Sing To A Dream

Locking her away!

I found this old story I wrote when I first started to write in my first semester of college; English 101. The story is a little raw, but the meaning is there and I know whom ever reads this or even cares to read this, will have a better understanding as to how a teen with hormones is dealing with the events in today's world. I read back and think, "No body cares, eyes were not on the young girl, and a print on this crazy world was not made at that time of life. She would be lucky if anyone from her past even remember her." In 1999, I was not only graduating at the age of nineteen, but I was graduating six months pregnant. The month was June, the date is vague, but the feelings are sharp as a hunting knife, to this day. In approaching the room, in a line of a hundred or so screaming seniors, my two true friends and I collected our gowns for the graduating ceremony in the music/theater room that smelled like old cheese and sweaty gym socks. We gathered there to practice for the graduating ceremony that would later be held that evening, out on the football field. Marching in two straight lines, my friend Robin in front of me saying that everything would be okay. After this day, I would not have to see any of these people for another ten years or so. "Screw them!" she said in a roar, while Brooke, to the left of me, held my hand. I tried to hold the tears that painfully took over my eyes and the tightness that choked my throat, thinking about what others thought of me. Knowing that Robin had a point; I could not conceive the feelings that I had. The feelings of how would she know what I'm going through. The emotions that rushed through my body of confusion or the embarrassment that I got caught with my pants down, so to speak. And as I think of that moment, my friends did know what I was going through, because they too were going through it with me. I was not only their friend, but I was their sister. Some people may consider me to be the quiet type, and some may consider me the surprising type, and some may consider me the lazy type. For one, I consider myself the contradictory type and all the above. I say this because in the tenth grade I stood in front of my English class, giving a speech about teen pregnancy. I said, "If you are not ready to take on the responsibility, you are not ready to do the deed. Sex was a responsibility and what may come is even a bigger responsibility." In order for me to do my speech, I had to interview and interact with teens that were pregnant. I told my tenth grade English class stories of teen parents on their own as well as the age and the difficulties that they had as a teen parent. To this day I don't know why I chose the topic, perhaps I thought it was an easy topic, that's to say the least. After that day, it got around the school facility on what a "wonderful" job I had done on my speech, and to keep up the "great" job. Then, two years after the speech, in my senior year of high school, I found myself in the seat of the listener. Except, the speech was too late for me because my ears were ignorant to what I had preached. I was the one, the only one in my senior year, nineteen and pregnant. I had chosen to do the deed and to take the responsibility that was put onto my plate. During the graduating practice, I was positioned in an order that placed me in the back of the class for the seating arrangements. The set up was to be boy, girl, but I was seated with three girls in the last row. One of the three girls that I was seated with was a childhood friend. She asked in the most obnoxious way that could only be imagined, "Are you pregnant?" Her voice in a high childlike tone. Blond hair flowing in the air and all I could see were her ice blue eyes, sending chills through my body. Having her ask me that very question made me feel dumbfounded. Why would such a person ask that question? Is she that ignorant? It was like asking, an overweight women when is she due. I responded in the only way that I felt was right, "Why would you ask me such a thing?" I threw her question back at her like a football, aiming for her face. At that moment the words in her vocabulary may have not gone above the word, "duh." I'm sure that she realized that it was humanly possible for her to stick both feet in her mouth at the same time. I felt ill. Ill because I thought I was hiding my pregnancy well. I thought that no one had a clue, but the truth was, I was hiding it from myself. During the ceremony practice, everyone had to walk up to the podium, acting like we were getting our diplomas. When it was my turn I walked up to the podium, heart pounding, hands quaking, preparing myself, to shake the hand of the superintendent of the school district. I then turned around, with the mid-morning sun shining bright in my eyes and the wind blowing in my hair, I heard a remark that a fellow student made, "Is it true J.G. is pregnant?" That's when my friend, Danielle, did the thing that made her a friend that only I could love her for. She turned around in her seat, propped her small child like hands on the brim of her seat and said in a sarcastic tone, "Some people may be pregnant, but some people look like they are always pregnant." The only thing I could do was smile in satisfaction and walk back to my seat. After the ceremony practice was over, everyone cleared the football field and scurried back to the school for the award ceremony. As I was walking back, I once again had my friend, Brooke, to my right and my friend, Robin, to my left, telling me to hold my head up high and never let anyone denounce me or my unborn baby. To this day I have to keep on remembering that my child never asked to be brought into this world, and that no one has the right to ever put either of us down because no one is perfect. When entering the auditorium for the awards with my mother and friends, I came in contact with one of my teachers that I had the previous semester. He scanned my pleasantly plumped body with his eyes bugging out like deer in front of a moving car. The look on his face seemed to read, "It's true! She really is pregnant." Or, "What a disappointment." His eyes told me what he was thinking; and those thoughts had to be pretty close to what he was thinking; other wise I wouldn't have felt the way I did that day after I came in contact with him. I took my seat with my mother, my friends and their parents, knowing that most eyes were on me. Brooke and her mother headed the way to our seats. The time for the award ceremony to end seemed forever. The time it took for the students to stand up, walk to the stage that sat in the front of the auditorium to receive their awards, felt like it was on stop. Whispers from behind me, in front of me, and to the sides of me, were piercing my ears. I knew the whispers were about me and that they had questions for me. Braking my observation, Ms. M, Robin's mother, leaned forward, faced me and held my left hand, and said in a stern voice, "Hold your head up high. You chose to keep your unborn child and your health. Never second-guess yourself." The ceremony then came to an end. The tension that built up inside me had eased. I stood-up took a deep breath, held it in, making the morning become faint to my thought, because I was starting my day over at that moment. The evening finally came to an end. Family and friends roared in excitement for me and I received my diploma. My family and friends held me up, just when I was going to fall. If it wasn't for their support, I don't think I would have finished high school. High school graduations are supposed to be an unforgettable event. For one, I can second a voice on that topic. Like most high school graduations, my high school graduation was an event that I won't forget. I won't forget the pain I felt from my fellow classmates and my teachers, the way they hunted me down like a small, defenseless animal, for information to satisfy their hunger. I may have been nineteen and pregnant, but I was nineteen and pregnant with a diploma. I look back on that day in June and think about what I've achieved. I graduated with a diploma and with my pride. I've achieved more than most people achieve in a lifetime. I will never forget my feelings that I felt that June at the age of nineteen. Chapter 2 Heaven on Earth On September twentieth, of nineteen hundred and ninety-nine a new love was born. What God gave me was a priceless gift of life, a baby boy. His big blue eyes sparkle like crystal and his wide teeth less, smile, brings a silent choking laughter and cry to my soul. On the great day that he was born, it feels as if he reached out, grabbed my heart and pulled me into this labyrinth world where the sun is gold, and the wind is silk, and gravity is not of existence's, and time is no matter. My son Aaron is the apple of my eye by far. Everything he is and does makes me envy him. When looking into Aaron's big, round, blue eyes, it's like looking at a crystal that shines in the sunlight, and his teeth-less smile brings this silent, choking, laughter, and cry, to my soul. Every milestone he makes gives me the reassurance that I too can accomplish a new and difficult task. Just the other day, Aaron was trying to learn how to crawl. It's pretty hard learning something new, but he kept trying and trying and then he finally crawled. Now he can't stop crawling. By him learning how to crawl, gave me the reassurance that I can make it through the difficulties of school and life. I guess it's true that babies know the meaning of life, learning smiling, laughing, and learning how to smile and laugh at our mistakes. Just, by Aaron being himself, makes me crazy about him. He gives me a reason to live. I had nine months to get to know him before anyone else and before he entered the world. How can you love someone that you just met so much? I fell in love, a never-ending love with my son. Even though, he's only a baby, I feel that he knows the meaning of life. Each day is a new day. Life is to love, to learn, and to let go. I gave life to my son, he learned to love, and soon I will have to let him go. Chapter 3 Being a Young Mother In College Being a young mother in college is hard to manage. To my knowledge there are three effects from trying to raise a child and getting an education at the same time. These effects are: No time to complete things, lack of sleep, and a limited social life. Being a mother always comes before being a student and being a young parent means putting my social life on hold. To begin with, there seems to be not enough time in a day to complete my errands. Completions of the simple things such as: reading my mail, paying bills, or even finding the time to eat a meal. It is even harder to complete anything while the child maybe ill or just wants to be with you. Another effect of being a young mother, all in the while seeking a higher education, is the lack of sleep. I sometimes find myself up past the second showing of the eleven o'clock news, trying to complete a ten-page paper due that morning, because my son was up most of the night cutting his first tooth or he has an ear infection. Or I'd be up before dawn, trying to complete or tackle my daily chores; of wash, dusting, or preparing of meals for the day that lies ahead; so I can later complete my homework and be with my son. Finally, the last effect of being a young parent and having to attend school at the same time; is having to learn to part with my social life. It's hard when you're young and that's all you know of. For example, I'm not able to go to a movie whenever I feel like it, or pack my bags to head out on the road for a road trip, just because I feel like it. Even if I could do as I please, I would have to find a baby sitter. And finding a baby sitter is a task all its own. Being a young parent who is seeking a higher education at the same time is not so easy. But in the end it is rewarding. Writing to self then: Dear J.G. I am writing to you from the future. I am you. You are me 10 years younger. I can't help but tell you that every thing is going to be okay! The eyes you thought were on you are not on you, you will not be remembered as the girl who got Knocked up. I can not tell you what you are remembered for, but just know the only person who matters is that little baby you are holding, rocking, and loving with all your heart. Just because you are young, does not mean you will not be a good mother. There are parents that you will meet when you are older who should not have had children or even a puppy or a cat. Age is of no matter. I want to tell you a few things that may help you along your journey of life; but if I tell you, you will not grow and learn what you need to grow and learn. Just keep in mind that every breath you take with be worth it and needed, not by you. Change is one thing you can count on and the fact that there is not enough time in a day to complete the list you make for yourself. You and Brooke will still be best-friends and you will gain new friends who are older and look to you and you look to them. The sun will rise, the moon will rise, rain will help grow the flowers, and on December 23rd, 2003 get the Lottery ticket with the numbers mom tells you in a dream, it comes out. And if you miss it, you will still be okay. Love an older but not wiser, J.G.

Letter To Teacher

Dear Teacher In Question, Thank you for your time and efforts with the children over this past school year. Particularly, I am happy with my childs progression in the soft skill area, specifically manners. I am writing you with a few concerns. Primarily, my concerns include homework and discipline practices. Regarding homework, the comprehensiveness, amount expected and frequency of teacher review are concerns. The comprehensiveness of homework assigned is dubious to me. I have noted much in the spelling and reading areas, but little attention provided to math, science and social studies. Additionally, I cannot recall much homework for language arts either. As a parent, it is my responsibility to be the primary educator in my child’s life, but I am also here to serve as reinforcement to the messages you relay in a given day. Considering the limited scope of homework, my child’s take home work is still limited in volume to reinforce time spent in the classroom. With that said homework, it is also to my understanding for some time, that spelling homework is not being reviewed independly of the children, you are “entrusting” the students. This is a great practice for encouraging accountability and self-rule but without an adult review, compliance cannot be verified. The time and effort that the adults in our child’s life have given to him in the past few years of his schooling, it seems his study skills have regressed over the past year since there is no need to meet a teacher’s expectations as well. I agree that students need to be more responsible, but children need guidelines. Another concern of mine is the discipline environment employed in your classroom. The practice of allowing other students to hand out discipline slips (yellow slips) while empowering to the class, results in a mob mentality effectively allowing the students to run the class and does not foster a healthy education-oriented environment for kids. This is clearly distinct from encouraging self rule. Too rapidly, this situation can result in three yellow slips and a subsequent red slip. Ultimately, students are sentencing one another to detention for causes that may not rise to such a level. I have a hard time discussing any "behavior issues" with my child because several of these slips are coming from other kids. If the slips came from you, the teacher, I would take further action at home. I can have a conference with you; I cannot have a conference with other 3rd graders to discuss a given situation. As a result, I feel peer-on-peer discipline lacks credibility and I will not discuss it with my child. This form of discipline does not provide for positive change, and only serves to lower my child’s self-esteem. I believe the message intended to be sent to students is that they should do right by one another; however it does not appear that the merits are being evaluated by an adult. In the end, the effectiveness of the intended message is being lost. In the past we have had this concern, but when you discipline a child, it should not always be in front of the class. I understand the other children may be making allegations, which have eilicited the response, but correction in front of an entire class is essentially tantamount to a public stoning. Furthermore, such a public display of discipline results in the remainder of the class turning “telling on someone” into a game – further alienating the child and promoting a hostile environment. On the same note, when my child tries to defend himself, you only shoot down his statements. My child is not perfect and does need adult guidance, but he is a good kid with good intentions. However, the public ridacule model currently employed in the environment has resulted in a marked deterioration in his drive and initiative causing greater concern for his future success. I hope that over the summer as we prepare for school next September, I am able to get him excited about school again. He used to look forward to going but that is not the case anymore. Please think about what you are saying to him and other children and how they may feel when engaging in disciplinary discussion. I am sure you tell kids all the time "do unto others.” I am copying the principle in this letter to reinforce my message. As a professional in charge of educating, leading and developing children, you need to hold yourself to a higher standard than the behavior you displayed this year. Your words and actions have a profound impact on these impressionable children. Sure, even I, as a parent makes the same mistakes, no one is perfect, however these are pivotal years in a child’s life and if a love of learning is lost because of classroom humiliation, lack of concern, and apathy towards development, you failed as a teacher. We all have to reevaluate the way we handle certain situations and improve upon them. Please look at this letter as a way to improve on certain situations. Thank you,

The Boogeyman

Working through some feelings that have surfaced, I was asked why I went to one mans funeral some years back. With child on hip and my shoulder being used as a road for a matchbox car, I approached the church with nothing but fear overtaking my body as the rain drops falls on and around me. I kept telling myself this is one more moment in my life that will make me stronger in time. Entering the church, I climbed the steps to the service. People crying, people talking of grand memories of this man whom has died, not one knowing what this man really was/is. Hesitating to sign the guess book, I decided not to sign, for I was not a guest with love in my mind, but a guest with hatred who needed closing of a chapter in my life, that has caused me to be so callus to what has been done to me and god knows how many others. Scanning the holy room, colors of Black and Red is what I see. I take notice of the final farewells, I walk to the back of the church, debating to walk up to the casket and give my final farewells. In search of my courage, I look at my son, eyes so blue, he always knows what to say, “Mommy I love you.” Tears forming not due to the reason I was brought to at this place, time, or moment, but for my son gave me the strength to make my decision, in this place, in this time, and in this moment. My son and I walk to the casket. I look at the widow, the children, the grand children and I feel the pain of sorrow for the very reason that they lost a family member, but at the same time wondering if they knew what has been done. I look at the cross that hangs above for all to see and pray, I say thank you to Jesus for he has answered my prayers from when I was a small child to preteen. I look at the body that lies in the casket whispering very low to where my son can barley hears me, but Jesus does. “You died of a slow and painful death. You die of Cancer. I can only say that Cancer is my friend and you are the monster. You don’t deserve any of this. You don’t deserve the tears that fall for you. I hate you for what you have done to me. I hate you for making me hate you. I can only hope you felt every pound lost, pain in your bones, skin, lungs, and stomach that Cancer has brought you. That is the very pain you bestowed upon me in force and in fear that my Mom would not love me anymore if I was to tell her. I hate you! I hate the way you made me feel. I hate you. God speed for healing.” A hand rubbing my back, my baby says to me, “Don’t cry Mommy, don’t cry, you are okay now, don’t cry.” Those words could not be any wiser. I turn from the corps that litters the church that I once lost faith in and regain myself and my trust that punishment almost always comes in ones life when deserved; looking up, everyone is a blur and my son and I walk out without another word. Stepping down onto the blacktop where I once played in my school girl’s uniform, looking up, the rain has stopped and the sun was shining and the wind blew in my face. In the distance my son sees a butterfly land on a weed, while we approached the car. So, when asked why I went to my boogeyman’s funeral, I could only answer to the one I love and hold so dear, “I need to love again the right way. So I can breathe again and not feel bad for when you hold me. So, that the scares on my soul and heart don’t match the stain glass in what I need to find. So I can be a better person.” With a pause in between my winded answers, “So I know that there is a God and that my tears and prayers were answered.”

How do you know if a teacher is doing their job?

My son was doing his homework and he had to write sentences for his vocabulary words, as he does everyday for homework.One of the words was Teacher. He wrote down, "My teacher never checks my homework."Needless to say, she did not check this sheet of work or I am certain that I would have gotten a call or a visit from her as some parents do for other things. My son wrote this for the very reason that his teacher does not check homework, plus he feels there is no point in doing his homework since she does not check it and there are no consequences for not doing it. Unlike me from when I was a young student, my son has not missed a day of school in his life for illness, laziness on the parents’ part, or just to have a mental day off. He has always been considered a “Star Student” a “Leader” with everything he does; Cub Scouts, Soccer in the spring, fall, and soon travel and visiting his father every Tuesday and every other weekend, along with wanting to start his own band. I work with this teacher in question at times when helping her students out. I tell him to keep doing his best and everything will be okay. A great student begins with the parents and the school working together in molding the child for success. I am now trying to find a way to talk to his teacher regarding this paper without telling her how to do her job and putting myself or my son out to be targets of me losing one of my jobs and Aaron being a good student turned to “Pick on me now” target. I have months of sheets of homework that has yet to be checked. What is a parent to do? I have talked to a few parents from my sons’ class and it turns out that they too are questioning her acts. With no leading in any part, for I am not trying to put myself out there to be a target, though I am now, I recall that homework does not go pass spelling and reading, there is no math nor history or science that comes home as I do see with the other classes in my sons’ grade. Again, I ask, what is a parent to do?

Dancing Through The School Supply Isle!

Summer is coming to an end. Sad that I did not do more this past summer, but hey, I have many more when I am done school myself! Until then, OCNJ will be our family friend for vacations. Plus, I had a few too many High School Musical dates! Tuesday, is a great day. The bus will be arriving at the corner near my house to collect my son for his first day of 3rd grade! It seems that only yesterday, when my son was born and I was holding him wondering how you could love someone so much that you just met. With this feeling in my heart and head, I also love him more while he grows and becomes a smart boy to man. Tuesday creeping up, I will give my son a gift of sharpen pencils as a bouquet for my token of love for him and the great day of “First Day of School”. Heck, I will give myself a bouquet of sharpen pencils, for I will need them to, with my homework and help him with his. About to head to bed, with that in mind that I will be up at 6am making PB&J sandwiches and the sanctuary of caffeine will be waiting for me, I will swing my arms in the air like I just don’t care! PARTY likes its 1999!

Mean Mommy! Parenting at a C+?

I dropped my daughter off at school on Monday, to have a fellow student's mother push her way between my children, to make her way to the door that lead upstairs to our children's classroom for daycare. This mother is not the nicest lady to walk the face of the earth. Always giving the staff and other parents problems, such as 'Your child is not nice to mine'. Or, having fights with her soon to be ex in the school parking lot. I look at my sons face, confused with what just happened and shocked to see his sister who's hand he was holding, was no longer holding her hand. In my bear protecting her cub ways, I got down to my children's level and said, "you see children her mommy and daddy did not teach her any manners." She stops in her tracks, turns around and looked at me. With a pause, she snarled, "You have a problem? You're being rude?" While yanking her son in every move she made. Keeping cool, I look back at her without losing eye contact, "I'm not being rude. You're just insignificant. You pushed my children out of your way. Did you not see them? What do you have to say to that?" "I don't have time to wait for your kids to move their asses out of my way!" "Yeah, because we are here to make your life hard! Say sorry to my children so you can show your son how not to act with others around." Moving closer and closer to each other, not a word said for a few seconds. I come out and say, "I don't know what your problem is, but I'll bet it's hard to pronounce. Just say sorry to my children for pushing them out of the way and show your son how to respect others. Okay?" Huffing and puffing, "Sorry." Aarons reply, "That's okay, I'm pretending there is duck tape over your mouth." I nudged him, in his shoulder so he would say sorry for his comment, "Sorry, have good day!" with a big smile. Secretly content that my brother's sarcasm has been learned! We waited for her to come back down after dropping her son off upstairs and then we made our way up stairs to deliver Shelby to her class. On my way out, one of Shelby's teachers said "Thank you for giving your two-cents to the fellow mother." Outcome, have yet to have another encounter with the monster!