Life with Anders and Kuba : September 2017

Saturday, September 23, 2017

When Life Gives You Lemons

Sometimes you just get thrown a whole bunch of lemons.

And I suppose I do mean to use the word, thrown. Not given. Not handed. Thrown. And sometimes those lemons aren't even for you, yet juggle you do as they come sailing your way - these sky high, mid air, citrusy yellow orbs.

It's been like that for a while at our house. Our life with boys, lately, has been spent juggling other peoples lemons. Aging, ailing parent emergencies, broken bones, brain tumors, delirium, infections, you name it. Multiple visits to the ER, multiple visits to rehab, multiple conversations with doctors, nurses, and staff at the nursing home. Balancing visits to parents that are at opposite ends of the city. Handling all of the details of a barn renovation - for the above mentioned parents. Juggling contractors, appliance dealers, stove manufacturers, sprinkler companies, fire marshals, the city permitting department, figuring out how to secure a handicap parking spot, talking with landscape companies, tree care companies, and then managing to actually raise the barn floor sixteen inches to accommodate fantasy car parking, while also painting over 200 twenty foot long barn boards, and still attending to the other thousand minor issues that come along with a giant renovation project like this. Add to this a striking school district and all of the complexities that it holds for everyone in our household. It's been tough juggling all of these "lemons" in our life, while the real priorities LIKE OUR CHILDREN, ourselves and our careers hang tight until we can return our full attention to them.

We are now noticing that all of these lemons are making us - especially the youngest and most sensitive among us - a little bit sour. Which is helpful information in some ways. The smallest canary in our coal mine has just begun to sing his chirpy-little-tweety-little bird song of alarm. Which is the warning we needed in order to ask for some help as we wade through the enormity of this moment in time. And that is what it is -a moment in time. But an enormous moment, a crescendo really...where everything coming at us is timed so precisely that their peak moments of need are in unison and impossibly challenging.

Time for lemonade? You'd think it would be easy to make it from all of these lemons- and we are trying. But I can attest to the fact that it is a bit like squeezing lemons with a pillow right now. Not that efficient. So, instead of lemonade today, perhaps this story will have to do, and perhaps through this collection of words I will be reminded that there is another side. Perhaps our friends and family will hear the songbird as well. And hopefully soon, we'll all be drinking a frosted glass of fresh squeezed lemonade, together on the other side of this moment...and both of my parents will be here with us in the barn.

Thursday, September 21, 2017

Strike as Protest

strike

strīk/

noun

a refusal to work organized by a body of employees as a form of protest, typically in an attempt to gain a concession or concessions from their employer.

We have been on strike since last Thursday. 95% of the teachers in my district voted to strike after the school board imposed a contract. People don't strike unless working conditions have deteriorated to the point that they feel it is the only option. That they have no other choice but to take a stand and assert their united voice of resistance. By striking, teachers clearly send a message - enough is enough.

What most people see when they take a look at a strike from the outside is just the tip of the iceberg. They see what looks like strikers wanting more money or more benefits. As taxpayers who may or may not have a similar pay scale or benefit package at their own place of employment - taxpayers then voice their protest over this discrepancy in career salaries by criticizing teachers or by voting down the budget.
My sister, who has less schooling than I do and works in technology, has made double to triple my salary for over twenty years. I don't get to vote on her salary or her benefit package. It's part of her industry.

But, from my view on the inside, it's not about the money. If it were, most people wouldn't get into teaching in the first place. To me, a strike is about the working conditions. When school boards cut services that benefit children directly, like para educators, social workers, reading recovery teachers, etc. and expect teachers to pick up the slack, they begin to create an unsustainable educational environment. Our children are the ones who suffer. Learning is compromised. When they cut the number of classroom teachers and thus increase class size, conditions unravel even more. When teachers are not consulted or factored into major decision making processes, a climate grows that is full of mistrust. When communication is lacking and relationships are not valued, wounds fester.   This is the root of the frustration. The seed of discontent. And after years of hardship, the sprout breaks through the ground and finds the way out. Light again. And they unite and say NO more. The strike ended after 4 days.

Luckily - the school I work in has an administrator who supports, values, listens to, and loves his teachers. Together we carried one another through the struggle and together we rallied to voice our unhappiness. Walking for miles and miles on the picket line strengthened our resolve and strengthened our teaching community. It was not comfortable, had a giant set of unpleasant side effects, but honestly, it was the only way we could stand up for our students and ourselves.

Strike as protest - sometimes it is the only way.

Thursday, September 7, 2017

CAUGHT!

In a cat's eye, all things belong to cats.

Joseph Wood Krutch

Knowing how Kuba feels about Mousey, I'm not so sure this is a good thing.

Tuesday, September 5, 2017

Our Johnny - 7 Steps to Freedom

We luckily found a monarch caterpillar this year and dubbed him "Johnny." We eagerly watched his metamorphosis. Here you have the whole experience in photo's. We missed the little guy breaking out of his cocoon, but we promptly found him getting his flight wings on in the back yard. Sail away, little guy. Sail away.