on a possitive note...

OK, so my last post was a bit of a downer, and if I have learned anything through my struggles, it is that it gets old listening to news of the frantic and downtrodden. 

So, onto different things.  First, I saw this picture and quote today and I loved it so much that I printed it and hung it proudly in my classroom as a loud and clear message.  

Secondly, I must say it felt great to teach this week.  I have wonderful classes, eager awkward tweens, that I am thrilled to embrace and care for through this time in their life where so many are willing to dismiss them or run away in fear of their seeming ambivalence.  I am teaching a new grade this year and so far it seems a great fit for me.  I am also with 1/3 of my students from last year.  This feels right as I felt like they needed to not have to completely start over again this year with their teacher relationships. 

I also got to help a child with a major problem.  I can't go into detail here, but I will say, it felt right to be able to really listen to a child and fix what was going on, rather than following the bureaucratic procedure that did not match the child's situation.  If I did nothing else this week of value, this one conversation made the rest of the week worthwhile. 

Both boys have had a successful week of kindergarten.  I have kept the issues about food away from them.  They are too young to be in the middle of it.  Yes, they will still have a two week math unit starting next week with food.  I pray for the best for all involved.  I hope sincerely that my intuition is wrong.  And, I am still going to be as proactive as possible and I vow to love my child through what ever happens as a result of his reaction to the situation.  I am the grown up and I must provide the stable walls that my child can lean on when needed.  I love him when he is is whole and when he is broken and I love him when he is sad and when he is happy.  He is my son, and he is a child of this world and he deserves to be loved, and cared for.  Not everyone can do this for every person.  I get that.  I just need to know how to be there for him when he falls, and pray with all of my heart and soul that no one else hurts him as bad as he has been hurt in the past. 

I guess, and I am not sure if this is common for parents like me, that I feel like I let him down.  For three years we searched for Isaac.  We looked in Bulgaria, the US, Kazakhstan.  And we missed him.  We, like so many others, overlooked our own son while he waited, starved, rotted, wondered, cried, suffered. With all of my heart I wish we could have found him sooner, prevented so much of his pain.  But we didn't.  All we can do now is protect and prevent it from happening again,  Unfortunately people don't believe us, patronize us, and ignore our pleas for differentiation.  I am left with a mother of a broken child's last defense, unconditional love. 

My sister shared this link with me:  http://www.handsfreemama.com/2012/08/21/loving-a-child-through-the-challenges-of-life/ and I realized that sometimes all I can do is be there no mater what.  While I want to protect him, I am realizing that part of the sadness of kindergarten is loosing some of that control of protection. 

I am scared.  What am I afraid of?  I fear that he will be ostracised by his peers if he has a PTSD episode.  I am afraid he might hurt a peer, himself or the teacher.  I am afraid he will return to eating out of the trash and off the floor.  I am afraid that he will not learn because he is only paying attention to the sustenance of the food and not the content of the lesson.  I am afraid he will not love school or resent his teacher.  I wish I could believe that I am just many of the over protective helicopter parents of kindergartners.  I wish, my fears were not warrantied.  I wish my child was never traumatized, I wish he had never had food withheld from him.  I wish we had found him sooner. 

On a positive note, we did find him.  He is healing.  PTSD rears is ugly head, less and less.  He can show love, he can know love, we are honored with a son. 

Mama Bear and the Culture Woes

For years people have been asking John how he is adapting to life in the South.  People ask, because, well we really don't fit the mold of the "typical" southerner.  He responds typically with "I treat life here like living in a foreign country."  The food, religion, politics, past times, language, driving habits are all very different than what we are used to.  But, we are also well traveled, and when we lived in Central America, we didn't complain about worms in the grapefruits, or washed out roads.  This was real life for the folks living there, from there.  When we lived in Kazakhstan, we knew that we did not have free speech, or privacy.  We were guest in another country and we learned and observed while we were there. 

But, (and this is a big one) after five years I am growing weary of being the silent (OK not very silent) by stander in a culture so juxtaposed to my own self.   I still feel like a guest in a foreign land because I don't fit the main stream.  If it was just me as an adult, I don't think I would be as upset as I am right now.  Unfortunately, the culture is encroaching into dangerous territory with my children, and my Mama Bear hackles are up. 

For the most part I find that we drift for the mainstream on five major fronts:

1. Religion:  We have a different set of beliefs and as a result we are forced to sit silently and be proselytized to on a regular basis. 
2. Politics:  We can't even have a discussion here about it. 
3. Environment:  We are environmentalist and outdoor enthusiast.  We find such solace in the natural unaltered systems of our world and recognize that we must be stewards of the land.  This includes avoiding dirty money from guilty corporations. 
4. Sports:  Even my father will be disappointed with me for this one:  I could care less about football or any other sport for that matter.  This is almost worse than not fitting in with #1 and #2.  Last year the boys were told they had to wear a shirt supporting their favorite football team or they could not attend a school wide assembly.  When I communicated to the teacher we didn't own any, I felt like an alien in a strange land.  Outside again.
5. Food:  And this is where I am lost.  John and I eat real food.  You know, the stuff that grows from the ground, and comes from animals that have been raised humanely with a small ecological foot print.  If we can't grow (or picture it growing) we don't eat it.  If we can't pronounce it we don't eat it.  Here the culture of food, and quite frankly toxic food like substances is maddening.  People here it junk and a lot of it.  They do not use it just for nourishment and growth, but for rewards, punishment, to show love, to make someone feel welcomed, for comfort, and as a toy (more on this soon.) 

For me this is where I am currently struggling to just say "hey, we will treat our time here as if we are in a foreign country and go with the flow."  Mainly because this is an issue that drastically effects the health and well being of our boys, and now that they are in Kindergarten, some big issues are coming up for me. 

An important bit of background to my upcoming rant:  Isaac is 5 1/2 and has PTSD.  He has three triggers that we know of:  Food being used in a way other than substance, being left in wet clothes and physical restraint.  I have no idea how to explain PTSD to the average person in a way that they can "get" how terrifying it is for both Isaac and those around once he is triggered.  When he goes into a rage or flashback, I almost have to treat it like a child with a seizure and the scaring and physical angst it causes him is similar to the trauma of anafalaxis shock.  IT IS NOT JUST A TEMPER TANTRUM.  It is not that he is sad.  And, the more times he is triggered the worse the episodes seem to be.  As a result we are being very proactive to prevent triggers, especially in his new school environment. 

I have explained all of this in writing, in person, through meetings, through special education teachers.  Then last week I get an e-mail.  "We are planning on doing a two week math unit at the beginning of the year using cookies, oreos, Hershey kisses and skittles.  Is this OK for your boys?"  Um NO.  I then reiterate that food is not a toy to Isaac and very little learning will take place for him if food is the manipulative.  I also mentioned that if Isaac's PTSD is triggered he can become extremely violent or extremely dissociative.  Then I get asked if I can send something homemade that is like oreos for the whole class.  Yes, I can do that, but I am not feeling heard on the main issue. 

I am starting to feel like I did when I took the boys to get their blue cards for school.  I knew that restrain or witnessing restraint would be a trigger for Isaac.  I explained it to the doctor.  I was mocked.  I removed Isaac from the room, he was brought back in.  I asked for help from a nurse, I was told no.  And then, I did a very bad thing for my son, nothing.  I let him be in the room and he had the worst PTSD episode to date.  I know that the teacher using food as a toy will build distrust, increase anxiety and potentially lead to a very bad situation, and I am not being heard. 

I went a step further and e-mailed Isaac's special ed teacher.  I was then told that "the problem is this, teacher use small edibles for counting and comparing."  Here we go again.  What about beads, unifix cubes, checkers pieces, cards.... Why does it have to be food? 

I am upset now, and I need to figure out what my end goal is.  One, I want my child to have a health relationship with food.  Two, I want to avoid at all cost a major incident at school while he is getting adjusted to his new setting.  If trust is lost, it will be hard to get back.  Three, I want to be heard and understood as a parent.  I feel that if he was deathly allergic to nuts, there would be no discussion.  They would not be there.  But, because it is a psychological issue I am being ignored as the over reactive helicopter parent.  I really am not.  How many times has someone come to them with such an issue?  Wouldn't you think after coming back and saying something 5 times I might know what I am talking about. 

Oh the struggle against a toxic cultural norm in a place where starvation is overshaddowed by issues with obesity.

The word for the school year is ....

I have recently discovered a new way of looki g at yearly goals.  Many friends have started to have a yearly theme instead of a long list of concrete promises or resolutions.  For 2012 I chose my theme to be "simplicity.". My goal was to see and experience life in its most true and real form and to not over complicate life.

And, I am a teacher, by profession and by nature.  I love to push the walls of our knowledge circle wider with curiosity.  I also know that my students are people in an awkward challenging time of life.  As I wrote my post this morning about being unconditionally loved by friends, what I neglected to mention, was how special it feels to be chosen.  Yes, our families love is, because we are family.  I love them to including all of our differences.  AND, there is something special about someone choosing to not only accept you, but enjoy you.  It is something that makes you feel alive and to have worth, and drives your desire to grow and contribute.

So,  tomorrow I begin the 2012-2013 to prepare for an upcoming school year with 100+ 7th graders.    Some I got to tea h last year, and many will be new faces.  As I think about how I will teach them this year, one word keeps resonating with me.

ACCEPTANCE

Some of my students I will be able to relate to, some I will not, but all of them need to know that I choose to appreciate them for who they are, and where they are in their life.  As I meditate, pray, and wish for each of my students to succeed, I want to keep this theme of acceptance in the forefront.

Unconditional

John and I are fortunate to have families that love us.  John even gets two whole families.  The boys think it is special that Daddy, like them, has 2 moms and 2 dads.  We always tell them that " you can never have too many people that love you."  I am so lucky that we are close to my family, where we are also loved.

Then add to that that John and I, throughout our lives have been fortunate enough to have been adopted and loved unconditionally by folks who have purposefully or fatefully entered our lives by choice.  Most notable were the old timers of Eastern Oregon, like Tom and Larry, but other folks like Jody, Charlie, Kerri, and Jim.   But at that point it was just the two of us.  For what ever reason, I think it is easier to adopt and love in smaller groups.

Now that we are a family of four, this level of acceptance is rare.  Not because people are bad, or inconsiderate, but because for unconditional love of a family of four to happen, a lot must line up correctly.  We are all very different with strong personalities.  It is complicated to find a good match, or a heart and mind big enough to love us all.

Fortunately, there are two amazing people (and I am sure others) that came into our lives, and have shared their love with us unconditionally.  It is powerful, it is peaceful, it is reassuring, and comforting to have permission to be raw, real, beautiful, ugly, in charge and out of control and to still be loved and appreciated.

We spent two of my last three days of summer with our dear friends at common ground.  We were all recharged, invigorated, true to our own selves and probably most importantly loved for exactly who we are and will become uncondtionaly.

The Nightmare

Poor John.  He is not well right now.  Not ill, or hurt, but disappointed in the wrongness that has happened to us in regards to our property (I will explain in a bit.)  This morning at breakfast he exclaimed that it was a nightmare that he just could not find a way out of.  Then sweet Emerson piped up:  "Dad all you need to do is look at your hands, remember you are in charge, and know that your family is near by and we love you and we protect each other."  Finally there were some good tears about all of this nonsense. 

Here is the deal:  First off I really don't talk about our property nightmare because it drags me down, way down.  The best thing we have going for us right now (besides our boys of course) is where we live.  We manages to find 6.5 acre close to my work, but with lots of privacy and solace.  John and I need this.  We are not city people.  We like the wilderness and we are living in suburbia because it is what is right for our boys.  It is not what we want for us, but we are grown ups now and we recognise that our children have needs that at this time cannot be met in the middle of nowhere. 

So two years ago we bought our dream place.  Yes it was a fixer upper, yes, we had a lot of work to do, but we like that.  We are not so into starting with fresh and perfect.  We spent a whole month fixing and prepping the house to even be moved into.  We have done loads of work on the property to build up our gardens. 

Anyway, two years ago, we were sold 6.5 acres.  We were shown it, our house was appraised based on this.  The county records said, 6.5, the MLS listing said 6.5, our Realtor who is also a surveyor, walked the property lines with us, all 6.5 acres of it. 

Then, we discovered when we went to pay our property taxes a few months later that we only received title for 2 of the 6.5 acres.  We bought a pie, but we received a doughnut hole.  Through a lot of research it turns out that the previous (now dead) owners took a second mortgage on only 2 of the 6.5 acres with Country Wide.  Country Wide then went belly up.  Bank of America then bought this toxic loan.  Then they realized it was a bad deal, so it was offed to Fanny Mae.  Fanny Mae, then hired a Realtor to sell the property to get it off their books.  Fanny Mae had title to 2 acres, but they chose to sell, list, advertise and receive money for 6.5 acres even though they only owned 2 of the acres.   Nobody could know that the property was 2 acres+ 4.5 because of a sweet banking arrangement called MERS.  Somehow our every so honest free market capital banking system bought themselves a law saying that forecloses did not need to be recorded when they changed hands from one bank to another. As a result, the average Jo Shmo and real estate professional goes to the county, gives them an address or a lot number and they get the information that was listed the last time a "real person"  owns it.  (Of course some politicians and the Supreme Court think that corporations are people my friends, so with this logic, banks should have to register property transactions like people.) 

So, we bought 6.5 acres, paid for 6.5 acres to Fanny Mae.  Our Realtors each made a few thousand dollars off of the sale.  The title company charges us an arm and a leg for their services of guaranteeing title and providing title insurance.  Yet, we only got 2 acres, while Fanny Mae took our money for 6.5, even though they never even owned the full 6.5 to sell. 

Now, because our system serves the 1% not us little people, we have until August 30 to file claim or else these companies and corporations get away with steeling 4.5 acres from us, or the money for it.  Really, if you commit real estate fraud and the person you stole from, does not file suit in two years you are off the hook.  But, if you steel food from the grocery store, or rob someone there is no limit to when you can get caught.  John has talked to all of the players, he has talked to numerous lawyers, but all have lead to no real action.  Lots of people have admitted we were wronged, that is sucks, that their organizations did not fully do their jobs.  But, no one is willing to say, here is the $50,000 that we stole from you or took from you to do a job we didn't do.  Now we are underwater on our mortgage, and feeling suffocated by the pressure of wrong doing. 

For me, I am a little bit better about it than John.  He has really believed in the good and the ability for people to admit mistakes the whole time.  I unfortunately did not have that kind of faith in the common person and especially the corporate world. 

It is exhausting being the little powerless person.  It stinks to look at the bank account and wonder how we will make it to the next pay day, but then hear that while as a teacher I make less each year, that a new administrator in my district will make 2.5 times more than me and get a $20,000 bonus if he sticks around for three years.  Why am I worth so little?  I feel, like I make a huge difference for my students.  I work my rear end off for the families and kids that I am entrusted with.  Our business empowers people to complete a necessary component of living.  Food, but still it is not enough for us to buy a lawyer, or a piece of legislation or intimidate those who wronged us to make it right. 

For now though, we must find happiness in what we do have.  We both have jobs and careers we love.  We have two amazing boys we are entrusted to care for and raise.  We do get to grown our own food and eat year around from our garden.  We have a supportive extended family. And, we have 20 more days to make this wrong right.