For the record, I have not completely abandoned my blogging endeavors. In fact, I regularly write posts in my head. The problem lies in actually typing them out and posting them. My life seems so full right now and my thoughts so scattered that I am afraid that by publishing my rantings, I will only confirm suspicions that I have indeed lost my mind.
But, the other day, my baby sister wrote me an email informing me that I had not updated my blog in a while and that she counts on the anecdotes from my life for her amusement. I wasn't exactly sure how to take that, so I guess I'll just try not to think about it too hard and do as she says.
So, summer came and went and the kids are back in school. Of course, since nothing can be easy in our life, our three boys are going to three different schools all in completely different directions. Scouts is on Tuesday and Wednesday nights. I teach on Monday and Thursday nights. Piano is on Saturday afternoons plus practice every day with homework and exercise squeezed in there somewhere. Our schedule is packed down to the minute and I'm not entirely sure that it is healthy, but I'm not sure what to cut, so until one of us falls down in shear exhaustion and physically can't pull ourselves up, it will continue. I should probably be reading that book someone wrote about the "over-scheduled kid," but believe me, when and if I get some free time, I refuse to use it reading about something that will only serve in making me feel more guilty.
My job is going well. According to my student surveys, I am once again the most awesome math teacher ever. Of course, this amuses me on several levels. For instance, how can I manage to get in front of a group of 20 students for 3 hours and lecture on the finer points of the Pythagorean theorem, but when it comes to calling for a babysitter, I break out in a cold sweat and promise my husband all kinds of favors if he will just please do it for me? How is it that the world's biggest introvert chooses teaching as her career? Yet, I still go back quarter after quarter and for some reason, I don't think I'd really be happy anywhere else.
In conclusion, since I need to go meet a bus in a few minutes and I may never finish this if I don't just do it now, I will list some of the other great "accomplishments" of the Cook family.
* My almost three-year-old Michael is not the only kid in his preschool class that is not potty-trained and the preschool is okay with that meaning we don't have to put real underwear over a pull-up and fake it for three hours twice a week.
* J got his completely paid for braces off and is in a retainer for a few years until he gets completely new braces complete with new payments. Of course, in that same week, Spencer started with the whole hullabaloo, which means that the current payments will continue - just under a different child. In fact, one look at Michael's teeth and I'm pretty sure that we will be making some sort of payment to an orthodontic establishment for the next 14 years.
* In the first three weeks of school, J has managed to only pull one ticket and it wasn't even for a discipline issue. Apparently, he did the wrong math page as homework. I am aware that there is a honeymoon period going on right now with the new teacher and she may be overlooking a few of his tendencies towards behavior unbecoming of a student, but I have hope.
Now....off to the bus stop!
Wednesday, August 12, 2009
Friday, June 12, 2009
The Perfect Storm
Whereas I teeter on the brink of insanity most of the time, I guard my routines closely. OCD me likes to keep things within a certain threshold of my established norm. Grocery shopping, laundry, teaching, and watching TV all have their places in my routine. If I decide to let something slip, the whole week seems wrong until I can pull back to where I was or establish a new routine.
Well, this last week, everything has been off. The kids are home from school for the first week of summer break, and I started back to teaching three new classes. Then I got sick. In fact, I was so sick that I went to bed on Wednesday night rather than staying up and watching "So You Think You Can Dance?" I was really that sick - which also meant that I haven't been to the gym since Monday. Then I taught last night in what has been one of the weirdest political weeks ever at work. Who knew that an adjunct Math instructor would ever have to deal with office-like politics? We are totally not equiped for that. On top of it all, it is that time of the month.
Really though, OCD as I am, I think I could have handled all of the disturbances to my life if I had not done one thing. I picked up a book. While my sister, Christina, was out visiting, we spent a night hanging out at bookstores. We were looking for a certain book in the half-priced bookstore, and happened to be in the aisle next to the True Crime section. I have some weird sort of fascination with how people think and so a lot of the true crime stories are interesting to me. As a side note, I considered going into Psychology when I was in college and spent several months volunteering on a crisis line, which was a little bit too much of a reality check and sent me spiraling in the other direction towards a life of integers and variables. But, anyway, back to the true crime aisle. My sister and I both rather randomly picked up a book and put them in our respective stacks. It wasn't until Monday of this week that I picked up this specific book again.
As an aside, my husband can pick up a book, read a few pages and then put it down. He can then pick it up the next day and read a few more pages and then put the book down again. In fact, he can happily be reading the same book for several weeks. He is somehow able to compartmentalize the book and symbolically put it on the shelf until he has a few minutes to come back to it. I am not so lucky. From the time that I open a book, I become obsessed with it. I dream the characters. I read during every waking moment. I neglect hygiene and basic physiological needs in the name of resolution. The book comes with me into the bathroom, into the tub, and even into the car. It is really pretty sad on several levels.
But, back to the book. I opened the book and I started to read. And I read. I was sick and I couldn't do much else anyway, so I read. I taught classes, but while I was preaching the cosine and sine, I was thinking about where deception would be revealed in the twisted plot. I slept, but I could never really steer my mind away. Finally, this morning, I finished the book. And then I assessed the damage.
It was almost noon and I lay on the couch unshowered. The laundry was piled. The dishes were stacked. My tower of ungraded papers in the family room was threatening to become drawing paper for Michael. I hadn't updated the budget in a week and my older sons were persistantly telling me that a grocery trip should soon be on the agenda. I was quite abruptly pulled from my true crime fantasy world back into my truly messy and not nearly as dramatic real world.
And, I should probably go back to the gym tomorrow.
Well, this last week, everything has been off. The kids are home from school for the first week of summer break, and I started back to teaching three new classes. Then I got sick. In fact, I was so sick that I went to bed on Wednesday night rather than staying up and watching "So You Think You Can Dance?" I was really that sick - which also meant that I haven't been to the gym since Monday. Then I taught last night in what has been one of the weirdest political weeks ever at work. Who knew that an adjunct Math instructor would ever have to deal with office-like politics? We are totally not equiped for that. On top of it all, it is that time of the month.
Really though, OCD as I am, I think I could have handled all of the disturbances to my life if I had not done one thing. I picked up a book. While my sister, Christina, was out visiting, we spent a night hanging out at bookstores. We were looking for a certain book in the half-priced bookstore, and happened to be in the aisle next to the True Crime section. I have some weird sort of fascination with how people think and so a lot of the true crime stories are interesting to me. As a side note, I considered going into Psychology when I was in college and spent several months volunteering on a crisis line, which was a little bit too much of a reality check and sent me spiraling in the other direction towards a life of integers and variables. But, anyway, back to the true crime aisle. My sister and I both rather randomly picked up a book and put them in our respective stacks. It wasn't until Monday of this week that I picked up this specific book again.
As an aside, my husband can pick up a book, read a few pages and then put it down. He can then pick it up the next day and read a few more pages and then put the book down again. In fact, he can happily be reading the same book for several weeks. He is somehow able to compartmentalize the book and symbolically put it on the shelf until he has a few minutes to come back to it. I am not so lucky. From the time that I open a book, I become obsessed with it. I dream the characters. I read during every waking moment. I neglect hygiene and basic physiological needs in the name of resolution. The book comes with me into the bathroom, into the tub, and even into the car. It is really pretty sad on several levels.
But, back to the book. I opened the book and I started to read. And I read. I was sick and I couldn't do much else anyway, so I read. I taught classes, but while I was preaching the cosine and sine, I was thinking about where deception would be revealed in the twisted plot. I slept, but I could never really steer my mind away. Finally, this morning, I finished the book. And then I assessed the damage.
It was almost noon and I lay on the couch unshowered. The laundry was piled. The dishes were stacked. My tower of ungraded papers in the family room was threatening to become drawing paper for Michael. I hadn't updated the budget in a week and my older sons were persistantly telling me that a grocery trip should soon be on the agenda. I was quite abruptly pulled from my true crime fantasy world back into my truly messy and not nearly as dramatic real world.
And, I should probably go back to the gym tomorrow.
Friday, June 5, 2009
So, I have a minute....
I have completely neglected to update my blog lately. I have plenty of excuses, but rather than waste my time on those, I'll try to make this entry a little more engaging and less apologetic in case any of my three regular readers bothers to check it anymore.
So, on the boys front: They are out of school as of yesterday. J managed his way through third grade Quest (our district gifted/talented program) and even cried on the way home on his last day of school because it "has been a really fun year and I'm kind of sad." I am taking this as a good sign and have decided to allow him to attend fourth grade in the program even though I am lazy and hate driving his carpool. I am such a good mom.
Spencer received the good citizenship award for his class, which makes all of the sense in the world, since every second child must go in a completely opposite direction from their oldest sibling counterpart. It is the way of things.
Michael is talking. Yes, it's true. In fact, he got tested today and he is pretty much on level for everything - even expressive, which has always been his Achilles' hill. This testing was done by his speech therapist, but she did warn me that there is a good chance that he won't qualify for the free district preschool when they test him. Luckily, I already put a deposit down on the ritzy preschool last year and so he is set. Didn't I tell you what a good mom I am?
I start teaching again next week. Somehow I roped myself into doing three classes over the summer. I love to teach, but negotiating daycare for all three of my boys is pretty much a nightmare - even if it just for 3 hours a week. I have to have someone come to my house - preferably someone responsible that can drive themselves and handle any fires that my boys may decide to start in my absence without getting the pesky fire department involved. They also need to recognize the merits of peanut butter lunches and my cluttered home. It's a tall order, but I think I've got someone lined up for at least most of the summer.
That's about it for now. I have a million other things that I could update on, but many of them deserve their own post. In case I never get to them, the following posts have already been composed in my head:
My Sister's visit to Kentucky
The Gym (again)
Thank you for reading.
So, on the boys front: They are out of school as of yesterday. J managed his way through third grade Quest (our district gifted/talented program) and even cried on the way home on his last day of school because it "has been a really fun year and I'm kind of sad." I am taking this as a good sign and have decided to allow him to attend fourth grade in the program even though I am lazy and hate driving his carpool. I am such a good mom.
Spencer received the good citizenship award for his class, which makes all of the sense in the world, since every second child must go in a completely opposite direction from their oldest sibling counterpart. It is the way of things.
Michael is talking. Yes, it's true. In fact, he got tested today and he is pretty much on level for everything - even expressive, which has always been his Achilles' hill. This testing was done by his speech therapist, but she did warn me that there is a good chance that he won't qualify for the free district preschool when they test him. Luckily, I already put a deposit down on the ritzy preschool last year and so he is set. Didn't I tell you what a good mom I am?
I start teaching again next week. Somehow I roped myself into doing three classes over the summer. I love to teach, but negotiating daycare for all three of my boys is pretty much a nightmare - even if it just for 3 hours a week. I have to have someone come to my house - preferably someone responsible that can drive themselves and handle any fires that my boys may decide to start in my absence without getting the pesky fire department involved. They also need to recognize the merits of peanut butter lunches and my cluttered home. It's a tall order, but I think I've got someone lined up for at least most of the summer.
That's about it for now. I have a million other things that I could update on, but many of them deserve their own post. In case I never get to them, the following posts have already been composed in my head:
My Sister's visit to Kentucky
The Gym (again)
Thank you for reading.
Tuesday, April 21, 2009
Note to Self: I am not Superwoman....
....even as hard as I try.
So, I have been feeling pretty good about some things lately. I finally managed a single pull-up at the gym, only to be challenged to do two in a row. I realized that it isn't going to happen from a dead hang, and so I am in the process of trying to learn how to do a kipping pull-up. Michael has started talking fairly well. J and Spencer both came home with good report cards this quarter. Piano lessons seem to be going well and both boys are progressing.
It seems, though, that all of these accomplishments come with "buts", followed by some sort of failure. I've had to delay my hundred push-up goal. Trying to max on push-ups and do pull-ups at the same is apparently a little much on my arms. Especially if I want to be able to teach for three hours the next day with the writing on the white board that is required.
Michael, with all of his new words, is still behind. I am growing more and more grateful for his October birthday which will delay his kindergarten entry by a year from most of his peers. We have started the process of qualifying for the district speech therapy/preschool for when he turns three. I already have him signed up for another preschool and I couldn't possibly work with the district hours and still teach a morning class, so I'm not sure how this is going to work, which is making me feel guilty about the fact that I work at all. Of course, if I didn't work, it would take away the option for things such as piano lessons for my boys, family vacations, etc.
Speaking of piano lessons....yes, they are going well. In fact, I dare say that my boys have made an incredible amount of progress since they started in February of last year. But...my teacher, the one that works so well with my boys, she is moving. They are taking a few weeks of break right now and they start with a new teacher on May 2nd. I researched the best that I could and I hope that I have found someone that will work well with them, but I don't know and I am afraid that they will not work as hard or that they will grow frustrated. I am afraid that the leaps and bounds of progress they have made will stop. I wonder if my boys have any idea how hard all of these little decisions I must make for them are.
And then there was parent/teacher conference with J's teacher yesterday. Once again, I was reassured that J is a math genius, the gifted/talented program is right for him, etc. But, his handwriting is still terrible. In fact, she dropped the bomb that his writing is probably not even on a normal third grade level, let alone a "Quest" (our GT program) third grade level. She also said that he would seriously struggle in fourth grade if this did not change. So, the way I see it, I have four months to pull my struggling son up to an acceptable writing level. The problem, you see, is that, though I am an excellent teacher, I teach Math. I know nothing about how to help my son here. I've ordered the "Handwriting without Tears" books. But, I am wondering if I should be employing the help of an occupational therapist or if I am totally over-reacting and this is just a normal result of the asynchronous learning that usually accompanies gifted children. After all, no kid can be good at everything, except of course, that one kid in his class who does manage this feat and has only pulled one ticket the whole year. But, we don't talk about him.
Then there is all of the guilt. I am good at my job and I like to teach. My employer is struggling to find enough Math teachers to fill summer positions right now and has asked me to take more than the two classes I have committed to. I do feel some obligation. At the same time, I already feel terrible amounts of guilt of the six hours a week that I am away from my family. And, of course, if I did take another class, it would make our monthly budget a little easier to balance, but, at what cost? It is a balancing act that seems to have no answer.
I also know that the time I have spent working out the last several months has been good for me. It is time with my husband and it is good for my body. But, it is also time that the boys are not working on piano or handwriting. It makes our afternoons a little more hectic. There just doesn't seem to be enough hours in the day to get it all done. And, let's not even get into my role as a member of the primary presidency.....which I could, and probably should, do so much more for.
So, it is true. The conclusion I have come to is that I can't do it all. But, since I am really not willing to give up any of it right now, I am going to have to be content to be mediocre at much of it, which is hard for someone who was raised with the idea that if something is worth doing, it is worth doing better than any person since the beginning of time has ever done it.
So, I have been feeling pretty good about some things lately. I finally managed a single pull-up at the gym, only to be challenged to do two in a row. I realized that it isn't going to happen from a dead hang, and so I am in the process of trying to learn how to do a kipping pull-up. Michael has started talking fairly well. J and Spencer both came home with good report cards this quarter. Piano lessons seem to be going well and both boys are progressing.
It seems, though, that all of these accomplishments come with "buts", followed by some sort of failure. I've had to delay my hundred push-up goal. Trying to max on push-ups and do pull-ups at the same is apparently a little much on my arms. Especially if I want to be able to teach for three hours the next day with the writing on the white board that is required.
Michael, with all of his new words, is still behind. I am growing more and more grateful for his October birthday which will delay his kindergarten entry by a year from most of his peers. We have started the process of qualifying for the district speech therapy/preschool for when he turns three. I already have him signed up for another preschool and I couldn't possibly work with the district hours and still teach a morning class, so I'm not sure how this is going to work, which is making me feel guilty about the fact that I work at all. Of course, if I didn't work, it would take away the option for things such as piano lessons for my boys, family vacations, etc.
Speaking of piano lessons....yes, they are going well. In fact, I dare say that my boys have made an incredible amount of progress since they started in February of last year. But...my teacher, the one that works so well with my boys, she is moving. They are taking a few weeks of break right now and they start with a new teacher on May 2nd. I researched the best that I could and I hope that I have found someone that will work well with them, but I don't know and I am afraid that they will not work as hard or that they will grow frustrated. I am afraid that the leaps and bounds of progress they have made will stop. I wonder if my boys have any idea how hard all of these little decisions I must make for them are.
And then there was parent/teacher conference with J's teacher yesterday. Once again, I was reassured that J is a math genius, the gifted/talented program is right for him, etc. But, his handwriting is still terrible. In fact, she dropped the bomb that his writing is probably not even on a normal third grade level, let alone a "Quest" (our GT program) third grade level. She also said that he would seriously struggle in fourth grade if this did not change. So, the way I see it, I have four months to pull my struggling son up to an acceptable writing level. The problem, you see, is that, though I am an excellent teacher, I teach Math. I know nothing about how to help my son here. I've ordered the "Handwriting without Tears" books. But, I am wondering if I should be employing the help of an occupational therapist or if I am totally over-reacting and this is just a normal result of the asynchronous learning that usually accompanies gifted children. After all, no kid can be good at everything, except of course, that one kid in his class who does manage this feat and has only pulled one ticket the whole year. But, we don't talk about him.
Then there is all of the guilt. I am good at my job and I like to teach. My employer is struggling to find enough Math teachers to fill summer positions right now and has asked me to take more than the two classes I have committed to. I do feel some obligation. At the same time, I already feel terrible amounts of guilt of the six hours a week that I am away from my family. And, of course, if I did take another class, it would make our monthly budget a little easier to balance, but, at what cost? It is a balancing act that seems to have no answer.
I also know that the time I have spent working out the last several months has been good for me. It is time with my husband and it is good for my body. But, it is also time that the boys are not working on piano or handwriting. It makes our afternoons a little more hectic. There just doesn't seem to be enough hours in the day to get it all done. And, let's not even get into my role as a member of the primary presidency.....which I could, and probably should, do so much more for.
So, it is true. The conclusion I have come to is that I can't do it all. But, since I am really not willing to give up any of it right now, I am going to have to be content to be mediocre at much of it, which is hard for someone who was raised with the idea that if something is worth doing, it is worth doing better than any person since the beginning of time has ever done it.
Tuesday, March 24, 2009
Resolutions Redux
So, sometime way back in December, I mentioned the fact that I would like to drop a few pounds. Since I am officially in my mid-thirties, this is not as easy of a feat as it once was and I realized that it may take some effort besides cutting down my daily Dr. Pepper consumption. In fact, I actually joined a gym.
This isn't the first gym I have gone to. I've spent many hours on treadmills during marathon training and such. This is just the first gym where they have cared whether or not I am doing something besides jogging slowly on the treadmill while watching the "Price is Right" without sound because the headphones make my ears sweat.
So, this is a CrossFit gym. When I walk in, I am given a patented "workout of the day," which, at first, involved all kinds of exercises that I had no idea how to do - and even when I did, my ability was sorely lacking. The first time I was instructed in the fine art of a pull-up, the coach brought out a huge blue rubber band that offered 100+ pounds of resistance and then he still had his hand on my back helping me to get my chin over the bar. I am also embarrassed to say that even a squat was a challenge for me at first. I kept feeling like I was going to tumble backwards and would over-compensate by lifting my heels, which is, apparently, bad.
Well, I've been going to this gym for almost three months now and I dare say that I am making improvements. I have dropped about ten pounds - which still puts me above where my weight was a year ago, but as I said before, mid-thirties and losing weight don't really mix, so any loss is a victory. I'm actually just grateful that I'm not still gaining weight - the trend had me a little worried.
I've also come up with some new fitness goals and would like to post them here for the world (or at least my three regular blog readers) to see. The first is to accomplish the same hundred push-up challenge that my husband finished last fall. There is a nifty little website that has charts to follow and such and even a place where I can log my progress. I just did my first exhaustion test on Sunday and was able to eke out 18 push-ups from the toe without rest - fairly good form and everything. Today, I did the first workout and completed it successfully as well. It was five sets with 60 seconds of rest between each one. The sets were: 10, 12, 7, 7, and max. My max today was 12.
My second goal is to do a dead hang pull-up with no rubber bands or other helps. I may modify this goal once I accomplish the first one and try for two or more in a row, but for now I would just like to be able to do one. I have been working on negatives the last month and so I've got the easy half of the pull-up down. Now I've just got to find a way to get my chin over the bar in the first place.
I'm also hoping that by publicly posting these goals that I will be encouraged to update my blog a little more regularly. Of course, if I don't, you all are free to assume that I failed miserably.
This isn't the first gym I have gone to. I've spent many hours on treadmills during marathon training and such. This is just the first gym where they have cared whether or not I am doing something besides jogging slowly on the treadmill while watching the "Price is Right" without sound because the headphones make my ears sweat.
So, this is a CrossFit gym. When I walk in, I am given a patented "workout of the day," which, at first, involved all kinds of exercises that I had no idea how to do - and even when I did, my ability was sorely lacking. The first time I was instructed in the fine art of a pull-up, the coach brought out a huge blue rubber band that offered 100+ pounds of resistance and then he still had his hand on my back helping me to get my chin over the bar. I am also embarrassed to say that even a squat was a challenge for me at first. I kept feeling like I was going to tumble backwards and would over-compensate by lifting my heels, which is, apparently, bad.
Well, I've been going to this gym for almost three months now and I dare say that I am making improvements. I have dropped about ten pounds - which still puts me above where my weight was a year ago, but as I said before, mid-thirties and losing weight don't really mix, so any loss is a victory. I'm actually just grateful that I'm not still gaining weight - the trend had me a little worried.
I've also come up with some new fitness goals and would like to post them here for the world (or at least my three regular blog readers) to see. The first is to accomplish the same hundred push-up challenge that my husband finished last fall. There is a nifty little website that has charts to follow and such and even a place where I can log my progress. I just did my first exhaustion test on Sunday and was able to eke out 18 push-ups from the toe without rest - fairly good form and everything. Today, I did the first workout and completed it successfully as well. It was five sets with 60 seconds of rest between each one. The sets were: 10, 12, 7, 7, and max. My max today was 12.
My second goal is to do a dead hang pull-up with no rubber bands or other helps. I may modify this goal once I accomplish the first one and try for two or more in a row, but for now I would just like to be able to do one. I have been working on negatives the last month and so I've got the easy half of the pull-up down. Now I've just got to find a way to get my chin over the bar in the first place.
I'm also hoping that by publicly posting these goals that I will be encouraged to update my blog a little more regularly. Of course, if I don't, you all are free to assume that I failed miserably.
Friday, March 6, 2009
A Conversation with Michael
I haven't blogged in a while. I've just been so busy and, though I've started a few posts, I have yet to finish one and by the time I get back to it, it just seems irrelevant.
But, something fun happened today...and it is short and sweet and I think I can finish a post about it in one sitting, so here goes:
As some of you know, my sweet Michael is what has been termed as "speech delayed". At 18 months, he was put in the .01 percentile in the speech category and being the neurotic mom, this was quite disconcerting and I was sure that I was dealing with something terrible. We have had a speech therapist coming to our house over the last year and he has improved. In fact, I've heard nothing from the specialists, but "normal little boy" lately.
So, Michael is 28 months old now. The following wouldn't be that significant to another parent, but realize where I'm coming from. I had a conversation with Michael in the car this morning. It went like this:
Michael: "Mom, I acow."
Me: "What Michael?"
Michael: "I acow. Moo. Moo. Michael a cow."
Me: "Oh, you are a cow."
Michael: "I a cow. Moo. Moo. I funny." *giggle*
The rest of the car trip was a series of moos and giggles. This seemed so "normal little boy" for a two year old boy. I am thrilled.
He has come a long way.
But, something fun happened today...and it is short and sweet and I think I can finish a post about it in one sitting, so here goes:
As some of you know, my sweet Michael is what has been termed as "speech delayed". At 18 months, he was put in the .01 percentile in the speech category and being the neurotic mom, this was quite disconcerting and I was sure that I was dealing with something terrible. We have had a speech therapist coming to our house over the last year and he has improved. In fact, I've heard nothing from the specialists, but "normal little boy" lately.
So, Michael is 28 months old now. The following wouldn't be that significant to another parent, but realize where I'm coming from. I had a conversation with Michael in the car this morning. It went like this:
Michael: "Mom, I acow."
Me: "What Michael?"
Michael: "I acow. Moo. Moo. Michael a cow."
Me: "Oh, you are a cow."
Michael: "I a cow. Moo. Moo. I funny." *giggle*
The rest of the car trip was a series of moos and giggles. This seemed so "normal little boy" for a two year old boy. I am thrilled.
He has come a long way.
Monday, January 26, 2009
I'm right. That is all.
I am not one of those people who claim to be an expert on everything. Really, I'm not. In fact, I'll readily admit to my incompetence in most aspects of this world. But, there are a few areas where I truly am able. In fact, I would dare say able beyond average. So, when I am challenged in one of these areas, my usually calm, non-confrontational self sometimes feels a little riled. Because I am right and sometimes I get to be right.
This all happened on Friday night. As I have mentioned before, I work at a very small college. About once a quarter, we meet together as a faculty in one of the classrooms and go through some training with a lot of open discussion in an effort to glean ideas from each other and be the best faculty we can for our students. The focus of our training this time around was the "invitational classroom". This opened up a debate about justice vs. mercy in the classroom. One of the more vocal teachers announced that he felt there should be a school-wide policy regarding late work. In his own classroom, he has a zero tolerance policy and will not accept anything late no matter who dies or has a baby. His argument being that by accepting late work that we are enabling our students to be irresponsible and are not preparing them for "the real world."
I don't buy it. I've been teaching for a long time. And I dare say that I am a good teacher for at least a majority of the students who enter my classroom. I do accept late work. In fact if a student seems to be falling behind, rather than berate them, I usually ask to meet with them to catch them up. Because, the truth of the matter is, if I don't, they aren't going to be more responsible or be more ready for "the real world", they are just going to have one more reason to give up on school and one more life frustration and I don't want to be the source of anyone's life frustration.
And, now, just a word or two on the whole "real world" comment. The real world is a whole lot more forgiving than I think we give it credit for. I make mistakes every day and I depend on the mercy of those in my life. If my husband had a zero tolerance policy towards all of the things that I do that drive him crazy (and not in a good way), our marriage never would have lasted this long. I've also made plenty of mistakes through the years at my various jobs and not once have I been fired. This world is set up for humans - the unperfect.
So, I don't believe in it. I don't think it is good. I don't think it is the pathway to a world of responsible adults. No. Not at all.
This all happened on Friday night. As I have mentioned before, I work at a very small college. About once a quarter, we meet together as a faculty in one of the classrooms and go through some training with a lot of open discussion in an effort to glean ideas from each other and be the best faculty we can for our students. The focus of our training this time around was the "invitational classroom". This opened up a debate about justice vs. mercy in the classroom. One of the more vocal teachers announced that he felt there should be a school-wide policy regarding late work. In his own classroom, he has a zero tolerance policy and will not accept anything late no matter who dies or has a baby. His argument being that by accepting late work that we are enabling our students to be irresponsible and are not preparing them for "the real world."
I don't buy it. I've been teaching for a long time. And I dare say that I am a good teacher for at least a majority of the students who enter my classroom. I do accept late work. In fact if a student seems to be falling behind, rather than berate them, I usually ask to meet with them to catch them up. Because, the truth of the matter is, if I don't, they aren't going to be more responsible or be more ready for "the real world", they are just going to have one more reason to give up on school and one more life frustration and I don't want to be the source of anyone's life frustration.
And, now, just a word or two on the whole "real world" comment. The real world is a whole lot more forgiving than I think we give it credit for. I make mistakes every day and I depend on the mercy of those in my life. If my husband had a zero tolerance policy towards all of the things that I do that drive him crazy (and not in a good way), our marriage never would have lasted this long. I've also made plenty of mistakes through the years at my various jobs and not once have I been fired. This world is set up for humans - the unperfect.
So, I don't believe in it. I don't think it is good. I don't think it is the pathway to a world of responsible adults. No. Not at all.
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