I wrote this a few weeks ago.

May 12, 2011 

I’d love to talk a teacher who has made it. Someone who has managed to have a whole career in teaching and not gotten their heart broken. Mine hurts all the time, there have been so many moments throughout the year where I’ve fought off tears around these little people. They are so helpless and vulnerable to whatever happens in their world. It is just crushing to me. They arrive with dirty feet, dirty bodies, stained clothes that smell, they act like wild children because they’ve never had anyone set a boundary, show them what is ok and what is not. 

I feel their pain when they wrap their skinny arms around my neck and nuzzle their noses against my shoulder. I feel all their sleepless nights, I hear all the yelling in their houses, see all the violence, hear the sound of police sirens. I smell the smoke and see the bleary eyes of the adults around them. I feel the hunger pains in their bellies and the uncomfortable fullness you feel when your main food is a frozen pizza. My eyes are sore with their restlessness from not sleeping, from all the disturbing noise, from not having their own bed. 

The hardest part for me is that once they leave my classroom door for the last time, I will never see them again. I put all of my soul into these children and then a date in June passes and our time is over. I’ll never be able to offer comfort, love or a simple hug again. I can’t play songs for them and dance, making them giggle. I can’t praise their efforts with crayons and paper. I can’t help to guide them away from patterns that won’t help them, guide them away from their distrust and show them that not all of us are unreliable. 

All I can really do is control how I feel about all of it. All I can really do is find peace inside of myself to deal with it all, to process and let go. That task right now, seems so insurmountable. Its enough to battle my own brain, but now adding all of this additional pain, it just becomes too much. Sometimes I think I’m just not cut out for this job. That I’m too sensitive, that maybe I’m making a big deal out of things that aren’t so bad. That maybe I’m showing a weaker side of myself every day, that I am not strong enough. Maybe not strong at all. Maybe its not even the tough lives of these kids, maybe its the way I lead mine that makes being surrounded by them so difficult. Maybe its all the times I’ve had my heart broken before. It could just be inherently weak now, it no longer knows how to beat through the adversity. I cry at Glee every single week. When the gay kid gets beat up, when the average girl gets abandoned for the pretty girl. I cry when the dad gives an honest speech to his son, guiding him exactly how a parent should. I cry at TV commercials, watching a wedding, hearing a story about someone else who is having trouble. I cry just thinking. This all started when I began this job, instead of the years building a tough shell around me I have become a big, blob of compassion. I almost can’t hear other people tell me about what is wrong in their lives because then I bring it inside of me, wrap it up warmly and hold it there. There is almost nothing left of me. 

At the end of the day I am exhausted. I want to do nothing but sit and stare at the television. I have begun to abandon all the shows I used to enjoy, like Grey’s Anatomy because I can’t handle watching the dramas unfold. Instead I watch The Real Housewives because there is nothing real about them. 

Tonight I rediscovered the album “Supposed Former Infatuation Junkie” by Alanis Morissette. Two songs that I’ve been listening on repeat as I’ve written this: That I Would Be Good and Thank U. 

That I would be good

That I would be good even if I did nothing

That I would be good even if I got a thumbs down 

That I would be good if I got and stayed sick 

That I would be good even if I gained ten pounds 

That I would be fine even if I went bankrupt 

That I would be good if I lost my hair and my youth

That I would be great if I was no longer queen 

That I would be grand if I was not all knowing 

That I would be loved even when I numb myself 

That I would be good even when I am overwhelmed 

That I would be loved even when I was fuming 

That I would be good even if I was clinging 

That I would be good even if I lost sanity 

That I would be good whether with or without you 

After all, isn’t this the message of what we all truly want? Aren’t we happiest if we know that despite everything and nothing that we are, we are OK? 

Health Makes Me Nuts

So, I want to be a healthy person. Over the past year I think I've gotten much closer. But it's just so difficult to walk on by that blue box full of macaroni noodles and powdered cheese mix. I don't know why I get on these "naughty food" kicks, but I'm sure when I actually open my copy of Women, Food, and God I'll learn the reason. According to Ms. Geneen Roth, our relationship with food is a direct mirror of how we feel about ourselves in every aspect of life.

My relationship with food means that I am just too damn tired and too lazy to put the effort into making good choices. I'm so exhausted most of the time that I want what is convenient and what I know brings me a nice, yummy feeling. Of course, as Ms. Geneen Roth clearly states, what we often seek when we're feeling bored and lazy and fed up makes us feel even MORE bored and lazy and fed up. So, what's a girl to do?

I am joining the Kris Carr crazysexydiet train. I bought the book several months ago and read through it, feeling totally inspired and excited about how I was going to feel after doing it. And the "it" isn't all that complicated. Truly the only new thing for me is the juicing. I plan on buying myself a juicer (credit cards are amazing) and getting to work. I'm posting my health goals below because then at least I have some sort of public forum to hold me accountable. Although, I know that there are no readers of this blog as of now, I like to pretend that someone out there reads along.

Healthy Glow Goals: 

1. Make healthy eating choices during the week with one weekend splurge of some luxurious cheese. I see no reason to deny myself these small pleasures when embarking on such a huge undertaking of positive change. Try new recipes, eat organic, whole foods whenever possible!

2. Meditate daily. I'm going to make myself an altar and get serious about getting silent. Breathing always feels so beautiful.

3. Get JUICED! I'm actually pretty excited about starting to juice. I used to drink Super Green Food all the time when I was a nanny and I developed a taste for drinking green drinks. I'm looking forward to seeing the health benefits that Kris Carr says come with juicing.

4. Yoga. Discover my OM. I want to take one yoga class a week. I have 4 classes prepaid at a yoga studio in Worcester. I need to use them and then see if there is a closer studio so I can eliminate that excuse for not going. Plus, I LOVE yoga. I feel happier just talking about it and thinking about the way the classes make me feel. If thinking about yoga can make my mood instantly lift, I can't even imagine what regular practice would do for me.

5. Write. I want to write every day but if not, almost every day. There was something to my keeping journals in high school. I think processing my thoughts and emotions gave me some space from my living inside my head. I think it keeps me more sane. I also enjoy it.

6. Go for walks. I'm not concerned with running at this point because of my back injury. I am concerned with being outside, breathing fresh air, and moving my body.

7. Practicing gratitude. I think the past few months I've been so caught up in what isn't working, what's not going well, who is letting me down, what hasn't gone my way, blah. It's so negative and dark and dreary in my world right now. I need to do something to remember all the good that there is in my life. Including, in my job. I really need to make a point of acknowledging at least one positive moment from each day. Finding the positive will hopefully show me that there is always a positive to take away.

Bring on the peace.

Teacher burnout? Or just one big, fat mistake?

I actually googled the term "teacher burnout" tonight just to see what would come up. I saw the following definition in an old NY Times article: "when a teacher feels emotionally exhausted at the end of the day, appears cynical or uncaring about what happens to students and feels as if he or she has reached few personal goals." 


Sadly, this is me right now. Even though I've been out of work for the past two weeks (one for my back injury and one for April vacation), I was over it after about 20 minutes of being back in the classroom today. It feels like no one listens, parents send in sick children, lots of kids aren't bathed, parents are needy, kids are whiny and need so much individual attention that is seems impossible. I don't like listening to screaming, being snotted on, spit on, kicked and hit. I'm just over the whole thing. The worst part is...I don't really care. I feel so apathetic about the entire experience of teaching right now. Every night I job search and google away the minutes trying to devise a backup plan for myself. 


There's just one problem. I haven't ever wanted to do anything else in my life. I started telling people "I want to be a teacher" when I was 7 years old, maybe even sooner. There is no alternative for me. I have literally dedicated my entire life to learning about children. I know what makes them laugh, I know what makes them angry, I can dismantle or put together a group activity in a matter of moments. I can engage groups of children that I meet at a child's birthday party, as a nanny on a beach, or in the middle of a classroom. I have taken children on trains, buses, walks, etc. and they have always survived. I've visited children in homeless shelters, hospitals, living rooms, playgrounds, sketchy apartment buildings, and made connections. I've been abused by parents, taken advantage of, lied to, misled, belittled, and on the rare occasion even thanked. 


My profession has been demeaned by my supposed colleagues, my efforts gone unnoticed and under appreciated, misunderstood despite my explanation, and likened to "babysitting" by the very parents of the children I work to educate. I'm plain old sick and tired. When seeking the advice of veteran teachers I have been told on multiple occasions, by several, "take up drinking." I've also been told to have a back up plan. 


It is this elusive back up plan that confuses me. All my life I've been told that if I followed my bliss, did what made my heart happy, entered public service, I would not only be content in my choice and live each day feeling "so good about myself" but I would be rewarded with respect and admiration from those who were not strong enough to work with people and had chosen jobs sitting behind a desk. 


I used to pride myself on the fact that I was not going to be like most of the kids I graduated high school with and just work for my dad making rich peopler richer. Now, I think, maybe they all had it right all along. I check facebook too often. I see what they're all doing now. They work in cushy jobs (at least it seems so since I never see a post about exhaustion from work) and they make money. Or, they work in a fun little job and their parents still give them money. It's unclear. However, what IS clear, are the pictures of the multiple  tropical vacations taken each year, the long weekends at the ski lodge, the trips to the Cape house all summer long. It makes me think that my theory that all these kids are entitled assholes might just be wrong and they are in fact quite clever. 


I do not plan tropical vacations. I do not have a summer house to visit. I do not have a bank account which enables me to purchase lovely new clothes each season. I don't have a personal trainer or even a gym membership to help maintain my perfect body. I don't even that good gene that all rich people seem to have, the gene that makes them all skinny. Basically, I sit at home because I'm too broke to go shopping, battling my weight, stressed beyond measure, and drowning in a career path that brings me financial pressures and very little emotional payback. 


So, am I just experiencing burnout after 3 years of this? Did I make a colossal LIFE mistake following the mantra "do what you love?" Or is it possible that I've just been in a really, really bad mood for the past 3 months? 

Everything changes in your twenties and your twenties change everything.

On my first date with Matt, I was a 24 year old with a new master's degree, one week of teaching under my belt, a new apartment and new roommates. I had been living the single girl's life in the city and really enjoying the freedom in that. I stayed out at bars until they closed, I walked home alone texting and ordered pizzas to share at 3am. I drank Bud Light or Miller High Life exclusively because they were cheap. I wore lots of brown and chandelier earrings. I had super long, blonde hair and could run 3 blocks wearing high heels. I worked out only occasionally and that meant 25 minutes on an elliptical trainer texting a cute boy about where he was going that night.

This was only 3 years ago. When Matt picked me up for our first date I wasn't ready. My roommate had woken me up from a nap (boy, did that first week of teaching really wear me out!) and I was in the shower when he knocked on the door. I answered the door with wet hair, a towel around me, and gave him a beer to drink while he talked to my roommate. I had only lived there a few days so I rummaged through trash bags to find shoes to wear. My cheeks were pink from liberally applied blush and the heat of the blow dryer. I wore hot pink high heels so high and so tight on my chubby feet that they left red marks and blisters from just putting them on. I hoped he wouldn't notice that I wasn't graceful enough for them.

At dinner we talked about his trip to Spain in high school, favorite spots in Brighton, our families and friends and all the standard first date chats. He talked with his hands and didn't seem bored with me. He asked me so much about myself, it was strange not to have to carry the conversation. The restaurant was really hot and his brow got a little sweaty. I smiled and gave him permission to wipe it with his napkin; he seemed aware and self-conscious about it. His teeth were perfectly straight and we talked about how he'd never had braces. His hair was so dark and his knees touched mine under the table because his legs were long. He asked me so politely if I'd like a second glass of sangria and he was not wearing sneakers. I had never been on a date with someone not wearing sneakers. I had never been on a date with someone who owned dress shoes. When he excused himself to go to the restroom, I called my sister and whispered into the phone, "I feel like I'm on the first date with my husband." I hung up quickly so he wouldn't come back and see I'd made a call.

When dinner was over we met my roommates at a nearby bar for drinks. This was standard dating procedure, whenever any of us went on a date the others waited at a nearby bar. If the date was awful, it was a quick "thanks for dinner" and straight to the bar to tell the horror story to the girls. If it was decent,  well then my friends just happened to be out nearby, did he want to stop for a drink with them? With this plan, we could all judge him together. As he ordered me a beer at the bar, I confessed to my friends that he seemed really great but I wasn't sure if he was too serious for me. The front man of the ac/dc cover band sprang his tiny body up onto the bar (yes, there was a cover band at the bar). The guy grabbed a bottle of whiskey and started pouring it into open mouths below. Embarrassed that this was where I'd taken the man wearing dress shoes, I looked up at Matt. He was stood next to me, occasionally putting his hand on the small of my back and making conversation with my friends. I watched as he opened his mouth, let in a big swig of whiskey and grinned.

It's funny how little things tell you a lot about a person. I wasn't looking to learn that Matt had a drinking problem (which he does not, by the way) but more that he could relax with me. It's been 2 and half years now and being with Matt has taught me that it really isn't what a person says, its what he does. I was always looking for red flags in my life, signs that showed me to back away, move forward, make a change. I had never let myself see the other kind of sign, the "white flags" of surrender to the good stuff.

Now my Saturday nights are slow dancing in the kitchen and wine by the fireplace. Watching rented movies on the couch or heading to happy hour. Its crock pot meals and cups of tea. Scented candles and loads of laundry. I've planted my big white flag in our front lawn and I've surrendered. He is my home.

Letters in my head.

Recently I've been writing letters in my head. I'm wondering if this is normal, if this is something that others do. It's becoming so frequent that I can't stop drafting letters. Then I thought---that would be a neat way to tell a story. Maybe since I'm pretending to be a writer in my head all of the time, I can take my imaginary correspondence to more permanent product. Here is a list of persons/organizations to whom I've drafted letters in my head:

1. Superintendent of my school district--regarding the unjust parking situation at my school and my lack of a computer and printer--3rd year in a row.

2. Translator Man--I hold you personally responsible for much of the events that transpired in my professional life this fall. You are a meddler. My letters to you are never nice, but they are always so eloquent that the powers-at-be have no choice but to terminate your employment. Forever.

3. A woman at work--sometimes I feel glad to know that she exists. It sounds a bit stalker-esque, I know, but she is light to me. Always positive, always literally glowing with joy or reason in madness. I don't even speak with her often. But I write her letters appreciating her positivity.

4. G--we are coming to the end of our journey together. I write a lot of letters to you. You are my inspiration, you hold a big piece of my heart, it breaks a bit with each day that brings us closer to our separation. I would teach you forever if you'd have me.

5. Mom--I write letters to the mom that I knew as a child. The one whistling as she did housework, the one "resting her eyes" on the steps of deck she waited for our school bus, the one who surprised us with cinnamon rolls on cold winter mornings. Mom--to you now. To the part of you I feel is lost, the part of you I'm becoming an adult friend to, and the part of you that I feel determined to bring peace.

6. Brother. What happened to us? And this letter goes on and on...

7. Matt. To whom I dedicate all my love letters.

8. T and J at work--I write you cards, specifically. Thank you cards, in my head, every night before I go to sleep. Maybe its my way of thanking the universe for you both and all you've brought to my life recently.

9. Z. I know you're sad. I know your life is hard. I want to help you. I love you.

10. To all the little souls I'm surrounded by each day: I love you. Thank you for giving me more love than I ever thought possible. Thank you for making this so much more than a job. You break my heart, you build me up, you make me laugh, and you show me how resilient is the human spirit.

Perhaps this is why I never sleep through the night.

I don't live there anymore.

As horrible as this is--I shall now quote myself from my own facebook status:

"Having my first 'listen to girl music, drink wine, and fiddle on the computer while thinking about my feelings night' except this time there's a man watching baseball 5 feet away and I'm wearing headphones. Yikes!"



That's right, I am someone's live-in girlfriend. Adutlhood as arrived. Yesterday the big highlight was a couples run and reorganizing the kitchen. I kept repeating the phrase, "Function is the key. We want it to be functional." Who am I??? I'm surprising myself so much these past few days. I'm organizing, packing, unpacking, and bossing--with fervor. I feel so...settled. I've spent the past few hours looking through my itunes, drinking sauvignon blanc, and looking at my old writings. Is it strange to feel like your old self can have a chat with the you of right now? I just want to tell/ask myself the following things:



1. You made it! You're finally in a relationship with a mutual love, respect, and commitment.

2. Wow, aren't we glad all that wondering is over?

3. Do you miss the wondering a little bit?

4. See, you can still have your secret single behavior (SSB) with him around. You just have to wear headphones.

5. Stop being "old you" and over-thinking everything. It's just organizing a kitchen. Remember, you wanted all this so enjoy it for what it is and stop trying to explain away your behavior as if its wrong because its new.



True to form, I'm listening to Dashboard Confessional and texting my friends. Every once in a while he looks over at me when I giggle out loud, sing a quick lyric softly, or just to see what the hell is she doing over there for so long. I enjoy that I can still have this private girl time even with him in the same room. I don't know why its so important to me to keep separate in all this togetherness. I think I just needed to feel what this is like without him, since he'll be traveling for work so much and I'll be alone a lot this month coming up. See how it feels to have not just these moments of "aloneness" but also how it feels to by myself here. I am someone who needs to sing her singer/songwriter music out loud when I feel in a funky mood, I am someone who likes a glass of wine at night, I am someone who likes to reflect on all the passages of my life, I am someone who likes to overanalyze and feel and be emotional. I am someone who likes to hear acoustic guitars whilst I engage in all of these sullen behaviors. I am someone who knows that these are great natural mood elevators for me. To write, to be alone with what I'm thinking, to feel like its just me in the world, contemplating what will happen next for me. I'm someone who likes to celebrate the love I've found privately, while writing about it in a public venue.


The best part of living with him so far---I can do all this, typing away fanatically, not speaking to him for two hours, and bobbing my head around while singing under my breath. The best part is, he doesn't seem to mind, he just watched the TV and sips his vodka-tonic.

Wait. I just pulled my headphones off because I heard, "STEPH! STEPH" What are you doing? I've been trying to get your attention for 5 minutes..."

I guess this is living together.

Progress so far!

On Monday, it will be one month since I started weight watchers. I've lost 7 lbs. in 3 weeks and I'll weigh in tomorrow morning. It was Matt's birthday on Friday so we went out to celebrate. I had some delicious cheese! I haven't really been eating cheese so this was a very big deal. I'm not expecting a great loss this week, but I would like to have not gained.

I also ran 4 miles last week. For me, this is huge! I'm so proud of myself for making out there twice and going for a real run. I enjoyed it too, another first for me. The pond where I live is so beautiful and the neighborhood is full of interesting houses and yards, lots of people to watch. I downloaded some new songs for my ipod as a treat to myself. It was so peaceful and I think I felt my first "runner's high." I wasn't thinking how much I hated it, or how it was hard to breathe, I just listened to my music and jogged along. I think moving my body at a pace that's comfortable really made all the difference. I wasn't trying to keep up with anyone or thinking about how many calories I wanted to burn, I just ran. My one goal was not to stop until I made the loop twice. If I felt myself getting tired, I jogged slower. When a new song came on, it made me speed up. I loved it! I bought some new running clothes last week and I'm hoping to make this a regular event.

I'm most proud of my attitude with these changes. I'm not trying to meet lofty goals or be perfect all the time. If I'm jogging, at least I'm out there doing it, if I'm eating cheese, at least I know its a treat for eating healthy all week. I feel a clarity within myself that I'm not sure I've ever experienced. I'm letting go of the need for perfection, or looking at this as a competition. I'm not comparing myself to other people or to how I used to look. I'm getting healthy and it feels great. For the first time, I'm excited about being successful in making a change for me. It's amazing how good it feels to be kind to myself.