Month: November 2022

In Good Hands

Mom is deteriorating. When I go to see her now she is mostly asleep, whether she’s in her wheelchair, her recliner, or her bed. She stares off to the left and I have to get down on eye level to have any hope of her looking at me, even briefly.

When I get there, I touch her shoulder and get down to see her face and I say Hi, Mom quietly. She doesn’t look at me. But her eyes flutter and I wonder if she knows it’s me. I am doubting more and more every time that I go that she knows me at all. She no longer reaches for my face, or holds my hand – except for the grip with her fingers – like a baby will do when something gets close to it’s hand. She’ll hold on then, until you let go, but I think it’s just a reaction – not something she is consciously doing. Hi, Mom, I say again. Will you look at me today? Her eyes flutter but still she doesn’t move her head, or her eyes.

Mom, I say, I’ve had such a crazy week. And I tell her all about it. She never responds, or moves, but I keep searching her face, keep talking, keep trying. She’ll cough every once in awhile and it is guttural – she is definitely aspirating when she eats and drinks because her cough always sounds very wet. Her chest is a mass of bruises and her caregiver Nikki and I wonder why. Maybe she’s scratching herself? Maybe it’s the coughing? Something is causing her chest to have these deep red bruises and we can’t figure it out. Mom’s skin is tissue paper thin, so pretty much any contact with anything will make her bruise.

I am feeding Mom her breakfast today and I can tell it’s oatmeal with peanut butter in it. Trying to get those calories in. I bring her a chocolate donut, which used to be her favorite, but she makes a funny face when I give it to her and I can tell she doesn’t want it. She opens her mouth anytime the spoon gets close to her lips – just like a very young baby. She can still eat, but the swallowing seems to be taking longer. She can still drink through a straw. The entire time I am feeding her she just sits, staring straight ahead. I sigh and I lean in close to give her a hug. She smells like lavender. She’s just had a shower and she’s clean and fresh. Her hair is still damp. Every few weeks I buy her special shampoo, body wash, and lotion. It’s about all I can still do for her. She doesn’t need anything else. She’s got a high necked sweater on today because it’s so cold and she looks cozy and comfortable. I know that they’ll settle her into her recliner as soon as she’s done eating and Mom will doze for the rest of the morning.

I love the way these ladies look after my Mom. I am absolutely assured that when I’m not there they are treating her just like they would their own Mom. They all love her deeply and call her Susie and try to make her smile. Kirstin comes by while I am feeding Mom and gives her some medication. She leans in close and says “I love you” and Mom gives her a huge smile. I am astounded! Mom! I say, pretending to be outraged, how can you give Kirstin a smile and not me?! We both laugh. I tell Nikki that Mom smiled big at Kirstin but not me and she says “yeah she does that to me, too. It pisses me off.” She’s joking of course, and we are both bemused. What is is about Kirstin that Mom likes, I wonder? Maybe just that she sees her almost every day? There is no telling, but I’m glad that someone can still make her smile.

I haven’t been going to see Mom as much. It’s heartbreaking for me to see her sleeping all the time. I know she’s clean and comfortable. I know she’s being well taken care of. I know she doesn’t miss me when I’m not there. I have absolutely no concerns about her standard of care. And because of that, I have started to feel less guilty about how often I make it out there. Because, as much as I hate it, life does go on and I am slowly adjusting to life without my Mom. There is always so much to do every day, and guilt just doesn’t fit in to my life anymore. She’s on my mind every day, and I am absolutely certain that some part of her knows that. What is the point of me sitting there while she sleeps? She doesn’t know I’m there, only I know. So I sit for about thirty minutes, I organize things in her room and I check my phone. But other than that, there’s not much to do, and the guilt now has transferred to all the other stuff that is waiting for me. So I leave. I’ll be back soon I whisper. You’ll be ok? I always ask but she has stopped answering.

Y’all, my Mom is in good hands. I could not ask for more. If you ever have to deal with a loved one that has Alzheimer’s, the very best thing you can do for them is to find a place for them where they are LOVED. Where they are cherished. Where you can let that guilt go, and live your life to the fullest in between visits. I can do this, and I am grateful.

The Art of Teaching, Part 2

As the second group of kids comes noisily in I steady myself for the next hour and a half of what is supposed to be math but really feels more like babysitting and crowd control. I notice that there are a lot of spanish speaking kids in this group and I’m a little worried, but I soon realize that they all speak English just fine. They are loud, yes, but a little more inclined to work. They are definitely more interested in learning and slightly more respectful. I even get a few minutes at the board where they are all quiet and I think hey! I’m getting the hang of this. However, chaos soon returns with them ALL eager to take a turn at the board. This group manages to do the first two worksheets a bit quicker than the first group and I pointedly ignore the word problems on the bottom of the page. I just feel like it’s too much to take on and I’m not at all inclined to try it with them with the possibility of a language barrier hindering us. I hand out the third packet, which is supposed to be done with a partner but somehow ends up with several kids all working together in different areas of the room. No one is left by themselves, however, so I let the failure to follow instructions slide. As long as they’re working, I’m happy.

As their time comes to an end I realize it’s raining outside and they will not be going outside for recess. I wonder what happens in this scenario. I soon find out. The groups switch around again and I get the third group for a half hour recess INSIDE the classroom. I think I was at least hoping for the gym. The boys begin to play an indoor game of catch with a hat, of all things, and devise a game where whoever catches the hat has to leave the group until the last person remains and that person is then out. I watch idly and am impressed with a rather tall kid with long hair that I take to be a girl. (I was wrong!)

After recess they all exit the room for lunch and I breathe a sigh of relief for the thought of thirty minutes to myself. I try for the restroom but it’s full of girls so I decide I can wait. I eat my peanut butter sandwich silently and text Tony. He asks if I’ve wanted to throttle any of them yet and I laugh. It’s just hard, I tell him. A lot of noise and activity for a person who enjoys silence. I should be used to kids, but the fact is I’m better with one on one instruction and of course, HORSES. Not children. I have already started counting down – you only have four hours left. Three hours left. Two and a half hours. Two hours and four minutes.

The third group comes in and right off the bat I mistakenly say “her” regarding the kid with the long, shiny, dark hair and I am QUICKLY corrected by everyone but the boy himself. Geez! They say, every sub does that! Well, I reply, you have long hair and I don’t know any of your names. An easy mistake. I refuse to be embarrassed. This set of kids is very bright. They get through the first worksheet in record time. I know we only have an hour before the Veteran’s Day assembly we will all attend, presented by the fourth grade music class. So we persevere and get through the second worksheet, again with ignoring the word problems on the bottom of the page. I am just about to hand out the third packet when the Vice Principal starts to call for dismissal to the gym for the assembly.

We all troop down to the gym and I am gratefully uninvolved in seating or disciplining anyone. I am anxious for a glance of my own Baby Girl, so that I can remember that I do, in fact, like kids. The third grade has been on a field trip that day and are late in on the game. They finally arrive and I see her little blond head almost right away. She is scanning the area and finally her eyes light on mine and she grins and waves. I feel something run through me and I think it’s just relief. Oh yeah, my gut says, there she is. She’s ok, so you’re ok too.

The noise in the gym is INSANE. I squeeze myself as close to the back wall as I can and wonder how long this thing is going to last. I half want it to last until it’s time for dismissal but I also don’t want to stand on that hard floor for that long. My feet are already aching and I shift from side to side trying to find some relief. Finally the music teacher calls everyone to order and we are thus subjected to a motley of songs God Blessing the USA and all the military. One song has a bunch of kids with drums and I’m just wondering what the beat is supposed to be because this surely isn’t it. Several girls are meant to be giving solos but try as I might I hear nothing at all. I couldn’t even tell who was meant to be singing. I find myself tear up a time or two as I witness the veterans in the audience and think of my Dad, who I am missing a lot this day. But I quickly rein it in, it won’t do for anyone to see my emotional side here.

Thankfully, the program ends after about half an hour and we all troop back to the classrooms. I get the homeroom kids back and we are not halfway in the door before one boy shoves another and a fight starts to break out. Hey! I say, cut that out! And they briefly move away from each other. However, the two boys are determined to let the other know who is boss and it doesn’t take long for them to be back at it. I know I am not supposed to leave the room so I take a kid and tell him to go get the teacher next door. She comes straight in and sees the conflict- what the heck boys?! She asks. She pulls them all out into the hall and I am grateful. There is a few minutes of peace as the remainder of the kids have free time until the bell rings. Wow, I think to myself. A scuffle on my very first day! And a kid that went missing! How eventful!

At dismissal the teacher from next door tells me that I can leave straight away, that they’ve all “got this.” I don’t wait around and argue – I am out! I practically run for the office and to find my kid. As I turn in my badge the receptionist asks “how was it?” Oh it was fine, I say. No problems.

I’m not lying. It could have been worse. I have a huge respect for teachers, and all the staff that make a school go round. I am tempted to say this isn’t for me, but I’m not a quitter. I’ll be back. With more information and armed with an attitude and maybe a little something something in my lunch box. (That’s a joke).

The Art of Teaching, Part 1

The morning started out like any other – getting Baby Girl ready for school. But this morning, I was making a lunch for myself as well. This would be my first day in over 12 years to be a substitute teacher. Before I met Tony I had subbed in the Aubrey school district and was fairly traumatized by the experience. But I think to myself that THIS TIME it will be different. I have a kid of my own, I know how they think, I am more patient now. This time I will like it.

We arrive at the elementary school only for me to be told I am not on the schedule. Almost elated, I say that I can go home if I’m not needed. They finally figure out that somehow I have been assigned to the High School. No, I say, I specifically signed up for 5th grade math. I’m not going to the High School. No worries they say! We actually do need a 5th grade math teacher so we’ll just fill you right in here. What happens to the job at the High School then I ask? The receptionist says Ah! We get a little selfish about subs – you’re here so they’ll just have to cover that class. She says it with a little grin and a shrug, not at all concerned. Truthfully I am not that concerned either, there’s no way I’m going to the High School so I take my ID badge as they explain it is a bi-lingual class. But not to worry! The kids will help you. Most of them speak english anyway. MOST of them? Gulp. Turns out spanish speaking students were the least of my problems. There’s another lady behind me waiting to be helped and through this whole process the look on her face tells me that I am clearly insane. She looks terrified FOR me. I wonder what my face looks like.

I get down the hall just in time for the first bell to ring, I haven’t even read the instructions! And the key to the door is very tricky. I am not panicking, I am not panicking, I say to myself. I can do this! Hear me roar! As the kids come in and drop their binders everywhere I try to quickly scan the instructions left for me, there are three worksheets to do, two of which we are to do together on some sort of new fangled computer whiteboard screen which I have no idea how to use. At least I can do the math I discover with some relief. What would the sub do who had no idea? I figure the kids will know how to do the whiteboard, and they do. Only every single one of them is jumping over themselves ready to show me.

One girl comes in and with her arms outstretched tries to give me a hug. This theme continues throughout the day. The second time it happens I say, No thank you, I don’t need a hug. The third time I say Wow you really like hugs don’t you? And the fourth time I just cave and freeze until it’s over. She’s a flighty sort of girl, very tall and kind of not there. There’s plenty of boys that are obviously going to give me some trouble and one girl that is falling over herself to be my helper. She asks me to put a bow in her hair. I see that there is the largest knot in the back of her head. She says it just stays there all the time. I wonder to myself about her home life. I wonder about that knot the entire rest of the day.

The noise in the room is cacophonous. I raise my voice and tell them all to take their seats. I am half expecting one of the boys to raise his chair and say “Where should I take it?” They have specials first thing, which will give me a chance to figure out what to do for the day. I walk them down to the gym and gratefully leave them there. I have an hour of peace to kill. I sit down and carefully read through everything. Apparently these classes act as “pods” and there are three classes in a pod. They switch from one subject to another through the day. So I will have three different sets of kids – the first set was my “homeroom” kids – and I will have to teach math for an hour and a half per set. I look at the math worksheets more carefully. The first two we are to do together on the whiteboard computer thing. Now wouldn’t it be nice if they all sat quietly in their seats and raised their hands respectfully and answered the math problems whilst working diligently? Baby Girl and I read the Little House on the Prairie books and there is a lot these kids could learn from the way kids behaved back then.

When I get them back and we begin, that picture of saintly behavior quickly fades to black as I get a bunch of raucous kids kicking chairs, tapping feet, falling out of chairs, doing artwork, passing notes, getting up, falling down, softly singing annoying songs and doing everything short of actual spitballs. There is one girl that you can immediately tell is drama. I don’t know how it starts but all of a sudden she wails “MY PARENTS ARE LEAVING ME” and is bawling at her desk while another student scoffs and says something unintelligible to which the girl turns around and screams “YOU DON’T KNOW, YOU DON’T KNOW ABOUT MY HOME LIFE.” Just at that moment the vice principal opens the door. Wow, she says, looks like I came at just the right moment. I have no doubt that the girl is dramatizing and looking for attention, but she is in tears, so the assistant principal takes her and her work down to her office for awhile. I am not sad to see her go. The other kids take no notice and simply go back to their level of noise and activity they were previously at.

It takes FOREVER to do these problems. I am not sure what the purpose of doing them together is, as some of the kids are bright and quick and bored while others are struggling. It seems it would be easier to move around the room offering help where needed? But again, that would assume a level of quiet and diligence that is sadly lacking. To get their attention I try turning the lights off and just having the computer screen to see by (which is light enough) and I tell them that if they can be quiet I will leave the lights off. It fails miserably. Some of the kids, of course, are pleased with the lights off and try to make the others shut up. To no avail. It is a lost cause. These kids could do with a little more “sit downs” and “shut ups” in their lives. Then again, maybe they are all angels for their regular teacher but I doubt it.

By the time we get to the third worksheet which they are supposed to do with a partner and on their own I am sweating and ready to quit. My brain has had enough with the noise. I am sharp tongued and thisshort of lashing out. One boy takes himself off to a corner to pout when he gets a question incorrect on the board and I have to call someone else up to do it. Another boy sits on the floor in front of the computer screen the entire lesson. That boy plays catch with his water bottle and I finally snatch it away in exasperation. Every single one of them asks me if they can go to the bathroom. The boy who had been pouting asks if he can go wash his hands, as they are all sticky. How?!??!? I don’t ask, just sigh and say yes. That same boy is found to be climbing the walls in the boys bathroom about 15 mins later. His worksheet has somehow found it’s way to the learning lab. I have to call down to the office for someone to go find him, as he has disappeared from my classroom.

It would be funny…. might be funny…. in hindsight…

By the time this section of math is over and we change classes, I am wondering if it can get any more difficult. This group has not impressed me, but I have impressed me – I managed to keep them all alive and the lost boy was found so I feel it’s a win? I pop open a Diet Coke and take a huge swig wishing it was just a tad bit stronger…..

Stay tuned for part 2.