A Teachable Moment

A Teachable Moment, in my definition, is when an unplanned opportunity arises to teach a student a valuable lesson. Perhaps in better words, it is the educator's rendition of a Kodak Moment.

So I stumbled upon a teachable moment by chance today, and ended up with a meaningful piece of poetry as a souvenire.

In lieu of Valentine's Day, I gave the 5th graders an assignment to write a poem about someone in their life who they love or care about. The poem had to include description using the 5 senses, as well as "emotion vocabulary" (something we've been learning about throughout the year in my class). So for all the teachers out there who know about lesson plans (which is certainly every single one of them), the goal was to demonstrate the ability to understand and communicate emotion in a written format. In essence, the poem had to represent one's feelings towards another, in a way in which we don't communicate typically, but rather emotionally.

But the lesson didn't go as planned. In fact, who am I kidding, it never does.

It just went. But this time, it actually went better than planned. This does not usually happen.

All educators out there can relate to the dire neccesity of example. When you give a written assignment such as this one, it is important to also give an example. Too bad Shel Silverstene couldn't help me out this time.

So this morning, I entered the building and realized that I had 20 minutes to come up with an example poem. I threw something together about my son, trying to encompass all of the elements that the assignment was going to require. I know not reading self-written things over before you read them to a class is a bad idea. But I didn't have time. And quite frankly, even if I did have time, it was just a damn example.

That's why it caught me by surprise when my eyes filled up with tears while I was reading the end of the poem to the class. I had to pause for a moment just to kill the lump that developed in the bottom of my throat. It's proof that the post-partum baby blues never really do go away.

After I finished reading, the silence that was shared amongst those 5th grade students and I was like nothing I've experienced before. It was a moment where a bunch of 10 and 11 year old children were able to connect with me on an emotional level, and finally the relationship between the teacher and student seemed a bit more authentic.

For the first moment ever in my interaction with students, I was the vulnerable one.

As a counselor, opportunities to share tears of joy and happiness with your clients are usually very rare. It doesn't matter the population- students, adults, inmates, divorcees, whoever. People generally don't enter a counseling relationship because they're happy inside. I spend the bulk of my time with students resolving conflict, or discussing behavior issues, or dealing with anger and sadness. It is rare that we invest any time in the good feelings. Almost to the point where I've forgotten that they still exist. And it is almost never that I disclose any deep feelings about myself.

So the teachable moment was on me. And for once in my 4 years of teaching I reached the goal of my lesson without delivering an ounce of classroom instruction.

Although unedited and far from polished, I decided to leave my poem just the way it was.

A Poem for Avery

Avery is deep blue eyes

And rosy red cheeks.

He is a bright dimply grin

With two bottom teeth.

He is Goodnight Moon

On a rainy summer night.

A bubble bath full of water toys

And a cuddler bundled tight.

Avery is the scent of baby laundry soap

And Johnson's syrupy shampoo,

A Kenny Loggins lullaby,

And the return of Winnie the Pooh.

He is green beans and oatmeal

Stuck to the kitchen floor.

A singing lit up mobile

And an innocent little snore.

Avery is a talking teddy bear,

A bottle full of milk,

A pile of grown out clothes,

And a skin as soft as silk.

He is a rocking chair at 2 a.m.

A jungle monkey bouncy seat

A screecher and a squeeler,

With a voice so soft and sweet.

Avery is discovery and inspiration

he is comfort and admiration.

He is curiosity, and great tempatation.

He is hard work, and some frustration.

He is hope and he is faith.

He is nerves and he is fears.

He is excitement, he is exhaustion.

He is laughs and he is tears.

Avery is the dream of yesterday,

But today's pride and joy.

He is happiness and he is love,

He is forever my baby boy.

The 3 Z's

This weekend was a pretty good one, I suppose. My boyfriend's sister has 3 kids who I absolutely adore. I call them the three Z's. Isaiah, 10 (yes I get that his name starts with an I), Zeke, 7, and Zoe, 5. We all know now that Josh and I aren't married, but they still refer to me as Aunt Alice. I try to see the 3 Z's as often as I can, which isn't all that much because they live an hour away from me. But this weekend, their newly single mother had crazy work hours and no childcare, so I offered to have them come stay with me. Oh what fun we had... (that's in a semi-sarcastic tone).

So life with 3 children in my home in addition to my own child is nothing less of a riot act. It's wonderful preparation for the years I have ahead of me in raising my own son, as well as great prevention of any future pregnancies :-) After dealing with several conflicts over who's turn is first, taking about 13 temperatures, icing various and random wounds and bumps, and picking chewed gum off the carpet in my guest room, I've concluded that there are some crazy people in this world.

Those people are the ones who stand by the Holy Bible phrase "children are a blessing from god." They're kidding themselves.

A message from Alice's New Testament: "Children are a telegram from hell that's informing you to abstain from sex for the rest of your life in order to remove all possibilities of procreation."

Don't get me wrong. I love the three Z's in small doses. In fact, the three Z's are great in pairs... Isaiah and Zeke, Zoe and Isaiah, Zeke and Zoe... but you add a third one into the mix, no matter which one it is, and you find yourself in the middle of a chaotic turmoil that is pretty damn close to topping the world's worst natural disaster to-date (I'm sure the Haitians would be contesting this statement, as would I if I were in their spot :-(....)

So anyway, despite the chaos, we survived the weekend, and had a little fun in the meantime. On Saturday we went ice skating. I thought this would be something fun and low cost to do. it turned out to be just as much work as it was fun.

So the three kids got their snow stuff on, an I bundled Avery up and put him in one of those little pull sleds for babies. He really enjoyed us pulling him down the sidewalk despite the fact that I became a psycho-freak about him falling out of the sled, so I made Zeke crawl behind him in case he started to fall out. Kudos to Zeke for crawling down 3 blocks of sidewalk.

After about 30 minutes of tying the ridiculous laces on ice skates (Hey Volcom brand, ever heard of Velcro???) we finally made in onto the ice. Zoe lasted 1 minute until she fell. Zeke knocked his head off the ice about 10 minutes into the ordeal. Isaiah (mind you, the oldest) insisted on leaning on these crates to keep his balance. Not surprisingly, he lasted 2 hours on skates, not falling once, and holding on to the crates for dear life the entire time. Cautious but smart kid.

So after that we made the long walk back to my house, where Zoe and I made these cute Valentine's Day Cards. They were supposed to resemble little elephants with heart ears.

They turned out more like a "maybe, maybe not" type of Valentine. Maybe it's a kid with really big ears, or maybe it's a hound dog. Either way, we had fun making them.

I tired to get Zeke and Isaiah to be interested in making little owls that said "I'll owl-ways be your friend", but they weren't interested. Darn boys.

Then Saturday night we played this game Josh got me for Christmas called Pictureka. It was pretty fun, although for those of you Pictureka players out there, how do you play it with several children? How do they decide upon what's really a kitchen utensil, or an item found in water? Categories are hard with smart and thoughtful children, mainly because anything can be justified. A giraffe can be considered a water animal, because there's a rare possibility he might end up in a body of water someday. Ughh... reasoning is worse than the triumpth of winning games like these.

Can I also just say that this weekend I learned that any dinner time dilemma can be solved with a box of Kraft Mac and Cheese and a few cut up hot dogs? Processed food is the heart of pre-teen meal preparation. Without it, parents would be burdened with time consuming casseroles and starving children.

So anyway, I had fun with the 3 Z's this weekend, despite my trek over Jay Peak in blizzard like weather to bring them home. I think Avery liked having them here as well. He loves other kids... and something about cousins brings this unspoken comfort and acceptance that you just can't find anywhere else.

Love kids, love family, love Winter... despite the chaos, a great weekend.

A not so brief introduction

So last week I thoroughly explained who I am not. After ruling out the possibility of my life even closely resembling that of a reality TV star, you're probably still a bit curious to find out who I actually am. So here's
my humble attempt to shed a little more light on my ordinary life.

I live in the northeastern region of Vermont- a little dot on a state road map known as the Village of Orleans. Someone is yet to explain the difference between a village and a town to me, but I've come to the assumption that it has something to do with municipality, or lack thereof. So assume what you will about the Village of Orleans.

At the intersection of School and Liberty Street in the village of Orleans, sits an 100 year old 3 bedroom white house on a half acre plot of land. That's my house.

Posted on the front porch window is a white-trash like BEWARE OF DOG sign in bright orange letters, referring to a medium sized beagle who's harmless but barks at a floating leaf at any given moment throughout the day. That's my dog. His name is Sebastian, and despite the barking phycho he is, we still love him at the end of the day. Even if he takes up 70% of my sleeping space in bed at night, and chews up anything in the vast vicinity of his reach, there's a special place in my heart for him. After all, he was my first baby.

Well, my first baby until I had my first real baby- you know, the non-canine type that you carry in the womb for 9 months(well more like 10) and push out the chute. That's Avery, my little 8 month old bundle of joy who I never imagined could possibly get into more trouble than my dog. I can set 100 toys in front of him and he'll go after the 1 thing that isn't a toy- usually something like a chord or a small piece of paper. So my child who is mainly interested in things that could possibly strangle or choke him keeps me really busy all of the time.

I find it so ironic when people say, "oh you must be so happy now that you have a baby".

In reality, the baby has you.

I think it's safe to say that becoming a mom is a humbling experience for most first-timers out there. People talk about it all the time, they try to warn first time moms about how much work it will be. But the real truth is, nothing can really prepare you. No experience in life can emulate just how consuming a baby is, because there's just really nothing out there that compares to it.

One thing I've noticed is that people rarely mention that amidst all the sleepless nights, messy diapers, and crying spells, that you'll love it. Becoming a mom is the most overwhelming thing I've ever been through, but there's absolutely nothing I love more. It's hard to explain, the love that I have for my child. The only clear statement I can really make, is that I finally understand how much my own parents love me. All the moms out there know exactly what I mean.

So I could go on and on about babies, love, motherhood and how it's changed me as a person, but that's a whole different blog that I'll save for a whole different day. Because believe it or not, I'm more than just a mother! (I remind myself of that constantly, just so you know).

I'm also a counselor by career. I work at 2 different local elementary schools, and when I'm not doing that I'm in graduate school trying to learn how to be a better counselor. You won't hear many people say this, but I actually really like my career and my profession. It fascinates me, the insight that most young children (or older children) have into their own lives. I always have told myself that someday when I have more time (which I've now concluded will be never) I will write a book about their stories.

I guess I like working with kids because they're more open and forgiving, and far less quick to judge themselves, or others for that matter. Perhaps they're yet to be shaped and hardened by the challenges and reality of life in its increasing years. But something about that lack of wisdom, and the magical thinking that comes along with being a child brings me back to a state of mind where I'd like to remain forever. I often have to remind myself that unfortunately, I've become an adult.

So counselor by career and mom by life I suppose. Oh and by the way did I mention that I'm also a single mom? I never considered myself one, but the Federal Government and the Department of Health do. So does the local school system and its administrators. Once again, that topic is a whole other blog in itself.

I have a wonderful boyfriend, and only because I hate the word Fiance--- let me just say that if it ain't the English language it's too sophisticated of a term. And to answer the ever so common question: Yes, we were engaged before I got pregnant, and No, we're not getting married just because I had a baby out of wed-lock. But we are indeed getting married- August 7th to be exact! Planning my wedding is another project that I've been enjoying lately!

Oh and I should also mention that his name is Josh and that I love him to pieces. It doesn't always seem like we love each other, but we do!

So that's me. Oh and I have a cat too, his name is Angel (to the left). I named him that because for the first year we had him we thought he was a girl. Angel's a better name for a girl, but it still fits.

Okay, so that's me. Well, at least a brief (or I guess not so brief) introduction.

My Ordinary life

I always thought that in order to have a blog, I'd need to have something that the general public thought was obscure or interesting. You know, like blogging my way through a cookbook, or writing about some profound philosophical theory.

I must say that I'm not a woman who will go down in history for my wisdom and wit. I've never fought for a front seat on the bus. I didn't survive the Holocaust. And I've always had all 5 senses- sharp as a whip. Not to undermine the lives of Rosa, Anne or Helen, but I need to reference their stories in order to depict just how ordinary my own life is.

I sometimes even compare myself to more modern women whose stories might have a little more substance than my own. I don't have multiple sets of multiples. My family isn't oversized- mind you that's in regards to both number of children and body mass. And for that matter, my family isn't undersized either- I measure in at a whopping 5' 4".

Keeping to the subject of body size, let me just mention that I'm not an 105 pound, surgically altered party girl. I'm most certainly not living a life where money falls out of the sky and close to perfect men seem to roll into my apartment like rushing water flooding down the Hollywood Hills (Sometimes I wish that was me).

And furthermore, I didn't get pregnant at 16, and when I did get pregnant I had signs, symptoms, and the good old tell tale weight gain. The "I didn't know I was pregnant" exclamation didn't fit with my experience.

I have no addictions, at least none severe enough to need intervention. No chronic physical or mental illness, either. I don't have an extra limb, or a tree growing out of my head (or leg? whatever..), or parents who I was separated from at birth.

Nope. I have none of the above.

In the words of Shaggy, "It wasn't me."

So like I said- perhaps my life isn't very blog-worthy. But, there's a piece of me that feels like the stories of every day life can sometimes be the most compelling. Something about simplicity is more appealing than the complications that come along with being extraordinary. So ladies and gentlemen- this blog is the story of me, Alice, and my ever so ordinary life.