OUT OF PRACTICE OR THE END OF THE WORLD

When I required myself to blog everyday, I blogged everyday. Somedays I liked my blog, other days I did not like my blog. But, each day I forced myself to think beyond my daily slog and think about the issues that affected myself and my family. Now that I have allowed myself to blog less often, I am falling into the nothingness of nothing. I am wasting my time traveling around the internet, reading reviews for "Catching Fire" which, I truly would like to see, but know it will be years until I get to see it. I have to satisfy myself with clips, reviews and rotten tomatoes. No one else in my family wants to see it.

I devoured each book starring Katniss Everdeen, loving the mix of dystopian storytelling and pre-teen love and adventure. It brought together so much that is missing in the more respected (and male dominated) science fiction reading, and dystopian storytelling that are exemplified in books like the Foundation series by Isaac Asimov. A truly great read, but often emotionally empty, and solidly, yet nerdily macho, as is true of much male written science fiction. Nerdy Macho, or Nachos. I need me a bowl of Nachos!

Why are dystopian stories so engaging? Never, or rarely happy in their endings, so many women writers have brought these cataclysmic stories into my life. I have read Ursula LeGuin, Margaret Atwood, and Suzanne Collins. I just can't get enough of the end of the world. Could I turn my own life into a dystopian novel? Maybe, it is like the Matrix, and I am already in one. Reading a dystopian novel is a lot like trying to raise children. Lots of scary bureaucrats that need to keep the status quo. In my book, I will call them "teachers." Then there is the hero or heroine which in my book is "me." I may need a bit of a makeover, but, hey, it is my book and I don't have to be 5'2" in my book!  Then there is the bleak landscape, empty storefronts, box stores and dazed people that are always in a hurry. I will call that the "suburbs." Then there is the fear that comes from the trying to raise children. I will call that "fear." The fear of being a bad parent, the regret felt after yelling at your children and the never ending drudgery of living in a world where the cooking and laundry never ends. Not to mention the lack of currency. All respectable dystopian novels mess with currency, and we are in a current, currency mess.  Remember, it's not a dream. Good night!

GETTYSBURG AND DEFECTS

So, what is a defect? Does a child with a special need have a defect? While working today, I was listening to Ken Burns' (the documentarian) being interviewed on WNYC about his Gettysburg Project. He talked about a school of boys with special needs including ADHD, Dyslexia, Dysgraphia, etc., and how emotionally moving it was for all of these boys, despite their issues, to manage to memorize and recite the Gettysburg Address. That certainly is wonderful, but what shocked me is he described their issues as "defects." I looked up defect on a free online dictionary, since no one digs out the old, dusty Websters anymore, and found this definition.

DEFECT:

1. The lack of something necessary or desirable for completion or perfection; a deficiency 2. An imperfection that causes inadequacy or failure; a shortcoming. See Synonyms at blemish.

So many things are defective. My camera that can no longer open and close the lens is defective. My boiler that leaks has a defect. I need a new camera. I need to fix my boiler. I prefer not to refer to any person as having a "defect." My daughter has dyslexia. It is not a defect, but a learning difference. I can not, nor would I like to, trade in my daughter for a more perfect model. She is imperfect, as all people are, yet perfect to me, as all daughters are to their moms.

Words matter when speaking about people with learning differences. When we call a learning difference a "defect," we take away the respect of all people that are not created "perfect." So, in Ken Burns' pursuit of finding meaning for all of us in the Gettysburg address, he may want to investigate the power of language and how language can uplift some people and denigrate others. Calling a learning issue a defect denigrates a person. I'm sure Mr. Burns did not know or think about how he might hurt a population of people by saying that their learning differences are defects. The struggle of people with different abilities is reenforced when an educated man that is trying to educate, us, the people, can so forcefully forget that words matter to all people. People with disabilities prefer not to be told they have a "defect." That time has passed. Now, let us read the the Gettysburg address:

Four score and seven years ago our fathers brought forth on this continent, a new nation, conceived in Liberty, and dedicated to the proposition that all men are created equal.

Now we are engaged in a great civil war, testing whether that nation, or any nation so conceived and so dedicated, can long endure. We are met on a great battle-field of that war. We have come to dedicate a portion of that field, as a final resting place for those who here gave their lives that that nation might live. It is altogether fitting and proper that we should do this.

But, in a larger sense, we can not dedicate -- we can not consecrate -- we can not hallow -- this ground. The brave men, living and dead, who struggled here, have consecrated it, far above our poor power to add or detract. The world will little note, nor long remember what we say here, but it can never forget what they did here. It is for us the living, rather, to be dedicated here to the unfinished work which they who fought here have thus far so nobly advanced. It is rather for us to be here dedicated to the great task remaining before us -- that from these honored dead we take increased devotion to that cause for which they gave the last full measure of devotion -- that we here highly resolve that these dead shall not have died in vain -- that this nation, under God, shall have a new birth of freedom -- and that government of the people, by the people, for the people, shall not perish from the earth.

IS IT TIME FOR SPRING BREAK ALREADY?

"Your name has been chosen to come to Mrs. Teacher's class spring party. The party is on April 10@ 12:30. We will send details when it gets closer. "

Seems I have just won the lottery and will be privileged to be allowed to come into my son's classroom to volunteer for a party in April. Until then, his class will remain a mystery to me. But, at least I can  share my glorious invitation to enter this sanctified room more then five months from today. What my children do each day at school remains a mystery to me. I am at the mercy of no information. My children say nothing. The teachers say nothing. And, I am happy to hear nothing. Because when you hear something, it is never something good.

Yes, for me, no news is good news.

Sometimes I dream about going into a school meeting. The teacher would bekon me from the other side of the room to sit down. I would watch her face light up when she saw me. A smile would envelop her whole face. Uplifting music would swell in the background. I would take my seat. The teacher would regale me with stories of my perfect child. Ahhh, so quiet, so smart, so industrious, so polite, an example for all children everywhere. All the teachers would whisper when I walked by. She must be the most amazing mother to have such well behaved and smart children. She must be doing something right. Yes, just a dream, but what a wonderful dream.

But, my children are not the chosen ones. They are just children, good children, but not the quiet and well behaved children. Both very active, one that is diagnosed hyperactive. I know the teachers are judging me when judging my children. The well behaved children must come from good homes with good parents and appropriate discipline. The not so well behaved children must come from difficult homes with bad parents and inappropriate discipline. If there is a special need, the parents must also have special needs. That belief system is what makes it possible for teachers and administrators to call a parent to pick up a child when they are not behaving as expected, with the burden placed heavily on the parent of a child with special needs. Just take that child away! Give them back to their underserving, bad parents. That child does not belong in my school! And so, the children with behavior issues get pushed out of the school, into a special school, and often never finish school.

I still have on my answering machine a message from the principal of my daughter's school she attended last year that says I need to come pick up my child or she will be suspended. Her crime was crying and refusing to leave the classroom. The reason: she could not do all six questions correctly. She could do five. The principal told me she had no choice but to call me. Her teachers needed to go to lunch, there was no one willing to stay with my daughter.  I received many calls from the school last year to pick my daughter up. No wonder those of us that have children with special needs grow to fear a call from the school. I have developed a Pavlovian fear response every time I hear the phone ring. First I look at the phone, like a panicked rat about to be shocked. When I see it is from the school, I begin to sweat. If I see it is not from the school, I feel the calmness that is akin to a warm bubble bath.

More kids are now diagnosed with special needs that include behavior issues. These children are entitled to a free and appropriate education (FAPE). Yet, the schools have less money to attend to those behavior issues. And too many school professionals and parents of typical kids believe, why waste money on those "bad" kids, they are just going to be criminals or be a burden to the system anyway. And, if only the parents were better at parenting there would not be any of this trouble. So, no wonder so many of us have grown to hate the school system. We didn't expect to dislike the school system, but the public school system has, like Pavlov, shocked me one too many times.

Last year, I told the school psychologist that I was blocking calls from the school. I was only joking. I only wished I could block calls from my child's school. But, one day when I forgot my phone at home, I received a reprinmanding email that I should not block calls from the school, and I needed to come get my daughter. I no longer trusted the school, the school did not trust me. And so, I leave you with an image of the perfect child, Shirley Temple. She was cute, talented, kind, polite, smart, witty, and she was a fantasy.

AN EPISODE ABOUT NOTHING

After taking a blogging break for Halloween, I have been giving my daily blog some thought. While the idea of blogging each school night of the year seemed great to me when I started this blog, I believe it is too often making me write about nothing. So, in honor of Seinfeld, I am changing my strategy. For a time, I am going to try blogging a little less often, but, I hope with the ability to write about an issue more at length then I have been able to do over the past two months. So, keep coming back. Monday is the start of a new week and Tuesday is election day. So while my daughter has four baby teeth pulled to make room for her adult teeth, we get to choose our government representatives. I wonder who will be in more pain?

THE SCHOOLS ARE ALIVE WITH THE SOUND OF MUSIC

The silence is deafening except for my son who is in the second grade singing club and is singing the 12 Days of Thanksgiving. They are remaking the Sound of Music into a live show, I'm really afraid. So far, no bad news from the school. No midday day phone calls to pick up my child. No emergency CSE meetings. No stomach aches. Is silence a good thing? Could it be I am in a Silent Movie or will I need to Silent Run. Maybe it is the Silence of the Lambs. Yes, it is too quiet. Something must be wrong or I have been watching too many movies. I haven't seen a non-animated movie since my daughter was born 12 years ago, which makes me unable to reference any movie made post-2001 that doesn't star either a princess or talking animals.  So, for now, All Quiet on the Western Front for the Quiet Man so let's Pillow Talk tomorrow when the kids have thoroughly gorged themselves on Halloween candy.

HOMEWORK ESP

Is that grade accurate and where is the homework? When I watch all the kids coming home from school, their bags are full. They and their parents complain there is no time because their child has so much homework. My child that is in the inclusion class comes home with very little homework. Now, I did ask that her homework should be modified but how do I know if my child is getting work at or near grade level? When she takes a test, is it marked on an IEP curve? It is a question that many parents with children that have IEP's ask. You try to gage where your child is on the curve as you  move closer to the thought of if and when your child will get a high school diploma. Will she be able to pass the regents. Those tests are not so far away anymore. How can I know if she will be ready?

So, when things get too stressful, I watch old movies. Does Ghostbusthers count as an old movie, or am I just getting old? Is that a gray hair?! My gray hair worries: tests, graduation, passing, failing, grading, college, no college, independence, codependence, interdependence, dependence. I wish I could see into the future.......

Janine Melnitz: Do you believe in UFOs, astral projections, mental telepathy, ESP, clairvoyance, spirit photography, telekinetic movement, full trance mediums, the Loch Ness monster and the theory of Atlantis?

Winston Zeddemore: Ah, if there's a steady paycheck in it, I'll believe anything you say.

TESTIMONY

I became a graduate from the Partners on Policy Making Class, 2013. To graduate, I needed to present testimony. This is my testimony on disability education (slightly edited).

My name is MS and I am so glad that you are here to share this special day with me, because today is my birthday. And, because it is my birthday, I will be able to make a wish tonight when I blow out my candles. I know we are supposed to keep our birthday wishes secret, but I am going to make a special exception and share my birthday wish with all of you.

Before I make my wish, I am going to tell you a story.

Back in September, I was sitting on the playground watching my son play while chatting with the other moms. We were taking part in the September ritual of comparing our children's new teachers. My child had been given the teacher with the mean reputation.  The mom next to me said the only thing that was important to her was that her children not be put in the inclusion class. I nodded, and asked her more about why she made this choice. She said she didn't want her children to think that they might become like "one of them."  I thought about my own "one of them's". My lovely, daughter who has ADHD and Dyslexia. We were so happy to have her in inclusion. In fact, that was our aspiration. But, over the years, I have met many of these moms and dads that fear being near my child and children with disabilities. These are not moms and dads that are uneducated, racist or mean, just uninformed and inexperienced. They believe that if their child is near my child, their child might catch her disease or be hurt by her. I have heard it all since no one would ever know by looking at my daughter that she has a disability. I have been told the class will go slower if children with disabilities are placed with typical kids. I have been told that the children with disabilities will bully the typical kids. I have been told that the teachers won't pay attention to the typical children because they will need to pay attention to all those kids with special needs.

Can I tell this mom that approximately 12 percent of kids in the school have IEP's and it is very likely her child is playing with "one of those" right now? Can I tell her that her children may not need inclusion now, but in the future, she may find herself in a different set of circumstances? Can I tell her that Michael Phelps, Chuck Close, Steven Spielberg and Whoopi Goldberg all have either learning, mobility or developmental disabilities and are open about their struggles. Yes, I can say all of this, but I am only reaching one person.

I am here to advocate for the mandated teaching of disability history, including programs that demystify what it means to have and live with a disability. Every school should have curriculum devoted to the history of disability and the day-to-day reality of living with a disability. They should have curriculum that teaches respect for all people including those with different abilities. They should have a curriculum that discusses inclusion in school, in work and in the community. We have come a long way in our country in moving towards a more equal society. But, it seems that equality for those of differing abilities is lagging behind the progress of other groups looking for respect and equality. We have disability law, to make those laws effective, we need disability education.

So, let me tell you my birthday wish. I want everyone here. I want everyone in my town and state to recognize my daughter as an equal member of our society. I want her neighbors to see her as a young lady, not a child to be feared. I want moms and dads around the state to want their children to be in the classroom with my daughter and with all children that enhance our world with their different abilities. I want a mom to come up to me and say, I want my child in the inclusion class. I want my child to sit next to your child. I want my child to learn from your child. My child has so much to offer.

So, let's educate, let’s inspire, let's bring the message to our schools, Teach us. Teach us to understand and respect all people that share this earth.  Let us all be part of the same community.

I want to thank everyone that has come here today to share my birthday. Please, make my wish come true. Because if my wish comes true, my daughters wish comes true. The wishes of many families come true. Everyday, someone with a disability has a birthday and someone without a disability has a birthday. Already, they have something in common.

MADE IN CHINA

I couldn't tell if I was safe or in danger with all those Power Rangers, Witches, Ninjas,  and lots and lots of fairies at the pre-halloween fall festival. Fun for the kids, but there was no candy! Absolutely, no candy. What has halloween come to, when we can't have candy? I look forward to raiding my kids halloween bags to see what treats I can take when no one is looking. Instead we are stuck with all kinds of plastic toys just waiting to fill up landfills everywhere. I would rather have my kid have a little candy then take home all those throwaway toys. At least candy is biodegradable.

Well, there is still the real Halloween to come. Lots of nut free, sugar free, fun free candy waiting for me. Come to my house, we will have only the good candy. Nothing made in China, I promise.

IT WAS BEAUTY THAT REJECTED THE BEAST

Rejection is integral to all of our lives. Perhaps we are rejected in love or rejected in work. We might be rejected by friends, family, by a coop board, a college, our religion, by a school. I'm amazed by how many forms of rejection exist. So, how do we move forward when faced with this ever present possibility?

Faye Ray rejected King Kong. Perhaps, she was right to reject him. There might have been some anger and control issues that would have made the relationship difficult. Perhaps he only cared for her because of her good looks. "It was beauty that killed the beast." King Kong climbed to the top of the Empire State Building only to fall off to his sad end. Just think of how much rejection has gone in inside the Empire State building during this time of high unemployment. King Kong would have found much company today on his way down. My father told me he once worked in the Empire State Building, what he didn't tell me (and what parent would?) was how much rejection life would hold.

I work to make my children's life better, but I won't be able to save them from rejection. I work to make my life better, but I picked a field just brimming with rejection (or, at least that has been my experience). So how do you go on? How do you make the world a positive place for yourself and your children? Perhaps, we should all avoid movies like King Kong, or perhaps we should watch King Kong, Bridget Jones Diary, Kramer vs. Kramer, or any Jane Austen movie...

STILL CRAZY AFTER ALL THESE YEARS

It's past 9:00, all children are still awake and I promised myself to post to the blog every school night during the year. Does that make me:

a. Tired
b. Crazy
c. Hate myself every time I look at a clock
d. All of the above

Maybe there is something about growing up in Queens, NY that leaves some of us unhinged (or if not unhinged, at least artsy which automatically makes you unhinged): Christopher Walken, Donald Trump, Johnny and Joey Ramone, Paul Simon and Art Garfunkel. Maybe that is why I miss Queens so much. Perhaps there is something about that underappreciated borough that breeds a compulsively artistic or unhinged type. All of us at some point need to wash off the Archie Bunker stereotype (and, yes, Carroll O'Connor spent much of his childhood in Queens). Now, Queens is getting a little more respect and I'm now out on Long Island complaining about the food, the schools, the drivers, the boredom....ever restless and ever crazy even after all these years.

UP YOUR NOSE WITH A RUBBER HOSE

My son does not exist. Well, according to the list of students the school just sent out, my son does not exist. One of the few nice things that happens in my suburb is that the elementary school sends out a class list with the child's name and parent contact information. That makes it easy to make play dates or invite kids to a party. Last year, my son did not appear on the list. I chalked it up to being new and didn't worry about it. However, this year he is not on the list again. I called the school to tell them, but of course, I was told I must not have filled out the paperwork. I thought they would care that a child was missing from the list. No, they didn't care. I was told that perhaps they might be able to fix my son's class list, but there would not be a new list sent out. It wasn't even a hard copy, but an email! I didn't press too hard. You can't make someone care that your child won't be invited to parties and miss out on play dates. We expect so much from our teachers and schools. So many of us grew up watching TV shows like The Facts of Life and Welcome Back, Kotter. All those caring teachers that populate TV. Although, today those Sweathogs would be in special education instead of remedial education. How could any real person or institution ever live up to fabulous 70s entertainment and fashion?

I remember when my daughter graduated from 2nd grade there was a celebration, even caps and gowns! I happened to be visiting the school before the ceremony and looked at the graduation list. My daughter's name was missing. It was missing because all of the kids in the special education program were missing. I told the principal. She was very apologetic and the list was changed. I remember her kindness in changing the list, but I also remember her oversight in having all the special education children missing.

Lists are important. Belonging is important. At least, I thought it was or maybe it is just: Up your nose with a rubber hose.

30-LOVE CHEERLEADERS?

No, my daughter will never play tennis like Serena Williams. But, she is on the tennis team and today she made one of those unsportsmanlike choices. When faced with the conflict of a game or swim lesson, my daughter choose the swim lesson, leaving her doubles partner sans partner. I got irritable with my daughter because I couldn't decide if I should tell her she should go to tennis since she is committed to the team, or go to swimming as I have committed my unrefundable money to the class that is unmakeupable. I never had any strong commitment to sports, but out in the suburbs, sports are everywhere. Everywhere I look, kids are massing in large numbers chasing after some kind of ball. Tiny 6 year old cheerleaders roam the schools in their tiny cheerleading outfits. Even at that young age, those cheerleaders make me nervous. Are they already in popularity training, practicing rejecting those that are less peppy and coordinated? I was never a cheerleader, and I'm pretty sure I tried out and was rejected. There are only eight children on the Junior High Girls Tennis team, so my daughter's absence probably did cause a forfeited game. But, there must have been hundreds of those mini cheerleaders circling the football field this past weekend. Why are there no tennis cheerleaders?

A FOND REMEMBERENCE OF A CROOK

The government is open again and for the first time in over a year, I am watching the PBS News Hour. My son is ruining his eyes and brain playing computer video games while my daughter is out at the YMCA. Such a quiet house! Some parents look forward to a night out, perhaps a move or dinner. But, I'm happy to watch the News Hour. All those talking heads sound so despondent. The government may be open again, but what is left of our government? I was brought up talking politics and watching the News Hour reminds me of my parents, now dead. Talking politics was in my family's DNA. Politics and Education. My father went to a big city school in Brooklyn that graduated future Nobel prize winners. Yet, he was so happy that I was moving my children out to the suburbs to a school that has graduated no Nobel prize winners. Does the school really matter? Does the government really matter? It seems that to be able to succeed today you need to know how to function under dysfunction. While I was cleaning out my father's papers, I came across the one New York Times newspaper that he kept. It was not the moon landing or the Kennedy assassination, but the resignation of President Nixon. Watergate seems almost quaint today. What I wouldn't do for just a little hotel break in just as long as the hotel has a pool and room service (a functioning pool and room service).

WHICH ONE OF THESE THINGS IS NOT LIKE THE OTHER?

I was singing that classic Sesame Street song to myself today...

One of these things is not like the others,
One of these things just doesn't belong,
Can you tell which thing is not like the others
By the time I finish my song?


I was thinking about one of the many rejections I have taken during my art career. Despondent about my most recent rejection, I looked to see who I might know among the acceptances. Too many. I knew nearly half of all the acceptances to a show that rejected me. When I saw the names, I knew what all the acceptances had in common: they knew each other and they knew the curator. Ah, that is art. A world of "who you know" and a world that likes to say it is non conformist and takes chances on the unknown, but time and time again proves otherwise. Sour grapes, yes. But, grapes are often sour. 

BABIES THAT BULLY

All of us remember bullies. Most of us were at some point bullied. I know adults that bully. Kids can bully. Teachers can bully. Bosses can bully. On the playground I have had other parents chastise me about not watching my misbehaving child. Why are they so comfortable chastising me? That, too, is bullying. This never happens to my quite tall husband. His height and his sex has inoculated him from some of the day to day bullying. Since, I am small, I feel it more readily. I never go to a school meeting without him, because I know that everyone will listen and respect what he says, while, alone, I will need to fight harder to be heard. Is it size? Is it sex? Why do some people feel they have the power to belittle others? Both my kids are having trouble in school with bullies. It is a form of power. Bullying is not just physically hurting someone or calling them names, but the intention of making someone feel powerless. We start off in school bullying, then we go off into the adult world still bullying. What are we supposed to tell our kids?

LATE NIGHT WRITERS BLOCK

Now that we have moved my son to a different teacher, I feel I have lost a great source of subjects to write about on this blog. My muse is no more. No more traffic lights or bunny chairs. So far, so good with both kids. Now, like my son, I have a case of writers block. However, as I worry less about my kids, I am able to turn my attention back to making my artwork. But, what will I write about? On the one hand, I really need something to happen in school, on the other hand, I really dread anything happening at school. I feel empathy for all those late night comedians that were so happy to have President Obama elected, yet so dissappointed to lose all that potentional material given to them by Bush, Clinton, Bush, Reagan, Carter, Ford, Nixon.....So, now, if my kids are fine, I will need to turn my attention to my own work. That is not funny. I'll never be elected now.

DR. WHO IS DRIVING MY CAR?

There was never any time to ask the kids about school today as I participated in the suburban ritual of chauffeuring my children from activity to activity. I picked up my son at school at 3:00, staying in the playground for one hour, then drove to the next playground that is next to the tennis courts to pick up my daughter from tennis. Then we went home. In less then an hour I made dinner, we ate dinner and we were out the door for the next activity. After that class, I took my daughter to the YMCA for pre-teen night, and then drove my son to the Boy Scouts (pack meeting, as he is a wolf). There he raced around with a potato and got wrapped up like a mummy. We then left to pick up my daughter at the YMCA. After shooting a few hoops, we left to pick up my husband at the train as he was returning from Comic Con. He brought me back a pair of Dr. Who earrings. Between us, I don't even like Dr. Who. I find those Daleks just too darn annoying. But, I could use some time travel right now. If I wear those Tardis earings, maybe a doctor will come save me and bring me to a planet where I get to fight evil while sitting under an umbrella, drinking margaritas by the beach. 

BLUTO SAYS 2BZ4UQT

Remember Junior High Lunch? We sat their carefully choosing our food in fear of what might get stuck to our braces. Now, no one needs to worry about that anymore because none of the kids are looking up. They are all texting! Now you don't have to risk embarrassment since no one is looking at you. It turns out that our little suburb allows kids to take out their electronics at lunch and it turns out that they all have electronics and it turns out they all have better electronics then me. Now they can sit right across from each other, text a silly remark and nobody is the wiser. A quiet room filled with the sound of electronic beeps and plastic trays, but not the sound of voices. A perfect place for the subtle kind of bullying that happens when you don't have to say something out loud. Just a quick text to a friend about another child, a shared snicker and nobody is the wiser. Why are electronics allowed at lunch? I guess it is better than a food fight, or is it?

NO DOGS OR PARENTS ALLOWED

Before we moved to Long Island, and when we had our children in a big, neighborhood public school, we were always irritated with how little connection we had with the school. We were let in for a few special occasions, but the loudspeaker would come on, warning all of us that it was time to go! At the end of the day, we stood outside the school building while the teachers would march the approximately 1500 K-5 students around the building. When we eyed our child, we would frantically wave to retrieve them for fear that we would miss them and they would be marched into the cafeteria.

For the one year we were at a Charter School, there was a much more open door policy. I could go at any time and eat breakfast or lunch with my child. I could look through the glass on the classroom door just to get a peak. What a comfort that was.

Now that we are in the burbs, it was to my great surprise that there is no actual policy for viewing a class. So, if you have a teacher that doesn't like to invite parents to events, you may never see your child in the classroom. If you ask to view the class, you can be refused. Even in NYC there is a policy to view your child in the class as long as you give written notice. But, here, nothing. Absolute shock! So, why do these parents in my suburban town put up with this! This is your child you are entrusting all day to a system that has no policy about visiting a classroom. 

One of the more pathetic excuses I hear is that it is to protect the privacy of the children. This is public school! Public! We are the Public! Perhaps, they should not allow our children to put on plays in which they invite us, the PUBLIC! Another excuse I hear is that it will disrupt the class. Now, as any parent knows, there isn't much time in the day. If you want to go observe the class, there is usually a reason, like you are being told your child is disrupting the class, wouldn't they want the parent's input?! And, most importantly, I remember the glow on my child's face when I was able to visit. It showed them, I was a part of their day and I cared.

I really have no way to explain this, except to say, that if teachers are feeling under attack these days, not building a relationship with the parent and having the power to not let a parent view a classroom is only going to build on the growing distrust. It is sad for all of us, as all of us want the same thing, a good and caring education for our child. Most teachers are parents too. But, with doors closed, communication is closed. All schools should emulate NYC (Yes, I said emulate NYC) and have a written, understood policy about visiting the classroom. I promise, if I am allowed in, I won't bring any peanuts or dogs.

THE FINAL RESTORATION, THE LAST SUPPER

We have restored order in our household. My son's class has been changed. My daughter is managing the change in her schedule to all inclusion classes. My concentration was better at my art studio. Will this mean, I can now rest and be assured that the rest of the year will be all sweet and rosy? Can I begin to focus on making my own artwork again? Or, like the restoration of Leonardo Da Vinci's painting, "The Last Supper", will there be controversy? My son is still refusing to write at school and complained that another child called him annoying. My daughter tells me she is being secretly poked by another girl. It really never ends. We try to make things better for our children, but like the restoration of "The Last Supper", it can go on for years, be a lot of hard work, and yet, not please everyone.

AWOL AT SCHOOL

My son was moved into a different class today. I feel guilty. He is happy, yet I feel bad. I feel like we have abandoned our platoon. The other kids and parents remain at battle with their red, yellow and green cards. When the shelling begins, they place their heads on the desk. My son is no longer fighting close to enemy lines, but quietly (well, I can't really say quietly) sipping chocolate milk in the safety of another class. Would the original G.I. Joe, mint in box have abandoned his friends like this? Would G.I. Joe have fought to have his son moved into a more pleasant class or told him to take it, a little yelling and hard work will make you stronger? I do believe original G.I. Joe would have remained behind with his troops. But, I never did like G.I. Joe, I was always more partial to Ken.

A TRIP FOR PARIS

Paris, our hamster is laying lifeless in her cage. We have done all we can to help her, so now we will just wait and hope for the best. I called an emergency veterinarian that specializes in small animals. Should we take her in for a consult that costs $120.00 not including diagnostic tests or treatment? We once took in our Guinea Pig, Bacon.  It turned out she was dehydrated. The gave her some water, but she still did not hang on much longer.

How attached we get to these small animals, but never at the right time. My children were so excited to get Paris, but once we had Paris all of us almost completely ignored her except my husband who cleaned her cage. Now we are in a state of sadness and guilt. How long had she been laying there. Did we give her a good life? Will there be a miracle, and we will find her going around as usual on her wheel so loudly we can't hear the TV. In honor or Paris, I will not post about school today except to say everyone had a good day except for Paris.

ALL WORK AND NO PLAY MAKES JACK A DULL BOY

My son says that school is all work and no play, will that make him a dull boy? I was trying to work in my studio today, but just didn't have the concentration so I took a stroll down my old street in Astoria, Queens.

Such a big city, yet it felt like a small town. I couldn't walk a few feet down the street without someone stopping me to say hello and asking me how I was doing on Long Island? "It's better for the kids, right" said my old neighbors. "It's better for the kids, right" said the old man that always sat on the stoop. "It's better for the kids, right" said the mom that always walked up and down the street holding tightly to her young daughter. I shrugged my shoulders. What could I say. Is it better? I will need to wait for my children to grow up and tell me as I watch them pack there bags and move to faraway places.

My daughter has encountered her arch enemy in her new inclusion classes. This girl spent last year kicking and making fun of my daughter (and other kids too). I think I need a new job to take my mind of all my children's troubles. Perhaps, there is an opening at the Overlook Hotel. All work and no play makes this blogger a dull girl.

STOPGO, A.K.A. EXPERIMENT 102

"Stopgo, A.K.A. Experiment 102, is an illegal genetic experiment. He is designed to cause traffic jams." I suppose, you might call my son, my own genetic experiement. Unlike Stopgo, I did not design him to wreak havoc, nor is he a cartoon. But don't all 7 year old boys wreck havoc? That is a question I have now that my son's classroom has an electronic traffic light that unlike Stopgo is supposed to control trouble, not make trouble. This classroom stoplight makes noise when the class gets noisy. My son says he can't work because the noise from the traffic light is distracting. Trying to control noise, with noise! Sounds like the perfect experiment!

Ah, but let us move on from the pleasures of thinking about "Lilo and Stitch" and turn my attention to my daughter. Three days in inclusion for my daughter and she has a sore throat. Is it real, or is it the pressure of her new classes? So strange, when I started this blog, I thought I would mostly be writing about her time at school. Advocating for a child with special needs through the school system has been a harrowing experience, yet, this year my son is the one suffering. She is probably thankful for me having turned my attention from her to him. Now, she won't have to tell me I worry too much! And, she is right! So, now I am going out to cross the street against the light just to see if I get in trouble.

LIBERTY AND JUSTICE FOR ALL OR TAKE YOUR STINKING PAWS OFF ME, YOU DAMNED DIRTY APE!

Because of government shutdown, I have put aside any joking, and will move forward (unlike the government) with a more serious post today. As a reminder, the Statue of Liberty is now closed.

Teachers are thrust upon us and unlike a babysitter that we hire, we are stuck with them. This is the case with my son's teacher. I did not choose her and he does not like being in her class, I don't like him being in her class, But the principal won't change his class. Perhaps, in a different school district, his class would be changed simply on request. But, that is not the case in my small, Long Island town.

Am I a spoiled middle class mother that feels entitled to a good and kind education for my child? It is so painful to know that your child is suffering. All children in the United States are entitled to a free, public education. Why do we accept "mean" teachers. Is it OK to be mean, if they get "results"? Does it build character? Does it make our child more resilent? And, finally what does it mean to be entitled? ENTITLED - a powerful word. And, on this day of government shutdown, it is important to remember the word entitlement includes Social Security, Medicare, Medicaid, Food Stamps and, also, Public Education. As someone who pays my taxes, but am not rich enough to choose private school, I am reliant on the entitlement of public education. Does that also mean I must accept the suffering of my child in order to receive that entitlement?

You Maniacs! You blew it up! Ah, damn you? God damn you all to hell!

I LOVE TRASH

Welcome to Monday, I am going to open this blogpost with a quote from a notice from my son's second grade teacher:

As the cold and allergy season approaches I don't remember if I shared the "tissue" procedure with you. Please send in a small baggie with tissues that your child can keep in their desk-in addition a small empty baggie for used tissues so we avoid the continual walk from the tissue box to their seat.

I wonder why she put the word "tissue" in quotes? Could the word tissue have other meanings?  I always thought of it as a fine, soft piece of paper also known as "Kleenex". However, in looking up the meaning, I see that "tissue" could be defined as bodily cells. Could she have issues with all those stuffy 7 year old bodies and noses. There could be chaos in the class as all those children run up at once to reach for the tissues at the same time! Noses running and dripping, hands and sleeves wiping. Maybe all of them should where latex gloves and masks. That could be in the next note home, I guess I'll wait and see!

In the meantime, my daughter changed her schedule today. Will all be OK in her new, inclusive classes? Or, will I be in need the "tissue." I don't have separate baggies, but I do have a trash can. Maybe, that is what my son's school needs, a trashcan!?

THE GOBLET OF FIRE DRILL

Practice, practice, practice those fire drills! I wonder if having fire drills really make a difference. I was at my daughter's school today at a meeting that was, of course, about my daughter and there was a fire drill. Those kids sauntered out very slowly. I wonder how many of them would have made it out if it had been a real fire? My daughter has been chosen by the Goblet of Fire. She will have to change her classes so she will be in full inclusion. Sort of, a kind of fire drill. Let's see what she can do now, in case we have to put out the fire later. I was so grateful for the teachers that asked for the meeting and advocated for my daughter to ratchet up her education moving towards that regents diploma. Sometimes, good can happen and good people can help a child succeed. So, now we will hold our breadth and hope no fire comes. Or, she wins the tournament with the help of some wizardly magic.

MOMMIE DEAREST?

A trip to the orthodontist, oh my. I'm told my daughter needs braces! I looked at the palette expander and practically fell down while putting on a brave face for my very excited and happy daughter as she moved herself up and down in the dental chair. With that xray, I'm sure your insurance will cover this said the dental assistant with only a first name placard. Will these braces make her feel just like one of the girls in junior high? Or, will the reality be much harder? Will it be painful? When I turn the palette expander, will I be hurting my child for the sake of a beautiful smile? If I could only ask Joan Crawford. What would Joan do?

DAISY, DAISY, GIVE ME YOUR ANSWER DO

HAL: I know I've made some very poor decisions recently, but I can give you my complete assurance that my work will be back to normal. I've still got the greatest enthusiasm and confidence in the mission. And I want to help you.

We received a call from the evaluator for Assistive Technology for my daughter. Could it be that finally she will get some technology that will really help her? I am so excited, and worried at the same time. Will it be a Brave New World, or a Space Odyssey?

BLOG IN, BLOG OUT

The routine has set in. Each day, early to rise, yet late to bed. Not enough sleep. Studies say those older kids like my 7th grader need more sleep, yet her school starts at 7:30AM, more then 1 hour earlier then my 2nd grader. If she wants to join clubs or get extra help, that starts at 7:00AM. So, everyday, we wake before the sun has fully risen. We sleepily get ready, and drag ourselves through the day. I yearn for those late summer mornings, waking with the sun. Day in, Day out. Day in, Day out.....

THE BUNNY CHAIR

"What's up Doc?" It is on order of my son's 2nd grade teacher, that the bunny chair shall be used for time out. I hope that doesn't give my son a long lasting fear of bunnies?! He seems to be taking it all in stride. I, however, spent the weekend online wondering if time outs were still used in schools. I still remember that when my daughter was in Kindergarten, the guidance counselor gave a seminar for parents on discipline. All the parents were told we should not hit our kids, and then we were told we were not to give them time outs. Having a child that only recently had begun to speak, verbal reasoning seemed a far off dream for me, so I raised my hand and asked what we could do if we can't use time outs, he said he would tell us all the following week. Well, I never did get the answer, but I have had an uncomfortable feeling about time outs ever since.  My daughter is moving along well in school. At least, there have been no frightening calls requesting that I come pick her up. In fact, her teachers seem to like her. I wonder if that will last. We are going in to discuss moving her into harder classes. I've come to enjoy those easy classes, after all, less homework for my daughter, is less homework for me. But, at the speed she is going, a regents diploma may be a far off dream. Is it time to raise the bar?

WE'RE AS MAD AS HELL, AND NOT GOING TO TAKE THIS ANYMORE

Yes, it was a tremendous turnout at the open house at my son's school yesterday. I couldn't help but notice the difference between the turnout here in the suburbs and the turnout we used to have in the city. Here, the room was packed. In the city, open house was always so quiet. My son's second grade glass has 25 students and 1 teacher. That is a number I would have seen in the city. So, here, with my expensive taxes and involved families, the class size is still not much different then the city. So, why do so many of us think that the schools are better out here. I have yet to see any clear evidence that education, at least in my burb is superior to the city. We have good teachers, but we also have not so good teachers. We have good schools and bad schools. Perhaps because I have had to be involved much more than most parents to advocate for one child that has special needs, but I'm mad as hell! I wanted so much more from the burbs, and the burbs let me down. Perhaps my expectations were too high? Perhaps, all of us need to get used to a new reality of lower expectations. Perhaps the definition of happiness is having a lower expectation threshold. The weekend is coming, for now the sky is blue, can we all look forward to the happiness of low expectations to come.

OCB: OBSESSIVE COMPULSIVE BLOGGING

I told myself I would blog everyday about my children's progress through school, that must make me an Obsessive Compulsive Blogger. I wish I had the energy to write about their day at school, but I just came back from another open school night and the boredom was just overwhelming. My son's teacher used a prepared powerpoint, where she read each slide, word for word. My ADD acted up, and I started to look out the window. I wonder if my son does that too. What a difference in the turnout of parents from the city to the burbs. The classroom was packed with eager, interested parents. Open school night in the city was always nearly empty. More on this tomorrow, weariness is overpowering my OCB.

HOMEWORK HELP

The homework has begun, and I already need a break. The whining, complaining and crying are fairly muted now, but it is just a preview of what is to come. I just don't know how other families manage homework. Homework instead of showers and resting. Long nights, less sleep. But now, along with my kids homework, I have my own version of homework blogging about each day they have at school.

I'm beginning to hear the grumbling of other parents in my son's class. So far, he is not complaining. But, he hasn't slept through the night since school began. Is it school or just coincidence? I do know that I am the first person he wakes up when he doesn't sleep, so I haven't slept through the night since school began.

My daughter is doing fine, but as in the past, we have to play a little detective work to find out about her homework. Long ago she learned to hide her homework. Good habits are hard to break.

MY SON IS NUMBER 1

It took me over a week to decipher the strange red slash I found next to my son's name on all the papers where he wrote his name. Could it be an unfinished checkmark or a line? I ignored it, but it kept showing up. It then dawned on me, it was the number 1. It turns out my son has been assigned a number and every time he writes his name on his homework or school work, he must write his number! I'm thankful he is not number 13, I wonder if there is a child that is number thirteen, or like floors in tall buildings, number thirteen has been skipped? I have started calling my child "number 1". They really do like their numbers out in the burbs. You get a number for sports, and now a number for school. Hopefully, this is not practice for getting a prison number. Prisoner 24601.

We went to open house for my daughter yesterday. We followed her 9 period schedule and dutifully went from classroom to classroom. My legs ached after walking the hallways. Open house is always a very scary time. Will everything go OK after the honeymoon is over? When will the phone calls begin? Will they begin? Last year, which was our first year in the suburbs, the phone calls began soon after the open house. So, we had a lovely honeymoon, but a very troubled marriage with the school.

OPEN HOUSE, CLOSED DOORS

It is 12:30 on a school day, and I just got a text message from my daughter saying hi, she must be very bored to want to text her mother! 12:30, it must be study hall. Back to school this rainy Monday morning. Two open houses this week. For my second grader, I'll get to sit in those extra small chairs with all the other parents of children that have been assigned the teacher with the mean reputation. I wonder if she will tell me, like she told me son's class that I can look forward to a sticker and a poem on my birthday. I can't wait! I always wanted a sticker and poem on my special day and my son can't wait either! It is the dream of every 7 year old boy to get a poem and sticker on his birthday! If we don't sing him Happy Birthday, we won't have to worry about copyright! Yeah for everybody!

Open house is an interesting term for someone with a child that has an IEP. Back when we lived in the city, only one year ago, many doors were shut for my daughter. I watched as some of the children that played with her went off to the Talented and Gifted programs (she didn't have the grades to get in). I watched as some of the children went off to charter schools (could or would not accommodate her). I watched as children went to the neighborhood school (at the time, they did not have to accommodate her). She was sent off on a bus. The culture of trying to get your child into a school by virtue of having high scores on tests is deeply ingrained in NYC and many other places. She may be smart, but she could never make the grade. She would never get into any of the specialized schools. So, we came to the suburbs. Are more doors open to her here? Still, kids get separated into those that can do and those that can't. The filter remains. She may share the same school with the "good" students, but she won't share the same class. As they move up in the grades, they will filter out too. The best students will have more opportunities, she will have to get by with study hall.

FRIDAY THE 13TH, FEAR OR FANTASY?

Is Friday the 13th a bad or good omen for the last day of the first week of school? Possibly it is just a classic horror film after all. Maybe horror films and schools have something in common. Both are scary. Some people love it, others just have to walk out. The end of the week, I am relieved to have a two day break. We met with my son's teacher today. It is possible that she is as scary as I have heard, and it is possible that she is not, but then I am one to walk out of horror movies. I know my limitations. There is no changing my son's class at this time, so we have to hope that perhaps the teacher is just a product, like some films, of bad critical reviews. I will say, it was quite frightening to have the principal say she was there to protect her teacher. From who? Me? Maybe I am the monster. Could I be in a horror movie?

FIRST WEEK OF SCHOOL ENVY

So, I get a call from my daughter's school, not all is right with her schedule. Well, as I am sitting on hold, I thought wouldn't it just be better to go to the school? I was so stressed, not only did I forget to eat, but I left my car running the entire time I was at the school. That crazy Prius, you have to hit a button, there is no ignition key. Do you know how easy it is to just not hit the button?!

Now I need to make that agonizing chose of do I change my daughter's schedule, including her lunch, to get her more academic help, or leave it as is. I have first week of school envy. All those parents that just drop off the kids, give them a kiss and head off for the day. That never happens for me. I doubt it happens for any parent of a child with an IEP.

Meanwhile my son is fine, one little girl did tell me he was "wild". So, tonight we will read Where the Wild Things Are.

"The wild things roared their terrible roars and gnashed their terrible teeth and rolled their terrible eyes and showed their terrible claws but Max stepped into his private boat and waved good-bye and sailed back over a year and in and out of weeks and through a day and into the night of his very own room..."

THIRD DAY IS A CHARMER

Sunny skies, and all was quiet with my son at school today. No complaints from him, and no calls from the school. All and all, a pleasant day but not as pleasant as my daughter's day. Her third day in school with study hall, and she is really getting to like that free time. Should we ever be able to change it to something more productive, she is not going to be happy. I tried to change it quickly, but the longer she stays the happier she gets. I like doing nothing too.

A SECOND HELPING

Well, the second day of school has come and gone. My daughter still has study hall. My son had a case of writers block and starting crying. Ah, the wonders of public school. Will it get better, or are we just in for another helping of a not so great year.

FIRST DAY OF SCHOOL, JUST A TEASER, OR A VIEW OF WHAT IS TO COME?

My daughter came out of school happy. Will junior high actually be good? Has anyone ever liked junior high?  She still has "study hall", but it is in a classroom of mostly high school students.

My son, however, did not have such a good day.
Me: "Did you like your first day of school"
Son "No"

Me "What do you think of your teacher?"
Son "A little demanding"

Sigh.

BUTTER IN THE BURBS

I can't believe it's not butter. Yes, but can you believe it is butter? Or that it will get better? Truth or artifice. Is life really better on Long Island? We have been here a year. One of the reasons for moving to Long Island is that it is well know to have wonderful schools. Well, after one year here, I am underwhelmed. With the taxes I am paying out here, I could have considered private school and stayed in the city! Nepotism and favoritism seems to embody the spirit of my small town. But, should I judge a whole school (or town) on one bad year of schooling? My son did fine but my daughter suffered. Her school was unprepared to deal with her special needs, ADHD and dyslexia. Like many schools, they felt they could teach her as long as she could just make her pesky ADHD and dyslexia go away. If she fits in, they will teach. Not every teacher felt this way, but enough to make the school year just tons of fun with all those happy CSE meetings, behavior plans and phone calls from school.

Now a new school year has started and my son has been placed in the class where I am told he has the "mean teacher." My daughter is starting the new year very behind in her work, yet she was given a study hall! Visions of "The Breakfast Club" dance in my head, or was that detention?

I am going to keep a blog about the progress of my children throughout the school year. My little 2nd grader with the "mean teacher" and the 7th grader with the "special needs." So here we go! Let's hope the complaints don't begin on Day One. But, if you are thinking of moving out to Long Island for the schools, keep posted for my experience and the answer to the greatest of questions: Are the beaches really that good?

MY BLOG AND WELCOME TO IT

I must be quite a crank: writing tons of complaint letters, but rarely sending them. I think of just the right words to say to an organization, school, company or person that I perceive as having wronged me. Yet, my complaint rarely reaches the people in power. So, now I will have my blog. It will be a place where I can voice my frustration with the schooling of my children, the inadequacies of dealing with an automated world that never answers the phone, the absurdity of perusing a career in art that I am completely devoted to, but find hard to tolerate. I will post on dealing with having a child that has special needs and the special needs I have now that I have children. I will write about my very recent move from NYC to LI. Will this city girl adapt, or will I go running back, kicking a soccer ball the entire way? So enjoy and share. Maybe we can make the world a better place, one cranky person at a time...