Let Sleeping Giants Lie They Warn

"Sleeping in" is easily done as a child. Sleeping in is tolerated by most as we entered our pre-teen years. As a young adult entering the responsibilities of the working world, you can enjoy sleeping off the previous night's rowdiness with no guilt and comforted by the thought that you deserve the time under the sheets. You partied hard, as we used to say, and recovery time is essential. Waking up shortly before noon is ok, the norm even among our peers.

And then parenthood arrives.

Everyone is overjoyed by your new arrival -- as they should be. My wife put in some serious time, effort and illness into the production. I as the father spent serious time slaving away before the stove making the infamous Saucy Meatball recipe in hopes of fulfilling my wife's cravings. Yes, I liked them too... but maybe not every week, every Thursday in fact, and sometimes twice a week. BUT... no complaining is allowed, in all sincerity, because I did little of the human producing. My crucial responsibility in the production of this little person long since passed.

And when my son and later daughter arrived, there was much to celebrate. They were cute. They fit into the crook of my arm and I immediately realized the degree of dependence they had on me. They even smelled good. And the poop was amazing... at first. My first days of parenthood were entirely fueled by adrenaline. And then it hit me.

I may never get enough sleep... ever again.

With the passing of time I understand that this thinking was a bit illogical. But not those first few months... the fear was real. I was worried.

Every two hours there would be rumblings in our home. There was feeding, rocking, diaper changing, walking, refrigerator opening, creaks from the wooden floors and stairway, raising up from the warm bed and returning to it with cold feet and tired eyes. The newness of parenthood had not yet passed.

We had been reminded constantly of sudden infant death syndrome (SIDS) during pre-birth classes, and night-time was not the relaxing time it once was. We were very aware that the "sleepy time" hours were not without danger. We even bought the sensor that reassuring ticked at regular intervals confirming that his heart was beating -- another new sound.

Two more hours... just two more hours of sleep... please God. The promises of doing all good, forever... were made, and not silently in prayer, but out loud... for all to hear.

It was a scary time. One day I walked into my good friend's office and a look of worry crossed his face. "Are you ok? You look like hell." He was right. I, however, was so tired that I failed to see the sickly image looking back at me from the mirror in the morning. Pale and haggard. I cared little about image, little about food and even less about what used to bring joy to my pre-parenthood life. I cared only about my bed and the time I would be allowed to be with it... in it.

I had in fact been beaten by this tiny human. He had arrived a mere weeks prior. And he knew only four things -- hunger, wet diapers, being tired, and an odd sensation that scared him -- burps. Should one of these occur he made it known to all, at any time. My son had complete control over two adults. He now owned our time and determined our sanity. We had no power. Would this go on till he turned 18?

In our wisdom we placed his crib in the next room to our bedroom. Before you think us uncaring, the bassinet did stay in our room for what we decided upon to be adequate time -- four weeks. In celebration we then placed his little body in the nursery so that sleep might return in larger concurrent increments for us all. What novices we were.

We did all you would expect from new parents. His nursery had furry fish, stars and even a large purple moon hanging from the ceiling. There were protective, soft, adorable borders on the interior of his crib. There were enough burp cloths and blankets to keep our washing machine busy. The walls were painted colors found only in nurseries -- vivid blue and yellow. There was a changing table for all the essentials needed at any hour -- day or night.

We were unsuccessful.

I heard him move at night. I heard this sound through the wall. I heard this sound in the midst of slumber. There would not be sleep. And then it happened. I remember like it was last night.

He learned to roll over. This reassured us because now maybe if there was a breathing problem, he could move himself to correct the problem. Too much heavy sleepwear because of anxious parents? Blanket covering his face during the night? He could fix it himself now. Ahhh... we could relax. Another novice move.

The piercing alarm shattered the still night... the alarm that warned that his heart had stopped... which of course it hadn't. In the process of rolling over, the sensor beneath the mattress no longer detected a heartbeat. This fact did not register as an option.

I clearly remember launching myself from sleep and across the bed. Over my groggy wife. Like Bo Duke crossing the hood of The General in the television series Dukes of Hazzard. But without the fun and adventure.

Seven years later coupled with a daughter of three years, that fear of no sleep has somewhat subsided. Well to be honest, the fear still resides deep within me but I now know that there may indeed be a time when I will awake comforted. Not from the cry of the alarm clock, but I will greet the world rested and anxious to start the day -- writing this sounds like a joke told to the uninformed.

And so I share with friends and others... I can't wait till they want to sleep in. I will be the parent that we all remember. The one that clapped their hands as they woke us up on weekend mornings to rake the leaves. Or like my father who was determined to "warm up" the chainsaw at an early 7 a.m. and then ask me to help... no, tell me to get up and help him stack firewood. I think I finally understand.

Revenge is sweet.

I will bide my time and wait another seven years for my teenage children to desire sleep. I will wait patiently. And when that time comes... I am told by those that have already endured teenage children... let them sleep. I'm guessing that they may be right as I will surely be sleeping too.

Except now I can't sleep in even when my children decide to do so. Please God... just two more hours...

Teaching Today

So while I'm still new at the blog world and finding others' interests that are similar to my own... it's reassuring to already read other teachers' posts about the misconception of today's teaching profession. Especially when they attempt to "tell it like it is."

I often tell others that unless one is married to, dating a... or a parent of... a teacher, people just don't understand the challenges of the profession. In fact after teaching over six years it has been my experience that most don't understand the difficulties facing the classroom teacher in a public school setting.

I think most recall their own experience in the classroom. Those experiences we all remember from watching the teacher over the heads of those sitting in front of us. Watching the teacher's reactions. Critiquing the teacher. Wishing we were the teacher. Thinking, of course, that we could do better than the teacher.

And so perhaps as observers of the profession... many think that the profession has every benefit ever known to a prospective employee. You get to teach what excites you, you get summers off, students want to do well. Allow me, for a small moment, to dispel some of these urban myths.

No we do not get to decide what to teach. Perhaps many remember a favorite teacher teaching us more about their favorite pastime of hunting than Earth Science. We remember the antics of the odd faculty member known throughout the halls of high school. Yes, there were teachers we loved and hated with equal passion - no doubt that students still do. But what do you remember about elementary school?

I remember the love note I sent across the room labeled "do you like me, check here for yes and here for no". I remember that the playground was so far away from the school and often the dismissal bell would scare us into thinking that the buses would leave us behind. I remember the squirrels racing across the branches outside the classroom windows. I remember art class and tie-dying white t-shirts. And yes, referencing academics, I do remember being nervous when the report cards were handed out. What a different time that was... how much more students are required to know now.

I tell the parents during Back to School night: students have to now know an amazing amount of information and then relate it all on one day... on one test... regardless if they are having a good or bad day. Imagine being given a writing prompt and then having all day to write... regardless of whether you have a headache, have writer's block, or can't relate to the prompt. Students today have enormous challenges set before them at school.

Teachers now don't focus their entire instruction on a loved subject. In Virginia, the Commonwealth decides what will be taught during what year. They outline by date or by quarter. They outline using specific numbers and letters so that teachers can reference these when necessary. Fact... teachers don't get to decide what to teach. We may or may not love the specifics of instructional objectives to be met... however we DO love it when students understand what they first experienced as difficult. Every students knows it when the teacher enjoys being the classroom with the teacher... we remember don't we?

And the students that annoyed us as students don't make it easy for the teacher either. Of course I will also add that my favorite memories of years past are the students that were difficult to teach initially, and then by year's end... had transformed into young men and women wanting to succeed and prove to others that no challenge was too difficult. They persevered... a lesson that I try to consistently reinforce.

Yes, we have to do more than teach. In fact if we only had to teach the subjects well... teaching really would be easy. It's all the other factors. Never mind that state standards and the assessments that occur at year's end ignore the fact that a student may not want to do well, teachers have to overcome not just a disability or an academic challenge a student might have... they have to succeed regardless of a students negative and sometimes debilitating experience outside the school. (MUCH more on this later).

Summers do give us an opportunity to remove ourselves from the classroom for a few weeks. Those that don't teach summer school, are taking summer classes themselves - professional development is constant. Or perhaps others are working their other job. Teacher pay scales are public knowledge... take a look. We didn't become teachers for the paycheck but we still have to pay the bills. It will be interesting to see what occurs when school calendars are year-round... allowing for a few weeks between quarters. I agree, the summers are certainly captivating... yet if the time spent planning outside of school during the academic year were counted... I, like most teachers, are due some more "comp" time. As an example, my wife and family will attest to the fact that during my entire first year teaching... I spent each and every Sunday planning for the coming week. And while a teacher's first year in the classroom is, well... horrific due to the fact that one is both learning the curriculum, figuring out how to teach the curriculum, and also keeping up with all the other demands of the classroom. I know that good teachers keep learning themselves... and using the summers to make the next school year better than the last... making the next year even more impactful.

So enough of the rambling. My colleagues and I talk for hours about our profession's challenges and share stories when we prove successful in our interactions with our students. I heard it told to me once that the profession is an honorable one... I agree. I just wish more of society would agree and understand what a teacher's day entails. I assure you, the front of the room is not quite the easy endeavor we might have thought it was when we were in grade school.

Parenthood - Status as of October 2008

After being a parent for a time that seems hard to imagine... has it been over six years already, what did we do before children. I vaguely remember long moments on the sofa, watching whatever came on to the television... we were in fact led by those that schedule what will show up on the tube. I suppose that was before programmable television yet also during the amazing time of video cassette recorders. Now my time is spent between doing the essentials required by home and the desires of my children.

"I want... I need... Daddy can I PLEASE...."

Yes, we wanted them. We dreamed about them. We hoped that we would one day have them.

We wondered about children. What type of parents we would be. Would I make the right decision about how tough of a parent to be. What would "I love you" sound like from their mouths. And then they arrived. Luckily one at a time because if I were John and my wife was Kate... and we had a tv show about having eight children... I don't know. Would I be as sane as they seem to be on their weekly show. I suppose there has to be editing. Wonder what they take out?

Yelling, screaming, arguing, refereeing on who did what and coming up with a solution. Yes... sounds like my home too. But I've been blessed with two. Eight seems like an opportunity to quickly lose hair and begin the wrinkling process earlier than necessary. So far, ok on those fronts in my household. I'll try to remember to check on those issues as each year passes... if I can remember to stop long enough to check again. Currently I'm telling my daughter, for instance, to not climb on me my while I type, while I also tell my son to put socks on his feet to keep the cold floor from influencing his immune system.

Ahh... I remember the moments of learning about how to put the diaper on correctly while swirling feet circle much too close to my face. Thank goodness that pins are only used as a choice nowadays to attach panels of cloth around a moving little person... I prefer the reattachable stickies. I still prefer them... even though the diaper era in this house has passed...

THANK you GOD, HE above, the SPIRITS that have moved us to demand to our children that the potty is not to be feared but accepted for the good that it does. Perhaps if my son and daughter had been pricked by diaper pins, I would have become more patient. Or perhaps I would have become more neurotic than I am currently.

At this point, children still seem like a blessing. Of course they are! Saying otherwise would seem un-natural. But should you run into a parent, who has been a parent longer than a month, and he / she tells you that parenthood comes without frustration or concerns... is missing the fact that being a parent makes one immediately vulnerable.

No longer can one be isolated from the zaniness of the world we live within, for now one has to be concerned with how to raise a little person in today's world. A world spinning toward chaos as some attempt to pull away toward simplicity while the rest fear jumping off any venture that moves them forward.

Having children, I suppose is having committed to being part of the future. Our legacy lives within them and the lives they will lead. What our children will pursue professonally seems far removed from today's activities... perhaps as much as having a child did not so long ago.

There is no going back for a redo with raising children. I make mistakes that I hope my children will better understand as they grow older. I think though that overall, my wife and I are doing a good job. The basics are covered: i.e.: roof, food, clothes, safety. The lessons of character regarding being sincere and honest have taken hold in them... another success. I have been told if my children have the characteristics of what makes a good person impeded within their psyche at a young age... the rest will turn out ok. I will trust that as a good direction to proceed.

I'm sure that as time continues... the challenges will change. Yes, we figured out how to do the diaper change in minimal time, even with the lights off at an ungodly hour in the morning. Of course now that we've figured out that overwhelming challenge as it seemed in the "how to change your child" class, that era has passed and we've moved on to Cub Scouts, dolls, millions (yes, number is verified) of pieces that move away from designated play area to the rest of our home. This migration scares me because regardless of my repeated attempts... the migration will not be stopped.

Check back soon for more ramblings on parenthood and the joys found within. Joys such as the unprompted hugs, the "I love you's" and the open arm embraces when they're picked up at the end of the workday. And while raising children certainly isn't cheap, they're right when they say those moments are priceless.

First Time

And so the story begins. After finally getting a facebook site to connect with friends, perhaps it's time to join so many others and create a voice on the web. Perhaps this will even turn into bigger things... like people actually logging in and seeing what I have to say. Hard to imagine. Perhaps I will begin with a few comments from the past to friends.