Tag: parenthood

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

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.

OUR Children – Do You Hear Them?

Posted on August 21, 2011 by Jennifer Wolfe

http://masonimages.com/

A child murdered by her parent. A child hit by a car in front of her house. A child caught in the struggle between foster and biological parents. A child entering a new school in a new city. A child moving away from her friends. A child rebelling dangerously against her parents. A child living homeless. A child unexpectedly losing her mother.

This week children are weighing heavily on my mind. Preparing to return to my classroom, I am overrun with emotions, nerves, memories, fears, and expectations. Starting up a new school year is supposed to be exciting-a fresh start, a new chapter in the life of a child, a time for families to gather together and celebrate a new beginning. Yet as I go through each day, it seems as if I’m bombarded by children in crisis. It scares me.

I’ve been teaching for 20 years, mostly all of those in junior high schools. I’m used to dealing with kids as they experience the joys of ‘tween’ and ‘teen’ years. But this month it feels different. Less exciting. More serious.

What is happening to our children? Are things really so different from when I walked the halls of my school as a 9^th grader, mainly concerned about how my overalls looked (it was the 70’s) and if my hair had curled correctly that morning? Sure, I had friends who had family problems, and knew kids who got in trouble. But all this?

http://masonimages.com/

Who is making the choices here? Parents know that we need to empower our children, teach them how to be confident, strong, mature humans. We choose to give them experiences that will nurture their talents, expose them to the world, and teach them how to survive when they leave home. We remember images of our babies, smiling up at us as we hold them. Our toddlers curiously pulling everything out of drawers. Our kindergarteners learning to write and glue and skip. Our elementary school students lining up, playing ball, and performing class musicals. Our teens biking to school alone, having slumber parties, getting their drivers license. Our graduates, leaving home. But these kids-what are they learning? That life is hard. That children can be powerless. That even good parents can make bad choices. That no one is listening?

http://masonimages.com/

No parent thinks that as they send their child out for the day that a car will hit them and knock them out of their shoes, left unconscious on the street. No parent thinks their estranged partner will commit the unthinkable act of taking their child’s life. No parent thinks their child will steal, lie or cheat. No parent wants bad things to happen to their child. But they do and it’s scary and I’m mad.

I’m mad that children are victims. I’m mad that adults don’t take the time to look kids in the eye and really SEE them. Slow it down. Pay attention. Pause. Listen. You will be amazed what you can learn-not just about your own kid, but about all kids. What is in their control? Really think about why they act the way they do-they’re trying to tell us something. Think about what is out of their control. Think about what choices have been made for them.

http://masonimages.com/

What I’ve learned from decades of working with teens is that they almost always want to do the right thing. Kids don’t always know what the ‘right’ thing is-but they usually can find their way if someone takes the time to listen to them. I’ve learned that kids like limits-they like to have things to choose from. And yes, they will challenge – testing limits is a natural process in learning. They like choice. Kids don’t like to be boxed in and feel like all the adults in their life know what’s best for them. They like to be listened to. I’ve learned that children shouldn’t be seen and not heard.

What I’m still learning is that bad things happen. Adults will make choices that have superb and terrible impact on kids, and that’s the way life works. I’m still learning that kids are strong, resilient and remarkable and can survive and thrive despite amazing experiences that would send most of us screaming into the abyss.

Please, listen and hear what they’re saying. Give them a voice. Give them a choice.

http://masonimages.com/

Jennifer Wolfe

the path

Posted on June 28, 2011 by Jennifer Wolfe

Sometimes we don’t know where we’re headed. Actually, most of the time. This is especially hard if you’re one of those people who likes to know where they’re going-all of the time. Like me.

I’m not much of a risk taker. I don’t like high places, ledges, surprises, or the unknown. I like to have a plan. I like lists, planners, recipes and getting things done. But every once in awhile I surprise myself, and take a step. Sometimes they are baby steps, sometimes, mamabear steps, and sometimes I just jump without thinking or looking. Those are the scary ones to me, and more often than not I end up regretting something about them. Especially when it involves over-indulgence. But lately I’ve taken a few mamabear steps that have actually come out ok.

I was talking with a new friend the other day, and we were discussing what it’s like to be our age and feel like we’re getting to the place where change is really quite scary, especially if it involves careers, money and doing something that other people (younger ones) are more skilled at, more experienced at, or maybe just more courageous. We agreed that sometimes ‘putting ourselves out there’ is essential to open the door of life just a tinge wider, giving us a new view and opening up the possibility that ‘there’ will respond. And the crazy thing is, it usually does.

This has happened to me a couple of times over the last few years, giving me the confidence to now keep the door propped open. Just a tinge. For some of us just taking the jump into parenthood is the opening. For some, finishing school, a project, taking a trip or creating something just for the sake of creativity. Like a blog.

What I’ve learned is that Lao Tzu’s famous quote, “The journey of a thousand miles begins with one step” is absolutely true. That step can be small, medium, or large, but it’s a step all the same. And usually, if you’re on firm ground to begin with, the step comes out ok. And then another one can follow right after it. If the ground beneath you is muddy, crumbly, or slippery, that step might take longer or require some thought, but it still can be done. What I’m still learning is that I can trust myself to take the step, and to know that there are so many people in my life that will hold my hand if I need help to get down the path.

9/11: It started like any ordinary day.

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