heroes, seasons and homecoming

B92CB329-96DB-4F8A-A23E-0D485A239D79I began this two days ago and wrote more in the morning, the day after Judge Kavanaugh complained the his “family and [] name have been totally and permanently destroyed.” He also said what goes around, comes around.  I believe Christine Blasey Ford. I believed Professor Anita Hill.  These women have showed courage beyond my wildest dreams.  My thoughts of the season pale beside their actions.  I honor them.

Still, I write.

Ah, the turning of the season!  Last week or late the week before, I noticed a few fringes of red on the trees I see driving on the Beltway.  Why don’t I know the names of trees? I could say the oaks are redding, the maples show scarlet.  Maybe one day. Not today.  Closer to home, the ashes are yellowing and dropping those tiny yellows so that the street gutters are looking messy with yellows and greens and browns.  I love that clutter.  Every year at this time, I remind myself never to buy a house in this season.  The colors, the wind, the crackle of cold air, the smell of first logs in fireplaces and the clutter of leaves lining the gutters in streets—I would be romanced, swept off my feet.  I would not make a sensible decision. Continue reading

explaining julia

02019AFA-850F-4A69-9573-AF437A3175DEThis is, in part, an email that I sent to Julia’s Computer Art teacher.  She wrote yesterday asking for some guidance on how to work with Julia who has been unskillfully flirting with a few boys in her class, reacting to the boys’ awkward reactions with anger and swearing, and also swearing generally when she is unsatisfied with her work.  The work is learning Adobe Illustrator and learning it according to a teacher’s instructions.

My immediate answer to her query about Julia’s behavior was that I was seeing these behaviors more frequently.  

“Julia is showing interest in boys without the social skills or filters to appropriately flirt.  She is also indulging in swearing and anger.  Some of that behavior is her testing limits in new surroundings and with new teachers, and some is because there are a number of very disruptive kids in her math class and she is copying behavior.  However, Julia can control both the inappropriate flirting and the swearing and anger.  She needs a very firm hand and needs to know, in no uncertain terms, that the behavior will not be allowed in the classroom.  You might say something about how everyone needs to feel safe to learn and create art.  Julia needs to know that if she does not behave, you will ask her to leave the classroom until she can behave.  She likes the class.  She is showing me what she is learning almost every day.  She will not want to leave.” Continue reading

follow up & rugelach

CCCD0247-5F0D-4278-B8F6-9758819B1B5AAfter two reminder emails to my list of PTB (“Powers That Be”), Julia was picked up this morning in time to get to school on time. Her case manager texted me that her bus was on time and  she was not marked late during first period. I’m holding out for a week before I ‘get off my high horse,’ as my grandma used to say.

However, just because nothing is ever sweet and easy—This morning we went to the door three minutes before her ride has been scheduled to find the bus waiting.  I don’t quite know when it got there and I hadn’t received any word that she would be picked up sooner than her scheduled time.  I really don’t mean to look a gift horse in the mouth (Barb, lots of horse idiots today!), but it felt that it was just a wee bit passive aggressive to reschedule the pick up without any word to me.  Because the bus has been coming late, we have been going to the door just on time.  If we had this morning, the bus would have probably left.  I’ll swallow this complaint right here, because I know what response I would get.  I’m not even going to add to my thank you that a schedule getting Julia to school on time should have been worked out before school started.   Continue reading

” . . . only the fourth day of school.”

“This is only the fourth day of school,” said the Badger Bus Dispatcher when I called I this morning long after Julia was supposed to be picked up for school.  Bob, the Dispatcher, who seems like a nice enough guy, called the driver who told Bob that he had been outside our house and waited for minutes before taking off at 7:51; however, we were outside sitting on our steps at 7:48 and no one stopped from the time until just after 8:00.  Give or take a few minutes and the possibility that clocks differ, the upshot was that I drove Julia to school and she got there at 8:20.  First period begin at 8:10. Continue reading

1st day 10th grade

Every year, on Julia’s first day of school, I have one glorious, luxurious fantasy.  I take a long hot, deep bubble and salts bath with a glass of prosecco and a few choice pieces of very dark chocolate waiting for me.  Afterwards, I indulge in a massage and facial.  I expect nothing more of myself that day other than to enjoy and revel in the indulgence.  (FYI: I never indulged in such fantasy raising a typical child and working full time. I usually regretted homework free time together, but that was the extend of first day of school musings.) In reality, I am prone to waste the day, dithering in the house, hanging out much too long on the internet, trying to find reasons not to get off the couch and at the same time, pushing myself to mop up after the summer, take care of money matters, correspondence and everything I’ve put aside in favor of whatever was happening with Julia.  That is much closer to what I am doing today. Continue reading

game night

1C2A3A10-1D13-4899-85D3-18518F1F33EFLast weekend of the summer.  School begins Wednesday morning.  Julia’s schedule appears to be set—the elusive second art class has been added and it is ceramics.  She will have ceramics in the morning and her last class of the day will be computer illustration.  In between, she will have Earth Science, English, Choir, pre-Algebra and a guided study hall.  

This getting of classes was an abbreviated battle this year and my advocacy pattern was pretty transparent.  I send very polite and patient emails.  A healthy understanding of budgets and shortfalls. I am answered with a ‘no.’ I pose an alternative with the same response. No, she was closed out of that class, no, meetings are too hard to schedule before school opens, no, change is not possible. I snap . . . ok, I don’t snap; I step back.  I consult with my cabal of special ed moms. Wait a few days.  And write another email.  “Julia needs a second art class. How do we get it?”  I don’t quite see the change in tone but the response comes quickly.  Classes are moved around a bit.  Her Earth Science section is changed (there is no special ed resource person is either section) and she is placed in the ceramics class.  Why that wasn’t offered when I first asked, I do not ask. I take a deep, cleansing breath and send a thank you note. Continue reading

pointing towards a new season

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It has taken the entire summer to get Julia journaling on paper.  Previously and for a number of years, she journaled during the school year on her iPad.  My aim for this summer was to get her to write and draw on a page and although there was a lot to write about and draw during our Australian travels, she was not always very happy about doing any of it.  Finally, finally, finally, this week writing and drawing have been done with minimal reminders.  Sometimes it is even choice work. Continue reading

anxiety

Julia survived cheer camp.  So did I.

From what I heard from the coach and what I gathered from Julia, she did not participate much on Saturday.  She was content to sit on the side and watch.  I have seen her do that before and if such behavior helps her integrate into a new situation, it is a good way to find herself.  It must have been pretty overwhelming with cheer teams from all over doing all those cheery-type things very loudly.  An unfortunate side note, Julia had her phone with her and she spent a lot of the day texting with girls back in Madison.  On one hand, it was good practice, but on the other, I’ve seen this behavior consume all her attention and make her unavailable to do much else. The next day, Sunday, Julia did participate and she said she had a good time.  I don’t think she performed with her team at the end of the camp but she enjoyed what she did. Continue reading

weekend cheer camp

648C01DA-B7E2-4B12-846D-9E51FDA589E2This morning, 6 a.m., I dropped her off at school and she climbed onto a yellow bus filled with enthusiastic, yet somewhat drowsy cheerleaders each with identical shorts and tee shirts. Cheer camp weekend! The team will arrive at a high school a few towns over before 8, register and begin their very scheduled day at 9. Warm ups, chant class, dance class, stunt class, jump class, private coaching, cheer class and evaluation until 9:30 p.m., to be repeated tomorrow until they board the bus again at 9:00 p.m.  In between, they will sleep on the gym floor.

Probably while she was still on the bus, Julia texted me to say “hi” and after I responded and said, “love you,” she wrote “love you too mom.”

But that was hours ago . . . . Continue reading

homecoming

2DFCC1F8-2043-4F4C-BC90-7972F03E9CD0Home three days and although I repeat that I am emerging from the fog, I underestimate the strength of the body to hold on to the time zone it woke up in.  Our sleep is topsy turvy and  I am knackered (British for exhausted with an onomatopoeic flare describing me rather perfectly right now.).  

The practice must be patience.

Wednesday, our travel day, was smooth but when I first woke up on Thursday, I could not make sense of the entirety of what was Wednesday. Indeed, we boarded a plane at noon in Sydney, flew for 18 hours to arrive in Madison at 5 in the afternoon.  We slept some, watched too many movies and ate too often.  About six hours before we were to land, we were served a major “snack.” I thought it was breakfast when the crew member woke me up. I woke Julia up and then realized our remaining time.  Had I some presence of mind I would have refused the snack and slept.  Continue reading