I am feeling much better now.

Remember that line? It comes at a critical moment in The Sixth Sense after the young ghost throws up in Cole's tent. It's the first ghost Cole realizes is haunting him because she needs help.

So the post that I posted prior to this entry is something that I wrote more than 2 years ago. Obviously the experience was much too "fresh" to warrant posting at the time.

But I am feeling much better now. Time can heal that way.

Conversely to what I was feeling then, this past year has been one of the best years of my life. I started running again. I recruited a new running partner. I found that I needed both running and this friend because I really needed a friend, and this friend is exactly the friend I needed. I convinced her to run a half-marathon last fall (her first race ever). AND I got to sing with Willie Nelson at Farm Aid in September with my church choir. That was cool because 1. it is WILLIE FREAKING NELSON and 2. I had never been to Pennsylvania before.

Of course, not everything has been great. Life is not all giggles and thrills. It is "life" after all.

In fact, I almost started posting again last year at this time, but I had just found out that my oldest brother has cancer, and, well, I didn't feel like writing about that.

I am glad to report that after a bone marrow transplant and chemo, his cancer is in total remission. For now.

All that happened in a year? Hard to imagine. Especially since the two years prior to that were so crappy.

Did I mention that time heals? I am feeling much better now.

Mama always said...

...if you can't say anything nice, don't say anything at all. Hence the silence. It's been a healing silence. In fact, I feel so far removed from whatever happened over this last year that the initial shocking pain seems like it happened in a dream or to someone else and I only read about it.

Of course - you know me - I couldn't go through this experience (job loss, "homelessness", third cross country move in the span of 4 years) and not *learn* something from it...so here is a recap:

1. Keep your friends close and your enemies closer. Actually, I didn't learn that. I just read it in a book recently - Hood by Steven Lawhead - a highly recommended read.

2. Don't ask someone in need "what can I do for you?" or "how are you doing?" Most likely, their world is shattered. It's safe to say it's a shit-fest. The best plan is to think about something you might need if you were in that situation, and then make a plan to fill that need for them.

3. If you live near that person, take them out to lunch or to a concert or to the park or go for a run with them. Heck - just call! They already feel isolated and lost. Any kind of personal connection is like throwing them a lifeline.

4. Don't say "I'm praying for you." It's not that they don't appreciate your spirituality. If they weren't in crisis, it might be more meaningful. Instead see #2 on the list and do that. Sure, they want and need the prayers - it's just that it rings hollow in the moment.

Fire, fire all around...

but not a drop...near our house...yet. Praying the 5 mile buffer will be enough.

Swirling, raging storm
greedily devours all;
windswept hills aglow.

"I don't want to get married."

Really? Why not?

"I just don't."

Don't you want to have a family? You are always talking about how much you love your family.

"Oh, I want to have a baby. I just don't want to have a husband."

But you like Daddy. Don't you think your baby would want to have a wonderful daddy just like your daddy?

"Well, it's just that I don't want a man telling me how to raise my children."

I see...

"I mean, I'm my own person, you know."

Oh, is that what this is all about? Yes. Even at 6 years old, you are definitely that.

craigslist fun

I love reading the craigslist ads - not because I need to buy anything...I just like to see what people sell and for how much. I like to think about responding to ads too. Here are a few random items for sale and the responses I imagine I'd like to send:

Postal Exam Guide - only 5 bucks.

"In regard to your Postal Exam guide, I'd like to know if it really works. No, I'm not really interested in actually taking the exam. I'd just like to be informed of your present anxiety level and whether or not you've been hired by a local post office yet."

Cold Dorm Fridge

"Too bad your fridge is cold. I was really looking for a warm one - something like a microwave..."

Kitchen Plastic

"I see that you are selling 18 PEZ dispensers with your food scale. Is this a package deal?"

Wooden Dummy

"A wooden dummy for only 500 bucks? I do have connections with strong fellows to move it. It looks intriguing - a log with three protruding phallic looking arms, but I am afraid I can't figure out what one would use it for. Looks like I'm the dummy!"

Beautiful Rooster Lamp

"That's an oxymoron."

And the prices they disclose that they originally paid...

"Dear Sir, why would *anyone* pay 1000 dollars for a coffee table that looks like it's a piece of plywood on a chintzy metal frame? I'm sorry that you think you'll unload that thing for 300 dollars. But I feel sorry for you...so would you consider 25?"

"Your entertainment center is lovely, but I can't believe you paid 3,000 dollars for it. Okay - I lied. It's ugly. You overpaid. You'll be lucky if you can give away that piece of crap. You'll probably have to pay someone to take it away. The great thing is you are getting this reality therapy free."

"There is no way in hell you bought that chaise lounge for 9,000 dollars. Is it made of gold? Did it belong to Elvis? Seriously. I wouldn't pay 9,000 dollars for anything unless it has wheels, an engine, and gets great gas mileage. If your chaise does that, you might just have yourself a buyer..."

Here's my entry

"Voices," as inspired by this photo on Clarity of Night for the short fiction contest.



"Don't touch."

"What? Why not?"

"You heard me newbie. Put your hand down."

"Okay - no need to get testy, dude. Putting hand down. Have you always been so bossy? And why are we whispering?"

"I keep us alive."

"Us? There’s more!? Dude, that's friggin' awesome! We’ll have kick-ass parties!"

"Great. Juvenile delinquent. Just what we need."

"Whatever, dude. Sounds like it was a little boring in here before I arrived! Face it. You NEED me!"

"Great. Narcissistic too."

"Narsi-what?!"

"Nevermind. The rules: hands to self, talk low, and speak responsibly."

"So many rules! Why haven’t I heard anyone else speak, BTW?"

"Listen, "dude," shut it for 10 seconds, and someone would have a chance to speak."

"Sorry. It's just so AWESOME! You know he talks TO me! Sometimes he DOES what I SAY!"

"Yes, so you must be careful. We whisper because our voices hold great power."

"Really?!"

"Watch through the eye. 'Get it! Is it sharp enough?!'"

"Dude, wow. He is sharpening it! You didn't even tell him to do that! That's friggin' AWESOME!!"

"Power of suggestion. Whisper."

"Oops - sorry. Will he do bad things?"

"Not all of us speak responsibly; we've spent years silenced in result. We can endure silence, but that's hell for him. He needs us."

"You actually care?”

"After several decades, he grows on you."

"You know, you're a cool old dude.”

"I'll take that as a compliment."

Holy shamoly...

birthday came and went;
no call for poems or haikus -
I am getting old!

Laundry Days

I'm sorry that I forgot to check your pockets before I put the clothes

into the dryer

and for the

Chapstick spots

that are now on

your shirts

and jeans.

You are playing a DVD?

"How did the dvd player get hooked back up to the TV?"

"Oh, I did it," said the littlest one with the dangling front tooth - her first lose tooth ever.

"How did you figure out how to do that?!"

"I did it like you showed me."

"I showed you? I don't even remember doing that."

Well, I'll be. I guess when you want to watch Care Bears, you find a way.

buzzing crescendo -
cicada symphony lilts;
twilight serenade.

Current status: EMPLOYED!

And that is a relief. It's a long story, but I did get a teaching job. The past few weeks have been a blur, and the full story is actually hard to believe. Nevertheless, seemingly insurmountable obstacles eventually fell into place. I am now an elementary teacher, and I am teaching something other than English to boot. It's definitely not the path I ever thought I would traverse, but it's the path I am on now regardless - and it's a fun adventure so far. The best part about this adventure is that I am working with an *amazing* group of people and for an *amazing* school.

Thank you so much for sending your positive thoughts and prayers my way. Let the adventure begin!

I wish I had news. The only news I have is that our stuff is in storage and we are in Oregon. And Poetroad is in Haiti helping build a house for someone.

Attending a teacher job fair is like...

a cross between fishing, Disneyland and speed dating.

Last week I flew into Austin to attend a regional job fair. The reasons for going to all that trouble are simple: we would consider moving back to Austin and vicinity, and, unlike in California, there aren't 20,000 people competing for jobs in education. Although I could be wrong about that. I knew that over 800 people attended this job fair the previous year, and when I drove up to the building and saw that people were parking in the empty field across the street, I figured that that number was about double for this year. Nothing says "fair" like parking in a muddy field and praying that you won't need to elicit the help of Bubba and his half ton truck to pull you out of the mud at the end of the day.

I arrived at a quarter until 10 - fifteen minutes before the job fair began - only to find that I had to stand in a line that stretched from the front door all the way to the parking lot. When I finally got inside, I had to stand in more lines. Lines that circled half the room. Lines that took 30 minutes to get to the front. And then when I got to the front, I had a seconds to cast my expertise and virtues into the glassy eyed administrator or human resources person who made a few notes and placed my resume into one of several stacks of resumes each about ream of paper thick. It was daunting.

I overheard a girl say she flew in from Bend, Oregon, so I'm guessing there were many other people who, like me, flew in from out of town just to stand in line after line after line for the minute possibility that we might impress someone in 30 seconds or less.

All in all, I applied for jobs in about 8 different school districts. No bites yet, but I'll keep dangling my line in here and there regardless.

You know the old adage...

"if you can't say anything nice, don't say anything at all." I've been trying to live that for the past three months since my husband and I were both laid off (well, if I'm going to be completely honest, my husband was "let go"). Ironically, we both were put on notice the same week in March and our jobs ended the same week in May. Go figure. We've been job hunting since March, but no luck so far. I attended a job fair yesterday, so I'm hoping to get some bites there. Next week we move out of our rental home because we don't have an income to sustain that rental rate. Who am I kidding. We don't have an income! So while technically we will be homeless (at least in the eyes of the law), we have a place to stay with friends and family until we both find work.

Funny - never in a million years did I think I would find myself in this place. As a matter of fact, when I earned my Masters in Ed. all those years ago, I distinctly remember my husband and I saying to each other in an effort to justify the cost, "teaching is a great career - they will always need teachers!" Turns out they don't need teachers after all. At least not in California.

Cue the stupid movie quote...

"We have no food! We have no jobs! Our pet's heads are fallin' off!"

~Lloyd from Dumb and Dumber

Only our pet's heads haven't fallen off. Yet. And we still have food.

So three weeks ago I was RIF'd. (Reduction In Force) I feel like everyone knows since it's been my reality for the past month, but I realized when I looked back at past posts that I *haven't* mentioned it. Weird.

So here is how it went down. On March 8, a fellow teacher (who was also RIF'd) called me earlier that day and said, "She's calling us in today to give us the news." By 1:00 PM, the principal's secretary called and let me know I had a 3:30 appointment. I was glad to have a few hours to prepare myself, although knowing what was coming was sort of distracting.

Later that afternoon, I headed down for my appointment. Funny how I wanted to be on time even though it really didn't matter if I was on time or not. Of course the entire school was abandoned at 3:30 on a Friday, but there I was walking the gauntlet to her office. The newly fired vice-principals (yes, as in "plural" - all three got the ax) gave me knowing, sympathetic looks. As soon as I walked into the principal's office, she was overwhelmed with emotion. Oddly, I found myself comforting *her.* She said, teary eyed, "I didn't realize how difficult this would be. You've been a fabulous addition to our school, and I want you to know how much I appreciate what you've done for our kids in and out of the classroom..." Yadda, yadda, yadda. "I'm sorry to have to give you this." And then she handed me the "Your services are not required for the 2010-2011 school year" letter.

And that was that.

I know I was RIF'd last year, but this experience was completely different. Not only did I get the letter *directly* from the principal this year, but I also had to sign for a copy of the letter that I received in the mail the next day. Last year, 80 teachers were RIF'd, and 40+ teachers were cut. This year, 91 teachers have been RIF'd so far. And they closed a middle school. That's bad news for me because those middle school teachers will bump me. So my chances of getting my job back are slim to none. Ah, seniority! Just when I was about to be tenured in this district, too. Bummer.

The great thing is that all of my supervisors have written fantabulous letters of recommendation for me. And, I still have me degree and certification in two states. Now if I can get my job applications in before the 24,000 other RIF'd teachers from California beat me to it...

P.S. I turned 40 yesterday. Never expected "40" to look like this!

I feel the wrath...

...so where's the grapes?! Well, Mr. Joad, what's next?

It shouldn't be so difficult...

...to get a child the help he or she needs in school. Really, it shouldn't. And, it's sad to say, I've spent much of my time and energy these past few months battling it out with the special education department at my daughter's new school. KJ has something that functions like dyslexia and/or dysgraphia. But my daughter is very confident and is a dedicated and determined student, so, ironically, it is because of those desirable qualities that we have a problem...

I could give you a play by play of the last two IEP meetings (IEP = Individual Education Plan - the document that states what the school must do for my child because she needs special education services), but there is not enough space here to give you the dirty details. What I will tell you is that California, and in particular - this school district - makes it very difficult for students with a general "learning disability" to get the services they need so that they are successful in both the short and long term.

What you should know is that in order to qualify for special ed., a student must 1. have a discrepancy between the student's IQ and performance (performance = test scores from tests administered by the special ed. teacher and a school psychologist). In addition, 2. the student's educational performance is considered (educational often is equated with academics, and they often refer to grades for that). Finally, it must be determined (at least in California) that 3. there is a processing disorder. As I mentioned, my daughter is a good student - she always has been. Even though she gets frustrated and cries and spends twice as much time working on assignments as everyone else, she somehow manages to earn As and Bs. Still, if you look at her writing, you can see that there is a problem...

Without further adieu, the highlights (or the "low" lights - which is the case here):

Meeting one:

• I was ambushed. While very few of my daughter's test scores have changed, still they told me, straight out, "your daughter DOES NOT have a disability."
• I noticed discrepancies in several areas in my daughter's tests. When I brought up those concerns, however, the special ed. teacher spent most of the time comparing my daughter to her non-special ed. child to minimize my concerns.
• The psychologist straight out told me that I have to let my daughter fail before she will be reconsidered for an IEP.

Meeting two:

• They brought in a district representative in order to further squelch my concerns.
• I came prepared. I brought my husband and my research.
• They had to admit this time that my daughter actually has a discrepancy in THREE areas, which is one indication that she has a learning disability.
• The district rep. did agree that my daughter does seem to struggle in writing, but the psychologist was adamant in her conclusion that my daughter "does not have a processing disorder."
• Both the special ed. teacher and the psychologist poured over the previous IEP designations, questioning me as if I had somehow sneaked my daughter into the system. I explained in the last meeting that she couldn't read until the third grade and couldn't read cursive until a year ago, but they didn't remember that.

To make a long story short, my husband requested that we have KJ re-tested.

Wow. Talk about running a marathon. I guess all that training prepared me for more than just running a foot race. I can't imagine how a person without a degree in education fares in this process!

putting the mantra into practice

"Get busy living, or get busy dying." ~ Andy Dufresne, from Shawshank Redemption

How I got busy living today:

• met a parent and student for coffee; walked him through the process of writing two different types of essays (which he missed due to a serious injury that had him home bound for about six weeks)
• took the younger two to the "boat" park (which features an eye shaped sand pit) even though it was a chilly 50 degrees here (now, now - be easy on we cold sensitive Californians. Fifty degrees to us is like 25 degrees to you)
• strung Christmas lights across the front of the house even though Christmas is a just few days away

fake + uggs = fuggs

My Fuggs are not fugly. But they are warm. And they are fuggs. No doubt about that. The tell-tale sign is that the sole of the shoe is the reverse pattern of a real Ugg - as if someone bought a real pair of Uggs and used the sole of the shoe to create a manufacturing mold by pressing each shoe into wet plaster.

The other tell-tale signs are the obvious typographical and grammatical errors on the very real looking "note of authenticity" and "customer care" cards.

Notice in the last picture that at the end of the first paragraph the contraction "you've." There is an extra space between "you'" and "ve." Minor. Now read the first sentence in the second paragraph. "In order to arrain the sumptuous color of these boots..." Arrain? That isn't even a real word. Did they mean to spell "arraign?" Are these boots on trial? No doubt about that either. And that's what's gonna happen to these guys when the US government discovers that the "Uggs International" company has been selling fake product. And finally, at the end of that same paragraph, notice that "some dye transfer may occur onto light "colothing..."" Such as on kinickers? Oh my.

So I feel terrible. I try to tell myself that these are factory seconds and not contraband stitched by the nimble fingers of children and purchased off the black market. And even now as I wonder how such items can make it through customs, I marvel at how cleverly the packing slip refers to my purchase as a "gift."

Got a package today...

...and the product arrived safely from *China*. Actually, the package is waiting at the post office as I'll need to sign for it. Ah, the sweet smell of capitalist consumerism! The product may be conterfeit, but they do pay attention to some details...such as making sure that my fake product is delivered properly.

Looks like my Fuggs are here!