Public school woes

September 9, 2013

Today is my daughter's first day of high school. The last school she attended she had attended for 10 years, and she graduated as one of 17 kids. My husband and I let her choose which high school she wanted to attend and she chose Central High School, a Philadelphia public magnet school. I was both elated and concerned about her choice. I was proud of her for choosing a wonderful free school with an incredibly rich history and record of high academic achievement, but I was concerned about the size of the school (2400), the amount of homework (which is legendary), and more recently, the state of the school given the debilitating budget cuts to the Philadelphia School District. My daughter, to her credit, was unwavering about her choice. She had picked the school by no small margin and she was up to the challenge, despite the cut in counselors, support staff, sports and music, and who knows what else.

Meanwhile, I am on a listserve from the Home and School Association that says the school will need money, volunteers (maybe to answer phones, maybe with the library, maybe to help seniors with college applications) and a lot of supplies including copy paper. For months the listserve has kept me up to date on the protest marches, the meetings with the mayor and governor, the letter and newspaper campaigns, all to get more money for this floundering school district. Yesterday there was a candlelight vigil that some said was to mourn the death of Philadelphia schools.

My daughter is lucky that if she needs to go to a private school, she has the grades and scores to get in and we probably have the means to send her. But what of everyone without the means? What of all the other families, many of whom are talking about selling their houses and moving out of the city? Isn't the death of Philly schools really the death of Philadelphia as a city for families?

I am looking forward to seeing my daughter after school today. I hope she still has the light in her eyes that she had this morning.

I read in the paper (The Atlantic City Press) that today is the first day of Ramadan. During Ramadan, Muslims not only fast for 30 days, but are also encouraged to attend prayers and to "refrain form distractions and negative habits...stay away from saying harsh words or fights. If someone confronts you, you politely say you are observing Ramadan and walk away."  They also engage in Zakar, which involves giving alms to the poor and needy.

It sounds like we all need to observe our own version of Ramadan sometimes.

Thank you for the lesson

Today is the birthday of my mother's best friend, who died eight years ago of cancer. I have been trying to remember my dreams recently, and I realize that last night I had a dream that I was in a hospital bed and my mother told me I had cancer and then walked out of the room, which caused me both anger and sorrow in the dream. I was also going to be transferred to a different hospital and I worried that my mother couldn't find me there.

My relationship with the woman whose birthday is today was complicated, as she was essentially my mother's partner in life - eating dinner with us every night, accompanying us on vacation, etc. - even though she did not live with us. She and I did not get along when I was growing up. I think my emotional nature and need for my mother's attention vied with my mother's friend's need for rationality and also my mother's attention. Additionally, she did not have children of her own, nor siblings, so she may not have understood children very well (never mind teenagers, whom few can understand anyway). Also, I was not easy.

Later, when this woman was diagnosed with cancer, I decided to let "bygones be bygones" and start over with her. We ended up quite close, and she was like another grandmother to my children when she died. I am grateful that we were able to resolve our differences in this lifetime. I came to appreciate and even love this person and I miss her presence in my life. When I think of her, I am reminded that as long as I have breath in my body, there is an opportunity to forgive and to evolve. It is never too late. Happy Birthday, Dear Friend. Thank you for being one of my teachers in Earth School.

Today my son is having a reading assessment in anticipation of being tutored in reading this summer. According to his classroom teacher, he is reading on grade level, but his assessments do not reflect this and my personal observations point to a weakness in this area. 

Listening from the other room, I can hear the reading specialist telling him it's OK to stand during the assessment, and my son responding that he might need his bumpy cushion (which he has refused to use in class for the last two years) to help him sit. I also hear him telling her that it is hard to stay seated with "what he has," referring to his ADHD.

My son and I have had quite a few heart-to-hearts over the last two weeks. He told me that he has told a  couple good friends who he trusts about his ADHD. He also told me how many of the other children in the class are not nice to him because he is "not cool" and "not good in sports." He said the ones who like him like him because he is "nice."

I told him that if he has one or two good friends, that is all he or anyone needs. I said I will try to do a better job of inviting those kids over for "play dates." It's hard for me with these boys, because I am used to my daughter who is so even-keeled and never has conflicts with her friends and the boys seem to need constant intervention, which is exhausting.

I am reminded that I feel my son's soul chose me as a mother because I can help him understand his neuro-wiring and my knowledge as a speech-language pathologist and interest in neurobiology combined with my beliefs in spirituality/yoga/meditation can help him find strategies to help him find peace in the maelstrom of his mind and emotions. I can also be the advocate he needs in his educational life and the one who reminds him of the unique gifts he brings to the world. In return, he is shining a light on my nature and making me dig deeper in my journey toward equanimity and balance. 

When I was feeling emotional after running at the beach this morning, my 10-year-old son said "Oh no, it's not good to go to the beach when you're sad." "Why?" I asked him. "The ocean is so beautiful. It makes you happier if you're happy and sadder if you're sad."  

It's been a rocky few days with my son, who has both ADHD and my emotional wiring. It's hard to see my behaviors reflected back to me in my child, especially behaviors that took me years to modify. The book "The Four Agreements" (Don Miguel Ruiz) really helped me, especially the Second Agreement: "Don't take anything personally."

I am trying to help my son learn this at an early age, but many things in life must be experienced. As a wise woman once said to me, "It's his karmic debt. He has to go through it."

A new birth-day

"Supermoon" 2013

June 25, 2013

My birthday was yesterday. A friend of mine observed that many of her friends are going through a particularly emotional time at present and she wondered if the so-called "Supermoon" that occurred over the weekend was to blame, since our bodies contain so much water that we could be affected the same as the tides. We wondered together if those of us born under the moon sign of Cancer were even more affected. 

Last night and this morning I had an "epiphany," which I believe was brought on by a combination of the season finale of "Mad Men," during which Don Draper seems to be "breaking open" (a Tara Brach term) to his troubled past, and a birthday that required me to ask my children at 5pm if they even had a card for me. My 14-year-old daughter gave me a card, on which she had added the words "Thanks for always cleaning up after us and always being there." Suddenly I saw myself as she sees me - the maid! I then "broke open" myself and realized that it was not my children's responsibility to appreciate me on my birthday, and that the life I have been leading, during which I do my best to go on every school trip, bake brownies for every bake sale and volunteer at every event, was really me trying to make up for a childhood in which I had a single, working mother who would not have had the opportunity to do any of these things. The epiphany was also that my children had not asked me to do any of those things, but I had done them for myself, as my friend wisely put it, to heal the "wounded child" within me. Did my children want or even need this level of attention? Probably not. Would I have even wanted that much attention as a teenager? Probably not.