The Forgotten Room

I became completely enthralled with The Forgotten Room this week. I received it in the mail on Monday, started reading it on Wednesday and I finished it tonight while in a hot bubble bath. 

I don't imagine that most people would enjoy reading this book. There's no feel good ending and certainly no love story or suspenseful mystery.

Located in a rapidly-growing county in the southeastern United States, Peachtree Alternative School is a dumping ground for chronically disruptive students that regular teachers can no longer handle. The school has some of the toughest kids that society has to offer: kids who have dealt drugs, attempted rape, brought weapons to school, and made terrorist threats. Neglect, understaffing, and overcrowding create a volatile situation; Teachers survive threats, assaults, brawls, and rampages with their therapeutic philosophies barely intact.

The Forgotten Room is a teacher survival story. It examines the darker side of American education through chronicling the course of Peachtree Alternative School's tenth and final year. It offers a glimmer of hope in the safe zones created by hardworking teachers, but it is also a cautionary tale about the consequences of bureaucrats neglecting troubled teens.


I know that it's easier to turn a blind eye at the concerning growth of behavioural issues amongst youth, the vicious cycles of poverty that are perpetuated by underfunded social programs, rampant mental health issues, lack of education and the morally depleted society with which we live. 
...

I think in the midst of overcrowded classes, lack of support and funding, standardized testing, dwindling participating in religion, smaller families, toxic environments, an increased pace of life, the time and energy the children in this book need from their teachers just does not exist. 


A big part of my job is to try to find out why behaviours occur. I remind myself that no child wants to get into trouble. They don't wake up each day and plan out how to piss off their teachers. They aren't born ready to cause 'trouble'. They are children. They want to learn. They want friends to play with. They want to be safe and secure, fed, clothed, and above all else, they want to be loved. Respected and loved. There's always a reason, be it biological, social, or emotional, there's a reason for what they do. Or do not do.


I certainly have those days where I'm beaten down. I've written about it before and will likely write about it again. I have learned a lot over the years and continue to learn, trying to find that missing key to success. It's true that you can't save them all. But you can always try and you can make a difference, even if it's a small one that you never know you made. That belief is at the core which pushes me through those bang-your-head-against-the-wall days where I throw my hands in the air and say, "I give up!' This is ridiculous. I've had enough." 


But I've learned to let go of some things and continue to fight for others. Reading this book reminded me that everyone has their strengths. And weaknesses. That there are hardships out there way worse than yours and that to be effective in special education you need to possess, 


"...enthusiasm, authority, humility, creativity, and authenticity as critical aspects of teaching." p. 167


It's easy to get in the rut. To be bogged down by bureaucracy, constraints, and the never ending battle of that which you cannot control. I try to celebrate the successes that seem so commonplace, like a whole day without an object being thrown. I also try to remember that that kid who cannot seem to follow the rules, they are still someone else's child. If they find their environment overwhelming, it is our job as adults to reconstruct it so that it is less painful. We need to create structure from chaos and focus on the positive they do, not the negative. Smile when we want to grunt, ignore when we want to scream, be passionate when we want to give up, and advocate for those who can't. At the end of the day I think, if this were my child, how would I want his teachers to treat him? 


It was reaffirming to read this book but also an eye opener to the things I've let slip over the year. If you have an interest in at-risk youth, poverty, or resilience, it's a great read. 

I Did It!

March Break came and went. Would you like to know what I did?

A whole lot of sleeping. I slept 10-12 hours each night plus took at least a 2 hour nap almost every day. I was utterly exhausted. I need a lot of sleep in comparison to everyone else I know. Steve can get by on less than 6 hours and not be affected...I on the other hand need at least 8 to function like a regular human being.  So I slept when I felt that I needed to sleep.

I visited with these cute babies.

I watched 2, yes 2 whole movies!

and

and I read. I finished

and then started

I wrote a lot. I sat in Starbucks and people-watched while sipping my latte.

I went to Niagara-on-the-Lake and strolled the main street, going in and out of shops. I saw signs for new wineries that I've come to like so I turned left and went to them.

I got my hair done, my toes done, my eyebrows done, had a massage, acupuncture, and an ion cleanse. I shaved my legs!

I did not go to the gym. I did not start running. I did not check off very much on my massive March Break to-do list. And most importantly...I did not go into work or do anything work related the whole 10 days.

I did it all for myself for the first time, guilt free!

A Tale of Patience Run Out

I more than dislike when I feel this way...that I may snap at any moment like a weak branch in the midst of the crazy windstorm we had the other day. I will fully admit that I did a shot when I got home from work today. It was one of 'those days' and it only got worse when I went to pick up some things for my students and Brennan had a full out meltdown in the Dollar Store. It looked something like this except sans Santa and he was fully on the floor. I'll spare you the audio.

I think I am more than annoyed tonight because it really shouldn't have been "one of those days" and I likely let it be one of those days because I am dreading tomorrow and I am in need of a break. So yes, I had a Sweet Tart for good measure before dinner. It didn't help. I went to the gym and worked on the rowing machine, figuring that constant deep pressure would help me relax. That's all the rage right now in education, finding ways to relax through deep pressure as part of learning to self-regulate. Apparently the ability to self-regulate is the new way to gage academic success. Turns out proprioceptive activities work better for sensory issues than annoyance! Brennan felt it appropriate to throw himself another temper tantrum at the gym. He is generally a really well behaved little guy and we're usually like this

But tonight, he was a meany pants to his Mommy! Steve suggested he was feeding off of my mood. I imagine Steve is right but you don't need to tell him that.

So now I write and listen to my favourite music and ponder how to make tomorrow better than today. A colleague always puts days like these into perspective when he tells stories of disgruntled people he runs into. He does outrageous impressions of people overreacting to the most trivial of situations, his latest an animated story of a man yelling about how long the line was for food at 12:30 at the National Museum of Play on Family Day/President's Day. Afterward Mike always ends the story with the show stopping statement: "If THIS is all you have to complain about in life - a long line on a holiday while spending the day with your family at a place dedicated to play - then you're doing alright buddy." I remind myself of his stories when I'm letting things get to me. I think that's what frustrates me the most when I feel grumpy about my day. I get more agitated because I know I shouldn't be upset. It's a vicious circle of synonyms for being annoyed. I even did what I repeatedly tell my students to do when they're mad - I used 'strategies' . But dammit, they didn't work! No wonder they rarely use them :-) I'm going to tell them that tomorrow because I think it's important to be real with them and show them humility. I'll probably leave out my shot strategy however.

***

Tomorrow is almost March - so it's time for a new resolution. I have made improvements with the first two but I'm finding dedication an issue. Motivation is pretty low. I'm starting a new volunteer project on Thursday so I imagine I will jump in with both feet and come out soaking wet with inspiration and hopefully a new goal. March is also the month I start running again and that always makes me feel better. Coincidentally, the sun starts to shine more and the temperature gets warmer, the windows start to open with fresh air signifying an end to this dreary, albeit warm, winter. I am looking forward to it and to all that Spring brings.

Growth.
Beauty.
Nature.
And more patience.

P.S. Guess who finally downloaded her pictures?

Break

I need one.

From grey skies. From hormones. From sad situations children grow up in.

I'd like a break from the mundane and tiring to join the world of creative and energetic.

I know what I need to do. Sometimes I get too far in an unhealthy rut and think, "Why bother?", kind of like when the clothes pile up on the bed. And the floor. Why stop now?

I'll be fed up soon enough and finally do something about it. I'm looking forward to that day because this annual February Pity Party is unwarranted, unwanted and rather pathetic.

*****

On a related note, why do people not follow sound advice? Like drinking 8 glasses of water a day, avoiding fast food, exercising regularly, flossing? Strange that as a culture we have such an incredible wealth of knowledge about healthy living and so many of us choose to ignore it. It's so easy to give advice and we know better. Not as easy to follow.

Clearly I'm failing with flying colours on my resolutions. February, you stink.

That Feeling

I walked into Starbucks today and there was a melancholy song on. The sky was dreary and the regulars trudged in wearing winter coats and boots. I noticed the lack of decorations and spunk.

The holidays are over. I'm not sure why I'm surprised.

At least when winter is starting there are the holidays to look forward to. Everywhere you go, you have the assurance of holiday cheer, or at least a setting to inspire the spirit. Once Valentine's day has sucked the life out of the single people and broke the bank for those poor men who buy triple priced roses, there's really nothing to prepare for until Spring. And yes there is Spring to look forward to but this dreary part of winter is my absolute most despised time of year. We have had a really easy mild winter season, and Mother Nature, please don't get me wrong I certainly appreciate your kindness in the precipitation and temperature department however, I need some sun.

I have noticed that the days are getting longer and I swore I heard the first trace of annoying birds start chirping outside my window. (Please note I am not a bird hater. I don't try to shoot them with BB guns, but the 3 trees in our front yard are home to the loudest and possibly earliest rising birds in town and I don't care for them at 4:45am thank you very much). Even though those birds are a good sign, Spring just always feels so far away. St. Patrick's Day is not as fun as when I was in university and unless there's a Shamrock Shake involved, I'm not decorating.

I don't think Starbucks is either.

Why Brennan Makes Me Laugh

He says good-bye to his toys, shoes, and Daddy's car when we go out, "Bye toys. See you soon."

When he sees a picture of one of us, he asks, "Is dat you Mommy? Dat you?" Always says it twice.

He calls my Gramma 'Ding Dong' because she has a grandfather clock and when it goes off she says ding dong. So now she's Ding Dong. When he talks to her on the phone, just before getting off, he still says, "Merry Christmas Ding Dong" then kisses the phone.

He stands in front of the fridge and says, "Umm how bout...yogurt?"

At dinner time, he says, "No, I don't want dinner. How bout cookie? 1,2,3 cookie."

He says goodbye to his poop.

When he wakes up in the morning he asks to 'watch his shows'. He knows The Young and the Restless is Mommy's show and hockey is Daddy's show.

When we pass the Goodlife plaza he asks to 'go to gym'. It's a helpful reminder.

This new exchange I still don't get. My friend Lyss posts these hilarious conversations she has with her son, so I thought I'd steal her idea and give it a whirl...

Brennan: "Brennan have grapes?"
Me: "You want grapes?"
Brennan: "Yes"
Me: "How do you ask?"
Brennan: "Peas Mommy"
I cut up grapes and pass him the bowl.
Brennan screaming and crying: "NOOOO!! I don't like grapes!"
Me: "Okay, Mommy will have them then."
Brennan: "No Brennan wants grapes."
And then he eats them.

When he plays with his tool set, he always says, "Look Mommy! Just like Grandpa!"

If he sees anything with Toy Story, he knows it's his cousin Grayce's favourite and if he sees anything to do with Cars, he knows it's his best friend's favourite. He likes monkeys.

He pretends to cook in his kitchen when I'm pretending to cook in mine.

He tells me what direction to turn when I'm driving and he's usually right!

And last but not least...Brennan makes me laugh when he farts and then says, "Toots" and then cracks up laughing. Look out ladies!

Seratonin Part 2

Well we're home! It was only 2 nights and 2 days, but they were long. Not necessarily stressful, not like when Brennan was at Mac for 5 days, but difficult. Keeping a toddler occupied in a single bed for 48 hours, ugh. I did it though. 


I imagine most people would not understand why that was necessarily a big deal. When your kid is sick, you stay with them. No brainer. Those who know me best expressed their concern for Brennan and immediately then asked how I was doing. They know how I get with hospitals. They accept my anxiety. The day we were admitted, Steve asked what he was doing with work - was he taking the next couple of days off? He knows how it goes. I think he was a bit surprised when I said, "No. I'll be okay." 


The nurses remembered us, mostly me I imagine, from the last time we were there. And the time before that when Brennan was born.


I don't remember who said it or where I read it, but somewhere down the line, I came upon the statement that if you 'own' your issue rather than let it 'own' you, then you have more control and you have won. You can take it over instead of it taking over you.


***


Looking back I've always struggled with anxiety. It was embedded in my childhood. Genetic predisposition + instability = one stressed out little girl who many thought would develop ulcers by the age of 20. Back then anxiety in children wasn't as prevalent as it is today, and when I was in my late teens and anxiety really reared it's ugly head, my doctor told me I had a 'social problem' and I shouldn't go out places that made me uncomfortable. "Are you serious? I'm 18!" That was really her solution. I had to get a psychologist to diagnose me with a Generalized Anxiety Disorder before my doctor would recognize it. Now, the statistics are astronomical for children diagnosed with anxiety. I wonder if it's easier for them and their families, knowing there is a biological reason for their often irrational behaviour. Maybe it causes more stress knowing it isn't a stage they're going to grow out of. I am curious what it would have been like for me had someone figured it out sooner and tried to help me. I used to get angry about it but now I use what I know and try to help as many children (and sometimes adults) as I can in their fight against this often taboo issue that really is no different than needing insulin for Diabetes. Organs aren't working properly and chemicals don't do what they're supposed to do. Why is that so uncomfortable for people to talk about?


The long and short of it is that I've come to learn about anxiety through experience and I've studied it at school, read about it, dealt with it with many students. I've had different forms of therapy and medications and herbal supplements. On and off for years I tried to do it on my own, not wanting to deal with the side effects that the prescriptions caused. I was successful for almost a full year. It took an incredible amount of effort and work, but damn I was proud of myself. 


And then I got pregnant. Wow hormones change things don't they? It was a rocky pregnancy filled with issues that could very well be a whole other post about the incompetence of some of our health care staff. I had to have a C-section with Brennan and the exhaustion, hormones, and drugs they gave me afterward caused what can only be described as a landslide of anxiety. I was a disaster for at least 2 weeks until the medication kicked in. I woke up on Day 9 and was fine. Completely back to my self. I struggled in the following months with having to be back on medication for my anxiety. I had conquered that mountain and I felt incredibly defeated having to surrender to the dreaded SSRI. I was on and off again, trying to find myself somewhere within new motherhood, but those damn hormones and the lack of sleep, they did me in.


***


Fast forward 11 months. I was trying to wean myself off anxiety meds and one day Brennan got sick. He didn't seem right to me so I took him to the hospital after calling TeleHealth. We sat for hours. The ER doctor said he had pneumonia and sent us home with a prescription. A few hours later I could tell he was getting worse so back I went with him. It took ALL night, literally, all fucking night for a paediatrician to be called in to see him. I won't even get started on the incompetent stream of people who tried to take his blood. The new ER doctor shaking his said saying he didn't know what was wrong. Maybe we should be admitted? YOU THINK?! From there, an ambulance was sent to pick us up from McMaster Children's Hospital. I hadn't slept for almost 2 days at this point, sans Seratonin regulators to boot. The reason the nurses remembered twanged we were in this week, was 1 - Brennan had had an abscess in his lymph nodes and it was an odd case that no one could figure out until that great paediatrician walked through the door that morning, and 2 - the main reason I imagine - his mother was a hysterical basket case, literally convulsively crying on the floor. They didn't understand why i was so upset because he was going to be fine, it wasn't THAT big of a deal in the medical world. He was going to a highly regarded hospital via ambulance with a great team of doctors to treat him. What was this lady freaking out about?


What they didn't understand was that my anxiety...it was more about me than about Brennan. It was about the change in my schedule, the unknown, the inability to control my day and that of my child. I couldn't handle such a sudden detour from life. My brain could not process this situation rationally. At all. I continued to act like a lunatic at Mac. I'm surprised they didn't admit me!


It was then that I realized, as a new Mom, I needed those pesky pills to make the chemicals in my brain work the way they should, because Brennan needed them to. He needed the stability and comfort of a Mom who was with it, so to speak. 


I struggled with it for many many months, especially when the side effects started screwing with my life. I felt like I had given in. I read a lot about natural remedies and lifestyle, the stresses of how we live and I know that given the right environment and circumstances, I could be ok without them. But for me, with the job I have and the job Steve has and the life we have chosen, my anxiety is so severe, that it can be debilitating at the first sign of stress. So I have accepted, at times not so graciously, that until Brennan is older and life is more stable...it is what it is. I will swallow the pink pills every morning.


***


And so this time, when Brennan's paediatrician stated those dreaded words, "I'm going to have to admit him overnight", I said, "Okay." I had already packed Brennan's bag before going to that appointment so I'd only had to run home and pack my own, a few extra toys, and away we went. I should admit that I fought off anxiety from 7:30 that morning until his appointment at 2:00 and that I tried all the strategies I had learned over the years. I made it through. The deep breaths, the self-talk, distractions, going for a walk. It turns out, they can work. Who knew? 


We got to the hospital and I knew where to go and how things worked. Maybe it was that knowledge that kept me calm - Steve said the third time was a charm :)  I explained to the admitting nurse that I had high levels of anxiety and that for me to be functional, I needed some sort of timeline or plan about what would happen that night. She looked at me like I had 5 heads, a timeline at a hospital?! The doctor showed up when he showed up, then you took it from there. I told her that wasn't good enough and she needed to break down the 'what ifs' for me and I asked her a million questions, not letting her off the hook. This was what I needed to be what my son needed. She figured it out. 


Thankfully one of the incredible nurses from when Brennan was born was on the night shift and just her presence was enough to make me relax. She promised me she would take good care of him throughout the night. I knew I didn't have to worry. I had a plan. And that nurse. My cousin came to stay with me until Steve got home from work, because I needed someone to distract me until the doctor did come. She's a saving grace. Never judgemental, always supportive. I stayed for 2 nights, no problems. There were unknowns and surprises but I prepared myself and I was okay! 


I imagine it sounds quite trivial to most people but there's undoubtedly someone out there who will one day read this and feel relieved that they're not the only one. That's how I feel every time someone I'd never expected, opens up to me about their experiences. I always feel better sharing parts of my story because every time I do, I get just that little bit stronger. 


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