Extremes

I find myself in an odd limbo, strung between utter happiness and gloomy despair. Utter happiness because in just under five months MTL and I will be married, and while I am having to watch myself carefully for signs of going off the deep end in preparations for the shindig, plans proceed apace and almost everything is falling smoothly into place.

We're overly organized, really. Honestly, the only reason I don't have the wording for our wedding programs completely set is because one of my beloved bridesmaids is still trying to figure out whether or not she'll be able to attend and stand up for me. Pesky miles. I keep telling her that she and her family should just move over here, but for some reason Michigan doesn't seem to be much of a draw right now...

Cue the other extreme.

The gloomy despair? All it takes is for wave after wave after wave of news and worse news flooding through the television and Internet and email. I love my job, but am seriously wondering if I will be able to continue teaching for much longer. The politicians of this nation and most definitely this state seem intent on destroying the public education system, and sadly enough, too many people seem quite willing to let them do so. I find myself in tears, considering a nation where only those who can afford to do so will be educated (whether through private schools or homeschools--because yes, you have to be able to afford to homeschool), where corporations will get even fatter off the profits of charter schools, where the Least Of These will be once again forgotten and shunted to wither away in their corners and holes.

We are not a democracy. We are not a republic. We are a corporate oligarchy, and the bloated barons are laughing as they feast on the fat of the land.

We're Staring at the Headlights and There's No Hero Riding Into Sight

Oy.

Okay. There's another reason I haven't wanted to write much prose lately.

It's called Stress. Over my everlovin' fund-cuttin' teacher-bashin' student-screwin' state legislature's decisions to cut education funding again and again and again. Halfway through the school year, as is the idiotic illogical normal way things are done around here.

My district, a large district, will lose an estimated $14.5 million as of December 20, 2009.

My building alone will lose almost $600,000.

This is not projected money, money that would be spent Down The Road that simply cannot be spent now. This is money that (because of the way things are done in this state) was already figured into the budget for the year before the state said Oh, sorry, did we say you could have that? Never mind.

This is money that pays for the programs that educate our youth, for the teachers and support staff who make the programs happen, and the facilities in which the programs are run. This is money that is spent to cover costs in a district that has already been paring away at spending and programs and jobs in an effort to absorb all the budget cuts made over the last several years.

So we are in Crisis. Crisis-mode decisions have been made, and the devastating results are already in play.

Last Thursday, after we wasted our time sat through a professional development presentation, four close English teacher friends of mine and I headed to a nearby Coney to eat lunch. I snapped a picture of them, these four young 20-somethings who have become my colleagues, my buddies, my mentees, my confidantes, and sent the picture to Joe via text labelled My peeps. He texted back Hi peeps! And then he and one of my peeps teased each other through me.

The next day three of them were told they will be laid off as of January 25th.

The fourth one is the next on the chopping block. Reality says she will not have a job next year.

The reason? One of the many cuts being made at the semester's end is the position of high school media center specialist (i.e. librarian.) Our libraries media centers used to have one full time MC specialist, one full-time MC paraprofessional, and one full-time MC secretary. And they were Busy. Over the last several years, the media centers first lost the secretaries, then dropped the para-pros to half-time, then lost the para-pros entirely. Our beloved MC specialist is quite possibly the hardest working and most overworked woman in the building, and she saves our asses on a regular basis. I put her on a pedestal along with our IT woman and the administrative secretaries.

Now all four high school MC specialists have lost their positions. Each school will have one para-pro working in the MC half the day.

This will work well.*

As a result, those MC specialists (all of whom were once teachers and are certified) are being moved back into the classroom. Even the one who only taught for a couple of years and hasn't been in a classroom for twenty-five. They have the seniority, they have the certification, so they will go into the classroom and the low people on the totem pole are gone.

Thus, my peeps.

Don't get me wrong. I don't want the specialists to lose their jobs either and I believe (knowing the kind of people they are) that they will work their butts off to do well as teachers. That's not the issue.

What is an issue, besides my friends losing their jobs, is that all these cuts (and there are more than these, believe you me) will Not Be Enough. More are coming our way--if not during this year, certainly within the next couple. Our in-school custodians are losing their jobs as the district switches to a cheaper (and much less effective) outsourced company. Some secretarial positions are being cut, others put to half-time. Bussing may have to be cut. Elective and Fine Arts programs may disappear. Sports programs may even be cut--freshman and junior varsity teams are already on the list of possibilities.

Class sizes will very likely rise (we're already at 35). The middle school program may be changed drastically, leaving about fifty teachers either laid off or transferred to high school, which means lay-offs there. Our contract is up for negotiation this summer, and I have every expectation that we will be forced to take dramatic salary cuts and benefit changes/losses. More people will lose jobs. MAYBE even some administrators (and believe me, that's a true sign of a crisis).

I understand, to a certain extent, why this is happening. Michigan is in crisis too. The state does not have money and is cutting all sorts of programs. Education is not alone. Police and fire departments are being drastically slashed. Other programs are being cut entirely or severely underfunded.

And I know that not just state employees are suffering. Almost all of Michigan is suffering. I know many people who have been laid off and cannot find jobs. Believe me, I'm grateful that I have one.

In fact, yesterday I found myself counting up the number of English teachers in the district who stand between me and a layoff. It may be human nature, but I recoiled at my cold-blooded approach to reality: how many bodies (so to speak) must fall before I do? And how bad would things be that I, who have approximately 14 people buffering me from unemployment, would be on the chopping block?

The reality is grim. It has been for some time, but now I'm catching a glimpse of the Reaper in my peripheral vision.

However, I have to wonder: at what long-term price are we making these short-term decisions? How will overcrowded classrooms, lack of bussing, lack of enrichment and Fine Arts and sports programs, and (yes, I'm going there) underpaid and overstressed teachers create an educational environment that will draw crucial people and funds to this state? What are we sacrificing for the present crisis that will contribute to the long-term one? The experts waffle on when we will start emerging from this recession, but I can say this: unless positive decisions are made rather than negative ones, that journey will be a very long one. And at this rate, I believe we may drop down into a full depression rather than the "milder" recession sooner rather than later.

In the meantime, I'm glad the legislators are able to sleep at night.* Apparently they're so relaxed about the oncoming train of the December budget cuts that today they declared a hiatus from sessions and decided to take a two-week vacation.

Unfortunately, they left a lot of people stranded on the tracks.


*In case you can't tell, this is being said with Deep Deep Sarcasm.

Just Watch Them Come After Me Too: Mocking Mattel

Oh. My. Word.

My post this morning is brought to you courtesy of Barbie (TM), already queen of plastic and now apparently queen of hypocrisy. You've heard me rant mildly before about Barbie and the warped view of the female form she perpetuates, but this is about something else.

For those of you around and paying attention to mainstream music back in the mid-90s, you may remember the song "Barbie Girl" by Aqua that came out in 1997. And perhaps you remember the tantrum that Mattel threw about the song, saying that it was an unauthorized use of the product name for commercial use and that it portrayed women as sex objects (HA! Because Mattel never has been guilty of that). In fact, Mattel won the suit, which is why you  no longer hear that song played.

Well, that and because it's the kind of bubblegum pop song that doesn't last long on the airwaves as it is.

Anywho, this morning as I was hoping in vain for Nick (the kid's channel, not a person) to stop playing commercials and actually show "Max and Ruby" for The Widget's delight, I witnessed a commercial for Barbie that had my jaw dropping faster than Barbie's boobs would if she looked her age.

(She's 50, y'all. There's a reason we call boob jobs "plastic surgery." And I think I mentioned she's the queen of plastic.)

The commercial showed a teenish Barbie (who are they kidding?!?!) skating along to a tune that sounded AMAZINGLY like "Barbie Girl," with some slight tweaks to the lyrics. And without the male backups.

I did a quick search just to make sure I wasn't mistaken, and look: it's true! (You can even see the commercial over there--check it out and compare to the YouTube link of "Barbie Girl" above!)

Why am I writing this post? I'm not really sure, other than this is simple confirmation of what I've suspected about Mattel all along: they'll do and say anything as long as they think it will make them a buck. They've been quick to sue over perceived slights to the Barbie image, and just as quick to use the same slights to their advantage. Goodness knows they make sure we can't avoid their product in every store and on every remotely kiddish channel.

God forbid we don't fill our little girls' worlds with Pepto-Barbie fuschia.

I had other ideas for posts today, and maybe I still will, but I had to address this burning issue while it was hot pink.

You're welcome.

It's the Hardest One to Answer

Tonight he finally asked the question I'd been dreading.

He's asked If and Will you be before. But not this.

Tonight, after picking up the boys from daycare (after six days of absence) and driving them down to Detroit, DramaBoy suddenly asked me, Why are you and Daddy not together?

I've thought about this question, even though I would rather not. I've wondered what to say to a not-quite-four-year-old about this. How does one answer such a question without lying? Without talking way over his head? Without giving him unnecessary information? Without making him see either parent in a bad light? Without avoiding an answer at all?

And there it was, and there he was, and there I was, and it was time to figure it out. No more wondering. No more rehearsing. No more pre-show jitters. The spotlight's on full and the audience is waiting. Cue line.

Well, I said. I paused. Well, Mommy and Daddy had a lot of problems.

And accidents? he asked.

Well, no, not really accidents. Problems. We made some very bad choices.

Why? he asked. Why indeed? I ask myself that all the time.

We were not doing what was right and we were stupid and we made some very bad choices. And Mommy and Daddy hurt each others' hearts very badly.

Sometimes I make bad choices and I hurt my heart, he said. But I don't hurt my heart as bad as you and Daddy did.

That's right. We hurt each others' hearts so bad that even though we are sorry, there was too much hurt already. And, well, sometimes when that happens, when they're so hurt in the heart like that, Mommies and Daddies can't be together anymore.

There was a short silence.

Can I watch TV when I get home? he asked.

Yes, but only if you give me lots of cuddles, I said.

Okay. I will give you cuddles! he said, and there was a touch of joy in his voice.

I wish that would always be enough.

They're Supposed to Just be Kids

Sorry I've been off the virtual map this weekend. I was staying up with He Who Was and the boys this weekend, and the wireless modem/router died, so I was without access until today. Much longer and I would have started twitching, but I survived remarkably well for those two days.

I would love to give you the amusing post I composed in my head on Saturday night about eating at a certain very large and well-known pizza restaurant, but I'm not up to writing it today. I'm feeling heavy, weighted down with various sorrows and the sense that tears are not far off. This weekend, while the opposite of angry and stressful in terms of conflict (in other words, He Who Was and I actually got along wonderfully well), took its toll on my heartstrings. And accessing the Internet and email and blogs and Twitter came with a price today.

I opened my email to find an update on my teen cousin, the one whose mother (my mother's only sister) died a couple of years ago from leukemia, the one who was diagnosed this year with cancer of the jaw. He is going through radiation therapy right now as the follow-up to having the tumor excised, and he is struggling. His father wrote that Matthew has all the fatigue, internal and external ulcers, sore throat, and various other side effects that can result from radiation therapy, and he got them more quickly than expected. He has lost weight and will be put on a feeding tube tomorrow. In addition, he came down with H1Ni flu (swine flu, by its official name) shortly after starting treatment and has never fully recovered from that virus's debilitating effect--thankfully it was the lower-level strain or he might have been much more drastically affected.

Matthew is sixteen years old.

Then via my Blogroll and Twitter I found out that Stellan, MckMama's precious baby, is going downhill fast as the doctors struggle to determine how to stop his SVT, which is not responding to any of the previous treatments. MckMama's anguish is apparent, especially on Twitter. She is holding her son while friends and family rush to get to the hospital. I am trying to pray, and all that can escape are the words Please help them! and tears and wordless gouts of agony that this happens at all.

Stellan is eight months old.

In comparison to these families' agony, mine seems so minor in comparison. And yet I know that God cares about each of us and our pain, that He is big enough to encompass it all.

I am torn between wanting so badly to say to He Who Was Please, let's just try this again; let's just start over! and knowing that certain key issues have not changed, still loom there as great obstacles to reconciliation, and that we must continue to move forward in our efforts to create a Best Case Scenario for how we will live and care for our children while we work through the process of divorce. We are doing very well in terms of working together, negotiating instead of fighting, being friendly and even almost (dare I say it?) loving, agreeing wholeheartedly that we will do whatever is in our power to make things right for our children. This weekend, however, made it increasingly clear that our power is insufficient to make it truly All Right.

DramaBoy is showing increasing signs of anxiety and distress over our situation. Saturday as we drove back to the house from his grandparents' place (they stayed with them for most of the day so that we could work through the house deciding what to do with various belongings), DB started asking questions about where we were going and for how long. When he heard we would all be at the Blue House for a couple of days before coming back down with me to the Yellow House, he looked at me and asked Are you and Daddy going to be together?

He has asked me this before when we were spending time together as a whole family, particularly if I would be staying the night at the Blue House. It was the first time He Who Was had heard this, however, and the look on his face...I know it mirrored the way I feel every time I hear that question. And we both looked at DramaBoy and asked him if he was okay after I said that while we would all be at the house, Daddy and I would not be together. He sat with downcast face while he said, Yes, I'm okay.

He's learning how to put a brave face on it, and that breaks my heart.

His anxiety gets higher almost every day. I think The Widget's is too; he just isn't able to verbalize it very clearly. They stayed with their grandma last night, and they both wept bitterly about leaving her this morning when I picked them up. I think she is a piece of stability in their lives. They see her often (she lives only 10-15 minutes from He Who Was). She is always in the same house. She may be strict, but she's fun, and they know they can rely on her.

I think perhaps they are starting to feel they can't rely on us, their parents, quite the same way. We aren't always there. They can't have both of us. Life keeps getting disrupted. Nothing is like it was, back before their worlds fell apart.

DramaBoy is three-and-a-half years old. The Widget is two.

They're too young.

Please, God, they're all too young.

Putting On The Glitz

Been wondering where to go for that birthday party your little munchkin has looming on the horizon? Want something that offers a full range of services including cake, beverages, kid-friendly location, and entertainment? Trying to raise a child who believes that either the Disney princess or the youthful Paris Hilton look is the greatest aspiration a little girl can have?

Then why not try your local kids' hair salon?

Yes, indeed! What better place to entertain a group of estrogen-laced little kidlettes than a salon that will tart them up in hairspray and butterfly barrettes, cheap glam outfits, glittery makeup, and plastic high heels? And then have them parade down their very own grabbed-from-the-remnant-rack red carpet to the applause and camera flashes of their mamarazzi? Or will let them learn their very own makeup- and mousse-application techniques on a creepy head-on-two-legs doll that they can take home for their future style rehearsals?

That's Snip-Its, "The Most Amazing Kid's Haircut Franchise" known to--um, me! You can choose from the Glamour Party, specially crafted for those pageant mom wannabees; the Hollywood Party, where your little darlings can prepare to be the future Paris Hiltons of Hollywood "celebrity"; or the Style-A-Doll Party, where the dolly creep factor is unbound!

Come--join in the effort to brainwash an entire generation of girls into thinking anything that glitters is, in fact, gold!

-----------------------------------

When we were looking for a new place to get the boyo's hair cut, now that our beloved Carnival Cuts is defunct, ComputerDaddy spotted Snip-Its near his workplace. Desperate to keep the kidlets from turning into woolly mammoths before our very eyes, we decided to give it a try. (I should note that our previous attempts at home haircuts have been, shall we say, disastrous? I'd rather not have our children be mocked and stoned on the playground, thank you very much.) We checked it out online first, and I was rather surprised to see that they offered birthday events. I don't see how that's possible, opined ComputerDaddy. It's such a little place, tucked between Trader Joe's and another store, that must just be something that happens at other locations.

Despite my inner ick at what I had seen online, I was desperate enough to give the place a whirl. I mean, it's just a kid's salon, right?

Ha. We walked in just in time to witness the grand finale of what I THINK was a Glamour Party. Since they weren't slutted out a la Paris, as the website had shown in their *ahem* "adorable" photos.

Hey, biotches! aren't I HAWT? See ya on Surreal Life!

A gaggle of six six-or-seven-year-old girls in multiple layers of garish clothing, wilting fairy wings, glittery wands, plastic high heels in various shades of pink and purple, and glitter plastered all over their faces and hair was milling about uncertainly at one end of a cheap red runner. A store employee was explaining to them what they were supposed to do. A handful of parents gathered, cameras in hand, at the other end of the carpet. One by one the girls stomped down the runner and stood for a few seconds, then turned and lumbered back. A couple smiled brightly for the camera, one of whom I believe was the birthday girl. A couple looked confused. A couple looked downright sullen and embarrassed. The parents oohed and aahed and marvelled over what a brilliant idea this was. And for only $175?!?! Why couldn't they do something like this for adult birthday parties?!?!

(They do, chickas. They're called Spa Days. Not as cheap, though, and more likely to involve chocolate and mimosas. Much more satisfying, though, in my humble opinion. Unless you'd like karaoke, for that potential public humiliation factor.)

I struggled to keep the sneer off my face, peoples. I mean, girliness is great, and we all know I'm a shoe addict, and I enjoy earrings and makeup and dressing up and all, but in this day of rampant obsession over all things Barbie and Bratz Dolls and Miley Cirus and Britney Spears and Paris Hilton (I'm aiming for some major search-term pop ups here), it seems to me that we're sending a strong message to our little girls about what's important and just what it means to be a Girl these days. It's one thing to enjoy femininity--I'm not saying I don't ooh and aah over precious little dresses with ribbons and bows, or cute pigtails--but it's another entirely to take it to such a glitzy extreme. And then put it on such a display. I think the red carpet strut may have put the whole thing over the top for me, horror-wise.

People can talk all they want about Disney heroines and modern female celebrities being strong, independent women who choose their own paths, but the reality is that Jasmine and Pocahontas and all those chicks are NOT realistic representations of the female body or lifestyle, any more than Barbie or Bratz Dolls. Every time we see young female stars in the news, there's some emphasis (often exclusive) on what they are--or are not--wearing, how many extra ounces of fat they seem to have accumulated, and who they are dating/marrying/divorcing/sleeping with. How many of those celebrities went or are going to college? And if so, how many articles are covering that?

Being the parent of boys is not magically easy, and I believe I will be facing my own set of social issues--not least of which is the horrific Boys Will Be Boys fallacy and a massive double standard regarding male behavior. But right now, having witnessed that birthday party yesterday, I'm grateful I don't have a little girl to raise. I wouldn't be the one giving such a party (bring on Chuck E. Cheese or a day in the park!), but what would I say to my daughter if she was invited to such a thing?

Maybe I'm getting too heated up over a birthday party in a hair salon. And maybe I'm not getting heated up enough. What do you think?