Waterproof

 

I think it's ridiculous that people can put me down,
insult me and ridicule me because I am a teacher.

So because I went to school, I get to be treated as less?
In what world does that make sense?
Or is it because you "went to school once" too
YOU were that 6 year old in a classroom
And you remember "what it's like" because
surely the 6 years of college under my belt
isn't worth more than dirt.
Better yet is it because I work with children
you have the right to treat me like one?

So insults should wash over me like pouring rain
but I am not to get wet. Like I can walk out into a storm
avoiding the drops without feeling the pinpricks of cold in your tone
and the dampness on my very own cheeks.
That I should let it "go under the bridge" like all water should
just because you needed to "get it off your chest"
or because you were feeling a tadbit frustrated
as your words turn into a downpour of insults towards me.

My world is about your child.
The dirt is under my nails as I pluck the weeds out of
their nasty little habits of picking noses and picking on others.
I trough the fields to give them something to grow upon and
spray away the bugs that eat their homework and lose papers are forever gone.
As I fertilize the land that they are proud of standing on top of
and there you stand like a monsoon over my delicate plants demanding
more of my after work time to be devoted to your child as if every
after working hour wasn't already.

You want to complain about me and what I am doing.
Be my guest. But do not share those raindrops with me.
I have enough water coming out of my eyes
as I hear their stomachs grovel and beg as I sneak them a snack
because the only meal they eat are the ones coming from my hands.
Or how the only time they hear that they are good enough
is that silly little ping on the board to tell them that they are doing what's right
and those lime green notes that said they rocked at... something.
That I believe in them more than they believe in themselves.

My 10 feet by 10 feet world where I fall in love
with every boy and girl as if they were my child.
I chose a land to surround myself with where I am giving my
whole soul to a few. Like how to find Lily the perfect book
how to help Amy get in front of the class. How to help Garrett
care more about his effort than about his red shiny clown nose.
I chose a profession that allows me to change the world and
it all starts a few boys and a few girls.

I didn't decide to get in front of the class to be pounded
by your thunderclouds or to leap from your lightning venon.
No I chose this job because water is needed to strengthen a
planted child but so is a hug when they need it and a shoulder to cry on
when they fail. A place where mistakes are okay and where laughter
is contagious. And of course the right nutrients for their mind is surrounded by safety.

I chose this profession to help make your child the highest tree
and the prettiest flower all wrapped up in one killer little bow.
I will eat your words and swallow that venomous water
So that I can be a guiding hand and show your child that its possible
to be rainproof and that as long as they build their own little world
and aren't afraid of a little dirt. They can make something
broken also beautiful and something beautiful unbreakable. 

Awake-overs

The best part of having a little sister is messing with her. Every older sister knows the pure joy of lurking in the creaky, dark basement awaiting her to come around the corner and jumping out for that second of thrill as she screams and runs to tell on you. Or the way you can get her to believe in hole-y eyeballs, pet monkeys and the fact that we have an older brother that she has never met.

It was one of those nights that my parents left me alone to watch Nikki and her two friends, Kayla and Nicole, as they had their first sleepover. They went all out with their junk food, scary movies and flickering lights as they cuddled up ready to scream.

These opportunities as a big sister don't come around too often, so I jumped at it before my parents left. I informed them of my plan in part. They agreed they wouldn't interrupt it.

"But don't go too far." My mother said as they left. Who, me?The girls finished making their popcorn as I called my friends for the prank I had in mind.

"Hey Mike, It's Ash. Nikki is having her first sleepover and they are watching their first scary movie ever. I think its The Grudge."

"I know! That one isn't even scary." I said, perfectly timed as the girls scream bloody murder. They must have turned it on and started. "In about 30 minutes, grab everyone and come over. Let's scare these girls into believing in horror films." The menacing smile crept onto my face and I tried to hide the joy as I came downstairs to oversee the girls and the show that was about to start.

All of a sudden, right on cue, the phone rang. The girls jumped and I answered "Hello? Hello? Say something. I can hear you breathing." I said out loud, trying not to watch the girl's faces, afraid I would break out of character already. "I am hanging up now." As I had Mike on the phone, Tony had snuck into the house through the front door I had opened and at that moment, the lights went off.

The girls screamed, trying to turn on the lights, but they had to do with flashlights. They huddled together to consider and investigate.

"How did you do that Ashley?" they asked, blaming innocent me.

"How could I be at the bottom of this? I was on the phone a second ago. You SAW me!" Then the knocking came on the windows around the living room as the girls jumped at each one and stomping upstairs insured them they weren't alone this evening.

The phone rang again.

"I am answering this time." Nikki said a little too high pitch to be considered brave. She picked up the phone. "Hello? Stop this, okay? We get it, its not even scary. Oh yeah... your deep breathing is really cool. I can do that too." She said as she started mimicking the voice on the other line. And the shrill scream of her voice hit next as another hand banged on the window next to her with a handprint covered in blood.

Nikki who was a little too onto me, since it wouldn't be the first time I scared her, decided that all three of the girls would go outside to investigate the handprint on the window. As their shoes went on, they heard a roaring outside.

A chainsaw, perfect. I loved my friends at that moment. Next we heard the stomping again. The girls quickly changed their plan and decided to investigate upstairs instead. There was an easy explanation to this. "Ashley we know you are doing this" they said between shallow breathing and whispering voices. They tried the lights, and they turned on with ease. But the two light switches made it easy for me to mess with them as they searched each of the rooms helping Tony leave the upstairs and hide in the basement until the coast was clear.

The girls decided to call my mom to tell her what was happening. Mom did her best to stay out of it though she must have said something that pointed in my direction.

I got a text a few minutes later to unlock one of the windows upstairs and as the girls decided to head downstairs deciding I must have done something they heard a scream from the upstairs. They immediately ran to see what, or who, it was. Then the heard a door slam on the main floor. Looking out the windows were fruitless because it was so dark.

As they heard a scream come from the main floor, they ran down to see where it came from. The phone rang again. Nikki answered it in the kitchen, Kayla and Nicole not far behind her.

"Hello? Stop this! You are scaring us!" Nikki said choking back tears. She was good at playing the victim, something I learned quickly being the oldest. You could poke her and she could find a way to cry over it. "We just want to watch our movie. Leave us alone!"

At that point, I opened the sliding door, claiming I would go investigate outside. Tony took the opportunity and turned all the lights off again. Then ran through the kitchen we were all in, with a mask on, screaming like a girl. I almost lost it except that I could cover my smiling, laughing mouth, pretending I was as upset as they were.

This left the girls devastated to see someone, not knowing who it was. I closed the sliding door and found all three of the girls sitting on the floor of the kitchen, crying and calling all their moms.

So I finally felt bad (and totally accomplished) and fessed up. I called my friends in and Tony came in first, making the girls scream, until he took off his mask. Mike and Mandi were next as we all laughed. The girls continued to cry.

So I did what any sane older sister does to make her little sister stop crying. I bribed them. I got in my car, with all my friends and bought them each a giant Hershey's bar, Nikki's favorite.

All I know is, one day the grudge, I am sure she has for me is going to come back full swing. 

The Man in the Mirror

"Write about someone pretending to be someone or something he is not."

Jesse looks in the mirror as he spends another few minutes getting ready.  It is the same every day and the betrayal is written all over his face as he studies the mirror looking for which of the two faces will take over on this day. Look at that smug little smirk lurking behind the lines of agony that seem to be washed away the second he walks out the door.

He is trapped, trapped in a world that leads him to believe he can't be himself. The laughter is a great mask. The smile is a way to pull away from who he was. And the only time he sees his treachery is when he looks in the mirror, like it is trapped away in another world.

But every once in a while, he can't step outside his house, for his torment finds a way to chain him to the house and all he can do is break down without stepping out.

Take 2
He looks in the mirror as he spends another few minutes getting ready. His hair always takes a few minutes longer than it should because he spends so long mesmerized by the pain in the mirror. Look at that smug little smirk lurking behind the lines of agony that seem to be washed away the second he walks out the door. The monster of a man he feels locked inside always seems to show his face first thing in the morning. Glaring eyes and glistening teeth, as if ready to take a bite out of the mask he wears around each day.

The betrayal is written all over this monster's face staring back in the mirror. He begs for the chance to step out of the house and not be locked in this dungeon of a house with the monster. Some days, he can escape and put the mask of happiness over his eyes and share with the world a better version of himself. A world people believe is his own, how gullible people are.

He is trapped in his house or trapped in a world that leads him to believe he can't be himself. The laughter is a great mask. The smile is a way to pull away from who he was. And the only time he sees his treachery is when he looks in the mirror, like it is trapped away in another world.

But every once in a while, he can't step outside his house, for his torment finds a way to chain him to the house and all he can do is break down without stepping out. A way to take over a bring agony to the man on the other side of the mirror.

Four years ago, Jesse never saw this monster. It wasn't until Stephen Lynch came into his life and ripped away all the good. He will never forget that day. Jesse's wife Sam and young daughter, Danette, and Jesse went to the park. They met some friends there, an easy thing to do when your daughter has a smile that can change the world. There was this man, Stephan, there with his son, Tony, who always played with Dani. Sam got the idea of inviting them over for dinner as Dani didn't want to leave poor Tony alone.

They gave Stephan their address, got dinner prepared and were on their way to setting the table, when the doorbell rang. Tony ran in and Dani's smile returned again. Stephan brought a wine and helped set up the table, giving each of them a glass. The dinner was a roasted chicken, Sam's speciality, with mashed potatoes and a green bean casserole. Yet after grace was shared and they said cheers, the world went black.

Jesse woke up to Sam's screams and Dani's cries. "What happened?" he thought. His head was ringing, he was dazed but as he opened his eyes, he witnessed the horror. Jesse was caged to a chair, locked up as he saw Sam's skin rip from her flesh under Stephan's prying fingers and slippery knives. Jesse quickly looked around for his daughter. Was he too late. He found Danette taped to her highchair with Tony keeping her company, petting her head. Jesse spoke to her, tried to get her to look away from Mommy but it wasn't possible, not when the screams tore through the air. It was at that moment he knew, the smile would never come back to her eyes, if they survived.

Jesse tried to break out, he tried to save them... but it was too late and by the time the police came, he was the only one left. The girls tore to pieces, blood all over their house. Stephan and Tony, he later found out were hunted in a few different states and the blame shadowed him every day.

As Jesse gets ready each morning, the sun doesn't seem to shine as bright, no one's smile can outdo the one in his mind that he will never see again. And every once in a while the monster of despair and pain takes over making leaving the house and facing the day unbearable without the family he had and with the new memories he shares with one sick and twisted man. 

professionals treated like animals

I think it's bullshit that people can put me down, harass me and verbally abuse me because I am a teacher. So because I went to school, I get to be treated as less? Or is it because I work with children you have the right to treat me like one? Better yet is it because you have a child that you have the right to treat me as an inferior?

I chose this profession and I knew that parents complicate this job but I'm appalled that verbal abuse should just be let go like it didn't happen. That it should becomes water under the bridge just because the parents need to "get it off their chest" or because they were feeling frustrated.

What about me? I slave over the books and the papers and my world is about your child. And you don't think I have feelings? Like I don't need to be treated better than this? Like I don't deserve to?

But you can scream at me, advise me how to be "successful" as a teacher and demand more of my after work time to be devoted to your child.

You want to complain about me and what I am doing. Be my guest. But do not share those thoughts with me.

I chose a profession where I am giving myself up for this job. I chose a profession and fall in love with my children each year. I chose a profession that allows me to change the world.

I didn't do it to get your lip or to be your personal servant who you can berate and put down just because you are having an off day. Think before you send something. Be professional.

Positivity is key

Finally, finished the book. I would be curious how my past workers feel about me as a leader. I was not a know-it-all. I listened to their concerns and made them my own, I helped them problem solve (two heads are better than one) and I created ideas and checklists as I went to help myself figure out what to work on. Oh, that preschool was my baby but it was also my burden.

Looking where I am now, I am the youngest of my cohort by a landslide (everyone I teach with is minimally 20 years older than I am). I am not expected to be the leader by them, I am expected to be lost and immature. I believe in some aspects I am expected to fail. And that doesn't mean that they don't respect me or like me or learn from me. Just that being the youngest and least experienced isn't the person you pick to lead.

So how do I become a leader of a group of leaders? (After all, that's what teachers are.) For one, I admit to my weaknesses both in lack of experience and in what we are doing. I also need to be on the same page as them but keep us on track. (This is something I may struggle with because effective learning happens when you get off the track). I need us to bounce ideas off of each other and let people complain about the system but also work on ways to resolve those complaints. I need to enforce "take aways" (what you are walking away from the conversation with that you can use) and actionable requests (your homework). And I have to do all this without it being a burden (on themselves or on me!)

I think this could really work. I think my group is pretty good about listening (And loves to complain) now we have to make it manageable and hopefully cut down some of our work time. This is going to be interesting.

Managing ‘‘has to be learned . . . not just by doing it but by being able to gain conceptual insight while doing it’’ 

 I started reading the book Change Leader and I was inspired by the first few lines of the book expecting to see greatness at the turn of every page. Really, all you have to do is read the preface and the chapter titles. The rest of the book is trash. I am struggling to finish it. But I will and then it will all be over.

On the flip side, I do think education needs this book and I like that my district provided it to me. It is showing me that the district knows there are problems and that they know they aren't fixing it.

It is focusing on looking internally, at the organization and at your own abilities and working with a team to step up the game. I think this is exactly what can fix education. Teachers working together, teachers deciding what is going on, teachers focusing on what they know each other needs.

Why at the beginning of the year doesn't the principal ask us where we struggle? As teachers, I am sure we would share because we have to reflect on what we do daily. So instead of giving us pointless Professional Development on: Recess, How to group student work or how to put the unit in the answer of a math problem. We could be diving into the actual issues: some teachers struggle with classroom management, others with inspiring the students, others with finding ways to use the textbook without pulling your hair out. I personally, suck at test making. These are the things that we could really be focusing on and diving into. And every year it may change and every year it may not, depending if the teacher is satisfied with their improvement.

But it would be much more beneficial and we could have actual conversations about problems some teachers face daily. Wouldn't we all want to help those that we know are struggling with something, we personally, feel good about and strong with?

After I left the preschool, I said that never again would I want to be a principal, but depending on how things move around and things change in education. I could consider it. I am a natural leader, I am not some micromanaging bitch (hell, I don't even pay attention to the details). So I may have to consider it when I get burnt out on teaching (and again with these 95 hour weeks, it is possible that happens sooner than later).