Singing the Sky

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I know it is the “poverty mindset”. I know it. And I’m trying not to be too angry. Still, it upsets me.

Yesterday, when I went over to J’s house, the cable was connected again. She told me that it cost $139 to get it hooked up.

I ended up taking three of the kiddos home with me yesterday. They couldn’t wait to leave the house because they were hungry. The food stamp card (EBT) comes on the 9th, and there was nothing left to eat in the house.

But, they have cable.

This is not a new discovery. In Greg’s neighborhood, I once saw a house with an orange outside extension cord running in the window because the people didn’t have electricity. You could see the glow of the television from the window.

My students cannot comprehend that I don’t have cable. When I tell them, they look at me like I am an alien. I’m not the only teacher without it, either. There’s a couple of other teachers who don’t have it, because they can’t afford it. You know, priorities. I’ll take the Internet any day over $80 of crap that is going to rot Sage’s mind.

I am coming off as holier than thou. Sorry. I do get Netflix, and am currently using it to watch all episodes of The Wire, as well as order appropriate movies for Sage.

I ended up sending a bag of food home with the kids when I dropped them off last night. I thought, “I am so enabling this.” What to do….?

After an entire day with four kids, I was absolutely exhausted. I DO get why mom sits on her butt and eats Oreos, I really do. As much as I hate to say it, I think I might do the same out of being totally and completely overwhelmed. I’m embarrassed, having walked only half a mile in the other woman’s shoes and having become tired.

Maybe the cable is saving her from total insanity. Who knows?

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I have to tell you guys that I really appreciate your comments. Such good tips, shared experiences and encouragement! Although yall really do give me too much credit. You see, Emma hit the nail on the head when she said this is indicative of a midlife crisis, even though she was just kidding.

The thing is, I sit here and think of myself as a person who cares about what goes on in the world, a Christian, even, and all I have been doing is reading provocative articles about the state of the world and sitting on my butt. In other words, I have not felt “in purpose”. So it’s time to walk to talk, or at least do more than read about the problems our society has. That’s all.

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The thing that’s really kicking my butt right now is Sky leaving. I’ve managed to ignore this fact by becoming immersed in school starting and all, but last night it hit me that I only have FOUR more days of him living here–in this house, in this town, in this state. I realized this after a rousing hour long discussion about whether society would be better or worse off without the level of technology we currently have.

I enjoy talking to him so much. In fact, I’d go so far as to say that of all the people I know, he is the one who is most on my wavelength spiritually and intellectually. I am thankful that we had the opportunity to get to this point, since we had a rough couple of years.

I tell myself that it is time to focus on Sage. He will miss his big brother, who is the person he looks up to most in the world. There has never been sibling rivalry between them. It has always been good. But big brothers move out. It’s just the way it is.

Those of you who deal with your big children moving away…how do you deal with the pain?

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So I’m thinking about human dignity…how to give it (if it can be given), how it can be taken away.

There’s a man in our neighborhood named James who must be the only Black man in this part of the world without relatives. He mows my lawn. He said he and his daddy worked for a lot of white folks back in the day–another one of those eerie 50’s flashbacks that we get around these parts. He has that job because it is preferable to him begging for money from us, and the lawn mower blade is broken. And I’m tired. He says he is hungry. He says he needs to wash his clothes. He lives in a room somewhere down the street for $40. He is mentally challenged–just a bit.

If he is hungry, I think we should invite him for dinner. I don’t like giving away money, or loaning it, for that matter. While I was having the “invite him for dinner” thought, I then thought, “and I could wash his clothes”.

I then realized at that point I have taken away any semblance of give and take in that relationship and made him even more dependent. Not good. Lady Bountiful is not a role I want to step into.

So I started thinking about J and her six children. Trying to do everything for them is ultimately not going to help. I have a better idea–I need to find a way for her to help someone else.

It would be so empowering, that. I think it could change her way of thinking, and ultimately her life.

I’m not trying to get off the hook here. I’m still advocating for her kids, and I’m going to start the reading/tutoring thing next week. But I’m thinking about stories to tell, yes, stories that depict women as conquerors.

Got any?

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Warning: Long post ahead.

Update: Teaching is going fine, and is currently even enjoyable!

Okay, so I decided that I needed more purpose in my life. To that effect, I went and volunteered my services at a local interfaith agency that provides emergency assistance to people in need. I signed on as an “encourager.” An encourager is a person who provides guidance and encouragement (read, life skills training) to someone reintegrating into the community from prison, facing eviction, etc.

They matched me up with a woman from Mexico who has six children, all of whom are under the age of ten. Her husband went back to Mexico in order to escape prosecution for raping her ten year old daughter. Although the lady has lived here since she was nine, she does not have legal papers. This is a more common scenario than you’d think.

My part is to meet with her once a week. At the staffing, I suggested that I would brainstorm with their client ways to make some money under the table. She gets food stamps for the kids, and some TANF, but of course it’s not enough to pay the electric bill and buy clothes, toilet paper, you know…

So I go over there today. She lives in this area off two country roads (yea me for driving there!) that is kinda cool, actually, with chickens running around everywhere and all that.

The chickens are where the cool part ends. The trailer does not have a working toilet (very apparent from the smell inside), has broken windows, no light in the kitchen or living room due to electrical issues, and was filthy. Like there was a cup of chocolate pudding that had been thrown against the wall and left there to dry. Like the bedrooms are nothing but piles of dirty clothes that I guess the kids sleep on.

The lady, I’ll call her J, and I talked for a while. I’m going to help her with some school issues with her kids–bullying, speech services. We talked about her husband. I learned who is the main purveyor of cocaine in town. The conversation was really amazing. It went somewhat like this:

“Yeah, I told that sonofabitch that he should have just stayed with his 16 year old girlfriend. He could see how she likes him after a while. He only lasted 15 minutes on top of me you know, and a young girl like that–she’s gonna want some excitement, she has energy for all that! She would have kicked him to the curb!”

“Yeah, huh.”

Anyway, all of this was being said in front of all the kids! Yikes, right?

So I’m trying to kick my judgmental nature to the curb. She is one of 16 children, four of whom died. She started dating the man, 40 at the time, when she was 17. I really don’t think she knows how to do this whole thing–men, children, house.

She was out of diapers, and that was gross, because the kids were running around in dirty underwear. She told me how much they cost. I ended up asked Greg to go to Walmart and buy some. When I gave them to her, she didn’t thank me. I think she wanted the money. I suspect that the man in Mexico isn’t the only one with a habit.

I took one of the boys home with me for the afternoon. He is the same age as Sage, and they had a great time playing. I took them to a stained glass store here in town, and the owners showed them all sorts of stuff. It was a blast. The kid DID NOT want to go home. He made me promise I would come back. His mom says he never gets out of the house. Ack!

The ten year old daughter was ticked off that she didn’t get to go with me. The mom doesn’t let her go anywhere, because she wants her to watch the younger kids–1, 3, 4 and 6. She is resentful.

I worked with her for a while on her homework. She says that she never has her homework done because the kids are always running around being all noisy. True, that. The kids have no limits or routine, and it is chaos.

There is not one book or toy in or out of the house. There is a bunch of dangerous looking junk, however, that Greg is going to haul off next weekend.

Anyway, I have this idea. I’m going to take the last seat out of the minivan and put a blanket and some throw pillows back there. I’m going to add some age appropriate books. Then, I’m going to drive over there every day after school and we are going to read. (Kids in our district are supposed to read 15-30 minutes each night and document it.) Sage can read with them, and help the six year old. I can help everyone with their homework. I’ll bring snacks.

If the mom will just take care of the three littlest ones for an hour, it will work. These kids are still at the age when they WANT to do well in school.

Also, I’m going to suggest taking all of the kids for one weekend if she’ll agree to use that time to clean the trailer. Then, the next weekend, I’ll bring paint. No one should have to live like these people are living. It is just like a third world country. Actually, the dung covered mud huts are usually cleaner, from the photos I’ve seen. This is going to be one heck of a project.

Which leads me to the question of….how does one motivate another person who has been trapped in a rut for their ENTIRE LIFE? I went into this situation thinking that a woman with six kids whose partner had just left the country would be plenty eager to make money. I have a lot of ideas and resources. She didn’t even want to talk about it! Advice? I know you can’t change a person, but in this case, it’s certainly worth a try. The kids need a better life than this.

I’m going to bring her my decorating magazines. I don’t always like the fact that I read them, because it makes me want more. However, in her case, I think she needs to want more.

P.S. I’m sorry I haven’t been stopping by. My head is about to explode. I’ll check by soon.

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My bullshit tolerance is especially low today. I am supposed to be in an ESL training today, all day, to teach us methods to use with ESL kids (English as a second language learners) in the classroom.

It does not matter that I have a M.Ed. in Bilingual and ESL. It does not matter that I have received awards for teaching ESL. The years of experience don’t matter. No one cares! And yes, they DO know.

I hit my limit after having to make a “little journal” out of a piece of construction paper on which to take notes for the day. The notes included things like the definition of ESL.

I tried to sneak out, but disappointingly, the door in the back was locked. Foiled. The other teachers sitting in the back snickered. They knew why it was locked. We’d all try to escape! So I had to walk out the same way I came in, increasing the possibility that my name will be marked off the sign in sheet.

I am so frustrated with the ESL thing on so many levels I can’t even write it all down. The last thing I will say about it is that the district is offering a $300 stipend (I know, big whoop) to teachers who go to a couple of workshops and then take the ESL certification test. Do I get a stipend? Hell no. It just makes no sense.

I don’t want to go to the training tomorrow either. It is the annual training on how to physically control violent kids. After getting hit in the neck last year trying this method, I am not doing it again. They can tear up the whole classroom, break windows, throw computers, whatever. There is not going to be a thing I can do about it other than getting on the radio and calling for help. That training is worthless unless you are in some hellish job where you get to practice it enough to actually be able to use it. Four of us couldn’t control that kid using those methods, and one of us was a former boxer.

I have a bad attitude. I could blame it on hormones, but perhaps the wacky hormones simply paint the world in more realistic colors at intervals so we don’t spend too much time looking at LOL cats and rotting our brains…I dunno.

I’m sure I’m set to make a grand impression for our new principal. I don’t care.

I talked to a teacher who just moved from the alt school to the high school. I called him a traitor, and he said he was sorry, but he just couldn’t stand sitting in a box another year. I know what he means.

I’d really love to feel excited about teaching again.

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There’s one more week of summer left. Next week, Sage and Greg will be in New York, so it will be a strange week. Sky will be here, which I am thankful for. I’ve had enough alone time lately.

Sky is moving out soon. He has money saved, and he knows he doesn’t want to live here. That’s about all he knows. I don’t blame him. Shoot, I don’t want him to stay here. It’s stifling and repressive. I’ll miss him like crazy, though.

He’s probably going to go with the “safe” choice and move back to Austin since his dad lives about an hour away. Since he doesn’t have a license yet–no real reason other than lack of motivation–Austin is going to be a sucky place for him to live.

He’s thinking about other places, like Portland, OR, but he’s worried he won’t like it and will have blown his savings. He knows he likes Austin, even though he does think there might be something better out there. I’m encouraging him to take the risk of going wherever he wants. I told him he can always come back and work for a couple of months to get more money to go somewhere else. He’ll probably end up in Austin, though, and I’ll be sorta glad because I can visit him there. Probably. You know.

I’m actually a bit glad that summer is over. It highlighted how disconnected I feel here. Today, I went to a meeting at work and saw a bunch of people I really like and care about. I’m the mentor for the new math teacher, and Mr. Sir has finally retired. Oh!! Word is that Mr. Sir came into over $800,000 of money on an oil deal. Wonder if that improved his mood any…

This week is looking decent, socially. I’m going to a party Saturday night, a get together next Friday night and out to lunch twice next week. That may not seem like a lot to most people, but it’ll be the busiest week I’ve had all summer!

I have to face the fact that some of the social life problem is my own fault. I rarely initiate anything, and one of the guys from work has invited me to no fewer than four parties, none of which I’ve attended. Sometimes it’s the agor, sometimes it’s no babysitting, sometimes it’s just feeling like holing up in the house (depression).

So, I’m going to work on that.

I was going to join a church, since that’s what everyone seems to do around here, but even the Methodists say you have to believe in that “everybody raises up out of the grave when Jesus comes” stuff. I just don’t believe that, and I really am not good at pretending that I do, or ignoring it and going with the flow. There are no nice “liberal” churches here, unfortunately.

So I’m just blathering on now. Anyway. Yeah.

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I had this horrible insomnia last night. I finally was starting to drift off around 3:00pm when flashing red and blue lights and a loud banging on the door brought me out of any dreams I was starting to have.

Of course, I felt a bit scared! What on earth had happened that the cops would wake my family up in the middle of the night?

Turns out they wanted me to move my car. Move it from the place where it has been parked for two months. Why? Because apparently it is a no parking zone.

This couldn’t have waited until morning?

Would this have happened in the middle of the night in a nicer neighborhood, where the homeowner could have been a city council member?

What bullshit.

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Photo: Yelnoc

There’s been a lot of talk in the news lately about how much legal latitude parents should have when it comes to naming their children. I don’t know where I stand, actually. On the one hand, the libertarian side of me believes we should be able to name our children without government interference, while another side of me is more concerned with the child welfare side. One thing’s for sure–if you name your child something nutty, they’ll probably be legendary.

There was a family in the town where I grew up who was going to have another baby. They told their two older boys that they could name the baby anything they pleased. Well, when the mom popped out the kid, the two brothers told their parents that they wanted to name him Howdy Truckie. The parents, being the sort of people who apparently honored their word, put the name on the birth certificate, and that was that.

Howdy Truckie ended up having hardly any teeth by the time he was nine, owing to all the dippin’ tobacco he used, probably courtesy of his older brothers. Later on, he got gum cancer. That’s actually all I know about him, since I didn’t live in Texas when he was growing up.

I did, however, grow up with a child named Lace. I think Lace is a really beautiful name. The thing is, the boy who was graced with this name had absolutely no choice but to turn out to be flamingly queer. Not that being gay is a terrible thing, but this kid never had a bit of choice in the matter. I think he would have been better off with Johnny Cash’s “Sue”.

Then there were the twins two grades down from me named Annie and Zannie. They still live around here. People remember them better than their ten other siblings.

Of course, I may not be one to talk. My own kids have unusual names. Everyone knows who they are in school, which has been a good thing. Hopefully, it will still be a good thing professionally. Of course, if not, they can always change them. Unless they decide on something like Howdy Truckie.

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I’ve been researching this “make money online” thing for so long now that I’ve caught on. I came up with a great way to market credit cards and make tons of money. The thing is, I find myself putting off doing certain things that I need to do before I will get any leads. I finally figured out that I feel like I am going to be selling people into slavery by doing this.

I came up with a whole list of justifications. Foremost, that people make their own choices, and if they’re going to run themselves into debt, why shouldn’t I get a piece of change from the credit card companies while they’re doing it? Still, it feels wrong.

I am getting very, very frustrated. It seems that every avenue I go down that has serious profit potential has ethical issues. It seems like the only clean money would be if I grew pumpkins and sold them at the farmer’s market for a few bucks a week. Ack.

I really want money right now. I was stupid and unstable and didn’t save for Sky’s college. I want to have more options insofar as Sage’s education goes.

I really hate to have this knowledge and then not be able to use it and still get a good night’s sleep. The big affiliate money is in loans and overseas pharmas. I’m trying to find another product that would work with my marketing plan, but I’m not having much luck.

Ideas? Justifications?

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Check this out. Seriously. Just check this shit out. Crazy, huh?

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Spent hours yesterday looking at different towns, different countries. Imagined ways I could get rich, pay off house and move out of town. Go back to where friends are, go to where friends can be made. Run, basically. (But not to Flint.) I’m not whining anymore. But this is painful, living here. The house didn’t fix anything.

Has crossed my mind that the meds the doc gave me have induced clinical depression. Perhaps things just suck. Am not sure.

Discovered perfect way to exercise. One episode of The Office on Netflix (no commercials) equals one mile on the treadmill. Am living in the lap of luxury. Felt better after getting off couch, away from computer and promises of better life as expat in Costa Rica. Maybe things here can work. Maybe.

Being trained on how to teach gifted and talented children tomorrow. Have taught 14 years. Did not know how! Was teaching creative children who like spray paint about Banksy. Not really.

Do not like job very much because is not really teaching. Think this way every summer. After one month, like job again. Like students’ sense of humor. Cannot admit to this.

Found a blog that makes me laugh. (The Customer Is) Not Always Right. Have read 22 pages.

Don’t know how long writing will not have sufficient pronouns. Am having fun.

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