2012 began like any other year. Wait, that's a lie. My parents were in town. I had spent the night at Erin and Ivan's house after a combination of drinks and Michael Jackson Experience on the Wii. In 2011, I rang in the new year on a rooftop in Haiti, so no one year ever begins the same. Aside from those details, 2012 seemed like it would be just like any other year.
In February, I reclaimed Valentine's day. Some friends and I celebrated Palentine's day. I booked a massage on February 14. It was not the day of despair as in 2011. In many ways, I thought 2012 would exceed previous years. In some ways, it did, but in one way it did not.
For some reason, 2012 was plagued with news of suicide.
It began March 5, 2012. My energetic, mischievous uncle Peter left us. I still have to pinch myself--did that really happen? Time seems to have stopped then, but time does not stop. Only my perception of time. While I was the saddest I have ever felt, for the first time in difficult circumstances I still believed God was good. I'm thankful for how He carried me through the wake and the funeral, and well, even now He's carrying me. God, in His goodness, has used this tragedy for some redemptive moments in my life. Sometimes, I am angry that God brought any good from this event, but, truthfully, they were really good events. I guess I just wish there had been some other way. So what were those good events? Well, I realized how much I really do love my family. I had definitely taken them for granted and focused on the negative. I was able to see the love and strength between my family members. This even also impacted my personal growth. It was the missing puzzle piece that completed me. I learned how grief has played a role in my life as an idealist. I had a name for the feeling I have had all my life for the anger and sadness in a world that is not how it was intended to be. A world where we all have pain and injustice.
There are other stories of suicide throughout the year that affected my friends, but I will not discuss that here. For said friends who are reading this, I'm sorry for your loss and for your pain. I rejoice with those who have a positive outcome.
This year I dove into retreats with Urban Life. As any other youth retreat I attend as a leader, I am stretched and twisted until I cry "uncle;" well, until I cry to Jesus...It's always a blessing, and it's always an honor to get to know those teenagers. Always lots of fun memories. I even learned some new dance steps--the wobble, the cupid shuffle, and the bernie.
In June, I celebrated my 29th birthday. I declared 29 as divine, and it has lived up to its reputation. I had such a sweet celebration in Dallas, Texas with my 2 cousins, my 2 uncles, my aunt, and her mom and sister. Museums, red velvet cake, presents, and a mechanical bull. What more does one need? Oh yes, an honorary reeses peanut butter cup in memory of my uncle. The celebration continued in San Diego with some wonderful friends.
At the end of June through the middle of July, I visited friends and family in upstate NY. I went to Montreal to visit the same aunt and uncle from Dallas. There was a jazz festival that was fantastic. My cousin had her bridal shower and bachelorette party all in the same day. I saw my bestest friend in the universe. I hung out with my parents by the river. Good times were had by all.
Work began again in August. It's been quite the busy school year, but all is well. I enjoy what I do, and I enjoy seeing my students grow. Some of whom are now taller than me.
In September, my cousin got married but, regrettably, I could not attend. My friend Lauren got married in September. I stood as a bridesmaid for my friend Mary's wedding in October. I flew to Alabama for that wedding and enjoyed the food and the southern drawls.
Also, I started attending an informal writing group. My awesome co-worker organized it. Some fellow writers and I gather twice a month to peer edit our work. The creativity is energizing.
Thanksgiving was spent with my church family. I enjoyed having a week off from work. I used it to write my Christmas cards and buy presents for all of the good people on my list.
Christmas with my parents in Florida was a delight. One of the highlights was seeing an alligator on Christmas day on the golf course. Playing cards and hanging out with my parents is always fun. There's something special about being able to just rest in each other's company.
So, I welcome 2013 with open arms. 2012 was quite the adventure. I'm hoping for less drama, lots of laughter, and plenty of fun activities with family and friends. May God bless you and keep you.
Monday, December 31, 2012
Friday, December 14, 2012
The limitations of an educator
One of my students is heavy on my heart. I have known him for 4 years. I met him when he was in first grade. Now, he is in fifth grade (obviously, for those of you who can add in your add). I remember him as a quiet kid. He had difficulty answering yes/no questions. A different student in his group received a lot of my attention, since he was 30% intelligible. I remember trying to make up for that when the student was in third grade by working with him one-on-one for a while to help him make progress and, well, it would only encourage him to participate.
As a first grade student, this kid would just sit there in class. Some attention deficit disorder but also no motivation. This remains a concern. He doesn't like anything and doesn't care about anything, either. Yes, he likes video games, but if it means he has to do homework, he's fine just sitting in his room and staring at the wall.
He has been participating in his speech group this year. Participation was never a huge issue, but it has definitely improved. I have been surprised by his right answers and proud of him for seeing him make connections with acquired knowledge.
Today, I yelled at him. Well, I spoke louder than usual. I by no means yelled, but I was angry. Angry, because I care so damn much. So angry I didn't even know what to say. My student may not care about his future, but I do, and I will care for him, if I can.
He had told the paraprofessional who leads his resource (specialized academic instruction) group that he didn't want to do his work today; he'd do during recess on Monday. That is not the kid who participates in my speech group. It's not out of his character, but his indifference is rapidly increasing.
So, I (loudly) asked him why he wasn't working. He shrugged his shoulders. I responded, if you don't have a reason, then you're going to do the work. I told him he was smart and how I enjoyed working with him in my group. When I left the room, he was walking over to tell the resource specialist that he was going to complete his work on Monday.
My plan is to observe his group on Monday and to pray to God that during this child's life, he will start to care and want to learn. God may or may not use me, but I trust He has a plan for this child.
As a first grade student, this kid would just sit there in class. Some attention deficit disorder but also no motivation. This remains a concern. He doesn't like anything and doesn't care about anything, either. Yes, he likes video games, but if it means he has to do homework, he's fine just sitting in his room and staring at the wall.
He has been participating in his speech group this year. Participation was never a huge issue, but it has definitely improved. I have been surprised by his right answers and proud of him for seeing him make connections with acquired knowledge.
Today, I yelled at him. Well, I spoke louder than usual. I by no means yelled, but I was angry. Angry, because I care so damn much. So angry I didn't even know what to say. My student may not care about his future, but I do, and I will care for him, if I can.
He had told the paraprofessional who leads his resource (specialized academic instruction) group that he didn't want to do his work today; he'd do during recess on Monday. That is not the kid who participates in my speech group. It's not out of his character, but his indifference is rapidly increasing.
So, I (loudly) asked him why he wasn't working. He shrugged his shoulders. I responded, if you don't have a reason, then you're going to do the work. I told him he was smart and how I enjoyed working with him in my group. When I left the room, he was walking over to tell the resource specialist that he was going to complete his work on Monday.
My plan is to observe his group on Monday and to pray to God that during this child's life, he will start to care and want to learn. God may or may not use me, but I trust He has a plan for this child.
Saturday, November 3, 2012
Crackety Crackety Wiggity Wiggity
Clearly the title of this post describes the chiropractor. I apologize for stating the obvious.
This week God showed up in the details of my life. He showed up in such a way, it reminded me of Psalm 37: 4 "Take delight in the Lord, and he will give you the desires of your heart" (NIV).
On Tuesday my school district hosted a wellness fair for employees. I only went to earn points for a free entrance for the Coronado Bay bridge run in May of next year. For once there was a short line to get a back screening. Tension in the back showed up on a computer screen while the metal electrodes slide along my back. The goal is to see the color white. Mild is green. Blue and red are moderate. Black is high. The guy before was older and it seemed like his job was physically active. He had red and blue. Surely my back would be green or white. When I turned to see my results, it was 95% black. I was shocked, but then it started to make sense. My neck has been bothering me for a while. The end of last week I was trying to crack my lower back, because it did not feel quite right. My shoulders are always tense. I figured I just needed to get a massage for some relief. Or perhaps stretch more. (I still think both of those things are good ideas but not the solution).
I agreed to purchase their coupon and go get my back examined by an actual chiropractor. The guy at the booth was just drumming up business. I was concerned it would turn out to be shady but the next day the receptionist for the chiropractor called to confirm my appointment.
The exam consisted of X-rays, more electrode type scans to measure tension and the temperature of my nerves. Turns out by measuring temperature you can see whether they are straight or not. There was a hands on portion of the exam and another scan that measured inflammation (maybe?). During that portion, the chiropractor hit a sore spot in my lower back. It hurt when he touched it. He was not putting a lot of pressure on it, either. Clearly, something was not right.
I learned a new word. Subluxation. I like to think of it as misaligned. It's not a complete dislocation but that shit ain't right, either. It was used in context of the vertebrae that protect the spinal cord.
Friday, I returned for my results.
The spine has natural curves. One of those curves is in the neck. The vertebrae in my neck are straight. Straight! The bottom part of my spine (sacrum) is also in the wrong spot, which has made my pelvic bones uneven. I also have a few vertebrae that are subluxated. The curve along the bottom of my spine is normal but as it gets into my thoracic vertebrae and neck it's misshapen. One of my lower vertebrae may even be fractured. He talked about surgery but ONLY if it starts to affect the function of inner organs. So no need for surgery. I may have been born with the vertebrae that way; there is a genetic component. The chiropractor said he will not touch that vertebrae when he adjusts my spine.
Hence, crackety crackety wiggity wiggity. That is what it's like to have the spine adjusted. Perhaps wiggity wiggity should be first. I had to lie down on my side. He bent my leg so my knee was perpendicular to my body. He stretched one of my arms and put it by my side. He then used his body as a brace to prevent me from moving and crackety crackety. A quick jerking motion and releases tension, hence the noise. He started with my neck. He was rocking it back and forth. All was calm and peaceful and then crackety crackety. I was a little tense as he went to the other side, because it's just weird. Not painful but unusual. I convinced myself to relax so the crackety crackety didn't become snappity snappity.
You may be wondering how God showed up in all of this. Well, when I was little I remember seeing the elderly in church. They were hunched over. Their back had become rounded instead of straight. I always thought, I don't want to look like that when I'm older. The concern never went away, but it lived in the back of my mind.
Now God is providing a way for me to correct my spine. He knows the desire of my heart.
I will confess I feel really fancy about going to a chiropractor. It feels like a luxury, but then I remind myself it's corrective and preventative care. In 2 weeks, I will have exercises to do to get my curve back. So Stella got her groove back, and I'm working on getting my curve back. I mean, really, I'll never lose my groove. After all, God knows the desires of my heart.
This week God showed up in the details of my life. He showed up in such a way, it reminded me of Psalm 37: 4 "Take delight in the Lord, and he will give you the desires of your heart" (NIV).
On Tuesday my school district hosted a wellness fair for employees. I only went to earn points for a free entrance for the Coronado Bay bridge run in May of next year. For once there was a short line to get a back screening. Tension in the back showed up on a computer screen while the metal electrodes slide along my back. The goal is to see the color white. Mild is green. Blue and red are moderate. Black is high. The guy before was older and it seemed like his job was physically active. He had red and blue. Surely my back would be green or white. When I turned to see my results, it was 95% black. I was shocked, but then it started to make sense. My neck has been bothering me for a while. The end of last week I was trying to crack my lower back, because it did not feel quite right. My shoulders are always tense. I figured I just needed to get a massage for some relief. Or perhaps stretch more. (I still think both of those things are good ideas but not the solution).
I agreed to purchase their coupon and go get my back examined by an actual chiropractor. The guy at the booth was just drumming up business. I was concerned it would turn out to be shady but the next day the receptionist for the chiropractor called to confirm my appointment.
The exam consisted of X-rays, more electrode type scans to measure tension and the temperature of my nerves. Turns out by measuring temperature you can see whether they are straight or not. There was a hands on portion of the exam and another scan that measured inflammation (maybe?). During that portion, the chiropractor hit a sore spot in my lower back. It hurt when he touched it. He was not putting a lot of pressure on it, either. Clearly, something was not right.
I learned a new word. Subluxation. I like to think of it as misaligned. It's not a complete dislocation but that shit ain't right, either. It was used in context of the vertebrae that protect the spinal cord.
Friday, I returned for my results.
The spine has natural curves. One of those curves is in the neck. The vertebrae in my neck are straight. Straight! The bottom part of my spine (sacrum) is also in the wrong spot, which has made my pelvic bones uneven. I also have a few vertebrae that are subluxated. The curve along the bottom of my spine is normal but as it gets into my thoracic vertebrae and neck it's misshapen. One of my lower vertebrae may even be fractured. He talked about surgery but ONLY if it starts to affect the function of inner organs. So no need for surgery. I may have been born with the vertebrae that way; there is a genetic component. The chiropractor said he will not touch that vertebrae when he adjusts my spine.
Hence, crackety crackety wiggity wiggity. That is what it's like to have the spine adjusted. Perhaps wiggity wiggity should be first. I had to lie down on my side. He bent my leg so my knee was perpendicular to my body. He stretched one of my arms and put it by my side. He then used his body as a brace to prevent me from moving and crackety crackety. A quick jerking motion and releases tension, hence the noise. He started with my neck. He was rocking it back and forth. All was calm and peaceful and then crackety crackety. I was a little tense as he went to the other side, because it's just weird. Not painful but unusual. I convinced myself to relax so the crackety crackety didn't become snappity snappity.
You may be wondering how God showed up in all of this. Well, when I was little I remember seeing the elderly in church. They were hunched over. Their back had become rounded instead of straight. I always thought, I don't want to look like that when I'm older. The concern never went away, but it lived in the back of my mind.
Now God is providing a way for me to correct my spine. He knows the desire of my heart.
I will confess I feel really fancy about going to a chiropractor. It feels like a luxury, but then I remind myself it's corrective and preventative care. In 2 weeks, I will have exercises to do to get my curve back. So Stella got her groove back, and I'm working on getting my curve back. I mean, really, I'll never lose my groove. After all, God knows the desires of my heart.
Saturday, September 15, 2012
Sicker than a dog...
Within 10 days after adopting Moses, I was eligible for a free check-up with a veterinarian on a list from the animal shelter. I chose the closest one to my house, Kensington Veterinarian Hospital. I have jogged past it several times, so I was familiar with the location. Granted, I jog so quickly that I only had a vague idea of its location.
On Tuesday August 14, I made an appointment for Friday the 17th. At that point, I was mildly concerned with Moses' excessive sneezing.
On Wednesday, a friend described Moses as having "kennel cough." I was less worried.
On Thursday, however, Moses began coughing violently and vomiting. (It was a clear, foamy liquid).
By Friday, Moses just sat there, pathetically, because he'd start to cough if he laid down. I was so happy to go to the vet's office.
While Moses was getting weighed and all of the basic check-up procedures before the doctor came into the room, he puked. Secretly, I was glad, because what better place for my cat to get sick than the vet's office? Also, it was the first time I had seen anything red when he vomited. The tech cleaned up and brought it to the vet, who confirmed it was blood, most likely the result of an irritated esophagus.
The vet examined Moses. She then gave me a laundry list of things she wanted to do. She had the receptionist print a list of the projected cost. What choice did I have but to say yes? Besides, my guestimate was slightly over the estimate given to me, so I knew I could pay for it.
So Moses had x-rays and blood drawn and a saline injection to hydrate him. I prepaid for a stool sample (I echo your "yuck") and bought 3 different prescriptions.
The results? Moses had a severe upper respiratory infection and unexplainable vomiting. He had a pill for nausea, an antibiotic, and something else. He was a borderline case for the pet hospital, which would have easily cost as much as I had already spent. I could NOT afford that, so the vet told me to call the next morning at 8:30 to give her an update.
(Side note, one of the techs brought me a cup of tea, which I really appreciated. If I had left the examining room, I was not allowed to pet the animals waiting for their appointment, because of Moses' respiratory infection. A huge thank you to Andi and KD for responding to my despondent text messages while I was quarantined.)
The last thing I wanted to do was administer pills to a cat. Before going to the animal shelter, I had a plan. I'd adopt a cat and when he became old, sick, and needing pills, I'd put him down. I did not expect pills in the honeymoon phase of adoption.
I managed to give Moses the anti-nausea pill and the antibiotic. Now, the antibiotic had a side effect of an upset stomach. I questioned this pill choice, but hoped it wouldn't be an issue. The vet also sold me wet cat food with a strong odor, so Moses would smell food and have an appetite. I gave him food when we first got home. He puked before he ate and a just a smidgen after he took his first bite. Three hours later, while sitting in the bathroom with him running hot water to help loosen his mucous (yes, that was an order from the vet), he puked. He puked twice more that night; one of which narrowly missed me. It was his only projectile vomit.
I cried most of the night, because I wasn't sure if I could afford to keep Moses if he did not start getting better. I had already loved him too much to bring him back to the shelter. Plus, I was concerned they'd euthanize him.
I called the vet in the morning to report that he seemed to be breathing better, but he was still puking. They asked me to come in 45 minutes later for a 9:30 appointment.
He was given another injection to hydrate him. I was shown how to administer the injections by lifting his scruff and inserting the needle into his skin. This was a 5-handed job, and I only have 3. The vet switched his medications. I now had to pick up a prescription at Rite Aid, buy over the counter Priolsec, in addition to the original anti-nausea pill and an appetite stimulant. I was really overwhelmed. Here are two pictures of my pharmacy:
The pill pockets did not help. I had to cut the pills, so that is why there are two tupperware containers.
I had to hang the bag of saline solution as high as I could, so the liquid would drip faster.
The new pills were a winning combination. Moses has not puked since that Saturday appointment at the vet. I called two days later on Monday to update the vet. Moses was feeling better. So much so that by Tuesday, he'd only sit still long enough for me to inject 50ml of liquid. I was instructed to give him 150ml. I called the vet on Tuesday and was given permission to discontinue the injections. Moses had started drinking water again, so I was not worried.
Thanks to a lot of support from my friends, I successfully administered most of the pills to Moses. I was always successful with his antibiotics, which were the most important.
While this process was miserable and reinforced my qualms about bearing children, I surprised myself. I had kept telling myself I wouldn't be able to do it, but I did; and I have Moses as proof.
On Tuesday August 14, I made an appointment for Friday the 17th. At that point, I was mildly concerned with Moses' excessive sneezing.
On Wednesday, a friend described Moses as having "kennel cough." I was less worried.
On Thursday, however, Moses began coughing violently and vomiting. (It was a clear, foamy liquid).
By Friday, Moses just sat there, pathetically, because he'd start to cough if he laid down. I was so happy to go to the vet's office.
While Moses was getting weighed and all of the basic check-up procedures before the doctor came into the room, he puked. Secretly, I was glad, because what better place for my cat to get sick than the vet's office? Also, it was the first time I had seen anything red when he vomited. The tech cleaned up and brought it to the vet, who confirmed it was blood, most likely the result of an irritated esophagus.
The vet examined Moses. She then gave me a laundry list of things she wanted to do. She had the receptionist print a list of the projected cost. What choice did I have but to say yes? Besides, my guestimate was slightly over the estimate given to me, so I knew I could pay for it.
So Moses had x-rays and blood drawn and a saline injection to hydrate him. I prepaid for a stool sample (I echo your "yuck") and bought 3 different prescriptions.
The results? Moses had a severe upper respiratory infection and unexplainable vomiting. He had a pill for nausea, an antibiotic, and something else. He was a borderline case for the pet hospital, which would have easily cost as much as I had already spent. I could NOT afford that, so the vet told me to call the next morning at 8:30 to give her an update.
(Side note, one of the techs brought me a cup of tea, which I really appreciated. If I had left the examining room, I was not allowed to pet the animals waiting for their appointment, because of Moses' respiratory infection. A huge thank you to Andi and KD for responding to my despondent text messages while I was quarantined.)
The last thing I wanted to do was administer pills to a cat. Before going to the animal shelter, I had a plan. I'd adopt a cat and when he became old, sick, and needing pills, I'd put him down. I did not expect pills in the honeymoon phase of adoption.
I managed to give Moses the anti-nausea pill and the antibiotic. Now, the antibiotic had a side effect of an upset stomach. I questioned this pill choice, but hoped it wouldn't be an issue. The vet also sold me wet cat food with a strong odor, so Moses would smell food and have an appetite. I gave him food when we first got home. He puked before he ate and a just a smidgen after he took his first bite. Three hours later, while sitting in the bathroom with him running hot water to help loosen his mucous (yes, that was an order from the vet), he puked. He puked twice more that night; one of which narrowly missed me. It was his only projectile vomit.
I cried most of the night, because I wasn't sure if I could afford to keep Moses if he did not start getting better. I had already loved him too much to bring him back to the shelter. Plus, I was concerned they'd euthanize him.
I called the vet in the morning to report that he seemed to be breathing better, but he was still puking. They asked me to come in 45 minutes later for a 9:30 appointment.
He was given another injection to hydrate him. I was shown how to administer the injections by lifting his scruff and inserting the needle into his skin. This was a 5-handed job, and I only have 3. The vet switched his medications. I now had to pick up a prescription at Rite Aid, buy over the counter Priolsec, in addition to the original anti-nausea pill and an appetite stimulant. I was really overwhelmed. Here are two pictures of my pharmacy:
I had to hang the bag of saline solution as high as I could, so the liquid would drip faster.
The new pills were a winning combination. Moses has not puked since that Saturday appointment at the vet. I called two days later on Monday to update the vet. Moses was feeling better. So much so that by Tuesday, he'd only sit still long enough for me to inject 50ml of liquid. I was instructed to give him 150ml. I called the vet on Tuesday and was given permission to discontinue the injections. Moses had started drinking water again, so I was not worried.
Thanks to a lot of support from my friends, I successfully administered most of the pills to Moses. I was always successful with his antibiotics, which were the most important.
While this process was miserable and reinforced my qualms about bearing children, I surprised myself. I had kept telling myself I wouldn't be able to do it, but I did; and I have Moses as proof.
Thursday, September 6, 2012
Why I bang my head against the table
Already, I have lied to you, dear reader. I do not actually bang my head against a table. Although, I had to tell a student not to bang his head against the table today.
This post is a follow-up from my "Do you have a starfish?" post from yesterday. See, I felt like banging my head against the table, because the interaction seemed ineffective.
Today, I met with the same group of students.
I chose to play Go Fish again, after practicing past tense verbs, because it is a socially appropriate skill to work on.
Halfway through the game, I ask the other student for a card the girl has. She, once again, announces she has that card. I tell her to ask me when it is her turn. As I'm saying this, I pick a card from the pile, and it's a starfish; I love seeing God's hand in this. When it is her turn, she chooses a different card to ask the other student. I prompt her to ask me for the specific card. And she does!!!!! She said, "Do you have this card?"
I was pleasantly surprised. That's when I was reminded why I figuratively bang my head against the table. There, I only lied if you interpreted the title literally.
This post is a follow-up from my "Do you have a starfish?" post from yesterday. See, I felt like banging my head against the table, because the interaction seemed ineffective.
Today, I met with the same group of students.
I chose to play Go Fish again, after practicing past tense verbs, because it is a socially appropriate skill to work on.
Halfway through the game, I ask the other student for a card the girl has. She, once again, announces she has that card. I tell her to ask me when it is her turn. As I'm saying this, I pick a card from the pile, and it's a starfish; I love seeing God's hand in this. When it is her turn, she chooses a different card to ask the other student. I prompt her to ask me for the specific card. And she does!!!!! She said, "Do you have this card?"
I was pleasantly surprised. That's when I was reminded why I figuratively bang my head against the table. There, I only lied if you interpreted the title literally.
Wednesday, September 5, 2012
Do you have a starfish?
There are some moments at work when I realize the limitations of teaching social skills without a colleague. Today, I had such a moment. I heard myself and thought, seriously? Stop talking, Erin. Stop talking.
I had a group of two first grade students (the third student was unavailable). They listened to a story and answered questions plus they practiced describing pictures with past tense verbs. There was 5 minutes left, so I decided to reward them with a game of Go Fish.
One of the students (a girl) meets the educational criteria for Autism. I saw that she had a starfish in her hand. I asked the other student if he had a starfish. I try to teach strategy when I play games with students. He said no. The girl said that she had a starfish. Great. I told her to ask me. She then asks while looking at the other student. I told her it was not her turn and asked her to wait. She asked again but then listened the second time.
When it was her turn, she asked the male student.
Teaching moment! (or so I thought)
me: Who asked for a starfish?
girl: student A.
me: No. Who asked for a starfish?
girl: student A.
me: No. If student A did not ask for the starfish, then who did?
girl: No one.
me: I asked for the starfish. Ask me for the starfish.
girl: I have a starfish.
me: Say "Do you have a starfish?"
girl: yes.
me: No, I want you to say "Do you have a starfish?"
girl: yes.
me: Say "do you have"
girl: I have
me: Do
girl: Do
me: you
girl: you
me: have
girl: have
me: a
girl: a
me: starfish
girl: starfish
me: Miss Desautels?
girl: Yes.
I finally gave her the starfish.
I had a group of two first grade students (the third student was unavailable). They listened to a story and answered questions plus they practiced describing pictures with past tense verbs. There was 5 minutes left, so I decided to reward them with a game of Go Fish.
One of the students (a girl) meets the educational criteria for Autism. I saw that she had a starfish in her hand. I asked the other student if he had a starfish. I try to teach strategy when I play games with students. He said no. The girl said that she had a starfish. Great. I told her to ask me. She then asks while looking at the other student. I told her it was not her turn and asked her to wait. She asked again but then listened the second time.
When it was her turn, she asked the male student.
Teaching moment! (or so I thought)
me: Who asked for a starfish?
girl: student A.
me: No. Who asked for a starfish?
girl: student A.
me: No. If student A did not ask for the starfish, then who did?
girl: No one.
me: I asked for the starfish. Ask me for the starfish.
girl: I have a starfish.
me: Say "Do you have a starfish?"
girl: yes.
me: No, I want you to say "Do you have a starfish?"
girl: yes.
me: Say "do you have"
girl: I have
me: Do
girl: Do
me: you
girl: you
me: have
girl: have
me: a
girl: a
me: starfish
girl: starfish
me: Miss Desautels?
girl: Yes.
I finally gave her the starfish.
I am a legal guardian
Color me dumbfounded. (It's a shade of purple, for those of you who don't know.)
Upon becoming a pet owner, I am both fascinated and disturbed that I have been referred to as a "cat mommy." Not only have my friends referred to me as a parent, but so has the veterinarian. She of all people should understand that I am NOT a parent.
I admit, I think of animals as people to a certain extent. But as a child-parent relationship?
I can see how it's easy to consider oneself a caregiver, but I refuse to consider myself a mother to Moses. I won't do it. I will only concede that I am his legal guardian.
Perhaps it's because upon adopting him, I realized having children (you know, the human variety) is way scarier than I originally thought.
Can someone explain this pet/parent phenomenon (preferably by starting each word of the explanation with the letter "p.")? Truly, I do not understand it.
Upon becoming a pet owner, I am both fascinated and disturbed that I have been referred to as a "cat mommy." Not only have my friends referred to me as a parent, but so has the veterinarian. She of all people should understand that I am NOT a parent.
I admit, I think of animals as people to a certain extent. But as a child-parent relationship?
I can see how it's easy to consider oneself a caregiver, but I refuse to consider myself a mother to Moses. I won't do it. I will only concede that I am his legal guardian.
Perhaps it's because upon adopting him, I realized having children (you know, the human variety) is way scarier than I originally thought.
Can someone explain this pet/parent phenomenon (preferably by starting each word of the explanation with the letter "p.")? Truly, I do not understand it.
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