I know that by putting this out there I am opening myself up to ridicule from the sports world. I know this. And yet...I know at least 2 or 3 people who want to know why I went all, well, you know, on a basketball coach tonight. I know trash talk is the norm. I know, I know, I know. But he got personal and he did it right in my face and well, you know me. As our guys took the court tonight against this 4A team...we're 1A for those who don't know...he turned around to his team, looked at us, and laughed and said, "Forget the plan we had. This is just a bunch of fat kids. Just run. Wear 'em out. They can't keep up with us. Look, 1...2...3 fat kids, at least. Ha. Just a bunch of fat kids. We got this." His team laughed and the tone was set for the rest of the game. My son was not even on the court. I went all spider monkey for other people's sons. I do that on occasion. I'm no hero, but I AM a believer in respect. Those "fat" kids are boys that haven't been out of football playoffs for very many weeks. We don't have the luxury to have a "basketball only" team. Our kids do EVERYTHING. And they do it well. It was interesting, every time he told his team that they needed to work on something tonight, the response he got was something like, "WTH Coach. Look at the scoreboard. We don't need to work on anything." I bet I heard one kid say that at least 15 times tonight, and he wasn't the only one. I don't know. I just think that he could have handled things a little differently. Yes, it's a sensitive area for me. I informed him, during our little visit, that I KNEW he wasn't talking about my son. My son who, by the way, lost over 85 pounds using sheer willpower, hard work, and determination. No surgery, no pills, no gadgets. He wanted nothing more than to play basketball his senior year. And he's doing it.
So here's the deal...I told Coach Whatshisname he had a talented team. That they played an excellent game tonight. And that he was classless. I sort of just feel sorry for him.
Thursday, December 12, 2013
Tuesday, November 12, 2013
Reasons I Think God Relates to Third Grade Teachers
Seriously.
1. I said this today: "WHY do I have to tell you everything OVER and OVER? Why can't you just do what I say? I GAVE you the instructions. I read them to you. Four other people asked the same question before you and I answered THEM. WHY MUST I SAY IT AGAIN?"
2. I find myself saying this (inwardly) all the time: "I want SO badly for you to succeed--for you to want what I want for you. And it hurts to watch you not care."
3. I say this: "WHY ON EARTH can you not all just get along? We are a classroom family. We are in this together. We need to be kind to each other. Words hurt. Your actions hurt. Ignoring people hurts. JUST BE NICE."
The point? God is in charge of the universe while I (try to) manage a relatively small group of 8 year old children. I am human, impatient, irritable, and sometimes unforgiving. I feel helpless when it comes to cultivating any type of intrinsic motivation in my students. He can, and does, change hearts. I'm not sure what the lesson in number three is, other than I'm pretty sure that NEITHER God nor I like this trait of humanity. I just have to keep following His instructions--and letting His work be completed. Above all, I need to remember that while they may not see Him in all areas of their lives, they see me. Let my treatment of them be a reflection of His love and care for me. Because He loves me even when I ask the same questions over and over. Even when I seem to have blatant disregard for His will. Even when I'm not a shining example of getting along with others.
1. I said this today: "WHY do I have to tell you everything OVER and OVER? Why can't you just do what I say? I GAVE you the instructions. I read them to you. Four other people asked the same question before you and I answered THEM. WHY MUST I SAY IT AGAIN?"
2. I find myself saying this (inwardly) all the time: "I want SO badly for you to succeed--for you to want what I want for you. And it hurts to watch you not care."
3. I say this: "WHY ON EARTH can you not all just get along? We are a classroom family. We are in this together. We need to be kind to each other. Words hurt. Your actions hurt. Ignoring people hurts. JUST BE NICE."
The point? God is in charge of the universe while I (try to) manage a relatively small group of 8 year old children. I am human, impatient, irritable, and sometimes unforgiving. I feel helpless when it comes to cultivating any type of intrinsic motivation in my students. He can, and does, change hearts. I'm not sure what the lesson in number three is, other than I'm pretty sure that NEITHER God nor I like this trait of humanity. I just have to keep following His instructions--and letting His work be completed. Above all, I need to remember that while they may not see Him in all areas of their lives, they see me. Let my treatment of them be a reflection of His love and care for me. Because He loves me even when I ask the same questions over and over. Even when I seem to have blatant disregard for His will. Even when I'm not a shining example of getting along with others.
Saturday, October 19, 2013
Dear People in the Stands
I find myself wishing that you were required to pick up a special pair of glasses at the entryway of the gym/stadium. Glasses that would enable you to see the athletes on the court/field for who they really, truly are. Because you see, all is not as it seems from your lofty seat. You think you know, but you only know in part. To your untrained eyes, you see what looks like lack of effort or refusal to be quick on your feet. My eyes see a child who just took the maximum dosage allowed of anti-epileptic medication and is struggling through a fog of medication induced haze, jolts of electricity every five minutes from the stimulator placed in her chest/brain, and the occasional break through seizure. Not to mention residual headaches from the pseudo tumor which has left her optic nerves swollen.
She doesn't HAVE to be out there. She WANTS to be. No one made her. She has the sheer will and determination to continually operate outside her comfort zone in an effort to be all she can be. And she isn't the only one with a story. Some stories play themselves out on the athletic field/court, some in the classroom, some in a child's home life. Rest assured I don't cringe when your child steps up to take a standardized test--so reciprocity would be nice.
I'm not looking for sympathy, just understanding. I think I speak for most if not all student athletes and their parents when I say that all any of our kids are seeking is really quite simple--a cheer and a pat of the back when things go well, and encouragement when things don't go so well. For the most part, that's the way we operate at our sports events--celebrating each individual and loving them all through the wins and the losses. But there are some, and I am confident that they will not be the ones reading this, who just don't get it. You see, in a way, I DO have those special glasses. As the parent of a child who has obstacles to overcome, I see things in a different light. And whether you realize it or not, I see and hear things clearly.
I don't know why God chose my family to experience the things they have experienced. You don't know either--although you may think you do. Certainly our goal is to live life in a way that focuses attention not on the difficulties we have faced, but on the blessings we have received. For that reason, my children set goals, set them high, and go after them with abandon. They have been encouraged to find what they love doing, and to do it. Sometimes best effort takes on a different form than your limited vision can encompass. And if you choose not to embrace that, you are the only one who loses.
Monday, September 9, 2013
R-E-S-P-E-C-T
I'm afraid, as usual, that I have more questions than answers in this blog post. Straight to the first question--Whatever happened to plain old respect?
I have had one of the most difficult days ever in the classroom--as a matter of fact, it has been a rough start to the year. On top of that, my son is beyond upset after coming home from YET ANOTHER failed band practice. He is learning a tough lesson at a young age as assistant drum major--that kids these days have little motivation, scant attention, and zero respect. Not all of them, but enough of them to ruin it for the rest. I live in a small town, teach in an even smaller town, and I don't want to hurt anyone's feelings. But quite honestly, we have a problem here.
I have learned over the years, that it is best if I am transparent with my students and their parents. Ask my students if I make mistakes, and they won't hesitate to tell you that I do. I admit my mistakes, apologize when necessary, and then we move on. And I expect the same from them. Unfortunately, there is a growing trend in our world AGAINST ownership and accountability. Instead, we make excuses or just flat refuse to talk about it. This is not to say that all students are irresponsible and rude. I have many respectful kids in my classroom, and there are many more in our school. But the trend is not going in the way that I would hope. It's early in the year and I'm still getting a lot of "huh, what, yeah" and the like. And that isn't the worst of it. It won't be this way at the end of the year, but it is hard to handle in the here and now.
So we say, regarding my third graders, "They're young, they just came back from summer break, they'll learn." But what about 14, 15, 16, year old young men and women who can't give an hour to the band leaders? Just one hour of their respect and attention? I'm not talking just playing around, I mean serious disrespect and misbehavior? Doesn't really seem fair to those who have given hours and hours and years upon years of their time to band, does it? We're all about "rights" and yet, my senior band member is defenseless as he watches his last chance for advancement be ruined by rude and unacceptable behavior. Where are HIS rights? Where are the rights of my students in the classroom who are trying to learn? It breaks my heart to see them struggle to tune out the disruptions and distractions.
No answers. Just an increasing number of questions as the days advance. More and more responsibility placed on the teacher, to the point that I fear the breaking point is near. More and more demands that I "hit the mark" with STAAR scores, and yet I can't even teach a 20 minute lesson because of the disruptions. And no one seems to be able to do anything about it.
Our senior band members will graduate and move on to bigger and better things. The hard work and hopes for advancement will be a distant memory. But it still hurts that what "might have been" is obscured by "how it is". And I, for one, feel that it could be different.
I have had one of the most difficult days ever in the classroom--as a matter of fact, it has been a rough start to the year. On top of that, my son is beyond upset after coming home from YET ANOTHER failed band practice. He is learning a tough lesson at a young age as assistant drum major--that kids these days have little motivation, scant attention, and zero respect. Not all of them, but enough of them to ruin it for the rest. I live in a small town, teach in an even smaller town, and I don't want to hurt anyone's feelings. But quite honestly, we have a problem here.
I have learned over the years, that it is best if I am transparent with my students and their parents. Ask my students if I make mistakes, and they won't hesitate to tell you that I do. I admit my mistakes, apologize when necessary, and then we move on. And I expect the same from them. Unfortunately, there is a growing trend in our world AGAINST ownership and accountability. Instead, we make excuses or just flat refuse to talk about it. This is not to say that all students are irresponsible and rude. I have many respectful kids in my classroom, and there are many more in our school. But the trend is not going in the way that I would hope. It's early in the year and I'm still getting a lot of "huh, what, yeah" and the like. And that isn't the worst of it. It won't be this way at the end of the year, but it is hard to handle in the here and now.
So we say, regarding my third graders, "They're young, they just came back from summer break, they'll learn." But what about 14, 15, 16, year old young men and women who can't give an hour to the band leaders? Just one hour of their respect and attention? I'm not talking just playing around, I mean serious disrespect and misbehavior? Doesn't really seem fair to those who have given hours and hours and years upon years of their time to band, does it? We're all about "rights" and yet, my senior band member is defenseless as he watches his last chance for advancement be ruined by rude and unacceptable behavior. Where are HIS rights? Where are the rights of my students in the classroom who are trying to learn? It breaks my heart to see them struggle to tune out the disruptions and distractions.
No answers. Just an increasing number of questions as the days advance. More and more responsibility placed on the teacher, to the point that I fear the breaking point is near. More and more demands that I "hit the mark" with STAAR scores, and yet I can't even teach a 20 minute lesson because of the disruptions. And no one seems to be able to do anything about it.
Our senior band members will graduate and move on to bigger and better things. The hard work and hopes for advancement will be a distant memory. But it still hurts that what "might have been" is obscured by "how it is". And I, for one, feel that it could be different.
Monday, August 26, 2013
The Blog Post That Will Probably Get Me In Trouble
Couple of things before I let my heart flow onto this page. #1. I had a wonderful first day of school today. The kids are sweet, we have new energy flowing through our staff, and I know that I'm where I am supposed to be...for now. #2. I know without doubt that I am blessed. I enjoy things that many only dream of. I get this. But........
I still get really frustrated.
I'm called to teach. It wasn't a bolt of lightening calling, but rather a long, drawn out, tugging kind of calling. It started when I was young, but it was easy to ignore back then. Even as I sat in pre-med classes for the first two years of college, something pulled at me. But here's the thing. Never once did I seriously entertain the thought of being a teacher. I could imagine myself working with children and families, but in a classroom? Never in a million years. So, after earning a BA in Psychology and a BA in Modern Languages, I decided to fore go graduate school for the time being and I landed in my first career of Child Development Specialist/Family Consultant. There. Doing the education thing without stepping foot in a classroom. And the story goes on from there--three different Early Childhood programs in my early years moving around Texas and doing life as Mrs. Briley-- then substitute teaching, late night talks with God and with myself, and a decision to enter the PACT program through LeTourneau University. I told myself that, even though I was earning a teaching certificate I wouldn't teach for long. I would take more classes and be a diagnostician or a counselor. Anything but teach a classroom full of elementary students. And yet...one more move, a mountain of student loans, and a smattering of employment applications all over Karnes County led to a phone call from a lady named JoAnn at Runge ISD. A midsummer visit to a quaint PK-12 campus in a town that you don't even have to blink to miss...and I was hooked. Love at first visit. Started my 10th year at RISD today, and it has been quite the ride. I've met people that I can't imagine being without in my life. I've taught entire families of siblings. I spent most of Meet the Teacher night this past week with a 7th grader and a 6th grader--brothers that just needed to talk for a while. They both came and got hugs today, as did several other "big" kids that have outgrown my third grade classroom, but not their teacher.
The frustration is not with my students. Many try me. Some succeed. I've had parents that I'm pretty sure couldn't stand me for a while...now we share hugs and long conversations in the grocery store. I think the root of my frustration is feeling that I've made a career, a life, of trying to make others feel valuable-- and somewhere along the way I became part of "the teachers". Nameless, faceless, even unidentifiable. I taught all day, worked on paperwork from 4-6, then sat through a three hour board meeting tonight. My main interest in the meeting was a salary discussion, and after waiting through a complete agenda rearrangement and a long recess, I sat and listened to talk of "the teachers". I'm grateful to the three board members who shook my hand, called me by name, and made eye contact during the evening. Bottom line--I just sometimes wish that I had a name and a face and an outlet for my story. I do what I do for the kids, but I have a family to take care of as well. Medical bills. A son about to graduate. I wear the same clothes over and over. I rarely get any type of vacation. My "raise" last year was entirely wiped out by increases in health insurance and other "perks". "The teachers" have stories. I'm just not sure that many people understand the sacrifice. I don't want praise, I want respect. I don't want to get rich. I want to be able to survive. I want to teach and guide children, without losing my identity and sacrificing my own family along the way. I want to answer my calling, without losing my voice.
I still get really frustrated.
I'm called to teach. It wasn't a bolt of lightening calling, but rather a long, drawn out, tugging kind of calling. It started when I was young, but it was easy to ignore back then. Even as I sat in pre-med classes for the first two years of college, something pulled at me. But here's the thing. Never once did I seriously entertain the thought of being a teacher. I could imagine myself working with children and families, but in a classroom? Never in a million years. So, after earning a BA in Psychology and a BA in Modern Languages, I decided to fore go graduate school for the time being and I landed in my first career of Child Development Specialist/Family Consultant. There. Doing the education thing without stepping foot in a classroom. And the story goes on from there--three different Early Childhood programs in my early years moving around Texas and doing life as Mrs. Briley-- then substitute teaching, late night talks with God and with myself, and a decision to enter the PACT program through LeTourneau University. I told myself that, even though I was earning a teaching certificate I wouldn't teach for long. I would take more classes and be a diagnostician or a counselor. Anything but teach a classroom full of elementary students. And yet...one more move, a mountain of student loans, and a smattering of employment applications all over Karnes County led to a phone call from a lady named JoAnn at Runge ISD. A midsummer visit to a quaint PK-12 campus in a town that you don't even have to blink to miss...and I was hooked. Love at first visit. Started my 10th year at RISD today, and it has been quite the ride. I've met people that I can't imagine being without in my life. I've taught entire families of siblings. I spent most of Meet the Teacher night this past week with a 7th grader and a 6th grader--brothers that just needed to talk for a while. They both came and got hugs today, as did several other "big" kids that have outgrown my third grade classroom, but not their teacher.
The frustration is not with my students. Many try me. Some succeed. I've had parents that I'm pretty sure couldn't stand me for a while...now we share hugs and long conversations in the grocery store. I think the root of my frustration is feeling that I've made a career, a life, of trying to make others feel valuable-- and somewhere along the way I became part of "the teachers". Nameless, faceless, even unidentifiable. I taught all day, worked on paperwork from 4-6, then sat through a three hour board meeting tonight. My main interest in the meeting was a salary discussion, and after waiting through a complete agenda rearrangement and a long recess, I sat and listened to talk of "the teachers". I'm grateful to the three board members who shook my hand, called me by name, and made eye contact during the evening. Bottom line--I just sometimes wish that I had a name and a face and an outlet for my story. I do what I do for the kids, but I have a family to take care of as well. Medical bills. A son about to graduate. I wear the same clothes over and over. I rarely get any type of vacation. My "raise" last year was entirely wiped out by increases in health insurance and other "perks". "The teachers" have stories. I'm just not sure that many people understand the sacrifice. I don't want praise, I want respect. I don't want to get rich. I want to be able to survive. I want to teach and guide children, without losing my identity and sacrificing my own family along the way. I want to answer my calling, without losing my voice.
Sunday, August 18, 2013
18
Today, my firstborn and only son, you turn 18 years old. You have pretty much made a life of beating the odds--so nothing really surprises me anymore. You've been proving doctors (and lots of other people) wrong your whole life. If someone said you couldn't, or shouldn't, or wouldn't...you have. As simple as that, you make your own rules. Always. And I love that. I've been criticized over the years for my parenting of you, especially when you were little. Maybe criticism is too strong a word, but at least "questioned". Here's the thing, boy of mine--parenting you is sort of like, well, coaching Manu Ginobili. As I was reflecting on this day, that analogy came to mind. I thought it was from a Gregg Popovich interview, but alas, these words are from one of your number one earthly heroes, Timmy D.
“He puts his head down and he goes,and we pray for the best.” - Tim Duncan (referring to his teammate and friend, Ginobili)
Sometimes I almost have to close my eyes when you take off on one of your ideas or goals. It isn't that I don't have faith in you, but this world...oh, this world. I love you for respecting my protective instincts. As I tried to tell you recently when we were in the midst of a huge (for us) struggle, it's HARD. You'll see, someday.
A week from tomorrow you will start your last year of high school and embark on the next part of your journey. I suspect that we will continue to learn from you in the coming years--you are constantly teaching me about love, and life, and parenting, and the latest with Johnny Football. That won't change just because you are now old enough to vote and do all sorts of other things--I suspect I will learn as much or more from Conner the Man as I have from My Little Boy. Live fully, love fiercely, choose wisely, and study hard (especially when you get to A&M because, let me tell you, freshman chemistry is NO laughing matter). Don't be in a hurry this next year. I'm sure not.
Happy Birthday. You are a joy, an inspiration, and an amazing son.
Love, Mom
Thursday, June 27, 2013
For the Confused Among Us...Including Me
I decided to put a little summary of what has been going on with my sweet C here on my blog. When I started (trying) to blog, it was with the intent of keeping myself and our families up to date with our lives. And then, well, life sort of got in the way. I would love to say that, starting today, I will blog EVERY day. But Mama said, "Don't lie." Just for my own records and for those who want to know....
Caleigh was diagnosed with absence epilepsy at the end of her kindergarten year--age 6. After several years, a neurologist AND an epileptologist trying every medication available, the diagnosis was changed to absence epilepsy, medically intractable. In May of 2011 she had surgery at Texas Children's Hospital and received a vagal nerve stimulator. Seizure activity dropped to almost nothing, and we were even able to wean her off one (ugly) medication. Late 2012, noticed some seizure activity increasing, but only off and on. Fast forward to about a month ago--she started having severe headaches and increased seizure activity. We went to our friendly neurologist--he looked in her eyes and immediately got on the phone with a pedi ophthalmologist who saw us about 2 hours later. What they saw were swollen optic nerves and signs of increased pressure in her brain. She was scheduled for an MRI and spinal tap to confirm the diagnosis of pseudotumor cerebri. Yesterday we spent the entire day at Methodist Hospital and Methodist Plaza (thankfully linked by an underground tunnel) having and MRI, MRV, spinal tap (without anesthesia--my daughter is tough!), numerous lab tests, and a chest x-ray. The neurologist called me this morning and I had to smile. He was saying how "fortunate" we were that Dr. C (eyes) just happened to be in that day a couple of weeks ago and that he could work us in AND how "fortunate" we were that Dr. D (radiology) was at the hospital yesterday and that it could be worked out for him to do Caleigh's spinal tap. It's not fortune...it's blessing. And that little nurse angel, Irma, was instrumental in getting Dr. D to "be" available for us yesterday--but that's another story.
So this is where we are--the MRI/MRV were normal. The pressure they measured on the spinal tap was NOT normal. The diagnosis is pseudotumor cerebri. Caleigh is going to start a medication today that will work on lowering the pressure in her brain. We will follow up with the neurologist in 2 weeks. If the medication doesn't work, there are other things they can do--such as place a shunt in her brain to drain the fluid. We're going to pray that the medicine works...we expect that it will. She rested well last night, after an excruciating drive home--then had another episode of back/head pain a little while ago. As soon as I got her flat, she fell asleep. The doctor says this is due to small amounts of spinal fluid continuing to leak and a resulting lower than normal pressure. Hopefully after a few days things will get back to normal. Briley normal that is. :) Thank you so much for the continued prayers. I know God has a reason for all of this.
Caleigh was diagnosed with absence epilepsy at the end of her kindergarten year--age 6. After several years, a neurologist AND an epileptologist trying every medication available, the diagnosis was changed to absence epilepsy, medically intractable. In May of 2011 she had surgery at Texas Children's Hospital and received a vagal nerve stimulator. Seizure activity dropped to almost nothing, and we were even able to wean her off one (ugly) medication. Late 2012, noticed some seizure activity increasing, but only off and on. Fast forward to about a month ago--she started having severe headaches and increased seizure activity. We went to our friendly neurologist--he looked in her eyes and immediately got on the phone with a pedi ophthalmologist who saw us about 2 hours later. What they saw were swollen optic nerves and signs of increased pressure in her brain. She was scheduled for an MRI and spinal tap to confirm the diagnosis of pseudotumor cerebri. Yesterday we spent the entire day at Methodist Hospital and Methodist Plaza (thankfully linked by an underground tunnel) having and MRI, MRV, spinal tap (without anesthesia--my daughter is tough!), numerous lab tests, and a chest x-ray. The neurologist called me this morning and I had to smile. He was saying how "fortunate" we were that Dr. C (eyes) just happened to be in that day a couple of weeks ago and that he could work us in AND how "fortunate" we were that Dr. D (radiology) was at the hospital yesterday and that it could be worked out for him to do Caleigh's spinal tap. It's not fortune...it's blessing. And that little nurse angel, Irma, was instrumental in getting Dr. D to "be" available for us yesterday--but that's another story.
So this is where we are--the MRI/MRV were normal. The pressure they measured on the spinal tap was NOT normal. The diagnosis is pseudotumor cerebri. Caleigh is going to start a medication today that will work on lowering the pressure in her brain. We will follow up with the neurologist in 2 weeks. If the medication doesn't work, there are other things they can do--such as place a shunt in her brain to drain the fluid. We're going to pray that the medicine works...we expect that it will. She rested well last night, after an excruciating drive home--then had another episode of back/head pain a little while ago. As soon as I got her flat, she fell asleep. The doctor says this is due to small amounts of spinal fluid continuing to leak and a resulting lower than normal pressure. Hopefully after a few days things will get back to normal. Briley normal that is. :) Thank you so much for the continued prayers. I know God has a reason for all of this.
Saturday, April 27, 2013
Too Blessed to be Stressed?
A post that I borrowed from the Kerrville Church of Christ facebook page last Sunday has been resounding in my head all week long. I keep thinking of other platitudes--really that's what they are--that people use during hard times to make themselves or other feel better. The one on my mind today is "Too blessed to be stressed." If you know me well, you know that I have several situations in my life right now that are causing a great deal of stress. My innermost circle of friends and most of my family know the details of these situations--but most importantly God knows and is at work. I guess what I'm trying to say is that today was such a blessing...quiet, restful, soothing to my soul. But the stressful situations don't just go away. Lately, maybe more than ever before, I've been wishing for a magic wand or some ruby red slippers that could banish my pain or remove me from the situations that cause so much stress. Truth is, we have no such means of getting rid of stress. Blessings like a quiet Saturday help calm the storms of life, but we simply aren't promised a storm free existence. As I'm writing, I hear my son playing beautiful music on his guitar. I hear the happy sounds of Russell and Caleigh returning from their evening walk--sounds that remind me of the blessing of family. The washer is running, a reminder of that I am blessed with material things. There is an incredible lightening show in the distance--we will most likely be blessed with rain in the coming hours. So how do I focus on being blessed, when I am so stressed? I think it just comes down to being aware of the blessings poured out on me daily. Taking time to acknowledge each thing--each person--each moment. Showing adoration and gratitude to a God who cares for me. Knowing that even in times of great pain, confusion, and anxiety, He is with me. The sound of a gentle rain on my patio is the perfect reminder.
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