It's a juggle...

I'm a working mom in rural Nova Scotia. In fact, I'm a teacher.
Lately I've been at the brunt of or reading / hearing many insults flung at teachers over school cancellations and snow days.

Call it PMS. Call it mom-craziness from the staying-at-home-with-the-fighting-kids storm days. Call it pure bitching.

Call it what you want.

I'm gonna rant...

I'm not gonna rant about how good I've got it as a teacher. I'm not even gonna step on the "You-Could've-Chosen-This-Career-Too" soapbox. Been there. Had to do that. (Got no further ahead, by the way.) Instead, I want to shed some insight into what the past week / next couple of weeks will mean for me.

It's a reporting period. On each of those storm days when I wasn't being a mom to my kids (and had internet service) and every night when my little darlings are snuggled into bed, I've been sitting at this godforsaken laptop til 11 or 12 at night planning lessons and writing report cards. See, I don't want to half-arse them. I want them to say something. I want these report card comments to really mean something. (After all, I am a parent, too... I at least know the kind of jargon I don't want to hear.) This process takes time. It takes lots of it. Add to that the frustration of many storm days when students couldn't finish the last bits of their final projects... or couldn't hand them in... or didn't have the means at home to finish them... all of these things, to me, are very important considerations as a teacher and a parent.

I have a heart...

With reporting period comes parent/teacher interviews/ conferences, whatever you want to call them. (Personally, I think the ones in my school are useless because I would much rather have my 10-13yr old students be a part of the conversation... something which is seen as a no-no for reasons I won't/don't/can't understand... and all of this is just simply something you'll have to read one of these days on my teacher blog.) These parent interviews happen on a Thursday evening and Friday morning to accommodate parent work schedules. Wait. What was that? Parent work schedules? Oh yes... right... I'm a parent, too. Frig that in this case. It doesn't matter.

See, in order for me to participate in this aspect of my job... as I'm expected to.... after hours... I have to arrange for alternate childcare for these two days.

• Problem A: On the day where parent teacher interviews happen in the evening, I do not have sufficient time to drive to the sitter's after school, drive kidlets home, and drive back to school in time for the interviews. (Remember I said I live in rural NS. That said amount of commuting equals almost 90 minutes of driving... way more if I follow the speed limit and watch for icy conditions or take roaming large wildlife into consideration.) I tried this once. It wasn't pretty. 
• Problem B: Because it's of my own volition that my child(ren) can't be at the sitter's, I still pay her. (Fair enough. I think of it as vacation pay for her.) But... if my husband can't take off work that day, I have to get someone else (usually my mother) which usually means at the very least paying for gas money for the replacement sitter. 
• (Also, my sitter usually takes the Friday of these parent teacher interviews to travel with her family since her children, like mine, are not in school. Again... understandable. Long weekends are nice. She's a mom to her own children, too! Holiday pay. Deserved.)

So, I pay double (or more) the money in childcare to stay after school for these interviews, as I'm contractually required. Fine and dandy. Done. Signed. Sealed. Delivered.

Breath.

Also happening in the next few weeks are ski trips for our school to the local ski hill. YAY! We are so lucky to have a ski hill close by for our students to enjoy. But, wait... for me... that working, rural mom... this ain't so easy.

Do I want to go with my students to see them wow me with their moves on the hill? Yes!
Do I want to go so that kid who I know won't bring lunch money will be able to have a hot lunch on that day at the chalet and will really be able to feel as part of the whole experience? Yes! Of course. I'd buy that lunch for that student in a heartbeat.

But... it isn't that easy. Sigh. And... some people think I'm trying to cop out.

• Problem A (or should it be C? Frig it. I'm calling it A. A different scenario here.) Because we're rural, and because of bussing times and schedules and all that jazz, when our school goes skiing, they go to the hill for 10am and stay until 4pm to make the whole trip worthwhile. (We, as a school, have a heart!) This means we do not return to school until 5pm.

Not a problem for most. But for me with one child at the sitter, one in school... it's a problem. Kid A isn't old enough to be included in the ski trip. Kid B is at the sitter's. Kid A leaves school on the bus after school to get home at 4pm to... no one. It doesn't work. Hubby doesn't get home from work til 4:30. Kid A would have to walk a kilometre up our rural road... all by herself... to be home by herself... at 7 years old. Can't happen. (Besides, if it's a Tuesday, Wednesday or Friday, she's got lessons to get to after school...which are another 20 minute drive away, too.)

But, wait. Shit. We forgot Kid B. Oh yes... he's crying at the sitter's and the sitter is calling cuz she has somewhere to be and I don't leave him at her house until that hour... and even if I could leave him there...I still won't get home until after 6pm... and where's Kid A again?!

(Oh...And before it's suggested, hubby works an hour and 15min drive in the other direction from the sitter. Sigh. Rural working life.)

So, I can't be one of the chaperones on my students' skiing trip. It bothers the hell out of me. But it bothers me even more that people don't even try to understand why it can't happen. (I wonder if these glaring-eyed people would like to find me a concierge to coordinate/babysit/chauffeur my children on these days?)

But wait. Wait. It will happen... it will!

My husband has booked... over a month in advance... a vacation day... a day off work to be with Kid B, so that our kids  (that some people think can't be my priority in this scenario) will have someone to care for them and be home to meet Kid A getting off the bus and drive them to lessons so that I can go to the ski hill with my class...

And not get home until after 6pm... And probably spend a bunch of money on hot chocolates and lunch for that student, (if he goes skiing that day)...

But, I've got it easy. And I'm a lucky, plush-arse-jobbed witch-with-a-B, to have those storm days off.

Yep.

Breath. Sigh. Shoulder slump.

/End Rant.

This is getting the rounds on my FB feed this evening:

Many parents are posting this on FB this evening. I see lots of truths, both as a mom and a teacher. If anyone knows the author, please let me know in the comments so I can give credit where credit is due. Thoughts?

Here's what parents need to know:

That every child learns to walk, talk, read and do algebra at his own pace and that it will have no bearing on how well he walks, talks, reads or does algebra. That the single biggest predictor of high academic achievement and high ACT scores is reading to children. Not flash cards, not workbooks, not fancy preschools, not blinking toys or computers, but mom or dad taking the time every day or night (or both!) to sit and read them wonderful books. That being the smartest or most accomplished kid in class has never had any bearing on being the happiest. We are so caught up in trying to give our children "advantages" that we're giving them lives as multi-tasked and stressful as ours. One of the biggest advantages we can give our children is a simple, carefree childhood.
 That our children deserve to be surrounded by books, nature, art supplies and the freedom to explore them. Most of us could get rid of 90% of our children's toys and they wouldn't be missed, but some things are important-- building toys like legos and blocks, creative toys like all types of art materials (good stuff), musical instruments (real ones and multicultural ones), dress up clothes and books, books, books. (Incidentally, much of this can be picked up quite cheaply at thrift shops.)
They need to have the freedom to explore with these things too-- to play with scoops of dried beans in the high chair (supervised, of course), to knead bread and make messes, to use paint and play dough and glitter at the kitchen table while we make supper even though it gets everywhere, to have a spot in the yard where it's absolutely fine to dig up all the grass and make a mud pit.

That our children need more of us. We have become so good at saying that we need to take care of ourselves that some of us have used it as an excuse to have the rest of the world take care of our kids. Yes, we all need undisturbed baths, time with friends, sanity breaks and an occasional life outside of parenthood. But we live in a time when parenting magazines recommend trying to commit to 10 minutes a day with each child and scheduling one Saturday a month as family day. That's not okay! Our children don't need Nintendos, computers, after school activities, ballet lessons, play groups and soccer practice nearly as much as they need US.
They need fathers who sit and listen to their days, mothers who join in and make crafts with them, parents who take the time to read them stories and act like idiots with them. They need us to take walks with them and not mind the .1 MPH pace of a toddler on a spring night. They deserve to help us make supper even though it takes twice as long and makes it twice as much work. They deserve to know that they're a priority for us and that we truly love to be with them.

When a teacher inservice resonates more from the parent point of view

This week I attended a provincial professional development session on science in the elementary classroom. While the whole day was spent looking at the ways that science can be integrated effectively into the curriculum, one topic stood out for me:

The facilitator told us, the teachers, to give science homework every night .
15 minutes.
Every night.

What was this homework?

Look up at the night sky; look at the stars. Question. Discuss.
Look at the sun setting or rising. Question. Discuss.
Go for a walk. Pick up leaves, twigs, rocks, dirt, worms. Question. Discuss.
Throw a ball in the air. Watch it fall back down to the ground. Question. Discuss.
Play with the water in the tub. Use different size bottles. Question. Discuss.

How simple is that homework? How often do we, as parents (and as teachers), forget to value the simple things in life. Even more importantly, in today's world, children tend to look to the internet, or TV, or video games for the answers to any questions they have... if they even question.

The greatest scientists, explorers, inventors all had insatiable wonder. They played, made mistakes, wondered, questioned, and questioned, and questioned.

Try to find the inner scientist in your child. It doesn't take much to foster, but it can quickly fade away...

Making my skin crawl

September.
Back to School.
Back to Work (at school).
Back to Reality.
Routines.
Colds.
Germs.
Kids.
Head Lice.

Those last two words make me crazy! I mean... CRAZY. Being a teacher, head lice have been a regular part of my teaching days; throwing my hair up in a ponytail, washing my hands a million times, getting itchy at the mere mention of a case of head lice in our school. I've coped. I've survived unscathed.

But this year is different. My daughter is a student at the school. She's in the field, at the front line of the little creepy, crawly, stigmatized creatures. That makes my skin crawl more than usual.

It only took 2 weeks for head lice to darken the classroom door; my daughter's class. The head checks started. I had a vague idea of what I was looking for. I read the pamphlet that came home with my daughter. I've googled, and googled and googled some more. (example) I've checked, re-checked, and checked my daughter's head again and again. Nothing yet.

We've got the tea tree oil shampoo on the go. We have tea tree oil itself. We've got the lice comb. I even have the treatment just in case.

Sadly, I've become obsessed. Every itch, scratch, windswept lock of hair is under my scrutiny. When I'm driving, I'm checking the visor mirror to make sure I don't see any little friggers crawling anywhere on my own head. Each trip to the washroom has me stopping at the mirror, doing a "quick check". I feel like my skin is crawling...

It's consuming my life and I can't stop!

I know it's inevitable that my daughter gets them. I know it's a normal part of life. I know it speaks nothing of cleanliness, status, well being. I know when she does get them, it will be annoying and a lot of work, but we'll deal with it and cope just fine -- just like every other family has in the past.

But what I know more than any of that is...
I'm completely grossed out, spooked and scratching once again. I'm in a sad state.

Anyone have any pointers/tips for me?

School Thoughts: Thanks to @CoffeesCommutes

Wow. Decisions, decisions, eh?


Like Christine (@CoffeesCommutes), my daughter will be starting school in the fall. While we didn't have the Catholic vs. Public debate that Christine and her hubby had where we live, we did have the choice between the small rural school where I teach vs. the larger slightly more (and I stress *slightly* lol) urban school down the road.

Our decision was fueled by many thoughts:

• I teach at the school so I would be there -- Bonus.
• Originally I was going to be teaching her for 2 subjects -- Wasn't sure how that would go.
• She has been going to the school with me for different events her whole life. She knows the school, the staff, the students. -- Bonus.
• To go to the other school would mean having to arrange afterschool childcare at my home -- not exactly easy.

What secured our decision to send her to the small school where I teach was values & morals and the way other children who go to that school are raised. We want our daughter to be surrounded by wholesome children...  where having the best brandname clothing doesn't necessarily matter and it's ok to be 11 and still believe in Santa Claus, for instance. I can honestly say there's something about the children I teach at this school. They're good kids; they're wholesome!

However, this spring saw some disheartening attitudes and scenarios with regards to the school, some parents, etc. Some people were hurt (emotionally) and discouraged. And, we were left wondering if we wanted these darker moments to possibly influence our daughter when she goes to school. After some longgggggggggggggg thought processes, discussions, rants, etc, we decided that what makes the school special is the teachers, the students, the community... it's way more complex than just a few instances.
As @KidsCrafts told Christine on twitter,

School whether Catholic or public is defined by teachers that hopefully inspire, but there are no guarantees.

Her heart is set on starting school there. MY heart is with that school.
Sometimes you just have to follow your heart.... and there are no guarantees.

Starting another motherly chapter...

Two more sleeps.
Two more sleeps, Mamaidh!

In just two more sleeps, my daughter will be going to school for her grade primary orientation day. Wow! Can we just stop time for a while, please?!?!

I've been giving the whole "first year at school" thing an awful lot of thought lately... but not just because my little girl will be starting school.... more so because I'm a teacher.  And... I'll be teaching my own daughter for a half hour each day come the fall.

My inner debate surrounds which hat will I be wearing in the classroom with my own flesh and blood in front of me? Teacher hat? Parent hat? Do I choose? Do I have to choose?

Not only does this scenario have me reflecting upon my own teaching, but it really has me analyzing, surmising, scrutinizing the teaching other teachers do. And parents, too.

• Do I want my daughter to be experiencing such-and-such with Ms. So&So?
• How will she get along in Mr.A&B's class? What if she doesn't?
• What if a teacher... my co-worker/colleague... treats her unfairly?

These are the questions I have with her preparing to start her school journey, and I know all the stakeholders involved. I know the processes. I know the school, the parents, the students, their backgrounds... every single one of them!

I can only imagine what it must be like for mother's to send their children to larger schools where they don't know those people who are going to shape their children's futures. Wow. I'd be a wreck!
(And as it is, I'm already hyper analyzing all aspects of my teaching, decorum, etc!)

And, so... I guess, another chapter begins... whether I like it or not.
I'm sure you can imagine there will be more posts about this in the fall!