Complaining is a form of critical discourse with one’s world.  I think you knew that already.

You can look around at the goings-on and let out a complaint.  Here are some fabulous examples of complaints, taken from real life:

“Ugh, my jeans are too tight.”

“I don’t have any clean underwear.”

“This dinner tastes too spicy.”

“I am sick and tired of all the snow. Can it be spring now?”

These and many more, and variants therein, I am sure you may have heard, or uttered, or at least thought.  I know that they are familiar and comforting to me in some way.

The best part of letting yourself complain, is that having voiced your discontent, it now gives you a direction in which to take your onerous situation.

Whining is a special type of complaining. It goes from merely stating the matter of discontent and takes it on the offensive. Now it’s time to take your complaint, and make the other people around you suffer, too! Just whip out the whining and you can punish those around you who are probably responsible for your misery anyway!

If you are someone who works with children, as I am, you will likely be familiar enough with whining at the pinnacle of its form, so that you will not be in need of any further example. Besides, making specific examples of whining in which they can be differentiated from the odd complaint is more difficult in written text. It would require a fair amount of inflection, for whining is that linguistic equivalent of the old fingernails-on-blackboard sound one hears in old fashioned classrooms.

In my work with children, both in a school setting and at home with my own daughters, I have to admit, it can be challenging responding to and dealing with complaints. Whining complaints are the worst, however.  If you work with kids enough, you may find that you grow either more immune to the pain of whining, or perhaps instead you grow less tolerant of it.  I think there are days when I lean one way, and other days when I go the other direction.

Whining from adults is the hardest to tolerate.  Complaints, on the other hand, are merely a call to action.  No matter who it is initiating the complaint, this is a function of human critical thought. It can be acceptable, even desirable, but only when the complaint is followed up with action of some sort.

I myself like to complain a bit now and then, as it reminds me and motivates me to do stuff. The lack of clean underwear can spawn some flurry of trips to the basement to wash clothing.  The tightness of jeans could inspire me to lay off sweets for a while.  Indeed, I encourage everyone out there to complain a bit.  And then LISTEN to yourself.  Whatever it was that bugged you enough to complain, do something about it.

But, please, don’t whine. At least not where I can hear you!

Today was a beautiful summer day. I spent a lot of time outdoors, and created a new raised flower bed, where I planted purple shamrocks and white impatiens.

I know there’s a lot of work to be done, but I’m feeling so much better thanks to summer being here. There’s still some big challenges ahead but I feel like I can face them.

I seriously have to wonder if I should continue my teaching job. On the one hand, I do enjoy it. On the other, it sure did give me a lot of stress this year. Annoyingly, even though my performance was evaluated by the community, I STILL have not received an evaluation from Personnel. I did hear from them verbally (”You have nothing to worry about…”); nevertheless, I feel really annoyed that I haven’t been given my evaluation letter or any official feedback.

If they weren’t going to take my evaluation seriously, what did I need to have so much stress and anxiety about?

And sadly, it really all boils down to one family. One cuckoo family can have such a horribly big negative impact on my psyche? That seems really unfair. If not for this one family, this one child’s problematic behavior, would I have spent the last month of school feeling like a mental patient?

The relief I feel is truly tangible. But what about next year? I can’t help but ask myself… is that kid coming back next year? Rumor has it that he might not. Of course, there’s always conflict, in any job. Could be anyone, any kid– and I have to be strong enough to handle it.

If this was trial by fire, then the question is whether I am now forged by fire, or just burnt out? I will think about this, more.

I’m half way through the busiest two weeks of my year. This is when I am directing and teaching a summer camp. It is only for two weeks, but it is intense.

Last week’s camp theme was essentially Science & Art and the huge fun messes you can make in both. I had 14 kids in the group, ages 5 to 8. We explored flubber (a gooey mixture of Borax and Elmer’s Glue), baking soda and vinegar explosions, splatter painting, diet soda + mentos candy explosions, and more. It was fun. We also spent a good amount of time playing with the hose in the school yard. Reports back from parents indicated that the kids had a blast.

I was thinking about this whole experience, the intensity of it, the corresponding emotions that go with it. Last year was my first time ever doing a job of this level of intensity and responsibility with kids. Wait, no, that’s not true. I used to work in a daycare center where I was the Lead Teacher. I did that for about 10 months during graduate school. But the fact is, those were essentially BABIES, I mean, large toddlers are still babies really. My classroom back then was filled with little children, all between 18 months and two years old. The needs for activities for essentially pre-verbal children are quite different from working with a largely literate group of school aged children.

I put a tremendous amount of research and effort into last year’s camp. I was insanely anxious– filled with worry that kids wouldn’t like the camp, that I’d lose my patience, that there would be insanity and chaos, and that kids would be unhappy, bored, whiny, and above all complain to their parents and other teachers about my obvious lack of competence. And, in addition, my anxiety said in a whispered frantic tone to my pounding heart, more than likely I’d be fired when the kids under my care ended up being rushed to the ER due to my frank incompetence at even keeping them safe, let alone happy.

Wow. I think I suffered a similar bout of anxiety prior to this year’s camp, although I’d like to think that it was somewhat less intense. It’s important to note that last year’s camp was quite successful. None of the bad things I worried about actually happened. Kids came back to school in the fall and actually told me that the two weeks they spent with me were the best day camp weeks of their entire summer. Sure, they loved the swimming and field trips, and special programming featured at other camps, but it was the FUN and the comfort and the sheer joyfulness of camp with me that came back to them when they thought about what was good about camp.

So you’d think that I have nothing to worry about. Why so much anxiety? I don’t know, to be perfectly honest. I am now halfway through my camp experience for the year. The first week went very well. I love the group of kids I have– and I have a homogenous age group unlike last year’s wide age range. It is nice to be able to talk to them about what we’re going to do, they listen well (mostly!) and they seem to be cooperative (mostly!).

Next week our theme will be world travel. I haven’t picked all our activities yet, so this weekend I have to do a little shopping, and some planning. I love the idea of doing multicultural crafts, cooking, and activities. I got the idea to have each child make a passport for themselves, and then we’ll stamp them each time we “visit” another country.

I think it’s going to be a good week, fun and exhausting in many ways. Then… onto the summer. Hoorah!

It’s here, my week off from work. But I don’t feel happy and relaxed. I feel stressed and pressed for time. I have a bunch of things that I would like to do, and I don’t know where to begin. At the same time, I want to curl up under the blankets and nap all day. At the same time, I want to go see 3 films today, it’s the last day of the Philly Cine Fest. And there’s approximately 75 loads of laundry that need to be done. Because Carla has no clean pants to wear. She’s literally walking around the house with nothing on her lower half. And it is chilly. We had HAIL earlier for dog’s sake. And we’re out of cat food. And there’s meat in the fridge that needs to be cooked into something. And there’s a pile of dishes the size of Miami in the sink. And the living room needs painting. And the garden needs tending. And there are accounts to be balanced. And. And. And. And.

And the kids say I should make crafts with them. And go to the zoo. And. And. And.

And I have my period. And I’m out of tampons.

I’m in a weird place right now. I have this crisis going on with work but I feel like I can’t really write about it here. I am only thinly veiled in anonymity and I wouldn’t want this blog to end up on the wrong people’s monitors.

My mood is so-so, and I have a bad cold. My drippy nose and low energy levels are not helping with the crisis.

My sense of support around the crisis is somewhat minimal.

UGH. Sniff.

I am so glad today is Friday. I am feeling really down, and I don’t really have any particular reason why.

Just feel all heavy and wiped out and pointless. I realized that I have an all-day work day on Monday — when the school where I work is closed but it is part of my job to provide childcare from 8:30 AM to 6 PM. These days are long. They are tiring, for me and for the kids I care for, including my own.

Carla isn’t going to be there all day, though, because D is taking her to see a specialist. She’s reached the age of “it’s time to consider what to do.” Her issues are mainly relating to the way that she is able, or not able, to pay attention. We’ve met with our pediatric nurse practitioner, who is wonderful. The nurse agrees with our assessments, and with Carla’s teacher’s assessment that Carla almost certainly has ADHD.

ADHD, or Attention Deficit Hyperactivity Disorder, is a poorly named disorder. If you aren’t familiar with it, it sounds like a label for kids who have ants in their pants, and don’t ever pay attention to anything. You know, those lazy kids who just spaz out all the time.

That’s certainly not the case. Sometimes ADHD has hyperactivity as a symptom, and sometimes it doesn’t. Sometimes there are kids who can’t ever focus on anything, but not always. It’s really a cluster of symptoms, relating to one’s attention and activity levels, but it really does vary from case to case.

In Carla’s case, she has what they call the “inattentive” variety. This doesn’t really sound right either, since when she wants to, she is GREAT at being attentive. She can focus for hours and hours on something that she’s passionate about– say, making incredible art, or reading a whole book that she likes. She loves writing and will do that in a focused and determined way. But when something is the kind of task she’s NOT interested in, well, then — yeah, she’s a total space cadet.

Her mind is busy doing something else. It’s kind of like when you’re using a computer, and you KNOW you just clicked on something, but apparently the computer wasn’t ready to do what you asked. That’s how Carla gets — she just doesn’t respond sometimes. And it’s not easy to re-boot her, either!

“Huh? What?” she might say, coming back to reality, touching down from her little world of her own mind. “I spaced out,” she’ll admit. She even went so far as to tell me that spacing out is her super power.

In a way, she’s absolutely right. People with ADHD often have the ability to do INCREDIBLE things. They have a tendency to be bright, engaged, interesting, creative, and when they turn that super power focus to the “ON” position, well then: WHAMMY! What amazing success comes from that!

Unfortunately, life often contains things that don’t automatically trigger her WHAMMY attention. She might not be that interested in the math lesson — either she’s already mastered it or maybe just doesn’t care. Whatever the case is, she tunes out and misses a lot of stuff as a result.

Her teacher sees this happening even more when Carla is doing some class work with a partner– her partner is already finished and she’s just finally starting to put pencil to paper.

So anyway, we’re on to the investigation phase of what can we do to help Carla. I don’t think it’s easy– but there are routine, behavioral things that we do to help her and then there’s the medication route. Unfortunately, she’s anti-meds. Because they taste yucky.

It is hard being a parent.

Carla also has a problem with bed-wetting. She’s 8 and a half. She’s getting BIG. To still be wetting the bed these days is really getting to her. It’s every damn, night, too. I would be lying if I said I don’t mind washing sheets every day. She’s too big to wear a pull up– even the “deluxe” kinds that are supposed to be so great for big kids.

Her appointment on Monday is for the bed-wetting issues, but I think it all ties into the ADHD. People with ADHD have something different about the way their brain is “wired.” I believe that when she is asleep, her brain’s attention to body signal is pretty much zilch. That is my theory as to why she wets the bed: because her brain is somewhere ELSE.

I wish I could go to this appointment with her, but I am confident that D will be extremely competent at asking the right questions, getting good information. He is really on the ball, and understands Carla’s attention issues quite well. Nevertheless, I do wish I could be there.

As usual, writing has helped me somewhat. When I started this post, I just felt really dreary and dreadful. I am still down, but I feel a little bit better. (If people were to leave me little nice comments, that would help, too. Hint. Hint.)

This morning we arrived at school promptly at 8:30 AM sharp, bookbags and lunches at the ready, gym shoes appropriately on the right feet. Great! Now let’s do that again tomorrow and tomorrow and tomorrow!

I am glad to be back into some form of structure. Right now I’m sitting at home alone (just me and the cats and the guinea pigs, that is) and I’m listening to music on Pandora.com. If you don’t know Pandora, and you like listening to music, then you should really check it out. It’s free to listen to music, you don’t download anything, and they have just about everything. .

I feel really good. I am delighted that the holidays are “done” and I feel really satisfied. I do wish D (my husband) were able to get a break like I had. Having two full weeks to reset my brain, focus on home, etc., was really nice. Yes, he was off for some of the time, too. But he seems really stressed out and not at all re-charged. This makes me sad.

I have no New Years Resolutions at this point. I mean, I could think of some things that I could just, well, ignore. I don’t know about lofty goals. I do wish I’d get the hang of being prompt to school and work Every Day. This kind of drudgery isn’t my thing, unfortunately. But I think if I make up new ways to think of it, new rewards, new systems, say every month or so… that might help.

I wish more people visited / read / commented here at This Examined Life. I could make it a goal to publicize my blog more in the new year. It is so lonely writing and not knowing if someone (besides D) is reading it. I wish I knew what creative and fun ways that other people tackle the everyday challenges of work and parenthood — well that is actually one of the reasons I enjoy reading other people’s blogs!

The next time I do a conceptual overhaul on my home/work routines, I’ll try to blog about it and share here what works, what doesn’t.

Happy New Year, Internet Buddies Far and Near!!!

Oh, and, here’s a picture from Christmas morn. Note the presents stacked all around the … guinea pig cage?!? We had the world’s smallest Christmas tree, a live baby tree in a pot, but up on a pedestal and it’s not in the picture!

When you work with kids, I think confidence is really crucial. They have to be able to feel secure knowing that you, The Teacher, knows what is supposed to be going on. Kids do not care for ambiguity.

When are we going outside? they want to know. Soon, Later, I don’t know — these are all unacceptable answers. I usually glance at the clock and state definitively 2:30! or, sometimes, I answer “Right after snack.”

Can I take of my shoes? There’s got to be a rule.

Consequences of breaking rules, have to be consistent, reasonable and fair.

I know all of this. But recently I had a thoroughly frustrating day, because I kept on second-guessing my answers. Was I capable of resolving disputes properly? Which technique should I use? Did I give adequate transition time? Was I making my expectations clear? Should I allow Rita to cut up a pipe cleaner? Can Jenna have another cookie? Everything seems to be so significant. I wasn’t confident in my own judgement.

This was the result of having two separate meetings with parents in which I felt criticized. The most recent meeting was on Monday. I felt like instead of having the parents be an ally to helping their children’s behavior in school, it was as if the parents thought any issues their kid had were entirely related to negligence or poor judgment on my part. Then after getting that awful meeting over with, I had to step back into the classroom and provide a structured, balanced, comfortable day for a group of kids. It’s hard to do that with roiling emotions!

Much of this internal dialogue is nonsense, of course. I DO have good judgment. My program IS good, and most kids do great with me. I was meeting with these two families because their children’s behaviors were outliers. In other words, their behaviors had fallen outside of what I expected from them. Parents don’t like to hear that, and so they were defensive and hurtful toward me.

I know this, and I know I need a “thicker skin” as one peer recently pointed out to me. My own feelings should NOT make me have a bad day. The good thing is though, I don’t think the kids knew I was having a bad day. My discomfort was real, but it was internal.

So another day ahead me, and I am trying to feel confident again. I am learning so much, every day, from the classroom environment. Getting kids to behave is a tricky business. I firmly believe that if you provide an environment that meets children’s needs (emotional / artistic / social / physical, etc.) then you will see the behavior that you want. Bad behavior is generally the product of an environment that is missing the mark for that particular child.

We all know that some children have different needs, needs that fall outside of our initial expectations. And parents often REALLY don’t want to hear from me that their child is someone who has “special needs” because of the negative associations with that term.

I do try to be sensitive to that. After all, my own daughter (Carla) is a kid whose behavior at times has been outside of what was expected of her. Specifically, she has a lot of trouble focusing. As her parents, we are working with our pediatrician to find out what we can do to help her. Being defensive about it would be unhelpful.

With this dual perspective of mine (as Teacher, as Parent), I would have thought I could be sensitive to how parents feel about having their child’s needs (be they “special” or “different” or “typical”) pointed out. Yet I feel bad, because in the meetings I had with parents, I am not sure if I managed to communicate what I wanted to say. I tripped over things, misspoke, put things in a way that angered the parents, and triggered their defensiveness. I am disappointed in myself, and frustrated as well. I feel like I blew an opportunity to bring in these parents to a sense of “let’s work together”.

Sorry to be so vague. I am having trouble getting my thoughts organized today, and don’t just want to recount the whole details. Not a great blog entry. Sigh.

I’m a teacher, only I don’t have to teach all that complicated stuff like where do babies come from, and how did the world get here in the first place. Of course, if I was asked to teach such delicate and apparently controversial matters, I’d be only too glad to check all the facts, and find appropriate books for children to learn all about the science behind such things. I’d be interested in seeing what theories were supported by fossils, and layers of the earth, and astronomy and all that sort of thing.

Instead, I am focusing on teaching kids how to unwind after a busy day at school, how to bake cookies, muffins, or pizza, or how to sew a pillow, or how to make an origami fortune teller, or encourage dramatic play, or, or, or, or. You get the idea. I’m the After School Director — and it’s my job to see that the kids are safe and comfortable until their parents are able to pick them up. And at the wonderfully crunchy school where I teach, I don’t think anyone would even think about teaching so-called “Creationism.”

I was so appalled today to read the following:

An avid hunter and self-described “hockey mom,” Palin, 44, is beloved by conservatives for her strong opposition to abortion and her support of teaching creationism in school.

Republicans also rallied around Palin when she was attacked by pundits for failing to put her family first, given that she has a four-month-old son with Down syndrome and her unmarried, 17-year-old daughter is pregnant.

Ok, when did Republican come to mean “doesn’t believe in science anymore”? I mean, really? And if Republicans are so against having the government be big and control people’s freedoms, why is that they want to limit what a woman chooses to do? And to make people’s kids be forced to learn some religious bullship in place of science? And what’s with this pitbull woman who cares more about unborn embryos than about what happens to kids after they are born?

Being a mom of two children, and teacher to many more, I know how much kids really yearn for someone to listen, lead, and share with them so much of every day life. And I remember fondly how completely having an infant filled up my days and nights. It wasn’t that I didn’t have a career (I did, and continued to work even as milk would sometimes trickle down my blouse — s’cuse me!). It wasn’t that I was someone whose only interest in life was to care for my infant. It just really takes a lot of work to raise a baby. My babies didn’t have “special needs” but they did need my special loving attention, practically 24/7. Even if I wasn’t with them, my body sure know what it was supposed to be doing.

So, If Palin is so gosh-darned happy to be a hockey mom, why would she want to move to Washington, D.C.? The hockey is certainly not so choice there. When does she plan to pump milk for her baby? Or does she even bother now? Apparently, she isn’t much concerned about the welfare of her children once they leave the womb. Or maybe her preggo teenage daughter can just quit school and be the new mom of the house, it’s good practice and all.

Meanwhile, she’s so proud of her daughter’s DECISION to have a baby! Guess what? There’d be no DECIDING if Mommy had her way with the country, right? All the preggo teenagers would just up and marry their boyfriends and fill the world with little cherubs for our social services system to help care for. Too bad those same social services are being run down, de-funded, and dismantled by the Republicans. Of course, the number of teen moms will only go up and up, since Abstinence Only Education leaves teens in the dark about how to protect themselves should hormones ever cloud their judgment about sex. But really, who ever heard of teens having bad judgment? That’s just crazy talk!

So. Science? Out the window. Facts? That’s history! Real Education? Bah! Don’t be ridiculous!!

Tomorrow is my first day of After School. I think I’ll teach the kids about what we can do to save the unicorns from becoming extinct.

Week 1 of camp is complete, and I think it was successful in virtually every way.  The repercussions of having put such an intense amount of energy into my work this week? Exhaustion, relief, sunburn suntan.

I had a really good assistant, Marta:  a young teacher who has recently trained with one of my favorite teachers at the same school where I’m running day camp.  Marta is a funky and cute young woman with a nose ring. The kind of nose ring that goes through the middle of your nose, as in, between the nostrils.  Yeah, so she’s not only sweet with the kids, but cool, too! It was really nice having her youthful energy, and she’s clearly trained well as I see her mentor’s approach within her teaching.

Alas, Marta can’t return for week 2, and instead I’ll have another parent whom I know come and help out. She’s experienced, too, but the only real drawback is she’ll bring along her two kids as well (just like I do). Her kids are … a handful, shall we say?

But aside from a bit of shopping over the weekend, I feel pretty ready for this second week of camp. Week 1 went well, and there is a core group of kids who will be with us again next week and their behaviors are pretty good and the routine we established seems to work.

Bye-bye pit of tension. Hello exhaustion!