SuperFantasticGirl

Almost Dying Really Sucks

2011-11-11T13:32:00.001-06:00

Seriously, Blogger, why won't you acknowledge my paragraphs? I skipped lines AND indented. I am a little bit disappointed in my near death experience in that I didn't get to see a white light or anything, or get to talk to my mom, who encouraged me to hang in there and go back. I really wish that had happened. I just remember feeling truly and soundly awful and thinking that this was not normal and I sure hope someone can make me feel better. I am having a hard time not feeling sorry for myself. I'm pretty freaking miserable right now, actually, and I need to get over it. Yes, being ill has been awful and I still feel like crap most of the time, but I'm not dead, and that is all that should matter. I don't have much to complain about in the grand scheme of things. I have a beautiful family who loves me. I have a house. A job. The new iPhone 4S, which is awesome. So what if I have no energy and feel like I've been run over by a freight train. And my hair is falling out, which is awful. I think that complaint is legitimate. But even then, I'm still alive. My friend Krystal, who is a year younger than me, died today. I'm not sure what happened. We were facebook friends and occasionally would post on each other's walls, but I just heard that she was dying today. And my stepmother has bladder cancer and they are going to remove her bladder December 8. I know that I should move on, but I can't seem to yet. I do think I was maybe making some progress until my hair started falling out. I noticed it last week. Friday at work I kept getting hair in my eyes, which I thought was weird. Then Saturday evening as I was getting the tub ready for the kids' bath, I saw all this hair in the tub. I was thinking, "Whose hair is this?" Then I realized it was my hair. I looked in my bed, and there was a lot of hair there, too. Then I shook my head in the bathroom and a bunch of hair fell out onto the floor. That can't be good. I immediately called my sister, because that's what I do when I'm freaked out. And I called Kyle, since he is a doctor and it's his job to deal with all my medical questions. He's extremely tolerant of all my medical questions. Heather told me not to worry, and Kyle said that my hair follicles were damaged when I got sick and that my hair would grow back. He wasn't sure how much hair I would lose. It's been a week now, at least since I first noticed, and the hair just keeps falling out. I told him that we were having family pictures taken this weekend for our Christmas card, and he suggested I move that up! If I'm wearing a hat in our Christmas card, you'll know why. I feel like people think I'm just bitching when I say how tired I am. If someone asks me how I'm feeling, that's what I tell them, because it's overwhelming how exhausted I am. But people just look at me like I'm being silly or something. I may be too sensitive about all of this. I'm a mess. I'm hoping typing these words will help with my recuperation. Kyle was saying that it's almost too bad I didn't need life support when I went to the ER, because people understand life support. He said I was sick enough for life support, but was strong enough to not need it. I don't know if that would help. Unless you have been through something like this, you aren't going to know what it means. And it's human nature to try to make your own connection, so people will talk about how tired they were after giving birth, for example. I'm like, I've given birth twice. This is not the same. I don't say that to people -- that's my interior voice talking. Same thing with my hair loss. Women keep saying that they lost their hair after they had their babies. Again, not the same thing. When my mom was going through her fight with breast cancer, she was super brave and positive. But the day she lost her hair was the day she cried. Heather and I were both there, and it was one of the saddest days of my life. We kept saying, "It's just hair." But it's not just hair. I worry I'm becoming my mom. She first got sick when I was nine. She was diagnosed with Crohn's Disease and spent a couple of weeks in the hospital having part of her large intestine removed. Heather and I got to stay at Arkansas Post with the park superintendent and his family, who we loved, so my memories of Mom's illness at that point are mostly positive. I vaguely remember going to the hospital in Pine Bluff to see her and her looking really pale and weak, but that's about it. When I was in tenth grade my mom had an allergic reaction to penicillin and that almost killed her. She had a seizure in the bathroom. I don't know if Heather or I called 911, but one of us must have. I remember being completely terrified. I don't know how long she was in the hospital -- a few days, I guess. It was during the school year and my favorite history teacher was so sweet to me that week. Then Mom was diagnosed with breast cancer my sophomore year of college. I think on some level when I was a kid I was always scared of losing my mom. That's probably one of the reasons why I never hated my mom like some teenage girls do. I never fought with her and complained about her. My mom has always been on a pedestal. I worshiped my mom. I'm sure that didn't make things easy on my dad, since I never paid as much attention to him, and blamed him for everything. But my mom could do no wrong. That probably wasn't very fair to her -- maybe I didn't appreciate her for the fully human person she was. I don't want to do that to my kids. Make them think that I am going to die and leave them. I know that I can't do anything about when I die. But I know that that fear is awful. I went to all the trouble to get fit and lose weight after Hideo was born, so I could be as healthy. And save my kids from that, as best I could. So the fact that I got deathly ill anyway is truly irritating. But I didn't die. And I will continue to try to be as healthy as I can so that my kids won't go through this again. Emiko used to mention my getting sick sometimes, but she hasn't mentioned it lately. I am sure Hideo has already forgotten. So maybe they won't have to worry about me as they grow up. I think my kidneys are healed. I am going to see my nephrologist November 21st, along with a dermatologist, just to make sure my hair loss isn't something serious. I scrutinize my ankles every morning, so look for signs of swelling. So far so good. I don't have any horrible tastes in my mouth. I think physically I'm on the mend. Now I just have to get my brain to mend, too. I know it just takes time. It's been three months since I got sick. My doctor said it'll take about six months for me to be completely healed physically. Three months to go.

How I Spent My Summer Vacation: Sweet Home Chicago

2011-10-13T10:12:00.001-05:00

For some reason, blogger isn't recognizing my paragraph breaks. Don't know what the deal is. Sorry about that.We got back to Chicago September 5, and I have never been so happy to see home in all my life. I moved to Chicago from Arkansas more than eight years ago (y'all know how much I love Arkansas!), and I've always considered "home" to mean Arkansas, not Chicago. But as we got to our car at the airport, I felt like I was finally at HOME! We got home after eating our dinner at Culver's. It was around 8:00 pm, I believe. We put the kids to bed -- they were so happy to be in their own rooms! Todd and I watched some TV and he played on his iPad while I was reading my email. Around 10:00 I was super exhausted and ready for bed. Sleeping in my own bed with my own pillow was like heaven. That night I slept better than I had in weeks. I am not sure I even moved until morning. Emiko had had some trouble sleeping after I got out of the hospital -- she was still pretty upset about everything, even after I was discharged. But she slept well that night, as did Hideo. I think they even slept until around 7:30 or so the next morning, which is extremely exciting!I was scheduled to start dialysis at Davita Dialysis Montclair on Tuesday, September 7. Which was also the first day of school for CPS. But as I was on medical leave, that was not a concern. It was very weird to not go to work on the first day of school, however. Anyway, I had dialysis scheduled for that afternoon -- I think I was scheduled for the 2:00 pm to 6:00 pm shift like I was in Norco. Which was going to be an issue, because on days Todd was out of town, I was not sure how I was going to be able to pick up my kids in time. So I was nervous about this before I even got to the dialysis center.Kyle had told me that I was not allowed to drive to dialysis. Todd agreed with him. At first I thought, sure, I'll just take the bus. That'll be ok. But as I prepared to go to dialysis, I decided that I really wanted to drive. I did some internet research, and nowhere did it say not to drive. Just to take it easy. They always take your blood pressure, both sitting and standing, right after you finish dialysis, to make sure you don't pass out of anything. Sometimes you can crash because they are taking your blood out of your body, cleaning it, and replacing it. Sometimes they get carried away. There was one session in Norco when I crashed -- it was during dialysis, though. Suddenly I broke out in a cold sweat and got super light headed and thought I was going to throw up. There was no nurse around me right at that moment. I tried to get myself together and started waving my arms to get a nurse's attention.So I knew what to look for as far as not being able to drive myself home. I made an executive decision. Todd was not very happy about that. I was nervous, but I got there fine and I got home fine, too. I had already had to drive the kids to Alma's house, so I figured if I could drive my children around, I could take myself to dialysis. I was terrified taking them to Alma's that morning. I hadn't driven since before I got sick, so I was scared I had forgotten how. Luckily it's like riding a bike.Once I got to dialysis, I met with my social worker. They always give you a social worker, since kidney failure is awful and I guess they worry about your mental health. I had two social workers at that first session -- one named Vicky and it was her last day, so she was training the other one, whose name I've forgotten. I don't know if I ever knew her name, to be honest. I remember Vicky, though, because I thought she was a bitch. She was looking through my paperwork from Norco Dialysis and asking me all these questions. Then she said something about needing to perhaps get on the transplant list. I said that I was suffering from acute kidney failure, not chronic kidney failure, so the transplant list wasn't something I was concerned about. She looked at me very condescendingly and said, "Well, at your point in your therapy, you are probably chronic. I don't think your kidneys are coming back." I felt like I had been punched in the stomach. I said, "I have a team of doctors who have all indicated to me that my kidneys should make a full recovery. No one has said a word to me about chronic kidney failure." She looked at me again with that condescending smirk on her face. She said, "Well, maybe they will come back, but I've been doing this a long time, and I just don't think they are going to. Your numbers are still really high." I told her that I had a kidney if necessary -- that my sister had already told me she would donate her kidney to me if necessary, but I truly believed that my kidneys would recover. She tisked at me again, and I said, "Look, you have to stop talking about this or you are going to make me cry." She's like -- oh, we don't want you to cry your first day here... I hated that woman.Then I filled out a bunch of forms and Vicky the Bitch explained to me that they were going to submit my paperwork to Medicare to see if Medicare would pay for some of my expenses. Once you get kidney failure and have dialysis, you automatically qualify for Medicare. She said that whatever my insurance didn't cover, Medicare would cover instead. I have not heard another word about Medicare, so I should probably look into that. I know my insurance company would like Medicare to pick up part of the tab.Finally I got to go into the dialysis room and was led to my recliner. There was a man sitting next to me who was probably in his late 50s who I could tell thought he was really hilarious. He kept trying to flirt with the nurse. I decided my best bet was to avoid eye contact. Again I was the youngest person there by a good twenty years. One of the dialysis nurses was a man with lots of tattoos -- I have forgotten his name. And the other nurse I met was named Evelyn -- she was very sweet.I also met Kris, who is the dietician. She was also nice and helpful and gave me more details about the "kidney diet," which no one in Norco had really explained to me. The kidney diet doesn't make much sense compared to what I consider healthy eating. You can't eat wheat bread -- you have to have white bread. Crazy, huh? But when you are on dialysis, phosphorus is a huge deal. Normally your kidneys remove excess phosphorus from your body, but since my kidneys were still mad at me, that wasn't happening. Too much phosphorus can cause hardening in your bones and heart and can leach calcium from your bones. Phosphorus is in everything! So dark colored soda was out, as was chocolate. I love chocolate, so this was sad. Although I had already had to remove it from my diet thanks to the urea, so I was at least used to it being gone. Sort of.Potassium is the other big thing you worry about with kidney failure. Usually kidney patients have too much potassium, which can lead to high blood pressure. My potassium was low, however, so I was actually taking a potassium supplement. And my phosphorus levels were always good, so that was something.At the end of that session, Kris brought me a jug and a funnel thingy so I could do a 24 hour urine collection. Starting the following morning, after my first pee of the day, I had to pee in the funnel thingy and put the pee in the jug so they could see what my urine was up to. I guess many kidney patients lose their ability to pee altogether -- my peeing was a good sign. I had already noticed that my pee looked more normal than it did before. When I got out of the hospital, my pee was very clear and didn't really look like normal pee -- just looked like pale yellow water. Barely yellow. But I had noticed once we were back in Chicago that my pee looked more substantial and pee-like. This coupled with my taste buds seeming to work better (remember those hashbrowns at the LA airport Burger King?) made me feel like maybe things were happening.I did not see the nephrologist that day, so I didn't get to ask him about my recovery or anything like that. When I got home, after the kids were in bed, I was telling Todd about my session. I told him about the Vicky bitch being mean to me and saying that my kidneys weren't coming back. Then I burst into tears. I said, "What if they don't come back????" I couldn't stop crying. Todd gave me that look that he has that says I'm a crazy person. He said that she wasn't a doctor -- just a social worker -- and that I had actual doctors, including two of my best friends and his brother and sister-in-law, all saying my kidneys would return. I knew he was right, but seriously -- I had every reason to worry. I do not think I can explain just how awful this whole experience was, and dialysis was so not fun. There were a number of times during this ordeal when I really wanted to drink -- this was one of those times.I collected my pee the next day and Thursday I went back to dialysis with my jug of pee. I was very glad I did not have to take a jug of pee on the bus -- that would have been so embarrassing. I sat down and the nurse hooked up the dialysis machine to my catheter. I had a male nurse this time, named Omar, and I remember thinking that it was weird that he didn't clean my catheter site. Usually they clean my catheter site and then hook me up to the machine. I thought maybe he didn't feel comfortable, like maybe my catheter site was too close to my boobs or something? Which seemed weird since he was a nurse. Anyway, I forgot all about it once dialysis started.Two hours into that session, Dr. Kuznetsky, the medial director of the center and nephrologist, came to see me. I was on the phone talking to my dad at the time -- my dad called me every day during my medical ordeal. I said, "My nephrologist is here, gotta go. Love you!" Dr. Kuznetsky said, "You love me? You just met me!" I replied that I was sure it would be love, ha ha. Then he told me that my numbers looked great and he thought that, "Your kidney failure is resolving itself." I was so excited. I said, "See, I knew I loved you!" He really wasn't that nice or friendly, so these were awkward exchanges, but I was so happy that I didn't care. He told me that they were going to stop dialysis today, and that I did not need to come to dialysis on Saturday like I was scheduled. He said I was to get my blood drawn on Monday, and come see him Tuesday and my blood work would determine if I required any more dialysis. I was floating on air I was so excited. Evelyn the nice nurse came over and she was super excited. I told her what Vicky the bitch had said to me; she couldn't believe it. I told her if she saw her to make sure to tell her she was wrong wrong wrong. Kris came over and congratulated me, too, and gave me a Rice Crispy treat for having a low phosphorus level. It was the best Rice Crispy treat I've ever eaten.I got to my car and was shaking I was so excited. I called Dad back, then called my sister Heather. I called Todd and said we were ordering dinner to celebrate! We ordered Friendship Chinese -- that's the fancy Chinese restaurant that delivers to us. Definite celebration cuisine!I had assumed that this dialysis center was the one my insurance used, since I had given the dialysis people in Norco my insurance information when they were making my arrangements for dialysis in Chicago. So when I went to the hospital Dr. K sent me to on Monday for my blood draw, I was a bit concerned, as it was not the hospital in my insurance network. I guess I thought they would bill the dialysis center or something. Anyway, they wouldn't do my blood work since my insurance wouldn't cover it.I went back to the dialysis center and asked what to do. Finally they sent me to my hospital and told me to have the lab fax over the results to them.Tuesday I went to the dialysis center and just sat there, waiting for Dr. K. So glad I have a Kindle. He finally gets there about 45 minutes later. He asks if I went to the lab at his hospital. I explained the situation and he acts like I'm an idiot. The manager comes out -- she wasn't very nice, either, and asks where I got my blood drawn. I said I went where you told me to go yesterday. She says she'll call the hospital. So I waited another 15 minutes or so and the fax comes through. My blood work is great! My creatinine levels are almost normal! Dr. K says I'm done with dialysis!I'm floating on cloud nine again, but then I remember my stupid catheter, which you may recall has not been cleaned since Thursday of the past week. I asked Dr. K what I should do to take care of it. He said, "You don't do anything with it. You get rid of it in the next two days before it turns septic. Just go to your hospital -- I'm sure they'll take it out for you." Then he hands me a prescription that says on it "remove permacatheter" with his signature. I'm thinking - dude, I have an HMO. I can't just go to the hospital without a referral or something. But whatever -- I figure it out.I get home and make more celebratory phone calls, and then I call my primary care physician's office. It occurs to me that they have no idea what the hell is going on. I leave a detailed message for the referral nurse, requesting a referral to get my catheter removed.And I'll stop there for now, because I'm tired and need a break!

How I Spent My Summer Vacation, Chapter Two

2011-10-12T11:03:00.000-05:00

When I first got moved to the progressive care unit, I was in a shared room, and my bed was next to the window. The bed on the other side of the room was next to an actual bathroom. I coveted that side of the room. I had to use a potty chair, which is an improvement over a bedpan, but still pretty gross. So when one of my many roommates got moved out, and I started feeling better, I requested to be moved to the other side of the room. I had asked for my own room, repeatedly, but told there were no private rooms and they were too full for me to have my own room.

But they did move me to the other side of the room. Getting to use a real bathroom was amazing. It was also hard, because by now I weighed more than sixty pounds more than normal. They had pumped me so full of fluids that I was ginormous. I had to work hard to get out of bed and then walk the two or three steps to the bathroom. There was no way I was going to complain, though, for I didn't want to give them any reason to think I needed more time in the hospital.

When I went to the bathroom, I had to hold on to the hand rail by the toilet paper dispenser and pull myself up with all my might. I considered that my daily exercise! Todd, being the scientist that he is, figured that sixty pounds is the equivalent to five gallons of fluid. Imagine having five gallons of milk attached to your midsection. Very hard to maneuver with that much extra bulk.

It was determined that before I was discharged, I had to prove that I could walk around. They sent me a physical therapist who was to ascertain that I was capable of walking without assistance. So she and I walked around the hospital floor a bit. I got to put on two gowns -- one backwards over my main gown so that I would not flash the other hospital occupants. That first walk about kicked my ass. Again, I didn't say a word about it. I'm like, "That was great! When Todd gets here, we'll walk some more!" Which we did -- he's very fussy about following directions! More ass kicking, but I knew I had to do it.

I already mentioned my post-hospital attire. I'm still embarrassed that I had to go out in public like that. And of course, I had to get prescriptions filled, and that takes forever. So I had to walk around the Albertson's grocery store looking like a giant crazy lady. My dialysis catheter was poking out of my shirt. At that point I didn't know I could tuck the tubes into my bra. Of course, I wasn't wearing a bra. Lovely. My huge fat pig feet could hardly fit into my Birkenstocks. And it was hard to walk. I was pushing the grocery cart, which was a good thing. It kind of acted like a walker. I didn't think I would actually fall down -- it kept me up.

I tried to think of what food I would even want to eat. I bought some Grape-nuts -- my favorite cereal normally. (Grape-nuts has been my favorite cereal since I was a child -- isn't that weird?) I bought some potatoes. I don't remember what else we got. Some bread, I think. I seemed to have the most success with carbs, so a carb-heavy diet seemed like my best bet.

I already talked about seeing my kids and crying crying crying in joy. Emiko will still mention my being sick and how much it scared her. When I mention going to the doctor, she'll ask, "Mommy, are you going back to the hospital?" I have to promise her that I'm just going to the doctor and will be back home soon.

I started dialysis at the dialysis center the Monday after I was discharged. I went from 2-6 on Monday, Wednesday, and Friday. I was going to the Davita dialysis center in Norco, CA, the "Horse Capital of the World." It probably is -- there were a billion horses. Norco even has horse trails in residential neighborhoods. It is kind of neat.

Dialysis sucks, which I have already mentioned. It's four hours. They keep the dialysis center really cold, so the first time I was there I froze for the whole four hours. I asked the nurse for a blanket, and she didn't have one, so she brought me a paper lab coat and I put that on, which helped. I would doze for the first hour or so, but then I'd be super bored.

I do have a Kindle, thank goodness, but I found that I didn't really feel like reading while doing dialysis. My brain felt very muddled through most of my illness. At the center, we sat in recliners and each recliner had it's own tv set, so I could watch tv. So I would watch some tv. I would check my email on my phone. I would stare around the room. There was no one I wanted to talk to. I was the youngest one there by a good thirty years.

The nurses were nice, and there was one nurse who was punk rock and Asian, so that was interesting. I forget his name, but he wore skate shoes and had a mohawk and his ears pierced. So he was my favorite nurse. He reminded me of a younger Todd. He was never my nurse, but he would come by and say hi, and he would talk to me about my Vibram Five Fingers shoes.

Todd would come pick me up and we would try to figure out what to feed me. One afternoon we went to a Middle Eastern place and I ordered falafel. I love falafel. One of my favorite things. With hummus. Then I walked over to Starbucks and got a venti Passion Fruit iced tea lemonade. I couldn't wait to get back to his parents' house to eat this meal.

I couldn't eat it. Stupid urea. I gave my kids the lemonade. I think I ate a baked potato. I ate a lot of baked potatoes.

The first couple of nights out of the hospital, I snored like a freight train. It was all that fluid! I did not sleep well. The first week of dialysis in Norco, they started to try to remove some of the extra fluid. So each time I would lose about ten pounds, which made me happy.

The second night I was home, I was in bed with Todd and I burst into tears. I said, "I hate this. I cannot take this. Todd, you have no idea how awful this is. I can't do this." He looked at me like I was crazy. He replied, "You almost died. You aren't dead." I tried to explain my feelings. I said that I'm so glad that I did not die -- but this also sucks. I will explain that more in my next post.

It was awful. Food tasted awful. I couldn't pick up my kids. Hideo wanted me to pick him up every time he saw me, and I could not pick up my little boy. I had no strength whatsoever. I hate feeling helpless, and this was all about my feeling helpless.

Todd's mom, who like I said was wonderful this whole time, kept reminding me how lucky I was to be alive and "Praise God." It was hard not to respond with a snarky remark. I was really crabby one day and had to keep biting my tongue. That was the Saturday after I got out of the hospital, I think.

The next day Kathleen decided we would go to a Chinese buffet for dinner. I was all for it -- I was sick of making myself baked potatoes while everyone else had nice meals for dinner. The buffet was pretty good, and the food tasted GOOD! That was when I realized that Chinese food tasted right -- unlike anything else I ate. So Todd kept finding us new Chinese places to try. Kyle had told me that I needed to just find something that I could eat and to eat it, whether or not it was healthy, so I could get well. Chinese diet it was! We found one dumpling house out there that was so good I still think about it!

At this point, eating Chinese was the high point of my existence. Well, that and being with my family. My kids would sit as close to me as they could -- I'd sit on the couch with my feet up, and I'd have Emiko on one side of me as close to me as possible, and Hideo on the other side smushed up next to me. Hideo still sits next to me that way.

I saw my nephrologist Dr. Chang my second day at Norco dialysis. He said that he still believed that my kidneys would come back -- maybe in six weeks or so. I had decided that I would have to take a leave of absence from work. At first I still thought I would be able to go back to work when we got back to Chicago. Todd had changed our tickets from a return date of August 16th to a return date of September 5th. I figured I would just go to work for the first day of school.

The first person who suggested that would not work was one of my dialysis nurses in the hospital. She's like -- you'll have to take a leave from work. I asked her why and she said that dialysis was four hours a day, three days a week, and I would probably not feel like working around that. I said I thought I would go to work and then go to dialysis. She snorted and said she didn't see how that would work.

Turns out she was right. After my first session in Norco, I was shattered. I was so tired and felt like I'd been wringed out. So I filled out my paperwork to take a medical leave of absence from work until October 17th. I picked that day randomly.

When I would do dialysis, the nurse would clean my catheter. She would always remind me that it couldn't get wet -- that that could lead to infection. So I was terrified of this stupid catheter. I was told that I couldn't take baths or showers, only sponge baths. But there was no way I wasn't going to bathe. So I would tape a plastic sandwich bag over the catheter. I only got it wet once, but it did result in a scolding by the nurse the next session. But I was constantly in fear of getting an infection from that stupid catheter.

The second week at Norco Dialysis was my last week in California. That week the nurses focused on getting rid of all the excess fluid. This made me very happy. They would take off eleven or twelve liters of fluid each time. So by the end of that week I was back to my normal weight and my feet and ankles were normal again. This made me happier than I can express.

One day that week my dear friend Tera came to visit me. She lives in South Pasadena and we've been friends since right after college, I guess. A fellow Arkansas gal, and she's an incredibly positive and uplifting person. It was wonderful to see her. She had been out of town and had found out about my medical adventures after the fact, so we spent some time with my filling her in. We talked about her job -- she's a youth organizer for the Unitarian Universalist church, and she was preparing for her ordination into the UU priesthood in September. We had a really nice visit. I wish I could see her more often.

We left Southern California September 5th, twenty five days after having arrived for what was supposed to be a short visit. I was scared of the trip home -- I was worried about getting through security and was hoping that Hideo would be ok. He was really good on the flight home. I was able to carry him through security without too much trouble, and all in all it was uneventful, thank God.

We got to our car, which was still there after twenty five days. Our parking fee was $425. When we got in the car, it made a really loud grinding noise and the initial ride was super bumpy. Todd stopped the car before we got out of the parking lot, in fear that we had a flat tire or something. The tires were fine -- I guess my car was just out of practice, having sat undriven for so long. I thought, "Please let us get home safely!" We hadn't eaten, so we stopped at Culver's for dinner in Rosemont. I had the fried fish sandwich, and it tasted good to me, so I ate the whole thing. I ate my fries, too, and they were good. Things were looking up. I even tried some of Todd's frozen custard, and it was good. This was a sign that maybe my kidneys were up to something good. I had noticed at the airport that morning that Todd's hashbrowns from Burger King tasted really good -- that was my first inkling that maybe things were improving. I was scared to get my hopes up, but I figured if I could eat more food than just Chinese, that was progress and I'd take it.

I will write the Chicago chapter of this saga this afternoon or tomorrow. Right now I need a break. Plus I forgot something to add to my addendum.

How I Spent My Summer Vacation, Addendum

2011-10-12T10:06:00.001-05:00

There are a few details I forgot from my last post, so I want to fill some things in before I proceed with my tale. It's hard to keep up with everything, and I keep remembering stuff. Which is good -- I definitely want to record of my adventures.

First I thought I'd catalog what I ate before getting sick. Fascinating, huh?

Things I Ate

On Thursday morning (8/11), before leaving for the airport, I ate a peanut butter and banana sandwich. It was peanut butter from Whole Foods -- the kind where you grind your peanuts yourself. With fig preserves. And I had a cup of coffee with soymilk and sugar free vanilla syrup. At the airport, I'm pretty sure I had a grande sugar free vanilla soy latte from Starbucks.

Once we got to LA, I ate the two bean and cheese burritos from Del Taco that I mentioned in the last post. I ate a few of Emiko and Hideo's french fries.

After escaping the ghetto funeral, we made it to the Farmer's Market in Hollywood where I had the Pinkberry frozen yogurt and we picked up the pie. At Todd's parents' house, I ate grilled salmon. I ate some steamed broccoli and maybe a salad, too. I forgot to mention that I did eat some of the Dupar's chocolate meringue pie. I can't remember if I talked about my egg issue -- that eggs make me sick since I was pregnant with Hideo? So when I felt nauseated that evening, I just blamed it on the meringue.

Friday morning I had cereal with a banana for breakfast. We had Wahoo's Fish Tacos for lunch -- I had the tofu teriyaki bowl. That was the last thing I ate prior to going to the ER a day and a half later.

The Ants

At first I thought the ant infestation was a hallucination, but it actually happened. At some point on Saturday, I noticed ants crawling all over my bedroom. I hate ants, so this completely freaked me out, and I felt really crappy already, so this was not helpful. Todd was still on his run (remember I was mad at him?); he missed out on this part of the festivities. Kathleen kept coming in my room to vacuum up the ants and to wipe down the bedside table. I remember ants crawling all over that table. Ants were crawling on my iPhone. There was a stream of ants crawling down from the ceiling next to the door, and another stream of ants crawling down from the window on the other side of the room. Ants were crawling into my suitcase. It was awful. Ted was outside trying to spray them.

I joked to Ted that this was probably karma, because earlier that morning a guy had come by to try to get Ted to sign up for his extermination service. Ted told him he already had a service. Is a rather strange coincidence, huh? The ants were in the guest bathroom, too, so as I would go in there to throw up some more, there were the ants. Gross.

The ants is why the vacuum cleaner was in the hallway next to the wall. When I passed out and left the hole in the wall, I landed with my head wedged between the baseboard and the vacuum cleaner. Todd took a picture of the hole. I keep bugging him to send me the pic so I can post it. I'm working on it. I have to walk the fine line between reminding him gently and nagging him. He thinks I cross that line immediately. That's another post...

Ice Bath from Hell (or the Arctic)

After the ants incident, Todd made it home from his run in Huntington Beach. I scolded him for abandoning his super sick wife. He took my temperature, and it was like 105 degrees or something ridiculous. He called Scott, and Scott said we had to get my temperature down, so I needed to take a cold bath. I was fine with that -- but Todd decided that I needed an ice bath. He actually went to the store to buy a bag of ice. I got in the tub in the meantime, and felt that the cool water was sufficient. But not according to Todd. So he barged into the bathroom while I was in the tub and dumped the ice into the tub with me. It was so fucking cold! I screamed and fussed and hollered about it, to no avail. He kept saying that as I was a runner, I shouldn't mind ice baths. I told him that I don't believe in ice baths, even for runners and to stop putting ice in this tub! It was so cold. I was freezing and my teeth were chattering. He put at least half a bag of ice in that stupid tub.

I decided that while I was in this tub, I may as well do some cleaning, so I did bathe and wash my hair, cursing him and shivering the whole time. He left at some point, and I got out immediately. So there.

It did bring my fever down a couple of degrees, but it was still over 102 degrees. In the ER, I was freezing and I kept requesting blankets. They had these blankets that were right out of the dryer, so they were so warm and it felt marvelous. But the a nurse took my temperature and it was up to 104 again and she freaked out and took my blankets. I don't know why I was so cold when obviously my body was super hot. I was freezing that whole day and into the next.

More Details From the Hospital

My dad came to visit while I was in the hospital, and I was so glad to see him and Jane, my stepmother. When they first arrived, I was still on a liquid diet, which was not fun at all, but I didn't want to eat anyway. For breakfast I would get oatmeal or cream of wheat -- I'd eat those. Whole milk, and I don't really drink milk anymore, much less whole milk, so that was not my favorite thing. I kept requesting apple juice. At this point the urea wasn't that strong in my mouth, so things tasted ok, I think. For lunch they would give me either potato soup or broth of some kind. I would not eat the broth. They didn't have Sprite in the hospital, but the nurses would bring me Shasta, which is not the same. I drank lots of water.

On the second day I started peeing again, and at first I was super excited, but I quickly realized that the peeing didn't really mean anything.

The afternoon after Dad arrived, my nurse said I could have whatever I wanted to eat -- that I didn't have to just have liquids. So she brought me the lunch entree, which was a breaded chicken breast with gravy. I think it came with rice pilaf and some steamed veggies. I stopped eating meat other than fish and seafood a couple of years ago, but my dad said I had to eat that chicken. I was going to argue with him, and then I thought, "Well, I guess I can have a severe sepsis and kidney failure exemption." I ate that chicken and I don't know if it was just not having eaten in several days or that I hadn't eaten chicken in a couple of years, but I ate the whole portion and thought it tasted good. I was afraid it might make me sick (sicker?!) but it didn't. After that I ate the meat in the entrees, but only the poultry. I didn't want to eat any beef or pork. Soon after, the urea started affecting my taste buds and the poultry tasted gross, too.

When my taste buds went all haywire, things got kinda miserable in a different way. The dialysis was helping so I could breathe, which made me happy. But not being able to eat anything when I wanted to really sucked. Todd was so sweet and tried to bring me treats each day. One day he brought me my beloved Starbucks sugar free vanilla soy latte. It tasted awful. A couple of times he brought me frozen yogurt. It was gross. One day I wanted a muffin. Still gross. Heartbreaking!

Everyday different specialists would come to see me and ask me the same questions. What did I eat before I got sick? Did I have a urinary tract infection before this trip? Have I ever had kidney problems before? Have I had surgery before? I would tell them what I ate. I told them that I had no UTIs. That one always made them skeptical. I would respond, "UTIs are super painful. Had I had one, I'd know it." They never seemed satisfied by my answers, but I wasn't all that satisfied by their answers, so I figured we were even.

And my sweet dear sister was trying her best to help. Heather called me everyday, and she is one of the few people I can be completely honest with, so I could tell her how scared I was or how much all of this sucked. She asked me one day if my doctors knew that I had an IUD. She had seen an episode of House where the IUD was the culprit. We thought this might be the break we were waiting for! I was excited to mention this to my infectious disease doctor. He said, "Hmmm. You are a mystery." It was an underwhelming response. I guess most women would consider being mysterious a compliment, but I got really sick of hearing that.

I also got tired of hearing about how close I had been to dying. That is going to be a future post. Such a realization brings up a host of complicated emotions that I feel I need to explore further.

My hematologist was Dr. Young. He was Chinese and very intense. He had a rather distinct accent, so it was kind of hard to understand him. He would come each day and ask me the same questions as I listed above. The last time he came to see me, he was all excited. He said, "I want to test you for HIV!" He looked almost gleeful saying that, as if this was the best idea ever. I'm like, "Go for it." I'm thinking, I've been with my husband for more than eight years. We've both been tested before we got together. But if it makes you happy, Dr. Young... He never came to see me again, so I guess the results were to my advantage.

When I was finally discharged, Todd and I went to the nurses station in ICU to give those nurses a box of chocolates to thank them for their great care of me. I did have excellent nurses. I saw one of my nurses there and she gave me a big hug. I also gave chocolates to the PCU nurses -- they were good, too. Todd's brother was concerned about my going to Corona Regional versus a bigger hospital -- he's a resident at UC Irvine's hospital. But as he mentioned to my mother-in-law, it actually worked out better for me. UC Irvine is a teaching hospital, so I would have been seen primarily by residents. At Corona I had all specialists all the time. That hospital doesn't have a very good reputation apparently, but they did right by me. I'm alive to tell this tale, so I take that as a good well done on their part.

How I Spent My Summer Vacation

2011-10-04T14:14:00.000-05:00

Disclaimer: This post contains some gross medical information, so if you are squeamish, you may just want to skim through it. I'm writing this mostly to have my own record of what happened.

August 11, 2011, Todd and the kids and I make our way to Los Angeles, CA, to visit Todd's family. It is to be a five day vacation, our last one of the summer, so the kids could spend some time with their grandparents. We flew from Chicago to LA on Virgin Airlines, which was really nice. I felt rather fancy and Hideo and Emiko loved having their own tv sets.

We landed and had lunch at Del Taco, only because it was convenient and we were hungry. I had two bean and cheese burritos. Then we made our way to the Inglewood Cemetery, because Todd wanted to put flowers on the gravestones of his grandparents. We did that and explained a bit of what we were doing to the kids, and then made our way back to the white minivan we had rented for the trip.

Just as we were trying to leave the cemetery, a graveside service was starting. Suddenly the cemetery was packed full of people parking all over the place and a billion people walking in the middle of the barely two lane street that leads out of the cemetery. I thought we were going to get stuck, and one woman called Todd a stupid white motherfucker for attempting to leave the cemetery -- as we were waiting for her to get out of the middle of the street so we could pass by. We got lots of looks. I was offended on Todd's behalf, since he is obviously a Japanese motherfucker, but he is definitely not stupid. We were almost out, when a guy in a huge SUV parked badly and blocked our way. Luckily, we were able to ask him to please move, so he did and no one got stabbed. That was our first exciting experience of this trip. If only we knew what was to come!

That evening we hung out with Todd's parents -- they have a nice new house in a subdivision in Corona, in Riverside County. There are a ton of dairy farms in Corona. The air is not so fragrant. I'm not sure what smells worse -- cows or chickens (the smell of chickens fills the air in Northwest Arkansas). I know -- hogs smell the worst.

Anyway, Todd's dad made dinner -- he had steak and grilled salmon. I ate some salmon, as I don't eat beef, pork, or poultry anymore. It tasted fine, I felt fine. We went to bed and everyone was happy.

The next morning, I was really tired. Todd's parents took the kids to the park, so I went back to sleep, and it just felt like I couldn't stop being tired. Then at lunch, we ate at Wahoo's Fish Tacos, I felt a little achy, but nothing major. It got worse, and I was worried I was coming down with the flu, which would suck for my vacation! I had a tofu bowl with rice for lunch -- nothing tasted funny or anything, but I wasn't that hungry, so I didn't eat all of it.

By dinner time, I was feeling pretty lousy. We went out to a restaurant that had a smoker and features lots of smoked meats -- not just barbecue -- but steaks and whatnot. I forget the name. I should not have gone, since by then I could tell I was coming down with something, but I thought maybe I'd rally and be ok. I ordered a Coke and after about fifteen minutes or so decided to go sit in the minivan for the remainder of the meal. I was fading fast at this point and just wanted to lay down. I was irritated to get sick on my vacation, but thought if I got some rest maybe I could beat it.

My best friend Kyle is an anesthesiologist and he lives with his boyfriend Fernando in Northern California, but they were coming in that night to Corona to spend the weekend with us. So I texted him at the airport to tell him I thought I was getting sick. He said it was probably the flu and to get some zinc. So when Todd and everyone finished dinner and got in the car, Todd went to Walgreen's for me and got some zinc and some Tylenol Cold and Flu.

That night the vomiting started, after we got back to the in-laws house. I spent all that night going back and forth to the bathroom. I hate throwing up, so this was not fun. The next day, Saturday, the diarrhea started, and I felt really awful. I was extra mad about this, because Todd and I were supposed to go running in Huntington Beach that morning. I was training for the Chicago Marathon and was excited to get to do a long run on the beach. Then that afternoon we were planning on going to the Bahooka -- my absolute favorite tiki restaurant in the world. I was so sick I knew neither of those things was going to happen. Todd went running without me, which made me mad. I was obviously really sick at this point, and felt he should be home taking care of me!

Kyle and Fernando came over and played with the kids, and checked in on me. At this point, everyone just thinks it's the flu. Todd's mom would come check on me, and she made sure I had plenty of Gatorade and water. Todd's brother Scott is a doctor, so my mother-in-law was on the phone with him a lot, and he was giving her signs of dehydration to look for. So far, I still looked ok. We weren't really worried, because with the flu, you can vomit and have diarrhea for several days before getting dehydrated. I was spending an awful lot of time in the bathroom and feeling increasingly miserable. By that afternoon I was having a lot of trouble sleeping.

Todd had decided Friday night to sleep on an air mattress in the living room instead of in the sickroom with me, so he was sleeping there again Saturday night. When I needed something, I would text him -- like, please bring me some more Gatorade. Very handy -- 21st century bell. He was pretty good about responding quickly.

By Saturday night, I was seriously messed up. I couldn't sleep, and was extremely light-headed. At some point Kathleen -- Todd's mom -- suggested I turn on the tv to have some noise in the background -- she thought that might help me sleep. So I remember walking over to the tv at the end of the bed, and on the way there I sort of passed out mid-step. I came to next to the quilt rack, and I had no idea what I was doing. Then it came to me and I turned on the tv and got the remote.

Around midnight that night (technically Sunday morning) I was extremely miserable. I passed out trying to walk to the bathroom to throw up. I came to on the floor with my head against the wall and wedged next to the vacuum cleaner. I left a sizable divot in the drywall from my head. Todd took a picture. I'll post it. Anyway, after I woke up and realized what had happened, I decided to stop walking and start crawling. I called Todd on his cellphone to tell him I had passed out and hit my head. I was starting to realize that this was not normal flu behavior, and I think I just wanted permission to go to the hospital -- like I wasn't being silly or overly dramatic. He didn't seem concerned, so I tried to go back to sleep. At this point, I had been up for hours.

At two in the morning, I had had enough. I called Kyle, because I knew he would answer and tell me what I wanted to hear. I asked him if I could go to the hospital and if I was being silly. He said I was dehydrated and that the hospital would pump me full of fluids and I'd feel better and be home by noon, and that I wasn't being silly. Which was a relief. I had started throwing up in plastic bags in my room to avoid crawling to the bathroom. That is disgusting.

Todd's parents' house is big. So I grabbed my cellphone and crawled on hands and knees all the way from the guest room where I was staying down a long, tiled hallway, until I finally made it to the living room. I was so excited to see Todd. I woke him up. "Todd, I'm sorry to wake you, but I have to go to the hospital. I can't take this anymore. Wake up!" So he woke up, and went to get his mom. There was some discussion about where to take me. I said, "Take me to the closest hospital right now." So we piled into the minivan. I couldn't walk at this point, so I threw my arms around Todd and he had to pull/drag me into the minivan.

By 2:30am on Sunday we were at Corona Regional Medical Center, and I was losing it. I knew things were not going well. I was terrified that I would have to sit in the waiting room for a long time, but it wasn't a long wait at all. Kathleen found me a wheelchair. Apparently they don't usually have wheelchairs in the ER, so when she asked for one, she was told to look around and see if she could find one, and if so, it was hers. Luck was on our side -- I had to have a wheelchair. Even pulling/dragging wasn't going to work anymore.

I think I must have looked pretty bad, because they got me to triage quickly. Then they started taking all my vitals and freaking out. My blood pressure was down to 56 (that was the top number) by this time. The nurses were very excited about getting my blood pressure up and getting fluids in me. They started an IV and a nurse and her assistant came by to put in a foley catheter for collecting urine. That's when they found out that my kidneys had already failed. The nurse yelled, "There's no pee in here! When did you pee last?" I said, "I"m sorry, I have no idea when I peed last. I've had diarrhea for two straight days; I thought I was peeing, but I don't know." That was a bad sign.

The doctor came to see me -- Dr. Ranch -- and he told me how sick I was and asked me questions about what I had eaten, what I had done, if I knew how I got sick. He said I was very ill and wasn't going anywhere -- that this was not just the flu and their first priority was to get my blood pressure up. Soon after that I realized I needed to use the bathroom and a nurse gave me a bedpan, but I didn't do a very good job and made a big old mess, in front of my husband and brother-in-law. Well, I warned them to go away, but they were right nearby. Very embarrassing. There is no dignity in the Emergency Room.

A couple of hours after that, I realized how dehydrated I was. It was like the worst cotton mouth ever. I was dying for some water, but the nurse said I couldn't have anything until my blood pressure was up. It took them a long time to get my blood pressure up. They finally moved me out of ER to the Progressive Care Unit (PCU) to a real bed. When I got there, there were two nurses getting me settled. The one nurse said to the other nurse, "She should not be here; she is too sick for her. She should be in ICU." The other nurse said, "I know, but Dr. Nguyen said to bring her hear." I don't guess they knew I could hear them.

PCU was a nightmare, because they don't have private rooms. I was in a room for four people, separated by curtains. There was a woman across the room from me who was obviously very troubled. She would talk in Spanish really loud, then start laughing like a hyena, and then start screaming bloody murder. Over and over again. I didn't care what they did with me, but I thought, "I'm too close to dying to die like this; they have to get my out of here." Then Dr. Nguyen came in to see me and he saw that my veins were super shot and I couldn't take anymore IVs. So he said I had to move to ICU and that he was going to put in a Central Line in my chest, which is like an outlet for lots of IVs and whatnot. I was all for it, because they kept trying to get blood samples from me, and my veins are stingy on a good day, so on this day, my veins were very unhappy and I was hurting from all their attempts. I almost hit the last phlebotimist who tried to get blood from me.

Kyle and Fernando had come to see me in the PCU, so when I got moved to ICU they had to wait for that. I was so glad to see them. When they got to ICU (which was a lovely private room), they didn't have much time, since they were flying back to San Francisco that evening. So I didn't get to spend much time with them at all. Kyle, being the doctor and geek that he is, really wanted to watch Dr. Nguyen put in the central line. Fernando was ok until I made him give me a bucket and I threw up in front on him -- he then decided he'd wait outside. I didn't get to say goodbye to him properly.

Kyle said they just couldn't stay, they had to get to the airport. So I said goodbye to him and he told me not to worry, but to keep him updated on what was going on. I really hated to see him leave! It was nice having someone there who could explain to me what was going on. Kyle was the one who told me that this sort of illness was very hard to recover from -- that it would take a few months and that I wouldn't be able to run the Chicago Marathon in October, which broke my heart a little.

So they left and Dr. Nguyen put in the central line. There were two nursing students who were in the room watching, and they were very excited to witness this; they couldn't wait to tell their fellow students about it. I was glad to help.

In ICU, all the nurses kept telling me how unusual it was for someone so young and healthy to be in ICU. Most of their patients are really old. So all the nurses were extremely nice and happy to see me. I was happy to be in my own room away from the screaming woman.

Todd was with me a lot of the time. His parents are retired, so they were able to take care of our children, which was a relief. It was very hard to not be with my babies. I don't know what he told them -- I guess just that mommy was sick and had to stay in the hospital for a few days.

That night I still could not sleep. When I would close my eyes, I would see these weird images like from old B movies or something. I guess it was my brain's way of helping to protect me from the trauma. I couldn't sleep before, because with my blood pressure so low I would have died. My brain was trying really hard to keep me alive. Thank you, Brain. I appreciate it a lot. But by Sunday night I really wanted to sleep, but Brain wasn't having it. Plus every three hours someone takes a blood sample, and they had to keep checking on my IVs. I had two IV poles full of bags of fluids and antibiotics. I should have taken a picture.

The next morning I started having trouble breathing. Dr. Al-Bashiri came to see me at 5:45am. He said that I was extremely sick and I think he is the first doctor to say that I had severe sepsis, which means I had a severe infection in my blood. You really aren't supposed to get blood infections, and I don't recommend it. He told me that I looked much better than I should, considering how sick I was, and that I was going to have to stay in the ICU for a few days, and that I would probably not be able to go home on August 15th as originally scheduled.

I guess all the fluids they had pumped in me affected my breathing. By noon that day I could no longer breath through my nose. Normally your kidneys would deal with excess fluid like that, but my kidneys had failed, so no dice. In case you didn't know, breathing through your mouth for a long period of time SUCKS and it's really hard to talk when you have to mouth-breath. Plus a disgusting slime develops on your teeth, and it doesn't matter how hard you brush, the film doesn't go away until you can breath through your nose again. So by Monday afternoon I was seriously unhappy. I kept thinking at some point I was going to hit bottom and then I'd start to feel better. I was ready to hit bottom -- surely I had hit bottom by now?

I also still had the horrible diarrhea. By Monday the diarrhea was worse than the vomiting -- the vomiting had largely been controlled. In ICU you aren't allowed to get out of bed, so I had to use the bedpan. I had gotten pretty good at it, and if I had to sit on a bedpan while a doctor was talking to me, so be it. There is no dignity in the ICU. But it was embarrassing and annoying to have to keep calling the nurse to come clean me up. At first it was every half hour or so, but by Tuesday afternoon it was every ten to fifteen minutes. One nurse had mentioned that they had these anal tubes that they could try with me, that would collect my waste in a bag. She said that she had only used them with comatose patients, so she didn't know how comfortable it would be. By Tuesday, after losing control of my bowels twice, I said, "Bring on the anal tubes!" It was awesome -- it wasn't that uncomfortable, and
I didn't feel quite so useless and could give my poor nurse a break.

I think I met with my nephrologist, Dr. Chang, sometime on Monday. He asked me lots of questions about my kidneys, and he said that he didn't want to start dialysis if he could help it. And he said that I would not be going home on Tuesday. I had figured that already.

Tuesday, I was still not able to breath well, and only through my mouth. I had trouble talking, and my voice sounded like an eighty year old smoker. I called my dad and he asked if I needed him to come out there to see me. I said, "Dad, I cannot ask you to come out here -- it's going to be a billion dollars and you can't do anything." He said, "Amy, do you need me to come out there?" I said, "Yes, Daddy, please come out here." There are times when you just need your daddy. So he said he and Jane (my stepmother) were going to make it happen.

That morning, Dr. Chang said that he thought we needed to start considering dialysis, which seemed terrifying to me. My kidneys had started making urine again on Monday, but they weren't doing anything else -- no filtering or anything. By noon on Tuesday when Dr. Chang came back to see me, I decided that that was when I had hit bottom. I was so sick and so unhappy and just wanted all this to end. So when he said we need to start dialysis, I was like, "Yes, yes, let's do it. And please hurry."

A really handsome vascular surgeon, Dr. Sanchez, came in to put in my quintin catheter (http://www.kendallhq.com/kendallhealthcare/pageBuilder.aspx?topicID=77048&breadcrumbs=0:121623,81037:0,70018:0). Basically I had two horns pointing out of the side of my neck from which to attach the dialysis machine. The procedure didn't take long, and he could do it right from my bed, so that was handy. Then that evening the dialysis nurse from Davita came to administer my first dialysis. It took three hours, and it was pretty late before she showed up, so I was kind of annoyed, but within fifteen minutes of that first session, I could breath through my nose again. I was so happy. Finally things were looking up!!!

I think I finally started to snooze some during that day -- Tuesday. I probably fell asleep during part of the dialysis. I would still see weird images when I closed my eyes, though. I kept thinking, well, let me at least conjure images of my mom, or of my kids -- nice images that would make me happy. But my brain wasn't having it. Maybe Brain thought those images would upset me since I couldn't see my mom or my kids. But at least I could get a little sleep.

At 4:00 am each morning, was the first blood draw of the day. Two mornings I had to have blood drawn from an artery instead of a vein. Those draws really hurt. So even if I did sleep, I was up at 4. But I would usually snooze until 6 or so after that. I think it wasn't until Wednesday or Thursday that I actually slept all night long.

I started having dialysis every other day. I was huge now, too. All that fluid had to go somewhere -- so I exploded like the Stay Puffed Marshmallow Man. My feet and ankles were humongous. I was too vain to let Todd take any pictures of me in that state!

Todd would come see me in the morning and stay until lunch time, then he'd usually come back in the evenings after the kids were in bed. It was great to see him -- seeing him was the highlight of my day. But I missed my kids an awful lot. I kept thinking I have to get better so I can go home to my kids. That helped keep me together.

Dad and Jane came on Wednesday, and my friend Barb -- a dear friend from Arkansas, came on Thursday. She is a neurologist. I love having so many doctor friends who can try to tell me what the hell is going on! I think I got moved into the Progressive Care Unit on Thursday, the 18th. Which was awesome, except that I had to share a room. My first roommate was a little old lady with blood in her stool. She talked about it a lot. Her daughter would visit and they'd just talk and talk. But they were sweet, and the daughter came to my side of the curtain to talk to me and she was so shocked by my situation and she called her friends and told them about me and they were all praying, which was very nice.

On Aug 20, Todd's parents brought the kids to see me. They weren't really allowed to, but the nurses let the kids see me for about fifteen minutes. I was in PCU at this point. I was so happy to see my babies. Oh my God it was amazing to see them. Hideo crawled right on top on my bed and snuggled up next to me. Emiko gave me a big smile and hug and brought me a beautiful Minnie Mouse hat with tiara from Disneyland to make me feel better. It was incredible. Then the nurses made them leave, but it was wonderful while it lasted.

Having Dad and Jane and Barb there was awesome, too. Just nice seeing familiar faces when you are so far from home. I stopped eating meat a couple of years ago, but Dad made me eat chicken while in the hospital. So once they let me off the liquid only diet, I did try some chicken and turkey. I wouldn't eat beef or pork, though. But all of the food was terrible, so I didn't eat much of anything.

When you have kidney failure, you get this disgusting taste in your mouth from the urea that is built up in your system. Which is just gross. So things taste different due to this. It's kind of a bitter taste and it's always there. Todd would try to bring me stuff that I normally love -- Starbucks vanilla latte, frozen yogurt, french fries. But all of it tasted terrible. It was heartbreaking! So I knew that I needed to eat, but there was nothing good to eat in that hospital. I did my best -- but it all just tasted awful.

Dad and Jane and Barb all left on Sunday the 21st. I was very sad to see them go, but it's not like they could stay forever. I still can't really believe they came at all. I can't even imagine how much they spent on airfare. It was great seeing them.

On Aug 22nd, my dear friend Darwin, who I went to school with in Gillett, AR, and hadn't seen since I was in 7th grade, came to visit me! He lives in LA now, and through the magic of Facebook we had reconnected. Prior to my getting sick I'd asked him how far he was from Corona. So I'm in my room bored and huge and probably crabby, and in walks Darwin! He is so sweet and such a good sport -- he didn't even mind sitting with me during dialysis. He said, "This is such a nice spa -- they even clean your blood!"

On the 24th of August they took out my foley catheter, which was fantastic, and they started making plans to discharge me. I was so ready to get out of that hospital. I had had a steady stream of specialists visiting me on a regular basis. In addition to the ICU doctor and the nephrologist, I had an infectious disease doctor, a cardiologist, a hematologist. I can't remember them all. It was a lot. They were all trying to figure out what the hell was wrong with me. All that was found in my blood was Group A Strep -- so Kyle thinks I had toxic shock-like syndrome, which is toxic shock syndrome, but with Strep instead of Staph, but no one gave me a diagnosis other than severe sepsis.

Since I was going to be discharged, they had to give me a different catheter. So they took out the one in my neck, and put one in my chest, attached to my jugular vein. Cute Dr. Sanchez did the surgery, and this time I had to be moved to surgery to do it. I enjoyed the anesthesia quite a lot, and was happy to have it, since before that procedure, I had to have a biopsy on my kidneys, which hurt quite a lot. That was a busy day.

I was discharged on August 25th, twelve days after being hospitalized! I have never been so happy to leave a place in my life. Todd brought me some clothes -- I told him to bring me my stretchiest clothes, as I was so huge now. I crammed myself into some pajama capris and t-shirt and hoped for the best. We had to go to the drugstore to get my prescriptions filled, and I was so glad that we were far away where no one knew me, as I looked like a crazy giant woman with no bra on. Walking was so hard -- being that heavy from all that fluid made movement a challenge. I was pushing the cart, which helped keep me upright.

We got back to Todd's parents' house, and I walked into the bedroom where Emiko and Hideo were staying. They were both napping, but I woke them up with my crying. I couldn't help it -- when I saw them I burst into tears. I have never been so happy to see them in all my life. The doctors and nurses kept telling me how close I was to death and how lucky I was to be alive. I was very strong in the hospital and didn't cry once, but seeing my kids and realizing how close they were to losing me was too much. I just cried and cried I was so happy. Emiko said, "Mommy, why are you sad?" I sobbed, "I'm not sad, I so happy. Sometimes people cry when they are happy. I'm just so happy to see my babies!" I couldn't stop crying. Hideo woke up and gave me the biggest hug.

I'm going to stop here for now, because I need a break. My next post will be about the rest of our stay in California post-hospital.

Top Five Things to Consider Before Starting a Health Kick

2010-07-16T15:15:00.001-05:00

After the birth of my son, I decided it was time to get healthy and start taking care of myself. I was taking a long maternity leave, so I had no excuse not to use that time to figure out how to eat properly and learn to love exercising.

Since Hideo's birth, I have lost 76 pounds. It took me less than a year, which is remarkable. I have kept the weight off, and I truly believe that I will never go back to my unhealthy ways. This is my new life, and I love it.

Like many people who have accomplished a big goal in their life, I am now a true believer, and I love talking about how other people can get healthy. However, I also know that most people don't want to hear about it. So instead of chatting up random people, I figure I'll just blog occasionally about things that worked for me. That way you can read if you want. No pressure.

To that end, here are the top five things I think you should consider before embarking on a new healthy lifestyle.

5. You will be surprised at how many people will not be supportive of you in this endeavor. This was something I did not expect, but people start to feel threatened when you make a big change in your life. Even my husband had a little trouble adjusting, although he came around and managed to lose 35 pounds himself, thanks to our new commitment to healthy eating and exercise. So don't expect people to be as helpful as you might want or need. Some people will, but you may actually lose some friends along the way.

4. Think about why you want to make these changes. If you think that losing weight is going to make all the problems in your life go away, you will not be successful. Because it doesn't work that way. Losing weight isn't going to make you more popular. It won't make your mom love you more. It can't fill in for other things that might be missing from your life. I'm a lot thinner now, but I'm still the same crazy person I ever was. I decided to lose weight so I can be healthy and hopefully stick around long enough to see my children grow up. I think the reasons for starting this journey are really important.

3. Portion size and exercise are crucial. I used to work out regularly, and never weighed less. I would even write down every bite I ate. But I wasn't eating less food, so the exercise didn't really matter. Exercise is very important, but if you don't change the way you eat, it won't be enough. You have to put the two together. I joined Weight Watchers, which helped me figure out what a normal serving size was. I don't recommend WW, however. It's expensive and there are free programs that can provide the same service. Sparkpeople.com is basically a free WW -- they have food journals, message boards, the whole bit. The main thing is to get some measuring cups and a food scale, and measure out your portions. And aim for exercising at least 30 minutes a day five to six days per week. Walking counts.

2. Microwave popcorn is your best friend. When you are accustomed to mindless eating, and you start eating normal portion sizes, you will think you are going to starve to death. 94% fat free microwave popcorn helped bridge the gap between how I used to eat and how I eat now. The first two weeks of my new life, it was so hard. I was so so hungry. Popcorn (you can eat the whole bag of the 94% fat free kind) really helped me get used to this new way of eating.

1. It's going to suck for six months. Seriously. You will be miserable and pissed off and hungry and probably a little bitter for about six months. I was definitely miserable my first two months, and fairly miserable the next four. At first you are working harder than you've ever worked in your life, and you don't look any different. You don't get to buy new clothes yet. You will weigh yourself and the numbers might go down, but it feels like you have this huge mountain to climb and you don't see how you will ever get there.

Just hang in there. I swear to god it gets easier. If you can make it six months, you will start to see changes. All of a sudden, you'll look in the mirror and you'll look different. You will put on your pants, and they will swallow you. You'll go to a restaurant, and not panic about what to order. It all just comes together. And then you'll know that you can do this.

You can do this. It is so worth it. I wake up full of energy. I used to have sleep apnea and had to sleep with a CPAP machine. Which I hated hated hated. For those who don't know, it's a machine with a long tube that fits over your nose. It forces air through your nose to keep your passages open so you don't stop breathing in your sleep. It's awful. But I don't have to use it anymore.

I'm now training for my first half marathon August 1, and I'm running my first full marathon February 6. I ran ten miles this morning. When I weighed 230 pounds, I never would have imagined running 10 miles. It feels like such a gift now.

Blah blah, enough about me. If you want to make a big life change, you can do it. I'm happy to help any way that I can. I hope maybe these suggestions will be helpful and perhaps a bit motivating. I'll post more ideas every so often. If there are any topics you would like me to discuss, just pop me a message and I will be glad to do it.

Now get out there and get moving!

Teacher Rant

2010-01-12T10:13:00.002-06:00

There seems to be one prevailing attitude regarding teachers. While a few people think we are saints, most people think we are morons who sit around and do nothing but collect a paycheck, and that is why our schools are so bad. We are the welfare moms of the 2010s. It's annoying and I'm tired of it.

Unfortunately, just when I am ready to stand up and proclaim that enough is enough and people need to stop blaming teachers for everything, I find out more about the people I work with. There are some bad teachers in my school. (There are bad people everywhere, in every profession. Bad teachers just have more impact than the average bad employee in an office, for example.)

Last Thursday was extremely snowy in Chicago. It took me almost two hours to drive to work in the snow. Chicago Public Schools never takes a snow day, so I had to go to work. I didn't have many students, so my students and I had discussions in my senior classes.

Often our discussions center around school, and the students complain about their teachers. I don't encourage my students discussing their teachers, and I don't let them discuss teachers by name. But I love gossip as much as the next person, so I do find their conversations entertaining, usually.

But I got mad at a revelation made to me that afternoon. Apparently I have a coworker who will pass students in exchange for Red Lobster gift cards. Another coworker will give extra credit points in exchange for food. Students have brought that teacher Kentucky Fried Chicken and Chinese food upon occasion.

Infuriating! Inappropriate! Illegal!

Then yesterday I brought a bunch of books from home to put in my classroom library. My students always complain on Silent Reading Fridays about my book selection. I don't think they will like many of the books I brought from home, but at least they are new.

At any rate, my bag was heavy. I ran into one of my seniors in the hallway, and he agreed to carry the bag for me. I asked where he was supposed to be, and he told me that he had class, but that that teacher didn't come to work until 8:45. Even though he has an 8:00 class. The students just sign in and get their grade. As long as the students sign in before 8:45, everything is ok. I find this absolutely ridiculous. And unfair. And wrong. How do you just not show up for your class each morning? This is your job!

I should mention in the interest of full disclosure that I did offer the student extra credit points for helping me.

I don't know what to do about this problem. I don't know if this is what the teacher union envisioned when it worked so hard to strengthen teacher rights. I do not think tenure is a very good idea.

Bob Herbert, my favorite columnist, wrote a fine column in the New York Times this morning. It is all about the American Federation of Teachers deciding to finally take a stand on improving teacher evaluation, and linking evaluations to student performance. As long as student performance is not the only factor, I am all for it. Furthermore, the AFT is working to make it easier to remove bad teachers from the classroom. I am definitely all for that.

I love teaching. I get incredibly frustrated with my job and my students sometimes. A lot of times. But I can't imagine doing anything else. I get tired of the idea that teachers aren't qualified for their jobs. CPS loves to create the impression that every teacher in Chicago was somehow hired for these jobs despite our not being qualified.

That is inaccurate. Every teacher is supposed to be fully certified. We have to take a basic skills test and a content test for our license. There are teachers who get alternative certification, but it's supposed to be for teachers in high need areas like math and science and special ed. Don't get me started on Teach for America -- that is a post for another day.

So when I read an article like this one, I get really fired up. Yes, there are some bad teachers. As previously mentioned, I work with some of them. But that doesn't mean we are all bad.

I love that Bucior has written a book about subbing. And that her experience has shown her all she needs to know about saving our schools and our students.

But I should just get over it, and accept the fact that conventional wisdom is not on my side. Nor is reality, as my coworkers have illustrated.

I will just say this. If you don't want to be a teacher, get out of the classroom. We know who you are and you are doing no one any favors. If you want to be a teacher, work hard, do your job, act like a professional, and we will get along just fine.

The rumor at my school is that we are going to be restructured for next year. That usually means that every teacher gets fired and an outside operator comes in and takes over. Maybe that is not such a bad thing, although I don't really want to lose my job. But perhaps some housecleaning is in order.

GOAL!!!!!!!!!!!

2009-11-19T09:49:00.006-06:00

The new me! (With Emiko and Hideo)

The old me -- granted, I had just given birth. But I was big before having kids, so I can't blame it on the babies, although I often did!

I made my Weight Watchers goal almost a month ago. I have been waiting to blog about it until Todd took a good pic of me. He still hasn't done that, so this pic will have to do. It's a great pic, you just can't see all of me. I don't guess that really matters.

I've lost 74 pounds since the beginning of March. When I started this new lifestyle, I weighed 230 pounds! That is a lot. Now I weigh 156 pounds. I went from wearing a size 18 or 20 to a size 8. I really like being a size 8. More than I ever realized, actually.

My cholesterol is low, my blood sugar level is low. My blood pressure is low, although it wasn't high to start with. I have a ton of energy and I feel great (except for always being tired, but that's thanks to my precious children!).

Now, I want to remind people, that this is not to suggest that everyone should do what I did. Or that this means now that I like myself. I liked myself a lot before. This hasn't made me happier -- although I do think it's made me a bit more vain. Which is not necessarily a good thing. I did this so I could try to be as healthy as I can be, so I can take care of my kids for as long as possible. That whole trying to avoid cancer thing. Stupid cancer.

I was a healthy big girl, but now I'm a healthier average girl. I hate those qualitative words. Wii Fit now says I'm "normal," which simultaneously makes me happy and pisses me off. I was "normal" before, and the body mass index (BMI) is total bunk science. But that's what Wii Fit and Weight Watchers use to determine weight loss success, so I will stick with it. I had a BMI of 35 when I started, and now I have a BMI of 23.7.

OK, so I just wanted to update everyone on my success. I achieved my goal, and now I have to maintain this healthy lifestyle from now on. That's the hard part. But I've bought some really cute clothes, so that helps keep me motivated! I've been weaning myself from tracking points on Weight Watchers, since I don't really want to do that for the rest of my life. The largely vegetarian/ low fat diet is making that much easier. And I really like eating this way -- I don't feel deprived and it seems very sustainable for the long haul.

Thank you to everyone for your support and compliments -- it means a great deal. If you want to talk about how I lost the weight, I'm happy to do that, but otherwise I won't bug you about it. I've considered posting about products and tips that were helpful, but I don't know if people are interested. If you are, let me know. I don't want to be annoying or patronizing or just plain boring.

I Need to Think Happy Thoughts

2009-10-16T14:04:00.002-05:00

This student was in my division a couple of years ago for about a month before getting moved into the football division. He always seemed like a nice young man. I would say hi to him in the hallway. I never got any sort of negative vibe from him, but that doesn't mean anything.

I first heard about it yesterday during my 10th period. My students were all freaked out about one of their classmates being arrested and charged with such a terrible thing.

Of course they wanted to talk about it. And I let them, because I think it's important to acknowledge this kind of thing. Especially when it's a student from our school. But it's so depressing the things the kids have said.

One student told the class that the girl must have asked for it. I try not to interject too much during discussions, but I had to jump in at that point. I explained to the students that seven year old girls cannot "ask for it" and are incapable of consenting. And that if the allegations are true, then Remonse is seriously screwed up and will hopefully get some help.

I just cannot imagine this happening to my child. I don't know what I would do.

Today my third and sixth period senior classes wanted to talk about it. More disturbing comments were made. It's very distressing and upsetting.

I could talk more about the situation and how my students are reacting, but it's too disturbing. So I'm going to think happy thoughts. It's a good thing it's Friday.

Dunbar Mighty Divas Perform Michael Jackson Tribute at Homecoming

2009-10-01T19:42:00.001-05:00

Just to prove that I often have a good time at work. Each year a group of teachers and staff get together and perform for the homecoming pep rally. We call ourselves the Mighty Divas, since we are the Dunbar Mighty Men and Women. Which is a really strange mascot, but that's another story. On the backs of our shirts are our names -- mine says Diva Fuji.

Anyway, last year I had to miss out, since I was pregnant. It's so much fun dancing, and the students find it hilarious. I don't dance well anyway, and I never learn the steps as well as I should.

I'm the blond on the far left of the stage, separated from everyone else. We thought a Michael Jackson tribute was fitting.

This Shouldn't Be Possible

2009-09-29T10:06:00.002-05:00

A student was beaten to death outside Fenger High School last week. Apparently students were beating on the door of the high school, asking to be let in, and weren't allowed in the building. According to Chicago Public Radio, students still in class were able to watch the fight from their classroom windows.

I didn't think the story could get more horrifying until I heard that report on the radio this morning.

I bitch about my students and how ridiculous they can be sometimes, but when something like this happens, I'm reminded again of all the challenges they have to deal with on a daily basis. I guess I should be grateful my students bother coming to school at all. Coming to school or walking home from school should not be a life or death situation. But it is.

The question, as always, is what are we doing about it? Our mayor is in Denmark rallying for the 2016 Olympics. We don't have enough police officers, and the ones we do have are working without a contract. We are doing nothing to deal with poverty. We still think this is not our problem -- and I guess until middle class students are getting beaten to death outside of school, it won't be.

My students haven't talked about this much. My seniors read an excerpt from Primo Levi's memoir of Auschwitz yesterday, and we were discussing the horrors of the Holocaust. I mentioned that we don't seem to have learned much from that tragedy -- that we are still really good at killing each other. The beating was brought up then, but no one seemed to want to talk about it.

I want to have faith that things will get better, but I have absolutely no evidence that they will.

Still Not Dead Inside...

2009-09-28T10:29:00.004-05:00

It's now the fourth week of school. I am sorry I haven't blogged yet -- I've been meaning to. I am finding it harder to get everything done now that I've got two kids to take care of. I'm not complaining; my kids are amazing and I wouldn't trade them for anything in the world. But they are tiring!

At any rate, not too much has changed at school since I was last here. I'm teaching seniors this year for the first time, and I really like them. I have three senior classes and two junior classes.

The seniors are great in many ways, but they also really piss me off. They all say they are going to college next year. So I figure it's my job to make sure they are as ready as possible. There are some things that they are just not going to be prepared for, but at least I can make sure they can write a basic five paragraph essay, for example.

I know I'm not dead inside, because I still really care about the many ridiculous things my students do. They all come to class late, for instance. This drives me crazy. I spend all class period taking attendance, because as soon as it gets submitted, another kid strolls in.

And my students complain like nothing I've ever seen. The seniors seem to believe that they've done enormous amounts of work these last few years, and that now that it's their last year, they should just get to sit around and text their friends.

They keep getting upset with me, because they say I'm too hard on them. I try to explain to them that when they go to college next year, they'll be sitting next to students from suburban schools and top city schools like Walter Payton College Prep. And kids from those schools don't come to class late, sleep in class, or complain about having to do any work. Furthermore, those students are not bitching to the professor about how hard the work is, or begging to read aloud. I tell them, "In college, if you ask to read a text aloud, the professor will wonder what is wrong with you, and how in the world you got there."

I don't want to be mean to them, I just want them to understand that they are no where near finished. They are just getting started.

Every Thanksgiving, students come back to my high school to visit. Often, many of those students have realized that they are not in any way prepared for college level work, and if they haven't dropped out yet, they will be Christmas. It's depressing.

I can't help but feel culpable. We all tell these kids they can go anywhere and do anything, and I wish it were true. But it's not, really. And our kids get into good schools. Each year several of our kids get in to University of Illinois. None of our kids has to pay for college. And only a handful make it through their freshman year.

In addition to my seniors, I've got two junior classes. One is an inclusion class, which means there are a few special ed kids enrolled in the class. I actually have a special ed teacher in the classroom with me. We are always reminded that those teachers are fully certified and we are to consider them team teachers. So I asked this teacher if she would like to team teach. She said that she was just there to observe and I should just "do my thing." She then said I needed to call the mother of one of the special ed students. The way it works with those students is that I don't even have a list of their names. They aren't on my rosters. So I really don't see how I should be the one to call home. I have enough mothers to call.

The worst part of this year is that I have a tenth period, which runs from 3:00 to 3:46 pm. There are only three teachers with tenth periods in the whole school. Everyone hates tenth period. Being here that late is awful.

Now I understand that most people have to work until after 4. But when you are a CPS teacher, one of the few perks you get is getting home by 4. Hideo goes to bed at 6, so this means I hardly get to spend any time with him in the evenings.

And the students in that class are horrific. It's the junior cosmetology girls. They are pretty sure they are the coolest girls in school, since they are in the cosmetology program. But they don't really want to do hair, they just want to braid hair. They never actually pass the cosmetology licensing exam, and they don't plan on going to college. They are just in school to pass the time until they can start braiding hair without a license.

So they do not want to discuss literature. They come in super late, if at all. They have incredibly rude attitudes. I have found that so far, it seems to work best if I talk to them as little as possible. I write the assignment on the board, and a few of them do it.

Last week, they were a bit better, so perhaps it will be ok in the end. I'm not feeling too optimistic about it.

Otherwise, there was a pot bust in the third floor women's bathroom earlier today. So that's pretty exciting. I'm anxious to find out if any of my students are now suspended as a result.

And I've only had to play the dumb white girl card a couple of times so far. I had to this morning -- I went to ask the engineers about more desks for my classroom. I've asked for more desks several times. Apparently they brought more desks last week, but I was not in my room at the time. So they didn't deliver the desks.

I went this morning to ask about it, and the engineer put me in my uppity white girl place for questioning why the desks weren't delivered. It's my fault for not informing him that another teacher shared that room. And for not telling him my schedule. I love doing the whole, "I'm so sorry. I should have told you that. I don't know what I was thinking. Please accept my apology for not communicating that to you." Super fun times.

OK, that's enough for now. It's lunch time. I am going to try to blog weekly at least. Have many big ideas for this year. Let's see how it goes!

Annoying Weight Loss Post

2009-07-13T11:45:00.005-05:00

One of the things I've been doing this summer is getting in shape. I've hesitated to write about it, because I wanted to make sure I could do it, and because I really, really hate talking about weight loss issues.

But after having Hideo, I realized that I needed to decide what kind of life I want to have. I've always had a fairly positive relationship with my body. I've never felt like I was grossly overweight or anything. I've always been a healthy person with low blood pressure and low cholesterol, even at my heaviest. I've only had one doctor suggest I need to lose weight, and I hated her already, so I didn't take what she said seriously. (And switched from her ob/gyn practice to the nurse midwives at Illinois Masonic who I love, love, love.)

The fact is, however, that my mom died of metastatic breast cancer. She was diagnosed with breast cancer when she was 45, and fought the disease for ten long years. Her last year of life was one spent in excruciating pain.

I will never get over losing her. I don't want to do that to my kids, if I can help it. And, selfishly, I don't want to suffer the way she suffered.

I want to meet my grandchildren. My mom didn't get to meet Todd or my kids. She wasn't at my wedding. And that sucks.

So I joined Weight Watchers in April. I had never had any interest in a commercial weight loss program, but I knew that Weight Watchers was more about long term health versus quick, short term weight loss. And my dear friend Kris joined WW and went from a size 16 to a size 4. She looks amazing. She and I were the same size, and now we're not! She inspired me a great deal.

But my greatest inspiration is my kids. Anytime I think I'm sick of worrying about what I eat or how much I exercise, I think about Emiko and Hideo. And I repeat my mantra -- I want to meet my grandchildren. It's worked well for me so far. My motivation is really high.

I've lost 40 pounds. Yay! I have 30 pounds to go to get to my goal. The day my Wii Fit avatar went from calling me "obese" to merely "overweight" was a really great day. The day that damn avatar calls me "healthy" will be even better.

I can't control much in this world. I can't control if I get cancer or not. I might get hit by a bus tomorrow. But I can control what I eat and how much I exercise. And if it helps, then it's worth it.

I'm not going to lie to you, though. It's hard. It was really hard the first month. The first two weeks I thought I would starve to death. Thank God for air popped popcorn. I ate a lot of that the first two weeks. I'm amazed at how little I eat these days.

In the past, I would go on a diet, and then I'd go off and do whatever I wanted to do. And gain back all the weight. Now that I'm on WW, I realize that this is not a diet, it's my new lifestyle. And it's for the rest of my life. Which is pretty daunting, but it's getting easier.

I promise that this will not turn into a diet blog. Blech blech blech. If we go out for lunch, I will not discuss fat grams or calories or WW points with you. I will probably never mention my new lifestyle again on this blog, except to mention when I get to my goal weight.

If we are having a conversation, and I start talking about calories or fat grams, you are welcome to smack me. Losing weight is not going to bring joy or happiness to my life, or change who I am. I have a ton of joy and happiness in my life already. It's just going to help me be healthier, hopefully. And I want to set a healthy example for my kids. But that's all I'm aiming for. I will only mention what I'm up to if you ask me.

You know, one of the reasons I resisted losing weight was that it makes me mad that as a woman, I'm supposed to be thin. My dad has been annoying me about my weight since before I was in high school. I was not fat in junior high or high school. But he ingrained in my head that I was. It made me mad, and I would often eat more just to spite him. Which is crazy, but it's true.

When I told my dad I was doing Weight Watchers, it was the happiest he's been with me in ages. He was so excited. It was irritating. And when I took Hideo to Arkansas earlier this month, it was the first time that people could actually tell I had lost some weight. My dad was so proud of me. He went on and on about how great I looked and how happy he is. Seriously, I could win the Nobel prize, and my dad would still be happier that I was thinner. Made me want to eat a Snicker's bar in spite. (But I didn't.)

OK, so that's enough of that. Just wanted to fill you in. Now I'm done with this rhetoric. In conclusion, I'll just post this article that made me angry this morning. Really, "big attendants?" They couldn't use a more appropriate descriptor for the plus size flight attendants?

This is So Gross It's Not Even Funny. Blech. Shudder.

2009-07-10T14:23:00.001-05:00

I always liked Morgan Freeman, but not after learning that he's planning on marrying his 27 year old step granddaughter who he helped raise as a child. He's been sleeping with her since she was 17. Gag gag gag. What is wrong with him? And her?

How screwed up is that family???

I'm Back!!! (With Arkansas Pics)

2009-07-09T12:27:00.014-05:00

Pepaw and Hideo

Emiko gets a kick out of her cousins Andrew and Aaron.

I have been on maternity leave since December, which for me meant leave from my blog, too, apparently. But now my leave is over and I have no excuse for not getting back into my blogging. So I promise to blog at least once a week. Todd says you have to blog twice a week for people to think it's worth their while to read your blog, so I will aim for twice a week.

To get started, I'll tell you about our big trip to Arkansas in April. Todd and I loaded up the kids in the Rav4 and headed down south. We drove to St. Louis and spent the night there. Around midnight, we heard a thump, and Emiko fell out of the bed. She screamed bloody murder and her nose started bleeding like crazy.

Emiko gets nosebleeds, so this wasn't a huge surprise, but it was way more blood than usual. So I called my dad to see what he thought. He suggested we take her to the ER just to make sure she was ok. I called the front desk to get directions and Todd took Emiko to the ER.

Hideo slept through all of this, but I was too nervous to sleep. Luckily I had my Southern Vampire books by Charlaine Harris, so I read til Todd and Emiko got back. Thank God we were in St. Louis and not Chicago, because they were only gone for a couple of hours. And Emiko was fine.

Next day we were up early (despite our late night) and continued our drive south. Got to Arkansas and the fun really started! Actually, it was a fun trip. My family tends to stress me out (I have a stepmother who makes me crazy), but we all got along well. I have found that having children has upped my credibility with my family exponentially (even more than getting married).

We ate fried catfish and hushpuppies. And cheese dip. Those were my major food objectives. And we spent a day at Terra Studios , one of my favorite places on the planet. It's basically a hippy enclave where they make the world famous bluebird of happiness. We gave bluebirds to our out of town guests at our wedding -- since they represent Arkansas and I love Terra so much.

Emiko and the famous bluebirds.

Emiko makes a new friend at Terra.

Emiko in a big chair at Terra.

In addition to the bluebirds, they make tons of pottery, and the grounds of the studio have been decorated with pottery sculpture galore. Emiko loved playing with all the fairies, gnomes, and various woodland creatures. If you are ever in Northwest Arkansas, you have to see it for yourself.

Emiko joins the tea party at Terra.

Graves Kids.

And my brother came to my dad's house one day during our visit, and it was the most fun I've had with my brother ever. Seriously. He was cracking me up. We took some great family pics, which resulted in lots of "healthy Graves girls" jokes. It's ok -- it was worth it. I'm glad he and I are finally enjoying each other in our old age. I never really thought that was possible.

Graves Family (Hideo was asleep.)

Alannah with Emiko and Hideo.

Hideo was a hit -- he travels quite well. It was fun showing him off to everyone. My sister had a get together at her house on afternoon so any friends of mine who wanted to drop by could meet him and see Emiko. My friends Alannah and Martha were able to swing by. It was great to see them. Martha is pregnant (actually, she was due July 6th, so maybe she's had that baby and no one has told me yet). I was glad to give her a bunch of baby stuff that I no longer need.

Hideo and Alannah.

All in all it was a good trip home. I just got back from another trip to Arkansas on Monday. I took Hideo, but Daddy and Emiko had to stay home. Now that Emiko has to pay full price for airfare, I couldn't justify the expense of taking her. But I wanted to make another trip home before I go back to work. More about that one later.

Just to prove that Todd was there!

Buffy Meets Edward

2009-06-22T16:49:00.002-05:00

I love Edward, but I admit he could be considered a bit creepy and stalkerific. He's just so pretty.

But I love Buffy, too. This mash up is brilliant. I'm pretty sure this is how it would go were the two to meet!

Did You Hear About This?

2009-05-15T10:37:00.002-05:00

I just finished sending an email to the chancellor of the University of Tennessee in regards to this matter. I can't believe they offered this asshole a full scholarship.

I know I've been terrible about blogging -- I've just been having a lot of fun focusing on Hideo and not doing much else. But this got me fired up enough to share. I've been meaning to blog more. I'll get back on track when I go back to work.

In the meantime, if you are appalled by UT's decision to put football above women's safety, you can email the chancellor at chancellor@utk.edu. Amazing.

Happy Anniversary, Baby!

2009-05-06T11:10:00.004-05:00

I can't believe it's been three years since we got married! I'd say we have a lot to show for it -- two beautiful children. We worked really fast. At any rate, I love my husband more than I ever imagined possible. He is the greatest man I know. So Baby, here's to you!

RlP Andy Hallett

2009-04-01T09:03:00.001-05:00

He was only 33. That is so sad.

I'm Loving President Obama More and More

2009-03-12T11:08:00.000-05:00

How Ridiculous Is This?

2009-03-10T20:18:00.003-05:00

When will things get better? 508???

Addendum to Post about Why I Work Where I Do

2009-03-06T14:52:00.004-06:00

Since my last school post, I've been feeling that I came across as an elitist bitch. Which has been bugging me a lot. It's taken me awhile to update, because I have a fussy baby who likes being held, and it's really hard to type while holding him.

But he's happily sleeping in his swing, so I want to elaborate a bit on my thoughts on my job.

When I said that it was not my dream to work in a school labeled a "drop out factory," what I should have added was that it's no one's dream to work in or attend such a school. And that no one deserves that. It's one thing for me to be in a tough school where there is no support for teachers or students, but I'm pretty much fully formed.

The consequences are much greater for my students. They deserve to attend schools where they can learn and thrive and gain the skills they need to be productive citizens. Unfortunately, that's not happening.

So why do they come to my school? Well, most of the students at my school have low test scores. Your seventh grade test scores are used to determine which school you may attend, unless you want to attend your neighborhood school. My school is not a neighborhood school, and it's in a safer neighborhood than many South Side neighborhood schools. So if you only got accepted to a couple of schools, my school is probably your best bet.

Furthermore, my school is a vocational career academy, so the students are enrolled in shops, like cosmetology, plumbing, carpentry, automotive, et cetera. Many students like the vocational model. Ideally, you can graduate from my school with the necessary credentials to enter the job market as an apprentice plumber or mechanic, or earn your cosmetology license and do hair to help pay for college. Unfortunately, not one student has actually passed any licensing exams in the last few years, but at least the option is there.

The main point I want to make, though, is that if teachers and students are supported, then no school will be a drop out factory, because the teachers will have the tools to give students the support and skills they need. You give me a school where there is adequate security, small class sizes, and teachers and students who feel like they matter, and I will give you a school where amazing things can be accomplished. I truly believe that.

And I really have tried hard to make clear that I do not think race is the issue with my school. Poverty is the issue. Poverty is bad. No one deserves to be poor. But we don't care about poor people in this country. We've made it seem like poor people deserve their plight, due to their own choices. This makes us not feel bad about the situation. Which is crap. But until we tackle that issue, not a whole lot is going to change.

A comment was made to my last post about my job, suggesting that I should move or change jobs, since life is too short to be miserable. Life is too short to be miserable. I'm not miserable; I'm frustrated. My students deserve better. I'm not going to quit, because I think this job matters, even if it doesn't seem like it sometimes. I do believe the job should be better, and can be better, if we as a society are willing to face up to what we have done with our poor. But I'm in this for the long haul.

My Favorite Commercial

2009-02-24T10:28:00.002-06:00

It makes me laugh out loud. I love Sonic -- who wants to drive out to Aurora?

My Favorite Part of Oscar Night...

2009-02-23T20:23:00.002-06:00

This speech by Dustin Lance Black made me cry. It was definitely the highlight of the evening.

I actually watched the whole damn broadcast, which I haven't done in a billion years, if ever. But nothing else was on, and Hideo would not go to sleep, so I just kept watching. Thank God my friend ButterNugget was live-blogging - that made it more entertaining.

It also helped that Robert Pattinson was in attendance (thanks, ButterNugget for posting a pic for me!). I know that I am a grown woman and not a 14 year old girl, but he makes me swoon a little. And I'm not alone -- all the women in my sister's office are atwitter by the Twilight series, and his performance in the movie. Sigh.

The sad part (other than the Robert Pattinson thing)is that I think I only saw a couple of movies that were nominated for anything. I saw Wall-E, which I loved, and Kung Fu Panda, which was cute. I think I saw something else, but I can't remember right now.

This is Why I Teach Where I Do

2009-02-09T10:27:00.004-06:00

People who are not teachers for Chicago Public Schools often enjoy hearing my horror stories about my job. After one anecdote or another, they inevitably ask why I don't work for a better school. Or they wonder if I have tried to get a job at a better school. As if working in a substandard school, labeled a "drop-out factory" by Johns Hopkins University, was my dream while in graduate school.

This article from the Chicago Tribune sums it up nicely. There are too many damn teachers in Chicago -- and the rest of the state of Illinois.

When I finally decided to get my masters and my teaching certificate, I was a bit concerned about where I might get a job. I went back to school in 2001 -- by then the tech market had collapsed and already schools were slashing their budgets.

I was jealous of my brother-in-law, because he had completed the MAT program in secondary education a couple of years before I did. When he was looking for jobs, he regularly got phone calls from principals across the nation asking him to interview. Schools were offering signing bonuses. It was a good time to be a teacher.

That was not the case for me. I had decided I didn't want to teach in Arkansas, although I definitely could have gotten a job at a really good school in the state. But I wanted to live in a big city -- or at least a bigger city.

I started researching which cities were hiring teachers. As far as I could tell, New York City, Cincinnati, Chicago, and Las Vegas were the cities who seemed to be doing the most hiring.

I had never been to New York City and didn't know anyone there, so that didn't seem a good idea. And I knew I'd never be able to afford it. Plus, being the Southern gal that I am, I wasn't sure I was up to living someplace that seemed so far removed from what I was accustomed to. That's a whole lot of Yankees crammed into one place.

Las Vegas didn't interest me, either. So that left Cincinnati or Chicago. I applied to both school districts online. I got a phone call from Cincinnati the next day, wanting to schedule an interview. Spring break was coming up, so I decided I would spend my spring break in Cincinnati.

A day or so later, I got an email from a dear friend of mine that he was moving to Chicago, and I should move there, too. I did want to know at least one person in whatever city I chose, so this seemed a good omen. Then I got an email from Nancy Slavin, the CPS teacher recruitment manager. She had received my application and asked if I had any questions.

Through talking to her I found out that Illinois has different teaching requirements than Arkansas, and that I would have to take the Illinois teacher tests. They were offering the tests the week of my spring break. There was also a teacher job fair that week. So it seemed like I needed to go to Chicago for spring break instead of Cincinnati. Ms. Slavin helped get me registered for the teacher tests and the job fair. I called Cincinnati and canceled my interview with them.

The teacher tests -- a basic skills test and the English content test -- were pretty easy. The job fair, however, was a revelation. Never had I seen so many teacher candidates crammed into a space. There were thousands of us there. And we were all standing in long lines to talk to principals and assistant principals sitting at tables.

I knew it was bad, when I realized I was standing in a line that was at least fifty people long, and we were waiting to talk to the principal of Nancy Jefferson High School. Nancy Jefferson High School is the school for Cook County Juvenile Detention Center. I didn't know this until I got to the end of the line and met the principal. He explained to me that the job was in the juvenile detention center, and that it was challenging because the student population changed all the time. He assured me that the guards are right there, so it was a safe environment. He said that if I was interested, we could schedule an interview.

He was a really nice man, and by that time I had been at this job fair for a couple of hours. This was the first interview I had been offered. But I told him that while I appreciated his willingness to interview me, my father in Arkansas would have a heart attack if I told him I was moving to Chicago to work in the Cook County prison. He said he understood.

By the end of that day, I had been offered no other interviews. At all. I was one of thousands of prospective English teachers. We are a dime a dozen.

But I moved to Chicago anyway, certain I would find a position. This idea was cemented when I got a letter from CPS welcoming me to CPS as a new teacher. The letter indicated that once I got to Chicago, to get in touch with a recruitment officer who would put me in touch with principals.

I thought that meant I had a job. And it would have, years ago. It used to be that CPS placed teachers in schools. But the principals hated that, so now principals do the hiring for their schools. I didn't find this out until I had actually moved to Chicago. I had an interview (one interview!) and the principal informed me of this fact then.

I had one other interview that summer. I was getting anxious. It was the end of July. I had a super cute Lincoln Park apartment, a new boyfriend, and no job. Then I got a phone call from Nancy Slavin about a new program CPS was starting that needed teachers ASAP. The principals for the program were interviewing the next day, and was I interested? I was interested.

I went to the interviews, and was invited to interview at a high school on the South Side the next day. I went to that interview, and was offered the job on the spot. Which is usually not a good sign, but it was the end of July and I was getting panicky. This was on a Friday. The principal said I could think about it over the weekend, but needed to let him know by Monday if I was interested.

This job is detailed in this post, so I won't go into details again here. It was a tough year. But it was a job, and I needed a job.

During graduate school, I imagined what my teaching career would be like. I thought that I would get lots of interviews with great schools, and after careful research, would take the job offer that seemed like the best fit. I would have my dream job and it would be amazing.

Instead, I discovered that you take the job offered to you. Period. If you are lucky, it will be a great fit. But more than likely, it will involve stuffing your square peg into a round hole and hoping for the best.

This situation is why our schools aren't better. There's no impetus to make the schools better. Principals know that for every disgruntled teacher at her school, there are a billion other teachers dying for a job. So we are all dispensable. Principals can do whatever they want. Teachers, especially new teachers who don't have tenure, spend most of their time worrying about getting fired.

There is no teacher shortage in Chicago, except for special education and bilingual education. If you are certified in those areas, by all means come to Chicago. But otherwise, don't bother.

I don't know many teachers in Chicago who are happy at their jobs. Which is extremely sad. And it's not the students -- the students are not the problem. It's the administration and the ways the schools are run that make the job so challenging. But if you want to be a teacher, this is what you get. I just have to try to make the best of it.

Boy I'm Tired!

2009-02-08T20:18:00.004-06:00

I know I have been neglecting this blog -- and I have many things I want to discuss. But I'm tired and spend most of my time dealing with my chitlins. The transition from one kid to two kids is tough! My sister tried to warn me, and I believed her, but until I experienced it firsthand, I just didn't understand.

But Hideo is awesome and is a very sweet baby. He sleeps ok. He was sleeping in his bassinet in our room, but he is the squeakiest, gruntiest baby I've ever seen. It's very cute, unless you are trying to get some sleep. So now he's in his crib in the nursery. He sleeps two to three hours at a stretch if I'm lucky. I'm looking forward to his sleeping longer.

We were breastfeeding, but that is over as of last week. I had a terrible time nursing Emiko, and was hoping Hideo would provide some redemption, but no luck. At least Emiko nursed for four months (although we had to supplement with formula). Hideo gave up at six weeks. He is a little piggy who always thinks he's starving, so I guess he thinks nursing takes too long. And the fact that I couldn't nurse him in the hospital didn't help, either.

At first he'd nurse, then demand a bottle. Then I had to start with a bottle, then he'd nurse, and he'd finish with a bottle. He decided that that was too much trouble, and started pretending to fall asleep when I'd try to nurse him. A baby playing possum! (Emiko did the same thing -- it's amazing how alike they are!) He wouldn't wake up until I gave him the bottle again. I was pumping, but that wasn't working too well. So now I'm done. I'm trying hard to not feel guilty about it.

Hideo was circumcised on January 21 -- and this was quite traumatizing for both of us. I'm still recovering from his circumcision, and I hope he won't be scarred for life. I was going to blog about it in more detail (it was a pretty ridiculous experience), but changed my mind. So if you want the gory details, let me know. You'll probably have to come over, and I'll need to drink a cocktail.

I can drink cocktails! Now that I'm not nursing and all that. Of course, one half glass of wine and I'm drunk. So I can drink half a cocktail!

Emiko is adjusting well to her baby "brudder." She is really cute with him. The other day Hideo was napping in his swing, and she brought her lovey to him and gave him her bunny to sleep with. Occasionally she'd come by and snatch the lovey from him, but then she'd bring it back. And he kept sleeping through it, thank goodness.

Todd got me a teeny little video camera for my birthday -- a Flip Mino. It's awesome and super easy to use. So now I can take videos and post them on YouTube. There are some really adorable ones (if I do say so myself!) at www.youtube.com/fujisan42. If you are bored at work, here's a way to kill some time!

My friend Tera was in town in January, and it was fantastic seeing her. My friend Martha is pregnant, so I've been sending her all my maternity clothes. I'm so excited for her, and glad to have someone to send all that stuff to. I'm sick of maternity clothes! Most of my non-maternity clothes are kind of snug, but I'm wearing them anyway. They'll eventually fit. I hope.

My friend Alannah managed to continue blogging through Arkansas' worst ice storm in a billion years, so I feel guilty that I've been slacking so badly. I do have some more things to blog about regarding my job, but that has to wait til tomorrow or later this week. In the meantime, forgive me, and enjoy some pics and a video!

And let me hear from you -- I miss my friends. I do feel like I'm missing out on adult conversation. Hideo is awesome, but his squeaks don't count as talking. Emiko is talking a storm, but I only understand about half of what she says. So that doesn't count, either!

This Will Make You Cry. .

2009-02-07T09:17:00.001-06:00

"Fidelity": Don't Divorce... from Courage Campaign on Vimeo.

I truly hope the California Supreme Court invalidates Prop 8. There is no way it is constitutional. Let people love who they want to love, and leave them the hell alone.

Shooting Outside Dunbar High School

2009-01-09T22:22:00.001-06:00

I have a coworker who texted me about this a couple of hours ago. I am so sick of this crap -- I don't understand when kids are going to stop shooting at each other. I hope and pray that someone will learn something from this, but I don't think that will happen. Thank God no one was killed.

The shooting occurred outside the high school where I teach. There was a basketball game going on, and then apparently a silver truck pulled up to the school and opened fire. Five males were shot.

The assumption is that this is gang related.

Taking Advantage of a Sleeping Baby

2009-01-09T12:00:00.003-06:00

OK, I haven't blogged in a bit. I've been distracted! But Hideo is sleeping in his swing, so I am going to try to put something together for your entertainment.

Things are going well baby-wise. Emiko was such a fussy baby her first few months. She would not sleep unless I was holding her. So for at least three and a half months we slept on the couch together. Where she would sleep for an hour at a time. And I was always tired. I could not put her down without her screaming bloody murder.

Hideo is a totally different baby. I can actually put him down! He will sleep, by himself, in his bassinet, for three hours at a time at night. I get to sleep in my own bed! (He sleeps in the bassinet right next to my bed.) It's pretty amazing. My sister had warned me that the transition from baby one to baby two was really rough, but it hasn't been, because Hideo is so calm. I'm far better rested than expected. Incredible!

So Blago has been impeached -- we'll see what happens in the Illinois Senate. I still think Roland Morris is a joke, but he'll probably be our new senator. I don't know why anyone would accept an appointment from Blago, but I guess ambition is a pretty big beast.

As far as school stuff is concerned -- I had a kid email me TWO DAYS AGO asking me why he was failing and how he could raise his grade. Seriously. I replied -- I'm on maternity leave and am no longer your teacher. You will have to ask your new teacher about your grade. Ugh.

I had put my email address on the board in case kids wanted to say hi or see a baby pic. Sigh. I should have known better.

Hideo is now fussing. So I must go. More later!

Hideo Update

2008-12-27T15:22:00.004-06:00

Hideo got to come home from the NICU on Christmas Eve afternoon. He is so sweet-tempered -- he sleeps pretty well and is eating really well. I forget how fun it is to have a newborn baby -- but boy it's tiring, too. But I think everyone is adjusting well, and my pain is definitely better.

Emiko is getting used to having a baby brother. She will look at him, say, "Baby!" and then she tries to steal his blanket. Occasionally she tries to poke him, but she says, "Gentle. Gentle," while doing so. Very cute.

We all had a very Merry Christmas -- hope you and yours are having a great holiday season!

Welcome Hideo!

2008-12-23T20:02:00.003-06:00

Here is Hideo William -- he was born via c-section at 6:26 am on Saturday, December 20th. He is 6 lbs 10 1/2 oz, and is 19 inches long. And he's super cute. He was a little early, so that's why he has the nasal cannula and feeding tube.

I never imagined I'd have a c-section -- I've always been a big proponent of natural childbirth. But my water broke at about 2:30 Sat morning, and Hideo was breech. He was in the worst possible position for birth -- his head was on one side of me and his feet on the other, with his back in between -- as if he were laying across me. I don't know how that could have been comfortable for him! Since my water had broken, they couldn't try to reposition him. And since he was in such a screwy position, I had to have a classic c-section, were they have to cut vertically into my uterus. Ouch.

So it was the most invasive surgery I can imagine, and I'm in some pain. I can't drive for four weeks (ugh) and can't pick up my toddler -- who is very confused about why Mommy spent four days in the hospital. But we'll be ok. I think once he's home with us, Emiko will catch on quickly.

Hideo is still in the NICU, but gets to come home tomorrow! He no longer has the nasal cannula or the feeding tube -- but he still has a bit of jaundice. That's why he couldn't come home with me today. I'm ready to get him home!

I'll have more pics posted tomorrow -- just you wait!

Merry Christmas and Happy New Year! I just got my present!

Winter Break/Maternity Leave Starts Today!!!

2008-12-19T13:36:00.000-06:00

I was going to try to work up through today, since today is the last day of school before Winter Break starts. But we had another big winter storm last night, and decided I did not want to deal with driving in to work in snow and ice. It took me two and a half hours to get home from work Tuesday night -- I was convinced my water was going to break before I got home. I was willing this baby to hang in there a bit longer. I was also pretty convinced I was going to pee my pants!

I managed to get home without going into labor or losing bladder control. But that was enough for me. Plus, there's not much going on at school this week -- yesterday was the school talent show, so I had zero students for either 8th or 9th period.

I did have one disgruntled freshman girl who had gotten her progress report and discovered that I had "given her a D." I hate when the kids do that -- act like their grade is something I just provide out of thin air. I said, "I did not give you a D, you earned one." Then she got really snippy with me, reminded me how bogus I was, and said her mom wanted to speak to me. She wanted me to give her my phone number so her mother could call me. I told her that I was not giving her my number. She said, "Then how can my mama get in touch with you?" I said she can call the school. So the girl told me that her mama would call the school, and I would change her grade. Then she flounced back to her seat and bitched about me the rest of the class.

I kept thinking, "Sweetie, in twenty more minutes, I will not be your teacher, and your sub will be in charge of dealing with you and your grade. Hallelujah!" When I went to sign out, I had no messages in my mailbox.

I told our payroll clerk that I was taking today as a sick day, and that I'd call her when I had the baby. Then I turned in my classroom key and my CPS-issued laptop to a friend of mine in the English department. I said a few goodbyes to people, and that was that.

So now I'm just waiting to have this baby boy -- I think it won't be too much longer. I'll post lots of pics. I'm sure this blog will be less interesting without school stories, but I have plenty of stories that I haven't shared yet, so I'll still have some material.

I realize that baby stories are not everyone's cup of tea, so I will try to keep them to a minimum!

I hope everyone has a wonderful holiday season!

CPS CEO Arne Duncan Obama's Pick for Education Secretary?

2008-12-16T09:49:00.001-06:00

I'm not surprised by this, but I'm not too excited. I really wish President-Elect Obama had consulted me before making this pick.

I'm trying to decide if I want to write a longer post about this. Right now class is about to start. I may get back to you. In the meantime, discuss amongst yourselves.

OK, I'm back. Reading the Tribune article has motivated me to write more about this. If I were not a CPS teacher, and had no idea how things worked in Chicago, then I might think Duncan a fine pick for Education Secretary. But I am a CPS teacher and I have a better idea of how things work in Chicago than I'd like, to be honest.

There are some great schools in CPS. The great schools are the ones that only accept the top students in the city. For high school, students have to apply during their 8th grade year and their 7th grade test scores pretty much determine their educational futures in the city. For the students who get into these marquee schools, more power to them.

My school does not attract the top talent in the city. At my school, the average ACT score is a 15. My school was named a "drop out factory" by Johns Hopkins University last summer. Less than half our freshmen graduate high school in four years.

We have no central heat or air. The bathrooms have no ventilation. They usually have no toilet paper, soap, or paper towels, either.

Often we only get a class set of books, so each student has to share. Should a book go missing, well, then someone has to do without.

My students are 90% free or reduced lunch. We have a high homeless student population. Our classrooms are overcrowded, and we still have some classes being taught by subs, because apparently Arne won't let us hire more teachers.

A reference is made to Duncan in the Trib article as believing that education is a civil rights issue. I don't disagree. So how can he reconcile the substandard education so many of the students in CPS are receiving?

Most of my students come to 9th grade with reading scores several years below grade level. Which means students in CPS are being allowed to leave elementary school without the skills they need to succeed in high school.

There is a reference in the Trib article to our graduation rates improving. That's misleading -- CPS sometimes "disenrolls" students who are not succeeding -- if a student is "disenrolled," it's like he or she was never a student at all. That student is not counted as a drop out.

Duncan (and Mayor Daley, who gave him the CEO job in the first place) doesn't seem to be a fan of the Chicago Teachers Union (CTU). Sometimes I'm not a fan of the CTU, but I still think it has an important function. In the schools that Duncan has championed that are run by private organizations or charters, teachers are not unionized and make a fraction of the salaries paid to unionized teachers in CPS.

Of course salary should not be one's foremost concern in any career, but CPS teachers must live in the city of Chicago, by law. Chicago is an expensive city. The year I taught in a charter school, I took a $10,000 per year pay cut, and my benefits were far more expensive and far less attractive.

I feel I am rambling -- I'm trying to update this between classes. The bell just rang, so I have to get back to work. I hope Duncan is a fantastic Education Secretary -- I hope all my reservations are unfounded. I realize that not all schools have the challenges facing CPS. But our schools aren't that great -- I don't think the man should be that proud of the job that he has done.

What Makes a Great Teacher?

2008-12-11T13:41:00.002-06:00

I read this article by Malcolm Gladwell yesterday, and I found it rather fascinating. It was published in The New Yorker, but I read it online.

I like Malcolm Gladwell -- I heard him speak a few years ago, and he was entertaining. Plus he has incredible hair, which is just a bonus.

Gladwell is trying to figure out how to predict who will be a good teacher. He explains the impact of a good teacher on a classroom of students, versus a bad teacher. According to the article, a good teacher can teach students a year and a half worth of material in a year, while a bad teacher will teach students only a half year's worth of material. The impact of a good teacher is more powerful than classroom size (something I never would have imagined).

He even makes the point that it is more advantageous to have a good teacher in a bad school, versus a bad teacher in a good school.

The problem is that there is no good way of predicting who will be a good teacher. Teacher education programs are completely useless at this.

Gladwell then draws a parallel between predicting who will be a good teacher with how to predict which college quarterbacks will be successful in the NFL. As any sports fan knows, often the most celebrated college quarterbacks utterly fail in the NFL. Gladwell uses University of Missouri quarterback Chase Daniel to illustrate this point.

It's a great article, and it really got me thinking. I do think we need to change the system of educating teachers.

When I started college in 1991, I was originally a French and political science major. But by the middle of my second semester, I realized I wanted to major in English. I've always loved reading and writing, and the English degree just felt like the right fit for me.

I knew even then, in the back of my mind, that I wanted to teach high school English. There were a couple of things that kept me from doing so. One, I was in the Fulbright Four Year Honors Scholars Program at the University of Arkansas, and I felt I was too smart to just teach high school. I know that is ridiculous and pompous, but I was a little full of myself in high school and college. Those of us in the honors program felt like we were in the elite at our school, and we aspired to careers that matched our exemplary skills.

So I was going to get my PhD and do extraordinary research and get published and travel the world.

Furthermore, it bothered me how little I felt that the education majors in my English classes seemed to know. At that time, you could get a BSE in education for your teacher certification. I think you only needed twelve hours of core English classes to be certified to teach English. This seemed woefully inadequate. Add to that the fact that most of the education majors I had class with were sorority girls who appeared to be more interested in their MRS degree, and you can see how I'd be turned off by this.

Again, I know how snotty this makes me seem. Please remember that this was many years ago -- I got better! If you made it through college without being uppity and pretentious, well good for you.

So I got my BA in English, and set out to see the world. I soon realized that I did not want a PhD. I really wanted to be a teacher. But I wasn't there yet.

I had lots and lots of dumb jobs. I lived in San Francisco, which I loved but could not afford. I had many retail jobs. I sold plastic binding in St. Louis. I worked at Starbucks. I was a data entry clerk for the University of Arkansas Physical Plant. I even owned my own bookstore for awhile (which was a disaster).

In 2000, my mom lost her fight with breast cancer after ten long years. I lost my whole world. Then I decided it was time to get my act together.

I moved back to Arkansas (I was still in St. Louis) and enrolled in the College of Education at the University of Arkansas. By that time (2001), the UA had changed its requirements for teacher certification. Now you had to have a four year degree in your content area, and then completed a masters degree in teaching. From start to finish, it's a five year program, but as I already had the degree in my content area, I had to spend one year in undergraduate education classes before I could start the masters program.

The undergraduate education classes were less than inspiring. The instructors seemed to have very little recent classroom experience. But I got through it, because I'd heard really good things about the masters program.

I would say the masters program was valuable, but still not applicable to my actual classroom experiences. For one, I knew I wanted to teach outside of the state of Arkansas (I love Arkansas, but wanted to live in a major city and didn't want to stay in the Bible Belt). Not one of my professors had any experience teaching in an urban district, much less an inner city environment. And I had no idea what that would entail, either. I think I may want to get my doctorate in education at some point in the future, just so that I can help prepare teacher education students for what really happens in a classroom. But that's a post for another day.

I've already written about what my first year teaching in Chicago was like, so I won't go into that again. I'll just reiterate that it was really, really difficult and I cried in my car a great deal.

So I agree with Gladwell's assertion that teachers should be treated like apprentices -- if you can make it through a two or three year induction program and can perform, then you should get to teach and get paid really well. How you actually perform in a classroom is far more powerful than anything you will learn in an education class. Granted, you will have to be given the support to do that -- which doesn't happen for most new teachers.

I'm definitely against the idea of tenure, although now that I have it, I'm glad. But it is crazy that just because I've taught for a number of years, I should not have to worry about being fired. I don't think that is a good way to keep teachers motivated. Until there is a good and consistent method for evaluating teachers, though, I think it will have to remain in place (especially as far as Chicago Public Schools is concerned).

At any rate, the article kind of got my excited. I am not a great teacher, but I do care about my students, and I normally am able to establish a rapport with them that is valuable to me. I want to use my maternity leave to not only take care of my new baby, but to reevaluate why I wanted to be a teacher in the first place. I am hoping that I can start the next school year with a renewed passion for the profession. I need that, and I know it would benefit my students, as well.

How I Ruined Santa for My Sister

2008-12-05T13:24:00.000-06:00

This is a true story, according to my sister. Although I do not remember this. My sister shared this story during her toast to me at my wedding reception. I do not think I've ever laughed so hard in my entire life.

According to my sister, when I was around 9 or 10, and she was around 7 or 8, I sat her down on her bed and we had the following conversation:

Me: "Do you know what sex is?"

Heather: "Nooo. . ."

Me: "It's when Dad puts his penis in Mom's vagina!"

Heather: Painful, stunned silence.

After about five minutes of my letting this information sink in, I then add, "And there's no Santa Claus, either!"

My poor sister insists that Christmas was never the same for her after that.

But I am the older sister -- it was my job to share such knowledge with her.

Merry Christmas! (And Heather, I'm really, really sorry I did that to you!)

The Bad and the Good

2008-12-05T09:03:00.003-06:00

Sorry I've been lax in blogging the past couple of weeks. I've been so tired and have been working on Christmas crafts (that's a separate, upcoming post). This baby can show up at any time, and I want all my Christmas decorations done before then. I don't know why this is so important to me, but it is. Part of my nesting instinct, I suppose.

At any rate, school is as chaotic as ever. I came to work yesterday and collected my substitute folder. I had to spend Wednesday at another school for a professional development session, so I had a sub. It's always scary trying to figure out what the sub did and how the students may have treated the sub. My sub wrote me a note saying that most of the students were pretty quiet, although none did any work.

She didn't have any trouble until 9th period. A student came to class at 2:50. 9th period ends at 2:55. The sub told the kid that she could not mark him as present when he is that late. This made the kid irate -- he started yelling racist comments to her about white power and slavery and whatnot (the sub is white; the student is black).

I wrote up that student and took the form to the assistant principal, who said she would put him in in-school-suspension for the day. At least I would not have to put up with him for the day.

I made it to my lunch period, which is 7th period. I was just getting settled to eat my lunch when some student pulled the fire alarm. On the coldest day of the school year thus far. It used to be that when the fire alarm was pulled, the fire department showed up in a couple of trucks and inspected the building, but it would appear that the connection to the fire department has been severed, so when the alarm goes off, no one from the fire department shows up. I'm pretty sure this is illegal, and if we ever have a real fire, we are screwed.

But every time the fire department would show up, our school would get a hefty fine. So this is the solution they came up with. Neat, huh?

The alarm went off, the building was evacuated, and the kids had a big fight. We were just about to go back in the building when the alarm was pulled again. So we stood outside in the cold a bit longer. I was smart and got my coat and scarf before I left the building.

They finally let us back in and there were about four minutes of my lunch period left. I had eaten a salad and my yogurt, but nothing else. I managed to cram my cupcake in my mouth before the bell rang. I'd been thinking about that damn cupcake all day long!

The day ended at last, and I made my way to my car. Parking at my school is always an issue, because the lot the teachers use is also used by students. A disgruntled student broke my car window two years ago, and after that, I do not like parking there. Plus when it snows, they don't bother to clear the lot. Twice this week I've had to park in the lot, because you can't park on the street when it snows. Walking across the layer of ice is never fun, but it's even less fun when you are 34 weeks pregnant.

Yesterday I was able to park on the street, right in front of the school. I get in my car, and hear loud thumping noises. Students are throwing frozen snowballs at my car. While I am in it. One of these students is yelling at me. I look over at him (I don't know him) and he is asking me if I want some weed. He then shows me the joint he is smoking. Awesome.

I've been trying to think of good things that happen at work. Just to attempt to balance out some of the bad. I have two examples of positive interactions I've had recently, just so you won't feel too sorry for me!

I have a student in my sixth period class who is a good kid. He doesn't say much, but he's always on time and he is always respectful. He does his work, and he has an A in my class. At report card pickup, he and his mom came to talk to me. His mom was almost in tears, because this kid had never passed English before. She told me that he has spent the last two summers in summer school making up the English credit he had failed. I would have had no idea he had this trouble -- in my class he is great. So the fact that he is successful with me made me feel really good. I don't know if I should get any credit for his success, but I'm going to feel good about it, anyway.

My other success story is a student I'll call Dee. I had her last year in my 9th period sophomore English class. She was terrible in that class -- rarely came to class and when she did come, she was really late and would sit there listening to her headphones. Never did any assignments.

One afternoon I had had enough. I made her stay after class to discuss her grade and performance with me. She sat down with me and I asked her if she lived with her mom. She said she did. I asked her what her mom did for a living. She told me her mom cleaned hotel rooms for a hotel downtown.

I said, "Dee, this is not meant in any way to disparage your mom. But do you think that when your mom was a little girl, that she dreamed of cleaning hotel rooms? Do you think that's what she imagined she would be doing for a living?"

At that question, Dee started to cry. Which made me feel really bad. I got teary, too. I told her that kids are supposed to be tributes to their parents. And her mom wants a better life for Dee. That Dee owes it to her mom to make her mom's work and sacrifices worthwhile.

Dee just looked at me and kept crying. It was pretty intense. I again tried to make sure she understood that I was not insulting her mom -- that I just wanted her to think about the situation. I said that cleaning hotel rooms is an honest job, but it's the kind of job you take because you need a job to feed your kids. That Dee has a chance to have get an education that can allow her to get a job that she truly wants.

Then I asked her what she wanted to do when she grows up. She said she wanted to be a teacher. I told her that was a terrible idea, and we both laughed. It helped alleviate some of the tension. Then we talked about what she needed to do to get caught up in my class, and the goals she needs to work towards to get through high school so she can go to college and become a teacher.

The next day, she cut my class. But the next day after that, she came, and has come ever since. She got all of her work made up and ended up with a B, I think. I was so proud of her. I gave her my email address, and she'll email me occasionally. Nothing about school -- she'll just ask me how I'm doing or how the baby is doing, or will remind me to not let the kids get me stressed out.

She's in my 5th period junior class this year. And she's still coming to class and doing all her work. Her birthday is January 22, and she was hoping that I would have my baby on her birthday. I told her that was not going to happen -- sorry. That she should have had a December birthday and that I better have had this baby before January 22nd!

When I'm having a terrifically bad day (and there have been many lately) I do three things. I look at pictures of my daughter online. I rub my huge belly. And I think about students like Dee. I have had some amazing students in my career. I just have to remember that. It is so easy to dwell on the bad ones. But I need to dwell on the good ones.

The other good news is that I have made it through week 34 of this pregnancy, and I'm still pregnant. My daughter was born at 34 weeks to the day. So this baby won't be a preemie, or at least not as much a preemie as Emiko was. Yay! I'm hoping this baby boy can make it to December 19th at least. That's my goal. That's the day winter break starts, and he would be considered just about full term. I'm crossing my fingers and thinking happy thoughts.

The Month in Review

2008-11-25T10:18:00.002-06:00

As Thanksgiving is upon us (yay yay yay!) and the month is drawing to a close, thought I'd update you on a few exciting events at work. Things just get more and more exciting.

Report Card Pickup Day was November 13. That is the way CPS handles Parent Teacher conferences. Teachers are at school from 1:00 - 6:00 so that parents can pick up their children's report cards. Out of approximately 130 students (all of whom presumably have parents or guardians), I had visits from 21 parents. Most of the parents were there just to pick up the report card for their child, and not to discuss grades. I have 26 Division students (homeroom), so I had their report cards. I had less than ten parents who wanted to discuss grades. Which meant I spent a lot of time reading online and looking at my watch.

It went ok, considering. One parent cursed me out, because I did not have her daughter's report card. I didn't have it because according to our school, her daughter had not paid all her school fees. I have no control over this, nor do I have any idea of who has paid school fees. I just hand out the report cards. So this mom, who is a CPS teacher, so you think she'd know better, starts yelling and cursing at me. That was fun. I just said, "You'll have to talk to someone else; I'm afraid I cannot help you." She did come by later and apologize.

And one mom (who I have met before, as I was her son's English teacher last year when he was a sophomore) was very upset about the fact that her son had no teacher for seven weeks, then got me, and now I'll be leaving for maternity leave. I don't blame her for being upset -- it's ridiculous the way the situation has been handled. I tried to assure her that my replacement was a certified teacher and hopefully that would be the last English teacher her son will have this year. She was not impressed.

Speaking of my upcoming maternity leave (I'm counting down the days!), I finally realized why my students are so bad. They think I'm a sub. Being a sub in CPS is way worse than being a teacher. The students are horrific to subs. Lots of retired teachers go back and sub, but I've told my husband that should I make it to retirement age in CPS, I will not sub! So he better be making some good investments.

At any rate, the policy at my school (I don't think it's official CPS policy, and I'm pretty sure it's not in writing anywhere, but it's definitely the rule) is that a sub cannot fail a student. Even if the sub is a fully certified teacher. Even if the student doesn't come to class or do any work, ever. If the class is being taught by a sub, the student has to pass. Somehow the students know about this.

They've figured out that my maternity leave starts January 5, 2009 (the first day back from winter break). The second quarter doesn't end until January 23. So I won't be the teacher entering grades for second quarter. They believe that means that I'm basically not their real teacher, so they can just put up with me (and behave as terribly as possible, it seems) and then they'll have a new teacher who can't fail them.

This makes things really fun for me. I've never had classroom management issues like these before. This is my sixth year teaching, and never has it been this bad. I'm so sorry I ever complained about past classes, for I had no idea what I had coming to me. In my third period freshmen class, the students yell and curse and laugh the entire class period. When I talk, it's like I'm not even there. I have to just write the assignment on the board and just stare at them. It's excruciating.

My fifth and sixth period classes are better. Fifth is really quite good -- they are the class that gets me through the day. Sixth period has four thug boys who have been coming lately, which makes that class less pleasant. And that's the class where a girl announced that I wasn't even a real teacher, since I wouldn't be there to give grades at second quarter and semester.

I have lunch seventh period (always a highlight). Then I have to endure eighth and ninth periods. Eighth period is an inclusion class, so I have a special ed teacher who assists me and works with the three special ed kids in the class. The special ed teacher was the teacher subbing for that class the first seven weeks of school. She doesn't seem to mind the students screaming and yelling the whole period. The students all consider her the real teacher and completely ignore me. So again, I have to just write the assignment on the board and stare at them. And take many, many deep breaths. One of the students asked why I kept making that noise. I said, "I'm taking deep breaths so I can get through your class."

Ninth period (last period of the day!) is no picnic, either. In that class, 28 students are enrolled. About seven show up each day. And no one comes on time. They trickle in from ten minutes past the start of class, and keep coming until the end. They pay me no attention whatsoever. They don't scream or yell, for the most part -- they are pretty quiet. But it's really as if I'm not there.

There is one kid in that class who comes in and stands with his head out of the window the whole class period. He asked me one day how he could pass my class. I said he'd have to come and actually do some work (he's never turned in an assignment). I then assigned that class their Beowulf books. He refused to take a book, since he said he wouldn't use it. I told him that would not assist in his efforts to pass my class. He then left the room. But he knows that when the sub takes over for me, he'll pass. That is crazy and so unfair!

OK, one more update. My Division students got their PLAN test scores back today. The PLAN test is made by the College Board -- it's a mini-ACT test, and the scores are a predictor of a student's future ACT score. The average ACT score at my high school is a 15. My students received the following scores: one 19, one 18, two 17s, one 16, two 15s, six 14s, six 13s, and four 11s. 11s! CPS has a goal of every student achieving a 20 on the ACT. But until the elementary schools in Chicago can figure out how to teach basic literacy and math to struggling students, I don't see how that can happen. If you make it to ninth grade and still don't have basic math and literacy skills, what are you supposed to do? What am I supposed to do? We need to completely restructure the schools in this city.

I'm sure there are more things I wanted to share, but that's all I can think of right now.

Seriously?

2008-11-21T20:25:00.001-06:00

Eureka Springs, Arkansas, is one of my favorite places on the planet. Whatever these so-called "gay activists" have done there has made it even better. It's one of the most diverse and inclusive places I can think of. It's pretty magical, really. So seeing this video blurb on feministing.com made me laugh and want to scream at the same time. I'm really sick of evangelical Christian activists. Alannah, have you seen this???

Adventures in Ridiculousness

2008-11-18T10:17:00.002-06:00

OK, seriously, I can't make this stuff up. My job is so ridiculous. Let me share with you my latest adventure.

I forgot to pack a snack for myself this morning. I don't know what I was thinking -- so I will blame Emiko for distracting me. On the way to work I realized that I had forgotten to pack anything, and as I hadn't eaten much for breakfast, I knew this would be an issue.

At school, we have vending machines. A few years ago CPS got rid of soda and salty snacks (I really miss being able to get a Coke at work), but the machines still have "healthy" fare like PopTarts and Rice Krispies Treats, and some kind of salty non-chip snacks. And they offer juice drinks and whatnot. I decided that I would get a Rice Krispies Treat to tide me over until lunch. Not the healthiest thing in the world, but I was OK with that.

My planning period is 4th period, which is the first lunch period. The vending machines are only turned on 4th period. The bell rings after 3rd and I go down to the first floor to get my snack. As I'm putting my quarters in the machine, the security guard who we'll call Eugene starts yelling at me that the machine is not on and to get my money. I said why isn't the machine on? He yells at me that the machine is not to be turned on yet, that our principal doesn't want the kids using that machine. Which apparently means I can't use it, either.

So I'm walking away and thinking -- that's crazy. I see another security guard who I really like -- we'll call him Anthony. I ask Anthony if I'm allowed to use the vending machine. He looks at me like I'm crazy. He says of course I can use the machine -- just to plug it in and get my snack and then unplug it. I said that Eugene had yelled at me. He said, "Eugene is an asshole. You know that. Everyone knows that. If he yells at you, yell back. Don't be scared of him."

That made a lot of sense. I'm a grown woman, after all. So I march back over to the machine and plug it in and get my damn Rice Krispies Treat. Eugene starts yelling at me. "You better unplug that machine! You are not supposed to use that machine! The students are not to use that machine! Please tell me you are not using that machine!"

I said, "I'm not a student. I am eight months pregnant. I need a snack. I will unplug the machine as soon as I am done and no one else will use it!"

He said, "You aren't supposed to be eating that spicy stuff anyway! You should get something from the cafeteria!" (I've never set foot in our cafeteria, but from what I understand, they serve pizza and french fries everyday. Not especially healthy options, and I only had four quarters.)

"I'm getting a Rice Krispies Treat. It's cereal!" I'm thinking -- why am I explaining this to you? It's none of your business what I eat!

Then he yells to unplug the machine when I'm done and don't let anyone else use it. Of course, right then a couple of kids want to use it. I yell, "Get away from the machine! You are on your own!" One of my students asks me to buy her something. I tell her that I had to put up with a lot to get this dang snack and I'm done -- I can't help her.

I'm leaving, and Eugene yells, "You aren't supposed to be eating that sugary stuff. That's too much sugar!"

"Thank you!" I respond, completely furious at this point. "I will tell my doctor you said so!"

As I walk back towards the stairs to get to my classroom, I pass a huge mob of students in line to buy donuts. Different groups sell Krispy Kreme donuts to raise money. Somehow that is OK, but our vending machines can't sell candy bars or Coke. And apparently had I chosen to stand in the donut line, Eugene would have had nothing to say about it.

This job is frustrating enough; I should not have to fight with the security guard to buy a snack from the vending machine. Now I'm worried that he might key my car -- it's a good thing I don't park in the school parking lot. He really is an asshole.

But now I'm back in my room. I have eaten said Rice Krispies Treat -- and it was good. Tasted just like victory!

I Heart Keith Olbermann

2008-11-13T08:04:00.001-06:00

I don't know why people don't get this. I will never understand it.

Vote for Emiko!

2008-11-12T19:42:00.005-06:00

Todd has entered Emiko in a Cutest Baby on the Block contest. You can go here and vote for her. I mean, if you want to. And you could maybe tell your friends. If it's not too much trouble. Thanks!

Am I the Jerk?

2008-11-08T12:49:00.004-06:00

I was talking to my dad this morning, and we were discussing the election. He was not a supporter of President-Elect Obama (how I love typing that!), and I told him that all week I was going to call and gloat, but decided that I would be nice and not, because he would probably just say something that made me mad.

He just laughed and we kept talking. He did mention that Obama was his president now, too, and that he would support him. Then he said that our economy was a mess and that he hoped Obama would pick great advisers and not just people to whom he owed a favor, like Bush had done. I couldn't believe he was actually acknowledging that Bush was not a perfect president. That's amazing.

At any rate, here's when things went south in our conversation. I mentioned to Dad that Uncle James (who was my mom's brother, and has to be close to 90 by now) had sent me a racist joke email about our new president.

Dad said I should just ignore messages like that. I said that no, I decided to politely ask Uncle James to please not send me emails like that, because I do not support his political views, and I found that particular email offensive. He had already sent me a couple of emails from his preacher about how the only moral choice was to vote McCain/Palin, but this last email was more than I could bear.

My uncle wrote back that he didn't mean to offend me and was sorry, and that he believed that God chooses our country's leaders, so he will support Obama any way that he can. I thought that sounded pretty good, and surprisingly gracious.

Dad did not think I did the right thing. He said, "Didn't you send Shari an email like that awhile back?" Shari is my cousin Jeff's wife, and I had no idea Dad knew I had emailed her, so this is a bad sign. I said that yes, I had made the same request of her. She had sent me this long email about how Obama was not only a radical Muslim, but the Antichrist. I felt I needed to respond. I, again, was really polite about it. I just said that I didn't agree with her, and to please not send me emails of that nature. She wrote back that she didn't mean to offend me, and that I had the right to vote for Obama if I wanted to. Which I thought was kind of her.

But apparently I hurt her feelings. Dad said that she was offended by my email. And that if I ever sent him an email like that, he would probably never speak to me again. I said, "Well fine, I don't want to hear from racists." Dad said that wasn't very nice, and that I should just let things go. That was some fatherly advice from him. He then mentioned that I am a grown woman and can do whatever I want, but that would be how he handled such matters.

So if someone sends me an offensive email, I'm just supposed to ignore it? And attempting to gently inform someone that his or her email is offensive will hurt his or her feelings? That is ridiculous.

I believe in internet etiquette. If I have an email that I know is super liberal and that my family members (other than my sister, who is a bleeding heart like me, thank God) won't agree with, I don't send it to them. I try to be courteous.

I have one friend from back home who sends me lots of annoying emails about illegal immigrants and whatnot, but she does it just to bug me, and we've talked about it, so that's ok. I just ignore them. And occasionally I'll send her a super liberal one, and we get a laugh out of it.

I can handle when my family members send me super evangelical emails -- I can ignore those. I don't think of them as mean-spirited, just annoying and a little insulting, as my religious beliefs are really none of their business and they should stop concerning themselves with my salvation. But they don't make me mad.

But if you send me an email that is clearly racist and offensive, I should not have to just ignore that. You should know that the email is racist and offensive.

For far too long people have just politely ignored (and silently fumed) over comments and jokes that are racist or sexist or simply inappropriate. I've done this at work, at parties, on the bus, and at many, many family gatherings. But when I do that, I'm giving tacit approval to this sort of hatred. I'm not going to do that anymore.

I mean, I'm not going to be a jerk about it. I think I'm super nice about it. And I actually did feel kind of bad sending out those emails, like I was the one doing something wrong and should apologize. But I'm not going to worry about it anymore. And if my Uncle James or my cousin Shari feel like they should never speak to me again, well that's fine, too. I'll get over it. I have plenty of non-racists in my life I'd much rather talk to. Plus, Shari sends all those annoying hoax emails about horrible things that happen to you at gas stations and whatnot. I don't know why the woman can't look stuff up on Snopes.com before she hits the forward key. But that's a separate email.

So I guess I'm wondering how other people handle this sort of situation. Do you just ignore it? Or do you say or email something to the other person? I'm looking for some support here, because I'm starting to feel kind of guilty. I hate feeling guilty. (Southern mothers perfected the art of making their children feel guilty -- my mom gave it to me in spades. And my dad knows how to do it to me, too. It's very annoying.)

Not Sure How to Explain This. . .

2008-11-05T17:49:00.002-06:00

Some of you have heard stories about the bathrooms at my school. They are disgusting and unpleasant. Often we don't have toilet paper or soap or paper towels, although this year people have taken it upon themselves to donate soap.

The main teacher bathroom is on the second floor. The women's room has four stalls, but two of the stalls have toilets that are not working at all. There are about 100 female teachers at my school.

Monday I went to the bathroom and discovered that of the two working stalls, neither toilet would flush. I informed another teacher who then informed the main office. This was around 11:00 am. It was not until after 1:00 pm that the bathroom was declared closed.

This leaves one faculty women's restroom on the first floor, that is always really dirty and disgusting. There is also one single occupancy women's restroom inside the main office. There is a men's restroom there, too.

This sign is now posted in the women's restroom in the main office. I guess more people are now using that restroom, due to the lack of available toilets. I don't know who is doing unpleasant things in there, but this is the third sign that has been posted. The first two versions of the sign just asked for consideration. It's true that there is no ventilation. This sign (there are about 10 copies of it hanging in the stall) is the most graphic thus far. I felt it needed to be shared with others.

People just can't imagine how fun my job is!

Yes We Can, Indeed!

2008-11-05T14:50:00.001-06:00

I'm really excited to be at school this morning, and I rarely feel that way. But the exuberance of the students inside and outside the building is incredible. From outside my window I'm hearing chants of "Obama! Obama!" as kids slowly make their way into the building.

In the hallways kids are chanting more. Several have stuck their heads into my room to talk about it. One kid yelled, "President Obama has made history!"

Yesterday I made my students write their thoughts on how an Obama presidency would impact their lives. Some of the kids took it super seriously. One of my favorite students actually has his head shaved with Obama's name and campaign logo. I wanted to take a picture, but was afraid that might get my in trouble. Trust me; it's awesome.

Several of the kids wrote poems about Obama. One kid wrote that a win by Obama would mean that when his parents tell him he can be anything he wants to be, that it's actually true. Even for black people. That got me choked up a little.

A few students wanted to spout off some conspiracy theories that I won't share, because I don't want to even think about stuff like that. But one girl did insist that the whole Grant Park rally was a set up. She kept asking me which party Mayor Daley belonged to. I said he was a Democrat, just like Obama. She said, "I don't care what you say, Mrs. Fuji. Daley is a snake and this rally is a setup to get Obama!" I told her that I thought she was wrong -- that I was fairly sure the rally was Obama's idea. And she should be thinking happy thoughts regardless. (Oh, and one student said he was going to riot no matter what happened, but I think he was kidding.)

Today I am making my kids read Martin Luther King, Jr's "I Have a Dream" speech. It seems appropriate. This moment is the closest we've come to some sort of realization of King's dream. I know that at least two of my classes will get into it and we'll have some great discussions.

President Elect Obama has a tough road ahead of him. The challenges facing this country are enormous. But I just want to enjoy this day with my students. They deserve it.

Yes We Can, and Yes We Did!

Arkansas Will Always Be Home

2008-11-03T10:45:00.004-06:00

I wrote this post for Open Salon, because there are two other bloggers there who are also proud Arkansawyers. We thought it would be fun to write about what makes Arkansas so special. I thought people who read this blog might find it interesting as well. And my Arkansas friends will definitely know what I'm talking about!

I'm the slacker in the Arkansas Trifecta on Open Salon. Both Dorinda Fox and Hillbilly Aunt have written wonderful posts about what it is to be from Arkansas. I have been having the ideas swirling in my brain for a few weeks now. I'm just now trying to put these ideas into words.

I should start by confessing that I was born in Louisiana. Which is a pretty amazing place, but I have been always kind of sad that I can't claim "Native Arkansas" status. But if you ask me where I'm from, I will always say Arkansas. Then if we really get into it, I will admit that I was actually born someplace else and moved to Arkansas when I was four.

Both of my parents grew up in Louisiana, but my mom was born in Arkansas. My dad is a pharmacist, and when I was three or so, he got it in his head that we should move to Arkansas. And not just any place in Arkansas -- places people may have heard of, like Little Rock or Hot Springs. He wanted to move us to Gillett. Gillett is in Arkansas County, in the Southeast corner of the state. In the Mississippi River Delta part of the state.

When you get to Gillett (which people hardly ever do) you'll be greeted with these words on the sign: Welcome to Gillett. Home of Friendly People and the Coon Supper. Population 927. (I went back to Gillett a few years ago, and the population is still around 900.)

Gillett is the nearest town to Arkansas Post, which Hillbilly Aunt mentions in her post about the state. Arkansas Post is the oldest settlement in the state (and I think the oldest west of the Mississippi). I love that place. Growing up, my sister and I thought it was our backyard. My parents were friends with the park superintendant and his wife, so we spent a lot of time there. I am determined to take my children there -- perhaps in a couple of years.

My memories of Gillett include Arkansas Post, the Coon Supper -- which deserves its own post, but basically is a celebration for the high school football team. The men in town go on a raccoon hunt and then have a big raccoon barbecue. The whole town (and most state politicians) get together, eat raccoon, and present awards to the football players. Bill Clinton has eaten raccoon plenty of times. For those who are afraid of eating raccoon -- it's kind of gamey -- they offer baked ham, too.

I also have vivid memories of playing outside til it got dark, or until the byplane flew overhead spraying insecticide to kill all the mosquitoes. There are huge mosquitoes in South Arkansas. I'm quite sure I've been exposed to some pretty toxic chemicals, because sometimes I just could not get into the house fast enough.

We used to go to the swimming pool everyday in the summer time. We'd get there at 10 a.m. and not leave til closing time at 5 p.m. I have no idea if I ate lunch on those days. But I still love to swim. It was the best way to be outside while avoiding the oppressive heat and humidity, and those dang mosquitoes.

The people in Gillett were some of the nicest I've ever known. Everyone took care of one another. The town was full of yellow dog Democrats, so I don't remember anyone really talking politics very often. It's in the Bible Belt, but no one seemed all that concerned about religion, either. As long as you went to church someplace, everyone was happy.

When I was fourteen, we moved to the exact opposite side of the state, to Springdale. Springdale is in the Northwest corner of the state, in the Ozark Mountains. It was like a different world. Isn't that funny? That another region in a small state could be so different? It was, though.

For one thing, Springdale was about a billion times bigger than Gillett. I went from twenty kids in my class from kindergarten to eighth grade, to a town with TWO junior highs. I went to Central Junior High, and I was scared to death. I made myself a little map of the building so I wouldn't get lost.

Hillbilly Aunt is right -- things are different in those hills. Suddenly where I went to church took on enormous significance. I remember one of the first people I met in 9th grade, a sweet girl named Christy. She introduced herself to me, and then she asked me where I went to church. I told her that we hadn't started going to church in Springdale yet, since we'd just moved, but that I'd grown up in the Episcopal Church, so I figured that's where we' d go. She gave me a look like I'd said the church of Satan. She shook her head and told me she was sorry, but I was going to go to hell.

I heard that a lot in Springdale. But it never offended me too much. It's just something people like to tell you. They'll pray for you, and you know they feel sorry for you. I heard "bless your heart" a lot. But then we move on, and Christy showed me around the school and informed me about which lunch line had the best food.

The autumns in the Arkansas Ozarks are the most beautiful I've ever seen. I still miss autumn in Arkansas. The leaves turn the most vibrant oranges and yellows. One of my favorite drives in the state is the Pig Trail. That's a windy, twisty "shortcut" to Little Rock from Northwest Arkansas. If you want to avoid boring old I-40, the Pig Trail is the way to go.

The trees create a canopy over the road, so that it's hard to see sometimes. It's so amazing. I always said I wanted to close off part of the Pig Trail and get married right in the middle of the road, when the leaves are at the height of their color. But I had to go off and marry a Yankee and live in Chicago, so that plan didn't work out.

Dorinda writes about all the famous people from Arkansas. She's right on it -- everyone from Arkansas can list off all the names of the famous people from our state. Bill Clinton helped put us on the map, but he's just one of many.

In addition to the famous people Dorinda mentions, Glenn Campbell is from Arkansas. Johnny Cash is from Arkansas. The Reverand Al Green is from Arkansas. Not to mention Frank Bonner, who played Herb on WKRP in Cincinnati. And the guy who played Buck Rogers, the one and only Gil Gerard. We can add Darren McFadden to the list, since he was the runner up for the Heisman Trophy the past two years, and is now playing well for the Oakland Raiders.

My husband, the Yankee, is a pretty great guy. But I just look at him sometimes. He is so foreign to me in so many ways. He doesn't talk that much, and when he does, he glosses over so many crucial details. He and I can tell the exact same story, but you'd never know it. His version will take five minutes and will leave out all the colorful details. Mine will take at least twenty minutes, but you'll have a much better understanding of what really happened. It'll be like you were actually there!

When my husband and I had our daughter, we had to figure out what to name her. We decided that we wanted her to have a sense of her Japanese heritage. My husband is fourth generation, so he doesn't have much of a sense of his heritage, but we want our kids to be a part of that. So we decided that our kids would have a Japanese family name for a first name, and a Southern family name for a middle name. Hence, Emiko Mae. Emiko was hubby's grandmother, and Mae was my grandmother's middle name. My grandmother's first name was Eula, which although a strong and pretty incredible Southern name, seemed a bit much.

Our son is going to be Hideo William. Hideo for hubby's great grandfather, and William for my dad. My dad keeps asking how to pronounce Hideo. He says he's just going to call him Willy. That's about right.

I often remind my daughter that she is half Arkansas. I never remind her that she is half Yankee. I kinda hope she won't make the realization. Now, this is not meant to disparage Yankees. But Yankees are different from Southerners. Not bad, just different. I'm just not used to them. I want Emiko to say yes sir and yes'm to grown ups. I want her to soften the truth with "bless her hearts" and"well, aren't you sweets?"

I want her stories to be full of detail. I want her to get excited about fried chicken, football, and calling the Hogs. We've already started practicing calling the Hogs. She loves hollering "Woo Pig Sooie!" It makes Mama very proud. I tell her that she does not have to go to the University of Arkansas, but she has to always cheer for the Razorbacks. If she goes to college in Texas or to a different SEC school, I think that will break my heart.

My husband and I met online. You don't realize how rural you are, until you start a relationship with a Yankee via the internet and the phone. Once we started talking on the phone, I'd tell a story about my past, and then I'd hear this complete and total silence. I'd think, "Dammit Amy, now you've said too much. You're never going to hear from him again." But bless his heart, he kept calling. I don't think he's ever quite understood what he's gotten himself into, but I give him a lot of credit. He won't admit it, but he likes visiting Arkansas almost as much as I do.

I've been really homesick lately. Part of it is due to being pregnant and having a job that drives me crazy. But the biggest part of it is that I just haven't felt that sense of community in Chicago that I feel in Arkansas. I miss knowing my neighbors. I hate all this damn traffic, and it takes so long to get a very short distance. My school is about 9 miles from my house. It takes me about 40 minutes in the morning to get to work. Coming home, it takes 45-50 minutes, if I'm lucky.

And the drivers aren't courteous, either. Back home, if someone cuts you off, they at least have the decency to give you a little wave, as if they are saying, "Hon, I'm so sorry. I'm just in a hurry to get to Walmarts." Is that so hard?

I miss cheese dip. The Mexican food here is authentic Mexican food, not Tex Mex. I love authentic Mexican food, but I sure miss cheese dip. And Delta tamales. And fried catfish with hushpuppies. You can get fried catfish here on the South Side, but they serve it with spaghetti, coleslaw, and white bread. Where's the hushpuppies and french fries? It's just not the same.

There is one barbecue place here that is owned by a really nice man from Helena, AR. So Honey1 Barbecue is my favorite place in Chicago for ribs. Robert Sr and Robert Jr even serve fried okra. I keep telling Robert Jr that he needs to serve fried pie, but he hasn't yet taken my advice.

People in Chicago wear jeans to church. This is a completely foreign notion to me. How can you wear jeans to church? I cannot do it. I can wear pants, but I never feel very good about it. At Emiko's christening, there were people wearing jeans and Birkenstock sandals. And lots of people had brought their own coffee. Even the people at the altar assisting with Communion were wearing jeans and Birkenstocks. That just doesn't seem right.

I manage to get home to Arkansas at least three times a year. I would like to get home more often. Our last trip was the beginning of October. It was such a great trip. I gained seven pounds. It just felt so good to be home. I can relax there like no where else on earth.

Lately I've been hinting to my husband that perhaps we could consider living closer to Arkansas. Like to St. Louis or Kansas City. Or maybe Austin, Texas. It would seem blasphemous to live in Texas, but Austin is the exception. He's not buying it yet. Especially now that we have children, I really am thinking about what it will be like to raise them in a big city. It scares me a little bit. Not knowing who my kids know. The idea of Emiko riding the El without me makes my heart stop. Trying to figure out where she will go to school.

If nothing else, I know I am instilling my Arkansas values into my babies. I make sure to pronounce things correctly -- like saying "greezy." My hubby says that's not how you pronounce it, but he's wrong. And washeteria. That's a South Arkansas word for you. When we moved to Springdale, we had to go to the washeteria a few times. But no one calls it that. Laundramat is far less fun to say. My husband thought I was making that word up. We went to Louisiana last November for my Great Aunt Lucy's 100th birthday party, and saw a washeteria in Monroe. We had to stop and take a picture. I felt vindicated.

Maybe one day I will get to retire to Arkansas. Maybe my husband will come around and get a job at least closer to the Mason Dixon line. My kids might be named Emiko and Hideo, but they'll be little country bumpkins just the same. Bless their hearts.

Happy Halloween!

2008-11-01T17:53:00.003-05:00

I made Emiko's Halloween costume. I got the idea from a magazine. I think it turned out really well. She was so cute! The above pic is from Thursday morning on our way to daycare. Since not all of the kids are full time, they had parties Thursday and Friday so no one would get left out. Lucky! She is not wearing her socks or shoes, because she hates socks and shoes. That's the Arkansas in her!

This picture is from a block party we went to this afternoon. She's with Malia, who lives in the neighborhood of the block party. Malia is one of Emiko's daycare friends -- that's how we got invited to the party. We weren't just crashing! They are both very cute together.

Last night we took Emiko to a Halloween party. So she has gotten lots of wear out of that costume. It's pretty dirty at this point. I can't decide if I should try to wash it somehow and save it, or just not worry about it.

Next year we'll actually take her trick or treating. We figured this year she wouldn't really care.

How Long 'til Christmas Break?

2008-10-30T14:31:00.003-05:00

I am so tired of being depressed at work, but it's just getting worse. I keep thinking that's not possible, but I am continually mistaken. I need to stop thinking about it. Bad things just keep happening.

Jennifer Hudson is a graduate of the high school where I work. So everyone here feels a certain level of kinship with her, and many of our teachers knew her. One of our teachers is related to her, as are several of our students.

Friday we had a teacher professional development day, so the students got the day off. During our general meeting, our principal reminded us that Jennifer had a new movie out, and that the media wanted to talk to our students and staff about it. She told us to be careful of what we say to the press. When Dreamgirls came out, our school did receive a great deal of media attention. Jennifer even came back to our school to meet our students. I was on maternity leave, so I missed out on all this excitement.

But even before my leave started, we had to decorate at least one of our classroom bulletin boards with Jennifer Hudson stuff. It got to be kind of ridiculous, but I understand why we were so elated. Not many of our students go on to much success of any kind, much less the fame and acclaim of Jennifer Hudson. (Although I think it's important to mention that my school has several famous graduates: Lou Rawls, Mr. T, and Bernie Shaw -- the retired CNN newsman.)

Once I got home from school, I heard about the shootings of Jennifer's mother and brother, and that her nephew was missing. It is so sad and awful, and watching the footage of her sister Julia on the news was very upsetting. It's amazing to me that Jennifer was able to even make it out of the Englewood neighborhood. If I were her, I would never come back.

All weekend I think everyone was hoping that her nephew would be ok, but I expected the worst. It took me an hour and a half to get to work on Monday, thanks to two accidents on the Kennedy Expressway. I got to work and was pretty miserable already. Then I found out that Jennifer's nephew Julian had been found dead in her brother's stolen Suburban. Julian was seven years old. He had been shot seven times, including in the face. Who could do such a thing?

This story is receiving so much media attention because Jennifer Hudson is famous. Unfortunately, these sorts of tragedies happen all the time in this city. People wondered why no one called the police when neighbors heard gunshots around 9 a.m. on Friday. People hear gunshots all the time. The police aren't going to respond to that.

I think I'm too sensitive for this job. Then I think -- what the hell am I complaining about? I don't live in Englewood. I don't have to worry about hearing gunshots and ignoring them because the police won't come. I know that my children will get to attend good schools and are being raised in positive surroundings. Why should I get to be upset?

And more significantly, why aren't my students more upset? Why does this sort of tragedy have to be normal for them? I have been to maybe five funerals in my lifetime. My kids go to funerals all the time. You can't turn on the news or read the paper without hearing about another CPS student dying. A fifteen year old was killed in his home this week. It's out of control.

A few of my students have mentioned the Hudson family murders. One of my students is related to Jennifer -- his mother is her cousin. I had read an article in the Chicago Tribune about the murders, and my student's mother was quoted. She is a minister. I asked the student how he was, and he said he was fine. He doesn't talk much. I wonder how a minister deals with a situation like this. How does God let this happen?

According to the Tribune, William Balfour, Julia Hudson's estranged husband and the main suspect in the murders, was supposed to have a parole meeting on Friday. Instead he called his parole officer and said he was babysitting. That makes me want to throw up. I don't understand how you could kill anyone, but least of all a child. How do you kill a child? How can you shoot him seven times? Including in the face? I will never understand that level of depravity.

I'm really trying to find something positive to write about. I've got to stop thinking about this stuff. I wish that these stories would go away, but they aren't. That's one of the tough things about a job like mine. I hear and see this stuff all the time. I am not as tough as my students. I'm not inured to this stuff. I don't want to be. This stuff should affect people. I just wish I knew what to do about it.

Here's What I'm Dealing With. . .

2008-10-22T19:15:00.003-05:00

My students have many, many obstacles in their way. Most of them live in substandard housing. Most have been educated in substandard schools, so they don't have the necessary academic skills to aid in their success. And most have family lives that are unstable.

But there is another obstacle that I think is a huge detriment to their lives. They have no idea how to handle conflict. Their lives are riddled with conflict, and they respond in the least positive manner possible.

I have thought for a while now that if I had really wanted to be a successful teacher in CPS, I should have gotten a master's degree in social work instead of one in secondary education. I think every teacher in an urban district should have to have a social work background. We deal with so many issues that have nothing to do with the curriculum, but they take over everything else in the classroom. At least with that kind of training, perhaps some good could be accomplished.

Two incidents today reminded me of this need for conflict management skills. Both incidents happened during the same class period. It was, as usual, a long day.

My fifth period class is definitely my best class on my new schedule. It's a junior class, and there was a science teacher covering that class for five weeks. The teacher actually gave the students meaningful work to do and so the class was not just chaos for the first few weeks of the year. When I got them, they were glad to have a real teacher.

We were supposed to go to the computer lab today, but there was a mix up in the scheduling, so we had to go back to my classroom. As I had not prepared a day's lesson (I really should know better than that -- that's another issue), I was scrambling to find something for my kids to work on.

I'm sitting at my desk taking attendance on my computer. Suddenly these two girls in my class, Ebony and Ashley, start yelling and screaming at each other. Ebony was my student last year, and I know she can be quick to fly off the handle. She was suspended for fighting several times last year. But she's a good girl, and she had talked to me about how she wants to work hard this year, get good grades, and not get into so many fights.

Ashley I don't know well, but she seems like a nice girl. This was one of the first times I had heard her say much. She usually just sits at her desk and does her work. I should mention that Ashley is eight months pregnant.

So these two continue to scream and shout and curse at each other. I'm yelling at them to stop. It looks as if they are going to start fighting. I have a policy of not breaking up fights, because I have seen too many teachers get punched or knocked over, and I just don't think it's worth it. Plus, as long as I have yelled "Stop!" I have fulfilled my legal obligation. I yelled "Stop!" at least ten times.

This goes on. Kids are milling outside my door trying to get a view of the fight. Another teacher walks in and tries to get the girls to stop. He gives up fairly quickly. There is no security guard on the 3rd floor -- according to some of the kids in the hall watching my girls, there was a big fight downstairs, so all the security has been diverted.

Finally I walk over to Ebony and grab her by the shoulders. I keep saying, over and over, "Ebony. Ebony. Ebony. Ebony. Just stop. It's not worth it. You don't have to have the last word. Stop it."

Ebony is yelling at Ashley that she won't hit her, because she doesn't fight pregnant girls, that she won't go to jail for assaulting Ashley's baby. Ashley keeps yelling back to not worry about her baby -- that she is going to kick Ebony's ass.

(One thing about my kids, they respect pregnancy. Since becoming pregnant, no one will let me carry anything, and the kids are a bit less likely to curse at me. I often hear things like, "If you weren't pregnant Mrs. Fuji, you'd get it," and the like.)

I keep chanting in Ebony's ear. She stops and looks at me. I repeat that it's not worth it, just to let it go, and that this is stupid. That I know she's trying to have a good year.

After about five more minutes of this, Ebony sits down. Ashley yells a bit more, then she sits down, too. Another student, Kiara, sits between them. She is friends with both of them, so she decides that she will keep them separated.

Now I'm trying to figure out what to do next. I decide that we are going to take a little field trip. I still don't have the books I need to teach my new schedule. I get the key to the book room, and make all my kids (minus Ashley, who is still mad and shouldn't be carrying books in her advanced stage of pregnancy) go to the book room with me and carry books to our classroom.

We get to the book room on the first floor. The room is pretty small -- it's basically a big closet. So most of the kids are outside the room in the hallway while I sort through the books and figure out which ones to get.

I'm doing that, when I hear loud male voices yelling and cursing. I'm thinking, "Now what???" I hear someone cursing out one of my students. I walk out, and it's a security guard calling my student many, many inappropriate names, and acting like he's going to punch my student in the mouth.

My student, Clarence, is yelling back, although I don't think he cursed at the security guard. The security guard (who is also the assistant football coach) is getting more and more agitated. He's called Clarence a pussy and a bitch and a motherfucker. Clarence is telling him that he can't say that stuff to him; he's just a security guard. The guard yells that he is a man and Clarence is a bitch and he will call him whatever he pleases. On and on and on. He keeps getting closer to Clarence, as if he is going to hit him.

I'm yelling at Clarence to just walk away, just come into the book room with me. That again, this is not worth it.

At last Clarence comes into the book room and the guard walks away. We get our books and get back to the classroom.

In the classroom, I ask Clarence to explain to me what happened to start this encounter. He said that the guard yelled at Clarence and some of the other boys in the hall to be quiet. Which was definitely warranted. Clarence replied that the guard was just mad because his football team keeps losing. Clarence says he was just playing around when he said that, but obviously the guard was unhappy about that remark.

So the guard became unhinged and that's when the yelling and cursing began. I reminded Clarence that when a student is in a situation like that, he is not going to win. No matter what. Our security guards get away with murder. They often pick fights with the kids they don't like. They goad them into fighting with them, so they have an excuse to send them home for a few days. I told Clarence I was proud of him for not letting it get to that level.

Then I'm trying to decide what to do about this guard. On the one hand, I want report him to the administration. His behavior was completely out of hand and inappropriate and unprofessional. No way should that be ok.

However, he is a security guard, and more importantly, he is a coach. There is no way on this earth that I will win this battle. Were I to report him, I would be ignored (at best) by administration, and for the rest of the year the security guards would go out of their way to torture me.

The security guards are a tight knit bunch. They have been known to sexually harass some of the female students and staff, but with me, they are good. I talk football with them. They all know that I went to Arkansas and am a huge Arkansas fan. Many of them are fans of the SEC, so this works in my favor. I talk football with them, they are nice to me, and if I have a student who is a problem, I can usually count on them to take him off my hands for a class period until things calm down.

This particular guard has always been nice to me. I know he played football at Illinois for at least a season, although I thought he had told me that he had a degree from there. He absolutely seems more educated and together than many of the guards. I decide that I will talk to him myself.

The next class period I realize that there are still some books I haven't gotten. I take those kids to the book room. (See how I exploit my students?) On the way there, we run into that security guard.

The kids walk on, and I ask the guard if I can talk to him for a moment. He stops and I said, "Look, I know Clarence made you mad, but you just can't respond like that to a student. You are the grown up here. I try so hard to make these kids understand the correct way to deal with situations like that."

He said that the kid was mouthing off about things he shouldn't have. I told him I understood. That I know the kids can push your buttons. But that I have to remind myself, often, that I'm the adult. That I have to try to set a good example.

Then I reminded him that these kids have no examples of people who handle conflict positively. And that they have so few adult male role models. That they need to see him, a grown man, behaving appropriately. Please, next time, just try not to lash out like that, because it is just not helpful.

He said that he was over it, and was done. He said, "But I bet that kid is still upset about it." I said that I thought that kid was still upset about it. And that that's part of the problem.

Then he said it was no big deal. That he gets this kind of shit from his woman at home all the time, that he sure doesn't need it at work. I wasn't sure what he meant by that, but I thanked him for his time and went to get the rest of my books.

At this point in my career, I have changed my measure of success. I used to think I'd turn my kids on to the beauty and magic of literature. Now, if I can get a few kids to think that reading is not the worst thing in the world, that's something. But if I can get even a couple of kids to see that you don't have to make everything into a fight, that is a bigger accomplishment.(I'm not sure if that has happened.)

My kids always ask me if I've been in any fights. I tell them never in my life. They ask if I ever get mad. I tell them, all the damn time. But I pick my battles. When my boss makes me change a kid's grade, or talks down to me, of course I get mad. But unlike my kids, I don't feel the need to put her in her place. I say, "Yes ma'am" and I move on.

The smartest thing I have ever learned in my life, and that I tell my students regularly, is to just shut your mouth. When in doubt, don't say anything. I tell my students that this policy has saved me so much time and kept me out of so much trouble. That that is pretty much the secret to my success so far. They never believe me, but it's true.

I try to make them understand that they spend so much time and energy on this perception of how tough they are. I don't care what people think of me. They'll say that my boss might think I am weak. I tell them that why should I care? I know I'm not weak. I'm getting my paycheck, doing my job. I'm not going to waste valuable energy on crap like that. Life is too short.

There was a shooting on a Chicago Transit Authority bus a couple of weeks ago. A CPS senior girl was killed. She was just sitting on the bus. Do you know why she got shot? Because an idiot walked past another idiot on the bus, and accidentally brushed the other idiot's arm. This led to an argument, and both idiots had guns. The one idiot got off the bus, but shot into the bus as he left. And now a 17 year old girl is dead.

How is it worth it? I ask my kids that all the time. I don't understand why something that trivial takes on life or death meaning. Having to have the last word should not create a life or death situation. You are not very tough when you are dead.

I worry about my kids all the time. So far, I only know for certain that two of my former students (this is my 6th year teaching in CPS) are in jail, but there are probably more than that. I don't think any of my former students are dead, but I don't know. I know that the reason such a huge deal is made out of eighth grade graduation, prom, and high school graduation is that these are three of the only milestones many of our kids achieve.

But maybe if our kids could learn how to deal with conflict, they could accomplish more milestones? Maybe then I wouldn't get yelled at or cursed at so much. Maybe then my kids could ride the bus in peace. Maybe they could live much longer lives, and fewer of them would go to prison. There would certainly be fewer fights. Maybe I should spend more time on that, and worry less about grammar. I wish I had more answers.

They Turned on the Freakin Heat!

2008-10-17T11:16:00.000-05:00

Yesterday was the first day in several weeks when it was actually pretty seasonal outside and not super hot. We've had a long Indian Summer in Chicago, and most Chicagoans are really enjoying it. But if you teach in a high school with no air conditioning, in a tiny classroom on the third floor, these last few weeks have been hell. I hate when people misuse the word "literally," but I think it may apply in this instance.

I got to work yesterday morning, and after opening my two working windows, it was not too bad in my room. It was still on the warm side, but definitely bearable. I thought, "I'm going to start the day without being miserable!"

The high in Chicago was around 58 degrees, I believe. Cool enough to warrant wearing a jacket to work. I know better, though. I still only wear short sleeved shirts. I usually just throw on a hoodie, discarding it as soon as I get to my classroom.

After 3rd period, I walked over to a colleague's room. It was an oven in there. I asked what the deal was. Then we realized -- they had turned on the heat. You could see the heat radiating against the open windows.

I walked back to my room, and there it was. Apparently October 15 is the day CPS turns the heat on in its schools. Our school, of course, would be late in following such a directive.

But it's not cold yet. I don't understand this. CPS is so lax about so many things. Yet this is the one thing they get done in a timely fashion. I guess I should consider this a good thing. I don't. It's hot!

The kids walked in to my 5th period class, and immediately started yelling at me. They always assume that white people are just naturally cold, and that it was my idea to turn on the heat. Once they stop yelling and I can get a word in edgewise, I explain to them that I am not responsible for this decision. That I'm not responsible for many decisions at this school. And yes, I am also hot.

It's cooler outside today, so it's not as bad. Hopefully fall is finally here. It's a sin to complain about such things when there is an Arctic Chicago winter on the horizon, but I don't care. It'll always be hot in this room -- as it does get cold, the heat gets turned up. There is a schedule to the discomfort.

On Mondays and Tuesdays, it's really cold, because they turn off the heat over the weekend, and it takes a couple of days for the building to warm up. So those are the days when it's safe to wear a sweater or a long sleeved shirt -- seasonally appropriate clothing.

On Wednesdays, the heat is starting to kick in, so it's best to wear a t-shirt and open the windows.

By Thursday and Friday, it's stiflingly hot. You'll be sweating by the end of 5th period. Some people actually change into sleeveless tops and capri pants. The coaches wear shorts. I am jealous of the coaches in their shorts.

But no matter how hot it is, I'll still have kids wearing long sleeved shirts, hoodies, and jackets (all at the same time) yelling about how hot they are. I yell back to remove some layers. They refuse.

Then there's always one student who insists she's cold, and wants to shut the windows. She never wins -- the kids would riot if the windows were closed. And I'd be right there with them.

Here's What I'm Doing Right Now. . . (updated!)

2008-10-10T11:35:00.001-05:00

...Sitting in an empty classroom. I kind of like sitting in an empty room. It's really quiet. But I'm supposed to be sitting in a room of 22 students. I'm not sure the students know that, though.

I took last Friday and this Monday off to go visit my family in Arkansas. I won't get to travel for much longer, and I wanted to see everyone again before my new baby boy arrives (he's due in January). So we finally found a decent fare and off we went. We had a fantastic time.

I get back to work on Tuesday, having no idea what wonders were awaiting me. I will have to give you some background.

At the end of last school year, the English Department at my school was short three teachers. One teacher retired, one found a much better job, and one is on long-term leave after a car accident.

Our enrollment for this school year is up, so we have a lot of students sitting in empty classrooms. CPS won't hire more teachers until it has determined that the numbers of enrolled students justifies it. So for the past six weeks, teachers have been covering classes without pay. And if no teacher volunteered (and I use the word "volunteered" sarcastically) to cover a class, there was no teacher in the classroom at all. Just a few kids sitting by themselves.

CPS conducted an attendance audit a couple of weeks ago -- meaning someone from downtown came to our school and helped count each student. This gave us the impression that we would be hiring more teachers.

But apparently Arne Duncan (CPS's Chief Educational Officer) is mad at my school. Someone anonymously emailed him to complain that there were not enough teachers, and that teachers were being forced to cover classes during their lunch periods without pay. The emailer then asked why Arne didn't care about the teachers or students at my school.

My principal was notified of the email, and she is now saying that we were given permission to hire more teachers, but as a result of this email, Arne is mad and has pulled those positions.

Which makes absolutely no sense. I think it is much safer to assume that she is mad and wants to know who sent the email. Since she doesn't know, she is going to take care of things her own way.

I got to work on Tuesday to find out that all of my classes have been dissolved. I was teaching freshmen reading, which is not required for graduation. It was just a supplemental class to help those students who needed extra work in reading and writing.

In each class on Tuesday, all day long, the programmer's assistant came into my classes and gave the kids their new schedules. Which resulted in their being crazier than ever. I kept asking the assistant when I would get my new schedule, but he said he didn't know.

At the end of the day, I went to the programmer and asked if I had a new schedule. He gave

As we can't hire more teachers, I have to be moved into classes that are required for graduation. I'm now teaching one section of freshmen English and four sections of junior English.

The freshmen class I now have has been covered by a Spanish teacher. Three of my junior classes were being covered by other teachers, but my 8th period class has never had a teacher. Or a sub. Just kids sitting by themselves for six weeks. I thought they would be excited to have a teacher, but they are not. Apparently they enjoyed having nothing to do for six weeks.

Yesterday I took my new 5th period class to the auditorium to have their school pictures taken. A kid came in and said that a teacher told him that she was his teacher and not me. I went to investigate and found out that that was no longer my class. They had a sub again.

After school I asked the programmer to please give me that class again, since they were actually happy to have a teacher and I could tell they were a good class. He said he fixed the mistake, and that class is now on my roster in the computer system we use for grades and attendance.

But none of the kids (any of my new students from any of the five classes) has been given a new schedule. So I'm assuming my students are in the other teacher's classroom (the teacher who is a sub).

Of course, today is Homecoming at my school, so it could just be that my entire class is in the hall getting ready for the parade. It's hard to say.

Doesn't that seem ridiculous?

There's the bell -- now we shall see if I have any students in my 6th period class. No one so far. I'm not holding my breath.

I forgot to mention one somewhat funny part of this narrative. When the programming assistant came into my classes to give the kids their new schedules, they all freaked out. So he told them that they had gotten so much smarter in the last five weeks that they no longer needed that extra reading class. That they were all smart now. Swear to God he told all my kids that. Which means I must be an amazing teacher to foment such improvement so quickly! Maybe I'll get a raise.

The First Month of School

2008-09-28T19:14:00.002-05:00

I've survived the first month of the school year, and so far it's been a doozy. I'm teaching five sections of freshmen reading, which is not my dream position. I have never enjoyed teaching freshmen, and these particular freshmen have been identified as needing an extra English class in an attempt to boost their scores. Their reading scores are far below grade level, even more so than our average student.

I'm not a reading teacher, and there is no real curriculum for the class, so I'm kind of winging it. I know most of these kids hate to read, so my goal is for them to find something they enjoy reading, so perhaps they'll see reading as a joy and not a burden. I'm not sure if that's working yet, but that is what I'm aiming for.

There have been two major challenges I've been dealing with thus far. One, it's been incredibly hot in Chicago this school year, and my lovely school does not have air conditioning. I teach on the third floor and it is an oven in there. Only two windows open in my room. There is rarely a breeze. How ever hot it is outside, it's about twenty degrees hotter in my room. Makes for a fun environment! The kids bitch and moan to no end. It is so frustrating. And makes it really hard to get through a lesson.

After every long Chicago winter, violence in the city escalates when it gets warm. My kids always explain, "When it gets hot, they start shooting." The statistics would seem to prove this statement. When it's hot, tempers shorten and people get really agitated. When you cram 27 or 28 students into a small, ventilation-free 100 degree classroom, you can imagine how effective that is in creating tension. (Not to mention I'm six months pregnant. I keep telling the kids, "However miserable you are, I'm more miserable!" They don't care.

The other challenge is that some genius from my school thought it would be a good idea to put all the freshmen students into "pods." Some of the pods are single sex, but most are mixed sex. So these kids are together all day long, including PE and lunch. Which is not what high school should be.

Furthermore, the bad kids (of which there are many) are having a negative effect on the good kids. Because they are stuck together all day long. I feel so bad for the kids who I can see want to learn something and are at least somewhat excited about school. The unmotivated students (I know I should not use the word "bad," and I don't mean it literally, it is just a fast description) tend to gobble up most of my attention, because many of them have incredibly terrible attitudes. I've been cursed out more this year than any since my first teaching job six years ago. And these are freshmen. It's pretty shocking the behavior I've been subjected to. And it's not even October.

I always try to do some kind of icebreaker activity at the beginning of the school year to get to know my students better. This year I had my students write me a letter describing themselves and defining three goals they want to achieve in my class.

It was amazing. In 90% of the letters, the students would write about how great they were, how much they loved school, and how they would not be a problem in my class. But every one of those letters added this caveat -- that the student was great until I got on his or her bad side. When and if that happened, the student would have to put me in my place, because he or she has a temper and that is just how it works.

I find this attitude incredible. It's not new -- I have always heard this from students. But it still never fails to astonish me. I think this is a huge problem for my students. They seem to have no idea how to get along with people who don't follow this philosophy.

I'm reading these letters thinking, "Seriously?" As if I could put my principal in her place when she made me mad, because she had gotten on my bad side? How will my students ever be able to hold down jobs with this attitude? I have told the kids that it's not my job to adjust to their personality flaws -- it is their job to overcome them. But they don't seem to believe me.

When I meet their parents, I see where they get it. I've had many a parent try to put me in my place for daring to question their child or give their child a failing grade. These are usually the parents who have never returned a phone call, who have never made any effort to contact me. They show up for the last fifteen minutes of "Report Card Pickup Day" ready to kick my ass. They chew me out, even as I'm trying to show them that their angel has missed 27 class sessions, has never come to class on time, and has never turned in an assignment. It makes for a fun day.

I am trying a new philosophy of my own this semester, however. We'll see how it goes. I really enjoy reading Alan Kazdin's writing about child discipline. He is often published on Slate.com. I bought his book The Kazdin Method for Parenting the Defiant Child.

My daughter is only 19 months old, and I don't think she'll be defiant. But most of my students are constantly defiant, so I thought the book was a good investment. Basically, Kazdin believes that you should try to ignore bad behavior and praise the hell out of good behavior.

This is probably much easier with your own child. No matter how defiant your own child is, he is still your child and you love him. I don't love that many of my students, especially not the defiant ones. But I'm trying.

I have one class with four problem students. Three males and one female. They are doing their best to control the class. They are four of the most awful, disrespectful students I've ever had. And they are together all day long, feeding off each other. It's great.

Two of these boys cursed me out the second day of school. And the third. The girl in this group spent one class last Tuesday yelling and screaming and singing at the top of her lungs about how awful and bogus and unfair I was. There was no security on the floor, so I had to just sit there taking deep breaths and ignoring her. She kept screaming, "You have no control!!!" It was the first time I ever truly contemplated just getting up and walking out and never coming back.

But it made me mad that she was acting like this in my class. So I just kept sitting there, taking deep breaths. And emailing my friends. It would have been funny except that it was in my class and it was just getting worse and worse. Then this student, whose name is Precious (that's a misnomer if ever there were one) started yelling about how hot it was. Then more about how bogus and unfair and awful I was and how much she hated me.

It is really hard for me to say anything positive to her. I would prefer to never speak to her ever. But I'm employing Kazdin's methodology. Each day that she is good in my class, which means she is not combative or rude (she doesn't do any work), I praise her for how well she's behaving and thank her.

I'm using the same technique with the three boys. I find something good to say to each of them each day. If they are reading, I praise them. If they are not reading, but not talking either, I praise them. If they have gone through a whole class without cursing at them, I praise them a lot. In one of the boys, I can already see an improvement. With the other two, I can't tell yet.

If I survive this class until Christmas break (which is when my maternity leave begins, hallelujah!), I will most likely have Kazdin to thank for it. But if I don't make it, I'm holding him personally responsible.

It's supposed to be cooler this week, so perhaps I'll see an improvement from my students do to that factor alone. Cross your fingers for me.

This Makes Me Furious! (And makes my job harder)

2008-09-11T10:22:00.000-05:00

I am completely against the idea of paying students for grades. So seeing this story first thing this morning in the Chicago Tribune made my already stressful morning that much more infuriating.

As anyone who has read my stuff knows (thank you, to my seven awesome readers!), I teach in a low income African American high school on the South Side of Chicago. My students are reluctant learners at best. They are several years below grade level in reading and math. Most of them (90%) receive free or reduced price lunch. Many live in public housing projects. To say they have many challenges in their lives would be an understatement.

Trying to motivate students with these challenges is one of my greatest challenges. My kids don't see the value of education. All they really seem to understand or appreciate is money. So paying them to get better grades makes the idea of learning as its own reward impossible.

And this is a problem, in my opinion. I want my students to be independent thinkers and learners. This is hard, as they have received subpar educations all their lives. But I don't think it's impossible. If I could just help them believe in the idea that education matters. Monetizing their achievements (and I use that word lightly, as grade inflation is a huge problem) further reduces the idea that learning should be its own reward.

When I went to graduate school to become a teacher, I dreamed of having these amazing rhetorical discussions about literature. I thought maybe I'd have a "Oh captain, my captain" moment like in the movie "Dead Poets Society." I dreamed I would have many such moments. It hasn't happened yet, but I can still dream.

But I think that one of the reasons I haven't had any of these moments is because my kids don't know how to think that way. They don't know how to let literature carry them away. The magic of language is lost on them. They know how to find answers to recall questions in a story, because that is all they have been taught to do. But they have no clue as to how to delve deeper into a text and really absorb it. It breaks my heart.

Now they will have even less of a reason to figure out how to do that. Now they will do exactly what they think the teacher wants them to, so they can get the grade and earn from $20 to $50. They won't care what they learned, they will just want the grade so they can plan on their next shopping trip.

So many of my students are on public assistance. They get vouchers to help them pay for rent. They get a Link card (electronic food stamps) to pay for groceries. They know that having another child will increase the amount of assistance they get. Many of them live with parents or guardians who don't work.

They don't see the value in much of anything. Which is tragic and sad.

I am not arguing against public assistance programs -- please understand. I think we have an obligation to help those less fortunate. But the problem with these programs is that they don't seem to give people the tools to not need help. My kids take it for granted that they will never have to pay full price for housing or have to pay for groceries.

And now they will take it for granted that school is just another way to perhaps make a little money. With no thought into what school is supposed to be.

If we raise a generation (not counting the ones we've already raised) who can't think independently, then who is going to write the next great American novels? Who is going to figure out how to solve our energy crisis? Who is going to tackle the problems that my generation and the ones before have left?

This is another example of how we further cripple our poorest children. It is almost like we want to keep them poor and in need of our assistance. I just don't understand when this is going to stop or when we will figure out that our current system of public education is not working.

Crazy People Make Me Tired

2008-09-04T18:47:00.004-05:00

I just had a rather unpleasant and flummoxing email exchange with a guy from Etsy. I am not sure what to think about it, other than the man is crazy and I should just let it go.

A couple of months ago I ordered a couple of items from Builderstudio. I ordered a little flying saucer charm and a Santa ornament made out of robot parts. The guy doesn't take paypal, so I had to send him a check. I didn't get the order for a long time. I emailed him as to when he had sent it, and he responded that the package had been returned to him. Which was weird.

So he sent out the package again. When the items arrived, they just weren't very cute. I know that I ordered based on pictures, and sometimes things aren't quite what you expect. No biggie. I thought, "Well, now I know not to order from him again."

On Etsy, they want you to give feedback regarding your purchasing experience. I rated my experience with Builderstudio as neutral. Meaning it was neither good nor bad. And I added that the items were not what I expected. Which is true.

So today I get an email from this guy complaining about his neutral feedback and requesting I change them. He said he didn't deserve negative feedback.

I replied that it wasn't negative feedback, it was neutral feedback. Then he responded that that was unfair and that I gave no reason for the problem, etc. I tried to explain to him why I found the experience neutral. I should have just not responded in the first place, because I do think he probably is crazy and I could tell he was really offended. But I couldn't help myself. I finally said that I just didn't think the stuff was that cute in person and that's fine - he got paid, I got the order, whatever.

Then he gets really irate. He said that how could his stuff not be cute when he had pictures of them? This was in all caps. Now look, sometimes you see a picture and then the real thing isn't what you expected. It's not a big deal.

He then wrote this:

"Well, it took two quesries jsut to get any details from you. And not too
cute? THEY ARE THE SAME AS IN THE PHOTOS... no different. And you never emailed me about the problem, that's annoying. And a neutral is NOT a neatral, it's a negative
(viewed as such), a true neutral is to leave NO FEEDBACK! I certainly was waiting to hear what the actual problem was before offering a refund, which you never gave. And now you shut me out? You had no right to leave that neutral because you got what you saw in the pics and everyone loves them. PLease don't contact me again unless you are willing to withdraw the feedback." (All the typos are his; he is too crazy to proofread.) (I love how he says "everyone loves them." Not everyone, buddy!)

By this time, I'm pretty annoyed. I did contact him one more time (I just can't help myself) telling him he is very unpleasant and that I will never purchase from him again.

He wrote this:

"Good, as I would not sell to you. Treat a person as you would be treated. Now do not contact me again, second request."

I have no interest in contacting him again. I am a little afraid he is going to try to come to my house and murder me.

I did try to go to Etsy and change my neutral feedback to negative, but they don't let you do that. I would like to somehow let others know that if you make him unhappy he will harass you. But I am just going to let it go and hope he doesn't come to my house and try to kill me. When I got the package, the handwriting on the address label was very child-like. He probably still lives with him mom and all he has are his little figurines he makes for people.

But I would recommend that you not order from him. That's my advice to you. Whatever you do, don't use my name. Seriously, I think he's scary.

Here's a pic of the flying saucer. It is ok, but would be much cuter if it were smaller. It's too big to be a charm or pendant. I am not sure what to do with it. I'll probably hang it on the Christmas tree, too.

Here's a pic of the robot Santa. It really wasn't that cute even in the picture. Don't know what I was thinking.

We're Having a Boy!

2008-08-26T18:46:00.004-05:00

Meet Hideo William!

My 20 week ultrasound was this morning. It was quite arduous, really. The technician asked if we wanted to know the sex of the baby (Todd met me at the clinic). I yelled, "Yes! I've been waiting for this moment for months!" Luckily, the baby was in the right position and she could tell right away we were having a boy!

I was kind of expecting a girl, but one she said boy, I got really excited and teary. I know it will be so fun and interesting and kinda scary to raise a boy. But I also think it is pretty great to get to have both a girl and a boy. It'll be neat to see the differences from this baby compared to Emiko. And I have already promised Hideo that I will never say, "Your sister did this, why can't you?" Or things of that nature.

After finding the sex, the technician was going through looking to make sure all the structures are in place. The 20 week ultrasound is a genetic ultrasound -- they want to see that the baby has all his parts and is developing properly.

The technician wasn't that friendly to start with. Then she was trying to get a good image of the back of baby's head. Baby Boy was not cooperating, and she was getting really frustrated. Which was freaking me out a little. Finally I asked if everything was ok, and she softened up a bit. She said the doctor likes all of the pictures to be in order, so that was why she was being fussy. She was pressing down on my belly really hard.

Finally she got an image of the back of the head that satisfied her. Then she took more images and things were going fine.

Next she was looking at Baby's heart. Then she started to get really frustrated and was really bearing down on my belly. I could see the baby's heart and we had listened to the heartbeat. But she still wanted to better image. Baby was not moving into the correct position -- I guess his arm was in the way. So this went on, with her pressing down on me and complaining about my baby, for a good twenty minutes. I'm getting really nervous because the heart is rather important!

My head is flooding with worries about neonatologist heart specialists and surgery and how I'm going to have to not use my nurse midwives. Finally the tech said that she was going to get another technician to come in, who was a heart expert. She said that the doctor had been called out on an emergency, so he couldn't help. But that this other tech would be able to get a good image of the heart.

The new tech came in and was much nicer than the first one. She was looking at Baby, and then she asked me if I had had genetic counseling. She then reminded me that I'm 35 (that whole Advanced Maternal Age thing again). That really upset me. I said, "No, we opted not to do that. Other than my age, neither of us has any family history of problems." She said that was fine, that everything was fine. I said, "Are you sure everything is ok?" She said that yes, she couldn't get a really good view of the heart, but that there was nothing to worry about. She said that if the doctor wanted me to come back in, he would call me.

So then I calmed down and felt better. It was tough, though. I realized later that she asked about genetic counseling because had I opted to have it and an amnio, this ultrasound would have required a follow up. But without that context, it's really scary.

The good news is, all is fine. Baby Boy has been mad at me all day, though, due to all the poking around. Which wasn't my fault! I've been nauseated and felt kinda crappy ever since. But luckily I've been too busy emailing and texting people the happy news to be too distracted.

OK, so this was a lot of detail. Sorry about that.

Tomorrow is my first day back at work. My summer is over!! I'm sure I'll be bitching about that more soon.

Yuck!!!!!!

2008-08-20T15:08:00.001-05:00

I kinda wish I hadn't read this story. But since I did, I feel you should read it, too. Sorry.

Vacation in the Wisconsin Dells!

2008-08-18T11:42:00.007-05:00

Emiko liked wearing her moose antlers from Moosejaw Pizza for a little while.

We took Emiko to the Wisconsin Dells last weekend. Todd and I had been to the Dells once before, Thanksgiving of 2005. We had a great time that trip, even though it was just the two of us. But we knew that the Dells were super family-oriented, so once Emiko was here we knew we would have to take a trip with her.

When we got there, it was too early to check into our room, so we played some Pirate's Cove Putt Putt. Todd won, but I think that's primarily due to Emiko stealing my ball. (And my lack of coordination!) But Emiko did pretty well -- although she got bored after awhile.

Lake Delton flooded away in June, and the resorts on the lake have been suffering this summer as a result. We felt it our duty to help out these resorts by staying in one of them. We stayed at Baker's Sunset Resort. It was nice -- outdated, but nice. And we had a big room with a fridge and microwave, which is essential when traveling with a toddler.

This is what Lake Delton looks like now.

The resort had a kiddie pool that was perfect for Emiko. She loved sliding down the slide and splashing in the water. Stupid Mommy had forgotten to pack Emiko's swimsuit, but she's a toddler, so she can get away with wearing a dress with her Elmo swim diaper. Emiko really loves Elmo!

We went to the Wisconsin Deer Farm, where there are dozens of deer for you to feed and pet. Emiko really liked feeding the deer, once she got over her initial fear. She cracks me up, because even when she is afraid, she won't back down. She's a tough little girl. This will probably get us in trouble later on!

We took Emiko to the Riverfront Amusement Park, because they had a Moby Dick carnival ride that she absolutely loved. Every time the ride started, she would freak out and start pointing and stomping her feet! She really wanted to ride that ride! We promised her when she's older she'll get to.

The other hilarious thing was Emiko's dancing. That little girl loves to dance. I think it's one of the funniest things I've ever seen in my entire life. So we would walk along the carnival midway with the games, and she'd stop at the different booths and dance to the music. She also would point out the Elmo dolls that had we been better parents, we would have tried to win for her. (Don't worry, she's getting an Elmo from Santa this year!) The carnival workers would change the music so she'd dance some more. One girl got so cracked up she had to walk away. Random people walking by would stop and watch her and laugh. I think we could make money off this child if we were a bit crazier!!!

We took a Duck Ride, which was super fun. We don't any pictures of that, because we were sitting in the front row of the Duck, and I was hanging on to Emiko for dear life. Usually Todd holds Emiko when we are on a boat or something, but Emiko wanted me to hold her. Our driver looked about 15, but apparently he was 19. He was funny, though, and we made it across land and water without incident. I had no idea how beautiful the Dells were.

On our way out of town we stopped at the Market Square Cheese Store. There was a huge line -- everyone buying cheese on our way home? I bought some cheese and chocolate and yet another Sprecher's cream soda. Then Emiko and I posed with the big mouse, hopped in the car, and made our way back to the Land o' Lincoln.

Here's Emiko drinking Daddy's water.

It was a great weekend, and I'm sure we'll go again next summer with our two children. Two children! Wow!

Oh, and for my Arkansas friends -- the Dells is a lot like Branson, but without all the tour buses full of old people. There was a ton of traffic, but it's all just families from Wisconsin or Illinois, none of whom are very good drivers. Definitely a younger crowd than Branson.

She is So Cute!!!

2008-08-12T20:31:00.001-05:00

We spent last weekend in the Wisconsin Dells. I have more to blog about it, but here's my favorite video of Emiko. She loves to dance and will dance any chance she gets. At the carnival, one of the girls working a game had to leave because she was laughing so hard at Emiko's dancing.

Good Question

2008-08-11T14:19:00.002-05:00

I just read this article in Daily Babble. The article makes some great points about the sexism in the childcare and education industries. I agree that children benefit from male role models and need more of them.

I know that at my school, the male teachers seem to be much more popular than the female teachers. The fact that so few of my students have involved fathers probably has something to do with that. The novelty factor is important, too.

But the sexism regarding these industries is a problem. My brother-in-law is a teacher and an assistant football coach. My father still thinks that it is not manly to be a teacher, and it kind of drives him crazy that his son-in-law teaches. He definitely appreciates his being a coach (this is the South we are talking about), but since he's not a head coach and therefore still has to teach, that's not enough for my dad.

It is hard not to be afraid of men, though. I have to admit, that even though I love when there is a changing table in the men's room so my husband gets to change Emiko, that a little part of me worries there could be some leering man in there with his cellphone waiting to take pictures of my baby girl. This is crazy, I realize, and it doesn't stop me from letting my husband change Emiko anytime there is a table for him to use. But the thought still crosses my mind. It makes me mad.

And I don't blame men (or anyone else) for not wanting to be teachers. I don't get paid very well -- especially as I am required to live in the city of Chicago to teach here. Chicago is not an affordable city.

But it is even worse for daycare workers. I take Emiko to an in-home daycare, and we pay $200 per week. That is about the best price you can find for a licensed daycare that isn't scary. We love her daycare. Of course her provider deserves more money -- she gets $40 per day, which breaks down to less that $5 per hour per child. That is pitiful. I wish I could pay her more. She deserves more. She takes extremely good care of my baby. That is worth far more than $5 per hour.

I am not sure how to conclude this entry, other than to again lament how things are in this country. I still believe things can get better, and I certainly appreciate how involved Obama seems to be with his daughters. I also like the speeches he has made regarding paternal responsibility. So that could be a start. But we have a long way to go.

When Will Race No Longer Matter?

2008-08-06T13:44:00.001-05:00

This post is in response to my friend Olga Little's post "Race Does Matter." We decided to write our posts about race for Open Salon. But I figure I will just post it here, too, in case anyone is interested. So this is the post that I published on Open Salon this evening.

Olga and I are actually friends -- she and I work at the same high school on the South Side of Chicago. We teach in the same department. I am proud to call her my friend, and I'm very glad that she doesn't believe that she is just a "token" friend to me. She had written a comment to a NeilPaul post about race, and it inspired me to suggest we do a Point/Counterpoint dealing with race.

Almost as soon as I suggested it, I thought perhaps it was a terrible idea. See, I think it's one thing when an African American talks about race. That makes sense. But when a white person discusses race, it's hard to pull that off. It almost seems condescending -- what do I know about racism? And it's a really frightening topic. It is going to open me up to some really easy criticism from all sides. Am I ready for that?

I feel a great deal of guilt about being white sometimes. It's hard not to. Of course I believe that slavery was terrifically awful. I believe this country has done a horrible job dealing with those ghosts. My students always want to talk about slavery. They always wonder if my family owned slaves. I tell them that although my family is Southern, my people have always been poor. So we didn't own slaves. My people were sharecroppers. My people were also never members of the Klan. They were too poor to be politically involved.

When I started working in an African American school, I suddenly became a minority. My school is staffed primarily by African Americans. The white teachers and staff members are definitely in the minority. I know it's not the same as Olga's experiences -- I go home and I'm back where I started. But it is interesting the experiences I've had in this environment. So perhaps sharing these experiences will prove educational or enlightening.

The first time I was confronted with the idea of race, was in my interview for my first teaching job in Chicago. It was at another high school on the Far South Side. The interview was going fairly well, when the principal asked if anyone else had any questions for me. One of the assistant principals, who had been sitting quietly throughout the interview, spoke. He said, "You are white. How are you going to deal with teaching black kids?" I was taken aback and it took me a moment to answer. I think I stammered something about race not being the issue -- if I give the kids the skills they need it'll work out. Or something to that effect. I would like to believe I would have a better answer now.

At my school, I get the impression that many of the African Americans I work with are waiting for me to screw up. To say something completely inappropriate, so I will be exposed as the racist that I must be. Because if you are white, you must be racist, right? It is rather exhausting. It's almost as if this is a chance to turn the tables on the status quo. Now that the white person is powerless, let's take advantage. I can understand why people would want that opportunity. But it still isn't fun for me. I have never owned slaves. I have never not hired a qualified black applicant. I am not the Man. But I have to serve as the Man's representative. And that's not fair. Actually, fair is not the right word to use. None of this is fair. I don't want to get into fair. So instead I'll say that representing the Man is difficult.

I have had parents and administrators tell me that white people should not be teaching black children. I don't agree -- I just don't think that should matter. I do believe that white teachers have to do some homework in order to be effective teachers to urban black children. I was not ready for teaching urban black children when I started teaching in CPS (Chicago Public Schools). And I quickly realized that no one was going to help me. It was almost as if helping me would be giving a heads up to the other side, and no one wanted to be accused of that.

I turned to my own research to get me through. I read Other People's Children, by Lisa Delpit. It was a tough book to read, because I sometimes felt as though Delpit also believed that white people shouldn't teach black children. But her thesis also was if we are going to be there, we may as well do as little damage as possible. It was through this book that I realized that you have to prove yourself to black students. They don't care what your credentials are. And calling parents is not effective for classroom management -- the parents are usually not involved enough for that to work.

I learned from a fellow teacher the importance of saying "Hello" to everyone I pass in the hallway. White people are perfectly willing to say hi, but if I come across two people engaged in a conversation, I always thought it was rude to interrupt them to say hello. However, saying hello can be a gauge for African Americans as to how a white person is. So now I say hello to everyone. No matter if they seem busy or are on their phone. I make a concerted effort to say hello as unobtrusively but as obviously as possible.

I got married at the end of the first year teaching at the school where I teach with Olga (who came to my wedding). I took a few days off for the wedding, and when I came back to work, I brought an album of some pictures. I worked with a woman who was mean and hateful to me every time I had to deal with her the entire year. She was the treasurer, and I coached the girls bowling team that year. Each week I had to go to her and submit the paperwork to get a check to pay for the bowling. And despite my advanced education, I inexplicably filled out the exact same form incorrectly each week. Remarkable how dumb I am, really. So this woman would chew me out each week. I would play the "dumb white girl card." I hate playing that card, but it's much easier than having to have a big confrontation every time someone treats me like I'm a white idiot. It involves lots of "I'm so sorry. I can't believe I filled that form in wrong again. Wow! I don't know what is wrong with me."

At any rate, this woman helped make my first year at this school somewhat miserable. I brought my album to school, and she wanted to look at it. Which I found surprising. I gave her the album, and she flipped through the pages. She said, "You had a sister at your wedding?" I said that there were several black people at my wedding -- that I actually had some black friends. My friend Kim sang at my wedding. She just kept exclaiming, "Another sister! A brother! Another sister!" And then her attitude towards me completely changed. She was never mean or hateful to me again. I can't believe that's all it took. I'm not sure how you advertise that you have black friends, but I do suggest it. It could have saved me some trouble!

Olga writes in her post about her support of HBCUs (historically black colleges and universities). I understand her support of them -- I support them, too. But I don't think they are always the right fit for all of our students. Olga is able to navigate through the white world. I sometimes worry that she gets more scrutiny even than white teachers, since she does seem able to move from one world to the next.

However, many of our students do not navigate through the white world. They tend to be very isolated. Most of them have gone to black schools their whole lives. They live in all black neighborhoods. So for them, I think that an HBCU could be limiting. I think many of them would benefit from being around people different from themselves. I know that students still tend to segregate themselves -- in my college cafeteria, the black kids mostly sat together, as did the Asian kids, et cetera. But I think that even being around students and professors in class might give them a more realistic view of the world. While some of our students will never leave the South Side of Chicago, they should at least know how to deal with white people should they choose to leave. Or ever have a white boss. Or end of dating a white person and have to meet his or her parents. Just like I had to learn about black people, black people need to learn about white people. I think a disservice is being done otherwise. I think it is safe to say that many a disservice has been done to my students.

I guess the whole point I want to make is -- what do we do to bridge over these huge cultural divides? I tell my students that race is a social construct -- that biologically, we are the same. If I give blood, it can go to any patient with the same blood type. It doesn't matter the race of the patient. We have brought all these meanings to skin color that are made up.

But if we can't trust each other -- if a black person thinks I am befriending him or her just to increase my black friend quotient, or to impress my white friends with how diverse I am, then what are we going to do? If I avoid inviting a black person to a party because I'm afraid she'll think she's just a token, what next? How will we ever achieve the post-racial world that Obama promises?

If it's all about one-upmanship and keeping score, then we will never get anywhere. Then imagine all the white people who have never even had a conversation with a black person. Who are afraid that if blacks are equal to whites, suddenly the world will end and they will lose everything. That doesn't even make sense. I do worry, though, that that fear is one of the reasons why so little is done to truly improve our schools. I think that maybe people are afraid of how the country might change if we suddenly really started educating our urban black youth. Do we want to keep these students segregated to the South Side of Chicago? Do we want them to remain dependent on public assistance? Just so we can cling to our own prejudices? Is that what is going on here???

I suppose my realization is that we have a long way to go on both sides to get where we need to be. That the fear and bigotry is not just on the white side of the equation. But until we solve this equation, we will never achieve the greatness this country promises.

How Hard Is It to Install a Stupid Changing Table?

2008-07-30T14:02:00.002-05:00

(This rant is not about teaching or poverty or anything serious like that. But it is still something I consider important.)

At this point in my life, I really don't think I ask for that much. I have a wonderful husband and little girl. Another baby on the way. Life is good. All I really require these days is a good book, lots of sleep, and being around as many nice people as possible.

But when I take Emiko out to eat, I do expect that the bathroom will have a changing table. I don't think that's a huge demand. Especially when the restaurant takes the time to make a child's menu and has high chairs. Adding a changing table is easy and goes right along with those other things.

So why is it so hard to find places that offer them??? I assume that places that don't offer changing tables must not want my business. But I wish they would just put a notice on their front door, so I won't waste my time.

Yesterday Emiko and I had lunch at Baha Fresh. I was craving cheese dip, and there are not that many places in Chicago that have cheese dip. I don't know why cheese dip is a Southern thing, but it seems as though it is.

Baha Fresh has good cheese dip. I'm not a huge fan of their food otherwise, but the cheese dip is enough for me. Baha Fresh has a kids meal. They also have really nice high chairs. They even take the time to clean and shrink wrap the trays on the high chairs so you'll know that they are clean and ready for the next baby or toddler.

That attention to detail should be a good sign. But is it? NO! After Emiko and I finished our lunch, and I finished cleaning up the food she had thrown on the floor, we went to the ladies room. It's a huge one person facility. Was there a changing table? NO! There was a ton of room in there. They could have had an actual changing table, instead of just a folding one. But no changing table.

Thank God Emiko wasn't wet. I have changed her on bathroom floors, but I refuse to do that anymore. I have a friend who says I should just change her on top of the table, which is tempting. Serves the business right, I say.

If I'm in doubt, I change her in the car, but I shouldn't have to. I also try not to go places where I know there will be no changing table. I have a list of places I cannot go to any longer. For examples, Sweet Occasions in Andersonville. They have delicious red velvet cake, but that's too bad for me. I can't go there again. They have several individual facilities, all of which are big enough to accommodate a changing table. But they don't have one. That's one of the places where I had to change Emiko on the floor.

The other place was Jerry's Sandwiches, in Wicker Park. They have an amazing fried chicken sandwich. But last time I was there I had to change Emiko on the floor of the bathroom. It had been snowing, so the floor was not especially clean. I did email the owner of the restaurant to tell him why I would not go back, and he said they were working on installing one, so I may have to take them off my list. I have to look into that.

Rockwell Grill doesn't have a changing table, either. Again, they have a huge bathroom. I don't even like using public restrooms, but if I'm going to have to use one, please don't make me get on the floor of it with my baby.

Everyone's atwitter about Bennigans filing for Chapter 7 bankruptcy and closing. I'm not a fan of that restaurant -- I would rather patronize an independently owned business if I can. However, I will say this for Bennigans and other chains. At least when I'm in a chain restaurant I know they'll have a high chair, a kids menu, and a changing table in the bathroom. That often can make up for mediocre food. It helps anyway.

I know that not everyone likes children or wants to dine near them. So fair enough. If you don't want children in your restaurant, just put a little sign on the door. Perhaps a smiley face with a slash through it -- it could be secret code for "no children welcome." I won't be offended; it'll save me the trouble of even entering. Then we'll all be happy.

So that's my rant for today. I can understand if the changing table were prohibitively expensive or if it took up too much room in a bathroom. But it is not expensive and does not take up too much room. It easily fits in a handicapped stall. I know in this economy restaurants need all the help they can get. Here is just one way to get me in the door.

First Pic of Baby Fuji 2!

2008-07-20T20:50:00.003-05:00

It kind of looks like he or she is waving at us! We'll find out at the end of August if we've got a baby boy or baby girl on the way. I'm very excited about that.

And we had a nurse midwife appointment on Saturday, and my midwife and I felt the baby kick! Elyse (midwife) was looking for Baby's heartbeat, and she was having a hard time. So she was pressing around pretty hard on my belly. All of a sudden -- Baby Fuji kicked! It was awesome -- I have read that you can usually feel the baby move earlier in your second pregnancy. It's true! Then the baby kicked again! Yay!!!

So things are good! I'm still craving Arby's. I'm now also craving movie theatre popcorn. I had Hot Doug's with my friend Anne Friday -- so that satisfied my chili dog craving, for a little while, anyway!

Otherwise, we've been planning Emiko's new bedroom. We're pretty sure she's going to figure out how to climb out of her crib soon. So we will probably make a drive to Ikea soon to get her a twin bed. Not sure the theme for her new room. All I know so far is that at least part of one wall will be painted with chalkboard paint -- won't that be fun?

How to Hire Better Teachers

2008-07-15T13:38:00.002-05:00

This was originally published on my Open Salon blog -- www.open.salon.com. I blog there as AmyFuji. Hopefully no one from CPS will read it and get me fired. It was first posted on Saturday, July 12.

I just read this really interesting article in Slate about the problem of hiring better teachers. The author suggests an apprenticeship program for teachers -- if you can make it in two years of on-the-job training, then you can get your union card and employment for life (as opposed to just getting it at the beginning of your career).

I think that's a pretty good idea. When I started teaching, I truly believed I was well-trained. I had a bachelor's degree in English and a master's degree in teaching. I had a high GPA. I knew all the pedigogical buzzwords. Did any of this prepare me to be a teacher?

Not even a little bit. I went to college at the University of Arkansas. Which I think is a fine school -- I loved going there. But nothing in Fayetteville, Arkansas, could prepare me for teaching in the inner city of Chicago. I had very nice and sincere professors in graduate school, but most of them had not been in a classroom in decades, and none had taught in an inner city.

My first job in Chicago was teaching in the Achievement Academy in a high school on the far South Side. I got hired on the spot, which should have been my first clue that this might not be an ideal position. But it was already late in July, and I had moved to Chicago at the end of May. I didn't have a job yet and was getting a little panicky.

The Achievement Academy was a new initiative to get below grade level students caught up to their peers. Our students were kids who had failed seventh or eighth grade at least twice. They didn't have the credits to be freshmen, but they were too old to keep in grammar school. So they came to the Achievement Academy. I had fifteen and sixteen year old non-freshmen, and they were not happy.

School had never been successful for them, and now they were in high school, but all the other kids made fun of them for not being actual freshmen, and they were accused of being stupid.

Most of my students came from one huge public housing project, and they had gone to grammar school inside that project. So most had never left the projects, and many had never had a white teacher.

I had never taught African American students. My student teaching was done in a small town in Northwest Arkansas (my hometown, no less) that was primarily white, Latino, and Asian. We had a lot to learn together.

My first year was tough. I had heard your first year teaching is the hardest, and they weren't kidding. I came home and cried pretty much every day that year. I never cried at school, though -- that would have been the kiss of death.

My kids were testing me, and I was failing miserably. I thought I would go in there, do my job, and live happily ever after. I had no idea that I would have to prove myself to these kids. White kids just accept that you are the teacher. Black kids don't care what your credentials are -- you still have to prove yourself to them.

I was called a motherfucker everyday. The first time someone called me that, I was completely stunned. I looked at the kid, and I stammered, "But I don't even know your mother." Which is a ridiculous thing to say, but that's what came out. Turned out that confused the kid, which diffused the situation.

I had a desk thrown at me. I had lots of books thrown at me. When I would report these things to my administrator, I was told, "Handle your class." To this day, I still don't know that that means.

When I called the father of the child who threw the desk at me, the father came to school to meet with me and his son. We were standing in the hallway, and the father punched his son in the eye. An assistant principal was walking by, and told the father that if he was going to do that here, he needed to do it in an empty classroom. I then knew to never call that father again.

The problem is -- my experience isn't that unusual. They give the toughest teaching assignments to the least qualifed teachers. They do that because the better prepared teachers won't take those jobs. I didn't have any idea that would be my job; I didn't know any better.

I did survive that year -- I left that school at the end of the year, when one of my students was raped on campus by a senior and the administration covered it up. That did it for me. I didn't quit teaching, though, so that must count for something.

But I do believe I would have been a more effective teacher with more support and training. I spent a lot of time trying to figure out how to get through the lessons with such resistant students. And teaching discipline -- that's not easy, either. I felt like I was alone on an island of angry children most of the time, hoping they wouldn't eat me alive.

Most teachers quit the profession within three years. I am sometimes amazed I've made it five already. It is easier than it was that first year, but it's still not easy. I've seen a lot of bad stuff. My kids go through things that no one should have to go through, much less ill-equipped teenagers. And lots of perfectly nice people, including a large number of clueless white people, go into this profession and are charged with dealing with all these factors they have no idea about. Gangs, drugs, violence, teen pregnancy, absentee or abusive or neglectful parents, and a system that seems designed to fail.

So anything that will better prepare teachers for these obstacles could only help improve things. Can't hurt, anyway.

So Much Going On

2008-07-15T11:42:00.002-05:00

There really isn't that much going on. I've been enjoying my summer of rest quite a bit. Emiko is still going to Alma's three days a week. Only because we are paying for it, and Emiko loves going there and playing with her friends. So I get up in the morning, get her ready, get her to Alma's, and go back to bed. Which is superfantastic.

I've been bad about blogging, though. I have done lots of stuff. Heather (my awesome sister) came to visit in June for five days. Then we went to New Orleans for four days. It was really hot. We got home on Tuesday, and on Saturday, I was in Northwest Arkansas all by my lonesome. I decided not to take Emiko with me, although I felt bad denying her grandparents a chance to visit with her. I'll take her next time. Honestly, it was the first time I've been all by myself since Emiko was born. So it was pretty nice. Weird at first. But nice. And Heather was still on maternity leave, so I got to spend a lot of time with her and her new baby girl Addie. I have to get my pics downloaded.

But my newest diversion is Open Salon. I've been subscribing to Salon.com for at least five years now -- I find it to be a really great online news magazine. I was renewing my subscription last week. Since they make you pay for your subscription, they usually have premium offers that help make the price seem more worth it. You can get discounts from other web merchants, or free books. You always get a little extra with your subscription. Well, another premium they were offering was a chance to start a blog with Open Salon. You can create content and people can read it and at some point you can apparently get paid for your submissions.

I thought -- why not? So I signed up. It's still in the beta testing stages, but I think it's going to be open to the public in the next week or so, and you don't have to be a Salon subscriber to join. I think my friend Foxxy Diva should sign up -- the readership seems to be very white and I think they'd benefit from another perspective.

At any rate, I decided to use my "Poverty Sucks" post from this blog as my first submission. Wow, it was quite a debut! It was named an "Editor's Pick" and was on the front page of the site for a couple of days. I had lots of readers, and lots of responses, most of which were positive. I was told that it was a very un-p.c. piece. Joan Walsh, Salon's editor, told me it was great. It was pretty amazing to write something to a larger audience and have it well-received.

My next post was also well received. I'm going to post it here in a minute. In that one, Joan Walsh told me I was a great writer. That is just incredible.

So that's the other thing I've been up to. Oh, and we saw Lyle Lovett at Ravinia on Saturday. It was our first time to go to Ravinia. I had a good time, but I don't really get it. We had lawn seats, and I think most of the seats at Ravinia are lawn seats. There are some reserved seats, but that section is small.

I was imagining that there were screens around the lawn, so you could see the performer, but there aren't. So you can't actually see Lyle Lovett. There are speakers, so we could hear him. And we did walk over to the stage and caught a glimpse of him, so we knew he was really there.

But you can't see him. And people pay 20 bucks for these lawn seats. They go all out and have camp chairs and little tables and tablecloths and picnic baskets with food and wine and nice glassware. And candles. And everyone sits really close together.

So it was kinda weird to me. You basically pay quite a bit (parking is 20 bucks per car) to have a fancy picnic. But I'd probably go again -- now that I know what to expect.

There's Really a Baby in There!

2008-07-08T19:42:00.002-05:00

I had my first ultrasound this morning. It was so awesome. I was a bit worried, because I had a miscarriage in March, and even though we got pregnant again really quickly, I just wanted reassurance that things were good. At my ten week midwife appointment, we weren't able to hear the heartbeat yet. So I was really anxious to receive further evidence that things were ok.

So things are ok! My revised due date is January 13, and the baby looks great. S/he even seemed to be waving at us. Incredible. The technician asked me if we were having any genetic screening, and I told her no. When you are 35 and pregnant, you get labeled ADVANCED MATERNAL AGE, which I hate. Advanced Maternal Age (AMA) means you are at slightly increased risk of delivering a baby with chromosomal abnormalities, especially Down Syndrome.

I had my first prenatal appointment at my doctor's office (family practice clinic) and the doctor told me I had to have genetic counseling, which made me mad. I had decided that I would decline, and I'm not having an amniocentesis, either. I understand the value, but I think the risk is too high. And it would just serve to make me a wreck throughout the remainder of my pregnancy. We are having this baby no matter what, so I don't think being panicked and worried for six more months would be a good idea.

I switched back to my nurse midwives at Illinois Masonic, and they believe in women making their own choices about their birth experiences, etc. So I didn't have to worry about being pressured for genetic counseling any further. Plus I love my nurse midwives -- they just seem more relaxed and have more time to spend with you. They aren't as rushed as doctors always seem to be.

I need to fix my little baby widget -- it seems to be a few days off. But I can't figure out how to do that without starting over. Too much trouble. So it says I'm 12 weeks pregnant, but I'm actually 13 weeks pregnant. In case you are interested.

Our next ultrasound is August 26 -- then we'll find out if we are having a boy or a girl. I know people like to be surprised, and I completely understand the benefit, but we like to know. It was really fun being able to talk to Emiko and use her name while she was inside me.

We have been working on picking out names. So far we haven't agreed on any. We have gotten most of our names from watching "Ultimate Ninja" or "Unbeatable Banzuke" game shows on cable. "Ultimate Ninja" is on Spike TV, and "Unbeatable Banzuke" is on G4. They are both very entertaining -- that's pretty much all we watch these days. At any rate, once we know the sex, we'll really start working on names.

If you have a favorite Japanese name you wish to share with us, do tell!

Adventures in Getting Away with Stuff

2008-06-27T19:40:00.002-05:00

Todd had a package waiting for him at the post office. I decided I would be a sweet wife and pick it up for him. Which is really nice of me, as our post office sucks. There is always a huge line, even if you just want to pick up a package. And the employees are not very helpful nor very pleasant.

He hadn't signed the back of the notice to authorize me to pick up his package, so I took the initiative and kind of forged his signature. Which, for the record, I have never done before.

I went to the post office and stood in a long, long line for thirty minutes. There were two women working -- one was in training. Another woman was just standing behind the lady in training, but wasn't helping anyone else. I was finally at the top of the line, the very next person, when the post lady announced that if you have a package to pick up, to walk around to the blue door and a person was there to help us. Which was not entirely true.

This douchebag who was in line BEHIND me broke in front of me to get to the blue door. He went to the wrong spot, so I showed him where the blue door was. Which was nice of me. He broke in front of me again. He complained about the wait. I said -- I've been waiting longer than you have. He ignored me. Then he kept bitching about the wait. There was a lady behind the door, but she was ignoring us. He kept knocking on the window. Sticking his head in. Yelling "excuse me!" a lot. None of things get you better service at the post office.

Finally a woman came by and the douchebag had a COD. Of course she couldn't help him at that spot. So he had to get back in the other line. Ha!

She took my notice, and I was a bit worried she would notice my duplicity. I said -- This is my husband's, but he signed off for me to pick it up for him. She totally bought it! It was quite a thrill.

I also misled FedEx about a package I was shipping to my sister, but that's a story you'll have to ask me about in person.

What can I get away with next???

Someone's Gonna Get It

2008-06-25T10:33:00.002-05:00

This ad is hilarious:

Apparently it just won a prestigious award from Cannes for advertising, but it's not an actual JCPenney ad. It's way to clever and stylish to be a JCPenney ad. No one seems to know where it came from. The guess is that a production assistant made it.

So JCP is trying to reassure parents that they don't actually encourage nor condone teen sex. Although it would probably make their clothes so much hipper if they did.

It is a funny ad, though.

I Heart Summer Break

2008-06-23T20:29:00.002-05:00

Last week was my first week of summer break, and it was awesome. Monday morning I got up, took Emiko to daycare (we have to pay for it, so we are taking her 3 days a week for summer). Then I came home and took a nap. Woke up, felt a little guilty to be napping at home alone while my baby was at daycare, but I managed. Had Arby's for lunch. I've been craving Arby's like mad -- blaming Baby Fuji for that. The people at the Arby's in Norridge (at Harlem and Irving Park) are really nice. As I left, one guy told me that my smile should be my umbrella. Isn't that a nice sentiment???

Wednesday my sister came to Chicago! We had so much fun. Her husband wanted to send her to see me, since he had two weeks off from work and could take care of the kids (3 kids - two toddlers and a newborn!!!). He's a coach, so he never gets time off, so he wanted to give her a nice gift of rest and relaxation.

Usually when she's here it's only for a weekend or so. This time she was here for five days, so she wanted to do some touristy stuff. We went to Millennium Park Friday -- got there right before the rain started. But she got to see the Bean, so she was happy. I do love that dang Bean.

Then it started raining, so we went to Bennigan's for lunch. I am as anti-chain as the next person, but sometimes the chains have their perks. At least at Bennigan's I know that they'll have a kids menu and a changing table in the bathroom, which goes a long way to making me happy. And the food is ok.

We went on a Wendella boat tour of the river and lake on Saturday. That was fun, but Emiko was really crabby, which made Todd really crabby. So that put a damper on things. It's my fault -- we wanted to make the 10:30 boat, but were late and so the next 90 min tour was not until 1. We should have just done the 11:00 tour, but it was just of the river and not of the lake. But that was too much excitement for Emiko, having to keep her entertained for that long. We went to the Northbridge Mall, so we weren't bored, but we should have gotten her home longer. She's definitely a toddler now, and is getting much more stubborn and dramatic.

Today was the first day of summer school at my high school, and I had to sub. I was not ready to go back to that school. It didn't help that summer school classes last for four hours and are full of bad kids who failed the class the first time. I knew many of the kids, as I was the one who had failed several of them. So seeing them again was great.

Thank God it was just for one day. I know the money is good, but I don't think it's worth it. It actually went pretty well until about 10:45 -- that's when the kids got really restless. By 11:30 they had given up doing any more work and were just talking. I was going to be really bitchy and yell at them, and then I remembered -- I'm just the sub! So JoAnn -- the actual teacher -- will probably want to kill me. I just went back to reading my book til noon.

We leave for New Orleans Saturday! We haven't been since right before Katrina. I'm curious to see how things look.

And I gotta get some pictures posted - I'll work on that.

Yay, California!

2008-06-19T08:21:00.003-05:00

I'm so proud of the California Supreme Court's decision to allow gays and lesbians to marry. I hope this will start a national trend. Everyone has the right to get married (and the right to not get married).

This video of the first lesbian couple to marry made me cry. They've been together for 55 years. Congrats to them! They should not have had to wait so long!

Things that Boggle My Mind, Part Two

2008-06-17T20:34:00.002-05:00

The last thing I want to bitch about is this -- what the fuck is wrong with the women who say they are going to vote for McCain in protest of Hillary Clinton's not getting the Democratic nomination for president??? I don't usually curse in my blog, but seriously, WHAT THE FUCK???

Can they truly believe that McCain would represent their best interests??? Have they no sense? Here is a fantastic response to those women (thanks, again, to Slate). I could not have said it better myself.

I was going to add this to my last post, but Tim Wise's article is so good, I didn't want it to get lost in my ramblings on Rebecca Walker. You must read his article -- so well written and I think it's pretty much impossible to argue with his position. So there.

Things that Boggle My Mind

2008-06-17T20:17:00.002-05:00

A couple of things have been bugging me lately. First, I read the essay from Rebecca Walker, Alice Walker's daughter, where she discusses how crappy her mother was. I can understand perhaps being pissed off at your mother -- that's not an original concept. But I don't understand how she can blame feminism for all that is wrong with her life. She seems to believe that feminism has forced women to eschew motherhood, and she says that is a tragedy.

I've been a feminist all my life, and I am fairly well-schooled in first wave, second wave, and third wave feminism. I don't recall at any time having to decide that having children was a denial of feminism. I always knew I'd have children. I didn't know if I'd get married, but I definitely was going to have children.

Feminism is about giving women the right and the freedom to choose the paths they wish to pursue. If you don't want to get married and get knocked up, have at it. If you do, go for it. It's not about demonizing women for their choices. (Despite what you may hear on Fox News.)

My mom was a feminist and she instilled the values of the movement in me. She didn't seem like a feminist -- she had a fairly conventional Southern life. But she made it clear to me that I had many, many choices in my life, and my gender was not an obstacle.

So back to Rebecca Walker. She might have had a horrific childhood. It was probably tough growing up in the shadow of a literary icon. But at some point people have to take responsibility for their lives and their decisions. I just don't understand how she can blame an entire movement for what she deems is or was wrong in her life. That seems a huge stretch to me.

If you haven't read her article, you can find it here.

There are some great reactions to the article (by people who are better writers than I) on Slate right now, if you are interested. I really liked this one.

Preggers!

2008-06-16T20:10:00.003-05:00

I'm almost through my first trimester -- just a couple more weeks to go. It's been ok, except for the nausea. With Emiko, I was pretty much nauseated the entire first trimester, but it usually subsided by 5 pm or so. With this baby, I'm fine all day long, until about 3 pm. Then it hits me hard. And it lasts for much of the evening.

So that's not super fun. It's one thing to be queasy and miserable at work -- when I'd usually be queasy and miserable anyway. By the time I get home, I want to feel good! And nothing helps, either.

My skin is also a complete nightmare. I've got flaky patches on the sides of my nose, coupled with huge, volcanic zits on my forehead and chin. Gorgeous! Emiko stole whatever beauty I had, and this baby is doing Mommy the same way. That's why I think I'm having another girl. But that's just an old wives' tale, so who knows. We'll have an ultrasound in about 10 weeks and will find out then.

Today was my first day of summer break (hallelujah!), and it was very relaxing. I think this will be a great summer. I had Arby's for lunch. I was craving their roast beef sandwich big time. That's my first weird craving of this pregnancy.

I hope the widget with the fetus isn't too creepy -- it's kinda creepy, but kinda neat, I think. In case you are interested in these sorts of things.

I've also been pretty crabby. Poor Todd is probably a little tired of preggers Amy already. I don't blame him -- he just doesn't understand how these hormones get you. And it hits really hard and fast. I have only broken down into tears a few times, so he should feel lucky. But I'm trying really hard to be especially nice to him this week. That's one of my goals. I make no promises, however.

My first midwife appointment is Thursday -- I should get to hear the heartbeat then. That will be superfantastic! Then I'll really believe there's a baby inside me.

Ok, so that's what I've been up to. Now that I have two months off from work, I will try to post more regularly. I'll have fewer school stories, but I'm still interested in poverty issues, so maybe I won't only blog about being knocked up.

Stephanie is Top Chef!

2008-06-12T20:17:00.003-05:00

I'm so excited that Stephanie won Top Chef. Top Chef is the only reality show that Todd and I watch regularly. I really enjoy watching the way the chefs perform under immense pressure, and it's fun to see which chefs I'll really hate.

I didn't like Richard at first, but he grew on me. He seemed really pretentious at first, with his molecular gastronomy and all that, but he became more likable as the season progressed. And his food looked really good. I'm all about that bacon ice cream he made in the finale.

And I hate Lisa! I hated her all season long. She is so negative and bitchy and just comes across as a miserable cow. I was so mad that she made it to the finale -- Dale should have been in the final three.

But I loved Stephanie all season. Everything she made looked fabulous. And she seemed nice and approachable and didn't have a huge ego or anything. The fact that she was from Chicago was a nice touch, but I would have liked her regardless.

Now she's scouting locations for a new Chicago restaurant to open next spring. I told Todd that we will definitely go to that restaurant!

Yay Stephanie! And it's about time a woman was named Top Chef!!!

TGIF

2008-06-06T20:27:00.002-05:00

It's Friday, and there is only ONE MORE WEEK OF SCHOOL LEFT! Hallelujah! It's so hot at school -- my classrooms are on the 3rd floor, and there's no air conditioning. You can't really function under such conditions.

I don't know what has happened to my blog header -- Todd tried to figure out what was going on with the code. Maybe blogger will figure it out.

And if you haven't heard yet, I'm knocked up again! Baby #2 is due January 15! I'm so excited. I had a counter on this blog, but I can't find one that I like. I'm still working on that.

I know I haven't been posting much lately. It's just been so hot and I'm ready for summer break. I'm thrilled thrilled thrilled that Obama is the official nominee. And I'm thrilled thrilled thrilled to be pregnant again, although I already feel crappy and my morning sickness has been hitting me in the early evening. But it's worth it.

So that's really about all I've been up to. Next week we shouldn't have many students, so I'll have more time for posting then.

Sex and the City, eh?

2008-06-03T19:12:00.002-05:00

I am not as excited as most people about the Sex and the City movie. I watched the series fairly regularly, but it always bugged me. I never really identified with the characters. I hated most of Carrie's ridiculous outfits. (Sorry, Shopgirl!)

But mostly, I hated Big. I could not understand Carrie's attraction to such a douchebag who treated her like crap. I was so happy when Mikhail Baryshnikov was on the show -- I loved his Alexandre character. How could you not love Baryshnikov? Yum! I was mad when they made him into a douchebag so Big could show up in the finale and "rescue" Carrie. I thought that sucked.

So I'm sure I will see the movie, but I'm in no rush. In the meantime, this segment from The Daily Show made me laugh out loud. I heart Samantha Bee!

It's Been Awhile. . .

2008-05-28T19:41:00.000-05:00

Since my last Barack video. So here ya go!

Arkansas!

2008-05-20T19:36:00.002-05:00

I am sure you have figured this out, but I really love my home state of Arkansas. No matter how long I live in Chicago -- and I think it will probably be a long time -- Arkansas will always be home for me. I just feel most at ease there.

We went to Arkansas for the weekend. My friends Martha and Justin got married (I'll have to get Todd's pictures uploaded). Their wedding was beautiful and sweet and I know they will be so happy. Martha has had some bad luck with the fellas, and I think she was about to give up on the idea of marriage and whatnot. So thank God she met Justin and it all just fell into place. It's funny how things work out the way they should.

And my dear sister Heather was supposed to give birth last week, before we got there. That was my plan, anyway! She wasn't actually due until May 18, but today is the 20th (and her birthday -- Happy Birthday!) and she is still carrying that baby! She is ready to give birth, but she was in pretty good spirits all weekend. She had both her boys nine days early, so she kept complaining that this was the most pregnant she's ever been!

We ate some fantastic food, of course. We went to the Catfish Hole Friday night -- which is de riguer for any trip to Northwest Arkansas. I ate about a million hushpuppies, and lots of fried catfish fillets, too. Then for dessert -- even though I was pretty stuffed -- chocolate fried pie! Fried pie is one of the best things in the universe. It's basically a turnover that is deep fried. Then it is served with ice cream. Heavenly. Last time I was in AR, I forgot to order the fried pie, so Todd knew to remind me this time. It was his first fried pie -- he's so lucky to have me to expose these amazing things to him!

Saturday we ran some errands and met my sister and her brood for lunch at Jose's, which is a Tex Mex place that has awesome cheese dip. They also have awesome swirl margaritas, but I was good and didn't succumb.

Saturday night was the wedding -- it was small and the reception was over by 8. We looked up (we were sitting with Alannah and her boyfriend) and they were clearing the tables and putting up the decorations. So the four of us went to a fancy restaurant down the street for some cocktails. It was nice having grandparents to leave Emiko with. But at 9:30 I was worn out and ready to go back to my dad's house. It seemed much later than 9:30!

Sunday my brother and his family came out to Dad's house, as did Heather and her group. It was really nice seeing them all together -- I hadn't seen my brother in awhile.

We had a really, really great weekend. I wasn't ready to come home yet, but was glad once we got back. My sister is coming here to visit in June (yay!!!), and then we'll go back to AR in July so I can finally meet my new niece or nephew (she/he has to come out of there eventually!).

Poverty Sucks

2008-05-14T18:58:00.003-05:00

I have been thinking about poverty a lot this school year -- even more than I usually do. Things have been so crazy at school, and we've had all these shootings in Chicago, and the mayor and the media harp on guns as the cause. Which completely misses the point. If people weren't poor and hopeless, they probably wouldn't rely on guns so much to get their point across.

No one really talks about poverty -- we want to ignore poor people. Unless you are directly impacted by it (indirect impact via taxes and health costs don't seem to make a difference to people), you tend to not give it much thought. I never thought about poor people until I started working in CPS.

And poor people seem not to think they are poor. It's really interesting. Most Americans believe they are middle class.

My sophomores are in a unit right now entitled "Welcome to America. Is It Worth the Trip?" We read some of The Jungle, which did not go over very well. But the point of the unit is about what America is supposed to represent versus what actually happens to people once they get here. I'm trying to explain things like social justice, exploitation of the least educated, et cetera.

One of my coworkers recommended an article that is in our anthology that discusses the role of social class in determining one's chances of success. The data is pretty straightforward -- the more money you have, the better your chance of economic and educational opportunity.

So I had the kids go around the room and tell me what social class they belonged to. Almost every kid (except maybe 3) said they were middle class. Then I said that at this school, 90% of our students receive free or reduced lunch, so how could it be that so many of you are middle class? The kids wanted to know what middle class meant. I explained that basically if you could make it through the month, pay all your bills, and did not have to rely on any form of public assistance, then you could probably assume you are middle class.

Then my kids started trying to justify that they were middle class. And many of them seem like they are. Some of the kids talked about the money their parents made in the underground economy (selling drugs), but a lot of the students said their parents had regular jobs.

I wondered why so many of them are on free lunch or have Link cards, then. My kids said that why should they pay for that food? They want to keep their cash -- so they'll use their cash for shoes and whatnot, but they want to keep their Link cards for food and necessities. One kid told me that no matter how much money he might make in his future, he still always wanted a Link card and a Section 8 housing voucher.

Then another student told me that her mom purposely only works 10 hours a week so that she can spend more time with her children. She's lucky that she gets her Section 8 voucher and Link card so she can do that.

I said that that was stealing. Why should her mom get to make that choice? I get to see my child for maybe 3 hours per day. She said there is no way her mom would accept that. I said -- it's not a choice. I knew that when I chose to have a baby, that I would have to work. That's the decision I made. Why should your mom get to make a different choice? That's completely unfair.

Then she and some other students said that I should cheat the government. They argued about how expensive the war in Iraq was, and how much money the government wastes. Which is all well and good, but it's not the government that is being cheated -- it's people like me. I try to explain to my kids that it's middle class taxpayers who pay for the brunt of those social programs.

And one of the major reasons why so many of those assistance programs have been gutted is because many people think they people take advantage. My students seemed to be confirming what lots of people believe.

I said that there are people who legitimately need help, and when you scam the system, you are taking that assistance away from people who really need it.

They didn't seem bothered by this at all.

This is what concerns me about poverty -- it's not just a matter of giving people better access to educational opportunity, better housing, job training. It's also a matter of changing this mindset. So many of my students believe that they are owed something. And they are, to an extent. It's not their fault that they were born to poor parents. No one should have to live in a public housing apartment in Chicago. And they are sent to substandard schools, and that sucks. But at some point some personal responsibility has to set in, and I don't know how to influence that.

The student whose mom cheats to stay home with her kids was trying to explain it to me more. She said -- It's hard to pay rent and buy groceries and pay for gas -- gas is so high. You have to have some help! I replied -- Yeah, it's hard. I do it everyday. But I guess I don't understand why your mom gets to decide she's not going to follow these rules, while I can't imagine doing anything else.

I was starting to get mad, which is not the appropriate response. The bell was about to ring anyway, so I tried to wrap up the discussion. It's hard not to take these things personally.

I want my students to have better opportunities. I want them to have better lives than their parents or grandparents. But I want them to understand that to have these opportunities, they are going to have to work really, really hard to try to catch up with middle class students.

Then I look around, and every one of my students has an iPod. Everyone is wearing Air Force Ones or Jordans (shoes that cost more than $100 per pair). Most wear expensive clothes. They make fun of my shoes. As mentioned in the article, America has the best dressed poor people in the world. My girls get their hair done a couple times per month. They get their nails done each week. It just seems like their priorities are out of whack.

When asked, they just say that just because they are poor, doesn't mean they don't deserve nice things. I said that I didn't disagree, but when I want nice things, I save my money for them. And I wouldn't take free lunch and then go buy fancy shoes -- that just doesn't make sense to me. I'd rather do without fancy shoes and save enough money to be able to buy my own lunch.

I know this is a long post -- it's just been really bothering me. I applaud Elizabeth and John Edwards and their goal of reducing poverty. I actually emailed Elizabeth Edwards with my concerns about poverty. I have not heard back from her.

Anyway, it's not going away, and I don't think I can make myself feel better about it. If anyone has any suggestions for ways to tackle this topic, please let me know.
I just needed to vent about it a little.

The Empire Strikes Barack

2008-05-12T19:54:00.001-05:00

I couldn't resist!

A Good Day!

2008-05-10T11:17:00.004-05:00

Yesterday was a great day at school. I was in a good mood all day. I had seen Dolly Parton at the Chicago Theatre Thursday night, and she was superfantastic, as usual. She is so amazing! I got a new t-shirt, which I wore to work yesterday, because I knew it would impress my students.

One girl asked me who was on my shirt, and then said that I was prettier than Dolly. Which though sweet to say, is just crazy and not true. Prettier than Dolly? Please!

Actually, many kids asked who was on my shirt, and no one knew who Dolly was. Even when I mentioned "I Will Always Love You," and said that that was Dolly's song and not Whitney's, no one knew what I was talking about. Whitney's name just brought us several comments concerning crack use.

Fridays we have long division, which means I have to sit with my division (homeroom) kids for 45 excrutiating minutes, and they are so incredibly loud. And since it's not a real class, I can't threaten their grades or anything. But yesterday we had an assembly in the auditorium. Which usually means that we get lectured by various administrators and it's really boring. But not this time.

We walk into the auditorium and there's a zydeco band on stage performing! The band is called Mojo and the Bayou Gypsies, and they were awesome. It was so much fun. Of course, here I am rocking my Dolly tee -- how perfect is that??? I was dancing in the aisles and my kids were just staring at me like I'm crazy (which happens all the time, so I barely notice). A couple of other teachers knew I was in hog heaven and were goading me to go on stage. Then I looked behind me, and there were a few teachers dancing at the back on the room. So I boogied over there and got them to go on stage with me. It was so fun.

A few students got on stage, too, and this kid was dancing behind me. All of a sudden lots of kids were cheering and laughing, which made me realize the kid was trying to "freak" on me, so I had to shimmy away from him. Some teachers yelled, "Stop freaking on Mrs. Fuji!" He yelled back that I wanted it, which is completely inaccurate. I saw him later in the hall and told him to never do that to me again.

Anyway, the performance was so much fun. The band was really good. They explained about New Orleans music, and that lots of hip hop has roots in zydeco. The kids just sat there and wouldn't act like they were having fun, but I could tell some of them were. Then at the end of the concert, I got a couple more kids to go on stage with me, and then more kids joined us. It was just fun and carefree and no one was being a jerk.

At the end I told the band how great they were and how much I appreciated their being there. Turns out they are local -- they are based in the Chicago suburbs.

Here's a video, for your entertainment!

Books books books

2008-05-05T20:02:00.004-05:00

If you have not read Freakonomics, then I really can't keep talking to you. It is so interesting and many of the tidbits in the book have stuck with me. I keep trying to get one of my students (any student) to read it -- I've offered a ton of extra credit. But no dice. No one has taken me up on this offer. Hell, I'd even pass a kid if he/she read the book and could discuss it with me. I'll keep trying.

In Freakonomics, there is a vignette about a grad student who is essentially kidnapped by the Black Kings in a dirty stairwell in the Robert Taylor Homes. The story is amazing, and that grad student -- who is now a professor at Columbia University, has written a book about his experiences researching the Black Kings.

The book is Gang Leader for a Day, by Sudhir Venkatesh. I just finished reading it, and it was super fantastic. Being a teacher in the ghetto, I really enjoy reading about urban poverty, since I see the effects of such poverty every day at work. Being white and Southern and relatively clueless, any insight I can gain to help me understand where my kids are coming from is valuable.

This book provides a lot of insight. It helps illustrate how the gangs work, the roles the gangs play within the society (specifically in the projects), and the level of complicity of the cops in perpetuating these roles.

Fascinating. And depressing, because it seems pretty clear that we are nowhere near a solution. Not that there are any politicians who seem to be looking for a solution to poverty.

I am realizing, the more time I spend teaching in the ghetto, that I should truly be amazed that any students bother coming to school. Unfortunately, our schools are doing nothing to give my kids a viable alternative to hustling. And the corruption is so endemic -- why should they know any better?

I sort of digressed from the book review. I don't want to give too much away. You really should read it. I think it would be eye-opening and amazing even if you aren't a school teacher in the ghetto. Arkansas friends, you would enjoy it, too!

The last book I want to mention is called The Echo from Dealey Plaza, by Abraham Bolden. It's about the first African American to serve on the White House Secret Service detail. Bolden was appointed by John F. Kennedy, who worked hard to staff his White House with women and minorities.

I found out about this book via Abraham Bolden, Jr, who is the technology coordinator at my school. He just happened to mention that his father had written this book. While I would not have heard about it otherwise, I'm really glad he told me about it -- it's so good. I'm only six chapters in, and I haven't really wanted to put it down.

The level of racism Bolden was subjected to is shocking. And after JFK's assassination, things went downhill. I won't tell you more than that -- you should get this book. It reveals a chapter in history that deserves to be remembered, and Mr. Bolden deserves a presidential pardon.

I am going to try to get my kids to read at least some excerpts. They have no idea how much worse things were in the 1960s. I realize we still have a long way to go, but things are definitely better.

OK, those are my recommendations. If you want me to continue to respect your opinions and ideas and value your intellect, you are going to have to read these books and then discuss them with me!!! (You don't have to read them, but it's for your own good. Why would you deny yourself these opportunities??)

More Emiko!

2008-04-30T18:47:00.004-05:00

I haven't gotten around to posting these videos (bad Mommy!). It's been a crazy week. Sunday we did the March for Babies, even though it was cold. Then Emiko got pink eye! I took Monday off to take her to the doctor and found out she's got conjunctivitis AND infections in both her ears! Poor baby girl! Todd stayed home with her yesterday. She was up for going to Alma's today, though, which is good as I'm running out of days off.

At any rate, here are videos of Emiko's first haircut! She was so good -- didn't squirm or have a fit or anything. Her love of the salon comes from Mommy!

This School is NOT the Bomb. . .

2008-04-29T14:21:00.003-05:00

OK, that's a terrible pun, but I couldn't resist. A bunch of bomb threats have been scrawled on the walls in this one teacher's classroom. So the kids are all freaking out, and most of them have gone home. The police were here, but there was no sweep of the building. Nor did we evacuate. We were just told to keep our doors closed and that should we hear an announcement for "Code Blue" to leave the building immediately.

Ridiculous!

I'm not really worried, since I don't think we have many students ambitious enough to either plant or detonate a bomb. It's just irritating that we have such lax security. And if I were the parent of one of these students, I'd have my kid come home, too. There's just too much crap going on right now.

So I'm now sitting in a classroom with two students.

CPS gets paid per pupil, so we have lost a great deal of money today. (We only get money for the pupils who show up each day.) It would have been far less costly to just send everyone home.

That's my day for you. How's yours so far???

Keanu Pics

2008-04-26T14:29:00.008-05:00

To my new friends at Club Keanu, here is a pic of Keanu's house and one of his Porsche. We were sitting in the limo taking the pics from inside, so the quality isn't fantastic, but you get the gist of it. His house was awesome and our tour guide did say that there were often fans sitting on the curb outside hoping to catch a glimpse.
Enjoy!

I still haven't found out who the tour operator was -- I'll ask my husband to find out.

It's Been Too Long. . .

2008-04-26T09:49:00.001-05:00

since I posted a Barack video. I just found this one and I had to share it!

We're Back from LA

2008-04-22T18:58:00.002-05:00

We left for our superfantastic sweepstakes trip to LA on Wednesday. This is the trip that Todd won -- four days and three nights in LA, free airfare and hotel, plus Todd got to spend the day with the stunt coordinator from the movie Diehard IV. Here's a rundown of our festivities:

We got to LA Wednesday afternoon (I got to miss report card pickup!!!). We were met at the airport by a driver (which was so fun). We got to our hotel and got settled. The hotel was super fancy. We then walked around the Hollywood and Highland Center for a bit and got a snack, since we were going to have dinner with my friend Tera in a few hours.

Then as we were getting ready for dinner, Emiko threw up in our hotel room. We thought she was just tired, but then she threw up more in the rental car on the way to see Tera. So we had to cancel dinner. Of course, being LA, getting back to our hotel took forever! Poor Emiko was getting more miserable by the minute. We finally got back and just ordered room service, which I always think is super decadent and fun.

On Thursday, Todd has his Stunt Day at Fox Studios. All the stunt doubles from Diehard IV were there, as well as the stunt coordinator. They reenacted scenes from the movie, then showed the sweepstakes winners how the stunts were performed. Todd said it was really fun. He got back to the hotel with fake blood on him and everything -- that's how close he was to the action.

While he was playing stunt man, Emiko and I got to see Tera after all. She came and picked us up and took us to lunch. Tera and I have been friends for many, many years. She's a fellow Arkansas gal. She's been a vegan for the last few years, but she's very laid back about it -- in that she doesn't proselytize or get mad when I eat meat around her.

She took us to lunch at a vegan cafe called Pure Luck -- it was really good. They use jackfruit, which is an Asian fruit, as a meat substitute. I had the pulled pork bbq sandwich, which used jackfruit instead of pork. It was super good. I was amazed, to be honest. Then we went to Scoops afterwards, which is a famous ice cream place across the street. I had an horchata scoop and a vegan chocolate jasmine scoop. The vegan ice cream was yummy -- I'd never have imagined I would say such a thing!

Friday we hung out with my friend Kris -- another Arkansas gal living in SoCal. She met us at the hotel and we walked to Doughboys, which has what Oprah considers to be the best red velvet cake in America. I don't often agree with Oprah, but she was right on the money on this one. My breakfast was good, but my red velvet cake was heavenly. I had to make myself share some of it with Todd. I really wanted to eat the whole thing by myself!

After brunch, we walked around a bit, and then we went back to the hotel to meet Gary, our driver, for our limo tour of the stars homes! I would never have paid for this sort of thing, but it was super fun. Gary was a great tour guide -- he was really funny and engaging. And I was impressed at his ability to navigate those narrow streets in the Hollywood Hills and Beverly Hills. Most of the houses were shrouded in shrubbery, so you just had to take Gary's word for it that someone famous lived there. We saw David and Victoria Beckham's driveway. We did see Keanu Reeves's house -- it was not covered in shrubbery. And he was home -- his Porsche was in the drive. He had some friends over, judging from the cars out front. He didn't invite us in, though.

We took a break on Rodeo Drive. We walked up the street a bit, and then realized that Emiko had dropped her favorite bunny, so we had to back track and find it. Thank goodness it was still there -- it had been trampled upon by very expensive shoes, but we found it.

That night we got to go to my very favorite superfantastic tiki restaurant, The Bahooka! I love love love the Bahooka. Tera met up with us (and didn't mind that I was eating ribs!). The Bahooka has booths that are lined with fish tanks. So Emiko loved watching the fish. I ate my ribs and drank most of a Flaming Monkey Business -- a rum based drink made for two that comes in a huge bowl and arrives at your table on fire. Awesome!!!

Saturday we drove to Redondo Beach to meet some of Todd's relatives for lunch. His brother and his wife were there. They are expecting their first baby, so they are excited about that. Lunch was good, and then we walked around the pier a bit.

Then Todd wanted to go to his grandparents' grave site and place flowers. Which was very sweet, but he didn't remember where the gravestone actually was. So it took about two hours to find it. Find it we did, however. We placed the flowers and got back in the car.

By now, traffic was getting crazy. It was about 5 when we got back in the car, and we had to be back at the hotel by 7:55 to meet our driver to take us back to the airport. As we were making our way on the 405, Emiko threw up again. A lot! We had checked out of the hotel -- we had no place to go. And traffic was a nightmare.

Finally Todd exited on a side street and drove as fast as he could. Poor baby girl was very unhappy. We got back to the hotel at 7:35! So I rushed Emiko into the lobby bathroom and tried to get her cleaned up as best I could. Luckily I always bring backup clothes.

We got outside and our driver was already there. Todd was still returning the rental car, then he had to try to get the car seat cleaned up. So the driver was a bit impatient, but he was just going to have to wait.

We get to the airport and the American terminal is blocked off. Apparently there had been a bomb threat. So there were a billion police cars and bomb squad trucks. Our driver had to let us off at the Delta terminal and we had to make our way to the American International terminal. Nightmare. We finally made it to the counter and got checked in.

We got back from Los Angeles Sunday morning at 5:30. We took the redeye home, which meant we left LA at 11:55 pm. I don't recommend flying this way -- poor Emiko slept the whole time pretty much, but I had to hold her and we were all scrunched up in those tiny airplane seats, so it wasn't comfortable. But we had a really great time overall.

I'm glad we had Sunday to recover -- we all got in bed together and slept til about 11:30. Then we took another nap later. We are all still pretty worn out, but it was worth it.

But it's nice to be home!

Emiko's Walking!!!

2008-04-13T07:40:00.002-05:00

Emiko took her first steps unassisted yesterday afternoon. She's been walking by holding our hands for several weeks now, and I just knew she was ready to walk alone. So Todd and I put her between us and made her walk to us. And she did it! It's so amazing! My baby is a big girl!

My Newest Addiction

2008-04-10T13:06:00.009-05:00

I found Etsy completely by accident. I was taking childbirth classes, and the teacher mentioned a friend of hers who sold flax packs for pregnant women. I went to the woman's website and was directed to her shop on Etsy. A whole new world was opened up to me!

Etsy is like the Renegade Craft Fair, but year-round and in the privacy of your home. Anything (and I mean anything!) you could possibly want or need is available on Etsy. Crafty people make stuff and put it up for sale. I like the idea of supporting independent artists, and the prices are great. I can waste a lot of time on Etsy.

So far I've purchased:

a Dolly Parton necklace from PreciousPups

a superfantastic cute dress for my friend Martha's wedding from JaneBonBon

three awesome lockets (one was for my sister!) from BirdzNbeez

a watch made of vintage typewriter keys by KeysAndMemories

I hate running into people wearing the same stuff I'm wearing. Etsy helps prevent that from happening. I love love love Etsy. It's the most superfantastic site I've found lately!

Disclaimer -- I don't usually advocate rampant consumerism, but this stuff is great and you are supporting regular people and not huge corporations. Guilt-free shopping!

Help Premature Babies, Dammit!

2008-04-09T19:56:00.005-05:00

This pic is of Emiko a couple days after her birth.

As many of you are aware, Emiko Mae was six weeks premature. No one knows why she was premature -- I didn't have any symptoms or warnings or infections or the like. At any rate, she was pretty small (five pounds, 3 and 1/2 ounces at birth), although that's big for a preemie.

She spent twelve long days in the Neonatal Intensive Care Unit at Illinois Masonic Hospital. Having to go home without her was heartbreaking. Hell, delivering her and then not getting to hold her for several hours was agonizing. I was beginning to wonder if maybe all of this had just been at dream.

But she finally got to come home and hasn't looked back yet. You would never guess she was a preemie. She has hit all her milestones with her gestational age, not her corrected age. She is happy, healthy, and adorable.

I never gave the March of Dimes any thought (or premature babies, for that matter) until I had a preemie. All babies need a full nine months in their mother's womb to get the best start in life. So Team Fuji is walking in Chicago's March for Babies. It's April 27th at Grant Park. If you would like to join Team Fuji and walk with us, please let me know! You can also donate to our team and help us reach our fundraising goal of $500.

For more information, check out our page on the March of Dimes website. You can also go straight to my fundraising page from the web banner on the side of my blog!

Thanks for any support you can provide. Chances are that I will have another preemie -- usually one preemie begets another one. So I definitely want to do whatever I can to avoid having Baby Fuji #2 (I'm not pregnant, yet, but working on it!) spend any time at the hospital without me.

Blog On, My Friends

2008-04-08T19:37:00.002-05:00

My friend Lindsay -- a coworker -- just started a new blog -- ShopGirl. She mostly discusses things she wants to buy. It's cute and a good source of ideas. And a great way to ignore our students!

We were talking about our blogs -- my other friend and coworker Anne has one, too. This got our friend (we'll call her JoJo) all excited. She doesn't believe in the magic of the internet. She's afraid that all her douche bag ex-boyfriends are spending all their time googling her name so they can stalk her. She is a funny lady with very strong opinions! (Just ask her about natural childbirth. . .)

We did all this during our team meeting. Obviously, very little work was being discussed.

I think everyone should have a blog. You can learn so much about people. And it saves time from actually having to talk to people, yet you still know what's going on in people's lives. It's a win win! For people too lazy to regularly call or email people, it's perfect.

So there, JoJo!

What Is Wrong With These Dang Kids???

2008-04-02T19:23:00.002-05:00

This has been a tough week. First thing Monday morning, I found out that two Dunbar students were involved in the killing of that student at Simeon High School Saturday. One of them, Ronald Little, was my student the last two years. He was in my sophomore English class and then my junior English class last year. So I knew him well. I would not have guessed he was capable of this.

I have had several students I think are completely capable of killing someone, but he's not one of them. The kids called him Rerun, since he'd been held back once or twice. The kids made fun of him, and I remember him getting beat up a time or two. In my classes, he just didn't show up that much. I often had to call his grandmother, who is raising him. You can tell she's a tired old lady who has no idea what to do with this child. I don't know where his parents are.

He has always been pretty nice to me. I remember one time we had a big argument, because he refused to take off his hood and his headphones in class (that was my first year at Dunbar, when I was more concerned about those rules). And later that year he was suspended for freaking out and beating the shit out of some kid who had been bugging him. I guess that was a clue.

Anyway, he was taking Saturday school at Simeon, because he failed most of his classes at Dunbar and had to make up credits. He failed both of my classes. From what I have heard from other students, a group of kids were harassing him each week. So he brought a gun to Simeon on Saturday, hidden in his waistband. He told the kids he had a gun, and they followed him outside and were taunting him to show them the gun, etc etc. So he gave the gun to Samuel (who I don't know) and he's the one who pulled the trigger. I get the impression that he wasn't aiming at anyone in particular.

So now an 18 year old is dead, and Ronald's life is over before it really even had a chance to begin.

What makes me mad about all this, is the media coverage. Chicago Public Schools had a rally yesterday (during school hours) to protest gun violence. They actually bussed 400 or so CPS students. The mayor was there and was very dramatic in his pleading for students to stop using guns.

I am not a fan of guns, at all. But the problem isn't guns. The problem is poverty and hopelessness. I have so many students who have nothing to live for. And they'll tell you that. They live in these shitty apartments in the projects -- slums, basically. They go to shitty schools. I wish Mayor Daley would come to my school (unannounced, so it's a surprise) and just walk through the hallways. Listen to the way the kids talk to each other. So many of our kids are consumed with anger. Use the bathrooms. Where there are no doors on the stalls. No toilet paper. No soap or paper towels. Then he would see how hard it is to feel hopeful.

It would be nice if our schools were places where hope could flourish, but they're not. (Well, if you are at Payton HS or Northside College Prep, you have hope. Not at my school, or most of the others in the city.) The rooms are so dirty. Trash is left everywhere. Security is lax and selective.

I'm trying to remember the last time I saw Ronald. It had to be in the last month or so. I remember being surprised that he was a senior. I know that I asked him how things were going. I don't remember his answer.

I have heard that his grandmother is very sick. I can't fathom what she must be going through.

I'm guessing Ronald and Samuel will be locked up for a very long time. Chicago wants to make an example of kids like these. They are saying it's gang-related, although that's misleading. Every kid has to pick a gang, but not all the kids are active gang bangers. I don't think Ronald was, but I could be wrong about that.

Then today, I took my 6th period freshman reading class to the library to use the laptop lab. Two laptops were stolen during my class. Presumably by my students, as no one else was in there. I'm pretty sure I'm going to be blamed for that.

How much longer til summer?

Thank You, Alice Walker

2008-03-28T21:37:00.003-05:00

This is long, but I love this article from Slate.com. I have been wanting to post my ideas about race for awhile now, but I'm still mulling over how to do that. In the meantime, this is an eloquent explanation of support for Obama, especially for my feminist sisters. Have a great weekend!

I Love My Little Girl. . .

2008-03-24T19:09:00.005-05:00

. . .And I think it's awesome that she comes from such diverse cultures. Todd contributes Yankee-ness and Japanese culture, whereas I provide the dose of Southern- ness (with a little white trash for good measure!) that will make her very popular amongst her peers. I believe these two pics illustrate my point beautifully. (That's Pepaw giving Emiko barbecue ribs, and Papa Fuji feeding her noodles.)

My New Favorite Video

2008-03-22T21:52:00.001-05:00

I was at the HIP -- Harlem Irving Plaza for those not in the know --on Wednesday, and passed by a Hot Topic. This video made me laugh out loud a lot.

Back From Arkansas!

2008-03-19T20:53:00.002-05:00

Emiko and I got home from Arkansas Tuesday afternoon. Our flight was supposed to leave XNA at 10:30 am, but we didn't leave til 12:30 pm. Which isn't too bad for flying into Chicago, but still sucked. We sat on the plane for an hour. But Emiko was adorable and the flight attendant loved her, so it was all fine.

I'll try to get some pics posted soon, but here are some highlights:

*Eating fried catfish and a billion hushpuppies at Catfish Hole. But I totally forgot to order fried pie!

*Getting cheese dip to go from Marlo's Taco Shack.

*There's a new bbq joint -- Whole Hog Cafe -- and their pulled pork and their ribs are awesome.

*Getting through security at O'hare was fine -- a TSA agent yelled at me to hurry up after we got through the line and I was trying to get Emiko back in her stroller. But getting through security at XNA was tougher. According to TSA's website (tsa.gov, if you are bored), you don't have to put baby food and bottles of milk in quart bags, you just have to declare it. So I declared it, but the agent made me take all the baby food and milk out of my bag. Then she made me take off Emiko's shoes! She let me keep Emiko's hoodie, but the agent at the metal detector patted Emiko down to be on the safe side! That seemed a little ridiculous. Not that I'm going to argue with TSA.

*Walking around Northwest Arkansas with my baby girl in her Obama, Baby! onesie.

*Seeing my friends Martha and Justin and Alannah. I went to college with Martha and high school with Justin, and they are engaged! So we'll be back in Arkansas in May for their wedding.

*Watching my Hogs beat Tennessee to make it to the SEC Championship game. (The championship wasn't as great -- Georgia way out-played us. But we are in the big dance, so it's all good.)

*Hanging out with my sister and her kids.

It was a great trip, actually. My family didn't drive me too crazy, although my dad tried to get my goat with politics talk.

I can't remember. . .

2008-03-19T20:41:00.001-05:00

. . .the last time I listened to a presidential candidate speak for 37 minutes. And was riveted the entire time. Barack's speech brought tears to my eyes. If you get the chance, you should check it out, if even for only a few minutes.

So tired....

2008-03-10T20:18:00.003-05:00

I haven't blogged in forever. I'd like to say that's because I've been doing so many fabulous things and just haven't had the chance, but that's not actually the case. I don't know what my excuse is.

Let's see -- Emiko turned one. We had a few people over to celebrate, including Granny and Papa Fuji. So that was fun. Watching Emiko eat her cupcake was hilarious.

Todd's birthday was Sat (3/8) and Butternugget babysat for us. (Thanks, again!) We went to Uncommon Ground on Devon and had dinner and watched our friend James Curley and his band perform. That was a lot of fun, but I drank too much (two glasses of red wine) and so was ruined all day yesterday. It's amazing to me how my tolerance has changed so much. I used to be quite the partier, but it seems the universe thinks I should stop drinking. Since being pregnant with Emiko, I haven't had much to drink, but the few times I've gone out since her birth I've had a lot of fun, yet was completely shattered the next day. And moms don't get to be sick. Emiko doesn't care that I'm totally nauseated and exhausted and feel like crap.

School is still tough. I am having a really hard time feeling positive about my job. I do really like some of my students, but so many of them are just awful and it's so hard to focus on the few good kids when the assholes are so vocal and hard to ignore. I'm trying, though. It just gets harder every day. My students (freshmen) are reading a memoir called Hole in My Life, about a guy who spends time in jail for getting caught running drugs. It's a good book, and the author (Jack Gantos) is now a well-known children's author.

Anyway, I asked the kids to write down about the worst thing they've ever done in their lives, and the answers were not fun to read (I should have known better.) One kid wrote about stealing $1000 from his grandma. He didn't feel bad, but he got caught because he brought the cash to school and was showing off and a teacher turned him in. How can you steal from your grandma???

Another kid wrote about pulling a gun and holding it to the head of another kid to steal his stuff. That kid (who I do really like) feels bad and says he's learned his lesson. I recommended him for honors classes for next year (he's a great writer) and he was so excited and couldn't wait to tell his dad. So I really hope he'll stay on the right path. It's just hard to do that -- takes a lot of courage and no one is going to give him much support, I'm afraid.

OK, that's enough babbling for this week. Emiko and I are off to Arkansas Sat to visit the family. I'm nervous about traveling with her by myself (I wish I had four hands!), but I'm really excited to see everyone. And about eating hush puppies and catfish at the Catfish Hole. Plus ChickfilA, sweet tea, cheese dip. Fried chicken. It'll be awesome!!! I'm sure I'll have some adventures to share!

New Barack Star Video

2008-03-01T07:36:00.000-06:00

I'm really starting to like will.i.am.

Emiko's 1st Birthday!

2008-02-27T20:39:00.000-06:00

Emiko turned one last Thursday, on Feb 21st. I can't believe it's been a year already. It's gone by so fast. Her delivery was such a whirlwind, with her arriving six weeks early and all that. You'd never guess she was a preemie -- she's so big!

She's almost walking, and can pull herself up and walk while leaning against stuff. And she's so freaking cute!!

See for yourself. (I'm not just a bragging mommy!)

School Ridiculousness: Part Two

2008-02-13T18:47:00.002-06:00

Yesterday I blogged about the girl assembly at school. While the girls were in the gym, the boys were in the auditorium. I was not a witness to the ridiculousness that ensued, but here is what I have been told by several eyewitnesses:

They had a guest speaker who has a felony conviction for fraud and embezzlement. Apparently he bilked Verizon Wireless out of several million dollars. I don't know how long he was in jail, but now he goes around to CPS schools and gives speeches to kids about what will happen in prison.

So he went on and on about prison and what happens to you while there. He cursed a lot, calling the audience many different names, including "black ass n*****." He used that term the most. The boys did not seem to like being called that. Several of the kids walked out (and tried to get into the gym, but were stopped).

He also informed the audience that the idea that George Washington was the first president of the United States was a myth perpetuated by white people. According to this felon, there were eight other presidents before Washington, at least one of whom was a black man. He had a name for the black man, but I forgot it. But for the next two days, all I heard from my male students was about this supposed black president.

We think this guy was referencing leaders under the Articles of Confederation or something, but no one has found any research to confirm this guy's assertion about the black president.

Then he cursed at the kids some more.

I can't imagine how much money he is making off this "inspirational speaking" business he's cooked up, but it's probably pretty good money. And as a felon, he doesn't have too many options for well-paying (legal) jobs. But I just can't believe he stood up there and used the "N" word with abandon and no one stopped him. Several of the teachers (black and white) were offended, but what are you going to do?

My job does resemble a Jerry Springer episode more and more each day. Except I don't have any security guards to take unruly guests away -- I'm just stuck with them.

My School is Crazier Than Ever

2008-02-12T18:55:00.000-06:00

Last Friday we were told there were going to be two assemblies during advisory -- the girls were to report to the gym and the boys were to report to the auditorium. We were instructed to lead our students to those two places and remain with them throughout the presentations. It was not made clear how we were to be at two places at once.

So I sent my boys to the auditorium and I escorted my girls to the gym. We assumed this was going to be the sex talk or something similar. Turns out, the assistant principal decided that since most of the girl fights at school are over boys, we needed to get together and discuss the issue.

The school psychologist got the microphone and told the girls that they shouldn't be fighting over these boys. Then she opened the floor to questions. No one asked any questions. Then a special ed teacher got up and asked why we were having so many fights. No one answered.

Then a brave student got up and said that the problem was that everyone was dating the same boys and we needed to stop doing that. Then a senior girl got the mic and said this, "You freshmen girls need to stay away from the senior boys. Those boys are ours!"

Things got really good then. Freshmen girls were yelling that if the senior girls could do their job, the boys wouldn't be coming to the freshmen to get what they needed. Then the sophomore and junior girls were yelling about what they could offer the boys. Then the senior girls argued that their men were just going to come back to them, so there. It was so ghetto and ridiculous and these damn girls were ready to get it crackin and box (that is, start fighting).

There was also an enlightening conversation about who is a b (bitch) and who is a ho (everyone, apparently). Especially if you are sleeping with my man.

This went on for a good half hour, and no one was stopping it. I'm looking at the assistant principal -- she just stood there. I'm looking at the school psychologist. She kept saying, "This is such a good discussion." I couldn't take it any longer. I turned to my coworkers and said, "I'm going up there!"

So I made my way to the front of the gym through the throng of girls who wanted to box and got the mic. I said, "Ladies, I think you are missing the point. This is not about dividing yourselves. This is about unifying in the face of a serious problem. If your boyfriend cheats on you, it's not because you haven't done your job. It's not because you've done something wrong. It's because he doesn't respect you. Why would you allow yourself to be treated that way?"

Then I got fired up and starting preaching some more. I was nervous but I spoke really well. I can't remember all that I said, but it was all about female empowerment and whatnot. When I was done, all the girls who wanted to box over the mic had sat down. I finished and looked around and the teachers and a couple of girls clapped and that was it. I toddled back to my corner of the gym.

My friend JoAnn does a great imitation of my little speech -- apparently my accent was more pronounced than usual. That tends to happen when I get fired up.

Anyway, then a friend of mine got up and said the same things I said, basically. Then we all sat down and waited for the bell to ring.

I was really nervous about getting up there, because at my school, having a white lady get things back on track is not appreciated at all. But several people stopped me throughout the remainder of the day and thanked me for my remarks. And I guess people heard about it -- Miller, the 3rd floor security guard (who is always threatening to cut Todd) called me Preacher Fuji the rest of the day.

My speech did no good, however. There were girl fights every day last week. And as this is a short week and Valentine's Day is Thursday, there'll be fights every day this week, too. But hell, I tried.