Lack of Resources and Opportunities in Low Socioeconomic Schools

Lack of Resources and Opportunities in Low Socioeconomic Schools

For the past six weeks, I have only worked one day per week (Wednesdays) due to illness and my mother’s death. I had music classes to teach, and only I could teach them. This week, I began to feel better on Wednesday, so I decided to work again on Thursday. Somewhat ironically, I was sent to the same school site where I last worked six weeks ago. I was unaware then that they had no regular music teacher and thus, no formal instruction. Hoping to avoid the brain-shattering noise of last time, I thought I would at least try to teach these kids something this time. This is when I discovered that all of their guitars need maintenance of some sort. Some of them are missing strings. One of them is missing a tuning key. All of them are detuned. They do not have a tuner or strings, and it is impossible to tune guitars by sound when they are making so much noise banging on the drums and playing other instruments. Additionally, it is much easier to obtain an accurate pitch using a tuner versus sound. They also do not have any working keyboards; they are all broken. They have not had an actual music teacher at all this year.

I had yet another doctor’s appointment today regarding my resistant sinus infection. This doctor’s office is near the office of the company I work for, so I decided to pay them a visit and let them know the state of things at this school site and offer solutions on how to make it better. This is when I found out that the instruments at this school site actually belong to the school, not the company, and have not been maintained because they do not have a music teacher to maintain them, so the kids just end up abusing the instruments and rendering many of them unusable. Their instruments were serviced at the beginning of the school year, but never tended to again for this reason. The sad state of their music program is heartbreaking, but I hope to change it for the better and have committed to returning to this school site every Friday to teach music. Going forward, I may add another day of the week as well.

I returned to the school yet again today, this time with a tuner so I could tune the guitars that are in working order. I was prepared to try again to teach music, but they ended up being severely understaffed today (this school is always somewhat understaffed) and I ended up with a group of kids playing basketball instead of teaching music.

A few things that I have observed about this school in the three visits I have made to it these past few months is that they are understaffed, unstructured and lacking resources. Six weeks ago is not the first time I visited this campus, however. I first visited this campus as a graduate student in an education program. I was researching the connection between low SES (socioeconomic status) educational demographics (i.e. schools located in poorer regions) and achievement, including test scores and graduation rates. The day was January 21, 2009 and the school principal had ordered that the entire school watch the inauguration of President Barack Obama. One of the teachers I observed defied this order from the principal and refused to play the inauguration in her class. Yes, she was white. Yes, I did say something. Ironically, she turned out to be a graduate student at the same school as myself. As of 2014, she had not made it through the graduate program.

A thought occurred to me amidst my frustration today with this school and this memory of having been here before. I began by feeling bad for these kids whose school lacks the resources to provide them with a proper music education. I have the ability and the desire to help them, but have found my hands tied three times so far in my endeavor to help them. The disadvantages they have are not just limited to a lack of a music teacher or a lack of working musical instruments. The problem is much larger than that and has been a problem for at least 8 years now. These kids have the desire and, in some cases, the ability. I have heard some of them play the electric guitar or drums and have heard potential. I have seen their artwork. They have some really talented artists. I have watched their dance groups rehearse. Poor children and children of color are no less intelligent or talented than more affluent or Caucasian children; they just are frequently disadvantaged by their circumstances, their school and by the people who are supposed to lead them, but who fail to recognize their contribution. Research has shown a positive correlation between music education and academic achievement. Research has also shown a correlation between socioeconomic status and achievement. This is why a loan forgiveness program was developed for teachers who agreed to teach in low SES schools; a program that is now in danger thanks to morons who have never been in a classroom, except as a student. I started the day today with hope and ended it with frustration, but I hope maybe next week will be different.

Prayer is an Active Verb

October 21, 2017

Prayer is an Active Verb

Whenever something tragic happens, people like to say “thoughts and prayers”. There’s a terrorist attack in Paris. Paris is in our thoughts and prayers. There’s an active shooter in Vegas. Vegas is in our thoughts and prayers. We change our Facebook profile pictures to an Eiffel tower or something and our “thoughts and prayers” post gets 100 likes because we have shown solidarity with whoever has been the victim of a tragedy. Puerto Rico is in our thoughts and prayers. I am in a lot of people’s thoughts and prayers since I have lost my mother. Thoughts and prayers are great, but they’re not enough.

The surviving victims in Las Vegas need blood and assistance with medical bills and those who didn’t survive have left their loved ones with the task of burying them. Puerto Rico is under water still and much of the island remains without power, food, or water. People on the island are dying from preventable diseases and from lack of proper medical care due to loss of power, food, and water. Meanwhile, the country is thinking and praying and Donald Trump is golfing. As for me, I am OK… until I am not OK. Those who have figured out how to navigate to the one-man island that is me, have done so. My father could use additional weekend caretakers, if you know someone.

I know that money is tight for many. Money is tight for me, too. Yet, I have contributed to Puerto Rico because money is a lot tighter for them. I have power, food, and water; they don’t. If you’re reading this, you do too. If not Puerto Rico, there are others who need help too. If you can give blood, there are people who need it. You have people in your own backyard that could use a hand. I am tired of blanket “thoughts and prayers” responses coupled with absolute inaction, especially from those who consider themselves to be Christian.

Message to Christians:

Prayer and Worship are verbs. They are action verbs. Some people will tell you that if you pray to God to make you wealthy, that He will. Others will tell you that you will be wealthy as a result of a combination of prayer and Godliness. Still others will recognize this as a bunch of bunk. Prayer will not make you wealthy; hard work might. You cannot expect to get wealthy by just thinking about and praying for wealth. You will not be healed by just thinking about and praying for health. You need to actively pursue health. You cannot expect change by just thinking about and praying for change. You must be the change you want to see. Prayer is the act of praying to God to help you do something and then doing it. Some people forget the second part. Worship is the act of showing reverence to a deity. You can do this with song, but you can do it better by taking care of that deity’s people. Jesus said, “whatsoever you do unto these, the least of My people, you do unto Me”. When you ignore the plight of your fellow man when you could do something, even just a little something, then you are ignoring Jesus.

I'm OK...Until I'm Not

I’m OK… until I’m Not

I have spent the majority of my life trying to figure out what my purpose on this planet is. I was beginning to be convinced that some people probably never do figure out what this is and that I would be one of those people. In recent posts, I have talked about finding this purpose in my mother’s death, and while I still hold that this was and is my purpose, it probably gives the false sense that I am always OK. I am OK… until I’m not OK.

I have been sick for five weeks now. It started off with a cold my son decided I needed to have and has continued on to be the most stubborn sinus infection from the deepest recesses of hell I have ever experienced. I have been on two different courses of antibiotics now and remain sick. I am sick of being sick. My nose is always stuffed up on at least one side at all times and often on both sides. I have trouble sleeping, eating and drinking. I frequently choke on the things I am drinking because I cannot breathe properly. My head feels like it is filled with mucus and I feel like I am drowning. My nose, face and head hurt. Compounding this stubborn sinus infection is the loss of my mother two weeks ago.

I have always been absent minded. This absent mindedness has increased significantly these past two months with this sinus infection and my mother’s passing. I frequently misplace things because I forget that I even had it in the first place or forget where I put it, or both. I feel like I am losing my mind. The one thing I have always rather prided myself on is my mind. Yes, it is forgetful. No, it is not perfect. Yes, I worry that in the wake of my mother dying from Alzheimer’s, that I will also die of Alzheimer’s. This last thought scares the shit out of me. I hate having gone from someone who taught college and wrote academic papers to someone who can’t remember where she put something she was given just a few days ago. Sometimes I see so much of my mom in myself that I become both frustrated and scared at the same time. I can’t help but be hard on myself. I want so badly for this sinus infection to go away. I want my brain to come back. I want to believe that this is a temporary condition that will get better with time. It doesn’t really help to know that this is “normal,” or that the experiences I have had make this “normal”. My mom had it rough too and look what happened to her.

So, most of the time, I am ok. I wake up each morning hoping that I feel better than the day before, and then I don’t. I drink my coffee and try to do the best I can. I have taken up crocheting again. I started working on an afghan only to discover that after I crocheted 1’ long, I don’t know how to measure because it is more than 1’ wide. Sometimes I wonder why I even bother at all. I do my best and my best is always a day late, a dollar short, too wide, or a lot foggy. Today I am not OK.

Everything Happens for a Reason

Everything Happens for a Reason

Earlier this month, I wrote an entry titled “Momma Did You Know?” in which I wondered if my mom knew that I would end up being the one to take care of her in her final days. I thought about the fact that if my life had turned out the way I had planned, she would have likely died alone in a nursing home sooner than she did and I may not have been by her side. I thought about the fact that I had come from a long line of women who had married abusive husbands and that as a divorced woman, I had broken the cycle and raised my girls to be strong, independent and expect more from their relationships. I realized that all the suffering I endured over the course of my life, and most especially in the last 20 years, had served a purpose.

This morning, I went to the doctor. I have been sick for nearly five weeks now, at first with a cold, and now with a sinus infection. I went to the doctor this past Sunday also, and was given an antibiotic, pain medication and Flonase. Today I still feel as bad as I did a week ago. I have been unable to work as many hours as I would like to because my line of work requires that I not sound like I am talking under water and not be sneezing and sniveling all over the place. I also cannot breathe, sleep, or eat and drink properly. I frequently get choked on what I am drinking because I cannot breathe well enough to drink. The point of this blog though is not to describe how sick I feel now, but to talk about my blood pressure.

A year ago, I began to have high blood pressure when I would go to the doctor. In November, I lost my job at an engineering company. They stated on my unemployment paperwork that I was laid off, but the truth of the matter is, they replaced me with someone else. To say I was upset with them for doing this is an understatement. I helped them win 3 lawsuits they were involved in and cleaned up a massive and expensive mess that was left by their previous receptionist. Unlike other employees who were frequently late and often messing around on their phone, I had good attendance, was rarely late and prioritized work over being on my phone. The only real problem that I had involved my parents’ needs, which generally would be the reason for a few late arrivals. I also supposedly, according to the Vice President’s son, needed to “stick with my own race and age group”. I was angry and stressed out and this only served to raise my blood pressure even higher. My doctor was ready to hospitalize me and put me on blood pressure medication. I begged him not to because I needed to be there for my parents. I was given two weeks to bring it down or else.

I brought it down to acceptable levels, but it still remained higher than it used to be. I used to be in the 110’s and 120’s and now I was doing good to keep it below 140. I have not heard that it was too high since December of last year. Today it was 126 / 70. It seems that those ungrateful and racist assholes saved my life by letting me go.

When I am working, I make nearly twice as much as I did working for the engineering company doing what I love. Money is going to be tight for a little while since I am sick, but pretty soon I will be doing well, doing what I love and being a whole lot healthier doing it. Sometimes we don’t understand why things happen. I sure didn’t understand why I managed to marry the wrong person, suffer 20 years of misfortune and lose a job for no reason, but it seems to me that all of these things happened for a reason.

Mental Health Awareness

Mental Health Awareness

A few years ago, perhaps 3 or 4, I was invited to a small backyard party. The host had a fire pit in his backyard that he was going to fire up. I brought graham crackers, marshmallows and chocolate. A few of my friends were also invited to this party and one of them burned several marshmallows for me over the fire pit as we all sat around it drinking, eating smores and chatting. One of the host’s friends, whom I had just met, was sitting to my right about 4 or 5 feet away. He asked me if I was afraid of fire and before I could answer, he interjected that he wasn’t trying to make me feel bad and started sharing about how he had been house-bound for 2 years due to severe anxiety. He had met the host through video games and had slowly been coaxed out of the house and was now sitting at this party having this conversation with me. He had sought help and was placed on some medications that were helping him. He now works for Google.

This interaction served to be one of the most important interactions of my life. I had already been diagnosed with depression years prior. I had learned to live with this. I had been in and out of counseling and on and off medications, but I did not want this to be my life sentence. I balked at the very notion that I would be on medication for the rest of my life for depression. I still do not take medication for my depression. I protested even more so when a doctor suggested that I had anxiety. Why? I don’t know. In retrospect it seems so silly and stupidly obvious and it was downright transparent to this party guest who had just met me a few hours before.

My father, whom I have talked about in previous blog entries (this one and my other blog “When Parents Grow Old and Get Crazy”) used to shame my mother and I for our mental illness. He was adamant about it being kept secret from everyone else, except that my mom’s on and off bouts with schizophrenia were a little hard to keep secret. My depression is a lot easier to keep under wraps. Anxiety for that matter is easy to keep under wraps and for years, not only was I successful at doing this, so was my father. He now has deeper mental issues than mere Post Traumatic Stress Disorder; issues so blatantly transparent that keeping it a secret is absolutely impossible. My mother died from Alzheimer’s at the age of 74.

People notice when your friend is burning your marshmallows for you instead of you doing it yourself. They notice when you avoid freeways at all costs. They smell your fear of clowns and plaster images of them all over Facebook for shits and giggles. The point is, you can keep these issues to yourself to some extent, but to some extent, they still remain visible. Trying to bottle them all up and pretend they don’t exist doesn’t help anyone. Others don’t understand you and can’t learn to help you and you just end up speeding your way toward the grave that much faster. It isn’t worth it. You deserve better and so do your loved ones.

I sought help after this interaction with this party guest. I have been seeing a therapist for a few years now and have a prescription for Xanax. Sometimes I see my therapist 2 or 3 times per month, other times only once a month. I take the Xanax as needed. I also practice deep breathing, meditation, walking and music therapy. I burn my own marshmallows. I still haven’t seen It, but someday I will and at the end of this month, I am going to Knott’s Scary Farm for the first time ever.

Don’t be ashamed of your mental illness; own it. It’s not going away, so learn to live with it as comfortably as possible. Communicate with your friends and family. Let them know what they can do to help you. Seek counseling and/or medication if needed. Do what you need to do. You and your loved ones deserve the best possible version of you available.

The Rock

The Rock

This rock is a reminder of where I once was, of who I used to be, and of what I used to do. I have a picture of a bird on the tree in the background. I was on top of this rock when I took that picture. Five years ago, I couldn’t even hike the half of the mountain leading up to this rock. My ex-husband had left me with 3 kids, multiple debts and I had a terrible skateboarding accident that nearly killed me. I overcame. I hiked this mountain and I climbed this rock. Two and a half years ago, my life got turned upside down again. I was thrown into the position of taking care of my parents also. I have forgotten how to sleep, how to relax, how to be myself, who I am, and how to climb this damned rock. I came up here to clear my mind. I left the fogginess in the clouds and fog above and in return nature reminded me that I must face this rock until again I can climb it. And I will climb it.