Tag: teenagers

Parenting 101 – guest post by Kathy Radigan

Posted on December 10, 2011 by Jennifer Wolfe

Life lessons through pigs? Today’s post just goes to show that education happens everywhere-especially when you’re a parent. I’ve often wondered why someone hasn’t written a parenting handbook-if there was such a thing, I think my guest blogger today would have a perfect chapter! Read on for parenting tips from Kathy Radigan. And be sure to check out her blog My Dishwasher’s Possessed for more!

I was thrilled when Jennifer asked me to guest post on her wonderful site. I was really excited to get a chance to re-post a piece I wrote last year when I was just starting my blog on Blogspot. This piece originally ran last February and is one of my personal favorites. This argument remains one of the worst my son and I ever had, but since he turns 13 in two weeks, I’m sure it will not be our last. Jennifer, thank you so much for letting me share this piece with your readers.

My father taught me one of the best parenting lessons I ever learned, and I was only five at the time.

One of my favorite things when I was a little girl was to go to Eisenhower Park with my family. The park had a small petting zoo that included a pig pen.

Any time my two sisters and I disobeyed our parents, we would be warned that we would be sent to live with the pigs.

It was a threat that was made in a way that we knew they weren’t serious, but just in case they were, we better do what we were told.

I can’t remember what made me buck the system one fateful day after my father gave me his usual warning. But this time I decided to show him just how smart I was.

“That’s fine daddy. Send me to live with the pigs.”

My poor father didn’t know what to do. This clearly was never a result my parents thought they would encounter. But once he made the threat, he had to follow through.

He made a big show of getting ready to take me to my new home. He got his coat… and his hat….and his keys. He hoped this would put an end to this and that I would realize that the inmates were not running the asylum.

I wasn’t giving in.

I was having a grand time insisting that I was ready to go to my new home. I confidently said goodbye to my sisters and mother. Not knowing what to do, my dad took me to the car. I kept waving and laughing playing the game I knew I was going to win.

We got into the car and I was still waving goodbye and feeling pretty darn good about myself.
Then my dad pulled out of the driveway… and onto the street.

I am still 99.9% sure he wasn’t going to let me live with the pigs, but I knew at that point that someone was going to have to end this. And that someone, was going to have to be me.

My father stood his ground that day and without yelling or laying a hand on me he let me know who was in charge. And it wasn’t me.

I think of this story often whenever I’m tempted to ground my soon-to-be, 13-year-old until he turns 30. He is an amazing child and I dearly adore him. As I did with my own parents, he knows he is loved and is very confident in that fact.

But he is starting to spread his wings and is determined to test the limits.

“I didn’t go to chorus rehearsal today, I’m going to quit.”

That was the opening salvo of one of our biggest battles last year.
I did my usual spiel of the need to keep commitments and deal with the consequences of our actions. In this case, it meant missing homework club. Unlike chorus, homework club requires no commitment and is just a fun place to do your homework and hang out with friends.

As the battle was heating up, I saw a letter from the school’s principal. Thinking that this form letter congratulating him on his hard work at the concert they just had was a sign from above, I laid the letter down to where he was doing his homework.

Suffice it to say, this did not bring the epiphany I was hoping for.

Quite the opposite. I can honestly say the Bill Cosby quote, “I brought you into this world I can take you out of it,” came to mind. Especially when he started waving the letter in my face while threatening to tear it up.

I surprised myself, as well as my son, when I calmly took the letter from his hand and tore it up.

I’m not sure if I was right, but his behavior was clearly out of bounds and I felt the need to let him know who was in charge.

He continued to protest but listened to me and went to his room. When the dust settled, he came out and apologized. He was also looking for an apology from me. I didn’t give him one. I told him that I loved him enough not to worry about his approval. I was his parent, not his friend.

The next day the pieces of the letter were still on the table. He looked at them and said, “I guess the letter meant more to me than I thought. I am sorry.”

Being a parent is not for the faint of heart. Setting limits and following through can be the hardest part. It is also the most loving thing a parent can do.

I learned this at five when I almost joined a family of pigs.

primark

Jennifer Wolfe

Jennifer Wolfe, a writer-teacher-mom, is dedicated to finding the extraordinary in the ordinary moments of life by thinking deeply, loving fiercely, and teaching audaciously. Jennifer is a Google Certified Educator, Hyperdoc fanatic, and a voracious reader. Read her stories on her blog, mamawolfe, and grab free copies of her teaching and parenting resources.

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Friday Photo – The First Halloween

Posted on October 29, 2011 by Jennifer Wolfe

1999

Sometimes as I’m moving around in my day, an image gets stuck in my head that I can’t shake. Sometimes it conjures up a memory, a feeling, or provides an impulse to do something. Often, though, I just see something that I want to capture in my mind for no particular reason-it just speaks to me. I’d like to offer these images up for ‘thought contributions’-as a way to generate a community of ideas together.

Today’s Friday Photo is in honor of when the fun began just over 12 years ago. I think many parents dream of the time when their babies can participate in all the rituals of childhood – first steps, first words, birthday parties, Easter egg hunts, Christmas morning, and dressing up for Halloween. For me, my September baby was easily disguised in a hot chili pepper costume, while his adoring sister became the least scary witch I’ve ever seen. I’ve always thought it was interesting to see what people choose for their own Halloween costumes, let alone how they dress up their houses, pets, and children! Did my early intervention of my son’s costume predetermine his adoration of habanero salsa?

All these years later, Halloween has changed in our house. We still have the decorations, the pumpkin carving (much more elaborate than ever, thanks to the children’s talents), and they will both still go trick or treating. What’s changed, however, is that I have little to no say over their costumes. Both kids have strong ideas of what they will or won’t wear, and my advice is not given much weight. But when I really think about it, isn’t that what it’s all about? Trying on new personas, new styles, new masks, until we find the one that fits us best? And if we’re really going to be authentic, it needs to come from within. No one should tell us who we’re going to be. Not even our parents.

What does your costume say about you this year? Are you being your authentic you?

Jennifer Wolfe

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A Deadly Difference: The Story of Thong Hy Huynh

Posted on September 23, 2011 by Jennifer Wolfe

“We are more alike, my friends, than we are unalike.”
― Maya Angelou, The Complete Collected Poems of Maya Angelou

When I first started teaching I worked in a rough neighborhood. It was completely different from where I grew up-no long, winding bike paths, well manicured little league fields, or bountiful Farmer’s Markets. There was no nearby college, rich with cultural opportunities, nor any kids hanging out at the public library. Instead, there was concrete, apartments, iron gates and bars on windows. There were grassy areas devoid of dogs on leashes or children on swings. It was different, and I was a bit intimidated.

Where I went to high school

The 25 mile commute each day from the bubble of a community I grew up in took me from a place where crime wasn’t something we worried about. We hardly ever locked our doors, and if we broke curfew (or any other teenage rule) someone always saw us and informed our parents. We knew everyone at school, and there was no escaping a reputation that siblings had left behind. We went to school from kindergarten through graduation among children we played in sandboxes with-some might have called it utopia. Until one day…

May 4, 1983:

Thong Hy Huynh was a new kid in town. His family had recently immigrated from Vietnam, hoping for a better life. He was quiet-in fact, so quiet that I never even met him. I never knew his name until the day he was killed on campus.

On that day, life in our idyllic little town changed forever. One minute we were walking to Home Ec during our senior year, preparing for another period of delightful cooking instruction. The next minute, total chaos erupted just around the corner from our classroom. People were screaming and a huge crowd hovered near the art room. For a moment I thought it must be just another fight-not that fighting was an everyday occurrence. But the teacher’s grave expressions and composed panic told me this was more-much more.

Thong was different. He didn’t speak English fluently, and had seen horrors in his native country we can only imagine. At that moment on May 4, he was defending a friend who was being tormented by a red haired, light skinned bully. Words were exchanged, and before anyone knew it Thong was down, stabbed and bleeding to death.

Eight years after his death, I remember what I felt when I began teaching in my new community. I felt different. I was out of my comfort zone. I felt scared and insecure. But after a few weeks, I felt myself relaxing. I felt the love and trust of my students and their parents as they realized my care was genuine, and my passion for teaching began to override my fears of being ‘different’.

I don’t think it was until then, years after Thong died, that I really realized what Maya Angelou was saying. And now, when my daughter walks past his memorial plaque at the high school I hope she understands. Actually, I know she understands. Because what I learned from Thong and my students is a part of me, and the message flows from my heart and actions into my children at home and at school. We ARE more alike than we know, and being different is what makes life such a beautiful experience.

Jennifer Wolfe

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9/11: It Started Like Any Ordinary Day

Posted on September 11, 2011 by Jennifer Wolfe

9/11: It started like any ordinary day.

After maternity leave, I’m still getting the hang of getting out of the house on time each morning. I’m up early enough to have some ‘me’ time – 5:30 a.m. – before the pitter patter of my 23-month-old boy’s feet signal the start of mommy-time. Must plan Cameron’s birthday party for next weekend, I think. Coffee made, candles lit, I start up the desktop as part of my morning ritual, eager to check email and read the news. Having children broke us of our TV news habit when we realized they were transfixed with images of stark reality we were trying so desperately to shelter them from.

A breaking news alert flashes into my inbox – “Plane crashes into building in New York.” Hmm. I’ve never been to New York. Worlds away from my cozy study. I hope it’s nothing serious.

Pitter patter pitter patter…here comes my boy, blankie, and book in hand. My heart thrills at the sight of his big round head. “Make sister juice,” he chimes with a smile as big as any Cheshire cat. I switch off the computer, eager to start the morning snuggle and reading time. It is just another ordinary day.

The 11-mile commute to school is nothing unusual. I drive past the harvested tomato fields, crop dusters skim the highway. Lesson plans fill my mind. Exit right, then left, then straight down the walnut tree-shrouded road towards Douglass Junior High, where my 7th grade English students stand lined up, waiting for me.

“Hey, did you hear about the plane crash?” they shout as I open the door.

“Yes, I did,” I answer, and switch on the lights. “Let’s get started.”

“But, can’t we watch the TV? I have an aunt that lives in New York, and I’m worried,” a child pleads.

“TV? When do we ever watch TV in class?” I respond with a smile. ‘Let’s get started – it’s grammar day everyone’s favorite!”

Moments later, an announcement is delivered by a TA telling us the grim news. Not one plane crash, now it’s two. What??? The Pentagon? Three planes? Buildings collapsed? People dying? But it’s just an ordinary day!

Why don’t I have my cell phone? This ancient classroom has no Internet; the only technology is the old TV mounted in the corner of the classroom. Where are my babies? Did Lily make it to kindergarten? What the hell is going on? I want to go home…

Thoughts flash through my head as I try to process what to do. Thirty sets of eyes stare at me, searching for comfort. I’m the teacher. I’m in charge. I know what to do? Frantic thoughts of my own children race through my mind. Are they OK? What will happen to us? Are the terrorists on their way?

Then I realize-someone is taking care of my children, just as I’m taking care of someone else’s. I know what to do. They need me to make sense of it. That’s what I would want my child’s teacher to do. Reluctantly, yet desperately, I turn on the TV. I have to know. I can’t wait all day.

After two hours, no word from my family, I switch it off. Business as usual – that’s what educators do. Keep them calm, keep them busy. I know it’s only going to get worse, and it’s only 10 a.m.

Two more hours and I’m done. As I jump in my little gold Escort wagon, I’ve never been so relieved to only work part-time; 11 miles fly by-not enough time to decide how to explain the unexplainable to my 5-year-old. The radio news drones on and on. Thousands dead. The children. The mommies and daddies who will never commute home again. The parents who will never see their babies again. The young people who will never have the joy of holding their child in their arms. It’s more than I can bear. The tears stream down my face as I safely reach home. It’s clearly not just an ordinary day.

‘Mommy, why are you sad? What happened at school today?” Lily whispers, her big blue eyes boring into mine. How do I answer? She’s only five. Far too young to have to learn about such horrors. I tell her a story about a plane crashing and good guys trying to stop the bad guys. “Did the bad guy go to jail?” she questions.

“No, he died,” I reply, choking back tears at her innocence.

“I’m sorry he died, Mommy. But I’m glad that we weren’t on that plane.”

“Me too, baby. Me, too.” I realize it may never be an ordinary day again.

Jennifer Wolfe

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Middle School: Where Everybody Belongs

Posted on August 28, 2011 by Jennifer Wolfe

It’s the first day of kindergarten…parents lined up at the door, new backpacks grace the backs of eager (and some not so eager) young students dressed in their new school clothes. Mom and dad hover, some concerned, some triumphant-all documenting the day with flashes from cameras and smart phones.

Flash forward seven years-it’s middle school. Yikes! No more hovering-at least not where the kids can see you! New backpacks-maybe, if they’re cool. Dressing down instead of dressing up. Photos? No way-those had to be done at home,
out of sight of the friends.

I’ve spent the last week working with my 8th and 9th grade leadership students getting ready to welcome every 7th grader to our school. It’s a beautiful thing, really. Believe it or not, those 7th graders are pretty nervous-they just don’t want anyone to know it.

At Emerson Junior High, we take two days of summer vacation to train students how to mentor the incoming 7th grade students using the WEB program. Through team building, get to know you activities, and tons of leadership skills, we build a program to make every kid feel like they belong at our school.

The day before school starts, we run a four hour orientation that starts as 265 students in the gym, breaks down to small groups, and ends up with the WEB leaders and 10 7th grade ‘webbies’ in classrooms getting to know each other and helping the new kids feel more connected to their new school. And NO PARENTS are allowed!

WEB has been a fantastic program for our school-we’ve seen discipline issues reduce and connectivitiy increase. Our school climate thrives with the ‘students helping students succeed’ approach…and despite all the hard work and energy it takes right before we start our ‘real’ teaching jobs, we get a trememdous satisfaction watching the magic happen.

One of the most important things the WEB leaders share with their 7th graders are ‘Words of Wisdom’ about how to survive and thrive in middle school. They are brutally honest-I guess it comes with their own ‘trial and error’!

Those middle school days can be a real test of our parenting skills – so much to learn, and no handbook to go by! So, if you’re a parent, a teacher or a middle schooler, take a look at the Emerson Jr. High Words of Wisdom-you might just learn something!

Be on time and pay attention and LISTEN in class. Don’t procrastinate!

Use your planner. Get things done as soon as possible. Stay organized!

Make a good first impression with your teachers and new friends.

Understand and follow the rules. Don’t share your locker combo.

Stay healthy. Get plenty of sleep and eat breakfast. Bring a snack and lunch, too!

Follow the dress code. Get to class on time!

Try not to get stressed out. Ask teachers or counselors for help in classes if you need it.

Participate in class and other fun stuff at school. Make an effort!

Don’t feel shy – include new people in your group of friends.

Words of Wisdom for us all, don’t you think?

Jennifer Wolfe

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May 4, 1983:

Thong Hy Huynh was a new kid in town. His family had recently immigrated from Vietnam, hoping for a better life. He was quiet-in fact, so quiet that I never even met him. I never knew his name until the day he was killed on campus.

9/11: It started like any ordinary day.

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