Ok. Time to blog.
I know it's been months since I've blogged. I know it's not like me to go so long. I've started so many posts and didn't finish them.
I had a baby. She's delicious and brilliant and intense and strong. She loves her sisters and dad and gets hauled around by me every chance I get. She spends half the night sleeping on my chest because I can't bear to put her down before I have to go to work. She smells like heaven. She has extra large opening in a heart valve that will require surgery soon, a topic that terrifies me so I don't talk about it. She is strong. She will be ok. She has been fighting for her life since the beginning.
I started a job the day after we returned from Utah to see my parents off on their mission to Romania. It's a K-8 charter school in Bedford-Stuyvesant, a neighborhood in Brooklyn known for its low income families and crime. Most of the students live in the projects. Most of them don't know how to respond to an adult unless they are being yelled at.
I was hired to teach 4th grade with another teacher. We weren't given enough time to prepare our classroom or make lesson plans and the first week went really, really bad. I was chastised and micromanaged to the point of mental breakdown. I got a call at the end of the week saying I was being transferred to middle school to teach Special Ed, since that's where all my experience and education is. I was deeply grateful and deeply offended all the the same tine.
I've now spent a week in that new assignment and can honestly say it is the most inspired decision that's happened since I've been hired. I love it, I love the staff I work with and I love the job. I am doing reading assessments on every student in 5-8h grade. I've considered getting a master's degree at NYU in Literacy Education. But I have to juggle these thoughts with Jacob's career, and we all know that when someone in the house does medicine, there isn't room for another career. Medicine is all-consuming. It's a tough reality.
Jacob is doing an internship at a rheumatologist clinic. He gives people cortisone shots and talks about their arthritis and stuff. He gets called Dr and thinks it's cool but it irritates me. The internship pays peanuts. The baby goes upstairs to the Bangladeshi family on those days. She loves it there and they speak Bengali to her. They don't speak English. Somehow we all communicate. I hate leaving her and it's a topic worse than the heart condition.
Leah and Hannah come to school with me. They are literally the only white kids in the school. The culture shock is real and painful and we spent hours discussing and praying about which school to go to. I don't care that I end my sentences in prepositions.
Hannah auditioned for a ballet studio yesterday. She was placed in an elite, invitation only class that will prepare her for joining their company next year. She is over the moon about it. I'm proud of her but also feel weird hanging out with other dance moms--skinny little people who care about their makeup and whatnot. I don't fit in.
Leah is getting up the courage to join a swim team. She wants to compete and make friends. She is so tough and pure and responsible. I'm proud of her and wonder where she got all that goodness.
We are surviving. Everyday requires putting out a new fire and not really getting a grip on anything. A sprained foot, strep throat tests, no food in the house, no gas in the car, no formula for the babysitter, too many piled up dishes in the sink and why do I smell dead mouse?
I had a baby. She's delicious and brilliant and intense and strong. She loves her sisters and dad and gets hauled around by me every chance I get. She spends half the night sleeping on my chest because I can't bear to put her down before I have to go to work. She smells like heaven. She has extra large opening in a heart valve that will require surgery soon, a topic that terrifies me so I don't talk about it. She is strong. She will be ok. She has been fighting for her life since the beginning.
I started a job the day after we returned from Utah to see my parents off on their mission to Romania. It's a K-8 charter school in Bedford-Stuyvesant, a neighborhood in Brooklyn known for its low income families and crime. Most of the students live in the projects. Most of them don't know how to respond to an adult unless they are being yelled at.
I was hired to teach 4th grade with another teacher. We weren't given enough time to prepare our classroom or make lesson plans and the first week went really, really bad. I was chastised and micromanaged to the point of mental breakdown. I got a call at the end of the week saying I was being transferred to middle school to teach Special Ed, since that's where all my experience and education is. I was deeply grateful and deeply offended all the the same tine.
I've now spent a week in that new assignment and can honestly say it is the most inspired decision that's happened since I've been hired. I love it, I love the staff I work with and I love the job. I am doing reading assessments on every student in 5-8h grade. I've considered getting a master's degree at NYU in Literacy Education. But I have to juggle these thoughts with Jacob's career, and we all know that when someone in the house does medicine, there isn't room for another career. Medicine is all-consuming. It's a tough reality.
Jacob is doing an internship at a rheumatologist clinic. He gives people cortisone shots and talks about their arthritis and stuff. He gets called Dr and thinks it's cool but it irritates me. The internship pays peanuts. The baby goes upstairs to the Bangladeshi family on those days. She loves it there and they speak Bengali to her. They don't speak English. Somehow we all communicate. I hate leaving her and it's a topic worse than the heart condition.
Leah and Hannah come to school with me. They are literally the only white kids in the school. The culture shock is real and painful and we spent hours discussing and praying about which school to go to. I don't care that I end my sentences in prepositions.
Hannah auditioned for a ballet studio yesterday. She was placed in an elite, invitation only class that will prepare her for joining their company next year. She is over the moon about it. I'm proud of her but also feel weird hanging out with other dance moms--skinny little people who care about their makeup and whatnot. I don't fit in.
Leah is getting up the courage to join a swim team. She wants to compete and make friends. She is so tough and pure and responsible. I'm proud of her and wonder where she got all that goodness.
We are surviving. Everyday requires putting out a new fire and not really getting a grip on anything. A sprained foot, strep throat tests, no food in the house, no gas in the car, no formula for the babysitter, too many piled up dishes in the sink and why do I smell dead mouse?
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