I was scrolling through Facebook when I came across a post from another blogger. The gist of it is: A mother took her daughter to get her ears pierced for her 8th birthday. Once the little girl was in the chair, she decided she no longer wanted her ears pierced. The mom then went on about how important it is for us to listen to our daughters, and therefore did not go through with getting her daughter’s ears pierced.

Well, Duh!

So, I am going to “see her ears pierced” and “raise her changing in the gym.”

Here’s the thing. Sofia just entered middle school. Her first class of the day is PE. About three days in, the kids had to change into their gym clothes, and Sofia, being my daughter, felt more comfortable changing in the bathroom stall.

This upset Sofia. Just for the simple fact that she does not like to change in front of other people. Pretty cut and dry, right? Well, the PE teacher would not allow any of the students to change in the bathroom stall, and proceeded to tell Sofia “Do not worry, no one is watching you.”

I sent an email to her PE teacher, sternly yet politely letting her know that I prefer Sofia to change in the bathroom stall because that is what Sofia feels more comfortable doing. The following morning, there were no issues and Sofia was allowed to change in the bathroom stall.

One would think problem solved.

One would also be wrong.

The next day, Sofia comes home pretty upset and tells me that her PE teacher literally blocked her from changing in the bathroom stall.

I was officially done being polite.

“Dear _____.”

I feel there may be some miscommunication issues regarding my last email. I say that because Sofia came home and told me you blocked her from changing in the bathroom stall. I do not want to waste any more of your time or mine so I will spell it out for you.

Until further notice, Sofia will be changing in the bathroom stall. I have zero interest in making her change in front of others. Forcing her, or any other student for that matter is sending a message that I have no interest in sending.

In the days of the #MeToo movement, this should not be an issue, and I am quite surprised that you have to have a parent tell you this. No one will be telling my daughter where she can and cannot change.

End of story.

I thank you for your time, any other questions please give me a call at ___.”

I never heard back from the PE teacher, but I will say Sofia has been able to change in the bathroom stall ever since that email was sent.

……

Fast forward to today. I ask Sofia how PE is going, and make sure she is still allowed to change in the bathroom stall.

Sofia~ Yes Mom. I am always allowed to change in the stall now, and not just me but everyone else. You have no idea how many people you saved and you should be proud of yourself.

Now, we all know I did not “save” anyone, except maybe the embarrassment of my daughter. Although I love that fact that in my daughter’s eyes, I did save everyone.

Changing into gym clothes without any privacy is a hot button issue for me. I do not understand it. In my opinion, middle school is the perfect time to teach our kids that yes, you are entitled to privacy, and we are going to honor that because you are our future.

Back in my middle school days, there was no privacy. In my school, the PE teacher would be standing there with a clipboard watching (monitoring?) all the girls change out of their school clothes into their PE clothes. We were not offered privacy. We were not offered any “protection” or “words of comfort” when the girls would be judging the other girls’ weight, breast size, or even their outfit.

Now even though I was made fun of quite a bit in school, it never happened in PE class. Do you want to know why? Because I refused to change in front of anyone. I ended up failing PE all because I, in my eyes, stuck to my own beliefs.

I absolutely refuse for Sofia to go through the same. In this day and age, there is no reason to. Shell out a few bucks for a curtain rod and a shower curtain to give the kids that want it some privacy. I would be the first to contribute.

Every morning, Sofia has a little less stress now because she knows she can start her school day with how she sees fit, at her own comfort level. And please note, if Sofia was complaining about doing Math, then this would have a different ending. But, we are not talking about Math, we are talking about the right to change in private.

I told Sofia: “I did not save anyone, I used my voice with your permission. That is what I want you to take away from this. Always fight for what you believe in because, in the end, you never know how many people are fighting that same fight.”

An important lesson for us all remember.

Use your voice, because you never know the lense behind it.

~Jennifer

I had a rough two days at my new job. It was hard. So damn hard. For those of you who do not know, I am a functional core Para who works with developmentally delayed 3-5th graders.

It is a lot. Most of the children I work with are non-verbal, and for a hot minute, I was so intimidated by that. My six hour day is non stop. On the floor, up and down, feeding, sleeping, playing, and even teaching,  all the while making sure these children are safe and do not plot their escape. We have a couple of “runners” who will break down the gates, tear down the padded mats in the room just to pull one over on all of us. These kids are smart. Too smart. Just because a majority of them do not talk, do not let that fool you.

My first two days, I was seriously expecting the teacher to pull me to the side and say something along the lines of “Jennifer, you seem to be a nice person, I just think you would be better suited elsewhere.”

Thankfully, that has not happened. On day three, I found my groove.

One of my favorites is a non-verbal little boy who loves books. He loves holding them and flipping through the pages. I am not sure how much he takes in when I point out pictures or words to him, but I know he is taking something in. When you are not paying attention to him, he will grab your arm and guide you to where he wants you to go. Most likely it is either to grab another book or the snack cabinet. The other day he reached for my arm and guided me outside, with a book in hand. Together, we climbed up on the slide in the playground. I just sat there with him. He plopped himself down and continued to flip through the pages of a book. Every time I would clap, he would mimic me. I do not know if “on paper” this means anything or not, but for a newbie such as myself, it means the world.

The most powerful experience I have witnessed just in my four days of work was pretty, well, powerful. There is an adorable little girl who is also non-verbal. All she does is sit in the corner, rocking back and forth, and occasionally “grunting.” In many ways, she reminds me of Gracie. My family knows that in Gracie’s younger years, all she would do is sit and rock. I felt some sort of connection to this little girl, yet I am still working on connecting with her if that makes sense. Well, the other day the teacher had the microphone plugged into the sound system. This little girl grabbed the mic and pretty much went to town. Now, all she did was make sounds into the microphone, but that was huge. It took everything I had not to cry happy tears. Because once she makes sounds, that is the gateway for so much more. And, now, we know that her “motivator” is the microphone….or xylophone, but that’s another story.

I have no idea what I have gotten myself into. Already, after just four days I feel attached to these kids. And, slowly, I am getting to know them. I do struggle with the guilt though. I am no longer able to pick up my own kids from school. I feel I am missing out on so much. Of course, Joe has it under control, but for eight years, this was my gig. I picked up my kids, and asked how their day was, and got them snacks.

During the holiday seasons, the girls would come home, looking forward to seeing what new decorations I had put up. Every day it was something new and we made a game out of it. I feel guilty, and also kind of sad that I can no longer do that during my work days. But, right now there is no other option.

Tonight, just as I was writing this post, Gracie comes up to me. She is swaying back and forth while rubbing her hands together. A nervous habit she has, that is also a part of her autism.

“Mom, how do you know when you made friends?”

Gracie more than anything wants to make friends.

“Well Gracie, the first step is to learn to be comfortable with talking. If someone says “Hi” to you, you should say “Hi” back.”

Gracie is constantly worried about what others think, and I am constantly telling her not to worry about what others think. It’s a struggle for her and between you and me, I have a feeling it will be a struggle for a long time. She is already asking me if high school will be easier.

I know that this is a journey Gracie has to take to get her to the place she needs to be. I know this because just like Gracie I struggled with friends as well. Many times I would eat lunch in the restroom or just hide out in there because I had no friends in school, and who wants to be THAT kid that cannot find a seat, or worse, is sitting by themselves while others make fun of them.

Because I have been down this road I feel I can give Gracie the tools she needs to go on this journey. Patience, faith and a smart ass mouth. I did not have anyone to talk to all those years ago. Not because I could not talk to my parents, I just did not want to. I was worried I would be a disappointment to them, so I kept everything in.

That’s hard for my parents to hear,  but just wait because I am about to bring it full circle with a good ole “mic drop” at the end.

Having no friends sucked. There is no denying that. However, learning the lessons I learned over the years, well, that is irreplaceable. Who knows if I would have learned those same lessons if I had friends or if I allowed my parents to fix it for me?

Granted, it took a lot of trial and error for me to get my act together. It was never an easy road, but as we all know, nothing good comes easy.

Fast forward all these years, and now I am trying to help my own daughter who is walking in my same shoes with no friends. I am able to help her because I traveled down that same road. I have the empathy to not only help and guide her through this, but I have the empathy to work with these children who I talked about at the start of this post.

I remember many years ago as a young child I was crying to my Dad. Through tears of frustration and insecurity, I asked: “Why does it have to be so hard?”

Although I am summarizing, Dad said: “I do not know why it is hard, but I know that one day because of your struggle, you will be able to help other kids.”

Well, I think we are here. I think I have had my full circle moment, because not only am I able to help Gracie and understand where she is coming from, but I am able to take that empathy and use it in my new job. If not for nothing, I can be a friend to these kids, because I know what it is like to not have any.

There was a time where I wanted to be a famous actress, and then a famous author. I wanted to write the next great American novel. I wanted the fame. I wanted people to know my name. I wanted all eyes on me when I entered a room.

I may not be in Hollywood, but with every ounce of confidence I have, and I have a lot these days, I am famous in my childrens eyes, and when I enter that classroom in school, prepared for a busy challenging day, those kids, well, their eyes are on me, and call me crazy, but I would say that is better than all the fame I could ever hope for.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Seven years ago, almost to the day, I drove Gracie to school for her very first day in 1st grade. I had a four-year-old Sofia, in the back seat, strapped in her car seat, not quite understanding where her sister was going. To say I was nervous would be a huge understatement.

We were not only looking at a new teacher, but also a new school. I made the quick seven-minute drive from my tiny two bedroom apartment to the new school. I wanted to cry. In case you have not been paying attention these last nine years, I wear my emotions on my sleeve. I wanted to cry because of the unknown. I wanted to cry because Gracie was moving on to another school. I wanted to cry because I felt I was literally putting one of my most prized possessions into the hands of the unknown. It pretty much sucked.

I remember it as if it happened yesterday. I am on 320th and took that first left at the stop light directly across from the Highschool. The new school would be just up the road. Nestled into a quaint, cozy little neighborhood. Quickly, I found myself discreetly wiping my tears away and taking in the houses. Each house different from the next. There was a duck pond. A large duck pond that served as a pretty cool landscape for the backyard of the houses. The neighboorhood was very Norman Rockwell. My absolute favorite was the condominiums, nestled on a golf course. A rustic wood planked sidewalk served as a pathway from the street parking to the front door. Three levels, with the parking garage being underneath it all. I instantly fell in love and told myself right then and there, “I never want to forget this feeling, I never want to get tired of the drive.”

And, over the course of nine years, with Sofia and I eventually making that very same drive, I never, for one second got tired of that drive, that neighboorhood.

…

When I had my interview at my now new school, I am going, to be honest. This was not the school I wanted. I applied at this school just out of desperation. Geographically speaking, this was the furthest school away from where I live and the furthest away from the girls’ school. But, I needed a job and I had no leads. So, I applied for the Para position, pretty much thinking that “something else is bound to open up.” Two days later on a Sunday, I got the call for the interview on Tuesday.

Come Tuesday, I brought up the trusty yet outdated Map Quest, just so I knew exactly where I was going. Now, it is important to note that I am only looking at a ten-minute drive. Nothing outrageous, but for me and my crazy mind, ten minutes was so much worse than the four-minute drive I could have at other schools.

As I was making the drive, through secluded back roads with lots of hills, I took in the scenery. “Hmm. Not too bad.” And then when my phone directed me to turn right, everything changed. I was in a fairly nice neighboorhood. The kind of neighboorhood with big fancy houses, the kind of neighboorhood that you just know gives out the full-size candy bars for Halloween, but it was not the houses, it was the view. As I inched closer to the school that I would eventually be working at, I was in awe of the view. In the distance, beautiful mountains that served as the perfect backdrop to this neighboorhood with the fancy houses and my new school. It was the kind of view that told you there is so much more out there.

I left that interview feeling confident, while telling myself, if I do get hired on at this school, I never want to take the view for granted.

Tomorrow will be my first official day, and time will tell how long I have the privilege of making that drive.

…

Every year at this time, here on the blog I write my “Annual Apology Letter to my Kids Teachers.” A simple letter letting them know that I am indeed a crazy parent. Crazy, but good. A letter telling the teachers about the kids, while asking for understanding if I contact them five times throughout the school day.

This year though, this year is different. I feel I do not need to write the letter. I feel I did well these last few years. I feel I have made my presence known, and most importantly I feel that not only do I trust my own children to use their voice, but I trust the teachers. I trust them without having to write a step by step spreadsheet on what to do or not do with the kids. Instead, the winds of change, have led me to a different path.

Dear Parent,

I know how you feel. I know tonight, the eve before the first day of school, I know you will not get much sleep. I know you have doubts, concerns. I know you want to be assured that you are sending your son or daughter to a school that will benefit them and not hinder them. I have been through it.

Although to you this may just seem like words on paper, please know I have been in your situation. I have had to send my very own daughter to school, knowing she is not vocal. I have had to put my trust in complete strangers, counting on them to be able to read my daughter’s facial expressions in those early years when she was learning how to talk. I have had to send her to school not knowing if she would wet her pants just simply due to nerves, and I know how hard it is to put blind faith into the unknown while needing to know that your child will not be sitting in wet pants.

I am quirky and in many ways childlike, but for what is it worth, please know that for those six hours,  I will take care of your child just as I have taken care of my own. If I get hit in a fistful moment of rage, I will understand that I am a new routine for your child. I will have the patience of a Saint because I have been through it, and I have had teachers offer my own daughter the same patience.

Please know, that as long as I am with your child, they and their needs will come first. No matter how challenging, because even within all my quirkiness and childlike mind, I am a fighter, and I will fight for your child just as I have fought for my own.

Because, at the end of the day, I personally believe that there is no such thing as other people’s children, and your child, is now part of my tribe.

~Jennifer