Expensive Healthcare
Equals expensive birthing
AND body damage
Birth control access
Is easier than it was
Barriers exist
Doctors prescribe it
What if you have no doctor?
Or no insurance?
Well, there are options
Example: planned parenthood
But…there’s defunding
Rollback of Roe/wade
A dangerous precedent
All about control…
If his eyes were lasers he’d have just burned a hole in my chest. Hell hath no fury like a teenage boy scorned.
My son is mad at me. Like, stomp on the stairs kind of mad at me. Like, only respond to me with laser eyes kind of mad at me. If you’ve ever had children, let alone a teenage one, you will not be surprised to learn he’s mad because I specifically asked him to do his one chore that he had to do today. He had all day to do it, he even had the day off of school. Still, somehow, it’s very obviously my fault.
And now his eyes are burning imaginary holes through my chest. Or maybe exploding my head.
Well. There goes ten of my minutes for the year.
Jonathan Larson taught me that there are 525,600 minutes in a year. That’s never seemed like a high number to me. I mean, maybe it is, but so far today I’ve used up 480 minutes working, 45 minutes commuting, 10 minutes getting dagger eyes from (one) of my children, 45 minutes working out and 2 minutes writing what you’ve just read.
Add another 30 minutes to cook and that totals 612 minutes. I think. I’m a historian not a mathematician.
If we consider another 420 hours of sleep, then you’re at 1,032.
Ugh. My point…my point…excuse me while I search around for my point.
Really, my point is that time is fleeting. It’s a construct, sure, but it’s also dripping through my fingers, like a mountain stream. Sometimes the stream trickles, and sometimes there’s a deluge. Yet, it’s always flowing. The waters are constantly changing and remaking the landscape around it.
And, honestly, this stresses me out, because of those 525,600 minutes that I have, there are so many things I need/want to do!
I have to work. I want to spend time with kids. I have to commute. I want to work out. I have to eat. I want to write.
And this is where a conversation about privilege comes in. Sure. You could say “well, just get a different job,” or, “find something that’s closer to you.” Or, if you’re that particular brand of person, you could tell me that I should “parent better” so that I don’t lose 10 precious minutes to dagger eyes. Except…life doesn’t work that way, does it?
I would love to have more time with my kids, but that means I’d need to work part time- or not at all. I would love to have time to work on my writing – but it means that I have to extract that time from something else. Either, my work, my kids, or my health. I can’t have my cake and eat it too.
Yet…some people can.
So, this is all to say, if a loved one tells you that they feel overwhelmed, you should listen to them. Time works differently for each individual, and there are a lot of things that factor into the amount of time a person has.
For example. My son works 6 hours a week and goes to school. He feels overwhelmed by the fact that I asked him to do his one chore on the sixth day of his break.
*Breathes in through her nose and exhales in a long sigh*
Look. Blogs, social media, even friendships, they can be rough. Often it feels like other people are succeeding at things you want to succeed at too, whether that means kids, fitness, or achieving goals. Every person has to make individual choices that keep them fed, healthy, and happy. Those choices sometimes actually dictate the amount of time someone is able to spend pursuing a dream.
Following your dreams is a privilege. Being able to do the footwork is a privilege. Have the time and energy to work out, or eat well…it’s a privilege. As you go out there and try to topple some of those goals…don’t let people tell you it’s easy, because it’s not.
And if your kid gives you dagger eyes…well…take ten of your minutes and write a blog about it for posterity. I’m sure he’ll thank me later.
Laughter crashes around me as I stand in the corner of the room.
My family gathers around the dimly lit table. It’s only 5pm, but darkness comes early this time of year, skewing time and making it seem unnaturally late. Everyone is claiming their spot, laughing and speaking over each other, vying to be heard.
Smiles are not just in the eyes. They’re on faces. Faces that I can see fully. Smiles I haven’t seen in person for years.
I should be in the middle of it. I love family, and I love gatherings. Still, I detach myself and stand in the corner. I seek out the spaces close to windows, I’m Hyper-aware of any coughs or sniffles.
“You’ve had three shots. Three.” I tell myself, smiling at everyone while I wait my turn to slosh turkey and mashed potatoes on my plate. Unbidden, I wonder if this meal is worth getting sick over.
“Everyone here is vaccinated” I think, sitting down to my first extended family meal in two years. “Some of them have already had boosters.”
I eat quickly and move to the outskirts again. Away from the screams and laughter. Away from the games. I find a spot with one or two people who, like me, can’t seem to join the crowds.
Overall, it’s a pleasant evening. It seems like no one has changed.
Except me.
Of course that’s incorrect. Of course we’ve all changed. Of course we’ve all experienced the pandemic in similar, yet completely separate ways.
Isolated. Grieving and frightened, but alone.
And now that we’re together, how do we come back from that feeling? How do I move forward?
Each new variant is frightening. Each gathering feels like a risk. Even with vaccinations.
And I wonder if I’ll be standing in corners for the rest of my life
At times it is difficult to wake up and find joy.
Because, you see, happiness is a commodity. One that is to be bought and sold. “If I just get x then I will be happy.” We say to ourselves. It makes happiness a never ending and unattainable dream, leaving us constantly wanting more and wondering when it will be our turn to achieve the kind of success that comes with happiness.
Desire is therefore intermixed with happiness. What we desire are the things that will make us happy. Sometimes it’s tangible: A better job, a house, a paycheck. Sometimes it’s a bit more ethereal: an opportunity, a feeling, the thought of being loved, a spark of creativity.
Desire is what makes happiness into a commodity. We desire something, and we must “hustle” to get the thing. In a gig economy, that’s how it works.
The problem, of course, is that happiness is a state of mind. It’s a feeling. It’s also fleeting.
Happiness can be something as simple as the first sip of coffee, or a beautiful sunrise on a crisp morning. Happiness is taking a risk, or watching your children take their first step. Happiness is popcorn and movies, or a warm blanket. Happiness is the smell of grass, or that laugh that bursts, unexpectedly, from your chest like birds taking flight from the trees. Happiness is looking inward and finding joy within yourself, rather than attempting to purchase it.
Of course, in a society where everything can be bought; including fame and fortune, it’s difficult to separate happiness from desire. Especially now, when so many of us feel as though the world is tumbling down to the ground.
And I don’t have an answer, except to say that happiness is a million little things that you feel over the course of a regular day. It is intermingled with sadness and fear and frustration and anger — all the trappings of a human life. It doesn’t have to be something you accrue, it just has to be something you notice.
Nobel Prize in Literature
Pulitzer Prize for Fiction
Presidential Medal of Freedom
These are only three of the many awards Toni Morrison has won. Yet schools are pulling her books (amongst others).
Why?
Because with every action comes an equal and opposite reaction. Because the path to change is through the next generation. And, at heart, change is uncomfortable. It’s a discomfort that comes with a loss of power.
Let me be clear. These are not valid reasons. Learning should make you feel uncomfortable. You should wallow in your discomfort. You should watch the walls that you’ve built around yourself crumble down.
Why?
So you can rebuild yourself with better materials. Knowledge is not congruent with stagnation. Knowledge is the house that is always under construction.
Because, you see, learning is the action of remaking our knowledge base with stronger materials. Learning is active, you must constantly be building your house with better, and stronger, and newer materials.
And I’m not talking about “information I found on youtube” or “on some website that upheld my already firmly held, and stagnated, belief.” No. Those are bad building materials. They’re the rotted wood that causes your roof to leak. That’s lazy building.
Toni Morrison should be required reading. Toni Morrison is the type of author who writes something so gloriously beautiful that you can’t believe you’ve lived without that book, and those words, and that story for half your life.
So why would we want to stop children from experiencing that?
Fear. Adults are afraid of new knowledge. They are comfortable in their house, even if there’s not enough sunlight or the furniture needs to be replaced
There is the problem.
Children are constantly learning. They are building forts and toppling them down to build new ones in trees or on mountains. Adults…well many adults stop learning the minute they are out of school. They have old methods and old information stuck in their head, and they want to reinforce that old knowledge and protect it from new ideals.
So, adults remove choice from children.
Because that’s what this is. The removal of books is the removal of choice. The absence of information is still a method of control. When you don’t give information, it doesn’t mean it ceases to exist. It means you’re hiding it.
Not telling the full story is still a lie.
The removal of books is a method of control – don’t let anyone fool you into thinking it’s “for the children.”
It’s not. It’s to control the children.
The metallic screech is the first thing I hear at 7:45 AM.
It’s a dreaded sound; a whistling — then a crunch followed by silence.
The copier has jammed.
“I shouldn’t have to worry about this,” I think to myself. “Except there’s just no damn time.”
Clearing a jam proves to take longer than the actual copy. I clear it, and leave the copier humming merrily.
The hum is merely a siren song for the next unfortunate soul.
It’s not just the jams. It’s having only one, 45 minute, prep period. It’s the constant meetings to review and analyze data. It’s arbitrary tasks set by administrators who haven’t taught in years, and have never taught during (or after) a pandemic.
It’s grading 160 projects.
And, you see, you can’t not grade them, because the kids worked hard on them. They want the validation from you, they want to see that you looked at the project they spent three days on. They put that GIF in for you. They put that reference in for you.
It doesn’t matter if the joke is dumb, or the GIF doesn’t make sense. They still did it for you because they love you. And they want you to be proud of them.
And you can’t NOT assign the project, because it’s literally your job to ensure kids learn.
Except. How do we keep on giving, especially in a year where the school keeps on taking?
When I’m given 8 hours to complete a task that – and I measured it – MUST take me 8.5 hours.
When the copiers are all broken. When the internet doesn’t work. When I’m required to do 100 small administrative tasks that add up and suck the time out of my day — not to mention teach.
And therin lies the problem.
Schools want to pretend that the pandemic is over without acknowledging the trauma the pandemic created.
700,000 dead and climbing. 700,000 dead and climbing. 700,000 dead and climbing.
Students are suffering. Teachers are suffering. Admin is also suffering.
But only one of those categories has the power to enact change.
Because, you see, it’s structural. The structure of teaching must change and administrations must be brave enough to create it. Holding on to what used to be does not help us in the now. In fact, it’s blindly turning away from the lessons of history.
History that we all lived through, and are still living through.
If administration isn’t brave, then teachers must be brave enough to fight for change. The time is now. Your voice is powerful, especially when joined by others.
We’ve changed. So must schools.
A note on the lesson: The students read both primary and secondary sources that discussed the rise of the LMA’s and the UDC. The prompt was to use poetry format to answer one of the following questions: “What was the Lost Cause Narrative?” or “How was the Lost Cause Narrative Spread?” What follows is their own assessment based on their prior knowledge of enslavement (both colonial and antebellum) and the Civil War. You may find our classroom textbook here.
With women to help
Through textbooks and monuments
The lost cause was spread
Lost Cause Narrative.
Manipulated children.
Lie in history.
information false
yet its spread was never sparse
education jacked
none of it was the fact
Lost cause narrative
was spread through education
and through monuments.
lost cause narrative
taught children the lies of the
confederacy.
A poem based on this article.
Having kids is hard
Difficult on both parents
Sleepless nights…and days
All bleed together
A cacophony of stress
That saps energy
Babies, though, are great
With chubby cheeks and fat feet
But…we’re still tired
Four weeks? Laughable
Healing takes longer than that
Both emotional
And then physical
For a country so obsessed
With the birth of babes
It should be easy
To both have a baby and
Have time with baby.
New energy source.
Renewable energy.
Sounds pretty great right?
Of course it sounds great
We all want to fix the world
But…what is the cost?
“Future Energy”
Also means “future profits”
And…exploitation
When there’s money made
There’s people to profit from
And land to ruin
It’s not the future
If old practices are used
We must do better
Failure is such a fickle emotion
It’s a sneaky one too
It creeps within you at the most inopportune times.
Like a virus, invading your cells, and replicating itself in your thoughts
It can be triggered by a sunset
Or a crack in your voice while you speak
In a yoga class
Or right before you sleep.
The worst part is it’s ever changing.
Sometimes your past replays in your mind
Tumbling in a haze of emotions and clips of your life.
Sometimes failure grips you even when you’re happy.
It’s the feeling that asks you, did you do enough?
Are you enough?
I don’t have a simple cure.
Failure is fickle, after all.
One step forward, two steps back – as they say.
Even though I don’t know who “they” are.
What you do have, though, is a choice.
The feeling of failure, that may be endemic.
But…your choices define who you are…
Choose to keep going.
Because eventually, the failure will either seem small and inconsequential.
Or, you’ll have climbed the peak.
Hipstory 