In the early nineties, Ronald Kotulak’s editor of the Chicago Tribune’s asked him to investigate whether new brain research would shed light on why some children who grow up in violent, high-risk communities lead violent lives and experience untimely deaths and why some do not. Ronald Kotulak wrote Inside the brain. revolutionary discovery's of how the brain works in response. There are two key issues that emerge after reading this book. First, that Early Childhood Education is extremely important due to the critical nature of development in the first three to five years of a child’s life. Second, that education appears to be the key to possibly solving some of society’s biggest issues: crime and health. I keep hearing on the radio the fragmentation of CPS. How the board of Ed intends to close small schools and keep open a big high school, despite all the research that showed that smaller high schools are much better for the students from high-risk areas. This morning, I listened to another piece about a certain area of the city that is renowned for gang-violence in high-school students. This particular young man who was interviewed has decided to get out of gang activity and try to make a go of his life. When he spoke, he said he partook in gang activity to make money. His mother struggled to provide for his family, so he took the path that he thought was the only way to help provide. Additionally, this week, I found out that Congress is proposing cuts to Head Start. The cuts could close 16,000 Head Start classrooms across the country, affecting 218,000 low-income children. I can’t put into words my indignation. Oh and that the state of Illinois is so in debt that young teachers may never receive their pensions. So, back to the book….
When you read Kotulak's book, he very simply summarizes by saying that education is truly the key to some of these problems. Why? First, because Early Childhood Education has an enormous impact on children in high-risk environments. Why? Because the way the brain is wired during early childhood can either prime a child for success or failure. It's almost that simple. Have a child with a terrible home and no role models? Provide a caregiver who makes a secure attachment and acts as a role model for that child. Reduce the stress in that child’s life and you literally lower the levels of the stress hormone, cortisol in the brain. Cortisol that has the ability, when being continuously produced in high-stressful environments, to change the pathways created in the brain. The effects are worse if the child already has inherited low-levels of serotonin (the happy hormone) from a parent. Kotulak discusses the scientific findings which suggest that certain environmental factors have the ability to change the molecular structure of the brain, affect genes and, wire the brain toward certain tendencies or dispositions. Kotulak summaries the most dangerous environmental factors as including: the breakdown of marriage/family life, teenage pregnancies/mothers, high stress during a pregnancy, and stressful or bad childhood experiences (violent and abusive situations). So, programs like Head Start are extremely important in providing safe environments with loving caregivers and educational programs for the parents. In the future, maybe these children who weren’t provided for and who had no other means of support, routine, love, and education will turn to crime and violence to solve their problems. It seems so clear in my mind what needs to be done. Take care of educators (ensure they receive their pensions for one thing), provide quality early childhood care for all children but especially children and babies from low-income, high-risk areas, and make education a priority. Otherwise the ills of society will continue to grow worse. Invest in children now. “With education you learn how to navigate your world. You learn empowerment. You learn how to articulate your needs and to overcome potential barriers.” (Kotulak, 1997,)
Saturday, March 26, 2011
Friday, March 4, 2011
In a wee bit over a week, it will be my birthday. Anyone will tell you that I love my birthday. I guess it's a bit self-centered and narcissistic, but I love it. (I love it even more when I get daffodils....just like Mum used to give me. Boys? Are you listening? That includes you Kyle!)
This year got me thinking. One year ago, on my birthday, I startled this blog. I have, of late, been absent from writing it. I have so many things going on in my brain, that writing, is, actually the last thing on my mind. It's too bad really, because I find it quite therapeutic when I do write. And it saves the stream of consciousness from my mouth when poor Kyle gets home. He just has to read it to know what the heck I was thinking about on any particular day. So, in a year: I started a blog, I co-chaired a Sunday school, I completed a massive practicum project for grad school, (more pages of writing than I have ever written in my life!), and I joined the Wonderworks Children's Museum's board. I watched my two year old have speech therapy and improve in leaps and bounds. He tells me daily, "me love you vewy much..." I cried (many times), when Charlie gave us such a huge fight every morning about going to school (and other things besides), I racked my brains trying to figure out what to change or implement to help the kid feel better. I have observed in the last two weeks, Charlie literally blossom. He is this fun, funny, smart, creative, dare I say it...happy little boy. I should be thanking someone or something bigger than me everyday, since everyday is so much better that I find myself forgetting just how bad it had become. I have watched JP leave behind the world of Lego's and bakughans, and enter the world of g-mail, girls calling, and Warhammer. (Warhammer is another blog for another day. All I will say is sometimes when there are adult men in the Warhammer shop , which is run by a very nice English bloke - who JP idolizes - I like to call it Dork-hammer. Sorry....) But, he loves to paint the little figures and become all creative about the painting. Who can complain about painting? (Well....except when I find permanent paint all over my bathroom towels, in a classic JP attempt to "clean-up"!)
5 years ago, on my birthday, I started my masters in early childhood education. I turned 32 that year, and all the 40 year old PhD students teased me, warning me that I'd be doing a PhD in my 40's, like them. Well, that remains to be seen, but this year on my birthday, my LAST class will start. LAST CLASS!!! No matter that it overlaps with another class. Not a big deal that it occurs during our second busiest time of the year: two of our kids birthdays (and they are not quiet about their birthdays either!), the start of the t-ball season with both boys playing on different teams in different locations (help!),and PREP (the Sunday school program), has to get wrapped up. I don't care how busy I will be, because as of May 6th, I will be finished with the class component of my graduate degree. Big Sigh. After that is the writing of a big project with a committee and oral defense, but I will be so high from 5 years (on and off), of classes that I won't care......
I have a feeling then, that my life is going to change. Not sure how yet, but I just think it will. My boys are getting older. Kyler may start some type of toddler program in the Fall. (That breaks my heart.) I may work a bit of a job that actually pays me!
So, I guess it's true what they say, "beware the Ides of March". At least for me. It was the beginning and this year, the start of the end. And it is a gateway for everything after.
This year got me thinking. One year ago, on my birthday, I startled this blog. I have, of late, been absent from writing it. I have so many things going on in my brain, that writing, is, actually the last thing on my mind. It's too bad really, because I find it quite therapeutic when I do write. And it saves the stream of consciousness from my mouth when poor Kyle gets home. He just has to read it to know what the heck I was thinking about on any particular day. So, in a year: I started a blog, I co-chaired a Sunday school, I completed a massive practicum project for grad school, (more pages of writing than I have ever written in my life!), and I joined the Wonderworks Children's Museum's board. I watched my two year old have speech therapy and improve in leaps and bounds. He tells me daily, "me love you vewy much..." I cried (many times), when Charlie gave us such a huge fight every morning about going to school (and other things besides), I racked my brains trying to figure out what to change or implement to help the kid feel better. I have observed in the last two weeks, Charlie literally blossom. He is this fun, funny, smart, creative, dare I say it...happy little boy. I should be thanking someone or something bigger than me everyday, since everyday is so much better that I find myself forgetting just how bad it had become. I have watched JP leave behind the world of Lego's and bakughans, and enter the world of g-mail, girls calling, and Warhammer. (Warhammer is another blog for another day. All I will say is sometimes when there are adult men in the Warhammer shop , which is run by a very nice English bloke - who JP idolizes - I like to call it Dork-hammer. Sorry....) But, he loves to paint the little figures and become all creative about the painting. Who can complain about painting? (Well....except when I find permanent paint all over my bathroom towels, in a classic JP attempt to "clean-up"!)
5 years ago, on my birthday, I started my masters in early childhood education. I turned 32 that year, and all the 40 year old PhD students teased me, warning me that I'd be doing a PhD in my 40's, like them. Well, that remains to be seen, but this year on my birthday, my LAST class will start. LAST CLASS!!! No matter that it overlaps with another class. Not a big deal that it occurs during our second busiest time of the year: two of our kids birthdays (and they are not quiet about their birthdays either!), the start of the t-ball season with both boys playing on different teams in different locations (help!),and PREP (the Sunday school program), has to get wrapped up. I don't care how busy I will be, because as of May 6th, I will be finished with the class component of my graduate degree. Big Sigh. After that is the writing of a big project with a committee and oral defense, but I will be so high from 5 years (on and off), of classes that I won't care......
I have a feeling then, that my life is going to change. Not sure how yet, but I just think it will. My boys are getting older. Kyler may start some type of toddler program in the Fall. (That breaks my heart.) I may work a bit of a job that actually pays me!
So, I guess it's true what they say, "beware the Ides of March". At least for me. It was the beginning and this year, the start of the end. And it is a gateway for everything after.
Monday, December 20, 2010
The last white Christmas that I remember in England was about 30 years ago. My grandmother had recently died and so it was imperative that Grandad spend Christmas with us, as it was to be his first without her. I was little and I remember how the snow came down, fine and yet thick at the same time. It made it difficult to see into the distance. The white-out effect in full force. My dad left with my brother to make the drive into the east end of London. The roads were empty, so while the the snow was pretty heavy, he could slowly drive to London. meanwhile, my sister, my Mum, and I walked to our corner sweet shop. I remember holding their hands, walking home, with the snow stinging my eyes, and making my little hands so cold that I cried. I was worried about my dad and brother getting home safely. My sister tried to cheer me up ny promising that when we arrived home, we would go searching for Christmas present. (We never really did...I think both of us hated the idea of actually finding out what your surprise was before the big day.) My bother and Dad made it home,of course, and as ever -and regardless of his loss- Christmas really felt like it had started when Grandad arrived.
Now, thirty years later, we are stuck in Chicago, because, for the second December running, Heathrow cannot cope with the snow that has recently fallen on London. I know that living outside of Chicago and so close to O'hare, we are used to heavy snowfalls and we are far more prepared to clear it. I'm just amazed at the complete ineptness of an major international airport.
So, we sit and we wait for a flight that doesn't arrive until lunchtime on Christmas Eve. And while I am thankful for the fact that we arrive on Christmas eve and not after, I can't help feeling cheated of time. Time with my parents, time with my sister and her family, and time with friends. Time, that if I lived around the corner from them, I may take for granted. Instead, I am grappling for more....more time, more days, more visits. It's running out. The boys get older, as do my parents. I suppose one day, we'll look back, fondly perhaps, on the Christmas that we got stuck in snowy Chicago, while the usually, rainy, moderate climate in England changed to Arctic temperates and aligned with our weather. But not today, not now. Not for a long time.
Now, thirty years later, we are stuck in Chicago, because, for the second December running, Heathrow cannot cope with the snow that has recently fallen on London. I know that living outside of Chicago and so close to O'hare, we are used to heavy snowfalls and we are far more prepared to clear it. I'm just amazed at the complete ineptness of an major international airport.
So, we sit and we wait for a flight that doesn't arrive until lunchtime on Christmas Eve. And while I am thankful for the fact that we arrive on Christmas eve and not after, I can't help feeling cheated of time. Time with my parents, time with my sister and her family, and time with friends. Time, that if I lived around the corner from them, I may take for granted. Instead, I am grappling for more....more time, more days, more visits. It's running out. The boys get older, as do my parents. I suppose one day, we'll look back, fondly perhaps, on the Christmas that we got stuck in snowy Chicago, while the usually, rainy, moderate climate in England changed to Arctic temperates and aligned with our weather. But not today, not now. Not for a long time.
Thursday, December 9, 2010
On Hephzibah
Yesterday morning, I was invited to a holiday tea at the Hephzibah Children’s Associaton. I had always wondered exactly what Hephzibah is, especially since you hear about them in OP all the time. The organization runs all the after-school programs in the schools here. I knew it was some kind of group home and that it was involved with fostering and/or adopting children. However, I was not really prepared for what Hephzibah does and who it serves. It is a completely amazing organization. First, it is in a beautiful old building by the El tracks. And while the basement was built out, the original design (by women in the OP) of an H is still apparent. There is room for 10 children in the upstairs of the home. These children may stay for a few years....they are the residents of Hephzibah and have been victims of emotional and physical abuse. The group home tries to provide a safe, structured environment with therapy so that the children can learn how to trust and heal. Down in the basement is a diagnostic treatment center, that takes in children who have been abused, neglected, or with behavioral or emotional disorders. This is a short-term group home. This part of the home provides medical and psychological evaluation and treatment. What is striking is that it doesn’t look like a group home…I mean, not like the ones I had envisioned. (This was no Annie type place!) Each bedroom was muraled in the style of a children’s book or film - Curious George, Cars, Corduroy, The Little Engine That Could, and the Cat in the Hat. They were truly beautiful. A cook at the home had painted them all. Since PREP is collecting donations for the home this year and the morning was a holiday tea, we talked a lot about Christmas at Hephzibah. The children often come to the home with no idea who Santa is. Or they don’t believe that they will receive any Christmas presents. Christmas morning sounds like a magical morning since there are donations to the home so that every child receives something. I kept thinking about how many toys my children will receive. While I feel truly thankful my children will not have to experience what any of the children at Hephzibah go through, it is absolutely heartbreaking that there is any child on this earth that has to go through the emotional and physical pain that the Hephzibah kids do. They all have their photo on the wall at the entrance, so it feels more like home. You gaze at these kids and there is nothing on their face that shows what they have been through. Maybe I am just inexperienced at looking closely in a child’s face that has been in a terrible situation. But really, they look like the kids I see in the neighborhood. This felt almost more heartbreaking because there is no way of knowing what the children have seen or experienced. One of the most impressive things about Hephzibah is that they work really, really hard to try to get the children back with their families. They offer support for parents who are also struggling with addictions or psychological problems. This, I thought was amazing, because they do it without judgment. I think that would be unbelievably hard. Lord knows parents all tend to judge each other a wee bit and in fairly normal situations! I don’t know…I was deeply moved by the organization. I thought about it all day yesterday. So, I thought I write about it and I have put the link to their website over on the side….check it out.
Monday, November 29, 2010
On partnership
Kyle and I have got married young. (23 to be exact.)We have no regrets. It's not like there was anyone else. But it is kind of funny when I hear of a kid getting married right out of college, and my first reaction is "really? are you sure? I mean...you're only 22 0r 23..." I guess we were kids. But one of us had moved across the world to do be with the other one. And that other one had been brave enough to ask her to. So, recently I had a thought as the possibility of Kyle being on trial for the two weeks loomed. Do I dread him being gone because I just got too damn dependent on him? I mean, I never did the live on your own thing. I kind of did my last year of college, but it was in a dorm type arrangements, where I ended up knowing all the other students anyway. So it doesn't really count. I have never functioned as an adult without him. That frightens me. For many reasons and the primary one being that terrible thought...what would I do if something happened to.....? We're just not going to go there today. (Or anytime in the near future I hope.) The daft thing is that when he's not around, I cope fine. I'm organized, I make good decisions (usually), I moved country for dammits sake. But when he's leaving, I fall to pieces. A very good friend, who is adapt at seeing silver linings to clouds, has this perfect lining for me; my apprehension shows that Kyle and I have a good partnership. She pointed out that it would be way worse if I didn't give a shit he was leaving. "Bon voyage kid...see you in a couple of weeks!" With not a thought or care in the world. Let alone the kind of thoughts and cares that usually take on the shape of "oh fuck,,,what do I do if someone gets sick in the night (I hate puke), and how will I get so and so to skating while the baby naps? Or how do I pick someone up when we are all (cause there's no Kyle) present to organize the Christmas pageant rehearsal at church for the pre-school religious education program I am co-chairing this year..." (Yes, I am the church lady.) Did I mention the class the finally ends in the middle of all this chaos, so there's a huge paper due?! Those types of thoughts invade my head, settle in with a suitcase, and don't leave until Kyle gets back.
But, can the idea of a good partnership mask the real issue here? That I am supposed to cope by myself. Women before me have, and women after me will continue to do so. So what's wrong with me? Sometimes I think I lack the American can-do spirit. But what if that attitude can create rifts between couples.....like you end up not needing your partner. Cause you are so good at coping without them. I don't want to be like that! I just want to be cool as a cucumber. "Sure, I can handle it honey. Go...I'll miss you something awful, but we'll be fine...it'll be fine." I want to know that when the shit (or the in-my-head-fear puke) hits the fan, I'll be totally OK. I mean, I've done this before. With a far younger baby than we have now. And two older kids....who actually, are really, really helpful with the aforementioned baby/toddler. It's just the thought of it. I think the thought of it is more frightening than the reality. Because reality, as ever, just sets in and life goes on.
So, I suppose I don't know if it's me being a complete girl or if it's that Kyle and I are a good team. If I think it's the former, then I feel like a complete loser. If I think it's the latter, I feel like a complete loser. (Yes, I know that was supposed to be the silver lining...but I still buy into that I should be able to do it all -and more- attitude.) The other option of course is to get out of the rat race, buy a farm somewhere in the middle of nowhere and have cows and corn to worry about instead of trials.
But, can the idea of a good partnership mask the real issue here? That I am supposed to cope by myself. Women before me have, and women after me will continue to do so. So what's wrong with me? Sometimes I think I lack the American can-do spirit. But what if that attitude can create rifts between couples.....like you end up not needing your partner. Cause you are so good at coping without them. I don't want to be like that! I just want to be cool as a cucumber. "Sure, I can handle it honey. Go...I'll miss you something awful, but we'll be fine...it'll be fine." I want to know that when the shit (or the in-my-head-fear puke) hits the fan, I'll be totally OK. I mean, I've done this before. With a far younger baby than we have now. And two older kids....who actually, are really, really helpful with the aforementioned baby/toddler. It's just the thought of it. I think the thought of it is more frightening than the reality. Because reality, as ever, just sets in and life goes on.
So, I suppose I don't know if it's me being a complete girl or if it's that Kyle and I are a good team. If I think it's the former, then I feel like a complete loser. If I think it's the latter, I feel like a complete loser. (Yes, I know that was supposed to be the silver lining...but I still buy into that I should be able to do it all -and more- attitude.) The other option of course is to get out of the rat race, buy a farm somewhere in the middle of nowhere and have cows and corn to worry about instead of trials.
Wednesday, November 24, 2010
On Thanksgiving
What a great holiday. One that I am perfectly comfortable with adopting. One that still has managed to retain the true spirit of the actual holiday without being tainted by commercialism. (Unless you count the butter that is carved into the shape of a turkey....but I suppose that more novelty than commercialism?) It's a perfect way to start the holiday season, when much of the spirit of the actual holiday gets lost in the whirlwind of events and retail stress. But I digress....
What makes me smile (or on meaner days, wonder how stupid a person could actually be), is when people ask if England has Thanksgiving. Hmmmm. Lets just take a moment to let that question sink in. Does England have Thanksgiving? (Silence.)
On a good day, I smile and say no, we don't (poor us right?), we just have Harvest festival in September (What's that? Good question. Goggle it.) On meaner days, what I really want to say is (ear muffs now) "WTF?? Are you kidding me? Did you not pay attention in school? Even I know the history of thanksgiving and I'm a f&*#ing immigrant...."and so on and so forth.
So, I have been thinking about why people ask the question in the first place. I think it's for a few reasons, and please, descendants of the May Flower, feel free to help me out.
First, you LOVE thanksgiving so much, you can't envisage a place where the great Turkey Day doesn't exist. I mean, what do English people do the on the last Thursday in November? No turkey? (Not until Christmas) No football ? (Just the real kind where we kick the ball - football?) No pumpkin pie? (Again, no....but just wait until Christmas...our boozy desserts will knock your socks off!) Second, the histories of our two countries are so intertwined that at times maybe it's hard to know who keeps what sacred and who celebrates what. But funnily, no one seems to ask if we celebrate the Fourth of July. And both holidays have similar roots...the desire to the escape persecution and the shackles of the British monarchy. Is the violent aspect of the War of Indepence that makes the reasons for the holiday more obvious? Or is it that the justifications for that war are reiterated again and again? And rightly so. While the emphais in the Thanksgiving story semes to be the struggle of the pilgrims, the poverty and near-death during a harsh winter in an unknown land, the help and support of the native people, and the beginnings of a country that embraces freedom of worship and speech. Third, and this is perhaps the most cynical of the three ideas - that America is still a wee bit isolationist. Just a bit. I mean, I can understand why...Europe is far away. Why would you know what goes on in November in a tiny little, damp island? America is SO damn big, that it's hard to keep straight on what's going on in twenty five of the states, let alone all fifty....so no hope for the rest of the world. Unless you are talking Royal weddings. Then you guys are more updated than I am.
Anyway, I guess the question just tickles me. I am sure that I sound obnoxious for even giggling about it. I mean, British people wouldn't know, for example, why Americans even celebrate Thanksgiving. (A little side-trip here...in English education, they seem to gloss over the whole period in history where Britain started to loose British citizens to the colonies. They actually omit the whole period of enlightenment - unless you go to university - and skip right from one Golden Age (the Elizabethans) to another; the Victorians. Strange that. Denial perhaps?)
Regardless, I shall happily brine, roast, and serve my turkey for my American family tomorrow. The boys and I will hang our homemade Thanksgiving decorations. And we will be truly thankful for family, friends, and life itself.
What makes me smile (or on meaner days, wonder how stupid a person could actually be), is when people ask if England has Thanksgiving. Hmmmm. Lets just take a moment to let that question sink in. Does England have Thanksgiving? (Silence.)
On a good day, I smile and say no, we don't (poor us right?), we just have Harvest festival in September (What's that? Good question. Goggle it.) On meaner days, what I really want to say is (ear muffs now) "WTF?? Are you kidding me? Did you not pay attention in school? Even I know the history of thanksgiving and I'm a f&*#ing immigrant...."and so on and so forth.
So, I have been thinking about why people ask the question in the first place. I think it's for a few reasons, and please, descendants of the May Flower, feel free to help me out.
First, you LOVE thanksgiving so much, you can't envisage a place where the great Turkey Day doesn't exist. I mean, what do English people do the on the last Thursday in November? No turkey? (Not until Christmas) No football ? (Just the real kind where we kick the ball - football?) No pumpkin pie? (Again, no....but just wait until Christmas...our boozy desserts will knock your socks off!) Second, the histories of our two countries are so intertwined that at times maybe it's hard to know who keeps what sacred and who celebrates what. But funnily, no one seems to ask if we celebrate the Fourth of July. And both holidays have similar roots...the desire to the escape persecution and the shackles of the British monarchy. Is the violent aspect of the War of Indepence that makes the reasons for the holiday more obvious? Or is it that the justifications for that war are reiterated again and again? And rightly so. While the emphais in the Thanksgiving story semes to be the struggle of the pilgrims, the poverty and near-death during a harsh winter in an unknown land, the help and support of the native people, and the beginnings of a country that embraces freedom of worship and speech. Third, and this is perhaps the most cynical of the three ideas - that America is still a wee bit isolationist. Just a bit. I mean, I can understand why...Europe is far away. Why would you know what goes on in November in a tiny little, damp island? America is SO damn big, that it's hard to keep straight on what's going on in twenty five of the states, let alone all fifty....so no hope for the rest of the world. Unless you are talking Royal weddings. Then you guys are more updated than I am.
Anyway, I guess the question just tickles me. I am sure that I sound obnoxious for even giggling about it. I mean, British people wouldn't know, for example, why Americans even celebrate Thanksgiving. (A little side-trip here...in English education, they seem to gloss over the whole period in history where Britain started to loose British citizens to the colonies. They actually omit the whole period of enlightenment - unless you go to university - and skip right from one Golden Age (the Elizabethans) to another; the Victorians. Strange that. Denial perhaps?)
Regardless, I shall happily brine, roast, and serve my turkey for my American family tomorrow. The boys and I will hang our homemade Thanksgiving decorations. And we will be truly thankful for family, friends, and life itself.
Wednesday, October 6, 2010
Grad school and families
In my experience, grad school and young families don't mix so well.
I can get to grad school. I can arrange for a babysitter, get all the kids fed, and get out of the door with the kitchen cleaned up. I can even make sure that if JP has soccer while I'm in class (Monday night class only. Not the Thursday one. No soccer practice twice a week. No way.), he has his kit ready to go, water bottle, snacks for the little guys at the park, and directions for the babysitter. I finally (after doing this masters for several years) worked out that my very good friend and mentor was right. I need extra study time. Despite having to pay for it. It is essential to prevent out family from falling apart. So, now I have study time carved into the week. And the weekends, if the schedule (soccer games times-two, ice-skating, church...) allows. What I cannot do is clinicals, interviews, and constant on-line discussions. Remember when university meant lectures, papers, and reading? No observations (hard to do in philosophy), no clinicals and curriculum development, and no blackboard postings on-line! The hardest thing about my undergrad was the fact that every ten weeks, for each class we had to produce a twenty page paper. At least, that seemed really hard at the time...! I mean, when your life revolves around socializing, library, student union bar, library, student meals, library, and writing fervently to that damn Yankee, 4 twenty page papers seemed frightening. Oh and the fact that my first year of work in undergrad was all handwritten? Amazing.
Fortunately my professor and advisor raised three children while she completed her masters degree and doctorate. But, as she herself pointed out, she didn't have a two year old. I don't think it matters too much how old the kids are. But the little guy makes it impossible to study, write, read, or post while he is awake. And he's totally worth all the raging thoughts about what is due when. But the fact remains, there is a whole lot of juggling going on.
The worrying thing is that when I'm finished (next May??!!), I don't know exactly what my future holds. Teacher? Director? Consultant? Stay-at-home mom? One thing is for certain, those three little men that keep me SO busy and make it harder to finish, will still be here. With their smiles, giggles, dirty fingernails, and pranks (Charlie or JP, it's unclear who, taped the toilet seat down one night), and they'll still look to me for hugs, snacks, stories, and kisses. Although they are only at night when JP is certain that no one can see....
I can get to grad school. I can arrange for a babysitter, get all the kids fed, and get out of the door with the kitchen cleaned up. I can even make sure that if JP has soccer while I'm in class (Monday night class only. Not the Thursday one. No soccer practice twice a week. No way.), he has his kit ready to go, water bottle, snacks for the little guys at the park, and directions for the babysitter. I finally (after doing this masters for several years) worked out that my very good friend and mentor was right. I need extra study time. Despite having to pay for it. It is essential to prevent out family from falling apart. So, now I have study time carved into the week. And the weekends, if the schedule (soccer games times-two, ice-skating, church...) allows. What I cannot do is clinicals, interviews, and constant on-line discussions. Remember when university meant lectures, papers, and reading? No observations (hard to do in philosophy), no clinicals and curriculum development, and no blackboard postings on-line! The hardest thing about my undergrad was the fact that every ten weeks, for each class we had to produce a twenty page paper. At least, that seemed really hard at the time...! I mean, when your life revolves around socializing, library, student union bar, library, student meals, library, and writing fervently to that damn Yankee, 4 twenty page papers seemed frightening. Oh and the fact that my first year of work in undergrad was all handwritten? Amazing.
Fortunately my professor and advisor raised three children while she completed her masters degree and doctorate. But, as she herself pointed out, she didn't have a two year old. I don't think it matters too much how old the kids are. But the little guy makes it impossible to study, write, read, or post while he is awake. And he's totally worth all the raging thoughts about what is due when. But the fact remains, there is a whole lot of juggling going on.
The worrying thing is that when I'm finished (next May??!!), I don't know exactly what my future holds. Teacher? Director? Consultant? Stay-at-home mom? One thing is for certain, those three little men that keep me SO busy and make it harder to finish, will still be here. With their smiles, giggles, dirty fingernails, and pranks (Charlie or JP, it's unclear who, taped the toilet seat down one night), and they'll still look to me for hugs, snacks, stories, and kisses. Although they are only at night when JP is certain that no one can see....
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