Parenting

The Reality of Teaching

/ Dawn Kasal-Finley / Leave a comment

Now that teacher appreciation week has come and gone and I’m wrapping up my first year back in the high school classroom, I have to be honest about what I do as a teacher.

I parent all day. I thought I gave that up when my kids went to school and I went to work. And I guess I did give up day parenting when I had an office job. But as a classroom teacher, I parent. I spend a great deal of time helping the 15/16-year-old boys navigate the world. I hold their hands as they try to think outside of the box.

I push them to do the work and not take short cuts (But sparknotes is so much easier to read Mrs. Finley). I reprimand them for constantly touching, kicking, talking, farting, etc. I reinforce the idea that they need to respect their education and the desire of others to learn.

The majority of my job is not teaching, but guiding them. And often it is like guiding a donkey. They are stubborn and want to take the easy way out as often as possible. I challenge them to do more than the bare minimum. I remind them to tuck in their shirts and to pick up their trash.

I also get to teach them how to revise their thoughts. I teach them that nothing is perfect (or good for that matter) on the first go round. I give them feedback and push them to revise and redo. I teach them that there are no free rides, but that there are opportunities to fix mistakes.

I teach them how to be men and adults. I teach them how to think and share their thoughts. I also teach them English–but that seems to be the least important thing I teach.

Teachers do more than teach. Sometimes teaching is the last thing we do. My job is exhausting and I work 12-14 hour days on average. I sacrifice much of my own outside of school time to ensure that I am ready for my students (who often aren’t prepared). I grade papers, give feedback, and read all that I assign.

Teaching is a thankless job. Very rarely do we see the fruits of our labor. But we do it anyway. We do it because we know that we make a difference even if our students and their parents don’t.

So, thank a teacher. Chances are age has sacrificed more than you came imagine to educate your child beyond the subjects they teach.

A New Normal

/ Dawn Kasal-Finley / 1 Comment

I took my children to school today at “regular time”–no Before School Program for them.  I wanted to see them in their classrooms.  I dropped Noah off out front (a perk of being in 1st grade–mom and dad don’t have to bring him to class) and then parked and walked Zoë to her class and signed her in.

I watched her giggle with her friends the way 4 and 5-year old girls do and smiled.  Fearful that she just might find out what happened.  That her innocence might be chipped away and that school might all of a sudden not feel safe.

I walked down to Noah’s classroom and watched his class gather in a circle and do the haircut and new shoes dance for Noah.  I hoped he wouldn’t learn of the tragedy that struck a first grade class similar to his own.  I know he has a greater chance of hearing what happened as he eats lunch with the 2nd and 3rd graders and their exposure to the tragedy might not have been blocked out by their parents.

I sit at work writing my hands at moments and wish I could pick them up at the regular end of the day instead of having to send them to the After School Program (although, they would be so mad if I picked them up early–school is their favorite place.  It’s their happy place).

On Friday as I reeled from the news and cried for those families who lost the little lights of their lives, my heart broke for our future.  On Friday, our society that lost what seemed like the last vestige of safety for our children–their grade school.  In 1999, we lost the idea that high schools were safe.

When I was driving to pick the kids up from school, my phone rang.  I looked at the number and my heart stopped beating for just a moment.  It was the kids school.  I was scared to pick up.

But I did.  It was Zoë’s teacher calling to tell me that Zoë had fallen down the steps and hit her head.  I sighed with relief.  It also became clear from the phone call that my kids had decided they should go to ASP–have I mentioned how much they love their school?  I could have just gone home.  But I physically and emotionally couldn’t.  I had to see them and hug them.  I needed to feel their warm little bodies against mine.  I had to tell them I loved them.

Leaving them at school was nearly impossible.  But, I couldn’t rip them away from their happy place just for my own sense of security.  I let them stay and it hurt.

I just received an email from my kids school outlining how they helped each grade group cope/discuss/process the tragedy.  I was happy to hear there were no discussion in preschool through 3rd grade.  If a student brought it up, the teacher had a private conversation with them.  I haven’t watched the news since Friday and I fully understand that I will have to shield my kids from the news for weeks–you know how the media loves to relive tragedy over and over and over.

I know that I cannot protect them from the world.  But they are too little to fully understand what happened and old enough to understand that it is horrible.  Old enough to understand it happened in a place that should be safe.  I will protect them from this news as long as I can.  I am so sorry for the the families who lost their children–no one should have to ever bury their child.  I am so sorry for the families whose children will no longer look to school as a safe and happy place.

As I hug my children today, I will think of those families whose world has been broken.  Their tragedy is everyone’s.

To Tough Love Or Not

/ Dawn Kasal-Finley / 3 Comments

Parenting really just gets harder.  When Noah was younger, the answers were pretty clear and easy.  No, don’t put the dog food in your mouth, etc.  As kids grow, the answers aren’t so easy or obvious.  I think it is really important that my kids do something and are part of something.  I think that having an activity is really important and it’s been pretty easy to have the kids active in something.  Noah really likes sports and is pretty athletic.   He loves baseball, soccer, gymnastics, etc.

I have also learned a few things about my son and his personality.  He doesn’t like not being good at something.  He is quick to quit (or want to quit) when something stops being easy and turns difficult.  There were baseball games when hitting was hard and he wanted to quit mid-game.  That just isn’t an option.  I have worked hard to try to reinforce for Noah that quitting when something is hard is not something we do.  I hope that I am modeling that message for him (yet, I wonder–as I just at 3 cookies, I didn’t need and aren’t going to help me get healthy).

Anyway, today he has gymnastics and this morning he asked if he could quit.  My first reaction is No.  I told him that he had to do all of December and then we would revisit it.  I asked him why and his reasons are pretty minor:  When we do forward rolls my head hurts and we have to do them every time.  I don’t like the high bar, because once I fell off.  It’s hard and scary.    While these are valid to some degree, are they really reason enough to quit?  He wanted to quit piano when it was hard.  He still does piano.  He wanted to quit soccer practices when they were boring.  I didn’t let him.

I know that Bill is going to have a different view than I do.  This will take some smooth parenting and some honest discussions and one of us is going to win and one going to lose.  But that can’t matter, we have to do what is best for Noah.  I am not sure that quitting gymnastics because it’s hard is a lesson I want to teach my kid.  We can’t quit when something is hard.  Lots of things in life are hard.

I also want him to know that he as some control over his own life, but at what cost is that control given?

When he was invited into this gymnastics program, we sat and talked about it.  My initial reaction is to have him finish the whole year and then see where we are in May.  I think it’s important to understand commitment.  I also think that he’ll be better able to make this decision and will have given it a whole year of effort.

I also have to ask, why am I pushing him?  Is it for the right reasons?  Am I invested in having him do gymnastics for some other reason?  I want to say that it is about Noah and only Noah.  He is good at gymnastics–really good (better than he is at any other sport).  I want him to excel, but I also want him to be happy.

Sometimes we have to encourage our kids to go things they don’t want to.  Oh the tough choices are only just beginning.

What’s your take?  Do you let your kids quit when they want, or do you encourage (force) them to keep going?

The Lost Tooth

/ Dawn Kasal-Finley / Leave a comment

So, Zoë lost her first tooth yesterday–during her last week of being 4.  While her older brother, who is 6 1/2,  waits patiently (okay-so not really all that patiently) to lose his first tooth.  When I picked the kids up from school, Zoë  had a huge smile and was holding the coveted tooth treasure chest.  My heart sunk.  Not only did my not quite 5-year-old baby lose her first tooth, but I immediately felt the heartache of my going on 7 son’s despair that he still had not lost his first tooth.  A tooth that has been looser longer than that of the not quite 5-year-old.

I tried to play this moment down, which I know isn’t fair to Zoë, but I just couldn’t bear to “rub it in” for Noah that he still has all of his baby teeth.  UGH!

I waited until Zoë was done w/gymnastics to talk to her about it–as Noah still had an hour of class left.  She was so excited.  Turns out she pulled the tooth out herself during nap time.  Holy Crap…Seriously?  I know this should surprise me as this is the kid who gets shots at the Dr. and doesn’t flinch.  At. All.  She is daring and fearless.  I am certain that when I pick her up today her second tooth will also be secured safely in a another tooth treasure chest.  Serving a double dose of despair to her brother as he has to endure the lost teeth and her birthday this weekend.  Sucks to be Noah this week.

We talked about her friends and how everyone was excited that Zoë lost a tooth–except for her “boyfriend.”  She told him and he said “That’s not very impressive.”  It should be noted that the boyfriend is a year older and hasn’t lost any teeth yet either.  Then the dreaded topic: The Tooth Fairy.

Clearly, the Tooth Fairy needed to pay a visit.  I will admit I was wholly unprepared for this.  I was certain I had at least 2 more weeks before I had to really consider this.  I started trying to figure out what the Tooth Fairy should leave at our house.  Considering that the first visit sets up all future visits.  I was warned by many a parent to be careful where I set that bar as they lose teeth for a long time.

So, of course I took to Facebook to see what the going rate is among my friends.  I know that at Noah’s school there is quite a bit of Tooth Fairy inflation ($10 for a first tooth).  So, I needed to hear from a wider base.

And it turns out a dollar is pretty standard.  But I didn’t want to just leave a dollar bill–as that really doesn’t seem all that special.  My brother suggested $2 bills–that would have been great if I was thinking ahead.  But I wasn’t.  I am not a planner in that sense and I certainly wish that I was.  So, I settled on gold $1 coins.  I wanted to leave 2 since this is the first tooth.  So I had to dig through lots and lots of change (an by lots I mean about 30 pounds worth) to find gold $1 coins.

Zoë woke up this morning–hopeful that the tooth fairy left her the tooth (sorry to disappoint–but that isn’t how it works kiddo)–but happy to find to gold coins under her pillow.  She showed her brother and he said “She left you chocolate coins?”  He was clearly not impressed with the tooth fairy.

“No these are gold DOLLAR coins.”

“Can I have one?”  He quickly asked suddenly much more excited that it was real money.

So, while I like the idea of $2 bills–we might be sticking with the gold $1 coins. Although Noah informed me this morning that it was acceptable that Zoë  lost a tooth before he did, since he “gets to do everything else first.  I get to go camping at school first.  I get to be in 3rd grade and be a buddy first. I got to play on the blacktop first.  I get to drive first.”  I am certain Noah is going to spend the next few weeks doing nothing but wiggling his two loose teeth.

 

 

When the Little Sister Passes the Big Brother

/ Dawn Kasal-Finley / Leave a comment

This past weekend on our “vacation” (more about that later), I noticed that one of Zoë’s bottom teeth looked crooked.  I asked her to come over so I could feel her tooth.  I knew before I touched it that is was loose and it looked pretty loose.  All I kept thinking the whole time was Please don’t let this tooth be looser than Noah’s.  Please. Please. Please.

Well, of course it is looser than Noah’s.  I mean seriously?  Cant this just work out right.  Noah has been waiting to lose a tooth since his classmates started losing teeth in kindergarten.  All of the girls in Noah’s class have lost teeth and now a couple of the boys in his class have.  It’s so hard to be one of the younger kids in class and hitting many of the marks later than your classmates.  Now his sister (who is 19-months younger) is getting ready to surpass him.

Of course, Noah was frustrated and started to cry a little.  Bill, finally called him over and said that it just meant that his teeth were stronger.

I can’t imagine how it must feel for my sensitive, perfectionist child to have his sister do something before him.  She did a flip off the diving board before he did–when he did his (right after) his was better and that saved his feelings.

Zoë’s tooth is still looser than Noah’s (I keep telling him is isn’t–parenting for the win).  I am certain hers is going to fall out first–and I don’t know what it going to happen when it happens the way I think it will.  Noah suggested we tape it down–so his can fall out first.

If only it was that easy.