And here we go again..

Let me begin this by saying that I found out this week how important it is to me to spend time with the students during each school day. Turns out this office lady needs those students perhaps just a bit more than they need her...

The first week of school is ridiculous. At least from the standpoint of this office lady. Plenty of paper-pushing, phone ringing, parent/child angst-ridden moments...enough, in fact, to share with all your friends and neighbors. Not that anyone in their right mind would share in this joy, mind you. Job security, that's for sure.

What was missing for me this week was the time I need to connect with the kids. There always seems to be a group of students that claim the office ladies and the office as their "safe place". They drop their backpack behind my desk. They plop down in one of the chairs near my desk or Debbie's (the other office lady) and fill us in on their day/life/drama. They just generally include us in on their lives. We are the non-threatening adults in their lives. We represent stability. We are known quantities. We love them, and they know it. We have boundaries, and they know that too. For the most part, they respect the boundaries...and if they don't, that's our first clue that they might be in "crisis mode".

I'm rambling. What I want to say is this: This week I wasn't myself. I was the efficient Office Lady, busy providing the district office what they needed. They got their count every day at or before 2:00 pm. Phones were answered. Parents and students were reassured that there was a spot for them in our program. Paperwork, paperwork, and more paperwork made it's annual migration across my desk.

The kids didn't get their office lady. By day two...they were asking me what was wrong with me. They were being advised by Debbie and the principal to leave me alone so that I could do the work that needed to be done. They kept checking in, but the exchanges were mostly one-sided. They gave me encouragement...but got little or nothing in return. By day three and four, the kids were telling me that things would be ok soon.

You know what? They're right, and I love them for it.

The efficient Office Lady will now take a back seat (perhaps even go into hibernation until next year when the district office needs her again) - and the "tell it like it is, ask the tough questions, butt kicking/name taking office lady" will resume her position in the lives of these kids. I'll get what I need out of this whole deal...and they might also...

Now that is real job security.

I think I might be losing my mind!



...just saying.....

So much more than just another day....

The school year is drawing to a close. Seniors are suddenly aware that there is a finish line...and they are almost upon it.

Graduation time is different in an alternative school. Many of our graduates are "Super Seniors". They didn't graduate with their class...but they are still here. They are still plugging away. Underneath it all, there is this quiet hopefulness.

There are days when it looks like these seniors aren't doing much more than showing up...and to be honest, some days that is exactly what they are doing. If you were to ask the students if they think they will graduate, many will tell you that they doubt that they will. They will give you all the reasons why they can't. They know all about failing. All about disappointing their families. All about falling short of expectations.

What many of these kids don't know about is succeeding.

UNTIL a staff member, "their" staff member, comes along and pulls them towards the finish line...often with their heels dug into the ground the whole way. This is where that quiet hopefulness comes in.

By the time our kids are nearing graduation, they have usually connected with someone on staff that becomes "theirs". This is the staff member who knows them best. This is the staff member who believes in them when they don't believe in themselves.

This is the time when you see what an alternative high school is all about. And let me tell you something. It is amazing. Talk about paying it forward.

Many people will look at an alternative high school, and the students in it, and see the following:

• Drug users
• Kids that have no respect for authority
• Kids that do what they want, when they want
• Kids that "can't make it in a regular high school"

Too bad they don't also see the following:

• Kids that are "walking wounded"
• Kids that opt out of learning because they have failed so many times already
• Kids that get lost in the "regular high school" because they just don't fit in
• Kids who, because of their life experiences, don't trust

When our kids graduate, it really means something. It means so much more than the fact they have completed the requisite 22.5 credits of core & elective classes.

It means that even though they gave up, they found a way to trust enough in themselves or their staff member or something - to keep going. They managed to filter out all the nonsense in their life and get this one thing done.

And they deserve to have their moment.

I tell them that this Office Lady doesn't cry. Ever. Not even at their graduation. But just between you and me, that might not be true.

It's a God Thing

Today one of our students came into the office wanting to see the nurse. He didn't look good. In fact, his face was scraped up and one cheek had a good sized knot on it.

I know what you're thinking..."it's another fight story."

Well, sort of.

Here's how it goes:

Last night, he left his home angry. Got on his bike and rode towards the island. He stopped on the bridge. At some point in time, a truck drives by. One of the passengers yells at him to "GET THE F--- OFF THE BRIDGE" - to which he responds, "I'LL DO WHATEVER THE F--- I WANT!"

Bad idea.

The truck turns around, comes back to him. The passenger jumps out and hits him once in the face. Tries to take his bike. He trips over his own bike and falls down. The passenger then kicks him several times in the face. He's actually not sure how many times because he apparently lost consciousness. When he woke up, he heard his cell phone ringing in the road.

*** "Where's the God thing??" ***

Right here.

The phone call was from his family who were quite worried about him. They knew he was on the bridge, and they were worried about what he was going to do. It's not like this is a great big huge bridge. But...it's a bridge. If you jump off and miss the water, the outcome won't be good. Might not be good even if you hit the water.

I asked him if he had been planning to jump. He said ... well...he didn't think so...but just before the truck went by, he was standing there thinking about what everyone would think and do if he jumped.

Guess he didn't get to finish that thought, because that truck did turn around. If it hadn't, we might be grieving the loss of another kid this year.

So yeah, I think it was a God thing.

Frontier Justice

Fights...a time-tested example of frontier justice.

Yesterday, the talk over the walkie talkies was about a fight that had just happened. There were about 100 witnesses, but none of the participants in the fight could be found. Lots of blood though. This fight, like many others, took place just off campus. The person who was the former owner of all the blood now spilled onto the pavement is a survivalist-minded sociopath type. What seemed odd was that he apparently never even attempted to defend himself during this fight. He was pummeled. Nose broken...major blood spillage. You know the drill.

Everyone who has dealt with this kid over the years worries that he'll kill someone someday.

So when we heard he was the victim in this fight, our main concern was that he was going to come to school the next day to even the score. He has access to all kinds of weapons...and he likes to talk about them. Needless to say, we were all hyper-vigilant throughout the day. He didn't show up during school, which seemed odd.

Typically, sociopaths are not big on the whole "humiliation in front of their peers" thing.

As I left work that day, I finally saw our victim. He was walking back towards the scene of the fight. As I continued on down the road, I saw that there were about 40 or 50 kids waiting for him.

Yeah, I know what you're thinking right about now - which is why I turned my car around and went back into the building to let the school officer know what I'd just seen. He seemed unconcerned.

Ok...well...at least I had done what I thought I needed to do.

I got back into my car. Drove past the scene again. NO ONE was there. Nada. Zilch. In the space of 10 minutes, all those kiddos had disappeared. Every single last one of them.

Then I figured it out. Our victim had to be seen.

Turns out the reason the fight took place in the first place was that he was rumored to have beat up his own mom. Kids got wind of that...and their designated enforcer had to exact the street's form of frontier justice.

That explains why he didn't fight back. This was all about some twisted sense of right and wrong - the social mores of today disaffected youth. Dare I say it, our sociopath was actually "doing the right thing" by standing there and taking his public flogging.

Going back, all bruised and broken, to the scene of the crime was somehow an example of honor. Even he knew when even he had crossed the line. His return for a public viewing was their way of bringing closure to the whole event. He was the proverbial wounded warrior returning home.

Good grief. It's nauseating.

The Gloves Come Off

Far too many times in recent years in this small town, our students have had to find a way to grieve the loss of a friend.

They want to honor their friend.
They want to pay homage to their life.

They want to find a way to blast the misery out of their heart in some meaningful way.

So, they paint the barn. They hold vigils at the flagpole. They gather at the crash sites. They post bulletins. They change their profile names.

Again. and Again. and Again. and Again.

I respect that. I do. But here's where the gloves come off and I start sounding like the old office lady I am.

Explain to me how leaving empty Tequila bottles and a half case of empties under the "Don't Drink and Drive" sign placed at the crash site pays tribute.

Explain to me how racing down that road on his birthday is a form of homage.

More to the point, would you be able to explain that to his mom?

I'm not saying this to make you defensive. I'm saying this in the hopes that you'll take a minute and really think this through for yourself...because here you are again, having to find a way to make sense out of yet another irreplaceable friend's death.

May I make a suggestion?

The person you loved simply cannot be summed up by a party story or a driving fast story. Please don't put his family in the position of hearing or seeing some of the things a parent wouldn't want to see or hear.

Please don't cause his family to worry about how fast you'll be driving tonight.

Choose a different road. Slow down. Put on a favorite song, roll down the window . Breath deep. Smile at the memories you have. Talk to someone if you're angry. Talk to someone if you're sad. Cry until you're done...and then cry some more.

Look around and if you see someone that needs to talk - let them know you'll listen.

Honor the memory of your friends by finding that part of them that was unique and rare - and sincere....and shine a light on that.
Tell people about that.

My guess is that whatever it is...it won't be about partying, or driving fast. It's going to be something that would help heal a parent's heart.
It will be something that will help heal your heart

Yah, I know. Typical old person kinds of thoughts. But you gotta know I'm only saying this because I love you kids.


Really.

How does that go again?

So, really - I wouldn't believe it if I hadn't been there myself.

Let's go back a week. Another senior was killed driving - oh I don't know, a bazillion miles an hour - on "the" road where the kids love to drive fast. You'd think that they'd have second thoughts since he's not the first one to die on that road. In fact, last year another senior died about 100 yards down the same road.

So, there's that.

Or...what about the student that called today to explain their absence. Seems mom is in the hospital. Why? Well, if we're being honest here - sounds like mom tried to kill herself. Too many of an assortment of meds. Prognosis? Not good I hear. Bleeding on the brain...yada yada yada. The irony is...it has always been the CHILD we've had on the "suicide watch".

Or, later in the day today I hear about a different student who had attempted suicide last night. Not succesful. "Just" an attempt. Released from the hospital. That can't be right. I'm going to chalk this one up (for lack of a better explanation) to an "accidental" overdose.

Did I mention the student that passed out last week, fell face first onto his kitchen floor and knocked out two front teeth? We haven't seem him since. Even "alternative" kids have limits.

Or wait, what about the parent that "tripped over the cat" and ended up with 20 stitches in their head? Crazy sort of coincidence this time. Kids are dysfunctional. Attendance has been sporadic. Juvenile justice authorities involved. Damn cat.

Or the kid who had a fight with his parent....came into the office sobbing because that parent had bitten him on the arm. As a reminder, we are talking about "almost grown" kids here. Sobbing is a pretty big deal.

On another note....a student came into the office today to let us know she was happy.
Plain as that. Just wanted us to know she was happy.

Believe me. There's more. But, the details escape me at this SECOND...and I'm gonna let that be.

Yeah, how does that go again? I wouldn't believe it if I hadn't seen it all myself.

And on another note...

I was tagged!! So Sara, here you go:

1. Ten years ago I was...
...the mother of a 10 year old and a 15 year old. I had a job that was very stressful. I worked with some wonderful people.

2. Things on my to do list today:
Finish the laundry. Cut 30 bracelets for Relay For Life.

3. Things I would do if I was suddenly a billionaire:
Pay off bills. Pay off the house. Set away enough for retirement. Set up a few scholarships. Buy my little craftsman style house by the sea.

4. Bad habits:
(do we have enough room?)
I eat stupid stuff. Too much of it, and too often.
I think the dishes will do themselves, so I leave them alone overnight.
I believe the same is true for laundry.

5. Places I have lived:
Stanwood, Tucson, Cheyenne, Ohio, Vandenburg, England...can't remember where because I was two years old, Phoenix. Seems like I've forgotten a move, but...you get the idea.

6. Jobs I have now or have had:
Shop clerk (twice), Waitress (twice), Delivery person for a manufacturer, Classroom Assistant, Behavior Intervention Specialist, Secretary.

7. Things people don't know about me (quirky things about me):
I'm basically shy.
I've won a few awards.
I don't like crowds. Oh wait, I bet people DO know that about me.

8. Things that make my life superfabulous right now:
My family. My job.

Tagged to go next.....My sister...so Pattie...time to set up your blogger account!

Another Wednesday

How was your Wednesday?

This morning, a student from our neighboring High School was taken out of our building in an ambulance after taking an overdose of cold medicine. The student meant to do it, this wasn't an accident. I don't know how that student is, but I'm assured that he or she is now where they need to be - getting the help he or she so clearly cried out for.

This afternoon, one of our students casually mentioned to me that he had leukemia before he started Kindergarten. With "just the right questions" (apparently), I found out that he also had a 5 lb. tumor removed from his rib-cage/chest area when he was in 6th grade. The tumor had collapsed one of his lungs. When they removed the tumor, they took out two ribs as well, because the tumor had attached to them. He showed me the scars from the port and the Hickman catheter from his two chemos. He showed me where his ribs had been. There was more, but I'll leave that out...as it is, I feel that I'm almost violating a trust by even writing this much.

Once again I'm gob-smacked by what I do NOT know about our students.

So there ya go....another Wednesday in the life of an Office Lady.

Blue Chair

I love my family. Totally. Wouldn't change a thing there. Craig and I have been married for "over 30 years" (which is a fairly convenient, and yet non-specific descriptor for the spouse that has to do the math to figure it out. That spouse would be me). Kids are great. Grandkid...awesome.

It's not them. It's me. At the end of the day, in my blue chair, I find myself regularly appalled. Mind you, I'm not sufficiently appalled to do anything about it. Just regularly and totally appalled. And so ready to be other than what I am.

There, I've stated it. That's about as far as I'll go. After all, I've got to get back to my blue chair. Figuratively speaking...because, in all reality, I never left it.

So, as it turns out, this isn't an epiphany, it's just the way it is.

Life isn't fair.

It isn't even equal amounts of greatness and awfulness. It doesn't matter if you're a "good guy" or a "bad guy". Some people can get through life without extreme highs and lows. Some people aren't so lucky. That's just how it is.

Mind you, I'm not complaining about my life. Far from it. Sometimes, though, I think the kids I work with just don't need another reason to give up.

Take the kid I talked about a few posts ago. His mother had stage 4 bladder cancer. Yesterday, I attended her memorial service.

Just not fair.

They were right...this IS the best disclaimer ever

My disclaimer to this disclaimer is simply that I did not find it. Well, I did, but only because someone else found it first, and they were kind enough to post it where I eventually found it...

Best Disclaimer Ever

Shelled Pecans

You know when you hold something in your hand...and it represents so much more than the object?

For me, today, it was shelled pecans.

My parents' new house is in the midst of a pecan grove, on a "campus" where they could live in a condo...or an apartment...or assisted living...or the Alzheimer's Memory unit...or full care living. As my mom so succinctly put it, "when we leave this place, they'll be taking us out feet first."

That's my mom for ya. A truth teller. *and a "Happy New Year Feathered Crown Wearer" as the above photo demonstrates*

My folks seem to love it where they are. They "down-sized" a few years ago, but even so, this new place is very much like all their other houses. They have a knack for making every place "home". Dad was in the Air Force, so we moved a lot over the years. I've always said that you could walk into any one of those houses and be in exactly the same living room.

Comforting really.

Mom and Dad's new home, to me, represents so many things. Some of which I'll choose to acknowledge at another time. For now, this is what I choose to acknowledge:

My parents have a lot of things going on every day. Good stuff. Life enriching stuff. They also have some new health issues. This must make them grumpy. Actually I'm pretty darn sure it does. Trust me on this. Mostly, though, they are still the same people they always have been...only more so. *note to self, who you are as a young adult is likely to be greatly magnified as you get older...so carefully cultivate who you'd like your grandkids to see...*

Their new lifestyle is a good one. It's not the old one, but it's a good one.

I'm not big on change. Never have been, and -I'm tempted to say- never will be. (guess I'll hold off on actually saying that only because I think it's mildly interesting to entertain the thought of embracing change)

So what was my point here?

Shelled pecans.

Those pecans are all about my parent's new life. My father picked them up off the ground around their house. He shelled them. My mom bagged them up and sent them to me. They're mine. Won't share 'em, so don't even ask.

Do you give them what they want...or do you give yourself what you deserve?

Why do we so often give people what they expect of us? We don't like it. We resent it...but still, we give people what they expect.

An example:
A student today stopped by to talk about a phone call he had just gotten. The details aren't important here, but the expected outcome is. What could be predicted (as a result of the phone call) is that he would need to FIX THE PROBLEM. Not as in, find a reasonable solution...rather, as in - OH YEAH I'LL FIX THAT YOU CAN COUNT ON IT.

*sigh*

And at what cost to him? I'm here to tell you that it would cost him dearly. His freedom would be compromised, and with that - his future. (no, I'm not exaggerating) Over what?....a ridiculous detail on one day in his life. Over a phone call that could have been avoided...EXCEPT....someone wanted him to FIX something, and they knew that he would.

The sad part of this is (and we have all been here at one point in time, or will be in the future) - I think on some level he didn't really want to have to FIX this. He didn't really want to give these people what they expected. Seems to me he might have actually felt that FIXING this would not be in his best interest.

Maybe what he really wanted was a reasonable resolution in this ridiculous situation. How was that supposed to happen when he was the guy that everyone expects to FIX things?

So here he was, fighting between the part of him that KNOWS HOW TO SOLVE THIS YOU BETTER BELIEVE THAT I DO...and the part of him that would appreciate an apology.

I don't know what he ended up doing.

I just hope he didn't give people what they expected, and instead gave himself what he deserves.

Some things make you stop and think...

There are days that make me sit back and think. Like the day when one of the kids came in that I hadn't seen in awhile. He didn't look "right", so I asked him what was up...was he ok?

He's one of those people that, the very minute you strike up a conversation, you KNOW there is something more to him than first meets the eye. Never mind the beanie...and all that hair. Never mind the snake bite piercings. Never mind any of that. If you take just that extra pause to listen, you know there's more.

Anyhow, the other day this young man seemed...not ok.

As it turns out, his mother has stage 4 bladder cancer...so he's got other things on his mind besides school. He's taking care of her. He's getting his brother to school every day. He's cooking, cleaning, and getting groceries. He's 17 years old, and he was keeping this to himself.

So I look at myself...and I look at him...and I have to wonder, who was the grown-up in that conversation?

Some things really do make you stop and think.