At the beginning of the school year, I challenged myself to work on getting healthy again.  Before my move to Arizona, I had lost a lot of weight, and I lost even more while there (with a little help from the flu), before I started gaining weight back.  Finding out your dad has cancer will do that.  Oh, and the stress of students testing (when their ability to graduate was dependent on the test, and I taught 2 classes full of kids who hadn’t passed on their previous attempts).  Oh, and deciding to move back to Michigan…yeah, I started gaining weight back.  2 1/2 years later, and I had finished my masters and am at an amazing teaching job, but I have also put all that weight back on.

At my lowest weight, in AZ

Joe’s HS graduation, June 2014

With the masters done and the vertigo of the summer gone (it was a long summer), I decided to take control of my health again.  I rejoined weight watchers, joined a friend’s facebook page for support, and started dragging my butt to the high school gym after school.  Yep, I workout with the kids.  At first, it was really uncomfortable, but after getting over myself a little bit, I like the accountability.  The kids cheer me on, and are happy to show me how to use equipment.  They also ask where I was when I skip my workouts.

Losing weight the second time around has been much more difficult.  I’m 4 years older than I was the last time I started this.  I have more responsibility and more stress.  Making healthy changes is harder than it was, and it’s easier to slip up.  I’m trying to be kind and understanding of my frustrations, while also pushing myself.  I’m realizing that just because something worked 4 years ago doesn’t mean it will now.  I also realized that last time I did this I used a lot of frozen meals to control my portions.  It saved time, and forced me to be careful, but it wasn’t healthy and didn’t last; it was also expensive.  I decided to start learning to cook.

Yes, I am 30 and have never really learned to cook.  I blame my mom, who is very protective of her kitchen…and only knows how to make about 10 dishes (she’s more of a baker).  During my master’s classes, one of my professors pointed out that “if you can read, you can cook”, and I’ve found that wisdom to be true.  Thanks to pinterest, I’ve been finding all kinds of healthy recipes to try.  My first investment was a crock-pot (and some freezable containers).  That has worked out really well so far.  I have an awesome healthy recipe for chicken and dumplings and another for chicken tortilla soup.  I’ve had some not-so-great recipes too, but I take them in stride.

This week I decided to take another step and cook something a little more complicated, so I made a lasagna that I found here:  http://www.skinnymom.com/2013/05/21/lean-turkey-and-spinach-lasagna/.  This is when I remembered why I don’t cook multi-step meals regularly…my kitchen is a closet.  No seriously, my kitchen is smaller than my parents’ bedroom closet.

My closet of a kitchen.

I have a full-size oven, but that is the only thing that is the normal size in my kitchen.  I have a mini dishwasher (which means my crock pot won’t fit in there) and almost no counter or cabinet space.  So after a struggle (including having to cook the meat in two separate batches because I don’t own a pan large enough for the meat and sauce together), I cooked a delicious, healthy lasagna.

Waiting to go in the oven.

I really doubt I’m ever going to enjoy cooking in my little closet, but I am happy that I’ve learned several dishes (and my brother will tell you the chicken and dumplings is great).  I’m going to keep attempting to cook in my little closet, but I can’t wait until I have a kitchen larger than a small walk-in closet…maybe it will even have a window.  One can only dream.

The big 3-0

Tomorrow is my 30th birthday.  I’m not really sure what that is supposed to mean, other than it’s another birthday.   I know that it seems somewhat popular to freak out about the end of your 20s, but in fact, I’m excited to start a new decade of my life.  This summer has been a summer heavy with decisions, but I feel like I’ve made the right choices so far and am headed down the correct path.

I finished my master’s degree in April, accomplishing one of the major life goals I had set for myself.  One of the reasons I wanted to finish my degree was so that I could find a new job and move.  I applied for a lot of jobs in Texas, near my best friend, and a few in a bigger cities in Michigan.  I never heard back from the schools in Michigan, but Texas seemed to love me this summer.  The first school to make an offer was not a good fit for me, and when I interviewed and visited, I told myself that I didn’t want the job because the school wasn’t right, but when the second school offered me a job, and it was a fantastic school, I freaked out.  I gave myself some time, but eventually came to the conclusion that I really didn’t want to leave everything I had established for myself behind to start over in a town where I knew a handful of people.  I’ve done that before, and it didn’t go so well.  Yes, it would undoubtedly be different this time, but it would still be me, mostly on my own, starting again from zero.  I made the decision (and have stood by it through several more interview offers) to be happy with what I have.

I already have an amazing career and work for a fantastic school.  And I should, since I spent my entire 20s focusing on that career and proving myself to my bosses, the parents, and most importantly the students.  I’m kind of tired of focusing on work, so this summer I haven’t.  For the first time in 5 years, I’m not taking classes, I stopped job hunting, and I focused on spending time reconnecting with my local friends and with my family, and it has definitely been the best summer I’ve had in a long time.  I’ve been babysitting my adorable goddaughter and her sweet baby brother once a week, I’ve helped a friend fix up her backyard, I’m playing tennis with any students who show up one night a week, and I’ve spent time just talking to the people I enjoy being around.  

Just another Wednesday with two of my favorite people.

The bar Laura, Lisa, and I built for Laura’s patio.

So if this is what turning 30 is all about, I’m in.  I like where my life is headed at the moment.  Yes, I thought that I would be moving and starting a new job this summer, but that’s not what life had in store for me at the moment.  So what are my goals for my 30s?  Well, I would like to save up and buy a house in the next few years, and I am ridiculously excited for all the projects that will come along with a house of my own.  Other than that, I want to keep making time for a social life outside of work.  Whatever my 30s bring, I’m looking forward to new adventures, so no freak-outs here.  Just smiles and looking forward to some great times.

8 years later

My first year of teaching, I was hired the Thursday before back-to-school meetings started.  I had a total of 12 days to adjust to the fact that I was really going to be a teacher, I had my first ever classroom, and I was going to be responsible for teaching groups of students about literature and how to write.

Eight years later, I have just began yet another first week of school.  For the first time, I was not nervous for the year, and I haven’t really stressed the little things.  Don’t get me wrong, I spent a ridiculous number of hours making beautiful bulletin boards for my  students to appreciate, and I already warned the little darling who doodled what he swears wasn’t a penis on one of my bulletin boards that if I ever catch him drawing on my stuff again he will spend every day after school making sure my room is flawless.  Yep, don’t mess with my walls.  I’m proud of them, and they likely won’t change for months.  (Thank you pinterest for the book trailer idea.)

Instead, this year my job is producing new challenges.  Over the summer I was asked to prepare a presentation for the high school teachers on “close reading”–a strategy that has students reread passages multiple times in order to analyze every little piece of what makes a text a text.  (Side note:  I’m not a huge fan of this idea since it often kills the fun of reading, and I believe it should only be used with certain texts, but I was being paid to present on the topic, so I did.  And don’t worry, I shared the pros and cons.)  Originally when asked, I thought that I would be presenting to just my high school staff, who I am very comfortable with.  Then about a week before the presentation my boss emailed me to get an update for the superintendent of schools for the diocese.  That’s when I realized I was presenting to 3 high school staffs.  Nice, right.  Much anxiety and 16 hours of research and preparation later, I survived.

Another challenge that this year is presenting is my reading class.  Last year I began working with a mixed group of 7th and 8th graders twice a week for about 25 minutes.  We focused on reading skills with a program called Jamestown Reading Navigator.  The students were not impressed with the online program, and really preferred the classes when I gave them material and we sat and talked about the reading.  This year, we are not using the online program anymore, so I’m adding figuring out how to help this group of all boys (at least for right now) become successful readers to my to-do list.  I’m also going to attempt to use interactive notebooks for the first time (gulp).  Two classes in, I’m realizing that I really don’t understand 7th and 8th grade boys very well, but I think that we have choosen our first book:  The Maze Runner by James Dashner.  Now to reread the book quickly so I can make sure it’s a good choice for the group and get it purchased.

My final challenge for the year (well at least as far as I know so far…we are only one week in) will be finishing my master’s project while doing everything else.  I start classes for that next week Wednesday…which also happens to be back-to-school night.  Is it bad that we are only one week into school and I’m already a little tired?  I foresee the need to go out for drinks on Fridays after work on a weekly basis.

Off-Balance

A few months ago I read the book Suzanne’s Diary for Nicholas by James Patterson.  It was a book I had picked up at a book sale for my classroom, so I needed to read it before making it available to my students.  Although the book was not by any means life-changing, there is one part of the book that has stuck with me.  There is a story that is referenced several times about the 5 balls:  they are work, family, health, friends, and integrity.  People work hard to keep all these balls up in the air, but eventually they realize that work is a rubber ball while all the rest are glass.  The idea is that if you drop family, health, friends, or integrity they may be damaged or even shatter, but work will survive.  You just have to learn to balance.  I have failed at this.

A year ago, I was living in Arizona, had survived the first quarter of the school year, and had already decided to move back to Michigan at the end of the school year.  It was the most difficult teaching of my life.  I was no longer teaching engaged and motivated teens; I was attempting to teach students who sometimes suffered from the effects of poverty, lack of parental involvement, and a myriad of other things.  Weekly I was finding out something horrible that was going on in the life of one or another of my students.  It was emotionally draining.  Between that and having exactly one friend when I moved to Arizona, I was pretty sure that this wasn’t for me.  Throw in the new knowledge about scorpions, poisonous spiders (some of which resided in my classroom), and other horrible desert things and I was ready to be done before I really gave it a chance.  Much like I didn’t really consider what changes would be made to my life by moving across the country, I didn’t really think about what it meant to move home until after I had committed to it.

Here I am now, I have moved home, literally into my parents’ house.  What I didn’t learn in time was the lesson of the 5 balls.  Now I have work under control.  I love my job almost always (we all have our days right?).  I am challenged but I also finally feel respected.  I may have taken on a little more than I should have (4 preps, leading the hs plc meetings, and grad school), but I am back in a place where I am comfortable and my co-workers have helped me to transition back to my old job.  It’s just everything else that is suffering. 

Since I have moved home, my relationship with my parents has gone from pretty strong to horrible.  I think they are struggling to understand how to deal with having me back in their house as an adult, and I am struggling to find a place for myself in the house.  Instead, I do not feel valued or even like a true member of the family.  I am told that I am “ungrateful” and that I walk around like I run the place, which is interesting since I rarely leave my bedroom or the makeshift den that Joe and I created in the basement with my furniture from Arizona.  I feel like I am constantly criticized and can’t find the balance that my parents expect between me acting like their child and just a roommate.  I know that many of my former classmates have moved home at some point or are currently living at home, but for me it has been nothing but painful and stressful.  Ironically, I was also closer with my extended family when I lived across the country from them; we actually emailed occasionally.  Now that I live a couple of miles away at most, I never talk to them or see them.

Moving home to Michigan meant leaving behind all my new friends.  I had good intentions of staying in contact with all the people who I met while in Arizona, but I’ve done a pretty horrible job of it.  At the same time, one of the reasons I left Michigan was for social reasons.  There is no social life in my small town.  Sure, there are a few bars, but the people there tend to be about 10 to 15 years older than me and divorced.  Either that, or they are already coupled.  Nevermind the fact that I have no one to go with me, but that is not really a scene that sounds like fun.  I have friends back in Michigan, but they are all married, with the exception of the new math teacher, and several of them have kids.  I have no problem being friends with married people, but it does tend to mean that they have prior commitments on the weekends.  Between that and the fact that most of my work friends are at least 10 years older than me, I don’t find we have a lot of common activities outside of work.  If I wanted to go to a movie tonight, I do not have one person I feel like I could count on to go with me.  I’m not trying to throw a pity party or anything, I’m just trying to explain.

The stress of moving home, living in my parents’ house again, and having no social life has also hurt my health.  I’ve gained around 10 lbs since I’ve moved home.  I’m stress eating like crazy.  Every time one of my parents says or does something hurtful to me, I end of eating junk food.  Every time a friend blows me off or I end up sitting at home doing nothing all weekend, I eat more junk food.  It’s not healthy; trust me, I get that, but it’s true.  I need to regain control of this, but for right now it kind of feels like the only comfort I have.  Pathetic, right.

So, when you ask me if I’m going to stay in Michigan, don’t be hurt when I say no.  A job is not enough to create a life around.  I am going to finish this masters as quickly as possible and get the hell out.  This is not where I am meant to be.

But you get summers off…

As I’m sitting in a meeting today “learning” how to use my new iPad (which I’m still not convinced will be useful in my classroom), I can’t help but remember all the fun Friday “meetings” we had back in Arizona at this Irish sports pub called O’Shey’s.  I’m reminded of one particular day when I met up with one of our regular waitresses in the restroom.  After weeks of coming in for drinks and snacks, she had apparently caught on to the fact that we were teachers. (I wonder if it was our spirit day clothing that gave her a clue…or perhaps the constant discussion of work and students.)  She asked me where we all taught, and after I shared that we worked at the local high school, she got this big goofy grin on her face and informed me that she was attending school to become a teacher.  The next sentence out of her mouth made me want to give her bleached blonde hair a giant, nasty swirly.  “I want to be a teacher so that I always have my summers off”.  Idiot.

The thing about teaching is, there really are the people out there who go into it because they like the schedule–whether because they think it will be nice to get out of work when their kids do, or so they never work on major holidays:  whatever.  Let me share a little secret with you:  teachers don’t really have their summers “off”.  It’s the people who believe these stupid phrases that make me feel strongly that psychological testing, public belittlement, and all other sorts of tests should be required of a person before they are allowed to acquire a teaching certificate.  Please, save me the trouble of fixing the damage one inadequate teacher can cause during the course of a year.

So what does the average teacher’s summer look like?  Some of us teach college, some of us attend college, some run coaching camps, some take on second jobs.  Okay, okay, so we do have about 8 weeks off (depending on the district) in order to do what we choose, but honestly, that 8 weeks does not come close to making up for all the extra time that we spend outside of work hours planning, grading, and attending functions.  Oh, and let’s not forget that you have to be constantly “on”.  Imagine trying to go to Target to pick up a few things and running into your boss.  Now realize that for every teacher, running into your students’ parents is like running into your boss.  You have to be polite, politically correct, and let’s hope it’s not laundry day.  Not only do you need to behave and dress appropriately, but you are also expected to have many things memorized.  Student grades, seating charts, upcoming lessons, dates and times, oh, and millions of other details that you learn about that student and their family throughout the year.  It’s no wonder that I seem to have developed ADD during the last few years.  It’s all these facts that are buzzing around my brain in case I run into a parent or student.  And let’s not even talk about that awkward moment when a parent comes up to you and says “Hi Miss T., how are you” and all you really want to reply is “I’m great.  Who the hell are you?”.

So for anyone out there who is planning on becoming a teacher for their summers off, here are a few fun facts for you.  In Michigan, teachers are expected to pay more of their benefits every year.  A bill is attempting to be passed that allows for retired teachers to lose benefits that they have already done the work to earn.  Last year, the few times I teared up were not because someone was mean to me but instead because they were nice.  Curse at me, roll your eyes, or ignore me–no big deal.  Tell me that I am a great teacher who is having a positive affect on my students and is important–serious waterworks.  Guess which of the two I hear more often.

Why do I do it?  I love my students: every single one.  I care that they can read and successfully comprehend what they are reading and then can use that material to follow directions, form opinions, or understand a larger idea.  But that’s just me.  If you aren’t willing to have a low paying job with high stakes; if you aren’t willing to put up with attitude and condescension from parents, students, and administration; if you aren’t willing to work long past paying hours and be “on” whenever you have to be, I have one suggestion.  Work during summers.

I’m Just a Girl…

I’m just a girl, my apologies
What I’ve become is so burdensome
I’m just a girl, lucky me
Twiddle-dum there’s no comparison

No Doubt. Tragic Kingdom. “Just a Girl”

I wonder if Gwen Stefani was trying to buy a car when she wrote those lyrics (if she in fact wrote them).  I spent my day visiting around 10-15 different car dealerships in order to replace my Oldsmobile.  My original hope was that my dad (who is also my trusty mechanic) would be able to accompany me.  He detests cars salespeople as much as I do, so at least we suffer together.  Sadly, his project of adding on to his second garage was keeping him busy, but luckily, Erica was willing to take his place.  I had some concerns about taking her with me, not because she is unable to be helpful or bad to have around, but because two young-ish women walking into a car dealership seems to make the salesmen salivate for an easy sale.  I was not wrong in my concern.

*Disclaimer*:  I have several wonderful male friends who would never dream of treating me differently based on the fact that I’m a girl.  I know they would be helpful and kind if I had questions about anything, but they also know that I am a capable human being.  I want to be sure that the men out there know that any rude and/or sarcastic remarks have an intended audience and are not meant to be directed toward all male humans based only on the fact that they are male (as that would be hypocritical to my entire post).

Customer Service Tip #1:  Give your customers enough room to breathe fresh air

I had one dealership that I wanted to visit based on my weeks (yep, 3 now) of internet searches and research on makes, ratings, and costs.  I grew up around cars; I started helping my dad by age 2.  I know a few things, and I also believe in doing research before any big purchase.  The dealership had a Chevy Malibu that was within my miles range (50,000) and was an acceptable year (2008).  I wanted to see it in person to see if it was worth dragging my dad the hour drive to look at the car for a potential purchase.  There was a salesman at Erica’s car before either of us were able to step out of the door.  I asked if this was the car I had seen online, and the salesman was off and running.  I never had a moment to check out the car.  He ran off to grab a plate for a “test drive” that I never asked for and never took.  He made Erica move her car so he could pull it out for me to look at (um, I wasn’t aware I couldn’t see it in the parking spot).  I was horrified by the interior of the car (a black exterior with a chocolate brown and deep tan interior….really!!!) and quickly noticed a large amount of scratching on the car.  Okay, yes, it is a used car, and that means it’s been driven.  But it’s also been detailed.  There were scratches everywhere.  By this time, a second salesman had also approached (because one isn’t enough?) and was trying to make friends by complimenting Erica’s car.  Finally, I let them both know that I had emailed back and forth with the internet manager, and so they sent him out while I took a quick minute to inspect the car in peace. 

Customer Service Tip #2:  Don’t assume your customer is uneducated

 

When the internet manager arrived, I pointed out the scratches and scrapes.  It also looked like the driver had gotten a little too close to a cement post at some point, scratching the paint so deeply that the salesmen suggested maybe he could replace the bumper.  He kept acting like the scratching wasn’t a big deal.  Hi, I live in Michigan;  I know that the paint job helps to prevent rusting, and giant scratches to the base will affect that.  He also claimed to not have known about the scratches and suggested they were fresh (???).  What he didn’t do was offer to lower the price.  He assured me that the price included the scratched all over the car-which he also didn’t know about???!!!  He pulled up a carfax report for me to see that the car had not been in any accidents even with all the scratches; I let him know I had seen the carfax online already, but apparently I was not to be believed.  He printed the multi-page document out for me and proceeded to teach me how to read it.  Wow, I’m so glad that a car salesman taught me how to read a clearly marked report.  It’s not like I’m getting my masters in literacy or anything.  Arg.

Customer Service Tip #3:  Don’t Assume

So, anyway, I was not impressed with the car and was honest about it, but Mr. Internet Manager was going to save me by finding a car at one of their other 5 dealerships about the state.  He pulled up some program like he was partaking in a little brain surgery.  This was especially entertaining as I tried to explain to him that I had used the company’s online search and knew what was available and where.  Ignoring me, he continued to work to narrow my search.  The shock on his face when I explained that I will not buy a car with less than a V6, because I want the power behind the engine, was amusing.  I’m pretty sure when he asked me what kind of car I was looking for he assumed my answer was going to be a color.  Well, you know what happens when you assume…

Customer Service Tip #4:  Don’t make offers that you can’t follow through on

After making me wait while he “conferred” with his colleagues (um, don’t just shoot the breeze while pretending to work in a room with a giant glass window for one wall), he returned explaining he really wanted to help me find my car given the 3 different makes/models I told him I was interested in and my price range.  He couldn’t find anything, but did offer to replace that bumper and attempt to buff out the other scratches…well right up until I asked for that deal in writing in case I decided to take him up on it at a later time, which is when he let me know that he would have to talk to the “owner”.  At that point I was done, and walked out thanking him (because my mama raised a polite child, mostly).  I took a few quick pictures of the car to show my dad the scratching so that I could hear his thoughts, and Mr. Internet Manager just wanted to run to my rescue once more by offering me his digital camera.  I assured him my cell phone camera was better than his digital, and we left quickly after that, exhausted and tired of people in general.

Customer Service Tip #5:  Don’t Lie

Ironically, I went to one of those other dealerships where he couldn’t find any inventory that matched my requirements.  My dad is going to check out 3 cars there for me tomorrow.  Oh, and the one salesman we met there was polite, handed me a card, and left me to continue checking out the cars within 2 minutes of saying hello (to be fair, the dealership was closed at the time).

Now, I do realize that some of these things would have happened regardless of my gender, but the condescension with which I was treated was asinine.  The whole experience put my guard up for the rest of the day and in general irritated me enough to write this post hours later.  Buying a new car should be exciting and special.  My emotions are more running toward irritated, anxious, and exhausted.  I can’t wait to be done with this whole ordeal.  This new car (wherever it may be) better last a LONG time!

Leaving on a Jet Plane

In a few short hours I will be boarding a plane and heading “home” to Michigan.  It’s funny how the trip back to Michigan always feels like going home.  I guess after spending 27 years there, it’s only fair.  There are so many things that I’m looking forward to once I get home.  I can’t wait to see my family and catch up on the past year.  I need to spend some quality time with the friends that I’ve left behind and see how much their children have grown.  I also need to find where I fit in that world once again.

I’ve been planning this move since October, but only in the last few months have I really begun to realize what it will mean.  I am moving home, literally.  Right now the plan is to move back into my parents’ home.  I have come to really enjoy my freedom and independence, and so I’m not really sure how this move will affect me.  My parents, brother, and I will have to work together to find something that makes us all happy.  I also will be lacking some of that independence due to a lack of a vehicle.  I sold my car this week (since it would probably not survive the trip cross country) and won’t be able to replace it until I have a job…assuming I get a job.  I also will be living on an incredibly tight budget until I get a job.

In moving 1800 miles, I will also be leaving behind some amazing friends.  This year has been one of the most difficult of my life, and without my friends I would never have survived.  Even though I have had one disaster on top of the next (at least that’s how it felt), they were there for me.  I am so grateful to the wonderful people I met here.  I could not have asked for a better department, and I’m truly going to miss our Friday “meetings” and crazy lunches.  I have so many amazing memories from this year.

There are so many reasons that I’m heading home, and although there is a lot to miss here in Arizona, I don’t feel like it’s where I belong, if there even is such a place.  So I guess I’m home bound and I’ll figure out the next step when I come to it.

The Ending of a Beginning

In six days I will have completed something that roughly 10 months ago I was sure was impossible.  I will be completing my school year in Arizona.  This year has been one of the most difficult in my entire life.  I tried something new, but it hasn’t worked out how I hoped or dreamed; nonetheless, I would never change my decision to try something new. 

My school year started with a terrible phone call.  The first Friday of the school year, I was on the phone with my mom before the school day started.  She sounded funny, almost drunk.  She was incoherent and honestly scary.  She was having a stroke.  I was on the phone with my mom while she was having a stroke, but I was 1800 miles away and could do absolutely nothing.  I wish I could accurately describe the feelings I had, but that whole day is a blur.  I had to tell my mom to hang up and call 911 and make her repeat back to me what she was going to do.  Then I desperately called my dad.  I don’t actually remember doing this at school.  When I remember it, I’m at home, but I was at school when I called him.  I didn’t even go home until hours later (I took sanctuary at Joli’s house for a few hours first).  My mom survived the mini-stroke with very minor memory-related side-effects, but after only being in Arizona for two weeks, I was ready to leave and never return. 

By the end of winter break, I was sure that I was not going to return to Arizona for the following school year.  I missed having family nearby.  I missed all my friends in Michigan.  And honestly, I was having a difficult time feeling like a part of anything in AZ, mostly because I didn’t want to grow attached and decide to stay.  Coming back to AZ after break was incredibly difficult for me, and the fact that I was coming back to prepare my students for a test that would decide if they could graduate or not didn’t lower my stress level any.

By time spring break rolled around, I was ready for some serious fun.  Luckily, that’s exactly what Kara, Danielle, and Brandon planned.  We went shopping (way too much), met The Band Perry, and acted like we didn’t have a care in the world.  Sadly the world slapped me in the face the minute I got off the plane in Phoenix.  I had a voice mail from my dad asking me to call him as soon as I was home and settled.  For the record, I hate when people call and make it sound serious but don’t tell me why.  I was sure something terrible had happened; my dad never just calls me to chat- it’s not what we do.  I got home, went straight to my room, and called home.  My dad had been diagnosed with cancer, not a serious form, but he was going in for surgery in a few weeks to have the tumor removed and find out if it had spread.  It was St. Patrick’s Day, but it wasn’t lucky for me.  I cried for a while and then sat on the couch while Trish and Kristin watched a movie, but I couldn’t even tell you what it was.  I flew home for my dad’s surgery and was relieved to hear that the cancer had not spread and the doctor’s were confident that things looked good.  My dad made jokes about getting to wear one of the fancy purple shirts at Relay for Life and I rolled my eyes.  The day after Easter I was back on a plane to Arizona knowing that it would be one of the last times I headed that way set for “home”.

Up to this point, I know it sounds like I’m blaming my parents’ illnesses; it’s really not that.  Instead it’s more the feeling I get that I’m not where I should be.  I’m never as comfortable in Arizona as I am in Michigan, and I just miss that feeling of being myself, and part of being myself is supporting my family through whatever they are dealing with.

One thing that I want to make clear is that I am not leaving because I don’t like my job.  Although my job has been a cause of stress throughout my year, it is the only life I have in Arizona.  Without my job, I wouldn’t have a social life, since everyone I spend time with works with me.  I wouldn’t call MHS a dream job, but it’s come to be a piece of me, and as the end draws near, I’m having difficulty realizing that I won’t be participating in any of the plans for next year. 

When I first arrived at the public school after teaching in a college-prep parochial school, I wasn’t prepared for the adjustment necessary.  Arizona and Michigan aren’t exactly on the same page when it comes to curriculum, and instead of teaching students on their way to MSU, U of M, and occasionally Notre Dame (along with many others) I found myself teaching a remedial class for students who were having difficulty passing a state test required for graduation.  Although it took me several months to find my stride, I came to love teaching the remedial class, and my goal is to finish my masters so I can continue to work toward helping struggling students.

The most difficult thing to leave will be my group of coworkers/friends.  I hate that it took me so long to feel comfortable, like I was part of the group, just because I didn’t want to be attached to Arizona.  I am attached though, and I will be deeply hurt if I lose these friendships that have come to be the only thing I really have going for me down here besides my students.  I can’t imagine what my day will be like without walk across the 100+ degree courtyard to have lunch in our very outdated English lounge.  It’s weird how something that was so foreign 10 months ago is now routine. 

I don’t regret moving to Arizona.  It was something that I needed to do; a risk I needed to take.  Although I’m headed back toward the Great Lakes, I don’t know that I plan on staying that long.  I’m not against moving again.  I realized this year that I am much stronger than I thought I was, and that the one mistake that I seem to make over and over again is under-estimating myself.  I moved across country, knowing only 2 adults where I was moving, to a city and state I had never before visited.  I took a job, site unseen, and survived it.  I am stronger than I give myself credit for.  Which is good, because my next step may end up being moving back in with my parents, and that is going to take strength and patience.

 

My new four-letter word…AIMS

I have a new four-letter word…well acronym to be more correct:  AIMS.  AIMS stands for Arizona’s Instrument to Measure Standards.  It is not only the AZ state test, but success on this test is mandatory for graduation.  I use this new profanity probably 800 times a day (this is without exaggeration, sadly).  I warn my students how important it is to take this test seriously.  I yell at them about how limited their options will be if they do not pass this test.  I remind them how every single thing that I am teaching them relates back to this test.  And then I go home and have nightmares about preparing my students to take this test.

I wish I could remove AIMS from my vocabulary, but in reality EVERY student I teach (minus a few random kids and the foreign exchange students) has to take this test.  In Arizona, sophomores take the test, and if they do not pass, they will continue to attempt it twice a year until graduation…except that they don’t graduate without a passing score, so there are actually students in Arizona who have all the credits necessary to graduate but continue to come back to school twice a year to attempt to pass.  Many, instead, end up giving up.  There are some ways around passing, but not many.

I have 15 days of instruction left before my students take their AIMS test.  In reality, I know that if my students don’t pass, it does not directly relate back to my teaching ability, or at least not only my ability (after all, they’ve only been my students for about 6 months but they’ve been students for 10+ years); I also know that when they ask the English teachers to share the scores with their students I will have a hard time not tearing up with the juniors and seniors who I teach who do not pass (some for the 5th time).  I’ve already gone through that feeling in the fall, and it’s not something I ever want to feel again.  I want them all to succeed.  More, I want them to want to succeed.  So I’m working my butt off, using that four-letter word more often than I like to admit, and stressing more than most of my students are over the test.

In the next few weeks, I’m sure I will not be the most pleasant person to be around.  I hate that I’m “teaching to the test” and that I’m putting so much pressure on my students.  I hate that the state of Arizona puts me in this situation, and that it seems like so many of my students are unprepared for this high-stakes test.  This is not who I am as a teacher, and this is not a position I’ve ever been in before.  But what is truly my other option?  Pretend like the test doesn’t exist?  I’m not willing to affect my students’ future by not taking this seriously and doing everything I can to prepare them.  Instead, I teach my lessons every day with that stupid test in mind, praying that the pieces of information I share will come in use at the end of the month.

I can’t wait until March when this is all over…at least until the scores come in…